SiZ (Test): Primary

Is Cinderella a Christian?

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qzskrx58froA4k0Nd4h3ZPziUMi23NlJKgZ8QKEqcPOwlZXmIMBfyzvxxfh5Ze7TjChA93QjzzZMeXAAnVA8fGvZJi5iOvX40DQB3M-EFSZgcpdOOAsbH3rL-MkUTYoIXtj7_m9T-EY/s1600/cinerella2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qzskrx58froA4k0Nd4h3ZPziUMi23NlJKgZ8QKEqcPOwlZXmIMBfyzvxxfh5Ze7TjChA93QjzzZMeXAAnVA8fGvZJi5iOvX40DQB3M-EFSZgcpdOOAsbH3rL-MkUTYoIXtj7_m9T-EY/s1600/cinerella2.jpg" /></a></div>As a kid I asked way to many questions for Sista Sheen (nope, that's not her real name), the youth Sunday school teacher at Greater Victory Church of God & Christ. My Uncle (who adored me) was the pastor of the church, and thanks to my questioning ways, I usually ended up in his office or as the only child in adult Sunday school. I remember being very frustrated with Sista Sheen because she couldn't tell me whether or not Cinderella was a Christian. I don't know why it was so important to me at the time, but it was, and in my mind, the fact that Sista Sheen couldn't tell me Cinderella's religious preference meant that she wasn't at all as spiritual as she professed to be. My obsession with fictional characters didn't stop at Cinderella, nor did I have the good sense to stop trying to create conversations that would prove that my Sunday school leader was either kicked or had flunked out of divinity school. I was convinced it was the latter. One Sunday evening during youth group Sista Sheen asked, "Is Cinderella a Christian?" If it were possible, my head would have done the full on exorcist spin! Everyone looked right at me, and I nearly froze. This was my chance, my chance to make everybody see right through Sista Sheen. Me: Yes, Cinderella is a Christian. Other Kids: How do you know? Me: Because she was a servant and Jesus was a servant. Other Kids: That doesn't mean she was a Christian. Me: Yes it does. She served with a humble, but happy heart and sang uplifting songs. Other Kids: That's stupid and doesn't prove anything! Gargamel sings songs that are uplifting to him, but he's still evil to the Smurfs. Me: It's not stupid! Plus we believe that cleanliness is next to Godliness and she was very clean and is therefore a Christian! Sista Sheen having heard enough, brought it all to an end. "Cinderella isn't a Christian and Gargamel isn't evil! They are both figments of a creators imagination, they are drawn pieces of art, they don't exist! They aren't real! I wanted to have this discussion so that Sista Beehive would stop these nonsense questions, but it seems that you are all CRAZY! You all need to focus more on the individuals in the Bible and how you can avoid becoming like the ones who are evil, and be more like those who followed Christ our Lord and Savior!" Years later, I feel that Sista Sheen missed an opportunity to engage her Sunday school class in a deeper conversation. Back then our young brains hadn't yet made a connection with the people in the Bible. We didn't see them as actual people, the weren't our everyday heroes, we didn't watch them on tv on Saturday mornings, and they sure didn't come as prizes in our favorite boxes of cereal. Now that I am a volunteer Sunday educator (ya'll know what I mean), I have much more appreciation for Sista Sheen. And because I had so many experiences as a youth where my questions went unanswered or my very active imagination was treated with disdain, I also have an appreciation for my students who are of a more inquisitive and creative nature. Go With God, Sista Beehive

Is Cinderella a Christian?

As a kid I asked way to many questions for Sista Sheen (nope, that's not her real name), the youth Sunday school teacher at Greater Vic...

