Tonight my sweet son is up at the UTE STAMPEDE with Grandma and Papas and the gathering family. I would like to be there. But there had to be a slight delay -- only until the morning -- so that I could take my girls to the St. George Temple for Baptisms for the Dead.
I am glad I was there. I got to put on my white clothes and smile into their eyes as I wrapped a towel around their shoulders. I got to tell each one how much I love them. I got to stand and feel the Holy Spirit gently warm my heart and testify that this is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. I felt the Spirit testify to me how very special each one of those amazing girls is to their Father In Heaven. I felt beautiful in the presence of those Daughters of God, because that is what I am, too.
I felt the purity and goodness of the Gospel. The pressure on my chest that is rare and wonderful and so very comfortable.
The thought came so strongly to my mind as I stood at the foot of the font, watching each one happily be baptized for someone who has waited for this blessing for more then one hundred years: "This Is Something Precious." So I wrote it upon my heart.
We stopped for ice cream, then my particular car had to take a little detour before arriving home so that we could go down "thrill hill" -- it was really a thrill, especially as I screamed ('cause I was kinda nervous with all that precious cargo) and my girls screamed at me "Don't hit that brake, Sister Burdee!" I didn't hit the brake. I merely hovered over it. It was awesome.
I came home and could hear my own precious Daughter of God murmuring gentle stories at her daddy as they visited on my bed. I felt grateful.
I wouldn't have missed it for the world.