That trust gave her strength when Brigham departed for a mission to Great Britain in 1839 just 10 days after Mary Ann gave birth to their daughter Alice. For the 20 months that followed, Mary Ann and their six children struggled with illness and poverty. They survived primarily on corn bread, milk, and a few garden vegetables.4 Mary Ann managed to find a little work to support her family. âIt has been so difficult to obtain work,â she lamented. âBut I am thankful for a comfortable Shelter from the Storm.â This attitude of thanksgiving even amid trying circumstances helped sustain Mary Ann while her husband was half a world away. âI will thank my Heavenly Father for all the blessings I receive and pray the Lord to continue his mercies with us.â5 Giving thanks and trusting in the Lord was a lesson she learned while Brigham was gone. It âis a great thing,â she wrote to Brigham, to âtrust in the Lord.â6
While Brigham spread the gospel message on many missions away from home, Mary Ann furthered the work of the Lord at home, raising her children, running the household alone, and caring for her neighbors. Though it was challenging, she maintained her trust that Brigham was where he was supposed to be. âI well know the Lord has called you to go far away to proclaim his everlasting gospel,â she told him. So she relied on the Lordâs âassisting graceâ and did not âfeel to repineâ at her situation.7
Instead, she rejoiced in Brighamâs efforts: âI am glad to hear the work of the Lord is prospering in England; it gives me much joy.â8 Like Alma in the Book of Mormon, she found a fuller joy in the successful work of othersâa work to which she contributed (see Alma 29:14).
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Mary Ann Angell Young: Trusting in the Lord
Summary: Ten days after giving birth in 1839, Mary Ann saw Brigham depart for Great Britain and then endured 20 months of illness and poverty with their children, sustaining them with sparse food and occasional work. She consistently expressed gratitude and trust in God. Across Brighamâs many missions, she managed the home, cared for neighbors, relied on divine grace, and rejoiced in reports of the work prospering in England.
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đ¤ Pioneers
đ¤ Early Saints
đ¤ Missionaries
đ¤ Parents
đ¤ Children
Adversity
Employment
Faith
Family
Grace
Gratitude
Missionary Work
Parenting
Patience
Prayer
Sacrifice
Service
Single-Parent Families
Women in the Church
The Tender Mercies of the Lord
Summary: A local priesthood leader memorized the names of all youth in his stake and later dreamed of one young man serving as a missionary. He approached the young man, shared the dream, and asked its meaning. The youth, moved, said it meant God knew who he was, and they agreed to meet periodically.
Some time ago I spoke with a priesthood leader who was prompted to memorize the names of all of the youth ages 13 to 21 in his stake. Using snapshots of the young men and women, he created flash cards that he reviewed while traveling on business and at other times. This priesthood leader quickly learned all of the names of the youth.
One night the priesthood leader had a dream about one of the young men whom he knew only from a picture. In the dream he saw the young man dressed in a white shirt and wearing a missionary name tag. With a companion seated at his side, the young man was teaching a family. The young man held the Book of Mormon in his hand, and he looked as if he were testifying of the truthfulness of the book. The priesthood leader then awoke from his dream.
At an ensuing priesthood gathering, the leader approached the young man he had seen in his dream and asked to talk with him for a few minutes. After a brief introduction, the leader called the young man by name and said: âI am not a dreamer. I have never had a dream about a single member of this stake, except for you. I am going to tell you about my dream, and then I would like you to help me understand what it means.â
The priesthood leader recounted the dream and asked the young man about its meaning. Choking with emotion, the young man simply replied, âIt means God knows who I am.â The remainder of the conversation between this young man and his priesthood leader was most meaningful, and they agreed to meet and counsel together from time to time during the following months.
That young man received the Lordâs tender mercies through an inspired priesthood leader.
One night the priesthood leader had a dream about one of the young men whom he knew only from a picture. In the dream he saw the young man dressed in a white shirt and wearing a missionary name tag. With a companion seated at his side, the young man was teaching a family. The young man held the Book of Mormon in his hand, and he looked as if he were testifying of the truthfulness of the book. The priesthood leader then awoke from his dream.
At an ensuing priesthood gathering, the leader approached the young man he had seen in his dream and asked to talk with him for a few minutes. After a brief introduction, the leader called the young man by name and said: âI am not a dreamer. I have never had a dream about a single member of this stake, except for you. I am going to tell you about my dream, and then I would like you to help me understand what it means.â
The priesthood leader recounted the dream and asked the young man about its meaning. Choking with emotion, the young man simply replied, âIt means God knows who I am.â The remainder of the conversation between this young man and his priesthood leader was most meaningful, and they agreed to meet and counsel together from time to time during the following months.
That young man received the Lordâs tender mercies through an inspired priesthood leader.
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đ¤ General Authorities (Modern)
đ¤ Church Leaders (Local)
đ¤ Youth
đ¤ Missionaries
Book of Mormon
Ministering
Missionary Work
Priesthood
Revelation
Testimony
Young Men
Sister Simonâs Saints
Summary: RamĂłn visits his grandmother, Abuelita, the day after Thanksgiving and asks why she has not gone into town with the others. She tells him she stayed because she loves him and does not get to see him often, then reassures him that both she and his grandfather were not perfect but always tried their best and repented. The exchange ends with Abuelita offering him another piece of candy and RamĂłn promising to do his very best.
1 Over the mountains and through the desert to Grandmotherâs house we go!
2 Abuelita (Grandmother)!
3 The day after Thanksgiving
Why havenât you gone into town with your brothers and sisters and cousins?
Because I love you, and I donât get to see you very often.
4 Youâre a good boy, RamĂłn, and youâll be a good man. I wish your grandfather could have known you.
I wish I could have known him, too, Abuelita. Iâm trying to be good so I can be with him someday. I donât always make it, though.
5 Neither do I, querido (dear), and he didnât either. But he always tried to do his very best, and he always repented of his sins. If we do the same, I think weâll be fine.
6 Now, can you find room for another piece of my candy?
Iâll do my very best.
2 Abuelita (Grandmother)!
3 The day after Thanksgiving
Why havenât you gone into town with your brothers and sisters and cousins?
Because I love you, and I donât get to see you very often.
4 Youâre a good boy, RamĂłn, and youâll be a good man. I wish your grandfather could have known you.
I wish I could have known him, too, Abuelita. Iâm trying to be good so I can be with him someday. I donât always make it, though.
5 Neither do I, querido (dear), and he didnât either. But he always tried to do his very best, and he always repented of his sins. If we do the same, I think weâll be fine.
6 Now, can you find room for another piece of my candy?
Iâll do my very best.
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đ¤ Children
đ¤ Other
Children
Family
Love
Repentance
The Faces, Thoughts, and Feelings of the Manchester Conference
Summary: Valerie Wilson describes attending an entertainment with a flag ceremony at the conference and her initial skepticism due to British reserve about public patriotism. As 'Land of Hope and Glory' played and girls marched with UK flags, she joined the cheers. She felt, perhaps for the first time, a powerful, shared expression of love for her country.
Valerie Wilson, 19, Coventry WardâI had heard that there was to be some kind of flag ceremony at the entertainment, and frankly I was doubtful. I should explain that the British as a nation are known for their lack of outward emotion. A show of patriotism in any form, short of standing to honour the Queen, is just not British! It may well be that Britainâs extraordinary history of power and influence had had the effect of making the self-conscious British loath to demonstrate their love of country in front of strangers for fear of offending them, and because of this Britishers have simply lost the habit. Whatever the explanation, that night was the first time I have ever heard âLand of Hope and Gloryâ played just for the sake of it, and it was a glorious moment. I saw girls march proudly, carrying the familiar flags of the United Kingdom. I joined in the cheers with everyone else as we expressed, for the first time in our lives, our deep and sincere love for our country.
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đ¤ Young Adults
đ¤ Church Members (General)
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Music
Unity
Pioneers in Paraguay
Summary: Luis A. RamĂrez, a Paraguayan army officer, found a Book of Mormon at home after months of earnest prayer. Missionaries taught him and his wife, leading to their baptism and his service as a branch president. He later became a colonel, studied at BYU, presided over the Paraguay Mission, and helped the Church with government relations while maintaining a strong example to former students and colleagues.
His regal bearing is not at all overbearing. He treats people like a beloved grandfather wouldâwith kindness, lots of love, and not the slightest hint of superiority. Yet, as a retired colonel of the Paraguayan army, he seems to be just as comfortable mingling with the countryâs top government and military leaders as he is with his family and friends or while serving in his Church assignments. Held in highest esteem by members and nonmembers alike, he is often referred to respectfully as âmi coronel.â
Thirty years ago, in 1963, Luis A. RamĂrez was serving as a young major in the Paraguayan army. One day he found a copy of the Book of Mormon on the table in his home in AsunciĂłn. He had never seen it before and didnât know where it had come from. But he opened it and began looking through the pages. âIt said it was âthe word of God,ââ he remembers. âThat phraseâthe word of Godâpenetrated my mind profoundly. So I began to read. And a great interest was awakened within me.â
The timing was perfect. âFor about three months, I had felt the need to get closer to God,â he says. He wasnât satisfied with his own religion, but had begun to attend his church every Sunday anyway, hoping to find some answers. âAnd I began to pray to Godânot the kind of prayers I had been taught to pray, but very similar to what the missionaries later taught me. This continued for three months. Then I found the book.â
âWho brought this book?â he asked his family. A fifteen-year-old relative said that two missionaries had given it to him a couple of days earlier at a friendâs house. âI continued reading it, and it interested me even more. So I said to the boy, âWhen you see the missionaries again, invite them to come here.ââ
When the missionaries came a few days later, Luis had just about finished reading the Book of Mormon, and he had lots of questions. For the next three weeks, the missionaries taught two discussions every week to Luis and his wife, Hortensia. The Saturday following the third visit, they were both baptized. As a result, friends and relatives also became interested in the gospel and were baptized. Soon âthe majorâ became âthe presidentââof the Moroni Branch in AsunciĂłn.
At one point in his military career, Brother RamĂrez was serving on foreign soil, away from his family for fifteen months. During that lonely, difficult time, âthe gospel helped me a lot,â he says. âI prayed and fasted frequently and felt very close to my family. And I felt an absolute assurance that I would be all right. I felt the help of the Lord through the Spirit.â
In 1969, six years after his baptism, Brother RamĂrez was advanced to the rank of colonel. He taught in the military college until his retirement in 1975, never hiding the fact that he was a Latter-day Saint. Over the years, some of his students became interested in the Church and were baptized because of his example.
After retiring from the military, Brother and Sister RamĂrez took their family to Utah for five years, where he earned a degree at Brigham Young University. Soon after returning to Paraguay, he was called as the first Paraguayan ever to serve as a mission president. And his mission field was his native country.
Since his release in 1984, Colonel RamĂrez has continued to serve as a counselor to mission and stake presidents, strengthening members and helping to establish the Church in outlying districts and branches. In addition, he has continued to serve as an adviser to the Church in its relations with the Paraguayan government, opening doors that possibly no one else could have opened. With characteristic humility, he downplays his role in that regard: âPerhaps Iâve been able to help a little,â he says. But those who have served with him know of his great ability to make friends for the Church and to be an ambassador of good will among national leaders.
Some of his former students and colleagues, now in positions of responsibility in the country, remember and respect Colonel RamĂrez as a Latter-day Saint. âSometimes Iâll see my students who are now majors or colonels, and they will stop and ask me, âHowâs the Church coming?â I tell them itâs coming along very well.â
Thirty years ago, in 1963, Luis A. RamĂrez was serving as a young major in the Paraguayan army. One day he found a copy of the Book of Mormon on the table in his home in AsunciĂłn. He had never seen it before and didnât know where it had come from. But he opened it and began looking through the pages. âIt said it was âthe word of God,ââ he remembers. âThat phraseâthe word of Godâpenetrated my mind profoundly. So I began to read. And a great interest was awakened within me.â
The timing was perfect. âFor about three months, I had felt the need to get closer to God,â he says. He wasnât satisfied with his own religion, but had begun to attend his church every Sunday anyway, hoping to find some answers. âAnd I began to pray to Godânot the kind of prayers I had been taught to pray, but very similar to what the missionaries later taught me. This continued for three months. Then I found the book.â
âWho brought this book?â he asked his family. A fifteen-year-old relative said that two missionaries had given it to him a couple of days earlier at a friendâs house. âI continued reading it, and it interested me even more. So I said to the boy, âWhen you see the missionaries again, invite them to come here.ââ
When the missionaries came a few days later, Luis had just about finished reading the Book of Mormon, and he had lots of questions. For the next three weeks, the missionaries taught two discussions every week to Luis and his wife, Hortensia. The Saturday following the third visit, they were both baptized. As a result, friends and relatives also became interested in the gospel and were baptized. Soon âthe majorâ became âthe presidentââof the Moroni Branch in AsunciĂłn.
