Never Raise Your Hand In Primary

I remember the first talk I ever gave. I was 5 years old. I remember it like it was yesterday. I even remember what the talk was about, I told a wonderful story about a boy named Timmy, and a butterfly. Do you want to know why I remember it so well, because it was traumatizing of course! Picture it...a family decides to move to America, a 5 year old girl and her Father travel months ahead of the rest of the family, to secure a place for the family to live.

After sometime in my new Ward I summoned up enough courage to raise my hand when they asked for volunteers to give a talk the following week in Primary. I was so excited to show my Father the slip of paper which said that I had to prepare a 2 minute talk. My Father was so proud, we went home and called the family to tell them the good news. My Mother was so happy, but so sad she would miss it. My father rushed me off the phone because he wanted to start preparing my talk immediately.

He got out a blue spiral bound notebook and began to ask me what I wanted to speak about so he could write it down. My parents are converts and were never in Primary so I explained to my Dad that I had seen many talks now, and all he had to do was come into the Primary room next Sunday, kneel next to me at the pulpit, whisper the talk into my ear one line at a time, and then I would repeat it into the microphone. Nonsense! He said. I have never seen someone whisper a talk in someone’s ear.

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