“Just One More Seatbelt Please” – Step 3 Trust in God

One of the most heart wrenching earth-life realities for me is that “Families Can be Together Forever,” but not right now, not today.  I’m sure I inherited this problem from my mother, who always morns the missing “one” no matter how many come to the family event.  If she could have, she would have added a new wing to her home for each of her seven children and their families. In fact she lives across the street from me today and says she lives in the “west wing.”

I remember one year my husband and I were planning a family trip.  We had clearly outgrown the family van so the only option was to take two cars.  I was not a happy mother.  What about group singing, and the who can be the first one to find all the ABCs on the  billboards game, and trying to get the truck drivers to honk their horns, and seeing how high we can pile the cheese whiz on the wheat thin, and the joking and laughing, and passing around the map?  What about all that!  We were just one seatbelt shy.  I spent days trying to persuade my husband that we should make an extra seat between the two front seats and have a seatbelt installed.  My kids still razz me about that.  So I like my family.  I like to be with them.  It’s not perfect. We’re not perfect.  We have our moments, but on the whole it’s pretty good.

Today I’m the mother of grownups and these grownups have children of their own, fourteen of them.  And then there are my five brothers and their wives and kids and my sister and her husband and their kids who now have kids and my aunts and uncles and cousins, not to mention all the people I know and love and wish were in my family! It would take more than an extra seatbelt to solve my hankering to have us all moving down life’s highway together.  It would take a miracle.

In the grand scheme of things I’ve been taught that Heavenly Father and Jesus feel a lot like me.  They love their family.  They want us to be together. They have a plan that definitely trumps my extra seatbelt idea. They tell us that it’s actually their work and their glory to make eternal togetherness possible.  Sometimes, with the people in my life coming and going in so many different directions it’s hard to imagine that eternity together is really a possibility.  I always find it amazing how well the Lord knows my fears, and recently I had two experiences where the Lord renewed my hope for a bright future with my family and my friends.

My sister called and told me that she was being released as an LDS Addiction Recovery Program missionary and as one of my companions.  There are other things she needs to be doing in preparation for the future, and the Lord has released her from this assignment.  I understood, but I was very sad.  It has been a wonderful experience being a missionary with my sister.  We were “sister Sisters!”  She has always been very supportive of me, but this was a very unique experience.  There is a difference between support from the sidelines and actual participation. Working in the LDS Addiction Recovery Program together, and at the same time striving to live in recovery together with her full participation in the steps and tools of recovery has blessed my life in ways I can’t express.   As I took my sadness to the Lord this thought was placed in my mind, “Nannette, no change in your life can diminish the blessing you have experienced during this time. Nothing of value is ever lost through changes I bring into your life.” I’m so grateful to know that the Lord takes good care of the good and valuable experiences I’ve shared with others.  All the best parts of earth life are eternal.

My other experience was with my brother.  One day we were comparing our adult lives, back and forth, through e-mail.  Through my brother’s work the Lord has taken him and his family from west coast to east and even across the sea to live and work and serve in the Church. Conversely, I have never moved.  We were commiserating over the fact that we have lived apart for most of our grown-up years. I wrote to him, “Our adult home situations have been so different haven’t they? In fact they couldn’t have been more different.  I have lived on the same block for 39 years.  Sometimes I think about the adventure of moving about the way you have, but I try not to dwell on it too long.  I think my life is just as the Lord wants it and so it yours.  Both ways have their positive and negative points, but that’s not what it’s really all about.  It’s about where the Lord has placed us, where our mission lies. The most important thing we can each do is magnify the Lord right here (wherever “here” is) and right now. Let’s both keep doing “the next right thing,” as we say in addiction recovery, and maybe one day we will live close on this earth.  The thing I do know is that if we live that way on earth, we will live close forever after and that’s the most important thing of all!”

