Dedication

The scriptures say that the throne of God
is like a rainbow.
As I gazed out the window at this scene
I could believe that the Lord has His hand in temple work in our generation.

We received a letter asking if we would try out for a choir that will sing
for the Oquirrh Mountain Temple this August.
Quite an honor to even be asked
although I don't feel my voice is good enough
to compete with all of those who will be trying out.
But I will try.

If we do make it, a sacrifice will be required.
My summer in Island Park will not happen as planned.
No quiet days and cool nights.
No hiking in the mountains every Thursday with the hiking ladies.
No biking on mountain roads around the lake,
No hanging out in West Yellowstone working at the diner.
No voracious reading of books with no interruptions,
No finishing my counted-cross stitch.
No moose, eagles, fish, deer, wild canaries...
Peace...

Odd, but I have made my own peace with it.
If we make it
I'm OK with doing what I have to do
to serve the Lord.

Dedications have already touched my life.

When the Nauvoo Temple was dedicated
I sat in the congregation at the Stake Center
without a voice.
I lost it during parathyroid surgery 3 months earlier.
Not easy,
teaching wood shop without a voice
or answering phones
or sharing feelings or thoughts.
During the closing hymn
The Spirit of God Like a Fire is Burning,
I decided I'd whisper the words out and the Lord would know that
I honored Him by trying.
During the 3rd verse, a real voice started coming out.
The tears rolled down my face as I finished singing the words;
knowing the Lord had given me a powerful gift.

The next dedication was a new building we met in as a ward.
As the stake president dedicated the building,
I listened to a nice dedicatory prayer.
Typical of many others.
Suddenly, I was not alone.
As if a wind tore through the chapel,
I felt the power of the Lords love.
I was not alone in a grief that was tearing me apart.
He wanted me to know
That He Knows.
And Loves.
And Understands.

If I can feel a fraction of those feelings again,
the sacrifice
of a single summer

is worth it.

Re: We didn't make it.
But what a glorious experience to sing with 20 people
who knew how to sing.
The judges were touched
and claimed they wanted everybody.
But names were drawn out of a hat...
We sang with a heavenly choir;
whether everyone will sing together in the Celestial Room
or not...
We have been blessed.

The End of the Day

I don't know why it is that no matter how much I listen to conference, I get to the end of the Sunday afternoon session and feel like I haven't learned enough, or felt enough of the Spirit, or absorbed all of what was meant for me.

I feel like I'm so thirsty for truth (don't get much on network tv) and it's so refreshing to hear it, that I don't want it to end. I hear the first hymn the Tab Choir sings and my soul sighs and feels home. We 'gather' around the Prophets in the 'tent' of our own home just like in King Benjamins day.

The last talk by the Prophet leaves me wishing for more! ...and guilty that during the 8 hours of conference, I didn't listen harder or become the organized, angelic, spiritual giant that I wish I was. I take notes and write down messages that meant something to me, but it doesn't seem like it's enough. The perfectionist in me says "Be a better person NOW! But the realist in me says "Enjoy the time listening to men and women of God and appreciate whatever Spirit you feel".

I love that I can multitask while I listen. But do I lose the message? Maybe sometimes, but I also think that it's like when I read the Book of Mormon. It's not just in the words where I learn spiritual things. It's the needed personal revelation that comes to me when I'm doing things that are asked of me.

Reading the Conference edition of the Ensign and listening to Relief Society lesson summaries brings those sacred prophetic messages to heart as I hear them repeated. Maybe then the organized, angelic, spiritual giant will appear!