Old Beaten Board
March 15th, 2026 by G.
On the sweetness of Mormon life.
The speaker at church says he’d had some time to stare at all the scuffmarks at the base of the podium. He imagined all the speakers, all the testifiers, all the youth and adults and men and women who had come up there one way or the other to speak or to testify or to sing. He says that is a precious piece of wood.
E. C.
March 15, 2026
Two months ago, one of my organists (we have several – college ward with a thriving music program) came hurtling in just as announcements ended – her brother was set apart as a missionary, which of course she couldn’t miss!
After the hymn, she leaned across and whispered, “do you have a Band-aid?”
I did not.
We sang “Behold the Wounds on Jesus’ Hands” as our sacrament hymn that day. She got up and bore her testimony on how Christ’s blood atoned for all our sins, wiping them away just like the blood she’d spilled all over our shiny new organ’s keys (from an untended paper cut) would soon be wiped away.