I was on my way home from the Cape this weekend after a little overnight getaway when Linda in the backseat got a message that THIS was happening at our little chapel in Cambridge
Stunned silence and then furious texting as we sent the news out to friends with Boston ties all across the country. We went straight over to Brattle street when we got back to the city and stood with our fellow ward members for a bit.
There is a window in the chapel that pretty much anyone you talk to about our building will mention. I've stared at that window and felt incredibly blessed, I've stared at it and wondered bitterly why I'm still staring at it-that window has been staring back at me through some of the most eventful years of my life, good and bad. When I looked at it today and could see the trees where there should be a wall I was surprised at how emotional I got.
It's just a building, I know that. And no one got hurt and they'll figure out where to send all of us for church while they rebuild. But as an adult, I have gone to this building longer then anywhere else. As I was making calls this morning-to Huntington Beach, to Salt Lake, to Washington D.C.-I thought about this little building on Brattle Street and how connected all of us who have passed through it feel. I will be heartbroken not to drive through stately old Cambridge every Sunday.
But I guess it's another reminder at how little is permanent and how important it is to just dig in and love things as much as you can while you can. I'll miss you little building.