On the sweetness of Mormon life.

Last week-end you take a last minute call to substitute as the primary chorister. You dread it. “I just don’t like kids,” you tell your wife Sunday morning, and at that moment you mean it. A couple of hours later you don’t mean it; in front of the kids, you love it, they love it, it all goes as easy as being baptized. You and the kids sing Israel, Israel God is Calling and Heads, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes, and many more. The songs of Zion, you think to yourself.

Later that week you are tired and discouraged and flat. Your daughter comes up to you with a map and starts chatting about it to you while rubbing your hair. Your funk lilts away into the air.

This Sunday. Testimony meeting. A recent convert says she loves the tolerance and love for children she sees in our meetings. She loves the muted racket. Because it means that precious things will go on.

A man who was baptized on Saturday also testifies. He knows, he says. You believe him.

You feel unseen melodies all around you.

Continue reading at the original source →