I was talking to a co-worker on Friday about weekend plans. When she asked what I was up to, I mentioned that my husband and I were planning to visit the Los Angeles Temple on Saturday. Having had a sister married there, she was familiar with the building.
"Oh, that's a beautiful place!," she exclaimed. I echoed her sentiments and told her I love the peace you can feel there, even on the grounds. You can hardly hear the city from there. "I know!," she said, "it's almost like Disneyland!"
At first, I was a little taken aback by her analogy. I hadn't thought of it like that, but I could see where she was coming from. From someone who has only been limited the grounds of one of the Mormon temples, I am honored that she would make such a comparison. Both are places apart from the world. Both are places that celebrate families and focus on happiness.
How grateful I am that we have access to lasting joy in this life! The temple truly is the happiest place on earth.
It was one of those Saturdays where I had to work the morning shift and Brent had to work the closing shift - in other words, just another day of the week where we didn't see each other. Unfortunately, we have far too many of those.
Anyway, while I was at work, Brent had decided to go fishing with our brother-in-law. Unfortunately for Brent, fishing is a past-time I don't quite understand. I've only really been fishing once in my life. In sixth grade. Our teacher took small groups of us fishing toward the end of the year. Well, that year as class awards came around, instead of "most helpful" or "most optimistic" I was awarded the "fishless" award. I was the only person in class to have not caught a fish.
It's not like I've avoided fishing since then, but I haven't eagerly sought out opportunities to sit on a river's edge and feel like a failure again. I was grateful to Tydus for taking Brent.
That night as I was tidying up the house to get it ready for Sunday, I was greeted by a dragonfly on my kitchen wall. The only body of water near our apartment is a highly-chlorinated swimming pool, and I doubted that this little guy had come from there.
When Brent got home, I showed him our new friend and expressed my concern about his origins. I just couldn't figure out where he'd come from. Much to my surprise, Brent exclaimed, "I missed it!" Confused, I asked him to explain.
Turns out, he'd seen the cocoon on a twig at the river that morning and brought it home to watch it hatch. It's endearing moments like that that make me realize I'm glad we never have to completely "grow up."