Discouraging Smoking

A Family Home Evening Lesson on the Word of Wisdom

By Cindy Beck



[As adults, we often assume that the Word of Wisdom is easy for young children to keep. However, our sons and daughters are being exposed to all manner of temptations, including the use of tobacco, at much earlier ages than in the past. Even children in elementary school can experience peer pressure about smoking. For that reason it's beneficial for us, as parents, to take the time to discuss tobacco's harmful effects with them, and to talk about ways to handle the peer pressure they may encounter.]

Song: “Keep the Commandments” (Hymns, #303)

Scripture: D&C 89: 4-9, 18

Quote: “Now is the time to set your life’s goals. Now is the time to set your standards firmly and then hold to them throughout your life.” (Spencer W. Kimball, “Decide Now,” Friend, May 1985.)

Story: [Before reading the story below aloud, explain to your children that it’s based on a true event in the life of a young, LDS boy whose friend wanted him to try smoking.]

Barkies and Stogies

“Do you want to smoke some barkies and stogies?” asked Chad.

Tyler tilted his head at the question. His blond hair slid into his eyes as he said, “What are those?”

“You know—barkies are those pieces of bark that peel off the aspen trees. You roll them up like a cigarette. Stogies are left over smokes that you find on the ground in parking lots.”

Tyler scrunched his eyebrows together in thought. I want Chad to keep liking me; I want him to be my friend for a long time.

As Tyler tried to figure out what to say, Chad stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged his shoulders impatiently. “Well, do you want to or not?”

Crickets chirped in the weedy lot where they’d been playing, and a grasshopper nearby jumped onto a small, purple thistle. Tyler scuffed the ground with the toe of his sneakers, and a dust cloud puffed onto the bottom of his pants. “We’re Mormons,” he finally said.

“So what? I know of a hiding place where we can go, and nobody will know if we do it.” Chad nudged Tyler with his shoulder, as if sharing an important secret.

Tyler swallowed, his mouth tasting dry and his stomach feeling like someone had filled it full of hot air balloons. He wondered if it was because he was afraid to say no or because of the four pancakes he’d wolfed down for breakfast. “We’re not supposed to smoke. Our primary teacher said so."

Chad scowled. “So what! Are you afraid?”

“No, but smoking is bad for you. And it feels crummy.”

Chad looked at Tyler slyly, his brown eyes narrowing. “If you’ve never tried it, how would you know?”

“From camping. One time when I was toasting marshmallows over the campfire, I leaned over and accidentally took a big breath. The smoke went in my mouth and up my nose. It was awful—I coughed so much I almost threw up. And my eyes stung.”

Chad pretended to take a puff on a cigarette, “You’re just making that up because you’re a chicken.”

As Tyler remembered the smoky campfire, he understood why tobacco wasn’t good for people. He straightened his shoulders and thought, I'm not going to break the Word of Wisdom—even if it does mean we're not friends anymore.

“No, Chad. I don’t want to smoke and you shouldn’t either. Heavenly Father said not to. Besides, who would be dumb enough to smoke some old bark off a tree? Or pick up garbage from a parking lot and put it in his mouth?”

Chad’s lips flattened into an angry line and his eyebrows creased. “You’re nothing but a dorky baby. Why don’t you just stay here and cry while I go smoke barkies and stogies?” As he walked away Tyler heard him taunt, “Waaah, waaah, little baby.”

Tyler stood in the vacant lot, watching until his friend turned and ran behind a grove of aspen trees through the block. He felt bad that Chad was going to break the Word of Wisdom and sad that they would no longer be friends, but he also felt good inside. Heavenly Father’s commandments were important and he was glad he said no to smoking.

And on top of that… the rocky feeling in his stomach had disappeared.

****

Discussion: Use the following questions as a springboard to discuss the use of tobacco with your children:

What does the Word of Wisdom advise us to avoid? (See D&C 89.)

Is the Word of Wisdom easy to keep?

Will it be harder to keep as you get older?

Do you know anyone your age who thinks smoking looks interesting or fun?

Why do you suppose they think that?

Have you ever accidentally breathed in smoke from a campfire or fireplace? What did it feel like?

If a friend asks you to try smoking, what are some things you can say?


