Sunday, December 7, 2008


Some days feel stretched - a brittle cloth of weariness. Other times are angry irritations on coarse sandpaper.

But today? Comfy, warm and familiar. A late-morning lie, as the British put it,, since someone else got up early and did the animal care. Then a pre-church meeting with a group of women I feel incredibly, well, comfortable with. No pretenses, no facade - we know each others weaknesses and foibles and quirks as well as a group of all 50+ year old women can.

Being a Latter-Day Saint in some ways is rather demanding. We don't just 'go' to church, sit back and listen to a sermon, and chat in the foyer afterwards. No, we are, on the first Sunday or every month, sort of responsible for the program. I mean, it's when we all, as prompted, get up and bear testimony of Christ and our witness of His gospel.

And when we have our Sunday School... well, if a teacher doesn't show up for the twelve-year-olds, sometimes you get drafted. If the regular teacher for the adult Gospel Doctrine class is ill, the someone is called to substitute. And same with our women's Relief Society meeting and the men's Priesthood classes.

So after 32 years, 11 months and 18 days (give or take a week or so) as a Latter-Day Saint myself, you kinda learn to roll with the punches. If you get called to teach a class at the (sometimes literally) last second, you pull some scriptures, a story, and an antidote out of your church bag and give the lesson. When the line to the pulpit becomes thin or ends too early for closing prayer, you step up and talk about your experiences with prayer, or inspiration, or how your church membership helped you set up to the plate once again.

This Sunday? No lessons, no class, no prayers, no testimony-bearing.
It was nice.