The Sunday struggle is real, but it is worth it

Due to illness, travel, more illness, and utter exhaustion due to said illnesses, it has been a few weeks since we have attended church as a family. The struggle to get there today was not any easier than all those of Sundays past, but oh how I have missed attending church together as a family, and I was bound and determined to get there today. We made it -- almost an hour late -- but we made it, and I am beyond grateful we did.

More often than not, getting to church seems like such a difficult chore. Some Sundays (most Sundays), getting to church is an enormous challenge for our little family. With anxiety -- be it mine or Belle's or Charlotte's or all -- getting ready for any day is a battle, but with Sundays, sometimes it turns into a full on war.

No matter how well prepared I think I am, it is never enough. Every Saturday night, I try to prepare by laying out everyone's Sunday outfits - down to the socks, shoes, and hair accessories. I try to prepare my kids mentally for the fact that church is coming up the next day, and when they wake up, we will need to get ready and go. I have activities planned and ready for them to keep them quiet during Sacrament meeting. And I have my checklist of all that needs to be done to make it to church on time. With all the preparations in place, my mind and body ready for the battle; without fail, Sunday morning arrives, and I feel like it was all in vain.

One child refuses to wear the outfit I picked out, simply because I picked it out. It's okay, I anticipated it - so plans B, and C are hanging in her closet for "her" to choose. Then comes time to do the hair, oh the hair. I don't even want to talk about the hair - because it is PURE TORTURE each and every day, which is why most days, it doesn't get touched. Yet, I beg and plead with my child just to let me brush through it, so she can look her Sunday best. Sometimes, I go into this battle with a determination to get through it no matter what dodges, screams, and shrieks come my way. Other days, I decide I don't have the strength for it, and to save my strength for something more important like shoes. Yes,SHOES.

I know all you parents of kids with anxiety, autism, SPD, OCD, any and all of the above, know what I'm talking about. I have one child who can't stand to wear socks, another who has to wear socks (no matter the type of shoe), but her socks have to be just perfect without a loose strand, not too big, not too small, definitely not too much bulk, and heaven forbid any type of pattern is sewn into them. Oh, and don't you worry, the socks that she wore without a problem last week, they "just don't feel right" today. Once we finally find a pair of socks to feel just right, then comes my mighty prayer that today, her shoes will feel okay. Because, you guessed it, the shoes that she begged for at the store, the only shoes that felt okay to her, now feel funny. We slip one shoe on, and then it begins -- the blood curdling scream that I prayed we would avoid. The sound hits my ears, and I just don't think I can do this again. I remove myself from the room to take a breather, scream into a pillow, and cry wondering why we can't ever just make it to church on time for once in my parental lifetime. I give myself a pep talk, and head back out of my room. If I made the sound of a war cry, this is probably the time it would take place. I will NOT give up. I will NOT give in. I will spare you the details of the battle that continues on, just know it usually comes with lots of tears, clothes being torn off, a terrible case of itchiness, and so on, until finally, we are on our way out the door -- with a child in slippers or snow boots -- as tears still fill all of our eyes as we silently pray to make it through the day.

Once we get to church, the battle is not over. We still have to work on getting them to go to their classes without a child clinging to my side or tears and sobs flowing freely as I push them away. Some days are better than others, and most days, Daddy has to step in because I am too weak to keep on with the fight.

Then finally, I make it 20 minutes late into my own Sunday school class, and I can sit and I breathe. And then I wonder why we continue to do this. I wonder if this constant struggle is truly worth it. As I begin to wonder, I turn to the scriptures we are learning from today for our lesson, and Heavenly Father answers my prayers. He answers them so clearly, as no else can. He focuses the lesson on the Sabbath Day, and I am reminded of the sacredness of HIS day. I am filled with the spirit - a spirit of sorrow and repentance, but also I spirit of strength and renewal. I am reminded that the struggle is so real, but that it is also so worth it.

In Doctrine & Covenants 59, we are instructed,
"Thou shalt offer a sacrifice unto the Lord they God in righteousness, even that of a broken heart and a contrite spirit. 

And that thou mayest more fully keep thyself unspotted from the world, thou shalt go to the house of prayer and offer up thy sacraments upon my holy day..."
         
"... But remember that on this, the Lord's day, thou shalt offer thin oblations and thy sacraments unto the Most High, confessing they sins unto thy brethren and before the Lord."

Getting to church is so dang hard, but it makes the blessings that come from it that much more rewarding. Fighting the battle to get to church, is one way that I can offer up mine oblations. It is a sacrifice for us to get to church, but it is one that we can and should offer up to the Lord.

I have often felt guilty that my Sundays don't always go as I have always envisioned they should. My Sundays today do not look anything like they did when I was a single, returned missionary who could dedicate my day to scripture study and service. And I know that my Sundays in twenty years will look much different than they do today. The oblations I offer up to my Lord will change over time, but for now, one of the greatest sacrifices I can make is to face the challenge it is just to get to church. I can teach my children, His children by example. I can teach them that going to church is not always easy, but it is how we show our love and devotion for our Savior and Father in Heaven. And in return, we will be blessed.

We need church. I need church. My husband needs church. And my kids need church. It often comes with a lot of hurdles, but what sweet relief and renewal I feel, when we make it over them.