Temples are very special places. When I go there, I feel clean and spiritual. After all, temples are also very clean. When I go to the temple I can see the pure, white bricks that the temple is made by. I look up and I observe the golden statue of the Angel Moroni standing majestically tall and blowing in his horn upon the top of the temple. Trying to imagine how much hard work was put in to constructing a temple for the lord’s work. This is a truly amazing place for me.
There are numerous temples spread all over the world in countries that include Egypt, Russia, Germany, France, Spain, Sudan, Brazil, Peru and many more. South Jordan, Utah is where I live; it is the first city in the entire world to have more than one LDS temple built in it. The Jordan River Temple is the temple that I go to, it’s only about one half of a mile from my house. It is fantastic and it gleams brightly against the sunlight. I used to be able to see the temple from my house, but then a new house was built across the street hindering our view of the temple. If I go out into my yard though, I can see a bit of the temple, but not all of it.
When I walk into the temple, I feel as though a great and heavy burden has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel calm and peaceful, clean and reverent. Me, of all people, I am worthy enough to enter through the doors into this sacred place, this holy temple that I have longed to be in for so long and finally able to be in. The temple workers are always so welcoming, reverent, and kind. It makes me feel I am in a sanctuary or safe haven. I feel close to heaven within those pure walls. There, I am blessed to be.
In the baptismal font, I can smell the steam flowing upwards from the font. The smell of the water consumes my nostrils and I want to be within the water’s warm grasp. Then the first person walks into the font; I listen to the prayer that the leader that is in the water says to baptize that person for the dead. It’s my turn now and I slowly move forwards, then I descent the steps into the water, its warmth greeting me like a roaring fire on a cold winter day. My leader takes my arms and starts to say those wonderful words that ultimately allow the dead to be baptized. Words flow off my leader’s tongue like the water in a river flows freely. The prayer ends and I plug my nose just before I am dunked into the depths of the baptismal font, under that water I feel at rest. Emerging from the water, a new name appears on the screen and the prayer begins. One by one, the names are put on the screen and I am submerged then pulled back up again until all the names have been done.
It is when all the names are done that I ascend the steps and the next person walks into the font. Waiting for me, one of the temple workers hands me a towel as soft as a rabbet’s fur and tells me to go and get dressed into my other clothes that the temple gives for the confirmations of the people that I was baptized for. As I walk into the showers, there is another temple worker, quite young and he tells me to get undressed, get in the shower if I want to, and to put my wet clothes down the chute that is in the separate showers. Wrapping my towel around me like a loincloth, I walk over to the area where all of the lockers are and I walk into the changing stalls that has the locker in it that contains my stuff. Then I get confirmed after getting dressed. The prayers go by quickly because they only pause for a half a second before starting the next prayer. After being confirmed I again walk into the changing room, but this time, I get dressed in my church clothes. It’s time to go home and I am not very anxious to leave, but all the same, I want to be home. So I walk into the lobby and wait for the other members in my group and we leave the temple, until next time.