Why would "Ty Perry" come up in tithing settlement? Is there such a thing as "Slow Sunday"? And why pray for the "righteous in Denver"?
Mormon Times readers — particularly their children and fellow ward members — continue to make us laugh. Several years ago, we asked our readers to share humorous accounts with us, and they delivered some good clean fun. You can read our past stories here and here.
And the stories just kept coming in.
So here is the third installment of humorous stories from Mormon Times readers. If you have your own story to contribute, you can share it on our Facebook page, or just post it in the comments below.
We went in with our family for our annual tithing settlement. We have a 12-year-old daughter, and 10-year-old and 7-year-old sons. Our bishop talked to us all about what tithing settlement is and why we do it. Our 7-year-old, Tyler, went up to the bishop’s desk first and got his paper showing he paid 50 cents this year. The bishop asked, “Tyler, are you a full tithe payer?” Tyler smiled and giggled and said, “Yes.” The bishop proceeded and asked our 10-year-old, Davin, the same thing, to which he responded, “Yes.” As Davin sat down, Tyler turned to my husband, Scott, and asked, “What is Ty Perry, anyway?” We all busted up laughing. It’s all in the listening, isn’t it?
— Carin Price, McKinney, Texas
Kendall is 5 years old and has been struggling with being sad at school. He came home recently and told his mother that he had cried at school that day. When his mother asked why, he told her his teacher was giving the class tattoos and he told his teacher that he couldn’t have one. His mother explained that they were just temporary and it would probably have been OK if he got one. He told her he knew that, but his teacher said he would have to take it off with alcohol — and he knew he wasn’t supposed to touch that! How cute is that?
— Cindy Gifford, Riverside, Calif.
It was around 1970. I had a little photo studio in the Alberta town of Wetaskiwin. As a normal part of my business, I photographed weddings, and these took place in a variety of churches. In the process I got to know the pastors quite well. Among them, one of my best friends was the pastor of the United Church. We often bumped into one another at local social functions as well as in his church, and he was well aware of my adherence to the Word of Wisdom. To my delight, on one occasion he said to me, “I decided to give up drinking coffee.” I was thrilled that he was about to receive the blessings of the Lord’s law of health. Then he said, “but I decided I couldn’t get it down any other way!”
— Dave Birley, Rock Hill, S.C.
My nephew wrote in a letter: We had our fathers-and-sons outing Friday night and I got stuck being in charge of supper, which shows total desperation on the part of our bishopric. I drafted good help and we got it all cooked and ready to serve. Our bishop has a 4-year-old son who is a real firecracker and hard to control. The bishop gathered everyone around the food, gave a welcome and called on a good brother to give a blessing on the food. Just as the prayer was beginning, the bishop’s little son yelled out, “Don’t pray a long prayer because I’m hungry.”
— Berneice Neeley, Salt Lake City
My dear brother Aaron was in three bishoprics for 11 years. Upon release as bishop, he was finally able to sit with his youngest daughter, a 10-year-old, in sacrament meeting. As they sang the opening song, he, being a good strong bass, sang the bass part while she sang the melody/soprano part. After the song was halfway through, his daughter said to him: “Dad, don’t you know the tune?” That made him laugh because she had never heard him sign bass before.
— Virgil Johnson, Kimberly, Idaho
Our 5-year old grandson, Joshua, was visiting his mother’s parents, who are not of our faith. They asked him what he learned in church. He replied, “I’m learning about the Book of Norman.” When asked who Norman was, Joshua said, “He’s some guy who’s dead but he wrote a book and we’re learning about it.” Needless to say, this took some explaining on our part.
— Sydney Koerner, Voorhees, N.J.
At one sacrament meeting, the male half of a semi-elderly couple was asked to say the opening prayer. They took aisle seats about three rows back to facilitate the assignment. However, during the preliminaries and opening hymn, the brother fell fast asleep. As the hymn came to a close, his slumber continued. After an awkward pause, his wife soundly elbowed him in the ribs and proclaimed, “Marion, get up and say the prayer.” Coming suddenly and a bit rudely awake, he stumbled to the podium and gave the closing prayer.
— John P. MacLean
A few years ago, we were living in Samoa with our grandson Russel, he being 5 at the time. One afternoon, Talafu, the brother of my husband, and Moroni, the son of their sister, paid us a visit. We introduced them to Russel, who looked at them and said, “That can’t be Moroni. He’s not standing on the temple.” He was always very observant.
