YOUNG WOMEN - Shelley Beattyshelleybeatty.com/wp-content/...Theater-revised-without … · Web viewYoung Women’s General President Sister Kapp ... There were times when swimming

YOUNG WOMENKANSAS CITY FIRST WARD

NEW BEGINNINGS

A READER’S THEATER( STORIES, SONGS, POETRY AND SCRIPTURES)

YOUNG WOMENKANSAS CITY FIRST WARD

NEW BEGINNINGS

Song: “I Believe in Christ” hymn # 134

Speaker 1: The theme for Mutual this year is, “Come unto Christ, and be perfected in him, and deny yourselves of all ungodliness.” Moroni 10:32. The theme will help us, as Latter-day Saint youth make and keep covenants and expand our understanding of the Savior. Through that knowledge and experience we will “get a glimpse of the Savior and who He really is.”

We also have the Young Women’s program to help us learn how we can come unto Christ.

Speaker 2: As daughters of God in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we are part of a great and wonderful worldwide sisterhood that includes every young woman in every stake and branch throughout the entire world. Prophets have told us that our birth at this particular time was foreordained in the eternities for a sacred and glorious purpose.

The purpose of the Young Women’s program is evident in the first part of the theme that the young women recite:"We are daughters of our Heavenly Father, who love us, and we love Him. We

will stand as witnesses of God at all times, in all things, and in all places..."

The Motto for the Young Women of the Church is “Stand for Truth and Righteousness.”

Speaker 3: We have been given an especially noble calling to become a righteous woman and to use our strength and influence for good.

While in the Young Women’s Program we have only a few years to become better acquainted with the noble and sacred roles of women. It is the time for us to learn of the natural talents and gifts that our Father in Heaven has bestowed upon each of us.

Speaker 4: We live in a challenging world. The Young Women’s theme teaches us and serves as a reminder our Heavenly Father knows and loves each of us. We are daughters of our Heavenly Father. And because He knows and loves us, we live each day with a strength that only comes with that knowledge. The Young Women’s

Shelley Beatty Kansas City First Ward, Kansas City Missouri Stake

For Personal Use Only

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Program is a reminder of that love and is a program that helps us grow and become strong in our testimonies. It helps us meet those daily challenges.

It was with much prayer and work that the Church leadership formulated the Young Women’s program and the Young Women’s theme.

Speaker 5: The Young Women’s Program started in pioneer times. For the last three decades the YW theme became part of the Young women’s program. There have been just a couple of updates and additions since that time.

Young Women’s General President Sister Kapp presented the Young Women’s values to the First Presidency.

Sister Kapp explained that the first three values have to do with the identity of Young Women; faith, divine nature and individual worth. The next four values; knowledge, choice and accountability, good works, and integrity, is our direction.

Speaker 6: They are in order. The first value is the same as the first principle of the gospel, "Faith". We can't do anything in this life if we don't have faith in Jesus Christ and His plan. All that we do is predicated on faith in the Savior. Once we understand that, we can better comprehend "Divine Nature", that we really are children of God. Then we are prepared to grasp our "Individual Worth" and once we have our identity, we are ready to receive direction. We are prepared to cultivate "Knowledge". The more we know, the more "Accountable" we are for every "Choice" we make. Then we are ready to nurture others, build the kingdom, and bless the lives of others through "Good Works". Finally, when we live what we know, we have "Integrity". In 2008 the value of Virtue was added to the theme.

Each week we stand together in Young Women’s to recite the Young Women’s theme:

Everyone: Young Women’s Theme

We are daughters of our Heavenly Father who loves us, and we love him. We will ‘stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places...” as we

strive to live the Young Women Values, which are:Faith

Divine NatureIndividual Worth

KnowledgeChoice and Accountability

Good WorksIntegrity and

Virtue



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We believe as we come to accept and act upon these values, we will be prepared to strengthen home and family, make and keep sacred covenants, receive the

ordinances of the temple, and enjoy the blessings of exaltation.

Speaker 7: There are eight values in the Personal Progress Program. As stated in our theme the eight values are faith, divine nature, individual worth, knowledge, choice and accountability, good works, integrity and virtue.

We learn to make these values a part of our life. The values are a guide that will help us to “come unto Christ” as we accept and act upon these values we will become prepared to strengthen home and family, make and keep sacred covenants, receive the ordinances of the temple and enjoy the blessings of exaltation. Keeping these values in our lives will help us to stand as a witness for Christ “at all time and in all things, and in all places”.

Speaker 8: All young women are encouraged to participate in the organization's Personal Progress program. Personal Progress is a goal setting and achievement program, the stated purpose of which is to help each young woman:

Know she is a daughter of God; rely upon the Holy Ghost; develop personal religious behaviors, such as prayer, scripture study,

obedience to commandments, and service; keep her baptismal covenants and prepare and qualify for temple

covenants; develop talents and skills that prepare her for her future roles; and establish a pattern of step-by-step progress through her life.

Personal Progress helps us become acquainted with the importance of prayer and scripture study and living the commandments.

