It's Not My Turn To Pray

While there are some people who fail to recognize the Lord's hand in our lives, other people seem to see his hand in everything that they do. I'm not talking about those people that stand up monthly and bear their testimony. You know the testimonies that make everyone feel uncomfortable, even the children; I'm talking about those people who have the faith of Brotha Job.

As I survey the lives of my families last four generations, as well as the families of my peers, it seems to me that the younger generations lack gratitude. While there are several reasons for the lack of gratitude in our lives and the lives of our youth, I attribute the main reason for lack of gratitude being we (parents) lack the ability to communicate to our children what we are grateful for and in turn what they are grateful for. Yes brothas and sistas, the nature of this story has taken a slight turn, just bare with me as I relay this short story that will tie into teaching gratitude.

Sometimes my parents had to flip the script in order for me to learn the lessons they tried to teach me. I think last night I would have received an A+ in "T Family Teachings 101".

Story: Last night I called my children down for family prayer. My two youngest girls ages 12 and 10 were being rambunctious, playful, but rambunctious with one another. Even though they both started off playful and teasing I knew they were a giggle away from a full on war. In trying to calm the two of them down I asked one of my daughters to lead us in family prayer. She groaned and said that she had said the prayer the night before and that it was someone else’s turn to say prayer.

Some parents would have apologized and differed the responsibility to say family prayer to a younger sibling.

Me: So you only expect the Lord to bless you a little?

Her: No, I just don't think I should have to say all the prayers in this house.

Me: Oh, I'm sorry, you must be the one that keeps telling Heavenly Father that he's blessed you way too much and it's time for him to pass those blessings on to someone else. I understand you have expressed your gratitude for the family this week, so if we need you to pray for the family, we have to catch you in the morning or in the mid-day.

Her: Mom, your being dramatic... (smile). Yes, I want blessings.

Me: (Am I seeing a smile)? Oh, well is there something your trying to take care of? Are you not worthy to pray? Are you working on your issue? Or you just don't have anything to say to Heavenly Father? Are you and Heavenly Father in a fight?

Her: (Her and the rest of the family, full out laughter)... O.K. I'll say prayer.

I would just like to report that she said a full, healthy prayer. It was thoughtful and she expressed gratitude for our family and the blessings in our lives.

Back on track: If we are noticing a lack of gratitude in our lives and the lives of our children we need to focus on the basics. When was the last time you took public transportation? When was the last time (if ever) you went and ate at a homeless shelter, without doing service there? Just going there and exposing yourself and your children to those less fortunate, placing yourself on their level. When was the last time you said "No" to your child? Just "No", I'm not spending that kind of money or we simply can't afford that.

Being a parent I understand how difficult it is to say "No" to your child especially when so many other parents are saying yes. It's not our responsibility to provide our children with all the latest fashions and/or gadgets. We have become an entitled generation; it is this attitude that we are passing on to our children. Many of us want to have the same quality of life as we start our adult lives, that we had living with our parents. It's natural for parents to have a desire to help their children achieve success, however we might be keeping our children from learning the lesson of gratitude. Where entitlement exists, there is no room for gratitude. Where entitlement is, resentment is usually around the corner.

I know that I am one of the most blessed children of our Heavenly Father. As I look at my life and my family (even extended), I know that Heavenly Father has had a watchful eye on me and has placed Angels in my path. I'm especially grateful for parents that knew how to simply say "no", without giving me an excuse. I'm grateful for parents that taught me the value of life. I'm most grateful for the people in my life and their willingness to patiently teach me.

Sista Beehive
 

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My First Communion

One of the things that I am most grateful to my parents for is exposing me to many different religions and faiths. As a youngster, I took seriously the call for every member to be a missionary. I loved inviting my friends to church with me. Some of the friends that I invited to church didn’t regularly attend any church, but some of them did. One thing about LDS Primary is that it is a lot of fun, and some of my friends often wanted to forgo their church meetings and attend church with me for that reason. This didn’t often go over well with their parents, so my parents often suggested that each time they sent their child to church with us, my parents would send me to church with them the following Sunday. Or my friend and I would attend church at the LDS Church and also at the church my friend attended in the same Sunday, if time permitted. The latter often led to a really long Sunday, but I learned so much from it.

When I was turning 8 years old and was preparing to be baptized, I wanted one of my best friends to attend my baptism. She was also turning 8 and preparing for her First Communion in the Catholic Church. Our parents decided that she would attend church with me some Sundays - this way she could accompany me to Primary and learn about baptism and why I was doing it. In turn, I would attend the Catholic Church with her on some Sundays and also her religious classes so I could learn what communion was and why she was doing it. We had so much fun learning about each other's religions and even at the age of 7 we were able to recognize so many of the similarities in our faiths.

