I worried about Stefan almost constantly.
The spring he turned 14 was a lonely one. His friends from school were busy and distant; the Teachers in his quorum were polite but not inclusive. The happy-go-lucky kid I’d known began to anger easily and his jokes gained a bitter edge.
A wise friend told me to pray that he would have his own spiritual experiences. Her advice puzzled me. This wasn’t a spiritual problem—the kids in our ward just needed to invite him over on Friday night! It was their fault! But the Spirit whispered to me, “Pray for him. Just pray.”
One afternoon he sat on our red chair feeling aimless. “Wouldn’t it be great if I could perform a miracle? Move a mountain or something?” he mused. “I’d better study the scriptures and find out how.” He went to his room and developed a plan of alternating reading from the Book of Mormon and the New Testament. One week later he’d finished both—so he started again.
Confession time: my son comes from a home of failed family scripture study. We’ve tried the illustrated versions, the Book of Mormon for Families; gathering in the wee hours, at dinner, before bedtime. Ist Nephi became well-worn, but Ether was untouched.
We accepted President Hinckley’s challenge to read the Book of Mormon a few years ago and read as a family every day. My little ones screamed and fought and acted nothing like those kids you hear about in conference talks. As we finished the last beautiful verses of Moroni 10 on Christmas Eve, I turned to my boys and said, “What did you learn from this?”
Over the din of his little sister’s screaming my oldest son replied, “I learned that I don’t want to have this many kids when I grow up!”
**********
Stefan told me nothing of his new reading schedule. But I saw changes in his demeanor almost immediately—he smiled more, he pushed little Mary on the swing, when a younger brother broke a dish he grabbed a broom rather than hurling an insult. Peace softened his features and gave light to his eyes.
Not wanting to be outdone by his little brother, my oldest committed himself to regular scripture study. When my 12 year old struggled with a problem, Stefan led him to the right verses and challenged him to read a chapter every night. I found myself digging out the Illustrated Book of Mormon for the little ones.
I began to wonder why I wanted him to have a social life? He was so pleasant to have at home and made an effort to play games with his siblings and keep the TV off. Chocolate Chip Orange Muffins became his specialty and Mary would beg her “best, most favoritest brother” to make a batch.
But the friends started calling. He’s too quiet to be ultra-social, but it seems that everyone wants him at their party.
Recently, he told me about the day on the red chair and his lofty goal (I don’t think I’ll tell you how many time he’s read the entire standard works since then.) “I got my miracle, mom. I’m so happy now. I got my miracle.”
How have the scriptures changed your life? How can we teach our children to love the scriptures? How can we learn to love them ourselves?
Related posts:
Continue reading at the original source →