You know how we’re creatures of habit and always sit in the same place at Church? My spot is the second from the last pew in the main section, right in the middle.
To my left sits the bishop’s family. Depending on how crowded it is, there is usually a gap of from six to eight feet between us.
They have a very cute six-year old daughter named Stephanie. I once substitute taught her Primary class, and she’s a strong-willed little girl. Actually, strong-willed doesn’t quite cover it; let’s say she has a will of iron.
So anyway, we usually sit close enough that when the sacrament comes (it always comes from their end of the row), the mom could reach over with the tray and I could reach out, maybe half standng, grab the handle and pull it close, and then take the sacrament while holding the tray myself.
Well, about six weeks ago, Stephanie decided she was going to carry the tray the few feet down the aisle to present it to me. She was insistent on this, and her mum, who is easy-going, let her.
So now it has become a regular routine. When her family finishes the sacrament, she takes the tray, walks the few feet between us with all the dignity you can imagine, and holds the tray for me. I could at that point just grab the tray the way most adults would, but I don’t. I let her stand there and serve me, as if she were a deacon herself (the non-technical meaning of deacon is “one who serves”). She holds the tray for me while I take the emblem with my right hand, partake, and only then do I take the tray from her with my right hand and then pass it down the line.
She then returns to her seat, as reverently and solemnly as can be.
Being served the emblems of the Last Supper each week with such reverence, dignity and solemnity by one of our Savior’s little ones has become one of the highlights of my worship experience.