The reaction which came the first time he told us out loud certainly forecasted the way we would respond during the entire six years my dad served as bishop.

I was sitting at the cluttered computer desk just down the hall from my parent’s bedroom when I heard the trailings of a conversation which sparked my interest. I turned slowly towards their door, which was ajar, and slightly inclined my curious head in the direction of their hushed voices.

“We wanted to tell you first, before the other girls,” my dad mentioned, almost casually. “That way you can help them be excited about it.”

Using my heels as careful carabeeners to creep up the hall towards the door, I eventually crouched onto the floor like a cougar ready to pounce. I could see CJ’s legs bouncing over the edge of my parent’s king sized bed through the crack in the door. They were telling CJ something they didn’t want the rest of us to know just yet. Of course, I crawled as close as I could without being detected, and curled in a little ball to ensure I wouldn’t miss a word.

I had missed the beginning of the sentence, but my mom was talking, a hint of amusement in her voice. Or was it amusement?

“They called us in and told us they were splitting 6^th and 11^th Ward to make a new one. And then…” she paused. I supposed some kind of looks were being exchanged.

“They called me to be the bishop!” My dad finished with what sounded like a burdened kind of shock, and yep- there it was. No mistaking. Amusement.

I didn’t even wait to hear CJ’s reaction. My own had been stifled by my quick departure, and I didn’t let the laughter burst until I was in Jamie and Charina’s room. They were painting their nails.

I swept aside a pile of cotton balls and squeezed in between the two of them.

“You guys!” Charina glared at me for smudging the pink onto her skin. “Dad just got called to be bishop!”

Where Jamie’s hadn’t smudged before, the red was smeared all over her middle toe. “Dad!? Bishop!?” She doused a cotton ball in acetone as we stifled hysterical laughter. Before we could discuss any of the inexplicable humor, Dad called to us from down the hall. We marched like little soldiers to their room, intersecting Summer as she came up from the kitchen.

Mom and Dad were standing in front of the bed, CJ still perched upon it. We lined up beside her, our eyes attentive and seemingly innocent.

Dad surveyed us like a row of sharpened pencils. “Mom and I have something to tell you girls.”

I shifted my eyes quickly to look at the floor. If it had been a mirror, I know Jamie, Charina and I would have been making eye contact.

“Dad has been called to be the bishop of the new ward!” My mom beamed at all of us, anticipating the surprised gasps she was expecting—the same ones she had already missed.

Except, of course, from Summer.

The laughter that was finally released echoed through the room and through the years until he was released. My dad was the best bishop for that ward, and set a precedence that will never be exceeded, and all the while, he kept us laughing.