Treats: Indoor S’Mores

Ingredients:

* 32 miniature graham crackers or 8 regular size graham crackers, broken in 1/2
* 2 milk chocolate bars, the kind that can be broken into squares
* 8 marshmallows

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Lay 1/2 of the graham crackers on a cookie sheet. Top with chocolate pieces to cover. Use kitchen scissors to snip the marshmallows in 1/2 horizontally if using miniature crackers and place 1/2 a marshmallow on top of each graham cracker. If using regular size crackers use a whole marshmallow.

Bake until the marshmallows are puffed and golden brown, about 3 to 5 minutes. Remove from the oven and top with the remaining graham crackers, pressing down slightly to make a sandwich. Serve immediately, while still warm.

Recipe from the FoodNetwork.com

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The Secret in the Library ... by Cindy Beck

The retired couple sat in the Ephraim Fourth Ward library, poring over what looked like a set of old records. Why were they there on a weekday and what were they doing?


Photo by William Hoiles, Basking Ridge, NJ, USA


My husband and I are converts. After baptism, we embraced the gospel wholeheartedly, accepted callings and were sealed as a family in the Logan Temple. Following several years of membership, I felt well-versed in the Latter-day Saint culture in Utah. Yet, something unknown was taking place in the ward library that day in the late 1980s.

Curiosity got the better of me. Leaning through the doorway, I greeted the couple. They looked up and smiled. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Extraction,” the woman replied.

“What’s extraction?”

Her husband explained it consisted of deciphering the names on official documents—birth, marriage, and census records—in order to make them available for genealogy and temple work.

Moving closer, I looked at the information. Warmth flooded through me—the handwriting looked curlicued and old-fashioned, but to my astonishment, I could read it. I knew with a surety I would work on similar documents.

On the drive home, my mind puzzled over the experience. Several callings already occupied my time—could I fit in another?

I can’t do it now, but someday I’ll do name extraction—maybe when I’m retired.

Feeling a bit guilty, I consoled myself with the thought that there was a season and a time for every purpose (see Ecclesiastes 3:1).

Many years passed, and I no longer saw senior couples in the ward library, unraveling the mysteries in those old records. Members of the church still worked on names, but I didn’t know how. It seemed the calling meant for me no longer existed.

The Opportunity Arises

As I rummaged through my church bag during a Sacrament meeting in the fall of 2007, an announcement from the pulpit—about computers and retrieving names from public records—zipped past me. Turning to my husband, I asked, “What did he say?”

“Something about indexing.”

“Yes, I know that. But, what about it? Is indexing the same as extraction? Is it a calling or are they asking for volunteers? Are the names online now?”

Russ shrugged his shoulders and gave a sympathetic look. “Sorry, but I didn’t catch it.”

My chance had come and I’d missed it while searching for a tissue!

It would have been a simple task to ask the bishop about it after the meeting, but suddenly, trepidation entered. Did I really need to take on another church job? What would happen if it required more time than I had available? Uncertain, I let the opportunity pass.

Several weeks later, the phone rang. “Help!” a friend said breathlessly. “Everything on my computer’s screen has turned upside down. I’m working on indexing and don’t know how to get it back to normal.” Then she added in a teasing voice, “The only way I can read the names is by standing on my head.”

I rushed over. We retraced her movements, pushed the right key and the screen returned to normal. Realizing the perfect opportunity sat in front of me, I asked her questions about indexing. She explained that I needed a computer and an Internet connection, and reassured me that the indexing website had tutorials that explained the program. In addition, the stake had a specialist available to help with questions. Finally, for each batch submitted, another indexer interpreted the same names as a crosscheck.

“The best part,” she said, pointing at the graceful, curved writing displayed on the monitor, “is that if you start a batch of names and don’t have time to finish, you can save the information and come back later. You have a whole week to complete a batch and it only takes about half an hour, total.”

She’d convinced me. I could spare half an hour a week. The calling that I’d known for years would be mine was right at my fingertips—and I wasn’t even retired yet.

The Opportunity Slips Away

I went home, sat at the computer and fidgeted. Doubts crept in, causing me to overlook the scriptural promise, “If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you” (Matthew 17:20). Instead, I wondered … what if I couldn’t interpret the writing, or did something wrong and scrambled the records?

Pushing the thought of indexing from my mind, I stood up from the computer, walked away, and went about my daily routine.

Thank goodness for the Spirit’s persistence. The bishopric mentioned the need for volunteers again from the pulpit. A few weeks later, I gathered my courage and went online to FamilySearch Indexing. Once there, I found a site designed so those with minimal computer savvy could excel, and that safeguards prevented mishaps. After creating an ID, a password and reading the tutorials, I wanted to continue. However, it was late in the evening, so I chose to start my first batch on the next free Sunday.

