Three Things That Make Me Cry

I have never really considered myself to be a big crier. Sure, every once in a while hardships of this mortal life build up (perhaps along with female hormones) and I need to cry it all out, but here are three things that can bring me to tears any day. Now that I've assembled them here, I see that they all have to do with the comings and goings of children:

(1) I've always cried when watching a video-recorded birth. As soon as the baby begins crying, I cry, too. When I was expecting our first, I would occasionally watch the series "A Baby Story" on TLC. It didn't matter what type of birth it was, I always cried with the baby. Strangely enough, I have not cried for any of my own babies' births. I guess I'm always too exhausted, extremely relieved, curious, and in awe at my baby to cry.

(2) I heard the song "Send Her Home to Me" by Sue Owens twice on BYU Radio before discovering who it was really written for. The first time I heard it, I assumed the voice in the song was that of a desperately praying young mother whose baby daughter was hospitalized on the verge of death: "Release the girl. Send her home to me." I heard the choir voices representing the united prayers of family and friends. When the mother sings, "And let her go before it's more than she can take," I could feel her anguish at her daughter suffering and asking not to let her suffer too much. Perhaps I imagined the hospital scenario because I once left a baby son overnight in pain at the hospital.

Then, after hearing the song a second time, I discovered from a Google search that it had been written for the family of Brooke Wilberger, a BYU student who disappeared in Oregon in May of 2004. I immediately remembered driving through Oregon on our way to a family reunion in California in May, 2004 and being moved by the new "Missing" signs with Brooke's photo posted at our forested rest stop. Only her flip-flops were found where she was thought to have been abducted. I felt so sad for her and her family. At the time, I felt like it easily could have been me or one of my sisters. Five years after that, I was again saddened when the news report was released announcing that her murderer had confessed to the crime and led investigators to her remains. Once I had put all the pieces together in my mind, I listened to the song again a few more times over the next few days, crying each time I heard it: "Send Her Home to Me" by Sue Owens.

(3) I was teaching a lesson in Relief Society (the part of our Sunday church meetings for women) weeks ago. I had felt impressed to teach and discuss how baptism, confirmation, and church membership can be compared to the outer gates of the beautiful grounds of the temple. We also talked about how Christ is the gate as well as the shepherd who directs us to enter the temple, the House of the Lord, to make additional covenants with him. During the lesson, Sister D spontaneously shared a story--it alone made the lesson worthwhile and helped me understand perhaps why I had felt so deeply impressed to focus on what I did in the lesson.

Sister D serves as a temple worker (volunteer) in our nearby temple and had not been able to sleep one night. She sensed that something big would happen the next day. Sure enough, as Sister D was serving as a greeter just inside the entrance to the temple, a mother entered the temple, loudly and inconsolably mourning the recent, unexpected, and accidental loss of a young child. Sister D's first thought was to escort the woman to a side room where the door could be closed and she could cry without disturbing others in the temple.

Then, she remembered she had been instructed to take such distressed temple guests to the celestial room. The celestial room represents the home of our Father in Heaven and is a sacred room of great peace and beauty. The woman began to calm down through the process of serving as a proxy for an ordinance and then remained calm as she was taken up to the celestial room. Later on that day, Sister D was able to see the grieving mother again as she left the temple. She reported that she had found the peace she came searching for, she could feel her child close at the temple, and she needed to return often.

The story touched me deeply. I had to dry my tears and get composure before continuing with my lesson. I didn't expect to cry during my lesson, but I was so grateful for Sister D's story and how it exemplified the rich blessings we seek from living worthy to enter the temple.

Note: The idea for this post came to me a few months ago. Little by little, I've gotten back to it until I finally finished today. I'm still hesitant to share it, being as I've never really liked posting things that are too personal, but here it goes...