On the sweetness of Mormon life—a snapshot from this Sunday.

This is the scene: your church gym. Priesthood opening exercises is about to begin. A row of folding chairs in front of the stage for the bishop and other leaders. More rows of folding chairs facing them. (You set up the chairs yourself during Sunday School, because your baby daughter was too noisy for class.)  The chairs are mostly full with men and young men.  They are chatting.

Off to the side, a deeply handicapped deacon is being attended to by the bishop and by an EMT in your Young Men’s presidency. The deacon is having some kind of seizure. Someone has gone to fetch his father.

Up front a visiting high councilman is trying to amuse the bishop’s 15-month old son who just got left by his dad. The little boy is crying. The high councilman has pass-along cards that he is fanning and shuffling to distract the boy from his tears. Beside you the bishop’s cousin is striding up to get the boy. His head is turned back and he is saying, ‘I’ll bring him to you.” He is talking to the boy’s grandpa.

What strikes you most is the attitude of all the men and young men. They are all keeping an eye on the proceedings to see if extra help is needed. But otherwise they are just continuing their chats with each other. No one is affectedly concerned. After all, in families these things happen.