Gospel Story Finder

I’ve been a member of the Church since I was born 15 years ago. The thing is, I never really knew if the Church was true or not. Sure I went to church every Sunday, but I still had unanswered questions. I began receiving the New Era when I was 12 but never really read through it. One night as I was wondering about the Church and all my unanswered questions, something told me to gather up all my dusty New Eras and read them. I read many stories and articles that made a lot of sense and seemed to point straight out at me. They were the answers to my questions.
Name WithheldCanada

Dan was born too early and had to fight for his life. As a result, he is a little shorter than other young men his age. But his determination is gigantic, and so is his sense of humor. When the family watches a funny movie, he laughs so hard that everyone else has to join in. He is faithful in his Aaronic Priesthood duties and is an avid Scouter. He has earned his Chief Scout Award and plans to earn his Queen’s Venturer Award before he turns 16.

Learning about the grandparents in the ward has also given Russell some understanding about the effects that trials can have in a person’s life.
“Talking with Frances Young and learning about the different trials she went through in her life helps me to see how things like that have made her the great person she is today,” Russell says. “It’s just interesting how different experiences can mold a person.”

A few years ago my husband and I were returning home to Italy from the Frankfurt Germany Temple. With us in the car were another couple and a young man about to leave on a full-time mission. We had spent a wonderful week attending the temple, but as we journeyed home, my heart was agitated and I could not figure out why.
While we were still in Germany, I noted that Angelo, my husband, took a wrong turn. But trying not to worry the other passengers, I didn’t say anything. Suddenly a huge truck coming from the opposite direction ran into us. The force of the blow sent our car spinning out of control. Angelo was powerless; all we could do was pray.
Our car finally stopped when it smashed against a tree. All the windows broke out, and glass was everywhere. Even my eyeglasses were broken into pieces. I soon learned that six other cars were involved and some of the victims were in serious condition.
The paramedics arrived right away and took my husband, the couple traveling with us, and some of the other victims to the hospital. The young, soon-to-be missionary and I were left at the accident scene. I felt confused and lost since I was in a foreign country without my husband and without any information about what was happening. And so I continued to turn my heart to Heavenly Father in prayer. His answer came almost immediately.
A man approached me. He was German, but he spoke to me in English. Even though I don’t speak either English or German, I was able to understand when he offered to take us to the hospital. Since he was on a bicycle, he said he would return home to get his car.
We were alone again. But in a few minutes another man approached. He spoke Italian! I was so happy that I hugged him and started to cry. He also wanted to help us, but he too had to get his car.
Both men soon returned. They loaded our suitcases in their cars and took us to the hospital. The second man left, but the first stayed with me the entire day, helping me find my husband, buy new glasses, and locate a hotel room for the night. Above all, he gave me encouragement and moral support.
When he came back the next day, I couldn’t help but think of the parable of the good Samaritan. This man, although he didn’t know my husband or me, helped us through a very difficult time.
That day I located and contacted some local Church members. Almost immediately the mission president and the bishop arrived. They were strangers to us, but in their faces I saw the pure love of Jesus Christ. While my husband and our traveling companions recovered, the Church members helped us. Each time they came to visit, they brought their love.
The most important blessing we received during this time of adversity was the reminder of the great love God has for His children. Now I know from experience that if we trust in Him, He will never leave us alone but will be at our side through everyday people.

One such decision is whether or not to go on a mission. While I was growing up I had a desire to serve a mission. But when it finally came time to send in the papers, I was hesitant. The decision became filled with pressures. I didn’t know whether to leave after my freshman year, after my sophomore year, or after I had completed my college education. I fought with a multitude of inward thoughts and feelings. I also wondered if I had enough knowledge to go out there and give what was so precious to me to somebody else. I talked to a lot of people, and most of them willingly shared their opinions with me. Some said that I should go immediately, others said later, and some said I shouldn’t go at all. I wonder, if I had asked you, should I go now or later or not at all, what would you have told me?
Perhaps you would have been like one of our great priesthood leaders. I went to him, and we talked about my situation. He listened with patience and concern. After I expressed my feelings about being able to play basketball when I returned, he said, with words that sank deep into me, “Devin, if you serve a mission and serve faithfully, when you return you will be a better basketball player than you are now.”
I had great confidence in that man, and I felt that he was moved by the Spirit to say what he did. I felt he was talking to me personally and not to all athletes who serve missions, because each case is different. He could advise me, my parents could advise me, my friends could advise me, but they couldn’t serve for me. I was the one who was going, and no one else could make my decision. I had to make that myself.