Speaker 9: Each "value" mentioned in the theme is assigned a color to help in remembering the meaning and purpose of the values. Each value also has a specific scripture and meaning. For New Beginnings we will share the color, the specific scripture for each value and it’s meaning. Since Jesus taught by telling parables or stories, tonight we will share each of our values by sharing stories that illustrate each of the Young Women’s values.

Speaker 10: Our first value is Faith. “I am a daughter of a Heavenly Father who loves me, and I will have faith in his eternal plan, which centers in Jesus Christ, my Savior.” Faith is represented by the color of white. The scripture for Faith is Alma 32: 21, “And now as I said concerning faith—faith is not to have a perfect knowledge



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of things; therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.”

In James 2: 20, we have also learned faith without works is dead.

Speaker 11: A man hired a boy to row him across a lake. About halfway across he noticed a ‘W’ painted on one oar and ‘F’ on the other oar. Upon inquiring as to the significance of these letters, he was told, ‘F’ stands for FAITH and ‘W’ stands for WORK. If I just row with faith I go in circles to my left. If I row with works I go in circles to my right. In order to go straight ahead I have to use both of them, faith along with works.

In our lives the same principles apply....if we just use faith, or only works, we will go in circles. We must use both faith and works in order to make a straight course through life.

Speaker 12: (Story-Following In His Footsteps by Rachel Rackham; New Era May 1992)

Looking at the Grand Canyon rim far above filled my mind with anything but ease. I was with my dad and six other kids from my ward. We left our camp in the bottom of the Grand Canyon at dusk to avoid the heat of the Arizona sun as we climbed out. My pack was lighter than it had been hiking in, and Dad had lovingly given first aid to my blistered feet with moleskin, so I was feeling fairly capable of handling the hike ahead.

After two miles, we reached a small Indian reservation as darkness fell. After a rest break, we filled our canteens, dug out our flashlights, did some general regrouping, and resumed our trek.

As the night wore on, fatigue and aching muscles were not the only causes of my problems. I had learned to deal with physical exhaustion in competitive swimming. There were times when swimming one more length seemed impossible, yet I could do it because I knew that it was only one more lap. But to continue hiking without knowing how far I’d gone or how far I had left to go was entirely demoralizing.

We walked for four hours. My flashlight carved a hole in the blackness just large enough to show my dad’s shoes and the trail’s edge. There was no moon to see by, and nothing to look at on either side. It reminded me of the nightmare I have where I run as hard and fast as I can but get nowhere. At that moment I hated that canyon more than I have ever hated anything. I felt as though it was something personal, as if the canyon were gloating at my struggle to escape.



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I never would have made it out of that canyon without my dad. Watching his feet, I methodically placed my own in his tracks. We stopped to rest more often than he needed; and while I drank the water he carried, he quietly lashed my bedroll to his pack. At one point, after stopping to share what little water was left, I somehow became separated from my dad by a few people. I could no longer see his shoes or hear his voice. I was frantic. Holding back the tears, I stumbled ahead until I resumed my place behind him. Slowly I regained my composure.

I suppose it was because of my weakened physical state that the last few miles of this monotonous journey seemed miraculous. Walking behind my father as we started our ascent of the switchbacks, I began to reflect. This was the hardest thing I had ever done, and at that point, I was not getting myself up the canyon trail. My dad was. Without his footprints to walk in, I felt lost. The side of the canyon became insurmountable without him.

The parallel became clear at the moment. Dad made the trek up the mountain so much easier just by his being there. I followed him without question. I knew he loved me and that he knew I was struggling. He wanted to get me to the top so I could look back and say. “I made it. I am here where I wanted to be. Let’s go home.”

If life is the trek up a mountain, and trials add to my humility and willingness to follow, then isn’t Father in Heaven, like my dad, there to make it easier if I but follow him? Isn’t it his great wish for me to be able to say, “I have fought the good fight. I am where I want to be for eternity. It is wonderful to be home.”

Song: “I Walk By Faith”

Speaker 13: Our second value is Divine Nature. The color for Divine Nature is blue. The meaning for Divine Nature is, “I have inherited divine qualities which I will strive to develop.” The scripture for Divine Nature is found in 2 Peter 1:4-7: “Be partakers of the divine nature,...giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity.”

Speaker 14: (Story-The Snob by Cheryl J. Preece; New Era, February 1992)

“Have you seen the new girl?” Everyone wanted to know. We were eighth graders in a small town, when a new girl came to school in the middle of the year.

Her name was Cathy Carlisle--a beautiful name that sort of rolled from the tongue--and the name fit. She had moved to our small town from the city. She was totally “citified,” and her whole appearance, from her hairstyle to her clothing, bespoke sophistication and money. To teenagers who had grown up in a small rural community she was the ultimate. Perfection in real life.



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Each school day we could scarcely wait to see what Cathy Carlisle would wear. She always seemed to look perfect, with every hair in place and a radiant smile that she flashed to one and all. The way she walked was perfect. The way she talked was perfect. Everything she did seemed absolutely perfect.

