From: owner-lds-yw-digest@lists.xmission.com (lds-yw-digest) To: lds-yw-digest@lists.xmission.com Subject: lds-yw-digest V1 #136 Reply-To: lds-yw-digest Sender: owner-lds-yw-digest@lists.xmission.com Errors-To: owner-lds-yw-digest@lists.xmission.com Precedence: bulk lds-yw-digest Wednesday, June 17 1998 Volume 01 : Number 136 ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Wed, 17 Jun 1998 12:06:13 EDT From: Subject: Re: (lds-yw) Good Works part 2 << I'm brand new to the list and I love it. You guys have such great ideas. I have to give a combined lesson on Good Works. Any stories or ideas would be helpful. >> Good Works 2 Simple Gesture Mark was walking home from school one day when he noticed the boy ahead of him had tripped and dropped all of the books he was carrying along with two sweaters, a baseball bat, a glove, and a small tape recorder. Mark knelt down and helped the boy pick up the scattered articles. Since they were going the same way, he helped the boy carry the burden. As they walked Mark discovered that the boy's name was Bill, that he loved video games, baseball, history, that he was having a lot of trouble with his other subjects, and that he had just broken up with his girlfriend. They arrived at Bill's home first and Mark was invited in for a coke and to watch some TV. The afternoon passed pleasantly with a few laughs and some shared small talk, then Mark went home. They continued to see each other around school, had lunch together once or twice, then both graduated from high school. They ended up at the same college where they had brief contacts over the years. Finally the long awaited senior year came, and three weeks before graduation, Bill asked Mark if they could talk. Bill reminded him of the day years ago when they had first met. "Do you ever wonder why I was carrying so many things from school that day?" asked Bill. "You see, I cleaned out my locker because I didn't want to leave a mess for anyone else. I had stored away some of my mother's pills and I was going home to kill myself. But after we spent some time together, I realized that if I had, I would have missed that time and so many others that might follow. So you see, Mark, when you picked up my books for me that day, you did a lot more. You saved my life also." COMPASSION IS IN THE EYES It was a bitter cold evening in northern Virginia many years ago. The old man's beard was glazed by winter's frost while he waited for a ride across the river. The wait seemed endless. His body became numb and stiff from the frigid north wind. Anxiously, he watched as several horsemen rounded the bend. He let the first on pass by without an effort to get his attention. Then another passed by, and another. Finally the last rider neared the spot where the old man sat like a snow statue. As this one drew near, the old man caught the rider's eye and said, "Sir, would you mind giving an old man a ride to the other side ? There doesn't appear to be a passageway by foot." Reining his horse, the rider replied, "Sure thing. Hop aboard." Seeing the old man was unable to lift his half-frozen body from the ground, the horseman dismounted and helped the old man onto the horse. The horseman took the old man not just across the river, but to his destination, which was a few miles away. As they neared the tiny but cozy cottage, the horseman's curiosity caused him to inquire, "Sir, I noticed that you let several other riders pass by without making an effort to secure a ride. Then I came and you immediately asked me for a ride. I'm curious why, on such a bitter winter's night, you would wait and ask the last rider. What if I had rufused and left you there?" The old man lowered himself slowly down from the horse, looked the rider straight in the eyes, and replied, "I've been around these parts for some time. I reckon I know people pretty good. I looked into the eyes of the other riders and immediately saw there was no concern for my situation. It would have been useless to even ask them for a ride. But when I looked into your eyes, kindness and compassion were evident. I knew, then and there, your gentle spirit would welcome the opportunity to give some assistance in my time of need." Those heartwarming comments touched the horseman deeply. "I'm most grateful for what you have said," he told the old man. "May I never get too busy in my own affairs that I fail to respond to the needs of others with kindness and compassion." With that, Thomas Jefferson turned his horse around and made his way back to the White House. LIVING IN THE NOW...... Imagine there is a bank which credits your account each morning with $86,400, it carries over no balance from day to day, allows you to keep no cash balance, and every evening cancels whatever part of the amount you had failed to use during the day. What would you do? Draw out every cent, of course! Well, everyone has such a bank. Its name is TIME. Every morning, it credits you with 86,400 seconds. Every night it writes off, as lost, whatever of this you have failed to invest to good purpose. It carries over no balance. It allows no overdraft. Each day it opens a new account for you. Each night it burns the records