Sunday school
I really did not know what to expect from Easter Sunday service at Hallgrimskirkja. I had read online they were having some sort of a listahatid, and that Bach would be performed on Easter. Knowing what I know about the less-than-fervent religiosity of Icelanders, I figured it was entirely possible that the concert would be the only thing going on for the 11am service. I also figured they might not have any sort of a Sunday school for Palmer, so I brought Palmer's baby Bible, as well as two cars, to give him something to look at in case the concert did not hold his interest.
Much of my anxiety though was put to rest not only by Palmer's enthusiasm as we walked up to the church, but also by the lucky coincidence of running into Gisli Sigurdsson and his daughter Anna. Palmer and Anna have played together on a number of occasions, so when Anna invited us to sit with them, I knew she'd show Palmer the ropes. Indeed, when the kids did head off to Sunday school, Anna extended her hand, and showed Palmer the way. It was really sweet.
The Bach pieces were woven into the service in a really lovely way, and though the sermon was short, it was not bad. Perhaps the only bad moment came when Palmer left Sunday school to show me the egg they had given him, just as I was up at the altar getting communion. When he could not see me in the seat, he started crying. It took a lot of snuggling to get him to recover. I felt really terrible, especially because I remember how huge Hallgrimskirkja seemed to me the first time I went there, as a child.
Much of my anxiety though was put to rest not only by Palmer's enthusiasm as we walked up to the church, but also by the lucky coincidence of running into Gisli Sigurdsson and his daughter Anna. Palmer and Anna have played together on a number of occasions, so when Anna invited us to sit with them, I knew she'd show Palmer the ropes. Indeed, when the kids did head off to Sunday school, Anna extended her hand, and showed Palmer the way. It was really sweet.
The Bach pieces were woven into the service in a really lovely way, and though the sermon was short, it was not bad. Perhaps the only bad moment came when Palmer left Sunday school to show me the egg they had given him, just as I was up at the altar getting communion. When he could not see me in the seat, he started crying. It took a lot of snuggling to get him to recover. I felt really terrible, especially because I remember how huge Hallgrimskirkja seemed to me the first time I went there, as a child.
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