Like Riding a Bike

Last week I got a phone call from someone in the ward.  “Sister Ray, I was wondering if I could ask you to substitute for singing time on Father’s day.  I know some people aren’t really comfortable with singing time, do you think you would be?”

I assured her that I thought I would be ok.

But really, I was a little bit worried.  I haven’t been a primary chorister in a LONG time.  After I was released from being the chorister I substituted off and on for a couple of years, but I haven’t even subbed now for a long time. 

In the interim I’ve changed.  I’ve gotten older, and tireder.  Much, much tireder. (By the way, spell check doesn’t consider tireder a word.  In case you were wondering.)  I was worried that I am now too old and toooo tired to do a good job as a primary chorister.  Add in the fact that they only three kids I would know were the ones I gave birth too, and well…I was concerned.

 

The junior primary was first.  Fourteen kids, to be exact.  Sweet little faces, eager to play my game (provided by the real chorister who’s belongings aren’t all in storage like mine) of “pin the tie on the father.”  They were so darn cute that I had to make sure every little one got a chance to have a turn.  That wasn’t too bad at all.

Then it was time for senior primary.  I already knew that my own almost-twelve kids aren’t enjoying singing in primary these days—they’re ready to have their birthdays and age out.  The chorister had also mentioned that the 10 year old boys never sang either.  I didn’t know what proportion of the entire senior primary was 10 year old boys or 11 year olds, but I figured I had my work cut out for me.

Thankfully, it all came rushing back. 

Before we even sang the welcome song (in Hawaiian and German, thanks for asking, even without the flags!) I announced that I had a fun game for singing time, but that the only ones who got to play would be those who were singing.

When we started singing time I introduced myself.  I told them my name and that I had just moved from North Carolina and had spent a month driving to Oregon.  Everyone was impressed.  I told them that the water in the ocean in North Carolina is so warm it’s like a bathtub.  Everyone was impressed.  One little girl piped up, “Well it’s not going to be like that here!”  I laughed.  I told them that I’ve been the primary chorister before, a lot of times.  I told them that all of the kids always said two things about me.  First that I was the most fun primary chorister ever.  Everyone was impressed.  And second, I said, that I was the meanest primary chorister ever. 

They were a little puzzled.

I went on to clarify that I had brought a great game that we could play.  And that as long as everyone was singing and we were having fun, we would keep playing my game.  But that as soon as anyone started misbehaving, my game would be over and we would just sing the songs.  I added that the teachers were going to help me keep track of the good singers so I’d know who to pick for the game.

My, but those kids sang well.  And I had so much fun.

Not all of the boys sang, or sang all of the time.  But they didn’t cause any problems and I figure there’s only so  much I could accomplish in one singing time.  After every song I (genuinely) complemented everyone on their singing, and I could tell that inspired them to keep trying.  After one particular song I asked them if they knew why I wanted them to sing.  I asked if I was going to get paid more if everyone sang, or if they were going to get to be on American Idol if everyone sang.  And then I got to bear my testimony to them about the power of these songs in helping us feel the spirit in our hearts.

Oh how I  love primary music.  It’s good to know that I’m not too old or too tired for it, at least not yet.  And it made my day yesterday.