of the day. If you fail to use the day's deposits, the loss is yours. There is no going back. There is no drawing against the "tomorrow". You must live in the present on today's deposits. Invest it so as to get from it the utmost in health, happiness and success! The clock is running. Make the most of today. YESTERDAY IS A MEMORY TOMORROW IS A VISION ENJOY TODAY o To realize the value of ONE YEAR ask a student who has failed a grade. o To realize the value of ONE MONTH ask a mother who has given birth to a pre-mature baby. o To realize the value of ONE WEEK ask an editor of a weekly newspaper. o To realize the value of ONE DAY ask a daily wage laborer who has kids to feed. o To realize the value of ONE HOUR ask the lovers who are waiting to meet. o To realize the value of ONE MINUTE ask a person who has missed the train. o To realize the value of ONE SECOND ask a person who has avoided an accident. o To realize the value of ONE MILLI-SECOND ask the person who has won a silver medal in the Olympics. Treasure every moment that you have! And treasure it more because you shared it with someone special, special enough to have your time and remember, time waits for no one! YESTERDAY IS A CANCELED CHECK TOMORROW IS A PROMISSORY NOTE TODAY IS CASH ON HAND -SPEND IT WISELY!!! Theme: Service "Frequently, we busily search for group service projects, which are surely needed and commendable, when quiet, personal service is also urgently needed. Sometimes the completing of an occasional group service project ironically salves our consciences when, in fact, we are constantly surrounded by a multitude of opportunities for individual service. In serving, as in true worship, we need to do some things together and some things personally. Our spiritual symmetry is our own responsibility, and balance is so important."--Neal A. Maxwell, _All These Things Shall Give Thee Experience_, p.55 THE VALUE OF ONE MEMBER Ten little members standing in a line. One disliked the president Then there were nine. Nine ambitious members offered to work late. One forgot her promise; then there were eight. Eight creative members had ideas good as heaven. One lost enthusiasm, then there were seven. Seven loyal members got into a fix They quarreled over programs, and then there were six. Six members remained withspirit and drive. One moved away, then there were five Five steadfast members wished there were more. One became indifferent, then there were four. Four cheerful members who never disagree - Till one complained of meetings, then there were three. Three eager members! What do they do? One got discouraged then there were two. Two lonely member so our rhyme is nearly done One joined the bridge club, then there was one. One faithful member was feeling rather blue. Met with a neighbor, then there were two. Two earnest members each enrolled one more. Doubling their number, then there were four. Four determined members just couldn't wait, Till each won another, and then there were eight! Eight excited members signed up 8 more. In another six verses, there'll be a thousand twenty four!!! Special People The special people in this world are the most precious and the most appreciated people of all. No matter what happens, they always seem to understand. They go a million miles out of their way. They hold your hand. They bring you smiles, when a smile is exactly what you need. They listen and they hear what is said in the spaces between the words. They care, and they let you know you're in their prayers. Special people always know the perfect thing to do. They can make your whole day just by saying something that no one else could have said. Sometimes you feel like they share with you a secret language that others can't tune into. Special people can guide you, inspire you, comfort you, and light up your life with laughter. Special people understand your moods and nurture your needs, and they lovingly know just what you're after. When your feelings come from deep inside and the need to be spoken to someone; you don't have to hide from, you share them... with special people. When good news comes, special people are the first ones you turn to, and when feelings overflow and tears need to fall, special people help you through it all. Special people bring sunlight into your life. They warm your world with their presence, whether they are far away or close by your side. Special people are gifts that bring happiness, and treasures that money can't buy. Author unknown "You Never Know Who You May Save", Elder Jacob de Jager, General Conference, October 1976 I would like to go back in thought to my native Holland where six generations of my father's ancestors lived in the little village of Scheveningen at the seashore. They were fishermen or had other related vocations, like fishingboat builders, sailmakers, or fishing-net repairmen. Many of them were also involved in the voluntary but hazardous task of lifesaving. They were stouthearted, experienced men who always were ready to man the rowing lifeboats to go on a rescue mission. with every westerly gale that blew, some fishing boats ran into difficulties, and many times the sailors had to cling to the