— Kathleen Gasu, West Jordan, Utah
Our ward had become enormous due to a new housing development within its boundaries. It became obvious the stake would have to divide us and realign the boundaries of about four wards. It was the subject of some strong emotions, as many of us had lived in the same ward for 30 years and had become fast friends. The stake presidency called a special meeting to announce the new ward boundaries and were aware of the feelings of the members. Some of the tension was eased and there was laughter when the stake president announced the opening hymn, “I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go.”
— Wilson Brown, Rexburg, Idaho
A few months ago we came home from church on a fast Sunday. Our 9-year-old son was complaining about being hungry since he had been fasting and was wanting a snack. We encouraged him to hold on another 30 minutes or so as dinner was almost ready. Then our 4-year-old walked into the kitchen and said, “Daddy, can I have snack? I’m not fasting, I’m slowing!”
— Stephi Johnson, Weiser, Idaho
When our children were very young, I came to realize that even when we were praying together, united as one in family prayer, we weren’t all necessarily praying for the same things. When it was my husband’s turn to pray, he would frequently ask Heavenly Father to “bless our loved ones in their righteous endeavors.” After several years, our daughter, Jessica, finally asked, “Mommy, why does Daddy always pray for the righteous in Denver?”
— Diana Grandy, Kearns, Utah
When a new family moved into the neighborhood, our young son found an immediate friend with their little boy of the same age. We had heard that two new teachers had been hired at the high school and wondered if the boy’s father was one of them, so at the dinner table we asked our son if the boy’s father was a teacher. He could hardly finish eating before he ran off to play again with his new friend. When we called him later to come home for the evening, the first thing he said was, “His dad is not a teacher. He is a high priest.”
— J. Blake, Richfield, Utah
When my husband was branch president, he always worried that speakers wouldn’t show up for sacrament meeting since they had to travel long distances to be there. One Sunday morning, we had finished the sacrament and the speakers, the Wright family, still had not arrived. My husband stood and said we would fill the time by singing hymn No. 106 — “God Speed the Wrights.” (They did eventually arrive.)
— Carol Stephens, Beatty, Nev.
A few years ago a young man in our ward received his mission call to Venezuela. After spending a few months in the MTC, he was sent to work in a California Spanish-speaking mission until his could get his visa. This news was reported in the ward and one of the youths was quoted as saying, “Well, if he can’t get a Visa, why doesn’t he just get a Master Card?”
— Gary Jones
Our 3-year-old granddaughter, Samantha, attended sacrament meeting with us a number of years ago. I was especially enjoying the talks when I leaned my head back and closed my eyes to better concentrate on the message and the feelings I felt. Not 30 seconds later, I heard this piercing voice yell at me for all to hear: “Wake up, Grandpa! Wake up!” Needless to say, I didn’t close my eyes for the rest of the meeting.
— Carl Olsen, Puyallup, Wash.
A long, long time ago, I was in the seventh grade at Lincoln Junior High School in Orem, Utah. When I finished my brief oral report on the textile industry in Utah in front of my Utah History class, I closed the report by saying, “in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.” After I sat down, I realized what I had said. I felt the heat of embarrassment. I wondered why no one was making fun of me. Then I realized that no one would make fun of me because they had all said, “amen.”
— Koray Wilkes, Wichita, Kan.
Many of the homes in the South keep their drapes drawn in the summer and use floor fans to keep the homes as cool as possible. While serving in the Mississippi Jackson Mission as a senior couple in Shreveport, La., we were delivering a Bible (to an elderly, single woman in a wheelchair) who had requested the Bible through the church media referral program. After knocking on the door and hearing an invitation to “come in,” we entered the darkened room and immediately tripped on the extension cord of a floor fan that in turn caused a dimly lit floor lamp to go crashing to the floor. The light bulb exploded in a blinding flash, tripping the power circuit breaker and triggering an outside audible alarm and also triggering a police security alarm. In two seconds, a rather large male neighbor came rushing through the back door followed by two policeman. With flashlights shining in our faces, we were interrogated as robbery suspects. After explaining who we were and producing and delivering the new Bible as evidence, we were only too happy to leave. As we left through the front door, there were about 50 neighbors who had gathered in the front yard to see what had caused all of the excitement. My wife suggested that we give each of them a “pass along,” card but I thought it better to beat a hasty retreat and drive to our next appointment.
— Larry Humpherys, Harrisville, Utah
Last night I was telling a bedtime story to the kids, and although they didn’t know it, the protagonist was going to be making mud pies. I told them that the boy took a hose to the corner of the yard where there was no grass, just dirt, and turned it on. I asked, “Do you know what you get when you put water on dirt?” All three answered nearly simultaneously. The older two said, “Mud!” Just a split second later, the youngest ventured a guess: “A flower?” She melts my heart.
— David Hixon, Frisco, Texas
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