I love my Primary children. I know I complain about them a lot on here, but I do want you to know that this is just my way of venting. I wouldn’t trade my job for the world. My husband and I have been married for 4 years (we got married in the Idaho Falls Temple in April of 2002) and have yet to be blessed with any children. Since my family and his all seem to have the goal of single-handedly repopulating the Earth, this makes us feel distinctly out of place at times, like we crawled out from under a rock and was somehow made a part of two families who then had no idea what to do with us. At one point, my sister and my two sister-in-laws were all pregnant at the same time. The only thing Doug and I have contributed to the family tree is two dogs, and despite my best persuasive argument, my parents just don’t see grandpuppies on the same level as grandchildren. I tried pointing out the family resemblance, but for some unknown reason, that didn’t endear my parents any more to the thought.
But despite our apparent inability to have children, I am still okay because I have my kids in church. I have children that I have seen grow up for the last 4 years, and I feel almost like a second mother to them. They run up to me on Sunday and say, “Sister Lyon, Sister Lyon, look at the scratch on my hand!” I ohh and ahh over their scratches and their drawings and their stories about their newest toy that their parents wouldn’t let them take to church, and somehow in the midst of all of that, I have been blessed with the capacity to love them all, even the difficult ones like Christopher. I love to receive drawings on Sunday and big hugs and I even get to enjoy many of the kids during Sacrament Meeting. The kids all know that I carry a huge box of crayons with me to church on Sunday (96 count, no weasely 12 count for me) and that I have an endless supply of paper, so I will usually get 2-4 kids snuggling with me during Sacrament Meeting while their parents get to take a well-deserved break.
I love my job and wouldn’t trade it for the world. Just don’t make me take Christopher home with me.
Hava
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