I used to hate going to choir. Well maybe not hate. Really-really-didn't-look-forward-to.
Five of our six kids are part of a choir that meets every Friday for about 2 1/2 hours. They are all off playing with friends around the house and yard we meet at, and a few of the moms hang out in a back room. Since it's far enough away, I've been one of those moms, sitting there feeling those 2 1/2 hours slip away from my life. Anything I tried to bring with me to work on wouldn't get done for one reason or another.
I asked the choir teacher at the beginning of this year if there is anything I could do for her while I'm there. "Clean your house?" (She thought about that one.) One day I did it - cleaned as many windows as I could find, trying to not let her see me. (I don't think she did.)
Another day I went thinking I really could get something done this time since Madeleine was home with her daddy. I ended up with 5 or 6 (more?) kids on my lap, my sides, and behind me while I read to them. One of them was a giant "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" book, that we joked made the wind blow every time we turned the page.
About this time I decided I was done with ME and went looking for ways to serve.
One day I decided that rather than sit in the "mom area," I would hang out where some of the kids hang out while waiting to head into the choir room. They taught me a few funny tricks that they then performed on me over and over and over, and I taught them one that they in turn spread to some of the other kids.
Another day shortly after a lot of snow had melted and there was mud and muck everywhere outside, it somehow magically found its way inside. I became the floor nazi, and swept it all up. Then I grabbed a washrag and started wiping down the kitchen. Then I asked where a mop is by one of their youngers who I figured wouldn't remember that I had asked long enough to tattle on me (shhhh, keep my secret!), and she instructed me on their family's way of doing that. After the floor was clean and shiny, I REALLY became the floor nazi. I set sentries at the door, and anyone that somehow made it through and created new footprints was quickly told to wipe them up.
Another day there was a microwave nachos disaster, and I cleaned that up, did my very best trying to get all he burn marks off the plate, and did a bit of other tidying.
All of this while my children and our lovely choir teacher were happily and beautifully singing away. I've decided that I'm the substitute mother while the choir teacher is busy serving all of our families.
Choir is way more fun now. Service just makes anything better!
(Fun tidbit - they even call it a service choir because they have four performances, three of which are at rest homes and one for family and friends.)