My son is the only boy in his Primary class, which makes him the only soon-to-be Young Man in the Valiant 11 group. He will be turning twelve this spring, which means he was also the only boy invited to the ward Priesthood Preview event, the yearly meeting that helps boys and their families understand and look forward to receiving the priesthood.
So we definitely had to attend.
The whole evening was scheduled around our availability, after all.
No skipping out. No no showing. No not being there.
But I can’t say I wasn’t, um, circumspect, for reasons I will either explain or … not.
As we were preparing to leave the house for this Sunday night shindig, I called out to my son that he needed to have church clothes and shoes on. I mentioned that once he turned twelve, he would actually be wearing a dress shirt to church. The days of a cotton blend polo were going to be coming to an end. He walked into my room, dressed in his collared shirt and slacks, and nodded his head in understanding: “I know, Mom,” he told me. “I will wear the dress shirts.” I shook my head in low-grade disbelief. There has not been a Sunday, at least not in my memory, when my son did not express at least some frustration over the “tightness” of the polo shirt collars (with all three buttons undone, mind you), the “scratchiness” of the labels or the “stiffness” of his one pair of dressy-ish pants. It’s as much part of our Sunday morning ritual as wolfing down cereal while running out the door is. Is this what growing up looks like?
Cut to our arrival at the home of the Primary president. Already seated in her cozy living room were the entire bishopric, both Deacon’s quorum adult leaders and the Deacon’s quorum president, another young man, plus the Primary president, of course. Six other adults besides me had come to visit with my son and talk to him about this next stage of his church life. I was touched.
The bishop gave an introduction, then went around the circle, asking each person to share a few thoughts. Each of the bishopric members recounted his own twelve year old ordination memories, and each recalled not completely understanding what was happening. The two Deacon’s quorum leaders mentioned the kinds of activities, including scouting, that the twelve and thirteen year old boys worked on during the Wednesday night activities. They also talked about collecting fast offerings and passing the Sacrament. I was struck by the comment from one of the men who told my son, “Deacons are very important in a ward, in our ward. You may only be twelve, but you are capable of real contributions. We count on you!” These comments were serious, yes, and confidence bestowing.
Another person in the circle asked my son if he knew how to define “priesthood” and suggested that he ask me for a hint if needed. My son thought for a moment and said, “Is it like the Holy Ghost? Is it a gift that makes us want to do good things?” The man took that answer and validated it, then expanded. His comments made it clear, at least to my ears, that the priesthood was a responsibility. A gift, yes, but one with expectations. I couldn’t help but recall the moment in the first Spiderman movie when Uncle Ben tells a rather brash Peter Parker, “With great power comes great responsibility.”
Finally, the opportunity to speak was given to me. I hadn’t prepared anything, though I am certainly capable, as any Mormon worth her salt should be, of speaking off the cuff. As I looked around the circle at these ward friends and acquaintances, I got choked up. Again, any Mormon worth her salt understands this tendency too. I expressed to the adults how touched I was that they would spend this time, this Sunday evening, helping to celebrate my son. I told them that I was grateful for their help in teaching him important life lessons and modeling the transition from childhood to adolescence and on to adulthood. As I looked at the two youth leaders in particular, my heart welled with gratitude. These men are solid, kind, hardworking, patient and loads of fun. Regardless of what the boys work on on Wednesday nights, I am glad that my son will feel that he matters to these men. I also told the circle, including my son, that I was glad my boy would have the opportunity to be of service. I was glad he would feel that his efforts in the ward were of worth.
After a few concluding words and the reading of scripture verses from the Doctrine & Covenants, the meeting ended and the ice cream was served. Each of the adults shook my son’s hand, each patted him on the back and called him by name. Each expressed confidence in my son’s abilities or potential as a soon-to-be deacon.
What was not said was also significant. No one mentioned his father, who used to be a member of the ward but has since had his name removed from church records. No one even hinted that ordination is usually a father/son affair, instead leaving all family talk out of their comments. I shared that he would be ordained by his uncle, and only then did the men in the circle offered congratulations about the specifics of the ordination. “How wonderful that you will have your uncle there,” said a friend in the bishopric. My son beamed. And I tipped my invisible hat to the sensitivity displayed. My son was not made to feel self-conscious that his father was not a part of this milestone, nor was his father impugned in any way for not being a part of it. I could tell that the people who spoke had considered how to address or not address the coming ordination of this sweet, often goofy, still innocent boy, the one whose parents were no longer married and whose father was no longer a member. And I could not have asked for a more appropriate handling of the situation.