I shall never forget a lesson I learned many years ago as a boy in the little country of Wales. My family lived in a small mining village where coal not only provided us with a livelihood but was also used for cooking and was burned in the fireplaces to keep us warm when the weather was cold. So much coal was used that the chimneys would become clogged with soot, and it would be necessary to have it removed by a chimney sweep.
There was in our village a quaint little man who did this menial task. His appearance was almost repulsive. His hands were bent and gnarled, and his shoulders were bowed as if he carried a load. But the strangest thing about him was that he never talked. The only sound that left his lips, and this could only be understood by those who knew him, was the cry of “Chimney sweep, chimney sweep!” This man was Jimmy Drew.
Jimmy never bothered anyone. He would walk through the village streets with his bundle of brushes over his shoulder, calling out his strange cry. If someone accepted his services, he would sweep the chimney and load the soot into a sack that he carried away. His fee was two shillings, and the transaction was a silent one, for Jimmy was almost mute.
Ofttimes we boys in the village would make fun of Jimmy. We would walk behind him hunching up our shoulders and holding our hands like claws, just like Jimmy’s, and try to imitate his strange cry. But he didn’t seem to mind; he went about his business as if we were not there.
One day Jimmy was on our street, and as usual we proceeded to make fun of him. But it so happened that on this occasion my father came up behind us and observed what we were doing. Normally my father was a gentle man, but now he grasped my arm and unceremoniously marched me home. He took me to the big bay window from which we could see the valley below. He pointed with his finger and said to me in quite a stern voice, “Son, do you see the old Prince of Wales Colliery?”
Yes, I could see the old colliery; for as long as I could remember it had been there. The structure above the deep shaft was still there, but rust and decay were taking their toll.
The cages that lowered the coal miner down into the shaft were gone. The shaft itself was covered over with heavy boards and surrounded with a well-rusted cable. There was something about this old mine that made you feel uneasy when you were around it, and once some of us boys pried a board off the top of the shaft and dropped stones down into the inky blackness. It seemed like we waited for an age until the stones splashed into the water below.
“Yes, Father,” I replied, “I can see the old Prince of Wales.”
“Well, listen carefully,” he continued, “for I want you to always remember what I am going to tell you.”
I remember still how my father put his arm around me and pulled me close to him, and together we shed tears.
I have never been ashamed of those tears, for even though I was only a boy, the moral of this true story was quite clear. From that day on, whenever I was tempted to ridicule any of my fellowmen who had suffered misfortune or injury at birth, I would stand once again by the big window in the little Welsh village, look down the valley to the Prince of Wales Colliery, and think of the little chimney sweep, Jimmy Drew.

Shortly after Nikki joined the Church, she was watching general conference and a talk by Elder David A. Bednar titled “We Will Prove Them Herewith,” moved her to pay closer attention to what the Lord’s Apostle was saying.
The part regarding food storage particularly caught Nikki’s attention. After conference, she was prompted to phone her family in the Philippines to share what she had learned with them. Her family are not members of the Church and weren’t at all happy when Nikki wanted to join the Church. In fact, they were so upset about it that they wanted her to return to the Philippines.
However, her father, who Nikki said, is a very organised man and strives to be prepared, was particularly interested in what his daughter was saying.
Nikki said that during their previous phone conversations he would always ask her “How’s your ‘go to’ bag?”, “Do you have enough batteries?” and similar questions.
What Nikki was sharing with her family was therefore of great interest to her father.
Nikki said he acted immediately and began to buy the items they talked about and those listed on a Church food storage information sheet which she sent him.
About three weeks later, a series of typhoons ravaged their region. The people of their village could not get out of their homes for about four days and their phone lines were cut off.
Nikki was extremely worried about her parents and sister during this time and became frantic when she couldn’t contact them. Not knowing whether they were alive and safe was taking its toll on her.
When Nikki was finally able to get in contact with her family, she was incredibly relieved to know they were all safe.
Nikki was also humbled and brought to tears when she heard that her family had heeded her words regarding food storage and her mother and father, who lived on a farm, not only had enough for their needs but were also able to help their neighbours with the food storage they had accumulated in that short time.
Nikki’s sister who lived by herself on the top level of a two-story house was also caught up in the storm. The people who lived on the ground floor were seeking refuge because their home had been completely flooded.
Not only was Nikki’s sister able to provide them with safe shelter in her first-floor apartment but she was also able to feed them with the food storage she too had built up thanks to Nikki’s inspiration to share with her family what she heard from an Apostle of Jesus Christ.

