Little Reminders

I love little kids! Perhaps its because I refuse to grow up myself. To some of you, this is no surprise. I've recently found the excuse of entertaining Seth to play Barbies and G-I Joes and the excuse of babysitting to watch an hour or two of veggietales. I still remember my favorite toy in preschool and still catch myself inspecting the display of prizes that come in McDonalds Happy Meals. I still miss recess and tend to not see the age-limit signs on playsets. My friends say that even my handwriting hasn't improved since the 3rd grade.

But there's another reason too: their simple outlook on life. It's the coolest thing ever! It's no wonder we were told to pattern our lives after them! Afterall, it's what answered some of my deeper, never-uttered prayers lately.

I've probably already wrote about this, but it seems at my stage in life you'll be up on your feet one moment and then flat on your face the next. Up and down. Welcome to the highschool theme park: they don't call our main ride the "Emotional Rollercoaster" for nuthin'.

I once heard a quote: "The Lord knows teenagers." Well, I'm certainly glad someone does because I certainly don't. It's just good to know that someone understands you and your problems even more than you do because, at this certain stage, I'm still trying to figure that out for myself.

Like this weekend. My baby brother wasn't feeling to great and my mom was busy fixing up our guest house for the new renters. He started crying so I went into his room to try and offer the little comfort I could. It wasn't much, so I turned to something else: "Would you like to say a prayer to help you feel better?"

Between sobs, he nodded, "Yes."

So he curled his little self up in his covers and, his voice thick with crying, said, "Heavenly Father, thank you that you can make me feel better."

He wasn't the only one in tears at that point. What faith! He already knew Heavenly Father would help him. His love is conditionless.

Though I didn't quite realize it, I had forgotten that.

The next day I had a birthday interview with my bishop. I was still wrestling with some other petty self-doubts while I sat and waited for him to finish interviewing another one of my peers, when I overheard a primary teacher from the other ward a few doors away.

"Okay guys, what are some things that make Heavenly Father happy?"

I could hear the small voice of a little girl, "going to school!"

Hey, I smiled, I go to school.

More volunteered, "Reading scriptures!"

"Making Mom and Dad happy." "Taking a nap!"

By this point my smile had grown to a grin.

"Very good. So do you guys know about the plan of salvation?"

A slightly-off chorus of "Yes!"s

"And what happens when we follow the plan of salvation? How do we feel?"

"HAPPY!!"

I chuckled aloud, but at the same time looked down at my hands. It's one of my tendancies to worry--a lot. Too much. It seemed lately I had been so worried about actually doing what I was supposed to do that I forgot the blessings that came from it. Like winning a race but then running right past the trophy table. I might have been doing what was right, but I was under the false impression that it required perfection. I had forgotten the simple truth that it 'made Heavenly Father happy' that I was even trying.

The bishop interview only reiterated these truths. I clumsily tried to thank him and I wanted to thank the primary teacher too but I wasn't about to interrupt her class and didn't have the half an hour needed for them to get out, so I simply thanked my Heavenly Father.

And I'll bet she didn't know there was some troubled adolescent outside of her classroom. She was just teaching that sunday's lesson to a rambunctious group of kids. I guess you never know how far your influence may go.