The Way You Look Tonight

You have probably heard these songs a time or two.

(From The Lady in Red)

The lady in red is dancing with me cheek to cheek
There's nobody here, it's just you and me, it's where I wanna be
Well, I hardly know this beauty by my side
I'll never forget the way you look tonight.

(From The Way You Look Tonight)

You're lovely, with your smile so warm

And your cheeks so soft,

There is nothing for me but to love you,

And the way you look tonight.

Lovely; never, ever change.

Keep that breathless charm.

Won't you please arrange it?

'Cause I love you, just the way you look tonight.

I used to think songs like these were incredibly romantic. I think almost every woman, at some point, wants her man to look at her and say, "Wow! You look amazing!"

But now I know more, and I want more.

Twenty-seven years ago today, I met the man who would become my husband. I was the "lady in red" who caught his eye at a single's ward Valentine's dance. I was twenty; he was twenty-two. We were attracted to each other immediately. Still, we dated for more than a year before we decided to get married.

1987

1988

It was the best decision I've ever made.

1989

If my husband had married me because of "just the way I looked that night", I don't know if he would still be around. Now, if he looks at me and thinks, "Wow, she's amazing," it's not because of my cute face, or my pretty hair, or my nice figure. Time and children and cancer have changed those things. If he thinks I'm amazing now, it's because he sees me as a strong woman; a loyal, devoted wife, a caring and dedicated mother, and a compassionate friend. He sees in me a woman of tenacious faith; a person who tries to stand for truth and righteousness. He has seen me at my worst, and at my best. We have had good times and hard times, and we have come through it all together.

The songs have it wrong. The books have it wrong. The movies have it wrong. Television shows and magazine ads have it wrong.

They don't know anything about romance.

If you want to see real romance, you can go to a cancer treatment center and watch as a man holds his wife's hand, or rubs her feet, while she receives her five-hour chemotherapy treatment.

Or visit a elderly care center and hear an eighty-seven year old man sing love songs to his wife, who can no longer sing back, and may not even recognize him.

Gordon B. Hinckley, who served as President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints from 1995  to 2008, said:

"May I be personal for a moment? I sat at dinner across the table from my wife the other evening. It was fifty-five years ago that we were married in the Salt Lake Temple. The wondrous aura of young womanhood was upon her. She was beautiful, and I was bewitched. Now, for more than half a century, we have walked together through much of storm as well as sunshine. Today neither of us stands as tall as we once did. As I looked at her across the table, I noted a few wrinkles in her face and hands. But are they less beautiful than before? No, in fact, they are more so. Those wrinkles have a beauty of their own, and inherent in their very presence is something that speaks reassuringly of strength and integrity and a love that runs more deeply and quietly than ever before."  (“This I Believe,” BYU 1991-92 Devotional and Fireside Speeches, March 1, 1992, p. 78.)

This, my friends, is romance. This is true love. This is the love we want for our daughters, for our sons, and for ourselves.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Reprieve

I can’t say I wasn’t warned.

When my sister returned my dish, it still held about a third of the apple crisp I had taken to a family party. “But don’t eat it,” she said. “It’s been sitting in my car for days.”

After she left, I considered the leftover crisp thoughtfully. It looked good to me. There was no sign of mold or other spoilage. It smelled good, too. I put it in the microwave until it was smoking hot, thinking that should kill any bacteria that might be there. And when it had cooled down a bit, I dug in.

I was right about one thing – it still tasted good. But I was wrong about it being safe to eat. Within a few hours, I was experiencing debilitating abdominal pain. I spent most of the rest of the day curled up in agony in the bathroom, vomiting every 15 minutes or so.

