Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Happy Temple Anniversary to My Family!

Sunday, March 26, 2017—Happy Temple Anniversary to My Family!

Idaho Falls Temple (Idaho)

                Today is the Dean and Barbara Hammon Family Anniversary. When I was almost seven-years-old, our family went to the Idaho Falls Temple and were sealed for time and eternity. I remember parts of it as vividly as if it happened today.
                I remember arriving very early in the morning. We children—Dennis, Telecia, Darrel, Brad, Shawn, and Delaina—went to the Children’s Center where we waited for our parents. While there, we played a variety of games, including red light, green light. I must have been wearing red socks that day because one of the older boys who was playing with us called me “Red Socks.” I think we were way more noisy than we should have been.

The Hammon Family sans Delaina, Heber, and Jaralyn

            I believe the part that stuck out the most is dressing all in white and then being led to a room upstairs where my parents were kneeling across the altar from one another. The children gathered at the altar and placed our hands on top of our parents. I remember Uncle Milt and Aunt Stella, Uncle Wilford and Aunt Beth, Brother and Sister Heward, and others in the room. I remember my mother and father crying. I don’t really know exactly what happened that day although I knew we were being sealed together as a family.

The Hammon Family sans my mother
                Since that day, I have been back to the temple numerous times and performed sealings for those who have passed on and witnessed other sealings. My most vivid sealing was that of Joanne and my sealing and marriage to each other for all time and eternity. Surely, there couldn’t have been a happier day in the scheme of earthly things. While we were physically here on earth, we were in an eternal House of the Lord where eternal ordinances are performed.

Our engagement photo (by Dennis Hammon)
                I know my brothers and sisters—excluding Heber and Jaralyn as they hadn’t been born 
yet—remember that day. Perhaps, it is a bit fuzzy for Shawna and Delaina as they were five and two respectively, but I remember it. I knew I liked being in the temple and have since learned the why. I enjoy going now. Joanne and I were just in the Payson Temple (Utah) on Saturday morning (yesterday), enjoying the glorious moment being in the Celestial Room, discussing our own family and the things we need to do to maintain our sealing to them.
It is in the House of the Lord where we make eternal binding covenants with our Father in Heaven. We who have been to the temple; we who have knelt at the holy altars and made sacred “covenants and obligations relative to exaltation” (Packer, p. 162); we who have received our holy endowments; we who have basked in the glory of God within the walls of this holy shrine--surely the Lord is happy with us and our title: “Keepers of covenants.”

New Provo City Center Temple

Happy Anniversary to the Dean and Barbara Hammon Family. It is now up to us!



Monday, January 23, 2017

Snow Day

It has been snowing a ton in Utah! Consequently, I thought I would pen a poem about snow with photos: Here goes:

Snow Day

It’s the whiteness that overwhelms you at first,
the softness of the snow, floating lazily down



like bags of feathers dropped from on high,
somewhere beyond the grayish imbued clouds.


It settles peacefully on branches of Blue Spruce
and leafless peach and apple trees, covering them

Photo courtesy of Karen Larson Watson
with a blanket of pure quietness and serenity.
Some limbs are more burdened than others.


Perhaps, they are stronger, feel more connectedness to snow,
like mothers to babies and people to their dogs.


From the window, we watch closely, surreptitiously
as the snow piles deeper and deeper, clogging roads,


our driveways, our senses of wellness.
As the breeze caresses the heavy-laden branches and boughs,


and sticks of dead daisies and lilies, it flicks bits of snow off
and into its melodic breeze, carrying the white fluff


beyond and then slowly, lovingly to the ground, where it will sleep
for days, perhaps even weeks,  and then melt into the ground,


savoring the moments when its hoard moisture seeps
into new roots of the sleeping grass and flowers and life.


And we sit there, observing from our perch behind sheer curtains,
in front of a glowing fire, warm, comfortable, and complacent



while contemplating our lives and who or what will nourish them.


The whole poem here:

Snow Day

It’s the whiteness that overwhelms you at first,
the softness of the snow, floating lazily down

like bags of feathers dropped from on high,
somewhere beyond the grayish imbued clouds.

It settles peacefully on branches of Blue Spruce
and leafless peach and apple trees, covering them

with a blanket of pure quietness and serenity.
Some limbs are more burdened than others.

Perhaps, they are stronger, feel more connectedness to snow,
like mothers to babies and people to their dogs.

From the window, we watch closely, surreptitiously
as the snow piles deeper and deeper, clogging roads,

our driveways, our senses of wellness.
As the breeze caresses the heavy-laden branches and boughs,

and sticks of dead daisies and lilies, it flicks bits of snow off
and into its melodic breeze, carrying the white fluff

beyond and then slowly, lovingly to the ground, where it will sleep
for days, perhaps even weeks,  and then melt into the ground,

savoring the moments when its hoard moisture seeps
into new roots of the sleeping grass and flowers and life.

And we sit there, observing from our perch behind sheer curtains,
in front of a glowing fire, warm, comfortable, and complacent

while contemplating our lives and who or what will nourish them.