Mormon Momma

I wish I could say that I had lived a life of great learning, which learning I shall distill here in nuggets of columnar wisdom. Indeed I have lived. I have learned. And I have eaten nuggets. Whether any of that constitutes wisdom is up for debate.

What I would dearly love to do in this new Mormon Momma column, “Celestial Pressure Canning,” is discuss whether or not the vicissitudes of the life through which we sail are survivable with our sense of humor intact. Whether or not we can do more than we can do. And honestly, whether or not God loves us despite the fact that the last time we attended the temple we fell asleep three times and once we finally did rouse ourselves enough to stand, we turned and smacked headlong into a large post we somehow hadn’t noticed was standing right next to us the whole time. It wasn’t me. I have no idea what you’re talking about.

I firmly believe God has a sense of humor. All I have to do is look at myself and much of my life to know that. And I don’t mean that in a self-deprecating way. Too many hilarious things have happened to me — hilarious once retrospect and time have healed the emotional scars — to believe that this isn’t the case. I also firmly believe that God intends for us to enjoy life. It’s just that we have a persnickety habit of getting in the way. If you will forgive me, I’m going to eschew the format of the advice-giving column given that I have had no formal training in any of this except living life as a resident spaz. I’m proud of this role, and I’m happy to share it with you through thoughts, observations, tales of discomfiture and disconcertion, tales of silly joy, and musings about the meaning of it all. And please feel free to share, advise, and commiserate.

Life is a swirling vortex of surprise. If we hold on tight it will eventually spew us out onto a sea of calm, where we can contemplate all we’ve learned and ask ourselves, “Where did I put my chocolate?”

Hope you’ll join me.