“Marc and Sister Dunkley,” Friend, Aug. 2001, 28
It was a bright summer day. Everyone in Marc’s family was busy working outside. David was mowing the lawn. Dad was fixing the car. Mom was weeding the garden. Marc started to feel a little lonely. Hmmm, he thought, I will go visit Sister Dunkley.
Sister Dunkley lived just up the street. Marc liked her. She had beautiful white hair. She made delicious cookies. Her house always felt warm and happy. Mom said that he could visit her, so he skipped all the way there.
Marc knocked on Sister Dunkley’s door. No one answered. He knocked again. Slowly the door opened. There was Sister Dunkley. She looked a little tired. Her beautiful white hair was a little messy. She was still in her pajamas.
Sister Dunkley smiled a tired smile. “Why hello, Marc. Would you like to come in?”
“Yes, thank you.” He sat down on the couch. Sister Dunkley sat down on a chair.
“I don’t have any cookies today, Marc,” she said.
“That’s all right, Sister Dunkley. I just came for a little visit. Everyone is busy at my house.”
Marc looked around at Sister Dunkley’s house. Something did not feel right. From the couch he could see her bed. It was not made. He could see her kitchen, too. The dishes were not washed. He looked at Sister Dunkley. Why was she still wearing her pajamas?
Marc got down off the couch. “I need to go home.”
“That was a short visit.” Sister Dunkley looked puzzled.
“I need to tell my mom something.” He walked out the door, then ran down the street. He ran all the way to his own backyard. “Mom! Mom!” Marc grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the house.
“My goodness, Marc, what is the matter?”
“It’s Sister Dunkley! We need to make one of those Relief Society dinners for her. She’s sick, and we need to help her.”
“How do you know she’s sick?”
“When I visited her, I sat on her couch. I could see into her bedroom. Her bed was not made. I could see into her kitchen. Her dishes were not done. She still had her pajamas on, and her beautiful white hair was a little messy. Now, Mom,” Marc said, his hands on his hips, “when you are sick, you don’t make your bed. You don’t do the dishes. You wear your pajamas, and your hair is a little messy. So I know Sister Dunkley is sick.” Marc pulled his mom’s hand again. “Come on—let’s go make one of those Relief Society dinners.”
A smile slowly crossed Mom’s face. “Marc, let’s you and I go back to see your sweet friend, Sister Dunkley.”
Marc and Mom went to Sister Dunkley’s house. Mom knocked on the door. When no one answered, Mom slowly opened the door. “Sister Dunkley!” she called.
Marc ran across the living room to Sister Dunkley’s bedroom. “Look, Mom! She’s lying on her bed!”
Sister Dunkley tried to get up, but she couldn’t. She was too sick. Mom sat on her bed and quietly talked to her. Next Mom made a telephone call. Soon Sister Dunkley’s son came into the house. He looked worried. He thanked Mom for helping his mother.
“Don’t thank me,” Mom laughed. “Thank my little detective, Marc. He had the sense to know something was wrong.”
On the way home, Mom held Marc’s hand. “I am very proud of you, Marc. Thank you for coming and telling me Sister Dunkley was sick. When you felt uncomfortable, that was Heavenly Father telling you something. That feeling came from the Holy Ghost. He was telling you to pay attention, that something was not right. Since you listened to that feeling and came and told me, we were able to help Sister Dunkley. Those feelings can help us be safe and guide us in what we need to do. They tell us that Heavenly Father loves us. I am happy you came and told me what you were feeling. Today, Marc, you listened to the Holy Ghost. Come on! I’ll race you home so we can make one of those Relief Society dinners.”