It wasn't so long ago that I did not welcome Sundays to come. As I rolled out of bed on Sunday Mornings I would think to myself, "Not Sunday!" in the most unwelcoming way. It wasn't that I did not enjoy attending church, well actually it was that I did not enjoy attending church. Attending church for 3 hours with 4 little ones was wearing. So incredibly draining. I would come home and need a nap. Tucking and re-tucking shirts, zipping ties, shhhhhhhhhhhhh let's be reverent, don't stand in the pew, let's not rip the pages out of the hymn book, why are you fighting with Jacq?, Barrett off the pew on the floor, two minutes later . . . Jacq off the pew on the floor, messy diapers, tired babies longing for their beds, crying in fear of the nursery monster. After all there has got to be one in that room, the sheer terror that comes over my kids tells me so. :) Sick kids week after week. You know why! Anyway, I am tired just writing it out and I could seriously go on about the dreaded moments with babies at church. While we still have our moments and they are big moments, I don't have the dreaded, 'Not Sunday" feeling come over me the same as it did. I remember asking anyone who would listen, "Why do we go to church on Sunday?" It's not like we get a stitch of anything out of it. In fact, in sacrament meeting we were a huge distraction and the other two hours were spent pacing the hallway with a tired baby who is used to a rigid schedule. Life goes on and babies grow up and we officially have all our children in their very own classes. I can even catch a glimpses of what the message is in sacrament meeting. That makes it all worth it. My children running home with excitment seriously bursting out of their little lips to tell me all about the Holy Ghost makes it all worth it. Max getting up and giving his talk makes it worth it. Alexander sad because the other brother gets to give a scripture and not him makes it worth it. Knowing I am exactly were I need to be on Sunday makes it all worth it.