I haven’t been to the temple since January 2008. Bill and I quarreled because he wanted to eat dinner with his pals at Golden Corral and I’d been looking forward to a date night and dinner at Olive Garden. It wasn’t very fun, let me tell you. The beginning of a bad year for our marriage. I never lost my recommend, I didn’t use it. I was angry—at my husband, the church, and the world.

Things are better now. Not perfect, I don’t like my attitude, still, but I’m working on it. I never lost my testimony, I lost my spirit. Bill and I are planning a temple trip next week and have made a goal of regular attendance. This has proved to be dangerous in the past because Satan (I believes) uses these opportunities to sow contention in our home and often we’ve cancelled the trips because we’re not speaking. We finally just decided to go no matter what and that helped. Now, though, it’s a whole new ball game.

The temple has figured largely in my life, even when I had no idea what happened there or of the deep meaning of the covenants and lessons of the temple. I revered people who had been to the temple and somehow figured they had an “in” with God that the rest of us commoners did not. I thought they’d probably seen God face to face, that they were more perfect. I felt inferior to people who’d been to the temple. I thought I could never possibly be that good. I could have said righteous or worthy, but those words weren’t even part of my vocabulary back in the day. “Good” pretty much said it all.

Read the rest of this story at mormonmentality.org
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