What's that line about sparrows?

You remember that DH is a bishop (which if you don't know what I'm talking about and/or you're not of my faith, see here) and you remember that I have five crazy children? Well, I'm sure you can imagine that reverence in church is not our forte these days. I'm not the lone mommy on the pew. Thankfully a kind-hearted soul in our ward has adopted us and she and her family of teenagers do all in their power to help my little ones be reverent and quiet in Sacrament Meeting, which is no small feat. But, my children are somewhat skittish of sitting next to new people and so all the best efforts of anyone who tries to help are sometimes met with more actual noise than if we were left alone. It's very discouraging, added to the whole "setting a good example as the bishop's family" problem, and Sunday feels so very NOT like a day of rest these days. It is a marathon of struggles. But we're working on it and things are going as well as can be expected.

Enter a letter from the stake presidency which all bishops were requested to read in Sacrament Meeting about reverence. Any letter on the subject would have been difficult to take. Theirs was written with love and concern and I know these men to be loving and well-meaning. The subject is just a little tender at present.

As Murphy's law would have it, my charming children found themselves largely UNABLE to contain themselves as our meeting began Sunday morning and I found myself out in the foyer with one noisy child as the letter was being read and I felt this large wave of hopelessness overwhelm me.

See the thing is, I know I was in the right place that morning, doing precisely what I was supposed to be doing. I firmly believe that the Lord is mindful of the struggles this whole bishopness creates for our family and that it is still the place we should be, even if it's difficult. But, despite knowing all that, standing out there in the foyer wrestling with a very distraught Bam, it was all I could do to keep myself from getting my keys and the remainder of the children and going home, for 5-7 years. And as I spent the remainder of the 3 hour block in the hall with M, that feeling of overwhelm and despair of ever having reverent children and the strain it was all placing on my will to be an obedient church going type person just grew.

Lately, as General Conference time approaches, I have tried to identify a particular subject about which to seek specific guidance: a modern-day "experiment on the word" if you will. I thought very briefly about what would be my subject this time around and reverence obviously came to my mind. But, I then felt quite guilty that I had failed to sufficiently internalize and act on the very personal guidance and messages I had received from last Conference, so I didn't go beyond a very cursory prayer and left it sheepishly at that.

This morning, we made our usual attempts to encourage listening or at least quiet during the sessions of Conference as broadcast on my television. The kids were intrigued by the whole King Benjamin tent thing we had going thanks to the awesome Conference Carnival the primary had hosted the afternoon before. They made cursory attempts at conference bingo and tie drawing, but it was all hit or miss at best from the very beginning. But then Sister Lifferth got up and gave the most perfect talk on reverence that I think I have ever heard. Go here to see for yourselves. I will obviously have a lot of studying and implementing to do over the course of the next six months.

More even than the power of the talk she gave was the immense and overwhelming feeling I had of being cared for. I had not been mindful of inspiration and conference gifts given in the past. I only barely asked for reverence help. I was feeling very sparrow-like and small. And yet, like that sparrow, the Lord was mindful even of me. This is not the first time in my life I have felt minded, nurtured, given attention to my small worries. But I am always so taken with the love that is involved. The Lord loves me, with the crazy children, with the grumpy frustration at long lonely Sunday struggles. He does not want me to fall because I am worth more than a sparrow. It gets me every time. But I suppose that's the point.