Today's General Conference, and I have such cool little memories of our G.C. experiences growing up. We used to live so far away from the church, so we'd pack up stuff for an entire day's visit. On Saturdays, we were allowed to bring a few toys, books, and other distractions. We'd sit in the R.S. room, make little "chair forts" and nest into them for a session, and enjoy the soothing tones of spiritual old men while we played. On Sundays, though, we had to dress up, couldn't bring toys, and actually had to listen to what was being said. The small allowance my mom made was that we could cross-stitch, since that was using our hands, not our higher-level listening skills.
Both days, we'd pack a picnic lunch, and since Conference always falls during the most beautiful times of the year, we'd get to go to parks or gardens and have picnics.
I love so many of the choices my mom made raising us. (DAd, too, of course...) I love the skills she had and the things she taught us. I love that she raised us in a big family. I love that I get to try every day to be more like her.
I hope my own children someday will see some of what I will do, and will be proud.
