Lately, I dread Sundays, where once I relished in the peace and quiet. This morning I woke to my two boys fighting over cereal. From there the contention escalated throughout the morning. Screaming over train tracks, a bruise on brother's leg from a toddler bite, purple expo marker all over walls and doors, a half hour long tantrum over buttons, then soap in a mouth for screaming "bad" words at sister and mom, and crying because Daddy left for work. By the time we left for church, my emotional stores were depleted, and I knew we still had an hour of sitting still with a toddler and a preschooler determined not to go to his class.
As I choked on the opening hymn, I knew how moms with young kids could go inactive. How did MY mom make it all those years? She had seven kids and most of those years, she sat alone while my dad worked in leadership positions. I swear she earned her sainthood. I remember being taken out once for misbehaving (I have no idea what for) and getting swatted. I remember thinking my mom was evil for spanking in a church- ha!
How and why did she do it, and why do I keep going back?! Why don't I just take a break until they're older?!
I keep going because the gospel of Jesus Christ is true and brings hope. I go so that my kids ask to say prayers when they're scared. I go because my preschooler asks his father on his own for a Priesthood blessing to help him be nice and say nice words. I go because my son who struggles with social skills and anxiety passes the sacrament to the congregation with pure reverence and sincerity. I go because the gospel of Jesus Christ changes lives and hearts. I go because Jesus Christ has given us a gift, and I want my children to learn of that gift so that in their dark moments of life, they'll know to whom they can turn when all seems lost.
Jesus Christ gave all so we could gain all. For this reason, I will get up each Sunday and do it all again, even when I feel like it's going to be the end of me.
I do it for them.