At one point in his military career, Brother RamĂrez was serving on foreign soil, away from his family for fifteen months. During that lonely, difficult time, âthe gospel helped me a lot,â he says. âI prayed and fasted frequently and felt very close to my family. And I felt an absolute assurance that I would be all right. I felt the help of the Lord through the Spirit.â
In 1969, six years after his baptism, Brother RamĂrez was advanced to the rank of colonel. He taught in the military college until his retirement in 1975, never hiding the fact that he was a Latter-day Saint. Over the years, some of his students became interested in the Church and were baptized because of his example.
After retiring from the military, Brother and Sister RamĂrez took their family to Utah for five years, where he earned a degree at Brigham Young University. Soon after returning to Paraguay, he was called as the first Paraguayan ever to serve as a mission president. And his mission field was his native country.
Since his release in 1984, Colonel RamĂrez has continued to serve as a counselor to mission and stake presidents, strengthening members and helping to establish the Church in outlying districts and branches. In addition, he has continued to serve as an adviser to the Church in its relations with the Paraguayan government, opening doors that possibly no one else could have opened. With characteristic humility, he downplays his role in that regard: âPerhaps Iâve been able to help a little,â he says. But those who have served with him know of his great ability to make friends for the Church and to be an ambassador of good will among national leaders.
Some of his former students and colleagues, now in positions of responsibility in the country, remember and respect Colonel RamĂrez as a Latter-day Saint. âSometimes Iâll see my students who are now majors or colonels, and they will stop and ask me, âHowâs the Church coming?â I tell them itâs coming along very well.â
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đ¤ Church Members (General)
đ¤ Missionaries
đ¤ Church Leaders (Local)
Baptism
Book of Mormon
Conversion
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Education
Faith
Family
Holy Ghost
Humility
Missionary Work
Prayer
Priesthood
Service
Testimony
War
Learning to Share
Summary: Chu Mei Ling, a Taiwan high school student and new Church member, balances a demanding school schedule with daily scripture study and active gospel sharing. She talks with classmates about the Church, helps prepare them for missionary lessons, and has seen many of them join the Church. The story concludes by emphasizing that her education and testimony have both taught her how to share knowledge and faith with others.
Examples: âOne of my best friends grew up with a strong Buddhist background. At first, I doubted that she would join the Church. But I mentioned it from time to time, and gradually she became curious about the gospel. She prayed daily. She read the scriptures. But she had so many questions I began to feel she might always have some belief in the Church but not join it. Then one day she told me she had decided to be baptized, that she had felt the witness of the Holy Ghost that the Church is true. I was very happy then.
âAnother of my classmates studied for a long time and had a testimony, but she didnât want to be baptized because she was afraid of water. She couldnât imagine standing in the baptismal font. So we prayed and decided she should try her faith. The baptismal date was set. Even the day before she was still scared. So we prayed again. About 11:00 P.M. that night, she called me to say she had found peace about it and would be baptized.
âThere have been many others. Each time I saw one of my friends standing in the baptismal font, I think I was as happy as they were. Once again I could see someone become a member of the kingdom of God.
âNow, even though we are members of different wards, we all keep in touch with each other. It is wonderful to know they have become happier and that they now want to share the gospel.â
Mei Ling regularly writes in her journal, too. And she serves as chorister during her wardâs sacrament meetings.
And even though schoolwork is a high priority, she finds time to join the other Latter-day Saint youth of Taipei for Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women activities.
âI love to take my guitar to the hills and sing, or go to the beach to swim. I like horseback riding at the youth park, or ice skating. And of course itâs only that much better when itâs a Church activity and friends and classmates come along.
âDuring the mid-autumn festival this year, weâre planning a party at the park. We will build a fire and sing and enjoy the beauty of the moon, which is an old Chinese custom.â
When Mei Ling thinks of future activities like that, she also thinks about things even further in the future.
âIt is said that the Taiwanese are full of genuine human warmthâbut I believe the people would have even more love and kindness among themselves if they had the gospel. I believe that someday most of the people in Taiwan will be Latter-day Saints. Then from here the Church will continue to grow throughout all of Asia, throughout all the world, as we reach out to our brothers and sisters everywhere.â
In learning about the Church, there are some lessons that Mei Ling has learned well.
âI think that someday I will certainly be married in the temple,â she said. âI will also do the ordinances for my ancestors. I want to enter into the kingdom of God and provide the same opportunity for my family before me. If they arenât baptized, how can they enter the kingdom of God? So I have to do the ordinances for them. As far as my marriage is concerned, I think that the person I marry will be someone I love and that he will also love me. We will not like the idea of being separated after death. So we will go to the temple and be sealed forever. And because there will soon be a temple in Taipei, we wonât have to travel far.â
Right now, though, Mei Ling said her first priority is to put her own life in order. âSince I now have to go to school both day and night, I am busy. There is tremendous pressure. But as long as I am able to manage my time well, the Lord will bless me to find time to do what he has asked.â
Since she joined the Church, Mei Ling has progressed in two kinds of learning. She has continued her schoolwork, and she works hard at it. But she has also learned that by studying and sharing the gospel, she can help others to acquire a type of knowledge more important than any secular education.
Every weekday, the students of Taipei City Junior Business College come to school, open their books, study their lessons, return home and study some more. In a busy, crowded metropolis like Taipei, their activity may seem just another part of the rush and hurry. In the schoolâs student body of thousands, one LDS girl may not seem to most of her peers to stand out in a crowd.
But just as the schools of Taiwan have taught students and teachers alike ways of sharing knowledge with each other, the still small voice has taught Chu Mei Ling how to share her testimony with those around her.
There certainly must be lessons to be learned from both.
âAnother of my classmates studied for a long time and had a testimony, but she didnât want to be baptized because she was afraid of water. She couldnât imagine standing in the baptismal font. So we prayed and decided she should try her faith. The baptismal date was set. Even the day before she was still scared. So we prayed again. About 11:00 P.M. that night, she called me to say she had found peace about it and would be baptized.
âThere have been many others. Each time I saw one of my friends standing in the baptismal font, I think I was as happy as they were. Once again I could see someone become a member of the kingdom of God.
âNow, even though we are members of different wards, we all keep in touch with each other. It is wonderful to know they have become happier and that they now want to share the gospel.â
Mei Ling regularly writes in her journal, too. And she serves as chorister during her wardâs sacrament meetings.
And even though schoolwork is a high priority, she finds time to join the other Latter-day Saint youth of Taipei for Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women activities.
âI love to take my guitar to the hills and sing, or go to the beach to swim. I like horseback riding at the youth park, or ice skating. And of course itâs only that much better when itâs a Church activity and friends and classmates come along.
âDuring the mid-autumn festival this year, weâre planning a party at the park. We will build a fire and sing and enjoy the beauty of the moon, which is an old Chinese custom.â
When Mei Ling thinks of future activities like that, she also thinks about things even further in the future.
âIt is said that the Taiwanese are full of genuine human warmthâbut I believe the people would have even more love and kindness among themselves if they had the gospel. I believe that someday most of the people in Taiwan will be Latter-day Saints. Then from here the Church will continue to grow throughout all of Asia, throughout all the world, as we reach out to our brothers and sisters everywhere.â
In learning about the Church, there are some lessons that Mei Ling has learned well.
âI think that someday I will certainly be married in the temple,â she said. âI will also do the ordinances for my ancestors. I want to enter into the kingdom of God and provide the same opportunity for my family before me. If they arenât baptized, how can they enter the kingdom of God? So I have to do the ordinances for them. As far as my marriage is concerned, I think that the person I marry will be someone I love and that he will also love me. We will not like the idea of being separated after death. So we will go to the temple and be sealed forever. And because there will soon be a temple in Taipei, we wonât have to travel far.â
Right now, though, Mei Ling said her first priority is to put her own life in order. âSince I now have to go to school both day and night, I am busy. There is tremendous pressure. But as long as I am able to manage my time well, the Lord will bless me to find time to do what he has asked.â
Since she joined the Church, Mei Ling has progressed in two kinds of learning. She has continued her schoolwork, and she works hard at it. But she has also learned that by studying and sharing the gospel, she can help others to acquire a type of knowledge more important than any secular education.
Every weekday, the students of Taipei City Junior Business College come to school, open their books, study their lessons, return home and study some more. In a busy, crowded metropolis like Taipei, their activity may seem just another part of the rush and hurry. In the schoolâs student body of thousands, one LDS girl may not seem to most of her peers to stand out in a crowd.
But just as the schools of Taiwan have taught students and teachers alike ways of sharing knowledge with each other, the still small voice has taught Chu Mei Ling how to share her testimony with those around her.
There certainly must be lessons to be learned from both.
Read more â
đ¤ Youth
đ¤ Friends
Baptism
Conversion
Faith
Friendship
Holy Ghost
Missionary Work
Prayer
Scriptures
Testimony
FYI:For Your Information
Summary: Three Stout brothersâDeward, Keith, and Ronaldâreceived their Eagle Scout awards at the same Court of Honor, joining their older brother Dennis, also an Eagle. Ronald decided at age 11 to become an Eagle when the new program was introduced, and his enthusiasm motivated his brothers. Together they earned 24 merit badges and created lasting memories.
When Scouting becomes a family affair, good things happen. At a Court of Honor held recently in Hurricane, Utah, three brothers received their Eagle awardâDeward, 18, Keith, 15, and Ronald Stout, 14. Their older brother, Dennis, is also an Eagle Scout. All are active in their priesthood quorums.
According to Scouting officials, the odds against four Eagles in one family are 52,000 to 1.
When the new Scouting program was introduced, Ronald was an 11-year-old Tenderfoot. He made up his mind then to become an Eagle. His enthusiasm was catching, and his brothers Deward and Keith began to work with him toward the same goal.
âWe had a lot of fun earning those 24 merit badges,â says Ronald. âOne thing I like about it is the happy memories we can look back on. Now my goal is to see how many more merit badges I can earn before Iâm 18.â
According to Scouting officials, the odds against four Eagles in one family are 52,000 to 1.
When the new Scouting program was introduced, Ronald was an 11-year-old Tenderfoot. He made up his mind then to become an Eagle. His enthusiasm was catching, and his brothers Deward and Keith began to work with him toward the same goal.
âWe had a lot of fun earning those 24 merit badges,â says Ronald. âOne thing I like about it is the happy memories we can look back on. Now my goal is to see how many more merit badges I can earn before Iâm 18.â
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đ¤ Youth
đ¤ Church Members (General)
Family
Happiness
Priesthood
Young Men
To the Friends and Investigators of the Church
Summary: The speaker describes how he struggled to gain a testimony of the gospel even after meeting with missionaries. Renee then told him that he needed to read the Book of Mormon and ask God if it was true, which became an important lesson for him. The story concludes with the principle that when invited to read and pray about the Book of Mormon, a person should simply do it.
After several meetings with the missionaries, I was not making much progress. I felt I had not received a confirmation of the truthfulness of the gospel.
One day, Renee asked me, âAre you reading the Book of Mormon?â
I replied, âNo.â I was listening to the missionariesâwasnât that enough?
With tears in her eyes, Renee assured me that she knew the Book of Mormon is true and explained that if I wanted to know if it is true, the only way isâguess whatâto read it! And then ask!
Read, ponder in your hearts, and âask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, ⌠with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christâ (Moroni 10:4) if the Book of Mormon is true, if this is the true Church.
So the third lesson, in one sentence: when you receive these thingsâthe Book of Mormonâand you are exhorted to read and ask God if they are true, please just do it!
One day, Renee asked me, âAre you reading the Book of Mormon?â
I replied, âNo.â I was listening to the missionariesâwasnât that enough?
With tears in her eyes, Renee assured me that she knew the Book of Mormon is true and explained that if I wanted to know if it is true, the only way isâguess whatâto read it! And then ask!
Read, ponder in your hearts, and âask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, ⌠with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christâ (Moroni 10:4) if the Book of Mormon is true, if this is the true Church.
So the third lesson, in one sentence: when you receive these thingsâthe Book of Mormonâand you are exhorted to read and ask God if they are true, please just do it!
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đ¤ Missionaries
đ¤ Young Adults
đ¤ Other
Book of Mormon
Conversion
Missionary Work
Revelation
Testimony
Books Keep Loved Ones Alive
Summary: At age 14, the narrator traveled with her grandparents to catch a flight to Salt Lake City, only to arrive as the plane began takeoff. Grandmother told Grandfather to stop the plane, and he ran alongside the runway waving his arms. The family boarded the plane, and years later in the hospital, the narrator and her ailing grandfather shared laughter remembering the bold moment.
