Conference Weekend

Twice each year I feel homesick. Twice. I'm not talking the kind of homesickness where you wish you could hang out with your siblings and parents; I feel that kind of homesickness a lot more often. I'm talking about the kind of homesickness where you want to be in the home where you were a kid, the home that you grew up in.

Those two bouts of longing come the first weekend of October and the First weekend of April. They have everything to do with my favorite family tradition; Conference brunch.

For those of you unfamiliar with my religious background I invite you to learn about it by going to mormon.com and clicking on basic beliefs to learn more. The gist for this post is to say that twice each year the entire body of our church gathers to hear from the general church leadership. As we believe in the same organization that existed in Christ's primitive church, we call our leadership apostles and prophets. And we do believe that these are holy men, who are special witnesses of the Lord Jesus Christ. You can view hear sermons (or "talks" as we call them) by going to lds.org and clicking on October 2007 general conference to listen.

The conference is held over two days and consists of 4 general sessions and 1 session for men aged 12-18. A special session is held for women the week prior to conference. When you live in a different time zone, you go to your local chapel and watch conference as it is broadcast by satellite. In many cities (even here in Joburg if you have the right satellite feed) you can watch the conference from your home. This is the common practice in Utah where I grew up.

As a kid, conference weekend was only a little different from every other weekend of our existence. Saturdays were still busy, my parents kept their retail lamp shop open, my siblings had sports games to participate in and I often held a part time job and had to work. We tried to spend time listening and watching, but life was busy.

But Sunday was a different story. My parents did not have to participate in their regular church assignments and could sleep in (after helping us deliver our newspapers that is). We laid around in our pajamas for the morning and the house was filled with calm music and quiet sounds. We were all together.

The first session of conference began at 10 a.m., and after its conclusion we'd have a Sunday brunch consisting of eggs, bacon (a huge treat at our house) and Bisquick waffles. The waffles were crunchy on the outside, and tasted magnifique to me when smothered with butter and syrup. Nothing posh, but a set menu that a never changed. Having just finished watching very amazing and powerful men encourage us all to become more Christ-centered we were inclined not to fight with each other, and we even said "please pass" before asking for another waffle or serving of eggs. Truly, home was heaven on earth during conference brunch. After we ate we'd all scurry around doing dishes, trying to clean things up before the 2p.m. session began. No T-vo to help us delay the start in those days, just had to be done in time to hear the opening prayer.

After many years of this tradition I moved away with my new sweet husband and our first born son. And conference came around, and I was utterly sick for my home and our Bisquick waffles. I thought I missed the food, and my dear prince charming who wanted to help me through my grief made me lovely waffles and delicious bacon. The meal was an upgrade; batter made from scratch, bacon thick cut and hickory smoked, truly an act of caring and sacrifice for a grad student husband to splurge on his home sick wife.

But the meal, delicious as it was, could not bring the spirit of brotherly and sisterly kindness I yearned for in the home where I was young. I wept over my waffles as my poor desperate husband clung to my hand and my little boy threw his bacon to the ground.

Time went on, and six months later we tried it all again. Delicious waffles, lovely bacon and even some friends to share it with. Still, conference Sunday morning found me weeping in my kitchen as I helped whip the egg whites for the batter.

It has been over 13 years since those first conference Sundays away from home. And still I feel that longing. I am better now than I have ever been. I get the crying done on Saturdays in the privacy of my bedroom. It still bewilders my beloved who has learned to hold me tight as I weep and remind me that this too shall pass. How lovingly he tries to understand this personal longing for the loving unity I felt as a child in our tiny home so long ago.

With six children of my own and new conference brunch traditions (sticky buns anyone?) I find solace in giving this tradition to my children. I hope as they look back on the rituals of their childhood they'll think fondly of conference Sundays. Not because of delicious foods or even the chance to sleep in and watch church on TV, but because in those Sundays of spiritual instruction when we as a family allow a full measure of Christian love to enter fully into our home that feeling pervades our every action. Our prayers reach a little higher, our kindness toward one another is increased. Our food even tastes better(bisquick waffles on any other day are just your average waffle, ya know?). It is those conference occasions when we can believe the phrase that the most sacred place on earth can be within the walls of our own home. Certainly it was for me on those special Sundays of my childhood. There was no place on Earth I'd rather have been, because the unearthly goodness in our home was so close at that time to Heaven.