Sunday Will Come...

Today was a hard day. I don't know if it's because I've had a pretty good time dealing with everything lately. I don't know if it's because today marks 3 months since the terrible awful, and I don't know if it's because after my run I took myself for a salad at Zupas and while in line to order realized that I was at the last place I had seen my brother alive. And probably a whole lot of other reasons (including that I totally biffed it on my way into work today, and was seen). But today was hard. I think I spent most of it almost in tears (which means I am doubly lucky that work was super quiet today).

Through the day, though, I kept thinking "okay, only 8 more hours left to today" and "only 4 more hours left of today" Because if nothing else, I can do ANYTHING for 8 hours, right? I don't remember counting down the hours like that since I was sick on my mission and just wanted to go to bed.

When I felt especially sad or like I wanted to curl up in a ball under my desk and sob, I thought of my favorite scripture. My favorite scripture changes frequently based on what's going on in my life... but right now it's Alma 31:31: "O Lord, my heart is exceedingly sorrowful; wilt thou comfort my soul in Christ. Wilt thou grant unto me strength, that I may suffer with patience these afflictions which shall come upon me" These words of Alma remind me where to look for strength and comfort.

When I came home, I decompressed with some funfetti cake batter buddies (yes they are as magical as they sound) and then some yoga. On Hulu, of all places. I think I did the sunrise routine rather than the sunset one, but I feel better either way. Then I sat down to write about today, because I know this isn't the last hard day I'm going to have, but I know the ones surrounding it have been better, and it will get easier, but if I can write about today, and how I got through today, on another bad day, I can look back and remember, and maybe, just maybe it will be a little easier.

Elder Wirthlin gave a talk in October of 2006 called "Sunday Will Come." Rachel reminded me of it the other day, and I turned to it for comfort tonight. He speaks of the tragedy of the Savior's death. How the earth itself wept, how there was darkness, but 3 days later, Sunday came, and along with it, the resurrection of the Savior.Tonight this part stuck out to me:

Each of us will have our own Fridays (or Thursday in my case)—those days when the universe itself seems shattered and the shards of our world lie littered about us in pieces. We all will experience those broken times when it seems we can never be put together again. We will all have our Fridays.
But I testify to you in the name of the One who conquered death—Sunday will come. In the darkness of our sorrow, Sunday will come.
No matter our desperation, no matter our grief, Sunday will come. In this life or the next, Sunday will come.

So we wait. We have our hard days, we reach out to loved ones: friends, family, and the Lord for strength, and we press forward. Because no matter how dark today, Sunday will come.