Gospel Story Finder

But on November 5, 2000, the quorum presidents of the Aaronic Priesthood—representing the deacons and teachers—were Jared Brown, 13, and Hans Smith, 15, both from the Nauvoo Illinois First Ward. They were surprised and honored to be asked to participate in the cornerstone laying.
“I had always thought it would be cool if the Nauvoo Temple were rebuilt,” says Hans. “Now it is happening, and I am going to be here to see it.
“One evening, my stake president, Durell Nelson, came over to my house and told me there was going to be a special cornerstone ceremony. He asked me if I would be interested in being part of this historic event since I was the teachers quorum president of the Nauvoo Ward, and the original teachers quorum president had helped at the original cornerstone ceremony. Wow!”
On the day of the ceremony, Hans was right there with President Gordon B. Hinckley and Bishop H. David Burton, the Presiding Bishop of the Church. Hans says, “I was humbled to represent teachers all over the world at this event. Because I have cerebral palsy, I needed help to scoop in the mortar and was grateful to have Bishop Burton help me. I was grateful that those in charge didn’t let my handicap stand in the way of my participating in this great event.”

It was Houston’s transfer to the Benin City stake that introduced him to Raymond. Raymond arrived in Benin a few days later directly from his missionary training in Lagos. Houston joined Raymond and his companion to proselyte on Raymond’s first day. When Raymond expressed his fear about teaching a discussion on his first day, he remembers Houston’s encouragement: “Elder, go ahead and do it. I had the same experience. If I did it, you can do it, too.”

Raymond recalls, “I was filled with strength and confidence. And when I finished the discussion, Houston tapped me on the knee and said, ‘Elder, you came out okay.’ This experience kindled a feeling of respect for him. And as our paths have crossed many times since our missions, that feeling has only increased.”

A few years ago, President Hinckley responded to an observation concerning the number of temple dedications or rededications in which he had participated during his tenure as a General Authority. He indicated that it was his desire to continue to be involved in dedicating temples at least until we have 100 operating temples. As I heard this statement, I couldn’t help doing a little simple math and realized that the sum of the number representing current operating temples and the number representing the temple projects then in design or construction was far less than 100. Because the Presiding Bishopric has the responsibility to oversee the construction of temples as they are announced, I remember very vividly saying to the prophet, “President, I pray the Lord will bless you with great longevity.”

Little did I know that perhaps even at that time our prophet was being prompted from the heavens to consider ways to provide more opportunities for worthy Latter-day Saint families to participate in the blessings associated with temple worship. I wept and rejoiced as you did last April in general conference when we heard President Hinckley say:
“In recent months we have traveled far out among the membership of the Church. I have been with many who have very little of this world’s goods. But they have in their hearts a great burning faith concerning this latter-day work. They love the Church. … They love the Lord and want to do His will. They are paying their tithing, modest as it is. They make tremendous sacrifices to visit the temples. They travel for days at a time in cheap buses and on old boats. They save their money and do without to make it all possible.
“They need nearby temples. … Accordingly, I take this opportunity to announce to the entire Church a program to construct some 30 smaller temples immediately. … These will be in addition to the 17 buildings now going forward. … This will make a total of 47 new temples in addition to the 51 now in operation. I think we had better add 2 more to make it an even 100 by the end of this century” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1998, 115; or Ensign, May 1998, 87–88).

It’s family home evening in the Rose household, and Emeline (9) and William (6) listen intently as their dad plays two notes on the piano. What song does it sound like? “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission”? No. The children listen again as Dad adds one more note to the tune. “‘I Love to See the Temple’!” Emeline exclaims. That’s it!
Emeline and William and their older brother, Michael (15), listen to the piano and guess a few more Primary songs during one of their favorite family home evening activities. Music is important to the whole family, and it blends into their lives every day.

And when I was baptized a blessing was said
By strong priesthood holders with hands on my head.
The gift of the Holy Ghost, given to me,
Will help me be faithful, God’s servant to be.

