Gospel Story Finder

After Hsiao-lung was baptized, she shared the excitement she found in the gospel with her friend Chu Chih-t’ao.
“Everyone in the Church was so friendly to me,” Chih-t’ao, 17, now a member of the Second Ward, said. “But in the beginning my faith wasn’t strong. I read the scriptures when the missionaries taught me, and I prayed. I received an answer from God that the Church is true, so I decided to be baptized. But it was after I joined the Church that my testimony really grew, thanks to help from other members who showed their love and concern. Now I have a very strong faith.”

I’m happy to be a Latter-day Saint here in the Philippines. I like to tell my friends that. My religion has taught me many things that my friends do not know, and one of those things is honesty. Honesty is one simple way to teach my friends to respect me and my religion. An experience that happened recently proved that.
I’d gone to school without eating any breakfast, and during class my stomach kept making this funny sound, telling me I was hungry. So during recess, I hurried to a nearby barbecue stand. I took two sticks of meat, ate them, then went back to class.
When our teacher asked us to copy something on the board, I reached into my pocket for a pencil, and found that my money for the sticks was still in my pocket! Without hesitation, I ran back to the store and paid for my snack. The vendor was so happy he gave me another stick free.
I went back to the classroom smiling but found a very angry teacher there. I’d forgotten to ask permission to leave, and she wanted to know what I’d been doing.
I told her everything, and to my surprise she put her arm on my shoulder and facing the class, she said, “Class, I want you to be honest like Julius.”
Then she asked me why I returned the money when I easily could have kept it. I answered, “Because I am a deacon, and my bishop won’t let me pass the sacrament if I’m not worthy.” She didn’t quite understand what I was talking about and asked again why I hadn’t kept the money.
I answered, “Because we believe in being honest.”
“Why? What’s your religion?” She wanted to know.
Without hesitation I said, “I’m a Mormon.”
“Oh,” she responded. “No wonder.”
My teacher made me feel like a giant that day. I’m glad I followed the 13th article of faith [A of F 1:13], which starts, “We believe in being honest, true …” Honesty really is the best policy.

The Consequences of Our Actions
Shortly after my sweetheart, Devonna, and I were married, she shared with me a story about how she learned in her youth this important doctrine that we are free to choose but that we are not free to choose the consequences of our actions. With the help of my daughter Shelly, I would like to relate Sister Arnold’s experience:
“When I was 15 years old, I often felt that there were too many rules and commandments. I wasn’t sure that a normal, fun-loving teenager could enjoy life with so many restrictions. Furthermore, the many hours spent working on my father’s ranch were seriously dipping into my time with my friends.
“This particular summer, one of my jobs was to ensure that the cows grazing on the mountain pasture did not break through the fence and get into the wheat field. A cow grazing on the growing wheat can bloat, causing suffocation and death. One cow in particular was always trying to stick her head through the fence. One morning, as I was riding my horse along the fence line checking on the cattle, I found that the cow had broken through the fence and gotten into the wheat field. To my dismay, I realized that she had been eating wheat for quite some time because she was already bloated and looked much like a balloon. I thought, ‘You stupid cow! That fence was there to protect you, yet you broke through it and you have eaten so much wheat that your life is in danger.’
“I raced back to the farmhouse to get my dad. However, when we returned, I found her lying dead on the ground. I was saddened by the loss of that cow. We had provided her with a beautiful mountain pasture to graze in and a fence to keep her away from the dangerous wheat, yet she foolishly broke through the fence and caused her own death.
“As I thought about the role of the fence, I realized that it was a protection, just as the commandments and my parents’ rules were a protection. The commandments and rules were for my own good. I realized that obedience to the commandments could save me from physical and spiritual death. That enlightenment was a pivotal point in my life.”
Elder Mervyn B. Arnold of the Seventy

