The last week has been more than just interesting. It has been challenging, difficult, wonderful, heartbreaking, and uplifting, all at different times, somehow mashed together into what I can only call a week.
I’m going to back up a little further than last Monday. In fact, I’m going to go back more than 20 years.
Years ago, I had the opportunity to serve in the Reno Nevada Temple of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It was an amazing experience that I loved. Every Saturday for a number of years I would get up early and go serve. Then came my next great and ongoing adventure. I was married in that very same temple to the person who would encourage me to become far better than I ever could have become on my own, my Valerie.
Life moved forward. I had different responsibilities in the Church. I volunteered with other organizations. I spent time with my family and love almost every moment we could be together.
But I missed serving in the temple.
About six years ago, I really wanted to return to that service, but it just wasn’t in the cards. That changed this month when I received a calling to serve in the Ogden Utah Temple. I was ecstatic.
Last Monday I was preparing for my very first Friday evening shift. I was excited. Work had gone fine that day, and family life was doing great.
Then Tuesday came.
With an unexpected telephone call came an expected message.
My father-in-law, Paul, had passed away.
Paul had Alzheimer’s disease. What a cruel illness that is. I watched my wife lose her father twice. First there was the loss of a few memories, then more memories, and eventually the loss of nearly all memories and recognition of family. We became strangers to him, though he would tell us we seemed like nice people.
Then came the loss of mobility until full-time care became necessary.
Throughout all of this, Valerie’s mother did amazing things for Paul. She cared for him. She watched over him. She provided for him in ways that only a devoted companion can. Even when the difficult decision had to be made to move Paul into a care facility, she found the perfect place for him. There she became friends with the caregivers. While they cared for Paul, she cared for Paul and for them.
But with that phone call came another loss. This time it was Paul’s physical death.
The dynamic of the family changed immediately. Planning began for a celebration of everything Paul had created, accomplished, and loved.
Over the last several days I have watched my wife, her sisters, her brother, and her mother lovingly work through what a fitting tribute should be for this husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and friend.
As the days passed, Friday finally arrived.
It was my first shift in the temple, and I was excited.
But as is often the case, things didn’t go exactly according to plan.
Work was more difficult than expected. Expectations at home didn’t align with the time I had available. Before I knew it, I was unsettled and frustrated.
About halfway to the temple, I realized I needed to turn around and go home.
Going back home would make me late. There was no question about that.
But I did it anyway.
I came barreling into the house, connected a computer to the television for my daughter and her friends, grabbed my razor, and headed back out the door knowing I would be late.
There was no way I could make it on time.
And yet, by some miracle, I arrived only one or two minutes after I was supposed to be there.
Waiting for me was a temple worker who had been assigned as my trainer.
I looked at him, and before I could say what I was thinking, he said it.
“I know you.”
Neither of us could figure out how we knew each other, but there was an immediate connection, and somehow he was meant to be my trainer that night.
During our prayer meeting I was greeted by the other brethren with love and gratitude. A few even told me that I was an answer to their prayers.
What an amazing feeling.
To be an answer to someone’s prayer is a gift that melts your heart.
We moved into training, and it felt as though I had never left temple service. A few procedures had changed, but the important things had not. Those things were still there, right where they had always been.
The Lord had blessed me with exactly what I needed. He had helped me remember the beautiful things of the temple.
As I served that evening, my focus settled on the Lord and on those who had come to worship that day.
While sitting quietly and waiting for an assignment, I thought about my mother-in-law, my father-in-law, and my dear wife. As my heart broke for them, and for all of us, I was gently reminded of the blessings the Lord has promised through His temple.
Each ordinance came clearly to mind, from baptism and confirmation to the initiatory, the endowment, and finally the beautiful sealing ordinance that binds husband and wife (and families) together for time and all eternity.
I left the temple that night grateful beyond words that this particular week was my first week back as a temple worker.
What a blessing it was to my heart.
As this new week has progressed, challenges have continued. Work is not easy right now. Obstacles seem to appear at every turn.
Yet my time in the temple, those ordinances, and the feeling of being close to my Lord have stayed with me. They have influenced my perspective and helped me as I counsel and support Valerie.
Today was not an easy day at work, which is one reason I am writing this down.
Remembering brings hope. Remembering brings peace.
Let me focus for a moment on my father-in-law.
Paul was a man of faith.
His love for his family was complete. He was always there for them. He worked hard to provide for them. As a small business owner, he trusted that through honest hard work the Lord would provide. That trust grew into a successful business that employed many people and helped support many families.
He loved his children and grandchildren. He attended recitals, plays, and sporting events. He took them to movies. He watched games with them. He knew them individually, and he loved them deeply.
He was a man of strong character.
He allowed his wife, Maureen, to shine. He supported her as she raised their children, planned family gatherings, and served in her community. When she needed him, he was there. The rest of the time he often stepped aside so she could be the one in the spotlight.
When Paul wasn’t at home, you could usually find him at work.
He loved what he did.
Sitting in his office, he would create beautiful drawings of places people would want to live. He designed neighborhoods and open spaces that invited people to enjoy community. Places where neighbors could become friends and friends could become family. Places where people could gather, play, share meals, and build relationships.
He also worked on commercial developments that brought beauty into workplaces and communities.
Even the location of his office reflected who he was. He chose a place where he could watch the roadrunners race past his window.
That was Paul.
Balance. Creativity. Faith. Love.
He excelled at helping others shine.
His wisdom was quiet, but profound for those willing to listen.
Tonight we sit in our homes with memories of Paul’s impact on our earthly lives.
But that is not all.
As I was reminded in the temple last Friday, Paul is closer to us now than many people might imagine.
Though he has left his mortal body, he remains bound by his covenants and by his faith.
Because of that, I believe he can touch our hearts even more deeply than before.
The veil is thin. Much thinner than most of us realize.
As I write tonight, I feel Paul’s presence, accompanied by the comforting influence of the Holy Ghost.
The love and peace are deep.
I do not sorrow tonight because my heart is full, even overflowing.
I know that Paul lives.
He is growing beyond the limitations of mortality into something greater and more complete. He continues to learn, to serve, and to draw closer to God.
Death is not the end.
It is the beginning of another stage of existence filled with learning, growth, and opportunity. A place where we continue to learn how to love and serve more perfectly and where we come to better understand our divine heritage as sons and daughters of a living God.
Each of us can begin that journey now.
We can choose to walk in ways that honor our divine nature and reflect the inheritance our Heavenly Father has promised.
To my father-in-law, Paul, thank you.
Thank you for your example and for the way you raised my dear wife.
She is a woman of faith who loves both her father on earth and her Father in Heaven.
You have done well.
Now we honor you by walking the path you helped create, a path of faith-filled service, devotion, and love.
Until we meet again face to face, I will strive to feel your influence, listen to the Holy Spirit, and serve my Savior in ways that honor your example, honor the Lord Jesus Christ, and honor our Father in Heaven.