10 Mormons Explain Why They Were Sealed in the Temple

Have you ever driven past a Mormon temple and wondered what happens inside?

Temples are holy places of worship where members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints participate in sacred ordinances performed by the authority of the priesthood. Temple ordinances lead to the greatest blessings available through the atonement of Jesus Christ. One temple ordinance is celestial marriage, in which a husband and wife are sealed to one another for eternity.

"And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." -Matt. 16:19

Through a temple sealing, a husband and wife and their children can have the promise of being an eternal family. For Latter-day Saints, the covenants they make in the temple (bound on earth) will last forever (be bound in heaven), if they stay worthy.

Below, ten Mormons explain why they were sealed in the temple:

1. Tiffany, Utah. Married August 2009 in the Mt. Timpanogos, Utah temple.

"I got married in the temple because I knew it was the right way back to our Father in Heaven. I loved my husband so much and wanted to be sealed to him forever. I also only wanted my children to be born into an eternal family. It was the only way for me."

The 12 Most Beautiful LDS Temples

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints will dedicate its 142nd operating temple in Gilbert, Arizona, on March 2, 2014. For Latter-day Saints, temples are the most sacred structures on earth; they are literally houses of the Lord. In temples, Church members participate in ordinances designed to unite their families together forever and help them return to God. Temples are distinct from the buildings where we hold our weekly worship services on Sundays. We call those buildings "meetinghouses," and there are thousands of them around the world (including several in the Bryan\College Station area). For more information on the history of temples visit here or the official newsroom of the LDS Church here.

To add to the temple excitement, we compiled a list of the 12 Most Beautiful LDS Temples. Each is exquisite in its own way, but we chose the following as our Top 12. 

Comment below with which building is your favorite, or let us know which one should have made our list.

12. Rexburg, Idaho

11. San Salvador, El Salvador

10. Toronto, Canada

9. Portland, Oregon

8. Washington D.C. 

7. Salt Lake City, Utah

6. Laie, Hawaii

5. Hong Kong

4. Manti, Utah

3. Houston, Texas

2. Nauvoo, Illinois

1. San Diego, California

Hope in Christ

A few weeks ago I was in an emergency room with a friend of mine who was my missionary companion. As missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are supposed to stay with our companion at all times. He was in some serious pain, and they were running tests to find out what was going on with him.  As some of these tests were pretty serious, I was asked to stand out in the hallway outside the door, doing my best to stay as close as I could in the situation we were in. We were in the hospital for most of that day, somewhere around 14-15 hours. Alone time is something you don't get a lot of as a missionary; but as I spent a good part of those 14 hours standing or sitting in a hallway, alone, I had a lot of time to think, read the scriptures, and watch the happenings and bustle of the Emergency Room. I have never needed to go to an ER before then, so I was captivated watching the diverse variety of people coming in and out, bringing with them a host of seemingly endless problems and concerns. Every so often a team of paramedics would arrive with an ambulance, burst through the door, and move with practiced efficiency as they went about their duty of maintaining life.

Then something happened that forever changed my outlook on life. During my stay there in the hallways of that hospital, I watched as two people left this life. I had seen death before, but never in this setting. As I watched these two individuals slip from mortality, I could see the effect of their departure on those around them. 

The first person was an older woman, who appeared to be on a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) basis. As the heart rate monitor flat-lined, several nurses rushed to the room only to quietly exit a few moments later to give the small group of what must have been loved ones and friends that stood near the bed their privacy; their heads bowed in quiet reverence as they shed tears of grief. 

The second was a young boy, probably no older than 6 or 7. As his small form went limp and still, I watched a young couple who must have been his parents slip into a desperation-fueled frenzy of sorrow. The mother fell to her knees, screaming, desperately trying to wake her son from his final rest. His father turned and begged the doctors and nurses who stood nearby to do something, anything to bring him back. The doctor confessed that there was nothing that he or anyone else could do.   

Though the older woman appeared to have been ill for a while and her passing seemed to be more expected than the young boy's, the loss of a loved one is always difficult. When that loved one is a child, it can be one of the most tragic things that happens here on this earth. But why was there such a difference in the reactions of these families? As I observed and thought about it more and more, some realizations came to me. The parents of the young boy had no hope. To them, their son was gone forever. As they watched him slip away, all their hopes and dreams went with him; and they were left with nothing but their regrets and their pain. As I watched them from a distance, I too started to feel that pain. That crushing, soul-tearing, sense of vulnerability. 

The other group, though they too were mourning, had a… light about them. They had hope. They knew that death was not the end of life, but yet another step in the path our Father in Heaven has established for us. Through the darkness of the sorrow in their hearts, the glorious light of hope burst into a brighter day. That hope is what keeps us going when there appears to be no way to continue, what saves us from drowning in our misery and gives us the energy and power to overcome.

