Last night I was glad class ended a little early. Just after 9 pm I was walking out the door, hunched over to the side thanks to my lovely spine, and looking forward to going home. I climb in, start my car and pull out of the parking lot, debating with myself if I have the energy to want to go into Wal-Mart and get some shredded cheese for the cats on my way home. I had just decided that there was probably enough cheese left for that night (they get a little in their dish most nights when I come home from class) and that I would just go home when this prompting hit me.
Drive to the temple, it said.
"Its after 9 at night", I thought. "I hurt and I am tired...why should I drive all the way out to the temple?" I kept the car heading for home.
Drive to the temple.
I got up to 4th North and was about to pull onto 8th West (and home) when it came again.
Drive to the temple....and surprisingly, I didn't make that turn, but continued on to State Street before turning north...towards the temple.
I had never driven there at night, let alone taken whatever road it was I ended up hitting. All I know is I made the turn where I thought I was supposed to and ended up on a road that hugged the mountain...and went right on past my destination.
No problem. I turned into a neighborhood and drove up and down winding streets....the brilliantly lit Timpanogos Temple a beacon to guide me.
Pulling into the parking lot I was very much aware of my denim jeans and t-shirt attire. Pulling on my zip-up hoodie I grabbed my camera and walked onto temple grounds.
No concourses of angels singing choirs....the heavens did not open up and reveal my one true love to me....but I was given something.
Peace.
Tension I wasn't even aware that had built up in me melted away as I wandered around the temple grounds, breathing the cold, clear air and marvelling at the beauty of the temple against a brilliant backdrop of stars.
I laughed softly in wonder as I gazed up at Moroni and noticed how from one particular spot on the grounds his horn reflected a beam of light up to the heavens...something you would not notice unless you happened to look straight up at that one point of sidewalk.
I poured out my heart to the Lord, prayers of thanks and hope and all of the things I can never really bring myself to say in my own humble prayers at my bedside...things I never thought of troubling Him with before, but felt good to finally vocalize.
I noticed the backlit trees had buds formed, ready for opening and found cheer that spring really was on its way.
All of these things and more in the half-hour or so that I walked the grounds.
It was with reluctance that I made for the warm shelter of my car and, as I drove home I found I was so happy that I had made the choice to follow the still, small voice that knew so much better than I did, what I really needed.
5 comments:
Sometimes it's hard to follow those promptings - but it's always worth it. Thanks for sharing your story.
I listen at times too, rarely am I disappointed when I do.
Beautifully written.
We had a lesson in Sunday school last week, about listening to that voice. I'm glad you did and found peace.
Isn't it wonderful to have that still small voice being with you. Glad you followed that prompting. Hope next time its earlier and you can do a session and enjoy the peace inside also. I have been doing a lot of genealogy and have names that need work done. Love, DAD
Thanks for sharing this, Shawna. Some of the hardest things to give up are our expectations and our time -- how you expect to spend an evening, what you expect to on Saturday.
Thanks for the reminder that it's always worth it when the Spirit whispers.
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