For some reason I had a thought circling through my head all day yesterday--"Teach your children how to recognize and feel the influence of the Holy Ghost." Little did I know that this very thing would happen later that evening...
It was one of those nights when things are not running as smoothly as you'd like. The little ones are quarreling, the parents are a little bit on edge.
And we decided to have a family home evening lesson--since Monday we had to go grocery shopping, Tuesday we had to make an unexpected trip to Brigham City, Wednesday I had to go to Young Women's...and so Thursday it had to be. Occasionally, life doesn't throw us perfectly straight balls. It was definitely a curve ball of a week.
So we settled in on the couches for a lesson and there always is some invisible tension during Family Home Evening--because it's so important that it warrants a great deal of opposition. But we persisted and I gave them a lesson I had given to my Beehives a couple weeks ago about our Savior's grace. I wasn't sure if it was too profound a subject for such sweet little minds, but I simplified it to their level and I was amazed at the reverence they switched on as I shared physical symbols and parable-stories about grace. And they actually grasped it. But that wasn't the end.
After I finished the teaching part and bore my testimony, I showed a little Mormon Message--one of my favorites--"Mountains to Climb." And before it started I explained that each of these three families we would be watching had a great trial they were experiencing. But I instructed them to watch as they used the Savior's grace to help them in their hardest times.
And so we huddled around the computer screen and it began.
The boys were watching intently and I narrated the video as we went along to make sure they were understanding. And when it came to the part where the mother in England is yelling for her son to hurry because they are so late, and then she walks in to her son's bedroom and finds him on his knees, I looked back at Easton, who was standing behind me as my eyes started spilling tears and he looked back at me and started to cry. He wasn't quite sure what was happening so he started to wipe his eyes, but little sobs were rising. I wanted to reach out and pull him into my arms but my lap was already full with Tate and Maylie. So as if on cue, Patrick stepped toward Easton and wrapped his arm around him and Easton buried his head in his father's side and sobbed. This of course made me sob all the harder...as I witnessed my sweet oldest boy feel the Spirit in a noticeable way, perhaps for the very first time.
It touched me deeply. Indeed, it was one of the most special experiences of my life to date.
And there was a tangible sacredness for the rest of the night.
I thank my Heavenly Father from the bottom of my heart for this valiant son of mine. And this I know: these spiritual experiences with our sweet children are worth everything.
