The first thing I did when I found out we were moving was start looking into preschools and schools for my children. I did my research and signed the kids up for a great quality, Christian preschool with a shining reputation on the day registration opened (and, incidentally, closed). I did all of that long before we even found a place to live!
As luck would have it, we ended up finding a beautiful home to rent that we LOVE, but we are not exactly close to preschool. And that's okay. I don't mind the drive, especially if my kids are getting a quality experience while there. But I must admit, when I realized that a beautiful, new, spacious preschool was just .4 miles down the road from me, that it has a curriculum I like, experienced teachers, and warm and inviting staff, well...I was...a little annoyed!
So yesterday after I picked the kids up from preschool and as we were on our way home, I swung by that nearby preschool on a whim. I walked in with my kids hoping to get some information, and ended up being offered a tour by some lovely people. I was told they do not do any advertising, and that it is all word of mouth. No wonder I had never heard of it.
I did my best to keep the kids "in line" as we walked through the long hallways of the school and peered into bright, cheery, humongous classrooms with awesome student-teacher ratios. I told the kids more than once to stay near me, to stay right by me. I crossed my fingers that they would make a good impression on the director so she would want to let them in should I make the decision to move them. But before I knew it, they were fussing at each other-- Ella Grace was on the floor acting like a cat and started crying because Julian had stepped on her tail...or something. The director of the school was so nice and reassured me with a gentle smile "don't worry. I have two kids of my own. I know."
I entered the chapel and saw Julian making a mad dash for the stage. Flashbacks from the day before when he got to speak into a microphone for his first talk in Primary (kids' church) came to my mind, and I knew he wanted to speak into this shiny, new microphone he now spotted, as well. I called after my son "Julian! Come back." He kept running. "Julian, STOP." He did not even slow down. "Julian! One...two..." and before I knew it, he was climbing up onto the podium to reach that microphone, and before he knew it, the whole thing came toppling down on top of him.
Papers went flying as my son began crying. I ran to him to lift the podium up off of him, half of me praying his back wasn't broken, and the other half of me praying the podium wasn't broken. He was fine, the podium was fine, and the thought: "welp, looks like we are not going to be attending this preschool" went through my mind. The director, again, was so nice and seemed only to care if Julian was okay. We moved on, but inside I was exasperated. I wanted to throw my hands up in the air and then maybe cry a little bit.
I'd be lying if I said that instances like this one don't make me question and worry with thoughts and tears of "What am I doing wrong?" "What do other moms do that I am missing?" (or in yesterday's case: "Why didn't my son just stop and listen?") Julian knows the difference between right and wrong. I do discipline consistently. He knows that good things happen when we make good choices, and bad things happen when we make bad ones. I am all. too. acquainted. with the fact that I make my fair share of mommy mistakes, but when I get hard on myself, I step back and think..."don't we all?" I'm trying to do what my mothering instincts tell me to do, alongside the things I've always been taught to do as a parent. We have family prayers, we have family nights, we teach him to say personal prayers. He gets plenty of outside time and time to just pretend and play. He gets plenty of cuddles and love, and he knows how special he is to us and to his family. He is a very sweet boy. He has a good heart and he appreciates so much when others see that in him, as most people would. He is so smart, and also so strong-willed.
As we drove home, he got a serious talkin' to, and when we got home, I put him in his room for some quiet time. I then wrote my little brother-in-law an email. He is serving a mission right now and each Monday we write emails to each other. I always try to send him lots of positive updates on the kids, and lots of encouragement to him in his work as a missionary. But yesterday, I told him what had happened at the preschool. He wrote back "I know J can be a handful. But just remember how Heavenly Father sees us and we act sometimes."
And that is so true. I thought more about it tonight and realized it's almost too perfect an analogy. We are all children of a loving Father in Heaven. He has sent us here and provided us with the tools and guidelines to follow that will help us to succeed and to be happy. But so often, even when we know the rules, we choose to disobey and rebel. We go down the wrong path willingly. Our Father in Heaven calls after us, His sons and daughters, with warnings and still sometimes we choose to ignore Him, and we continue down a path that will lead to no good. He never stops trying. He never stops loving. And yet still we go the wrong way. Ultimately, He always allows us to choose for ourselves, and sometimes the consequences of those choices come crashing down around us. And so we fall, and the magnitude of the bad choice(s) that we have made are all-of-a-sudden so clear. We are hurt and we need help. And we realize we can't get back up on our own, without someone to help us-- without Him.
Hopefully (and I think usually) we will wish we had never disobeyed in the first place. We realize how much easier it would have been had we just listened the first time, or had simply stuck to the "rules" which were set from the beginning. But hopefully, we will have learned from it all. And if we want to get back up and we want to change, we will feel His loving arms around us as He lifts us back up from off the ground and sets us again on the right path. (And side note, while this may not always be true in the case of us as mortal parents with our mortal children, the bad choices we make as His children are never a result of His parenting.)
He loves us so much. I know this. I know I have disappointed Him in my own life plenty, and yet He continues to give freely of His mercy, forgiveness, and love. He never gives up on us. He always wants to help encourage us to keep trying. He sees us for who we can become, despite our weaknesses, mistakes, and how much we still have yet to learn. Surely He's called after each of us throughout our lives, only to watch us make the wrong choices. I know it hurts His heart because He loves us so much. But He won't quit loving us, and he won't quit trying to teach and guide us back to Him.
And neither will I quit loving, teaching, and guiding my son. I hope I will not spend another minute negatively obsessing over what I may be doing wrong. Instead I hope I will focus on improving as a mom, celebrating my son for who he is, reprimanding when it will surely be needed, of course, nurturing him with all the love and guidance of a tender parent, and praying fervently for His help and for my sweet son as a person...he most assuredly deserves all of those things. I am blessed to be his mother. It is my sacred privilege to help him use that strong-will he has been blessed with as force for good in this world. I know Heavenly Father has entrusted His precious son and daughter to my care, and I will strive to make Him proud more often as He watches me watch over them.
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