The Third Floor

As I was getting on the elevator on the first floor this morning at the temple, I shared the ride with one of our older temple workers, a man in his mid to late eighties, who graciously ushered me on first and then asked if I was going up or down. I said I was going up and he said that he was going down, but that he felt he was almost ready to go to the third floor.

I looked at him thinking he was a little confused, and I said, "But the second floor is as high as our temple goes." He lifted his stooped shoulders a little higher and grinned up at me with his beautiful wrinkled face and chuckled, "Well, I'm aiming for much higher, but I suppose I'll have to start on the third floor!"

I laughed with him as I got his joke, and I've thought about his comment most of today. This wonderful righteous man really is ready to go "to the third floor" anytime the Lord calls him home! I thought about "going home" today as I helped with the funeral luncheon for my neighbor's mother who peacefully slipped away Tuesday night. She was a darling little woman with ahlziemer's, who my neighbor and dear friend lovingly brought to her home, and tenderly cared for with such love these last few years.

Debbie posted this on her facebook page: "My mom woke up yesterday evening and we had a delightful time talking to her about all the people she was seeing who had come to "take her home.". She didn't want to be in her jammies with all of them here so we got her all dressed and combed her hair, etc."

Another time when the doorbell rang, her Mom said, "Oh good, maybe they are here to take me home," and she wanted Debbie to help her pack her bags. I thought about Sister Pierce today and smiled to think she wasn't just put on an elevator, but was lovingly escorted to the "third floor" by so many people that love her!

"And it shall come to pass that those that die in me shall not taste of death, for it shall be sweet unto them." D&C 42:46

A Few Times I've Seen "His" Image

Last week I was at DSW shoe store and noticed a tiny beautiful grey haired lady. We smiled as we passed each other and I had to turn around and watch her for a moment. Then as I was trying on a pair of shoes she startled me by giving her opinion of them. We struck up a conversation and I commented on her delightful accent. She was born and raised in England, but moved to Salt Lake in the 70's after joining the church. I wish I'd had a camera to capture "Ettie's" sweet face. This little woman in her eighties goes about doing good. After hearing of the divorces of some of the royal family in England, Ettie actually wrote a letter of encouragement to the Queen, telling her that under her difficult circumstances, Ettie believed she had been a good mother. The Queen of England graciously wrote back expressing appreciation for the encouragement. I could imagine gracious little Ettie being comfortable around the Queen and equally comfortable in the most humble shack. She made ME feel so wonderful, I walked out of that store feeling like a queen myself!

She reminded me of an old man I met in China in 2006 when Ron and I were privileged to visit Beijing and Xian on a company convention. We were in Beijing, rushing as a large group through Jingshan Park down a covered walkway, when I passed this old man riding slowly on a curious, oversized tricycle. He smiled up at me and I immediately felt wonder—I felt loved. I felt a safe, warm, electric connection and I wondered who he was. I stopped to take his picture and then he held my hand and patted it and looked into my soul with his wise old beautiful, light filled eyes! This all happened within moments and then Ron was there pulling me away—away from a timeless place, far removed from the bustle and noise—to rejoin our group before we became separated. I felt the glow for hours.

These rare and memorable encounters remind me of a quote from C.S. Lewis: "There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts civilization—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a knit. But it is immortals with whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendors . . . your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses. It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship . . . ~C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory, (1949)

These encounters also remind me of Alma 5:14: "And now behold, I ask of you my brethren of the church, have ye spiritually been born of God. Have ye received his image in your countenances? Have ye experienced this mighty change in your hearts?"

A few times in my life I have truly seen "His" image!

Grandma Rose

I don't know, maybe I'm obsessed with flowers. I can't seem to drink in enough of their beauty! Usually by this time of year though I'm tired of the garden, it's hot and I just maintain without the enthusiasm of early spring! But because I'm entertaining my daughter and her new husband next week, and inviting a few of our friends into our yard to celebrate with them, I've been continually working in the yard. I actually laid a bit of sod today! As I was trimming the roses I cut a few old ones to throw away, when I noticed how beautiful the older roses really are. At closer glance, though they are starting to wilt, they have a kind of beauty so different than the new healthy buds and the flowers in their perfect prime. They are softer somehow and they seem to open themselves up so wide, as though accepting the world, accepting their place in time, and inviting anyone willing, to listen to their wisdom, and bask in their serenity. They made me want to snuggle into their soft fragile bosom and find respite from the cares and demands of the world---soft, sweet, lovely Grandma Roses!

What Was I Saying?

On our Draper Temple shift on Fridays mornings we are seriously short handed. We need thirty-three sisters to fully staff that shift and we only have twenty-four, but with five trainee's we are getting closer. As coordinator's most of the time we feel like we are putting our fingers in dikes. We put a stop in one and another breaks out. The time flies and it can be a little stressful at times. The wonderful thing is that we are working at the temple where everyone is so nice, and for the most part understanding! I lLOVE being there! As I was pondering on these things I had a thought, "The Lord has a certain sense of humor, just as He sends nineteen-year-old, inexperienced kids on missions, he calls old people, who have lost part of their minds and bodies to work in the temple, and in spite of our weaknesses it seems to work!" We all get tired and we forget things so often we have to laugh at ourselves.

I told another sister this and she quipped, "I was a mission president's wife and we decided the Lord sends nineteen-year-olds on missions so their parents won't kill them. Maybe He sends us to the temple because it's payback time for our kids and we might be driving them crazy about now!"

GRANDMA'S HANDS

A friend of mine sent an email with this picture and story. It is a five generation picture and I'm sorry I'm not certain who the family is, but the picture and story are beautiful and I wanted to share it with you all.


Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands.
When I sat down beside her she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat I wondered if she was OK.
Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was OK. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,' she said in a clear strong voice.
'I didn't mean to disturb you, grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands and I wanted to make sure you were OK,' I explained to her.
'Have you ever looked at your hands,' she asked. 'I mean really looked at your hands?'
I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them.. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.
Grandma smiled and related this story:
'Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled shriveled and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life.
'They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.
They put food in my mouth and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.
'They have been dirty, scraped and raw , swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special
They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.
'They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.
They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.
'These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life.
But more importantly it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when he leads me home. And with my hands He will lift me to His side and there I will use these hands to touch the face of God.'
I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home. When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband I think of grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God.
I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.