So it’s not about buying a minivan with more seatbelts, or having twin callings, and it’s not even about geography. True lasting Fellowship with those we love is about how we live in relationship to Jesus Christ and His gospel. As we come and go and come and go we can trust Him with our “Together Forever-ness.”

By Nannette W.

Posted Wednesday October 6, 2011

Copyright 2011 by Nannette W. All right reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit.  This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

The Family Fifty – Step 12 Carrying the Message

I’ll bet that “I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus” is on everyone’s list of top ten Primary songs. Lately, while observing the actions of others, several times I’ve had the Spirit poke me on the shoulder and say, “Look at that Nannette! That’s like Jesus.” Here’s just one example:

“Feed the Fire!” That’s what we call any activity that puts members of our family into the great outdoors. “Feed the Fire” activities usually involve some physical exertion. Sometimes we “Feed the Fire” solo and sometimes in groups. We’ve individually tackled mountains going up and mountains coming down (my personal favorite). We’ve relayed and triathloned and marathoned, and beyond. We’ve biked, hiked, walked, run and swum (is that a word?). We’ve gone 5k, 10k, half the day, and days and days. We’ve put our kids on our backs, drove them beside, pulled them behind, and left them behind. We have experienced the thrill of our own little victories, like crossing the finish line and the agony of defeat. Or should I say the agony of “de-feet.” We’ve beat our time and wiped out trying to stop on a dime and pretended we were “fime.” We’ve broken bones and been heard to moan…OK I’ll stop! As you can tell I’m no poet, but I think you get the idea. We’ve had a variety of together experiences and a lot of fun.

Each summer I try to participate in at least one “Feed the Fire” activity that stretches me a bit. This last spring I received a mass family e-mail from my nephew, inviting me to participate in a fifty mile bike ride. I replied immediately. “Yes! I’m in!”

I’m not what you would call a serious biker, but on my fiftieth birthday, during my surprise party lunch at Mimi’s, I glanced out the window while I was opening my gifts and my son was riding a brand new little mountain bike up and down the street in front of the restaurant hoping to get my attention. Since that day my birthday bike and I have put in some serious miles an hour at a time but never fifty all at once. I was excited!

I got as prepared as I knew how; took some nice one hour rides throughout the spring and early summer and made sure they included a few hills. I knew I’d be slow compared to the others, but I couldn’t afford a new road bike so I focused my preparation on my need to be comfortable; new sunglasses I could actually see through, biker pants with padding where most needed, and a speedometer to let me know if I was breaking the speed limit and to document every one of those fifty miles.

My nephew, the instigator or this activity is a twenty-eight year old husband, daddy of two boys and one little girl, with a baby on the way. He’s a nurse at a local hospital. He’s a great guy and quite the outdoorsman. I imagined him greasing up his “super bike” and getting it all ready for the big day. He’s also very spontaneous and usually pretty casual about things. I figured this would be a pretty loosely run event.

As the pre-activity weeks progressed I was very surprised to receive regular e-mails, “Hey everyone, I hope you’re still planning on the 50 mile ride. I’m so excited! Hope you are!” His final e-mail announced plans for transporting us and our bikes to the starting point. “At mile 30 we will be stopping for a little brunch in a park overlooking the lake. Hope you’re all getting ready. I’m excited!!!” I was beginning to get the idea that this adventure was not just being thrown together. This was an event!

Well, the morning of the “Feed the Fire Family Fifty” finally arrived. My bike was tuned up, the speedometer installed, and my camelback was ready to go. I had no idea where we were going or if I could make it all the way, but I was going. The transport arrived before dawn. There was a bit of a chill in the air. All bikes were loaded in the back of a Suburban, and we headed to the designated starting point.

After we were gathered we each received a sticky-backed logo to place on our bike in a visible place –“FTF” for “Feed the Fire!” Very Cool!!!

My nephew’s car was packed up with emergency equipment along with the brunch food. The plan was for someone to drive the car along with our group in case of any emergency, exhaustion, or need for supplies. We would take turns.