Several years ago I realized that while I had a testimony of the gospel in general, there were some principles to which I was not yet fully converted. Although I had no problem with tithing or the Word of Wisdom for instance, I did struggle with the principle of eternal marriage—my eternal marriage.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be married; on the contrary, I did—desperately, or so I told myself. I dated locally and had some long-distance relationships. I dated constantly, even to the point of exhaustion. But I became an expert at identifying what I considered to be “flaws” in each of the women I dated. I always justified breaking off a relationship but usually not until I had strung her along for a year or two. Over time I worked myself into such a cycle of failure that I was practically paralyzed with regard to courtship.
I had served a mission. I attended the temple regularly, fasted and prayed for the Lord’s guidance, and served faithfully in ward callings. I had strong family support. I counseled regularly with my bishops. I even spent a season working with an excellent Latter-day Saint psychologist. But I was miserable. I couldn’t figure out how to get married.
People sympathetic to my plight told me that I just hadn’t met “the right one” yet. Others told me, “You just have to take the plunge.” But I had too many doubts and irrational fears to allow me to do so.
I figured marriage would take nothing short of a miracle. Even though I knew I was responsible for my own life and that I couldn’t expect any bishop to solve my problems, I hoped that each new bishop I worked with might be able to help me. They were all concerned and told me to stay close to the Church, continue to serve, and try my best.
When I was 45 years old, our ward’s bishopric was changed. When the name of the new bishop was announced, my heart sank. The man who had been called was someone with whom I had nothing in common. I foolishly determined that I would have to wait for the next new bishop.
One Sunday not long after, I was on my way to priesthood meeting when this bishop asked if I would come into his office right then for a temple recommend interview. In his office I began my well-rehearsed tale of woe: Nothing was going right for me. Every woman I had dated had some intolerable failing. And maybe I wasn’t really cut out for marriage in this life anyway.
The bishop dismissed my complaints, looked me in the eye, and asked, “Do you want to be married or not?” I had to answer that I thought so but that I wasn’t really sure anymore. He continued, “I want you to go home and decide if you really want to be married. If the answer is no, then I’ll feel sorry for you, but you can stop dating and quit beating yourself up over it. If the answer is yes, then come back, and we’ll work on it.”
At that moment, I received the undeniable impression that his counsel would help me.
I walked out of his office sobered. After church I went home, and with a brief but intense wrestle, I decided that the answer had to be yes. I did desire marriage, and I was willing to submit to the counsel of this bishop, whatever it was.
Making this decision was the turning point in my quest to be married. For decades I had been halfhearted in my efforts. Marriage had not really been a high priority for me, even if I had pretended it was. Only when it was convenient did I give marriage serious attention, but other things, such as my professional pursuits as a concert musician and a university professor, usually took precedence. What I needed to learn was how to approach the goal of marriage with the same commitment.
When I returned to counsel with my bishop, he spoke as plainly as anyone had ever done. He was not interested in my litany of excuses. He simply said, “Let’s find the glitch—the place where relationships always fall apart for you—and then fix it.” At first I was taken aback, but then I found his directness refreshing. I knew I could trust him. It took some energy and courage to get out of the deep rut I was in, but I began to gain more confidence that I could do it.
His first direction to me was to start looking anew for a companion who had, in his words, faith, integrity, and goodwill—enduring qualities that really mattered—instead of merely some surface qualities I considered essential. (In my mind, she needed to be a blonde, a soprano, and a gourmet cook.) My charge was to cherish her with the same kind of love, to the degree that I could, that our Heavenly Father has for each of us.
