Sacrament Scream

I didn't appreciate Hans very much. He was a noisy toddler in my ward. His mother tried her valiant best to keep him in meetings. Sometimes you'd hear him holler "NO" at random moments. The kid really bugged me. (I wasn't a parent yet, so my perspective was even less generous than it now would be.)

One day, the chapel was very quiet. The sacrament was being passed. The water tray was one row ahead of me. I was trying to think about the Savior. Then a shrill scream pierced the silence.

There was no time for annoyance. Instead, thoughts of Gethsemane flooded my mind, leaving no room for my petty complaints of other weeks. It was almost like I wasn't hearing a little toddler scream at all, but a whole other and infinitely more horrible sound. I was, in that moment, in the garden.

And I was grateful for Hans.