Friends, I returned to the temple this past week for the first time in over a year. I thought I might cry through the entire session—I’ve done that before—but I did not. Instead I felt joyful and at home: a deep, grateful peace. The temple worship drought has felt as punishing as any other pandemic effect to me. Whenever I have soul-wrenching problems, the temple is my solace, and to be without it for so long felt like God was one step farther away, like I had to work that much harder to encounter and be healed by the divine.
I wrote a poem about this last February:
It Has Been Nearly A Year Since the Last Time I Went to the Temple and It’s Driving Me Nuts