Our Little General Conference Challenge

Some of you may remember at the end of President Monson's welcome remarks during April's Saturday morning conference session when he asked members to contribute to the missionary fund as they are able. At that moment little bells started ringing in my head, and I began brainstorming ways to use this as a teaching opportunity for our kids.

Cameron and I chatted a bit, then we brought it up with our kids. The kids set a goal to earn $100 by doing extra jobs around the house and yard. (No shortage of help needed these days with a pregnant mom, a dad in school, and dandelions making a strong comeback in our front yard.) When they reach their goal we'll all go out to a nice (read: not Arctic Circle or Ikea) dinner. And we'll match their contribution at some generous percentage and then send in our family's donation. We told the kids that we would be paying a little more generously for jobs than usual since it was for such a good cause.

We made a little chart, and they get to put on a sticker every time they earn a dollar. I have to say I've been thrilled with their response so far. Some mornings they come and ask me what jobs they can do to earn more stickers. I don't know about you, but this actually is not how my kids usually wake up. Sometimes I debate about whether now is the time to introduce them to basics of cleaning or emphasize excellence in housekeeping when they leave big streaks on the windows or spots on other surfaces. (Admittedly, excellence in housekeeping isn't my strength these days, and they're pretty young, so I'm pretty soft here.) Now is also a great time for "green cleaning"--if they sample vinegar solution or baking soda, that's OK. I try to keep the harsher chemicals pushed to the back of my cupboards. But vinegar and baking soda can go a long ways, particularly if you're a die-hard non-perfectionist like myself (or if you're surrounded by kids looking for something new to clean every day).

Grace decided to follow her siblings' good examples and shampoo our toilet

Window streaks and supervision aside, I am loving watching my kids so excited to work and contribute every penny to missionaries around the world who need a little financial help. Frankly, I can see only one downside: at this rate they're going to fill that chart waaaaaay before this baby is born. And I could really use the extra help a little bit longer.

For Vanya

I have a very sweet husband. A month or two ago he noticed a new local restaurant that touted southern soul food. Having spent years listening to me comment about the food I ate on my mission, he decided that for the 15-year anniversary of the day I arrived in my mission we would all go eat at Papa O's. So Monday night I ate hush puppies, collard greens, pulled pork, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, baked beans, coleslaw, grits, and cornbread for dinner. And I was transported back to the precious time I spent in the Virginia Richmond Mission--a time when I was led by the Spirit, discovered sacred truths about my Savior Jesus Christ and His Atonement, and loved the people I met so much I thought my heart would burst. I have spent the last few days lost in my memories. And I have wept tears of sheer gratitude for the opportunity I had to serve and the beautiful experiences I still treasure.

In the beginning of my mission I served in Smithfield, Virginia--a quaint little town with people I adored.

My heart has turned to Vanya, a wonderful girl I know from Wales who will arrive in the Missionary Training Center this week for a few weeks of Slovakian language training before heading out to the Czech Slovak Mission in March. What would I tell Vanya (or any other prospective missionary)?

First, I would say that the decision to serve a mission is one of the best you can ever make. No, missions aren't for everyone. But if you serve a mission you will benefit from it the rest of your life. I can think of no better preparation for motherhood or life in general. Fifteen years later I still think of my mission often. And I have always been so deeply grateful I got to serve.

I would tell her that missions are hard, hard work--harder than anyone can really comprehend before they go. But I would give her the advice my mission president gave me: "Get addicted to the Spirit." As you dive into the work and throw yourself into the scriptures you will develop a sweet relationship with the Spirit. You will see miracles, have beautiful experiences, and feel a deep peace, happiness, and joy that is unmatched in life.

I would tell her to love the people. The richness of a mission (and life) is in the depth of the love you feel. So love the people you teach, the local church members, the other missionaries, and the people you meet every day. The more you feel the Spirit, the more you will love them. That love will mean deep disappointment with some people's choices. But in missions and life the best choice is always to love people anyway.

