Parables

Here is a parable that presents a question. What is this parable about? Please comment on this one. I really want to hear your opinions.

Bar Majan died and was given a splendid funeral.
At the same time a poor scholar died, but nobody followed his body to the grave, since the whole city was escorting Bar Majan's body.
How could the justice of God permit this?
Bar Majan, though not a pious man, had done one splendid good deed. He had invited the city councilors to a banquet, and they, to insult him, refused to come. So in a rage he gave orders that the poor should come and eat the food, in order that it not be wasted.

from the Talmud

Being left out

So, I hate being left out. I think I have some kind of complex about it from being left out as a kid. (In Middle School, the teachers always announced the summer birthdays during the last week of school, and they always forgot me, even when I reminded them, they still forgot . . . Oh, woe is me!). Today, I gave a presentation with four very good presenters and they were so good that we ran out of time before I got to give my part. Honestly, I felt that my point was important. It wasn't fair, and then I revisited all of the times that I'd been left out before in my life and was bitter for a while. I think that in my life, I will make sure that I don't leave people out. It is an unpleasant feeling.

Fire in the toaster oven, the poetry version

Patron saint of editors with impossible deadlines.

I once became so frustrated by an author
who demanded that I edit his dissertation more quickly
that I accidentally lit the toaster oven on fire.

I woke my husband with a whisper
holding the phone against my hip
so the author wouldn’t know what had happened.

“Fire! The toaster oven! The toaster oven’s on fire,”
I said as he stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen.
He unplugged it, then poured a pot of water over it.

We now have no toaster oven, because of one demanding author.
And I have to make toast by laying bread on a pan on the stove.
If I had had a patron saint of editors with impossible deadlines,
none of this would have happened.

I imagine he, or she, yes she, would have sneaked in through the window
and turned off the toaster oven after I walked away with my burnt toast.
Then, she would have made me some new toast before going.

She would have replaced the charcoal on my plate
with perfectly browned and buttered bread
and made my deadline possible with just a little act of kindness.

Deer in the headlights

So, I still don't know if I can tell this story so that it's funny to anyone who wasn't there, but I'll try. I was visiting the Walkers, and J and I were discussing if it is possible to know if the baby you're pregnant with is a boy or a girl without an ultrasound. J said that she certainly knew. When she was pregnant with E, she said, she was constantly calling C over to look at cute frilly dresses, and she wasn't interested at all in boy's clothes.
So, I asked C if he knew that his baby would be a girl. He told me he had no idea, then added, "And whenever J would call me over, I'd just pretend to be as excited about the dresses because I knew she was sensitive and I didn't want to upset her."
He role-played: "'C, come over here and see this dress!' 'Oh, that's really nice, sweetie.' (thinking) darn it, she knows I didn't mean it. Oh dear, what's going to happen now. 'No, I really do like it' J just stares at me, so I give her the deer in the headlights look." C then did a very good impression of a deer in the headlights. He continued, "Deer in the headlights isn't working, OK, play dead."
Then J jumped in, imitating C, "Maybe, if I stand really still, she won't see me." C stood stock still with his arms by his sides, and J gave him the most convincing sensitive pregnant woman look and with the perfect tone of voice, said, "What are you doing? You don't like the dress. Why do you have to be so insensitive?"

Conference

So, how did everyone like conference this weekend? I thought it was wonderful. There were two talks that meant a lot to me—President Monson's first talk this morning and President Uchtdorf's talk in the afternoon. What I found so inspiring was that they both addressed fears and concerns that I had been worrying about without really knowing what I was worried about. Ever since President Hinckley died, I have had trouble really seeing President Monson as the prophet. I didn't feel like I knew him even though he's been an apostle for a long time. Both President Uchtdorf and President Monson himself shared some very personal things about our new prophet. I now feel like I know him better and that he not only cares about the church as a whole, but he cares about me individually. He drew me in as he spoke with his smile, jokes, and serious words. I think that sustaining him in the solemn assembly helped me to feel a love for him that I didn't know I could feel. Also, the sustaining helped me to accept President Hinckley's death. I recognize that the mantle and the keys to the priesthood have now been passed on to the next prophet. What a beautiful moment.