The best laid plans ….

Friday—the late afternoon sun felt unusually warm for the beginning of November. Realizing winter would soon be blowing its icy breath across the landscape, I decided on a bike ride. After enjoying the fresh air for about twenty-five minutes, I headed back. Half a block from home, a slick spot lay in wait. When my front tire hit it, the bike flipped from under me, flinging me to the ground.

Stars exploded in my head as I landed, full force, on my arm and shoulder.

Several hours later, I returned home from the emergency room with a splint-cast on my dominant, right arm. It ran from just below my shoulder down to my elbow, then bent at a ninety-degree angle and continued on to my wrist. I would do no indexing on the upcoming Sunday—or for many weeks thereafter.

It almost seemed like someone didn’t want me to accomplish what the Lord had in mind. I reminded myself that strong opposition often meant you were headed in the right direction.

The Promise is Fulfilled

And now, my dearly beloved, let me assure you that these are principles in relation to the dead and the living that cannot be lightly passed over, as pertaining to our salvation. For their salvation is necessary and essential to our salvation, as Paul says concerning the fathers—that they without us cannot be made perfect—neither can we without our dead be made perfect (D&C 128:15).

Months later, I’m grateful for that quiet whisper years ago and for the persistence with which the Spirit kept whispering.

A hard to describe feeling floods over me as I work on indexing names from the eastern and southern United States. My heart rejoices when names such as John and Hannah are recognizable. I want to sing when the names of their children—Sally and Columbus—become clear. Someone is waiting for them—to place them on a pedigree chart—and one day that family will be sealed to each other.

Often, the information pops out at me, as if the individuals have waited for centuries and can wait no longer. Other times, the writing looks jumbled and I come up with a name that makes no sense—Rxzlpr or Ascie. When that happens, I send a prayer heavenward and wait for inspiration.

Now I understand what took place in the ward library, so long ago. The secret has unfolded, like a blossom warming in the morning sun. It’s not just about deciphering names in an old book, but about the soft, quiet touch by the Spirit—a touch that creates love for those beyond the veil and connects us all as children of our Heavenly Father.

That’s a secret worth sharing.


------© Cindy Beck, 2010------


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To Know Dad is to Love Him ... by Cindy Beck

(A fun, family night concept)

Cindy Beck © 2009
(Keywords: Cindy Beck, fathers, Father's Day, family home evening, family night, Dad's Old Fashioned Root Beer, family history, Latter-day Saints, LDS, Mormon, yourLDSNeighborhood.com)



Dads. Most of us—if we’re lucky—grow up with them, and we think we know them pretty well. However, do we really?

Since June is the month to remember fathers, it’s also a great time to have a family home evening centered on discovering Dad—or Granddad’s—secrets. You know, the little things we never think to ask him about, but that he’d love to share.

First, bring Dad his slippers and make him comfy in his favorite chair. He may go through withdrawal with the TV turned off, but you can always let him hold the remote for comfort, as long as he promises not to actually use it.

If there are talented singers in the family, they might like to join in singing, “Fathers” (Children’s Songbook, pg. 209). If the singers aren’t so talented … well, invite them to lift their voices anyway, and if Dad isn’t wearing the slippers, he can use them to cover his ears.

Next, ask the following questions. (Make sure someone has been assigned to write down the answers or even to videotape the evening.)

Dad, what’s your favorite …
Color?
Number?
Movie?
Song?
Food?

Who was …
Your favorite relative outside your immediate family?
Your best friend in high school?
Your favorite teacher?
The nicest person you ever met?
Your favorite president?

How did you …
Learn to drive a car?
Get to school?
Learn to shave?
Propose to Mom?
Learn to swim?

Where did you …
Hide your treasures when you were little?
Go to high school?
Go for summer vacations?
Take girls on dates?
Live when you were thirteen?

When did you …
Compete in your first sporting event?
Realize the church was true?
Decide to get married?
First understand the power of prayer?
Cook your first meal?

If you had life to do all over again, would you …
Live some place else, and where?
Try a different career, and what?
Get more schooling?
Take an exotic vacation, and where?
Buy a sports car, and what kind?

Top the evening off with Dad’s favorite cookies. Or better yet, with root beer floats made with Dad’s Old Fashioned Root Beer. And don’t forget to give Dad a hug.

