The best 40 minutes

On the way to church today, I couldn't help but laugh.

I couldn't help laughing at the 20-mile expanse of nothingness that leads from my house to our church. I couldn't help but laugh at the wind and the dust storms (yes, we have dust storms, not rainstorms) that surrounded me. And I couldn't help but laugh at our church that sits, literally, in the middle of nowhere.

Realizing that I ought to photo-document this journey for future posterity, I laughed at the fact that someday, someday, we'll laugh our heads off at the fact that we lived out here for four years of our lives.

But as I was laughing, I realized something. That 40-minute round-trip drive through the barren desert is probably my favorite 40 minutes of the week.

Because for 40 minutes, I have my son's undivided attention. And he has mine. Dad's already in meetings, so we get a 40-minute heart-to-heart.

We sing primary songs. We talk about the scriptures. He talks to me about his friends. He asks me question upon question (some of them surprisingly deep) and I try my best to answer them. I get to hear what he's really thinking about, what's really on his mind.

During these 40 minutes, I'm not competing with the television, video games, or friends. And he's not competing with household chores, telephone calls, or yardwork.

It's just me and him.

And it's the best.