I Am a Struggling Parent, And Why That's Awesome

It took my by surprise. Blew my mind, actually. I was sitting in Relief Society (that's a meeting for women in my church,) and sharing what our family does for Family Home Evening, and the teacher (who I like) told me, in front of the whole class, that I was doing it wrong. There it was, my least favorite phrase: "Wait until they're teenagers."

Least Helpful Words Ever

I hate hearing this because there's either no hope for me or there seems to be a melancholy satisfaction in the speaker when they say it. They expect, quite triumphantly, that I won't do any better than they did. It's irritating, disheartening and unnecessary, but mostly it's false.

That's right, Their assumption is false because it is based on exactly that--assumption. They don't have a full picture of what goes on at home and cannot possibly know how my kids are going to turn out. I haven't the least wish to compare myself to others--as if anyone could do it accurately! Even if parenting were a contest, I wouldn't take my coaching from the spectators. My children, husband and God know best what I do right and wrong. They're in this with me, and they understand the context of my decisions.

"Wait until you have teenagers." The phrase is annoying. Being called out in front of the class was not my favorite. But the biggest problem here is the erroneous idea that there is only one right way to parent; only one right way to have family home evening; only one right way to raise kids who don't fall away. (I'll come back to this falling away thing.)

The Story

There I was, sitting with all these lovely Christian women as they shared personal insights. I shared too. I admitted that I struggle with planning our FHE ahead of time and I mentioned that we typically don't do a treat or activity. I said that we make it as easy and simple as possible, so we can make sure it happens.

Apparently, this is wrong. Because I said that I struggled, they assumed that I wasn't consistent, even though we have Family Home Evening every week. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I wasn't doing a good job. Because I said I struggled, they assumed I was failing and that my children wouldn't learn the gospel.

This is wrong. Assuming is inaccurate, and we need to deal with some definitions here.

What Struggle Is Not

Struggle does not mean inconsistent. Struggle does not mean poor quality. Struggle does not mean neglect. Struggle means it was HARD. That's it. And it is hard.

What Struggle Is

Planning ahead does not come naturally to me. I'm not great planner, but even I know that the lesson comes out better if I prepare even one hour in advance. Planning is a struggle. It does not mean I've given up. In fact, to struggle is the OPPOSITE of giving up. If you gave up, that would be the end of that struggle.

Irritated Rant

And who decided that Family Home Evening had to be done the same way every time and by every family? Who decided that it had to follow a set pattern without variation? I find that boring, unnecessary and impractical. We have only ONE unassailable rule for our parenting and our Family Home Evening: We do what works. What works in one family may not work in another. What works for us now may not work later. Our plans change based on our family's needs. I think this will work forever, because we only do what works.

What I Shared in Class

We keep it simple. Simplicity in parenting is a goal, not an unfortunate by-product of laziness. It's a struggle to make simplicity out of chaos, but it's important to our mental health. I'm busy and can think of no benefit of making myself and everyone else grumpy.

I shared that we don't do treats and activities most of the time. I never said it was an accident, that I didn't feel good about it or that I wanted it to change. Because I don't. We choose not to do a treat because we care about our health and the obesity epidemic. It is by design that we make treats the exception and not the rule. Additionally, sometimes it's a struggle, but I don't want to teach my kids that FHE is just for the treat. I wan't to teach them that we love our family and we love Jesus. We don't always do activities because we don't always have time. This is also a struggle---and why we need simplicity. It doesn't mean that we don't spend time together doing fun things as a family throughout the week. We do. And the lack of constant treats and activities doesn't mean that my kids don't enjoy our family night. They love it. (We cuddle for most of it.)

But, "Wait until you have teenagers." As if that means the kids will rebel and leave the church, and if they do, that means failure.

Practicable Priorities

I think we need to rediscover our priorities here. I'm placing a higher priority on the Who, What and Why, of family and gospel living, and less on the How, When and Where. My priority is not to have a "perfect" family night or a "perfect" family. My priority is not even that the kids won't leave the church. My priority is to love, teach, guide and help them have their own relationship with God. When they can feel God's love, when they know that He is real, when they can talk to Him and receive answers from Him as with a best friend, they will know what to do to be happy. They will do it because they want to. Or, they won't.

