Shown their eternal possibilities

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Priesthood Session of the October 2004 Conference.
I noticed a theme in this session about seeing the best in people. President Faust said, talking about some young men in a ward he knew of:
Previous to this time I had been with four of these priests in a different situation. … They drove away every seminary teacher after two or three months. They spread havoc over the countryside on Scouting trips. But when they were needed—when they were trusted with a vital mission—they were among those who shone the most brilliantly in priesthood service.
The secret was that the bishop called upon his Aaronic Priesthood to rise to the stature of men to whom angels might well appear; and they rose to that stature, administering relief to those who might be in want and strengthening those who needed strengthening.
[One] fundamental reason that largely accounts for great changes of attitudes, of habits, of actions [is that] men have been shown their eternal possibilities and have made the decision to achieve them. They cannot really long rest content with mediocrity once excellence is within their reach.…

The passage of time has not altered the capacity of the Redeemer to change men’s lives. As He said to the dead Lazarus, so He says to you and to me, “Come forth.” I add: Come forth from the despair of doubt. Come forth from the sorrow of sin. Come forth from the death of disbelief. Come forth to a newness of life.
Theoretically I have always believed in thinking and expecting the best of people, especially my own children. But I think in practice it's sometimes so hard for me to believe that ordinary people really can rise to God's high expectations. I think about "the youth" even in the church and see how many things they are (in my view) failing at…the challenges they aren't rising to…the standards they are rejecting…and I feel like there's nothing anyone can do to help them! But that shows such a lack of faith. I'm sure Jesus Christ can help and change them, just as he can change all of us! And I need to remember to keep my own vision clear to see that possibility, so I can help my children see and believe in that great potential in themselves as well.

The Provo Temple

The Provo Temple has closed and started its renovation process—renovation being a gentle word for it, because what it really is is total destruction…followed by a sort of rebirth, but in a completely different style. It's not the Ship of Theseus, even, where you can debate whether or not it's the same ship after each separate part has been replaced. No, it's wholesale eradication. The Provo Temple will cease to exist.

We went to see it one last time the day after it closed, to take a few pictures of our family there. The gates were shut, but there were crowds of people milling around, taking pictures and sitting on blankets on the grass. It was an unseasonably warm February Sunday afternoon and the crowds felt almost festive, except it seemed sad too, all of us just looking in from afar, unable to enter this place we had loved.

It's okay, of course. There will eventually be a Provo Temple again, surely a lovely place that will look…much like every other temple in the area. And it's God's house, so I suppose He gets to say what He wants done with it. For all I know, this is a metaphor for the wholesale rebuilding of all of us, as C.S. Lewis imagines it—you know the quote: 
…He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”
So I don't wish to complain. Blessing enough that God Himself invites me into His house, without me thinking He should also consult me on the design and disposal of it. However…allow me a few random reminiscences about this temple that was, for so long, my temple, and a place where I came to know God.

• I used to run around the temple every single morning at 5 a.m. All through high school, through much of college and some of junior high, every morning I did that 3.3 mile loop—past the church (which became the "old church" at some point when we switched chapels)…through the parking lot…up the Wymount Terrace Hill…then around the temple property clockwise in the dark while sleepily thinking about the "pillar of fire by night." 

• I got hit by a bird there once, startling me perhaps more than I've ever been startled in my life—one minute running along freely, the next minute feeling the tiny poof of soft wings and delicate bones, like a ball of dough collapsing against my chest. I staggered and stopped, and so did the bird, pausing mid-flight somehow as we looked each other over—and then off it went, wobbly and disgruntled, and me off in the other direction wondering about chance encounters and if they mean anything.

• In cross-country we would occasionally head up to the temple for the dreaded "Temple Hills" workout…10 or 12 repeat hill sprints up the north side trying to catch Coach Olsen, then back down past Coach Low with his white pickup truck and orange water cooler, trying to stretch out those last few downhill meters as long as possible before we had to turn and tackle the hill again.

• My young women's classes visited the temple often—not as often, perhaps, as youth are able to do now, because we still used group recommends and didn't have our own—but it felt comfortable to me there, if maybe not as exciting as I'd hoped before I knew what it was like. My friends and I stifled giggles in the chapel and shared hairdryers in the dressing room, and shyly smiled at the boys across the elevated oxen-borne font. I got up the courage one day to ask to wear my glasses into the water, so I could look into the "mirrors of eternity" and actually see my reflection stretching back forever and forward forever, rather than seeing the blurry pool of darkness and light my poor eyesight usually showed to me after I handed my glasses to someone else to hold. When I got contact lenses, one of the things I most looked forward to was swimming, and doing temple baptisms, with clear vision.

