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“Mirthright,” Ensign, Mar. 1982, 41


Recently we had a very interesting speaker at our sacrament meeting, but his talk lasted much longer than we had expected. Because the meeting ran so far overtime, it was decided that we would sing just one verse of the previously selected closing hymn.

We didn’t get far. One by one it dawned on us what we were singing: “The time is far spent, there is little remaining.”

David P. Merrill
Fairview Heights, Illinois

Every mission has its “mothers”—those sisters who can whip up a good home-cooked meal in five minutes for two forlorn-looking elders. The rewards come for years afterward in the form of wedding and birth announcements and Christmas cards, always with messages of gratitude for kindnesses shown them in the field.

Recently I was pleasantly surprised to hear from a returned missionary after thirteen years. He reminisced fondly about the day we had first met, describing the table laden with appetizing foods for the missionaries of his district. My heart swelled as I mused, “He still remembers. … surely the effort was worth it.” But then he added, “I remember it so well, because my companion and I were fasting that day!”

Thelma Lee Reeder
West Covina, California

Recently while waiting in the foyer of the chapel, my daughter and her four-year-old identical twin sons noticed a small girl from another ward staring at them. She studied first one boy, then the other, then turned to her mother. “Mommy,” she whispered loudly, “there are two boys standing behind us, and they are both wearing the same face!”

Lena MacLeod
Templeton, California

A father was reciting to his young son:

“Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the King’s horses

And all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty Dumpty

Together again.”

As the father finished, the young boy sat thoughtfully. Suddenly, a smile appeared on his face. “Why don’t they ask the Relief Society—they can do anything!”

Lois McMahan
New Meadows, Idaho

A woman dialed the telephone, intending to call the record shop and order a new stereo album, but she got a Mormon bishop instead. Unaware of her mistake, the woman asked, “Do you have ‘Eyes of Blue and a Heart That’s True’? ”

“I sure do,” answered the bishop, “but I also have a wife and eight kids.”

She asked incredulously, “Is that a record?

The bishop answered, “Well, not exactly, but it’s way above average.”

G. Horn
Redding, California

My five-year-old son accompanied me on an elders quorum assignment to weed tomatoes at the stake farm. After some instruction on where to weed, he went to a row and began to work.

Noticing that he was moving rapidly up the row, I thought I’d compliment him by asking him how he was doing. He replied, “Fine, daddy, except why do all these weeds have tomatoes on them?”

Alan W. Lake
West Jordan, Utah

I felt our two-year-old Stacey was ready to learn about crossing streets and obeying signal lights, so we made a trip downtown for her first lesson. Back and forth across streets we went, discussing the light that flashed “walk” and “don’t walk.”

The next day at sacrament meeting our family was seated near an outside door in the chapel. The meeting seemed to be longer than usual, and I knew the children were getting tired. It was then that Stacey leaned over and, pointing to the exit sign above the door, said with a sigh, “Mommy, I know what that says. It says ‘Stop talking.’”

Diana Fraim Mills
American Fork, Utah

Years ago while still an investigator of the Church, I was approached on the Salt Lake Temple grounds by a well-dressed man who appeared to be a tourist. “Can you tell me something about these Mormons?” he inquired. I obliged him as best I could, explaining what I knew of the Restoration, filling in with details of Church history.

The answer seemed to please the man. He thanked me, and then confided with a conspiratorial twinkle in his eye, “Young lady, I’m really a bishop from California.” I replied with the same conspiratorial twinkle, “And I, sir, am not a Mormon.”

Nancy Heal Carpenter
Brigham City, Utah

Photography by Eldon K. Linschoten