Book of Mormon

  In spring I’d talked about getting fertilizer for the garden.  Summer passed. It was time for our fall garden.  I wanted to plant on Saturday…. So on Saturday I finally called about manure. Nothing like doing things in the moment.

I drove out to the stables in Cotter and picked up a full pick-up truck bed of aged horse manure.  After loading we chatted about the drought, its effect on the horses, and the state of the world.  How it seemed like the Second Coming was close.  The wickedness of the world.

As I explained why we no longer had horses—two missions—I shared how the Book of Mormon talked about this cycle of pride and greed followed by disaster then humility, then great blessings from the Lord.  I asked if he’d like to read it.  He was interested.

I came home and Tom and I shoveled manure over about 1/3 of the garden. It was hot, tiring work and I really didn’t want to go back for another load.  But it was supposed to rain on Sunday and dry manure is a lot easier to spread then wet manure.

Then I went looking for a Book of Mormon.  I wasn’t sure I had one in the house.  I looked in the places an extra one should be.  Not there.  I looked on the living room book shelf with the religious books we had.  Nothing.

Then I remembered I was going to loan Pam an old church book I had—The First 2000 Years.  I searched for it on the shelves amid our old church books… and found it.   As I pulled it out, there, tucked back beside it was a brand new Book of Mormon.

It looked so new and untouched.  It reminded me of the stories of the hungry missionary—far from home-- who awoke to find a loaf of his wife’s fresh baked bread next to him.  For me, this was a miracle, too.

I went back for the second load, and shared the Book of Mormon. He was pleased and receptive.

As I looked at that book shelf this morning, I was reminded anew of the impossibility or improbability of my every finding that Book of Mormon on my own.