Today was stake conference - which meant the entire collection of neighborhood congregations met at once, stuffed into a too-small setting, relegating anyone arriving less than 30 minutes in advance to the pea-green, metal folding chairs in the gymnasium.
Himself stayed home - initially because FIL2 was down visiting, then because when FIL left, Himself had no time to get ready and Baby Girl was sound asleep for her second morning nap, after spending most of the night sobbing in my arms.
For some reason, I thought it necessary that I go, even though every fiber of my being was screaming, "no!" I am hoping that Heaven hands out brownie points for doing something that was strongly suggested, even if one didn't get a whole lot out of it. I am fairly certain the theme was "True Conversion." I think.
I slept through probably 50% of the sermons. I'm sure they were wonderful. I woke up during one, mid-nap, and prayed fervently that God would lift the foggy cobwebs and haze of not enough sleep, too much work and a teething infant so that I could commune with him with all the spiritual magnificence I knew I should.
But either He was sympathetic to my plight and figured that the two-hour worship service was all the quiet time I'd have (even seated on a chair so uncomfortable, I nearly spent the service walking up and down the hall, which in retrospect would have meant I would not have fallen asleep) or my willpower was buried somewhere beneath the hypnotic chants of "dim room, need sleep, must have sleep" running through my brain.
I wonder if it counts if you sleep through church?
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