I have had the frightening experience of feeling lost more than once. When I was very little, I went to Salt Lake City, Utah, with my parents. I had never seen such a big city. My mother, who thought that I was with my dad, went into a store. My dad, thinking that I was with my mother, stayed outside to wait while she shopped. But I just kept walking down the street. Before I knew it, I was half a block away and didn’t see a single familiar face or place. I didn’t know what to do. I was petrified with fear. My parents quickly realized I was gone, however, and it took them only a few minutes to find me.

When Ofelia Trejo de Cárdenas was called to teach young adults in her Mexico City ward, she felt that having a close relationship with each of her Sunday School students would increase her ability to teach and strengthen them.
“If I don’t have a close relationship with my students and if they don’t feel my love, they may not believe me when I’m teaching a class or bearing my testimony,” she says. “They may feel that I’m just a Sunday School teacher.”
But how could Sister Cárdenas develop such a relationship if she taught only once every two weeks? She found the answer through technology. Using the mobile phone application WhatsApp, she and her students were soon connecting daily through text and voice messages. Now, every day before the next Sunday School lesson, a class volunteer sends to other class members a verse of scripture from that next lesson with a related personal thought. After reading the verse and the thought, class members respond with their own thoughts.
“When they read the scripture, they send a happy face so I know they have read or studied the scripture and that they have thought about it,” says Sister Cárdenas. When it’s time for the next Sunday lesson, the students are prepared to participate.
This daily connection recently blessed one young adult whose parents are not active in the Church.
“I love it when I see him come to church because I know that to get there, he had to go through several challenges,” says Sister Cárdenas. “I’m sure that the scriptures and thoughts his classmates have sent out and the scriptures and thoughts he has sent out when it was his turn have strengthened him a lot.”
Sister Cárdenas says ministering through the scriptures doesn’t stop with her Sunday lesson and her class’s daily scriptural connection.
“My preparation includes praying for my students,” she says. “I think of them not only on Sunday but every day of the week as well. Each of them has specific and different needs. Each is a child of God. I think about them while I’m preparing my lessons.”
And when she teaches, she listens—both to her students and to the Holy Ghost.
“The teacher is the Spirit,” which she often hears in the voices of her students. “I have to pay attention because what they say is the revelation that the Spirit is giving to them.”

My wife, Maria Isabel, and I served in Central America, being stationed in Guatemala City. There I had the opportunity to meet Julia, a faithful member of the Church. I had the impression to ask her about her family. Her mother died of cancer in 2011. Her father had been a faithful leader in his stake, serving as a bishop and as a counselor to his stake president for several years. He was a true undershepherd of the Lord. Julia told me of his tireless efforts to visit, to minister, and to serve. He indeed rejoiced in feeding and tending the precious sheep of the Lord. He remarried and stayed active in the Church.

A few years later, he went through a divorce, and now he had to attend church alone once again. He felt out of place and also felt that some people were critical of him because of his divorce. He stopped attending church as a negative spirit filled his heart.

Julia spoke highly of this wonderful undershepherd, who was a hardworking, loving, and compassionate man. I vividly remember that a feeling of urgency came to me as she was describing him. I just wanted to do something for that man, a man who had done so much for so many throughout those years.

She gave me his cell phone number, and I began calling him, hoping to have the chance to meet with him personally. After several weeks and many, many phone calls without success, one day he finally answered the phone.

