So, mama dog had six puppies a few weeks ago; right off the bat it seemed to me that No. 6 was struggling. While her sisters and brothers were growing and opening their eyes and learning to walk she was lethargic, not eating much etc. She was the runt, after all, and we all know that sometimes runts fail to thrive.

So today my stepdaughter took her in to the vet. She may have one or more genetic issues, and she needs to put on weight and stay warmer. She'll be hand-fed (she doesn't seem to want to nurse). Another vet trip tomorrow. We'll see.

So this evening I came upon my wife, and her sis-in-law, and my stepdaughter, attending to the little puppy. Coaxing her to eat, heating a water bottle in the microwave to warm her bed, stroking her. Just...you know: just simple compassion. Simple compassion that gives me a little hope, that humbles me, that touches me. That reminds me of the good that exists, in my family and elsewhere. I don't know if the puppy will make it, but it won't be for lack of trying on the part of her proximate humans.

The church tries to complicate matters with its artificial patriarchy, with its ludicrous rules, with its absurd "scripture," with its threats and bullying, with its promises that can only come true after I'm dead.

But you know what? My soul needs none of that. My soul only needs, from time to time, to poke my head into my stepdaughter's room and see three caring, gentle women stroking and feeding a tiny creature, something they do without any prodding from any church or anyone else, but simply because they are good human beings.

That is all I need. That is more than enough, for this life and for any subsequent life that may or may not transpire.

It's stories like this one that allow me to hang onto a thin thread of belief that are still people in this world that know what is most important in life.

+1

Go to a nursing home and visit or even volunteer for a few days.

You will see the those people that work there with nothing but love and compassion for the old, sick and disabled among us.

That tops twenty million sacrament meetings.

Amen!

Some ego-trip mormon priesthood holder would smear some useless magic oil on the puppy's forehead, say a prayer pretending to use the power of his priesthood, and then pronounce the puppy "cured." Never doing the simple acts of compassion you witnessed, that actually matter to living things.

And then, of course, when the mormon's puppy died, because it didn't get the care and compassion it needed, the asshat mormon wouldn't learn anything from his lack of care -- he'd simply declare it "god's will" and move on.

six puppies, what are they going to do with them? most people love puppies and then they end up at the pound when they get big.

I'm a grown man but stories like this seem to weaken my knees a little bit. Give one puppy to your bishop and tell him that since your household had increased you were donating a generous contribution as gawd commanded.

seeing someone caring for completely defenseless, seemingly unimportant, creatures always warms my soul.