Peace Begins With Me

One Sunday afternoon McKay announced that he wanted to make me breakfast in bed the next morning. I knew he was determined when he brought it up several times and even got my order. “I'll be up early so I can go swimming,” I told him. He looked disappointed and then declared that I could go back to bed for breakfast.


The next morning when McKay got out of bed I had already been up for a couple hours. It was the last day of the Christmas break and I was swimming in laundry, the house was a mess and I was hoping to get the kids to help me take the decorations down. I was ready to jump into my work, but McKay's excited expression and my resolution to be more present with my kids sent me to my room. I had to hush my inner task master who chided me for not getting down to business. I slipped off my shoes and slid into bed with my journal. At least I could do some thinking and writing. I had no such luck.


Just as I got settled Emma came into the room and crawled into bed with me. I felt annoyed and I just wanted her to go away. Instead, I remembered my resolve and looked into her eyes and listened to her chatter. The more I focused on her the quieter my task master became and my annoyance ebbed away until there was just the sweetness of her company.


When McKay came in with my breakfast tray he looked proud and humble all at once. He wasn't sure the omelet was good enough, but I quickly assured him that it was beautiful, just the way I liked it with a little fried cheese hanging onto the edge. He beamed and then waved Peter out of the room with him so they could go play. He really is such a sweet boy.


Emma sat with me as I ate and wondered where her breakfast was. After all, she'd ordered hers last night too. She went and asked McKay, but he was too busy with his own affairs. I offered to make her breakfast in bed and she was so excited. She went to her bed and I brought her an omelet. Then, even though I longed to get to the piles of laundry and dishes, I stayed and kept her company. When she slipped out of bed she seemed filled, not only with her breakfast, but with peace.


Camilla wanted to make chocolate muffins that morning so she spent some time finding a recipe. She printed two and we discussed which we thought would work better. I stayed in the kitchen with her, cleaning up as she mixed it all together. We talked about this and that, nothing of real importance. It was simply nice to be working there together. The muffins were delicious.


Later in the morning I asked Sarah to come fold towels with me. She came and we began to visit. She followed me into the kitchen and we talked some more as I worked on the dishes. We talked about her future. She wasn't sure where she wants to go to school or what she wants to study. I promised her that if she stayed close to the Lord He would lead her where she needs to be, the course of study she needs to pursue and the things she should focus on. I told her to trust Him and not worry. He would lead her along. I saw a burden lift from her shoulders and a light enter her eyes that had been missing. We hadn't had a good visit like that in a long time and I think her distracted mother might have had something to do with it.


Emma was looking for something to do and I suggested she make a paper doll house out of magazine pictures like I used to as a little girl. I had a stack of magazines I was meaning to throw away. I pulled them out and we started looking for kitchens, bedrooms, living rooms and patios to put in her doll house. I got her started and left her to it. Before long Camilla joined her in pulling it all together.


That afternoon I spent some time with Peter finishing one of his assignments for scouts. We planned a menu and went to the store to price out the cost. He held my phone with the calculator open and carefully added up our purchases. We had to cut dessert out of the menu to stay within our budget, but we were able to put together his favorite meal for just $10. Peter seemed happy and content as we left the store. He had accomplished his assignment and I had spent time just with him.


When Harold got home that evening the house was still a mess and so little had gotten done. I felt frustrated and a little angry with myself. Why couldn't I have gotten more done? Why must I be in a panic at dinnertime? The rush to get dinner ready was the hardest time for me to hold on to my resolve. That's when I wanted to start snapping at the kids. Emma was whining about what Camilla was doing with her dollhouse and I could have and usually would have lost it. I took a deep breath and thought of the vision of the kind of mom I really want to be. Instead of yelling at the girls to get along I stopped and took a minute to help. Just stopping and helping brought calm to my heart again.


