Esquire Coffinberry's Great-Grand-Niece

I just wanted to say that it's ok to live life in seasons. We cannot do it all, and I don't think we are meant to. (That's why King Benjamin said not to run faster than we have strength.) We also aren't meant to do it all alone. That's one of those strange paradoxes of the gospel-- perfection requires both the individual and the community, and the perfection of both is required, but none without Christ. Sometimes, the community gives us opportunities to examine ideas, tasks, and viewpoints we haven't thought to pick up for ourselves. But just because the community happens to be offering them at the moment doesn't necessarily mean it is the right time to do it. It is merely the right time to reflect on whether the offered season might be ours right now. If it isn't your time this time, it might be next time. All things come around again. And when it is the right time, you'll know.

What to do when the playwright reads your blog, but you need to comment about how you feel in response to the play, but you are worried that divulging this might offend... awkward, isn't it? But my recollection is that writers crave to know how the writing affected the audience. So knowing that every writing contains a bit of soul-self on display--an act of courage, no doubt--I hope the playwright forgives me, because I want to share how the play and my own soul (for what is art but a dialogue between the artist's soul and the observer's soul) interacted. (A long way of saying -- please don't feel bad because of what I say, because the bad is about me, not you.) So, tonight was the annual Relief Society birthday party. And contrary to my previously stated intentions, I decided to go. The dinner was good, and somebody bravely used real plates, cups, and utensils (bless the dishwashers). As usual, I guessed wrong on where to sit (I despise that part of these parties), so ...