Index

Welcome to my blog! This is the way this blog works. I want to help you prepare for your talks for Sacrament meeting. We all know that Christ used stories to bring meaning to his lessons. Stories serve the same purpose for us. As we use stories to teach, we deepen the meaning of lessons because it helps us relate to it more personally. So to make it simple for you, I continue to collect and organize stories of gospel principles, quotes, and object lessons right here in the index.

Please leave comments and suggestions for further topics or story ideas!

Index:

Acceptance
Atonement
Attitude

Blessings
Book of Mormon

Callings
Character
Children
Chosen
Christ

D

E

Faith
Forgiveness

Gossip

Holy Ghost
Humor

I

Joseph Smith

K

Life
Light and Truth

Membership
Member Missionary
Mission Experience
Missionary Work, Blessings of
Missionary Work, Success in
Mother

N

O

Potential
Prayer

Q

R

Scriptures
Service

Thanksgiving
Trials

U

V

W

X

Y

Z

Character

You

Edgar Albert Guest

You are the person who has to decide

Whether you’ll do it or toss it aside;

You are the person who makes up your mind

Whether you’ll lead or will linger behind

Whether you’ll try for the goal that is afar

Or just be contented to stay where you are.

What do you wish? To be known as a shirk,

Known as a good man who’s willing to work,

Scorned as a loafer, or praised by your chief

Rich man or poor man or beggar or thief?

Eager or earnest or dull through the day?

Honest or crooked? It’s you who must say!

You must decide in the face of the test

Whether you’ll shirk or give it your best.

Nobody here will compel you to rise;

No one will force you to open your eyes;

No one will answer for you yes or no,

Whether to stay there or whether you go;

Life is a game, but it’s you who must say

Whether as cheat or as sportsman you’ll play.

Fate may betray you, but you settle first

Whether to live to your best or your worst.

So whatever it is you are wanting to be

Remember, to fashion the choice you are free,

Kindly or selfish, or gentle or strong,

Keeping the right way or taking the wrong

Careless of honor or guarding your pride

All of these are questions which you must decide.

Yours the selection, whichever you do;

The thing men call character is all up to you.

Thanksgiving

UNTHANKED PEOPLE

When William Stidger taught at Boston University, he once reflected upon the great number of unthanked people in his life. Those who had helped nurture him, inspire him, or who cared enough about him to leave a lasting impression.

One was a schoolteacher he’d not heard of in many years. But he remembered that she had gone out of her way to put a love of verse in him, and Will had loved poetry all his life. He wrote a letter of thanks to her.

The reply he received, written in the feeble scrawl of the aged, began, “My dear Willie.” He was delighted. Now over 50, bald and a professor, he didn’t think there was a person left in the world who would call him “Willie.” Here is that letter:

My dear Willie,

I cannot tell you how much your note meant to me. I am in my eighties, living alone in a small room, cooking my own meals, lonely, and, like the last leaf of autumn, lingering behind. You will be interested to know that I taught school for 50 years, and yours is the first note of appreciation I ever received. It came on a blue-cold morning, and it cheered me as nothing has in many years.

Not prone to cry easily, Will wept over that note. She was one of the great unthanked people from Will’s past. You know them. We all do. The teacher who made a difference. That coach we’ll never forget. The music instructor or Sunday School worker who helped us to believe in ourselves. That scout leader who cared.

We all remember people who shaped our lives in various ways. People whose influence changed us. Will Stidger found a way to show his appreciation -- he wrote them letters.

Who are some of the unthanked people from your past? It may not be too late to say, “Thanks.”

Joseph Smith

Joseph Smith

Andrew C. Skinnner

Perhaps the most important revelation of this last and greatest dispensation: was Joseph Smith’s First Vision of the Father and the Son. When Joseph Smith walked out of the Sacred Grove, at least 14 things were clarified or reestablished that had been lost or unknown during the previous 1,700 years.

