Amidst the Chaos

of a pretty busy week, the boys finally seemed reach their breaking point this morning. Whiny, grumpy, and topped off with runny noses, I had about had it by 10 am this morning (only getting about five hours of sleep, myself). But even in all of that mayhem, we found a good place.

We've been teaching Guy to pray, and trying to instill in him the belief that we know Heavenly Father answers our prayers.

This morning, on his own, for the second time in a couple of weeks, he asked to say a prayer for lost toys. This time, "to have Heavenly Father and Jesus help [him] find [his] Toy Story toys." Immediately I helped him with the prayer, then I started looking around, trying to help and be a "tool" in his request. Shortly thereafter, I was distracted with one break down or another (there were lots of little ones this morning).

However, this time there was no need for me in this equation (with the exception of helping him say the prayers). He asked, and he found. Not even two hours later. These toys were "missing" for at least a couple of weeks, I think. Simply stuck deep in the couch, and I really thought I'd looked there earlier, in my vain attempt.

I loved witnessing the process, and helping him in the smallest of ways in this incident. It's a moment where I think, "He's already growing up!?!" I'm grateful for his innocent faith and his desires to do what right. He's a witness to me of the simplicity of the truthfulness of the gospel that I sometimes overlook.