My bishop also helped me discover the flaws in my quest for marriage. I conceded that they were not in the women I had dated, as I had maintained for so long. Rather, they were in my own erroneous thinking and unrealistic expectations. He laid out some new rules by which I was to date.
First of all, I had to prepare for change. I was very comfortable in my way of living, and even though I desired marriage in an abstract way, I felt it would upset my routine. I would have to start doing some things differently. I’d been doing it my way for more than 25 years, repeating the same mistakes, and obviously it hadn’t worked. Because I was 45, I had to understand that I didn’t have an unlimited amount of time to date.
Second, dating was not to be about entertainment but rather about identifying a companion who was also seriously interested in and prepared for marriage. This was to be a time for becoming acquainted not just with someone’s personality but also, more important, with her spirit.
My bishop also taught me I would be able to tell within a few dates whether a woman had the essential qualities I was looking for. If they weren’t present, it was time to move along. To break my pattern of unproductive long-term dating, the bishop gave me a startling ultimatum: I was to follow any serious dating relationship through to marriage or rejection. After a reasonable period of time, I could not turn back unless the woman I was dating turned me down. Previously, my habit had been to walk away rather than commit. This time I would not be allowed to retreat as I had done so often before. In an uncharacteristically bold move, I agreed to the terms.
I started to recognize a few things. For one, I realized that what some call “chemistry” comes after honest and mature conversation, not before. This is one of the most common mistakes people make—they pursue a relationship only if they feel an immediate physical attraction. Some single people also prefer superficial topics to serious discussions and hard questions, avoiding the latter in the vain hope that once “true love” sets in, somehow all the real-life problems will disappear. Actually, it’s the other way around. If at the outset you practice honest communication and learn to answer the hard questions, then trust develops. This trust erases fear, which is usually the cause of cold feet, lack of commitment, and ultimately a shaky relationship.
Most important, I learned that love is not about just me. It is primarily about caring for the other person. I had to work on humbling myself and relinquishing the arrogant attitude that maybe no woman was good enough for me.
It would be nice if I could say I married the very next woman I met. I dated a few women very briefly and had one longer dating relationship in which I was ultimately turned down. But I exercised faith and followed my bishop’s instructions, even though I didn’t get immediate results.
The year after I adopted these changes in attitude and perspective, I took a second look at a woman I had known for years. We had actually dated before, but this time I saw her in a different light—as a prospective eternal companion who is delightful and beautiful in every way because she has the qualities that are enduring (and many bonus qualities as well). She was generous enough to give me another chance, and now she is my wife and the mother of our precious children. I love her deeply. Ten years ago, I could not have imagined such fulfillment.
What brought about this conversion? (And it was a real conversion—a turning in a different direction.) I believe the change came about because a bishop taught me how deeply Heavenly Father loves me and wants me to be happy and have all the blessings He has already promised me. My bishop helped me rearrange the priorities in my life, which had become distorted. He spoke plainly and did not allow me to be distracted by the excuses I had given for so long.
Now I know what conversion feels like. I have had that mighty change of heart regarding this principle, and it has made all the difference in my life. I can trace the moment of my conversion to that day in my bishop’s office when it was revealed to me that if I would follow his counsel, I would be blessed.
Indeed I am.

