A Snowy Day

I got a call at 7:42 am. It was my bishop/home teacher, telling me that our church meetings had been cancelled because of the weather. If it hadn't been the bishop, I probably wouldn't have believed him. Mormons usually persevere: snow storm? Put on your boots and go to church. Flood? Use your row boat and go to church. Superbowl Sunday? Set your DVR and go to church. A whole continent between you and your destination and thousands of people to transport? Put on your shoes and get walking along with the rest of your church.

Not so today. Apparently the tiny road that leads to our meetinghouse was too treacherous for even those most stalwart of all, the early-rising stake presidency, and they made the choice to cancel all church. Who knew this could happen?

So I find myself, not guiltily enjoying the storm while my more faithful neighbors attend their meetings, but enjoying the howling wind and driving snow from my kitchen while I watch said faithful attendees shovel their driveways. We are all in the same snowy boat today.

It gives me a good opportunity to pause and think about the past few days. I was saddened when I heard that LDS Church President Gordon B. Hinckley had died. I eagerly listened to the many eulogies that the local news gave of him, praising his openness with the media, his desire to reach out to all of God's children and focus on what is the same between us, rather than what is different. I watched the funeral and grave-side services yesterday, alternating between laughter at how unique this man was and tears that he had left us.

I don't know that I'm the most faithful Mormon in the world. I have gone through the cycles that we read about in the Book of Mormon, alternating between faithful observation of the gospel principles and all-out rebellion against them. Always in my heart I knew what I was supposed to be doing, but knew it wasn't the way I could live then and be true to myself. I am happy where I am at, and have reached a good balance. I know where I need to do better, but I also know how much worse I've done, so I try not to be too hard on myself.

Throughout these cycles of my life, President Hinckley has been the driving force in the LDS Church. If I ever thought about how I wasn't doing what the prophet taught, it was President Hinckley's face who stood for the prophet. In those "upward" cycles, it was President Hinckley's face I looked forward to seeing in the Saturday morning session of conference. I loved his humor and anecdotes. I loved that I felt that he loved me; a faceless girl, doing random things around the bedroom in order to have an excuse for watching TV. If I didn't hear a word of the rest of conference, I was happy just from those brief words of welcome.

I was sad to see President Hinckley's empty chair yesterday. I am sad for his family. I will be sad at conference, and feel his absence acutely. But I am glad that he has moved on, that he is with loved ones on the other side.

And most of all, I am glad that I was able yesterday to say good-bye to him from our accustomed spot in my room, in front of my TV, the beautiful Saturday-morning sun streaming though the windows. I didn't even pretend that I had things to do, I just watched and paid tribute, and said in my heart, "God be with you til we meet again."