A Mother's Prayer

Depending on who you ask, I have either the best or the worst job in the church. I consider it the best. I'm the nursery leader -- which means each Sunday I get to spend two hours playing with some of the youngest congregants while their parents teach other classes or attend the adult meetings. Instead of having to sit reverently for long periods of time, those of us in the nursery (on a good day) attempt to sit reverently for approximately 2 1/2 minutes while one of the adults gives a short sermon appropriate for two-year olds. The rest of the time we play with toys, go for walks outside, color, sing, dance around with scarves, blow bubbles, and have a snack. Who wouldn't love a worship service like this?!

Believe it or not, we do occasionally get a child who does not love it. Not at all. I suspect it has something to do with being thrust into the arms of strange grown-ups in a room full of strange children for an indeterminate amount of time. It's like being in the slammer -- when the door shuts, you can only peer at the outside world through a small window and there's no escape. Your mother is on one side of the glass and you're on the other. In such dire straits, even your very own bag of fruit snacks is small solace.

Eighteen-month old Katie (not her real name) had been inconsolable in nursery for two weeks. We tried everything and occasionally, she would get distracted for 30 seconds only to burst into tears the moment she remembered her misery. Most children eventually resign themselves to their fate after a few minutes, but not Katie. Her heart was broken. Her mom tried staying with her in the nursery room, but the moment Katie lost sight of her, the tears started again.

Last week, Katie's mom dropped her off and told us she had been talking to Katie about nursery, assuring her that she would indeed come back for her. Then she left us a very sad little girl. Katie cried for a few minutes until I managed to distract her with a toy. To my surprise, she played with the toy for several minutes. Eventually, I even put her down. It was obvious that Katie wasn't feeling 100% secure or happy about the situation and she needed plenty of reassurance. But for most of the two hours, Katie was reasonably happy and when she got sad, she was consolable. I'm not sure if 18-month old children are able to make a choice to be courageous, but this was one brave little girl. Of course, I attributed Katie's relatively successful day in nursery to her naturally becoming accustomed to nursery like most kids do. I also thought she might have decided that I was an o.k. adult. Probably, these were factors, but I discovered the most important reason when her mother picked her up. She was pleased that Katie had done so much better and said, "I've been praying all week that she would be happy in nursery."

No wonder. The faith of Katie's dear mother, God's love for little children, Katie's natural responsiveness to heavenly comfort: this is why Katie was able to be brave. If the Savior is aware of sparrows who fall, He certainly cares about little girls who are scared to go to nursery. And if He cares about that, He also cares about the seemingly trivial concerns of grown-ups. All we have to do is let Him know.

Photo by hlkljgk - retrieved from www.flickr.com/photos/52473526@N00/911016819 on August 2, 2008