So I’m the Primary pianist at church, which means I get to sit in on the kids’ lessons each week, while I wait for singing time. From the piano bench, hidden behind the piano, I did Sudoku while the Junior Primary (ages 7 and under) answered questions timidly and quietly participated.
Then came Senior Primary. Senior Primary was like a shoebox full of squirrels and caffeine. I don’t know what these kids had to eat for breakfast, but it shouldn’t be legal. They were everywhere.
Discussion about following the prophet:
Teacher: Would you follow someone’s instructions if there was a really good reward?
Kid 1: A free Xbox!
Kid 2: Being president!
That Kid: I would do it if there were a baby dolphin made out of rubber diamonds.
Discussion about Noah:
Teacher: I don’t think Noah had to get the sea animals on the boat, because they could swim.
Kid 1 asks a question about being tortured for eternity.
Teacher: Kid 2, what did Kid 1 just ask?
Kid 2: … A question?
That Kid: What about sponges?
Teacher: They’re sea animals.
That Kid: What about sea cucumbers?
Teacher: They’re sea animals.
That Kid: But they’re also cucumbers.
Teacher: What do you do in the springtime?
Kid 1: Step on flowers!
At some point, a little girl went up to put something on the board or pull something from a bag. I thought she was wearing a garter. On further investigation, it turned out to be a stuffed white monkey strapped to her leg.
I really hope they don’t release me from this calling. And I really hope they don’t call me to be a teacher. ♦
The Primary kids needed a pianist on Sunday, so I filled in. I’ve played piano for most of my life, so it’s easy enough for me to play children’s songs; plus, it gave me a reason to stay in church without having to pay attention in sunday school.
There’s always some chill time in Primary, because there’s a lesson before (or after) singing time. This one was on the ten commandments. I sat hidden behind the piano, sneaking goldfish crackers when the kids weren’t looking, and wondering how the teacher was going to cover “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” (She talked about respecting your body, then said there would be more details when they were older.) I also enjoyed watching the kids tell a newer teacher all the wrong names when she asked which child was which.
At the start of the lesson, the teacher wanted to remind the kids that we obey God’s commandments to show we love Him. She started by asking, “Who do you love?” The junior kids were all about their parents, friends, baby siblings, etc. But the second time around – when she taught the senior kids – everyone was wisecracking and claiming they didn’t love anybody.
“Nobody?” she asked. “Really? You don’t love a single person in the whole world?” A few of the younger girls giggled and started chattering out of turn.
In the midst of the noise, that kid in the back row stood up and held something up between his thumb and forefinger. “This pufferfish!” he shouted emphatically. “I love this pufferfish!”
Maybe everybody’s just used to ignoring this kid, but somehow I think I was the only one who noticed. I was quietly dying behind the piano, trying not to laugh out loud as the teacher kept on smoothly with an explanation about how much God appreciates our obedience. This is why I volunteer for Primary. ♦
We were late to church on Sunday. Actually, we were on time, but because baby John is in the crawl-everywhere and talk-to-everybody stage (with or without intelligible syllables), we opted to pretend we were late and just stay in the foyer listening. It’s hard to chase a baby through the pews inconspicuously.
Oh, he’s crawling now, by the way. He’s been crawling for maybe a week and a half, and he’s just frustrated he can’t quite walk without help yet. This child is determined, and I need to clean everything off our floor at home before he eats it.
Anyway. I digress. John was gurgling his way around the floor in the foyer when a really sweet old lady came walking toward the doors. She paused in front of Jonathan, looking down and smiling at him. She looked up at us, then looked adoringly back at the baby.
“Space,” she said sweetly. Then she opened the door and left the building.
I smiled a little bit. I must have heard her wrong, I thought. I glanced over at Ethan. He had the same face. We looked after her, thinking she might come back and explain. She got in her car and drove off.
“Maybe she meant to say something about his face,” I said, and we both started laughing.
Or maybe she’s just crazy. At least she liked the baby. ♦
Ethan was tossing the baby on Sunday. Not like, tossing him to someone else, or tossing him in the trash can – just tossing him up and down a little as he walked in the church hallways. Baby John thought it was the greatest thing ever. After a while, though, he puked all over Ethan, so Ethan decided that was enough of that.
While Ethan was walking around more calmly with the baby, an old man from another ward came up to him and stood close, whispering in his “talking-in-church” voice, “What you were doing earlier? Don’t ever do that.”
“What, tossing him?” Ethan asked, in his “we’re-in-the-hallway-and-don’t-have-to-whisper” voice.
“Yes,” whispered the old guy. “Don’t ever do that with a baby. I had a relative who was tossing his baby up in the air, and you know how babies just twist? Well, the baby twisted funny in the air, and he dropped him, and the baby was crippled for life. Crippled for life.”
Ethan held the baby a little tighter. “Um… thanks,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind.” And then he walked quickly away from the scary old man. ♦
Ethan and I were at our new (church) ward, waiting outside the bishop’s office to meet him. As we stood there waiting, we heard a 14-year-old boy calmly inform his friend, “The place you are pressing is a pressure point called the kidney!” About two minutes after that, we saw a 10-year-old come running up to a grown man, push a wrapped loaf of bread into his chest, and yell in his best army voice: “Guard this bread with your heart!” Needless to say, we’re really excited about our new ward. And we really hope we’re going to be primary teachers. ♥
Growing up, I was always a little confused how there could be one God, but three Gods. There’s Heavenly Father, and Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost. Who are separate. But there is only one God. How can that be?
I think many Christian denominations teach that this is actually one Being, working in three separate spheres. Mormon doctrine teaches that these are three separate Beings, who are united in their purpose. But this still confused me; the scriptures say very clearly that they are one – not three.
I think the answer – at least as far as I interpret it – is in 1 Corinthians 12. “For as the body is one, and hath many members, and all the members of that one body, being many, are one body, so also is Christ” (verse 12). A body is made up of several members, but they all act together to form one body. Follow that up with verse 14: “For the body is not one member, but many.” I don’t get all twisted around trying to figure out whether my right arm and my left arm are separate or not, just because I call them both “arm”. I have two grandmas and two grandpas, and a whole slough of cousins, but I don’t get frustrated trying to figure out whether they’re all the same person. The word “church” is singular, but that doesn’t mean there’s only one member. Why can’t there be three members of “God”?
I see God as a title, not as a person. The Godhead (or Trinity, if you will) functions like a council. God the Father, God the Son, and the Spirit of God can be separate Beings, while still working together toward the same goal – being one with one another. They all love us the same, and they all know how to help us the same, so they work together as one God for our salvation. I guess it’s the same as saying they’re one in purpose, but for some reason it makes infinitely more sense to me to say it that way. Probably because I had to figure it out on my own. ♦