When you lose something that you can’t replace
When I was in high school, my dad had a job installing high-end home theater systems and programming remotes for “smart homes.” We didn’t have a lot of money, so my dad would work days and nights on the jobs he was given. One client in particular had a home near our neighborhood and took up most of his time. My dad worked late into the evening for months to set up this perfect “smart home.” It had a remote that literally controlled almost ALL the electronics in the entire house. You could move the chandelier up and down at the click of a button and set up movies in different rooms from the internet.
A week before it’s big finish, I woke up to find my parents out on our deck in their pajamas with dark circles under their eyes. They didn’t say a word but just kept staring off into the distance. When I followed their eye path, I saw the beautiful home my dad worked on surrounded in flames. Everything my dad had worked so hard for was lost and I watched his pride completely dissolved in minutes.
I felt the same hopeless feeling back in December when I saw Provo residents gathered around the Historic Provo Tabernacle as it burned down. Built in 1883 this building was a “reminder of the pioneering spirit that built Utah” and was considered a historic treasure to the community. All the hard work that had been put into the building by our ancestors was destroyed. People walked home with their head hung low and many came to the conclusion that the building was past the point of saving.
A game-changing plan
Yesterday, at the LDS General Conference, President Thomas S. Monson announced that the Provo Tabernacle was going to be re-built into a temple. When he finished the announcement people let out a giant gasp with “oohs and ahs” ha. It was a miracle! Not only was the tabernacle going to be re-built, it was going to become something of even greater value.
The idea: re-build it
I think often times we have this idea that we have “lost everything” that we made a mistake that has somehow destroyed the entire structure of our lives. We made a wrong turn that took the value out of everything we worked so hard for. Lost in confusion and despair, we convince ourselves that we have nothing left to do but linger in a hopeless state.
Flashback to my Dad, he could have given up. Re-doing the home was an overwhelming, monotonous task. But he believed he could build it again and build it better. Just like members of the Provo community believe that the tabernacle can be saved and built into something more.
These buildings are a symbol of hope to the many who walk in doubt. An idea that instead of hanging your head low, you could look up and remember that nothing is lost until you give up. It may take longer to fix, it may be harder, but in the end wouldn’t you say it was worth it?
