On the sweetness of Mormon life
Monday night found us sitting in the living room of one of our ward’s set of grandparents, along with several widows, a young couple that recently got baptized, and the choir director. We were watching a melodrama put on by three granddaughters, ages 8 – 11. “This is a good story,” my four-year old breathed. We applauded each act and meant it.
Over refreshments we young couples plotted real estate, trying to find a way the other couple could stay in the ward without moving to the meth mesa.