A couple of years later the Rozsas, by now well-known throughout the area, were again on the same basketball team, this time one that was preparing for the championship playoffs. The coach of the team they would play next was in attendance at one of their games, trying to figure out how to deal with the triple threat.
“Our biggest problem is that our guys don’t know which one to guard,” he confided to his assistant. “But I’ve got it all figured out. They each wear different colored shoes.” Unknown to the coach was the fact that seated right behind him and hearing every word was Sister Dawna Rozsa, mother of the triplets. And the next week as the confident coach came out to face the triplets, he was dismayed to find they really were identical right down to the color of their shoes.
The triplets lived in Boston while their father, Brother Allen Rosza, served as president of the Massachusetts Boston Mission. Since then, the family had been in California, where the boys are finishing up their senior year at El Modena High School in Orange.
All three young men are starting players on El Modena’s championship football team, with Dan at the defensive end, Dave at guard, and Doug at linebacker. In 1978 their team took home the Southern Conference Championship of the California Interscholastic Federation. On a rain-drenched evening they defeated Pacifica High School before a crowd of more that 10,000 spectators at Anaheim Stadium. In 1979 the team reached the semi-finals before being eliminated by the eventual champions.
The Rozsas have grown up playing on the same football, basketball, baseball, track, and wrestling teams, often much to the confusion of their opponents and even their coaches, who still haven’t figured out a way to tell them apart. The results of their collective athletic endeavors give the bedroom they share the appearance of a trophy case. Awards such as “Most Valuable, “All League,” “Player of the Game,” “All-County,” and All-CIF” seem to fill up every shelf and corner.
Many young people would be more than content with just the athletic success the triplets enjoy. Yet a look at their lives shows that this same high level of performance carries over into other areas. Each maintains a grade-point average that is nearly straight-A and each has received numerous scholastic and citizenship honors. All are Eagle Scouts and have earned their Duty to God awards. Each is active in all church activities, has served a youth mission, and is now in his fourth year at early morning seminary. Since they became deacons, the three have taken turns as president of their various Aaronic Priesthood quorums. In addition, Doug is this year’s student-body president at El Modena, with Dan assisting him as vice-president, while Dave heads up the senior class as president. Their attitude has always been to make the maximum effort at everything they do.
“We just try to be the best we can,” says Doug. “You only have an experience or situation once, and it’s a waste to say, ‘Oh, I could have done that if I’d only tried.’”
“Sure, it’s fun to be number one, but if you’re not, at least you know you never lose if you try your hardest,” agrees Dave. “We try not to think about what we’ve already done. Those things have been in the past, and we feel you have to keep proving yourself.”
Brother and Sister Rozsa were living in Greenville, Texas, in 1961 when the boys were born. Already the parents of four daughters, the couple were convinced they were never going to have any sons, so they had selected only girls’ names for the twins they thought were coming. A few days before the birth, the doctor called the Rozsas in and told them to get ready for triplets. So, with the addition of one more girl’s name, the couple thought they were prepared.
When the big day came, Brother Rozsa had his ear up against the delivery room door and heard just what he expected—“It’s a girl.” But before that had a chance to register the doctor broke in with “No, wait a minute; it’s a boy,” soon followed by exclamations of “Another boy,” “And another one.”
Practically having to pick himself up off the floor, Brother Rozsa’s first thoughts were “Scouting, fishing, and little league—at last!” An avid athlete and sportsman, Brother Rozsa says he had tried unsuccessfully to turn his very feminine daughters into tomboys. Thus he was overjoyed at the thoughts of not one but three fishing and football companions.
Brother and Sister Rozsa soon realized their three identical sons presented them with some special opportunities. One family home evening the parents and daughters decided they would read the entire New Testament by the end of the year.
“We figured out how many pages a day we would have to read to finish and talked it over, never dreaming that the boys, who were only eight years old, would be able to read the New Testament,” recalls Sister Rozsa. “But they didn’t realize they weren’t really a part of the conversation, so they started reading along with us. By the end of the year, each one had finished the New Testament along with the rest of the family.”
Brother Rozsa, now serving as a member of the Los Angeles Temple presidency, says he feels this incident taught his sons a lot about success. “They learned very early that if they stuck with a task they could be successful at it. We believe in our family that you can do anything if you set priorities and then follow them.”
As young boys, the triplets learned a lot about priorities from their parents and sisters. They soon knew that family and church came first, followed by school work, Scouting, music lessons, and sports. Over the years, they’ve kept up the same active pace. How do they do it?
