The Missing Crayons

This Monday, I was glad that I had not only managed to remember it was Monday (and thus Family Home Evening in Latter-day Saint culture) but to plan an actual FHE with lesson and all. The topic was "I Belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints" and featured a strongly-pared-down version of the Nursery lesson. I taught my daughter Ely (3 years) how to say the name of the Church, and she colored a picture of Jesus Christ, with Joseph Smith and the scriptures below it.

She was taking some time with the coloring, so we closed the lesson with a prayer and I went to prepare dinner while she finished. A few minutes later, she came into the kitchen and showed me her finished coloring. After due appreciation, we posted it on the refrigerator and I told her to make sure she cleaned up her crayons.

Several minutes later, I went into the living to check her clean-up job. She had put all of her crayons in her backpack, but because it was probably too difficult for her to return them to the package, they were crammed in any which way. I put them in the package for her and noticed that nearly half were missing.

"Where are the rest of your crayons, sweetie?" I asked.

She shrugged and replied, "I don't know."

"How can you not know? You were just playing with them."

"Maybe somebody take them?"

At this point, I began to worry a little. One of the adults in her life has a habit of avoiding responsibility and shifting blame, and I fear that she will develop the same characteristics. This sign of avoidance brought that fear to the forefront. "No one could take them, honey. You are the only one who could have taken them. Where did you put them?"

"Maybe I hid them."

We had talked about hiding things extensively before, because she had hidden her socks at her daycare provider's house and lost them not long before. "Ely, you know you are not supposed to hide things. Where did you hide them?"

"I don't know."

"In your bedroom?"

"No."

"In mommy's bedroom?"

"No."

"In the couch?"

"No."

And so on. By this time I was truly frustrated. Our house is not large, and I knew they could not have simply disappeared. We both began tearing the house apart looking for these crayons, even checking under the edges of rugs and curtains, and behind books in the bookshelves. I tried roleplaying with her, handing her one of the crayons and telling her to hide it, hoping that would lead me to the rest of the stash. All to no avail. By this time, she was in tears. I sighed and pulled her close to me. "It's okay, honey. These things happen. Just don't hide things any more, okay?" She nodded miserably, cuddling into me. "I love you, sweetie. The crayons are just things."

"Maybe we buy more?"

"No, Ely, we can't buy more. Mommy doesn't have money to spend on replacing things that you have lost." Her tears began in earnest. I sat and cuddled her, rocking her back and forth, comforting her until her tears lessened.

I sighed, knowing it was time for bed. "Let's just go to bed, honey. You go put your head on the pillow, and mommy will brush her teeth and come in to pray."

"Okay, mommy."

As I was brushing my teeth, I had a little conversation with the Lord in my head. "I'm sorry, Father. I know they are just crayons, and not really important. I just feel so helpless. I can't just buy her more things, and I worry so much about her not taking responsibility for the things she has. I'm sorry I made it into a bigger deal than it really should be."

The thought came to my mind that Ely had another pocket in her backpack that I had missed. It was a small front pocket, and I thought it was too small for the crayons, but I thought I'd check it anyways. Sure enough, the rest of her crayons were there.

"Come here, Ely."

"What?!" her tear-filled voice called to me.

"Come here, I have something good to show you."

"Okay!" she said, excited now as she ran in, "what, mommy?"

"Look what I found!" I said, holding out her crayons.

"Oh!" she gasped, "You found them, mommy!"

All at once, it was as if I spoke before thinking. "Heavenly Father told me where to find them, sweetie."

Her jaw went slack, "He's here?" she asked incredulously.

Refraining from laughter, I replied, "no, sweetie, He's still in heaven. But He can talk with you in your head sometimes. He told mommy in her head where the crayons were."

Her expression of joy and confusion was priceless. "Why?!"

"Well, because He loves you. He wants you to be happy. Sometimes He helps us with things to show us that He loves us and knows we are here."

"Oh, mommy."

That night in her prayers, she thanked her Heavenly Father for helping mommy find her crayons.