I fought with him over his pants. I fought with him over his shirt. "We don't wear dirty t-shirts to church," I told him as I wrestled him into an unpressed, it was white once, long-sleeved button down shirt. When I asked him to bring me his shoes and he showed up with slippers, I quietly put them on his feet. I couldn't fight with him anymore.
On a trip to the bathroom during Sacrament Meeting, a kind sister asked how I was doing. "My boys are wearing slippers today," I replied.
"At least they're wearing clothes," she replied, "You get points for that."
Pre-nursery, I often wondered why I bothered attending church, as I spent about three hours every Sunday in the foyer. I once lamented this fact to my aunt, and wondered "Why do I even bother?"
"Chris blessed and Kyle passed the sacrament this Sunday, and that makes all the time I spent with crying or restless kids in the hallway worth it."
We don't always make it to church on Sunday at our best. Tears are sometimes involved, and clothes are often wrinkley. Faces might have jam smears and feet might be in slippers. But we go. We try to teach reverence and respect. We love and learn.
Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, and to teach them to ... observe the commandments of God... Husbands and wives—mothers and fathers—will be held accountable before God for the discharge of these obligations.
2 comments:
Ha! That's classic! My son once made it to church with NO SHOES! He walked around all day in his socks! Oh well, at least we made it!!! Keep it up, Mama!
Church is fun. We get to move an earlier time next year. No more late church during nap time.
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