Someday, as memories fade, you’ll be so glad you took the opportunity—either for yourself, or for your children—to learn more about one of the most important men in your life.

(Note: This family home evening could easily be adapted for children by dividing the questions and letting the children read them to their father or grandfather. Older siblings could be assigned to help non-readers.)

Thank you to Melanie Adams, editor, for her excellent advice on this article.

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Easter Lost, Easter Found ... by Cindy Beck

© Cindy Beck, 2009
(Keywords: Cindy Beck, celebrations, Easter, Easter bunny, holiday, Jesus Christ, LDS, resurrection, Latter-day Saints, LDS, Mormon, yourLDSNeighborhood.com)



Easter had vanished. Oh, it still existed on the calendar, but with our family grown and gone, it only left my husband and me for celebrations. The joy and anticipation of Easter faded to almost nothing. Some years, it was by sheer luck that I remembered to defrost a ham in time for the holiday dinner, or to color eggs.

We watched our friends hold their “Easter Bunny” celebrations on Saturday and their family dinners on Sunday, and we wondered what would work for us. With no children around, egg hunts and colorful baskets lacked excitement. Dinner with our extended family was normally out of the question because, at the time, our loved ones lived far away.

Then one day, it hit me—we’d been looking at Easter as a time for children’s activities and family get-togethers, rather than emphasizing the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Searching the scriptures and pondering the true significance of the holiday, my husband and I brainstormed for ways to make Easter more meaningful. Together we came up with a plan for a week’s worth of simple activities that emphasize the Savior, His sacrifice, and the symbols of resurrection and rebirth.

• Monday before Easter: For family home evening, plant spring bulbs such as jonquils, narcissus, or tulips into pots. Place in a sunny window, keep moist, and watch for their splendor—children and adults alike will enjoy monitoring their growth. Although the flowers won’t bloom in time for Easter Sunday, their blossoms will be a reminder of the resurrection and of new life in the weeks to come.

• Tuesday: Visit the cemetery and place spring flowers on the graves of departed friends and loved ones. Discuss the glory of one day being reunited with them because of the Savior’s atoning sacrifice.

• Wednesday: Do good works that require sacrificing for another. This could include writing notes to servicemen or missionaries, humanitarian projects, donating time at hospitals, or helping the elderly with spring yard work.

• Thursday: Write a note to someone in your family, thanking them for their sacrifices.

• Friday: Read and discuss the story of the crucifixion in Matthew 27:27-54.

• Saturday: Read and discuss D&C 138: 11-24, which details the Savior’s visit to the spirit world prior to his resurrection. Afterwards, color eggs, bake bread or do other Easter traditions that inspire contemplation of the symbolism of rebirth.

• Easter Sunday: In the morning, sing an Easter hymn. Before partaking of the sacrament, read and contemplate the story of the resurrection from Luke 24:1-9. At dinner, set a symbolic place at the table for the Savior.

• Monday: For family home evening, enjoy colored eggs, candy in baskets, or other secular traditions with family or friends. One benefit to celebrating the non-religious traditions on the Monday after is that holiday candy is at half-price.

Try putting the plan into action in your own life. Whether you’re a family of one or ten, you’ll find Easter has a more spiritual tone. Even when you’re only able to implement a few of the ideas, you’ll focus on the atoning sacrifice of the Savior and will feel more fully the joy of the resurrection.

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Pursuing Promptings ... by Cindy Beck

© Cindy Beck, 2009
(Keywords: Cindy Beck, promptings, Spirit, Holy Ghost, heed promptings, pursuing promptings, Latter-day Saints, LDS, Mormon, yourLDSNeighborhood.com)

Most of us, at one time or another, have trouble heeding the promptings of the Spirit. It’s not usually a case of rebelliousness, but more a product of not understanding what we’re being told.

In the fall of 2007, an unwise decision to ignore the Spirit resulted in an accident on my bike. The broken elbow that followed gave me pause and since then, I’ve come up with a few thoughts on following the dictates of the Spirit.

Pray daily to be guided by the Spirit, and to have an increased sensitivity to His promptings. Ask for help in understanding what the Spirit is telling you. This is vitally important. So often we pray for help, but don’t pray for understanding concerning the how and why of the directives we’re given.

When a particular thought enters your mind repeatedly, don’t say, “Hmm, that’s interesting,” and then go about life as normal. Write the thoughts down, look at them throughout the day, and use your intuitive powers to figure out what you think the Spirit is saying. Once you think you understand, ask for confirmation.

