Let the wild rumpus start.
From the moment we got the news, I felt myself pulled towards home like metal to a magnet. I wanted to be with my family more than anything I've ever wanted.
But I knew that I'd be bringing mass chaos with me.
And thus it was.
I think that dealing with children in the middle of grief is crazy-making but ultimately life-affirming. They might be sad here and there, but they need to be fed. They need to be changed. They need to be entertained. They need to be kept from destroying things.
Also, they need to be loved.
And there were many people around to love them.
Sunday we were all together. Most of us attended my home church ward, and I have never been so impressed with the love and unity of a church congregation. The love for my family was palpable. The talks were about my family. The outpouring of grief and kindness from so many I have loved for so long helped heal a little pain. Hugging, crying, talking gently, feeling lifted...The gospel of Christ is shown at its best in circumstances where people serve each other with full hearts. We were witness to His love over and over again through the love of those around us.
And the food...
People started bringing food the day they heard the news. The Relief Society (the LDS church's women's organization) president eventually had to ask people to STOP bringing things to my parents' house and to sign up in an "orderly manner." This generosity was hard for my mother to accept. She was so worried about those who were serving us. She didn't want anyone to feel overwhelmed. We told her that Christ taught his followers to serve AND to be served. Christ washed the feet of his apostles, after all. It may be difficult, but sometimes we need to be the ones served.
And we were served abundantly. Truly. It was AMAZING. I can't even express how amazing. No. Really. It's ridiculous how much food poured through those doors to feed all 25 of us.
So we sat and talked and ate and talked and laughed and talked and cried and talked.