“Well, we try not to waste much time. And we don’t have room for much sleep or television,” the three agree.
Serving full-time missions has been a priority with the triplets from the beginning. Their desire to do this grew even more when they were 12 and their father was called as a mission president.
“We decided when we were very young that we wanted to serve missions,” says Dave. “But being in the mission home gave us a better idea of what missionaries really do and what a mission is really like.” The three brothers still discuss the many dedicated and outstanding missionaries they knew in Boston.
Of course, they also admit they had great fun confusing the missionaries about which triplet was which. And, they remember many early morning bargaining sessions, trying unsuccessfully to convince the missionaries in the mission home to drive them around on their paper routes in the sub-zero Boston winters.
Serving a mission can be a financial burden to any missionary and his family, but what do you do when you have three sons all wanting to leave at the same time? The Rozsa family has foreseen this, and the boys have been working since the age of 13 toward their missions. In addition to those icy Boston paper routes, they’ve sold avocados, worked in construction, and held other odd jobs. Last summer all three worked at the same taco stand at the same time, guaranteeing considerable confusion among unsuspecting customers. They report their bank accounts are in good shape for the missions to come.
Even though the Rozsas have spent their lives in areas where the Church is a definite minority, none of the triplets feels he has ever had to compromise his beliefs to be successful.
“We always let people know where we stand, right from the beginning. Some guys bug us a few times, but now they respect us,” says Doug. “We don’t argue, we just say, ‘Hey, I’m not going to do that.’ Our coaches and friends know we have to be out of practice in time for Mutual, they know we don’t participate in sports on Sundays, and they know where we stand on the Word of Wisdom.”
For the most part, all three enjoy playing on the same teams. The only problem comes with wrestling season when the triplets, who stand 6 feet 2 1/2 inches tall and normally weigh in at 200 pounds, struggle to get into three different weight classes. One of them diets as another tries to eat his way into a higher weight class. The lucky third member of the trio gets to maintain the status quo.
A joint sports experience they remember is the football game when each of them made a touchdown. During another game, they all recovered the same fumble. Doug got to it first, then Dan drove in on top of him, followed by Dave.
“I guess sometimes we have an advantage,” says Dan. “We can usually figure out what each other would do in a situation.”
However it is that they do it, their coaches like it. El Modena’s football coach, Bob Lester, has only one complaint—“I wish they were quintuplets!”
Even with all their many activities, the Rozsas naturally find time for some relaxation. All three enjoy waterskiing, tinkering with cars, fishing, and other outdoor activities. Of course, some of the fun times they recall most revolve around their being triplets. At an early age, a favorite trick was to insist to Junior Sunday School teachers that all three of them were Dan. The next week they would all profess to be Dave and then Doug.
Sister Rozsa remembers a prayer offered by one of her sons at age four. “Bless my parents, bless my sisters, and bless those other two who look like me.”
Trading classes and teachers has been a source of occasional amusement, but the boys say they’ve kept this to a minimum. It’s always been a rule among them that while they often study together, each one has to take his own tests.
Now that the triplets are old enough to date, they’re really finding their threesome to be an advantage at times. Dan recalls one evening when he was trying to phone a girl to ask her out, but her number was always busy. He had to run off to a meeting, so he assigned brother Dave to fill in for him.
“Dave finally got hold of her and asked for a date. She said yes, I took her out, and she never found out what really happened,” says Dan. The three brothers remain sworn to secrecy as to the name of the young lady in question.
One thing people always ask the boys is “What’s it like to be a triplet?” Their response is really quite logical: “We’ve never been anything but triplets. It feels really normal to us,” says Doug.
“It’s easy for us to tell each other apart, too, because we look so different to each other,” says Dan. (Or was that Dave?)
The triplets are often amused by people’s reactions to seeing them for the first time.
“For some reason they get really mixed-up,” chuckles Dave. “They always come up to all three of us and ask, ‘Are you twins?’ Only rarely are we asked if we’re triplets. It’s like people think that’s just too much to be believed.”
Being triplets has its definite advantages, the boys claim. When they were young, their dad’s career in the air force took them all over the country. And unlike most kids, the triplets always got to take their best friends along with them wherever they went. In fact, in over 18 years the only time they’ve been apart was when serving their youth missions last summer. This togetherness will undoubtedly change in the next couple of years, though, as new experiences such as college and missions enter their lives. That is, unless missionaries start going forth three-by-three instead of two-by-two.