âRemember the time you stopped the airplane on the runway?â I asked. Grandfatherâs eyes lit up and so I continued to go back with him to a day when I was 14 years old. Grandmother had decided that she and Grandpa would take me to Salt Lake City for April conference to celebrate my birthday. She had called for airplane reservations, but as usual, she was late. As we arrived at the airport, I panicked to see our plane starting its takeoff. Although she was tiny in size, Grandmother never had a minuteâs hesitation about giving Grandfather orders. This time was no different. She turned to him and ordered, âEd, get out there and stop that plane!â
I couldnât believe what was happening. Grandfather knew it would do no good to argue, so he just muttered a few words under his breath and crawled out of the car. He opened the large silver gate leading to the runway, and the next thing I knew, he was running alongside the plane waving his arms.
As we boarded the plane, my face was red with embarrassment, but Grandmother just ushered us to our places in her usual matter-of-fact way. As I recalled the episode with Grandfather, I started laughing, and although he couldnât speak or laugh, his eyes spilled merriment. Once again we were sharing.
I couldnât believe what was happening. Grandfather knew it would do no good to argue, so he just muttered a few words under his breath and crawled out of the car. He opened the large silver gate leading to the runway, and the next thing I knew, he was running alongside the plane waving his arms.
As we boarded the plane, my face was red with embarrassment, but Grandmother just ushered us to our places in her usual matter-of-fact way. As I recalled the episode with Grandfather, I started laughing, and although he couldnât speak or laugh, his eyes spilled merriment. Once again we were sharing.
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đ¤ Youth
đ¤ Other
Disabilities
Family
Kindness
Love
The Prayers of a New Mother
Summary: A new mother, exhausted by caring for her infant, realized she had been neglecting her spiritual needs and felt her testimony weakening. After fervently praying, she attended Relief Society and internalized the purpose to increase faith and personal righteousness. She began daily scripture study and more thoughtful prayers, which reignited her love for the gospel and made Church service meaningful again.
As a first-time mother of a small and precocious boy, I sometimes feel my life consists of little more than diaper changes and feeding schedules.
While adjusting to motherhood, I found myself ignoring my spiritual needs. Instead of reading the scriptures, I would usually sneak in a much-needed nap or one more load of laundry. Prayers were simply hurried pleas to my Father in Heaven for my son to fall asleep and stay asleep, or for help to just make it through the day.
When my son was around four months old, I realized how depleted my spirit had become. My desire to strengthen my testimony was waning. I didnât feel like sitting through all three hours of church, and other responsibilities at home and at church seemed like things I didnât have time or energy for. I wanted to feel the light of the gospel again, but I was exhausted and didnât know where to begin. One night I fervently prayed for help.
The next morning, I dragged myself to church. While listening to the lesson in Relief Society, I saw a poster illustrating the purpose of Relief Society. I had seen the poster every Sunday, but I had never internalized its message before. It states that the purpose of Relief Society is to help sisters âincrease faith and personal righteousness, strengthen families and home, and seek out and help those in need.â
I read it again. This time my mind focused on âincrease faith and personal righteousness.â It became clear that before I could fulfill my Church callings and serve others effectively, I needed to tend to my own spiritual health. I started by setting time aside each day to read the scriptures. I also worked on being more thoughtful when I prayed.
As I began to nourish my own faith and personal righteousness and seek guidance from Heavenly Father, I felt my love for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ reignite. Serving in callings, visiting my Relief Society sisters, and partaking of the sacrament each week became meaningful in my life again. And the things I once viewed as having no time and energy for have now become a comfort and strength to me and my family.
While adjusting to motherhood, I found myself ignoring my spiritual needs. Instead of reading the scriptures, I would usually sneak in a much-needed nap or one more load of laundry. Prayers were simply hurried pleas to my Father in Heaven for my son to fall asleep and stay asleep, or for help to just make it through the day.
When my son was around four months old, I realized how depleted my spirit had become. My desire to strengthen my testimony was waning. I didnât feel like sitting through all three hours of church, and other responsibilities at home and at church seemed like things I didnât have time or energy for. I wanted to feel the light of the gospel again, but I was exhausted and didnât know where to begin. One night I fervently prayed for help.
The next morning, I dragged myself to church. While listening to the lesson in Relief Society, I saw a poster illustrating the purpose of Relief Society. I had seen the poster every Sunday, but I had never internalized its message before. It states that the purpose of Relief Society is to help sisters âincrease faith and personal righteousness, strengthen families and home, and seek out and help those in need.â
I read it again. This time my mind focused on âincrease faith and personal righteousness.â It became clear that before I could fulfill my Church callings and serve others effectively, I needed to tend to my own spiritual health. I started by setting time aside each day to read the scriptures. I also worked on being more thoughtful when I prayed.
As I began to nourish my own faith and personal righteousness and seek guidance from Heavenly Father, I felt my love for the restored gospel of Jesus Christ reignite. Serving in callings, visiting my Relief Society sisters, and partaking of the sacrament each week became meaningful in my life again. And the things I once viewed as having no time and energy for have now become a comfort and strength to me and my family.
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đ¤ Parents
đ¤ Children
đ¤ Church Members (General)
Faith
Parenting
Prayer
Relief Society
Sacrament
Scriptures
Service
Testimony
The Facebook Project
Summary: The narrator decided to send daily personalized messages to five Facebook friends to affirm their unique worth. After praying each morning, they felt inspired to write longer, thoughtful notes. Many recipients responded that the messages lifted them during trials and changed their perspective, including those the narrator feared contacting. Through this experience, the narrator learned about others' hidden struggles, felt God's help in righteous goals, and discovered increased personal self-worth.
Photograph by Leslie Nilsson
As I looked at my list of Facebook friends one day, I decided to try something new. Iâd been thinking about individual worth. Iâd gained a testimony that we are all sons and daughters of God and are dearly loved. We all have talents and the right and responsibility to use them. When I looked at my peers and neighbors, I wanted to remind them of their unique worth.
And thus the Facebook Project began.
I decided that every day I would send messages to five people on my friends list and tell them what I like about them. It was a simple goal. I was expecting to merely write a simple sentence or two to each person. And I wasnât expecting anything more than a simple thank-you in return.
But as I prayed about it to Heavenly Father each morning, I felt inspirationâand my messages became at least a paragraph for each person. Each person is unique and important, so it wasnât difficult to find peopleâs talents and gifts, especially with Godâs help.
I was overwhelmed by peopleâs responses! I cannot count how many people said, âThat made my day!â Some people said that my message helped them through a trial or changed their perspective. Some of the people I had been most nervous about sending a message to were the most grateful for it. It made me realize that a lot of people struggle with recognizing their self-worth or with feeling hopeful in the deteriorating conditions of todayâs world, and a kind, specific comment can mean a lot to them.
Iâve learned a lot from this project. For one thing, people are a lot different from what they may seem to be on the outside. They all have trials and need help. Iâve also learned how readily God will help you when you want to help others. If you have a righteous goal, then He will assist you.
Helping others recognize their self-worth has helped me recognize my own. I know that my experience with this has helped me and a lot of other people too, and I am forever grateful to Heavenly Father.
Facebook is a trademark of its owner.
As I looked at my list of Facebook friends one day, I decided to try something new. Iâd been thinking about individual worth. Iâd gained a testimony that we are all sons and daughters of God and are dearly loved. We all have talents and the right and responsibility to use them. When I looked at my peers and neighbors, I wanted to remind them of their unique worth.
And thus the Facebook Project began.
I decided that every day I would send messages to five people on my friends list and tell them what I like about them. It was a simple goal. I was expecting to merely write a simple sentence or two to each person. And I wasnât expecting anything more than a simple thank-you in return.
But as I prayed about it to Heavenly Father each morning, I felt inspirationâand my messages became at least a paragraph for each person. Each person is unique and important, so it wasnât difficult to find peopleâs talents and gifts, especially with Godâs help.
I was overwhelmed by peopleâs responses! I cannot count how many people said, âThat made my day!â Some people said that my message helped them through a trial or changed their perspective. Some of the people I had been most nervous about sending a message to were the most grateful for it. It made me realize that a lot of people struggle with recognizing their self-worth or with feeling hopeful in the deteriorating conditions of todayâs world, and a kind, specific comment can mean a lot to them.
Iâve learned a lot from this project. For one thing, people are a lot different from what they may seem to be on the outside. They all have trials and need help. Iâve also learned how readily God will help you when you want to help others. If you have a righteous goal, then He will assist you.
Helping others recognize their self-worth has helped me recognize my own. I know that my experience with this has helped me and a lot of other people too, and I am forever grateful to Heavenly Father.
Facebook is a trademark of its owner.
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đ¤ Church Members (General)
đ¤ Friends
Friendship
Gratitude
Hope
Judging Others
Kindness
Mental Health
Ministering
Prayer
Revelation
Testimony
Take Time
Summary: The narrator gave his wife, Barbara, a dozen rosebuds for Valentine's Day, and the family watched them unfold into full flowers. Curious, he consulted a botanist friend and learned about the many varieties and intricate genetics of roses. This experience led him to deeper wonder and reverence for God's creations.
My family and I recently had a simple but impressive experience with one of Godâs creations. I gave my wife, Barbara, a dozen rosebuds for a valentine. They were a delicate shade of peach and had a rich scent. Barbara put them into a vase and placed them on the table in our family room. As the days passed, the family watched the blossoms unfold from buds to full flowers.
As I watched this miracle, I became curious about roses. I was amazed to learn from a botanist friend that there are thousands of varieties of roses. Inside each rose is a storehouse of genetic coding that develops a seed or a slip into roots, stems, thorns, leaves, colors, and blooms.
This experience led me to consider the myriad forms of plant and animal life that thrive in astounding balance upon the earth. My esteem for our little roses took on an element of wonder and reverence. I pondered the power of the Creative Genius who lovingly provided such marvels for His children. I thought about how important it is for every human soul to see and appreciate the glory and grandeur of God in everything about us.
As I watched this miracle, I became curious about roses. I was amazed to learn from a botanist friend that there are thousands of varieties of roses. Inside each rose is a storehouse of genetic coding that develops a seed or a slip into roots, stems, thorns, leaves, colors, and blooms.
This experience led me to consider the myriad forms of plant and animal life that thrive in astounding balance upon the earth. My esteem for our little roses took on an element of wonder and reverence. I pondered the power of the Creative Genius who lovingly provided such marvels for His children. I thought about how important it is for every human soul to see and appreciate the glory and grandeur of God in everything about us.
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đ¤ Parents
đ¤ Children
đ¤ Friends
Creation
Family
Love
Miracles
Religion and Science
Reverence
Becoming a Great Benefit to Our Fellow Beings
Summary: As a 27-year-old missionary, Wilford Woodruff and his companion traveled long distances with little food and slept on a bare floor. The next day, after walking in the rain, they were invited to breakfast by a man who was part of the Missouri mob and who swore at them while they ate. The missionaries calmly finished their meal, thanked him, and left, with Woodruff wryly hoping the Lord would reward the man for their breakfast.
As a young man of 27, Wilford Woodruff was ordained a priest on November 5, 1834. Eight days later he began a two-year mission in the southern states. One night he and his companion found lodging with a family who provided them with a bare floor for a bed, which he described as âpretty hard after walking sixty miles without anything to eat.â
The next day they walked 12 miles through the rain until they came to the house of a man who happened to be a member of the Missouri mob. Brother Woodruff said: âThe family were about to sit down to breakfast as we came in. In those days it was the custom of the Missourians to ask you to eat even though they were hostile to you; so he asked us to take breakfast, and we were very glad of the invitation. He knew we were Mormons; and as soon as we began to eat, he began to swear about the Mormons. He had a large platter of bacon and eggs, and plenty of bread on the table, and his swearing did not hinder our eating, for the harder he swore the harder we ate, until we got our stomachs full; then we arose from the table, took our hats, and thanked him for our breakfast. The last we heard of him he was still swearing. I trust the Lord will reward him for our breakfast.â
The next day they walked 12 miles through the rain until they came to the house of a man who happened to be a member of the Missouri mob. Brother Woodruff said: âThe family were about to sit down to breakfast as we came in. In those days it was the custom of the Missourians to ask you to eat even though they were hostile to you; so he asked us to take breakfast, and we were very glad of the invitation. He knew we were Mormons; and as soon as we began to eat, he began to swear about the Mormons. He had a large platter of bacon and eggs, and plenty of bread on the table, and his swearing did not hinder our eating, for the harder he swore the harder we ate, until we got our stomachs full; then we arose from the table, took our hats, and thanked him for our breakfast. The last we heard of him he was still swearing. I trust the Lord will reward him for our breakfast.â
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đ¤ Early Saints
đ¤ Missionaries
đ¤ Other
Adversity
Gratitude
Kindness
Missionary Work
Priesthood
Russell M. Nelson:
Summary: In 1971, Nelson was called by Presidents Harold B. Lee and N. Eldon Tanner to head the Church's Sunday School, contingent on not abandoning his surgical work. He expressed willingness to leave medicine if required but accepted under their conditions and served for over eight years.
