I was born a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in a small town called Abergavenny, Monmouthshire, Wales, 1939. I arrived at the same time as my two brothers, which means that I am a triplet!
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My parents, William Albert (Burt) and Muriel Huxtable Perry, were strong and devoted to their faith. My father joined the Church in Cardiff, Wales, along with his parents and younger brother when he was 14 years old. My mother was raised a staunch Baptist. She often took her aged grandmother, who was a member, to meetings in a small rented hall. It was there she gained a strong testimony of the gospel. She was baptized by my father two years before they were married.
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My parents raised their children in the “nurture and admonition of the Lord.” When my father was away during the war, my mother made sure that we went to Primary and Sunday School. It was held in our own home because there was no branch of the Church close by. It was there that I learned about the temple and to love the gospel.
The greatest desire in the hearts of my parents was to be sealed in the temple of our God. The closest temples were in Utah and Cardston, Alberta, Canada, a whole ocean away. As soon as possible after World War ll they began making plans to emigrate. It would be hard to leave all of their family behind, but putting their trust in the Lord they knew they were making the right decision.
Imagine their surprise when they received a letter in mid-December 1947 that passage was available on a ship called the Aquitania, for sailing on the 21st of January, 1948. Much like the pioneers of old, they had to get ready to leave in a hurry. Our family had grown by now hence our entourage consisted of three steamer trunks, several suitcases, two slightly harried adults, a ten-year old, three who were eight years old, and two four-year-old children.
Crossing the Atlantic to Canada
The crossing was one of the stormiest in many years and because of that we were two days late arriving in Canada. We landed in Halifax and went through Pier 21. New plans were made and our trip across the continent began, but it was quite unlike the pioneers. It was in a sleek, fast, warm “covered wagon” called a train, and it was a great adventure for all of us children, but perhaps not so for my parents!
On our journey over my father received a telegram saying that his work assignment had been changed and that he should proceed to Calgary, Alberta. We arrived there on February 1 and it was 20 degrees below (Fahrenheit) and with no one to greet us. That soon changed as membership in the Church guarantees a home no matter where on earth you go. The members in Calgary welcomed us with open arms and helped to make it possible for our family to go to the temple as soon as could be arranged.
My journey to the temple
It was in the evening just three months later, in May, that we drove to Claresholm, Alberta, and I remember telling a friend that we were going to Cardston and would spend the night with a lady called Clare.
Unfortunately, I don’t remember much of the rest of the trip until we were dressed in white and escorted into the sealing room in the Cardston Alberta Temple. It seemed like a very small room that was very crowded with people. I’m sure that every member in Calgary was there. I searched for my parents and found them kneeling at an altar. A small, very old-looking gentleman called each of us children by name to kneel, in order of age, at the same altar. Even at eight years of age, I felt the great reverence and source of strength that was there. I knew it was a very special place. We each laid our hands upon those of our father and mother, and then a dear temple worker, placed the tiny hand of our one-month-old baby sister on top of ours.
The temple will always be a sacred place for me
I was told that the venerable old man in the corner of the room was President E.J. Wood [temple president] and that we were now an eternal family. My parents’ greatest wish had come true. I’m sure I didn’t realize exactly what that meant at that time, but the years have only added to my understanding. I loved the feeling I had in the temple that day and that love has grown through the years.
I thank my Heavenly Father for the privilege of now, in my eighty-plus years of being able to attend the temple and provide those same sacred, saving ordinances for others. How blessed I am to have a temple close by and also one available no matter where we go or where we live in this beautiful world. I pray that I will always be found worthy to attend the temple and that I will always feel that same sacredness and strength that I felt on my first trip to the temple.
For me, the 24th of May is not just a holiday but also a “Holy Day.”