Ariel shares a similar experience: “One day I was rushing to school, and I don’t know why, but something told me to take my scriptures with me. So I quickly put them in my bag and went to school.” She goes on to say, “It just so happened that I had a really bad day. I think I was in the last class of the day, and I was looking in my bag and saw my scriptures there. Just seeing them made me happy and brought the Spirit to me, and I knew that this bad day wasn’t so bad and that everything would be okay.”

Abby: Hayley was 10 and I was 6 when we started.
Hayley: At first it was kind of scary because we had to audition. McKay started a little while after Abby and I began recording. Then came our brother Jacob, who still just reads for the Friend because he’s 10.
When my voice was younger I only used to read the Friend. Now I read both the Friend and New Era. We’ve all gotten better over time at enunciating things well and at making our voices go up and down to keep the sentences from all sounding the same.

At the beach one day a group of young boys had driven their car too far out in the sand, and it was imbedded deeply. All their combined strength seemed insufficient to dislodge it. I offered to assist them, but the vile language they were using repelled me away from them. Teenagers were using the holy names of their Creator as though he were their creation. I shrank from the blasphemy and left them.

It took Ann and Walter Huish a long time and a lot of determination to make it to the Salt Lake Valley. Their pioneer journey started in England, where the missionaries taught and baptized them. But Walter and Ann wanted to live close to other members of the Church. They decided to leave their home in England and sail across the ocean to America. Their voyage took 50 days!
Next they had to take a boat up the Mississippi River. They stopped in St. Louis, where Walter worked hard to earn money for the trek to the Salt Lake Valley. He worked for many years so they could have money to make the trip. Finally they were able to travel the final 1,300 miles (2,090 km) across the plains. At last their trek was over!

“On another occasion,” Jenny continues, “during the Duke of Edinburgh practice walks with a backpack, I felt so weighed down that I very nearly quit. Usually, before such a big trial, I ask Dad for a blessing. This time I realized I’d forgotten. I was just about to look for a phone to call Mum to come and get me when a line from my patriarchal blessing came into my head: ‘You can achieve anything you set your heart to do.’ And with help from my Heavenly Father, I did it.”

Sutton Coldfield’s royal title dates back to 1528 when Henry VIII was out hunting in the local park. Disaster nearly occurred when a wild boar appeared, charging menacingly at the king. Before any harm could be done, an arrow sped from the undergrowth, killing the boar. The king was surprised when, on asking to see the person who had saved his life, a young lady came before him.
As well as praising the girl, King Henry invited her to name her reward. She requested a pardon for her father, who had been unjustly outlawed, then asked that a royal charter be given to the town. Both these wishes were granted. Henry honoured the young lady with the gift of a rose, which became the emblem of Sutton Coldfield.

Benjamin helps around the house, but he likes to have a list so that he can tick off each job as it gets done. When Joseph was born, Benjamin was devoted to him and helped his mum care for the new baby. Now that Joseph is two, Benjamin delights in hearing him say short sentences and prayers and talk about things no one has ever heard about. “He’ll get me a biscuit if I ask him to or turn the switch on the telly.” Benjamin smiles mischievously. “Now, if I can just get him to wash the dishes …”

It wasn’t so much that I doubted. It was just that I didn’t know.
There I was, 17 years old and an “active” member of the Church all my life. Baptized at eight. Ordained a deacon at twelve. Now in my fourth year of seminary. And I still couldn’t say “I know.”
For my good buddy Gary, it seemed so easy. We often sat side by side at the sacrament table. Almost every fast Sunday I would sense him squirming beside me. And almost without fail he would rise to his feet before fast and testimony meeting ended to bear his testimony. His voice quavered, his eyes would fill with tears, and I could feel him shaking beside me as he told how wonderful it was to feel the Holy Ghost.
I envied Gary at the same time I felt uncomfortable. His tears made me a little embarrassed for him. Still, I wished that I could feel what he was feeling. I guess I just didn’t want it badly enough then. So I continued to drift comfortably.
Then came that final year of seminary. Subject: The Book of Mormon. Focus: Moroni, chapter 10, verses 4 and 5. Our challenge was to read the Book of Mormon from cover to cover and to pray for a witness that it is true. In other words, to apply Moroni’s promise.
At first I didn’t make much of an effort. But as the school year wore on, I began to read the Book of Mormon every night, the last thing before I went to bed. And after reading, I would kneel beside my bed and ask for a witness that the book—and the Church—are true.
And still nothing happened.
Constantly in the back of my mind was Gary’s fervent, tearful testimony, his shaky voice. Also, there was the scripture in Doctrine and Covenants 9:8, where the Lord told Oliver Cowdery, “I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you.”
So night after night I knelt on that small braided rug beside my bed, said a pleading prayer, and climbed into bed to wait for that burning witness. Until, one night, I stopped in the middle of my prayer and asked myself, “Do I know if it’s true yet?”
And then it happened. There was no pillar of light. No voice. Not even the burning sensation that I had been looking for. Instead, a simple realization came into my mind.
I knew that I knew. And that was it. Calm and peaceful and seemingly unspectacular, it was all I needed at the time. I knew that I knew.
Since that time, I have become more aware of the Lord’s words to Oliver Cowdery in the sixth section of the Doctrine and Covenants: “If you desire a further witness, cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things.
“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?” (D&C 6:22–23, italics added).
Many times would follow when I felt that burning in my bosom. Or when I felt the joyful swelling in my heart that Alma describes (see Alma 32:28). But for the time being, that quiet realization was all I needed, all I had to remember. The Lord had spoken peace to my mind.

