“I Love to See the Temple,” Friend, Sept. 2002, 38
Amy hated riding in the car. It bumped along the road, turning corners and making her feel dizzy. She was too little to see much out the windows. “Are we there yet?” she asked Mommy a lot.
Today they were on their way to Grandma’s. Amy was eager to play with her cousins in Grandma’s big backyard. She hoped that they would pick yellow flowers out of the grass and make a pretend house under the trees. But first she had to get there—and that meant more time in the car than Amy thought she could stand.
“Mommy, my tummy hurts,” she grumbled.
Her baby brother whimpered. “I think Baby Jacob’s tummy hurts, too,” she said.
Amy wanted to cry. “At least Jacob can see out the window,” she whined. “Why can’t we go any faster?”
“Well,” Mommy said, taking a deep breath, “there are a lot of cars on the highway, and nobody is going fast.”
“Oh.” Amy scrunched her eyebrows. “So how much longer?”
“I’m not sure, sweetheart.” Then Mommy smiled, and in the mirror at the front of the car, Amy saw her eyes grow wide. “Amy,” she said, “if you look out your window, way up high, I think pretty soon you will see the top of the temple.”
“The temple? Where you and Daddy were married?”
“We were married in the temple,” Mom said, “but not this temple. This is the Seattle Washington Temple, where Grandma and Grandpa go to help with baptisms.”
Amy craned her neck to look through the window at the sky. “Mommy, I don’t see it!”
“Sit up as tall as you can, Amy. Look for the Angel Moroni on top.”
Amy said a quick prayer in her head. Heavenly Father, please help me to see the temple. Then, in the middle of dark green trees, she spotted a spire. “Mommy, Mommy! I see it! There’s the Angel Moroni!”
Amy looked to see if Baby Jacob was watching, but he was busy looking at his fingers. “That’s the temple, Jacob,” she said, pointing out the window.
“‘I love to see the temple,’”* Mommy sang, beginning Amy’s favorite Primary song.
“‘I’m going there someday,’” Amy joined in. Even when the temple disappeared behind the trees, she kept singing. “‘To feel the Holy Spirit, To listen and to pray.’”
When they finished the song, Amy asked if they could sing it again. Soon they were pulling into Grandma’s driveway.
“How’s your tummy?” Mom whispered, turning off the car. Baby Jacob was sound asleep.
“All better,” Amy said. She unbuckled her seat belt and jumped out in the sunshine. “I’m going to tell Grandma we saw the temple!”