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The Best Day of the Year

My kids were playing another scintillating game of "Would you rather?". It's actually pretty disgusting. Example: Would you rather be stung by one hundred bees or have to sleep in cat litter your whole life? The questions getting weirder and more disgusting. I decided to adjust the game slightly. My version: "Would you rather have two Christmas' or two birthdays". It definitely made for a more breakfast-friendly conversation.

This got me thinking about my favorite time of the year. What day is it? Not my birthday. Not Christmas. Not the Fourth of July. It's any Sunday there is a new bishop called  in our ward! (A bishop holds one of the key ecclesiastical positions within the Mormon Church. He is the leader of a local congregation, known as a ward.) It's pretty exciting to think about who will be the new bishop, though all wonder and inquisitiveness goes out the window once you step inside the chapel. Why's that? Well, knowing who will be in the new bishopric (comprised of the bishop and two helpers called counselors) is pretty easy to discover. It seemed such a mystery when I was younger, but as I told my kids yesterday, there are three easy ways to pick out the new members of the Bishopric.

"Daddy, daddy! Do you know who the new bishopric will be?"
"No, but I know how we can find out."
"How?! How?!"
"Here's how."

First, they will be surrounded by family members you've never seen before. From great grandpa Smith who needs help to his seat, to nephew Bill who reeks of cigarette smoke, they'll be take up two pews. Uncle Rico  might even make an appearance.



Second, they will be dressed in a nice new suit. It's easiest to determine when people who only come in shirts and ties suddenly have a suit on.

Third, if there was any facial hair before, it will all be gone. No more of this.


Sorry Brother, this has to come off before Sunday.

The funny end to this story is yesterday we walked to church and I was lagging behind with the younger kids. My wife had time to enter the chapel, scope out the field, find our seat and come back to me and say, "Brother X,Y, and Z".  She was DEAD ON!

As the good brother who was sitting behind me said yesterday, "We might not know who the bishop will be, but we know who the players are!".

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