When I see the white sheet laid over the sacrament at the front of our chapel every Sabbath, I am reminded to wrap myself in Him the way He wrapped himself in us. There is a power in enfolding.
Yesterday Libby and I drove to the Salt lake Airport to join the collection of people gathered to welcome home Elder Aiden Harris as he completes his LDS Mission in Little Rock Arkansas. I took note of the massive amount of wrapping that went on in the small space and time.
It's curious to me that our human instinct is to open our arms when we feel safe and loving toward someone. That gesture invites us in, and we respond the same, our outstretched arms coming in against the flesh of each other, aligning our hearts. Out heads tuck into each other's necks naturally, as if we were designed to do this.
I am uplifted and encouraged at the sight of so much wrapping happening. I've been noticing lately how separate we have allowed ourselves to become. It may have started with the pandemic, then our self defense mechanisms kicked in. We found ways to connect that were not physical. We started working virtually. He got our amusement from videos and reels. We talked without seeing each other's faces, first through our ears and eventually through our eyes. Now people will get annoyed when you call rather than text. We have become isolated people, and it has happened relatively quickly when you stop to consider it. Before cell phones and Ring doorbells, we lifted ourselves out of our chairs and answered the phone, not knowing who was calling or why. We answered the door not knowing who was there. There was a certain charm in all the unknown of just two decades ago. Now the enchanting mystery of even the gender of our babies is a thing of the past. There is little to charm us any more. We are becoming numb in our need to know everything beforehand.
Maybe the thing I like most about homecomings and departures is the opportunity it offers us to wrap with each other. Touch, the language of the skin, is sadly becoming purely sensual rather than platonic. It takes conscious effort to physically touch each other. Even a handshake or high five or fist bump is something. We get it when we plant our bodies in the space of other bodies, and its most likely to occur when there is unity in purpose. We touch each other during our shared experiences. Think of a funeral you've attended when you haven't seen people enfolding each other in their arms. Who hasn't yearned to hold a tiny baby when you see them for the first time? Even puppies and kittens command a snuggle.
When Elder Harris returned yesterday the sweetest thing for me was to see him wrap his arms around his family. His parents, his sister Sophia (her twin sister Maddie was out of town). Then to see him wrap his arms around his two brothers who make up the triplet team that is the Harris brothers, and his little brother Nick. These six kids, who came in batches of one, two and three, are a cluster of attachment in our minds. Seeing them wrap their arms around each other, enfolding their love and aligning their heartbeats, felt like a coming home in the eternal sense... like there is no linear timeline to this, but a circumscription of one eternal round.
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| Triplets reconnected. |
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| Home. |
"It's been a while," he said, referring to playing the family piano.
"Yes, and it feels like yesterday you left. Like it was a decade ago, and yet only yesterday, right?" I said, as I wrapped my arm over his shoulder.
"I wonder if this is how it will feel when we die? Like it was only yesterday we left Heaven, but also a lifetime ago?"
No doubt, dear boy. No doubt.
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| That's a wrap, Elder Harris. |
