Glad I listened

It'll be way easier not to take him.
Take him, the Spirit urged.

He hasn't seen his dad all day, let them play, I justified.

Take him, was still the direction.

I was already stressed about my talk I wasn't totally sure about yet.
I should just go to the baptism by myself...they'll be others he can come to.

Take him to this one. 

Maybe because I'd been preparing a talk on the Holy Ghost all afternoon, I actually listened.

On the way to the church, as I tried to think about my talk, the Spirit kept assuring me it would be fine and directing my attention to my son, happily strapped in his carseat on the way to the "big church" that's "rea-wee far away"  (10 minutes instead of 2).

Help them feel and recognize the Spirit. 
Promise them blessings.

So much of of the things I learned as a missionary apply so directly to helping my children learn and be converted to the gospel of Christ.

"McKye?"

"Yeah mom?"

"Ya, know, I bet if you paid real close attention to how you feel during the baptism, I bet you could feel the Holy Ghost?"

I love attending baptisms. So simple. So powerful. Watching a son or daughter of God commit themselves to follow the Saviour.

The woman being baptized has a little boy too.  He sat right up front almost at the very edge of the font, and she looked right at him until she went down under the water. I could tell part of her determination to change her life had come from wanting her son to find the lasting  joy and immense peace promised to those who embark on the path of discipleship.
She told me later he can't wait to get baptized.

I was so touched by their interaction I almost missed McKye's reaction.
I looked down just in time to see it.
When McKye smiles, really smiles, you can see it all the way to his ears,
and that's just what he did.
The moment she came back up, dripping and smiling, an involuntary grin burst across his face and from my vantage point, holding him on my lap, I saw his little temples expand out to make room for the sudden swell of happiness.

As I carried him back to our seats, he whispered in my ear,
"That was weally cool!"

My talk went fine, threw most of my preparation out the window and just tried to help everyone recognize the Spirit we'd felt.

The Spirit my four year old son had felt.

How grateful I am for the Holy Ghost in my life.
For it's fruits of joy and peace and love. (Gal 5:22)

I'll always remember a man we taught on my mission, who, a few weeks after his baptism during a lesson on the Holy Ghost, had looked at me and my companion and said, "I didn't realize what a difference it would make."

That constant companionship, that influence that urges us to our best selves
and inspires us to  serve others.
That prompts me to repent and change, to say sorry and to forgive.
That testifies of truth and confirms pondered and prayed over questions and offers moments of clarity to be remembered when one needs the courage to carry through with revelation received. That heals and helps and comforts. "As the soothing voice of a loving parent can quiet a crying child, the whisperings of the Spirit can calm your fears, hush the nagging worries of your life, and comfort you when you grieve."(True to the Faith, pg 82).
Such wonderful comfort. And always hope.
The Spirit that, according to Elder Parley P. Pratt, "inspires, develops, cultivates and matures all the fine-toned sympathies, joys, tastes, kindred feelings and affections of our nature. [That] inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness and charity."
That to a primary child "feels like sunshine" and
that to me, makes me feel that I am not alone. That I am truly loved.


The Spirit that I pray to be with me every day
so I can do and be what the Lord would have me do and be.
The Spirit that I too often push aside.

The Spirit that told me to take McKye to the baptism.
The Spirit that made him smile.

The Spirit that will hopefully help him always remember how "weally cool" he felt.