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It’s funny you should say that: Humorous accounts of LDS life

SHARE It’s funny you should say that: Humorous accounts of LDS life

Dora

the Explorer and Swiper the sneaky fox make an appearance at a stake conference in Idaho. Two

sister missionaries engage in a tug-of-war with a condor in Bolivia.

And a senior missionary couple's car becomes suspect in Mississippi.

Just a sampling of the latest round of funny stories.

Since

Mormon Times debuted in the Deseret News in January 2008, we have been

asking readers to send us their humorous accounts of LDS life and

culture. And they always deliver, whether it be a child awaiting the

170-second general conference or a farmer in Pennsylvania confused

about his new neighbors.

So enjoy these funny recollections, and keep sending them in.


__IMAGE1__Swiper in the chapel

I went home for spring break, and it was my parents' stake conference.

As

I sat listening to the speakers I was repeatedly offended as the young

family in front of me opened package after package of Girl Scout

cookies — all the while not offering me a single one.

Yeah, I know.

Thin Mints.

Samoas.

Tagalongs.

I was tempted to just reach forward and grab one from the little girl.

Well,

her father apparently had the same craving and the same idea. As his

daughter looked the other way, he slowly began to pry a cookie from her

tiny hand.

Suddenly the 3-year-old's head whipped around. "Swiper, no swiping!" she screamed.

My future children are now cut off from Dora the Explorer and will always share their snacks in church.

Kari JenkinsPocatello, Idaho


Bird battle

The

condor, magnificent king of the Andes, has always been a fascination

with me. Similar to our American eagle, but much larger, the condor is

black and majestic, with a wing span of up to 10 feet.

More than a year into my Mormon mission to South America, I was able to meet one.

My

companion and I were en route to our new assignment in southern

Bolivia. Because of scheduling problems, we had a three-day layover in

the city of Oruro. We spent most of our time doing first-contacting in

different and unusual places, one of which was the Oruro zoo.

Upon

entering the zoo, we soon found the condor cage and eagerly began

pulling our cameras out of our purses to take pictures. My companion,

who was carrying a Book of Mormon and a Bible, set her books down on a

cement post next to the cage. The condor, perched close to the fence,

spotted her books and moved closer for a better look. He poked his head

through an opening in the fence and began pecking away at her

scriptures.

A

vulture and a carnivore, a condor is not the kind of animal you want

eating your Standard Works. As Sister Watts reached out and grabbed her

books, the condor released the books and grabbed her hand in his beak.

Panic-stricken, she pulled back, but the bird held tight.

We thought maybe it was the end for poor Sister Watts. The harder she pulled, the tighter he gripped.

I

didn't know what to do. All I had in my hands was a copy of the May

Ensign, the general conference issue. Rolling it up, I beat the condor

over the head for all I was worth. After a few furious minutes he

finally released his hold.

Sister

Watts was saved, which just goes to show that even though we might have

the ancient scriptures, at times we are helpless to save ourselves

without the words of the living prophet.

Judy BushSykesville, Md.


170-second conference

Though it happened several years ago, this story will forever be engraved in my memory.

My

daughter was riding in the car with my then-6-year-old grandson, Kyle,

as it was announced on the radio that the 172nd Annual General

Conference would soon be starting. Shortly after that, Kyle asked my

daughter how many minutes there were in 170 seconds. Not knowing why he

asked, she quickly figured it up in her head. After Kyle received his

answer, he said, "This conference sure won't be very long, then, will

it?"

Kathleen Marshall

Cottonwood Heights, Utah


Hate to wait

The

ward executive secretary approached me before church and asked if I

would give the benediction in sacrament meeting. "Oh, no!" I exclaimed.

"I don't like to give closing prayers. I spend the whole meeting

worrying about what I'm going to say."

"That's OK," he said. "I'll put you down for the invocation next Sunday."

Berneice NeeleySalt Lake City


Why stray?

Some

years ago my husband, our two small children and I lived in southern

Oregon. We had been there for a couple of years and truly loved the

community and our ward. My husband then received a job transfer to

Seattle. It was not my desire to uproot and leave the security we felt,

but we knew we had to go where the job took us. On our last Sunday in

the ward, we were asked to speak in sacrament meeting, along with two

other families who were also moving out of the community. The bishop

stood halfway through the meeting and announced that "we now will be

favored by a musical number, a violin solo of the hymn, 'Ye Simple

Souls Who Stray.'" This was not lost on the congregation who thought

the irony of that particular hymn that particular Sunday was, to say

the least, humorous.