I told him that I had met Julia, his daughter, and that I was captivated by the way he had served, ministered, and loved the precious sheep of the Lord for so many years. He was not expecting a comment like that. I told him that I really wanted to visit with him eye to eye, face to face. He asked me my purpose in proposing such a meeting. I replied, “I really want to meet the father of such a wonderful lady.” Then for a few seconds there was silence over the phone—a few seconds that seemed to me like an eternity. He simply said, “When and where?”

The day I met him, I invited him to share with me some of his experiences visiting, ministering, and serving the precious sheep of the Lord. As he was recounting some touching stories, I noticed that the tone of his voice changed and the same spirit he had felt so many times as an undershepherd came back. Now his eyes were filled with tears. I knew this was the right moment for me, but I found that I did not know what to say. I prayed in my mind, “Father, help me.”

Suddenly, I heard myself saying, “Brother Florian, as a servant of the Lord, I apologize for our not being there for you. Please, forgive us. Give us another chance to show you that we do love you. That we need you. That you are important to us.”

The following Sunday he was back. He had a long conversation with his bishop and remained active. A few months later he passed away—but he had come back. He had come back. I testify that with our Savior’s help, we can love His precious sheep and minister to them as He would. And so, there in Guatemala City the Lord Jesus Christ brought back one more precious sheep into His fold. And He taught me a lesson on ministering that I cannot forget. In the name of the Good Shepherd, the Beautiful Shepherd, the Magnificent Shepherd, even the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.

When tensions ran high in northern Missouri in the fall of 1838, the Prophet Joseph Smith called for all the Latter-day Saints to gather to Far West for protection. Many were on isolated farms or in scattered settlements. He specifically counseled Jacob Haun, founder of a small settlement called Haun’s Mill. A record of that time includes this: “Brother Joseph had sent word by Haun, who owned the mill, to inform the brethren who were living there to leave and come to Far West, but Mr. Haun did not deliver the message.” Later, the Prophet Joseph recorded in his history: “Up to this day God had given me wisdom to save the people who took counsel. None had ever been killed who abode by my counsel.” Then the Prophet recorded the sad truth that innocent lives could have been saved at Haun’s Mill had his counsel been received and followed.

In August of this year, there occurred a tragedy in Salt Lake County. It was reported in the local and national press. Five beautiful little girls—so young, so vibrant, so loving—hiding away, as children often do in their games of hide-and-seek, entered the trunk of a parent’s car. The trunk lid was pulled shut, they were unable to escape, and all perished from heat exhaustion.
The entire community was so kind, so thoughtful, so caring in the passing of Alisha, Ashley, McKell, Audrey, and Jaesha. Flowers, food, calls, visits, and prayers were shared.
On the Sunday after the devastating event occurred, long lines of automobiles filled with grieving occupants drove ever so slowly past the Smith home—the scene of the accident. Sister Monson and I wished to be among those who expressed condolences in this way. As we drove by, we felt we were on holy ground. We literally crept along at a snail’s pace along the street. It was as though we could visualize a traffic sign reading, “Please drive slowly; children at play.” Tears filled our eyes and compassion flowed from our hearts.
At the funeral, as well as the evening prior, thousands passed by the caskets and expressed support for the grieving parents and grandparents. In two of the three families, the deceased children were all the children they had.
Frequently death comes as an intruder. It is an enemy that suddenly appears in the midst of life’s feast, putting out its lights and gaiety. It visits the aged as they walk on faltering feet. Its summons is heard by those who have scarcely reached midway in life’s journey, and often it hushes the laughter of little children.
At the funeral services for the five little angels, I counseled: “There is one phrase which should be erased from your thinking and from the words you speak aloud. It is the phrase, ‘If only.’ It is counterproductive and is not conducive to the spirit of healing and of peace. Rather, recall the words of Proverbs: ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’”
Before the closing of the caskets, I noted that each child held a favorite toy, a soft gift to cuddle. I reflected on the words of the poet Eugene Field:
The little toy dog is covered with dust,
But sturdy and staunch he stands;
And the little toy soldier is red with rust,
And his musket moulds in his hands.
Time was when the little toy dog was new,
And the soldier was passing fair,
And that was the time when our Little Boy Blue
Kissed them and put them there.
“Now, don’t you go till I come,” he said,
“And don’t you make any noise!”
So toddling off to his trundle-bed
He dreamt of the pretty toys.
And as he was dreaming, an angel song
Awakened our Little Boy Blue,—
Oh, the years are many, the years are long,
But the little toy friends are true!
Ay, faithful to Little Boy Blue they stand,
Each in the same old place,
Awaiting the touch of a little hand,
The smile of a little face.
And they wonder, as waiting the long years through,
In the dust of that little chair,
What has become of our Little Boy Blue
Since he kissed them and put them there.
The little toy dog and the soldier fair may wonder, but God in His infinite mercy has not left grieving loved ones to wonder. He has provided truth. He will inspire an upward reach, and His outstretched arms will embrace you. Jesus promises to one and all who grieve, “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”