Never ignore a prompting, no matter whether it seems trivial, silly or embarrassing. Recently, I had a nonsensical dream about a friend that had long ago broken off a relationship with me. The dream about her stayed with me during the day, and in keeping with my newfound resolution to heed the Spirit, I decided to visit her. However, deciding to visit and actually doing it was another thing. That friendship had ended on an angry tone. Anxiety and nervousness over how my visit would be received had me pacing the floor. It took half the day to work up the courage to call and arrange it. At my friend’s house, I looked at the carpet, cleared my throat and finally told her about the dream. To my surprise, she seemed to understand what it meant, and although she never gave me an interpretation of it, the incident resulted in reconciliation between us. I’m so grateful I did as the Spirit directed.

When you receive promptings for mundane tasks like, “I’d better pick up that toy lying on the stairs,” you might not see any direct result. Don’t assume that means it wasn’t a whisper from the Holy Ghost. So often we are guided in areas that we deem unimportant, but who can judge the value of a decision that prevents an unseen accident or tragedy?

An author friend of mine, Rachelle Christensen, admits she once received such a prompting but because it came as a quiet whisper and she was busy at the time, she didn’t follow through. While walking through the living room, she saw one of her children’s toys lying on the floor—a small plastic pony. “I noticed it and that should have been enough to pick it up but my hands were full. Later, I was in a hurry and came up with a bottle of applesauce from downstairs and stepped on it just right so that my foot turned over and I fell forward, out of control.” Rachelle not only sprained her ankle, but suffered bruises from the fall.

Remember that all good things come from the Lord. If a thought pops into your mind directing you to do a good deed, don’t waste your time trying to figure out if it was a kindly thought or direction from the Spirit. Instead, just go do it. More often than not, it is guidance you’re receiving.

Another author friend, Nichole Giles, felt a prompting to go outside one hot July afternoon and check on her family’s litter of puppies and their mama. “It was around a hundred degrees outside and I wanted to make sure they had enough shade and water to drink. When I got outside, all the water was gone—the bowls even overturned—and the puppies were lying in every patch of shade they could find and whining because they were so hot. Feeling terrible about their discomfort, I set up a second umbrella (they already had one) and filled their water containers with cool water to drink. As soon as I set them down, those pups and their mother lapped that water up until it was gone, so I refilled it again. While I was out there, I soaked the grass and filled up a low-sided Rubbermaid container so they wouldn't run out again, and so they could jump in it to cool off. Every one of those dogs jumped and played in the water. They'd been cooking in that sunshine. If I hadn't gone out there, the poor dogs might have died from heatstroke.”

From my own experience, I know that following through on the Spirit’s guidance to do a kind deed can often result in being in the right place when another person needs help. One afternoon, while cooking a pot of soup, I received an impression to take some to a friend. You have to understand that in the instant I announce my intention to take someone a meal, the main course will burn, and the dessert will fall flat. I hesitated. Is this really the Holy Ghost speaking to me, or do I have these feelings because I happened to think of Elaine?

I pondered the impression for a few minutes and finally said, “There’s probably nothing wrong with her, but it’s always fun to have someone bring a meal, especially when you’ve had a busy day at work.”

For once, the food turned out right … that in itself should have told me it was a prompting! I drove to Elaine’s house with it and rang the doorbell. Her husband answered the door and ushered me in. There on the couch sat Elaine, pale and weary. Unbeknownst to me, she’d had gall bladder surgery and had just come home from the hospital. The meal was well received and appreciated. Gratitude filled my heart for the whisperings of the Holy Ghost.

If you follow the steps above, I can’t promise that you will always know the right action to take in life. But I can guarantee that you’ll feel an increase in knowledge about the workings of the Spirit, and will become better able to feel and understand His presence.

And isn’t that what we all want?


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Caleb’s Gift ... by Cindy Beck

(Based on a true story)
© Cindy Beck, 2008

(Keywords: Cindy Beck, gift, birthday, 1910 penny, aggie marble, star quilt, chores, hen, booklet, LDS, YourLDSNeighborhood.com)


Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God . . . (1 John 4:7).

Clink, clink, clink. Caleb shook the little tin box that he’d pulled from under his lumpy mattress. “That doesn’t sound like much money,” he said to his cat, Muffin, as he popped the lid off and turned the tin upside down.

A shiny, 1910 copper penny; a yellow aggie marble; and a piece of string fell out onto the quilt that covered his bed. The tied knots of black and white yarn on the blanket made a star in the middle.