• Sam and I used to walk around the temple while we were dating, planning out our life together bit by bit and piece by piece. It felt distant, and then it felt possible, and then terrifying, and then exciting—all those walks, all those talks giving us time to haltingly fit the pieces of ourselves together as maybe—someday—we would do it for real.

• My first time visiting the temple for my own endowment was on a warm April evening. The ladies helping me with the ordinances were comforting and familiar—I really did know some of them from stake girls camp and other encounters, but they all felt like grandmothers or aunts. I felt so loved as I went from place to place, never going more than a minute without a smile or a gentle touch on the hand to show me where to go. I watched the endowment ceremony unfold with a sense of mingled wonder and unreality—pausing to briefly exchange pleased glances with my mom when the temple film showed a bunny—and to steal looks at Sam sitting between my dad and his dad on the other side of the room. I wondered if I'd feel transformed when I left the temple that night. I didn't. But I felt like I'd had the tiniest, briefest glimpse of a vision that might someday be realized.
• I wasn't at the temple when I got the answer to my prayer about marrying Sam—that came on a golden Fall day running the Squaw Peak road—but I got subsequent reassurances there, and when the wedding day finally came, the Provo Temple is where we chose to be sealed, feeling like royalty the way we were celebrated and fussed over by the temple workers, who told us sadly, "Most of the brides these days want to go somewhere more photogenic." We walked by "our" sealing room every time we went back there after that—squeezing hands as we remembered how it had felt to sit there on the couch together, holding hands, with all our lives before us.

• In the Provo Temple, my beloved nursery leader—the one who loved me and held me on his lap every Sunday when I was two years old and crying at being left by my mom—my gentle neighbor and kind friend, Richard Ellsworth— sealed Sam and me for time and eternity, and told us the beautiful roots of the words I have always remembered—husband, hus-bondi, the one who is bound to the house, and though he has to go away to fight battles and provide for his family, he always comes back, because he is bound there with the bonds of his own love and theirs. And wife, the viv, the life of the home—the one who animates, illuminates, creates, enlivens. When I think of who I have tried to be in our marriage, I think of that sealing room and those words.

• At some point the powers that be decided to repaint or redo the Provo Temple spire, to add Moroni and make it white. I didn't mind it. I missed the "pillar of fire," but I liked seeing Moroni up there too, waiting patiently for the Savior as I myself was trying to. I liked the new fountains they added on the grounds, and hoped they would entice more people to come for weddings, so those dear old ladies could be as excited for them as they had been for me.

• There was a year I couldn't attend the temple, but my bishop instructed me to go there often, to the grounds, and feel its spirit. I went every week. Alone in the car or on foot, I sat and thought about what the temple was, what it meant to the world—what it meant to me, and what it might yet mean to me. The day I went back, Sam and I were asked to be the witness couple in an endowment session, and I felt—as strong as anything I've ever felt— God's love and acceptance and forgiveness, welcoming me back to His house. He knew and understood. He rejoiced to have me there. It was the first of many miracles that led me back from thinking miracles, at least for me, were "done away."

• Under a pine tree in the Provo Temple grounds, Sam asked me for the second time to marry him, and for the second time I told him yes—this time knowing what it had cost, what it might still cost, and embracing that joy and that cost as one joy.

• We walked that familiar around-the-temple route a few times with our children, but life got busier, and by the time Malachi was a few months old, we had moved away, and a new temple near our new house became "my" temple. I have had sacred experiences there too—too many to count. For me, going inside any temple is going home. I hope my children will feel it too, wherever they go.

• My last time visiting the Provo Temple was almost exactly a year ago, when my brothers were in town for a niece's wedding. We got to go to an Endowment Session, my mom and all four of us children and our spouses, and it was familiar and unfamiliar all at once. We walked into our sealing room, knowing it would probably be the last time. I sat in the celestial room and cried, not for the loss of the temple, but for the loss of so many other things. God spoke to me then as he had twenty years ago—He knew my losses, and kept them in His heart. He gave me peace.

• Plenty of people used to say the Provo Temple looked like a spaceship—like a wedding cake—too 70's, too old-fashioned—but to me it was one of the most beautiful places in the world. "The place of Mormon, the waters of Mormon, the forest of Mormon, how beautiful are they to the eyes of them who there came to the knowledge of their Redeemer." I love the Provo Temple—how beautiful it is to my eyes. I will miss it greatly. I wish it didn't have to change; I wish those places which are sacred to me and so many others could be preserved somehow. But they will be preserved here, and in my memories.

