The Sunday that Never Happened

Or maybe I should say, the Sunday school lesson that never happened.

Today, I was scheduled to teach the 12-13 year old class at church. And I was really looking forward to teaching them. I finished preparing my lesson last night, and was feeling really good about it. (Which was nice, because I had a hard time initially figuring out where the lesson was supposed to go.)

However, last night, I could not turn my brain off. I was physically exhausted, and I knew I just needed to sleep. Long story short, I didn't fall asleep until sometime between 3:30 AM and 4:00 AM. (I was really trying not to watch the clock last night so I wouldn't stress myself out about not being able to fall asleep.)

And when my alarm went off at 7:30 for church (which starts at 8:30), I knew I was in trouble. I pulled myself out of bed, and hoped that if I just started getting ready for church, my head would clear up, and I would wake up enough to function so I could follow the outline I prepared for my lesson.

But by 8:00, I knew I was a lost cause. Despite taking my anti-nausea medicine, I still felt sick to my stomach. I tried in vain to get ready, but even blowdrying my (very short) hair was taking all of my energy.

Tyler began trying to help me figure out my options. He suggested that I stay home for the first hour of church, show up for the second and teach my lesson. Initially I resisted, thinking that if I could just get myself into a presentable state, I could fight my way through the first hour of church and use the adrenaline that would start flowing (from nerves, I admit) to get me through the second hour of church.

But that's when the breakfast I tried to eat resurfaced. (Frosted mini-wheats, in case anyone was curious.) And by 8:10, I was done. Done with everything. I just sat on the couch and cried. I was frustrated that I haven't felt sleepy in days. I was frustrated that I prepared a lesson that I could not physically teach. I was frustrated that I didn't have a team teacher I could turn my lesson over to. I felt like a complete disappointment to everyone. My class, the Sunday school president, the bishop, the ward, and worst of all, I felt like a big disappointment to the Lord.

Surely, I felt, I would not have been called to this calling if I weren't capable of doing it. The Lord knows that mornings are hard for me. He knows that my sleeping schedule is wonky. And He knows that I have been trying to do my best for this small group of youth in the ward. But even though I was trying my hardest, I just wasn't good enough. Or tough enough. Or just plain enough.

I wish I could say that at this point, I felt a resurgence of strength, power from on high helping me to go magnify my calling/fulfill my church duty. But I didn't.

Instead, I had a sweet husband to sit by me and let me cry out my frustrations, while he just listened and rubbed my back, letting me get my frustrations and feelings of disappointment out, so he could fill me with comforting words.

Tyler said a couple of things this morning that really meant a lot to me. First, he reminded me that I am creating life, and that's hard (and important) work. And secondly, the church would not fail if I didn't show up to teach today. We could easily combine my class with another, and the youth and the church would go on.

And as I listened to Tyler, I realized he was right. Yes, I had a good lesson prepared, but if I didn't give it to the class today, it wouldn't be the end of the world. And it didn't have to be the end of my lesson. When it's my turn to teach again in two weeks, I can pull out any important principles I want to make sure the youth in my class don't miss out on, and incorporate them into my lesson then.

And so instead of going to church, I slept. Beautiful, deep, relaxed sleep. And for the first time in a long time (ever?), I didn't feel guilty about skipping church. It was practically a miracle.

So I confess: church did not happen for me today. Nor did my lesson. And you know what? It turns out that it's all okay.