Rosh Hashana Inspiration -- Sep. 10-16, 2018

My second week brought me spiritual experiences every day that I served in the temple––which is what you might expect, of course. 

What you might find surprising is that one of my most memorable spiritual experiences that week occurred not in the temple, but in the small Orthodox synagogue of a congregation that meets on the second floor of a commercial building, above a furniture store. 

Settling into my new life in NYC--Sep. 1-9, 2018

My first few days in New York City brought me a whirlwind of activity here in my new surroundings. I felt incredibly happy and grateful every minute for the amazing, totally unexpected opportunity to serve full-time in the Manhattan Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. 

I had many spiritual experiences that reaffirmed the feeling that many blessings await me as I give my whole heart to this mission.

How I Came to Embark on an Exciting New Adventure

After David passed away in 2014, I had no plans to serve a full-time mission for my church. Since I had served a proselyting mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints as a young woman in France, and then had served full-time with my husband, David, for ten years––first when he was President of the Dominican Republic Santo Domingo West Mission for three years, and then while he served in Area Presidencies as a General Authority Seventy for seven years––I felt that my place henceforth was to serve my family and local ward members, not serve another mission.

However, a few months ago, after serving several years as an ordinance worker in the Seattle Temple in the summer, and the Dallas Temple the rest of the year, for some reason I began to think about the desirability of serving a temple mission for a year sometime in the future, perhaps in the spring of 2019.

The Envelope

It started with an envelope.

Yesterday, after we had played several board games, my Kindergartner granddaughter Paige was looking through the various kinds of paper in my craft box, intending to draw or write something during her after-school visit with me. She found a greeting card envelope, selected a piece of yellow card stock, and told me she wanted to make a card for “Grampa.”  

Grampa, aka my late husband, passed away when Paige was not yet three years old. I doubt she can really remember him, but on my kitchen counter are two digital photo frames that scroll through family photos including many of him, some even with her as a baby or toddler. When Paige is eating her after-school snack, she looks at those photos, and often either names some of the people in them, or asks me who they are. Some are of my parents and grandparents, and I have on occasion mentioned that they, like Grampa, have died, and are happily living in Heaven now. Whether seeing photos of Grampa keeps real memories of him fresh in her mind, or that she just continues to love her idea of him, I know not.