Gospel Story Finder

After school I went to get my rain boots off the porch and put them on so I could play in the puddles. But I felt a warning from the Holy Ghost not to put them on because there was a spider in one of them. I went inside and told my grandma to get the spider out. She swished her fingers around inside the tops of the boots and told me to put them on—there wasn’t any spider. But I knew there was! I told her to turn my boots upside down and bang them on the cement. She did, and a black widow spider about the size of a nickel came out. Grandma showed me the bright-red hourglass shape on it and then smashed it. If I had put my foot inside, the spider might have bitten me. I’m thankful that the Holy Ghost warned me.

As you know, the Brethren used to announce in general conference the names of those who had been called on missions. Not only was this the way friends and neighbors learned of the call, more often than not it was the way the missionary learned of it as well. One such prospect was Eli H. Peirce. A railroad man by trade, he had not been very faithful in Church meetings, “even had my inclinations led in that direction, which I frankly confess they did not,” he admitted. His mind had been given totally to what he demurely calls “temporalities.” He said he had never read more than a few pages of scripture in his life, that he had spoken to only one public gathering (an effort which he says “was no credit to himself” or those who heard him), and he used the vernacular of the railroad and bar room with a finesse born of long practice. He bought cigars wholesale—a thousand at a time—and he regularly lost his paycheck playing pool. Then this classic understatement:
“Nature never endowed me with a superabundance of religious sentiment or veneration; my region of spirituality [was] not high, but below the average.”

Well, the Lord knew what Eli Peirce was, and he knew something else. He knew what I’m pleading for today. He knew what Eli Peirce could become. When the call came that October 5, 1875, Eli wasn’t even in the Tabernacle. He was out working on one of the railroad lines. A fellow employee, once he recovered from the shock of it all, ran out to telegraph the startling news. Brother Peirce writes, “At the very moment this intelligence was being flashed over the wires, I was sitting lazily thrown back in an office rocking chair, my feet on the desk, reading a novel and simultaneously sucking an old Dutch pipe, … just to vary the monotony of cigar smoking.” (To my friends in the English department, I would just hasten to add that the novel reading was probably a more serious transgression than the pipe smoking.)
He goes on: “As soon as I had been informed of what had taken place, I threw the novel in the waste basket, the pipe in a corner and started up town to buy [scripture]. Have never read a novel nor smoked a pipe from that hour. Sent in my resignation … to take effect at once, in order that I might have time for study and preparation.”
Then these stirring words: “Remarkable as it may seem, and has since appeared to me, a thought of disregarding the call, or of refusing to comply with the requirement, never once entered my mind. The only question I asked myself a thousand times … was: ‘How can I accomplish this mission? How can I, who am so shamefully ignorant and untaught in doctrine, do honor to God and justice to the souls of men, and merit the trust reposed in me by the Priesthood?’”

With such genuine humility fostering resolution rather than defeating it, Eli Peirce fulfilled a remarkable mission. His journal could appropriately close on a completely renovated life with this one line: “Throughout our entire mission we were greatly blessed.” But I add one experience to make the point.
During the course of his missionary service, Brother Peirce was called in to administer to the infant child of a branch president whom he knew and loved. Unfortunately the wife of the branch president had become embittered and now seriously objected to any religious activity within the home, including a blessing for this dying child. With the mother refusing to leave the bedside and the child too ill to move, this humble branch president with his missionary friend retired to a small upper room in the house to pray for the baby’s life. The mother, suspecting just such an act, sent one of the older children to observe and report back.
There in that secluded chamber, the two men knelt and prayed fervently until, in Brother Peirce’s own words, “we felt that the child would live and knew that our prayers had been heard.” Arising from their knees, they turned slowly only to see the young girl standing in the partially open doorway gazing intently into the room. She seemed, however, quite oblivious to the movements of the two men. She stood entranced for some seconds, her eyes immovable.
Then she said, “Papa, who was that … man in there?”
Her father said, “Brother Peirce.”
“No,” she said matter-of-factly, “I mean that other man.”
“There was no other, darling, except Brother Peirce and myself; we were praying for baby.”
“Oh, yes, there was;” the child insisted, “I saw him standing [above] you and Brother Pierce and he was all dressed in white.”

Now if God in his heavens will do that for a repentant, old, cigar-smoking, inactive, stern, swearing pool player, don’t you think he’ll do it for you? He will if your resolve is as deep and permanent as Eli Peirce’s. In this Church we ask for faith, not infallibility. (Eliza R. Snow, Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow, 1884, pp. 407–13.)