I didn’t have a happy childhood. My father is very against the Church, and my parents have made my Church participation difficult. Plus, because of things my parents told me, I believed I was ugly and dumb. My feelings of self-worth were reduced to nothing.
One night, things at home were worse than ever before. I went to my bedroom, and out of stress and exhaustion, I fell to my knees to pray.
Until that moment, I don’t think I’d ever prayed seriously. I began, “My dear Heavenly Father, I need Thy help so much. Please send me someone whom I can talk to and trust. At times like these, I long for someone on earth to hold me, listen to me, and try to help me.”
I prayed with similar pleadings for more than a week. I watched and listened, hoping that Heavenly Father would send me someone I could talk to in person. Nothing happened.
Things at home became worse, but I prayed daily. I heard testimonies of prayers answered immediately and others answered within weeks. But the comfort I wanted came in a way I hadn’t expected, and my prayer to have someone on earth help me didn’t come for two years. So instead of just praying, I started seriously studying the scriptures, fasting, and reading my patriarchal blessing often.
I started to feel something. I could tell I was growing spiritually. During those two very painful years, I got to know my Heavenly Father and my Savior. Because of those two years of praying and waiting, I gained a relationship with Them that is so powerful and strong that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even though the answer hadn’t come the way I thought it would, through the Savior’s grace and Atonement, I was able to find peace.
As I look back on those two years, I realize that Heavenly Father and the Savior know me better than I’ll ever know myself. They know what’s best for me. Two years after my first prayer, Heavenly Father sent people to help me. But by waiting, I was also blessed with endurance, strength, and a testimony that keeps growing stronger every day.

Yes, the Spirit giveth light in this church. I am thinking of a wonderful new convert in England. In response to my asking, he told me about his conversion. He explained how he was kneeling at his flower bed on a Saturday morning preparing the soil for spring planting. All of a sudden an unseen voice from behind asked the simple question, “Sir, do you love the Lord?”
He said that he turned around, fully, expecting to see an angel standing there; instead there were two angels, two Mormon missionaries. And his response was, “Of course I love the Lord. Please come in the house so we can talk about it.” It was all so simple, so genuine. It was an approach that the Savior might have used.

When I was 11, my family had to leave East Germany. We moved to Frankfurt, West Germany. I attended the Frankfurt Branch, which was not as big as the one in Zwickau. The Frankfurt meetinghouse was small, and we had classes in the basement. The missionaries taught us important gospel principles.
One missionary, Elder Stringham, impressed me very much with his lessons on the Pearl of Great Price, especially where Moses is being taught that he is a son of God (see Moses 1:3–4). Elder Stringham also taught me the scripture that says, “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31). This gave me comfort and courage, because at that time the future looked bleak in Germany. The city of Frankfurt was in ruins with bombed-out buildings. That teaching has stayed with me throughout my life. It taught me that I need to be on the Lord’s side. I cannot afford not to be on the Lord’s side.