It's great to be organized, to plan and have a routine. It's wonderful if you can have an orderly, meeting where everything is planned and done right. However, if your priority is to have a perfectly executed Family Home Evening, you are placing your dependence on what other people will and will not do. This is even more true for kids falling away, or not falling away. If this is your priority, you may be disappointed.

The Illusion of Control

We don't have robot children. We have actual people and whatever their size, they resist being controlled. The older they get, the more they resist. This is partially why some parents dread having teens. There is not now and never will be a guarantee that our children will want the same things that we want or will do the same things that we do. They might, but it's up to them.

Parents have zero control over how their kids will turn out. They can teach, they can persuade, they can love and they can still fail, whatever their definition of failure is. On the other side of the coin, they can be abusive, cruel and neglectful and still have great kids who stay out of trouble and eventually, after much therapy, grow up to be happy, productive members of society. It's not common, but I've seen it happen. (I'm not advocating abuse here.) Generally speaking, the more you try to control, the less you are able to. Luckily for us as parents, we don't have to do the control thing.

Parents have healthy influence over their children's choices, inasmuch as their children want to please their parents. This comes without force and is a product of love and trust, similarly to how we want to serve Christ because of what He has done for us. "We love Him, because he first loved us." (John 4:19.)

I don't want my kids to get into trouble, and I hope they will find joy in the Church as I do. But I will not force them. Indeed, I can think of nothing more disastrous. The greatest gift of the gospel is the Atonement, which gives us our agency. We love agency. We, as humans crave it. I find that the truest part of parenting is that people will do what they choose, and they choose primarily what they want.

Influence And Logic

 My personal parenting philosophy is that kids should be taught as early as possible how to make good decisions on their own, which is one reason to hold a weekly Family Home Evening. I teach them about consequences so they can choose which consequences they want. They will struggle and it is good for them because they're learning self-control. (!!!) I hug my kids and tell them how great they are. I listen to their problems so that they know I'm their ally and not their enemy. Instead of blaming and punishing, we work on solving problems and learning from mistakes. We're flexible with Family Home Evening and other meetings and don't demand a rigid discipline on holding still or attentive listening. They're so young---and, let's face it, adults don't even hold perfectly still or listen all the time. We want them to like it, not be bored or nitpicked.

They do what I ask because they love me. Or, they do exactly as they please because they're human. If it's not irrevocable, I let it go. It's hard. It's a struggle but I trust them to find their way, and they're getting good practice. Will this guarantee that I have super docile teenagers? Probably not. I expect them to push back. I expect not to always enjoy it. But I also believe that they will turn out great and I tell them so. Basically, I follow my heart, and the Spirit.

And I actually love teenagers.

(I was a really nice teenager. Karma, you know.)

The Struggle Is Real

I am struggling though. Sticking to my decisions, following through with my plans, not throwing charity out the window on a stressful day, is difficult. Getting up each day and trying again, trying to better myself and realize my goals, trying to keep it all together and be there for my family, is exhausting. Trying to obey all the commandments and doing volunteer service, plus being patient in affliction and keeping my temper, is tough. Being patient with people when they make mistakes, trying to set a good example for others while not judging them or preaching at them, admitting when I am wrong, can be hard. Cooking three meals a day, while trying to stay on top of the laundry, dishes, pet care, errands, carpool, extracurricular activities, homework and still be willing to drop everything to listen to my son talk about how his day went, is a miracle.

Trying to be a sweet and accepting wife, and hardworking human being, and a clean, well-groomed, social and sane individual, while punctually balancing everything else I need to do, (read, budget,) is tricky. Fitting in a workout and a scripture study, is hard. Yes, I struggle, and that doesn't mean I'm failing. It means I'm a rockstar. It means I get up and do it again.  It means I'm a good mom. It means that nobody can do it better. I've got the Who,Why and What figured out. I will cut me some slack and the How, Where and When.

I'm Not The Mom I Planned On Becoming

If there were such a thing as perfect parents, our kids would develop a false impression of the world and unhealthy expectations for themselves. Good thing we never come close. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that failure is good. Allowing our kids to fail helps them learn. Allowing our kids to see us fail, helps them develop realistic expectations about themselves and other people. Parenting is a balancing act and sometimes "we all fall down." I sort of wish I'd known that earlier in life. Then again, it might have reduced some of my most glorious failures. Epic, you might say.

