My husband can’t remember the first time he visited Temple Square, but his first memorable visit came when he was ten years old, attending Spencer W. Kimball’s funeral in the tabernacle. The next day he returned to school, where several of his classmates told him that they’d seen him on television. His fifteen minutes of fame came early in life.
Twenty-one years ago this August, I stood at the gates of the Salt Lake temple for the first time. I was thirteen, visiting Utah as a tourist, and totally obsessed with the brides and their photographers, perched in nooks and alcoves and on steps in every corner of the temple. My sister and I ran around the iron gates, comparing brides, trying to decide which one was the prettiest. I wrote in my journal that night that I wanted to be married in the Salt Lake temple. Ten months later my family joined the church. Eight years after that, I was a bride posing on the temple steps.
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