Occasionally I visit nursing homes, where long-suffering is found. While attending Sunday services at one facility, I noticed a young girl who was to play her violin for the comfort of those assembled. She told me she was nervous and hoped she could do her best. As she played, one called out, “Oh, you are so pretty, and you play so beautifully.” The strains of the moving bow across the taut strings and the elegant movement of the young girl’s fingers seemed inspired by the impromptu comment. She played magnificently.
Afterward I congratulated her and her gifted accompanist. They responded, “We came to cheer the frail, the sick, and the elderly. Our fears vanished as we played. We forgot our own cares and concerns. We may have cheered them, but they truly did inspire us.”

Liriel was baptized at age 14 after being introduced to the Church by her older sister, Patricia, who lived in another part of the country.
“She invited us to church while visiting home one time,” Liriel says. “The people were spiritual and neatly dressed. They all had standards that I liked. I was very happy. I felt the power of the Holy Ghost working in my heart. I was hungry for the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
Not long after their introduction to the Church, Liriel and her younger sister Priscila were baptized. Their mother later followed. Liriel and Priscila jumped wholeheartedly into the Young Women program.
“Lots of times we were in the same class, and we were very united,” Liriel says. “We’d reach one Personal Progress goal and then talk about working toward our next goal.”
Before long, Liriel had earned the Young Womanhood Recognition—the medallion she would wear in front of millions. To her, the medallion represented her desire to follow the Savior.
“Earning my Young Women medallion was an accomplishment,” she says. “To me it means that I am spiritually prepared for temple marriage and a family.”
She wishes all young women would earn a medallion. “It doesn’t matter what age you are, as you look at your medallion you will always remember the goals you reached, what it represents to you, and the preparation it gave you for life,” she says.

Youth in the Boston Massachusetts Stake shared their testimonies with heart and voice when they presented the program “From Cumorah’s Hill,” a musical presentation about the Book of Mormon. The program was originally scheduled for two performances, but was extended to three to accommodate everyone who wanted to attend.
The program gave the youth the opportunity to become better friends with each other, but the best part, says Laurel Maureen Maskell, was the audience reaction. “It was great to see their faces and see the people who had been touched by the Spirit.”

At a recent extended family home evening, our grandchildren were having a wonderful time. A six-year-old grandson became very upset when his father said it was time to go home. So what did this dear boy do? He came to me and said, “Grandfather, may I have your permission to disobey my father?”
I said, “No, sweetheart. One of life’s great lessons is to learn that happiness comes through obedience. Go home with your family, and you will be happy.” Though disappointed, he dutifully obeyed.

