I drew this picture last summer after a particularly difficult church experience to send to my brother on his mission.
Does any of it ring any bells for any of you?
Since I drew this, about the only things that have changed are the fact that my hair is now shorter, Maggie no longer needs a pacifier (MIRACLES DO HAPPEN!!), and now that Steve is a bit more acclimated to working Saturday nights, he manages to stay awake more often during Sacrament Meeting.
I love church, and I have an absolute testimony of its power and influence in my life. The opportunity to partake of the sacrament and remember my Savior's Atoning sacrifice and its meaning in my own life is one I hold dear.
But that being said--church is EXHAUSTING.
Wrestling with three hyperactive children who ALL want to sit on or near me at ALL times--when they're not throwing things/ripping paper as loudly as possible/climbing on or underneath the benches/loudly arguing about who gets to color with which crayon, that is; for an hour (sometimes an hour-and-a-half--thank you, Testimony Meetings with the random old guy who forgets the purpose of the meeting and shares his own extended biography with us....) gets exhausting in and of itself.
Then, throw in my new calling (which I absolutely LOVE, despite the snarkiness of this post), Primary Music Director. Basically, my calling consists of two hours each week of me standing in front of a bunch of kids, trying to get them entertained but not too hyper, interested but not detracting from the reverence they should be feeling in church on a Sunday.
Add to this that one of my groups includes kids who go from intensely enthusiastic just-baptized 8-year-olds to the too-cool-for-this group of 11-year-olds who just sit in the back with their arms folded, waiting for me to either make a mistake so they can loudly correct me, or feeling like all of my dumb baby songs are beneath them--it's hilarious to watch these 11-year-olds consider themselves "too mature" for "Once There Was a Snowman."
That's still one of my favorite songs to do!
Oh, yeah--I forgot to add the fact that now that I'm in the room with them, both Jack and Clark (who used to willingly go to Primary and if they didn't sit through it, at least they weren't naughty enough that I ever knew any different) now feel that since I'm there, they are no longer expected to sit, participate, or remotely obey, so I'm usually conducting while trying to calm a tantrum or two from one or both of them at the same time.
And yes, I'm usually doing it in heels and a pencil skirt.
I know. I'm kind of an idiot.
An idiot who needs to invest in some new church-worthy flats.
My church experience usually wraps up with me doing 15 minutes of "music time" in the Nursery. Nursery music time is usually 15 minutes of me singing loudly at the top of my longs and hysterically doing actions to "Popcorn Popping" or the 15 verses of "Do as I'm Doing" while three interested toddlers mimic me, four other toddlers watch me confusedly as they sit stock still on their chairs, two other toddlers wander off to look for any toys that may have not gotten locked up in the cupboards, and one little toddler nods off in his chair, but freaks out when any of the leaders try to lay him down on the ground for a legit nap.
What makes this all worth it, you might ask?
Those moments just after the children have sung songs full of truth--songs like "I Know That My Savior Loves Me," or "I am a Child of God," or "I Stand All Amazed"--and the room goes absolutely still. No wiggling, no arguing, no whispering back and forth.
And I get to be the one to tell them, "Feel that? That amazing, reverent, quiet feeling that makes you feel so happy you could SHOUT for joy, but so peaceful that you just never want to talk again? That's the Spirit."
And I see it dawn on their faces--"Oh! That's what everyone's talking about!"
THOSE moments. Those moments make every other exhausting, frustrating, or confusing moment of my calling absolutely worth it.
Okay, okay--also the moments when I ask them to name a song about winter, and a kid from the back starts singing, "Do you want to build a snowman?---" and then turns absolutely red when he realizes he was singing out loud.
Those moments are fun, too.
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