I kept telling myself that this couldn’t continue much longer; that surely before long, I would have expelled (from one end or the other) the noxious stuff. But as the hours passed. I began to worry. It was the first Wednesday in December, and I was in charge of the Relief Society meeting that would be held that evening. None of the members of the Relief Society presidency were going to be there. I had planned the meeting alone, and I was the only person who knew what should happen. I felt (perhaps incorrectly) that if I didn’t show up, there would be no Relief Society Christmas Meeting. I began to pray more fervently for the Lord to heal me. But my agony of sickness continued.

Twenty minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start, I suddenly felt better. I changed my clothes, gathered my materials, and drove to the church. I knew I had been miraculously healed, and I was grateful.

The meeting was wonderful. I arranged the chairs in the Relief Society room into a half-circle, so the sisters could easily see and hear each other. We began the meeting with a prayer, and then I invited each of the women to share a favorite Christmas memory.

Each sister in turn shared a story, and the Spirit of God grew stronger every minute. I looked around and was struck by how beautiful everyone was. I believe that everyone there was very moved. 

When everyone had shared an experience, I passed out the words to a little-known Christmas song I had come across in my preparations for the meeting. Although none of the women had ever heard the song, I assured them that they could sing it, because it had the same tune as a familiar hymn, In Humility, Our Savior. I loved the idea that this song about the Savior’s birth would parallel a song we usually sang before the Sacrament was given. I struggled with sweet, deep emotions as we sang these words together:

Come, Thou long expected Jesus,

Born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us,

Let us find our rest in Thee.

Israel’s Strength and Consolation,

Hope of all the earth Thou art;

Dear Desire of every nation,

 Joy of every longing heart.

Born Thy people to deliver, 

Born a child and yet a King

Born to reign in us forever,

Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.

By Thine own eternal Spirit

Rule in all our hearts alone;

By Thine all sufficient merit,

Raise us to Thy glorious throne.

We enjoyed some light refreshments, and the meeting ended. I cleaned up a little before I headed for home. How wonderful that I had not felt at all sick during the meeting!

As soon as stepped into my house, I felt awful. I ran to the bathroom, and stayed much of the night, filling the toilet again and again.

✯   ✯   ✯   ✯   ✯   ✯

Next story – five + years later:

No one seemed to know what was wrong with me. I had been dragged to every doctor we could think of, and had received every test those doctors could think of. But nothing explained why I had suddenly lost forty pounds, become unable to walk straight, and was so tired and weak that I was essentially bedridden for three months.

During this time, my daughter Elisabeth turned eight, and her baptism was scheduled for a few weeks later. I hoped I would feel well by then.

I didn’t. The night before her baptism, I cried out to my Heavenly Father, telling Him how important it was to me to see Elisabeth baptized. I was determined to attend, even if I had to be carried in on a stretcher. But I hoped and prayed for better than that.

The next morning, I woke up and tentatively tried to get out of bed. I did it! I felt okay!

I showered, dressed, and went with my family to the Stake Center. I helped Elisabeth change into her baptismal clothing and joyfully watched my husband baptize her. I helped her get dried off and dressed in her cute new dress. I beamed as I saw her confirmed.  And then I went home and served lunch to the out-of-town relatives who had come for the event.

There was no question that my prayers had been answered. I felt great. I knew I had been the beneficiary of a Divine healing.

The next morning, I could not eat or get out of bed. A few weeks later, we finally learned why – I had a small cancerous brain tumor.

I’ve been thinking about these two events in my life. There are, I suppose, a number of lessons there. But this is the one that has been most prominent in my mind: God can heal me. He can heal me for an hour, or for a day. I believe He can heal me, can make me well, for a week, or for a month, or for the rest of my life. Why then, why doesn’t He?

I don’t have the full answer to that question. I do know this: He lives. I am His daughter. He knows my name; He knows my strengths; He knows my weaknesses. He wants the very best for me. He loves me with a perfect Father’s love.

I also know this: I have been richly blessed throughout my life, far beyond anything I could ever earn or deserve.

So, no, I don’t have all the answers. But I guess I’m starting to realize that I do have some of them. And maybe that’s enough for now.