A year ago Marc and I took a little trek up to holy Lake Mary--the place I had said I wanted to one day get engaged. There, we knelt down on a rock, and promised ourselves to eachother. Then he pulled out a little box and put a sparkling ring on my finger. This weekend we made our pilgramage back to the spot--this time equipped with snow shoes, a sled, and ten months of marriage under our belts. I've found in these last few months that our differences and our challenges are our "holy work." We climb rocks and leap over streams and then reach beautiful vistas together.
After Lake Mary, we went to another holy place. It's always bliss to walk into the temple. It's like striding through a wall of warm peace. Everyone whispers; there's no sense of time or rush. It's white and heavenly and you wear all white too. Marc always seems his most loving, grown up self there and I tease him that that's why we go.
My sister Olivia and her husband Skyler went with us and afterwards we went to the Dodo for tollhouse pie a la mode.
Love, sledding, pie, peace, and good friends. What a day.
