Bean Plants

In my last area, there was a recent convert named Jesse. God bless him, he was the quintessential Southern Hick; bald, front tooth missing, wore a wife beater with his gut hanging out, and spoke with a drawl as thick as molasses. Also, his favorite pastime was watching a mechanical dancing Santa, which he kept on the mantle and often danced alongside. You couldn’t help but love him. My companion’s last name was Horrocks, but he refused to call her that because, according to him, “It ain’t right to go callin’ no nice lady ‘whore’, even if it IS in her name.” So, in his earnest attempt at chivalry, he addressed her as “Sister Hawkins”. Anyway, Jesse had dropped out of school in 3rd grade, so his reading skills were lacking. But he still tried to read the Book of Mormon. We stopped by to check on him one day. “How’s your scripture study going?” I asked. He nodded his head vigorously and declared with pride, “Oh yeah! I been readin’ some! I been readin’ about them bean plants.” I blinked in confusion. “Bean plants?” I echoed. “Yeah, Sister! Don’t ya ‘member!?!” He rolled his eyes at me, as if in shock that I could possibly forget a passage as pivotal as the one about the bean plants. “Well, shoot!” he continued, “That Nephi had to kill a man to get’em…so I figure they’s important. Ain’t they?” It all suddenly became clear and I had to suppress a laugh. “I think you mean BRASS PLATES, Jesse. That’s what they had to go back and get.” I was instantly afraid I had embarrassed him, but he just shrugged his shoulders. “Aw, brass plates….bean plants. No matter. Wanna watch me dance with Santa?” Sister Smoot Texas San Antonio 2006-2008

2016-06-27T16:44:49+00:00 December 30th, 2012|Uncategorized|0 Comments

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