“Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be a sprinter,” Voigt says” – ride all day in the peloton, do a couple of minutes in the wind and get my arms up . . . get the glory and the money! I’d rather be a sprinter. . . But I have the ability to suffer and to suffer for a long time. [So] hit me. I’ve got broad shoulders. I can carry the burden. . . . [Pain is temporary]. Glory is forever!”

If you want to understand the meaning Alma 30:44 (“All things denote that there is a God”) look no further than those lyrics from the famous Bossa Nova, The Waters of March, by Antonio Carlos Jobim. During my flight home from seeing my father in Idaho this week, I alternated between David Byrne and Susannah McCorkle’s versions, listening to them on repeat. Staring through the smudge of the former passenger’s forehead imprint on the scratched, plastic window, I viewed the landscape below, listening to those lyrics; I couldn’t help but sense the sublime and how small I was compared to all of it. Snow covered mountains, blue sky, cotton clouds, vast open space, all of it made me ponder God’s splendor and goodness for such gifts.

After attempting unsuccessfully to share her screen and mute several exuberant Kindergarteners, Teacher Krause put her finger in the air and declared firmly, “I’m sorry boys and girls, Mrs. Krause hasn’t figured out how to do this . . . yet. But I will learn it.”

YET?

She asserted this word such chutzpah it startled me.