It was strange, but I never heard anyone refer to her as just plain Cathy. It was always “Cathy Carlisle” this and “Cathy Carlisle” that. If Cathy Carlisle did it, or wore it, or said it, “it” became popular.

To our minds anyone that had as much as Cathy Carlisle had to be a snob, she was just “too good”, so we began to refer to her as “the Snob.”

Then came the afternoon of the eighth-grade school dance. It was always the same. Everyone would act embarrassed and then after awhile, a few brave couples would dance. Slow but sure, more couples would join the dancing.

I was still sitting on the bleachers, not particularly caring, until I looked up and saw Foy Murray walk in. A feeling of dread came over me as he shuffled past the bleachers, clumsily, with that silly smile on his face.

Foy Murray was mentally retarded and attended the special learning school next to the junior high. But he was mainstreamed in some of our school activities.

At the school dances, Foy loved to ask the girls to dance. No one ever accepted, but he would go to one girl after another, undaunted. Our response was always the same. We would giggle in embarrassment, roll our eyes, and ignore him until he went away.

I gave a small groan. Foy was approaching Cathy Carlisle! This was her first school dance since moving to our town. She didn’t ride the bus, so she would not have encountered Foy Murray yet.

“Wow,” I thought, “the Snob will die when Foy asks her to dance.”I held my breath as I watched; then I couldn’t believe my eyes! To my utter

shock, Cathy Carlisle stood up and let Foy lead her out onto the dance floor. She was a graceful as ever, looking perfectly lovely. As the music started and Foy put his arm awkwardly, hesitantly, on her waist, she smiled that wonderful smile directly into his eyes. But it was Foy’s face that kept my eyes riveted. It was absolutely rapturous! I had never seen him look like that. It was obvious that he was thrilled beyond belief. The two of them moved around the dance floor, his big feet stumbling over the steps, hers never faltering as she continued to smile.

I sat with my mouth open and realized that everyone else did too. Couples on the floor had stopped dancing to turn to watch.

When the dance ended, Foy walked Cathy Carlisle back to the bleachers, a new look of confidence on his face. He moved on to another girl on the bleachers, asking her to dance. After a moment hesitation, the girl jumped up and joined him. He grinned widely at her and everyone else around him, looking as overjoyed as he had moments before.

At that precise moment, a sudden realization struck me. I had always considered myself “too good” to dance with someone like Foy Murray. Who, exactly, was “The Snob?”

From then on, it became an unspoken law at school dances that if Foy Murray asked a girl to dance, she didn’t refuse. It was a sort of contest between us to see who could make him look the happiest.



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After that everyone seemed to take a special interest in Foy. We asked him questions and became genuinely interested in him as a person. Throughout the rest of the school year, Foy continued to make lots of friends, and as he did so, he blossomed before our eyes.

I don’t know what became of Cathy Carlisle. Her family moved back to the city a year later. Foy Murray passed away a few years later, but I’ve often considered how less joyful his last years on earth might have been if not for one lovely 14-year-old who set a firm example of friendship for her classmates.

Song: “My Heavenly Father Loves Me” CSB p.228

Speaker 15: The third value is Individual Worth. “I am of infinite worth with my own divine mission which I will strive to fulfill.” Red is the color of Individual Worth.

The scripture for Individual Worth is, D &C 18: 10: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God.”

Speaker 16: (Poem-Emergence by Randall L. Hall, New Era, November 1985)

Maybe I had seen one similaror only read about itwhen I was youngand sat in winterwishing spring,

Maybe that’s how I can tell that butterflies(oh, they reach the sun in beauty!)never know until they arethat they would ever be....lovelycomposed in grace and charm and born to fly in joyMaybe that’s how I can tellthat you are now emerging

I wish that I could be there with a mirror.

Speaker 17: Black mud or slime from a footpath--the dirtiest kind of dirt --is composed of four elements: clay, mixed with soot, a little sand, and water. Together they form the blackest, grimiest dirt one can imagine.

The dirt can be separated into the four elements.



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The clay particles, if left pure, become a clear, hard substance, reflecting only the loveliest blue rays of light. We call it a sapphire.

The sand arranges itself in mysterious, infinitely fine parallel lines, which reflect the blue, green, purple, and red rays in the greatest beauty. We call it an opal.

The soot becomes the hardest thing in the world. The blackest element of all obtains the power of reflecting all the rays of the sun at once in the most vivid blaze that any solid thing can shoot. We call it a diamond.

Last of all, the water becomes a dewdrop and crystalline star of snow.

Thus God can and does transform the vilest sinners into pure and shining jewels fit for his home in heaven.

Speaker 18: (Poem-The Touch of the Master’s Hand by Myra Brooks Welch)

‘Twas battered and scarred, and the auctioneerThought it scarcely worth his whileTo waste his time on the old violin,But he held it up with a smile.

“What am I bid, good friends?” he cried.“Who’ll start the bidding for me?One dollar! Only one? And who’ll make it two?Two dollars, once. And three!

Three dollars, once. And three dollars, twice.And going, and going, “ but no... From the back of the room a grey-haired manCame forward and picked up the bow.

And wiping the dust from the old violin,And tightening the loose strings,He played a melody pure and sweetAs caroling angels sing.

