Every Wednesday since the beginning of September has been relatively the same: I've gotten out of Orchestra rehearsal around 9:00, dropped off my French horn at the library, and walked to the temple to do vicarious baptisms for the deceased.
The kind older gentleman at the front desk greets me with a smile, "You're back!" he exclaims. "We've been waiting for you."
Sister Bingham greets me with a hug. "So good to see you," she says. "You're ten minutes early today."
"It's good to see you too," I respond. "Orchestra got out early today."
I love going to the temple; it feels like coming home.
Last month my roommate, Kenley, began coming with me. And just this past Wednesday, her friend Bekah joined us. Most of the volunteer workers at the temple recognize Kenley now.
"It's another regular," they say to Kenley, and her face lights up with a smile.
"I want to be a regular, too," Bekah says.
As I was waiting to go down to the baptismal font, Brother Minert called me by name. "It's Sister Anderson. How I love to see the regulars."
It was then that what Bekah had said really struck me.
I want to be a regular.
I want to be a regular in heaven. When I get to there, I want the gate-keeper to exclaim, "Oh! It's a regular! So good to see you again."
I want to have come before God in prayer so often, and stood before his face and in his temples so often that He rejoices to see me again. I want to come before him so often that, when I see him again, I will recognize him. There won't be any catching up to do--no, we'll talk as though we had talked just the day before. We'll be familiar friends.
I want him to say, "Brooke. It's good to see you again. Come on in."
I think about how exciting and joyous it is to be recognized at the temple, how wonderful it is to see familiar faces that I know and love, and I want heaven to be that way too.
I want to be a regular to Him.
Candidly,
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