“Ma gave me this quilt for Christmas,” Caleb said to the striped cat, as he sat on the bed. He remembered the look of love in his mother’s eyes as she presented him with the gift. Even on the coldest nights, his star quilt kept him warm.

“Tomorrow is Ma’s birthday, and I want to buy something special to show her that I love her,” he said to Muffin. “Maybe I could get some pretty ribbons for her hair.” The cat blinked at him, then swatted at the penny. It skittered across the bed and dropped with a clunk onto the floor. The coin twirled for a second. Caleb watched in horror as it angled and fell between the wooden floorboards to the dusty darkness beneath.

“Muffin, you bad cat! You’ve made me lose my money.” Caleb knelt on the floor, and put his eye to the crack between the pine boards. “There are strange shadows down there and a cobwebby smell that tickles my … achoo!” He rubbed his nose. “But I don’t see the penny.”

Getting up, Caleb hitched up the strap to his overalls and started toward the door. There was only one thing to do; ask Pa if he could earn another one.

Puffs of dust rose as his bare feet scuffed the dry soil outside. He found his father in the barn, milking the cow.

“Pa, can I do extra chores to earn a penny?”

“You can do them if you want, but I can’t give you a penny.”

“Why not?” Caleb watched the milk squirt into the bucket.

“Because times are hard, and I don’t have a penny to spare. The wooly bear caterpillars have a thick stripe this year, which means there’s a hard winter coming.”

“But I need it to buy Ma some hair ribbons for her birthday.” The black barn cat sashayed over and rubbed against Caleb’s leg.

“I’m sorry,” his father said. “You’ll have to figure out something else. And it’s time to collect the eggs. Head over to the hen house, and be careful not to upset ol’ Clucker—she’s the most persnickety hen in all of Utah.”

“Yes, Pa,” Caleb said, disappointment shadowing his voice.

On his way to the chicken coop, he prayed for an idea for a gift. After checking for eggs and finding none, he stood listening to the soothing clucks of the big red hen.

Suddenly a thought came to him. “That’s it! That’s what I’ll do. Thank you, Heavenly, Father!” The sound of his voice startled Clucker and she flapped her wings and squawked. But, she was fussing to thin air. Caleb was already halfway to the house.

Once inside he said breathlessly, “Ma, is there some paper and a pencil I can use?”

She nodded. “I believe I have a little of that paper that was used to wrap something we bought at the general store.” Ma walked out of the room and came back with a square of neatly folded brown paper and a stubby pencil.

Kissing Caleb on his blond head, she handed the items to him. “Use the paper wisely and don’t waste any.”

“I won’t,” Caleb said as he ran with it to his room.

Laying the paper on his bed, he tore six small squares from it. On the first one he wrote, “Ma’s Special Book.” On the next one he put, “Good for 6 jobs you want me to do without any grumbling.”

He thought for a minute, licked the lead on the end of the pencil and wrote, “Good for 8 hugs,” on another one.

“What else can I give?” he asked Muffin, who’d jumped back up on the bed. She licked her paw, swiped it over one ear and then mewed softly at him.

“What would Ma like besides chores and hugs?” Caleb stroked Muffin’s golden-brown ears as he thought. “Maybe she’d like me to fix supper? I could do bread and milk.”

Muffin blinked her eyes and purred, and Caleb took that as a yes. He wrote, “Good for 1 extra fix supper.” As he was writing, another idea came to him. “Good for 3 help yous,” he wrote on the fifth square.

Now there was only one square left. But what would he put on that one? He’d used up all his good ideas. Scratching the cowlick at the back of his head, he thought hard. “I know,” he said to the cat. And he wrote, “Love you,” on the last one. Then he put all the pieces of paper together, like a little booklet, poked a hole in one corner and tied them together with the piece of string from his tin can.

The next morning, Caleb jumped out of bed and raced into the kitchen. “Happy birthday, Ma!” he said, handing her the gift.

Turning the pages, she smiled, and at the end, she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “This is the best birthday present ever … because you filled it with love.”

A warm feeling started in Caleb’s heart. It spread all the way to his toes. He guessed it was good that Muffin had lost his penny. Hair ribbons only last for a short time, but love lasts forever.


