“Mirthright,” Ensign, Aug. 1984, 71
One day my wife was playing with our three-year-old. They were cutting out and pasting paper figures on construction paper and our three-year-old, Yanko, was identifying them—“Baby Brother,” “Mommy,” “Daddy,” and so on. The door bell rang and it turned out to be the postman with a registered letter. My wife signed for the letter and went back to playing with the children. A few moments later the door bell rang again. It was the postman. He had a problem. He couldn’t quite bring himself to accept “Mommy” as a legal signature.
New Brunswick, Canada
For a family activity recently we gathered together to watch the movie The Bible on television. We tried to use every teaching opportunity we could to help the program be more meaningful for our three young children. At the point where Lot and his wife were leaving the city of Sodom, I emphasized the commandment given to Lot’s family about not looking back and told the children to watch what would happen if someone was disobedient to the Lord. When Lot’s wife disobeyed and was turned into a pillar of salt, I thought the illustration was complete. But apparently five-year-old Ryan was still confused about what had happened. Baffled, he asked, “What would have happened if Lot had turned back too? Would he have been changed to pepper?”
Alan W. Grose
St. Clair Shores, Michigan
The Relief Society recreation leader was giving instructions for what to wear to the new aerobics dance class. One of the older sisters in the room asked, “Can we wear our jeans?” The recreation leader explained that we needed clothing flexible enough to allow us to move freely. The older sister replied, “Well, my jeans can move lots farther than I can!”
My husband was the choir leader in a large ward and my little three-year-old granddaughter, Michelle, was his friend and admirer.
One Sunday I was sitting on the back row with her as my husband led the opening song. As he finished, his arms in the air, Michelle, standing on the back bench in order to see, said in a clear voice, which my husband could hear, “Grandpa, that was real good!”
This spontaneous expression of love was heard by many rows of people, all of whom laughed in approval of a loving child for her grandfather.
Dora King Raymond
While attending a sacrament meeting, we had the privilege of having a guest speaker give an inspiring address. Near the end of his talk he was having trouble locating the copies of the standard works that are usually near the pulpit somewhere. Not seeing what he wanted, he turned to someone on the stand and said, “May I have a D&C please?” The piano player, suddenly startled to alertness, promptly played the two notes D and C.
Kerry M. Oldham
Salt Lake City, Utah
Our Sundays have been delightfully simple since we began preparing our meals in advance, leaving only the rolls to be baked after church.
One particular Sunday as we returned home from our meetings, I hurriedly put the raised rolls into the oven and turned it on. I then made an exit from the room with the baby, leaving my husband and two other small children to prepare the table. Reentering the kitchen I smelled smoke. “What’s burning?” I asked. Realizing the obvious answer to my own question, I raced to open the oven door. At a glance I noticed the front-located temperature control had been turned up to 500°.
Smoke filled the room as I reached in to salvage the remains of the rolls. Incredibly enough, only the rolls on the bottom rack were burned, and the top rolls were a perfect golden brown. I tried to scrape what remains I could from the burned pan but my efforts were futile. I finally gave up in disgust, put the remaining “good” rolls on the table and angrily sat down.
The children looked at me tensely, but I bowed my head for prayer and they followed. Before a word was uttered, however, my husband clasped my hand and in a half-teasing, half-serious way said: “It is the nature and disposition of all burned rolls to stick to the bottom of the pan. Hence, many are charred, but few are golden.” We all laughed—the Spirit returned, and we feasted upon it and the remaining rolls.
Glenda C. J. Gleave
South Jordan, Utah
A recent fast and testimony meeting reminded me that having a new baby can be quite unnerving. A young father marched proudly to the front of the congregation to give his infant a name and a blessing. Before he was there he sheepishly turned around and came back down the aisle—to get the baby.
Janice K. Aubrey
Salt Lake City, Utah