• Ÿ  God the Father and Jesus Christ are alive and reside in Heaven.
• Ÿ  Their relationship is a familial one-Father and Son.
• Ÿ  They are separate and distinct personages, not one spiritual essence.
• Ÿ  They possess a glory beyond description.
• Ÿ  They look act, and speak like human beings.
• Ÿ  Humans are created in the image of the Father and the Son.
• Ÿ  The Father and the Son hear and answer prayers.
• Ÿ  The Father and the Son know individuals by name.
• Ÿ  There is an opponent to righteousness; he is real.
• Ÿ  That adversary to righteousness tries to thwart prayer.
• Ÿ  Revelation was a continuing reality 1,700 years after the so-called era of primitive Christianity.
• Ÿ  The Father testifies of His Son, and the Son of God deals directly with humankind.
• Ÿ  There had been an apostasy from Christ’s Church.
• Ÿ  None of the churches on the earth in Joseph’s day possessed the fullness of Christ’s gospel.

Gossip

On Gossip

Ann Landers

REMEMBER, before you repeat a story, ask yourself: Is it true? Is it fair? Is it necessary? If not, do not repeat it.

KEEP QUIET.

GREAT minds discuss ideas. . . Average minds discuss  events.. . Shallow minds discuss people...

Which are you?

Children

MAKING THINGS BETTER FOR OUR KIDS

(Written with a Pen by Paul Harvey)

For my grandchildren, I’d like better. I’d really like for them to know about hand-me-down clothes, homemade ice-cream, and meatloaf sandwiches. I really would. My cherished grandson, I hope you learn humility by being humiliated, and that you learn honesty by being cheated. I hope you learn to make your bed, and mow the lawn, and wash the car, and I really hope nobody gives you a brand new car when you are sixteen. I hope you have a job by then.

It will be good if at least one time you can see a baby calf born and your old dog put to sleep. I hope you get a black eye fighting for something you believe in. I hope you have to share a bedroom with your younger brother. And it’s all right if you have to draw a line down the middle of the room, but when he wants to crawl under the covers with you because he’s scared, I hope you let him. When you want to see a Disney movie and your little brother wants to tag along, I hope you’ll let him.

I hope you have to walk uphill to school with your friends and that you live in a town where you can do it safely. On rainy days when you have to catch a ride, I hope your driver doesn’t have to drop you two blocks away so you won’t be seen riding with someone as uncool as your mom. If you want a slingshot, I hope your dad teaches you to make one instead of buying one. I hope you learn to dig in the dirt and read books. When you learn to use those newfangled computers, I hope you also learn to add and subtract in your head. I hope you get razzed by your friends when you have your first crush on a girl, and when you talk back to your mother that you learn what Ivory soap tastes like.

May you skin your knee climbing a mountain, burn your hand on a stove, and stick your tongue on a frozen flagpole. I hope you get sick when someone blows cigar smoke in your face. I don’t care if you try beer once, but I hope you don’t like it. And if a friend offers you dope or a joint, I hope you realize he’s not your friend.

I sure hope you make time to sit on a porch with your grandpa and go fishing with your uncle. May you feel sorrow at a funeral and the joy of holidays. I hope your mother punishes you when you throw a baseball through the neighbor’s window, and that she hugs you at Christmas time when you give her a plaster of Paris mold of your hand.

These things I wish for you -- tough times and disappointment, hard work, and happiness.

Mother

The Meanest Mother in the Whole World 

— Author Unknown —

We had the meanest mother in the whole world! While other kids ate candy for breakfast, we had to have cereal, eggs, and toast. When others had a Pepsi and twinkie for lunch, we had to eat sandwiches. And, you guessed it our mother fixed us a dinner that was different from what other kids had, too.

Mother insisted on knowing where we were at all times. You’d think we were convicts in a prison. She had to know who our friends were, and what we were doing with them. She insisted that if we said we would be gone for an hour, we would be gone for an hour or less.

We were ashamed to admit it, but she had the nerve to break the Child Labor Laws by making us work. We had to wash the dishes, make the beds, learn to cook, vacuum the floor, do laundry, and all sorts of other cruel jobs. I think she would lie awake at night thinking of more things for us to do.

She always insisted on us telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. By the time we were teenagers, she could read our minds. Then, life was really tough! Mother wouldn’t let our friends just honk the horn when they drove up. They had to come up to the door so she could meet them. While everyone else could date when they were 12 or 13, we had to wait until we were 16.

