Two questions to think about before reading this story:
1. How long does it take to kill, skin and cook a rabbit by somebody who has never done it?
2. Does the family below look like they have never tasted chicken?
2. Does the family below look like they have never tasted chicken?
Thomas S. Monson told this story on several occasions:
"One year, the home was buzzing with Thanksgiving preparations when Charlie Renshaw, a friend from over the back fence, stood outside, as was the custom of these young friends, and hollered, “Tom-my!”
.... “It sure smells good in there. What are you eating?”
Tommy told him it was turkey, and Charlie asked what turkey tasted like.
Tom ran into the kitchen, snatched a piece of breast meat, and handed it to his friend. “That’s good!” the boy said.
When Tom asked what Charlie’s family was having for dinner, the answer was, “I dunno. There’s nothing in the house.”
Tom pondered. He knew his mother always found something to feed those who came to the door. He had no extra turkeys, chickens, or money. But he did have two pet rabbits, a male and female, the pride of his life, beautiful New Zealand whites. He motioned to his friend and headed for the specially constructed rabbit hutch built by one of his uncles. He reached in and grabbed his two pet rabbits, put them in a gunnysack, and handed the bag to Charlie.
“Rabbit meat tastes better than chicken,” Tom said. “Their hide makes really good knuckle pads when you are playing marbles. You know, you can sell the hides for a quarter each over at the hide company. These two rabbits will give your family a good dinner.”
Charlie was on the fence—the boys used the fences like sidewalks in his neighborhood—and heading for his yard before Tom could close the door to his empty rabbit hutch. He realized he had given all he had. He had met someone else’s need and did not regret it. The pattern was in place: “I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat. . . . Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.
His life has continued to be a tangible expression of the Lord’s words.”
He gave his 2 pet rabbits to a neighborhood friend who’s family was not going to have a turkey for Thanksgiving.
More questions to think about this story:
1. Wouldn't Tommy's mother have just invited the family to dinner?
2. How many people would be willing to kill a rabbit?
3. Do you think the Renshaw mother would have talked to Tommy's mom before butchering the rabbit?
4. How long would it take to kill, skin and cook a rabbit?
Random Links and Notes:
1986 Ensign Article - Jeffery Holland
When young Tom learned a family of one of his friends planned to eat cereal moistened with hot water for Christmas dinner, he invited his friend to his backyard. He then took his two pet rabbits out of their hutch and gave them to his friend for Christmas dinner for his family.
lds.org Memories of Christmas
https://www.lds.org/new-era/1986/12/christmas-gifts-christmas-blessings?lang=eng
https://www.lds.org/ensign/2012/12/prophets-at-christmastime?lang=eng
https://speeches.byu.edu/talks/jonathan-g-sandberg_healing-courage-action-grace/
Monson Written in Ensign Dec - 1995
Wheat and Tares - Obituary
LDS Living
https://www.familysearch.org/tree/person/memories/KWZB-7NT
http://www2.byui.edu/Presentations/Transcripts/Devotionals/2012_01_17_ScottCameron.htm
https://www.reddit.com/r/exmormon/comments/8c2m74/another_bullshit_story_told_by_thomas_s_monson/
Many Latter-day Saints have heard President Monson tell a Christmas story about his own toy train, and giving a train car to a less-fortunate friend in the neighborhood. Another Christmas story he wrote about involved two rabbits that he gave to a friend who — when asked what his family was having for Christmas dinner — said he didn't know, and had never tasted chicken or turkey.
He later wrote that he shed tears as he put two of his own rabbits in a bag for his friend, "but there was a warm feeling in my heart (later) ... when he told me this was the best Christmas dinner he and his family had ever had." Ensign, December 1995
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