Conference, in General

This past weekend was a feast of spiritual proportions, for sure. As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we participated in General Conference. A time where we are taught by our leaders. Words from a prophet.

There were opportunities for reflecting and recommitting. I felt that many of the addresses were directed to me and my family. Amazing how that works.

In particular, during the Saturday morning session, the husband and I were having difficulties corralling the children and convincing them to sit and listen reverently. As voices heightened and a time out was issued, a new speaker began her talk. No sooner had she started than the husband and I exchanged knowing glances and sheepish expressions.

The speaker was teaching us to have respect for our family. To teach our children to respect others. And to do better. (this is what we drew from her message, among a few other things)

We felt repentant. It was an immediate lesson for us, right on the t.v. screen in our own family room. A servant of the Lord showing us the way to be better parents. She couldn't have shared more perfect words for us than if she had been present in our home moments before. It was as if she had been observing our family and taken action, possibly thinking, "This family needs help and instruction on how to improve their teaching methods. And I need to address this issue right now."

Once again I was touched with the applicability of General Conference messages in my life, so pertinent for Today.

I had favorite messages, of course. Some of them so full of personal testimony that all I could do was nod and make an attempt at note-taking through puddled eyes. All the talks were jam-packed with spiritual nuggets that I will feast on for the next six months. I anticipate the arrival of the addresses in The Ensign. I love to re-read them and mark them and make notes in the margins.

And then, of course, our family participated in our annual General Conference Jeopardy game. It was wonderful, as usual. The trophy was finally won by another family, thus ending the winning streak of my oldest sister's family. Her children reluctantly handed it over to my other sister and her family. It will be displayed in their home until October, when it will again be up for grabs.

I awoke this morning feeling satisfied, full. A feeling only gifts of the spirit can bring. And I think I'm going to smile a lot today. Remembering.

Tradition

WARNING: this post may contain (at some point) some serious girl talk, so if you can't handle it you might want to click on a link- maybe the time out ones to the right. whatever you want.

Every General Conference my family has a giant Jeopardy tournament. It is the event of the 1/2 year. We look forward to it. We train for it. We take awesome notes on the Sunday sessions for it. And we have a trophy for the winning family that they may proudly display for 6 months until the next General Conference rolls around and the trophy is back up for grabs.

We gather exactly an hour after the second Sunday session has concluded. We eat a yummy dinner, visit, engage in a little cousin mayhem, and then begins the tourney. The husband has created a brilliant (I love that word, brilliant) computer-generated presentation that closely resembles the real Jeopardy game that he projects on the wall of our loft family room. Each family in turn chooses a category and point value and then answers the question, using their notes. It gets heated. We are a competitive family, what can I say. But I think we all love it. Oldest sister and her family were the victors. They took home the coveted trophy for the third time in a row.

However, this whole General Conference Jeopardy thing is not the point of my post. My point was that after dinner, my younger sister, my mom and myself were talking while the children played a rousing game of soccer in the backyard. Younger sister divulged that one of her two bras was damaged. The underwire had poked through. Now she must go bra shopping. Mom and I each gave opinions and strategies on how to work around this issue, including pulling out the wire for both cups. Then I shared that of my three bras (yeah, I only have three), the underwire has poked through on one, and another has been MIA for A LONG TIME, making it seem like i really only have one bra. Then I saw their faces fall and I could sense the concern they were feeling for me and my insufficient bra supply and the lost brassiere, I was able to relate the following happy news.

The husband, being the hero that he is, found my missing bra on Saturday. I was ecstatic. Then he told me where it had been. It had been prisoner in the toy box amidst the white high heel dress up shoes. Because that is where missing bras can usually be found. In the toy box, by the heels. I don't even want to know what the children were playing.

We had a good laugh. A girl laugh. Girls need those every now and then and there is no one better to share a good girl laugh with than your mom and sisters. I love these ladies.

Now, someday you may find yourself a bra short and I will offer you some invaluable advice: try looking in your toy box. Children like to play dress up and later you can have a good girl laugh about it with your mom or sister.