Mark and Airin: The Temple

I have always enjoyed seeing temples. I even sang at the dedication of the Mount Timpanogos Temple, when the open house was going on in 1996. I am truly grateful for the knowledge we have as Latter-day Saints concerning the family and the saving ordinances that take place therein.

I was lucky enough to have a temple in my mission. After receiving my own endowment and going in the MTC, I had only been through a session three times by the time I made it to Michigan. In my third area, and almost 11 months into my mission, I finally had a chance to go again. I was so grateful to be able to have that experience. I had forgotten most of what was taught there, so it was a huge refresher for me. The rest of the day, all I could think about was that "nothing else matters". Not sports, not technology, not even ice cream. For me, it helped remind me that all the secular things we all take for granted won't last beyond this life.

With my companion, Elder Bolke. Detroit, Michigan temple. 2007

So for me, a Utahn, it is a great opportunity and blessing to live so very close to so many temples. For the people in Michigan, before their temple was built [1999] (and the Chicago temple was built [1985]), the closest temple was in Washington, D.C. Many of the older members would tell us the ward trips they would go on: renting a bus, driving the ten hours there and doing as much temple work collectively as they could before making the ten hour return trip. This was a meaningful sacrifice for them, but also a supernal blessing.

In roughly two hours, I could drive to 11 temples here in Utah. Give it a few more years and that number will increase at least three.

Last weekend, Airin and I had the opportunity to witness the sealing of a good friend to his wife in the Manti temple. After we checked into the temple, I promptly placed both Airin's recommend and mine in my front shirt pocket. But as we were walking out an hour later, the recommends could not be found anywhere. The front desk hadn't seen them turned in and I couldn't figure out where I had lost them. It was a sickening feeling. As I pulled out my wallet to pay for something later that day, I immediately noticed that my wallet was missing the recommend that was normally there and it honestly felt like a credit card was missing. Thankfully, we were able to get new ones the next day.

The moral of the story (and this somewhat preachy blog post) is that as members of the church, I think we sometimes take the opportunity to be Saviors on Mount Zion (Obadiah 1:21) for granted. I am speaking to myself more than anyone, and realize that we are entrusted with a sacred responsibility: the responsibility to link our families to each other, all the way back to Adam and Eve.