When I See Her Again

Last week as I was happily working in the temple, I stopped short.  Anyone observing could have heard my audible whispered gasp.  The room was still, except for a woman who suddenly appeared, walking in my direction.  I stood spellbound, and soaked in all of her glory over a split second, as if it were slow motion.

How familiar she seemed.  From head to toe, she could have been my Mother.  Her height, her small build, her softly curled hair style and color, her old glasses she wore when Dad was alive, her newer temple dress, her sweet hands that held gently on to sacred things.  She walked slowly, with humility and intent, along her side of the aisle.  I stood on the other side, not wanting to disrupt the moment.  She didn't see me staring.  She knew her purpose there.  And as she passed, it would have broken the heavenly bubble enveloping me if I had followed her.  Besides, I knew if I didn't hurry to the nearest tissue box, I would be a complete mess. 

She went on her way.  And I tried my best to hide the uncontrollable tears.  My encounter lasted only a few seconds, but in that space a sweet blanket of knowledge draped over me, leaving a distinct impression what it might be like when I see her again.  I knew my feet could not run fast enough to hold her tight enough.  My heart raced with loving delight as I imagined my own angel Mother there before me.  

My assignment changed to a part of the temple close to where I knew the woman would be.  I could have peeked in to find her, but my heart was already full, knowing I couldn't ask for more than the validation of  Heaven I had already received.  I will replay this sweet experience in my heart for a long time; especially the part about fervently running to Mom with grateful tears and open arms to hold her tighter than tight when I see her again.