Primary the Mormon TMZ

<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Bh-aRUQphXHLlNBJfqogs2SKbDbzGyAOgW9NVEruCNsoxStzikBSBWxlx4a77i4RjkiD8tYvGNDXCddhqmyzrH7msoBUQGitITv12VLmwAWZjbtttbUIsJFTQDKckBfZaT4u8Y_Evwc/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8Bh-aRUQphXHLlNBJfqogs2SKbDbzGyAOgW9NVEruCNsoxStzikBSBWxlx4a77i4RjkiD8tYvGNDXCddhqmyzrH7msoBUQGitITv12VLmwAWZjbtttbUIsJFTQDKckBfZaT4u8Y_Evwc/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>We have both had callings in <a href="http://lds.org/pa/display/0,17884,4695-1,00.html">Primary</a> (<a href="http://www.lds.org/">LDS</a> Children's Sunday school.) Every church <a href="http://lds.about.com/od/organizationsauxiliaries/p/church_callings.htm">calling</a> allows you the opportunity to learn and grow. Here's a lesson we've learned through serving in Primary. If you are walking down the hall on a fine Sunday morning and somebody deliberately trips you causing you to fall on your face and break your nose. If you look up and the person that tripped you is your child's Primary teacher, just get up and keep walking. Don't even look em in the eye, you might even want to apologize to them. Look, here's the thing...even if you are known in your ward as the Grinch who stole Sunday, have some sense and at least be nice to your ward's Primary leaders and teachers. You may think you know why we are offering this crucial piece of advice. It's not because they are the poor souls who take your kids off your hands for two hours on a Sunday. It's not because they are the ones entrusted with your most prized possessions each week. It's not even because Jesus said love everyone, treat them kindly too, when your heart is filled with love, others will love you. The bottom line is this, be nice to the adults who serve in Primary because: THEY KNOW ALL YOUR BUSINESS! Yup, brothas and sistas, that's it. All of the information that you don't want to leave the house and all of the stuff that is supposed to stay in the family, forget about it, cause ya kids are spilling the beans in Primary. You may be thinking to yourself, not my children, my children are well trained, they know better than that. Nope, they don't. You see it's not intentional, and it usually happens quite innocently. A poor unsuspecting Primary teacher could ask a question as simple as: Can anyone tell me of a time when you have prayed and received an answer to your prayer? The next thing you know your son raises his hand and says: Once my Dad forgot his and my Mom's anniversary and my Mom was really mad and was slamming all the doors in the house. The teacher at this point might try to keep the child on topic and say: So you prayed that your Mommy would feel better and she did. Then your son says: Nope. Then the teacher says: You prayed that your Dad wouldn't forget their anniversary next year. And your son says: No, I prayed that she wouldn't slam the doors anymore because it was making my ears hurt. And it worked because she went outside and ran over Dad's golf clubs instead, and that didn't hurt my ears. A leader might ask, what did you do this past week? BAM! That's all the invitation your little <a href="http://www.sistasinzion.com/2011/04/lions-and-tigers-and-bedlamites-oh-my.html">bedlamite</a> needs to explain how Daddy grounded her older brother for life because Mommy and Daddy had to go get him from the jail, and Mommy says he's irr-ray-possible and can't drive the car anymore. TMZ, The National Enquirer, Google, they can all take a back seat, they can't get the scoop like these Primary <strike>reporters</strike> children can. Channel 8 news is probably lying when they say breaking news, we're bringing it to you first, cause chances are somebody in Primary told that headline weeks ago. So now we are all on notice. The next time you see your ward's Primary presidency and teachers, smile, say hi, shake their hand, give em a peice of chocolate, some hush money, do something, cause brothas and sistas...THEY KNOW ALL YOUR BUSINESS! Jesus is the reason, Sista Beehive & Sista Laurel

Primary the Mormon TMZ

We have both had callings in Primary ( LDS Children's Sunday school.) Every church calling allows you the opportunity to learn and gr...

Proverbs or Proverb?

