It was early in the morning on a Saturday.

I sat in the baptistry of the Los Angeles Temple, waiting for sisters from my ward to finish. Four young single adults walked in and sat together in a nearby row: boy, girl, boy, girl. They were also waiting for my group, not to end their time at the temple as was my case, but to begin.

An older gentleman, dressed in white, slowly walked over until he stood in front of them, and asked in a voice loud enough for me to hear, “Which one of you wants to baptize, and which one of you wants to serve as witness?” The young woman furthest away from me was the first to answer. Clearly and confidently, she said, “I want to baptize.” The previously calm temple worker threw up his hands and shook his head emphatically as he cried, “No! No! No! I wasn’t talking to you!”

This last week has been a hard one for many people, and I for one would love to hear some good news.

The best of my news is that I was recently accepted to speak at an International conference honoring the 200th birthday of my favorite philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard. The second best of my news may be that a good friend has spent time this week teaching me how to sew. And the third best of my news is that I am a few weeks away from finishing my PhD coursework, to which I can only say, “Hallelujah!”

What is your good news? (Please, please share in the comments! I am serious when I say I need to hear it.)

Does your Relief Society have Good News Minute?*

If so, what type of news is usually shared?

I have loved Mr. Rogers as long as I can remember, and I have loved this quote as long as I have been cognizant of it, so was grateful to be reminded of it again and again today, as friend after friend reposted it on Facebook in response to Boston’s celebration turned tragedy.

There are always helpers. And Mr. Rogers’ mama is right: it is good to look for them. But, what seems even better to me is to be them: to be a helper, both before, and after tragedy. There are many ways that we can do this as brothers and sisters in the gospel of Jesus Christ. One of the first is to really mourn, which ofttimes means really sit, really listen, really cry, and little more.

While some people may take comfort in scriptural injunctions that state (either implicitly or explicitly) that “all things work together for good to them that love God,” I am not necessarily one of them. Do good things sometimes come out of bad things? Absolutely. Does this even happen regularly? Maybe, probably. (And I could add: hopefully.) But, emphasizing the goodness or meaningfulness of suffering often fails to take suffering seriously. It simply doesn’t let mournful things be mournful. Worse still, it tends to justify the presence of evil, rather than work to eradicate it (which is a second important way to be a helper).

I would prefer to accept that sad things may be truly sad, and ‘leave ragged what is ragged.’ I believe God would too, because the scriptures tell me about times when God can’t say anything, but can only cry. One of these times is witnessed by Enoch. But another (as pointed out in one of the very best things I have ever read) is almost certainly when Christ was on the cross, for all intents and purposes, alone.

And so on this day, when part of my heart beats in Boston’s chest, I rejoice that the many friends and loved ones I met while living in that lovely town are safe, and pray and weep for those who are not. When I read articles, look at pictures, and watch video footage, I remember to search for the helpers, and feel profound gratitude because they are so easy to find. All the while I turn inward, asking myself how I may be a helper, in this and other times of genuine tragedy.

Bless you, Boston. Bless you, everyone.

In Two Parts.

Part I: My perspective:

I was visiting my oldest sister in a nearby state, and we were spread out on a row of hard chairs in the gym seating. When the Sacrament tray came, my 8 year old niece accepted it, stood up, and personally walked to every single one of us, offering the bread and water. She was grinning. I thought, “This. This is what it could be like.”

It was one of the most lovely things I have experienced at church, and I started to think further about the possibility of families purposefully placing their daughters in the seat next to the aisle, so they could do what my niece did, and pass the sacred emblems to each person in their family, though admittedly the space between the pews may be a tad more limited than the space between the folding chairs.

Then on Conference Sunday, the same sister who I visited posted a curious little picture on facebook, with a careful row of tiny Ikea cups of water, and an Ikea plate with broken bread.

President Snow once closed a funeral address by asking the “Lord of Israel to bless the Latter-day Saints” to “be prepared for the events of the near future,” with their “hearts right before the Lord.” And, as we might expect from a man of sound integrity, he sought for this goal himself.

In the same speech, he told a story about he and Franklin D. Richards approaching Brigham Young with the sole purpose of resigning their Priesthood, if their president saw fit. As we also might expect, President Young didn’t see fit, but instead told them tearfully, “Brother Lorenzo, Brother Franklin, you have magnified your Priesthood satisfactorily to the Lord. God bless you.”

So what did Lorenzo Snow mean when he encouraged others (and himself) to have their “hearts right before the Lord”?