Sabbath Day Playdates

"Gather it six days, but on the seventh day, which is the Sabbath, there is none. "  And it came to be that some of the people went out on the seventh day to gather, but they found none.  And YHWH said to Mosheh, 'How long shall you refuse to guard My commands and My Torot?  See, because YHWH has given you the Sabbath, therefore He is giving you bread for two days on the sixth day.  Let each one stay in his place, do not let anyone go out of his place on the seventh day.'  So the people rested on the seventh day. - Exodous 16:26-30 

The New Year is upon us and this year I've been quite reflective of Sabbath Day activities.  Our local leaders have fallen suit in encouraging us to keep the Sabbath Day holy, per the recommendations and encouragement from the First Presidency.  All good things, right?

Several years ago, we had lived in Utah, and as taught and encouraged then too, we sought to spend the Sabbath together as a family.  This translated in my brain to mean that "friend" activities would be excluded, although home teaching/visiting teaching was questionable.  Depending on the ward or how they remembered (or forgot) the First Presidency letter from years ago (encouraging us NOT to do this on Sunday), I may or may not feel it appropriate to allow my kids to play with their friends on Sunday.

(photo source)

Well in this ward, during this time, I felt it my duty to keep our family tightly knit together, alllll day.  I hoped we could read scriptures and watch church videos and all those wonderful things.  Except that in large measure, we didn't do these things, and my kids began to resent that I didn't let them play with their friends.  After all, what were we doing that was any different than any other day, with exception of not going shopping?

On more than one occasion, I declined a friend to play with my son.  At the time the main boys coming to play were dealing with things at home.  One did not have a father in the home.  Not my business, really.  The other two would come over and inevitably my son would end up with bumps and bruises, due to their fist fights or hill rolls or some other battles with Light Sabres or plastic swords.  I didn't appreciate them as much as I should have, and would send them home, saying we were doing things as a family that day.

Shortly after (or perhaps even during) this time, those latter two boys had their father leave their mother for another woman.  And the boys jointly got diagnosed with varying Autism spectrum disorders, making a lot of their behavior more understandable.  I was so judgmental.

Since moving out of that area, these boys have also wound up in the care of the state or other agencies.  I don't know all the details, but their mother (and my friend) frequently posts on Facebook, asking for prayers or help dealing with the hurt of her situation.  How she wishes the boys could come home to live with her.  How she longs to find a suitable husband (and father) for her boys, and she wishes that their own dad would pay them just the slightest bit of attention.  They just wanted love.

I look back on this period with quite a bit of regret.  At present, where we live, there are also boys with which my son can play, however at this point, the roles are reversed.  The parents of these new local boys are largely disinterested in having their sons play with mine.  My son is seen as a little more "rough" or in some ways, distasteful (thank you autocorrect for turning the word "fine" into "fag" in that text).

So now my son looks forward to seeing his friends at Church on Sunday.  Only the friends from Church are likewise ardent believers that to keep the Sabbath Day holy, they must retain their time together as a family, not sending their boys out on playdate trades.  I miss those years when I was a kid when my mom sent me to another family's home half an hour away, because they were good people she trusted me to be with.  And I look back on those years when I too wouldn't let my boy play on Sunday, and realize that the law of restoration is real.  What we give out is returned to us again, sometimes in this life and sometimes in the next.  But inevitably it is returned, in some way.

More than once have I wondered if those boys were coming to my home because they sensed something there beyond my son, perhaps something that they were longing for in their own home?  Or perhaps they just wanted to play, and a boy up the street = fun!  But I sent them away, in lieu of keeping the Sabbath holier than playing somehow allowed.

Repentance is a wonderful thing – I am thankful to the Lord that I have another day to seek His forgiveness, and theirs and their mother's, for my piousness and unrighteous judgment.  I wish I could do more.   

Passover, Blood Moons, Easter Sunday and Grandma

Not sure where to start this post.  It's the fourth of April.  The night after a blood moon.  The second day of Passover.  The night before Easter Sunday.  This year we've decided to try celebrating Jewish Holy Days, rather than ones with quasi-Christian influences.  Over the years I've heard bits and pieces of people suggesting that Christian holidays are really take-overs by Christians of Pagan ones, so after thinking about it, I settled to reason that their ideas were sound.  That maybe if Mormons believe they are adopted into the House of Israel, maybe I ought to become more familiar with these holy days, and how to celebrate them.  

I started by sharing this video with my husband and mother, both of whom would be influential in making any effort a success.  Without their support, I knew I'd have a high "fail" rate.  

It's short and sweet, and after watching it 3 times I felt I'd have a good idea on how to attempt to do this, even though there are many aspects that are quite nearly impossible for a modern family to achieve.  For example, how does one get the blood of the firstborn, unblemished lamb on their door posts?  I don't even know where I could buy lamb's meat, much less acquire blood.  So this video suggests simply painting on cardboard to simulate the idea.  We did that tonight.  And last night we did a "treasure hunt" for the leavened bread, hid throughout the living room.  My kids loved it so much they asked if we could do it again tonight!  haha!

Since Passover this year supposedly goes from April 3-11, we'll be doing little bits and pieces of the celebration over that time.  Today we participated in a Seder with a Jewish lady in the ward, and although the kids went a bit haywire (and I kinda lost my mind too), it was really enjoyable.  I feel confident I could try this on my own next year.  

Now that the kids are asleep and we're wondering if we ought to fill Easter Baskets, I began thinking of my grandma.  She was the only grandparent I really knew, as the other grandparents had passed either before I was born, or when I was very young.  She was devoutly Christian, in fact probably the most religious person I'd ever known.  If one could be called fanatical, she would be one.  I've heard stories of her taking the bible so literally as to "eat" the word, by tearing out pages of her scripture and eating them.  Gosh I love her.  What I would give to be able to sit down with her and share all the things I've learned over the last few years.  I would love to see her response.  Would she support my findings?  Would she oppose me, and call me a heretic?  She was one who searched for a restoration of God's church, following minister after minister.  She would stand up in church and bear her testimony, rather than walk up to the microphone.  This past Sunday I stayed home after recovering from Strep Throat, and heard that a brother stood up in his pew to bear his testimony, and didn't go up to the stand.  I told my mom that he must've been thinking of Grandma, because that's totally something she would do.  Considering it was Palm Sunday, even more something up her alley.  (As I write this, my husband just walked in with two Easter Lillies, which is exactly what she used to take in to church and set on either side of the pulpit on Palm Sunday.)  In fact, on Palm Sunday or Easter - whichever would be closest to Easter, she would typically go up to the pulpit and sing us a song.  A capella.  And usually she couldn't hear if she was off tune, so we just smiled and hoped she'd sit down now.  But what I would give to sing with her songs of praise.  I think she'd probably be the only one in the house I'd really feel comfortable singing with like that.

Also on Easter Sunday, Grandma would call up the phone operator at 6 am, and announce "He is Risen!"  She would wear her royal blue dress, and on one of her lapels she would pin a large white cross.  Sometimes they were jeweled, and sometimes made with paper and tape.  Easter was surely her favorite holiday.  For her it was truly a Holy Day, and for years it has been one for me too.  I have to wonder if she would approve of our consideration of Passover.  She loved the Jews, and one of the highlights of her life was her trip with my granddad to Jerusalem.  Years before she died she gave me a large picture book that she had as a memoir of her trip, and I still keep it as a cherished reminder of her.  Oh how I wish I could talk to her again, in her prime of her mind and coherence, and see what she makes of all the amazing things going on in the world today.  I have to wonder what she would say.  

Fittingly, her name was Mary.