A special brotherhood and sisterhood

This post is part of the General Conference Odyssey. This week covers the Saturday Afternoon Session of the October 2004 Conference.
This week I was struck by two descriptions of what Priesthood Quorums and Relief Societies are supposed to be. About Priesthood Quorums, Elder L. Tom Perry said,
I wish the feeling and respect we have for our Council [of the Twelve Apostles] could be transported to every quorum in the Church…

In our Quorum, we have a special brotherhood. We are there to lift, inspire, and bless each other with the spirit of our calling. When one is burdened, there are 11 others anxious to help lift and share that burden. At times we rejoice together in feelings of accomplishment. We weep together in times of sorrow. We never feel as if we are facing a problem alone! There is always the counsel, support, help, and encouragement of our Quorum members.
It sounds amazing to be part of that quorum. But I think it's so hard for most men to ever find this kind of friendship and support! At least it has been for Sam. So many men have golf buddies or sports buddies or whatever, but this deep, true brotherhood seems really rare. I wish we could achieve it more often in the church!

Women, maybe, have an easier time finding sisterhood. I've definitely felt love and friendship in Relief Society, in several different wards. But President Hinckley (quoted by Sister Parkin) had a higher vision there too:
Relief Society has blessed my family and the family of my dear wife for some seven generations. Since the earliest days of the Church, our mothers and daughters have been taught of their obligations to those in distress. They have been schooled in the finer points of homemaking, encouraged in their spiritual development, and guided in the realization of their full potential as women. Much of this has taken place in Relief Society and has then been brought home to bless the life of each member of my family.
I love that ideal for my daughters—not only to find friendship (which is wonderful) but to truly learn gospel service, and to love homemaking, and to feel what godly womanhood really is. I would love to feel like we were learning in Relief Society how to create the kind of home our Heavenly Mother made for us! And I love the idea of men and women working together rather than subtly competing with each other. I hadn't ever heard this story before, but I loved it:
The year 1842 was extremely difficult for the Prophet Joseph Smith. Former friends had turned on him. Other enemies wanted to abduct him from Nauvoo and blunt the growth of the Church. That same year he organized the Relief Society to care for the poor and needy and “to save souls.” President J. Reuben Clark Jr. observed that amidst these trials, Joseph Smith “turned to the sisters for the consolation, for the uplift of which he stood in such sad need at that time.” This is a moving and humbling thought: a prophet of God seeking the solace of his sisters—women to whom he had given the charge “charity never faileth.” To me this has echoes of those women who mourned with the Savior on Golgotha.
I realize that there's a lot more I could do to contribute to an "ideal Relief Society" in my own ward. It's hard to feel as connected when I'm serving in Primary, but I think that's partly my own fault. And getting to know other sisters through ministering is something I can always do better at. I'm sure the same is true for Sam in his Priesthood Quorum. 

Anyway, it's nice to see this vision and to think that these ideals really are possible—Jesus Christ wants us to achieve them, and has set up the church so we can achieve them! In some places, maybe this Zion-like society is already beginning. I know I've seen glimpses of it here and there. I hope it can grow in my own life too!

A little of everything

February, along with August, is Birthday Season! My birthday was on a Sunday this year and the best part of the day was watching how happy Gus was to ride on the chair cart after church. :)
Clementine and I both wore bunny dresses, of course!
Teddy's birthday present from Daisy was to make a little movie with her. He was the handsome Mr. Darcy.
Bunny cakes!
Clementine loves birthdays no matter whose they are!
The last birthday was Sam's, and it was the same day Abe came home from his mission! What a happy day it was. Two years ago when Abe entered the Missionary Training Center on Sam's birthday, we were all somewhat sad and droopy during the subsequent birthday festivities, so it seemed only fair that we get to make up for that this year! It was so good to have the stake president and his wife, both of whom we love, in our home for Abe's release, and to soak in the special Spirit of God that attends such occasions—even when the occasions go on a little too long for wiggly little monkeys. We ate a late birthday dinner, celebrated Ky's first sub-5:00 mile in  a track meet, and hugged Abe every time he got within arm's reach!

