Don’t steal this svithe.

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I'm totally stealing this svithe.

Before Melyngoch left for her mission, she left an incredible post behind that not only quoted everyone from They Might Be Giants to Heloïse, but explained the Atonement to me in a bright and new way that may well prove to be life-changing.

Then (for all those of you who've been trying to decide if Harry Potter's mild-mannered secret identity is Jesus Christ), my brother Schmetterling figured the whole thing out. At least well enough for us nonmagical types.

And I would really like to expound but, well, Uber S is ascreaming and I ought to try harder to comfort him. Just holding him and treating him to the sounds of the keyboard does not seem to be cutting it. Bad Daddy.




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Theric and the Deathly Svithe

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No, no one has died recently, thank you, and I haven't even really been dwelling on such things, but heck, I haven't posted on death in over a week and not in a svithey way in even longer, so I figured it was time.

I learned in my college-freshman course in physical science (taken as a senior, incidentally) that we measure and prove time through entropy: things breaking down. And that, therefore, when there shall be time no longer, we may assume that entropy has been halted.

This makes sense. Resurrected bodies do not die; resurrected worlds do not end.

And so the death of friends becomes nothing more than a memory.

(Although, given the lack of entropy, a memory that never fades. But maybe the whole Death Thing will just seem amusing from the perspective of six eternities later. How can I say?)

Anyway. That's a little svithe on dying for you.

Go forth and die no more.

Than the one time, I mean.





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I remember: I had just graduated from high school about a year previous and Gordon B. Hinckley became the new president of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. As counselors he chose Thomas S. Monson and some guy I had never heard of before, one James E. Faust.

This was an eye-opener for me, that there could be an apostle whose name I did not even recognize. I mean--I watched General Conference. I read The New Era--or at least the comics--how did I miss a guy who had been one of the Twelve for over thirty years? My personal opinion of myself as a with-it young Mormon took a hit.

So President Faust became a guy I took particular interest in.

Just because he died I'm not going to lie and say he gave some of my favorite talks--honestly, he was never one of my favorite speakers. And it's true I'm biased towards better writers, but President Faust has soul. And the last few years as he has stood to speak--so visibly enfeebled--I have been touched by the greatness of his heart.

Nowhere in scripture does it say blessed are the more talented wordsmiths. Nowhere does it say the clever scribes are more likely to convert.

And really--it was probably just a matter of taste--the man was brilliant, ask anyone who knew him. And his professional life was marked by good deeds. And what's more important, leaving the world a better place or impressing Theric with your prosy?

Now I just need to convince myself of that fact....

Anyway, President Faust, congratulations on your graduation. We'll be thinking of you.

Love,
Theric





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Today in Primary.....
(svithe material)

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....was the Big O's first chance to give the scripture and prayer in Primary, so we've been practicing all week and he's been getting pretty good at it. Then it came time to stand in front of all the other kids and I went with him, then the shyness hit and his ear stuck to his shoulder and he fell face-first into my chest and nearly knocked me over and that was pretty much that.

For those of you wondering what it was he was trying to say, this was it:

For, behold, the Comforter knoweth all things, and beareth record of the Father and of the Son.

When we got home, we tried it again and it turned out much better:





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