“Mirthright,” Ensign, Feb. 1984, 51
My husband and I operate a typing service, and our home phone doubles as our business phone.
One afternoon the phone’s ringing interrupted a particularly intense family discussion on tithing. My mind was still on the discussion as I picked up the receiver and said into it, “Bob’s Tithing Service.”
I started to correct myself, but the caller assured me I didn’t need to. He understood; he was the bishop.
Huntington Beach, California
The first word on the fourth grade’s weekly spelling list was chronic, and the teacher’s instructions were to write a sentence for each new word that would illustrate the word’s meaning. One class member was obviously a dedicated little Latter-day Saint, for his first sentence caught the teacher’s eye immediately: “Chronic,” he had written. “Soon I will get to work in the Chronic Priesthood like my brother.”
Brother Caswell was diagraming the three degrees of glory on the chalkboard for our adult Sunday School class. One good brother who had been puzzling over the diagrams for some time finally voiced his confusion. “But where is hell?” he asked.
Not wanting to get ahead of himself, Brother Caswell quickly replied, “We’ll be there in a minute.”
Mae Thornton Pattee
My three-year-old daughter, Natalie, and I went for a drive in the car one morning. As Natalie got in the front seat, she noticed my husband’s scriptures on the seat. “Oh, mommy!” she exclaimed. “Daddy forgot his quiet book!”
Salt Lake City, Utah
The time drew near for my three-year-old daughter, Sharla, to enter the Sunbeam class in Primary. I attempted to prepare her for the experience by telling her about the fun she would have being in Primary and how grown up she would be as a Sunbeam. As I quizzed her to see how well she had caught the enthusiasm of being a Sunbeam, which I had worked hard to convey, I asked her this question: “Sharla, what are you going to be in Primary that you’ve never been before?”
And with all seriousness and genuine sincerity she replied, “I’m going to be quiet.”
The Relief Society presidency, meeting to discuss the fall social, felt the need for a song about sisterhood. My mother-in-law, probably the most efficient Relief Society secretary there is, with names and percentages at the tip of her tongue, sat looking puzzled. She finally had the courage to query, “Sister Hood? I’m sorry, but I just can’t place her.”
Larrie E. Christensen
Latter-day Saints are not the only ones involved in Scouting, but in the city where we lived, our church must have had considerable influence in the program. This became apparent one day when a non-LDS Scouting executive spoke in a planning meeting. During his remarks, he referred to the Scouting programs in the “LDS wards,” the “Methodist wards,” and the “Presbyterian wards.”
Upon my husband’s call to the bishopric, I was to be released as Relief Society president. The Saturday before my release, I was scurrying around getting books and papers together for the new president. Seeing my activity, my eleven-year-old daughter inquired about my hurry. Without any explanation from me, my four-year-old son responded, “I’ll tell you—Mom’s being cancelled!”
At a recent stake conference I was dismayed to hear that my second counselor in the Primary had been called into the stake Relief Society presidency. At ward correlation meeting the next Sunday I was lamenting my loss when the bishop offered these words of comfort: “The Lord giveth, the stake taketh away.”
Joyce C. Johnson
Our two oldest children have just learned to read and write. One Sunday afternoon they decided that they wanted to write a letter to the bishop. One asked me to spell the bishop’s name, and when I did the other one asked, “What about the other bishop.” I told her I didn’t know about another bishop, to which she responded somewhat perturbed, “You know, Bishop Johnson and Bishop Ric.”