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Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Monday, February 23, 2015

Serendipity.

Finding something good when you weren't looking for it. My e-friend Middleaged Mormon Man posted a link on Facebook that has turned my world upside down but in an astonishingly good way. He posted a link to the BYU Relative  Finder, which you may access through FamilySearch.

I am related to six US presidents, none of whom I was particularly fond of. Thoreau. Two signers of the Constitution. Two signers of the Declaration of Independence. President Monson. Ezra Taft Benson. Franklin D. Richards. Boyd K. Packer. D. Todd Christofferson. And that wonderful old dear, LeGrand Richatds. Several members of the Willie and Martin handcart companies. Mitt Romney. Levi Savage, the protagonist of "17 Miracles". And the kicker?

Joseph Smith.

I sobbed. Buckets and buckets. The most important mortal man in my life, after my father, and the reason I am Beloved's wife. I will probably never again be able to sing "Praise to the Man" without crying.

I had no idea. Every time it crosses my mind, I start crying again. That God would grant me the privilege of relation (in any degree) to the prophet of the Restoration.

I hope the office is closed again tomorrow. I'm going to need some time to ponder this. I have so much to live up to.

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