Not too long ago, I felt kind of brave, and I took five active boisterous children to the public library to check out books. They no more than got in the door than they scattered to all parts of the library to get what they wanted. I didn’t check out any books. I only went along to prevent general destruction of the library and harassment of the patrons. Now, after each of them had checked out the books they wanted, and after I had broken up one game of tag and a wrestling match, we went home with our treasures.

Later that evening, one of my daughters approached me and asked me to read a book to her.

“I’ll read it to you tonight when we go to bed,” I said.

“Okay,” she said.

Late that evening after prayers, my daughter climbed into bed and I sat down by her to read a story. I read her first book – no problem. I read her second book – no problem. Then I picked up the third book that she had checked out, and much to my surprise, my daughter had checked out a book about Clifford the dog – in Spanish. I don’t speak Spanish; I can barely speak English.

As I sat there somewhat bewildered staring at the book, my daughter said, “C’mon, Dad, read it.”

“I can’t, Honey.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s in Spanish.”

And her answer to that was a classic: “So?”

How do you explain to a five-year-old about language barriers? I – I couldn’t; I didn’t know how. And besides that, she insisted that I read it. So I did what any other intelligent father would have done: I looked at the pictures, and in as confidant a voice as I could, I made up my own story.

Now, I’ve thought about that experience even as I was sitting there by her bed after she’d fallen asleep. What if that book had been – the scriptures, and not Clifford? What if she had asked me a question about the scriptures, and I didn’t know what to answer? What am I going to say?

“I’m sorry, Honey, I don’t speak ‘scripture.’”

You know, it just occurs to me, speaking as a dad, that: How can I help lead my children to their Heavenly Father and His Son – if I have to make up my own stories when I look at the scriptures? – especially when there ain’t no [aren’t any] pictures.