Kirtland, then the major location of the Saints, was a small place. Now, 158 years later, we have become a mighty congregation spread over the earth. I recently had the experience of meeting with holders of the priesthood in Madrid, Spain; followed by Rome, Italy; followed by Geneva, Switzerland; followed by Odense, Denmark, to which central place the members in Copenhagen and other Danish cities gathered. In each area a different language is spoken. The brethren of those four places each salute a different flag and are citizens of a different nation. But they all have one great thing in common. They are bound together by the cord of the brotherhood of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Each is a man upon whose head hands have been laid, and each has received a bestowal of divine authority.

When I was a young university student, one of my classmates urgently pleaded with a group of us—his Latter-day Saint friends—to donate blood for his mother, who was bleeding profusely. We went directly to the hospital to have our blood typed and tested. I’ll never forget our shock when told that one of the prospective donors was unfit because of a positive blood test for a venereal disease. That infected blood was my classmate’s own!
Fortunately, his mother survived, but I’ll never forget his lingering sorrow. He bore the burden of knowing that his personal immorality had disqualified him from giving needed aid to his mother, and he had added to her grief.
I learned a great lesson: if one dishonors the commandments of God, one dishonors mother, and if one dishonors mother, one dishonors the commandments of God.1

Sharp. As a boy on a farm, Elder Kevin R. Duncan of the Seventy learned that a sickle needs to be kept sharp to be effective. “On the farm, we kept a file on hand to sharpen our sickle every day. In missionary work and indeed in all areas of life, we need to keep our spiritual sickles sharp so that we can achieve our own best potential. Reading scriptures daily, praying, and keeping all other commandments help us stay sharp and useful” (“Abandoned Seeds in Rocky Places,” New Era, July 2014, 18).

I met my wife, Ann, when we were both singing in choirs at the University of Utah. For a short time after we married, we lived in the same area where I grew up. We had very little money. Sometimes when we went on a date, Ann popped a bag of popcorn and we drove downtown in our old car to a movie theater. We didn’t have enough money to buy tickets, so we sat in our car and ate our popcorn while we watched the interesting people going into the theater! While I was getting my law degree, I drove an oil truck to earn money to support our family. Our first three children—twins and another daughter—were born in one year!

Heber C. Kimball was ordained an Apostle in 1835 by the Prophet Joseph Smith, who considered him a man of great integrity. Two years later, while sitting in the Kirtland Temple, the Prophet Joseph whispered to Elder Kimball that the Lord wanted him to go on a mission to England. He would be the first Church missionary sent to a foreign country, a thought that was overwhelming to Elder Kimball.

“The idea of such a mission was almost more than I could bear. … I was almost ready to sink under the burden which was placed upon me,” he said. But despite the inadequacy he felt, Elder Kimball accepted the call and went to England. “The moment I understood the will of my Heavenly Father, I felt a determination to go at all hazards, believing that He would support me by His almighty power, and endow me with every qualification that I needed.” (See History of the Church, 2:489, footnote.)
Elder Kimball had the faith of Nephi. He knew that “the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Ne. 3:7).

As Sister Johnson and I were raising our children, we encouraged each of them to learn to play a musical instrument. But we would allow our children to take music lessons only if they did their part and practiced their instrument each day. One Saturday, our daughter Jalynn was excited to go play with friends, but she had not yet practiced the piano. Knowing she had committed to practice for 30 minutes, she intended to set a timer because she did not want to practice even one minute longer than was required.
As she walked by the microwave oven on her way to the piano, she paused and pushed some buttons. But instead of setting the timer, she set the microwave to cook for 30 minutes and pushed start. After about 20 minutes of practice, she walked back to the kitchen to check how much time was remaining and found the microwave oven on fire.
She then ran into the backyard where I was doing yard work, yelling that the house was on fire. I quickly ran into the house, and indeed, I found the microwave oven in flames.
In an effort to save our home from burning, I reached behind the microwave, unplugged it, and used the power cord to lift the burning microwave off of the counter. Hoping to be the hero and to save the day as well as our home, I swung the flaming microwave in circles with the power cord to keep it away from my body, got to the backyard, and with another swinging motion flung the microwave out onto the lawn. There we were able to extinguish the fiery flames with a hose.
What had gone wrong? A microwave oven needs something to absorb its energy, and when nothing is on the inside to absorb the energy, the oven itself absorbs the energy, becomes hot, and may catch on fire, destroying itself in a pile of flames and ashes. Our entire microwave went up in flames and burned because there was nothing on the inside.
Likewise, those who have faith and the word of God deep in their hearts will be able to absorb and overcome the fiery darts that the adversary will surely send to destroy us. Otherwise, our faith, hope, and conviction may not endure, and like the empty microwave oven, we could become a casualty.

I remember when I was young and leaving home for service in the U.S. Navy. My grandmother cautioned me that the Spirit of the Lord would not go with me into places where evil was. That fact was verified for me many times as my duties required that I be in places where evil ruled in the hearts of men. We, that is, our spirits recoil from evil, at least we do until we become so used to its presence that we lose our ability to be shocked by it, and in fact, become insensitive to its presence.

