Is it even ok to say that? Does that make me a terrible Mormon? I know I am not the first one to think of this or feel this way, but I dread Sunday. Can I still be a faithful saint and love Christ and think Sunday’s suck? Can I even put those words in the same sentence and not be relegated to some lower level of exaltation??
I freely admit that my faith has been stronger than it is right now. This does not make me happy, but I also know that it will pass, as it always has, and I will again feel more sure of things. The thing about Sundays is when I am in a spiritual lull, it is that much harder to be reverent at the 9 a.m. Sacrament. The mornings are not a good time for a pregnant, sick mama like me. Nothing starts a morning off better than barfing in the kitchen sink while trying to cook breakfast. To get to the meeting on time, we have to be out the door by 8:30, and getting all of us presentable and ready is a super-human challenge I am not meeting well these days. Even giving up control of what the kids wear and being ok with mismatched outfits hasn’t really made it easier. Yesterday, Eric had on green pants and a blue plaid shirt, courtesy of his father, Jeffrey had on blue pants, a red shirt and a bulldozer sweatshirt, and I wasn’t about to complain. (Why can’t men match things?)
When we get to church, we usually sit in the folding chairs in the back, since I know we will be exiting at some point. Jeffrey is finally old enough to sit through the entire meeting, usually pretty happy with something to color or a book to read. But Eric, ah, that is another story. I don’t think there has ever been a worse child in church. He screams. I mean really, really screams, and I am usually out in the hallway before the sacrament song is over. We have the bag full of tricks, we have treats and things that are supposed to keep him occupied. Nothing works. I have tried the whole “holding him in my lap” in the foyer so he doesn’t think leaving is fun. He screams more, and everyone inside can hear him. I have gone in a classroom. They can still hear him. He has given me a bloody nose and knocked one of my teeth loose head-butting me while I try and hold him, seriously. His teachers comment on how strong he is… really? I hadn’t noticed. So now I let him walk around and we talk about the pictures on the wall. But I resent it. I wonder why I got dressed and got here, just to miss the entire service. It seems so futile.
By the time Sacrament service is over, I am a sweaty mess, fighting my nausea, and just desperate to get Eric to nursery, where his teachers also say he is a wonderful child who plays very nicely with others. At least he is only sociopathic to me. Usually I manage to make it to Sunday school, which I enjoy with my husband. Then comes Relief Society. Ugh. I used to like it, but lately, I avoid it at all costs. The room is too small for so many ladies, and they will never open the window, and it gets so hot in there I cannot stand it. Then there is usually someone nearby who in wearing too much perfume, and I have to run out to throw up anyway. The foyer couch has been my third-hour spot lately, and I am happy with the quiet and the coolness. This is what I look forward to on Sunday- sitting alone in the foyer for an hour, letting the cold air wash over me any time someone opens the door.
I cannot imagine there is anything out there I have not tried to make Sundays better, but if anyone has any suggestions, I would welcome them. I may end up being an attending angel if I don’t figure this one out!