In June 1971, Dr. Nelson received a phone call from President N. Eldon Tanner asking if he could come to his office. He went at once and found that President Harold B. Lee was also there. (President Joseph Fielding Smith was not well that day.) President Lee and President Tanner indicated that they would like him to serve as head of the Sunday School organization of the Church, if it wouldnât take him away from his work as a surgeon.
When he had recovered from the shock, Dr. Nelson responded by saying that he would accept any call from the Lord even if he had to leave his medical practice. But they insisted that they wanted him to accept the calling only if he could continue his work as a surgeon as well. Thus he entered upon more than eight years of service as general president of the Sunday School.
When he had recovered from the shock, Dr. Nelson responded by saying that he would accept any call from the Lord even if he had to leave his medical practice. But they insisted that they wanted him to accept the calling only if he could continue his work as a surgeon as well. Thus he entered upon more than eight years of service as general president of the Sunday School.
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đ¤ General Authorities (Modern)
Employment
Faith
Obedience
Service
Teaching the Gospel
We âSpeakâ after These Things
Summary: A bishop counseled a young man who wanted help quitting swearing by sharing an experience from his youth. He explained how he and a friend used hymns and the thirteenth article of faith to replace inappropriate thoughts and language with praiseworthy ones. Their simple motto, âWe speak after these things!â, helped them evaluate whether their words were appropriate and reminded them to improve what they said.
While I was serving as a bishop, a wonderful young man came to my office for an interview. As we visited, he mentioned that his only major problem was swearing. He constantly heard vulgar language around him, and he too had started swearing. He said he had been trying to quit but was unsuccessful, and he wanted some counsel on how he might stop using bad language.
I immediately thought of suggestions similar to what is now found in For the Strength of Youth: âIf you have developed the habit of using language that is not in keeping with these standardsâsuch as swearing, mocking, gossiping, or speaking in anger to othersâyou can change. Pray for help. Ask your family and friends to support you.â1 I wish this counsel had been available in For the Strength of Youth at that time.
Photo illustration by Cody Bell
I did tell this young man of an experience I had as a youth in an environment where inappropriate language was often used. It seemed that whenever I heard any type of profanity, those words would take hold in my mind more easily than the good thoughts I wanted to have. A wonderful priesthood leader told me that the mind was like a miraculous storage device and that we could remove inappropriate thoughts by quickly overwriting them with things that were praiseworthy.
A friend and I decided to do just that. We memorized two hymns, âI Need Thee Every Hourâ (Hymns, no. 98) and âMore Holiness Give Meâ (Hymns, no. 131), and the thirteenth article of faith. We agreed that if either of us said something inappropriate, we would immediately sing one of the hymns or quote the article of faith.
We quickly realized we did not want to sing the hymns aloud in certain places. We were too embarrassed! So we quoted the thirteenth article of faith, emphasizing the part, âIf there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.â1 It worked! We discovered that when we would repeat it, the inappropriate thoughts would disappear. By changing one word, we also created a simple motto: âWe speak after these things!â When either of us said this phrase, we would think, âAre my words true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy?â (see Articles of Faith 1:13). If they were not, we knew we had work to do.
I immediately thought of suggestions similar to what is now found in For the Strength of Youth: âIf you have developed the habit of using language that is not in keeping with these standardsâsuch as swearing, mocking, gossiping, or speaking in anger to othersâyou can change. Pray for help. Ask your family and friends to support you.â1 I wish this counsel had been available in For the Strength of Youth at that time.
Photo illustration by Cody Bell
I did tell this young man of an experience I had as a youth in an environment where inappropriate language was often used. It seemed that whenever I heard any type of profanity, those words would take hold in my mind more easily than the good thoughts I wanted to have. A wonderful priesthood leader told me that the mind was like a miraculous storage device and that we could remove inappropriate thoughts by quickly overwriting them with things that were praiseworthy.
A friend and I decided to do just that. We memorized two hymns, âI Need Thee Every Hourâ (Hymns, no. 98) and âMore Holiness Give Meâ (Hymns, no. 131), and the thirteenth article of faith. We agreed that if either of us said something inappropriate, we would immediately sing one of the hymns or quote the article of faith.
We quickly realized we did not want to sing the hymns aloud in certain places. We were too embarrassed! So we quoted the thirteenth article of faith, emphasizing the part, âIf there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.â1 It worked! We discovered that when we would repeat it, the inappropriate thoughts would disappear. By changing one word, we also created a simple motto: âWe speak after these things!â When either of us said this phrase, we would think, âAre my words true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy?â (see Articles of Faith 1:13). If they were not, we knew we had work to do.
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đ¤ Church Leaders (Local)
đ¤ Youth
Bishop
Family
Friendship
Prayer
Repentance
Sin
Temptation
Young Men
Everyone but Me
Summary: Brother Johnson felt prompted to take a longer route home despite wanting to get back quickly. On the detour he found a car that had rolled off the road after the father fell asleep. He called for help and administered first aid to the young family.
In fast and testimony meeting, Brother Johnson told an experience he had while driving across a lonely stretch of highway. The still, small voice told him to take a different route home, one that would add about 10 kilometers to his trip. Although he had been eager to get home from his business trip, he obeyed the prompting. On his detour, he came across a car accident. A young family had been traveling to visit relatives. When the father, who was driving, fell asleep, the car drifted too close to the side of the road and rolled down a steep hill. Brother Johnson was able to call for help and administer first aid.
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đ¤ Church Members (General)
đ¤ Other
Emergency Response
Holy Ghost
Obedience
Revelation
Service
Testimony
To the Last Frontier
Summary: Mary Agnes is heartbroken to leave her home near St. George for Arizona, but her mother explains that their family has always followed the prophetâs counsel, even at great sacrifice. She recounts earlier moves from Nauvoo to Salt Lake to show that obedience to Godâs servants brings safety and peace. Strengthened by her motherâs testimony, Mary Agnes decides to follow the prophet as well.
âWe are going to Arizona because the prophet called us to go,â Mother explained. âRemember my telling you about when I was your age and my family lived in Nauvoo? After the Prophet Joseph Smith was killed, there were contentions with our neighbors. The Brethren told us to leave our homes and move west. There our lives would be spared, and we could worship in peace.
âIt was terrible to leave our home, but there was nothing else to do unless we turned away from God, the Brethren, and the Church. We made the long, hard journey to Salt Lake. We sacrificed again when we followed President Youngâs direction to leave there and settle here.
âNow we have been asked to go to Arizona. We do not have to go. No one is forcing us. We are not fleeing for our lives. We could find reasons not to go. This time the struggle to obey comes from within.â
Mother hugged me as she continued. âThe Lord said that when we receive a commandment âwhether by [His] own voice or by the voice of [His] servants, it is the sameâ (D&C 1:38). Our prophet has spoken to us. I know he speaks for God. Your father and I decided long ago to follow the prophet, no matter what the sacrifice.â
The Spirit warmed me as I listened to Motherâs testimony. I felt strengthened for the uncertainties ahead.
As I climbed into the loaded wagon, I took one last look at our old home, then turned to face the trail to Arizona. I realized that I, too, had a testimony of Godâs representative on earth. Like my parents, I decided I would follow the prophetâeven to the last frontier.
âIt was terrible to leave our home, but there was nothing else to do unless we turned away from God, the Brethren, and the Church. We made the long, hard journey to Salt Lake. We sacrificed again when we followed President Youngâs direction to leave there and settle here.
âNow we have been asked to go to Arizona. We do not have to go. No one is forcing us. We are not fleeing for our lives. We could find reasons not to go. This time the struggle to obey comes from within.â
Mother hugged me as she continued. âThe Lord said that when we receive a commandment âwhether by [His] own voice or by the voice of [His] servants, it is the sameâ (D&C 1:38). Our prophet has spoken to us. I know he speaks for God. Your father and I decided long ago to follow the prophet, no matter what the sacrifice.â
The Spirit warmed me as I listened to Motherâs testimony. I felt strengthened for the uncertainties ahead.
As I climbed into the loaded wagon, I took one last look at our old home, then turned to face the trail to Arizona. I realized that I, too, had a testimony of Godâs representative on earth. Like my parents, I decided I would follow the prophetâeven to the last frontier.
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đ¤ Pioneers
đ¤ Early Saints
đ¤ Children
đ¤ Joseph Smith
đ¤ General Authorities (Modern)
Adversity
Joseph Smith
Obedience
Religious Freedom
Revelation
Sacrifice
Remember the Teachings of Your Father
Summary: After a Sunday School lesson on the First Vision, the speaker asked his father how they could know it was true. His father sat with him, shared Joseph Smithâs account, and bore a personal testimony. Since that experience, the speaker has never doubted the First Vision.
Not long after receiving my blessing, I came home from Sunday School. Our lesson had been about Joseph Smithâs First Vision, and I was wondering if it was really true. My father was leaving for a Church meeting. I stopped him and asked, âDad, how do we really know that Joseph Smith had that vision?â My father put his arm around me, and we sat on the sofa in our living room. There he shared with me the Prophet Josephâs account, and my father bore his own testimony of its truthfulness. That experience with my father burns in my heart today. Since then I have never doubted the Prophet Josephâs account of his First Vision.
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đ¤ Parents
đ¤ Children
Family
Joseph Smith
Parenting
Testimony
The Restoration
Fifteen Summers
Summary: A 15-year-old girl navigates a summer of changing friendships and feelings for the boy next door, culminating in a painful misunderstanding and a period of isolation. She finds renewed purpose preparing for her stake Young Artistsâ Festival and receives affirmation from both her mother and a local Church leader. On the eve of her 16th birthday, their support and her success help her accept growing up and embrace her emerging identity.
I was 15 years old, and that summer I wished I could stay 15 forever. I had two close girl friends, I was old enough to earn babysitting money so I could buy pizza and ice cream, and I could do the 600-yard run faster than anyone else in the school. What more could a girl ask for?
That last day of school I had worn my favorite broken-in jeans and had walked around proudly with my award for the 600-yard run tucked under my arm with my yearbook.
"Hey, Morgan!" I called when I saw Eric Morgan in the middle of a bunch of girls as usual. "Sign my yearbook!" I elbowed through the crowd.
"Hey, creep!" he said, with his usual punch to my arm. "Youâll have to wait in line," referring to his group of female followers.
"Aw, Iâll catch you later." Eric was the "boy next door" in my life. Iâd known him just about forever, I guess.
Oh, it was a great feeling leaving the school that day. Everything was shiny and warm. I rarely wore shoes in the summer when I was outside, and the grass was warm and tickley under my feet. I felt free. I was ready for anything. Or so I thought.
Later that afternoon I ran out the front door of my house, jumped off the porch, yearbook in hand, on my way next door to Ericâs house. But I stopped in the middle of my yard, hair blowing in my face, bare feet suddenly immobile. Eric was sitting on his porch. Beside him sat a girl. I mean, not a girl like me, but a girl with long, rippling hair, shorts, and long smooth legs. They seemed to be engaged in something very confidential. And for the first time in my life, I felt that I did not belong.
I finally dragged my feet back to my front door. Who was that? I hadnât seen her around. And where did she get that tan?
"Mary Jane!" I jumped at my motherâs voice. She carried a basket full of dirty clothes under one arm and my wriggly baby brother under the other.
"I need your help," she said.
Ugh. She always needs my help.
"Donât pull a face. Go clean that room of yours."
"Oh, mom! Please! Have you seen that room?"
"Of course. Thatâs why Iâm telling you to clean it."
"But, mom!"
"No buts. Just go."
No buts, no buts. Mothers can say things like that. I could see me saying that to her! I donât think my mother was ever a teenager.
Friday night Jill and I slept over at Barbaraâs house. We brought our yearbooks so we could all compare the fantastically dull things that perfectly intelligent people had written. "See you next year!" "Have fun this summer." "Algebra was fun."
Unbelievable.
I had at least tried to write things I really meant to people. Like, "Hey, funny face! Call me this summer and we can go water skiing together." Or "Hey, biology was a drag, but youâre the funnest person I know to dissect cats with."
"Listen to this!" Barbara said. "I love your foxy hair and captivating voice. Maybe Iâll come over this summer and swim in your swimming pool. Canât wait to see you!" Barbara burst into giggles.
"Good grief!" I said. "Who wrote that?"
"Eric Morgan!"
Eric! I was stunned. And I saw a long-legged girl with rippling hair, and I saw Barbara with fantastic, shiny brown hair, and I saw Eric, and I saw me, and I saw something happening that I couldnât understand. Yet Barbara and Jill sat munching potato chips and laughing as if nothing were happening at all.
"Eric is crazy," Jill laughed. "Look what he said to me."
She thumbed furiously through blue and white autographed pages, a grin crinkling her freckles, while Barbaraâs eyes sparkled in anticipation.
I felt like I was sitting back in an easy chair watching a movie. I could see it, but I was not part of it. And the producer had done some awfully tricky things, and it didnât seem fair.
"Here it is," Jill said. "I love your cute little nose and the way it wrinkles up your face when you laugh. And those dimples! Iâll see you this summer for sure!"