<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7l2cGpfaQbG2xI3tGxTS3Pzz6CBs0ZxWO0SO-Rr44gH4JK0z7RZhDVS3S2PtGupO0xIKJUm3dy7O0bQtwpP7twKAZn6wP5mniQxynadltAig5NFuP_DOxW293uMWHcR5MfiNiQGDym-M/s1600/2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467881006888481026" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7l2cGpfaQbG2xI3tGxTS3Pzz6CBs0ZxWO0SO-Rr44gH4JK0z7RZhDVS3S2PtGupO0xIKJUm3dy7O0bQtwpP7twKAZn6wP5mniQxynadltAig5NFuP_DOxW293uMWHcR5MfiNiQGDym-M/s320/2.jpg" style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" /></a>I come from one of those families where scripture is used to scare you straight. I used to wonder how parents ever expected kids to like reading the scriptures if they were always associated with punishment. I mean, no wonder my siblings and I didn't want to wake up for early morning scripture study. Go stand in the corner, Go sit in the corner, Go kneel in the corner, Go to your room (ok, so I was a bit of a trouble maker, but that's not the point) and take your scriptures with you. *Side note: I don't know how I ended up loving to read, but it's one of my favorite things to do, even though I had to do it when I was in trouble at home. Even at school I had to read the dictionary for punishment...hmmm well I guess that explains my excellent vocabulary. Anyway, there was one verse in the Bible that I couldn't stand when I was younger. I had never read it, but I had heard it quoted by numerous parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, neighbors, teachers, and random old ladies watching me make mischief. It's one of the scariest scriptures known to children-kind, yes, that's the one. If I've heard it once, I've heard it a thousand times: "the Bible says; spare the rod, spoil the child." To me it seemed like every adult I knew, had this scripture memorized. I naturally assumed that while we children were being told to memorize the Articles of Faith in Primary, grown-ups we're being told to memorize "Spare the rod, spoil the child," in adult Sunday school. Even my school Principal had a big paddle nailed above his door. The Principal loved mallard ducks, he had wooden ducks on his desk and one Christmas my mother found fabric with mallards on it and she made him hand towels out of it. Well, even that giant wooden paddle above his door had a mallard duck in flight on it. I never wanted to be sent to his office, because I figured that a paddle with a duck on it meant he liked paddling kids just as much as he liked ducks, and if that were the case...well, you get the picture. After hearing this scripture for the thousandth time, I decided to do a little research. The first thing I did was search high and low for the scripture, and after searching every Bible nook and cranny, I couldn't find it anywhere! I did however find this: Proverbs 10:13 In the lips of him that hath understanding wisdom is found: but a rod is for the back of him that is void of understanding. Proverbs 13:24 He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes. Proverbs 19:18 Chasten thy son while there is hope, and let not thy soul spare for his crying. Proverbs 22:15 Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him. Proverbs 23:13 Withhold not correction from the child: for if thou beatest him with the rod, he shall not die. Proverbs 23:14 Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell. Proverbs 26:3 A whip for the horse, a bridle for the ass, and a rod for the fool’s back. Proverbs 29:15 The rod and reproof give wisdom: but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame. Yikes! I had a million questions. Who was this Mr. Proverbs? What had I ever done to him? Why doesn't he like children and what could I do about getting his advice removed from the Holy Bible? It took some time, but I finally I found out that the book of Proverbs was actually written by King Solomon. Well you must know how I felt about dear old King Solomon. Turns out that King Solomon was well known for his wisdom, and while I had to admit that with 700 wives and 300 concubines he probably did know a thing or two about raising children, I still wasn't happy about his scary scripture verses. Then another thing happened, I learned the definition of the word proverb (probably while I was in a corner at school reading the dictionary). A proverb is a short, popular, wise or profound saying. So get this, around the year 1662 a man by the name of Samuel Butler had a poem published that had some lines in it that went a little something like this: Love is a Boy, by Poets styl'd, Then Spare the Rod, and spill the Child. Also written as: Love is a Boy, by Poets styl'd, Then Spare the Rod, and spoil the Child. Apparently spill in this context means spoil. Well, well, well, didn’t I feel smug and what did you think I did with my new found knowledge the next time some grown-up said “Spare the rod and spoil the child” to me…. that’s right brothas and sistas…. I did absolutely nothing! Why, you ask? Well, do I look crazy to you? I just sat in the corner with my Bible thinking, ain’t that a shame, grown folks don’t even know the difference between a proverb and the book of Proverbs…. um, um, um…so sad, think they quotin Bible, but they quotin Butler! Hallelujah Holla Back, Sista Laurel <a href="http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BT8QW_3GY41_YKT8E" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected"><img alt="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" border="0" height="38" src="http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" width="145" /></a>

Proverbs or Proverb?