The music ceased, and the auctioneerWith a voice that was quiet and low,Said, “What am I bid for the old violin?”As he held it up with the bow.

“One thousand dollars, and who’ll make it two?Two thousand dollars, and three!



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Three thousand, once. And three thousand, twice.And going, and going, and gone!” said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,“We don’t quite understandWhat changed its worth.” Swift came the reply.“’Twas the touch of the Master’s hand.”

And many a man with life out of tuneAnd battered and scarred with sin,Is auctioned cheap to the thoughtless crowdMuch like this old violin.

A mess of pottage, a glass of wine.A game, and he travels on.He’s going once, and going twice.And going, and almost gone.

But the Master comes, and the thoughtless crowdNever can quite understand The worth of a soul, and the change that is wrought,By the touch of the Master’s hand.

Song: “Teach Me to Walk in the Light” Hymn # 304

Speaker 19: Knowledge is the fourth value. “I will continually seek opportunities for learning and growth.” Green is the color representing Knowledge. The scripture for Knowledge is D & C 88:118: “Seek learning, even by study and also by faith.”

Speaker 20: D & C 130: 18-1918. Whatever principle of intelligence we attain unto in this life, it will rise with us in the resurrection.19. And if a person gains more knowledge and intelligence in this life through his diligence and obedience than another, he will have so much the advantage in the world to come.

Speaker 21: D & C 88:115, “And as all have not faith, seek ye diligently and teach one another words of wisdom; yea, seek ye out of the best books words of wisdom; seek learning, even by study and also by faith.”

Speaker 22: Proverbs 9:9, “Give instruction to a wise man, and he will be yet wiser: teach a just man, and he will increase in learning.”

Speaker 23: Proverbs 23:12, “Apply thine heart unto instruction, and thine ears to the words of knowledge.”



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President John Taylor said, “If you will go before the Lord in all humility, and ask him for wisdom and intelligence, your prayers will be heard. You are commanded to search after wisdom from the best of books, and also through faith; and I will promise you that diligent study of our own works will place you in possession of a fund of knowledge that you never dreamed of. And then devote your leisure time to the acquisition of such useful knowledge as can be obtained through the schools, and from works on the sciences; but do not be led by their nonsense and skepticism, and false theories. And in doing this, seek earnestly for the Spirit of God to aid you, to enlighten your mind, that you may the better comprehend truth, and be able to discard error.” (Journal of Discourses)

Speaker 24: Choice and Accountability is the next value. It’s meaning, “I will remain free by choosing good over evil and will accept responsibility for my choices.” The color for Choice and Accountability is orange. The scripture for Choice and Accountability is Joshua 24 :15: “Choose you this day whom ye will serve;...but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”

Speaker 25: (Story-Enduring Mrs. Higgins by Claire Alyce Lund; New Era, February 1992)

Mrs. Higgins never missed a piano lesson. Every Tuesday afternoon at precisely 3:30 p.m. her big, white sedan would round the corner and come to a halt in front of our house.

She’d march up the driveway in her grandma shoes and her hair pulled neatly into a bun. I’d hear her firm knock, the front door opening and footsteps in the hallway. Then my mother’s sweet voice would summon me to my doom.

Mrs. Higgins was convinced I was one of her most talented students. Of course, she never knew how little effort I put into my practices because I always performed to her satisfaction.

I wasn’t the only child in the neighborhood whose parents employed Mrs. Higgins. There were Charlie, Beverly and Jenny Bradley. I felt especially sorry for the Bradleys because Mrs. Higgins was at their house for almost two hours each week.

The older I got the more intensely I begged my mother to let me quit. After seven years of complaining, I finally convinced her to cancel the lessons. I was free.

Several years later my mother asked if I would accompany her to a piano concert at an art gallery where Jenny Bradley would be performing. I remembered her as the funny little girl who always forgot her piano pieces at the yearly recitals. She never was very good.



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When Jenny came out on stage, I was surprised to see that the little freckle-faced girl was all grown-up. She seated herself at the grand piano and began to play. The piano sang out and sounded like the work of three pianists. I’d never witnessed such energy, such concentration.

As I listened, I glanced around the room at the small crowd of people. Then I saw her--Mrs. Higgins--learning against a marble pillar near the back of the room. She looked older, but her eyes sparkled and she glowed with true happiness.

Suddenly, my eyes filled with tears. Though I should have been happy to see someone perform to the best of her ability, I wasn’t. I was jealous. Why wasn’t I sitting at that piano? After all, I had been more talented than Jenny. Deep down inside, I knew I’d failed because I’d given up.

Two people who had paid the price were getting their reward. Jenny was playing brilliantly and Mrs. Higgins, who never missed a lesson, glowed with the knowledge that she had made a pianist.

Speaker 26: The sixth value is Good Works. It means, “I will nurture others and build the kingdom through righteous service.” The color for Good Works is yellow. 3 Nephi 12:16; is the scripture for Good Works: “Therefore let your light so shine before this people, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven.”

