Yet here I was, driving to the Oquirrh Mountain temple on that clear, cold November 14th morning with tears in my eyes. And the reason why weighed my heart down. I cried because I was driving myself to the temple. Sure, my family would have gladly picked me up along their way if I'd asked, but that wasn't the point. In my mind, a woman receiving her endowment was synonymous with her fast approaching wedding day. That's just the way it's done, right? It had been the way I'd seen most everyone in my life do it. And I was discouraged that I wasn't following suit. I had a life plan and that plan wasn't being realized as I had hoped. I should be driving to the temple in the company of my handsome soon-to-husband, starry-eyed and so twitterpated that I could burst. But instead I was alone, my cold hands fumbling to put my favorite Paul Cardall song on repeat as a meager attempt to calm my heart. Not quite the shiny scenario I had envisioned in my previous years.
A large part of me felt that by taking this step I was giving up on ever getting married. That I was surrendering myself to a life of first dates and making dinner for one (though more if you counted the alarming number of cats I was sure to collect). An endless state of adolescence. And I didn't want that. Ever. But in my mind I was taking one giant leap closer to becoming that woman. And yet. No one was forcing me to take this step. So why?
The quote goes "You must learn to walk to the edge of the light, and then a few steps into the darkness; then the light will appear and show the way before you." Now while I'd hardly call going to the temple a matter of darkness, making the decision to do this on my own was most certainly me moving toward that terrifying and looming edge of darkness. The unknown. It petrified me. But I had asked and Heavenly Father had confirmed to me that it was time to take this next step. I wanted to learn more about my religion and to increase in understanding. I wanted a closer relationship with my Heavenly Father more than I was scared of becoming the neighborhood cat lady. And so I cautiously crept toward and tip toed into that darkness.
I wish I could tell you that the next part of the story involved me serendipitously bumping into Mr. Right on my way to the endowment room and they lived happily ever after. How's that for a reward, huh?? That'd make for a very tight-knit sacrament talk on faith where everything falls right into place. But it didn't. I believe those tight-knit stories are the exception and most certainly not the norm (Though many begin to think otherwise and then feel inadequate when comparing their loose ends to the seemingly tidy package others appear to have ... but that's a different post!). I'm learning that rewards come from our Heavenly Father in all different shapes and sizes. I didn't find Mr. Right that day at the temple or the day after. Or even yet. But the blessings I've received from taking that step into the darkness are irreplaceable. I've been softened by the temple's peace in the midst of my confusions, have grown more confident in my testimony, and am continually better understanding the bare-bones WHY of the Gospel for my own life. I better understand my Heavenly Father's nature and just how much He really does love me. I'm now so grateful I had the opportunity to receive my endowment separate from such a life altering event as marriage. I recognize the distinct separation of the two ordinances and now, given the choice, would absolutely do it the same way all over again. I understand that this isn't everyone's path. But I'm very grateful it was mine.
I'm still not certain where Mr. Right is. Amid a sea of young (and not so young) single adults in Salt Lake, it's sometimes flabbergasting to think that it hasn't happened yet. I do worry. I worry that I'll become an awkward dater. I worry I'll be that oldish woman desperately trying to dress like she's 22 (you know the kind). I worry I'll be tempted to buy a few seasons of Golden Girls just to take notes on how they made it work. I find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to write my first name with a different last name or to read bedtime stories with my kids. But until those dreams are realized, I'll just try to recall the time when I thought I knew the plan my life was supposed to follow, yet Heavenly Father had something much better in mind.