I come from one of those families where scripture is used to scare you straight. I used to wonder how parents ever expected kids to like rea...

Warm Fuzzies vs. Cold Pricklies

<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left; CLEAR: both" class="separator" align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4RBQI883P1za87yr5Ot6a8t8Y193tz2MUllEqem0gLpNqZ3PokVJmZ4vSaO2sAZHP4IJCKEmNw1XrOGm30sLJpVjuA2-RnbaJTnyw2bOGpKjz50bSFG_cVvjNRT8wWw8URCWjIuAC7y3/s1600-h/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="MARGIN-BOTTOM: 1em; FLOAT: left; CLEAR: left; MARGIN-RIGHT: 1em; cssfloat: left"><img border="0" sr="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4RBQI883P1za87yr5Ot6a8t8Y193tz2MUllEqem0gLpNqZ3PokVJmZ4vSaO2sAZHP4IJCKEmNw1XrOGm30sLJpVjuA2-RnbaJTnyw2bOGpKjz50bSFG_cVvjNRT8wWw8URCWjIuAC7y3/s320/1.jpg" /></a>When my husband and I were living in the ward he attended as a child, he received a <a href="http://mormon.org/mormonorg/eng/basic-beliefs/glossary/glossary-definition/calling">calling</a> to teach Sunday school for the youth ages 12 and 13, a class that happened to be dominated by rowdy boys. After the <a href="http://mormon.org/mormonorg/eng/basic-beliefs/glossary/glossary-definition/sacrament-meeting">Sacrament meeting</a> in which his calling had been announced a Sister in the ward came up to me and told me that when she heard what my husband’s calling was she was overjoyed and knew that God was a just God. She had been a <a href="http://mormon.org/mormonorg/eng/basic-beliefs/glossary/glossary-definition/primary">Primary </a>President while he was a child, although he seemed to have turned out quite nicely, in his Primary of around 30 boys he had been an awful little instigator who had sometimes left her and his other teachers in tears. I may have imagined it, but I think I saw a slight smirk on her face as she asked me to wish him good luck. </div> Often when you find yourself in or teaching a Sunday school or Primary class dominated by boys, it can be a nightmare, but every once in a while you learn something you never would have expected. In class we were discussing service and the <a href="http://www.lds.org/conference/talk/display/0,5232,23-1-1117-27,00.html">story</a> which <a href="http://www.thomassmonson.org/">President Monson</a> relayed during <a href="http://mormon.org/mormonorg/eng/basic-beliefs/glossary/glossary-definition/conference-general">Conference</a> of the Primary who had sent him a jar of warm fuzzies, with each warm fuzzy representing an act of service that a child had done for someone else. Of course the boys being boys had no interest in anything warm or fuzzy and one boy said what if instead of warm fuzzies he got a jar of cold pricklies. Other than the desire to send President Monson a jar of cold pricklies, I actually found the remark to be quite clever and began to think about what a cold prickly might look like. I did what every person with a church inspired question does, I searched…Google. To my surprise when I typed in warm fuzzies, cold pricklies also came up. I don’t know if the boy had heard this before and was referring to it, but his smart aleck response led me to this great story. "Once upon a time, there was a tiny village nestled between two mountains. Each person in the village was very happy because he was given a bag of Warm Fuzzies at birth. You could reach into your bag and pull out a Warm Fuzzy whenever you wanted, and everybody wanted to all the time. Warm Fuzzies were given to other people on the street, at home, everywhere. Warm Fuzzies made you feel just like they sound - warm, happy and content. Everyone in the village was happy, everyone but the bad witch. Now we all know that bad witches are growly. They like us to be unhappy, sad. The bad witch in this village was no exception. She tried and tried to make the people stop giving away Warm Fuzzies. One day she whispered in the ear of little Johnny Brown, "If you keep giving away all of your Warm Fuzzies you won't have any left for yourself." Johnny didn't listen at first, because everyone always had lots of Warm Fuzzies. The more you gave away, the more you got. Then the witch said to Johnny, "If you give COLD PRICKLIES you will be able to keep all of your Warm Fuzzies." Well, Johnny got to thinking about this, and noticed that his mother was always giving away Warm Fuzzies. So were his father and his sister. Soon he thought they would have no more for him. So Johnny started saving his Warm Fuzzies and started giving COLD PRICKLIES. Soon the whole village was giving COLD PRICKLIES. Everyone was gloomy and sad and very grouchy. The village was no longer happy, and there wasn't a Warm Fuzzy to be found! This had been going on for years and years, and the wicked witch was very happy. One day an old man came to visit the village. When he spoke to anyone they frowned at him and turned their backs, often walked away. The old man continued to be friendly, polite, pleasant, and one day a very young boy smiled back at the old man. It made him feel good - so good that he patted his dog, and the dog didn't bite him! This was the first Warm Fuzzy given in some time, and the little boy dug into his bag of Warm Fuzzies, as they were much nicer than the COLD PRICKLIES, and he started giving them away. The townspeople grumbled and growled for a while, but soon they felt like giving Warm Fuzzies. One by one people went home to find their Warm Fuzzies and soon everyone was again giving Warm Fuzzies. The bad witch was so upset and disgusted that she left the village and took her COLD PRICKLIES. After all, they didn't stand a chance against Warm Fuzzies. To this day that village is happy and content. Maybe, just maybe, if we give enough Warm Fuzzies our world can be as happy and pleasant as that village." Have you ever learned something great from the mouth of babes? Sista Laurel <a href="http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BT8QW_3GY41_YKT8E" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected"><img alt="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" border="0" height="38" src="http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" width="145" /></a>