rigging of their stricken ships in a desperate fight to escape inevitable drowning. Year after year, the sea claimed its victims. On one occasion during a severe storm, a ship was in distress, and a rowboat went out to rescue the crew of the fishing boat. The waves were enormous, and each of the men at the oars had to give all his strength and energy to reach the unfortunate sailors in the grim darkness of the night and the heavy rainstorm. The trip to the wrecked ship was successful, but the rowboat was too small to take the whole crew in one rescue operation. One man had to stay behind on board because there simply was no room for him; the risk that the rescue boat would capsize was too great. When the rescuers made it back to the beach, hundreds of people were waiting for them with torches to guide them in the dreary night. But the same crew could not make the second trip because they were exhausted from their fight with the storm winds, the waves, and the sweeping rains. So the local captain of the coast guard asked for volunteers to make a second trip. Among those who stepped forward without hesitation was a nineteen-year- old youth by the name of Hans. With his mother he had come to the beach in his oilskin clothes to watch the rescue operation. When Hans stepped forward his mother panicked and said, "Hans, please don't go. Your father died at sea when you were four years old and your older brother Pete has been reported missing at sea for more than three months now. You are the only son left to me!" But Hans said, "Mom, I feel I have to do it. It is my duty." And the mother wept and restlessly started pacing the beach when Hans boarded the rowing boat, took the oars, and disappeared into the night. After a struggle with the high-going seas that lasted for more than an hour (and to Hans's mother it seemed an eternity), the rowboat came into sight again. When the rescuers had approached the beach close enough so that the captain of the coast guard could reach them by shouting, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called vigorously against the storm, "Did you save him?" And then the people lighting the sea with their torches saw Hans rise from his rowing bench, and he shouted with all his might, "Yes! And tell Mother it is my brother Pete!" My dear brothers and sisters, many of us have or will soon have nineteen-year- old sons. Their names may be George or Juan Pedro, Guillaume or Heinrich, Paavo or Sing Tong, depending on the country they live in, but let Hans be their example. Let them join the rescue team of missionary workers. You never know whom they will save! It may be the one that on life's billows is tempest tossed or it may even be the one that had been reported missing at life's sea. And when someone is saved through their rescue mission, oh how great shall be their joy with him or her in the kingdom of our Father. - - To unsubscribe to lds-yw, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe lds-yw" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 17 Jun 1998 12:08:05 EDT From: Subject: Re: (lds-yw) Good Works part 4 << I'm brand new to the list and I love it. You guys have such great ideas. I have to give a combined lesson on Good Works. Any stories or ideas would be helpful. >> Good works #4 Three Marbles During the waning years of the depression in a small southeastern Idaho community, I used to stop by Brother Miller's roadside stand for farm-fresh produce as the season made it available. food and money were still extremely scarce, and barter was used extensively. On one particular day, as Brother Miller was bagging some early potatoes for me, I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily appraising a basket of freshly picked green peas. Upon paying for my potatoes I move to leave, but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Brother Miller and the ragged boy next to me. "Hello Barry, how are you today?" "H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas--sure look good." "They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?" "Fine. Gittin' stronger alla'time." "Good. Anything I can help you with?" "Nosir. jus' admirin' them peas." "Would you like to take some home?" "Nosir. Got nuthin' to pay for'em with." "Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?" "All I got's my prize aggie--best taw around here." "Is that right? Let me see it." "Here 'tis. She's a dandy." "I can see that. Hmmmm, only thing is this one is blue I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?" "Not 'zackley--but almost." "Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red taw." "Sure will. Thanks, Mr. Miller." Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby came over to help me. With a smile she said: "There are two other boys like him in our community--all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't like red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or orange perhaps." I left the stand, smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Utah but never forgot the story of this man and the boys--and their bartering. Several years went by each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Brother Miller had died. They were having his viewing that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon our arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore short haircuts dark suits and white shirts obviously potential or returned Mormon missionaries. They approached Sister Miller standing smiling and composed by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as one by one each young man stopped briefly, placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket and left the mortuary awkwardly wiping his eyes. As our turn came to meet Sister Miller, I told her who I was and mentioned the story she had told me about the marbles. Eyes glistening she took my hand and led me to the casket. "This is an amazing coincidence." she said. "Those three boys that just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now at last when Jim could not change his mind about color or size they came to pay their debt. We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world." she confided "but right now Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho." With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three magnificent shiny red marbles. Not a One! Little Chad was a shy, quiet young man. One day he came home and told his mother that he'd like to make a valentine for everyone in his class. Her heart sank. She thought, "I wish he wouldn't do that!" because she had watched the children when they walked home from school. Her Chad was always behind them. They laughed and hung on to each other and talked to each other. But Chad was never included. Nevertheless, she decided she would go along with her son. So she purchased the paper and glue and crayons. For three weeks, night after night, Chad painstakingly made 35 valentines. Valentines Day dawned, and Chad was beside himself with excitement. He carefully stacked them up, put them in a bag, and bolted out the door. His mother decided to bake him his favorite cookies and serve them nice and warm with a cool glass of milk when he came home from school. She just knew he would be disappointed and maybe that would ease the pain a little. It hurt her to think that he wouldn't get many valentines - maybe none at all. That afternoon she had the cookies and milk on the table. When she heard the children outside, she looked out the window. Sure enough, there they came, laughing and having the best time. And, as always, there was Chad in the rear. He walked a little faster than usual. She fully expected him to burst into tears as soon as he got inside. His arms were empty, she noticed and when the door opened she choked back the tears. "Mommy has some cookies and milk for you," she said. But he hardly heard her words. He just marched right on by, his face aglow, and all he could say was: "Not a one. Not a one." Her heart sank. And then he added, "I didn't forget a one, not a single one!" Those who do Gods Work will get Gods Pay DOC BRACKETT author unknown Doc Brackett was a fine man. He doctored in our town for many years. He doctored more people than any other doctor in our town but made less money. That was because Doc Brackett was always doctoring poor people, who had no money to pay. He would get up in the middle of the coldest night and ride twenty miles to doctor a sick woman or child or to patch up some fellow who got hurt. Everybody in our town knew Doc Brackett's office was over Rice's clothing store. It was up a narrow flight of stairs. His office was always filled with people. A sign at the foot of the stairs said: "DR. BRACKETT, OFFICE UPSTAIRS" Doc Brackett was a bachelor. He was once supposed to marry Miss Elvira Cromwell, the daughter of old Julius Cromwell, the banker. But, on the day the wedding was supposed to take place Doc Brackett got a call to go out into the country and doctor a Mexican child. Miss Elvira got sore at him and called off the wedding. She said that a man who would think more of a Mexican child than of his wedding was no good. Many women in our town agreed with Miss Elvira Cromwell, but the parents of the Mexican child were very grateful to Doc Brackett when the child recovered. For forty years the lame and the halt and the blind of our town had climbed up and down the stairs to Doc Brackett's office. He never turned away anybody. He lived to be seventy years old and then one day he just keeled over on the sofa and died. By this time his black hair had turned white. Doc Brackett had one of the biggest funerals ever seen in our town. Everybody went to pay their last respects when he was laid out in Grubers undertaking parlor. He was buried in Riverview Cemetery. There was talk of raising money to put a nice tombstone on Doc Brackett's grave as a memorial. The talk got as far as arguing about what should be carved on the stone about him. Some thought poetry would be very nice. Doc Brackett hated poetry. The matter dragged along and nothing whatever was done. Then, one day George Gruber, the undertaker, said that Doc Brackett's memorial was already over his grave, with epitaph and all. George Gruber said the parents of the Mexican child that Doc Brackett had saved years ago had worried about him having no tombstone. They