Monday, November 14, 2011

The Call

A few weeks ago, I was feeling pretty down.

I was having those all-too-familiar "I'm not worth anything" moments, and I started feeling sorry for myself.

Nobody liked my blog...

I didn't have a calling...

I actually sat in the Blue Chair and cried while Jeremy sat, befuddled, listening to me talk about how my life was over, and how nobody liked me, and what's the point of trying anymore, and how come I didn't have a secret stash of chocolate for times like these.

He's a good man. I feel really bad for him.

Anywho, that morning, someone I had been blog stalking actually came to my blog! Thanks, really made my day.

And after church that day, we were told that the first councilor in the bishopric wanted to speak to us.

Duh duh duh!

My mind was reeling with the possibilities...

I eagerly awaited our appointment on Tuesday...

When the day finally came, I readied myself, and wondered if wearing knee-high furry uggs were appropriate for church, and then decided, what hey, life's short to not wear them (like yesterday when I decided that life was too short to wear anything other than my leopard print pajama bottoms to choir practice).

I sat down in the office, and I fidgeted as Brother 1st Councilor chatted and made awkward small talk. I think my uggs made him uncomfortable.

He finally said, "Well, we'd like to extend to you a Calling."

He paused.

"Now, I know some people feel like this calling is a slap in the face, but for me, I've done it twice, and I really enjoyed it..."

He paused. Visions of being the ward chair-setter-upper danced through my head.

"Well, I won't keep you in suspense..."

He paused.

"We'd like you to serve as the Nursery Leader."

"Oh!" I said, surprised. I then smiled to let him know that wasn't a disappointed "oh."

He filled me in on all the magicalness that is Nursery Leader, but I didn't hear a word he was saying. I was too busy plotting.

You see, a few years ago, Jeremy and I were called into the nursery. I was ECSTATIC. I mean, who wouldn't like to take off their shoes and play on the floor and eat tiny, bear-shaped crackers, sing songs, and generally have a good time for two hours while everyone else has to sit in Gospel Doctrine and Relief Society?

Well, I entered that calling with glorious images in my head of how freaking fun it was going to be. It was, however, not to be.

Our ward had like twenty kids in the nursery, and so the bishopric called 3-5 couples, in addition to the nursery leader, to manage all the littles. Our first Sunday it became clear to me that what I had in mind, and what the others had in mind, was not going to mesh well. At all.

I tried to let it go, and tried to focus on the positive. Only to be disappointed. Again.

There we were, in the middle of the Toy Bomb fallout, and the nursery leader disappeared. As did all the other nursery workers.

Just imagine, me, pregnant, and Jeremy, with 20 little kids. All by ourselves.

I got pretty torked.

I went to the door, and looked outside.

There was the nursery leader, standing in the hallway, with all the other nursery works, just chilling and having a good time.

I then fried them all with my laser vision, and brought their sorry ashes to the bishop's office, and waited for fire to rain down from heaven.


I actually didn't do anything. I just was mad. And I got madder, because this kept happening, for the duration of our time there.

Luckily for me, we were only there for a few weeks, as Jeremy was called as the Ward Clerk, and we were set free.

SO, when Brother 1st Councilor said I would the Nursery Leader, and that all the other workers would be set to pasture, and that it would be just me and Jeremy, my heart leapt for joy!


When we were set apart on Sunday, Jeremy was called as a worker, and I, the Leader. I made sure to rub that in as soon as we were out of earshot.

Jeremy shrugged and quipped, "How is that any different than now?"

I could feel the power surging through my spiritual veins, and I could feel myself starting to get mouthy, which wasn't good, since at that moment, I was talking to the Primary President. Yeah, that's a no no...

She was cool about it, though.

(I was getting really excited about the whole idea, but one thing pulled a cloud over everything: When people heard what my calling was, they all winced and asked, "Soooo...are you excited?" Then I got a lot of apologetic good-lucks. I think the worst thing I heard was this: I was sitting in the chairs outside the bishop's office, and the previous Nursery Leader was sitting next to me. A friend of her's walked up to her and said, "Hey! You get to leave nursery!" She looked over at me, and backtracked, saying, "Hey, you get to go into nursery!"'s nursery, not the chain-gang.)

Anyway, as I was talking with Sister Primary President, I asked if I would be allowed to put a sign on the door about bringing sick kids, because I am anti-sick-children-at-church (Don't judge me. The First Presidency has said if you or your littles are sick, please stay home. Just look in the Handbook), and she was all for it. She kept talking, but my brain was busy working on something to put on the door, maybe with the words "black death" thrown in somewhere.

This is my greatest pet peeve, probably because I got sick every other week when I was teaching primary last year. It was annoying. Seriously, if your child had a fever, cough, bladder infection (yes, that was one that really happened), sore throat, mange, or whatever, PLEASE, do everybody a favor and keep the sicky home.

I came up with a little rhyme last night, that I'm going to laminate and put on the nursery door:

To All Parents:

Be a dear,

Remember, spit gets

shared in here.

So, check for cooties,


And take your littles home,

If sick.

Catchy, huh?


Sarah Stufflebeam said...

Awesome! I didn't know you had a blog. Silly me, but it is quite a funny post. Good luck on the new calling! BTW, I'm getting my blog put together. It's in sad little pieces at the moment.


I love your rhyme and think our nursery should adopt it. They don't seem to care about accepting sick kids in which means that Ryder is sick about every other week. Which also means that Brandon misses a lot of church because he refuses to substitute my calling for me (primary chorister). It is a big pet peeve of mine that people bring there sickies to church. I mean, when I'm sick I don't like going anywhere, much less for three hours, during MY naptime, so why would my kids? I just can't do it. I do however LOVE that I get to go into nursery for music time!

Rebecca said...

love the poem! I'm glad you are excited about your calling. I get excited when I am called to teach.

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