There is magic in the temple, except that it is real.
I see the Spirits waiting in line to enter, waiting to greet those who will do their work for them. I see them cry, and I hear them cheer. I see their heads heads nod in humble gratitude, and hear their whispers of thanks in native tongues.
Have you seen the line in the marble floor at the recommend desk? They wait there, and cannot enter, until you go in for them. They cannot cross that marble line until you cross that marble line, and they are there, waiting for you.
Choirs sing in the baptistery, crowds fill the sessions already full of people, and there in the celestial room wait my parents.
Friday was a quiet day at the temple, and I had a great deal of time alone in the celestial room. Time stretches, and feels like ages. It is good to be there, to heal and rest and power up. It is good to feel my parents near, and to see our family growing.
I see my family, those passed before me and our little ones lost, and I see Nathan’s family, and how they know each other now. I watch them mingle, and in these two years, new friendships form. His family teaches mine, and all of them sing to us. My dad is proud of this, and I hear his voice lead.
They love our kids in ways I cannot yet grasp, but for which I am grateful, and I know it is their messages and promptings that teach me how to care for them.
I know my mother is good with Five, because she already raised my brother, who was a busy-busy-boy.
I love them, and I sing their song, and I soak it in through tears and softened heart.
I got down on my knees, forehead to the floor, white flowing around me, and prayed my tears of gratitude.
It is my first time to be back at the temple, and not be praying for a successful pregnancy.
My Hannah moments have passed, and the answer was no.
Except it was yes.
My arms are full of children, the two we are adopting, the fosters who have and will come and go, my nieces and nephews, baby Andrew who is coming to visit soon (Nathan’s sister Alicia’s baby), and my nursery children (sweet David came and sat in my lap a long while today, and it made me cry).
My patriarchal blessing promised, and I have not been cheated.
I was taught many things, felt many things, saw and heard many things, in the temple Friday night.
But what it all means is love.
And what love means is happiness.
There is great peace in that, contentment and rest in a fulfilled kind of way, after five years of enduring so far, like the quiet of an autumn Sunday morning after a week of striving hard.
I go there, to thank Him, and they wait there, to thank me, on those marble floors.