had no money themselves, so they took the sign from the foot of the stairs at Doc Brackett's office and stuck it over his grave. It read: "DR. BRACKETT, OFFICE UPSTAIRS." "Our Brother's Keeper" author unknown A couple whom we shall call John and Mary had a nice home and two lovely children; a boy and a girl. John had a good job and had just been asked to go on a business trip to another city. He would be gone several days. It was decided that Mary needed an outing and would go along, too. They hired a reliable woman to care for the children and made the trip. They returned a little earlier than they had planned. As they drove into their hometown, they felt glad to be back. However, they noticed smoke and went off their usual route to see what it was. They found a home in flames. Mary said, "Oh, well, it isn't our fire. Let's go home." But John drove closer and exclaimed, "That home belongs to Fred Jones who works at the plant. He wouldn't be off work yet. Maybe there is something we could do." "It's nothing to do with us," protested Mary. "You have your good clothes on. Let's not go any closer." But, John drove up and stopped and both were horror stricken to see the whole house in flames. A woman on the lawn was in hysterics screaming, "The children! Get the children!" John grabbed her by the shoulders saying, "Get hold of yourself and tell us where the children are!" "In the basement," sobbed the woman, "Down the hall and to the left." In spite of Mary's protests John grabbed the water hose and soaked his clothes, put his wet handkerchief on his head and bolted for the basement which was filled with smoke and was scorching hot. He found the door and grabbed two children, carrying one under each arm like the football player he had been. As he left he could hear some more whimpering. He delivered the two badly frightened and nearly suffocated youngsters into waiting arms and filled his lungs with fresh air and started back. He asked how many more were down there. They told him two more. Mary grabbed his arm and screamed, "John! Don't go back! It's suicide! That house will cave in any second!" But he shook her off and went back, feeling his way down the smoke-filled hallway and into the room. It seemed an eternity before he found both children and started back. They were all three coughing and he stooped low to get the available air he could. As he stumbled up the endless steps, the thought went through his mind that there was something familiar about the little bodies clinging to him When at last they came out into the sunlight and air, he found that he had rescued his own children. The baby-sitter had left them at this home while she did some shopping. - - To unsubscribe to lds-yw, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe lds-yw" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 17 Jun 1998 12:07:11 EDT From: Subject: Re: (lds-yw) Good Works part3 << I'm brand new to the list and I love it. You guys have such great ideas. I have to give a combined lesson on Good Works. Any stories or ideas would be helpful. >> Good Works 3 The Window Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour a day to drain the fluids from his lungs. His bed was next to the room's only window. The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end. They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation. And every afternoon when the man in the bed next to the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window. The man in the other bed would live for those one-hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the outside world. The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake, the man had said. Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Lovers walked arm in arm amid flowers of every color of the rainbow. Grand old trees graced the landscape, and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine the picturesque scene. One warm afternoon the man by the window described a parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the band, he could see it in his mind's eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words. Unexpectedly, an alien thought entered his head: Why should he have all the pleasure of seeing everything while I never get to see anything? It didn't seem fair. As the thought fermented, the man felt ashamed at first. But as the days passed and he missed seeing more sights, his envy eroded into resentment and soon turned him sour. He began to brood and found himself unable to sleep. He should be by that window - and that thought now controlled his life. Late one night, as he lay staring at the ceiling, the man by the window began to cough. He was choking on the fluid in his lungs. The other man watched in the dimly lit room as the struggling man by the window groped for the button to call for help. Listening from across the room, he never moved, never pushed his own button which would have brought the nurse running. In less than five minutes, the coughing and choking stopped, long with the sound of breathing. Now, there was only silence--deathly silence. The following morning the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths. When she found the lifeless body of the man by the window, she was saddened and called the hospital attendant to take it away--no works, no fuss. As soon as it seemed appropriate, the man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone. Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up one elbow to take his first look. Finally, he would have the joy of seeing it all himself. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window beside the bed. It faced a blank wall. Moral of the story: The pursuit of happiness is a matter of choice...it is a positive attitude we consciously choose to express. It is not a gift that gets delivered to our doorstep each morning, nor does it come through the window. And I am certain that our circumstances are just a small part of what makes us joyful. If we wait for them to get just right, we will never find lasting joy. The pursuit of happiness is an inward journey. Our minds are like programs, awaiting the code that will determine behaviors; like bank vaults awaiting our deposits. If we regularly deposit positive, encouraging, and uplifting thoughts, if we continue to bite our lips just before we begin to grumble and complain, if we shoot down that seemingly harmless negative thought as it germinates, we will find that there is much to rejoice about. Charity Marvin J. Ashton. Ensign, May, 1992 p.19 Charity is perhaps, in many ways a misunderstood word. We often equate charity with visiting the sick, taking in casseroles to those in need, or sharing our excess with those who are less fortunate. But really, true charity is much, much more. Real charity is not something you give away; it is something that you acquire and make a part of yourself. And when the virtue of charity becomes implanted in your heart, you are never the same again. It makes the thought of being a basher repulsive. Perhaps the greatest charity comes when we are kind to each other, when we don't judge or categorize someone else, when we simply give each other the benefits of the doubt or remain quiet. Charity is accepting someone's differences, weaknesses, and shortcomings; having patience with someone who has let us down; or resisting the impulse to become offended when someone doesn't handle something the way we might have hoped. Charity is reusing to take advantage of another's weakness and being willing to forgive someone who has hurt us. Charity is expecting the best of each other. None of us need one more person bashing or pointing out where we have failed or fallen short. Most of us are already well aware of the areas in which we are weak. "What each of us does need is family, friends, employers, and brothers and sisters who support us, who have the patience to teach us. who believe in us, and who believe we're trying to do the best we can, in spite of our weaknesses. What ever happened to giving each other the benefit of the doubt? What ever happened to hoping that another person would succeed or achieve? What ever happened to rooting for each other (This could be placed at Moroni 7:45-48) Put Your Best Foot Forward 1. Chicken Feet These feet are often found in brand new presidency members. These feet lack confidence, are nervous and shy. They don't know quite how to begin, what to say, or exactly what they are supposed to be doing. Afraid to say anything for fear of putting foor in mouth or sounding unsupportive. Feels like their opinion and input isn't important enough to speak up. If you are sometimes bothered by chicken feet, you can put your best foot forward by beginning to scratch the surface of your calling, learn and apply the basics until you're comfortable enough to dig a little deeper. Learn to peck and digest information and guidance. Follow and support the rest of the chickens!! 2. Calloused Feet These feet are found on everyone now and then. These feet have places that are hard and crusty! (YUCK!) These are people who have become indifferent to the needs and feelings of others. They lack sensitivity. If you are sometimes bothered by calloused feet, you can put your best foot forward by soaking these feet in the milk of human kindness and callouses will peel away. 3. Cold Feet Cold feet are like procrastinators. These feet put off getting organized or getting things done. They won't warm up to responsibilities and often feel blue or guilty. These feet have very good intentions, they are going to get so much done - TOMORROW. If cold feet sometimes bother you, you can put your best foot forward by setting a faster pace. Hot foot it to your responsibilities. 