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To: urroner
Just a curiosity about this statement The preacher asking me if I was Mormon occurred in the outskirt of Provo, Utah about five years ago. If anybody showed up to his church on Sunday with a white shirt and tie, he knew that person would probably be a visiting Mormon.

Why did you visit this church? And why did you wear something that would so easily identify you as lds? Especially, when you apparently knew it might cause the visiting church to be uncomfortable, as well as yourself.

925 posted on 03/24/2010 11:38:40 AM PDT by svcw (Jesus comforts the uncomfortable and makes uncomfortable the comfortable.)
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To: svcw

This will probably be my last post for several days. I have been fairly sick for the past six days. The flu grabbed me and refused to let me go.

At first, I thought I had a head cold, but then I realized that diseases can’t exist in vacuums, so I decided that it had to be a stomach virus.

Sure enough, three days of bowing down before the porcelain god convinced me to not go to work, but, come tomorrow, I have to go back to work, long hours and little sleep. No rest for the wicked and the righteous don’t need any.

The visit in Utah, I went with a friend. I have known her and her husband for several years. She is very, very Evangelical and he is very, very Mormon. They met at BYU, fell in love, and got married. She has a site here: http://www.clobberblog.com/ She is now attending the Trinity Evangelical Divinity School.

Why I went in a white shirt and tie, I don’t know.

As far a Hawaiian shirts and getting glared at by us Mermaners, I live in the south and there are people in church every Sunday in sandals, Levis, and summer dresses. Usually they are just visitors, but nobody glared at them.

I had a son one day asked me if I had any problem with him wearing a pair of raggedy blue jeans and an old t-shirt to church one day. He was just trying to gourd me. I told him that I didn’t have any problem with it, not in the slightest.

So, he runs to his bedroom and starts to change clothes, laughing and giggling the whole time. I stuck my head in his room and in a dead-pan voice said, “Nope son, I don’t have any problem with you wearing that fine attire, but, what I will have a problem with figuring out how to get your body into the car trunk, how to drive out to the countryside, and burying your mangled body without the neighbors and your mother know. Your brothers are helping me figure out how to do that. Carry on.”

Poor child has his father’s sense of humor, or is it his father’s sad sense of humor?


949 posted on 03/24/2010 4:54:14 PM PDT by urroner
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