Of Chocolate, Dry Erase Markers, and Sacrament Trays

Okay, so when I lived in Mexico I loved going to church every Sunday because it was at least familiar when everything else wasn't. The music was the same though the words were in a different language. The sacrament was the same.

But church doesn't have that same healing effect here. Maybe it's because I'm older and grumpier, maybe because we have children now. Maybe it's because we now have callings, maybe it's because during the week I live the superficial expat life and on Sunday we really live in India. But honey, we're not in Utah or Texas or even Mexico anymore! Everything is essentially the same, but it feels worlds away from what I expect.

Let's take last Sunday for example. Nobody in the Relief Society presidency bothered to show up to church. So I had prepared a lesson for our one young woman and I volunteered to teach it to the Relief Society. But before that they had invited another sister to improvise a lesson, so we split the time. Sort of. Actually, Russell was my "helper" during the lesson (he won't leave my side during church--even with Daddy) and when he started screaming for the dry erase marker so he could write on the wall I had to turn the time over to the other sister quickly. I didn't even say "in the name of Jesus Christ, amen" or bear my testimony. I just ran out of there, hoping nobody could see my tears. "I'm not ever going back to Church!" I said under my breath.

So when he got home, poor President Cutler (yes, Rich is the branch president now . . . they forgot to look hard at his wife before that call) got an earful about that little incident. At a recent training the mission president's wife counseled that when people don't show up to do their calling (a big problem here) you need to speak to them as soon as possible and lovingly convey to them that they were missed. So Rich called the RS president and asked what had happened. She had a hurt back. He told her (lovingly) that when she is not well she needs to arrange for someone to be there to be in charge.

The amazing thing is that this Sunday (yes, I did go back...the church may be weird in India, but it's still true) this sister got up in Relief Society and chewed everyone out for not taking over for her when she was sick. "I would hope that everyone in this Relief Society would be willing to take charge and teach a lesson in such a situation." The sister missionary from the USA raised her hand and tried to tell her we had actually had a lesson, but she said people had called her and told her terrible things happened.

So as I'm listening to this lecture in awe, I turn around to check on Graham who is in another sister's lap, and his face and hands are covered in chocolate! Graham is 7 months old now and we have very carefully given him plain homemade baby food of fruits and veggies one at a time over the past several weeks, avoiding such potential allergens such as chocolate, wheat, egg, etc. So I rush out of there with Graham in my arms, Russell at my heels. It just sounds funny now, but I was sobbing by the time I found my way to a sink. Totally sobbing.

I recovered mostly after a few blessed minutes by myself (and the kids) to pry the Kit Kat pieces out of Graham's tight little fists and clean him off. Then had a little talk with the giver of the chocolate. "Sister, he wanted it," she said, "But he definitely wasn't swallowing it, only licking it." It will be amazing if these children survive India. Even more amazing if I make it through without becoming horribly bitter or insane.

After that I went to teach the Young Women lesson to Carolina, our only consistently active young woman. The lesson was on Seeking the Companionship of the Holy Ghost and I felt that Spirit as I taught. "Oh yeah, this is why I'm here," I thought to myself. As we worked on one of her personal progress goals we talked about Elder Eyring's talk in the November general conference: "Spiritual Preparedness: Start Early and Be Steady" He says,
So, the great test of life is to see whether we will hearken to and obey God’s commands in the midst of the storms of life. It is not to endure storms, but to choose the right while they rage. And the tragedy of life is to fail in that test and so fail to qualify to return in glory to our heavenly home."

As I testified to Carolina that we need to be spiritually and temporally prepared for whatever unexpected storms may come our way, I wondered, "Did I start early enough to be spiritually prepared for this whole India shebang?" "Am I steady enough to not go inactive or lose my testimony in India?" Got some work to do, I think.

Earlier in the meeting block today Isaac and Russell got in a quite loud fight about who was going to pass the sacrament tray--the bread of life. In the midst of all of it half of the sacrament bread flew off the tray onto the floor. I closed my eyes and thought, "I'm never coming back again." Then I hurled Rich a meaningful glance as he sat quietly on the stand likely trying not to fall asleep. I extracted the tray from the boys and passed it to the deacon, then picked up the bread from the floor and held it in my hand. "What am I supposed to do with this?" I thought. Russell was upset that I had not put it back. I explained that I couldn't put it back because it was dirty from the floor and stuffed it in our bag.

Since that heated moment I'm thinking there's something there in that discarded bread about how I'm going to make good of this church experience in India. It's all about what I choose to do with my portion of the bread of life that is passed to me. It's the bread of life regardless of who passes it, how sanitary it is, or what language it's in. I can either stuff it in my bag and forget about it because it didn't come to me quite the way I'd expected it. Or I can accept the offering with gratitude or even laughter and let it cleanse my soul.

Reminds me of that great C.S. Lewis quote about the Lord's plan for us:

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on: you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently he starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of — throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.

I guess we're going for the palace here. Onward, ho!