Warm Fuzzies vs. Cold Pricklies

When my husband and I were living in the ward he attended as a child, he received a calling to teach Sunday school for the youth ages 12 an...

Never Raise Your Hand In Primary

<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuDXoN5XzBoyQANKrDzSCZlZGZEsOPMeti3toFEd78eFOQbnn5FaS0L8dXqwexlunA2PXzh_XHOQEUmUCBCkSFfuQSTS7Mz-caoqN5_ONubwOCD5PO0EJgSXqkGcdZRr_YAZPbEVt66dJ/s1600-h/53144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKuDXoN5XzBoyQANKrDzSCZlZGZEsOPMeti3toFEd78eFOQbnn5FaS0L8dXqwexlunA2PXzh_XHOQEUmUCBCkSFfuQSTS7Mz-caoqN5_ONubwOCD5PO0EJgSXqkGcdZRr_YAZPbEVt66dJ/s320/53144.jpg" vr="true" /></a>I remember the first talk I ever gave. I was 5 years old. I remember it like it was yesterday. I even remember what the talk was about, I told a wonderful story about a boy named Timmy, and a butterfly. Do you want to know why I remember it so well, because it was traumatizing of course! Picture it...a family decides to move to America, a 5 year old girl and her Father travel months ahead of the rest of the family, to secure a place for the family to live.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"> </div>After sometime in my new <a href="http://mormon.org/mormonorg/eng/basic-beliefs/glossary/glossary-definition/ward">Ward</a> I summoned up enough courage to raise my hand when they asked for volunteers to give a talk the following week in <a href="http://mormon.org/mormonorg/eng/basic-beliefs/glossary/glossary-definition/primary">Primary</a>. I was so excited to show my Father the slip of paper which said that I had to prepare a 2 minute talk. My Father was so proud, we went home and called the family to tell them the good news. My Mother was so happy, but so sad she would miss it. My father rushed me off the phone because he wanted to start preparing my talk immediately. He got out a blue spiral bound notebook and began to ask me what I wanted to speak about so he could write it down. My parents are converts and were never in Primary so I explained to my Dad that I had seen many talks now, and all he had to do was come into the Primary room next Sunday, kneel next to me at the pulpit, whisper the talk into my ear one line at a time, and then I would repeat it into the microphone. Nonsense! He said. I have never seen someone whisper a talk in someone’s ear. It happens all the time in Primary I assured him. He didn’t believe me. He asked me what the other children talk about. I told him that they usually told a story, that there was a magazine that had nice stories in it, and their parent’s whispered it in their ears and the children repeated them. He still didn’t believe me about the whispering in the ear part, but he consented that having a story that portrayed the message you were talking about was a good idea. He didn’t know what the magazine was and we didn’t have any children’s church books, so together we made up a story about a boy named Timmy and a butterfly. Hours later we had finally completed the talk and I was tired and ready for bed. The next day when I got home from school, after I had finished my homework I headed outside to play. Where do you think you are going my Dad said. To play I said. No, no, he said, you have to practice your talk. Practice! The talk wasn’t until Sunday, today was Monday, what was he talking about. Now I had lost the whisper the talk in my ear battle, but I had been reading for years, what was there to practice. I would just take the paper up there and read the talk. Read the talk he said, no that’s not how they do it you have to memorize it, at conference they don’t look down at the pulpit, they have their talks memorized. I was flabbergasted. This man who had never been to Primary a day in his life, was comparing my two minute talk to a conference talk.