Going to Church on Sunday

Last week a young mother, who is trying to return to Church activity, left church early because she worried her young children were being too disruptive. It caused me, and all the mothers at church, to remember our same struggles with young children. We all know her feelings. It also caused me to remember a very specific event that took place several years.

When my husband was called into the bishopric I found myself sitting on the bench alone, wrestling--sometimes literally--with three young toddlers and newborn. I remember at times having to take out the newborn and praying that my three children would sit quietly until I got back and not destroy the chapel or the Sacrament meeting.

I also remember sharing some of those foyer moments with another young mother of four who also found herself alone at church when work took her husband out of town ever other weekend. One Sunday she came out of the meeting, with two of her children in tow, exasperation written on every feature of her face. The other two children had been left behind on the bench.

“I don’t know why I even bother to come," she growled to me. "I never hear a word from the meeting!”

Having growled those exact words to my husband, I absolutely understood her frustration. It was then the Lord guided my response…a thought I had never had until I spoke to her.

“Even when you don’t feel like you are getting anything out of the meeting," I said, "you’re still doing the right thing by coming each Sunday because it is teaching your children the habit of attending. It is showing them it is important to be here every Sunday, week after week.”

My words gave me much needed strength and understanding and I realized one of my jobs, besides testifying of the gospel, is to also teach my children the habit of correct principles, including Sunday attendance. That knowledge helped me on those Sundays when the Spirit seemed very far from our chaotic pew.

Over the months, though, my friend didn't find the strength and understanding she needed and she slowly quit attending regularly, coming only on the Sunday's her husband could attend. Then, when a move took her family to another part of the state she quit going to Church altogether. It was too difficult with little children.

Since that time my friend and her husband have gone completely inactive. Over time they started to break the commandments—drinking, then smoking. Eventually infidelity on both their parts led to the dissolution of their temple marriage and then divorce. My friend is now waiting tables in a bar at night, raising the children alone. Only the oldest two had been baptized but are inactive, The younger two have never been baptized and don’t know anything about the Savior or His gospel. There are financial problems, of course; as well as problems at school and with the law—some minor, some major including drug addiction and drug dealing--some by my friend, herself.

Her situation has made me grateful for my own. Though my children are not perfect and one of my teenagers is deeply struggling with his testimony right now, we do have one son on a mission, all my children go to church each Sunday, and my teenagers attend seminary every morning—even the one who is struggling. So far none of my children have gotten in trouble at school or with the law. They truly are good people who still find comfort in the habits they formed early in life.

We cannot underestimate the importance of being there every week, even when it is hard or frustrating. How I wish my friend had kept going to church. It seems to me that the two very different paths our lives took made its first turn when my friend decided it was easier to stay home rather than wrestle her children at church. Unfortunately, that decision made years ago has made her life more difficult, not easier.

During this past week the sisters in our branch have contacted this young mother and told her repeatedly how much we love having her and her children there. How grateful I was to see her return to Church this Sunday with her children. I know she is making the right choice.

The parable and miracle of the goldfish

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Our day started out with a death and a trash can burial. A silver-colored goldfish, named Smokey, jumped out of the aquarium at some point in the night and we found him on the floor this morning—stiff and dry. All traces of water on the hardwood floor from his unexpected arrival in our waterless world had long since dried up. Even the floor directly beneath his body was dry.

Four years ago, we purchased Smokey from a tank of mostly dead and sickly feeder goldfish. He cost us 10 cents. We had saved him, along with several others feeder fish that day. Now our rescue fish was dead, lying on the hardwood floor, dark and stiff.

Feeling sorrow for his lonely death, I picked him up by the hard tail fin, carried him into the kitchen and buried him in the trash can. At the breakfast table, my children saw and they, too, expressed sadness at his demise. After all, Smokey had lived for several years, grown to be the second largest in size, and was the only silver goldfish in the group.

During breakfast my children reminisced about Smokey while I started doing dishes. But I keep hearing the Spirit whisper to me. “Don’t give up on him yet. Don’t let him die this way. Give him a chance to live.”

You may recall the Spirit's whispering on behalf of the world's grumpiest cockatiel (see my March blog) Yet this fish was dead. This whispering was after the trauma, not before.

Then I recalled a similar fish incident years ago, when my firstborn child was only two. He decided to go ‘fishing’ in our tank and managed to catch one of the fish. When he proudly told my of his feat I looked in the tank and, sure enough, one fish was missing. I went searching for the fish. After an hour and a half I found him. He had flipped up under the couch and was dry and stiff. As I picked up my son’s ‘catch’ to throw it in the trash can I saw its gill move. Quickly I filled a bowl with water and dropped in the fish. He started breathing and went on to live for several more years.

Now, as I did the dishes, the whispering continued. “Don’t give up on him yet. Don’t let him die like this. Give him a chance to live.”

So, when my children were not looking, I retrieved Smokey from the trash can, filled up a bowl with water from his fish tank and dropped in the fish. By this time he had been in the trash can for 45 minutes and on the floor for much longer (possibly hours) yet, amazingly, he immediately responded and started to breathe.

In the photo below he has been in the bowl for half an hour and is almost completely upright.



I still didn’t tell my children—I didn’t want them to get their hopes up—so I sent them to school and continued to watch Smokey’s recovery. Within an hour he was swimming upright, though rather slowly, and I put him back into the tank.

I then went to the gym to work out. While on the treadmill my heart, and even my prayers, went out to this little fish. I don’t feel guilty praying for animals. I don't feel anyone should. I have come to know in my life that God loves all His creations, even the animals.

As I jogged I realized that Smokey had not jumped out of the tank on purpose. In the guise of ‘having a good time’ Smokey obviously went a bit too far and landed outside the safety of the water. There he found himself alone and needing help. He floundered and fought for life yet could do nothing to save himself until, finally, he succumbed to the consequences of his actions.

And then I thought of those people I know and I saw a gospel parallel. Often, in the guise of ‘having a good time,’ people go a bit too far and land outside the safety of the living water of the gospel. They break the commandments, they don’t feel they need to be in Church, but they are floundering and, soon enough, they will face the full effects of their actions. They can't save themselves. None of us can. That's why we all need Christ yet, if someone isn’t physically there to help those struggling in this life, the consequences can result in spiritual death, the drying up of a testimony and the stiffening of a soul.

We all know and love people like that. Maybe we see them and feel they are, somehow, too far gone to help. We may have even mentally placed them in the trash can of life, claiming they are gone for good.

Yet “Don’t give up on him yet” is powerful advice for all of us! The Lord runs on a different timetable. He doesn't care how long we've lain spiritual dead or even been in the trash can of life. He just wants someone to pull out each precious soul and give them a chance to live. There is no one so far gone, or so long gone that the Savior cannot yet reach them. We just have to keep trying. We should never give up on anyone!

And the Spirit also taught me another truth. By not telling my children that I had placed Smokey back into a bowl of water, I thought I was protecting them from disappointment in case he should die later. What the Spirit told me was that I had cut my children and Smokey off from the power of prayer. That was not a door for me to close for anyone or anything.

So, as I ran on the treadmill this morning I prayed for those friends of mine outside of the living water of the Gospel. If the Lord clearly tells me to not give up on a goldfish, I know He does not want me to give up on them!

I also prayed for forgiveness for not allowing my children to tap into the greatest power they possess…the power of prayer. I asked that my lesson to learn be mine alone, without Smokey or my children suffering.

And, so far, the Lord heard those prayers. Smokey is swimming with more strength and his fins are starting to open again. And my children have seen a miracle.

Great miracles and lessons often come in little packages.




Smokey, front and center, back in the tank where he belongs.
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