Sunday, November 10, 2013

Moroni's Weakness

One hundred posts a year--I think it's a good goal. It allows me just enough time to record to our family's history and still not take too much away from me actually TAKING PART in that history. It does, however, make for some late nights here and there. But I don't mind that too much. The time to ponder our daily life together has taught me a lot. It's amazing how much the seemingly mundane can mean when I take time to relive it late at night on my keyboard.

I love this talk I dug out of the internet last month by a younger John H. Groberg. And in particular I love these words:

Wow.

Sometimes I wish I were the spectacular photographer that I see in some of my friends. But that's just not me--at least not now. As long as I don't scroll too far into my camera's function menu, I've gotten rather comfortable with my trusty point-and-shoot. I love sifting through the gazillions of photos I take each week, flagging the good ones, and sifting some more--then combining those that make the cut with just the right words to create a usable family history.

And then there is the issue of my grammar. I know. It's so bad sometimes!

But if you would have overheard the conversation I had with my seventh grade teacher years ago, perhaps you'd have some sympathy:

"So when are we going to learn grammar? You know," I went on, "...sentence diagramming and stuff."

"Oh, specific grammar instruction is not part of our curriculum," she explained. "We're just supposed to teach it when it comes up."

Fantastic. No small miracle how I got that academic scholarship to college and survived English 101.

At the same time, I accept full responsibility for all my typos and misplaced semi-colons. How many people attempt semi-colons these days anyway? It's a conscious choice to swallow the perfectionist in me and publish some things that could be better in favor of more time to make memories with my family. Cop-out? Perhaps, but they are, after all, the fodder for everything I write.

My thoughts echo those of Moroni, an ancient prophet in the Book of Mormon who conversed with the Lord about his own weakness in writing (see Ether 12:23-27). What if the generations to come would only mock what he wrote and never appreciate the real worth of what he recorded?

Of course, I'm not comparing myself to Moroni, but his concern definitely resonates with me.

Here's hoping the Lord can make something of my own imperfections for the good of my family and perhaps a few others along the way.

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