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“Mirthright,” Ensign, Oct. 1981, 67


When I showed my sons, Nathan, age three, and Varden, four, their first Sunday suits, I expected them to be pleased with the identical navy outfits, matching vests, ties, and white shirts. But I wasn’t expecting Nathan’s enthusiasm when the boys tried on the suits. He jumped up and down and exclaimed, “Varden! We look like the dickens!”

I was puzzled by his new vocabulary until Varden clarified, “It’s deacons, Nathan! You mean we look like the deacons!Debra S. Hadfield, Pleasant Grove, Utah

During a home teaching visit, my companion and I were discussing temple work with our assigned family. As part of the discussion, I asked if any of the children could name the three degrees of glory. One boy quickly said, “Telestial, terrestrial, and cholesterol.” Whereupon my companion said, “You’re almost right. That’s where the overweight Saints go!” Lowell R. Hardy, West Jordan, Utah

Bishop Kleinman of the Kankakee Ward, Bourbonnais, Illinois, once told me that every day as he was leaving the house his father would say, “Now, Van, remember who you are.”

I considered that a pretty good thought to leave with your children each day, so I decided to use it on mine.

One morning I bid my twelve-year-old son good-bye as usual. “Good-bye, Aaron. Have a good day … and please, remember who you are.”

I went back to the kitchen. Shortly after I heard my little five-year-old at the door, hollering a belated goodbye to his brother. “Bye, Aaron. Have a nice day; and remember: Don’t forget your name!” Judy Schlenz, Bourbonnais, Illinois

Our family was caught in the aftermath of the Mount St. Helen’s eruption. With ash drifting through the air and the sky black as midnight, my husband gathered the family in the living room for a home evening lesson.

What could have been a frightening evening was almost immediately lightened: The lesson was great, but the opening song the lesson manual suggested was even better. The song was “Firm as the Mountains Around us.” Jan Fielding, Othello, Washington

During a Primary sacrament meeting program, the Sunbeam Class sat unusually quiet with arms folded. The teacher, however, was having trouble with her crying baby. Finally, in desperation, she started toward the door at the back of the chapel. Without any hesitation, fifteen obedient Sunbeams reverently followed their teacher down the aisle and out the door. As they left, the last little boy whispered to a friend, “That’s the first time we’ve done it without music!” Rosemary G. Jenkins, Rigby, Idaho

Despite our constant encouragement, two-year-old Stevie habitually declined to say the blessing on our meal. We were pleased, therefore, when he eagerly volunteered one day. All by himself he bowed his head, folded his arms, and solemnly said. “Prayer. Amen.” Susan Lassig, Salt Lake City, Utah

It was bound to happen. Evidently confusing commemoration of the Aaronic Priesthood with the 150-year birthday of the Church, my young daughter made this interesting observation:

“Dad, I know exactly where the Aaronic Priesthood was restored!”

“Where?” I casually asked.

“On the banks of the Sesquicentennial River!” Jack S. Bailey, Centerville, Utah

The bishop’s counselor assigned to present the names for sustaining vote at ward conference had forgotten his glasses. Borrowing the bishop’s, he managed to stumble through the list of names, with many pauses and apologies. The audience was politely patient, until his final words brought the house down: “As far as I can see, the voting has been unanimous.” Eileen G. Kump, St. Joseph, Missouri

My husband’s mother became ill when visiting relatives in another city and had to spend some time in a nursing home. One day when we went to visit her, we asked how everything was going.

“Well,” she said, “one time they took me to the lobby, but there wasn’t anyone to talk to except old people. I didn’t let it bother me though; I chatted with them anyway.”

Mom was ninety-four. Helen H. Trutton, Walla Walla, Washington

Illustrated by Phyllis Luch