I drove home tonight with a full heart.
I had been at a rehearsal where I felt joy and so much gratitude, and afterward, found myself in conversation with a woman I'd never met before, who approached me to tell me how much they had loved my dad.
I cried, and she cried.
And as I drove home in the dark, back to my neighborhood to pick up my kids from some friends, the two beautiful things of the evening blended into one.
In a very pointed way, I felt like other hands, specific hands, are both involved and hovering.
And, in a way I haven't felt since he has been gone, I found myself wishing I could call my dad.
I wanted to share my joy.
I wanted to share my heart.
I wanted him to know how lucky I feel, how grateful I am.
I wanted to thank him, hug him, shout in my excitement.
I can't adequately articulate the feeling.
And in a way, I felt that he knows, and that he feels it, too.
And it was all in joy for this.
Isaiah spent a good couple of hours yesterday sketching this and then painting it after we'd talked about it that morning.
I love this painting.
This building has special significance for me from when I was a child.
We were there for conferences, like so many others, and I remember always sitting up in the balcony.
It also was home to some late night Christmas Eve services, letting out at midnight, those first early, early minutes of Christmas mornings.
I remember the day that it burned down, being so dismayed and sad.
And I also remember being in dad's basement when President Monson announced that it would be completely restored and dedicated as the second temple in Provo City.
I remember we sat there, looking at each other in astonishment upon hearing that news.
And here we are, just a couple of months away from its dedication.
The interior (from what I could see of it) was stunning.
It recalls, in so many ways, the style of the original building -- the woodwork, especially, caught my heart.
There is so much that I don't even begin to understand about temples. And really what I understand mostly comes from what I have felt in my heart and not something I know in my head.
But, I'll say this.
I absolutely believe in hovering hands.
I believe that love is constantly active, on both sides of the veil.
I know those hands and that love, are real -- not just something sweet that we talk about.
And I believe that these structures are symbols of that love.