Just thinking...

So, today's post is just kind of a rambling, I guess. Yesterday Olivia and I sat with a woman from our home ward (not our branch) for about an hour at a local nursing home. She's in her 80's and had a stroke several weeks ago. She's in the nursing home recovering, though no one is sure that she'll ever return home. I can't comment on how she's doing because she was asleep the whole time we were there. This lady is our stake patriarch's wife and both of them are popular and well-loved in our ward. In fact, her husband was the branch president years ago before Tuscaloosa was a ward and remembers my aunt (who served a mission here) very well. It's always fun to here the stories they tell about my aunt.

When her husband returned, I asked him how he was doing and he said "not at all well." He told me it's very painful to see his wife like this. Much worse than losing a mother, he said. I wanted to give him a big squeeze, but Olivia beat me to it with a pat on the hand. Then she tried to take back the blueberries we had given him.

While we were there, Olivia and I walked up and down the halls. Olivia is an eerily well-behaved child, but even she can't sit still for long. She was a big hit with the nurses and residents. The little grandmas couldn't get enough of her and she totally played them. I had good conversations with all of them about their families and their own babies, who are now grown. Some of them told me the same thing several times and it became obvious that time had worn thin a once vibrant and active mind.

Situations like this always give me pause, especially now that I have such a young child. All that life that those people have lived, the experiences they've had, the troubles they've fought through. And now, they're worn out, whether mentally or physically. Who can blame them? You'd think that it would have been depressing to see, but it was quite the opposite. It might sound strange, but as we were leaving, I was excited for all the life that Olivia had before her, and all the life that I had left. I don't relish the idea of becoming physically or mentally weak, but I really believe that life is worth whatever your end is. I know that whatever my life turns out to be, it will be incredible...it already has been. Even now, only *gasp* 28 years into it, life for me has been a blast, despite seemingly insurmountable odds. I can't imagine the fun that waits for me. And Olivia, with her life just starting out, has everything to learn.

I have an aunt who is very near the end of her time in mortality. Recent events have confirmed to her family that she has completed what she came to do and she can move on whenever she is ready. What a beautiful feeling! So many family and friends have passed away in the last year and that single thought--that life has purpose and is not random--is both comforting and exhilarating. It's wonderful to me to think that I have a unique and specific purpose here on earth. That only I can accomplish what needs to be done in my family and my corner of the universe. Not only does the Lord trust me to fill this mission, but he also trusts me to teach others (i.e., Olivia) how to do the same thing. And I can do it! I can be brilliantly successful. What a concept.

For the first time, I could relate to Aubrey being excited to get old. But I'm so convinced that no matter what we look like, or how our bodies and minds have aged, we'll still basically be the same people that we fell in love with years ago. I think that's why the patriarch is so heartbroken about his wife. Even though she's connected to tubes and far from her usual vibrant, sassy self, he still looks at her and sees his sweetheart and can't imagine life without her. Some of you might remember this from Pres. Hinckley years and years ago. It was published in the Feb. 1999 Ensign and made quite an impact on me then:

"You will not always be young and handsome or young and beautiful. There will come a time in life when instead of growing taller you will begin to shrink. I recall recently sitting down at the dinner table with my wife. I looked across the table at her hands, once so beautiful, now gnarled and wrinkled. I found myself with tears in my eyes. Pictures of the days of her young womanhood flooded my memory. I saw her when the children were small and she was young and strong, taking them everywhere and looking after their every need. She cooked and sewed, she washed and kept house, she went to their performances, she read books and attended concerts, she served in the Church in a variety of positions, and she was so very bright and beautiful and happy.

"We have now been married for more than 61 years. That is a long time. We have grown old and wrinkled. But our love and respect and loyalty one for another have remained undimmed. Our children have grown. We have grandchildren who are grown, and we have great-grandchildren who are well on their way. I could not wish for any of you more than I have had in my companionship with my beautiful wife."

That's what I thought about while Olivia and I were at the nursing home. And that's why I think that life is worth it no matter what. Our bodies and minds might stumble, but our spirits and hearts are always unbeatable.

I know I rambled a little bit, but I've been thinking about this for a few days now and had to get it down on paper...so to speak. I know I promised pictures of our last beach trip, but let's face it. It may never happen.