I took my son to the temple for his marriage.  He and his bride were taken away by a temple worker to review paper work and have a preliminary interview.  I was left to sit and wait near the top of the stairs inside the entrance to the Boise Temple.

My attention quickly focused upon a handsome young man in a group ascending the stairs.  The young man was of slight build, dark hair, and wide-eyed.  He was obviously a recently-called missionary entering the temple for the first time to receive his own endowments.  The man on his right was obviously his father.  The woman on his left would be his mother.  The elderly man beside her would be his grandfather.  A temple worker seated them opposite me.

The young man was very polite and soft-spoken as he responded to the temple worker's questions.  "I'm going to The Philippines," he answered.  "Yes, I understand that they're very nice people."

My attention was riveted on the young man because of the aura that he radiated.  He was good-looking, eager, attentive, wondering, clean, apprehensive, filled with desire to do well and do right, and had obviously spent 19 years working toward this moment.

His parents and grandfather were calm and proud of their son.  They surrounded him protectively as they guided him through this new experience in his life.  In my mind's eye I saw a larger, extended family group not visible to the four of them.  His grandmother was one of them.  Other grandparents and family members from the other side of the veil were there to participate with, celebrate, and help the young man through this defining moment in his life.  He was unaware of them.  He was only aware of special feelings, and was trying to soak it all up and take it all in.  He was ready, receptive, and eager to take these steps which would open the doors to the rest of his life.

The young man and his family were escorted away.  Other people came and went.  Then up the stairs came a tall, blond, slender woman who was made to appear even more tall and more slender because her hands were raised high above her head carrying a very long bridal gown which still occasionally drug the floor despite her efforts to keep it from doing so.  Behind her came her daughter.  The two women were each six feet tall.  This alone made them noteworthy and watchable.  The girl, however, was radiant and gorgeous.  Flashes of light seemingly danced off the walls and people wherever she glanced.  Her smile lit up everyone she passed.  She was getting married—and she was happy.

"What a lucky young man her husband will be," I thought.  "I wonder what he looks like."

Several minutes later two men in crisp, gray suits ascended the stairs.  Their builds and facial features identified them as father and son.  The younger man was a powerfully built, strong, rugged, football-player type.  Had he been a worldly man, he probably wouldn't have been termed handsome; but he was imbued with the Spirit.  His worthiness shone through.  Happiness was the overwhelming sensation and characteristic one noticed as one watched him.  The young man was at ease.  He was obviously very familiar with the inside of the temple.  He answered in the affirmative when asked if he'd served a mission.  He was older than most recently-returned missionaries, however.  I guessed his age at 24.

When I next saw this young man, he and his bride were outside the temple posing for pictures, surrounded by at least a hundred people.  Again in my mind's eye I saw the unseen beings, more numerous even than the mortals who were gathered to celebrate the glad occasion.

And then it was my turn.  First I was taken to a tiny office where my son's new father-in-law and I signed the marriage certificate and other papers as witnesses of the sealing which was about to occur.

We were ushered into the sealing room.  On one side were seated my five married children, their spouses, and a few other relatives.  On the other side were the bride's married siblings and relatives.  The mothers of the bride and groom were seated near the foot of the altar.  Nearly everything that I held dear and precious was there in that Spirit-filled room.  All that were missing were my missionary son and his three younger siblings, plus the bride and groom who would be ushered in a minute later.

This was a defining moment not only for the bride and groom, but for me, too.

Like the young people I had observed earlier, I only had eyes for my physical surroundings and people.  It wasn't until later that I could see my mother and father and grandparents of several generations for all of whom I'd done temple work.  They were there.  Of course they'd be there, rejoicing with their posterity and adding to the special feelings of peace and love and rightness which filled the room as this young couple experienced this defining moment in their lives.

Defining moments are those occasions when one's life changes.  Defining moments occur at birth, at baptism, during missions, and at death.  They may also occur during moments of revelation or in times of extreme hardship.

We're never alone when defining moments occur, even when we think no one else is around.  Our mortal loved ones are usually clustered closely about us as we experience defining moments.  On those occasions we can be sure that our immortal loved ones are there, too.  Always the Spirit is present.

I asked several people to tell me about a defining moment in their life—the first thing that occurred to them.

One brother told of singing in the choir at the dedication of the Portland Temple.  As Elder Gordon B. Hinckley spoke, he said that the veil was very thin.  At that moment, this brother knew that his father was present.  His father had died when his son was 10 years old.  Neither were members of the Church at that time, but the son had since joined the Church and had done temple work for his father.

(Unfinished)