A young man from the East stopped in my office on his return from his mission in Argentina, where he spent an extra six months helping the missionaries learn the language. Calling him by name, for I knew him and his parents before he left for his mission, I said: “Do you feel that it was a waste of time for you to go on that mission—that you should have been completing your education and getting ready for marriage?”
He replied: “If the brethren would like to make me happy, just let them load me on a plane tomorrow morning and send me back to Argentina.” And he hadn’t yet seen his loved ones whom he had left at home.

During this time, two people from the Church never gave up on me. Our home teachers invited me to church every Sunday, sometimes in person and other times by a phone call. They visited our home at least once and sometimes twice each month. They even knew when we needed something. I especially remember the time I ordered a garden shed that was delivered unassembled during my absence. Upon returning home, I found our home teachers had already assembled the shed.
I particularly admired our senior home teacher, Des Gorman, an Irish Canadian. He was a genuine person who truly cared for people. To me he represented the Church, and I felt the Church must be a good organization, even if I wasn’t attending.
Eventually we were blessed with a baby boy. Our home teachers reminded me that it is a priesthood practice to name and bless a baby at fast and testimony meeting. I did not want to participate, though I finally agreed to allow our baby to be blessed by others.
Brother Gorman stood in my place and was the mouthpiece for a beautiful blessing on our son, Ronan. As I listened I received a powerful witness from the Spirit. I had been proud. I had made some big mistakes. I had nearly lost my testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. I still had my family, but I had almost lost the sweet peace the gospel brings. Many tears flowed while my wife, Brother Gorman, and the bishopric supported me as I repented.
From that time on I have been active in the Church. Our home teachers have continued to support me. Our baby boy is now a returned missionary, married in the temple, and raising a family of his own. I feel his life is a tribute to the man who gave him a name and a blessing.
I shall ever be grateful to two dedicated home teachers who took their assignment seriously. Although Brother Gorman has been deceased for some years, I know I won’t forget him or his patient consistency in inviting me back. He never gave up.
Today I seek to emulate his quiet and loving persistence in my own home teaching and other Church callings.

When an LDS classmate invited Horváth Attila, 16, to sacrament meeting, Attila liked what he saw.

“Then, when my friend told me the Church was very family-centered, I became even more interested.”

Within weeks, Attila was baptized.

Three months later, his father asked to hear the discussions. “I knew enough about the Church by that time,” says Attila, “that I could help my father learn about it. The knowledge I had received in seminary helped me explain the scriptures to him. But since he smoked and drank coffee a lot, I didn’t have the faith that he would be baptized. I was amazed when I saw how—with the help of our Heavenly Father—he was able to rid those things from his life. Two months later, I baptized my father!

“Then when my mother saw how happy my father and I were in the Church, she also started to be interested. I baptized her three months after baptizing my father! The next day, my whole family came to church and bore their testimonies. It’s not possible to describe what kind of feeling it was for me.”

Illustration by Dave Bardin
The link jumped out at me from the computer screen. My little brother Ethan’s favorite author was coming to our local library in just a few weeks. Ethan would love this! Imagining his excitement, I clicked the link but then sighed. The event was on a school night—and would be in the way of homework and sleep.
My first impulse was to keep the news to myself. I had early-morning seminary the day after the event and would really need the sleep I’d lose if we went. After arguing with myself for several minutes, a prompting to tell Ethan about it won over.
I called out to Ethan, who ran quickly over to me. “Look who’s coming to the library,” I said while pointing at the computer screen.
Ethan let out a gasp and began dancing wildly around the room. “He’s coming to our library?” he asked. Without waiting for my answer, he hurried to ask Mom’s permission to go. Returning only a few moments later with a yes, he asked, “Are you coming too?”
I still hesitated at the thought of a late night and a tough morning. But the eagerness on Ethan’s face made it impossible for me to disappoint him. “OK,” I said and smiled in spite of myself.
He shouted excitedly as he pumped his fist in the air.
Over the next several weeks, Ethan constantly talked about the author event. He kept trying to think of new ways he could talk about it with his friends, and he asked over and over again how many days were left until it happened.
When the day finally came, I followed Ethan into the library. I couldn’t help but smile as he clutched one of the author’s books in his arms. There was a long line of people, and I worried we’d come too late to get a good seat. Luckily, after some shuffling we found a spot where we could watch the author speak from a video projection.
When the author finished, people flooded out of the room to get in line for the book signing. We had to wait another hour to get to the front of the line, but Ethan finally got his book signed.
Once outside, I glanced at my watch and gulped. It was late.
Ethan turned. “He’s the coolest person in the world,” he said, giving me a toothy grin, “but he’s not as awesome as you are.”
His words hit me so unexpectedly that I almost stopped walking out of pure shock. What I received in return for the sleep I gave up was far greater than any sacrifice I’d made. I’d strengthened my relationship with my brother and also gained a new perspective of myself. I walked away from that library glad to have gone and feeling like I was on top of the world.

