Testimony

I wanted to bear my testimony last Sunday
of the power of temples.
I wanted to share how
just the sight of one
through his car window
quieted my cranky 2-year-old.

We headed there, with time to spare
between our hotel check-out
and the St. George sacrament meeting
we were attending.

I wanted to share the peace I felt
on the grounds,
the intuitive reverence I saw
in my children.

I wanted to share
so I found audience
in the eager visitor's center
tour guide.
I related what Samuel said
as he pulled his sister
toward the temple steps.
"Come on, Emma,
let's go find Jesus!
Come on!"
My heart had twinged.

"Oh, yes," the tour guide
matter-of-factly replied
to my retelling.
"All of the children love
the statue of Jesus."

But I had not known this
visitor's center
housed a model of the Christus
and
I am sure that is
not
what Samuel had in mind.

Samuel raced ahead
in the visitor's building,
down hallways
and around bends.
I found him sitting,
transfixed,
at the feet
of the statue of Jesus.

I wanted to bear my testimony in church last Sunday
of the power of temples,
but I was in foyer exile,
carting a loud, cranky 2-year-old
like a slippery football
at my waist
where he could not reach
my face to hit.

I bear testimony here that
Jesus loves this little boy
more than I can ever know,

and I can draw
from His power.