MY MISSIONARY

He is such a cutie! I love this boy. He loves the idea of being a missionary. He has gone with me to Leslie's discussion and he has begged to go out with the Sisters, but of course he can't. He found his daddy's old missionary name tag and insists on wearing it twenty-four seven. He loves missionary work, but don't ask him about Jesus or any other gospel topic because his version will include bad guys, ghosts, and trucks. I have a lot of work to do.

I found myself at the park today and I was walking around talking to Leslie, she is anxious to know more about, and increase her understanding of, the Book of Mormon. I was talking to her about taking an institute class. I wasn't paying a lot of attention as my boys were running around and playing on the playground equipment. There were two other boys on the playground with their father. I finally hung up. The man on the playground said in an ugly, in-your-face, accusatory tone, "Lady, your boy just hit my boy." I said, "I don't think James would hit any...." I didn't even get the "one" out before he interjected, "I saw him." James has never hit another boy before, well except Ashton, but does that count? He is his brother, and that is what brothers do. I don't know what happened. He might have pushed him out of his way to get to the slide, but hit him? Pretty sure, no! His kid wasn't crying. He wasn't hurt in anyway. He seemed a little upset about his father yelling at me but other than that, he was happy. I couldn't understand why this man was in my face about my sweet boy. 

James was wearing the tag. I thought about packing the boys up and just leaving. I thought about telling the guy my son was the sweetest, kindest kid on the planet and that he obviously needed glasses, but James was wearing the tag. I swallowed it. I did something that was way out of my comfort zone and was more like Jesus than I have ever been before. I took James over and had him introduce himself to the boy. Then I asked the boys if they wanted to play with us. I ran around the playground equipment with those four boys for about ten or fifteen minutes. We threw a ball and I told them how cool they were. There dad was on a stressful phone call. He hung up. He looked down at us playing. He said, "Their mom took off and left us. They always play with any woman who gives them any attention, because they miss her." I said, "I am sorry." He said, "Boys it's time to go we have been here long enough." We just never know what kind of pain people are carrying around with them or how heavy their load is. I just thought he was a jerk.

I left the playground a more humble person. What if I had yelled at him? What if I had been unkind?What if I hadn't played with his boys? What if James hadn't been wearing his tag? Aren't I wearing a tag every day, especially as members of Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints? I covenant to take his name upon me every week. Am I serious about that? 

I walked away from that experience asking myself a lot of deep questions and having a greater desire to respond to every situation like He would.