She was shopping for a beautiful white dress for her occasion, and my Mother was making me a beautiful one for mine. On her big day I felt so special to be included. I watched as she and all the other children, the boys in their suits and the girls in their white dresses and veils, walked down the aisle holding candles. I watched as she partook of the Sacrament for the very first time in her life, and I understood what she was doing and why it meant so much to her and her family. I had taken the Sacrament many times, but watching her do so and seeing all the preparation she had done to be able to partake of it helped to remind me of how important the Sacrament is. On the day of my baptism she attended and she understood what I was doing and why it meant so much to me and my family. The Sunday following my baptism, I tried very hard to think about the sacrifice Jesus Christ had made for me while I partook of the Sacrament, I couldn't remember the very first time I had taken the Sacrament, but I wanted to remember this one.

Thanks to each of our parents being tolerant of the other's religion and teaching us the same. There is a picture of she and I at age 8 in our white dresses, standing in the church parking lot with our arms around each other, the temple is behind us, I love that picture, we look so happy. Today my friend is still Catholic and I am still a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. What I learn from my many religious experiences is that it isn’t always about conversion, sometimes it’s simply about trying to make each interaction with a person of another faith a positive one.

Do you often attend church services of faiths other than yours, why or why not? Do your children invite friends to church with them? Do your children attend church with their friends? Tell us about an experience you have had inviting a person of a different faith to church with you. Tell us of an experience you have had attending a church of a faith other than your own.

Sista Laurel

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Warm Fuzzies vs. Cold Pricklies

When my husband and I were living in the ward he attended as a child, he received a calling to teach Sunday school for the youth ages 12 and 13, a class that happened to be dominated by rowdy boys. After the Sacrament meeting in which his calling had been announced a Sister in the ward came up to me and told me that when she heard what my husband’s calling was she was overjoyed and knew that God was a just God. She had been a Primary President while he was a child, although he seemed to have turned out quite nicely, in his Primary of around 30 boys he had been an awful little instigator who had sometimes left her and his other teachers in tears. I may have imagined it, but I think I saw a slight smirk on her face as she asked me to wish him good luck.

Often when you find yourself in or teaching a Sunday school or Primary class dominated by boys, it can be a nightmare, but every once in a while you learn something you never would have expected. In class we were discussing service and the story which President Monson relayed during Conference of the Primary who had sent him a jar of warm fuzzies, with each warm fuzzy representing an act of service that a child had done for someone else. Of course the boys being boys had no interest in anything warm or fuzzy and one boy said what if instead of warm fuzzies he got a jar of cold pricklies. Other than the desire to send President Monson a jar of cold pricklies, I actually found the remark to be quite clever and began to think about what a cold prickly might look like. I did what every person with a church inspired question does, I searched…Google. To my surprise when I typed in warm fuzzies, cold pricklies also came up. I don’t know if the boy had heard this before and was referring to it, but his smart aleck response led me to this great story.

"Once upon a time, there was a tiny village nestled between two mountains. Each person in the village was very happy because he was given a bag of Warm Fuzzies at birth. You could reach into your bag and pull out a Warm Fuzzy whenever you wanted, and everybody wanted to all the time. Warm Fuzzies were given to other people on the street, at home, everywhere. Warm Fuzzies made you feel just like they sound - warm, happy and content. Everyone in the village was happy, everyone but the bad witch. Now we all know that bad witches are growly. They like us to be unhappy, sad. The bad witch in this village was no exception. She tried and tried to make the people stop giving away Warm Fuzzies. One day she whispered in the ear of little Johnny Brown, "If you keep giving away all of your Warm Fuzzies you won't have any left for yourself." Johnny didn't listen at first, because everyone always had lots of Warm Fuzzies. The more you gave away, the more you got.

Then the witch said to Johnny, "If you give COLD PRICKLIES you will be able to keep all of your Warm Fuzzies." Well, Johnny got to thinking about this, and noticed that his mother was always giving away Warm Fuzzies. So were his father and his sister. Soon he thought they would have no more for him. So Johnny started saving his Warm Fuzzies and started giving COLD PRICKLIES. Soon the whole village was giving COLD PRICKLIES. Everyone was gloomy and sad and very grouchy. The village was no longer happy, and there wasn't a Warm Fuzzy to be found!

This had been going on for years and years, and the wicked witch was very happy. One day an old man came to visit the village. When he spoke to anyone they frowned at him and turned their backs, often walked away. The old man continued to be friendly, polite, pleasant, and one day a very young boy smiled back at the old man. It made him feel good - so good that he patted his dog, and the dog didn't bite him! This was the first Warm Fuzzy given in some time, and the little boy dug into his bag of Warm Fuzzies, as they were much nicer than the COLD PRICKLIES, and he started giving them away. The townspeople grumbled and growled for a while, but soon they felt like giving Warm Fuzzies. One by one people went home to find their Warm Fuzzies and soon everyone was again giving Warm Fuzzies. The bad witch was so upset and disgusted that she left the village and took her COLD PRICKLIES. After all, they didn't stand a chance against Warm Fuzzies.
To this day that village is happy and content. Maybe, just maybe, if we give enough Warm Fuzzies our world can be as happy and pleasant as that village."

Have you ever learned something great from the mouth of babes?

Sista Laurel

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