My First Svithe

Sweet Lady Freedom!

Lola came home from her dad's this afternoon and sat right next to me while I was typing and didn't even cry.

Do you realize what this means? I am a free woman. I can blog whenever I want. I can blog here and there, I can blog everywhere! I can blog on a train, or in the rain. I can blog with a fox, or in a box, in my house, with a mouse, on a boat, with a goat, I can blog the whole day through. I can blog, my friends, with you!

I probably won't blog all day long, or with a goat. But I can do some things I've never had the luxury of doing, like svithing. It's a little difficult to keep one's mind on the spiritual when there's a wailing and moaning child in the room. Or in the back of the house. Or anywhere on the property. But now, the wailing is a thing of the past. And so, today I will svithe.

Only there's just one problem. All I can think about is how cool my new laptop is. And, of course, how grateful I am for it, and that it's really a gift from God. And how I wish people would go in and make their own dang dinner so I didn't have to stop playing with it. Now would be an excellent time to read them the scripture about how we should prepare simple foods, with singleness of heart. I could also maybe get some mileage out of the story about how Brigham Young would not allow any fires to be lit in his house on Sunday, and his wives weren't allowed to cook anything. Then certain people might call me a hypocrite, because I am probably worshipping false gods right this very minute, making me more of a sabbath breaker than any of them. Oh, well.

So before I go in to slave over a hot stove for my family, I'll leave you with a couple of Sunday stories.

1. In Primary today a little four-year-boy walked in late. He was supposed to give the scripture. The person that was conducting asked if he had his scripture ready. He said yes. I wondered about that, because his parents were nowhere in sight, and they aren't really the type of parents to miss that sort of thing. Anyway, the kid steps confidently up to the podium and pulls out his scriptures. He opens them. I am almost certain that he can't read. He looks down at the page for a minute, and then turns it. Nods, slightly, and begins to offer what can only be considered a discourse. After a few minutes, he pauses to turn the page. Then he continues. After a few minutes of this, the woman conducting realizes that this could go on for a very, very long time, so she grabs the book, turns to a picture, and holds it up so everyone can see what the kid is talking about. Then when the boy wants to turn another page so he can continue reading, she compliments him on a job well done and sends him on his way. There were about five of us that were rolling on the floor at this point. Later his mom came in to give someone a message and saw her son sitting up in front with the other helpers. "Was he supposed to do something today?" she asked. "Oh, yes, he gave the scripture," the Primary president answered. Mom looked horrified. I guess she knew what he was capable of.

2. We got a new bishop a few months ago. He's real nice, but I miss our old bishop so. Today Old Bishop got to speak in sacrament meeting. It was a treat, as usual. He is the sweetest man in the world. If he had his way, we would all sit in the room for about twelve hours while he said something nice about every single person there. The other thing he does is make up words. I've missed that, too. Today's word was "atheisism." When he said that, I took a little trip down memory lane, recalling other words he's used over the years. I think my all-time favorite was "expreciation."

3. I had the pianist play the hymn, "God Loved Us, So He Sent His Son," while the children listened with their eyes closed. Then I had them open their eyes and tell me what the music made them feel or think about. One boy said it made him think of being in the temple. Another said it made him happy. A girl said it made her feel like she was going to be with Jesus again.

Then I told them about my first experience with taking the sacrament. I was seventeen, and had just been baptized the day before. After I was baptized, I made up my mind to never do anything wrong again. On the way home from my baptism, I said something rude to my brother. (The kids wanted to know what I said, and if it involved any swear words, like H-E-double sticks. I told them it didn't, and that I couldn't remember. A moan of disappointment ran through the room.) I told them that the very next day I got to go to church and take the sacrament, and that when I did, I felt a warm feeling all over my body. And I knew that I could have that every week, and be just as clean as I was after I was baptized and before I said the rude thing to my brother that didn't involve swearing. The kids were rapt. They like personal stories, and I enjoy telling them.

Then I asked someone to give a prayer. A boy jumped up and ran to the front. He said, "Please bless us that we can all have a great experience with the sacrament, just like . . . (pause, while trying to remember my name) . . . this person standing her right next to me." Several kids tried to help him out, but it was too late. And then he apologized for forgetting my name. I told him that was okay. And it was. More important that they remember the message than that they remember who delivered it.

I love my Primary calling. Even if I come home and spend the rest of the day lusting after my computer, and don't want to prepare food for starving adolescents, for two hours every Sunday I get to be with the cutest, sweetest, (funniest) most loving kids in the world. And that makes me feel happy, and kind of like I just spent a little time in the presence of Jesus.

And there's my svithe. I'll try to get over this crush I have so I can do better next week.