Hypegiaphobia

I carry around blog entries in my head. In other words, I’m a genuine blogger. I type what I think and hope there’s a filter somewhere in between my noggin and my phalanges.

In my head I compose posts on several topics a week and typically only one makes the cut and is published on this blog. This past week, however, I have been too occupied to publish any entries, yet alone, think of multiple topics.
My mind has been set on the one, the only topic of… callings this past week. For those of you unfamiliar with the church I belong to, we are a lay ministry. Meaning, our members fill various roles of responsibility without the exchange of income. We believe these callings are meant to enrich our lives, the lives of those we serve and also draw ourselves and others closer to God.

Ever since Michael and I met our callings have been intertwined. When we met he was serving as Ward Mission Leader, I was in Compassionate Service. Married, we served together as Sunday School teachers, Primary Workers, Nursery Leaders, Church Magazine Representatives (which I swear to this day, is a made-up calling) and currently on the Activities Committee.
Our branch’s Christmas Activity is this Friday, in case you forgot. I haven’t, hence this post. There’s plenty to do. Not too much. Not too little. Just the right amount of preparation. Most of it is fun. Like utilizing my husband to take pictures of his unsuspecting Sunday School class for the slideshow.
Although entertaining, I find the activities committee calling…

“intimidating.”

I would have used the term “menacing” but I kept imagining a calendar with a mask wielding a ladle.

If you were to ask me about my first calling, I’d tell you about my family home evening leader fling. Which is accurate, but not all encompassing.

Before I was baptized, I was an unofficial member of an activities committee. My sister and brother-in-law were the lone members of their ward’s committee and often made me solicited my help. I remember drawing a life-sized tree on butcher paper with only crayons as my medium. The tannenbaum portrait was used as a backdrop as my sister captured families on film. I recalled how everyone fussed over the relief society table linens and how I didn’t understand (and still don’t) how fifty year old women expect toddlers to respect thread count. Or how

white linens + red jell-o could = anything but defaced textile.

So. Now. Here I am. A decade later. Not scribbling a tree, but sashaying around with raffia and candy canes and terribly nervous, like fifty-year-old-woman-with-arms-full-of-linens-in-a-jell-o factory-on-bring-your-toddler-to-work-day kind of nervous, here. So, wish me luck. And those of you attending, slip me chocolate throughout the evening to sedate me, would ya? : )

As for my Primary calling. The last few weeks since I have returned to church, has been satisfying. Comparatively speaking, if activities is my bed of nails, primary is my cake walk.
I have been working on singing “I Am a Child of God” at the beginning of each class. It is a song everyone knows and brings the Spirit into the room. Of course, prodding the children by rewarding the three best singers has helped our chorus. (The best singers get to say the opening prayer, the closing prayer or be the line leader… hey, I didn’t say they were glamorous prizes!)
But let me tell you. I’m the one being rewarded. I wish I could bottle the feeling I get when my class sings that song.

It’s like being the line leader
wherever you go!

No matter how the rest of my Sunday goes, I have the first few minutes of the second hour that makes my day.

So. Now that you have heard the good and the bad. My fears and fancies.
What are some callings or responsibilities that make you quake? What are some that make you soar?

Comment, please.

P.S. November, where did you go?