Children’s Voices

On the sweetness of the primary program.

Before church your wife says this is our last primary program and the chasm opens up before you.

Solo.  Your youngest.  She sings, stops, the pianist repeats the phrase, she picks it up again, but she is woebegone.  She won’t meet your eyes.

Duet.  The primary president and the Sunbeams.  I. I. Can. Can.  Receive.  Receive.  Answers. Answers.  To. To. Prayer.  Prayer.

Trio.  Three little blondies singing a verse at the podium.  It hits you hard.

Your daughter then reads a long passage from President Eyring.  It bucks her up amazingly.  She meets your eyes and grins.

This Little Light of Mine goes well as a primary song, reversing the infamy of when your ward as a whole tried it a couple of months ago.  Until the chorister signals to the kids to sway, inducing Brownian motion.

They have collectively decided to model their rising and sitting on jacks-in-the-box.

Oh, man.  Gethsemane.