That hope is found in Christ, “our Saviour, [the] Lord Jesus Christ [who] is our hope" (1 Timothy 1:1). Through Him, all our trials can be overcome. Death, sin, and hell itself were defeated by our Heavenly King. Because of His atoning sacrifice, we can have hope. The perfect love of Christ enables us to endure the trials and challenges we face in this life, and to do so with the knowledge and assurance that we will be with the ones we love again. 

As this new year commences, may we all remember the cry of the angels to the shepherds: “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord…  Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” (Luke 2:10-11, 14) God be thanked for the glorious gift of His Son!

Elder Duvall is a full-time LDS missionary serving in the Texas Houston Mission but originally hails from Cache Valley in Northern Utah.

Thoughts from a loyal father, friend and veteran.

Randy Todd in front of a MC-12

Veterans Day is always a special time of reflection for me. My son, Randy is a Captain in the United States Air Force. He is currently deployed on his second tour to Afghanistan where he flies the MC-12 aircraft. My youngest son, Charlie is a member of the Mississippi National Guard and served a tour in Iraq. I served in the U.S. Army for 22 years. 

Along with the thrill of being a helicopter pilot, and later being involved in developing plans, I met many patriots and saw the faith of LDS servicemen and women. The first fellow LDS serviceman that was lost while I served was Doug Echler. He was an instructor pilot at Fort Rucker and a member of our ward while I was in flight school. He was transferred to Germany from Fort Rucker. While he was piloting a Chinook helicopter at an airshow in Germany the aircraft experienced a catastrophic failure. The aircraft crashed in front of the crowd. All on board were killed. The crowd included Doug’s wife and children. That was my first realization of how important it was to hold to the rod and live the gospel as a soldier. The reality was that life was precious and could end suddenly. Living the gospel everyday became more important than I had ever realized before.

I had the privilege of being involved with two major humanitarian relief operations. The first was in 1980 when many Cuban refugees came to the United States. The second was in 1999 when President Clinton accepted refugees from the conflict in Kosovo. I was an operations officer for the Kosovo refugee operation at Fort Dix, New Jersey. To this day I remember what a lump it brought to my throat to see a battle hardened paratrooper carrying a child who had lost everything. Perched upon the soldier’s shoulders the child beamed with a security and peace that he had been without for many days. The soldier’s beaming smile reminded me of the force for good that American troops are in the world.

Charley Todd, center, at his son Randy's commissioning

So, on this Veterans Day I am grateful for my sons’ service. I am grateful for those that went before and protected our liberty. My uncle recently passed away. He served in the Pacific during World War II as a United States Marine. He was to have been part of the diversionary attack at Iwo Jima, but the main attack was successful. He was spared that engagement. Later he was to be part of the invasion force for Japan. When Japan surrendered after Hiroshima and Nagasaki he became part of the occupational force. When he returned home he was called to serve as one of the first missionaries in Japan  In his later years he and my Aunt Pat returned to Japan to serve a mission at the Tokyo Temple. I thank my father, father-in-law, uncles, and friends for their service and I remember the flag draped coffins honoring their service.

But, the veterans that I wish to pay tribute to on this Veterans Day are men that I have known in the wards of College Station who showed me how to apply being a good soldier to being a person of love and faith.

Robert Wilson was a retired Colonel when I retired from the Army and moved to College Station in May of 2000. Everyone called him Colonel. He had the ultimate badge of credibility for a veteran – the Purple Heart which is given to those wounded or killed in combat. He was a fellow helicopter pilot so I felt an immediate affinity to him. He had purchased the Arby’s franchise when he retired and moved to College Station and had provided employment to many, especially to youth.

Colonel Wilson was the Deacon’s Quorum adviser. He combined a Colonel’s bearing with an unbelievable love for the boys. The Deacon’s Quorum President always was prepared for meetings. It was hard to believe that a 12 or 13 year old could take charge so well. The boys were the ones who spoke. Colonel Wilson just made sure they were prepared.

Eventually the injuries suffered in Vietnam and in a training accident robbed Colonel Wilson of his health. However even until the end he would always respond with “blessed by the Lord” when asked how he was doing. The Deacons made a poster/card for him on one occasion that simply said, “Get well, we will hold the fort down here.” They did, because of what he had taught them.

Charley Todd's youngest son, Charlie

My home teaching companion is a Vietnam Veteran. He was a United States Marine. He holds that singular badge of honor and credibility, the Purple Heart, just as Robert Wilson did. I am grateful that Michael Beggs goes home teaching and fulfills his Priesthood responsibilities, in spite of the pain.

As a veteran I take great solace and pride that it was a Centurion who was able to recognize that Jesus Christ was the Son of God. I love the stories of Moroni and Helaman and of the Mormon Battalion. I thank all those who are serving and who have served. Please pray for our service men and women (and their families) for they are surrounded by physical and spiritual hazards and are always grateful for those who are appreciative for the things they do for us.

