So now that I'm 18 and I've graduated I've only actually gone to Relief Society once. Long enough to try and smile as they welcome me and every head turns my direction. And long enough to hear a much needed lesson. A great place! I'm sure once I'm a full-fledged member I will come to embrace it. But, as of now, I have been called as the Primary Chorister.
At first I thought, sure. I can do that. Afterall, I feel more like myself around little kids than I do my peers (not sure what that's supposed to tell about me...). But, the more questions I asked and the more I thought about it, the more my constant companion, Ms. Anxiety, kicked in. First off, I've been told my entire life to speak up. When I write it's no problem. My ideas flow and the keyboard clicks up a storm. I can laugh really loud too. But speaking? Over an entire classroom of wiggles and squirms? I wasn't so sure.
I also talk really fast. I tend to eat fast, walk fast, read fast, draw fast, get ready in the morning fast, play the piano fast--the only thing that I don't do fast is run. So what if I rushed through every thing and couldn't fill up even the measly twenty minutes I was allotted each class?
What if the kids got bored? What if I overdid things? What if the building blew up?!
It was silly but I even had dreams about it. Dreams! Of missing hand puppets and intimidating audiences.
I've since decided that if there's one thing I'm supposed to learn here in mortality, its to relax.
Anyways, prayers were obviously said and I mentally ran through all that I had planned twenty times. Because, for some really strange reason, the girl who found excuses to watch the Swan Princess on Saturday nights and played pretend on Sunday nights couldn't face a bunch of primary children.
And those prayers were answered. From the get go even. My neighbor's little girl came in and, at the sight of me, began jumping up and down, "Dolly, Dolly Dolly, Dolly, Dolly, Dolly!!" The other leaders just turned to me with a smirk, "Welcome, Sister Hansen."
I also discovered that this month's song is "Nephi's Courage", reminding me that the Lord provides a way. Whoever decides those types of things knows what they're doing.
Then, of course, the warm feelings telling me to calm down. Those feelings I need to learn to trust in more often.
But, as it usually seems to go, most answers came in the form of people. I was immediatly given encouragement, ideas, and pointers out the wazoo. Schedules and supplies were given, visiting teachers visited, and my mom had lots of wisdom to share.
Even in the actual class. People reminded me when to get up, the piano player whispered to me the page numbers and suggested songs, and the kids actually got into some of what I was doing. I even got a cookie from one of the teachers at the end because I 'did so good'.
I'm really going to need this calling. The simple lessons, the energy, the humor--all of it! Trying to prepare for a complicated world has unravled me a little but the excitement in the kids' eyes and the randomly shouted answers do the trick well. And I think someone already knew it would.
I've been told I'm good with kids but I think what it really is is that kids are good with me. Though I'm sure when I have my own I will find them more tiring, for now I find them refreshing. They boost my ego like nobody's business and remind me that I don't need to take life so darn seriously. And so I've decided to "go and do". To grab those in tact hand puppets and soak up the obnoxious, rambunctious but joyful noise.
At first I thought, sure. I can do that. Afterall, I feel more like myself around little kids than I do my peers (not sure what that's supposed to tell about me...). But, the more questions I asked and the more I thought about it, the more my constant companion, Ms. Anxiety, kicked in. First off, I've been told my entire life to speak up. When I write it's no problem. My ideas flow and the keyboard clicks up a storm. I can laugh really loud too. But speaking? Over an entire classroom of wiggles and squirms? I wasn't so sure.
I also talk really fast. I tend to eat fast, walk fast, read fast, draw fast, get ready in the morning fast, play the piano fast--the only thing that I don't do fast is run. So what if I rushed through every thing and couldn't fill up even the measly twenty minutes I was allotted each class?
What if the kids got bored? What if I overdid things? What if the building blew up?!
It was silly but I even had dreams about it. Dreams! Of missing hand puppets and intimidating audiences.
I've since decided that if there's one thing I'm supposed to learn here in mortality, its to relax.
Anyways, prayers were obviously said and I mentally ran through all that I had planned twenty times. Because, for some really strange reason, the girl who found excuses to watch the Swan Princess on Saturday nights and played pretend on Sunday nights couldn't face a bunch of primary children.
And those prayers were answered. From the get go even. My neighbor's little girl came in and, at the sight of me, began jumping up and down, "Dolly, Dolly Dolly, Dolly, Dolly, Dolly!!" The other leaders just turned to me with a smirk, "Welcome, Sister Hansen."
I also discovered that this month's song is "Nephi's Courage", reminding me that the Lord provides a way. Whoever decides those types of things knows what they're doing.
Then, of course, the warm feelings telling me to calm down. Those feelings I need to learn to trust in more often.
But, as it usually seems to go, most answers came in the form of people. I was immediatly given encouragement, ideas, and pointers out the wazoo. Schedules and supplies were given, visiting teachers visited, and my mom had lots of wisdom to share.
Even in the actual class. People reminded me when to get up, the piano player whispered to me the page numbers and suggested songs, and the kids actually got into some of what I was doing. I even got a cookie from one of the teachers at the end because I 'did so good'.
I'm really going to need this calling. The simple lessons, the energy, the humor--all of it! Trying to prepare for a complicated world has unravled me a little but the excitement in the kids' eyes and the randomly shouted answers do the trick well. And I think someone already knew it would.
I've been told I'm good with kids but I think what it really is is that kids are good with me. Though I'm sure when I have my own I will find them more tiring, for now I find them refreshing. They boost my ego like nobody's business and remind me that I don't need to take life so darn seriously. And so I've decided to "go and do". To grab those in tact hand puppets and soak up the obnoxious, rambunctious but joyful noise.
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