My nephew opted to take the first turn as driver of the emergency vehicle. Then he took the second turn and the third turn and the fourth turn…

“Wait a minute!” I said after a little careful observation, “You need to ride too!”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“You mean you planned this whole thing, went to all this effort and you’re not going to even get on your bike?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ve ridden this route lots of times to prepare for this. Believe me, I know every turn in the road. I just want to make sure everyone has a good experience and makes it to the finish.”

So eleven of us pedaled and chatted and enjoyed the view of the lake and the mountains, and he drove ahead and waited until we had all safely past. Then he would drive on a little more. Sometimes he’d stop us and give some instructions like, “In about a mile we have to ride on the highway for a little stint. Be sure to ride single file.” Sometimes he would just encourage us, “The next part is up hill, but it’s pretty gradual, you can make it!” At one point we had to ride through a city, maneuver through quite a bit of traffic, pretend we were all cars, and get into the left-hand lane and turn. It was tricky but before we did it he explained exactly what was coming up and what had to be done.

He served us as a group, but he also served us individually. For some reason my bike is just not as fast as everyone else’s. Whenever I’m riding with other people I pump my little legs off trying to catch up and stay up. Well, this time was no exception. It was worse! For the life of me I could not keep up with the group. My friend and brother-in-law kept me company for several miles. At one point he said, “You’re working harder and making less headway than any of us. What’s the deal? Let’s trade bikes for a minute.” We traded and I zoomed out ahead. When we met up with my nephew, he checked out my bike, the one I had been riding for 40 miles. “Aunt Nan, one of your brakes has been clamped on the whole time you’ve been riding!” He quickly fixed the problem and my worn out legs were off to the finish line. What a difference the release of a little old brake can make. When we got back to our cars, my speedometer read 48.9 miles so I took a few turns around the parking lot until I had scientific evidence that I had finished the “Family Fifty.” We all finished. It was a “Feed the Fire” success!

Now here’s the point. All I had done was show up. All I had was the willingness to take a very long ride. I was really not physically trained for such a ride and I had no idea where I was going. This was a “Feed the Fire” success because someone else had been willing to feed “The Fire” inside of each one of us.

“Look Nannette. That’s like Jesus” I heard the Spirit whisper as I thought back on the day. We sing “I’m Trying To Be Like Jesus” and we are trying. Just look around at the ordinary people in your life. Every day someone in our lives does something remarkable that’s “like” Jesus in some aspect. It might be something Jesus never did while He was on the earth. The person may be wearing biking shorts or jeans or a suit. It’s like Him only dressed up in “today.” But when they do what they do, it teaches us about Him, His understanding, His power, His character, his love…always His love. There is no story in the New Testament about Jesus sacrificing to facilitate a family bike ride but somehow my experience with my nephew–just an ordinary guy– taught me about Jesus, brought me to Him. When someone is like Jesus in some little way it does something remarkable for other people.

My sincere thanks to all the blessed individuals I have the opportunity to be with in the flesh who help me come to know someone I can only be with in the Spirit. You help bridge the gap. You are not the Savior, but you show Him to me. Your actions and attitudes are much more than instruction on Christ-like behavior. They are a physical picture or reminder of the One who loves me. The One I can count on to lead me home. The one who might have said, “I’m fine. I’ve taken this ride countless times in preparation for your journey. Believe me, I know every turn in the road. I just want to make sure everyone has a good experience and makes it to the finish.”

By Nannette W., Posted Monday, December 6, 2010
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Vision, A View Through God’s Eyes – Step 11

So weary, growing older, widowed in young motherhood, blind for many years, and recovering from knee surgery, my sweet friend told Heavenly Father one evening she needed something to help her keep going. That night the Lord sent her a beautiful dream. My friend can see when she’s dreaming. She sees sharp, focused, detailed images, in living color. This particular night, hour after hour she traveled in the land of dreams, on a dirt trail, through landscapes of rolling hills, green valleys, breathtaking vistas, tall multi-colored autumn trees, and majestic pines, with magnificent mountains rising up in the distance.