Finally, I would tell her that the best convert she will gain on her mission will be herself. Some missionaries teach and baptize many; some teach and baptize few. But if you are changed throughout your mission--if you come to know your Savior, learn to lean on His Spirit, feel your infinite worth as a child of God, discover the power of the scriptures, and see God's power operating in your life--you will come home a forever better person. And as the years pass you will look back and realize that as much as you loved the people and experiences you had, you are eternally grateful for the deeply personal ways that you were changed. It is a sweet, sweet discovery.

Of course, Vanya is a bright, talented girl who is probably a much better prepared missionary than I was, and she probably doesn't need my advice. But this week as I have been summoning up memories and basking in their warm glow, I have thought of the people I loved and the things I learned. And I couldn't help but share.

I love you, Vanya! You will be an awesome missionary!

The Noah Principle

This post really began last spring when my sweet husband practically had to push me out the door of our van so I could attend a day of the BYU Women's Conference. (He sends me every year, but this year Grace was sick, and I wasn't sure how it would all work. So he drove down to Provo and tended three kids for the day and brought Grace to me once between classes to nurse. Yes, I married He-Man.) There I listened to a young mother tearfully exclaim, "If you don't know about Scripture Scouts, you should." I was a little skeptical. But she was so sincere. My curiosity overcame me, and I checked out all five Scripture Scouts CD sets (Old and New Testament, Book of Mormon, Articles of Faith, and Proclamation on the Family) from the library. We listened to them all the way to and from Disneyland this summer, and we came home a van full of fully converted Scripture Scouts. Seriously. If you don't know about Scripture Scouts, you should.

But on to the point of this post. Recently we were listening to the Noah segment of the Old Testament Scripture Scouts in the car. I thought about Noah's poor family trapped on that ark for months on end with all those noisy, smelly animals. They must have been stir crazy and tired of each other and their trying circumstances. Suddenly I wondered if any of them ever thought that, in the short run at least, they had made the harder choice. Yes, they got to live, but they paid a pretty heavy price for their lives in the first bit after the flood. Their choice was better in the long run but must have been at least occasionally miserable in the beginning.

And then I thought about how life is sometimes like that. Why in the world would I choose to have kids when I could shower every day, enjoy a career, and feel like an intelligent human being? Why would I have three kids spaced fairly close together and hope to one day have more? What in the world possessed me to try to move on with life and have another baby after my cancer? Why do I try so stinkin' hard to choose non-punitive, respectful parenting methods? Why would I encourage my husband to follow his dreams and go back to school for an MBA? In the short run, all of these choices have made my life harder.

Each of us has a different life with different scenarios and attendant choices. But the principle remains the same: choices that are the best eternally are often harder in the beginning. Just ask Noah.

Preparing Kids for General Conference

Around the time Jake was one I started wondering what I could do to help him enjoy general conference. Needless to say, I was wondering a little early. At that point in time conference consisted of hauling out enough toys to give us a couple consecutive minutes to listen to a talk before being dragged off to the next toddler adventure.

Now we work hard to make general conference enjoyable, and I think we succeed. Earlier this year I made a little game of general conference memory that we play every week at family night for 5 weeks leading up to conference

I copied mug shots from lds.org of the First Presidency and Twelve Apostles and pasted them into a plain document. I printed the document twice. Then I cut out the photos and taped them to the front of 30 index cards. I wrote the names underneath the pictures.

Because our kids are still young, we divide into teams and take turns trying to find the pairs. Then we review some of the talks from the previous conference or share stories or details from their lives. We feel pretty darn good about ourselves when our kids can recognize some of the general authorities in the following months. 

It so happened that Abby was on the winning team for two weeks in a row last spring, so Cameron convinced Jake that Abby was the secret weapon to winning. It is super cute to hear a 4-year-old begging his 2-year-old sister to be on his team. 

No matter which team wins, I think the game serves its purpose: the kids look forward to conference and learn a few things along the way.