Speaker 27: (Story-Signs of Hope by Anita M. Fee; New Era, December 1989)

She was shy. I was outgoing. Why was she getting all the attention? This question must have passed through my mind a million times every Sunday during my early teen years. Donna Gilliam was in my Beehive class, a quiet, pretty girl whose parents were deaf. Because of this she knew sign language perfectly. And all the adults thought that she was so sweet. She would translate at Young Women functions, and the mothers would cry. She would translate at everything. And everyone, except me it seemed, was deeply moved.

That was a time in my life when I was selfish, wanting attention, wanting to be in the spotlight, but competing with Donna was impossible. In her shy way, she, and her family too, found a special place in our meetings and in the hearts of the ward members. Nevertheless, my jealousy continued.

A month after I turned 14, my mom was in a very serious car accident. Though she did not die, she suffered serious injuries. She had to stay in the hospital in traction for a month and a half. The accident happened in November, and it soon became clear that our mother would be spending Christmas in the hospital. Because it was important to include her in all the family activities we could, that meant we too would be spending Christmas in the hospital.



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Others in my family looked forward to that Christmas as a growing experience. I viewed it as plain terrible.

I wasn’t much of a spiritual uplift to my family on Christmas Eve. I isolated myself in the corner of the hospital room and just sat there feeling terrible inside. We were all just looking at each other, about ready to open our presents, but somehow the usual anticipation and excitement of Christmas were absent.

That’s when Donna walked in.

“Hi, sister Fee,” she said quietly to my mom as her parents came in behind her. “We just came by for a minute. We thought we might sing.”

We all looked up in surprise. Her parents were deaf! How could they sing? I put my presents to the side and lifted my head in interest. I wasn’t exactly happy that they were going to sing, considering my jealousy of Donna, but I listened anyway.

I wasn’t prepared for the feelings that burst from within me as I listened to their soft voices sing “Silent Night.” Their hands moved in simultaneous motions, telling of the Christ child and heavenly peace. Tears spilled from my eyes though I tried to control them. I heard the soft crying of my mother from the hospital bed. Donna’s eyes were tear-filled too. It became all to clear to me that I had been unfair to her.

When the song ended, their hands rested at their sides. We all looked at each other, overcome with emotion. Then they left, as quietly as they had come. Still in the corner of the room, I pondered the new perspective I had gained. Why had I ever been jealous of her? She and her family had brought a special spirit into our Christmas, changing it from a gloomy one into a celebration of renewal and hope. The Spirit assured me that my mom would be okay. That Spirit also brought me a new realization that I had talents too.

Right there in that hospital room I then promised myself that I would work on my own talents and stop being jealous of others. With that goal in mind, I found peace within myself. The song repeated softly in my head, “Silent night, holy night.” All was calm in my heart.

Song: “Because I Have Been Given Much.” Hymn # 219

Speaker 28: Integrity’s color is purple. It’s meaning is, “I will have the moral courage to make my actions consistent with my knowledge of right and wrong”. The scripture is Job 27:5; “Till I die I will not remove mine integrity from me.“

Speaker 29: (Story-Norman’s Song by Norman Hill; New Era, January 1993)



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Lot’s of things can happen on the way home on a school bus. On any given day, there could be a spit-wad fight, an impromptu fashion show, or other unplanned events. Under the right circumstances, it is even possible to have a sing-alone.

That’s what happened one fall afternoon on bus 29, which picked up and delivered students from several small rural towns. I didn't know who started it, but all of a sudden someone began singing one of the popular songs on the radio. Before long, even the seniors were singing.

Not long after that Norman started to ride our bus. I didn’t know him well then, even though we were just about the same age and lived in the same ward. My parents told me Norman had a learning disability and that was why he had attended a different school. Now, he was doing so well he was being mainstreamed. Norman’s father wasn’t a member of the Church, and the rest of his family were not very active. I didn’t see Norman much at church, either.

When Norman first began riding bus 29, we sat together a couple of times, discovered we shared the same first name, and became friends. Unfortunately, after a few days, some of the older guys started to tease him because he couldn’t pronounce some words very well. They called him “Normie,” and it didn’t take long for them to tease me too. I felt cowardly, but I stopped sitting by him. I didn’t know what else to do.

One afternoon while Norman was being teased, someone suggested that he sing a song. When Norman said he didn’t know any songs, somebody else said he would teach him. He pulled him over to another seat and began to recite the off-color words. Some of the guys were shifting in their seats looking uncomfortable. Others snickered. But no one said anything--not even my older brother Dean. He just frowned and moved to another seat.

After practicing with Norman for a few minutes, they sang the song together. Many of the offensive words were difficult for Norman to pronounce. When they came to those words, the older boy would stop and let Norman sing them alone. Each time he tried and stumbled on his words, Norman would smile a big, awkward looking smile. The guys at the back of the bus would smirk and try to keep from laughing too loud.

Day after day, a different boy was selected to teach Norman a new song. One day when he wasn’t on the bus, they started picking on me, “Let’s see if he can learn as fast as the other one,” one of them teased. He was a lot bigger than me, so I didn’t say anything, but I’m certain that the look on my face said plenty.