Because of our mother, we missed out on lots of things other kids experienced. None of us have ever been caught shoplifting, vandalizing other’s property, or ever been arrested for any crime. It was all her fault We never got drunk, took up smoking, stayed out all night, or a million other things other kids did. Sundays were reserved for church, and we never missed once. We knew better than to ask to spend the night with a friend on Saturdays.

Now that we have left home, we are all God-fearing, educated, honest adults, and we are doing our best to be mean parents just like Mom. I think that is what is wrong with the world today....there just aren’t enough mean mothers anymore.

Forgiveness

SERMON FROM A CHILD

Author Unknown

One rainy afternoon, I was driving along one of the main streets of town, taking those extra precautions necessary when the roads were wet and slick. Suddenly, my son, Matthew, spoke up from his relaxed position in the front seat.

“Mom, I’m thinking of something.”

This announcement usually meant he had been pondering some fact for awhile, and was now ready to expound all that his seven-year-old mind had discovered. I was eager to hear.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“The rain,” he began, “is like sin, and the windshield wipers are like God wiping our sins away.”

After the chill bumps raced up my arms, I was able to respond. “That’s really good, Matthew.”

Then, my curiosity broke in. How far would this little boy take this revelation? So, I asked.

“Matthew, do you notice how the rain keeps on coming? What does that tell you?” He didn’t hesitate one moment with his answer. “We keep on sinning, and God just keeps on forgiving us.”

It really is that simple, isn’t it?

Acceptance

The Old Fisherman

--Mary Barte--

Our house was directly across the street from the clinic entrance to John Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. We lived downstairs and rented the upstairs rooms to outpatients at the clinic.

One summer evening, as I was fixing supper, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to see a truly awful looking old man. “Why he’s hardly taller than my eight-year-old,” I thought as I stared at the stooped, shriveled body. But, the appalling thing wais his face -- lopsided from swelling, red, and raw. Yet, his voice was pleasant as he said, “Good evening. I’ve come to see if you’ve a room for just one night. I came for a treatment this morning from the eastern shore, and there’s no bus ‘til morning.” He told me he’d been hunting for a room since noon, but with no success. “I guess it’s my face. I know it looks terrible, but my doctor says with a few more treatments...”

For a moment I hesitated, but his next words convinced me. “I could sleep in this rocking chair on the porch. My bus leaves early in the morning.” I told him we would find him a bed, but to rest on the porch meanwhile. Then, I went inside and finished getting supper. When we were ready, I asked the old man if he would join us. “No thank you, I have plenty,” and he held up a brown paper bag.

When I had finished the dishes, I went out on the porch to talk with him a few minutes. It didn’t take long to see that this old man had an oversized heart crowded into that tiny body. He told me that he fished for a living to support his daughter, her five children, and her husband who was hopelessly crippled from a back injury. He didn’t tell it by way of complaint; every other sentence was prefaced with a thanks to God for a blessing. He was grateful that no pain accompanied his disease, which was apparently a form of skin cancer. He thanked God for giving him the strength to keep going.

At bedtime, we put a camp cot in the children’s room for him. When I got up in the morning, the bed linens were neatly folded, and the little old Man was out on the porch. He refused breakfast, but just before he left for the bus, haltingly, as if asking a great favor, he said, “Could I please come back and stay next time I have a treatment? I won’t put you out a bit -- I can sleep fine in a chair.” He paused a moment, then added, “Your children made me feel at home. Grown ups are bothered by my face, but children don’t seem to mind.”

I told him he would be welcome to cone again. On his next trip, he arrived a little after seven in the morning. As a gift, he brought us a big fish and a quart of the largest oysters I had ever seen. He said he had shucked them that morning before he had left so they would be nice and fresh. I knew his bus left at 4 a.m., and wondered what time he had had to get up in order to do this.

In the years he came to stay overnight with us, there was never a time that he did not bring us fish or oysters or vegetables from his garden. Other times, we received packages in the mail and always special delivery - fish and oysters packed in a box of fresh young spinach or kale, every leaf carefully washed, Knowing that he must walk three miles to mail these, and how little money he had, made these gifts doubly precious.

