Kirtland!

A week or so ago, some friends mentioned they had family coming to town and they were looking for ideas on what to do for Labor Day.

Either Kevin or I said, "You should go to Kirtland."

Then . . . "We should go to Kirtland!"

We let that idea sit on the back burner the rest of the weekend. That Sunday night, Kevin asked, "So do we really want to go?"

"Sure."

"When should we leave?"

"6 or 6:30, . . . that way we can be back in time for dinner."

He looked at the clock. "Then we should probably pack, and then go to bed."

So we did. The next morning, we made it out the door a little after 7. Matthew was pretty good about sleeping in the car, but Joseph wasn't. So we let him play with the camera.

That's us saying hi, even though it looks like a "don't talk to me" gesture.

I don't take selfies. I don't know how he learned. 

50 pictures and 5 minutes later, he was done playing with it.

Whatever entertained him for the rest of the ride seemed to work, and before we knew it we were pulling into the visitor's center for the Kirtland Temple.

I had been here once before. When I was 11, we stopped in Kirtland on our move to New Jersey. What I remembered most was how different the Kirtland Temple felt from the other Kirtland church sites. The temple had seemed empty and sad whereas the Newel K. Whitney store felt warm and vibrant. It was the first time I really recognized the Spirit. So, I was curious if it would be the same this time.

To my surprise, the temple felt warm and inviting. It was a place which might not be quite so sacred  anymore, but it still had many traces of holiness. Perhaps the difference was that the tour guide spoke plainly, even adoringly about the things that had happened there. The Spirit was there on all the floors, especially up in Joseph's office.

We finished the tour on the main level by squishing into the pews (though not as much as the original saints). We learned about the dedications that lasted hours upon hours. I think it'd be pretty cool to hear Sidney Rigdon or Joseph Smith teach for that long. But judging by the way Joseph was wiggling around on the bench, I don't think many of the kids back then would have agreed with me.

"We like to finish the tour by singing The Spirit of God," our tour guide said. "Does anyone here play the piano?"

While a teenage girl and I did a little bit of "You can do it, nah, you can do it, nah I'm holding a baby" Kevin got up and went to the piano. While we sang, Joseph kept on squirming and rolling around, but it was still a nice feeling being there and singing just like they did 180 years ago. On our way out, the tour guide thanked Kevin for playing Spirit of God at a spirited tempo. Then he looked at us and smiled.

"Your kids are going to take piano lessons, I'm guessing. No choice in the matter."

He's right, of course.

And then, we took pictures! (Because you always have to take pictures outside of the temple, wedding or not.)

Buzz Lightyear doesn't smile for the camera, I guess. 

We stopped in the gift shop for a bit because I was intrigued by the original Emma Smith hymnbook I'd seen on the tour. I ended up buying it to add to our collection of hymnbooks (2 normal sized, 3 pocket sized in English, 1 pocket sized in Spanish, one 1947, and now this). People in the shop asked Joseph what his name was. It would have been fun if he had said "Joseph," because then people could be like, "Aww, just like Joseph Smith!" (which is partially why he's named Joseph.)

But instead he said Buzz Lightyear. "Well," said a missionary, "Joseph Smith did want the gospel to go to infinity and beyond!"

We had spent longer at the temple than we anticipated, and we wanted to be back by 5 for a dinner, so we sped through the LDS side of Kirtland. We skipped the movie at the beginning and got our own private (and well-paced) tour from a sister missionary who didn't mind me nursing Matthew through the whole thing, including our walk from the visitor's center to the store. (My proudest moment of the day, actually.)

Just like when I was 11, there was a warm, wonderful spirit in the Newel K. Whitney store, and it survived even a bored 3-year-old wondering when we could go. It was also nice that the upper room of the store didn't smell the way it did that precipitated the Word of Wisdom revelation. The missionary said it was so smoky that they couldn't even see from front to back of that small room. Yuck.

The mill, I think. Northwood just got painted so I can't pretend anymore that this is where we live .

The ashery. 

Before too long, the tour was done, so we grabbed a drive-thru lunch and hurried back home. Even if it was a quick trip, it was still worth it.