As Mormons, we believe children are a blessing. It’s why Mormon families tend to be larger than average. But even Mormons struggle to raise their children with grace and to teach them gratitude, amongst other things.
Two nights ago I had the bright idea I’d take my little 6-year-old to a basketball game at the high school. It would be great fun, I thought. He was excited, or so he thought.
And so off we went. On the way he asked if we could go to eat afterwards, “As a date, Mommy!”
“Sure,” I said, and snuggled completely into the warmth of the moment – even though he’d already eaten before we left.
Flash forward about an hour. I’d bought him a sack of popcorn. He plowed through that. I bought him a bottle of water. He drank through that. He then ate two cookies from the snack bar.
Now mind you, this is my youngest son who had therapy six times a week in the early years of his life, because he was a “failure to thrive” baby. He should have died from all of his complications.
In fact, for the first three years of my little guy’s life, therapists taught him essential things like how to walk, to learn that he had a right arm, and also how to eat. What a remarkable thing – can you imagine a baby not knowing how to eat? But that was my son.
When his therapy ended on his third birthday due to the funding running out, the speech therapist reminded me that I was to let my son lead the way with his food choices, due to the extreme experiences he’d had initially. Thus, when he requests food we rejoice as a family, because the fact he can even eat is a miracle.
But now flash forward several years to our basketball “date.” It was hard for me not to feel frustration as my little guy continued to whine and complain, and complain and whine, about his lack of a candy bar. He had began to lose sight of a simple, but important grace – gratitude.
As we left the basketball stadium, again all he could mention was not getting a candy bar. By the time we were in the car, I could think of only one thing to say: “Little guy, I’m feeling sad right now.”
He stopped his diatribe and asked, “Why, Mommy?”
I took a moment to respond, then took a deep breath. “Because I think the only thing you’ll ever remember from this evening is not that I took you on an outing to a basketball game, not that I bought you water to drink, not that I bought you popcorn. I don’t think you’ll even remember that I bought you a pack of cookies. No, I fear the only thing you’ll ever remember from tonight is that I didn’t buy you a candy bar.”
He paused for a long while, then said, “It’s ok, Mommy. By the time I’m an old man, then I’ll forget you didn’t buy me a candy bar.”
As he said those very words, I felt struck with a simple thought: Do I do this to the Lord? I suddenly felt ashamed for all the times I’d held grudges or complaints in my heart about my own perceived missing “candy bars”. Talk about out-of-the-mouths-of-babes!
No wonder the Lord said:
“Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.
“As arrows are in the hand of a mighty man; so are children of the youth.
“Happy is the man that hath his quiver full of them: …” (Psalm 127:3-5).
Yes, as Mormons, we believe children are a blessing. It’s why Mormon families tend to be larger than average. I only hope that the next time I feel frustrated with my child’s slow growth in Christ-like traits, that I’ll remind myself I need to grow in grace, too!
