Sunday morning, church today. Get up, get breakfast. Pack a diaper bag, ask the kids to get dressed, shower, dress one baby, ask the kids to get dressed again, do my hair, tell the kids they better get dressed or else, make lunch, dress the baby, find socks, make a snack for church, graham crackers are too messy, skip the snack, they don't really need one anyway, change the babies diaper, now I have to change her clothes, fight with the kids over going to church, explain how important it is and why we go, pile in the car, run back to lock the door, run back for a binky, we're off on time, no we aren't, we forgot the diaper bag, back home, grab the diaper bag, lock the door, off to church, only 5 minutes late, we get to take the sacrament. I know that was a tortuous run on sentence, that is what Sunday feels like to me. I also realize that it's just a phase. Some day the kids will be older and it won't be such a hassle to get them ready and to church, some day I can sit through all of sacrament meeting without having to take out screaming kid or crawl under the bench for a binky. Some day I might even get to listen to what is being said! But that day is not today, today I wonder why I even go to church. It's hard to get the kids ready and go, to struggle all the way there and then all through sacrament until I can pawn them off on the primary teacher (No, not every Sunday is like that by the way.) I go. I do. Being away from all of my family and friends has made it convenient to skip church and I can really feel the adversary encouraging that thought in me.
Shortly after we moved in there was a man who said some really hurtful things to us, and he continued to say hurtful things. I'm not easily offended, but when someone says mean things to me, I mean really mean things, it hurts. I was so hurt that is was hard to go to church and see him every week, to feel judged by him. I told John I wanted to go to another ward so I could avoid him. I thought, briefly of not going back at all. Today was stake conference and I wasn't going to go. The car was over heating after just a few minutes and I thought we should just stay, especially when John woke up sick and so did Elizabeth. We went though and I am so glad that I did because I got so much out of the meeting, I mean more then I have gotten out of a church meetings since before I had kids! I won't tell you everything, but I will tell you what one man spoke about. I cannot remember exactly who it was, but I think it was our area authority. He talked about a
talk given by Elder Bednar of the 12 apostles. In this talk Elder Bednar talked about a painting. Each brush stroke alone was nothing amazing, but when you put them all together they make something great. So it is in our lives. Each family prayer, family home evening, scripture study, and trip to church are a brush stroke in our lives. Together they make something beautiful. As I listened to that I thought that as hard as it is, as often as I wonder why I even go to church or force my kids to sit for scriptures and kneel for prayer, it is worth it in the end. Each of those is a brush stroke in their testimony and the end result will be beautiful. I also felt the Lord telling me that what that man said doesn't matter. Going to church is what matters. I do not go to church for that man, I go to church for the Lord and to better myself. This is just one more test of my faith. Just like the Lord sees my faith every week as I drag my kids to church, he sees my faith as I now drag myself to church. Even knowing I go to church for the Lord it is harder to go knowing I will see this guy every week. But you know what? The Lord has provided tender mercies in each of the people that I see very week that greet me with a smile and a kind word.
I'm sorry if this hasn't made sense, I felt like it was important to share my struggle and the peace that I have found. I hope it helps someone.