I always wanted to be a mom. As a kid, I got into the habit of taking care of people when they were sick, and giving them hugs when they were sad. I learned how to talk to kids so they would understand. I taught my younger siblings how to write their names. My mother saw to it that I became an expert diaper changer, and tried her best to make me a good housekeeper. I read books on child rearing, health and nutrition, education, discipline and fun craft ideas.

Pity it did me no good. Any head start I ever had on the whole mom thing was screamed and diaper-changed out of me in the first week of motherhood.

 Back to square one. Never mind what all the other babies like. What does this baby like? This baby liked being held at all times. This baby cried from boredom and hated being alone. (Funny. He still does.) This baby made me take all of my parenting theories and throw them out the window. Here are some examples.

1. I will never yell. My child will learn how to handle anger and other emotions from watching me and I must set a good example. 

Whoever came up with that one is living inside a rainbow made of flowers and fairy dust. Or they just never had kids. Infinite patience does exist, but mortals don't have it. Should we yell all the time? No. Should we try to keep our cool? Yes. But here's the deal. The kid's job is to find out what your limits are. They will never stop pushing until they find it. We are human. We fail, often miserably.

Here's what I learned: If I learn my own limits, (often thanks to my son's prodding,) I can set healthier ones that never approach the screaming zone. If I must yell, I can leave the room.

What happens when I fail in all my ambitions and yell in spite of myself? I am teaching my children that people are not perfect, but they can say sorry and try to do better. I am also teaching them how to get along in a society of imperfect people. Learning that other people have anger and limits is a benefit for kids.


2. If I never hit, my kids will never learn to hit.

Wrong. Both my kids started hitting at about nine months and I don't know where they learned it. They were hitting me. I thought with my first one that if I never reacted, he would get bored and stop eventually. Not so much. My son's hitting continued until he got a firm swat on his hindquarters. Then it was over. He had found the boundary. That seems backwards, doesn't it? Actually, it's just teaching natural consequences. He can learn in the safety of his own home that he can't go around hitting people. (I did teach my kids that they can stand up for themselves if they get bullied. They are, in effect, teaching natural consequences to other kids when they do. The idea that self defense is "bullying back" is all nonsense.)

3. If I Never Buy Toy Guns, They Will Never Play Fighting Games

Well, they didn't learn it from me. But they did learn it. My sons played Army, Cops and Robbers, Cowboys, Pirates and every other game that involved fighting. They made action figures fight each other. As there were no toy weapons in the house, they used their fingers as a guns and pointed them at me. Bang goes that theory.

What I learned: They're boys and inherently interested in fighting and protecting. One will make a great Jedi someday (that's what he wants to be.) The other might be a ninja. (What does a ninja do, anyway?) Or maybe he'll be a brilliant military serviceman or law enforcement officer. As long as he uses his powers for good and doesn't go to the Dark Side, it's alright with me.

4. I'm Going to Be Such a Fun Mom

If chores and homework are fun, then yes. Actually, I am pretty fun, but not as often as they or I would like. We go to museums, farms, games, movies zoos, aviaries. We have picnics and outings. We have read-a-thons and awesome pretend games. But we also have work to do, things to learn and bills to pay. I can't always be with them. (I have a job, need breaks, and they don't always want me.) And I say no. A lot. (Candy is bad for you! I'm sorry!)

What I learned: Cleaning house can be fun too. If I can teach my children to be glad in work and play, to entertain themselves, to come up with fun ideas on their own, and to keep a house and budget in order, I am preparing them for a good future.

5. It Will Be Easy to Tell When Discipline is Necessary And When Not

Fact: I struggle with it all the time. The balancing act again. Did he do that just to be mean or does he have some other reason? Is this really a big deal? Did he really even do it? Maybe he needs to learn these consequences on his own. They will work it out by themselves. Maybe I should just give him a break. I would hate to be in trouble all the time. The thing is, I thought I would be a lot more strict than I am. I hate giving punishments. I would rather listen, reason, explain, hope for the best, and give another chance. They really do want to make me happy.

What I learned:  Most of my kids' naughties don't require any reaction from me because they are just not very important. Sometimes they just want to make me laugh. Often, they want my attention. Like me, kids need to make mistakes in order to learn. As they grow, so does their agency. They need to practice using their agency because they have a whole lifetime of decision making ahead of them. Basically, my job is to teach correct principles so they can govern themselves.

