My entire life has been spent in utter dread that one day I would be called to Primary.
I should explain that I have never really liked kids. I was not the teenager who baby sat because she loved being with children (just the greenbacks, please.) I was not the girl who wanted to hold your new baby (more on that some other day.) Even when I was married, no children, the thought of Primary loomed like some sort of awful and certain plague called down upon the Israelites. As far as I was concerned, you could turn right to Exodus and find Primary right next to locusts and rivers of blood.
Last year, when I confessed that I had been without a calling for months, I knew deep down that I was on the road to Primary. At first I thought that I didn’t have a calling on account of my postpartum depression (boy, was that a gas!) and then I slowly realized that I was being prepared to work in the Primary. And so it was that in the year of our Lord, twenty aught eight, that I was called to the Primary.
Best. Calling. Ever.
I’m the pianist! Oh ye who suffer from piano performance anxiety, yet feel obligated to state on your new member card that you took 8 years of piano despite the near daily fights with your parents about practicing, this is the calling for you!
Do you feel like you can only attempt the right hand? No problem, those children don’t judge.
Sneak out before the closing prayer so that when the children rush in the room they can have reverent music waiting for them? Absolutely!
I also love being creative: a variation on the theme while the chorister talks about the song, little echoes of songs they’re learning at the beginning or end, and playing fun interludes. This is a blast, and no hint of pestilence, not even a shadow of a boil. Dare I say that I am having a great time in Primary?