Once we’re on the trail, there are many interesting things to see. We usually see lots of lizards, birds, and squirrels. Sometimes we see a snake or, more often, deer. On one trip a bear visited our camp every night. We had to string our food up high in the trees out of its reach!

I was baptized in 2012 and attended a branch in the Ipoméia Brazil District. Since 2014, I have been really engaged in family history. It started with the invitation from Elder Neil L. Andersen of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles at RootsTech to do baptisms for my own family names. I felt really committed to do family history, knowing that if I “knocked,” it would be “opened” (see Matthew 7:7).
Now I have many more generations, pictures, documents, and, most important, more family stories, which is awesome. Having this information, I wrote a book with pictures and dates from my family history. This project helped me contact my nonmember family members and gave me the opportunity to share my testimony that families can be eternal.
This work has helped me stand in holy places, stay active in the Church, and accept the calling to serve the Lord on a mission.
I have a testimony that the work of salvation done by this Church on both sides of the veil is true and inspired by our Heavenly Father. Before my mission, I had the opportunity to do baptisms for my ancestors, and now as a missionary I have the opportunity to baptize people who are alive and want to change their lives forever.
Elder Claudio Klaus Jr., Arizona Mesa Mission

I stared at the note on my desk. For a long time I tried to ignore it. But finally I unfolded it and read:
Nicole, I am soooo sorry! Please forgive me.
Your friend 4ever,
Laurie
I crumpled up the note—loudly, so that Laurie would get my point. Then I threw it in the wastebasket and glanced over at her. She looked as though she was going to cry.
When the bell rang, I headed out the door as quickly as possible. I could hear her calling to me, but I just kept walking. When I got to the gate of the school, I finally turned around. “Stop following me,” I told her. “I’m not going to forgive you, Laurie—not ever.”
“But—”
“You told lies about me!” I yelled. “I was nice to you. I was your friend. And what did you do? You told lies about me!”
Laurie’s eyes were full of tears. “Nicole, please, I’m so sorry.”
I just gritted my teeth. “I hope it’s worth it to you—being friends with Sharon and Beth.”
“They’re not my friends.”
“Then you really blew it, didn’t you?” With that said, I stormed away.
When I got home, I was still so angry with Laurie that my stomach was in knots. Around five o’clock, my best friend, Audrey, called. “Laurie just left here,” she said. “She wanted me to talk to you and ask you to forgive her.”
“She walked all the way to your house?”
“Yes, I guess so.” Audrey sighed. “Anyway, she wanted me to tell you why she lied. She went over to Beth’s house after dance class, and Sharon was there, and …”
Audrey continued talking, but I hardly listened. I didn’t care why Laurie lied. All that mattered to me was that she did.
“Anyway,” Audrey said when she’d finished her story, “Laurie feels really bad. She wants you to forgive her.”
“I’m not going to—not ever.”
The next day, Megan talked about uninviting Laurie to her party. “The only reason I even invited her was because you told me to.”
“Or she could come,” Kim put in, a mischievous grin on her face, “and when she’s not looking, we can squirt ketchup down her back, and …” Kim continued, suggesting all sorts of mean things we could do.
Everyone seemed to think it was a great plan. Everyone but Audrey and me. I glanced over at her, and she gave me a grim look. Audrey is really nice. She’s not into doing mean things—that’s one reason she’s my best friend.
“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I told them.
“What do you mean?” Kim asked. “We’re doing this for you. Laurie told lies about you.”
“I know. And I’m mad at her, but—”
The bell rang and we went back to class.
