A couple weeks ago in church, David dumped the rest of the month old bag of pretzels (now a powdery mess) into his lap in an effort to get every last crumb into his mouth. Tiny pretzel particles were all over his lap(and the pew, and the floor). I made him lean over my bag as I brushed them in. If that had happened with Donny, I would have been a mess. But now, being a mom of four kids, I have learned to chill just a bit. Sometimes I'm a fruitcake, but for the most part I roll with the punches(sometimes literally).
There was a time when I wondered why I even went to church. I spent most of sacrament meeting in the foyer, and every now and then some of the women at church would make a comment to me about how their children never acted that way. (Well, good for you, Supermom! I wish I had a sarcastic font.)
I go, and have always gone to church because that is what I am suppose to do. It is what I promised to do when I chose to be baptized. I promised to take upon myself Christ's name. I wouldn't be doing that if I were a quitter. I press forward, I attend my church meetings, I laugh, and sometimes I cry in defeat. I don't however, give up.