So I told myself to go and I went.
But as I was there I prayed to feel the Spirit. Only to feel sadness and just sadness. It started off small, then rolled over me like a wave on an overcast ocean. And soon I was crying, the kind of cry you pour out on days when you, "just want your mommy." But I still tried to reign it in. I had the feeling that those helping in the ordinance could tell that something was wrong, and didn't quite know where to look--they could see it in my eyes as I just cried more at some parts than others.
Feeling that I needed to be honest in my dealings, after I finished the temple work that I had done I approached the temple matron (? Whatever the ladies serving at the temple are called?) and expressed through uncontrollable tears that this summer has been hard, but my bishop told me it was okay to go to the temple, but I still didn't know if I had done justice to the people I was serving that day by doing their proxy work. Saying without saying that I thought that they might have to be done again.
She of course pulled me in like the mother she probably was and told me, quite plainly, "my dear, these people are dead. They're passed away and in the spirit world now. They're just grateful that you're doing this work for them." And basically that the work I had done that day was acceptable.
Accepting that measure of comfort I nodded and headed for my locker to change back into civilian clothes. More tears came, of course, as well as waves of sadness. But I managed to get it under control enough to manage some weepy nods and smiles for the people I was passing by.
As I was leaving the building the man at the counter who checks the temple recommends said, "thank you for your service today!"
Given my nature of dodging accepting compliments, I whirled around and while walking backwards said, "and thank you for yours!"
Then he made a point to clarify, "I'm saying thank you for the people that you served today. Because they don't have a mouth to speak with right now."
I didn't understand at first, then my eyes teared up and I nodded and smiled tightly.
I don't know what prompted him to say it, or if he even knew the import of his words, but in that moment Heavenly Father gave me a tender mercy.
As I walked away I teared up some more, openly crying a little in public (oh, the horror!), but by the time I got to the bus stop I felt more...myself. Enough to have a calm, soft conversation with someone who looked down and was the subtle kind of homeless where all they need sometimes is to be recognized as a human being. And so a short conversation asking how they were and talking about the weather is far better than any sort of handout I could give them. <3
And then my usual response to beauty around me was seeing people with wonderfully cute outfits (the kind that aren't just fancy or elegant, showing off money, but the ones that are quirky and cute and you can tell that their personalities are being reflected in a shade of mustard and some large, round cat-eye sunglasses, or an entire outfit--including a hair bow very like my usual ones--revolved around a pink chiffon blouse). Which, of course, led to compliments flying everywhere.
So by the time I was coming home I was back to my smiling self and catching up on journaling whereas previously I hadn't wanted to touch it at all.
I am truly grateful for tender mercies. And the knowledge that wherever the Other Side of the Veil is, there are people watching, waiting, helping, and loving us. <3 I truly love the temple. I am grateful.
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