Arizona is blessed cursed with some of the hardest and harshest nutrition-robbed soil I have ever encountered.
When I purchased my home almost seven years ago, my backyard was filled with a lush blanket of green bermuda grass. Sadly, over time–and not without a struggle to save it–the grass slowly died in several spots and my backyard became a mixture of bare caliche-ridden ground and patchy grass. Continue reading
While many of you in the Americas were enjoying your Saturday night, I was walking into the stake center in Singapore for 9 a.m. services. The first thing you should know is that going to church in the Singapore 1st Ward (which is the ward I stumbled into) was almost exactly like going in the United States. The ward, like many you see in large financial centers around the world where expats tend to go, was filled with Americans.
M* is pleased to share the following guest post from Marsha Ward.
Marsha is a multi-published freelance writer, editor, workshop presenter, mentor, and consultant, and the author of three novels as well as a contributor to two non-fiction books on writing and publishing. She is the Sacrament Meeting organist and Relief Society pianist in her small Central Arizona branch.
Recently I attended the LDStorymakers’ Writers Conference in Provo, at which I had a marvelous time hobnobbing with my fellow writers and associates. I live in Central Arizona, so going to Utah by car is a bit of a trip there and back. I got home about 10:15 on Sunday night after driving most of the day. (All right, I did take a lunch break where I could check my email.) I didn’t know I was about to have a new adventure.
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My Number Two son, Piano Man, is a gifted pianist. He also plays the bass and the guitar, but the piano is his true gift. As it is with any talent, it chooses it’s form in which to present itself. Piano Man’s gift of music shows forth in the form of jazz and especially blues improv. Piano Man plays once in awhile for Priesthood where he cannot help but throw a trill or a bluesy chord into the prelude. He did this once as a young teen, and a young adult member jumped up from the audience to admonish him on not playing reverently.
It was amusing, as the member of the Bishopric in charge of conducting that week, was out in the hall and heard the prelude, but not the shaming, opened the meeting with, “We are thankful for Brother Piano Man who brought a little spirit and soul to Priesthood today.” Incidentally both gentlemen are converts to the LDS church; the Bishopric member was a born and bred southerner. The other fellow? Well bless his heart, he’s just a Yankee. *