Poles, pickup trucks, and prayers ...

I have been a teensy bit afraid lately that my efforts to teach my kids about prayer may be backfiring.  Bryan and I have tried teaching them that if it is worth them being worried or troubled about, Heavenly Father wants to hear and wants to help.  We've heard their prayers for uncomfortable stuffed animals, lost legos, you name it.  Typically, when these things happen, the kids have gotten fairly instant results.  The lost swimsuit is found, the keys and purse are found, the test goes okay, the missionary comes home safely...stuff like that.

Well, the last two major things I have watched the kids pray for consistently have not had such instant results.  There is Bryan's health and job situation which they have continued to pray for each and every time prayers are said.  His job situation isn't worse, although it is forefront on our minds right now, but they can tell his body isn't cooperating and that is just isn't the same daddy even from a year ago.  Then there is the silly matter of the glasses.  Last weekend, Asher's glasses turned up missing (again) right before bedtime.  One minute they were on him, the next minute they weren't.  I knew since we were all home, that they had to be there close, and I was exhausted so I planned to look for them in the morning.  Nothing.  Next day I looked again...nothing again.  The week was busy, so I kept casually looking, but on Thursday I knew we had to find them quickly, so I asked the kids to help me by praying we could find them.  We sweetened the deal by first offering a $1 to the person who found them, and then upped it to a new bike accessory for the winner.  We all looked everywhere we could think of, and even places I wouldn't have thought of (Asher made me check the fridge...I think he just wanted grapes!)...still nothing.  Yesterday I even went so far as to cut the fabric bottom off the couches to see if they had somehow slipped in there.  Nothing.  They have all been remembering to pray to ask for help to find the glasses these past few days.  Yesterday, I overheard one of their little conversations with one another that their prayers for daddy and the glasses weren't working. Heartbreak.

I know that in hindsight these will be great lessons for my kids, and who am I to decide if they are ready for these kind of lessons yet or not, but I am really scared that their perfect child-like faith is going to take a hit.  I am getting uncomfortably used to having prayers not answered how and when I want them to be, but I also know that those answers, or lack of answers, come from an all-knowing Heavenly Father who wants what's best for me, my husband, and my little family.  I do worry that my kids don't have that same foundation yet to carry them through the silence and the no's just yet.

BUT...I had a prayer answered yesterday.  Maybe it was more in the 'lost keys' category, but it felt huge to me, so maybe that helped :)  We had this pole from an old piece of fencing that has been sitting in our yard for nearly a year because it was too big and heavy for either Bryan or I (or both of us) to move.  But being spring cleanup and free dump week, I really wanted to get it gone.  I think the cement  was made of titanium or something because not only couldn't I budge it, even with a dolly, but I couldn't get more than quarter sized pieces, if anything to chip off it.  And I know I don't have total girl arms because I've been breaking up cinderblock this week with the same sledgehammer and had no problem with that (don't worry...I was careful).  Bryan was able to use the sledgehammer and got about a third of it chipped away, and although we got it on the dolly and rolled out to the front yard, it still was 300+ pounds, and we couldn't lift it up to get it in the truck.  One of our neighbors helped him get it into the truck yesterday morning, thankfully (thanks Bart!).  I was still worried about how I would get it out, but I never said that to anyone.  I knew I could roll it, but I didn't want to do that and risk breaking my dad's tailgate, so I prayed.  I didn't feel yucky about going, so I told Bryan I was off.

Bryan didn't want me going to take it, but I assured him I knew I would have help.  That was actually a bit of a lie, because in over 100 trips to the dump in the last few years, I have never had anyone offer to help me, which is totally fine, because why should they?  It's my stuff and if I can get it in, I can get it out.  That being said, I figured I had about as much of a chance of getting hit by lightening on a clear day as I did of getting someone to help me get that beast out of the truck.  So with all the garbage and 4 of 5 kids in tow (Aeden was at a birthday party) we made our way to the dump.

After we backed in, and I gracefully climbed into the back of the truck and uncovered the load, I started throwing the light stuff (I mean really light stuff) into the pile of refuse that surrounded us.  The next thing I knew, this cute, wonderful, angelic teenage boy jumped into the back of the truck with me and said 'Need some help?' as he started unloading MY truck with his equally cute, wonderful, angelic father.  They didn't even give me a chance to argue or anything, they just did it.  They lifted the crazy pole cement beast up and out of the truck with almost-ease, and they finished unloading the rest of everything in less than 5 minutes (something that without the crazy beast pole would still have taken me closer to 20 minutes without help).  I thanked them over and over, but they hardly said anything, they just smiled and left.  It was good there weren't 3 of them, or it would have made quite the Mormon folktale ;)  The dad was even wearing an Acme construction tshirt...and we all know that's just a made up name they use in the movies, right?!  I'm just sayin' ... ;)

I got in the truck and started crying...because that's what crazy pregnant people do.  I told the kids I hope more than anything they they are like those men when they grow up.   I told them I hoped they would live to be worthy to to have those promptings from the Spirit, and then obedient, quick, and brave enough to act on those promptings so they can be Heavenly Father's hands in answering someone else's prayers, like those men were to mine.  I told them the story of  what had happened through my blubbering tears.  Ten minutes down the road, Zerin made the comment, "It's hard to believe what a big difference two little people can make."

So moral of the story...maybe I underestimate their abilities, and their faith will survive these 'little' tests that I know mine wouldn't have at such young ages.  A mother can hope :)