After a while, everybody seemed to be having a good time with this new game. Everybody, it seemed except Norman and me.



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One day, when the singing had ended, that day’s tutor walked up the aisle to where my brother Dean was sitting.

“Hey, Dean, you’re next. Teach Norman a song tomorrow,” he said.

“No thanks, I don’t know any,” was Dean’s gruff reply.

“Ah, come on. It’s not hurting anything. He likes it,” he said.

“I’m not sure he does,” was Dean’s reply. “Besides, I can’t sing.”

“None of us can sing. So what? Teach him a song. It won’t hurt you.”

I could have fainted when Dean looked at his shoes, heaved a sigh, and said, “Okay.”

My brother is fiercely independent and usually doesn’t join in just to gain the approval of others. For instance, he turned down the football coach’s request to try out for the team so he could go to the local rodeo arena and rope calves instead. I couldn’t understand his decision to participate in the singing.

He never did like his younger brother telling him what to do. But this time I had to say something. Later that evening, I went to Dean’s room, where I found him alone.

“Don’t do it Dean,” I said.

“Don’t do what?” was his startled reply.

“Don’t make Norman sing just so those guys can laugh at him,” I said.

“You’re too late,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to do it.”

“Come on, give him a break. And me, too. You know how I get teased.”

“Leave me alone,” he said more softly than I expected. “I’ve already made up my mind.”

I did leave him alone. Feeling hurt, I went to my room, dreading the ride home the next day. If I could have found another ride home, I would have. But it was too far to walk and I didn’t know anyone with a car. At the end of the day, I found a seat on the bus and slumped down in it as far as I could.

As we bumped along, Dean announced, “Hey, listen up. Norman and I have learned a song and we want it quiet while we sing it.”



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The bus hit a few more potholes while I sank lower and lower into my seat. Everybody sat there with anticipation. With an awkward glance at each other, Dean and Norman began to sing. Anticipation turned to surprise as the two raspy voices sang off-key:

I am a child of God,And he has sent me here,Has given me an earthly homeWith parents kind and dear.Lead me guide me, walk beside meHelp me find the way.Teach me all that I must doTo live with him someday.

When they finished, there was none of the usual banter-no joking, laughing, or teasing. Some guys were looking wistfully at their shoes, others were shifting nervously in their seats, while still others were clearing their throats without knowing what to say. The deafening silence was finally broken when somebody began to clap. Then everybody on the bus joined in.

Things were different for Norman after that bus ride home. In fact, Dean seemed to be the only person who wasn’t affected much by his duet. He still roped calves and went to rodeos, still didn’t talk much, and still couldn’t carry a tune. But, to me, he’ll never improve on the song he sang that afternoon on bus 29.

Song: “I Am a Child of God”, CSB p. 2

Speaker 30: The last value is virtue. It is represented by the color gold. And the meaning is, “I will prepare to enter the temple and remain pure and worthy.”The scripture is Proverbs 31:10, Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.” When this value was added to the theme a ruby was also added to the Young Womanhood Recognition necklace. This necklace is earned by Young Women when they complete the Personal Progress program.

Speaker 31: (Story-“Punch and Cookies,” Jack Weyland New Era, March 1972.

Our last story is one by the beloved LDS writer Jack Weyland, “Punch and Cookies Forever.” (edited version)

The bishop and his two counselors stood in the hallway, posed to shake hands with those few college students who had braved the rainy evening. As I stepped inside, one of the counselors walked over to me and said, “Hi there. I’m Brother Johnson. I don’t believe I’ve met you. Are you a freshman?”



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“No, I’m a senior. I came to this cookie dunking last year, and you asked me the same thing then.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you did. But I didn’t have the beard last year.”

“Oh sure! I remember you now.” But his face still wore a question mark. “Well, hang up your coat and meet some people. I guess you’ve met the bishop.” He pointed to a large man now standing just inside the recreation hall.

“Was he bishop last year at this time?”

“No.”

“Then I haven’t met him.”

Brother Johnson walked over to the bishop. “Bishop, this is … what did you say your name is?”

“Greg Jeffreys.” He grabbed my hand and shook it eagerly.

“Where you from, Greg?”

“Glendive.”

The bishop placed a hand on my shoulder. “Are you related to President Jeffreys?”

“He’s my father.”

“Well, how about that! I attended a regional meeting once and met him. How’s he doing?”

“He’s always doing good,” I said with just a touch of sarcasm.

“You say you’re a senior here. Do you go home a lot?”

“Hardly ever.” There was a long pause. It is sometimes assumed that the offspring of stake presidents’ counselors will, by osmosis, turn out okay. For some time I had been living proof that the assumption was not entirely valid.

“Look, Bishop, let’s not beat around the bush. I’m inactive. I have no interest in the Church. I come here every year at this time to see what kind of girls you’ve got, and also to have my annual glass of Kool-Aid and a chocolate-chip cookie. So, if you’ll excuse me.”



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Speaker 32 (story continued): I walked away leaving him hunting for the phrase that would make everything all right. I grabbed a couple of cookies and a glass of punch and sat down.

