Beneath the Wraps

            Many of us may have a destination in mind.   Some are fortunate enough to choose a path that they wish to follow.   For others, it may seem that life threw them a curve ball and the path they are on is not one of their choosing.   For example, you may be in a car accident on your way to work.   You may experience back injuries that will stay with you for the rest of your life.                 You may have a son who is a victim of a knife wound that damaged his brain.   He can still carry on a conversation, even an intelligent one, but his social skills will always be like that of a nine-year-old and it will be frustrating for you to watch a forty-year-old man resort back to his immature childish reactions.   He might not be embarrassed when others snicker at him but perhaps you are.      ...

    By no means am I a gardener.  Don’t know as I ever had the desire to be.  If I did, it was when I was younger.  Like grammar school younger.  And the sun didn’t seem to faze me as its heat wrapped itself around my body like an unwanted blanket – suffocating me.  I’d rather be indoors with the air conditioning and not pulling weeds in the garden.     It seems the wind has blown some grass seed into our garden.  And the miracle grow is doing wonders on the grass and the beans and peppers.  But the grass is not a part of our garden and so I have been pulling up blades.  I can dig up the roots (well, some of them) if they are in the isle of the garden, but if they are sprouting in the same row as the plants (or some still seeds) they can’t be dug up as well.       Every day there are blades of grass.  Everyday I tug at the blades and dig and rake. ...

          Last May the bishop (leader) of our ward (Church boundary) had some major health problems along with his second counselor.  My husband, who was serving as the High Priest Group Leader, said to me that if the bishop had passed away during that time, the mantle would have been handed to him and he would have had to step into the bishop’s shoes (metaphorically speaking) until a new one was called.           I don’t know how soon the first counselor (at the time of our ailing bishop) was called to take over the position of bishop.  But my husband was called as his first counselor.  It was to be his fourth calling in less than two years.           But his second counselor holds the record of short lived callings.  He had been called as a Sunday School teacher – I don’t know for how many months.  He was released in order to serve ...