Mother was studying the calendar in the kitchen when Carly came home from school. “I can’t believe I’ve done this, Carly,” she said, still staring at the calendar.
“Done what?” Carly asked, dropping her school bag on the kitchen chair. It was two days before Thanksgiving, but the kitchen already smelled spicy and good. “Did you forget to invite someone?”
“No—it’s the special dinner at the rest home tomorrow afternoon that’s the problem. I scheduled Jason’s dental appointment for the same time. Aunt Hattie will be awfully disappointed if I don’t come.”
“Can’t you just change the dental appointment?”
“No, it was hard to get, and he’s already in pain with that tooth.” Mother sat down at the table and rested her hands in her chin. “We can’t bring Aunt Hattie over here anymore since she is so feeble, but I thought that at least I could go over there and have dinner with her.” Suddenly her mother sat up straight and looked at her hopefully. “Aunt Hattie has always liked you,” she said.
Carly sat down too. She knew what her mother was thinking. “But, Mom, she’s so old! She can’t hear very well, and sometimes I can’t understand what she says. She doesn’t make much sense anymore.”
“I know,” her mother said sadly. “But she’s my grandma’s only sister. She always brought me lemon drops when I was a little girl.”
“Lemon drops—ugh!”
Her mother shrugged. Then the hopeful look returned to her face. “If you went, she wouldn’t be sitting there all alone eating her turkey. …”
Carly picked up a slice of apple and ate it. “When she eats, the food sometimes dribbles out, or she spills it onto her chin or down her dress.”
“Well, I know, but we all do that at certain stages of our lives. You used to do it.”
Carly sighed. “All right. I guess I can. How will I get there?”
“I can drop you off on the way to the dentist and pick you up when we’re through. Thank you, Carly.”
“How long?”
“An hour or so.”
Carly sighed again. She didn’t mind too much going to the rest home with her mother, but to be there all alone with all those old people would be creepy.
The next afternoon, her mother stopped the car in front of the old stone building, and Carly plodded up the steps and opened the big wooden doors. The smell of fresh pine cleaner struck her nostrils, but as she tramped down the long hall to the dining room, she could smell turkey and sage dressing. Old people, most of them looking lonely, sat at the round tables in the large room. A few had family members with them. She spotted Aunt Hattie’s snow-white hair and slouched over to her. “Hi, Aunt Hattie.”
Aunt Hattie turned her head slowly and looked at her. “Hello, dear,” she finally said.
“Mother had to take Jason to the dentist, so I came to eat with you.”
“And who would your mother be, dear?”
Carly was taken aback for a minute. “Helen, your niece.”
“Oh yes. Dear Helen, Zella’s girl. Well, sit down, dear. Now, you’re …”
“Carly, Helen’s daughter.” Carly pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Of course,” Aunt Hattie said. She leaned back in her wheelchair and thoughtfully fingered the lace on the collar of her housecoat.
Soon a young man in a blue medical smock brought them each a plate with turkey, dressing, potatoes, and green beans. In the center of the table was a cardboard turkey with lollipops for its tail. Something about the turkey made Carly feel very sad. She didn’t know what to say to Aunt Hattie, and they ate in silence. Aunt Hattie dribbled a little gravy on her flowered housecoat, but generally she managed fine. Carly preferred not to watch her eat.
When the young man brought pumpkin pie, Carly looked at the wall clock. She’d been here only twenty minutes. What would they do the rest of the time? She looked around the room at the gray and white heads, some bent over their plates, some lying back in reclining wheelchairs.
At that moment, a man walked briskly into the room. To Carly, he looked pretty old but nothing like the people at the tables. He sat down at the piano in the corner of the dining room and began to play. At first he played old-time tunes that Carly didn’t know. As he played, Aunt Hattie sat up straighter and a little light came into her eyes. She smiled at Carly and her wrinkled fingers began to tap on the wooden table. Carly remembered that her mother had told her that Aunt Hattie loved music and had always sung in the ward choir.
Then the tunes began to sound more familiar, and Carly realized he was playing hymns. Suddenly Aunt Hattie began to sing “How Firm a Foundation.” Her voice was quavery but sweet and clear.
At first Carly felt embarrassed and looked around the room to see how people were reacting, but no one seemed to be paying any attention at all. Maybe Aunt Hattie did this a lot. Next she sang all the verses of “Count Your Blessings.” The piano player played all the songs in a lilting, cheerful way.
After that came “The Spirit of God.” Carly had learned the words to that song in Primary. Without really thinking about it, she opened her mouth and began to sing with Aunt Hattie. Aunt Hattie smiled, and her pale blue eyes were shining.
Then the man started playing Primary songs: “‘Give,’ Said the Little Stream” and “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” Carly leaned back in her chair and sang out nice and loud. No one cared. She thought about how she didn’t feel silly singing here.
Outside, a soft snow began to fall. The setting sun gave a pink glow to it and to the sky. Aunt Hattie laid her hand on Carly’s hand. It felt as though a warm leaf had blown onto her hand. Carly felt warm and cozy. They sang and sang.
The man stopped playing at the same moment that Carly saw her mother come into the room. She wished he’d keep on for a while—she knew that her mother would sing with them. As he walked by their table, he turned to Carly and said, “I play here on Wednesdays at dinnertime. Come back.” He stopped, plucked a red lollipop out of the turkey’s tail, handed it to Carly, and walked on.
When Carly got up to leave, she leaned over and gave Aunt Hattie a quick kiss on the cheek. Aunt Hattie squeezed her hand and smiled. “Helen’s girl,” she said softly.
In the car, Jason lay moaning in the backseat. “Was it awful?” her mother asked Carly.
“Yes,” Jason said, thinking the question was meant for him.
“No, not really,” Carly said thoughtfully.
“Did she dribble her food?”
“Well, anybody can spill a little gravy on her shirt.”
“Of course.” Her mother gave her a quick smile.”
“Would you be able to bring me over here next Wednesday—maybe leave me here while you do some errands or something?”
“You want to come back? By yourself?”
“Well, yeah. … Just to sing with Aunt Hattie for a while. We know a lot of the same songs. Maybe you could sing with us, too, sometime.”
Mother reached over and squeezed her hand in the same warm way Aunt Hattie had.