4. Bored Feet Sometimes found in those who have been around for a while. These feet are known to get in a rut. And, by the way, bored feet have heard it all before. The don't try anything new and use the same methods of serving over and over and over. If they try something new or are asked to do things differently, it never works out or requires too much...why change? Bored feet lack enthusiasm! Put your best foot forward by nailing these feet down and giving them a healthy shot of enthusiasm. Try on a new pair of shoes, find new ways to do things, be excited about your calling, find funny creative things you can do to liven things up! 5. Ingrown Toenails You'll notice ingrown toenails on these feet. This malady can afflict everyone, from YW leaders to youth leaders to class members. These are people who get so wrapped up in themselves, they turn inward. They get so involved in what they're doing, that they don't have time for anyone else. They feel that what they are doing is more important than the needs of others. If you have ever suffered or suffer from ingrown toenails, you can put your best foot forward by trying the new medication called "outgrow". Reach outward daily and serve others with love. You'll find that in no time, your affliction will be gone! 6. Tired Feet Tired feet are found on tose who have set a blistering pace for themselves. Going to seminary, school, sports, work, homework, mutual, meetings, Family Home Evening, chores, friends, and somewhere in there trying to find time for yourself! PHEW! You'd be tired too! After doing everything all the time, these feet lose their tread. These feet sometimes even get to the point where they have a difficult time even moving. If you get tired feet, maybe it's time to take a closer look at things. Re- energize tired feet by re-evaluating your goals. Maybe you've taken on more than you can handle! Often a change is as good as a rest. Make sure you delegate responsibilities and ask for help! Letting someone else do it is better than not getting it done at all! 7. Burn-out Feet Burn-out feet are often a combination of some of the other feet. They often feel sorry for themselves. They do as little as possible to get by. They feel like, "I've done my part, now it's someone else's turn." When you have burn-out feet, you obviously need to re-light your pilot light, and then cool those feet! Soak them in self-appreciation so that you can realize how important you are to others and the Lord! After cooling your feet you hopefully will realize how vital you are and what great potential you have! 8. Normal Feet Normal feet are those who realize that this is the Church of Jesus Christ and we are His servants. They know that they need to be about the business of changing their habits and attitudes. This includes all of us! Sometimes we suffer from other "foot afflictions", but we are all the same. Each of us is striving to be the best leader we can be. May you each be blessed as you learn how to "Put Your Best Foot Forward!" I have wept in the night for the shortness of sight that to somebody's need made me blind; But I never have yet felt a tinge of regret for being a little too kind. Sermons We See I'd rather see a sermon than hear one--any day. I'd rather one should walk with me, than merely show the way. The eyes a better pupil and more willing than the ear; Fine council is confusing, but example is always clear. The best of all the preachers are the men who live their creeds, For, to see the good action is what everybody needs. I can say, I'll learn how to do it if you'll let me see it done; I can watch your hand in action though your tongue too fast may run. Although the lectures you deliver may be very wise and true, I'd rather learn my lesson by observing what you do; For I may misunderstand you and fine advice you gove, But it's not misunderstanding how you act and how you live. Edgar A. Guest SET APART author unknown You have been "set apart" to do a particular part of the work of the Church. This position is now yours. It doesn't belong to anyone else. No one has the right to it while you have it. If you do not do the job, the job will not be done. This responsibility is not something to be taken lightly. The church is injured most by those who say, as did the vine dresser's son, "I go," and went not. Had he said, "I go not," someone else would have done the job and no harm would have resulted. Never accept a position in the Church with the intention of not doing it. Don't wait to be reminded or urged. Once you have accepted an assignment, carry it through as though your life depended upon it, as indeed it does. President John Taylor said, "If you do not magnify your calling, God will hold you responsible for those whom you might have saved had you done your duty." Who of us can afford to be responsible for the loss of the eternal life of a human soul? If great joy is the reward of saving one soul, then how terrible must be the remorse of those whose timid efforts have allowed a child of God to be lost. Never be one of those who say, "I go" but does not. There are those who make many promises but falter in every performance. If they teach a class it will fail. If their responsibility is to make reports, the reports will be late and inaccurate. Their enlistment work is never done. They must be reminded and prepared and coaxed in their simple duties. Someone described the efforts of one such as, "timid, tardy, torpid and tentitive." Everything their hands touch will show a loss. Over and over they say, "I go," but they go not. The worst blasphemy is not profanity, but lip service. You are a child of divinity. You have within you the attributes of deity. Every man is greater, and more powerful than he realizes. All he needs to do is to call that power