Here is the situation: my friend Brother Stilts joined the church a number of years ago. He died a year and a half ago, without having gone to the temple to complete his covenants with the Lord. If baptism is the first ordinance that opens the way to spending the eternities in the presence of the Father and the Son [and it is], then the image that comes to mind is of him standing in the spirit world with one foot stuck in the door and one foot stomping about in the petunias.
I wasn’t sure how to go about getting the rest of his work done, as he was a dear friend but not a blood relative. And his living family is not LDS and is in fact outspokenly anti. I talked with one of the family history specialists in our ward, who referred me to somebody with deeper and broader knowledge.
I recently had the opportunity to speak to that individual, who said that the Church used to have a specific policy in cases like this, but now it is perhaps better to just go with the Spirit. At which point I started weeping. The surest way for me to know that I am inspired about something, is when my tear ducts start tingling and then overflowing.
So I came home and printed up the paperwork to take to the temple to get his work done. If he had been a friend who was not LDS at all, I would have contacted his family for permission to do the work. But since he was already a Latter-Day Saint, it didn’t seem to make any sense to contact them and almost certainly have them turn me down.
I am not a big advocate of It is easier to get forgiveness than permission. I hated it when the childrens father said it to me. I hated it when the kids grew up and said it to me. It makes my inner Pharisee [jots and tittles, jots and tittles, never mind the Spirit of the law, stick to the letter of it] positively cross-eyed with frustration. And now I am second-guessing myself.
But I can’t deny the way I felt when I made the decision to just do it. I am quite sure that Brother Stilts will find a way of letting me know if he’s unhappy that I’m doing this. I hope I will be privileged to find out that this is exactly what he wanted done. And I’m hoping that this will not mean he gets a heavenly reassignment. Every so often I get the impression that he is watching over LittleBit and me. I would hate to lose that. But I want him to have the flexibility to serve wherever the Lord needs him.
Potluck went well last night. Fireside was interesting and inspiring. We had a decent turnout, considering it was the tail end of a holiday weekend. And we had a good turnout of the marrieds in our ward to come serve dinner and clean up. I need to write some thank-you notes...
Not much knitting yesterday. None at church; I had a stupor of thought when I looked at the pattern before church started, and I was too busy from the time that welfare meeting began until we said our last amen at the end of Relief Society. But I did put a few rows on my friend’s teal lace scarf while waiting to pick up one of my friends.
That child’s sock blocker is the first antique I bought, back in the early 1980s. It has survived every move in the last 25+ years. I bought it at Addison’s Inkwell when I was working there one day a week and pregnant with Middlest. Never dreamed that one day I would be knitting socks. And liking it!
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!