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Show 61 ARTICLES OF FAITH There were things in the universe my father believed for certain. One of them was that what happened here wasn't the point. Well, it was, but it wasn't what exciting thing you did, or where you had been. The point was to move through the world the best you could in the body you were given according to the rhythms of God. More than anything except to bless the food, my father asked Heavenly Father to help each of us discover our God-given talents. He prayed for the strength to persevere. From my teenage years on, I never got along with him. The reasons for that by now are on the other side of a tunnel, but I still feel a sting in my ribs when I think about it and I have a hard time talking about him. Worse, as I get older, I start to see my father in the mirror, and it unnerves me to look in the bathroom cabinet mirror for whatever I think I've become and see the quiet face of my father staring back at me, all of Utah County behind it. More easily I can talk about his track, a bright orange Chevy that traveled 500,000 miles before its engine started on fire on 1-15 and died for the last time. My father attached a camper with green tinted windows to the bed. We would push the tires and tools out of the way to sleep back there on campouts. Near the end of its life his track was getting 8-10 miles to the gallon in an era of global |