A Window

I decided to go to the temple early this morning. Just to sit there and walk around there and be there, by myself, for a while. I took my little brother to football practice while I was at it, and at approximately 6:20 a.m., I stepped onto the temple grounds.

Being August 16th in Mesa, it was a warm 6:20 a.m., and humidity hummed in the air. The insects hummed too. Lots of 'em, all loving on the colorful temple flowers. And I'm sure the two couples taking wedding pictures there were humming, too--love songs, in their heads.

So I sat and walked and be'd at the temple, just like I wanted to. It was nice. Very nice.

The highlight, though, was when I decided to walk in front of the visitor's center and take a peek inside. I'd been a little disappointed earlier when I saw on the door that it didn't open until 9:00, but I thought I'd go over and check it out anyway. And indeed--the curtains were open, and I could see the Christus standing in all of its splendor against the backdrop of endless creation.

It kind of felt like me standing before the Savior Himself. Here I am. Is this what it would feel like to be before Him in real life? I took my outfit into account and decided I would feel comfortable wearing it if the Lord were there. Of course, it wasn't the nicest of things, but it looked alright.

Conveniently, I'd decided to read in 3 Nephi 11 as I was sitting in front of the temple. To feel the prints in the Christus' hands, to imagine they were really His…

I was stepping about, looking out at the Easter Pageant lawn, back at the visitor's center, back toward the lawn. And that's when I discovered it: in this spot, this spot…HERE, I could see the reflection of the lawn in the visitor's center windows, and the Christus standing majestically behind them, but not myself. Me in my flowery skirt and worn sandals had disappeared behind the window casing. And it looked like this.

Apart from being an amazing image of the Savior against the backdrop of His world, the picture in the window (sans myself) reminded me of this song:

Window to His Love

Good song, huh?

It was a very personal, spiritual moment for me, and a powerful reminder of what I need to do so I can better be a window to His love.

Surrounded

A little white exclamation point surrounded by a little white triangle.

Dust Storm Warning, my phone tells me.

Looks like it's gonna be a fun night.

The lightning is a spotlight through the hazy sky. Everything is wind, dust, and the smell of rain. Spotlight, spotlight, spotlight, from all around us.

In front of a gas station an American flag, majestic and grand, ripples in its own spotlight. The standard in a sea of darkness, the reminder of our recent holiday.

We are surrounded. The storm is fearsome, awe-striking, beautiful. Dangerous but wonderful. Bringer of flood and life.

In the car, we are safe. Surrounded by metal sloping sides and rolled-up windows; surrounded by the gentle and pulsing voices of Echosmith; surrounded by the truth of our fears but the comfort of our sanctuary.

I step out of the car into the dark, surrounded by the love for a friend.

I lay in bed. Spotlight, spotlight. It scares me so badly I jump and open my eyes. It is so bright, surrounding me with light as if it were shining from inches outside my window.

The clouds linger this morning from the night's adventures. All around thick, moist air that is hard to breathe, hard to stand in.

And today, and every day, we look to the horizon to see clouds--tall, arcing, trudging--surrounding us.

Summer

The clouds are gray, but the sky visible behind them is still wearing today's blue, lighter near the sunset and darker across the way. Peering briefly over its fluffy friends is the moon with its white, cratered, solemn face. The sun's goodbye rays brush the clouds' underbellies with a soft coral orange. A light wind trails the smell of rain--of wet dirt--the rain smell only Arizona's dusty air produces. And the air. It's cooler. It's carrying the moisture, whispering the tales of tiny drops far away. Darkness envelops the evening from the east. The distant lightning is brighter against the black in its white-bright zigzags.

This is Arizona. This is monsoon. This is summer.