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Deus volt; Deus mittit me.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

A Summer Sacrifice

The early pagan Celts sacrificed a young maiden or youth every year so that their crops would be plentiful. They'd adorn the chosen one with the finest clothing and flowers and drug them so that they would have a pleasant 'journey'. The sacrifice would go dazedly to their fate, in order that the people might live.

This dazed feeling is somewhat like the feeling which surrounds me. I'm not the one who has taken the task on--I'm more like support, so the effects leach over.

My husband has been called to be in the bishopric of the Escalante ward. We are both still in shock. It is true that our ward should in truth be called a branch, now, and thus has a dearth of active adult males. But there were things he felt he still had to learn before he took on a responsibility so large.

Lon feels as if he's been an underwhelming Home Teacher. He feels as if he could have done so many other things in his calling as Scoutmaster. He feels that there are problems in our life here at Murphy Manor which we could handle better. Our temple attendance is pitiful. I could see all these problems roiling in Lon's eyes as he sat there in the office, Sunday, wondering why the Lord was choosing him.

He took a deep breath and told Pres. Lewis 'yes'. And then all the consequences of that answer began to step onto the stage of my mind and make their bows. Lon would be gone a LOT. He wouldn't be sitting with us anymore at church. He would be learning things we couldn't share together. We'll no longer be able to pick and choose what we'll attend.

Most of all, though, we as a family have some growing to do before we can be good examples. We could be better at having Family Home Evenings. We could be more consistent with family prayers. We could be better at reading our scriptures. We could play fewer computer games and spend less time on Facebook.

Apparently the Lord has a whole spectrum of growing experiences planned for our family. Like a baby bird who resists the changes it must make--whose loving mother nudges it out of the nest--we are being nudged into a more excellent way by a loving Father.

Flower bedecked and dazed, we walk forward to meet the future.

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