I sat cross-legged, hugging my yearbook up close against me. Barbara and Jill were very far away, their laughter distant. And they didnât even realize that I was gone. They sat there in their lacy nighties, laughing like crazy. I, in my cut-offs and football T-shirt, crawled into my sleeping bag and slept.
Of course, Saturday morning Barbara and Jill had to rib me all through pancakes and bacon about being the first one to fall asleep. It was the usual thing, so I just ribbed them back, but they were strangers. I didnât know them anymore.
I helped mom clean the house like we always did on Saturdays, but it wasnât as painful as usual because my mind was somewhere else. I had plans for that afternoon. I was going to wash my hair and put some of that lemon creme rinse on it. Then, instead of just blowing it dry, I might try to do something with the curling iron mom had given me last Christmas. If it turned out okay, Iâd go over to Ericâs. He still hadnât signed my yearbook.
When I was ready, I went slowly around the bushes in the front yard to make sure that there wasnât a girl on the porch with him. There wasnât. He was washing his dadâs car in the driveway with a bucket of sudsy water and the hose. I took a breath, felt my hair to make sure it was still behaving, and strolled across his front yard.
"Eric," I said in his ear.
"Aaa," he yelped, jumping forward, drenching himself with the hose.
"Hey, you shouldnât sneak up on a guy like that!"
I didnât know what to say, but I felt my hair again, and it still felt good. I stood there waiting for something, I wasnât sure what. Neither was he.
"Well?" he said.
"Oh." I cleared my throat. "Um ⌠I wanted you to sign my yearbook."
"Oh, okay." He dropped the hose on the ground. "Iâll go get mine," he said, running to the front door. He was back in a moment. I sat on the shaded porch. I could feel the cool cement through my shorts. I stretched my legs out leisurely before me.
"Good grief," Eric exclaimed. "What happened to your legs?"
I looked at my stubby white legs, covered with nicks and scrapes, with a couple of bandaids hiding the two worst spots.
"Just forget it," I said.
Eric began to hoot and howl with laughter. I stood up and stalked across his front lawn.
"Hey, come back here." He swaggered after me. I briefly looked at him but kept walking. "Hey, come on," he said. He grabbed my arm.
"Donât touch me, Eric Morgan!"
"Hey, I was just teasing. Come on, you donât really look all that bad." I stood firm. "Come on, Mary Jane," he said softly. And something happened to me. A tingling in my arms and legs. A light-headedness. A temporary paralysis. Then I looked at him, and I couldnât keep the smile from my lips.
"Okay?" he said gently. "Come on." I had to give in. I walked back to the porch. I had spent the whole day figuring out what I would write in Ericâs yearbook. I had repeated the words over and over again to myself at least a hundred times.
"Dear Eric," I began. "You know youâre not just the boy next door anymore. Youâve been a part of my life for almost 16 years." I hesitated before writing the last sentence. Between making beds and vacuuming and scrubbing floors, I hadnât decided whether I was brave enough or not. What if he laughed? I looked at him. He was still busy writing in my book. His thick black hair was a little mussed up, windblown. His cheeks were sunburned. Just think, I told myself, I probably know more things about him than any other girl. Or anyone at all in fact. We spent our childhoods together. I kept his secrets; he kept mine. Iâve seen him cry. Other girls look at him and see a big husky guy. I look at him and see a vulnerable little boy.
He signed his name with a flourish. Looking up at me he caught me staring. For just a moment our eyes met in silence.
"Well," he said, "you done?"
My eyes lingered just an infinitesimal second longer. "No," I answered and scribbled, "Just remember, Eric, that youâre a boy and Iâm a girl and that can lead somewhere." Blushing so hard I could feel it, I quickly signed my name and shoved his book into his hand, taking mine from him.
I hopped off the porch and thumbed through my yearbook as I walked. I couldnât wait to see what heâd said to me. Wow, all those fantastic things heâd said to Barbara and Jill, and heâs known me longer than heâs known them. I finally found the page and I stood still to read it. "Hey, creep!" it said. "Youâre not a bad kid. Weâll have to have some more of those great water fights this summer. See you around, Eric." That was it. All of it. Oh no, I thought as I felt the pressure building in my nose, in my eyes. I thought, Iâm going to cry; Iâm going to stand right here in his yard and cry. Yet I couldnât move. I couldnât run to the safety of my front door, to the privacy of my bedroom.
Suddenly an ice cold avalanche hit the back of my head and cascaded over my shoulders, freezing my back and my legs all at once. My breath seemed sucked into my stomach and held there. I screamed, tossing my yearbook aside, and charged at Eric and the water hose, 45 minutes worth of messing around with the curling iron down the drain. This was the last straw.
"Eric Morgan, you awful âŚ" my words became lost in a torrent of hurt and anger. All I could see was cold, spraying water and a laughing sunburnt face. I screamed, I pushed, I knocked him down. "Hey!" he yelled. "Cut it out! What are you?" he panted. "Crazy?"
It suddenly occurred to me that I must be. I grabbed my yearbook and ran.
"Mary Jane!" Mom yelled as I ran through the kitchen. "Look what youâre doing. Youâre getting water all over! I just did this floor. Do you hear me?"
"Leave me alone, mom!"
"What did you say?"
"I said leave me alone!" I slammed my bedroom door. I didnât come out for the rest of the day. Even when mom knocked on the door and said we were having pizza for supper.
"Whatâs wrong, dear?" she kept asking. I just wanted to scream at her. She wouldnât understand. She had never been a teenager.
I spent the next few weeks pretty quietly. Pretty alone. I sat in my backyard a lot and listened to my stereo; I mowed the lawn sometimes and drank lemonade. Jill and Barbara called me a lot at first. They asked me to go horseback riding or water skiing. But I usually said no, and after a while they quit asking me. Mom still kept asking me "Whatâs wrong?" and dad kept trying to tickle me and tease me or challenge me to a game of chess. Mom would ask me if I was sick, and I would say I didnât know, because I didnât.
July was my birthday. But not till the end of July. I told myself at the beginning of July that I had a whole month to get used to the idea of being 16.
July was also the Young Artistsâ Festival. Thatâs a program that my stake had been holding annually for some time. It wasnât really a competition, or wasnât supposed to be, but each entry was graded on a scale from one to ten, with one being the best you could get. It was an opportunity to "do your thing" in front of an audience and get some recognition for it.
Two years ago Barbara and Jill and I had asked another girl, Sandy, to enter the quartet division with us. We practiced hard and had a lot of fun. We even made costumes. We couldnât believe that we were only given a rating of four. After all that practice! The next year we had taken a realistic look at it and had just about found the nerve to ask Jill not to sing with us, when she dropped out on her own. She wasnât dumb. We asked a girl named Lori to take her place. That year we earned a two.
So when Brother Wood, who had been in charge of the festival for years, called up to ask if weâd be performing this year, well, it was the first thing since the day of "The Great Water Fight" that gave me a good reason to get up each morning. If there was one thing that I wasnât confused about that summer, it was my love of singing. Iâd been born with it, I guess.
So I quit sitting around, and we started having practices two or three times a week, with Jill watching to tell us what to do differently, or what to do more of. Another girl, Karen, played the piano for us.
It was after one of these practices that Barbara invited us all over to swim in her pool.
"Mary Jane," she said, "you havenât been in my pool once this summer."
"I know," I said uncomfortably. "Iâve ⌠been busy."
"Well, youâll come today, wonât you?"
"Sure," I shrugged. After all the singing weâd been doing, I was feeling a little more human and it had been a hot summer.
"Good," she said. "Eric will be glad."
"What?"
"Eric. Heâs been swimming at my house all summer. Heâs always telling me to get you over there."
"He is?"
"Yes." Suddenly her voice was very soft. "He says heâs missed you."
"We have too," Jill added quietly.
I looked from Barbara to Jill then down at my hands. I didnât know if I wanted to go swimming or not if Eric was going to be there. Heâd probably make cracks about my one-piece swimming suit or about my legs. But they were really tan now, after sitting in my backyard all summer.
"Did he really say that?" I asked.
Barbara nodded solemnly.
"Okay, Iâll come," I said. But, I thought to myself, I sure wonât curl my hair for him.
The sun was extra hot that day. It seemed to bounce off the pavement and get caught in my eyes. The water was cold and delicious to my body. Under the water all was quiet, perfectly silent, perfectly solitary. That is, until I suddenly felt a tight clutch on my foot and I looked down to see Ericâs body moving gracefully up alongside mine. We both soared to the surface and our heads popped through, making bubbles and waves. Laughter from the other girls filled the air. I swam to the side and pulled myself out, then sat on the edge. I had already decided how to treat Eric the next time I was forced to be with him. Aloof. Very aloof. So when he pulled himself out and sat beside me I just kind of looked the other way.
"Race you across the pool," he said.
"Not now."
"Why not?"
"I donât feel like it."
He didnât say anything. I kept looking the other way. I wondered what he was thinking.
"Mary Jane," he said quietly. That soft voice again. It made me nervous. I looked at my legs. "Why do you hate me now?"
I stopped breathing and looked at him, my mouth hanging open. There were those blue eyes again. Then suddenly we were surrounded by the other girls.
"Mary Jane," Barbara said as they all sat down around us, "weâve got it all figured out."
"What?"
"White formals."
"Huh?"
"For the festival. Weâll wear white formals."
"Formals?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"I donât know," I said. "I mean last year we wore checked gingham with pinafores."
"Well, Mary Jane," she said, "last year we were little girls."
Later that evening Eric walked home with me. We walked in silence most of the way, but I was troubled because I felt that I had to say something to him. I didnât hate him, and I wanted him to know it. As we neared my house, I finally stopped walking and turned to face him.
"Eric."
"Mary Jane," he said at the same time. We both laughed just a little. Then we were quiet again.
"Go ahead," he said.
"I canât."
"Why not?"
"Because I donât know what to say."
Laughter. Silence.
"You were right you know."
"About what?" I asked.
"What you wrote in my yearbook."
"Oh that." I blushed.
"Really," he said. "Iâm a boy and youâre a girl. A good-looking one too."
I grinned and stared at my terribly interesting toes.
"Well," he said. "Iâve got to go." I looked up at him, and once again our gaze was locked in time and space.
"Good-bye," he said suddenly and ran home. I stared after him. With him went something. A part of me. A part that I wasnât sure I was ready to give up just yet. Did I want to grow up? Was I ready?
Oh, I thought as I slowly walked into my house, this whole crazy summer is too much. I decided to take a nap.
Something was shaking me, and my head slowly cleared as I opened my eyes. It was mom.
"Itâs almost time for supper," she said.
I just lay there.
"Honey," she said, feeling my forehead, "are you sure youâre all right?"
I still just lay there. She looked completely frustrated. She began to leave the room.
"Mama," I said. She stopped and turned to look at me. I hadnât called her mama for years, but I suddenly felt so little. "Do you remember when you turned 16?"
For a moment mom just looked at me, as if she didnât understand. But slowly a dreamy look came over her face. Her eyes sparkled, and she gazed across the room as if I werenât even in it.
"Yes," she said slowly, walking to the window. There she rested her elbows on the window sill, her chin on closed fists. "I do remember something like that." She smiled wistfully. I had never seen her like this. Maybe she had been a teenager. I was suddenly speechless. But she finally came back to the present and looked at me.
"Itâs hard, isnât it?" She was very quiet. That was all it took to bring on the tears that had been stored up inside me for weeks. I was quickly in my motherâs arms, small and vulnerable, warm and protected.
"Oh, mama," I sobbed, "I donât know what I want or who I am or what Iâm good for. What am I doing here? I want to live in summertime forever. I want to go barefoot and be happy. I want to care about someone. I want someone to care about me. But Iâm scared." I looked at my mother. "Do you know what I mean?"
Again she spoke slowly, distantly.
"Words donât come easy to me as they do to you. But I remember feeling ⌠well, as if someone had placed me in the wrong world. And it did no good to cry."
"Why does it have to be this way, mom?"
"Oh, donât get me wrong," she said, smiling. "I mean, itâs for sure weâll never be 15 again. But I have you, donât I? And I have your father, and your baby brother. And a lot of other wonderful things that I canât even describe. Youâll know someday."
Will I? I wondered. Will I really? But mom did look happy. For the time being, I would just trust her.
The Young Artistsâ Festival was the night before my birthday. We had worked hard for this one. We wore our white formals. I spent all day doing my hair and getting ready. I arrived in time for the last-minute flurries that always go on before these productions can begin. Brother Wood was running around trying to get everything organized. Barbara, Sandy, Lori, and I were almost jumping up and down with excitement. The audience began to arrive, things began to settle down, and with the opening prayer, the program started.
Everyone was good. They always were. In fact, the four we earned two years ago was probably the lowest score that had ever been given in the history of the Young Artistsâ Festival. So that everyone could fit into some category, pluses and minuses were also given.
