Today’s guest post comes from Rebbie Brassfield, a copywriter in Los Angeles.
I was 29 years old and just discovering our infertility when I got called as the Primary President.
This calling was so far from any natural ability I possess that I had not seen it coming. Not even when the Bishop invited us to his office on a Saturday. Not even when the words came out of his mouth.
I sat there stunned, unable to hide my dismay. It made no sense to call a childless woman to be in charge of a bunch of kids – what could I know about them? Not to mention that since growing up I’d always been self-conscious of the fact I wasn’t naturally “good with kids.” I worried over how I would fare as a mother when I seemed to be the only one of the Young Women who disliked babysitting.
I was currently serving as the Primary secretary, and the calling had been both a reminder of the children I yearned for and a potent birth control. Each week I sat in the back, awed that such small people could wield so much power. They rarely behaved or folded their arms or listened – some weeks it felt like they intentionally rallied to torch the whole lesson or bleed the teacher of all her candy. They frankly terrified me, and that terror swirled in my mind as I sat looking up at my expectant Bishop. [Read more…]
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