This last week has been extremely hard for me as my husband has had to work a lot more overtime than what we are used to. To top the overtime off, he has been busy doing lawn care for folks in our community as well so I’ve only seen him for one or two hours each night before we’ve gone to bed. Add to that the daily frustrations of raising three uncivilized boys, and understandably yesterday I was about ready to pull my hair out at the fireworks show. Although I must say it was quite hilarious to me when my boys screamed once the fireworks starting shooting in the air. I couldn’t help laugh.
VIP seating is the best.
Today was my third Sunday attending church after being inactive for over a year. Last week I felt awkward attending Sunday School because I didn’t know anyone, and so after about twenty minutes of listening to the lesson being given I made an excuse to my husband that I had to go to the bathroom. So, I quietly left and sat in the foyer. Today however, I decided to go to Gospel Principles (a different Sunday School class) after much encouragement from another member. I actually enjoyed this class as it was much smaller and the teacher is an excellent promoter of thought.
Promoter of thought…wait, this might not be good. Afterall, I have issues with my thought filter.
So, the lesson in Gospel Principles was on fasting. I am not entirely sure if the lesson given had anything to do the fact that it was indeed today Fast Sunday, but I forgot to eat breakfast this morning so I hope that counted. Probably not, especially since I had brought along my caffeine drink and was sneaking sips out of it in between classes.
The Gospel Principles teacher then asks: “Who really does everything we own belong to? Our money, our tithes, our vehicles, our homes, the air we breathe?”
I muttered sarcastically under my breath: “The bank,” except I must not have been quiet enough because the teacher who was in the front of the room heard me all the way from the back. Well, at least they thought it was funny, because they all laughed. I hope.
After church, a member of the bishopric who I think has taken us under his wing complimented that our children were so well behaved during Sacrament meeting (worship services). I told him thank you and that it was a nice break from nearly pulling my hair out yesterday. The children then were let out from Primary and one by one my children greeted me with their smiling faces and sweet personalities. Finally, we had accomplished a reverent, peaceful, and spiritually uplifting day at church. I smiled at my four-year-old’s teacher and then turned towards the back door to leave when suddenly the teacher declared:
“Your youngest pulled down his pants today and mooned his entire class.”
Well crap. Maybe next time.
And now the same kid wants to know if we can make a cigarette house. You know, like a pretzel house. No. We don’t smoke.