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Heed the Promptings, Part 1

© Cindy Beck, 2008

(Keywords: Cindy Beck, Holy Ghost, promptings, bike ride, spiritual impressions, Spirit, YourLDSNeighborhood.com)


I’m right-handed—yet there I sat, typing the beginnings of this article by hunt and peck with my left hand. Why? Because I failed to persist in my efforts to understand the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

Many years ago, when my hair contained less gray and my joints didn’t ache so much, I took my toddler son on a bike ride. Biking has always been one of my favorite ways to get exercise, so I strapped him into the child’s seat on the back, and off we went. It was a beautiful day and we enjoyed the sunshine and fresh air. Near the end of the ride, I turned the bike in a circle to head home. There was no warning—just a slip of the tire on a wet spot. The bike flew out from under me and I was flung to the asphalt.

Scrambling to my feet, I rushed to my son. His wide eyes reflected fear, but he had been protected by the plastic seat. The gravel embedded in my knees stung and blood seeped from the cuts, but he didn’t have a scratch. As we started home, I searched my heart to see if I had ignored any promptings from the Spirit. Relief flooded through me as I realized that I was blameless. I hadn’t been forewarned but we had been protected.

Move the clock forward to 2007. Over the summer months, and with increasing frequency, images of that long ago day flashed through my mind.

Odd. What did it mean? I gave the thoughts a casual moment of interest, then brushed them off as if they were dust on a windowsill. My son, Dave, was full-grown, so there was no toddler on the back of the bike. And no reason to worry about taking a spill during the dry, high desert summer days.

In November, fall air and bright sunshine once again beckoned. Jumping on my bike, I whirled away across town, the soft breeze teasing my hair, the pungent scent of fallen leaves tickling my nose. On the way home, a friend called to me and I turned the bike. A narrow strip of the cement in front of me looked wet. For a split second I wondered, in jest, if someone was watering the curb and gutter, trying to make them grow.

I should have made the connection with the recent promptings … but didn’t. As my tire crossed the wet patch, the bike flipped out from under me, and before there was even a chance to get my hands down, I crashed to the ground on my right side. Blood dripped from split skin on my little finger. Worse than that, my right arm really hurt. After being flung to the concrete, though, how could any part of me not hurt? I dusted myself off and my friend took me into her house and spot-cleaned the blood from my clothes.

All the while, my arm ached—a lot. I told myself it was just bruised and battered … and maybe I’d pulled a ligament.

Stepping back outside to head home, I put my hands on the handlebars and used my forearms to balance so I could jump up onto the bike’s seat. A recognizable, dark feeling of intense pain shot through my right arm.

I knew what that meant—a broken bone. After living through a broken nose, a shattered ankle and a snapped wrist in my lifetime, the feeling was all too familiar.

And it was a Friday, just after my doctor’s regular office hours. When my husband arrived home from work half an hour later, we drove to the emergency room. The x-ray revealed the arm/elbow had a break right where the two connected.

It wasn’t hard, standing there in the emergency room, to recognize that the Spirit had been warning me for months. Why hadn’t I listened?

My answer to that now sounds feeble. Every time the Spirit pricked my memory, I didn’t understand the message. Was I being warned to avoid wet spots? Or to quit riding my bike? Was I supposed to do that for a week, a month, a year … or forever? Not knowing, and thinking it was just a coincidence that I remembered the past accident, I had brushed it aside. What I should have done was pondered the impression, reasoned out what I thought it meant and then prayed for confirmation. Had I done that, the broken bone could have been prevented.

Fast forward to eight months later. On a fine summer day in 2008, with the breezes blowing and the birds singing from the tree tops, I climbed on my bike and felt that surge of happiness that comes when riding. After gliding down the driveway, I turned onto the road, and an impression came to me. This bike is getting too old. It’s time to get rid of it and buy a new one.

Aw, no. Get rid of my favorite, teal-colored bike? The one that reminds me of the ocean? The one that carried me on biking adventures with my young son?

I thought for a minute. Maybe the Spirit is just telling me I need to tighten the bolts and get new brakes. I rode a little farther, telling myself it was my own logical thoughts that made me worry and that giving the bike a tune-up would take care of the matter.

The words "metal fatigue" came to mind.

I wanted to bargain. Listen, I’ll tighten everything and put new brakes on. That way it’ll be okay during the summer and I can buy a new one for Christmas.

An image of the bike breaking in two and my body lying crumpled on the ground entered my thoughts. At the same time, the prayer that I’d whispered for guidance and protection that morning floated back to me. Stopped short by the impressions, I chastised myself. What sense did it make to pray for guidance, and then to stand around and argue with the Spirit when He gave me direction? Hadn’t anything been learned from the accident of eight short months ago? What about my vow to listen more closely to promptings given me?

