Bro. Carlson came in late.
There were about eight of us in attendance. I was sitting on the far side of the sealing room with a few others who had come to work in the temple on Wednesday, and the sealer was in the middle of speaking when the door opened slightly to indicate that there was someone else who wanted to come in when the time was appropriate. So we waited, the sealer concluded his remarks, and then the door opened to reveal the face of another temple worker who poked his head in and asked, “I have a gentleman here who would like to do a sealing, do you have room for him?” “Absolutely!” the sealer replied, and the door was pushed further open to allow our new patron easy access.
He didn’t appear right away, but after a brief pause I saw his stooped frame emerge from around the corner. His cane was grasped in his right hand, and it vibrated under his shaky grip. But little by little he made his way inside, inching closer to the front of the room where the sealer asked his name.
“Bro. Carlson,” he replied.
“Very good Brother Carlson, thank you for coming today. We’re happy to have you.”
It’s hard to describe what happened to me next, because I no longer felt like a patron here to do the work for other people. I felt like a privileged bystander who happened to be in the right place at the right time, as if I was walking the very streets of Bethlehem and happened to pass by the stable after the baby Jesus was born and got to peek in without anyone noticing. In Bro. Carlson left hand he was clutching a piece of paper. On it were the names of a family with two daughters. As he came face to face with the sealer he lifted his head, which appeared to be a gargantuan effort, and handed him the paper, wrinkled from a diligent effort to hold on to it. “I’d like to seal this family today,” he announced, to which the sealer promised we would do shortly. Minutes later I kneeled at the altar with Bro. Carlsen as a proxy daughter, and as I put my hand on his he lifted his head to look at me, smiled, then returned his gaze to the front of the room. By the time we finished his shoulders were shaking from over exertion and it took two gentlemen to help him up. The sealer asked if he would like to stay for the rest of the time, but he said, “Well, I’ve got some other things to do today so I suppose I should go.” And just like that, Bro. Carlson shuffled out of the room.
I wanted to share this experience because a couple of things were reinforced to me that afternoon. One, our honest efforts, however small they appear to be, are acceptable and even joyously received by our Heavenly Father for “by small and simple things are great things brought pass”. And two, “…if it so be that you should labor all your days…and bring save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father.”
Bro. Carlson, dare I predict that you are headed for immeasurable joy.
