For the past three weeks, I've enjoyed the Sabbath day more, and have felt more rested, uplifted and inspired than I have for years. That's because I haven't been going to church.
Ostensibly, I've been staying home to heal and rest, and to protect the health of Isaiah, whose immune system still needs a little while to boot up before he meets a chapel full of fans.
But a girl sure could get used to this. After all, what am I missing? The sacrament is delivered to me here, so I can still renew my covenants. Instead of hearing talks from ward members, I get to hear general conference talks online. And although I'm not serving in Primary, I get to serve this sweet baby boy--which yields way more warm fuzzies per hour, anyway. Instead of the weekly "be reverent" wresling match our family hosts during sacrament meeting, I'm at home enjoying personal scripture study, prayer, reflection, and journaling--all things that, admittedly, I don't take advantage of enough. Three golden hours of silence in my own home have turned out to be a spiritual boon for me.
I'll be back to church in a week or two, however--and although I'll miss the peace and quiet of a solitary Sunday afternoon, I'll be glad to be back. After all, I wouldn't have a testimony of this gospel if my parents hadn't braved the toils of church worship as they did just about every week of my upbringing. We go to church first because our parents take us. Then, because we hunger and thirst after the word of God. Finally, we go so that we can pass the torch of testimony to the next generation. It's worth it, too. They're worth it.
Ostensibly, I've been staying home to heal and rest, and to protect the health of Isaiah, whose immune system still needs a little while to boot up before he meets a chapel full of fans.
But a girl sure could get used to this. After all, what am I missing? The sacrament is delivered to me here, so I can still renew my covenants. Instead of hearing talks from ward members, I get to hear general conference talks online. And although I'm not serving in Primary, I get to serve this sweet baby boy--which yields way more warm fuzzies per hour, anyway. Instead of the weekly "be reverent" wresling match our family hosts during sacrament meeting, I'm at home enjoying personal scripture study, prayer, reflection, and journaling--all things that, admittedly, I don't take advantage of enough. Three golden hours of silence in my own home have turned out to be a spiritual boon for me.
I'll be back to church in a week or two, however--and although I'll miss the peace and quiet of a solitary Sunday afternoon, I'll be glad to be back. After all, I wouldn't have a testimony of this gospel if my parents hadn't braved the toils of church worship as they did just about every week of my upbringing. We go to church first because our parents take us. Then, because we hunger and thirst after the word of God. Finally, we go so that we can pass the torch of testimony to the next generation. It's worth it, too. They're worth it.
