The song I Will Be Valiant is just one of several we are preparing for our Primary Program in September. How well do you think you know it?
Remember the marching game we played a few weeks ago? Well, we changed it up a little bit for you and are anxious to see how you do! Play the video below to sing and march along:
This one’s different. Let’s see how you keep up:
One Sunday while teaching the Primary children (ages 3-11) during singing time, I shared a story regarding a childhood memory. I finished the anecdote by mentioning my age at the time, which was about five years old.
One of the kids piped up with the query, “How old are you now?” Without hesitation, I responded, “I’m forty-two.”
One of the Primary teachers felt inclined to add his two cents, remarking that asking someone’s age is not polite. Which sort of annoyed me. Because clearly, I failed to be embarrassed by the question.
And why should anyone be? Aging is inevitable. At what point do we decide that rather than “celebrate” another year of getting older and wiser, we need to conceal it from the general public? It’s just plain weird to me.
It didn’t help the matter that the teacher who “silenced” the child was a twenty-something male. Perhaps he was trying to be sensitive to the fact that women are often particularly averse to the aging process.
Not this woman.
The problem is, if people (and women, particularly) shy away from revealing our age, it only perpetuates the idea that old age is worthy of our disdain.
So while I may not shout my age from the rooftops, I will do my part to remove its stigma by giving inquiring minds a straight answer. Especially kids, who should never be made to feel ashamed by the simple curiosity of asking someone how old he/she is.
If I’m not ashamed to answer, hopefully they won’t be when they’re “old” like me.
April and May were characterized by lots of walks around the neighborhood(to prevent going stir-crazy), playing badminton in the backyard almost every day, more baking, church at home, and a brand-new subscription to Disney Plus.
Jack broke his collarbone when his sister crashed into him on the swings. Collarbone fractures hurt terribly for the first two days. Bouncing back is surprisingly quick. He was as good as new within three days. At least he thought so.
Jack also got an infusion in May. He’s grinning from ear to ear in this shot because it was OVER.
The kids limped to the end of the school year.
Rachel had her first socially-distanced piano recital.
We are so grateful to have endured the remodel fiasco of 2018 so that there was room enough for the seven of us to spread out as needed. Despite the loss of interacting with friends regularly, we cherished the time it allowed us to focus on our most important relationships within our family.
Between waking up at the crack of dawn to make a fancy breakfast to fighting the kids over them not helping out, to dealing with a wife who is laughing under her breath at the extremely unpolished way in which he goes about the business she carries out day in and day out, Mother’s Day is torture for husbands.
I often throw in the towel early in the day, either because I can’t bear the messy kitchen any longer (is it SO hard to clean up as you go?) or because it just plain feels weird to relax on the couch while the house is falling apart around me.
Not today. This year, I determined to let my husband and children feel the true impact of not having my full contribution in the home. That way, maybe they’d realize the true labor of love that is dinnertime. Maybe they’d see that counters don’t clean themselves. Perhaps they’d clue into the fact that the trash doesn’t take itself out.
It’s true. Mothers are magicians. Most of what we do goes relatively unseen. But if one could truly see the Herculean effort that goes on behind the scenes, it would seem almost miraculous.
So when our poor husbands make the ambitious attempt to duplicate the incredibly mundane(but absolutely essential!) tasks we undertake on a regular basis, it probably feels like torture. At least that’s how it appears when my husband conks out for a long nap each and every Mother’s Day.
Gosh, being mom for a day must be exhausting.
Being mom for a lifetime, however? It’s everything I always wanted. And I’m not just saying that because my kids made dinner tonight.
Well, we didn’t get to practice and sing a song in sacrament meeting for our mothers this year. But that doesn’t mean we can’t review a few songs to remind us how much we love our moms, right?
Here are a few songs that you may have sung during your years in Primary. Let’s see how well you remember them by playing the games below. It’s simple: listen to each phrase and guess the missing word (or words). Then click to see if you’re right!
How did you do? Either way, go hug your mom and tell her you love her. Heaven knows she sure loves you!
She wondered why I was taking pictures. She and Tim and I were just parked on a bean bag chair in front of her laptop after all.
But that’s what you do when school’s gone online for the rest of the year. Your National Honor Society induction ceremony is gonna look a little different, you know?
But that doesn’t mean a proud mama can’t post a picture or two of the moment just because we aren’t all dressed up and the honoree isn’t called up on stage to accept the accolade.
She earned it. Her initial application rejected likely because of the rushed manner in which she submitted it. (I suppose she figured that academic excellence carried the most weight and failed to mention a few service and leadership roles on her resume). Her appeal reflected more accurately the numerous bits of service she has contributed to the community in the last year.
She’s lucky they let her appeal. But I’m glad she had to put in a little extra for something for which she’s an obvious shoo-in. Things won too easily are seldom truly appreciated.
So there we sat staring at her laptop as they read her name and that of many friends, our hearts swelling with pride. Not just for the honor of her acceptance into an elite group. But even more for the humble appeal she submitted as evidence that she really wanted it.
What parent wouldn’t want to take a picture of that?
When I was a young girl, my parents decided it was high time we kids began to learn some church hymns. Though I can’t recall the methodology, I do remember that it involved lots of repetition. Consequently, by the time I was five or six, I had learned all three verses to the hymn Let Us All Press On. That stirring song holds a sweet spot in my heart to this day.
Fast forward twenty or so years to when Tim and I were raising our young family. During sacrament meeting, Tim would thoughtfully hold up the hymnbook to give me a chance to read the lyrics as we sang each congregational hymn. Except that nine times out of ten, I politely let him know that I didn’t need him to. Having practiced hymns with regularity as a child negated the use of a hymnbook because I’d memorized a majority of them.
