There was a subtle murmur of expectation in the air, and the church was silent. At the front, four young boys in their Sunday best stood poised to perform a moving hymn. Cameras rolled, parents grinned, and the priest nodded reassuringly.
The lads started singing together as soon as the pianist started to play. At first, their voices mixed well.
But then something took place.
The boy with the vest caught everyone’s attention. Initially, he stood motionless with his hands clasped, singing along with the rest. Then—his expression shifted. He squeezed his lips together. He seemed to be holding something in as his eyes raced around.
Then he went crazy.
He let out one small giggle, then another, and all of a sudden he was trembling, his shoulders bouncing up and down. In an attempt to maintain composure, the boy next him sent him a warning glance, but it was too late. The laughing spread like wildfire.
The boy wearing the vest clamped a palm over his mouth in an attempt to suppress it. However, the more he struggled with it, the worse it became. He gave a snort. His entire body shook. The audience let out a gasp: was he crying? No. He was giggling.
Then—BOOM. The whole choir fell into disarray. The tallest boy threw his hands up in surrender, declaring that the game was officially over, while another boy blushed from attempting to contain his laughter.
The church burst into flames. The pastor was smiling and shaking his head, the congregation was crying, and the pianist had to stop performing because she was laughing too much.
The show? A complete catastrophe. But the time? Totally priceless.
The pastor laughed and wiped his eyes as the boys staggered back to their seats, still laughing. “Well,” he remarked, “sometimes the greatest song of all is joy.”