forth through faithful activity. But man is not only great because of what he IS, but also because of what he may become. It is hoped that for you, to be "set apart" will mean that everyone will be better off because His work was given into your hands. It is a great thing to be called in the work of the Lord. We should not only pray to Him to help us do our work, but we should also pray that we may be able to help Him do His work. THE BUCKET AND THE DIPPER PARABLE author unknown Once upon a time it was discovered that everyone has a bucket. No kidding. It's a bucket which is kind of like a cup -- in that it can be filled . . . even to overflowing. I guess it's sort of like a source of peace, comfort, love, strength, and such. And the fuller it is, the easier it is to share what's in the bucket with others. There are a lot of wonderful ways in which we can put things in each others' buckets. For example, we can say, "Good Morning!" when we see each other. That's a great way to put something in someone else's bucket. And, you can double the contribution by adding someone's name -- "Good Morning, Mrs. Smith!" Other things which can fill up a bucket are hugs, listening, sincere praise, pointing out strengths, being sensitiv to needs (and doing something about them when you can), cheerfulness, honesty, patience (almost sounds like a description of THE PURE LOVE OF CHRIST: CHARITY, when you think about it). Anyway, one of the things we all ought to spend time doing, is helping to fill others' buckets. Now. . . it must needs be, so they say, that there is opposition in all things. And so, just as we all have a bucket, we all have a dipper. And sometimes, other people can get their dipper in your bucket!! It's been known to happen! Just imagine that we're going out to eat with some friends at a nice restaurant. There'll be fine linens and candles and everything. We're sitting at the table, visiting and I accidentally knock over my glass of V-8 juice. Big red spot. I am so embarrassed. I am turning redder than usual. But, the juice just keeps crawling across the table right toward our hostess. It's like a flood! It won't stop! And, then finally it does dribble on her! She jumps a little, but is being nice even though it's wet and gooey. And then, old bright eyes, down the table a little, looks up and says, "You spilled your juice." He got HIS dipper in MY bucket! Tell me how old you have to be to know . . . you made a mistake!? .. . .that you're not perfect!? Can you remember sitting down to breakfast with your family and your little brother spilled his milk? And about 35 people (it seemed) said "You spilled your milk!" All those great big dippers in such a tiny little bucket! Have you ever noticed that when your bucket is low, or empty -- when you need most to have someone put something in it -- THAT is when you're most irritable to people? We chase people away when we need them most. We try hard to figure out WHY we run around with our dippers out. We're busy trying to get our dippers in other people's buckets -- and they don't want their bucket to have our dipper in it! This is where the trap is. Have you ever noticed that when you get your dipper in somebody's bucket . . . you're pointing out something wrong with them? You tell them they've got wrinkles in their socks . . . and they don't have them on yet? You tell her she's moody and then you find out she's got a toothache. You tell someone there's a spot on their face and then find out that your glasses are dirty. You've got YOUR dipper in someone else's bucket! It might feel good, sort of, when you first shove your dipper into someone else's bucket -- but after a while it doesn't feel good anymore. Do you know what a DIP-IN is? It's not exactly like a drive-in or a sit-in . . . It's when several people get together and just DIP someone good! Next time you realize that's happening, point it out and then stop. "Hey, we've all got our dippers in little sister's bucket! Let's fill it instead of emptying it!" Sometimes you say to yourself, "Self, she's got a LID on her bucket!" Or you may ask, "Hey, does anyone know where I can buy a lid for my bucket? There are a lot of DIPS around this place! Some of you may even think you don't HAVE a bucket! Or you may feel that your bucket's been shot full of holes. Well, for SURE we're just not the same when our bucket is empty, and that's all there is to it. And, we're not the same when we're dipping instead of filling, and that's all there is to that, too! My friends, keep your dippers out of other's buckets. FILL their buckets . . . you'll discover yours is getting fuller too. Full and overflowing -- you'll have so much, much more to share. It really could be that way. It really CAN be that way. Love one another . . . enrich and lift and bless and fill one another." - - To unsubscribe to lds-yw, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe lds-yw" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------ End of lds-yw-digest V1 #136 **************************** - To unsubscribe to $LIST, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe $LIST" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message.