There was a boy, in the JSB, off a corridor in a small little courtyard area that contained a statue of Joseph Smith. From a way off, I could see this boy looking intently at the statue and just as I passed, he stepped up and hugged it.
My first thought:
“Oh my gosh, get me out of crazy town!”
And then a few days later, this:
“I wonder what would compel a person to hug a statue of Joseph Smith?”
True, you would have to be the statue-hugging type. But aside from that, you would have to be someone with a deep love and gratitude for Joseph Smith—a love and gratitude that I somehow lacked.
As I’ve read the Book of Mormon, I’ve never doubted its truthfulness. But the Joseph Smith history was always such a fantastical aspect of it that I’ve mostly just ignored it or asked people to please not tell me any “interesting” tidbits they found in their own study of his life—lest I grow squeamish.