That night the Lord answered my friend’s prayer by showing her something spiritually she’s incapable of seeing with her physical eyes. That is the definition of a vision. It’s a view that would be impossible if left to our mortal ability, our earthly reality. It’s God’s view.

If someone asked me if I’d ever had a vision, I would have to think a minute. After all, when it comes to visions I think of Lehi, and Joseph Smith, and Ezekiel. But, when I remember that a vision from the God is the gift of seeing things with His eyes, through His glasses, from His far reaching observatory, I’d have to say “yes.” I have had the experience of being shown what I never could have seen, left to my own myopic view, things beyond my human capability, and so have you!

God’s view is a highly motivating thing to experience, and it’s something we can seek. To see things His way, through His glasses always moves us forward with renewed willingness to do the work required in the present moment, even though it may involve personal discomfort or outright pain.

Visions come in many shapes and sizes. There is one example of a motivating view that stands above all the rest. It’s the most striking illustration in heaven and on earth of a vision that motivated an individual to do His work. It was work so difficult it defies description. It was Jesus’ divine view of His Father’s plan, and His vision of you and me, and of our worth and possibilities that motivated Him to complete His excruciating, saving work in our behalf.

In contrast, in a recent a recovery meeting, a woman who has struggled for many years with a difficult reality in her life shared that even though her problem has not been resolved, she has miraculously been filled with a new view. She went on to describe not a panoramic vision but simply a distinct impression that everything is going to be OK, and that at some future point in time the Lord will give her understanding she does not presently possess.

Now this God given, hopeful view might not seem significant when stacked against Lehi’s vision of the Tree of Life or Joseph F. Smith’s vision of the Redemption of the Dead, but it is the most common type of vision we can experience. It’s the gift of a new and divine view of an old seemingly hopeless situation.

One of President Hinckley’s hallmarks was his steady, dynamic, unfailing, optimistic view of everything. It’s true that his vision included things like 100 temples dotting the land. However, the vision or divine view that seemed to move him from day to day (from one conference to the next, from flight to flight, on to the next meeting with the press, and from one problem to another) was a perspective or view straight from heaven and not founded on the ten o’clock news.

In the face of this crazy world that seems to be headed downhill at a fast pace these simple words express President Hinckley’s vision of the future: “It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is. It all works out. Don’t worry. I say that to myself every morning. It will all work out. If you do your best, it will all work out. Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future. The Lord will not forsake us. He will not forsake us.” (Jordan Utah South regional conference, priesthood session, 1 Mar. 1997).

The view beyond ourselves is individual, it’s personal and it’s miraculous. When we are blessed to receive a new outlook we know inside that it’s not the result of our exercise of a human positive mental attitude or an optimistic personality. It’s a gift, a spiritual gift.

If there were glasses to enable my blind friend to see the beauty of this earth, believe me she would have found them by now. Nothing short of divine intervention can give her a glimpse beyond her present physical reality. Though I am not physically blind I have an equal need to see beyond myself.

The blessing of vision in our lives may come as a dream, in living color that transports us through majestic forests, past deep blue lakes, and through fields of wild flowers. On the other hand, it may be that we simply can’t see how our finances will ever work out, or our marriage, or our health, or our child’s battle with the dark side, and as we seek we are given a hopeful feeling, or impression, or understanding, or just the vision of the next right thing to do. It’s all a vision. It’s God’s view, and it is His invitation to us to keep going and do the work required between here and there.

If you or I are impaired by blindness, of any type, we can pray for vision, a quick look through God’s glasses, His microscope, His telescope, His binoculars, and receive the same priceless gift of knowing, like other visionaries, that “It will all work out!”

