The Day of Rest

Sunday morning arrived, too early as usual, but right on time. As I rushed to get myself and three little people ready for church I was frazzled to say the least. The baby was crying, and in her 5-year-old attempt to quiet her, Avery threw handfuls of Cheerios on the floor. It worked. For a little while. Although Brittain wasn’t nearly as hungry as she made it sound, so what remained of the pile was quickly crushed under foot (and soccer ball)and dragged from room to room. Lovely.

At 9:15 two out of four of us were dressed and the kids were all having breakfast (round 2 for Brittain.) We might just make it. Of course there were still diapers to change and shoes to find…
Then Mason’s bowl of homemade granola and scrambled eggs (or Cheerios) went crashing to the ground resulting in a scattered mess that seemed all too familiar.

“Help me pick these up, bud.” I implored.
“No, Mom. I’m madachoo.”
Then I did the math and realized that we still had a chance to make it to church on time. But the Cheerios would have to wait until we got home that afternoon. And so, I left it.

By 9:47 I had changed diapers and packed extras, collected all the pairs of shoes we needed and found the appropriate feet, and gelled the last head with Got2B glued. You know, the stuff that doesn’t move. Even in 110 mph winds. (Turns out if you rub your head back and forth really fast on the church pew it “unglues”. And it turns white and flakes. Kind of looks like you haven’t washed your hair in literally weeks.)

Let’s see, where was I. Oh yes. 9:47. I grabbed the smallest child and two bulging bags while ushering the older kids out the door and into the van. Phew. As I sat down in the van I noticed a small hole on the front of my skirt. Okay, that part is a lie. I actually noticed the hole as I was scooting everyone, in what I thought was our Sunday best, out the door. But at that point I did NOT have time to change my skirt. And the skirt had two layers. Sheer then solid black. I made an executive decision, the skirt stayed, and off we went.

We lugged ourselves and all of our stuff into the pew with one minute to spare. We have Sacrament meeting first. Sacrament meeting is like a grab bag of sorts. You just never know what you are going to get. Speaker-wise (did I just say that?) and how the kids will act. While my kids are generally fairly well behaved it probably wouldn’t hurt to institute this idea. Anyway, the meeting was relatively uneventful which is a good thing, although I didn’t hear much from the speakers there were no major fires to put out. However the longer I sat in that skirt the more I vaguely remembered having discovered the hole the last time I had worn it. Now that is a little embarrasing.

One hour down. Two to go. I was substituting for the 6-8 year old primary class. I was super excited because I’d found out two days before and not just when I showed up at church so I was actually able to prepare a lesson. Only too bad for me because the lesson I prepared happened to be the exact same lesson they had had the week before. Those kids are smart too. They remembered all the stories and answers. Repetition is a great learning tool though, right? But it was awesome. And I knew what I was teaching was true. And the kids knew it.
Two hours down. One to go. The Young Women’s president had asked me to come in for a few minutes to speak about “finding joy in our Divine Potential”. I was super excited about this too. I have a huge soft spot in my heart for the young women and I taught all of these girls in primary for a couple of years. Turns out I was not as prepared for that as I thought I was. I had some ideas of what I wanted to say but when I opened my mouth all the words tripped and just fell out. So there I stood, in all my holy skirt glory with the tears gushing from my eyes and the snot dripping from my nose (nice visual, huh?).

I’m not sure what I said. But I love those girls. And I hope they know that. And Heavenly Father loves those girls. And I pray with every fiber of my being that they know that. As I bore my testimony I felt the spirit. Undeniably. I was uplifted, edified, and renewed. And although we may not always recognize our divine potential, Heavenly Father does. And that is why so much is required of us. He gives us the oppportunity to fill our potential. To become what He knows we can become.