This is what I took from the messages of the meeting and what I hoped my son picked up on some level: turning twelve is important. My son, in particular, is important, even though he was the only kid there. Turning twelve and becoming a Deacon is a significant milestone. Our church helps us to celebrate milestones. Being a Deacon means thinking about other people. Being a Deacon is an important responsibility, one that leaders will help a boy fulfill. Anyone can and should contribute to the ward family. The ward family will help its members, no matter ages or situations.
As we left the Primary president’s home, smudges of ice cream still gracing my son’s chin, I too patted him on the back. “You did a nice job in there, buddy,” I told him. “What did you think?”
“I’m excited,” he said, before skipping down the driveway, pretending to cast a Harry Potter spell with a stick wand he had just picked up from a flowerbed. I smiled as he extended his arm and mumbled a Latin spell. He doesn’t understand the intricacies of our theology, nor does he need to at this moment. What he needs to understand is that church is a place where we learn to and get to serve each other. He had been served at the Priesthood Preview, and not just when an ice cream sundae was handed to him.
My other thoughts, however, centered around the second child I had brought to the Priesthood Preview, my eight year old daughter. She too had enjoyed the evening, playing happily in the bedrooms of the Primary president’s daughters and eating a sundae along with everyone else. She hadn’t had to sit in the circle, nor dress up, so the messages of the evening, both the good ones (see above) and the implied ones, meant nothing to her. It had been a bonus play date!
But as I watched her also pick up a stick from the flowerbed and wield it, I thought with a pang that she too deserves a circle of grown-ups speaking seriously about responsibility when she reaches the age of twelve. I want for her the message of service and contribution. I want for her the message of substance and power. I want for her the opportunity to do God’s work – to wield, not just a stick, but this holy power Mormons believe in. I want her to feel that she has been entrusted with something sacred that is of use now, instead of hearing (between the lines) that she has a divine mission, yes, but at some future, childbearing-years point in her life.
When we begin to give our daughters this same important, affirming message, the one given to my son that night, such a transition will be a milestone indeed, not just for the young people, but for the entire church.
So for now, I thrill that my often awkward, sometimes bullied son has a place where he will feel unconditional belonging combined with expectations of responsibility.
But I hope this will not be the last time I thrill in this way on behalf of one of my children.
I’m glad the experience went so well. I sincerely hope you have a similarly good experience with your daughter, however unlikely that might be. I hope that boys in other wards can have the same type of experience. I’m a big believer now in the fact that the church is only as good as we decide to make it. Part of it is out of our control, but we do have the power to try to really communicate (not just talk to/at) people in the ward to help them see the same vision, or to help correct things they’re doing which seem to be cause for concern for us. Maybe in the process we can also gain new perspectives. I’m trying to gather as close to a comprehensive list as possible of “bottom-up” revelation in the church. Examples where people started a good cause on their own, and the church saw the value in it and adopted it. I see no reason that there couldn’t be a similar experience for the YW as they turn 12. Is it against the rules to have YW be VTing companions with the sisters in RS? Couldn’t they play a more integrated role in caring for the sick and elderly in the ward? Couldn’t we make the transition to YW as monumental as we make it (at least in good wards) for the YM? I think we can, but it’s up to us to talk about these things with our local leaders in as respectful and earnest a manner as possible.
Thanks for this post, Erin. I particularly like it because I have an eleven-year-old son too! I wondered from the beginning if you would go where you did, and I’m glad you did. Very well put!
Yes! And since it’s very difficult to communicate nothing, by saying to boys that “Deacons are very important in a ward, in our ward. You may only be twelve, but you are capable of real contributions. We count on you!” while saying nothing of the sort to girls, we (as a church) are telling girls that they are not important and that they are not capable of real contributions or being counted on. How disappointing!
Yes. We were talking with Erin about this experience last night and Marin (who turns 12 in 10 days) was listening attentively as Erin recounted the message they had delivered to Graham. And then she laughed (or maybe scoffed?) and said, “Yeah, that’s a great message. I’d like to hear that, too!”
The Young Women’s program does have a meeting like this in place, but I think it is often underutilized. New Beginnings is suppose to celebrate and inform all the girls turning 12 during the coming year. I am thankfully in a calling that allows me to do something about it in my ward. Thank you for bringing attention to the problem. Coming into Y.W. should be a celebration of stepping from childhood into womanhood.