In the fall of 1984, my wife Betsy and I were returning to our home in Campbell River, British Columbia, after attending the Seattle Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. En route, we stopped at Betsy’s mother’s home in Vancouver to pick up five of our children (the sixth was at Rick’s College in Idaho.) Before boarding the ferry to Vancouver Island, we stopped in North Vancouver to visit Betsy’s Aunt Irene and had a very pleasant visit. As we were leaving, Irene said to Betsy, “I apologize for being critical of you for having so many children. You look like a teenager.”
Dressed in a red sweater, jeans and sneakers, Betsy did look like a teenager and in perfect health. However, as we were getting into the van to leave, Betsy suffered a paroxysm of coughing, sending a cold chill through me. Somehow, I knew that the periodic coughing she had experienced over the past few months was not just bronchitis, as her doctor had diagnosed.
The scriptures’ words bring comfort
The Monday after getting home, we sought a second opinion. The new doctor immediately arranged an appointment for Betsy at the Cancer Clinic in Vancouver, where a biopsy was done. That evening, we stayed in Vancouver. I helped Betsy get comfortable, propped up with cushions on a sofa. Then I retired to the bedroom. Later, I was awakened by Betsy’s gentle weeping and joined her in the living room. As I knelt beside her, holding her hand, she said: “It’s serious, isn’t it?” I wanted to comfort her, but I knew she wanted the truth. I responded, “I think so, but we’ll get through it together.”
Later, as I waited alone in the cancer clinic hallway for the results of the biopsy, I read Isaiah’s words in the Book of Mormon, “For a small moment have I forsaken thee…but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on thee, saith the Lord thy Redeemer” (3 Nephi 22:7-8). Isaiah, of course, was speaking of Israel, but I felt the words were meant for me, and I knew that the diagnosis would be lung cancer.
Adversity turns us towards the temple
Over the next few months of treatment, she appeared to rally, but the cancer spread and became terminal. She eventually needed oxygen, and we moved a large tank into our bedroom to refill a small portable one as needed. Eight months after the diagnosis, she had greatly deteriorated but still insisted on attending church. One Sunday, the main topic was the upcoming branch temple trip and the sealing of a couple who had been married civilly a year before. Betsy signed up for the trip! At home, I questioned her decision, but she replied that it was her greatest desire to attend the temple one last time.
Later that day, Betsy collapsed, and I took her to the hospital. The first thing she said when she saw her doctor (who was not a member of our church) was, “I’m going on a temple trip on Thursday.” He asked for details, and when I explained that the temple was in Bellevue, Washington, seven hours away by car and ferry, he immediately rejected the idea. I agreed with him, but Betsy insisted. “Do what you have to do,” she said to the doctor, “but I’m going!”
The next day, I phoned the Canada/US border and asked if it was permissible to take a large tank of oxygen across the border. It was. I phoned the temple regarding our upcoming visit and was told that they would accommodate Betsy in every way. I then went to the hospital. Betsy had convinced the doctor to drain her lungs one more time to give her extra capacity to breathe. This operation was performed by inserting a needle through her back and into her lungs and draining off the built-up fluid. The operation was performed on Tuesday, and she was released from the hospital on Wednesday.
The temple provides peace
On Thursday, we were off to the temple. The trip went well, and when we got to Bellevue, Washington, we booked a motel for two days. Early Friday morning, we were at the temple. An extremely attentive worker was assigned to assist Betsy. The endowment session was paused part way through to allow Betsy, in a wheelchair, to go to the large oxygen tank and refill the portable one.
After the endowment session and sealing ceremony, we had lunch in the cafeteria. I suggested that I take Betsy back to the motel to rest, but she insisted on doing one more endowment session. After this, she took part in a photo shoot outside the temple. When we were ready to leave the temple, President Royden G. Derrick, his wife Allie and many of the workers crowded around Betsy, thanking her for visiting the temple and wishing us a safe trip home.
The trip home on Saturday was safe, but while I was unloading the car, Betsy attempted to climb the stairs to our living quarters and collapsed. I carried her up the stairs and gently placed her on the bed. Her physical strength was gone, but her spiritual strength was never stronger. “Thank you for taking me to the temple one last time,” she said. “I’m at peace now.”
The sealing power will conquer all
Two months later, our branch president, Marvin Mason, and I gave her a priesthood blessing in the hospital. The staff moved two recliners into the room for us to stay the night. During the night, Betsy, in her morphine-induced sleep, quietly sang a verse of “O My Father” (Hymns, no. 292) and whispered, “It’s not the Tabernacle Choir, but it will have to do.” Shortly thereafter, she passed from this life.
That was almost forty years ago. The Lord blessed me with another wonderful, temple-loving wife and a fulfilling life. But the remembrance of Betsy’s visit to the temple one last time still stands as one of the most spiritual events in our twenty-two years together. In a sense, I believe, her desire to revisit the temple was her way of not only preparing herself for returning to her Heavenly home but also strengthening her family through the sealing power there.