I Love to See the Temple . . . at least from a distance

I don’t know why I feel compelled to post my thoughts on the temple.  I certainly don’t want my opinions to seem like desecration to what many value so dear and sacred.  But I don’t have that sacred spiritualness.  For the most part entering the temple (to me) seems discriminatory and overall (more than any other emotion) I have felt lonely being there.  And I know I’m not alone with how I feel towards attending the temple.  I have at least two other family members who have also gone out of obligation but have walked away with less than satisfactory desire to return.

Recently I filled out this survey for LDS woman to get opinions mostly on plural marriage – which I actually don’t have a problem with in the hereafter.  The survey also asked for feedback  with the sealing process made in the temple.  I would have answered the survey questions a lot differently just two years ago than I did this week when I took this survey.  I do have a hang-up with so much that takes place in the temple – sealings being high on the list.

Roland and I were not allowed to marry in the temple at the time we were married civilly.  Though he and wife #2 had been divorced, they were still sealed to one another in “the eyes of the Lord”.  In order for Roland and I to get sealed in the temple, we needed a clearance from wife #2 – which she saw as leverage to control us – well, Roland in particular.  I don’t know why she continues with membership in the Church – or why she hasn’t been called to a disciplinary counsel.  She may not admit desire for following in Satan’s footsteps – and yet she does.  Almost as though she idolizes him.  And so it was as if our fate to be sealed in the temple was dependant on Satan herself.  That doesn’t seem fair.

Our civil marriage was thrown together after months of postponing and changing the date and hoping to be sealed.  It was what I’d been taught all of my life.  It’s what I was told to strive for.  And I was content with my civil marriage but somehow wouldn’t allow myself to feel complete.

Roland and I were able to do sealings for the dead.  I would cry each time we did them.  It didn’t seem fair that I could be sealed for others but not for myself.

In this earlier post I gave three reasons why I had given Jenna my maiden name, but I left one out.  When I was pregnant with her and Roland and I were still not sealed to one another, he was told by the bishop that Jenna was automatically sealed to him – and his first wife.  Oh, I get to carry the child for nine months but she can’t be sealed to me?  And yet Deborah (Roland’s first wife) was taken from earth while the boys were all young.  6, 4 and 3.  Plus the unborn twin boys that were taken when she was. 

One of the reasons I agreed to marry Roland is because he was already sealed to Deborah and so he could obtain Celestial glory with her while I may be destined to obtain “angelhood”  in another kingdom.

Roland and Deborah were sealed in the temple a week before she passed.  I raised boys – well from the time they were 11, 12 and 14 – so it seemed okay that she would get to raise my girl in the hereafter.  But she would still have my family name - at least while on earth.

How does that work anyway?  The entire sealing thing?  I mean, won’t the majority of us be adults in the hereafter?  It’s not as if we will be “raised” in the same way which we are on earth, does it?

Our knowledge of the hereafter is actually quite limited.  We don’t know how we’re going to feel or how it’s all going to “work out” or what we will be.  Based on my earth knowledge, the Celestial kingdom just doesn’t seem inviting to me personally.  Oh, I strive for a Celestial life because it’s been conditioned into me that that is what I want – but it really isn’t.  The very idea of creating worlds and living in spiritual and perfect glory honestly doesn’t appeal to me.  Too out of my comfort zone to maintain living in white clothing while playing harps (so to speak).  Although that’s just how heaven in perceived by some, doesn’t mean that is how we will spend all eternity.  At least I hope not.  But I certainly don’t want to be cast into hell either.

Growing up I had always heard:  “Any kingdom below Celestial Glory might as well be hell, because you’ll be all alone and you will always regret your decisions thinking ‘I could have made it’” Okay, I’m paraphrasing – and I had never actually heard that from leaders but rather cocky youth who’s minds worked like mine did because that's how we were conditioned to believe.  

 I don’t mean for it to sound like I resent the Church or Temple attendance.  I still have love and respect – but I also have hang-ups.  And though I had agreed with the un-Celestial/hell thing, I don’t anymore.

Jeanie and Biff have decided that they will be married civilly before they are sealed.  They were planning on being sealed.  They had set up a time and place from what I understand.  But guess what?  Jeanie’s first husband has a say.  They are still sealed.  The clearance presents all this red tape that is every bit as frustrating (perhaps even more so than) as it is with the government.   

