Mornings are not our best family moments—although we try to break the cycle everyday anyways. 6:00 am every morning, my grandfather opens my door, pokes his head in, and yells, “Tara? It’s daylight in the Ozarks!” We then climb the stairs, sitting in our designated spots while opening up to where we left Alma yesterday.
“And it came to pass…” My uncle always starts out way too cheerful for this time of day. I have a love for the scriptures, but my enthusiasm doesn’t come out in my daily performance. My cousins don’t keep their eyes open, they have to be woken up when their turn comes around. Korin, the 15 year-old, reads her five verses incredibly fast; she can read an entire verse in one yawn. It sounds high pitched, with little annunciation. (Now it is your turn, try to say Nephi while yawning.) It is very impressive. I keep my eyes open, up until now, I have yet to be shaken awake to read.
This morning, Sam, the youngest, was not wearing his retainer; a fact his mother picked up on when he started reading without a lisp. Ever since Siri on his mother’s iPhone couldn’t understand him, he has been self-conscious. His mother made him go get it from his room in the middle of scripture study, while Grandpa was reading about the iniquities of the Gadianton robbers (adding in that not obeying your mother is also very iniquitous). Sam walked to his bedroom on his knees, there and back, with a sleepy/annoyed expression on his 10 year-old face. Finally returning, he crawled under the grand piano avoiding his turn to read in Helaman chapter 6. My aunt looked at my uncle and said, “that’s your son.”
Mornings are not our best family moments, but the Lord knows we try anyways.