For the rest of the week, my friends came up with meaner and meaner things to do to Laurie. I felt sick. I couldn’t forgive Laurie, but I couldn’t do horrible things to her, either. I didn’t know what to do.
On Sunday, I didn’t want to go to church. I had to give a talk in Primary on forgiveness. The week before, when Sister Sharp assigned me the talk, forgiveness had seemed like a good topic. People do things wrong sometimes, and it’s important to forgive them. When we do things wrong, we want Heavenly Father to forgive us. We should do the same for others.
Well, all of that seemed great last Sunday when I wrote the talk—but that was before I knew about Laurie’s lies.
Still, no matter how hard I begged, my mom wouldn’t let me stay home. “Sister Sharp is counting on you to give your talk.”
So I went to Primary and gave my talk. But I felt like a big fake. There I was, talking about how Jesus forgave everyone, even the people who nailed Him to the cross. And I couldn’t forgive Laurie. I felt awful.
Sunday night, I finally knew that I had to forgive her. But knowing you should do something and actually doing it are two different things. I didn’t like feeling upset and angry, yet how could I forgive Laurie for betraying me? I couldn’t even pray anymore because of the guilt I was feeling.
I woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. I’d dreamed that Laurie came to Megan’s party and we were all really mean to her. Somehow—I’m not sure how we did it—we knocked out all of her teeth. Laurie was crying and looking at me with no teeth. “Will you forgive me now?” she asked.
I couldn’t go back to sleep. Finally I threw off my covers and knelt at the side of my bed. “Heavenly Father,” I cried, “Please help me forgive Laurie.”
I explained to Him why it was so hard for me to forgive her. “I was nice to Laurie. She was new in our class, and no one else would talk to her. But I went out of my way to be her friend, and I had my friends be friends with her, too. And then she told lies about me.”
I told Heavenly Father what Audrey had told me on the phone the other day, that two of our classmates, Beth and Sharon, had made her feel stupid. Laurie had told them the lies so that they would not be mean to her anymore.
“What she did was wrong,” I told Heavenly Father, “but—”
Suddenly I didn’t feel angry anymore. I mostly felt sorry for Laurie—sorry that she’d felt that she needed to lie. It’s hard to go to a new school and have to make new friends, especially when some are being unfriendly.
So I forgave Laurie. But talking my friends into forgiving her wasn’t easy. After talking with Audrey, I told them, “If you’re still planning on doing mean things to Laurie, then Audrey and I won’t come to your party. We’ll have our own party and invite Laurie.”
“Nicole, calm down,” Kim said with a laugh. “If you think she’s worth another chance, we’ll give her one.”
“She’s worth it,” I told them. “Everyone is worth it.” Jesus Christ taught me that.

My Young Women class is being challenged to read The Message each month in the New Era, and I love reading them. So far they have helped me every day in middle school. I just wanted to say thank you.
Leah S., Nevada

This summer I injured a shoulder and lost the use of an arm for weeks. I hadn’t realized how much one arm depends upon the other for balance, or how much less I could lift with one arm than two, or that there were some things I couldn’t do at all. This disability not only renewed my respect for those who deal so well with a physical limitation, but helped me realize how much more two arms working together can do.

The Clancys know how to play, too. In fact, both girls say that most of their best gospel learning experiences come from conversations during fun times with the family jumping on the trampoline, hiking, or swimming.
“This year Dad and Matt and I spent several days hiking at a place called Ayers Rock,” says Rachel. “I like hiking but I’m afraid of heights and this was a really steep hike. We stopped and said a prayer and I felt better. When we got to the top there was a beautiful view. My dad and I talked about how it was a lesson about enduring to the end. It’s my favorite memory from that hiking trip.”