When I received these little remembrances, I often thought of a comment our next door neighbor made after he left that first morning. “Did you keep that awful looking man last night? I turned him away. You can lose roomers by putting up such people.”

And maybe we did, once or twice. But oh, if only they could have known him, perhaps their illnesses would have been easier to bear. I know our family will always be grateful to have known him; from him we learned what it was to accept the bad without complaint and the good with gratitude to God.

Recently, I was visiting a friend who has a greenhouse. As she showed me her flowers, we came to the most beautiful one of all - a golden chrysanthemum, bursting with blooms. But, to my great surprise, it was growing in an old, dented, rusty bucket. I thought to myself, if this were my plant, I’d put it in the loveliest container I had. My friend changed my mind.

“I ran out of pots,” she explained, “and knowing how beautiful this one would be, I thought it wouldn’t mind starting in this old pail. It’s just for a little while, till I can put it out in the garden.

She Must have wondered why I laughed so delightedly, but I was imagining just such a scene in heaven. “Here’s an especially beautiful one,” God might have said when he came to the soul of the fisherman. “He won’t mind starting in this small body.”

But, that’s behind now, long ago, and in God’s garden how tall this lovely soul must stand!!

Chosen

These are my Chosen

Once upon a time, there lived in Arabia a man who was named Ben Yussef. He had a son, and he and his son were very rich people. Their wealth came from the fact that they bred and trained Arabian horses.

Now, everyone knows that Arabian horses are world famous for their speed, their beauty, and their sturdiness. Ben Yussef and his son trained these horses, and then sold them, however, each year they kept the very best for themselves. Ben Yussefs horses were in great demand, and he trained them very well because their livelihood depended upon it. He trained them so that each one would answer to his call. He would cry, “Kyama, Kyama!,” and there would be a thunder of hooves, and a swishing of manes and tails as the many horses galloped up to him, and stood pawing the ground around him as they tossed their beautiful, shiny heads.

One day, Ben Yussef called, “Kyama, Kyama!” and there was not a single horse that would answer his call. Ben turned to his son and said, “The time has come. The time has come for the sorting of the horses. The time has come for their testing.”

These horses, who had been given the very best that money could buy, were gradually cut off from their luxuries. Their bran and mash was cut down until it was barely enough to keep them alive. They were turned out of their stables into a dry, stubby field with hardly any pasture. Their gleaming coats were neglected and became dirty and ragged. They were not given enough water, and they became thin and wild looking. They no longer looked anything like the beautiful thorough breds they had once been.

After many months, Ben Yussef and several stable hands came and reigned up the horses. They were led into another field which had gates leading to yet another field. Beyond the gates, there was everything that the poor, starved horses had once been accustomed to every day. There were troughs filled with bran and hay. There was barrel after barrel filled with clear, sparkling water. There were lush green, thick pastures.

The horses whinnied and pulled against their reigns in their desire to get to this adjoining field. Finally, Ben Yussef called down to his son, who was guarding the gates, and said, “Open the gates!”

The way was clear. There was nothing to stop them now, and the horses began to gallop into the lush, green field which contained everything they had missed for so long. However, before they reached the coveted place, a great cry rang out, “Kyama, Kyama!” The horses pricked their ears. Some rushed straight on, and some stopped, looked back, and then continued galloping. Some stopped, turned, and ever so slowly, very slowly, walked back to where Ben Yussef was standing. He looked at them with pity in his eyes, but with pride in his voice he said, ‘These Are My Chosen.”

Let’s stop and think about this story. Ben Yussef was the trainer of fine Arabian horses. In fact, they were the finest in all the world. But, in order to find the very best, Ben Yussef required them to go through sacrifices and trials before the sorting. We can compare this to ourselves. We are the best and finest the Lord has, and because we are, there are some sacrifices we must make. Stop and think. When the sorting day comes, will your testimony and actions reflect as one the Lord will proudly be able to count as one of His chosen? Stop and evaluate. Find out where you stand, and then take action to refine yourself.

Potential

The Parable of the Eagle

A certain farmer was going through the forest when he ran across a small eagle which had fallen from its nest. He took the eagle home and placed it among a flock of chickens. In time it grew to full maturity.

