And a Child Led Me

by Eric Nelson

When I saw what this eight-year-old was reading, I dropped the Sunday comics.

I met Karla my first semester at Snow College in the small town of Ephraim, Utah. We got along immediately, friends at first sight. We didn’t have any of the same classes, but we spent time together almost daily. We were walking back to her dorm one night, cutting in between the tall trees as we crossed campus. I was expressing my desire to go see a movie that was currently being shown in the local theater.

“Isn’t that rated R?” she asked.

I thought about it. “I think so, but I hear it’s only for a couple parts. No big deal really.”

She looked at me, “Do you smoke?” she asked.

“Of course not!” I laughed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Why don’t you smoke?” she persisted.

That was an easy answer. “Word of Wisdom, bad for your health, smelly breath, yellow teeth, cancer, the General Authorities say not to.” I spouted off a list of reasons.

“The prophets say not to.”

“Right, I said that.”

“Well, they also say not to watch movies like that, right?”

A light clicked on in my mind. I couldn’t deny that. The long-term effects of submitting yourself to immoral entertainment could be just as detrimental to your spiritual health as smoking is to your physical health.

I decided I would not go see that movie.

Karla taught me many important lessons. Half the time she didn’t realize it. She never preached or condemned or lectured. She taught by example. The way she lived, the words she spoke, all she did helped me to think about myself, about my own life. I was a bit rebellious by nature when I first met her, but slowly that changed. I began to consider the reality of serving a mission. I hadn’t made up my mind yet to go, so that was quite a big step.

The most important lesson I learned through her came in early January that same school year. I had just flown back to Utah after Christmas vacation. Karla’s family picked me up from the airport in Salt Lake City on Saturday. I stayed at their home that night, since her parents had offered to drive us to school the next day after church.

Early Sunday afternoon following church, I found myself sitting on the living room sofa, waiting to leave and reading the comics from the morning paper. Karla’s eight-year-old brother came in, sat down across from me, and opened his Book of Mormon.

“Hi,” he said simply, and started to read.

“What are you reading?” I looked up and asked.

“Nephi,” he replied. “I’m reading it myself.”

“Good for you.” I tried to think if I had ever attempted to read scripture when I was so young. “How many times have you read the Book of Mormon?” I asked, half joking.

His answer put me in my place.

“Twice,” he responded, “with my family.” Then he turned the tables. “How many times have you read it?”

I felt foolish. I hadn’t ever read it. “Well, I’ve started it a few times,” I mumbled. Karla was sitting next to me. Her mother was close by as well. I knew they wouldn’t judge me, but that didn’t lessen my uneasiness. Here I was, three months away from being 19 years old, and I had yet to read a book that I had testified to be true. This eight-year-old child was on his third round. I knew nobody was keeping score, but I was very humbled. If I was going to go on a mission, what kind of missionary would I be if I hadn’t even read the Book of Mormon?

That night, back at the dorm and in bed, I opened the book and began to read. I literally could not put it down. Moroni’s introduction, the testimonies of the witnesses, Joseph Smith’s testimony, First Nephi, and on and on. Each word called to me, strengthened me. I could feel a great spiritual power begin to flow into my life. I knew it was true, I had felt it before, and now the feeling grew stronger. Not quite two weeks later I read the parting words of Moroni and closed the book. I had done it! Tears of joy filled my eyes. I knelt down and thanked my Heavenly Father.

After my mission I lost touch with Karla, but I never forgot the lessons she taught me. Through her and her little brother, the Lord inspired me in ways I can never repay. Most importantly, I learned it is never too early or too late to read the Book of Mormon. And then, read it again and again.

Illustrated by Roger Motzkus