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I’d learned the consequences of ignoring the Spirit with the last broken bone, and it wasn’t a lesson I wanted to repeat. Walking would give just as good a workout. I turned the bicycle around and headed home.

Today the sparrows and finches are chirping outside my window. The sweet scent of the linden tree across the street calls a siren song. It would be the perfect day for a bike ride … and in the next week or two, when I get a new bicycle, I’m going to take one.

Until then, the old teal bike will remain parked in the garage. And hopefully, the Spirit will continue to guide, and have patience, with its owner.

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"Farworld" review & interview with J. Scott Savage

Review of Farworld
By Cindy Beck
(Keywords: Cindy Beck, humor, Farworld, Water Keep, J Scott Savage,)




Thirteen-year-old Marcus Kanenas dreams of a world far away. It’s a place where magic is as common as sunshine and where animals and trees talk. His name for the place? Farworld.

Quite unexpectedly, Marcus magically travels from Earth to Farworld. There he meets Kyja, who would love to cast spells and work magic, but alas, is unable. Marcus also meets Master Therapass, a master wizard whose knowledge can change not only Marcus and Kyja’s fate, but the fate of Farworld and Earth, as well.

Enter members of the Dark Circle, whose goal is to exert evil influence, gain power, and eventually destroy all that is good, including Farworld. Marcus and Kyja must travel to Water Keep, their first leg in a journey where they hope to convince the Elementals—beings of water, land, air and fire—to join forces with them. While at Water Keep, Marcus and Kyja face the Summoners—members of the Dark Circle, who can command the living and the dead—and other dreaded creatures.

Marcus and Kyja’s journey is one of not only hardship and danger, but also one of friendship and caring. Marcus and Kyja learn the truth about themselves, the depths of their courage, and the power that each holds within.

Scott Savage does a good job of maintaining suspense and action through out the book. The characters are both charming (the good guys) and despicable (the bad guys). My favorite character was Riph Raph, a “lizard” who not only talked but had magical powers and a wicked sense of comedic timing.

Scott’s sense of humor put a smile on my face, and his artful suspense kept me turning the pages. This is a book that young adults (and old adults) would love!


Interview with J. Scott Savage:

Cindy: I’m here in virtual time and space, for an interview with author, J. Scott Savage. We’re riding on the “lizard,” Riph Raph’s tail, so it’s a little windy. Scott, why don’t you tell us what you can see and smell from this vantage point?

Scott: Well I have to say that sitting on Riph Raph’s tail, the smell is, um . . . not one to write home about. And obviously someone has shrunk us down to rather much smaller than our normal size as Riph Raph is not much larger than a typical housecat. It looks like Riph Raph is scanning for members of the Dark Circle. So maybe we can help him keep an eye out.

Cindy: Have any of your daily habits … such as how you brush your teeth, or what you eat … changed since writing Farworld? If so, how?

Scott: Well I do refer to myself in the third person now, and I occasionally asked random passers by if they know me. So far neither has proven very successful.

Cindy: If you could pick one creature or person from Farworld that you could become, which one would it be? Describe what you would look like, please.

Scott: I think that I would be the Frost Pinnois. I am roughly the size of a large school bus, made entirely of ice, with long icicle spikes on my tail, and a long blue beard. I have skin of tiny icicles and long wings. My body makes a kind of wind chime-like sound when I fly.

Cindy: I noticed in your underwater interview with Shirley Bahlmann, that bubbles kept floating up and about. Was there a fissure in the ocean floor, or was something else causing that? What do you think it was?

Scott: I can honestly say it was underwater gas. For anything more than that, you’d need to consult the Bahlmannator herself.

Cindy: It seems Riph Raph is anxious to rid himself of us, so I’ll only ask one more question. If Shandra Covington, the heroine in your mystery novels were to enter Farworld, what powers would she have?

Scott: Well clearly they would have something to do with food. I think that Shandra would have the ability to turn common rocks into deluxe double cheeseburgers and grass into hot greasy fries. Then she and Kyja would get along great. All of my female characters seem to have a thing for fires. Hmmm.

Cindy: Thanks so much for letting me interview you, Scott, and for giving me the opportunity to read Farworld. It was great and I’m sure your readers will enjoy it.

Scott: Thanks, Cindy. And thanks for the great interview.

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