As the judges began to read the scores, everyone was silent. Brother Wood gave his usual speech about how everyone had been so good. Then the scores were read. A two. A one. A three +. And on and on. Squeals and sighs.
"Quartet." He read our names. Tension. Heart pounding in my ears. Hands gripping my chair.
"One +."
Shock for a moment. Then shrieks!
At the reception afterward we were all standing around drinking punch and talking and laughing. The feeling of knowing a job has been well done was still lingering in my chest and bursting out of my eyes and out of my mouth, making me sound like someone else. It came out so smoothly, so ⌠well, almost sophisticated. But easy. My arms were warm and brown next to the white of my dress. My hair felt clean and swingy. I almost didnât recognize myself. I felt as if I had, in my hurry, left myself at home.
I was casually looking from one side of the room to the other to feel my hair swish across my neck when I saw Brother Wood coming toward me.
"Excuse me," he said, breaking into our little group. Something about him wanted to make me nervous, but my new self refused to cooperate, and I looked at him steadily.
"Yes?" I said, since he seemed to be addressing me.
"I hope I donât embarrass you, but thereâs something Iâve got to tell you."
I looked quickly around at Jill, at Barbara, and an assortment of curious faces. I felt my face flush slightly, but still I refused to flounder. I turned cool eyes to Brother Wood and smiled.
"What is it? I hope my slip isnât showing."
"No, no. Itâs just that I hope you know that you are a beautiful young lady."
What happened after that is not completely clear in my mind. I vaguely remember a circle of softly smiling faces. And I barely remember the still serious face of Brother Wood. But I very clearly remember the sincerity in his eyes.
At 11:00 that night I stood in front of my dresser mirror, still in my white dress, gazing into a thousand faces of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
That night at the stroke of midnight, while I was sound asleep, I turned 16. And Iâll never be 15 again.
That last day of school I had worn my favorite broken-in jeans and had walked around proudly with my award for the 600-yard run tucked under my arm with my yearbook.
"Hey, Morgan!" I called when I saw Eric Morgan in the middle of a bunch of girls as usual. "Sign my yearbook!" I elbowed through the crowd.
"Hey, creep!" he said, with his usual punch to my arm. "Youâll have to wait in line," referring to his group of female followers.
"Aw, Iâll catch you later." Eric was the "boy next door" in my life. Iâd known him just about forever, I guess.
Oh, it was a great feeling leaving the school that day. Everything was shiny and warm. I rarely wore shoes in the summer when I was outside, and the grass was warm and tickley under my feet. I felt free. I was ready for anything. Or so I thought.
Later that afternoon I ran out the front door of my house, jumped off the porch, yearbook in hand, on my way next door to Ericâs house. But I stopped in the middle of my yard, hair blowing in my face, bare feet suddenly immobile. Eric was sitting on his porch. Beside him sat a girl. I mean, not a girl like me, but a girl with long, rippling hair, shorts, and long smooth legs. They seemed to be engaged in something very confidential. And for the first time in my life, I felt that I did not belong.
I finally dragged my feet back to my front door. Who was that? I hadnât seen her around. And where did she get that tan?
"Mary Jane!" I jumped at my motherâs voice. She carried a basket full of dirty clothes under one arm and my wriggly baby brother under the other.
"I need your help," she said.
Ugh. She always needs my help.
"Donât pull a face. Go clean that room of yours."
"Oh, mom! Please! Have you seen that room?"
"Of course. Thatâs why Iâm telling you to clean it."
"But, mom!"
"No buts. Just go."
No buts, no buts. Mothers can say things like that. I could see me saying that to her! I donât think my mother was ever a teenager.
Friday night Jill and I slept over at Barbaraâs house. We brought our yearbooks so we could all compare the fantastically dull things that perfectly intelligent people had written. "See you next year!" "Have fun this summer." "Algebra was fun."
Unbelievable.
I had at least tried to write things I really meant to people. Like, "Hey, funny face! Call me this summer and we can go water skiing together." Or "Hey, biology was a drag, but youâre the funnest person I know to dissect cats with."
"Listen to this!" Barbara said. "I love your foxy hair and captivating voice. Maybe Iâll come over this summer and swim in your swimming pool. Canât wait to see you!" Barbara burst into giggles.
"Good grief!" I said. "Who wrote that?"
"Eric Morgan!"
Eric! I was stunned. And I saw a long-legged girl with rippling hair, and I saw Barbara with fantastic, shiny brown hair, and I saw Eric, and I saw me, and I saw something happening that I couldnât understand. Yet Barbara and Jill sat munching potato chips and laughing as if nothing were happening at all.
"Eric is crazy," Jill laughed. "Look what he said to me."
She thumbed furiously through blue and white autographed pages, a grin crinkling her freckles, while Barbaraâs eyes sparkled in anticipation.
I felt like I was sitting back in an easy chair watching a movie. I could see it, but I was not part of it. And the producer had done some awfully tricky things, and it didnât seem fair.
"Here it is," Jill said. "I love your cute little nose and the way it wrinkles up your face when you laugh. And those dimples! Iâll see you this summer for sure!"
I sat cross-legged, hugging my yearbook up close against me. Barbara and Jill were very far away, their laughter distant. And they didnât even realize that I was gone. They sat there in their lacy nighties, laughing like crazy. I, in my cut-offs and football T-shirt, crawled into my sleeping bag and slept.
Of course, Saturday morning Barbara and Jill had to rib me all through pancakes and bacon about being the first one to fall asleep. It was the usual thing, so I just ribbed them back, but they were strangers. I didnât know them anymore.
I helped mom clean the house like we always did on Saturdays, but it wasnât as painful as usual because my mind was somewhere else. I had plans for that afternoon. I was going to wash my hair and put some of that lemon creme rinse on it. Then, instead of just blowing it dry, I might try to do something with the curling iron mom had given me last Christmas. If it turned out okay, Iâd go over to Ericâs. He still hadnât signed my yearbook.
When I was ready, I went slowly around the bushes in the front yard to make sure that there wasnât a girl on the porch with him. There wasnât. He was washing his dadâs car in the driveway with a bucket of sudsy water and the hose. I took a breath, felt my hair to make sure it was still behaving, and strolled across his front yard.
"Eric," I said in his ear.
"Aaa," he yelped, jumping forward, drenching himself with the hose.
"Hey, you shouldnât sneak up on a guy like that!"
I didnât know what to say, but I felt my hair again, and it still felt good. I stood there waiting for something, I wasnât sure what. Neither was he.
"Well?" he said.
"Oh." I cleared my throat. "Um ⌠I wanted you to sign my yearbook."
"Oh, okay." He dropped the hose on the ground. "Iâll go get mine," he said, running to the front door. He was back in a moment. I sat on the shaded porch. I could feel the cool cement through my shorts. I stretched my legs out leisurely before me.
"Good grief," Eric exclaimed. "What happened to your legs?"
I looked at my stubby white legs, covered with nicks and scrapes, with a couple of bandaids hiding the two worst spots.
"Just forget it," I said.
Eric began to hoot and howl with laughter. I stood up and stalked across his front lawn.
"Hey, come back here." He swaggered after me. I briefly looked at him but kept walking. "Hey, come on," he said. He grabbed my arm.
"Donât touch me, Eric Morgan!"
"Hey, I was just teasing. Come on, you donât really look all that bad." I stood firm. "Come on, Mary Jane," he said softly. And something happened to me. A tingling in my arms and legs. A light-headedness. A temporary paralysis. Then I looked at him, and I couldnât keep the smile from my lips.
"Okay?" he said gently. "Come on." I had to give in. I walked back to the porch. I had spent the whole day figuring out what I would write in Ericâs yearbook. I had repeated the words over and over again to myself at least a hundred times.
"Dear Eric," I began. "You know youâre not just the boy next door anymore. Youâve been a part of my life for almost 16 years." I hesitated before writing the last sentence. Between making beds and vacuuming and scrubbing floors, I hadnât decided whether I was brave enough or not. What if he laughed? I looked at him. He was still busy writing in my book. His thick black hair was a little mussed up, windblown. His cheeks were sunburned. Just think, I told myself, I probably know more things about him than any other girl. Or anyone at all in fact. We spent our childhoods together. I kept his secrets; he kept mine. Iâve seen him cry. Other girls look at him and see a big husky guy. I look at him and see a vulnerable little boy.
He signed his name with a flourish. Looking up at me he caught me staring. For just a moment our eyes met in silence.
"Well," he said, "you done?"
My eyes lingered just an infinitesimal second longer. "No," I answered and scribbled, "Just remember, Eric, that youâre a boy and Iâm a girl and that can lead somewhere." Blushing so hard I could feel it, I quickly signed my name and shoved his book into his hand, taking mine from him.
I hopped off the porch and thumbed through my yearbook as I walked. I couldnât wait to see what heâd said to me. Wow, all those fantastic things heâd said to Barbara and Jill, and heâs known me longer than heâs known them. I finally found the page and I stood still to read it. "Hey, creep!" it said. "Youâre not a bad kid. Weâll have to have some more of those great water fights this summer. See you around, Eric." That was it. All of it. Oh no, I thought as I felt the pressure building in my nose, in my eyes. I thought, Iâm going to cry; Iâm going to stand right here in his yard and cry. Yet I couldnât move. I couldnât run to the safety of my front door, to the privacy of my bedroom.
Suddenly an ice cold avalanche hit the back of my head and cascaded over my shoulders, freezing my back and my legs all at once. My breath seemed sucked into my stomach and held there. I screamed, tossing my yearbook aside, and charged at Eric and the water hose, 45 minutes worth of messing around with the curling iron down the drain. This was the last straw.
"Eric Morgan, you awful âŚ" my words became lost in a torrent of hurt and anger. All I could see was cold, spraying water and a laughing sunburnt face. I screamed, I pushed, I knocked him down. "Hey!" he yelled. "Cut it out! What are you?" he panted. "Crazy?"
It suddenly occurred to me that I must be. I grabbed my yearbook and ran.
"Mary Jane!" Mom yelled as I ran through the kitchen. "Look what youâre doing. Youâre getting water all over! I just did this floor. Do you hear me?"
"Leave me alone, mom!"
"What did you say?"
"I said leave me alone!" I slammed my bedroom door. I didnât come out for the rest of the day. Even when mom knocked on the door and said we were having pizza for supper.
"Whatâs wrong, dear?" she kept asking. I just wanted to scream at her. She wouldnât understand. She had never been a teenager.
I spent the next few weeks pretty quietly. Pretty alone. I sat in my backyard a lot and listened to my stereo; I mowed the lawn sometimes and drank lemonade. Jill and Barbara called me a lot at first. They asked me to go horseback riding or water skiing. But I usually said no, and after a while they quit asking me. Mom still kept asking me "Whatâs wrong?" and dad kept trying to tickle me and tease me or challenge me to a game of chess. Mom would ask me if I was sick, and I would say I didnât know, because I didnât.
July was my birthday. But not till the end of July. I told myself at the beginning of July that I had a whole month to get used to the idea of being 16.
July was also the Young Artistsâ Festival. Thatâs a program that my stake had been holding annually for some time. It wasnât really a competition, or wasnât supposed to be, but each entry was graded on a scale from one to ten, with one being the best you could get. It was an opportunity to "do your thing" in front of an audience and get some recognition for it.
Two years ago Barbara and Jill and I had asked another girl, Sandy, to enter the quartet division with us. We practiced hard and had a lot of fun. We even made costumes. We couldnât believe that we were only given a rating of four. After all that practice! The next year we had taken a realistic look at it and had just about found the nerve to ask Jill not to sing with us, when she dropped out on her own. She wasnât dumb. We asked a girl named Lori to take her place. That year we earned a two.
So when Brother Wood, who had been in charge of the festival for years, called up to ask if weâd be performing this year, well, it was the first thing since the day of "The Great Water Fight" that gave me a good reason to get up each morning. If there was one thing that I wasnât confused about that summer, it was my love of singing. Iâd been born with it, I guess.
So I quit sitting around, and we started having practices two or three times a week, with Jill watching to tell us what to do differently, or what to do more of. Another girl, Karen, played the piano for us.
It was after one of these practices that Barbara invited us all over to swim in her pool.
"Mary Jane," she said, "you havenât been in my pool once this summer."
"I know," I said uncomfortably. "Iâve ⌠been busy."
"Well, youâll come today, wonât you?"
"Sure," I shrugged. After all the singing weâd been doing, I was feeling a little more human and it had been a hot summer.
"Good," she said. "Eric will be glad."
"What?"
"Eric. Heâs been swimming at my house all summer. Heâs always telling me to get you over there."
"He is?"
"Yes." Suddenly her voice was very soft. "He says heâs missed you."
"We have too," Jill added quietly.
I looked from Barbara to Jill then down at my hands. I didnât know if I wanted to go swimming or not if Eric was going to be there. Heâd probably make cracks about my one-piece swimming suit or about my legs. But they were really tan now, after sitting in my backyard all summer.