———

One day (not a birthday, oddly) Seb took it into his head to make a peanut butter cake.
Clementine helped.
Typical Seb: when we didn't have any peanut butter cups to decorate the top of the cake, he looked a recipe and made his own. They were really good!
Seb and Ziggy getting ice cream together

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Clementine (and Evie) helping Daisy make waffles
Clementine with Hat Monkey (missing his hat)
Clementine wearing foxy tights
Clementine, much to her own surprise and delight, drew a gnome
She insists on matching Evie whenever possible, even if it means wearing a nightgown that does not yet fit!
Clementine and Gus "being blue guys"

———

Getting ready for Abe coming home—Daisy was very proud of her organized bookshelves
Making posters
“Mommy, is this a perfect bacon for Abey?”
“Umm…what? A what?”
“Is this a perfect bacon for Abey?”
“I…guess so!”
“Okay. Look, I wrote Abey on it. See? N-O-I-S. That’s how I write Abey.”
All the excitement made her fall asleep before we even left for the airport! :)

———

The second-to-last Sunday Abe was on his mission, he got released as Branch President. A lady from his stake who was visiting the branch sent me a screenshot from LDS tools and a zoom link to their meeting, saying "I thought you might like to see your son conducting." She was right. I did. Really a cool experience.
And here he is home! I can still hardly believe it.
Old friends reunited after nearly four years!
Abe wanted new profile pictures for his various accounts, so I took some of him on the hill.
Because of Abe's hard work (and unique circumstances) before his mission, he was able to save enough money to pay for his own mission as well as have quite a bit of savings left over. So just a few days after he got home, he was car shopping! He and Sam had a good time discussing the merits and drawbacks of various types of cars, and shopping around all over the valley.
He ended up with this cute Mazda 3!

———

Clementine and Malachi in a chess stare-down

———

We had a bout of sickness sweep through the family. It didn't get all of us, but Clementine was tired and sick for several days. 
I confess that I loved it. Clementine and Gus both wanted to snuggle with me nonstop, and whenever I tried to slip away after they finally fell asleep, they would stir and reach out for me fretfully, whimpering until I lay back down with them. I will miss these times when they are gone, as they already are for most of the children.
Gus, having rallied enough to sip some Sprite. He still looks pale in this picture.
Sick person's dormitory

———

One night Sam and I came home from our date to find our room made into a fancy hotel.
Everyone had helped, even Gus. :)
Ooh, so clean and elegant!
This pillow has something fishy about it, though.

———

Yearly picture of Daisy and her cousin Ben
Daisy crocheted this lacy shawl from a pattern book she got for Christmas
It's so pretty!
To earn money for pointe shoes, Daisy and Junie have started teaching a little ballet class on Tuesday mornings for 3- and 4-year-olds in the neighborhood. It is the cutest thing ever! I love watching them. They started with an 8-week session and they have four little students, but lots of other families have expressed interest, so they may do another session after this! It works pretty well to just roll the living room rug back and move the couches, although they wish they had a barre.
Hopping like bunnies
Dancing with the scarves is everyone's favorite!
Sometimes Clementine can't be kept away, so she comes and joins in. She's so cute! I suppose I should just get her a leotard and let her join for real. All week long, she'll say to me matter-of-factly, "I'm going to ballet," and then head right out the front door! (Which makes no sense, really, since ballet is at our house.)
Cute, cute, cute little dancers!

———

Goldie buried in warm towels. I used to love this when I was little, too.
Goldie going out to do some good works in the parish

———

And now we make a jarring turn to this screed I found written in a little notebook. Clearly Ziggy was not happy with Gus for some reason! Poor Gus.
Usually they are such good little friends, though! And Clementine too…see her there off on the hill.
We used to be able to keep Clementine inside by locking the doors, but now she can unlock them and she is always determined to go join her brothers if they're outside! It's not good! We are often having to run out and retrieve her.
When I came out to bring her in on this day, she explained, "I just nuggling."
Zig drew this rather menacing march of gnomes for Clementine
Boys in a box
We had such a great police station tour to go with our Emergency Workers Unit. I was so glad the policeman was kind and sweet to little hero-worshiping Ziggy. I looked up mid-tour and Ziggy had just trustingly taken Officer Hansen's hand! 
This is Ziggy's face after the policeman told him to push a button on the console, and he realized he had turned on the flashing lights!
Oh it was a happy day for him. And interesting for the rest of us, too!

———

Sam brought home flowers for me one day and we reflected on some events of this past year. Devastating, joyful, and everything in between. We are learning to trust the Lord and rely on His daily bread, to hold onto hope in His promises. We are continually blessed.

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