Sensory Memories of Heaven

I have a friend whose son has a service dog. They love their dog and are so grateful for his faithful, tireless service to their son and to the whole family. She tells a story of this dog's life before service, with his first family, where he was loved and trained to become a service dog. Though it has been years since he lived with his first family, his ears and his nose remember that first place of love. My friend tells of walking through a crowded mall and their dog, in service mode, protecting and aiding her son, right up until the moment he heard the voice of his first caretaker and then he was instantly in her arms, loving on her like the puppy he had once been. Another time in a similarly crowded place, all he had to do was smell this same beloved woman's pant leg and he was again transported to life and love as a puppy.

I thought about these joyful reunions and thought of my desire to connect to the same level of sensory memory, not with a dog, but with heaven. I thought of the primary song: I know that my Savior loves me:

A long time ago in a beautiful place, children were gathered round Jesus. he blessed and taught as they felt of His love. Each saw the tears on His face. The love that He felt for His little ones, I know He feels for me. I did not touch Him or sit on His knee, yet Jesus is real to me. Now I am here in a beautiful place, learning the teachings of Jesus. Parents and teachers will help guide the way, lighting my path every day. Wrapped in the arms of my Savior's love I feel His gentle touch. Living each day, I will follow His way, Home to my Father above. I know He lives. I will follow faithfully. My heart I give to Him. I know that my Savior loves me.

I want to be able to feel the real sensory memories of heaven. I don't have the nose or the ears of a dog. My Spirit must become sensitive, which requires me to train it, to quiet the influences that would distract me.

In sacrament meeting last week, a woman spoke of a dark time in her life, when she was so bereft, so dark she didn't even want to seek light. Her talk went on to discuss emerging from that place of darkness and who and what helped her to seek light once again. I have found myself stuck on that thought--too dark to want to seek light. I have known people who have gotten stuck in that place, people who suffer as this faithful woman suffered. I know people like that now, suffering in darkness with no seeming ability to want to seek light again. What makes the difference? What inoculates someone from getting stuck in darkness, from not wanting to seek light any longer? I think it is being blessed with and seeking out these sensory memories of heaven.

One of my favorite people saves thank you notes and uses them as book marks, so that she can remember people who love her and who have been touched by her--little touchstones of love in her day. Choosing to remind herself of people who love her cultivates light, it strengthens and buoys her spirit.

The more I expose my spirit to light, the more carefully I record my spiritual experiences with that light, the more sensory my memories become. They fold into my ears and muscles in ways that are sacred. I suppose we are all that service dog, protecting and loving and aiding those in our care. All while our spirits remember, our spirits know life in heaven. I'm trying to train my spirit to be like a service dog's nose--embracing heaven, embracing light whenever and however it presents itself.