Patience Report #2

My husband and I have a theory on children’s Sunday behavior. The worse their behavior is at home on Sunday morning, the better it will be during church services. The opposite is also true. If you have a calm, subdued and relaxed Sunday morning, be prepared for a trying service at church.

This past Sunday not only were the kids cranky, but I was too. I’m sad to report that I blew up at Loula Belle Sunday morning over the fact that I’d reminded her to put away her ski pants three times the evening before, and Sunday morning she wanted to know where they were so she could play in the new-fallen snow. I’d seen them stuffed in the closet with the other snow stuff, and now I knew that someone else had put them there for her. Grrrr.

I gave her a rather loud lecture, and despite thoughts reminding me that I was supposed to be practicing patience, I gave it to her with both barrels. And when Bug wouldn’t stop complaining about the heavy snow shovel he was using, I let him have it too.

As I sat down in the chapel on Sunday and prepared to take the sacrament, I wondered if I should even take it. I had, after all, thought about being patient but decided against it. In the end, I did partake of the sacrament, but only because I felt awful about the morning’s blow up. My soul wanted to be patient, it just wasn’t perfect at it yet.

As the deacons administered the bread and water, I began to think about sacraments past. How many times have I taken the sacrament unrepentant of my patience problem? I’ve known for a long time that I need to improve my patience, but until now I haven’t DONE anything other than just feel sorry. Sorrow with no change or commitment to work on it. Truly Christ’s atonement was made for people like me.

After the sacrament I thought back to the talk I’d given at Beans’s baptism. (I’m adding it to this blog under "Baptism and Clean Socks.") I thought about just how miraculous it is for us to take the sacrament and re-new our baptism covenants and be as clean as a brand new pair of white socks. Even though I haven’t mastered patience and blew up on Sunday, after I took the sacrament with a broken heart and contrite spirit, my soul was as clean as the day that I was baptized! Imperfections and all.