The kitchen never did get clean. The laundry didn't get done. Christmas didn't get put away. But I made real connections with my children and that gave me hope. I think it gave them hope too. The holidays are time of huge distraction for me. I am very busy trying to pull off a magical Christmas. I have high expectations for myself and when I get into the mode of making things perfect I lose sight of what matters most to me. My children are quick to recognize my inability to focus on them and it seems like they find especially annoying ways to make me focus on them. As the Christmas break progressed the teasing, fighting, yelling and general selfishness had increased. That single day of concerted effort to pause, listen and be there for them did more than anything else I could have done to bring peace to my home. By the end of that day there was a peaceful calm. The children were happier, they were kind to each other and there was a feeling of love in our home.

But, it wasn't easy. That day, sweet as it was in many ways, was exhausting. It took tremendous mental and emotional discipline for me to stay present. I was constantly trying to hush the nagging voice of efficiency so I could meet the needs of my children. I felt split in two. It was a strain. That is why the results of that day filled me with so much hope. If one day of focused effort could produce so much peace then imagine what small efforts every day could do. I can't express how challenging this has been for me. But, I believe the results will be worth the effort and I hope that it will get easier along the way. If I want peace and love in my home, peace and love in my relationships, peace and love in my world, it has to begin with me. It has to begin with me letting go of making things perfect, letting go of efficiency, letting go of taking care of things and holding closely to the the people who matter most to me. Like it or not I influence the peace of my home and family more than anyone else.  Peace here really does begin with me.

Don't Make Them Laugh

When I was a little girl my family was asked to speak in church.  I remember my mom creating a talk just for me.  Each day we would pull out the index card with my part and practice.  By the time we spoke I was ready.  I had memorized my part perfectly.  Sitting on the stand waiting for my turn, I was nervous, but excited. 

I climbed on the stool at the microphone and looked out over what seemed like hundreds of people.  I took a deep breath and repeated my memorized talk.  To my horror, they laughed. I stepped down from the microphone shocked and confused.  Why were they laughing?  I did it perfectly, why did they laugh?  I still remember my sadness and shame. 

Now looking back I’m certain they must have laughed because of my cuteness or how my child voice sounded in the mike.  I’m sure I tickled them and made them happy. But as I child all I could imagine for their laughter was that I’d made a mistake.

One Sunday morning Emma was in my room practicing her part for the Primary program.  She helped me write the part, supplying the example and some of the words.  It was adorable.  It made me smile every time I heard it.  As she finished up another go through I told her that when she said her part in the program the people might laugh.  Her smile faded and she crumpled. I soothed her by telling her it was okay.  They would only laugh because it was so cute, because they understood exactly what she was talking about, because it made them happy.  She wouldn’t listen.  It didn’t matter.  All my grown up reasons for their laughter didn’t change how it would make her feel to be laughed at.  I tried and tried to convince her and then I realized my mistake. 

You see, I really wanted her to say that part.  I wanted them to laugh.  I wanted them to see how cute my little girl was.  I wanted the pleasure of being part of their pleasure.  I had told her they might laugh to prepare her, not to protect her, to make sure she didn’t mess up from the surprise of their laughter.  As I realized what I was doing I felt the censure of the Spirit. We are charged not to offend our little ones, charged to protect them. 

I bent down and brushed her hair away from her face.  “We can change your part,” I said.  “It will be easy. We’ll just change these words.  It won’t be so different and they won’t laugh.” She looked up hopefully, her eyes still wet with tears. We practiced the revised part a few times and she was good to go.  She was calm, relieved and unafraid.

I don’t think she’s given the incident another thought, but I have thought of it often.  I know this isn’t the first time I have wanted to make people laugh at the expense of my child.  I would never do it maliciously or in an attempt to ridicule, but I know I have teased or shared stories to make people laugh.  I see it from an adult’s point of view.  It’s cute and fun and I just want to laugh and make others laugh too.  But to my child, who doesn’t understand the laughter, it has the potential to wound and betray.  I need to be more careful.  I need to consider what life is like for my little one.  I have to remember what it was like for me.  Hopefully, Emma will never have to feel the confusion or shame I felt when I gave my talk.  Hopefully, the first time she makes people laugh during a talk it will be because she wants to make them laugh, because she understands how laughter brings us together and makes us friends.  Until then I will protect her as much as I can.