The following is a guest post from Mike Lee, who describes himself as
“the husband of my wonderful wife, married five years, and father of two great kids. I am most proud of that. I’m a graduate of BYU in Computer Science, and currently work as a software developer in Wisconsin, where my wife grew up and where I am growing to love.”
By Mike Lee
You would think, seeing that I’m married and have two kids, that I would have learned this lesson already:
Last week was the first Sunday after my son had learned how to crawl. Needless to say, he didn’t feel like sitting on my lap for the whole 3-hour block like he used to. He has also developed the habit of grunting loudly and rhythmically, which is normally cute but also makes it quite impossible to have him in a meeting, sacrament or any other. On top of that, he was having some digestive issues (I don’t think I need to go into details there), which were giving me some serious diaper changing practice.
I got him to sleep for a little while, but that didn’t last long thanks to the old ladies. “Oh, look! He’s so cute! He looks so tired.” Yep, he’s tired. Am I the only one with a baby that doesn’t sleep when he’s getting his cheeks pinched?
For the last few minutes of church I was in the car with my son, who by this time was wearing nothing but a diaper (again, I don’t need to go into details). I was starting to feel sorry for myself as I realized I had only spent maybe 30 minutes in church, and even that was mostly announcements, opening hymns, and opening prayers.
Why do I even come? I asked myself.
After a while my wife and daughter came out to the car. My 3-year-old was anxious to tell me what she learned in primary:
“We learned above love”, she beamed.
“Oh, and who should you love?” I quizzed her.
“Mommy.”
“Good, and who else?” Ok, I admit I was fishing.
“Baby brother.”
“Yes. Anyone else?”
“Umm… my teacher.” This was getting embarrassing.
“Should you love everyone?”
“Yeah, everyone!” she said proudly.
“Even daddy?”
“Yeah, daddy too.” Phew, at least I made it on the list.
And then it hit me—the lesson I had learned many times but keep on forgetting:
It’s not about you, stupid.
I don’t know if I thought that myself or if it was a revelation from on high. I hope at least I added the “stupid” part. Suddenly I realized why I do it—why I come to church.
Ok God, let’s make a deal. I’ll come to church with my family–squirming, grunting, pooping baby and all–if you’ll help my kids stay on the straight and narrow.
I know teaching my kids and nurturing their flames of testimony is mostly up to me and my wife, but in today’s world, I think I’ll need all the help I can get.