— Charley Todd, LTC (Retired)

It's a short flight.

This post was originally published here by Jessica Garlick Dyer, a graduate of A&M Consolidated High School in 2008. We post this with her permission. 

It was a cold, bitter day back in early March of 2013. My contacts had been in for way too long. My hair was up in a high tangled bun and we were still in our clothes from 24 hours before.

We'd been sleeping {more like waiting} in the Denver airport all night. At 6 a.m. on the dot I got in line at the customer service desk of United Airlines to attempt to get added onto the next flight home. Our flight the night before had been cancelled a few hours after our connection landed in Denver. It would be a miracle if we got seats on that flight, and it was a miracle that we were capable of functioning physically, emotionally, and mentally at that moment.

That day Travis had a midterm he needed to be back in time to take, and the fact that he hadn't been able to study all night in the below freezing airport didn't even phase us. All we were worried about was getting him in his classroom to take the test. Not to mention that the purpose of all the crazy back-to-back traveling across the country was for intense interviews for PhD programs. Our future was completely uncertain. And just 5 weeks earlier, I had given birth to our little girl, after being pregnant for just over 34 weeks. Travis held my hand while I endured labor, delivery, and then the worst drive of our lives---the one when we drove home from the hospital with an empty carseat installed behind us. And then for a couple weeks after that, Travis held my hand again as I felt the terrible pain---both the physical and emotional pain---that comes with tons of breast milk coming in, but not being able to let it out at all, but especially not having a little baby to feed the milk to.

Sitting in the airport that early morning I really wondered if life could get any worse. It just seemed like one thing after another. Not to mention the week before we ended up in the ER for Travis' leg and I could go on and on about little things that in the moment scared me out of my mind. Because after our traumatic experience with our baby girl, I then felt vulnerable. And to top it off, all I could think about was how in order to get a baby here to raise it would take at least 9 more months of agonizing fear, doubts, and worries {the list goes on and on}, where each day feels like a year, in order to bring a baby home with us. And then the realization came that it will always be hard for us to have a baby---pregnancy is now one of the greatest ways that our faith is tested from now on. And that is overwhelming at times.

This scripture from Isaiah has come to my mind often: “For, behold, I have refined thee, I have chosen thee in the furnace of affliction” (Isaiah 48:10). 

Yet, while the refiner’s fire is the path by which we must go to obtain joy, it is just that—a fire—hot, uncomfortable, and dangerous. We do, though, have the ability to come out refined from the experience---not damaged.

Thankfully the woman at the customer service desk was in a semi-good mood. We ended up getting on the plane. We lined up to board, trying not to fall asleep standing up.

And that’s when I saw an older couple with a teenage girl who had disabilities try to get tickets on the same flight, it appeared that they had slept in the airport that night too; my heart hurt for them. I said a silent prayer they would get on the flight.

Once on the plane, I noticed the couple and daughter got seats, just in the row across from us. Right as they sat down, the cycle began: crying, silence, questioning—repeat. This was the process that the tall teenage girl, with blonde hair and glasses, with some sort of mental handicap repeated to her father. She talked very loud and used childlike phrases. Some people stared and acted annoyed.

She was scared. She had no choice but to be on that plane to make the connection in Salt Lake to eventually get to her destination. When we first boarded, the plane was neat to her. She stared out the window watching the crew de-ice the plane. But then, as soon as the plane left the solid concrete ground for the air, she panicked.

She sat in the window seat and talked the entire flight, repeating over and over, practically yelling, “It’s a short flight, right dad?” She repeated this all the way from Denver, Colorado, to Salt Lake City, Utah. She stammered these words through tears and then the next second through confidence, then back through tears. Sometimes she would start to cry hysterically and then her dad would calm her down and she would go on to repeat all these emotions in the same cycle.

I sat in awe the whole flight---watching, listening. This girl's father, ever so patient and calm, reassured his daughter every few minutes by answering her question with, “yes, it’s a short flight,” over and over again. Though, there was no doubt in my mind that it had to be what felt like the longest flight ever to him. He let his wife sleep the whole flight, while he took care of his daughter, constantly calming and reassuring her. How tiring it must have been.

My mind was racing. This man and his wife are taking care of their daughter for what I assume would be 24/7 for the rest of her life. He never gets a break. But oh how patient he was. He was noticeably exhausted, yet he never once raised his voice, got upset, or ignored his daughter. I felt humbled and ashamed to have ever felt tired or sorry for myself, or having ever talked impatiently. This man was handling his own furnace of affliction in that moment so well, ultimately as Christ would have responded. 

