On the sweetness of Mormon life:
Our hometeachers performed the sacrament in our home for the 4th time in nearly as many weeks. One is a college student, the other is a Navajo computer engineer. They spread a tablecloth over our piano bench, broke a piece of bread on a small plate, poured a sip of water into a teacup, sang a hymn with us, knelt on our carpet, blessed the sacrament, and served it to my wife. They asked after our affairs and then they prayed over our home. Our daughters were big-eyed. Our eldest stared at the door a while after they left and asked “Were those missionaries?” They made our home feel holy.
When my puritanism was in its first bloom, I kept the Sabbath rigidly. I often felt then like I did today, like my home was a sanctuary in the religious sense of the term. We read President Kimball’s strong testimony of the Sabbath today in Elder’s Quorum and it brought those days back to mind. The Sabbath is still sweet but I miss those days.