(Which by the way, they use teleprompters! Didn’t know that then, so couldn’t make that argument). I began to cry, I looked through the tears in my eyes, he wasn’t moved at all. This is where not having my Mother on the otherside of the world would have come in handy. I took the blue spiral notebook from his hand and walked into the living room and slumped into a chair and began to memorize my talk. Did I mention that this was just a simple Primary talk? What about that I was only 5, did I mention that? This was my life for the rest of the week. My Father would listen and correct me if I skipped a word. I began to despise Timmy and that stupid butterfly. At last Sunday came. My Father picked a hideous outfit for me, as he had been doing for the past few months, I was lucky if I eneded up with the same color shoes on my feet. My hair looked a hot mess. One fat braid sticking straight up from the middle of my head, another sticking directly out at the side of my head. I’m sure people thought I was homeless. When it was time to give my talk in Primary, I got to come up front and sit in the chairs behind the pulpit. I could see my Father sitting proudly at the back of the room. I was the second talk. As I watched the boy before me get up there and watched his mother lovingly whisper the words in his ear, I started to get mad. Why didn’t he listen? What was so wrong with whispering? Wasn’t he always telling me not yell and to whisper? Why couldn’t he do it? Why couldn’t I just read it? I really missed my Mother. When I got up to the pulpit I began my talk, I said it exactly like we had rehearsed it all week, I put the voice inflections right where Dad told me they should go, I stopped where there were periods and paused where there were commas, didn’t mess up once. When I had finsihed my talk my Dad looked up at me so pleased, and instead of going back to my seat I walked directly to him put my head on his shoulder and began to sob. He quickly picked me up and took me into the hall, and handed me his kercheif. He knelt down beside me and quietly asked me what was wrong. OH! Now he wanted to kneel beside me and whisper! I told him I wished he would have just done it the way everyone else had done it and whispered it to me, but you can read he tried to reason with me. I could have pretended I didn’t know how, I told him. I’m sorry he told me, I didn’t know what it was like, I never went to Primary, maybe next time…..NEXT TIME, was he insane, there would be no next time, that two minute talk had cost me playing outside for an entire week. I would be sitting on my hands from now on in primary when they asked for volunteers for anything, I would be looking confused like I didn’t speak English. As Primary ended people started leaving the room, my teachers and friends and other parents stopped in the hall to tell me how well I had done on my talk and how impressed they were. It made me feel a little better, you know how your parents say the same thing and you don’t want to hear it, but coming from a stranger it makes you smile. I dried my tears, and Dad and I headed home to call my Mother so I could recite my talk to her and beg her to come to America and comb my hair! Have a traumatizing talk story to share? Do you have that kid that is always volunteering for talks in Primary? Practice all week with your kid for a talk, then they get up there and stare at you and say nothing? Your Sista In the Gospel, Sista Laurel <a href="http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BT8QW_3GY41_YKT8E" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected"><img alt="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" border="0" height="38" src="http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" width="145" /></a>

Never Raise Your Hand In Primary

I remember the first talk I ever gave. I was 5 years old. I remember it like it was yesterday. I even remember what the talk was about, I to...

Is Cinderella a Christian?

Primary the Mormon TMZ

Proverbs or Proverb?

Warm Fuzzies vs. Cold Pricklies

Never Raise Your Hand In Primary

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