When the wedding day finally arrived, everything went smoothly. We had an amazing time at the temple, being sealed together for time and all eternity and learning the significance of that ordinance.
The ring ceremony was everything we could have hoped for with my dad walking me down the aisle and my mother sitting in the front row, tear streaked cheeks and some serious perma-smile going on. The reception was likewise incredible - our music was perfect, food delicious and guests loving. Every one enjoyed themselves and we couldn't have planned it more perfectly (for us, at least).
We enjoyed going to Logan for our open house and I had the opportunity to meet his family. We smiled til our faces hurt and drove the 13 hours back to Arizona with a car packed full of gifts and good memories.
After all of the fuss, all of the unpacking, unwrapping and unwinding, we had to deal with marriage. You know, the leave-the-toilet-seat-up-or-down, practice-actually-putting-your-socks-in-the-hamper and lets-eat-ice-cream-for-dinner-every-night kinda adjustments newly weds face.
We learned a lot about the other person and had plenty of arguments over what Christmas music was allowed to be played in the house, whether or not we should get a puppy, who does the laundry and who pulls the weeds and what time we leave for church on Sundays.
My husband finally learned how expensive make-up is and I learned about RC cars. It works. We like each other enough to work through it, thankfully.
Being married is a hard adjustment. For me, at least. Not growing up in this church, not knowing the culture my whole life has proven to be difficult in situations like this. As a woman, you lose your last name and essentially your identity as an individual. You are no longer Jane Smith, the artist, you are Mrs. Johnson, Mr. Johnson's wife.
In my case, I am now Sister Larson, the Sunday school teacher for the 14 year old's. My husband, Brother Larson has the same calling. We also share the same temple calling serving in the Baptistry of the Gilbert Temple where we were sealed. We are also called to serve with the missionaries at the same time, asked to give opening and closing prayers in sacrament meeting on the same Sunday and assigned to be co-speakers during sacrament speaking on the same exact topic.
Kind of over-whelming from the inside looking out.
I no longer felt like Chelsea. I felt like she was lost in the chaos and was trying like hell not to have a meltdown.
Each day was a struggle, a series of adjustments and stressful choices.
I honestly feel like this is why God gives us eternal companions. Its for that companionship.
I am not alone. I have God. I have a Savior who loves me, a husband who adores me, a wonderful family who supports me, friends that uplift me and a ward family that welcomes me.
I can be sitting alone in a dark corridor, feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders and know that I am not alone, that I have my husband, who (for better or worse) is sealed to me by the holy priesthood for the rest of ever. Literally forever. And I am grateful for that.
I know many people not fortunate enough to have someone to fight with for the rest of the their life. They don't have someone to fold socks for, or love intensely. But I do, and I recognize that blessing.
Working in the temple has given me fresh perspective. There are times, in the middle of my shift where I find myself on a staircase that not many people ever get to see and it is perfectly still.
There are no flaws in the craftsmanship, the air is clean and the peace echos throughout all of the hearts in that building. In those moments, I know that I am in my fathers house. I know that the temple is the "House of the Lord".. but it truly feels like dads house. Like home.
I have a lot of adjusting yet to do.. but my blessings outweigh the trials. I am grateful that this is the beginning to my forever and I wouldn't have it any other way.
