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Skunk Jesus

By Linda Hoffman Kimball

“Behold, I stand at the door and knock.” Last week on April 4th I heard the news that the Church rescinded the policy-once-labeled-revelation concerning the apostate status of married gay couples and the ban on baptizing children in those families until the age of 18. At first I worried that someone was foisting a sick …

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Spending Time with Cain and Abel

By Linda Hoffman Kimball

Spending Time with Cain and Abel: Sibling Rivalry

I am now back from a short stretch with my son and his family who just welcomed their third little boy into the world. The older two are 3 and 5 ½. As every grandmother knows, their own grandsons are the cutest, smartest, cuddliest, most imaginative, and most creative grandsons on the planet. In my case this is actually true.

I spent my first afternoon with the two older boys so Mom, Dad and Baby could have some time together. There was cooperative play with the background music of the Blaze, Octopods and PJ Masks cartoon shows. There was successful parallel play because the younger boy preferred matchbox cars and the older was busy with magnetic tile construction.

Five minutes later, the tide turned.

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Forgiveness Comes From Without

By Kellie Purcill

In one aspect of his life, my ex-husband is incredibly generous: he gives me countless opportunities to practice forgiveness. Time and repetition have not made forgiveness easier. If anything, my anger and disappointment have leaked into other areas of life, instead of immediately charring to blackened curls on the most recent act of stupidity. Leaked, …

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It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad world

By Justine Dorton

Can we please talk about anger? No one wants to talk about it. No one wants to admit they ever get angry. I didn’t really even know I had any anger in me until I had children. Ben, my first child, was only a few weeks old. It was sometime after midnight and before 6 a.m., and Ben was awake. Awake for the fortieth time that night. Awake and screaming for unknown reasons. I stammered out of bed, and anger swelled up from my feet, through my legs, and settled in my chest. I was fuming. Why wouldn’t this child sleep? What need could he possibly have that I had not already met during one of the previous 39 visits?

This angry feeling took me quite off guard. Up to this point, my sweet child, my beautiful new baby, was a miracle to behold. He hadn’t slept through the night on any of his previous nights with us, but I was angelically patient with him. This night, however, would signify the break from my past self. It signified my first meeting with “the end of my rope”. I had never really even felt anger before, not like this. I frankly didn’t even know I could have these feelings in me. I was under-rested, and over-loaded. Many reading this will understand these feelings.

Maybe that’s why I liked Ailene Long’s piece so much from our Spring 2005 issue.

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