SINNER IN NEED OF REPENTANCE

TURNING EIGHT and BAPTISM

     Sinners need repentance. I was growing older and my Primary and Sunday School teachers were talking about baptism. Even though I wasn't accountable for my sins before eight years old, I'd accumulated enough guilt to qualify for repentance. The idea of a fresh start and a clean slate sounded great to me. All dressed in white, Dad baptized me in the Provo Stake Baptistry font. Coming up out of the water, I felt wonderful. Clean in the sight of God. 

    Being clean was a great feeling, and I was determined to stay that way! But temptations were still out there. Growing up in Provo, drinking Coke was like drinking beer. One hot summer day I headed for Carson's Market with 10 cents, enough to buy an ice cold can of pop. I found a can that said Cherry, one of my favorite flavors. I popped the top while passing Ray Ashby's house on Birch, and 

began to guzzle. The ice cold liquid felt wonderful trickling down my throat. Then the after taste hit me. This was supposed to be cherry. But it didn't taste like any cherry pop I'd ever had before. I gave the can another look. It said cherry alright but it also said COKE. I had bought a CHERRY COKE! The evil liquid was inside me. I quickly crossed the road to the irrigation canal and threw the can in the rushing water. I raced home, flopped on my bed, and fully expected to die.

    The cache of candy in Startup's basement continued to lure me. I had resisted the temptation for weeks, but my addiction to sugar caught up to me in a moment of weakness. In the dim light of their basement hallway I slipped my hand into an open box of candy and satisfied my craving. But my new sins were weighing me down. The Primary lessons began to make more sense. I could still be clean through repentance.   

I took the Sacrament and asked Heavenly Father to forgive me, and then I confessed to the Startups who said, "Just ask. You can have candy any time." Wow! So that's how it works. I felt clean again!

OLD PRUNE FACE

      So who was Mrs. Freebairn and what about Primary?

      School was out at 3:30 and oh, what a glorious time! At 3:30 the prison doors opened to the joyous shouts of “free at last, free at last!” No more hard chairs and Teacher’s angry looks. Time for daydreams to become reality! Unless of course you had Primary. 

     You see, on Wednesdays right after school a group of church going masochists decided to give us little ones some religion. It was big sister, Kay’s, holy duty (as directed by my parents) to see to it that I got my fill. So, the long walk began. Dragged kicking and screaming I was pushed and pulled across 9^th East, down through the married students ‘ housing barracks, and up to a very old World War Two Quonset hut on the BYU campus. There “Torture Part Two” began!

      Reverent music meant to seduce reluctant rascals, drifted through the hot humid air. Reverence Child with arms folded stood up front while wayward flocks were corralled. It was then that I noticed

the unknown adult sitting where my class was wrangled. Old, gray, and wrinkled, she sat in pious repose. Deep down inside my darkest soul, vengeance for unwanted imprisonment began to surface and take voice.  “Oh, great! We get old prune face!” I yelled. Suddenly, shocked silence. Everyone turned to catch a glimpse of Old Prune Face and the disrespectful runt who yelled it out.

      Sister Freebairn turned to face the source of her embarrassment. I was expecting the worst rebuke, but was stunned to see a tear slowly surface and trickle down her wrinkled face. I had hurt her deeply. 

It wasn’t funny. It was painful to watch, and even more painful to realize that I was the cause of it. I didn’t dislike her personally. I disliked the situation.

      After class Sister Freebairn asked me to stay for a moment. She told me that she hadn’t always been old and wrinkled. She had been young and beautiful once. She explained to me that she would do her best to be a good teacher and hoped we could be friends. Then she gave me a heartfelt hug and said she would see me next week if I felt like coming to class. She had me. I would be a saint, a model boy for her!