This weekend brought visitors. And insight. I know if you're going to write about visitors on a public blog there is always a bit of obligation to say something nice (because what if they read it?), but with Rampton's it's not a matter of obligation. It's more a matter of genuine love and adoration just bubbling up where ever they are.
We had so much fun doing mostly nothing. Well, there was IKEA. And swimming. But there was mostly just a lot of talking and being (and eating). And in my opinion, that's the best kind of company; the kind with which you can just sit on the couch and talk about the good and funny and complicated and interesting stuff of life over popcorn and twizzlers. An episode of Wipeout interspersed for levity. And come away from it all wanting to be a better version of yourself.
Becca and I talked a lot about the kind of people we want to be. An evolution of progress stands between my present self and this future-woman I imagine. The gap between these two selves sharpened and blurred, in my mind's eye as we talked. In some ways the ideal feels close...in others, the chasm of separation feels hopelessly wide and deep. At the end of long, late chats, I peeled myself from the sofa, exhausted and inspired. Infused with purer desire.
The other night I was singing to Henry.
"Jesus said love everyone, treat them kindly, too.
When your heart is filled with love, others will love you."
I paused for a minute to love the idea of a heart filled with love.
On Sunday we closed sacrament meeting singing I'll Go Where You Want Me To Go. I'd always thought of that as "one of those missionary songs" - sung occasionally at a farewell, never a favorite. But Sunday it was my song. The second verse was my gift for attendance. A small set of instructions to help me on my way to becoming her (the refined ideal I had pondered over so much of the weekend).
Perhaps today there are loving words which Jesus would have me speak;
There may be now in the paths of sin some wandr'er whom I should seek.
O Savior if thou wilt be my guide, Tho dark and rugged the way,
My voice shall echo the message sweet; I'll say what you want me to say.