This was my Temple.
When I was three, I remember the original open house and the novelty of putting those big white booties on my feet.
This was the temple I could see from my swing set when I six, but only if I pumped hard enough and high enough to see above the tree line.
The nine year old me would brake into hearty renditions of "I love to see the temple" every time we drove past.
When I was twelve, this is where I would go and do baptisms for the dead on Halloween with my family.
I went to High School a block away from this temple. When I was eighteen, I could clearly see its steeple in the back ground, a visual reminder, everyday during tennis practice.
And finally, when I was 21, I entered its doors to make covenants and promises with my Heavenly Father as I took out my endowments.
It felt like I was returning, but strangely enough the only thing that was even vaguely familiar besides the exterior and that singular steeple set in the middle was the large picture window between the baptismal font and chapel.
That and the feeling.
I love the way I feel in the temple.
That is why I keep taking my children to these open houses. I want them to feel it. To feel the love God sends to his children who visit there.
The nine year old me, had it figured out long ago... because I still...
Love to see the temple.
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