Going to the Temple Even When Your Spouse Can’t
Cover image via Gospel Media Library.
I am, to the view of anyone who has spent a Sunday or two visiting my ward, a very active member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I teach Relief Society. I comment frequently in Sunday School. Whenever a sign-up sheet makes the rounds, I sign up to bring something. I will accept any calling. I look forward with joy to General Conference.
But two weeks ago, as I stepped into the temple dressing room to prepare for an endowment session, I realized it was the first time I’d been to the temple in probably 2 years.
Two major obstacles have stood in the way of my temple attendance. The first is sort of silly, but a logistical issue nonetheless. Since I had my first baby three years ago, my temple dress hasn’t quite fit (and another pregnancy since then has meant that, for many months at a time the dress was not even close to fitting and for other months it was still zipper-bursting tight.)
The second obstacle is that, as I have discussed in my previous two articles in this publication, my husband struggles with a pornography addiction.
More frequent temple attendance is a goal I’m often prompted by the Spirit to make. I come home and tell my husband that I feel that it’s something we need to prioritize and he absolutely agrees. We schedule a time, we make a date, sometimes even go so far as to hire babysitters; but then, nearly every time, he has a relapse close enough to the appointment that he doesn’t feel worthy to go. I feel like I shouldn’t go without him, and don’t always feel comfortable leaving him alone after a recent relapse. And so, we blink, and weeks and months pass and we still aren’t the temple attending people we keep saying we want to be.
But two weeks ago, he was out of town with our children and I had to stay home for something and I decided to take the opportunity to go by myself.
I felt sort of sheepish, like I didn’t remember where to go or what to do. Though, of course, there are smiling temple workers at every turn to direct you, without judgement.
I rented a dress, and carefully changed. When I received the proxy name I would be going through the session for, I was surprised and delighted to see that she had the same first name and middle initial as my beloved grandmother, who I miss so much, and who worked as a temple worker for many years. I sat in the chapel waiting, thinking about her and thinking about the dear day when my mother and little sister and I got to go do initiatory with her as a worker. It was the most eternal and lovely experience, and as I thought of her smiling face on that day, I felt her sitting next to me on the bench. There was a perfect little empty spot next to me and it was suddenly, unmistakably occupied, if only for a minute.
I had gone to the session alone, but I didn’t feel alone. And indeed, I wasn’t.
Throughout my time in the temple, I was flooded with clarity and inspiration on things that had been bothering me. As I walked out the doors, I felt like I had settled on 3 or so specific action points on how to follow through upon that inspiration.
One of them was to text my husband and tell him that I was going to schedule 4 more visits to the temple this year for us, and if the day came and he couldn’t go, I would go without him.
It sounded harsh, perhaps, though he didn’t take it as such. But I realized as I sat within those sacred walls, after such a long, somewhat involuntary absence, that we need the power of the temple in our home. And we’ve been suffering for the lack of it.
It reminded me of a comment I heard from a pastor on Instagram not too long ago, I wish I remembered who, so I could credit him—but he said that when whales grow old and get to the end of their life, what ultimately kills them is that get too weak to keep returning to the surface for air, and they drown. Can you imagine a whale, that has spent all its life as an ocean-going thing, drowning?
But whales are just living in the ocean, they are not really, fully ocean creatures. In the same way, he said, we are not of this earth. We absolutely must have spiritual air and if we don’t come to the surface for it now and then, we will drown.
I have been drowning. I have been struggling so desperately with the pains of young motherhood. The days are so long, the messes so constant, the screaming and the acting out so unpredictable. Coming up with something for dinner is a task that never ends. The dishes, we have with us always. It is taxing to be constantly defied and ignored. For someone who always wanted her voice to matter to have practically no voice at all anymore, honestly brings me into despair frequently.
These are day to day problems and I logically know that many of the hardest parts are only a small season, but it feels never ending. Mundane issues have grown in scope until they threaten to crowd out what’s wonderful about my life. Temporal struggle has disconnected me from my eye for eternity.
But in the temple, I sat with my grandma. (Not that that will always happen, it’s just a gift I really needed). I sat in a place of eternal relationships and remembered how that same grandma said I will love her mother when we get to know each other better. And I probably already do. I sat in peaceful quiet long enough to realize that my three-year-old is an ancient spirit navigating the newness of a human body and a mortal brain. And that I too, am an ancient spirit that is capable of transcending, but also forgiving myself for an afternoon outburst of bawling over new carpet now covered in sloppy joe or a potted plant shattered by a poorly timed toddler tug on the table cloth.
I’ve been dearly needing to reconnect with my eye for eternity. I need the bigger picture, because the small picture is just too hard.
But I have denied myself that return to the water’s surface and that breath of relief because once I was eternally wed to someone in the temple, it felt like we should always be there together.
He kept being held back by a weakness that not only made him feel unable to attend, but also keeps him distanced from the Spirit. He’s always willing, but he doesn’t feel the same urgency as me because the Spirit can’t always be his companion to whisper that urgency.
I realize now, though, that rather than waiting to go to the temple together for the sake of unity, I need to go to the temple by myself because our family needs its power too much to wait. I may not have the authority of the priesthood to administer ordinances, but my temple covenants give me priesthood power and my family needs me to understand and utilize it.
My husband is a wonderful provider and partner. He works so hard, and encourages me in every arena. He is such a present father and adored by everyone in the house, including the cat. If it was a matter of desire, he would’ve been rid of this detrimental addictive behavior before we ever met. I too have behaviors and habits that would’ve been gone long ago if getting rid of them was a matter of just making a choice.
He wants to be with me in the temple. He wants to be ready to give a father’s blessing at a moment’s notice. And he’s trying. His recovery is ongoing. As is everyone’s recovery from the ways the natural man wreaks havoc on our best laid plans.
We are all in recovery.
Until he can come with me to the temple, I will be there for us both. I will enter the Lord’s house much more often than I have, because I need to glimpse heaven and come back having deeply inhaled that essential spiritual air.
I need it. Without it, I will drown.
(And the next stop I made after that return to the temple was to a shop to buy a more expandable temple dress. The first one I tried on was exactly what I needed. It was a three years long impediment, solved in 10 minutes).