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Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Soggy Cereal and the Atonement

Now I know that some may not even read my little blurb, and that's perfectly okay, I just wanted to share so excitement from the world of me. You can just scroll down to the story if you want, it's okay.
So, I was going to try and get the lesson helps of the YW lesson, but I have been caught up with my brand new cabinet. As I've said, I have boxes, and I mean a TON of boxes full of stuff for this blog, and finally I have a place to store it all! Yippee! I'm putting everything into binders according to topic, and can then just pull out a binder for whatever I'm in the mood to share. Cool right? Okay so I have a weird sense of cool, but it's in the eyes of the beholder right? haha.
I also was asked by Andi from Hot Pink Pansy to do a collab for Easter, she'll be doing the papers and elements and I'll be doing wordart. So the plan is to release on 21st of this month so you all have plenty of time to make those Easter invitations *if you need more time just call your family in advance and then tell them how adorable your invite will be*. So keep an eye out for the mini kit! Now on to what you're here for.

I love this story, I have always loved a good story about children, they just have a way about them that can bring life's lessons and gospel principles in a very simple and at the same time a deep way. Enjoy the story! Feel free to pass it along to friends (please put in a little plug for Latter-day Chatter THANKS)


When my youngest daughter was only three years old, she loved to mimic her older brother by asking to have two bowls of cereal for breakfast in the morning. Each day, the same ritual occured: She would ask for her first bowl of cereal, eat it, and then request the second bowl. She would then take one bite, say she was full, and refuse to eat the rest.
On one particular morning, I had finally had enough of her wasteful practice. When she asked for the second bowl, I explained that if she didn't eat all the cereal she asked for, she would have to eat it at lunchtime before she could have her real lunch. Of course, being three, she agreed. Even after our discussion of what would happen, she ate only single bite of the second bowl, and then said she was finished. I firmly reminded her that she needed to eat the cereal before she could have what was for lunch. As I put the cereal in the refrigerator, I turned to her and asked,"Are you sure you don't want to eat this now?" Her refusal was clear. As promised, the bowl of cereal went into the fridge to wait for lunchtime.
That afternoon when my son arrived home from kindergarten, the three of us sat down for leftover pizza. I reminded my daughter that she needed to finish her cereal before she could have pizza. I took the soggy bowl of cereal from the refrigerator and placed it in front of her. She took one look at the mushy mess and ran from the table screaming and wailing.
My tenderhearted son, who had been watching attentively, looked at the slice of pizza in front of him. He then looked at the soggy cereal in front of his sister's place as her cries echoed from the other room. His eyes met mine, and he said quietly, "I'll eat her cereal."
My heart was so full when I realized the sincere love he had for his younger sister. His only thought was to take away her pain, make her happy and have her return to be with us at the the table.
This simple, tender statement of my young son taught me a powerful lesson about the infinite atonement of our Savior, Jesus Christ. As the Savior has done for us, my son fulfilled both the law of mercy and the law of justice for his sister in this one simple act of love. Throughout our lives, all of us get ourselves into predicaments that we can't resolve on our own. Our loving and kind Savior hears us week and offers regrets.
Then, with great love and patience, He lets us know that He has already paid the price being demanded of our folly. The display of love my son showed for his sister was tremendous, but it represents only a fraction of the love our Elder Brother so freely gives to us.

By Deborah McIff