By Nannette W.
Posted Friday, August 20, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

The Family Photo Shoot – “Smile…PLEASE!” Step 6

There should be studies made by university Family Science graduate students at family photo sessions. Perhaps more family frustration is generated during the attempt to capture the “happy family” group for posterity than at any other family function. When friends tell me that they are going to have a family picture taken I almost feel like I should take a meal in. What to wear? Where to go? Indoor or out? How much money to spend? Who will be missing in the photo, and is that acceptable? Those are some of the frustrations and issues that have to be addressed far in advance. We collect opinions, change locations, and change the time and the tee shirt color scheme so many times that on the actual day of the event relatives may struggle to remember which plan was eventually settled upon.

One year, two of my daughters had what I refer to as a “clothes war” just minutes before our scheduled appointment. We all remember the tears that flowed just before we all stood together and said, “Cheese!” The picture hung on the wall for several years to both girls’ embarrassment, until we were all together again. It now resides in photo albums throughout the family. Every once in awhile we run across it while we’re together and the same little knowing smile comes to our lips.

Now that I’m the grandma the family photo shoot is bigger and more complicated than ever, with 11 adults and 10 children. Some things never change though. Last month I attended our first family reunion completely planned by my children. On a beautiful, crispy, spring morning the 21 of us met at a very picturesque location. We had successfully made it past all the discussion about time and location and clothing color. Everyone looked fabulous. Now all that was required was to follow the directions of the photographer and smile.

Things went relatively well with the big family shot. Children stood close to parents in family groups. Moms and dads held the babies; Grandma and Grandpa were in the middle.

The next shot we wanted was a picture of just the grandkids. Things deteriorated fast. A perfect spot was chosen; three picture perfect stone steps, just the right size for the ten of them. The oldest ones had the task of holding the babies. Knowing I won’t do it justice I will attempt to describe the situation:

For at least ten minutes all the adults (parents and grandparents) stood behind the photographer trying to do what ever they could possibly do, from in front of the scene, to somehow get the kids to cooperate and smile all at the same time. I’m sure you can imagine it. Fill in the picture with the faces of your own family. The kids were bombarded with helpful suggestions like, “say cheese or ice-cream.” Then the adults tried the comedian route – making funny faces, placing rabbit ears over one another’s heads, and making noises reserved only for making children laugh. Finally came the promises – rewards and threats, not to mention the way we kept flashing them huge smiles – trying to model for them what we were going after.

But alas, the babies and the toddlers and the two year olds continued to scream, and all the rest of the children (those between age five to ten) kept looking with disgust at all the criers, instead of looking at the camera. That’s just the way it was. It never improved. That’s the picture that got taken. I wish we had a picture of the adults trying with absolutely every thing they had to convince the children to be happy against their wills. That picture remains in my mind but is no less humorous than the picture of the kids wailing and whining.

As I took in this scene, into my mind came a picture of all of us, God’s family, having a photo shoot at The Extended Family Reunion. I imagined our Father our Brother Jesus and all the Holy Angles out in front of us, the “heavenly” siblings, trying to get us all to smile and be happy. I think the final product would be very much like the one that will hang on my wall soon. It would reflect a great truth:

No matter how intent and desirous God and others are to convincing us that things are just not that bad, it is not possible for them to change us against our wills. Sometimes when things go well I hear people say, “Heaven Smiles!” According to the resent study conducted at my family reunion, it doesn’t matter how big “Heaven Smiles.”

All the angles in heaven and on earth cannot convince me to be happy against my will. The “Heavenly” Photographer and all His helpers can plan for my happiness and remind me of all the things I have to smile about, but when He says, “1, 2, 3 Smile!” It’s all up to me.