The cultural hall had been disguised as much as a five-dollar decoration budget would allow. Along the perimeter of the gym floor was a single line of folding chairs. Underneath one basket two long folding tables had been set up and covered with white paper. In the center of one of the tables was a punch bowl. A stack of paper cups lay waiting for the rush that never quite materialized. On each side of the punch bowl lay a plate of cookies and a pile of napkins. Hanging from the other basket was a sign reading, WELCOME NEW STUDENTS TO THE STUDENT ASSOCIATION OF THE CHURCH OF JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER-DAY SAINTS. Someone turned on a record player and the sound echoed in the big recreation hall, distorting the music.

There was a group of about twelve guys and seven girls standing around talking and eating cookies. Every few minutes one of them would come over and introduce himself. I was enjoying being unfriendly.

My eyes then focused on the latest visitor. She shook hands with the bishop and his counselors, walked with the bishop over to the punch table, and filled up. She was introduced to the group and finally sat down with one of the clean-cut types.

When he ran out of punch and had gone to get refills for both of them, I walked over and sat down.

“I guess you know why I called this meeting,” I said.

She smiled back. “Are you president of the Student Association?”

I evaded her query—but built upon it: “In the interest of the organization, we’d like to get some information about you.”

Her friend came back with two glasses of punch. I stood up and said authoritatively, “Thank you. Jim. I’ll take care of this.” I reached over and took the cups from his hands, gave one to her, and kept the other for myself. He stood looking at me for a moment, and then turned around and walked away, shrugging his shoulders as he went.

“He told me his name was Bob,” she said.

“Oh, was that Bob? Now you see why I need things written down. I was about to fill out your personal information card. I must have loaned out my clipboard to someone. Let me use this napkin.” I reached in my shirt pocket for a pen. “Now then, for our records. Name?”



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“Debbie Forsburg.”

“Where from, Debbie?”

“Columbus.”

“I see you’re a freshman. Where do you live?”

“Ellsburg Hall, room 212.”

“Now, Sister Forsburg, I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but we need to know this in planning activities. Are you engaged?”

“No.”

“Currently going steady with anyone?”

“No. I was, but we broke up at the first of the summer.”

Forgetting the role I was playing, I asked, “Debbie, for our records, what color eyes are those?” I once stood on a high cliff and looked down into a pool of clear water. And that’s the way her eyes affected me.

She was beginning to suspect the line of questioning. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m a member of the Church?”

“My very next question.”

“I am. I was baptized two years ago.”

“Debbie, I want to welcome you here. I see that our program is about ready to start. But I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

I walked out into the foyer and grabbed my coat. As much as I wanted to get to know Debbie, I knew it was time to go. As I walked out the door, I heard the bishop announce, “We’d like to have you meet the officers of the Student Association.”

The next day I walked over to her dorm and phoned her from the lobby. “Debbie, this is Greg Jeffreys. I’ve got a confession to make. I’m not really with the Student Association.”

She laughed. “They spent the entire evening reassuring me of that.”

“Could you come down and walk with me over to the SUB for a fresh lime? We need to get acquainted.”



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“Why?”

“Because I’m going to ask you to the festival dance and I wouldn’t want you to go out with a stranger.”

That was the beginning. We spent a lot of time together after that. And that meant that sometimes she went with me to a Student Coalition for Peace meeting. But it also meant that I went with her to Sunday School and Sacrament meeting.

I don’t know when I realized that Debbie was not just another college activity that could be closed up like a textbook at the end of a semester. But by festival time I think we both knew it.

And so it went. With every date I grew to love her more. And with every date the difference in our attitudes about the Church became more like a serious wound that we kept opening up to see how it was healing.

Speaker 33 (story continued): It was three weeks later. We were in a small park in town where there was a set of swings and some old distinguished-looking trees. We were sitting on the swings enjoying the early evening solitude.

“Debbie, we are crazy. You know that, don’t you?”

“Why?”

“You’re Miss Goody-two-shoes, and I’m your friendly neighborhood hippie.”

“You’re not, Greg. You’re just playing a part. The hair, the beard—it’s a costume. Underneath waiting to get out is a man like your father who will be an effective leader in the Church.”

“It’s not true. Somehow for me the Church never took. Debbie, what are we going to do? We’ve fallen in love, but there’s no way we can both be happy. You told the Sunday School class that you weren’t going to settle for anything less than a temple marriage.”

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

She thought a while before answering.

“Love was meant to last forever. But in this life, death robs us. First we see our parents sliding year by year. Lines of worry grow into deep ravines. They begin



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walking with a cane. Their fingers become gnarled by arthritis. Then someday they leave us. In a few years the same thing happens to us.”

She continued. “But death is not the end. In the resurrection those broken bodies will become perfect. No more canes, no more arthritis. A man and a woman who have honored the promises made in the temple will experience the joys of marriage again. This time forever.” She touched my hand lightly. “I want that for my marriage.”

“But I won’t ever be able to go to the temple. Never.”

“I’ll get someone else then,” she whispered. It was as if the words had fought a long battle in order to escape from her lips.

