Day 39, March 5; Finding sweet new family in Nashville, Temple #11 Nashville,TN

 T'was a beautiful day for a visit to the Nashville TN Temple.  I just love meeting warm welcoming folks in each temple who share my love for the Savior and His Gospel and who treat me more like family than visitors.  Today was no different; we enjoyed again the camaraderie of fellow saints in sacred temple worship.  I was, however, a wee bit sleepy as I've heavily drugged myself with a slew of over-the-counter medications as I struggle to recover from a cough that sounds as though my lungs are turning inside out.  As well, the antibiotic I've been on for 4 days is absolutely killing my gut; I've been in agony at times doubled over with stabbing pain.  It was with trepidation that we drove to the temple fearing I'd either erupt into hacking fits or hit the floor from a spasm in my gut.  But I'd knelt in prayer this morning asking for the Lord to help me figure it out:  either I'd wait in the trailer for Aaron while he attended temple or I'd trust the Lord to hold my symptoms at bay for the 90 minute session.  As it turned out, I felt great peace and confidence upon entering the temple, so I took it as a sign that the Lord had my back and would watch over me so as not to let me disrupt the proceedings.  Indeed was I wise to trust the inspiration to attend as not only did the session proceed quite smoothly but it was also shown soon afterwards that my presence was indeed needed in the temple today.  More on that later.

The incredible highlight of the day came in meeting for the first time the only known cousin Aaron has on his father's side.  Ya see, it happened like this:  Aaron Kasper was born Aaron Struck.  But his father, William Struck, was no good as a husband or as a dad.  Father Struck left his young family when Aaron was still a toddler and only paid a few infrequent visits to Aaron in his early years, taking him along to the bars while he drank.  Father Struck completely left Aaron's life never to return before Aaron turned 8 years old.  His mother eventually married a lovely man who assumed the role of father and adopted Aaron giving him the last name of Kasper.  Aaron never knew anything of or anybody from the Struck family until 50 years later while researching his genealogy.  He came across a first cousin named Linda with whom he conversed on the phone, and when we suggested getting together where she lives in Nashville, the most adorable Linda and her daughter agreed to meet us for lunch.  And what a lovely four hour lunch we spent with Linda.  She and Aaron hugged and cried, and Linda shared valuable pictures and history with us.  Turns out Linda's mother long sought for information about her nieces and nephews (Aaron included) but was unable to unearth anything.  It was with much love and joy that Aaron and Linda met today.  Such a gift!

                                          Twins Aaron Dean and Karon Jean at 20 minutes old.

                              Aaron's grandfather, newly immigrated from Germany (standing).

                                                       Aaron's biological father in middle. 

Three amazing things:  1- Finding a cousin you didn't even know you had, and one who is just as excited to welcome you into her life as you are her!  2- When the cop stopped in the middle of a 70 mph freeway to help clean up after the accident, he did turn on his flashing red and blue lights.  I, however, did not see said flashing lights until I was almost on top of his police car because of a large intervening truck blocking my view.  By the time the truck changed lanes and I saw the cop, I was barreling towards him at such a speed with a trailer pushing me that I was quite sure I couldn't stop before hitting him.  Traffic on either side prevented a lane change, and there were only seconds to react.  It's quite unclear how it came to pass that I avoided a collision with this police car, but somehow a miracle occurred and aside from one scared cop and two terrified passengers hauling Bambi (all three of whom experienced quite an adrenaline rush), all turned out well.  I have thanked the Lord all afternoon for sparing me.  He must have needed me at the temple.  Because... 3- On my way out of the temple, I witnessed two temple workers supporting on either side a failing elderly woman down a hall.  Without even thinking, I stepped in, gently disentangled one of the rescuers (who appeared relieved to acquiesce to me) and took control, guiding the elderly woman to a chair while beginning to assess the situation.  This elderly woman was sweaty, clammy, having a hard time communicating, and was shaking almost violently.  Didn't take long to figure out that she had not consumed adequate food (sugar) for hours and was simply in need of glucose.  I got the the temple workers to quickly scrounge up some glucose tablets, a water bottle, and some crackers, and it wasn't long before the sugar hit her brain and she calmed right down and returned to herself again.  After the emergency passed, I apologized for butting in so rudely to the situation, but after explaining my background, the temple workers expressed how thrilled they were that I had intervened, for these situations can be quite disconcerting for them.  They all expressed gratitude that I had been present to  witness the emergency and so quickly resolve it.  What's cool to me is that I, in turn, felt tremendous gratitude that the Lord spared me a rather serious car accident only a couple of hours earlier so that I could be present to help in time of need.  

Good deed:  After our sweet elderly temple worker recovered, I instructed her in how to safely drive herself home (as she is quite along in Nashville) without another similar incident.  Then I supplied her with adequate short-term and long-term carbs and protein to assure her safety for a few hours.  I gently told her she shouldn't skip breakfast on days she works at the temple.  Was a sweet opportunity to be of some small service when I have been so richly served by many strangers these past 6 weeks on the road.  

                                Our wee and snug Bambi on a pitch-black night in Kentucky.