One of those Sundays. Don't tell me you've never had one.
Had to wake up an hour early. Stupid daylight savings.
It was Deek's Sunday to work. Which means, I'm left on my own to get the little chica ready. Not that taking care of one child is that hard.
I blame it mostly on the snow. Stupid snow. Most the time I love it {yes, even in March}, but not on Sunday mornings. Especially when I'm on my own.
7 inches of fresh white stuff. Beautiful really, but it became the object of my
cursing ill feelings today.
7 inches of fresh white stuff laying on top of 3 feet of old white stuff. In other words, just enough fresh to cover all those little holes and weak spots that, with any wrong step, spell disaster.
I didn't want to hike the more than half a football field to the truck with my arms full of child and baggage in a mine field like that. Any prior path had been covered up.
Even still, guilt got the better of me. I threw my baby on one hip, my 500 pound diaper bag on the other shoulder {it takes too much stuff to entertain during Sacrament meeting. Sheesh.}, and pulled on the heavy winter boots. Maybe I'll get extra points in heaven or something. --insert pioneers mocking me--
I keep my entire wordrobe of regular shoes in the truck. So much easier to throw them on once I get to the car since it's useless to keep them at my house. Can't wear them till I hike out anyway.
And so I set out on my trek.
I hate snow. I hate sabbath day snow. I hate my truck 70 million miles away. I hate you septic system for making me park 70 million miles away.
Wooshh!
10 steps from my house, I hit a land mine.
My right foot fell into a weak spot as my body crashed into the snow. Wished I would put on a jacket or something. Snow up my sleeve. Down my shirt. All the way up my skirt. And the worst - freezing, icy snow down my boot. Wished I would have put some socks or nylons on or something. Bare feet sopping wet. Me sopping wet. Diaper bag sopping wet.
Somehow I had whipped Reese around to my left hip, saving her from my same fate.
I looked up to the heavens,
Is this a test? How 'bout I just take a Fail and call it good? I hate tests.
I was
this close to walking back into my house.
Guilt over missing out on my calling ensued.
Stupid calling. Why do those primary kids have to be so cute?
Darn kids.
I put myself back together and trudged the rest of the way.
Finally, the truck.
Dagnabbit. Ice all over the windshield.
Sigh.
Heavy sigh. Stupid ice.
Attempted to clear the ice away. Wish some plows would come by and do the same thing to the road. Gave up half way through and left with a hole big enough to see through the driver side of the window. Eh, no one else drives on the road anyway.
I'm going to be late.
I'm never late to church. I used tochronically be 5 minutes late to church every week until we moved here. I set a goal, and since then I'm usually 5 minutes early.
I hate being late to church.
Finally, something good happened - the morning sun had failed to yet melt the snowy roads. Good, because it hadn't melted to slush . I'd drive through snow any day over slush. Slush just doesn't give anything to your tires to grip to. You slip slide everywhere.
The 15 mile drive wouldn't be that bad afterall.
We made it to church. 10 minutes late. Primary is first, and as the primary chorister it's usually a pretty busy start to the church day.
And so we had church.
I'd like to say it was that one really incredible church meeting. You know, the one. The one that's completely life changing and ifIdidn'tgotoIwouldhavemissedoutonthatpearlofwisdomthatwouldhavedrasticallychangedmylife'scourse.
Haven't we heard those stories? We forage on through something we really didn't want to do and at the end there's a beautiful life lesson and reward. Yeah, me too.
Turns out, it was just a normal day at church.
Those beautiful kids singing those beautiful songs. They thought my game was just about the greatest thing to hit this side of Zarahemla.
That little girl who gave me a hug. The one that's really quiet and hardly ever talks.
The 12 year old boys singing their very best.
Wrestling Reese all sacrament meeting. Thank goodness for kind ward members who step in to help while daddy is gone.
Reese yelling at the top of her lungs "AH-KAY!!!! A' done!!!!!" as soon as the final sacrament speaker said amen.
Just another day at church.
I'm sure I would have been fine had I not gone. I'd still be me. I'd still have family home evening, I'd still read my scriptures daily, and I'd still be at church next week, I'd still be a good person.
But I went. Even when I really, really, really didn't want to. And it wasn't life changing.
But maybe it was. Maybe it
was.
Maybe it's those small, seemingly, inconsequential decisions that almost unnoticeabley add up over time. Doing something we don't want to do and getting no extraordinary reward.
Maybe some day they will make a difference. Maybe someday all those little trivial decisions that wouldn't have made a huge character changing difference at the moment of choice will matter. Each tiny little decision becoming a tiny little part that creates a gigantic synergistic whole of spiritual strength.
Those little decisions giving us the moral character to act in some future fiery furnace when there will be far more at stake than 3 hours of spiritual enlightenment.
Or so I hope.
But for now, just do me a favor. Next time you open the door to your garage and see your car only a few sweet steps of concrete away, try and appreciate it. And I'll probably hate you a little bit. But then you can hate me a little bit for the view I get to enjoy on the voyage to my car.
See then? Almost even.