Richfield 16th Ward
“There Is Sunshine in My ‘Sole’ Today” was the theme of a Primary activity in the Richfield 16th Ward, Richfield Utah East Stake (below). The Primary children collected 564 pairs of shoes and donated them to the humanitarian center.

In the exercise of agency and in the divine providence of God, Lucy’s sons Joseph and Hyrum ultimately sealed their testimonies with their blood. As the grieving mother looked upon their lifeless remains, she cried, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken this family!” As a kind blessing to a faithful mother, the Lord softened her grief and granted to her the peace that only God can bestow. A voice spoke to her soul: “I have taken them to myself, that they might have rest” (Lucy Mack Smith, History of Joseph Smith, p. 324).

Or choir member Kathleen Mickelsen’s experience—an experience repeated in one form or another night after night for many choir members, but this one occurred in St. Petersburg (then known as Leningrad): “Halfway through the concert, my eyes were drawn to a woman in the audience—and I noticed her eyes were drawn to me. She just melted at our singing of ‘Love So Amazing, So Divine,’ a song about Christ on the cross. We kept looking at each other through the rest of the concert—and I sang the songs as my testimony to her with all my heart.” After the final encore, while the choir members waved to the audience as they filed offstage, the woman and Kathleen forged their way through the crowd to meet, embrace, and emotionally communicate—through words, if possible, though language barriers generally made that difficult. If not, they would speak through tears, long, warm handclasps, and soulful expressions of “thank you” indigenous to each language and nation.

The Prophet Joseph Smith learned from firsthand experience that the Lord expects us to avoid misery by living His gospel and wants us to understand that we can repent. When he lost the 116 pages of the manuscript of the Book of Mormon translation by giving in to the persuasions of men, Joseph was miserable. The Lord told him: “You should have been faithful; and [God] would have extended his arm and supported you against all the fiery darts of the adversary; and he would have been with you in every time of trouble” (D&C 3:8). Such is the case for each of you young men: be faithful, and you will be supported by the hand of God. The Prophet was then reminded that—as with each of us—he would be forgiven if he repented. Imagine what joy he felt when he heard the Lord state, “But remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent of that which thou hast done which is contrary to the commandment which I gave you, and thou art still chosen” (D&C 3:10).

Even in rich nations little children and youth are impaired by neglect. Children growing up in poverty have inferior health care and inadequate educational opportunities. They are also exposed to dangerous environments in their physical and cultural surroundings and even from the neglect of their parents. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland recently shared the experience of an LDS police officer. In an investigation he found five young children huddled together and trying to sleep without bedding on a filthy floor in a dwelling where their mother and others were drinking and partying. The apartment had no food to relieve their hunger. After tucking the children into a makeshift bed, the officer knelt and prayed for their protection. As he walked toward the door, one of them, about six, pursued him, grabbed him by the hand, and pleaded, “Will you please adopt me?”

It all started in 1833 with a tobacco-stained floor in a smoke-filled room in Kirtland, Ohio, and a comment by the Prophet Joseph Smith’s wife that prompted him to approach the Lord with an inquiry. The resulting answer was the revelation known as the Word of Wisdom and now Section 89 of the Doctrine and Covenants. [D&C 89]
“I think,” said President Brigham Young in 1868, “I am as well acquainted with the circumstances which led to the giving of the Word of Wisdom as any man in the Church, although I was not present at the time to witness them.”
President Young said the Prophet Joseph and his wife, Emma, lived in quarters attached to Newell K. Whitney’s store. Their kitchen was under the room in which Joseph received revelations and instructed the brethren in the first school of the prophets.
“The brethren came to that place for hundreds of kilometers to attend school in a little room probably no larger than three by four meters,” President Young said. “When they assembled together in this room after breakfast, the first thing they did was to light their pipes, and, while smoking, talk about the great things of the kingdom, and spit all over the room, and as soon as the pipe was out of their mouths, a large chew of tobacco would then be taken.
“Often when the Prophet entered the room to give the school instructions he would find himself in a cloud of tobacco smoke. This, and the complaints of his wife at having to clean so filthy a floor, made the Prophet think upon the matter, and he inquired of the Lord relating to the conduct of the Elders in using tobacco, and the revelation known as the Word of Wisdom was the result of his inquiry.” (Journal of Discourses, Vol. 12, p. 158.)

