Tears of Joy

 I hope that the following story isn't too personal to share, but it explains why Robyn and I decided to come to Rome. It's a short story that spans nearly fifty years but started about three and a half years ago when a good friend, Jamie Lund suggested that I come with him, Eric Anderson and Elliott Nelson to help the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints conduct an open house for the newly completed Rome Temple. 

I wasn't convinced that we four old guys would be much help but figured that at least it might be a fun adventure. 

When we arrived, we learned that the Church really did need our help. The four of us had been missionaries to Italy when we were 19 years old, and now, over 40 years later, we could still speak Italian. In the intervening years since our missions, I had learned to converse in Spanish, Elliott was proficient in German, Eric could handle Dutch, and we also were pretty good in English. Consequently, we were assigned to work at the two security gates coming into the temple grounds. 

We decided who needed to enter the area among the last minute deliveries arriving every few minutes, and to keep out many others who didn't want to wait for the event to begin. The Italian government had also insisted that we had a security presence to guard against potential terrorists. 

Several dozen Italian Church volunteers had come from outside of Rome who, like us, had come to staff the open house. Those who had come as volunteers were easy to spot because they were older people who generally came in and out on foot after walking over to get their groceries at a nearby shopping mall.  They were staying in the facilities that would eventually provide housing for temple patrons. (Unlike many of the temples in other countries that have cafeterias, the Rome temple has a dining area with lots of ovens, stoves, refrigerators, sinks, and dishes where people can prepare the food they bring from the grocery stores. It's called a mensa--literally, a table where you sit down to eat--mostly in a public rather than a private sense.) It isn't called a cafeteria because in Italy that means a coffee shop and the church members would be scandalized by such a designation.)

Eric Anderson and I were working at the guard house on one of these days, but Eric has lost some of his eyesight, so I had to describe some things he couldn't see clearly. While trying to kindly greet the Italian church members and also kindly turn away others, two tiny, elderly women arrived at the guardhouse, each carrying two bags of groceries. We welcomed them and asked where they were coming from. One of the ladies said she had come from Prato--a city near Florence.  Eric Anderson had served part of his mission in Prato and was excited to greet this sweet lady carrying her groceries.  He said, "I was a missionary there about 40 years ago, but I can only remember one family from Prato--the Bagni family."

She looked up at Eric and sweetly said, "Elder Anderson, I'm the widow Bagni--from Prato." Suddenly, his face changed as he recognized a woman he had taught the gospel to when she was a young mother. He started to cry. Sister Bagni started to cry. I cried.

 We hugged each other and then promised to talk when there wasn't a line of people trying to get past the two tough security guards crying their eyes out.

As I think back to that experience, again and again, there is something about it that is so sweet that shows me that I can be so happy that I shed tears.  Now, nearly four years have transpired since that meeting. 

From among the steady procession of Italian members coming for a week or two at a time, last week, I saw sister Bagni arrive at the temple as I was stationed at the recommend desk. I asked her if she remembered me. She said that she did.  I told others about how we had met, and each time, she would smile and nod in agreement.  Today was her last day of vacation and she has to return home to Prato. 

She asked Robyn if she could get a picture of us before she left.  On our way out of the temple, we asked a friend to take a picture and she told me why she wanted the photo.

She said that she was reluctant to travel all this way alone because she is a widow and feels lonely and vulnerable.  She said that before she left she prayed and asked God to help her feel at ease taking this trip.  With the same voice that she explained to Eric that she was the "widow Bagni" she told me, "You were an answer to my prayer. When I saw you in the temple, it reminded me of when I was young and of the missionaries that came to teach me the gospel, and it made me feel safe." Of course we cried as we hugged each other and said goodbye.