Thanks mom and dad.
Music is such a huge part of our worship in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that it’s not difficult to imagine its importance to the Lord.
My earliest memories of feeling the Spirit are directly tied to my experiences singing Primary songs and hymns both in my home and at church. For that very reason, I have worked diligently to ensure that my kids are given those same testimony-building opportunities.
Now that our church worship has temporarily shifted from meeting as a congregation on the Sabbath to gathering as families or individuals in our homes, how do we maintain the benefits of worshipful music? Without our organists, our conductors, the special musical numbers and the energetic Primary choristers, how do we keep the music alive?
It doesn’t take much, honestly. We don’t have to scour Pinterest for amazing ways to teach primary songs (although, as a Primary chorister there are some pretty incredible ones out there and it never hurts to borrow someone else’s awesome idea).
Here are a few simple ways to incorporate music into your home-centered church routine:
As a side note, as a Primary chorister, I have invited several families in our ward to record themselves singing a chosen Primary song during the past month in which we have not had regular church meetings. Then, I used the videos to make a single mashup video(Here’s an example). I got great feedback from many families who participated, indicating that learning the song was such a positive experience for their children. Added-bonus: at least a few children will know each song we are preparing for our Primary program really well. Hopefully the rest of the kids will pick them up quickly when we resume our regular meeting schedule. Hopefully.
Another great resource for using music to teach the gospel can be found in the Come Follow Me Manual for Primary Choristers. Easy ideas for teaching music effectively to children can be found there.
There you have it. A few simple ideas to incorporate music into your home-centered church (and your family culture, when thinking more broadly).
What are some ways you use music in your religious worship at home?
I have taught lessons on Charles Demuth three times now as part of our school’s fifth grade art program. This project was the most successful for the kids. Despite students constantly asking if they can alter this or that about each and every project I teach (and why shouldn’t they, art is supposed to allow them to explore their creativity, right?), I find that sometimes giving them strict(ish) parameters ensures good outcomes. And good outcomes build confidence often as much as exploring creativity.
This lesson is also great because the kids get to practice color mixing to create tints and shades. Mixing paints is just plain fun. So they quickly get over their disgruntlement that they “have” to paint a number 5 (as opposed to a 73 or 24) once they get mixing.
So here’s the project:
Begin with a large sheet of paper (the thicker the better and at least 9X12), egg cartons for paint mixing. Several colors of tempera paint plus plenty of black and white to make tints and shades.
Just over three weeks ago was a typical Thursday. I’d attended an after-school volleyball game (Rachel’s first). I dropped Eve off at soccer practice then headed straight to drop Rachel off at hers. That bought me two hours to drop off donations at the local thrift store and make my weekly grocery trip to Winco.
COVID-19 had been marching its way slowly across the country for over a month, beginning with Washington (with whom we share a border). Idaho was one of the last holdouts, so I wasn’t concerned. And frankly, though I’d heard about people hoarding toilet paper, I’d had no issues securing what I needed in the previous few weeks.
But Winco that night was a disaster. Still well-stocked. But completely unprepared for the crowd that descended at the exact same time I did. Holy cow. I waited in line for over 45 minutes to check out, making me 10 minutes late to pick up Rachel from practice. (Tim picked up Eve, since her practice was closer to his work).
While waiting in line I discovered that our church (a global organization) had canceled all Sunday meetings until further notice. Huge deal. Dominoes from there on out. Soccer game canceled. Then all games/practices for the next two weeks. After that-after-school activities/sports canceled. Not long after that – school was canceled.
Suddenly my schedule was completely clear. No running kids to extracurriculars. No art lessons in the near future. No church obligations to fulfill. No waking up at 5:30 to make breakfast before Lily leaves for seminary. No Joy School lessons, no teaching piano, no drivers ed.
Granted, I actually enjoy most of the things I do as a stay-at-home mom. But the term stay-at-home has sort of become a misnomer. And I won’t lie when I say that parenting five kids and all that entails occasionally leads to serious burnout.
It means that family dinner happens every single night now. It means my gas tank has been sitting on full for longer than 5 days straight. It means my to-do list is shrinking instead of growing longer under a cloud of obligations I haven’t ever been able to shake. It means my work-from-home husband gets to take a walk with me daily during his lunch break. It means family movie night is every night. And so much more.
So here are a few things I’ve caught on camera the past two weeks:
Home church – complete with Jack giving his first on-camera talk and a few families (including ours) providing singing time for our ward family.
Tim making a Toney family special for Pi Day.
Green pancakes for St. Patty’s Day.
Planting our spring garden.
Sunday outing along the Boise River. Lots of rock-skipping (or, in Jack’s case, throwing).
Breaking in the fire pit for the season.
Pinterest-fail donuts for Anna’s birthday breakfast. (They were tasty – but the hack I’d secured to compensate for the lack of a donut pan misfired, in a major way.)
Hours of fun playing with rice.
Brand new throw pillows for the couches (I bought the fabric last summer so this to-do list item was long overdue).
Matching piano bench re-cover.
A deep appreciation for a full-container of eggs.
Starting on a recipe book of family favorites for my soon-to-be-college-bound daughters. Beginning with banana chocolate chip muffins.
Game night with the fam.
A complete inventory of our food storage. Spring cleaning – 5 boxes destined for Deseret Industries (that will unfortunately languish in our house until it reopens after the pandemic dies down). A freshly cleaned (and painted) pantry.
We even resurrected the butterfly garden we used years ago and ordered some painted lady caterpillars.
Plus a whole lot of reading, binging on TV, video gaming and overall laziness.
I’m living my best life, peeps.