“Grannie Smith’s coming for supper tonight,” Mom said as Carrie scurried around, getting everything ready for the meeting of the Super Scooper News staff.
“Oh no!” Carrie moaned. “Everybody’s coming over!”
“That’s fine,” Mom said. “Go ahead with your newspaper meeting. I’m sure that Grannie won’t mind.”
“No! Not now. Maybe I’ll call the others to tell them to come some other time,” Carrie said. Then she remembered that last week Shauna hadn’t been able to come, and the week before, Adam couldn’t make it. It had been several weeks since they’d printed their newspaper, and now everybody had plenty of news for another issue.
“It’s up to you,” Mom said. “It’s been ten days since we’ve had Grannie over, and she must be feeling pretty lonely.”
Carrie stomped into the living room to watch TV. Why can’t Grannie be like other grandmothers? she wondered. Adam’s grandma was always baking cookies and giving them to the kids in the neighborhood. One of Shauna’s grandmothers was a writer who published lots of books about all the places she’d traveled. Shauna had an autographed copy of each book that she had written. Carrie’s other grandmother had moved to Arizona, far from the cold prairie winters.
But Grannie Smith was different and something of a problem. Most of the time she stayed in a nursing home, but whenever she came over for dinner, all she did was embarrass Carrie. Sometimes she’d ask Dad what his name was, and she’d call Carrie “Penelope.” Aunt Penelope was Grannie’s sister, but she had died a long time ago. Sometimes Grannie spilled her food, and one time she had even started eating her mashed potatoes with her fingers! When that happened, even Mom had looked as if she were about to cry, though they all realized that Grannie couldn’t help it. She did things like that, the doctors had explained, because she has Alzheimer’s disease.
Carrie heard the doorbell ring and went to open the door.
“Hi, Carrie!” It was Adam, one of the newspaper’s best reporters. “Boy, do I have news! Let’s get it typed up.”
“Great!” Carrie went over to her corner of the living room and sat down at an old beat-up desk. She rolled a sheet of paper into her rickety typewriter. Some of the machine’s letters didn’t print right, and Mom kept saying that she was surprised that the typewriter hadn’t broken down long ago.
Soon Shauna came in, and the three of them sat on the floor, trying to decide which news items to put on the front page.
“Come on in and sit down, Mother.”
Carrie cringed at the sound of Dad’s voice. She wished that she could pretend that she hadn’t heard, but she knew that she had to go give a kiss to the wobbly little lady with the cane and white hair. “Hi, Grannie,” she said.
Grannie stroked a wrinkled hand over Carrie’s hair. “You’re growing like a weed, lass,” she said with a smile. “Run along and play with your friends now; they’ll be waiting for you.”
Carrie gave a sigh of relief and went back to her desk. Maybe, just this once, Grannie won’t do anything awful.
Shauna’s eyes were wide. “How old is she, Carrie?” she whispered.
“Eighty-one,” Carrie said quickly. “Now, about the front page, …”
They decided to use three pieces: Mrs. Currie’s fall off her stepladder, Bryan Wilson’s plans to become a hockey pro, and the mysterious footprints in the dirt around the Adam’s family’s garbage can.
As they worked, Carrie could hear Grannie talking. At first she thought that Grannie was talking to her father, but when she looked around, Dad was in the easy chair, reading the newspaper.
“Look at the clowns!” Grannie was saying. “Oh my—see how many elephants there are!”
Nervously Carrie looked at her friends. Their heads were bent over the dummy sheet that they were putting together. Maybe Grannie’s watching TV. Carrie glanced over at the television set, but the screen was blank. Grannie was staring out the front window.