I think that’s what bothers me the most – all of the politics that have crept into the Church – leading me to believe that the church and the temple are both run by the leadership of imperfect men and not always by inspiration.

My attitude now is a lot different than just a couple of years ago.  If Jeanie and Biff never get married in the temple, so be it.  It’s not as though they hadn’t tried.  And I expect their civil marriage will be far more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in the temple.  They are currently at the temple right now – just not as husband and wife.

I know that by the time Roland and I were finally sealed, it just seemed somewhat rushed and very impersonal.  And I was not alone in feeling that way – though there were several in attendance who thought it was the greatest thing ever.  Truthfully, I have only attended one sealing in which the officiator really seemed to know the couple – and provided a sense of comfort that I had not seen at any other.  The ceremony was very well attended.  For some it was standing room only.  Thus in that aspect it really wasn’t comfortable physically. 

There are some sealings I haven’t attended because of the high population of family being smooshed into even the largest of sealing rooms.  And there are many I was unable to attend before I was of age to have my own recommend.   

There is a waiting room for those who cannot go through the session with their loved ones.  Big whoop.  “Here’s a place to sit and wait for your loved one who is getting married which you can’t participate in witnessing because you are not worthy”

I don’t actually know if that’s how the lot of them feel, but that is sometimes how I felt.

I do understand the sacredness of not allowing those that would be spectators with limited understanding who may desecrate the sacredness whether intentional or not.  But still – excluding family seems a huge sacrifice that one may later regret in the future. And yet there are several couples whose sacrifice have made their marriage more complete and have provided a sense of peace and closeness.

And for every story of resentment there are just as many (if not more) experiences of the positive nature.  One example comes from my friends who had made arrangements to be sealed on a specific day.  He had cancer and was strongly advised by the doctor to schedule his surgery as soon as possible.  First available date happened to be the same date of the sealing.   

The surgery was put on the back burner against the doctor’s advice.  My friends said they return to the doctor’s the day after they were sealed.  When the returned, the doctor could not find any signs of cancer.  And so I know there is a greater power behind the temple experience.  I also know that there has been heartache involved in others.  Apparently I’m one of those “others”. 

There is the joke about St. Peter showing a Protestant couple around the kingdom of heaven.  As they pass a large door St. Peter motions for them to keep quiet.  After they pass the door (while wearing puzzled expressions) one of them asks what is behind the door. 

Peter replies that the room houses all the Mormon folk who believe they’re the only ones there. 

How sad it is that so many have been conditioned to believe that very thing, for there are many outside of the LDS faith who live wholesome and Christian lives better than many who are in the Church - as though the Mormons own the title "Church" to be spelled with a capital "C"

I once had a religion instructor explain kingdoms and the individuals’ capacity.  He compared these to vessels of water.  A Dixie cup can never hold the same amount of water as the Pacific ocean, and yet a Dixie cup is capable of being full.  I can be full to my own capacity and live happily in the kingdom in which many will share the same thoughts as I. 

  I will not be happy living in man’s idea of the Celestial “mold”  As I mentioned in this post, there were more of us who ended up in the Terrestrial kingdom than the other two combined.  Overall, those are the people I would like to hang out with for all eternity.

And as Corey and I may not be able to visit my dad (according to Mormon Doctrine – as we believe he will be obtaining the greatest of Heavenly rewards) we are hoping that dad will make the time to come and visit us according to where we are (or might be)  I would like to obtain meekness to be more like my dad.  I just don’t seem to have it in me right now – though I would like to obtain that quality.  Perhaps by becoming "meek" I would have a different perspective than what I have for myself right now.

More Parallels

Mom was at Alta Ridge and

on hospice care.  It was

a Friday.

She passed on

a Tuesday. 

Her funeral was

on a Saturday. 

Harold’s daughter-in-law

called me on

a Friday. 

Harold was still at

Alta Ridge and on

 hospice care. 

He passed on

a Tuesday. 

His funeral services will be

on Saturday.

We don’t have reason for

returning to the

 facility anymore.

 I hope that I will

never have a reason

to return.

Alley’s Mom

Her name is Maria Garcia.  Her son attends the junior high that I have passed each day since enrolling Jenna into a dual immersion program.  Juan had taken the bus to school each morning – for a while anyway.  Maria started driving him to school when the weather turned cold and the bus rides were even longer.  Jenna and I also took the bus.