6. Parenting Will Be Hard

You have no idea! I had no idea how hard it was until I did it. I've been doing it for seven years and it still throws me curve balls. Every day. I have rarely spent so much time running, or on my knees. There's always a bigger question, always a greater challenge. The fact that we've made it this far is nothing short of a miracle.

What I'm learning: I can do hard things. Sometimes I look ahead into an uncertain future and think, There's no way I can do this. Later on, I look back and think, I can't believe we did this. I am not alone. God, angels, my husband and a host of other moms and dads have got my back. We can do this.


Am I a good mom? I'll just ask my kids.

They say, "Yes, because you feed us" and "I like Mommy because she's nice, but she spends too much time on the computer." (And "My feet are messing up the bed because they're too strong. I need different feet. Somebody needs to take me to the feet store and take these ones off and put new ones on. I know why they're so strong. It's because I ate so much salad.") There you have it. Even in my failures, I am still being a good mom. And it's time to get off the computer.

Baby Batman

When my youngest boy was about two years old, he climbed into my lap and said, "I was a baby Batman and you are a mommy Batman. He was a baby Batman and he want his mommy."

That's when I knew this kid was going to be super fun! I had always known that I wanted to raise my own children and not send them to daycare. With the help of kind employers, family and obliging coworkers, it has worked out. Sometimes its a struggle, but my husband and I have managed it so that one of us always takes the boys. We have been amply rewarded for our efforts. We get to spend time with them.We get to be there! I feel blessed in all the sweet moments I've been a part of. Over the years, "Batman" has amused us by his funny way(s) of talking, his amazing sense of humor and his fantastic imagination. You'll understand what I mean.

For one thing, he loves Batman. This is actually pretty useful for me as a parent. When he had to drink a nasty medicine, I told him it was a special potion that might turn him into Batman. He drank it. One Easter Sunday, he broke his poor little arm (walking up a slide.) I took him in for casting and expected that he'd pick green, his favorite color. However, I knew that it would be filthy and disgusting in about... one day. In my head I was singing the scouting song, "Black socks! They never get dirty. The longer you wear them the blacker they get." It was his choice, but he went with black and it still looked pretty clean six weeks later. Thank you, Batman.

It's pretty obvious who is his favorite superhero, but would you guess that a three-year-old would have a favorite direction? Well, he does and it is East. Anytime you want to hear pure and unbridled enthusiasm, just tell him you're going east. You will get "Yay! Yay! Yay!Yay!" for up to five minutes straight. He loves east. I don't know why, but it sure makes me smile. (Speaking of smiles, this kid lights up the room. Between his blue, dancing eyes, and those  irresistible dimples, He just might persuade you to do anything.) He also likes north, and sometimes west, but if we're heading south, we don't bring it up.

As you might have guessed, car rides get pretty interesting. "I Spy" might be the greatest game ever invented. Here is one game we played.



           Me: I spy with my little eye, something black.
           Batman: Is it a duck?
           Me. No...
           Bat: I spy with my one little eye, something blue.
           Me: Is it a car?
           Bat: No, it's a duck.

Funny how I didn't see any ducks.

Sometimes you'll guess for a long time before he makes up his mind about what it is he's looking at. Sometimes he'll change his mind. Usually, he'll end up picking something you've already guessed. Power of suggestion.

The best game was at night, when we were driving through a canyon. He'd spied something black. Just try and figure out that one. Is it really black or does it just look black because it's dark? And how will we know? We never did get it.

It gets crazier playing Twenty Questions. I mean, at least in I Spy, he can only spy REAL things, right? RIGHT? When he starts up with "I'm thinking of something!" It could be anything from a tree to a giant ball of cheese bigger than a house. When it's his turn to guess, he always starts out with "tree" and inevitably gets to "RTD2." Sometimes, he gets tired of hearing "No" in answer to his queries. He'll just restart the game. On one occasion he declared, "Whoever says no wooses. Whoever wooses, it's my turn."

Sometimes, as we're driving, he'll see a mountain. He'll get super excited and start commanding, "Singa mountain song!" (Country Roads) So we'll have to sing, "Countwy woad, take me home to the place I belong! West Virginia..." He's John Denver's cutest fan. Once we heard this song at the grocery store and he told me, "They played it for me because they thought I would like it." I had to agree.