One day, a naturalist came to see the farmer and saw the eagle among the chickens. “That bird is an eagle not a chicken,” he said.

“Yes,” said the farmer, “but I have trained it to be a chicken. For all intents and purposes, it is a chicken. Even though it has a wing spread of ten feet tip-to-tip, it will never fly.”

“No,” said the naturalist. “It is an eagle still; it has the soul of an eagle and its destiny is to soar in the heavens. Let me teach it to fly.”

“Please go ahead,” said the farmer.

The naturalist took the eagle to the top of the barn. “You are an eagle,” he said. “Your destiny is the heavens. Stretch forth your wings and fly.” The eagle turned this way and that. Then, looking down, saw the chickens eating their food and jumped down among them.

The naturalist was discouraged, but the farmer said to him, “You are a well-educated man. Certainly you must have discovered that most people behave the way the people around them behave. They accept their goals and their lifestyles. It is the same with this eagle. He has been reared with the chickens and has taken on their ways of behaving. That is why I say he will never fly.” The naturalist was sad, but he said to the owner, “Please let me try once more.”

The next morning, he rose early and took the eagle away from the chickens, away from the farm, away from the city. He took it to the foot of a mountain. Holding the eagle in his arms, he climbed the mountain. As he reached the top, the sun was just rising, bathing the tip of the mountain with gold, and every crag was glistening with the light. The naturalist felt the joy of the morning.

As he held the eagle, he let it look around. Then, it trembled as if new life were coming to it, but it did not fly. The naturalist took the eagle and faced it into the sun (let us now spell it SON and not SUN). He said to the eagle, “You are an eagle. Your destiny is in the heavens. Now, FLY!” And, with a mighty screech, he spread his wings, and the eagle flew!

As missionaries, we need to remember the progression we want to achieve with ourselves and those we teach. We have the potential to be an eagle if we have faith and look toward Jesus Christ, the Son of Our Heavenly Father, as our supreme exemplar. The Savior is the sure foundation upon which to build our lives, and He shows us the way to perfection.

Trials

~ Butterfly ~

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a wonderful

old man who loved everything - animals, spiders, insects…. One day, while walking through the woods, the nice old man found a cocoon. Feeling lonely, he decided to take the cocoon home to watch its beautiful transformation from a funny little cocoon to a beautiful butterfly.

The old man gently placed the cocoon on his kitchen table, and

watched over it for a few days. Suddenly, on the seventh day, the cocoon started to frantically move as the butterfly struggled to free itself. Feeling so sorry for the cocooned butterfly, he rushed to its aide and gently slit the cocoon so the butterfly could emerge. Just one slice was all it took, and the butterfly broke free from its cocoon only to wilt over in a completely motionless state.

The old man did not know what to think. Had he accidentally killed the little butterfly?

Feeling completely dumbfounded and quite perplexed, the man wondered what he should do. He felt so sorry for the little butterfly that he decided the best thing he could do was to place it gently back in its cocoon. Then he resealed it with a drop of honey, leaving the butterfly to nestle in its natural state.

The next day, the old man noticed that the cocoon was moving again, but this time he did not help the butterfly. Instead, he watched it struggle for quite some time until it finally broke free. Then the butterfly stretched out its colorful wings, looked around, and flew off!

The old man wondered what he had done wrong by helping the butterfly to escape from its cocoon, so he researched the matter. Soon, he learned that in order for the butterfly to be strong enough to survive when it was outside the cocoon, it was necessary for it to struggle while escaping its cocoon. That’s how it gained its strength.

Many people have trials in their lives, but these trials are meant to make us stronger. We may struggle and become exhausted at times, but usually we will emerge stronger.

Service

A HIGHER LAW

Elder William R. Bradford of the Seventy once spoke with the Bishop of a Ward whose youth had worked to earn money for an activity. The Bishop asked Elder Bradford if he would help the youth get some recognition for what they had done.

To the Bishop’s surprise, Elder Bradford said he would not. He said that he was glad that the young people had worked hard, but that it was not important that they receive public recognition for that work.

When the youth decided to donate their money to the Church’s general missionary fund instead of using it for the activity, they wanted to have their picture taken with Elder Bradford as they made the donation, and they wanted to have the picture and an article put into the newspaper.

