First Miracles

I created this blog to explain why I believe what I do. The title was inspired by something that Dave Barry said. He said that most people find other people's religious views boring, and that people who want to share their beliefs are usually not interested in hearing about yours. So the title of the blog gives you fair warning that you probably don't care what I think and that you would be far better off just going back to youtube or whatever you were doing.

Of course, I don't believe that, really. I mean, why would I be blogging if I didn't think I could say something interesting or valuable?

Here is the first miracle that happened in my life that I can remember. (Actually I can remember an earlier one, but I'm keeping it private.)

This one is about the bedside, pixar-type, lamp. It was a sunday morning when I was less than 12 years old. I don't remember exactly how old I was, but the details of what happened that day are fresh in my mind.

I was getting ready for church very slowly. My mother got mad at me a few times for not getting ready. I was just being very lazy. But when my mom got at me the last time, I started to cry and I said, "Mom, I am just not supposed to go to church today." I don't have any idea what I was thinking. It was just an overwhelming feeling and I didn't think I had any choice. I just wasn't supposed to go to church that day.

Well my mom, being sensitive and kind, let me stay home, but I had to read a church magazine and come to the second half of church. (the church was within walking distance). I promised I would.

After the family left and I was alone, I read the church magazine on my bed. As I usually did when I slept on my bed, I let my arm drop to the side. When I did I felt something bite me! I brought my hand up quickly and looked at my hand. There was no mark. Then I realized that it wasn't really a bite. I couldn't tell what it was.

Then I decided (and this shows the thinking patterns of young males) to put my hand down again and see if I got "bit" again. My hand brushed against a bedside lamp that had fallen face down on the carpet. It was burning hot. Nowadays they put holes in the back of the lamp so that you can tell if it is on. This one didn't have that.

I used a book and knocked it over. Under the lamp was a smoldering black hole in the carpet. I turned off the light and decided it was time to go to church. I was certain (and I'm still fairly convinced) that the house would have caught fire if I didn't turn off the lamp.

It only occurred to me later that maybe it was God telling me to stay home. I eventually felt pretty proud of my experience and felt that I was kind of special. Maybe people will say that it was a coincidence or that there is some other explanation. Maybe there is, but this all took place in the context of my being a member of the LDS faith and believing it completely.