Reason No. 328 I love being a Mormon

There are lots of reasons to love being a Mormon. It's nice to know the path to eternal salvation for one, and then there's always the treats at every function imaginable, which is obviously a huge draw. There's also the reliability of Mormons that I admire. In general, they are a group of people that you can count on to come through for you.

After the whole proposition 8 thing, I watched a program that included segments from an interview with Elder Packer. In that interview, he said something along the lines of "When the prophet asks us to get something done, we get it done." Considering the circumstances, it could have come across as smug, if he hadn't been so obviously being matter of fact about it. It's true, we've all seen it, Mormons know how to get things done and I enjoy doing my part to keep the ward moving and meeting with them on a weekly basis. Yes, I like being Mormon very much.

Last Sunday at church had been a successful one for us, as Sundays go. We made it in time to take the sacrament (in the foyer) and then found a seat in the chapel (although we had to snag the deacons' seats once said sacrament was over). Jane and Lizzy then went to class peacefully and Charlie spent the block with Brent, scavenging for rogue Cheerios on the floor. I even remembered that we needed to pay tithing right before we left, so I grabbed a slip and was filling it out against a wall next to the chapel entrance with Lizzy at my ankles. Yes, things had gone well and I was feeling proud of myself, which, as a Mormon, I should have realized meant that it was time to be humbled. So life was good... until I heard the sound of splashing and gasps in reaction to the unexpected noise.

I looked down to find that Lizzy, still securely attached to my leg, had chosen this moment to throw up all over the place. I won't go into the graphic details (you're welcome). Suffice it to say that it was repulsive and I was mortified.

As if it had been timed precisely, at that very moment, the chapel doors opened and the ward following ours started streaming out of the chapel... right into the mess. I yelled, full on yelled, for Brent, which was the only thing that I could think to do in the midst of the catastrophe, when several bodies began to converge on Lizzy and me and then I realized that we were surrounded by a group of people that suddenly found themselves very much in their element.

From that point forward, the ward got to work... like a well oiled machine.

As soon as Brent emerged from the crowd, one sister took Charlie from his arms and directed him to the bathroom to start with some paper towels. Jane followed, eager to be of service as well (I love that girl). One of the brothers standing nearby grabbed a garbage can and placed it between the chapel doors and the mess and began ushering the out coming ward around. Others suddenly became orange construction cones, placing themselves between us and the hallway traffic creating the necessary detour. Our home teacher was also close at hand and (since I was obviously stuck in a stupor of thought) told me that since Lizzy had taken a break from emptying the contents of her stomach onto the chapel floor, now would be a good time to get her outside. I did.

I cleaned her up as much as I could with some dehydrated wipees and waited for the rest of my family to return. When they did, Brent informed me that several other people assisted him in cleaning the mess, even going back to the janitor's closet to get the appropriate floor cleaner and taking a most unfortunate garbage sack out to the dumpster.

It was hilarious. Brent and I laughed the whole way home (and several times since) half that the incident occurred at all and half because of the way everyone reacted to it. I'm laughing right now just thinking about it. It was awesome. I love Mormons and I love being one.



Thank you Lizzy. I wasn't cool that you puked all over, but without, we'd never have had such a great story to remember.