There was a tiny weeny comment made the other day in passing. It was the kind used to build a small talk conversation. It was intended to be spoken and forgotten. No feeling was used in it's incantation or anything. Yet, my mind was agitated and I suspect this idea will not ever sit comfortably, but eventually form a pearl.
I thought this metaphor could be applied to many such thoughts that we all carry around with us. Ideas that once spoken can not be recalled. I have heard them as referred to as rose colored glasses. They are the ideas that no matter why stick with us and become part of us.
My particular grain of uncomfortable sand was a tossed comment made by my husband to my daughter. She was following him around saying, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy." She is just proud of her vocabulary, nothing more. Still, this annoys him greatly, so he turned to her and said, "How do you even know that I am your daddy?"
Well, to me it is proposterous to even think otherwise, let alone,let it come out of your mouth. Still, I do not think anything was implied it was just a group of idly tossed words. But, it has bothered and crumpled,my thoughts ever since.
It produced thoughts like, well, how do we even know that we are children of God, and so I will consider that my pearl. Scientifically, uh, all hail trusted science. So, why is it we trust science anyway? I was meaning to,mention that there are scientific proofs that can determine mortal parenthood, by charting out matching character traits, most dependably our DNA. Likewise, we have inherited similar spiritual markers in our "divine natures".
When my children were first learning the art of communication, namely, Language. I would use books, ofcourse. One book in particular,has been a constant and adored, because of the pictures, I guess. No, not Elmo, but, the book of Mormon. I have two interesting stories. One about my oldest daughter, and the other about my youngest son. Ha ha ha I had a type error of "... my youngest sin." How funny!
Ok, first, Lena. I was reviewing the photos and telling her the story of each, which she seemed to prefer anyway. I figured that with so much repetition that she would learn to recognize on sight. So, we were visiting another church building in Nashville, TN at Christmastime, she was barely 2 and I walked with her through the halls and we saw a picture of the Savior and I thought now would be an appropriate time to tell a Cristmas story. So, I asked, "Who is that?" Without hesitation, she blurted, "Daddy!" I thought it was cute and figured that she deduced that Daddy was a man and maybe Daddy referred to all men. I corrected her and told my story.
It is only later that I started thinking of how Jesus said, "If you have seen me, you have seen my father." So many things Lena said or says are extremely instructional to me, such is this case.
Next story is about my son. He is barely 3 right now. His name is Joseph. This is significant to this story. I would read chapter before bed, and before that I would open to the pictures and ask then tell him who everyone was. He is very smart. One night, I sat.down on his bed and he opened the book to the picture of Joseph Smith and asked me, "Who is that?" I told him that it was Joseph Smith. He proceeded to say, "It is boy." I'm too cold to go any further with the moral or lesson behind his.story, but, there you have it.
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