Touching the Temple on Father's Day

We had a good day. Until I change my mind otherwise, attending church on Father's Day is just something we won't be doing. I refused to feel tortured (or torturing my children) with having my children join the other children in singing songs like "I'm So Glad When Daddy Comes Home." So we did our own Father's Day churchy activities instead.

What better than a trip to go visit the temple grounds, pioneer cemetery, and neighboring Mormon Trail Center. We dressed up and took pictures and it was perfect. Unless the kids want to go to church next year on Father's Day, I plan to continue this tradition as long as we live in Omaha.

For a long while now, I have wanted to take pictures with my boys touching the handle of the temple. A smart primary president took my brother Jonathan and my sister Kara (and a gaggle of other primary kiddos) to the Oakland temple one time for this exact purpose. The kids got to go to the visitor's center there and take pictures. I always thought it was such a sweet picture that my siblings had of this special trip. So that's what we did today. With the temple closed on Sundays, it was the perfect time to go and get pictures without people coming and going.

I had heard several people quote this idea of "touching the temple" and wanted to find out which prophet said it, so I went on a hunt this afternoon. I found a couple quotes, but this one I particularly liked:

"During one year, the Primary organization conducted an effort to have the children become better acquainted with the holy temples of God. This frequently entailed a visit to the temple grounds. The laughter of small children, the joy of unfettered youth, and the exuberance of energy displayed by them gladdened the heart of this observer. As a loving teacher guided a boy or girl to the large door of the Salt Lake Temple and the little one reached out and up to touch the temple, I could almost see the Master welcoming the little children to His side and could almost hear His comforting words: “Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” Thomas S. Monson, "Finding Peace," Liahona: March 2004

As I read this talk, I knew it wasn't a coincidence that I found this talk today. Several portions spoke to my heart today. This final part that I will quote here is something that I will reflect on in the future. This sweet letter from a husband to his wife spoke to me today. I loved the following last section of this talk. So grateful for my wonderful father, and I'm so grateful for the good father of my children. I am eternally one lucky lady.

Thomas S. Monson (continued):
"Look heavenward. As we do, we find it comforting and satisfying to communicate with our Heavenly Father through prayer, that path to spiritual power—even a passport to peace. We are reminded of His Beloved Son, the Prince of Peace, that pioneer who literally showed the way for others to follow. His divine plan can save us from the Babylons of sin, complacency, and error. His example points the way. When faced with temptation, He shunned it. When offered the world, He declined it. When asked for His life, He gave it.

On one significant occasion, Jesus took a text from Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound” 11 —a clear pronouncement of the peace that passeth all understanding.

Frequently, death comes as an intruder. It is an enemy that suddenly appears in the midst of life’s feast, putting out its lights and its gaiety. Death lays its heavy hand upon those dear to us and, at times, leaves us baffled and wondering. In certain situations, as in great suffering and illness, death comes as an angel of mercy. But to those bereaved, the Master’s promise of peace is the comforting balm which heals: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” 12 “I go to prepare a place for you … ; that where I am, there ye may be also.” 13

How I pray that all who have loved then lost might know the reality of the Resurrection and have the unshakable knowledge that families can be forever. One such was a Major Sullivan Ballou, who, during the time of the American Civil War, wrote a touching letter to his wife—just one week before he was killed in the Battle of Bull Run. With me, feel the love of his soul, his trust in God, his courage, his faith.

“July 14, 1861

“Camp Clark, Washington

“My very dear Sarah:

“The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more. …

“I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. … I am … perfectly willing … to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government. …

“Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.

“The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive [me] my … faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness. …

“But, O Sarah! if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights … always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.” 14

Our Message of Peace
The darkness of death can ever be dispelled by the light of revealed truth. “I am the resurrection, and the life,” spoke the Master. “He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.” 15

Added to His own words are those of the angel, spoken to the weeping Mary Magdalene and the other Mary as they approached the tomb to care for the body of their Lord: “Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, but is risen.” 16

Such is our message. He lives! And because He lives all shall indeed live again. This knowledge provides the peace for loved ones of those whose graves are hallowed resting places in Flanders fields, where the poppies blow in springtime, and for those who rest in countless other locations, including the depths of the sea. “Oh, sweet the joy this sentence gives: ‘I know that my Redeemer lives!’” 17