Again, Elder Bradford surprised them by saying “no.” He told the Bishop, “You might consider helping your young people learn a higher law of recognition. Recognition from on high is silent. It is carefully and quietly recorded there. Let them feel the joy and gain the treasure in their heart and soul that come from silent, selfless service.”

SERVICE IS THE RENT WE PAY FOR LIVING ON THIS PLANET.

Scriptures

“Feast on His Words”

 Jack Christianson

            Studying the scriptures is one of the great keys to spiritual success, and somehow, we must learn to love them.

            Learning to love the scriptures is no different from learning to love anything else. We must practice, practice, practice, and then practice some more. Never would we attempt to play in a major sports championship, or play an instrument in a recital, without having practiced many hours. Yet, many feel they can unlock the excitement and beauty of the scriptures by reviewing them for a few minutes a week. It doesn’t work that way.

            Of course, snacking is better than starving, but the Lord reminds us to “feast on his words.” Then, we savor them, digest them; they become a part of us and give life.

Prayer

Empty Chair

Author Unknown

A man’s daughter had asked the local pastor to come and pray with her father. When the pastor arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed. The pastor assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit

“I guess you were expecting me,” he said.

“No, who are you?”

“I’m the new associate at your local church,” the pastor replied. “When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up.”

“Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bedridden man. “Would you mind closing the door?” Puzzled, the pastor shut the door.

“I’ve never told anyone this, not even my daughter,” said the man. “but, all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church, I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head. I abandoned any attempt at prayer,” the old man continued, “until one day, about four years ago, my best friend said: ‘Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here’s what I suggest. Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It’s not spooky because He promised, “Ill be with you always.” then, just speak to him, and listen in the same way you’re doing with me right now.’ So, I tried it, and I’ve liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day. I’m careful though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she’d either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm.”

The pastor was deeply moved by the story, and encouraged the old man to continue on the journey. Then, he prayed with him, and returned to the church.

Two nights later, the daughter called to tell the pastor that her Daddy had died that afternoon.

“Did he seem to die in peace?” he asked.

“Yes. When I left the house around two o’clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes, and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But, there was something strange, in fact, beyond strange - kinda weird. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed.”

~~~

“Let Not Your Heart Be Troubled”

Helen Steiner Rice

Whenever I am troubled,

And lost in deep despair,

I bundle all my troubles up,

And go to God in prayer…

I tell Him I am heartsick,

And lost and lonely, too,

That my mind is deeply burdened,

And I don’t know what to do…

But I know He stilled the tempest,

And calmed the angry sea,

And I humbly ask if in His love,

He’ll do the same for me…

And then I just keep Quiet,

And think only thoughts of Peace,

And if I abide in Stillness,

My “restless murmurings” cease.

~~~

YOU DIDN’T ASK!

 - - Anonymous - -

I got up early one Morning,

And rushed right into the day.

I had so much to accomplish,

That I didn’t have time to pray.

Problems just tumbled upon me,

And heavier came each task.

Why doesn’t God help Me? I wondered.

He answered, “You didn’t ask.”

I wanted to see joy and beauty,

But the day toiled on, gray and bleak.

I wondered why God didn’t show me,

He said, “But, you didn’t seek”

I tried to come into God’s presence,

I used all my keys at the lock.

God gently and lovingly chided,

“My child, you didn’t knock”

I woke up early this Morning,

And paused before entering the day.

I had so Much to accomplish,

That I had to take time to pray.

Humor

 “DEFINITIONS SIMILIAR FOR FOOTBALL AND RELIGION”

By Quig Nielsen

                “Is there really such a game as Christian football? In my E-Mail recently was an unusual set of definitions for terms familiar to fans and players in NFL, college, and most high school football. These Christian football explanations immediately caught my attention bringing many little chuckles to me, so maybe you, if you’ve not seen them, might enjoy them too.

As I read it over, I concluded this could easily apply to Latter-day Saint or Mormon football. Not that we Mormons aren’t Christians, because we certainly are, but many of the expressions here are similar to those we would make. Some of the definitions:

Benchwarmer: Those who do not sing, pray, work, or apparently do anything but sit.

