Sacred in the Ordinary: Redefining Perfect Family Discipleship

The toddler dumped an entire box of Cheerios on the kitchen floor while I was trying to say the blessing on the food. The second-grader was singing the words to a song she learned at school and the middle-schooler was arguing with the teenager about whose turn it was to sit in the front seat and the Cheerios were everywhere. I opened my eyes and looked at the mess and I thought about the picture I had in my head of what family discipleship was supposed to look like. It did not look like this.

I used to think that teaching my children about the gospel meant creating a certain kind of environment. A quiet environment. A reverent environment. An environment where everyone was sitting still and listening and the Spirit could descend like a gentle blanket over the whole scene. I spent years trying to create that environment and it never worked because my house is not a quiet place. It is a place where Cheerios get dumped and arguments happen and the second-grader sings at full volume during the prayer.

I almost did not write this because I am still learning how to let go of the picture in my head. But I have been sitting with something about the difference between the family discipleship I imagined and the one that actually happens. And I think the one that actually happens might be the one that matters.

How to Handle Imperfect Family Prayer

The prayer that got interrupted by the Cheerios did not feel like a success. I said amen and I helped the toddler pick up the mess and I tried to find the thread of gratitude I had been holding before the box hit the floor. But later that night I thought about it differently. The toddler saw me stop what I was doing to help her clean up, the second-grader saw me take a breath instead of getting frustrated, and the middle-schooler and the teenager saw me try again.

I think that is what the Atonement looks like in a family. Not a perfect prayer. A prayer that gets interrupted and then picked back up, a mother who gets frustrated and then tries again, a family that keeps coming back to the table even when the Cheerios are on the floor.

I wrote about this in The Sacredness of the Unplanned Moment: Teaching Faith in Daily Parenting and I keep coming back to the same idea. The unplanned moments are not interruptions to the spiritual work. They are the spiritual work.

LDS Parenting Tips for Chaotic Homes

I taught third grade for five years before I had children of my own. I remember the first week of school when I had a classroom full of children who did not know the routines yet. They were loud and distracted and nothing went the way I had planned. And I remember what my mentor teacher told me. She said you cannot wait for the classroom to be quiet before you start teaching. You start teaching and the quiet comes later.

I think about that advice all the time now. I cannot wait for my home to be calm before I start teaching my children about the gospel. I start teaching and the calm comes later. Or it does not come at all and I teach anyway.

The Church teaches that parents have a sacred duty to bring up their children in light and truth. I believe that. But I do not think light and truth require a classroom setting. Light shows up in the car on the way to practice when a child asks a question about something that happened at school. Truth shows up at the dinner table when someone shares something hard and the rest of the family listens without fixing it.

I have started looking for those moments instead of trying to create them. I do not plan a lesson about honesty. I wait until someone tells the truth about something they did wrong and I say thank you for being honest. I do not plan a lesson about service. I notice when someone helps without being asked and I point it out. The lessons are already happening. I just have to pay attention.

Finding Joy in the Mess of LDS Family Life

The mess is not something to get through so the real spiritual work can start. The mess is where the real spiritual work happens.

I think about the sacrament and how the bread and water are ordinary things that become holy when we bring them to the Lord with the right heart. I think the same thing happens in our homes. The ordinary moments of wiping counters and finding shoes and breaking up arguments are not holy in themselves. But when we bring them to the Lord with the right heart, they become holy.

I have been trying to pay attention to the mess differently. When the toddler dumps the Cheerios, I try to see it as a chance to show patience instead of an obstacle to my plan. When the middle-schooler and the teenager argue, I try to see it as a chance to teach forgiveness instead of a disruption to my peace. I am not always good at this. But I am getting better.

Let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God (Doctrine and Covenants 121:45).

I think about that verse when I am trying to find the sacred in the middle of the chaos. The confidence does not come from having a perfect home. It comes from keeping my heart turned toward Him in the middle of the mess.

Teaching Gospel Principles in Unplanned Moments

The best gospel lesson I have ever taught in my home was not a lesson at all. The second-grader came home from school upset because a friend had said something unkind. She was sitting on her bed with her arms crossed and her chin tucked and she did not want to talk about it. I sat down next to her and I did not say anything for a long time. And then I said I bet Jesus knows how you feel right now.

She looked at me and she asked if Jesus ever had a friend who was unkind to Him. And I said yes. And we talked about it. Not because I had planned a lesson about the Atonement. Because she needed to know that He understood.

Those are the moments I am learning to watch for. They do not happen on a schedule. They happen when a child is ready and the Spirit is ready and I am paying attention. I cannot force them. I can only make space for them.

Dealing with Guilt Over Imperfect Family Discipleship

The guilt is the hardest part. I know because I have carried it for years. The feeling that I am not doing enough, that I should be more consistent, that other families are doing this better.

I have learned that guilt is not the same thing as the Spirit. The Spirit leads me to try again. Guilt leads me to give up. And I have spent too many years confusing the two.

When I feel the guilt rising, I ask myself one question. Did I try today? Not did I succeed, but did I try, and the answer is almost always yes. I tried to say a prayer even though it got interrupted. I tried to read a scripture even though the toddler was climbing on my head. And I tried to have a conversation about kindness even though it only lasted two minutes.

The trying is what counts. The Lord does not ask for perfection. He asks for our hearts, and a heart that keeps trying is a heart He can work with.

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I maintain a spiritual home when my kids are constantly fighting or distracted?

I focus on rhythms instead of rules. Instead of forcing a perfect lesson at a set time, I look for the small moments that are already happening. A quick prayer before a game, a brief conversation about kindness during a conflict, a grateful thought at bedtime even if the rest of the day was hard. God works in the chaos. He does not wait for the quiet.

I feel like I am failing my children because our family home evening is never perfect. What should I do?

I have felt this way more times than I can count. What helps me is remembering that the goal of family discipleship is connection, not a perfect presentation. When I model vulnerability by admitting my own struggles, I am actually teaching my children something more real than any lesson I could prepare. They learn that the gospel is for people who are still figuring it out.

How can I teach my children about the Atonement in a way that feels real to them?

I use the everyday moments. When a sibling is hurt or a mistake is made, I use that moment to talk about forgiveness and making things right. I tell my children that the Atonement is not just for the big things. It is for the small things too. The spilled milk, the harsh word, the moment when we try again. Real life is the best classroom for the gospel.

What if I do not feel the Spirit during our family prayers or scripture study?

I have been there. Sometimes the Spirit is present in ways I cannot feel because I am too busy managing the chaos. I have learned to trust that the seeds are being planted even when I cannot see them growing. The prayer that felt rushed and distracted is still a prayer. The scripture verse that no one seemed to hear is still in their hearts. I keep going and I trust the Lord to do the rest.

The Cheerios got cleaned up and the toddler climbed into my lap and the second-grader finished her song and the middle-schooler and the teenager stopped arguing long enough to eat dinner. It was not the picture I had in my head. But we were together and we tried and I think that is enough.

with love, Melissa