This past weekend, I traveled from Logan, UT to my home in Weston, ID (such a long drive...) to stay with my family. All my wonderful roommates were gone, and I'm not very good at being alone for too long. It's not that I get scared or anything. I just go crazy. I need to have people around to bother I suppose. So I went home to let my family have the bothering. On Sunday, I went to my home ward and got lucky enough to teach the sunbeam class with my mom.
Oh, the life of a five year old! Sometimes I wish I could be five again. But when church is involved, I think I wish even more that I could be five again. You can get away with so much when you're only five. There were five kids in our class, but I swear there were more! Two boys and three girls.
Boy #1- The class clown. He was cute. And he knew he was cute. He would do silly things and then just give us that huge smile of his. How are you suppose to get upset with a cute kid wearing a huge smile? Seriously. He was the one who made random comments all during class, and threw his Book of Mormon around for amusement. He did volunteer to give the closing prayer though.
Boy #2- The follower. He was a pretty well-behaved little boy. He just kind of sat, listened, and smiled. But if you were to watch closely, you'd see he was just itching to stop his sitting, listening, and smiling.
Girl #1- Miss Smartypants. She was the one who gave most of the answers all throughout class. She also gave each answer with confidence. If she didn't answer the questions my mom asked, then we just didn't get an answer to any questions.
Girl #2- The reverent one. She was good. Almost too good for a five year old. She sat so politely in her little chair. Silent. If you asked her direct questions, she'd give answers, in a sweet, small, reverent voice. This is the girl that listens closely to her parents. Maybe even copies what they do. She has been taught: When you come to church, you act super good. Fold those arms and bow that head a little. At the end of class when we colored, she was the only one that didn't draw a bunch of scribbles. She very neatly and carefully made a rainbow. And at the top she wrote, "TO: MOM".
Girl #3- The clueless one. She had big brown eyes. So big and round. She also had red hair. You gotta look out for those red heads.... She instantly became attached to me. So I prepared myself for the lap-sitting and grabbing of boobs that was ahead of me. She was cute. She was in her own world. All during Singing Time, she would randomly stand up and wander around the room, while watching the ceiling. She didn't really like church. She kept trying to escape. She wanted to go home. She told me she wanted to go home and eat her cereal. She was the one who couldn't keep still. She walked around, sat on the floor, sat on me. Toward the end of the lesson, she couldn't take it anymore. She got on the floor and acted like a tiger. She growled and tried going after "the reverent one" but got no reaction. So she went after my mom's legs, growling like an animal. She got a reaction. My mom squealed, and for a moment, I thought she was going to stand on top of her chair to escape from the tiger child.
I've been thinking about it, and church would be much more amusing if we could all just act like sunbeams. If we could sit on the floor. If we could sit on each other. If I could lift my dress above my head. If we all got fruit snacks halfway through the lesson. But I know this would not be right. I think sometimes it's hard for me because I didn't get all my misbehaving out as a primary child. I was very much like Girl #2 (see above). Yep, I was the reverent one back in my day. Believe it or not. Then as time went on, and I reached the age of leaving primary and heading to young women, I turned into Girl #1. I thought I had all the answers. And I started giving them willingly. Now that I'm "grown up" and going to Relief Society, I have turned into Girl #3. I am the clueless one. I haven't gotten so bad that I act like a tiger yet, but I can't sit still through three hours of church anymore. When we get about halfway through sacrament meeting, Shayla (my dear friend and protector) will usually give me her car keys to play with. Yes, I really am 19 years old. I'm not nine. Or six. I'm 19.
Also, just a sidenote to all this church chatter, I really am LDS. In the past couple months, I can't tell you how many people at school I've had ask me if I'm not LDS. This had never happened before. So what's different? I'm the same person I was a year ago. I'd like to believe I'm actually a better person than I was a year ago. Then I realized what it was. My hair. Ever since I chopped it off and tried a "Rihanna style cut", the questions have came to me, "Are you LDS?" Yes. I am. Very much so. I just don't have normal hair. Sorry. And sometimes I dress weird. Sorry again. But maybe that's exciting that people wonder if I'm LDS or not. Maybe next time I'm asked I'll answer, "No. I've heard of it though. Tell me more."
Don't judge a book by its cover, my friends.
Or a girl by her hair.