My Life & Times #4: How I Became a Bird in Sacrament Meeting

It was my sophomore year at BYU.  My friends and I had moved out Helaman Halls and into Condo Row just off campus.  It was a great apartment with a pretty good ward.  We decided that to get know people better we needed to be involved, so 3 of us joined the choir. It was a good sized choir of about 40 people and it was fun to sing together.

A few months in, our choir director introduced a new song to perform.  She started out by telling us a little bit about her family. She and her brother were American Indians adopted by a white family.  And they were a large musical family.  They even traveled places to put on shows, singing and playing their instruments.  She goes on to say her family was very respectful of her and her brother's heritage and would perform a few numbers representing the American Indian culture.  Her brother had passed away when he was teenager and she wanted to do a tribute to his memory.  He apparently always sang "The Lord's Prayer" while the family did sign language in the background.  But this wasn't American sign language. This was American Indian sign language that included wide swinging arms, poking beaks, swirling bodies and extra large gestures.

Now this was pre-mission and I was easily embarrassed and easily made uncomfortable.  Apparently I wasn't the only one.  Every week our choir group dwindled by a few more members and a few more members.

My friends and I sat down to have a frank talk.  Now we did not want to be disrespectful or rude to her brother's memory or culture and we wanted to support our director, but not one of us felt comfortable doing this in sacrament meeting and in front of our young single adult ward.  Not one of us wanted to do it AT ALL.  But we felt bad because people were dropping like flies and pretty soon she wouldn't have a choir any more and nobody to support this special tribute.

So we came up with a plan. We'd quietly talk to the bishopric and tell them we didn't feel this number was appropriate for sacrament meeting.  The 2nd counselor listened to us and said he would check it out.  At our next practice he sat in the front row and we knew he would think this was not quite right for church.  Much to our chagrin, he came up to us afterward praising the number! Saying it was beautiful and just right for church.

Dang it.  The performance date was approaching and one roommate and I had missed some practices due to school so didn't know it very well, adding to our desire to run away like the rest of the cowardly choir.  Again we sat down and talked. And we decided to do the right thing and just go for it.  Who cares really!?  This meant so much to our choir director and she had no one left. We would do the right thing.

So that Sunday, out of 40 or more people in our thriving choir, only the 4 of us showed up to perform.  Me, my two roommates and the director climbed on stage (because we had church in the Varsity Movie Theater in the Wilk).  We made our one roommate stand in front because she knew it the best.  "Dubber," our good friend, sang beautifully while we danced/signed/pretended to have beaks and made eye contact with no one.

I know.  You had to have seen it in order get the full picture and to truly appreciate this story, but let me tell you, it was glorious! And I'm sure no one has given it two thoughts since that day, but it was years before my face stopped blushing while retelling that story.