Confessions of a Ward Organist

It all started back in 1972. I was eleven years old, sitting in Primary one brilliant Thursday afternoon, when an emergency struck—an emergency I learned was not so uncommon in the Church.

“Come along, dear,” the Primary president whispered. “We need you to play the piano today. I’m afraid Sister Hansen hasn’t arrived, and, well, there’s no one else . . .” A look of stark panic was plain on her face.

Play the piano? For Primary? Indeed I was learning to play, and the songs lay within my reach but—holy cow! Playing while others sang along was something else again.

Shall the youth of Zion falter?

The Primary president’s hands firmly pushed me down on the piano bench. With that moment the adventure began, and my life in the Church would never be the same. I had no idea I’d spend the next thirty-eight years serving in music callings, and happily, there’s no end in sight.

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