A Most Amazing Gift
March 20, 2018Little did I know that when I was contemplating having a second child that I would be blessed with a very challenging, incurable neurological mystery. I didn’t know that there would be so many sleepless…
Little did I know that when I was contemplating having a second child that I would be blessed with a very challenging, incurable neurological mystery. I didn’t know that there would be so many sleepless…
There is no way to describe the day-to-day anxiety associated with being connected to an autistic life. The first time I held Gregory I felt an impression from God that said he was lucky to have Amy and me as parents. I was embarrassed by that impression then, but now it is all I can hang on to. Everything around me makes me feel otherwise.
When I received my copy of Coke Newell’s On the Road to Heaven, my first impressions of the book could not help but be influenced by the critical praise from Richard Bushman on the book’s…
The tree pronounced dead last fall
dresses the sky in a green cloud
as it answers a subterranean call.
The struggling sun parts the shroud
We want to know
What is on
The other side.
Diaspora/diaspora
Ours in theirs,
Or theirs in ours?
“How about a quick swim?” Carolyn asked, pointing to a lighted swimming pool glimmering through the fence of a large apartment complex on North Temple. Norman smiled and continued to drive. “I’m serious,” Carolyn said.…
Dialogue 41.4 (Winter 2008): 121–147
In this essay, I shall begin by describing what we can learn about our Mother in Heaven from the scriptures. I then will draw from those descriptions some (very modest) suggestions for how we might actually worship, or at least honor, Her in ways that should not be considered offensive or heterodox by traditionalists. This essay is therefore a little exercise in religion-making. It is my hope that I will be able to express my mediating thoughts in a way that will not be deemed offensive by those of either school of thought on the subject.
During a Sunday School class I was teaching, a question came up about the lineage of Mary, mother of Jesus. A knowledgeable and respected class member answered that Mary was a descendent of David. I observed that Mary’s genealogy is not given in the scriptures; and, therefore, it would not be unreasonable to hold another opinion or to keep an open mind on the question.
Any discussion of Ezra Taft Benson’s eight years as U.S. Secretary of Agriculture must include mention of his family, especially his wife, Flora, and his oldest son Reed, whom he credited as his most valued advisers. “It was Flora’s ideas and courage—her positive influence and determination— more than anything else,” Benson wrote in 1962, “which added steel to my spine to fight it out for principle against the nearly overwhelming pressures of political expediency.” Second only to Flora was Reed, twenty-four in late 1952, who, according to Benson, understood “more fully what I was trying to accomplish possibly better than anyone else. . . . He worked quietly and effectively behind the scenes on matters that were often of the utmost importance.”Benson’s wife and children not only provided love and support but also emerged in the national media as the public face of an idealized mid-twentieth-century American family—white, privileged, patriotic, with mother as homemaker, father as breadwinner, surrounded by attractive, well-mannered offspring.