This kid has been saying funny things since the day he learned to sign. (The first time he signed "milk", he retired from signing and learned to speak instead.) At three years, his favorite phrase was "Boo-hoo to you." Don't even ask me where he learned it. We used to play the animal sound game. We would ask him "What does the horse say? The duck? The whale?" Once I asked him what the human said and his response was awesome. "Na na na na Batman!" He calls his brother Denny, (as in "Denny, back off my stuff.") and more recently, Milk Dud.

The way he talks is fun too. For the first year of his life he spoke with a southern accent. ("Ah don' wanna gaow!") He got over stuttering and speaking about himself in the third person. Mostly. He went through a phase where everything was growled, rather than spoken. I can tell you, you haven't lived until you've heard "Jesus wants me for a sunbeam" growled by a cherubic toddler. Growling is so fun, that he still does it at times. You try saying "Wook into my eyes!" in a growly voice and see if you don't grin. The voice seems perfectly appropriate for a boy who calls himself Batman. You see? Everything is Batman.

There are so many more stories, and so little time. And he keeps on growing, and talking and making me laugh. He has sweetened my difficult moments with his gorgeous smile and sincere love. His little chubby arms give the best hugs. His bedtime stories are amazing and sweet. ("Once upon a time, there was a baby giraffe, and he did nuffing. And he gave his mommy a wuv.")

I hate to think that someday, I'll have to let him go.  I don't want him to change and be anything else but my little boy. I hope I get to keep him forever. For now, I'll keep him close by.

I Took All Their Toys...And They Like It.

I like toys. I think they're cool and I like trying out new ones. I rarely buy them though, because I hate clutter and my kids hate cleaning. I only buy brand-new toys for birthdays and Christmas. That's 2 per child, 2 days a year, times 4 years. That is 16 toys. So WHY do we have so many?!? Somewhere, the math isn't working. Okay, so there's the occasional thrift-store yes, like the toy vacuum (I wish it were real) and the light saber. My kids also earn money for chores and they sometimes buy toys. Then there are the gifts from friends and relatives. But considering how many things they break, lose and give away, you'd think it would balance out.

 Some of you are laughing now. You know what I'm talking about. It never balances out! In fact, there is a tremendous worldwide imbalance. All the kids in less-developed countries who don't have any toys, ever wonder why? They're all in my house, that's why! (The toys, not the kids.) It's time to correct the imbalance! I'm sending the toys back to Uganda.

Here's the story. One night, I had told my kids to clean their room for the billionth time, only to hear once again that it was too hard. You know what? I believed them. I came in with a handful of large trash bags and said I was coming in to help. They believed me. One by one, we gathered up all the toys, organizing them by category, and stuffed them ALL into the bags. The kids looked relieved and never complained or protested. The bags went into the attic but we can't keep them all. Some really will have to be sent away and I still want to help out needy kids. I'm just not sure how to get them to Africa. In any case, my boys have not had to pick up toys in a week and they're much more relaxed.

I wouldn't recommend such a drastic approach in most cases, but we've seen some neat results from this experiment. Here's what happens:

My children are much more creative in their play. They have to be. They're building tents out of blankets, dressing up with sheets, and playing music with dishes. They're building puppet theaters using cardboard. (They don't have any puppets so Daddy's old socks might get repurposed.) They pretend to be gates, bridges, trees and banana splits. This afternoon, they were giving one another horsey rides. They appreciate shadows, colors and music more. The few straggler toys that escaped the sweep are much more enjoyed.

The boys are much more interested in learning about whatever I'm doing. Today they helped me assemble first-aid kits for their emergency bags and I taught them about preparedness. They talk to me more and tell me about their lives. They read more. My older son is teaching his little brother the alphabet.

I guess less really is more. Less is also less. Less whining, less TV and less mess. Less time looking for things, less fighting over things. Less time worrying about THINGS and more time with PEOPLE. I think this experiment is a success, more or less (I just had to do that.)

Playing with toys helps children learn about their world and be more like their parents. Not having toys does that too. I'm wondering what tomorrow will bring. Will my children start cooking and thinking that laundry is fun? Will they get excited about real tools and real vacuums? We'll have to wait and see. I'm sure that I'll bring the toys out of the attic sometime. But not today. Today, I'm a caterpillar, crawling around in a vegetable garden. So I can't go in the attic, can I?