About mid-December, Maria offered to drive us as well.  I thought that would end as the weather conditions got better – which they have.  We’ve had signs of spring at the end of February (I don’t recall EVER having spring so early before; seems so unfair when the nation’s capitol had to shut down due to the storms of winter.  Ouch!)

Maria continues to drive us.  She won’t accept payment for gas.  It’s really not that much.  But still, not much each day and week and month add up.  And I’m not spending money on bus passes anymore and so I have offered. 

The bus has never pulled into the school parking lot to let Jenna out; there has always been a good walk between the bus stop and the school – and then I’ve had to make the trip back but be home by 8:30 – usually.  Now I get back home at 8:00

 

 I have been more grateful some days more than others.  For the week of the sinus infection I was the most grateful.  And yesterday was wet and cold.  But today seemed rather nice.  I think we could start taking the bus again.  I’m not complaining.  Hey, if Maria wants to continue driving us, I’m okay with it.  And Jenna has been, too, actually.  Though I’m certain that will change once it warms up.

Thank you, Maria, for your willingness and gracious desire.  I truly appreciate it!

Removing Pains of February

I have never had a branch or knife gouge through my eye, but I would imagine the pain is very similar to what I have felt each year in February since moving to this cracker-box house in West Valley.  Apparently I had posted a few posts to my blog the first year I had it.  And I know I was driving.  This year I am in such awe that I was able to do it. 

Each year the pain has been worse than the last, and each year I have believed that death would be more preferable to the pain.  Because hey, once my spirit and body separate, I wouldn’t be able to experience the physical pain.

That first year I felt like a drug guinea pig.  Although the first drug issued was in December, but I had not posted the traumatic effects until February when the sinus pressure built up again.  I don’t know why I am so unfortunate to have this experience EVERY YEAR.  Enough is enough already (and I have had more than enough – thank you very much)

Worse than the pain is my distorted mind.  I feel so disconnected to my brain.  Last Sunday I did not attend Church for I knew that I would not get much (if anything) out of the meetings.

On Monday I went to a health clinic.  I told them which drug works best for me, and I got a prescription.  The packaging had changed and I’m guessing the formula did too.  It was after taking the meds that I felt worse.  I knew that the excruciating pain was due to the meds working to clear out the gunk.  I didn’t have dairy products or take any other kind of medication so that I wouldn’t jeopardize it. 

My eyelid and skin had surrounded my eye so that I was seeing the world through a slit.  I’d have the TV on and Roland would always turn it off – believing that my eyes were closed.  I didn’t realize how bad it looked until I went to put some eye drops in my eye.  It appeared that I had been stabbed by something or that a blood vessel had broken.  It was ugly – perhaps grotesque.

The next night the pain resembled that of a toothpick, and finally only a speck of dust which couldn't be removed.  Gradually the dark red faded into my natural white. 

I wrote a letter to Corey.  It took me three hours just to sort my thoughts.  If I read anything or write anything, it has got to be in a 24 font or higher.  It took me three hours to type up the letter and then the computer refused to save it and kicked me out of the system.

I cried.  I took the thumb to a different computer to see if anything was saved.  While I was waiting for the windows to open, I received a call from Harold’s daughter-in-law.  She called to inform me that Harold is now on hospice. I was crying.  But not about Harold.  Harold’s passing is actually a good thing.  I was still upset about the lost letter.  But it turns out it saved more than I thought.

I had the lesson to give yesterday.  Let me rephrase that.  I was supposed to give the lesson.  I had a few thoughts.  Not 30 minutes worth however.  I felt like a stone trying to keep myself propped up.  I was in a trans.  I would have been better off if I had stayed in bed.  Perhaps my class would have, too.

It has been a week since I went to the doctor. I feel better today than yesterday and certainly better than last week.  But not great still.  I still have a pain behind my eye.  But at least it’s not gouging.  It’s irritating.  But at least I can think more clearly than I could just yesterday or when I typed up Corey’s letter.  I miss him a lot.

I'm sorry that Roland says he is not feeling well, and I hope he isn't getting this same sinus infection that I have/had.  There are few people I would wish this pain upon: Hitler, Bin Laden, those who caused such horrible pain would still not experience the pain they caused.  But it would be a good start I suppose.

I’m grateful to those who are skilled in medicine and are able to create potions to put inside of little pills so that we might feel better.  How horrible it would be if we had to endure such pain without medicine.  

