Gratitude Day #24 - Temples - 24 Nov 2017

Today I am grateful for the temple.

Most of you know that I am LDS. And a good many of you are familiar with the Salt Lake Temple, which is right across the street from the Family History Library.

A few more may know that there is perhaps a temple in your city, in your state, or in your country.

Actually, there are 158 operating temples across the world, with 12 more under construction and 12 more that have been announced.

At some point, there will be hundreds more of these temples across the world.

Kerry and I met in the Washington, DC temple over forty years ago. He had been working there a few years, and together we would work a few years more.

Once all of our children reached age 19, we began working at the temple here in Columbus. (The Church does not assign people to work in the temple while they still have family at home, which is first priority.)

We have been working in the Columbus Temple since 2002, and 2003 (for me). So, we started out our married lives in the temple, and will finish up our lives there, too.

Some temples are huge. Washington, DC., Los Angeles, and Salt Lake City are examples of the three largest. Our temple is much smaller. But, the important work that we do inside is exactly the same in every way as what is done in the larger temples.

There is no difference at all.

Kerry and I work each Friday. And, when I get in the car at the end of the day, the first picture below reflects what I see in my side mirror. I've been seeing it for fourteen years, and it still makes me stop and think each time it comes into view.

I've read my share of misconceptions about the temple through the years. I've read some very hurtful things as people mock what they think they know about it. During the presidential election when Mitt Romney was a candidate, I had to unfriend several FB friends because of irreverent comments about something I hold very sacred.

It hurt me.

In short, we believe families can be forever. This is where those beautiful ordinances are performed for both the living, and by proxy for the dead.

So, this is not a theology lesson. This is simply another statement of my gratitude for such lovely edifices as these temples. I can walk inside the doors, bring my burdens and my cares there, worship the Lord and listen for answers, and totally -- and I do mean totally -- remove myself from the outside world.

Besides my own home, there is no other place where I feel closer to God.

People sometimes ask me where I get my strength, my fortitude, my anchor, and my kindness from. I am giving you the answer.

Only church members in good standing are permitted to enter the temples. However, if you live in an area where an open house is being held prior to its dedication, or perhaps one is being closed for updating and refurbishing with an open house following, I urge you to attend. Drink in the beauty. Feel the peace. (PS -- Washington DC will be closing March 2018 for two years. There will be an open house after the renovation, it will be open to the public for a short time.)

To learn more about temples: https://www.lds.org/temples/inside-temples?lang=eng

A list of temples is here (many have Visitors Centers): https://www.lds.org/temples/list?lang=eng

I mourn with France

My head and my heart are heavy this week as we reel from all of the newscasts that are flooding the media.  I mourn with the people of France.

I have never been to France.  But, my heart has.  I took four years of French in high school.  I don't know why.  Everyone else seemed to be taking Spanish, which I probably should have done.  But, I've never been one to jump on bandwagons, so I took French.

The first thing we did in French class was look up all of the bad words.  To this day, the only things I can remember in French are beef, eggs, and telling someone where to go.

But, during my senior year I was invited to go on a special trip to France.  I was one of the top students in the class, so part of the fee for traveling would be covered.  Somehow, we would have to come up with the other part.

And, we did.  Things were falling into place.  I had my passport photo taken, which was awful.  We could piece together whatever else I would need.  My parents weren't too thrilled about it, but I convinced them I would be just fine with the group that was going.  My French teacher with the tight little Cheerio curls had been there many times before.

Peggy - passport photo, 1973

As we were narrowing down to the day, out of the blue my brother-in-law felt I shouldn't go.  What?  He just didn't feel good about it.  He talked with my parents, and they listened to him.

Perhaps it is well they did.  Lightning hit the plane on its way over there.  It didn't go down.  All of the students were safe.

I guess I just wasn't supposed to go.  For whatever reason it might have been, I wasn't supposed to be there.  And, I wasn't.

I still can only remember beef, eggs, and telling someone where to go.  Oh, and cheese!  I remember cheese.

Aahh...brie, a loaf of French bread, some sparkling grape juice...

But, aside from the tragedy that has beset France, I have also been delighted to learn that I have some French ancestry -- something I didn't know during my high school years.  That would have really been the icing on the cake!  

I have discovered some ancestors that were French Hugenots, as well as some that were from the Alsace-Lorraine area, long before it created in 1871.  There was always a dispute between France and Germany over this border area.  My people are from both countries.

So, though I've never been to the country that came to rescue us in the Revolutionary War, a small part of my heart -- and my heritage -- remains there.