Janeen HullingerFarmington, Utah


Spiritual slumber

It

was a hot July afternoon sacrament meeting in a time before

air-conditioning was installed in our building. The speaker had talents

other than talking in church, and he droned on and on while nature took

its toll on the congregation. My 3-year-old son, Todd, stood on the

bench at my shoulder, watching the speaker. He then turned around,

intently observing the people behind us. After a short while he turned

back to me and quietly whispered in my ear: "Lots of people think he's

praying, huh, Mama?"

Doris Moir

Salt Lake City


Missionary APBMy

wife and I were driving down the highway one day while serving in the

Mississippi Jackson Mission when we were stopped by a highway patrolman

with sirens blaring and red lights flashing. He approached our car and

said he had just received an "all points bulletin" for two bank robbers

who had just left the scene of the robbery in a brown Toyota just like

ours.

I asked if the APB indicated

that the bank robbers were disguised as a senior Mormon missionary

couple with missionary badges and Utah license plates on their car. He

just stared at us for several seconds in total silence. Then my wife

(being the good missionary that she is) said, "Sir, would you like a

free video about the real meaning of Easter?" After staring at us in

total silence for several more seconds, he just walked back to his

patrol car and drove away. Apparently we were no longer considered

suspects.

Larry Humpherys

Harrisville, Utah


Hooked on family history

A

recent widow found her way into the family history center where I

worked. After I reassured her she was welcome — that she didn't need to

be a member and there was no cost — she became an avid student. She was

a good typist and a quick study. On the third day, with her fingers

flying over the keyboard, I heard her talking to herself. "What did you

say?" I asked. She raised her voice and repeated, "I'm certainly glad

my husband is dead!"

"Why?" was all I could say.

"Because," she replied, "if he knew how much time I was spending here, he'd kill me."

Kay Lack

Redding, Calif.


Lightning rod?

My

6-year-old learned about the Iron Rod in Primary. He's a technically

minded guy, and after thinking about it all afternoon, he announced at

dinner, "In a thunderstorm, the Iron Rod would conduct electricity." So

perhaps we ought to rethink that goal never to let go...

Lee Ann Setzer

Springville, Utah


'Sneaky' neighbors

Our

son-in-law's great-uncle, a Pennsylvania Protestant, has a farm on a

road that extends from the city through the suburbs into the country.

All upset, he reported one day, "The Mormons bought some land down the

road to build a church! They were real sneaky, though. They negotiated

as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints!"

U. Henry GerlachChampaign, Ill.


Thou shalt not ride?

My

son Kenny was 4 in 1971 and went to preschool three days a week with

several of his neighborhood friends. We mothers took turns carpooling

the little boys, and Kenny was the last one to be picked up when I

wasn't driving. Our neighbors were also Christians but not members of

our church. One sunny Arizona morning as he climbed into the car driven

by his best friend Matthew's mother, she explained, "Kenny, we have

been talking about motorcycles on our way to pick you up." And then she

posed the question, "Are you ever going to ride a motorcycle?" Kenny's

response came quickly and ever so earnestly: "Oh no, Mrs. Stevenson! We

are Mormons!"

Karin L. Ford

Chandler, Ariz.


Costly error

We

had recently moved from Oklahoma to Willamina, Ore., First Ward. While

in Oklahoma my assignment was to prepare the ward bulletin each week.

Many times information would come in at the last minute and preparation

would be left until late Saturday evening. My mental acuity was not

always at its best at that point, but I always got the job done — even

if it was 1 a.m.

Once my new ward

learned what my past assignment had been, I found myself again

preparing our ward bulletin each week. I prided myself in making sure

that it was as perfect as the information I had received. A computer

with spell-checker was a big help.

One

Sunday, we had come to the closing hymn in the service. I don't

remember what the bishop said at the podium, but I remember that my

eyes got big and I asked my wife if I could see the program. There it

was, in black and white. The closing hymn: "We Thank Thee, O God, for a

Profit"!

Richard HollidayTerreton, Idaho


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