Why I Didn't Wait to Have Children

As Latter-Day Saints, we have an interesting culture. We believe in having children, and anytime a couple is newly married, we assume that they want and will have kids. We assume that they will have a child within two years, and probably more than one child at some point. We are not bad people for having these assumptions; they're often based on real life and what we've seen. The problem arises when we carry our assumptions too far, and start telling people they have to fit into a mold based on our expectations.

I have been guilty of this. Based on my perception of today's Latter-Day Saint culture (notice I said culture, not doctrine) I assumed that a  couple who did not announce pregnancy in the early stages of marriage was "waiting".  Boy, was I wrong! They had wanted children from day one and my verbalized assumptions caused them pain. I was told in no uncertain terms to "Mind my own business!"

I was shocked. Everywhere I went, people asked other people when and how many children they planned to have. It was "normal". When I spoke to this couple, I meant to show them that I supported their right to make decisions about their family. I learned something: supporting them is not my job. Short of being their doctor, bishop or therapist, there is no necessity, no reason whatsoever, for thinking about how many children SOMEONE ELSE wants to create and when. I can't think of any righteous purpose that would be served by it.

As Elder Neil L. Andersen told us in October 2011 General Conference,

 When to have a child and how many children to have are private decisions to be made between a husband and wife and the Lord. These are sacred decisions—decisions that should be made with sincere prayer and acted on with great faith.

There you have it. Not only is it not our decision, it is private. And just like all private things, we have no business speculating about them. If  someone voluntarily shares their decision with us, we should be kind, realizing that they have shared something private and sacred, like a testimony.  We are not being called upon to agree or disagree.


I Come From A Large Family

I grew up in a family that believed and taught that birth control was a literal tool of Satan to prevent Heavenly Father's spirit children from gaining bodies. Anyone who "planned" their family using any method other than abstinence was evil or deceived. I don't particularly like that philosophy, not just because there are legitimate and unselfish reasons for preventing pregnancy (severe medical conditions that require heavy medications, for instance,) and not because it is a seriously harsh judgment we are not called upon to make.

I don't like that philosophy because I've seen many instances where people would have a lot of kids--providing bodies for those spirits--and not pay any/enough attention to the raising of them. I don't want to be a judge of these people. I just feel bad for the kids, so often raising, and raised by, their siblings. I was born in such an environment, and while I do not condemn my parents--they were doing the best they knew how--I wished to approach parenting in a different way.

I Really Like Kids

My whole life I wanted kids--lots of kids! My childhood was not all bad and living with eleven siblings had taught me to love children and want a house full of them. I used to shock people for fun by telling them I wanted fifteen children, never being quite sure I'd find a willing husband.(That number has fluctuated a lot over the years.) When my husband and I became engaged, we took the matter very seriously. He came from a family of three and the full-house concept--and budget! frightened him a little. I wanted babies right away, and he wanted to wait a year. We were both in school and working, not making much money. I knew that it was not my decision. It was OURS. We talked about it. We prayed. We went to the temple. I did research on birth control, namely, finding out what it was.

Here's what we learned: God is the Maker and Sender of all spirits. He has commanded us to multiply and replenish the earth so we can rejoice in our posterity. We know that when the Lord commands He also prepares a way. He will not send us more than we can handle, and He will help us all the way through to the end. We made the decision to... do nothing. We left it in His hands. We would not use birth control unless medically necessary and we never have.

It seems crazy sometimes to think of how poor we were, but never wanted for anything. We never went hungry, never had to move back in with our parents, and we had FUN. We have been so blessed, especially through others--strangers sometimes-- who reached out to help. The Lord really has opened and continues to open the way for us. We have both continued our educations and have not been hindered by being parents. And we have rejoiced.

Our children are so sweet and funny and we wish we could have more. Someday...it's still in the Lord's hands. Meanwhile, we are blessed by our two little boys. When they say, "Mommy, I'm happy. We're a family" it melts my heart. When they cover my desk with drawings of superheroes, I feel like the luckiest woman alive. And when they put their arms around my neck and cuddle at bedtime, I know that this is what Heaven was meant to be like. My little bit of Heaven, here on earth.

"Mommy, I'm happy. We're a family."

I hope that everyone gets to feel their bit of Heaven. No matter what happens, though, let us not judge others for waiting, or not waiting; for wanting many or wanting few; for spacing or not spacing. Let us withdraw our minds from the sacred and private decisions of others. The Lord has it covered and no one is more qualified for the job. For my part, I'd rather be rejoicing.