Our family has spent the weekend bidding farewell to an amazing man who shaped our lives and our church.
My daughter tells me that whenever she thinks of President Hinckley she'll think of cold toes. I'm sure she'll think of other things, but that's the first that will come to mind. My husband and I took the only two of our children who were available to pay our respects to the prophet on Thursday morning. We went straight in the building walked right through, pausing only at the casket. It was a reverent experience, with the feeling of saying goodbye to a beloved grandfather.
The rest of our children decided to go the next day, along with several friends, and one of the children who had already been (minus our missionary of course). News reports said that folks waited as long as four hours that evening. I'm here to say that it was actually five. And three of those five were spent standing outside in about twenty degree weather. Two of the members of the group (neither under my responsibility I must add) failed to wear coats. I do not know how that is possible, but I'm not making it up. The daughter who will remember her cold toes, who I'm sorry to say is under my responsibililty, did not wear socks or anything on her bare legs. Fashion first and always.
I'm happy to report there were no lost toes or limbs.
The event reminded me of a couple of years ago, being at a big event for the youth, 'Days of Celebration', held in Rice Eccles Stadium. When President Hinckley came out in his motorcar, you would have thought those thousands of teens were screaming over a rock star instead of a 90-something-year-old man.
I'm happy for President Hinckley, he lived such a long life and passed after such a short illness to rejoin his sweetheart. But I am so sad to be saying goodbye to the man who was so incredibly influential to my children. We've been so lucky to have him.