Backfield-In-Motion: Making a trip to the back (restroom or water fountain) during the service.

Staying In The Pocket: What happens to a lot of money that should be given to the Lord’s work.

Quarterback Sneak: Church members quietly leaving during the invocation.

Two-Minute Warning: The point at which you realize the talk is almost over and begin to gather up your children and belongings.

Halftime: The period between Sunday School and (sacrament meeting) worship when many choose to leave.

Draw Play: What many children do with the church (ward) bulletin during worship.

Instant Replay: The speaker loses his notes and falls back on last week’s Sunday School lesson.

Trap: You’re called on to pray and you are asleep.

Sudden Death: What happens to the attention span of the congregation if the speaker goes into “overtime”.

End Run: Getting out of church quickly, without speaking to any guest or fellow member.

Defense: The ability to allow absolutely nothing said during the meeting to affect your life.

Halfback Option: The decision of 50 or more of the congregation not to wait for (sacrament meeting).           

Blitz: The rush for the restaurants following the closing prayer.

Mission Experience

Highs and Lows

Jack L. Brinkerhoff

A mission is strange experience,

A trial and a test,

A mission throws at you the worst,

Yet, Teaches you the best

                I’ve never been so happy,

                I’ve never been so depressed,

                I’ve never felt so forsaken,

                I’ve never been so blessed.

I’ve never been so confused,

Things have never been so clear,

I’ve never felt my Heavenly Father so distant,

He’s never been so near.

                I’ve never been so discouraged

                I’ve never been so full of hope,

                I feel I could go on forever,

                I’ve come to the end of my rope.

I’ve never had it quite so easy,

I’ve never had it quite so tough,

Things have never been so smooth

Things have never been so rough.

                I’ve never been through such a deep valley,

                I’ve never been to so high a peak,

                I’ve never felt so sure and strong,

                I’ve never felt so weak.

I never had so many ups,

I’ve never had so many downs,

I’ve never had so many smiles,

I’ve never had so many frowns.

                I’ve never been so lonely,

                I’ve never had so many friends.

                Boy! I hope this is over soon!

                Gosh! I hope it never ends!

~~~

Mission

-Author Unknown

As I stare out the window,

Tears still in my eyes,

I see the vision of those I love,

As we said our last goodbyes.

The flight was long and tiring,

As two questions plagued my mind,

Do I want the life that’s ahead of me,

Or the one I left behind?

You see twenty-four months is such a long time,

For going door-to-door,

In my reflection, I thought

There must be something more.

I struggled down off the plane,

Looking for a friendly face,

When a man called Pres. said:

Son, you’ve come to the right place!”

I sit reflecting once again,

As this day is my last,

Please, Lord, it isn’t fair,

The time went way too fast

As I stare out the window,

Tears still in my eyes,

I see the visions of those I love,

As we said our last goodbyes.

The flight was long and tiring,

As two questions plagued my mind,

Do I want the life that’s ahead of me,

Or the one I left behind?

~~~

To Our Missionary

Evelyn S. Grant

Courage, my son, and don’t forget,

That God is with you in every step.

You take for Him in a righteous cause,

Such as teaching His sacred and holy laws.

There are souls out there waiting to hear

The message you carry of faith and prayer;

Of a God who dwells in the heavens above,

And rules the world with the spirit of love.

Forget all worries and earthly care,

And put your soul in the message you bear.

Discouragement is always the devil’s tool

But show him quickly that you are no fool,

Get down on your knees in humble prayer;

God’s encouraging Spirit will meet you there.

There are souls out there in the mist and fog

Who are waiting for you and your message from God;

For He has love for each child that he owns,

And wants them back in His heavenly homes.

Be not discouraged, no matter how hard the way.

But deliver the message God wants you to say.

~~~

The Lord, my companion and me

Lula Anderson

The Lord, my companion and me,

Are a great combination, we three;

For where He would lead us we go willingly,

The Lord, my companion and me.

The Lord, my companion and me,

Have a work that is endless, you see.

For the good, honest soul must be gathered we’re told By the Lord, my companion and me.

The Lord, my companion and me

Must pull as a team, constantly.

If we would have power, we will remember each hour It’s the Lord first, my companion, then me.

~~~