I am the Primary chorister in our ward. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this calling. It's seriously the dream calling, which I didn't appreciate when I had it 25 years ago, so I thought I'd never again get to do it. And then I got called and I just wanted to turn cartwheels all the way home.
We only have about 30 children in our Primary. It's small, and if any family is gone, we feel the hurt in our numbers. The good news is that I know all 30 of those wonderful young people, and no kidding, I just adore them. I don't think their parents could possible love them any more than I do (maybe as much, but not more).
After our opening exercises, Brother C and I go to nursery for singing time in there. They are just babies, mostly, but after just two months they are already beginning to open up to me. They already ADORE Brother C, who loves them back and who takes the lead during nursery. After nursery we go back to Primary for the last couple of minutes of Sharing Time.
Yesterday Sister A finished Sharing Time and said, "Okay, let's get ready for singing time!" About three little voices all said, "Yay!" Annie said, "It's just so fun!"
First of all, the children can't have any more fun than I am having. Going to Primary is not a job--it's play time! I love the children. I love the music. We play games. We talk about the gospel. We feel the spirit of the Lord.
Secondly, every person ought to have the kind of support in their callings that I get in mine. Not only does the Primary presidency love me, but the kids call out, "Yay!" when I get there.
What if we all gave a shout when someone performed their calling?
It should happen to everyone at least once, I think.
We spent this past weekend in Sacramento. It was a full weekend, and I spent a good amount of time preparing for this trip. There were clothes and dishes to wash and garbages to empty. There were my school projects to catch up on and employment issues to settle before we left. I called the schools to get the kids excused and made sure everyone had packed everything on the list.
We got home Monday. It was a fabulous trip. We made really good time in our travels and were even able to go look at a couple of model homes before having dinner, unpacking, and dropping into bed.
Tuesday morning I got up and started getting ready for the day, when suddenly it hit me: I FORGOT TO GET A SUB FOR MY PRIMARY CLASS!
Besides being sad for my kids, I'm mortified. I so don't flake on my callings, especially if it's Primary. (OK, there was that one activity...)
And does it concern anyone else that I didn't even remember that I forgot until TWO DAYS later?
When I taught preschool, a new year was always an eye-opener. For one thing, the children were always excited about everything we did and I was ALL kinds of cool. By the end of the year, that's not always the case. (Weird, right?)
The other thing that amazed me each year was the realization of just how much last year's preschoolers had learned.
And now I was starting over.
This year I am teaching the CTR 6 class. Again. These kiddos can't read yet. They don't know how to find scriptures. They don't know to BRING their scriptures. They don't know my name. They don't know that they are old enough to raise their hands and go to the bathroom between class time and sharing time. On the other hand, the prayer / line leader chart is exciting and I am very cool.
I'm so excited for the new Primary year!
I specifically asked Brother Brisk if I had to attend ward council with this calling (activities committee chairman). He said no. I was glad.
Turns out he lied. I may never get over that betrayal!
I can't decide which is worse: the 11th floor or Ward Council. The dentist, for a root canal, is better than either one of them. Other than that, I have no feelings or opinion on the subject.
The good news is that I got to spend an hour and a half in nursery yesterday. Livvy sat on my lap and barbecued me some delicious Legos with ketchup and mustard. Everyone else played dodgeball against me and Briana. Jojo let me tackle her, which led to some munching (sorry for the "cherry pie (lipstick)" on her cheeks, Lara!).
And THEN I got to go to Primary, where the kids had made me and my counselors each a wonderful card. They also gave me chocolates (which I ate one of and shared the rest--sharing is good) and lots and lots of hugs. And I only cried a little bit. Which is good.
And I finished proofing my manuscript (I won't tell you what it was, because that would be a conflict of interest. But it took me over a week to spend a grand total of 3 hours on the proof. That either tells you something about my life or the book. Or both.).
The end.
My secretary in Primary has the flu. The swine flu. So does her husband and their 5-year-old daughter.
Our daughter has a raging fever and a terrible cough.
My 1st counselor's daughter has a raging fever.
Is it the swine flu? We don't know. These kids just got home from 3 days of camping in the rain and getting sunburned in between showers. But the CDC website this morning taught me that you can be contagious for 24 hours before you exhibit symptoms of the swine flu.
So.... The Sunday dilemma.
Marianne can't come to church. Should Mary Ann and/or I go to church? Do we let Lara take over all of Primary? Or do we go, running the risk that we could have something contagious that we could give to 40 children and their teachers?
I called Brother Curtis, who counseled with the bishop, and it was decided that our ward would not hold Primary today. All other meetings were still on, and parents could take their children home or take them with them to their other meetings. (I hope they took them home. But that's just me.)
Mary Ann and I (and the other 15 members of our two families) stayed home.
Joseph Montgomery, a 19-year-old young man in our ward, was struck by a TRAX train last Monday. He spent all week in ICU, where tests and trials and scans finally confirmed that his brain was dead. On Friday evening, his parents--who are friends of ours--kissed their son and walked away from him, while the monitors continued giving him oxygen, etc. The surgeons were able to salvage most of his organs--minus his heart and lungs, which were damaged--and when Joseph's body shut completely down, he gave the gift of life to many people.
Joe made a mistake. He crossed the TRAX line without paying attention. He was riding his skateboard, listening to his Ipod, and texting. Just a few seconds earlier or later, and the train would have missed him completely. And none of us would be wondering why this had to happen, why his parents have to ache, why his siblings have to be so sad, etc., etc.
Joe's younger sister, Lisa, is one of Briana's good friends. Lisa has spent quite a bit of time with Briana this week, just looking for some normalcy. They saw the West Jordan HS boys basketball team (of which Joe was part last year and the year before) take the state high school basketball championship. They've watched movies and gone for rides and eaten snacks and just tried to be normal. Briana has been so sad for her friend, but she's stepped up to the plate, and we're very proud of her. And speaking of maturity, Lisa went and cleaned out Joe's room--boxed up all of his stuff, washed the sheets, etc.--so that his parents did not have to do it. I'm impressed.
Joe's youngest brother, Daniel, was one of my preschoolers and is now 8 years old and in our Primary. He did not come to church yesterday, but his teacher had made a large card for all of the children to sign. It is my month to teach Sharing Time, and we talked a lot about Heavenly Father's beautiful plan for us. He gave us the Plan of Salvation and a Savior to make it all possible. He allowed us to come to earth and make choices and mistakes--even mistakes that could cost a life. He sent us to families, who love us. He restored the gospel and the priesthood power through a prophet; and because of that priesthood, we can be sealed as ETERNAL families, even though death may separate us for a while. He blessed us with friends and neighbors who care for us in many, many ways, and who become our extended family while we are on earth. He gives us the ability to continue living, even when we think our hearts will break. He gives us the ability to empathize with people and help them carry their heavy loads.
It's been a difficult weekend. When you are an adult, your hurt can happen on many levels: concern for the parents, the friends of our children, the children in our responsibility, and our own aching children. But being an adult--with a little more life experience--also allows us to have joy on many levels. Thank heavens that we have what we have--and that we know it!
