Positive Thinking

So back in 2013, my husband’s calling to serve in the Married Student Stake here didn’t impact going to church as a family.  Our local congregation met at noon, his meetings were in the morning, life is good.

Well, okay, life with six children under 10 on a pew “being reverent” for over an hour… is… good and a few parts crazy, too.  Pretty much every single Sacrament Meeting since we moved here, though, I’ve been filled with gratitude for having Mr.Smith by my side to help with the craziness going on.  You know.  Phrases like, “What in the world would I do if he weren’t here?”  That kind of thankfulness.

This year… Oh, yes, THIS year  we get the 8am shift.  I usually love that shift because babies/toddlers still get their afternoon naps.  However.

His meetings usually finish around 10am.

Mm-hm.

AND I’m still reeling from December’s health crisis.  So.  He hasn’t gone to his meetings in a while.  They understand.  It’s no biggie.  They even called him an assistant to help with things and I’m glad.

🙂

The Plot Thickens

Last week was a happy week and I did way better.  There was a new Bishop being called in the Married Student Stake, and some other important things going on, so we planned for Mr. Smith to go ahead and actually Do His Calling that day.

6am-11am.

Sharp rocks at the bottom?  Bring it on.

So me and the angels, we planned for it.  Positive Thinking, baby, positive thinking.

Know what?

IT TOTALLY WORKED!

Muffins the night before were a great idea and they even turned out yummy – thank you angels!  So yummy, in fact, that there weren’t anywhere near enough of them and the 9yo cried about it since nothing else in the whole entire house is as yummy as those were…

but I digress.

Sunday morning.

The 2yo wore the same shorts he’d been wearing all day Saturday.  They have belt loops, so the shoestring sword-holder will work.  Mess with the swashbuckler at your own risk!  I even let him take that cardboard-and-duct-tape creation with him to church, yes I did. Part the swashbuckler from his sword at your own risk!

The boys were all wearing slippers (known to my land of nativity as “flip-flops”) because tracking down all those Sunday shoes is pretty much impossible without Mr. Smith and only slightly probable with him.

Creativity was still hungry.

Freedom’s nose was still showing evidence of the cold he’s been battling for weeks (stress? what?) — and the white shirt he put on at home was an interesting shade of green by the time he got to church.

<forgive me, I know you want a picture. I just didn’t think to take one>

But — The baby had a headband and I was wearing mascara, so we pretty much rocked it.

As we filed in to the chapel, believe it or not, the prelude music was still playing!

DUDE!

Proof positive miracles still happen, I’m telling you.

Looking around for a spot to occupy, however, took 3 seconds too long. The music ended and the Bishopric-member conducting started talking before I could even make heads or tails of what was available.

Behold!  That pew right there!  You know – the one right there when you walk in so the next pew is, like, 6 feet away.  That one!

“Brothers and sisters,” he said, “Alo-“

<SIT>

“-ha!”

YEAAAAAAHAHAHAHA!  I MADE IT! WOOOOHOOOOOOO!

Except I didn’t do the Toyota jump or even a fist-pump; I just smiled.  Smiled and thought,

Boom baby!

Pretty sure marathon runners know the feeling I had in that moment.  Yep.

Given that I’ve never actually run a marathon, I may be overestimating.  Probably they have lots more endorphines pumping through their system.  And more sweat.  Still.  It was fairly monumental.

Now it gets really good, because guess what.

The kids were super duper well behaved!  

No grownups were sent out with children screaming.  Nothing spilled.  Nobody cried.  Not even me.  At least, not then.  The normally-beyond-clingy 5yo was calm.  The baby was mellow.  The wiggly 2yo was cuddly and adorable.  The loud 4yo was pretty quiet, all things considered, and the oldest two kids were pretty good, too, aside from trading places a few dozen times (okay, more like half a dozen) and getting up for a drink at “halftime.”

There was the time…

I let the baby play on the floor a bit, my attention got diverted, and the next time I looked down, she was gone.  That was pretty funny.  The kind folks behind us had her for a nice little while, which she seemed to quite and enjoy.  Nothing like nice people doting on you to make you feel special.

And there was the fact that the 2 and 4 year old love to spend as much time as possible facing backwards and looking at all the people.  Faces are far more interesting than backs-of-heads.  Can’t blame them.  If I had $1 for every time I had to whisper, “Turn around!  Sit down!” I’d take you out for a shave ice.  Airfare included.

(No, not shaved ice.  Shave ice.  Don’t ask me.)

As there is little likelihood anyone will be forthcoming in that payout, I have thought of a solution for next week.

Seat belts.

I really do think seat belts would be a nice feature on our pews.  I’m tempted to take the buckles off the next carseat to expire and figure something out.  Locals, you know how there’s that space between the seat and the backrest?  Don’tcha think it could be easily done?  I’m gonna try.  Really.

I’ve decided marathon-running doesn’t quite describe it.

Remember the gymnast who vaulted on a sprained ankle (torn ligaments, actually) and helped the US win the female-team gold medal back in the day?  Kerry Strug.  That’s the one.

Turns out, she didn’t really “need” to do that 2nd vault.  Her teammates had totally nailed it before her and victory was theirs.  The judges were just a little slow in tallying up those scores, so they didn’t know for sure.  She’d flubbed it up several times in a row, though, and was pretty heroic, being willing to go again in spite of the pain.

Everybody loved her for it, including me, and she gets remembered as “the hero who led them to victory,”
not “the one who almost lost them the gold.”

Same kind of victory going on with me and my angels getting through church without Daddy there, minus the flowers and medals, and thankfully minus the torn ligaments.

THANK YOU, thank you, thank you, angels – including especially that nice family behind us.  I really needed those miracles that day.  It’s been hard going here and I’m cherishing every happy, peaceful moment I get.

Tagged as: church, funny