As I sat on the floor stacking blocks with our nursery kids, one decided to bring the tub of tools and fix me. With a full set of Craftsman plastic replicas, this imaginative little boy instantly qualifies himself to become a doctor, a builder or a chef. He doesn't mind interrupting the little girl's tea party to ensure pink plates are securely fastened to the table. He sees practicality in using the hand saw to trim the other teacher's flowing tresses. Even the littlest toddler has become accustomed to his occasional poke or prod and doesn't object in word or whine. Personal space is nonexistent when there is a job to do, and his tools give him license. The painted cinder block walls of our nursery room remain resilient against perpetual hammering. And every small chair would be virtually squeak-free and stable if truly manipulated by his regular maintenance with a fat-handled screwdriver. So on one recent Sunday, I became his project in need of repair. He systematically stuck a wrench under my arm and then declared, "Fixed it." He sawed at my shoulder with persistence, then again said, "Fixed it." With superior concentration he wiggled my earring with his screwdriver, then whispered in my ear, "Fixed it." It seemed my ankle needed the most work, and considerable time was spent using a variety of tools before he confirmed that all was renewed and in proper working order.His endearing grin and sparkling eyes make it impossible to deny his mission as a fix-it man. And the way he drops his head and gets to work with serious intent inspires you to encourage his determination. At the end of the meetings that day, I walked outside into the cool autumn air and his little words rang in my ear, "All fixed." I felt renewed instead of the usual exhaustion after two hours with 14 little ones. I was fixed, both body and spirit. And that's how it should be for all of us every Sunday. Some enter the doors of the chapel more broken than others. The stress and strain of sickness or sin or six days of chaos can wreak havoc on our sense of stability. For those of us with a row of little ones and a husband on the stand, it's hard to find solace even in sacrament meeting as we try to keep the chapel quiet for everyone else. But somewhere, sometime and as split-second as it might me, there is always an opportunity for the Holy Spirit to renew our spirit on Sundays.The Atonement promises to complete all the personal fix-it projects that we cannot finish on our own. And church meetings offer the tools to do the job right.
Stacie Duce serves in the nursery every Sunday and is a freelance writer and copy editor in Hamilton, Montana. She and her husband, Jay, have five children.