By Nannette W.
Posted Sunday, May 3, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

“I Wish She Was The Mother!” – Step 3

Little children seem to have a strong sense and sensitivity to the serenity or the lack of it in others. I was reminded of this reality as a young mother of three preschool age children. One night I was in the middle of the Saturday night bath routine – one child in and scrubbed, out and dried, nails clipped, and hair brushed – times three kids. In the middle of this rubber-ducky routine my mom walked in the house. She offered to help dress my oldest little girl Mandy and brush out her blond head feathers while I worked toward bedtime with the other kids.

I continued to rush about and scurried into the family room where my mom was visiting with Mandy and sweetly brushing out her hair. Mandy looked over at me as I entered the room. I’m sure she could sense that I was now ready to move onto the next phase of the day. “Time for all kids to be in bed!” Her response to my passion for putting an end to a very busy day as soon as possible came in the form of a wish. These were the words that came out of her mouth that stopped me in my tracks. “I wish she was the mother,” she said looking up at my mother. At that point my first thought was probably “I wish she was the mother too. I’m exhausted!”

Actually Mandy’s honesty and sensitivity to her peaceful Grandma made me smile. I specifically remember that I did not feel jealous of my mother or discouraged in any way about my own motherhood. I did recognize this humbling truth; “I will never be able to be all things to all my children at all times.” I felt grateful that God sends earthly angles to fill in where my energy and know-how leave off.

That night I wrote out Mandy’s words at the top of a clean white page in my journal, “I wish she was the mother.” Then I thanked the Lord on paper for creating grandmas. You are veterans, seasoned in earthly experience, and now freed from the heaviness of midlife responsibility to share with us the wisdom and love of a lifetime. God bless us all at every age and stage of life to trust His plan for our usefulness.

This post is dedicated to my mother who just celebrated her 78th Birthday. Happy Birthday Mom! I couldn’t be more grateful that you’re “the mother.”

By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Family Support – Give It Time!

Early in my application of the 12 Steps I admitted to my spouse and children that I was working on changing some things about myself. I let them know that I was not only going to work on my compulsive overeating, I was also going to work on my perfectionism. Becoming honest about our own imperfections and struggles and practicing the principles of recovery in the open, in front of our children, spouses, parents, siblings, and friends is a challenge.

First, it is tempting to others to use our weaknesses and our honesty about weaknesses as an opportunity for manipulation. Here’s a little example: One day I requested that my child clean his or her room (I’ll let this child remain anonymous). To my utter amazement, in retaliation, I was reminded by the child that, “You’re just a perfectionist mom! You should see my friends’ rooms!” I was accused of acting out on an obsessive desire to have a clean house because I asked a teenager to clean up.

The reality of addiction, the discomfort of withdrawal, coming to understand that we can’t fix each other, coupled with a new honesty in the house makes for an environment where any of us might seize the opportunity to throw recovery in the face of another instead of working on our own.

Second, sometimes in a family setting, with recovery on the front burner, hard things are pointed out to us, not to manipulate, but because they’re true. I find that if I am honest, open minded and willing to listen, those who are truthful with me can be truly helpful. Here’s an example: The other day I was on the phone with someone who needed to talk to me as soon as possible. I was on my way out the door to go to a meeting. I told the woman I would be home about 1:15 pm and I would give her a call. My husband overheard the conversation. When I hung up he said, “Why do you do that?” “Why do I do what?” I responded. “Why do you tell her you’ll be home at 1:15 when you’re never home until after 1:30.” In my perfectionism and my desire to please people I chronically make appointments I can’t possibly make on time. It’s crazy I know. Well, I was tempted to be defensive with my husband and his observation. But instead, and “in recovery” I said, “Your right. I’ll call her back.” I called the woman back and made an appointment not based on my desire to please her but on my honest ability to keep the appointment. I’m trying to practice not getting defensive in the face of the truth about me.

