On the sweetness of Mormon life.

You are sitting at your kitchen table making notes from the Book of Mormon.  Your youngest daughter finishes brushing out her hair and asks Dad, can I  brush yours.  You agree  She brushes.

Did you know, Dad, dust is partly made of human skin?

You do know.  You  are the one who told her.

She brushes some more.  Some dead skin is on the brush.  She blows it off.

Heavenly Father made us out of dirt but our dead skin is dirt, right?  Isn’t that weird?

I made two unusual decisions about prayer.

The first was several years ago when I decided to pray for ridiculous amounts of blessings. Absurd excess. But I soon realized that I would not be able to handle such a bounty of blessings. A flawed character does not benefit from a wider scope in which to express the flaws.  So then I started praying for much better character and then a fire hose of blessing.

Today I realized that this was not the order of heaven. You don’t become fit for a trial before you have experienced it indeed, probably cannot, it is impossible.  This morning I prayed for vast unmerited Good Fortune and the grace of Christ to bear it when it came here