I was reminded that morning what it must be like for our Heavenly Father to watch us panic in a time of trial, only to console us with perfect patience and compassion. And I was also reminded how everyone has trials as I watched in awe a father so patiently and lovingly be in control of a very stressful, trying situation. I watched him care for her realizing that he and his wife would have this responsibility for the entirety of their time on earth. How hard it must be. 

"It’s a short flight, right dad? Yes, it’s a short flight.” Over and over again, crying.

When I felt the plane skid on the runway in SLC I was relieved. Not for me, but for this girl and her dad. The flight was over. And then, as soon as we landed, in a voice I can still hear in my mind, the girl exclaimed to her dad with so much excitement: “It was a great flight! It was short flight, huh dad?”

And her father agreed, “yes, it was a great, short flight.”

I have a feeling that's how we'll all respond when our individual flights on this earth are over. It’s hard not to know what hard things are around the next turn. But this Travis and I do know, that because of the atonement of Jesus Christ, we are enabled to do what we need to do in this life to become more like Him. That knowledge brings power, no matter how smooth or bumpy our flight gets. 

And in the grand scheme of eternity, it really is just a great, short flight.

"How can you go two years without seeing your son?"

That moment you wait for forever. A moment of forever.  A moment of peace, power, bliss and the essence of what this life is all about: love.

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege of witnessing such a moment when a local young man returned home honorably from his mission. After two years of service, his family eagerly waited in the terminal of the airport here in College Station. I can count on just one hand the moments where I have literally felt the anticipation of the moment coursing through my soul and I can honestly say this was one of those moments.

The Hinckley family stood around the terminal doors as the passengers started filing past. Everyone we could see walking up the passageway was too short or casually dressed to be an LDS missionary. The anticipation was building… where was he? It had been two years and those final 60 seconds were excruciating for the family.

Finally, they spotted him walking up from behind. Elder Hinckley made his way from the terminal door to the lobby grinning from ear to ear. And without missing a beat, he went straight to his mother and swept her up in the biggest hug possible.

As I stood back watching this sweet moment between mother and son, a family friend, who isn't a member of the church, leaned over and said to me, “How can you go two years without seeing your son? I don’t understand how they can go two whole years.”

He caught me off guard. I wasn't prepared to explain why missionaries leave for two years because I honestly didn't know. I missed the missionary opportunity and mumbled in agreement: I don't know, I know, it would be so hard!

But I've reflected on that question for the last few weeks.

Why? Why would someone go on a mission for two years? Why would someone leave their family, the comforts of home, put off an education, career, and relationships? I think there are many answers on the surface: Because of duty. Because it was expected of them by their family. Because that’s what 19-year-old's in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints do.

I listened closely the following Sunday when Elder Hinckley spoke in church and reported on his mission. I suddenly had my answer. There is really only one reason to stay out in the mission field for two years without any real contact with your family, and that reason is love.

Elder Hinckley loves the Lord, more than his family, more than his friends, more than his education, career, home cooked meals, and yes, even A&M football games.

Elder Hinckley may have gone out on his mission because of duty, but he stayed out in California for two years because of love.  He went and taught, often without success, but many times with it. He knows that this Church is true. He knows that Jesus Christ died for his sins. He knows that because of Christ, he can return to live with his Father in Heaven and be with his family forever.

And because of love, Elder Hinckley went door-to-door for two years to preach the gospel to the people in southern California because he wanted them to know of God’s love too. He wants them to be able to be with their families forever, too.

Missions aren't always easy. You don't always know why you're out there. You don't always meet the nicest people. It can be discouraging. But it can also be joyful. You can have the Spirit to guide you. You are not with your parents, but you know they love you and are out there waiting with anticipation until you return home to them again.

I think the same applies to us. Life is hard. We don't always know why we are here on this earth. It can be discouraging. It can be sad. But it can also be joyful. And our Heavenly Father loves us. He is watching and waiting with anticipation of when He can see His children again, and that moment will be more incredible than we can possibly imagine.

Life is too short and death is inevitable. Death comes for many too early and it is devastating. But it is not the end — it is only temporary. There is hope because of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. There is hope because we have the knowledge that because of Jesus Christ, we can be with our families for all eternity. 

On that Tuesday night in October, the Hinckley family felt a small part of the pure joy, of what it will be like to be reunited with our families for all of eternity. That’s what I witnessed a few weeks ago: a small moment of forever.

If you would like to know more about how you can be with your family forever, please visit us this Sunday at 11 a.m. at 2815 Welsh Ave, College Station, TX 77845

*All photos Copyright Tracie Snowder 2013

Tracie Snowder is a professional writer, editor, mother to two sweet girls and wife to an awesome, handsome and hard-working A&M grad student. She graduated from Brigham Young University with a degree in broadcast journalism. She loves to bake treats, run, swim, and has a passion for photography. She is a sometimes-blogger at Snowders.com. You can follow her on Twitter here.