Wednesday, April 15, 2009


The cool rain fell on my face as I looked up at the elegant marble building before me. The hot car engine pinged beneath its hood, protesting the punishing drive that had brought me here, through some of the worst traffic in the United States.

We were at the temple, my dear wife and I, after too long away.

The sacred, the ceremonial, is nearly extinct in the modern world. The temple preserves it.

Someday, our Virginia will have a temple and no longer will we have to endure the D.C. Beltway drive nor set aside an entire day for such a trip.

Holy to the Lord is the House of the Lord, a place of simplicity, a place of peace, a place where heaven and earth meet.

1 comment:

Joyce Ellen Davis said...

Did you hear that one of our big thunderstorms last months sent a bolt of lightning down that burned black the Angel Moroni's face, his arm and trumpet (this was on the new Oquirrh Hills Temple, which will be dedicated soon).

I wonder if there is a message here?