Spirit Pouch Read Online Free PDF

begging, and I can feel it.
    “I don’t think you can do it,” I say shaking my head.  I start to pull the door open and he stops it with his hand.
    “Why?” he says angrily.  He actually looks like he might hit me.  Raising his voice he continues, “Because I’m not Mormon?  Because I’m not cool, like you?”
    “No,” I say a little ruffled by his abrupt change in attitude.  “Because I’m not smart, like you.  And I’ve only got four days left before our first geometry exam!  That’s why.”
    “If you can do the impossible, I can,” he smiles again.  “That’s the deal.  Take it or leave it.”
    I can not believe it.  I am going to pass geometry after all.  All I have to do is figure out a way to get Sarah to like Ty Smith.  That has to be easier than learning geometry!
    “It’s a deal,” I say holding out my hand.
    We shake on it, and I leave him smiling as I pull the door open and enter the church building.
    Church is about the same as any other Sunday.  Brother and Sister Radcliff speak on the atonement of Jesus Christ.  I have heard most of what they say before, but what strikes me most is a passage from the book of Mosiah, [2] chapter three, verse twelve.  Christ’s blood atones for those who die not knowing the will of God concerning them.  But wo, wo unto him who knoweth that he rebelleth against God!  For salvation cometh to none such except it be through repentance   … They say that doing something that you know is wrong is rebelling against God.
    After church I go home-teaching with Brother Donaldson.  Mom is home when Brother Donaldson drops me off an hour later, but she is talking on the phone, so I proceed to my room and change out of my Sunday clothes into jeans and a T-shirt.  I jump onto my bed and plan to close my eyes, but images of a medicine man holding the spirit pouch float to the front of my consciousness until they seem to push my eyelids wide open.
    Sitting up, I reach over to my dresser and pick up the leather pouch.  Closing my eyes, I hold the bag at arms length with two hands.
    “I wish … no, no, no.  I desire to … to instantly know how to do geometry.”  I open my eyes and then smile at my own foolishness.  I know that it never would be that easy.  I know that it would take lots of study and hard work to learn any kind of math.
    Retracting the leather drawstring, I pour the contents of the spirit pouch out onto the bed.  I pick up the white stone.  It is mostly white, but it has a dark brown streak on the end which partially penetrates one side.  I set the stone down and inspect the tiny glass bottle.  The cork twists out easily.  I lift the bottle to my nose, sniffing gently. Nothing, I think.  Maybe a little musky, like our basement in Salt Lake City .  Mom says it was damp from all the snow outside.  I re-cork the tiny glass vial and slide the slender gray feather through my fingers.  Plastic?   I hold it close.  Yep. Plastic.  And not a good replica of an Eagle’s feather, either!
    I hear Mom’s footsteps in the hall, then she opens the door.
    “I’m just checking out this spirit pouch,” I say.  “Did you know that the feather is fake?  It’s plastic.”
    “Oh, that’s right.  I remember my mother saying some of the contents were missing, but she replaced them.”
    “Maybe that’s why it doesn’t work?”
    “You think so?”
    “Who knows!”
    “Listen, come help me fix lunch while you think about it.”
    “Oh all right,” I say grumbling.  I feel more like taking that nap.
     
    Monday
     
    “You ever heard of a spirit pouch?” I ask Ty as we walk toward the seminary building for our Monday morning second-hour class.
    “Does this have to do with the Mormon religion?  You know, with the temple, or something?” Ty gives me a disgusted look that translates to mean ‘Don’t try to convert me!’
    “No,” I say, a little bit offended.  “It has to do with the Sioux Indians, I think.”
    “Ahh,