Mutiplied by thousands of families.
Compound all of this by a couple of hours of whining, crying, pleading, arguing, begging, pushing, rolling eyes, covered ears, touching and taunting siblings, warnings from parents, rescinded treats, spills and stains, off-key singing, last minute lessons, weak and strong testimonies, scripture stories, board games, walks and recreational activities, pictures of the prophets, and many dysfunctional families trying to make it work and you've got a century of one of the most beautiful institutions ever organized in this dispensation of the fullness of times.
Family. Home. Evening.
When President Joseph F. Smith asked parents to gather their children for weekly family meetings in 1915, the instructions were simple: "Families were to take time to pray and sing together, read the scriptures, teach the gospel to one another, and participate in other activities that would build family unity." (True to the Faith)
A lot has changed in 100 years: technology, transportation, food, clothing, politics, family size, family shape, household costs to name a few.
But there are some things that will never change: the gospel. The love of Heavenly Father and his son Jesus Christ. The restored gospel. The most basic unit of society: the family.
And because these things never change, the basic directions for family home evening haven't had to change, either.
I am grateful to have grown up in a family where FHE wasn't an afterthought. It happened. It happened consistently. It happened when we were babies, it happened when we were teenagers. It happened even when my dad was commuting to another state for work. Of all the memories of my childhood, those gospel moments we shared are some of my favorites. Yes, there were Mondays when nobody got dessert, when somebody got banished to their room, where somebody ended up in tears, where we got absolutely nothing out of it. But there were also Mondays where we grew closer together as a family, where we learned the basics of the Gospel, where my parents planted seeds of faith that have grown into adult testimonies and carried our family through trials, challenges, and triumphs.
I remember my Dad teaching us the plan of salvation, urging us to be righteous so we could be together forever. I remember my mom organizing family Olympics, teaching us primary songs, and handing out awards for the annual "What Did You Do This Summer?" contests. I remember my older brother video taping our family having dinner and then showing us the video for our lesson and urging us to take note of our manners and how often we said "please" and "thank you" (we had a lot to work on). I remember my dad pulling out his mission suitcases, telling us stories and sharing memories as he showed us each item. I remember celebrating Pioneer Day with a walk along the railroad tracks in our backyard. I remember playing games as a family. I remember how my mom would do a special lesson as each child celebrated a birthday. I remember my little brother dressed in a bathrobe with plastic balls stuffed up the sleeves as pretend muscles as he taught us the story of Captain Moroni and the Title of Liberty the week after 9/11 happened.
Then, as we grew older, my parents used family home evening as an opportunity to prepare us for adulthood. My brothers helped lead discussions on the priesthood. My dad would read us a few entries out of his missionary journal. We attended each other's events. And my mom, who was coined "The Family Home Evening Nazi" when she protested me going up to Girl's Camp on a Monday evening to prepare with the other youth leaders, made sure it happened. Every week.
When my brother came home from his mission, he taught us one of the lessons he had taught his investigators. When I was on my intermission, my parents let me use FHE as a time to practice my teaching skills.
When Scott and I were married, there was no break in Family Home Evening. I remember that first married Monday. We went to Seagull Book and used some wedding money to pick out a picture of Christ for our home. When it was just the two of us, FHE took on lots of different shapes: sometimes we would go out, sometimes we would stay in. We made cookies, wrote thank you notes, compared answers to questions we still had about each other.
There was a time in our marriage when school, a new baby, and what we called "life" took over. The roughest patch we have had in our marriage (we are talking a barefoot marathon over sandpaper) can be directly traced back to those six months where our family evening gatherings were more miss than hit.
It took work, but slowly we got back into the habit. We haven't stopped since.
And you know what? It is working.
A couple of weeks ago, Kevin was watching Strawberry Shortcake on my phone while I worked on the dishes and Sly napped. She ran into the kitchen screaming, "Mom! It's fam-o-ween! Shortcake is having fam-o-ween!" She showed me the screen where Strawberry and a handful of friends were sitting on a rug and reading and talking together. In her mind, that was Family Home Evening.
My heart was tickled.
Over the next week or two, I hope to share some things that we do as part of our FHE meetings that work for us. Maybe something will work for you too. It isn't always perfect. More often than not it ends in someone refusing to say the closing prayer and me overdosing on dessert. Sometimes one evening can feel like a century.
And sometimes one century is not enough to do one evening justice.
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