It’s tempting to take advantage of someone’s newly admitted fallen state. It’s also hard to hear the truth about ourselves from people who know us best. When my honesty becomes their means to manipulate I pray for the ability to not take it personally. I try to remember that we are all learning. When their honesty presents an opportunity for me to have a good look at myself I pray for the humility to use it as an opportunity to grow. It takes a while to establish an atmosphere of honesty, humility, accountability, and loving patience with the process, in the home. We not only recover and heal as individuals, but as families. Family Support – Give It Time!

By Nannette W.
Posted Monday, January 12, 2009

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W.
All rights reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.

Sunday Dinner – The Picture of Perfect Imperfection

Sunday dinner is generally at my house. We divide up the food groups and everyone brings an offering. We set a general time and as soon as each family has completed their Sabbath day work and their individual dish has been prepared we all gather. Everyone strives to be on time, give or take thirty minutes. We serve buffet style and use paper plates and plastic utensils. Every Sunday there are anywhere between 15 and 25 men, women and children to dinner. One Sunday a month we invite my siblings and their children and grandchildren. On that Sunday we don’t take a count.

As soon as we have a majority we gather in the kitchen and in the family room. Someone stands in the middle, between the two rooms and ask the Lord to bless our food. Next we line up and dish up. Moms and dads place teaspoons of each dish on little children’s plates and then load a plate for themselves. We each find a place at the table and then, snuggled elbow to elbow, we eat and visit, and visit and visit.

It’s fun. It’s tradition. Sometimes it gets a little bit crazy. There’s lots of, “No you can’t get down until you eat you broccoli.” “You have to at least eat four bites because you’re four.” “Could someone get a towel? We’ve got a spill!” The combination of tired parents and children who are tired of sitting and being inside and who have not developed the skill of “visiting” makes for after dinner segregation. Kid-cousins move to the family room with the toys and the Living Scriptures or a very antique video of “My Turn on Earth.” The adults remain in the living room and chat.

It never looks like the Norman Rockwell picture of Thanksgiving dinner. I don’t own any silver and the china remains in the cupboard. No one wants to do all the dishes. We don’t say please pass the potatoes. We just get up and get some more. Sometimes we can’t get the little kids to all be quiet as we pray and sometimes part of the entrée arrives just as the rest of us are ready to eat dessert. The adults take turns solving squabbles amongst the kid-cousins. Generally the parent of who ever cries out the loudest is next in line as the peacekeeping force.

A couple of Sundays ago a blood-curdling scream came from the room filled with kids.

Dad calls out, “What’s wrong Ethan?”

Ethan replies, “Carson bit my leg.”

Carson’s explanation, “I didn’t mean to!”

I Know! We should have stopped and had a little Step 10 mini lesson. “Now you kids need to learn to, ‘Continue to take personal inventory and when you are wrong promptly admit it!’” But a little, “Don’t bite your brother,” and we went on with life.

In the adult room we don’t always perfectly agree about the topic at hand either, but we have learned that it’s better to talk things out than to bite.

A lot has been said recently about the value of the family dinner. Some studies show that kids who regularly have dinner with their families are less likely to turn to drugs for support. President Hinckley was a big proponent of family dinner. Sometimes as a parent I have been discouraged about doing the family things we have been commanded to do (family dinner, family prayer, family night, family scripture study) because the event always turns out less than “perfect.”

The look of our Sunday effort to dine together is not perfect. You wouldn’t find us in a church film on the value of eating together. There will not be a picture of us on the front cover of the Ensign Magazine. But we are trying. We’re giving it the best we’ve got. We believe in perfection but so far all we seem to be able to achieve is progress. No one is learning the art of formal dining on Sunday afternoon at my house. I’m not sure we are learning anything, but we are feeling the reality that we each belong to a supportive, patient, forgiving community called a family and that’s a feeling that can make a lifetime of difference. Sometimes the value of doing the right thing is so high that it’s worth doing the right thing badly.

One of the results of applying the 12 Steps to my daily life is that the Lord has helped me have the courage to do the perfect thing, the thing He asks me to do, imperfectly.

By Nannette W.
Posted Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved.
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