A lesson on Faith

I have almost always been very close to my mom. There was a brief (it seemed to me) period when I was about 13 when I didn't really want to be friends with her. I have no idea how I got over that, but I know it didn't last long. It probably had something to do with her being away from home a lot for work and my having to be more independent instead of dealing with a mom all up in my business every day and wishing for more independence. Whatever the reason, I'm glad for it.

My mom and I could always talk. I never felt that she wasn't interested in what was going on in my life. She would ask me about what I thought about people and things, and I would ask her about what she did when she was younger. We had many of our long talks in her room on her bed with a warm lamp on next to the bed. She would be reading a book and I'd come in and just interrupt her reading to talk. Many times, I'd be sharing something in my head that I was learning, and she'd remark at how backwards it seemed (and probably felt) to learn spiritual lessons from her daughter. She was strengthening my spiritual self-esteem, probably intentionally, and I'm glad she was good at that, too.

After Joel went to bed tonight, I settled down on the couch to munch a granola bar and catch up on news and messages that I had missed throughout the day. Halfway through my granola bar he came back down complaining that his stomach was growling. He had barely eaten his dinner, so the problem was obvious. I said he could go eat a pear, if he wanted. So he sliced one up the way he liked it and walked into the living room with it to join me.

In our house, we always insist that the boys eat at the table. I don't like to find surprise foods wedged down in my couch or sticky handprints in strange places. I expect to have to wipe down the table pretty often, but I don't like the idea of having to wipe down every other surface in the house just as often.

So I told Joel to go eat his pear at the table. He turned to go, then turned back around and said, "why do I have to eat at the table when you don't?"

Fair enough question. "Because I don't forget that my hands are sticky and get them all over the couch or places around the house." Reasonable parental answer.

That's when he launched into an analogy lesson on faith: When we have faith in Heavenly Father to do something that we need or want Him to do, He does it. When we have faith in people to do something that we need or want them to do, they do it. Good results always follow faith. So, I should have faith that he knows to not get sticky hands all over the couch and remember to wash up and all the things that we have taught him. Did I mention that he's 7?

I said the only thing appropriate for me to say, and what my mother taught me long ago about instilling spiritual self-confidence in our children, "Joel, you're absolutely right. Eat your pear in here, if you like."

I'm documenting this story because I want to remember the first time that my first-born taught me a gospel principle in his own words and way. I was pretty stunned that he could draw an analogy so readily and at his boldness at teaching me a lesson that I needed to learn. And I want to remember how important it is for me to have faith in his ability to learn what is right and act upon it.

My mother probably felt this same awkward jolt in the universe. I'm sure I will feel it many more times. I can't help but smile inwardly. I'm happy to learn from my little one, because it means that he's going to be a strong and mighty force for good, he has a spiritual strength that will protect him as he grows more independent, and that I am actually helping him build the strength that I have prayed for him to have. And, I'm connecting with my mom, from thousands of miles away, both as I pass on the gifts she gave me and as I experience her emotions that she felt when her kids were young. And that smile opens the floodgates for the tears to flow.