Sunday Beast

Over the past few months I've turned into something of a Sunday beast. It's all about beating the clock. If we are not all seated in a short side pew by 9 o'clock, I'm a lunatic. Even if we are on time, I've worked myself up thinking we are going to be late that I'm a lunatic anyway. It can all be traced back to that talk Bishop Boren once gave in my Branbury BYU singles ward. He claimed it was disrespectful to show up to church late. It's burned in my heart. Poor Jeff is usually the recipient of my Sunday morning guilt-induced wrath. He's an easy going guy and is never in too much of a hurry. It doesn't bother him to be late. He always reminds me that his family was always late to church. (I secretly wonder if it was because they had to wait for him.)

Anyway, Sunday morning lateness has been a source of mild contention for the last few months. I've decided to put a stop to it. This morning Jeff woke up sick and decided not to go with us to Sacrament meeting. As I gathered the kids to leave Nicky said, "It's much better going without Daddy!" She didn't elaborate but I knew what she meant. Since Jeff was in bed she didn't have to hear me give him lectures. She didn't have to see him rushed out the door with his shirt half tucked in and a banana because I'd given him no time for breakfast. She didn't have to witness the angry tears conjured by the ticking clock. I thought about it all through church. My kids should not have to feel like it is better to go to church without their dad. So on the ride home from church, I told the kids how much I loved Daddy and how I had been wrong to be so cranky with everyone on Sundays. When I got home, I told Jeff I was sorry. I said I'd really prefer to be to church on time but if we are late, I'm not going to be unhappy. I'm sure Jesus would agree. Kindness should always come before time, even if it means being late for church.