"Did he really say that?" I asked.
Barbara nodded solemnly.
"Okay, Iâll come," I said. But, I thought to myself, I sure wonât curl my hair for him.
The sun was extra hot that day. It seemed to bounce off the pavement and get caught in my eyes. The water was cold and delicious to my body. Under the water all was quiet, perfectly silent, perfectly solitary. That is, until I suddenly felt a tight clutch on my foot and I looked down to see Ericâs body moving gracefully up alongside mine. We both soared to the surface and our heads popped through, making bubbles and waves. Laughter from the other girls filled the air. I swam to the side and pulled myself out, then sat on the edge. I had already decided how to treat Eric the next time I was forced to be with him. Aloof. Very aloof. So when he pulled himself out and sat beside me I just kind of looked the other way.
"Race you across the pool," he said.
"Not now."
"Why not?"
"I donât feel like it."
He didnât say anything. I kept looking the other way. I wondered what he was thinking.
"Mary Jane," he said quietly. That soft voice again. It made me nervous. I looked at my legs. "Why do you hate me now?"
I stopped breathing and looked at him, my mouth hanging open. There were those blue eyes again. Then suddenly we were surrounded by the other girls.
"Mary Jane," Barbara said as they all sat down around us, "weâve got it all figured out."
"What?"
"White formals."
"Huh?"
"For the festival. Weâll wear white formals."
"Formals?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"I donât know," I said. "I mean last year we wore checked gingham with pinafores."
"Well, Mary Jane," she said, "last year we were little girls."
Later that evening Eric walked home with me. We walked in silence most of the way, but I was troubled because I felt that I had to say something to him. I didnât hate him, and I wanted him to know it. As we neared my house, I finally stopped walking and turned to face him.
"Eric."
"Mary Jane," he said at the same time. We both laughed just a little. Then we were quiet again.
"Go ahead," he said.
"I canât."
"Why not?"
"Because I donât know what to say."
Laughter. Silence.
"You were right you know."
"About what?" I asked.
"What you wrote in my yearbook."
"Oh that." I blushed.
"Really," he said. "Iâm a boy and youâre a girl. A good-looking one too."
I grinned and stared at my terribly interesting toes.
"Well," he said. "Iâve got to go." I looked up at him, and once again our gaze was locked in time and space.
"Good-bye," he said suddenly and ran home. I stared after him. With him went something. A part of me. A part that I wasnât sure I was ready to give up just yet. Did I want to grow up? Was I ready?
Oh, I thought as I slowly walked into my house, this whole crazy summer is too much. I decided to take a nap.
Something was shaking me, and my head slowly cleared as I opened my eyes. It was mom.
"Itâs almost time for supper," she said.
I just lay there.
"Honey," she said, feeling my forehead, "are you sure youâre all right?"
I still just lay there. She looked completely frustrated. She began to leave the room.
"Mama," I said. She stopped and turned to look at me. I hadnât called her mama for years, but I suddenly felt so little. "Do you remember when you turned 16?"
For a moment mom just looked at me, as if she didnât understand. But slowly a dreamy look came over her face. Her eyes sparkled, and she gazed across the room as if I werenât even in it.
"Yes," she said slowly, walking to the window. There she rested her elbows on the window sill, her chin on closed fists. "I do remember something like that." She smiled wistfully. I had never seen her like this. Maybe she had been a teenager. I was suddenly speechless. But she finally came back to the present and looked at me.
"Itâs hard, isnât it?" She was very quiet. That was all it took to bring on the tears that had been stored up inside me for weeks. I was quickly in my motherâs arms, small and vulnerable, warm and protected.
"Oh, mama," I sobbed, "I donât know what I want or who I am or what Iâm good for. What am I doing here? I want to live in summertime forever. I want to go barefoot and be happy. I want to care about someone. I want someone to care about me. But Iâm scared." I looked at my mother. "Do you know what I mean?"
Again she spoke slowly, distantly.
"Words donât come easy to me as they do to you. But I remember feeling ⌠well, as if someone had placed me in the wrong world. And it did no good to cry."
"Why does it have to be this way, mom?"
"Oh, donât get me wrong," she said, smiling. "I mean, itâs for sure weâll never be 15 again. But I have you, donât I? And I have your father, and your baby brother. And a lot of other wonderful things that I canât even describe. Youâll know someday."
Will I? I wondered. Will I really? But mom did look happy. For the time being, I would just trust her.
The Young Artistsâ Festival was the night before my birthday. We had worked hard for this one. We wore our white formals. I spent all day doing my hair and getting ready. I arrived in time for the last-minute flurries that always go on before these productions can begin. Brother Wood was running around trying to get everything organized. Barbara, Sandy, Lori, and I were almost jumping up and down with excitement. The audience began to arrive, things began to settle down, and with the opening prayer, the program started.
Everyone was good. They always were. In fact, the four we earned two years ago was probably the lowest score that had ever been given in the history of the Young Artistsâ Festival. So that everyone could fit into some category, pluses and minuses were also given.
As the judges began to read the scores, everyone was silent. Brother Wood gave his usual speech about how everyone had been so good. Then the scores were read. A two. A one. A three +. And on and on. Squeals and sighs.
"Quartet." He read our names. Tension. Heart pounding in my ears. Hands gripping my chair.
"One +."
Shock for a moment. Then shrieks!
At the reception afterward we were all standing around drinking punch and talking and laughing. The feeling of knowing a job has been well done was still lingering in my chest and bursting out of my eyes and out of my mouth, making me sound like someone else. It came out so smoothly, so ⌠well, almost sophisticated. But easy. My arms were warm and brown next to the white of my dress. My hair felt clean and swingy. I almost didnât recognize myself. I felt as if I had, in my hurry, left myself at home.
I was casually looking from one side of the room to the other to feel my hair swish across my neck when I saw Brother Wood coming toward me.
"Excuse me," he said, breaking into our little group. Something about him wanted to make me nervous, but my new self refused to cooperate, and I looked at him steadily.
"Yes?" I said, since he seemed to be addressing me.
"I hope I donât embarrass you, but thereâs something Iâve got to tell you."
I looked quickly around at Jill, at Barbara, and an assortment of curious faces. I felt my face flush slightly, but still I refused to flounder. I turned cool eyes to Brother Wood and smiled.
"What is it? I hope my slip isnât showing."
"No, no. Itâs just that I hope you know that you are a beautiful young lady."
What happened after that is not completely clear in my mind. I vaguely remember a circle of softly smiling faces. And I barely remember the still serious face of Brother Wood. But I very clearly remember the sincerity in his eyes.
At 11:00 that night I stood in front of my dresser mirror, still in my white dress, gazing into a thousand faces of yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
That night at the stroke of midnight, while I was sound asleep, I turned 16. And Iâll never be 15 again.
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The Un-date
Summary: Nervous about his first real date, Andrew arranges a 'practice date' at the same restaurant to learn proper etiquette. With help from his supportive 'date'âwho teaches him how to make reservations, dress appropriately, and use table settingsâhe gains confidence. After a successful evening and a brief scare of being seen by his crush's brother, it's revealed his practice partner is his mother, who reassures him and praises his courteous behavior.
It was odd, Andrew thought as he looked in the mirror and tried to force the cowlick at the back of his head to lie flat; he was actually looking forward to tonightâs âdate.â He hadnât been enthusiastic about it at first, but now that it was almost time to go, he was excited.
His friend Jim had suggested a âpractice runâ before his big date with Alyssa Adams, his first since turning 16 last month. Jim said if they were going to double then Andrew needed practiceââso you wonât act like a goon and spill soup on your date or something.â Andrew agreed because (1) he didnât have his driverâs license yet and Jim did; (2) he was nervous about going on his first date with a girl he really had a crush on; and (3) Jim had been on a couple of dates already, so he must know what heâs talking about.
Andrew talked to his dad about the idea too, and he agreed that practice might be a good idea. âBesides,â he said, âI know just who you should ask. Sheâd love to do something like that.â
At first, his fatherâs suggestionâand his enthusiasmâcaught Andrew off guard. But dad persisted. âYouâve known her since ⌠well ⌠forever. Sheâs fun, and sheâll understand. Sheâs the kind of person who has as much fun playing ball with the guys as she does dressing up and going to dinner. She wonât even mind that sheâs helping you get ready for a big night with somebody else.â
âYou mean I have to tell her why Iâm asking her out? Thatâll make it worse,â Andrew said, ready to forget the whole thing.
âOf course you do; itâs only fair. Besides, if she knows ahead of time, sheâll probably be able to give you some pointers. Iâve seen her, and sheâs pretty knowledgeable about those kinds of things. Youâd feel rotten if she found out later that the only reason you asked her out was to practice for a date with someone else.â
âYeah, I guess youâre right,â Andrew said reluctantly.
Nevertheless, Andrew still felt nervous when he thought about asking someone else out so soon. It had been murder trying to find the courage to ask Alyssa out. Now he was faced with the problem of having to ask someone heâd known all his life, and it wasnât any easier. What if she laughed at him or told him his idea was dumb? He felt he had to do it, though, and after school one day he worked up the nerve to ask her.
âHi,â he said, almost choking because his mouth was so dry.
âOh, hi Andrew,â she said, looking up from her book. âWhatâs up?â
âOh, nothing much, but I was wondering, uh, are you doing anything special Friday night?â he asked, looking everywhere but at her.
âI donât think Iâve got anything planned. Why do you ask?â Finally he looked directly at her. âWell, I was wondering if you wouldnât mind going to dinner with me?â He looked at her for a change in expression. What showed looked more like surprise. âIt wouldnât be a real date,â he said quickly. âIt would be sort of a practice date. Iâve never been to dinner with a date before, and I want to make sure I do it right.â
There was a pause, and Andrew didnât know whether or not to keep talking. Suddenly, however, she smiled. âSure! That sounds like fun. Iâd love to.â
Soon the ârehearsalâ was under way. They planned to go to La Traviata, the same Italian restaurant he and Jim would be taking their dates to next week. As they made preparations it became painfully apparent that Jim had been right all along. Andrew needed this trial run more than he thought. But she seemed to know exactly what to do. First, she helped him call and make reservations.
âWhat do I say?â he asked as he nervously dialed the number. âJust say, âIâd like to make reservations for two at eight oâclock tonight, and then tell them your name when they ask.â
âShe says things so easily,â he thought. âI wish I had her confidence.â Then she helped him pick out the clothes he was going to wear. He had picked out his best pair of blue jeans, his favorite shirt and his cleanest, basketball shoes. She wisely chose the gray Sunday slacks with the blue blazer and firmly insisted that while inflatable shoes were quite fashionable in the gym, they were out when it came to dinner at a nice restaurant.
Finally, with his help, she took some plates and silverware from the cupboard and created an elegant setting on the kitchen table.
âWow,â Andrew said, sitting down to the beautiful array of china and silverware in front of him. âI think I know some of this stuff,â he said, swallowing hard. âBut maybe you could help me with a pointer or two. Whatâs this tiny little knife for?â
She gave Andrew a description of all the various utensils and their uses. She talked about the proper way to handle a salad and where the bread goesâeverything. She even reminded him that it was not a good idea to tuck the napkin under his collar, or use his thumb to slide a stubborn vegetable onto his fork as she had seen him do before. He thanked her and said heâd try to remember.
She continued her explanation, but Andrew was only half listening. As he watched her he couldnât help feeling like a jerk for using her to impress another girl. He noticed, probably for the first time, how pretty she was and how much effort she was going to in order to make things nice for him. What made it worse was that she had been so cheerful and enthusiastic about it from the beginning. She approached this like she approached so many things, happily and without a thought for herself. She was doing it all for him and he knew it. She really was a good friend, better than most, he thought. This date was going to be fun for both of them, but he couldnât help feeling a bit guilty about it.
âHuh, what?â he said, quickly aware he had drifted too far.
âI said, âThis fork is for seafood,ââ she said, teasingly shaking it at him. âYou use it on things like crab or shrimp cocktail, and no, thereâs no alcohol in shrimp cocktail so itâs okay to eat. That about wraps it up. Any questions?â
âNope, no questions, but it sure is a lot to remember.â
âDonât worry. As a rule, you use the utensils on the outside and work your way in as you go. If you absolutely donât know what to do, watch your date or the people at the table next to you. They might be able to help you out.â
âGot it,â he said.
âGood. Now Iâve got to rush or Iâm going to be âunreadyâ for this âundate.ââ
Andrew waited a bit before getting ready, then dressed quickly and found he still had a few minutes before it was time to leave. He went to the backyard and picked out the prettiest rose he could find. He carefully picked it as far down the stalk as he could and then bent the thorns off the stem. He resisted the temptation to put one of the thorns on his nose and play rhinoceros. He walked around the block, up the front steps, and rang the doorbell.
âWow!â he said when she opened the door.
