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Taking the Name of God in Vain?

By Sandra Clark

I was brought up to never, ever “take the Lord’s name in vain.” As a kid growing up among peers with colorful language, my milquetoast exclamations made me feel like a Puritan. Oh my gosh. Dang it. Gosh dang it. But they were the only words that felt comfortable in my mouth. I got bolder as …

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Those Little Hearts

By Justine Dorton

I don’t very often write publicly anymore. When my children were small, I felt I somehow ‘owned’ their lives and stories and they they felt like my stories to tell. I created and mildly curated a darling little life that involved funny anecdotes and poignant learning moments, with a proper amount of spiritual growth and …

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Timshel and the Art of Creative Captivity

By Terresa Wellborn

If I could collect all of the hours I’ve spent waiting at appointments and lessons over the years, I would be rich with time. Here are a few of the regular visits and necessary errands I attend with my family: Dentist appointments Orthodontist appointments PTA meetings & misc school functions Church meetings Dermatologist appointments ENT …

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Last in Line: Reverencing the youngest child

By Terresa Wellborn

“Just be ten!” I tell my youngest for the umpteenth time this week. He’s ten going on sixteen. What’s a mom to do? Our other kids are teens approaching driving, dating, college, while our youngest regularly snuggles. The gap between them feels wide and at times, unbearable. And I am caught between, in the grinding …

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Sugar: The Mormon Drug of Choice

By Terresa Wellborn

Lets talk about addiction on this page now. As Halloween approaches, what more perfect time to explore the sordid world of LDS sugar addiction than now? Mormons excel at sugar worship. It’s not only a solo act, it’s communal. Just ask any North American Young Women’s leader what their treat was last Wednesday. My bet? …

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Casa

By Amanda Hamilton Ross

One afternoon Berenice told me that we were going to visit a new mother. It seemed a little strange to take the gringa who speaks awkward Spanish on this errand, but I know that’s what Mormons do: we show up. So I agreed to go, thinking, well, I’m also the mom of a baby, so …

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What not to sweat: Top 10

By Elizabeth Cranford Garcia

My kids are 5 (just turned) and almost 3, and for the past year, I’ve finally started to feel like myself again–I’ve got my body back (mostly), my energy back, my motivation for organizing and writing back–I’m in a good place. But that period of time between bringing home baby #2 and now has been …

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When she wakes, rigid

By Elizabeth Cranford Garcia

Stroke her hair, and rock. Open the curtain—show her the flashing, the bright erasures of light, the careening trees, that suffocation, apocalypse, another plummet down the stairs into another tunnel, another muscled abandonment, bursting into the world again, her fists tight against her face. And when you say, That’s thunder It’s a loud noise believe …

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Learning to Read Later

By Sandra Clark

It’s been a year and a half since I wrote about reading, and how my daughter wasn’t. Long after kindergarten and into first grade, and still no. I was at a loss, jaw slack, trying to remember to breathe through my nose and out my mouth. My heartbeat sinking into my stomach; what was going on? At the end of the school year she was laboring to read a Little Critter book. Clifford was out of reach. Forget about Nate the Great.

Sitting on her flowered comforter with a stack of books spread before us, she implores, “please, please can you read tonight? [Sigh.] It’s hard. [Sigh.] I just want to listen.” Lucy labors over each line in saying this to me and reading. Sifting through her memory for sight words she’s memorized is not easy. Sounding anything out is asking her to read a foreign language. By the time she’s produced the sounds she can’t remember what the line was trying to say. It’s word by word. I help her through the phonetics, giving away more than I’d like to, afraid she’ll shut her stuttering mind and struggling mouth in frustration. I say that the last thing I want is for her to hate reading. For her to feel forced. For me to push for what I want instead of what works best for her. The real last thing I don’t want is for reading, or any lack of understanding, to wreck our relationship. I take the book from her to finish. Together we sink into the pillow and relax into new posturing, trading places of reader and listener. Reprieve. The flash cards of sight words lay beside us in her reading tote; I just can’t.

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Faint Lines

By Megan Wilcox Goates

  I. I’m reading a book series where the characters sometimes swoon, generally from the loss of blood due to an eighteenth-century battle injury via musket ball or broadsword. It’s very swashbuckling. Do people faint in real life, or only in books? My sister passed out in front of an elevator after giving blood once. …

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