Davis’ post on singles wards reminded me of a tale – a tale involving the summer I attended the local singles ward. This is a tale of why I am going to hell. Or the telestial kingdom. Whatever.
I was either 20 or 21. My sister, 2 years younger, also decided to join me in attending that ward. We clung to each other, observing the bizarre culture that makes up the singles ward, mocking it and discussing the insanity. The mocking isn’t why I’m going to hell. I mean, sure, it probably plays a role, but it’s not the big one.
Apparently it was obvious that we clung to each other, because instead of being treated like two people, we were treated like one. We found this annoying. I mean, we really don’t even look that much alike. When we were summoned by someone in the bishopric, they met with us together to offer us a calling. Together.
The munch and mingle committee.
Now, I’m an introvert. (The best article ever on introverts is from The Atlantic. Read it. It’s funny and so very accurate.) Giving an introvert a calling like that is a Very Bad Idea. My sister, also a bit of an introvert, pretty much felt the same way. In the two and a half months we had the calling (they knew we were short-timers when they gave us the calling) we performed our duties with lackluster zeal and apathy. We hated it. This is also not the reason I’m going to hell (but again, I’m sure it plays a role).
No, the reason I am going to hell is because of the setting apart. I was very surprised they would actually set someone apart for the munch and mingle committee. It just seemed almost sacrilegious in its fluffiness. But we went when and where we were told. Several other people were also being set apart, and they were all normal, serious callings. First was the girl getting the calling as Relief Society teacher. I was in a giggly mood, probably because I just couldn’t get over the term “munch and mingle†when used in a priesthood blessing, and the incongruence of the term and the circumstance was overwhelming. I dug my nails into my hands and bit my lip as hard as I could in an attempt to stifle the giggles.
Then came my turn. I sat in the middle chair, and the bishopric person who was doing the setting apart began. I was biting and digging so hard that the skin was starting to break. I was shaking from trying to stifle the giggles. I mean, how can you say “munch and mingle†in a priesthood blessing without bringing an end to civilization? I mostly succeeded in suppressing the giggles. Mostly. I thought I was going to die. My sister was then set apart, and we fled without remaining for the rest of the settings apart.
That is why I am going to hell: giggling while being set apart.
But it was funny…