âHi, Andrew. What do you think?â
âYou look beautiful,â he said, visibly impressed.
âThank you very much. You look rather handsome yourself. Good choice of wardrobe, if I do say so myself.â
âThanks a lot,â he said, smiling back. âOh, here,â he said, remembering the flower in his hand. âThis is for you.â
âWhy, Andrew, how sweet. Thank you. Let me put it in a vase.â She returned a moment later. âAre you ready?â
âSure. Letâs go!â
At first, the rehearsal appeared to have worked. He offered her his arm, opened the car door, and let her in on the driverâs side since she had the driverâs license and he didnât. They talked and laughed on the way to the restaurant, and when they arrived he was quick to get the door and offer an arm to his âundate.â
âIâm impressed,â she said, while walking to the door with her arm in his. âSomeone must have taught you well.â
âYeah, I had a pretty terrific teacher,â he said, smiling.
Suddenly, Andrew tensed and tried to look away, but it was too late. Their eyes had already met. Directly in front of them stood Ryan Adams, the captain of the basketball team and, worse, Alyssa Adamsâs big brother. He was leaving the restaurant with his date.
He had seen them together and Andrew was positive he was going to hear about it at practice next week. Not only that, but Alyssa was sure to find out, and trying to explain would only make things worse. In an instant he made a decision. Heâd tough it out. âHi, Ryan,â he said.
âHi, Andrew. Howâs it going?â
âFine. Howâs the dinner?â
âTerrific. Watch out for the antipasto, though; itâs a killer.â Ryan rolled his eyes and pretended to spray some breath freshener into his mouth.
âIâll think about it. Thanks.â
âSee ya.â
âBye.â
Andrew breathed a sigh of relief as he opened the door to the restaurant and they walked inside. At least he didnât say anything then, he thought. He could only imagine what he was going to say at practice Monday.
The dinner was excellent, a true dining experience, and Andrew handled himself extremely well. He thought the dinner was over, though, when the waiter brought out small servings of sherbet for them. The waiter had to explain that the sherbet was merely a âpalate cleanser,â something to eat so the taste of the previous course wouldnât interfere with the taste of the next. Other than that, he managed to impress her by remembering everything she had taught him. He even proved to be a very good conversationalist by asking questions and paying attention to what she said.
At the end of the meal when the waiter presented the check, she reached into her purse and tried to pass some money to Andrew under the table. âFor my half,â she said quietly.
âNo way,â said Andrew. âI invited you here and Iâm going to pay for it.â
âI just thought that since this was a ânondateâ it might be different.â
âItâs not that different. Besides, with the way youâve helped me Iâd say it was worth every penny.â
He paid the waiter and left an adequate tip. They left the restaurant and he opened the car door again for her. âYouâre spoiling me,â she said as she got in. âI might get used to this.â
âI suppose I could make it a habit. I probably should have all along, huh?â
âThatâs okay. You havenât done too badly. Youâve become quite a gentleman. Alyssa Adams is in for a treat.â
âThanks.â
She pulled the car into the driveway and he escorted her to the door.
âThanks for going along with my âtrial-runâ idea. It really helped.â
âYouâre welcome. Thank you for a wonderful evening. Thereâs just one thing, though.â
âWhatâs that?â he said, wondering what he could have done wrong.
âDonât worry about Alyssaâs brother seeing you with me tonight. Iâm sure he recognizes that his sister will be treated with as much courtesy as I received. If heâs any kind of brother, I think heâll like that. I donât think Alyssa will mind either. If you treat all your dates as I was tonight, youâll have a lot of fun dating.â
At first, Andrew was surprised that she knew what he had been thinking at the restaurant when he saw Ryan. Then he realized he wasnât surprised at all. He put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek.
âThanks, Mom,â he said. âYouâre terrific.â
His friend Jim had suggested a âpractice runâ before his big date with Alyssa Adams, his first since turning 16 last month. Jim said if they were going to double then Andrew needed practiceââso you wonât act like a goon and spill soup on your date or something.â Andrew agreed because (1) he didnât have his driverâs license yet and Jim did; (2) he was nervous about going on his first date with a girl he really had a crush on; and (3) Jim had been on a couple of dates already, so he must know what heâs talking about.
Andrew talked to his dad about the idea too, and he agreed that practice might be a good idea. âBesides,â he said, âI know just who you should ask. Sheâd love to do something like that.â
At first, his fatherâs suggestionâand his enthusiasmâcaught Andrew off guard. But dad persisted. âYouâve known her since ⌠well ⌠forever. Sheâs fun, and sheâll understand. Sheâs the kind of person who has as much fun playing ball with the guys as she does dressing up and going to dinner. She wonât even mind that sheâs helping you get ready for a big night with somebody else.â
âYou mean I have to tell her why Iâm asking her out? Thatâll make it worse,â Andrew said, ready to forget the whole thing.
âOf course you do; itâs only fair. Besides, if she knows ahead of time, sheâll probably be able to give you some pointers. Iâve seen her, and sheâs pretty knowledgeable about those kinds of things. Youâd feel rotten if she found out later that the only reason you asked her out was to practice for a date with someone else.â
âYeah, I guess youâre right,â Andrew said reluctantly.
Nevertheless, Andrew still felt nervous when he thought about asking someone else out so soon. It had been murder trying to find the courage to ask Alyssa out. Now he was faced with the problem of having to ask someone heâd known all his life, and it wasnât any easier. What if she laughed at him or told him his idea was dumb? He felt he had to do it, though, and after school one day he worked up the nerve to ask her.
âHi,â he said, almost choking because his mouth was so dry.
âOh, hi Andrew,â she said, looking up from her book. âWhatâs up?â
âOh, nothing much, but I was wondering, uh, are you doing anything special Friday night?â he asked, looking everywhere but at her.
âI donât think Iâve got anything planned. Why do you ask?â Finally he looked directly at her. âWell, I was wondering if you wouldnât mind going to dinner with me?â He looked at her for a change in expression. What showed looked more like surprise. âIt wouldnât be a real date,â he said quickly. âIt would be sort of a practice date. Iâve never been to dinner with a date before, and I want to make sure I do it right.â
There was a pause, and Andrew didnât know whether or not to keep talking. Suddenly, however, she smiled. âSure! That sounds like fun. Iâd love to.â
Soon the ârehearsalâ was under way. They planned to go to La Traviata, the same Italian restaurant he and Jim would be taking their dates to next week. As they made preparations it became painfully apparent that Jim had been right all along. Andrew needed this trial run more than he thought. But she seemed to know exactly what to do. First, she helped him call and make reservations.
âWhat do I say?â he asked as he nervously dialed the number. âJust say, âIâd like to make reservations for two at eight oâclock tonight, and then tell them your name when they ask.â
âShe says things so easily,â he thought. âI wish I had her confidence.â Then she helped him pick out the clothes he was going to wear. He had picked out his best pair of blue jeans, his favorite shirt and his cleanest, basketball shoes. She wisely chose the gray Sunday slacks with the blue blazer and firmly insisted that while inflatable shoes were quite fashionable in the gym, they were out when it came to dinner at a nice restaurant.
Finally, with his help, she took some plates and silverware from the cupboard and created an elegant setting on the kitchen table.
âWow,â Andrew said, sitting down to the beautiful array of china and silverware in front of him. âI think I know some of this stuff,â he said, swallowing hard. âBut maybe you could help me with a pointer or two. Whatâs this tiny little knife for?â
She gave Andrew a description of all the various utensils and their uses. She talked about the proper way to handle a salad and where the bread goesâeverything. She even reminded him that it was not a good idea to tuck the napkin under his collar, or use his thumb to slide a stubborn vegetable onto his fork as she had seen him do before. He thanked her and said heâd try to remember.
She continued her explanation, but Andrew was only half listening. As he watched her he couldnât help feeling like a jerk for using her to impress another girl. He noticed, probably for the first time, how pretty she was and how much effort she was going to in order to make things nice for him. What made it worse was that she had been so cheerful and enthusiastic about it from the beginning. She approached this like she approached so many things, happily and without a thought for herself. She was doing it all for him and he knew it. She really was a good friend, better than most, he thought. This date was going to be fun for both of them, but he couldnât help feeling a bit guilty about it.
âHuh, what?â he said, quickly aware he had drifted too far.
âI said, âThis fork is for seafood,ââ she said, teasingly shaking it at him. âYou use it on things like crab or shrimp cocktail, and no, thereâs no alcohol in shrimp cocktail so itâs okay to eat. That about wraps it up. Any questions?â
âNope, no questions, but it sure is a lot to remember.â
âDonât worry. As a rule, you use the utensils on the outside and work your way in as you go. If you absolutely donât know what to do, watch your date or the people at the table next to you. They might be able to help you out.â
âGot it,â he said.
âGood. Now Iâve got to rush or Iâm going to be âunreadyâ for this âundate.ââ
Andrew waited a bit before getting ready, then dressed quickly and found he still had a few minutes before it was time to leave. He went to the backyard and picked out the prettiest rose he could find. He carefully picked it as far down the stalk as he could and then bent the thorns off the stem. He resisted the temptation to put one of the thorns on his nose and play rhinoceros. He walked around the block, up the front steps, and rang the doorbell.
âWow!â he said when she opened the door.
âHi, Andrew. What do you think?â
âYou look beautiful,â he said, visibly impressed.
âThank you very much. You look rather handsome yourself. Good choice of wardrobe, if I do say so myself.â
âThanks a lot,â he said, smiling back. âOh, here,â he said, remembering the flower in his hand. âThis is for you.â
âWhy, Andrew, how sweet. Thank you. Let me put it in a vase.â She returned a moment later. âAre you ready?â
âSure. Letâs go!â
At first, the rehearsal appeared to have worked. He offered her his arm, opened the car door, and let her in on the driverâs side since she had the driverâs license and he didnât. They talked and laughed on the way to the restaurant, and when they arrived he was quick to get the door and offer an arm to his âundate.â
âIâm impressed,â she said, while walking to the door with her arm in his. âSomeone must have taught you well.â
âYeah, I had a pretty terrific teacher,â he said, smiling.
Suddenly, Andrew tensed and tried to look away, but it was too late. Their eyes had already met. Directly in front of them stood Ryan Adams, the captain of the basketball team and, worse, Alyssa Adamsâs big brother. He was leaving the restaurant with his date.
He had seen them together and Andrew was positive he was going to hear about it at practice next week. Not only that, but Alyssa was sure to find out, and trying to explain would only make things worse. In an instant he made a decision. Heâd tough it out. âHi, Ryan,â he said.
âHi, Andrew. Howâs it going?â
âFine. Howâs the dinner?â
âTerrific. Watch out for the antipasto, though; itâs a killer.â Ryan rolled his eyes and pretended to spray some breath freshener into his mouth.
âIâll think about it. Thanks.â
âSee ya.â
âBye.â
Andrew breathed a sigh of relief as he opened the door to the restaurant and they walked inside. At least he didnât say anything then, he thought. He could only imagine what he was going to say at practice Monday.
The dinner was excellent, a true dining experience, and Andrew handled himself extremely well. He thought the dinner was over, though, when the waiter brought out small servings of sherbet for them. The waiter had to explain that the sherbet was merely a âpalate cleanser,â something to eat so the taste of the previous course wouldnât interfere with the taste of the next. Other than that, he managed to impress her by remembering everything she had taught him. He even proved to be a very good conversationalist by asking questions and paying attention to what she said.
At the end of the meal when the waiter presented the check, she reached into her purse and tried to pass some money to Andrew under the table. âFor my half,â she said quietly.
âNo way,â said Andrew. âI invited you here and Iâm going to pay for it.â
âI just thought that since this was a ânondateâ it might be different.â
âItâs not that different. Besides, with the way youâve helped me Iâd say it was worth every penny.â
He paid the waiter and left an adequate tip. They left the restaurant and he opened the car door again for her. âYouâre spoiling me,â she said as she got in. âI might get used to this.â
âI suppose I could make it a habit. I probably should have all along, huh?â
âThatâs okay. You havenât done too badly. Youâve become quite a gentleman. Alyssa Adams is in for a treat.â
âThanks.â
She pulled the car into the driveway and he escorted her to the door.
âThanks for going along with my âtrial-runâ idea. It really helped.â
âYouâre welcome. Thank you for a wonderful evening. Thereâs just one thing, though.â
âWhatâs that?â he said, wondering what he could have done wrong.
âDonât worry about Alyssaâs brother seeing you with me tonight. Iâm sure he recognizes that his sister will be treated with as much courtesy as I received. If heâs any kind of brother, I think heâll like that. I donât think Alyssa will mind either. If you treat all your dates as I was tonight, youâll have a lot of fun dating.â
At first, Andrew was surprised that she knew what he had been thinking at the restaurant when he saw Ryan. Then he realized he wasnât surprised at all. He put his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek.
âThanks, Mom,â he said. âYouâre terrific.â
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