We go to church on Sundays.
I almost feel like that’s almost a “taboo” thing these days and am sometimes shy to tell people we do for fear of being judged for it. Even as I wrote that sentence out I felt silly for writing it, but there it is. I know it’s maybe not the most common thing anymore, but our family goes to church every week. I promise we’re still normal and like to do regular things… we just also like to go to church.
Church comes with prayer, and in our home we (try to) give thanks and bless the food before each meal, and the kids say prayers before bed. What they say is often cute and funny–half the time they are in such a rush to eat that they forget to bless the food at all and ramble off other things. H prayed that his dad wouldn’t get hit by a zamboni in every prayer he said for a year after M made a joke about zambonis once while they were at an arena.
H is by far our shyest child, but he loves to say prayers. It’s like the one thing that he has always felt very confident in. They are usually very simple, but also heartfelt. He is the first to volunteer at every opportunity at home, and apparently at other places too.
Last weekend I took the kids for a special weekend with my mom and dad. Every so often we go up for a “two night sleepover”, and we’ll go to church with my mom and dad where they live. Everyone is altogether for the first hour of our church, then it divides into classes. The children go to an amazing primary program for kids up to age 12. They have classes, song time, activities and sometimes snacks. They know and love the program here where we live, but I thought they might be nervous going in another city (even though program itself is standard through the church). H has traditionally hidden behind my legs whenever there are new people around, but since starting school I’ve seen his confidence grow in leaps and bounds. Both he and S waltzed right into their age-level classes and didn’t look back.
When I went to get them after church last week, they both told me how much fun they’d had. H told me he’d talked and helped, but as he was bouncing around and I was trying to get coats on them I didn’t hear much more.
My mom and dad called me tonight with a very cute story that I wanted to share. They went back to their ward (what we call local individual units of our church) today and spoke with someone who had been in primary last week. This person had recounted a wee story about S & H that was too cute to keep to myself:
My normally shy H volunteered to say a prayer in front of a group of kids he didn’t know last week. He gave a short, sweet prayer (as per usual) and after he finished a few older kids at the back started snickering. I can tell you right now that had H heard it, it would have crushed him. He is very sensitive and even offering to speak in a new place is a big deal for him.
S heard the kids laughing and whirled around. She said (with flair),
“Don’t you laugh at my brother!”
The kids apparently stopped in their tracks, and I can completely envision her completing the encounter with a hair whip as she turned back around.
…can you even handle it?? My heart grew about three sizes when my parents told me. I am so proud of both of them: H for doing a hard thing, and S for sticking up for her little brother, even at just six years old. They fight all the time and get on each other’s nerves, but underneath it all they are best friends and I love that they look out for each other.
This mom gig is hard sometimes, but I really do have the best kids in the world.