A trip to the temple and a broken locker teach powerful lesson about prayer

I was 12 the first time I entered the Washington, D.C., Temple. I wonder how many times I’ve returned? Not enough, no doubt.

Most trips to the temple have merged together in my mind, like soft high clouds that are lovely on their own but are even more magnificent when they drift and blend together. I cherish each as they appear singularly, but it is their cumulative effect that blesses me most.

Still, there are a few that stand out as being extraordinary experiences. Twice I’ve been in an automobile accident while on the way to the D.C. Temple. I was late on both occasions, but I made it eventually and was blessed with unique, uplifting experiences.

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