I sit in sacrament meeting, watching a couple in our ward report on yet another mission and wondering why it irritates me. Shouldn't I be glad they are serving? They are only doing what the Lord has asked (as they point out several times in their talks.)

I don't know exactly why I feel so tense and distressed. They speak of how much the Lord loves the people in wherever-it-was-they-just-got-back-from. Which is true, I know that is true, and the thought brings me joy. So what is my problem?

My thoughts wander. I remember that I forgot to give my daughters their vitamins that morning. And, as I usually do when I think about vitamins, I remember my best college friend and her work with vitamins and herbal supplements during her Masters study.

She told me how, because herbal supplements and vitamins weren't regulated by the FDA, they varied wildly in effectiveness and intensity. Vitamins can often only be absorbed and used by the body when taken with other substances which are often found alongside them in natural forms, but are hard to identify and include in supplements. And, because herbs vary incredibly in chemical content by how they are grown, it is difficult to predict dosages in natural supplements. Sometimes to highly detrimental effects.

I think of a friend from some time ago who was prescribed the wrong herbal supplement by a doctor, putting her at risk of fatal cancer.

I think of a woman I met suffering from anemia, though she was taking iron supplements enough to make herself sick.

I have been as consistent with personal scripture study as I have been about taking vitamins. Nor have I lately pushed my prayers through rote recitation and towards meaning and connection with God. And I often fear I am not teaching my daughters the things that I know will nourish them throughout their lives. Even though I read scriptures with them every night, we are in the Isaiah chapters and I know they don't understand what they are repeating back to me. And though they love to pray, I don't know if they understand that they are supposed to be speaking with God.

And while I do speak with God often, I feel anemic myself. I don't connect with scripture the way I long to connect. I don't connect with my fellow saints much at all. It is as if I'm taking in all the things I should be, but I am unable to absorb them. And I hunger for the real nourishment of the Spirit.

Feeling the full force of my disconnectedness, I listen to the Bishop thank the couple for their service and give them their missionary plaque. And I wonder what I am missing.
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