Sunday Best

Sometimes I think I have a love/hate relationship with Sundays. I love going to church, feeling buoyed up and strengthened and ready to take on another week. On the other hand, I also hate going to church, struggling to get the kids ready and trying to get them to sit during Sacrament meeting which makes me question the purpose of being there [What's the point if I'm out in the hall with my kid and don't get to partake of the Sacrament anyway?] or feeling like a lousy mother [My kids don't listen to a word I say] or just feeling emotionally drained [I'm not sure how much more of this I can take]. Of course throughout the day assuming I choose to stay {which of course I do} I am humbled because I know how much I need to be at church, even if in my head I am dreading it for this very reason. When I stay I usually feel the Spirit, learn something new and never regret it. Thus, the cycle continues...


Since I've reached the point to where I truly want to give up {which if you know me, this is quite a rare moment} guess what, I did. I gave up fighting my kids in church and my husband for that matter. My husband still tries to keep the younger one on his lap out in the foyer so the whole congregation can hear him screaming but guess what, I don't care. We take turns each Sunday taking him out. He does it his way and I do it my way. Oh and I let my 6-year-old go to the bathroom a couple times during Sacrament meeting and lay down on the pew but guess what, I don't care. I also go for pleasant little walks around the church building with my 3-year-old when it is my Sunday to take him out. Sometimes we don't even make into Sacrament meeting once. He goes barefoot and dressed in street clothes but guess what, I don't care. I've been caught sitting down in the hall, in my skirt suit playing trains in the doorway with him. We smell the flowers outside and bask in the San Diego sunshine. I tell him how much Jesus loves him, how much I love him. He holds my hand and gives me hugs and isn't screaming or struggling. And finally, I feel peace.

You see, I used to feel a lot of guilt, Mormon Mom guilt, because my house looks like it needs a professional organizer and a cleaning company, especially since I have gone back to school. Confession: I don't feel like smiling all the time and my kids watch too much TV. They don't look like the Gymboree Easter models when we walk into church on Sundays either because they refuse to wear the clothes I set out for them or just decided to take them off whenever they felt like it, including during church. Nor do they sit reverently with their quiet books, Bible figurines and snacks. I still feel like I need to offer an apology for the clutter in my home when I have visitors, especially my Mom {I love you Mom!} because she taught us to have extremely high standards of cleanliness. And I used to feel guilty when I'd hear my mother-in-law {I love you Mama W!} say how each of her 7 kids could sit during church and I'd think, "What is wrong with me?" But the truth is, I shouldn't feel like something is wrong with me. I'm a different woman than her and my kids are different than hers so why would I expect the same results? That doesn't make any sense.

Don't get me wrong, I haven't given-up on teaching my children what is my responsibility to teach them. We have FHE and family prayer. We spend time together as a family. We jump on the bed, take trips to Costco, go to the beach, have slumber parties, eat froyo together. I read the Book of Mormon with Jadon nearly every night before bed. I look for opportunities to bear my testimony to my children and teach them about God's plan for us. I take whatever chance I get to hug them, squeeze them, kiss them and cuddle them. I tell them how much I love them, how much their Heavenly Father loves them. These are things I would never abdicate to someone else.

However, the stuff that can be fixed with a professional organizer and a cleaning company...