“I thought you loved me,” I said.

“It’s more than that. I’m in love with you. There’s a difference.”

“And you’d toss everything we’ve got going for us into the air because of the Church?”

“Greg, I know Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. What else can I do?”

“Maybe you believe it sincerely, but you can’t know it.”

“Why not?”

“C’mon Debbie! You can’t know anything is true. You’re in college. How can you swallow that now?”

She stood up. “And how can you sit through a fast and testimony meeting and not be moved. Why can’t you feel the influence of the Holy Ghost?”

We were standing up facing each other.

“I feel what can be recorded—sound, light, heat, taste, touch. That’s what we’ve got in this world.”

“No it isn’t. I know beyond any doubt that Joseph Smith was a prophet.”

“You can’t say that.”

“I am saying it, Greg.”

“That’s the same jazz I get from my parents every time I go home. I don’t want it from you.”



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“Why not?”

“Because it’s tearing us apart. I love you, Debbie. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. Except for your belief in the Church.”

“The things you respect in me are things that have come from my membership in the Church. Why are you fighting so hard? There’s a prophet of God in Utah. I’ve seen the gospel change the lives of people for the better. They pay their tithing and they get out of poverty. They have family home evenings and their love for each other increases. They live the Word of Wisdom and they are healthier.

It was the same argument we’d gone through before. “We’re not getting anywhere with this,” I said.

Speaker 34 (story continued): I guess we both knew as we walked slowly to the car that we were breaking up. If we had loved each other less, maybe we could have gone on. But our love was too deep. Each disagreement brought pain. And if we married with our differences, we would live the same argument day after day.

It was over.

On the way back to the dorm she tried again. “Greg, have you ever read the Book of Mormon?”

“I’ve read parts of it.”

“What parts?”

“The first few pages, until they start quoting Isaiah.”

“That’s all?”

“It’s a very confusing book.”

She gently rebuked me. “But aren’t you the college intellectual? The seeker of truth? And you’ve never read that little book?”

I pulled up to the dorm. “Not completely through, no.”

“Greg, I want you to read it this week.”

“It’s no good, Debbie. It won’t make any difference.”

“Greg, I want you to get a testimony so you can take me to the temple.”



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“It won’t work. I’m not going to fake a belief even for that. Regardless of what I’m not, I am honest.”

“I know you won’t fake it, Greg.”

“Then why do you think it will make any difference?”

“There’s a promise with the book. You do your part and the Lord will do his. Greg, please read it and pray about it.”

I was worried about her. “Debbie, I don’t want to hurt you. If you believe in this, that’s great. But I don’t want to destroy your faith. If I read that book and nothing happens …”

“Will you read it?”

“Okay, I’ll read it.”

“And will you pray about it?”

“Debbie, I’m not even sure there’s a God.”

“There is. Ask him.”

“Okay, I’ll pray.”

“What will you pray for?”

“To know the right way, I guess.”

“No,” she said.

“No? What then?”

“Ask if the Book of Mormon is true.”

* * *

What can I say? If you’ve already got a testimony, you know what happened. And if you don’t, you’ll say I copped out because of her. At least that’s what my friends said when I told them about the Book of Mormon. If I could only make them see. But I can’t.

You know, it’s funny how a guy can grow up in the Church and escape a testimony of its truthfulness. I guess everyone must find out for himself the way Moroni said, by



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the power of the Holy Ghost.

Two weeks after it happened I walked into the foyer of the ward chapel. It was early Sunday morning before priesthood meeting. Brother Johnson was just walking out of the bishop’s office. When he saw me, he walked over and shook my hand.

“Hi there. I’m Brother Johnson. I don’t believe I’ve met you.”

“I’m Greg Jeffreys. I met you at the student open house. You walked up to me and said the same thing then.” I smiled and shook his hand.

“I did?”

“Yes, you did. But I had a beard and longer hair then.”

“Oh sure. You and Debbie have been going together.”

“Right. I need to talk to the bishop, Brother Johnson. I hope I can be advanced to an elder soon. I’ve got a date with Debbie at the temple.”

Speaker 35: Kansas City First Ward Young Women are committed to the Young Women’s Personal Progress Program We are committed to stand for truth and righteousness. We are committed to “Come unto Christ.

President Gordon B. Hinckley once described the young women of the Church as his best hope for the world:

“When you save a girl, you save generations. She will grow in strength and righteousness. She will marry in the house of the Lord. She will teach her children the ways of truth. … I see this as the one bright shining hope in a world that is marching toward self-destruction” (“Standing Strong and Immovable,” Worldwide Leadership Training Meeting, Jan. 2004, 20).

Think about it mathematically. It takes at least 80 hours to complete just the value project requirements for your Young Women medallion, and there are about 435,000 young women in the Church today. If each one completed the Personal Progress program, they would collectively spend more than 30 million hours doing good in their homes and communities. That’s roughly a total of 1.25 million days or about 3,400 years. How could this army of young women serving and doing good not make the world a much brighter, better place? And how much poorer would the world be without them? We are the hope of the world!

Song: “Nephi’s Courage,” CSB p. 120



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