Elephants on McDonald Street? That’s impossible! Grannie’s seeing things again. Carrie felt her face getting red. Why did Mom have to invite Grannie for the same night that Shauna and Adam were coming?
“Oh! There’s the lion tamer!”
Adam looked up and began to stare.
Carrie quickly turned back to her typewriter and said, “Super Scooper News,” loudly as she picked out the letters.
“Bonnie, come here. I have some treats for you and your friends.”
Carrie’s face got redder. Bonnie was her mother’s name, but she was sure that Grannie was speaking to her. “Just a minute, Grannie,” she said.
But Grannie had sounded so pleased with herself that Carrie couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings. She went over to Grannie’s chair, where the old woman pulled some lint-covered cough drops out of her dress pocket. “Here. And when these are gone, I have some more.”
Carrie nodded and took them.
“What’d you get?” There was an expectant look on Shauna’s face.
“Oh, nothing—just some cough drops.” Carrie tried stuffing them into her jeans pocket, but Adam stopped her.
“Can I have one?”
“Well …”
But it was too late. Adam reached and took one. It had not only lint on it but a clinging hair as well.
“Yuck!” Shauna started giggling.
“She can’t help it!” Carrie whispered, embarrassed. “She just doesn’t know any better.”
“Some people get senile,” Adam said sympathetically. “Boy, I hope I never do.”
It sounded as though Grannie were busy watching her invisible circus parade again. Tears burned in Carrie’s eyes as she turned back to the typewriter once more. “What’s the best title for this one—‘Mrs. Currie Breaks Leg in Kitchen Fall’?”
“So you’re using that typewriter again, Penelope.”
Oh no! Grannie was coming over! Carrie wished that she could tell her grandmother to leave her alone. She poked at the r extra hard, and her finger went between the keys, jamming the r and t keys together.
Now Grannie was looking over her shoulder. “I used to be a real good typist in my day,” she said. “I could type eighty words a minute—clean copy, without a single error.”
Carrie’s head lifted. She had to admit that that sounded fast. “We’re doing our newspaper, Grannie,” she said.
“Oh yes!” Grannie beamed. “Our newspaper, Penelope! I’d almost forgotten. Be sure to tell about how Mrs. Schneider’s cat chased off those huge dogs.”
Shauna looked uncomfortable. Adam looked restless. Carrie’s finger hurt, and the letters were still jammed. “I need to type now,” she finally said in a low voice. Maybe Grannie would take the hint and go back to her chair.
Grannie reached out and unjammed the keys. “Careful, Penelope.”
“I’m Carrie,” Carrie said loudly. Shauna began to giggle.
The old woman sighed and shook her head. “Carrie. Yes, Carrie. Sometimes I get so mixed up these days.”
Does she ever! said the look in Shauna’s eyes. Adam looked puzzled. And Grannie looked very sad.
Carrie took a deep breath. Does Grannie feel bad about the way she is? It must be terrible to be so forgetful and not be able to do anything about it. “Want to help, Grannie?” she asked. “You could type, and we’ll dictate the copy to you.”
Grannie’s smile was like sunlight coming through clouds. “Why, yes, Penelope! You just tell me what to type, and I’ll be extra careful to get it right.”
Carrie held her breath. Shauna was holding her breath too. Grannie sat down at the typewriter. Adam began reading in a loud, steady voice: “‘Mrs. Currie Breaks Leg in Kitchen Fall.’”
Nervously Carrie looked over her grandmother’s shoulder. The words were typed just as Adam had read them.
Maybe Grannie was a little strange and sometimes got all mixed up, but she really was a special person. Besides, the Super Scooper News staff didn’t need cookies or autographs right now—they needed their newspaper typed. And from the look of it, Grannie was going to give them the neatest copy they’d ever had!