I can’t be the only one who fears phone calls on Saturdays and Sunday mornings.
You know the feeling: it’s Saturday evening, a phone number you don’t recognize crosses your caller ID. Is it time to sub for those Sunbeams? Mentally wrestle with a bunch of teenagers? Or, horrors, will you be giving a last minute talk?
This week I was the one making the calls. I am the chorister for Sacrament meeting and my husband has the best calling in the church–Primary pianist. I’m his usual sub, but this Sunday we would be attending my brother’s ward, an hour away, for my niece’s baby blessing. I really hate asking people to do something that is my responsibility. And I know that people usually dislike being asked to do someone else’s work. I made call after nervous call, trying to find people to cover our bases. I sent out a few emails begging for a little help.
I imagined not being able to find anyone to be the chorister. What kind of train wreck would occur? The congregation, unable to follow anything but the organ cues, would sing in time with the organ. Those without hymn books wouldn’t be able to read my lips and would, instead, not sing. Spontaneous sobs would arise from being leaderless in a furious storm of eighth notes. Alright, so people don’t usually watch the chorister anyway, but it seems such a shame to do away with tradition.
A couple people called me back and said they’d help–saving the Primary from dozens of bereft tots.
But I still feel a little nervous when it’s my turn to pick up the phone. What will I need to do this week?
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