Saying Good-Bye to Mom's Angel

I wondered which one of us (me or my brother Corey) would post about Harold first.  I came up with most of these thoughts and typed them in by 1:00 am this morning - but only drafted it as I had no title.

Last year we (my sibs and I) put mom into an assisted living program as she was in need of 24/7 care.  This time last year she was trying to escape.  She wore her coat and carried her purse and would walk around the doors and windows of the facility – looking for a way out.  She wasn’t happy there – not all the time anyway.

By mid April, mom had accepted her new home and was reading everything she could get her hands on.  She didn’t retain anything.  But she did read.

I don’t think it was until May when she developed an attraction to Harold and soon the two became inseparable.  I find it interesting that Corey created this post on June 3.  Mom has a boyfriend.  And just one month later I created this post indicating that he was not.  Depending on her mood.

Actually, I don’t ever recall mom referring to Harold as her boyfriend.  That was more from our point of view.  It really depended on mom’s mood and the turn of events that took place each day.

Harold had known that mom was diabetic and was not supposed to have sugar.  And some days he’d scold her or strongly advice against satisfying her “sugar eating desire” Those were the days when she would not even acknowledge Harold as a friend.  He became “that guy” – an intrusive resident. 

Other days (I’m finding in most cases) mom was infatuated so much that she would rather remain in the company of Harold than to have to leave him in order to visit with one of us.  Corey lovingly wrote this post about feeling like “second fiddle” – but not really.  It did seem somewhat comical at times.

In the beginning, Harold was just “an old man – old enough to be mom’s father” or so she’d say.  I figured there were probably a good number of years between them – nothing that drastic however.  I had asked Harold his age and learned it was a twelve-year difference.  The same as with my sister and her husband.

By August mom was beaming while telling people about her friend, Harold.  In her mind they were only five years apart.  I find it interesting that her mind had gone from one extreme to another in only two months.  For each month she lived there, she fully believed it had been another year.

Harold was quite bent over.  For the most part when I saw him, he was wearing blue scrubs.  He was very positive and always wore a smile on his face.  He and my mom were so very happy to have one another.  Funny how they never sat together for meals.  Except for mealtime, rarely was one ever seen without the other.

On September first, after mom was found upon the floor and rushed to the hospital, the staff told Harold to get rid of all of his candy.  Harold blamed himself for mom’s condition.  But it wasn’t his fault.  A few fun-sized candy bars would not have made her blood count go that high.  Two truckloads of candy would probably not have made her blood sugar go that high.

We thought she would die in the hospital.  Harold had made arrangements for one of his sons to bring him to the hospital to see her.  He was all decked out in suit and tie.  He came in to visit with mom and held her hand and talked to her with his loving voice. 

Mom didn’t wish to die in the hospital.  She wanted to return to the assisted living.  She lay in her room in a hospital bed and Harold would come to visit – knowing she would pass.  He was ever so gentle with her.  He loved her. And she him.

When he wasn’t in her room, he would visit with Joh and tell him things about his relationship with my mom.  Joh said it was my mom’s desire for she and Harold to wed and maybe have a child together.  Harold had reminded her that they both had spouses already.

At the funeral he rushed to the casket for one last good-bye.  I had never seen Harold move so quickly.  It was also the straightest I had ever seen his posture.

After she died, Harold tried to return to living without her.  He wanted to smile and help with the residents the way he had before.  And he did . . . for a while.  But in time the smile faded.  He missed mom!  There was no doubt about it.

Corey would call him.  Kayla and I would visit on occasion.  Jenna and I would take the bus.  We may have stopped when we no longer had bus passes.  But I would write to him and call him and let him know we would come see him when the weather cleared.

I thought we could go during Jenna’s Valentine/Presidents Day holiday – unfortunately she got sick.  And I am currently with my annual February sinus infection.  I planned to call him when my head cleared.  I guess there’s no sense in calling.  His daughter-in-law called me and told me that Harold is now on hospice.  That is a good thing really. 

The last two times that Jenna and I did visit was heart breaking.  Harold seemed so bent to the floor that it appeared his head was nearly in alignment with his feet.  He was banged up in different places each time we would visit.  He had taken I don’t know how many spills.  He would walk us to the door but he had slowed down.  But he’s going to be whole again pretty soon.  And he will finally be able to meet dad.  He and mom can have a reunion and the two couples can have a party.  It will be great!

