Scattered thoughts...

I had something I wanted to write today.  Something profound.  Something important.  Something I was thinking about during sacrament meeting today.  The problem is, I can't seem to remember what it was.  I keep trying to type, but I keep getting interrupted.  One kid wants to use the computer, another wants a snack, a little girl wants me to read a story to her, and I just want them all to quiet down and let me write these important thoughts that I can't seem to remember.  The problem is that by hushing my children, and selfishly seeking my solitude, I am most likely acting contrary to the lost thoughts that I want to express. 

Last Sunday, I was in charge of teaching the Sharing Time lesson to the children in primary.  I had been out of town Friday & Saturday, and woke up Sunday feeling ill prepared for my lesson.  I knew what the topic would be, but I was struggling to find a "fun" way to present it to the children.  I would be teaching about the Sermon on the Mount, and how following Christ's teachings makes us happy.  It's such a beautifully simple message.  Christ showed us the way to be happy.  All we have to do is follow his example, and we will be happy.  How easy is that?  Yet, I felt like I needed a way to make the message more entertaining for the kids.

After sacrament meeting, I made a dash for the primary supply closet.  I scrounged around for the things I thought I needed.  I found some poster board, markers, ribbon, and an illustrated bible story book.  I sought for some scissors and tape.  Nothing.  I retreated to the church kitchen, and converted it into my workshop.  I make up a matching game on the poster board with all of the "blessed are the's.." on one side and the "for they shall be's..." on the other.  But I still needed scissors and tape.  I had a few little life scenarios printed up on cards that the kids could pull out of a hat and answer "what would Jesus do?" for, but I didn't have a hat for them to pull the cards out of.  I had half-formed ideas of what I might do to make my lesson "fun", but none of them were coming together quite the way I wanted.

Five minutes before my lesson was to start,  I found myself standing in the hallway having a bit of a panic attack.  Why hadn't I been better prepared for this lesson?  I needed to pull myself together.  Standing outside the primary room door, an elderly gentlemen passed by, and started to talk.  I knew I didn't have time, but I wanted to hear what this man had to say.  He talked for too long, and I needed to go, but something about his words and his calmness made me calm.  It occurred to me that maybe I could teach the children what they needed to learn without the posterboard matching game, ribbons, scissors or tape.  Maybe I was more prepared than I realized to teach these young minds the importance of choosing the right.  With a fresh perspective, I entered the room...

I pulled out the illustrated bible story book and turned to the story of the sermon on the mount.  I showed the children a picture of Christ sitting on the mountainside, surrounded by his disciples.  I prefaced the story by explaining that these people were Christ's dearest friends-- people who loved Him, and believed in Him,  and would soon have to suffer persecution because of their faith in their Savior.  Jesus needed to teach them the truths that would strengthen them and prepare them for what would occur after His death.  Blessed are the...for they...

I felt good about the lesson.  It was simple.  It was true.  I felt the spirit as I taught the children, and pray they felt it too. 

I was thinking today about the lesson, and about the beautiful simplicity of the gospel.  Life is busy.  Life is complicated.  The gospel is easy.  The gospel is so not complicated.  I've been feeling for some time now that I need to keep things simple.  I've been trying to reel things in.  I've been trying to focus on the important, and weed out the not so important.  It can be difficult, because there always seems to be something else trying to creep in.  I read a little booklet the other day while sitting at the doctor's office.  It was entitled "Taming the Techno Beast", and talked specifically about things like video games, internet, and computer addictions that compel us to sacrifice our imperfect "real" relationships for a more ideal and fantastical "virtual" reality.  I know the author was talking to me.  I know I spend too much time on Facebook and Blogger.  I know that once I sit down at my computer, it's hard for me to peel myself away.  I know that the real relationships with my husband and children are often sacrificed to the idol relationships I culture online.  I need to reel it in.  I need to control my addiction.

I was thinking today about a conversation I had with a lady in an aerobics class several years ago.  I had just finished subbing a kick boxing class, and this woman came up to me afterward to introduce herself and comment on the class.  Over the course of our conversation, I mentioned that my husband was a student at the dental school.  She then proceeded to lash out about her ex-husband who was a dentist, and warned me about the dangers of being married to such a professional.  "Watch out!" she cautioned, "He'll be consumed by his work!  He'll work long hours!  He'll fall in love with his hygienist!"  Over the course of our conversation, the topic somehow turned to my religion (she probably asked where Justin did his undergrad work...that always brings up BYU, and then there's really nowhere else to go...), and when I told her I was a Latter-day Saint, she negated everything she had just professed by saying, "Oh, you guys are real big on families.  You'll be just fine."  

I don't know what made me think of it today, but I couldn't help but delight in the memory.  How great is it that my church is "real big on families"?  What a reputation!  What a simple truth!  Families are it.  They are what matter most.  The real relationships I share with my husband and children are the most valuable treasures I will ever possess.  I must cherish them.  I must not neglect them.   And so I am signing off now, to go be with the ones that matter most...