It was a passing down if ever there was one—third and long and late in a catch-up game. The defensive line grinned big ugly grins and licked their lips. Sack lunch time! Today’s special: quarterback.
Quarterback Jeff Brimhall took the snap and then a quick five-step drop. Reading blitz, he fired a short, tight spiral over the center of the line just as a linebacker fell out of the sky and smashed him to the turf. On the way down, Jeff caught a blurry glimpse of the ball spinning incomplete through the clutching fingertips of receiver Shaun Gifford.
Climbing to his feet, Jeff expected to meet the punting unit. Instead he saw the referee signaling a first down. He heard the home town crowd cheering. He saw John Martin holding the football high in triumph. John, who had been running along behind Shaun on the 80 slant left play, had gathered in the deflected pass and turned upfield for a big gainer.
In the bleachers, some unknown fan jumped to her feet and shouted out the words that were to become a war cry at Lake Havasu City High School football games. “Mormon connection!”
Mormon connection? Somehow the fan knew that Jeff, Shaun, and John were all members of a strange organization called the “Mormon church.” Somehow, in fact, just about everybody in high school knew it. Somehow just about everybody knew they didn’t believe in drinking or cussing or using drugs. Somehow just about everybody knew they had high moral standards. Odd guys in a way. But friendly and fun, and boy could they play football!

Adah looked up at the indoor playground. The multicolored tunnels wound upward toward the ceiling. Adah couldn’t wait to jump into the tunnels and slide and climb with the other children.
Her sister Sarah couldn’t either. She ran toward the playground without taking off her shoes.
“Wait, Sarah!” Mom called. “Don’t forget to take off your shoes.”
Adah and Sarah put their shoes in the shoe cubby, then hurried toward the playground.
They played in the tunnels until all the other children had left. “Girls, time to go!” Adah heard Mom call. She slid down the slide one last time and ran to the shoe cubby.
Adah put on her shoes, but then she noticed that Sarah’s shoes weren’t in the cubby. Where were they? Her family looked all over the playground but couldn’t find them.
Finally Dad said, “Somebody must have taken them.” He picked up Sarah and carried her to the car.
“I want my shoes!” Sarah cried.
Adah wanted to cry too. She couldn’t believe someone had stolen Sarah’s shoes! She wondered which one of the people there had taken the shoes. “Maybe it was the girl with pigtails,” she said. “Or that girl who pushed me down the slide!”
“We don’t know who did it, and we need to be careful about accusing others,” Mom said. “Heavenly Father wants us to think kind things about other people.”
The whole night seemed ruined as they drove home and Adah went to her room. How could she think kind thoughts about the person who stole her sister’s shoes? She whispered a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help her. But she still felt angry inside. She plopped down on her bed with a sigh.
She landed on something hard. “Ouch!” It was her favorite pink pony. Adah tossed the pony across the room and it landed under the dresser. Then she remembered the pony had been lost for a week until she found it at her friend Meri’s house. She didn’t want to lose it again, so she knelt down and reached under the dresser.
Adah pulled out two pink ponies that looked exactly the same. She looked at them in surprise. Her pony had been under the dresser the whole time—she had taken Meri’s pony by mistake! Adah felt bad that she had taken Meri’s pony by accident. And then she had an idea.
“Mom!” she called, running to the kitchen. “I think I know what happened to Sarah’s shoes. I bet somebody had shoes just like Sarah’s at home, and she thought Sarah’s shoes were her shoes, so she took them by mistake. She didn’t mean to steal after all!”
“What a good thought,” Mom said with a smile. Adah smiled too.
The next day, Mom took Sarah to buy new shoes. Adah went with them. They stopped at Meri’s so Adah could give back the pony.
“I took this by mistake,” Adah told her friend. “I thought it was mine. I’m sorry.”
Adah’s mom told Meri’s mom that they were going to buy shoes for Sarah. Meri’s mom went downstairs and came back with two pairs of shoes that looked almost new.
“These are Meri’s old shoes that don’t fit her anymore,” she said. “Why don’t you take them for Sarah?”
Sarah laughed and danced in her new shoes. Adah was glad she had found a way to think kindly about the person who took Sarah’s shoes.