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"My speaking assignment this month from the Stake Presidency is...."
I shifted position, stretching my tired muscles. It was an uncomfortably hot summer sacrament meeting, and as the high councilor waded into his talk, I quickly perceived that his comments nicely accented the weather.
Only half-feigning a yawn, I raised my hand to politely cover my mouth, and covertly glanced at the clock on the chapel wall. Thirty-three minutes left. Uh oh. I, who had never fallen asleep in sacrament meeting since age ten, was getting very, very sleepy.
So, I resorted to my old standby. I directed my eyes towards the speaker, leaned forward in the "attentive listening" angle, and began daydreaming. And behind my fast-glazing eyes, my brain began to turn, turning back to the sacrament meetings of my childhood. Back to when all the speakers seemed dry. Back to when it only took ninety minutes on a late Sunday afternoon for a child to grasp the concept of eternity. Back to when desperation truly was the mother of invention....
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....I could tell I had slid my seven-year-old body into a good spot. There were two brothers between me and Mom. I congratulated myself. Being next to authority was only good when one wanted a lap to sleep on, which I didn't. At least, not yet. Squirming, I got a bit of working room. I didn't need much, which was lucky, since with six other kids in the family--five of them older--I wasn't given much.
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