"We seldom get into trouble when we speak softly. It is only when we raise our voices that the sparks fly and tiny molehills become great mountains of contention."
One
of our temple students was an older gentleman, in his 70s, who had
been a member of the ward for many years, but he sat in the back,
came alone, and we did not know him very well.
We
knew that he had joined the Church alone, hoping that his wife would
follow eventually, but she never did. In fact, she didn’t come
with him to ward socials or any other church activities; we have met
her on two, possibly three occasions over the course of many years.
Brother
Carter had decided that, much as he wished for his wife to join him
in the blessings of the gospel, much as he had hoped that the light
and happiness he found in it would reach and draw her in, it was not
likely to happen. He talked to the bishop about his desire to have
the blessings of the temple in his life, even though he would have to
experience them alone.
He
would not be able to have the blessing of being sealed to his wife or
children, though he hoped that someday that might still be possible.
He did not want his life to end without receiving his own endowment.
In a real sense, he desired to be “fully in” with the
Saints.
We
taught him the temple lessons along with teaching our own son, who
was getting ready for a mission. Sometimes we take a long time with
those six lessons because of individual questions, but both of these
students had long experience in gospel instruction, and the lessons
progressed pretty smoothly.
Our
son actually had a deadline with his mission call, so we leapfrogged
over one lesson to be sure that we covered the one about symbolism —
an all-important concept for temple worship — and then went
back with Brother Carter, finishing the last week with him alone.
When
he was ready and had obtained his recommend, we suggested to him that
he could prepare the names of his parents so that their ordinances
could be done too. That way he could be sealed to them on the same
day.
Brother
Carter has a tracheostomy — a tube and valve in the front of
his throat. He can only speak by covering the opening with his
finger, and lifting it to breathe. Most of us can talk and breathe
at the same time without worrying about what we’re doing, but
he can’t. His voice is distinctive, but he does the best he
can do.
After
we had arrived at the temple and headed in our separate directions, I
wondered how that was going to go, but I figured he would address the
issue with the temple workers. It was a lovely session. Brother
Carter did not physically speak at those points where his voice would
have been a distraction.
After
the session, I was sitting in the celestial room in a chair nearest
to the spot where the brethren from our session would come into it.
My husband joined me shortly, and we quietly enjoyed the serenity for
a few minutes.
Then
from the direction of the other room, I heard what sounded, as best I
can describe, like strangled gargling. After a momentary sympathetic
wince, I realized what it must be.
“That’s
him, isn’t it?” I whispered to my husband.
Yes,
it was Brother Carter. The member of the temple presidency giving
instruction before the session had told him that at the veil he must
stand forth and audibly respond. I was blinded for a moment by
sudden tears.
“The
keeper of the gate is the Holy One of Israel; and he employeth no
servant there.” (2 Nephi 9:41) When we come to stand before
the Lord, we present ourselves, with all our impairments, all our
infirmities, and in our own language, and He will understand us
perfectly.
Through
His love and His atonement, He will mend what is broken and teach us
what is not known. When we finally step through into His presence,
none of the things that troubled us here will matter; it will all be
swept away. Our Savior himself meets each of us where we are, as we
are, and brings us to Him.
Brother
Carter had a joyful experience, years longed for, in the temple that
first day. He returned just a few days later, and then again and
again. He stopped us at church in a quiet corner about two months
later; he wanted us to know that his life was happy, his home was
happier, and even his visiting daughter had asked what had changed.
The
relationship with his wife, sometimes focused before on the
negatives, had sweetened. The atmosphere was warm rather than
strained, and she could feel it.
He
told them all that it was the temple, and bore a simple testimony of
the blessings of the gospel. That hasn’t brought any of them
to church, but it has made at least some difference in their
perceptions. Who knows what the future holds? Our Heavenly Father
takes the long view.
“The
keeper of the gate is the Holy One of Israel, and he employeth no
servant there.” Simple words, simple truth: he knows us, he
loves us, he saves us one by one, heart to heart and face to face.
Marian J. Stoddard was born in Washington, D.C., and grew up in its Maryland suburbs. Her
father grew up in Carson City, Nevada, and her mother in Salt Lake City, so she was always
partly a Westerner at heart, and she ended up raising her family in Washington State. Her family
took road trips all over the United States and Canada, so there were lots of adventures.
The adventures of music, literature, and art were also valued and pursued. Playing tourist always
included the local museums as well as historical sites and places of natural beauty. Discussions
at home, around the dinner table or working in the kitchen, could cover politics, philosophy, or
poetry, with the perspective of the gospel underlying all. Words and ideas, and testimony and
service, were the family currency.
Marian graduated from Winston Churchill High School in Potomac, Maryland, and attended the
University of Utah as the recipient of the Ralph Hardy Memorial Scholarship, where she was
graduated with honors, receiving a B.A. in English. She also met the love of her life, a law
student, three weeks after her arrival; she jokes that she had to marry him because her mother
always wanted a tenor in the family. (She sings second soprano.) They were married two years
later and have six children and six grandchildren (so far). She treasures her family, her friends,
and her opportunities to serve.
Visit Marian at her blog, greaterthansparrows. You can contact her at
bloggermarian@gmail.com.
Marian and her husband live in Tacoma, Washington. Together they teach those who are
preparing to go to the temple for the first time, and she also teaches a Stake Relief Society
Institute class.