I’m sorry that Harold declined so much after my mom passed.  I am sorry he became so sad.  He really didn’t enjoy living there.  And now he won’t have to anymore.  Thank you, Harold, for befriending mom and for allowing her to experience the joy.  May you share some great moments in the afterlife as well.

Blessed with Power

On 8 January 1981, prisoners on a work assignment burning trash and debris at the Utah State Prison in Draper, Utah, accidentally caused a major power failure when something they were burning exploded, causing a fireball that shorted out transmission lines above them. 1.5 million people lost power, in almost all of Utah, as well as parts of southeastern Idaho and southwestern Wyoming* and I believe parts of Nevada as well.  

 

I was listening to a radio station from another county when the power first started to flicker.  The DJ had made some comment about the power going off. 
“Wow.  Ours just went off, too” I thought, never imagining that the outage was created by the same source.  

I remember finding a transistor radio looking for something that would give us some kind of indication as to why the power went off.  We were on a different transformer or power unit than our neighbors across the street.  Usually when side was without power, the other side still had it.  It was rare for both sides to be without power.  I would have never imagined ithe same power outage would affect the entire state.
I remember Aunt Alice telling me that she and Uncle Lynn had tickets to see “Annie” at the Capitol Theatre but it was cancelled.  Everything was cancelled.  Everything was dark.

I remember Patrick holding up a newspaper announcing, “I am going to read my horoscope – just fof the fun of it”

It said something along the lines of having to experiencing problems with electricity.  We all laughed.  And then the power came back on.  Well, it did at our house and surrounding houses.  I don’t know why.  It seemed like Utah was still without power.  We joked that we must have it because we were a Celestial Ward.  It was 4-6 hours before others would start to regain power.  Freaky.

 

I actually hadn’t thought about that for years.  I just remembered this morning when a friend and I were discussing the power outage that had taken place last night.
Roland returned home from work and commented that we still had power.  I found that puzzling.  But I turned on the news to see what the deal was.  

Apparently a transformer was knocked down.  It kicked off the power to over 3,000 homes and businesses.  The major intersection which surrounds our homes.  How is it that we had power when the businesses right behind us did not? 

I feel blessed.

* from Wikipedia List of Power Outages

Learning Geography part 2: South America and Flags

Jenna and I have played “Crazy Countries” a game much like Crazy 8  Of course the Africa continent deck has a lot more cards than say Oceania or South America deck and so we of course don’t play with all of the cards.  We’re not learning countries so much as continents – for I have told Jenna that whenever we use a wild card to change suit, we have to say by continent rather than color.

I took Spanish in 9^th and 10^th grade.  In my first year, part of our lessons included studying  the countries in South America.  We were also assigned pen pals to correspond with in hopes that it would help us learn our Spanish and assist our pen pal with his or her English.

The map of South America looks the same way I remember it looking in 1975.  It looks the same way today.  And I am impressed by the stableness of the boundaries.  It makes geography so much easier to learn (and share).

 

After playing “Crazy Countries” (the only game we have played thus far) I thought I would impress Jenna with my knowledge of what countries fit where.  I got half right, and although I remembered all the names (except for Suriname) , I wasn’t able to match them to their appropriate shape until she showed me the flags.  Not that I remember learning the flags.  It was through a different source that I thought I might have enough  material for another post although I would like to just tack it onto what I started yesterday.

My ability to recognize flags did not come from geography.  It actually came from the Mahjong tiles found on the Internet.  I wanted to know what flags belonged to what countries, which led me to the cards, which led me to an imaging index (as I could not find four of the flags among the cards; and I also learned that some of the flags were out of date) 

Even though Czechoslovakia had changed its name to Czech and Slovak Federal Republic  the flag on the card still remained the same as when the card was first printed. Somehow I allowed myself to obsess over knowing all of the flags I could find.  I don’t even know how long ago.  I have since moved on to other things and probably couldn’t even make a proper guess with just a forth of them. (I don’t know how many countries I came across that I had never heard of before this obsession)

 

 

You know what fascinates me the most?  Places like Egypt and Rome that have been around since the old testament seem solid somehow and then there are surrounding countries that can’t seem to settle.   I love the consistency that I have explored with South America – though I have questioned this map:

 

 

 

 

Is that an upcoming proposal?   or is the map purely bogus?