The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is welcoming visitors to the newly remodeled Washington D.C. Temple, which was first dedicated in 1974. Curious multitudes flock through the castle-like structure which they’ve seen from the busy 495 Beltway, seemingly floating above the treetops. In our church, we build temples—"Houses of the Lord”—settings for sacred ordinances that unite husbands and wives, children and parents, forever.
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| We toured the temple several times during its Open House. |
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As we walked through the temple, the milling crowd was silent except for occasional “ohs” and “ahhs” of appreciation for stained-glass windows and Christ-centered sculptures and paintings.
Sweet silence—until a toddler’s ear-splitting screams rang through the sacred halls and bounced off the marble floor. My ears recoiled—I’d never heard such shrieking (and my five children and 16 grandchildren had excellent lungs at age two!)
The boy’s mother and grandmother struggled to soothe, placate and silence him.
To no avail.
His rage was simple. Temple visitors wear cloth booties over their shoes to protect the carpet. He didn’t want to wear those booties, so his mother removed his shoes. However, he DID want his shoes, and he let everyone know.
The usher probably would’ve let him put the shoes back on, but the boy’s ship of rationality had sailed along with his shoes. He screamed. He had likely trotted all over D.C. that day, becoming more tired and hungry until his “good boy bucket” was empty. (I can relate.)
We in the crowd moved on, soon engulfed in reverent silence. My heart reached back to the family—I’ve been there and done that as a mother and grandmother, frantically seeking to quiet a pint-sized tornado while desperately fighting their arched back and tossing head so the child doesn’t run amok and hurt self or others.
Most of all, I felt for the boy, for I have been the frenzied one, loudly voicing my anger at the world and feeling utterly desolate—not just when I was a toddler.
We saw many images of Jesus Christ with people, including children, reminding me of “that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men, How he called little children like lambs to his fold; I should like to have been with him then.” (p.56 Children’s Songbook)
I should like that as well.
Parents brought their children to Jesus “that he should touch them: and his disciples rebuked those that brought them. But when Jesus saw it, he was much displeased, and said unto them, Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the kingdom of God.” (Mark 10:13-14 KJV)
Paintings show Jesus and the children angelically happy, illustrating how much Jesus loved them and they loved him. We love those paintings. But had we been there, we might have seen—and heard—some children who were not cherubic and delighted; some who were tired, hungry, and. . . screaming.
No wonder the disciples rebuked the parents.
One painting in the temple portrays Jesus with a little girl standing on each side of him, all of them looking into our eyes. The girls are not smiling. One can almost discern that they have been crying. But they aren’t weeping in the painting. They trust the Being next to them, and they radiate peace.
Jesus’s message now is the same as it was then—“Come unto me, all ye that labor [at being a child or an adult] and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28 KJV)
That’s what I felt in His house. That’s what I hope the toddler and his mother and grandmother felt when their storm subsided.
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| A family walks to see the temple among the beautiful spring blossoms. |
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| Is this heaven? It is. |
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Young sister missionaries, Sister Bodily from Montana and Sister Fuerst from Washington state, delighted us by joining us on our tour. |
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