"We're home! We did it!"

Rich didn’t sleep before church. The sadder part is that he was in his crib for “nap time” for almost two hours before we finally took him out and fed him lunch. We just kept thinking, “Maybe he’ll fall asleep soon and get some kind of nap, however short.” So lunch it was. And then rush to church it was.

This morning at home and then again during sacrament meeting, Rich asked for “nursery.” I kept telling him nursery was later. On our way down the hall to nursery, he said it again. “Nursery.” He was very happy to be there.

On our way home, Rich and I talked for a bit. I figured I’d say some pretty complicated things to him so he would have to concentrate too hard and would consequently fall asleep. (Weird plan, I admit, but you just never know what will work.) But for the last few minutes of the ride, I said nothing. Neither of us did. On our way up the driveway, I caught a glance back at him. He was drifting, one eye closed, the other eye half-closed. As soon as we pulled into the garage, I looked back to see if he was close enough that he might go down for a nap. Just as I looked, I saw that one half-closed eye, and then those classic words escaped his mouth. Those words he says about one in three times when we return home from something. “We’re hoooooooome. We did iiiiit,” Rich said in an increasingly soft voice, drawing out the “o” and the “i” more than he normally does. As soon as he finished the word “it,” he was gone. His one eye closed all the way, and he rested at last.

I had to keep from laughing. The boy usually says, “We’re home! We did it!”, but this time it was like it was the last thing he needed to do before he could retire. I quietly removed him from his car seat and carried him upstairs for a comfortable nap in his cool bedroom (courtesy of the rainy weather).

A war of words and tumult of opinions

Karen and I talked politics the other day while out walking the neighborhood. While we are decided on what we want to happen in this presidential election (and have already voted) we considered politics in general and how it often comes down to which party can outtalk the others—that speech is often what sways a lot of people one way or another. And then, we thought of Joseph Smith when he was looking for the right church when he was a young boy.

"In the midst of this war of words and tumult of opinions, I often said to myself: What is to be done? Who of all these parties are right; or, are they all wrong together? If any one of them be right, which is it, and how shall I know it?" (Joseph Smith—History 1:10)

We believe, as Joseph Smith did, that answers to life's questions, big or small, are often most satisfyingly and directly offered from communication with God through prayer. It is at times like these that I remember how blessed I am to have the gospel and spirituality in my life.

Context is king

I enjoyed the lessons and talks during church yesterday, but I realized—as I often do in a new ward—that not having a calling (a church responsibility) makes the church block pass more slowly. There’s no context for what is happening, and it’s more like we are visitors from out of town than members of the ward.

With a calling, in contrast, announcements and doctrine and basically everything hold relevance and keep my interest. If I am a ward missionary, for instance, my ears perk up when I hear about missionary work or missionary opportunities or how to be a better missionary. When I was the executive secretary, as well, I looked at my brothers and sisters in terms of their church records, their relationship to the bishop, and what they might need from me and how I could help.

Context, in a sense, is king, and context derives from relationships, which are defined, in part, by callings (in terms of the Church, for me). Here's to getting one in the relatively near future.