When I was a young child, my father was not a member of the Church and my mother had become less active. We lived in Washington, D.C., and my mother’s parents lived 2,500 miles (4,000 km) away in the state of Washington. Some months after my eighth birthday, Grandmother Whittle came across the country to visit us. Grandmother was concerned that neither I nor my older brother had been baptized. I don’t know what she said to my parents about this, but I do know that one morning she took my brother and me to the park and shared with us her feelings about the importance of being baptized and attending Church meetings regularly. I don’t remember the specifics of what she said, but her words stirred something in my heart, and soon my brother and I were baptized.
Grandmother continued to support us. I remember that anytime my brother or I was assigned to give a talk in church, we would call her on the telephone for some suggestions. Within a few days a handwritten talk would arrive by mail. After some time her suggestions changed to an outline requiring more effort on our part.
Grandmother used just the right amount of courage and respect to help our father recognize the importance of his driving us to the church for our meetings. In every appropriate way, she helped us to feel a need for the gospel in our lives.
Most importantly, we knew Grandmother loved us and that she loved the gospel. She was a marvelous example! How grateful I am for the testimony she shared with me when I was very young. Her influence changed the direction of my life for eternal good.
Both Grandmother Whittle and Jeanene loved me enough to share their conviction that the ordinances of the gospel and serving Father in Heaven would bless my life. Neither of them coerced me or made me feel bad about the person I was. They simply loved me and loved Father in Heaven. Both knew He could do more with my life than I could on my own. Each courageously helped me in loving ways to find the path of greatest happiness.

The completion of the St. George Temple also reconfirmed the hope and desires of the Saints for finishing the “Great Temple” in the Salt Lake Valley. Lucy B. Young, a wife of Brigham Young, was called to serve in the St. George Temple to administer to the living and the dead. An official Church periodical stated, “How many times the sick and suffering have come … to [the] temple, and at once Sister Young would be called to take the afflicted one under immediate charge.” One sister who had not walked for a dozen years “was brought, and under the cheering faith of Sister Young she went through the day’s ordinance and was perfectly healed of her affliction.” Spiritual experiences such as this, coupled with their desire to fulfill biblical prophecy, impelled the Saints to complete the Salt Lake Temple.

In school I had an assignment to create a family coat of arms. First I thought about what is important to my family. Then I started with a sheet of blue paper because I remembered the words from “Our Primary Colors” (Children’s Songbook, 258): “Blue is for truth in our thought and our deed.” Next I put on a green shield to remind me to choose the right, just like my CTR ring. I added a red heart on the shield because “red is for courage to do what is right,” and the heart is for the love that keeps our family together. I added a yellow Utah shape because I was born in Utah and because yellow is for “service from morning till night.” I added a picture of the world because my ancestors came from 14 different countries. I added a picture of the Book of Mormon because it is so important to my family. I added a picture of a baptism because we have to be baptized to return to live with Jesus. I added pictures of temples because they make it possible for our family to be together forever. And I added a white cat because I like cats and have two as pets. My teacher gave me a certificate for being the most creative, and she hung my shield on the wall for a long time. It also helped me to share the gospel with my friends.Rachel Mathews, age 8Valparaiso, Indiana

… There came into the office a while ago a man who wanted to take a car to his son in the mission field. He said, “My son is riding a bicycle and I am afraid he is going to get killed. Can I take a car to him?”
I said, “You can if the mission president feels he needs one.”
Correspondence went back and forth, and finally approval was given for the young man to have a car. The father came in after he had taken the car and said, “I’m proud of my boy in the field. We had never been very close when he was at home. There had always been something of a gulf between us. I want to tell you what happened.
“I drove a thousand miles to deliver the car to my son. I went to his place of lodging and rang the bell. He came to the door, and said, ‘Hello, Dad. Glad to see you. Is that the car? I’m late for a meeting. If you can come around at eight o’clock tonight down at such and such an address where we are having a baptismal service, maybe I’ll have a few minutes to visit with you.’
“I hadn’t seen him for sixteen months and that’s the kind of reception I got. I felt like getting in the car and driving back home. But I went out, had some dinner and took a little nap and thought better of it. I went to the hall where the baptismal service was held. My boy was the supervising elder of the district.
“I arrived late and sat on the back row. They had just finished the baptismal service and were having something of a testimony meeting. A man stood up and said, ‘I’m retired. I’ve made some money. I’ve traveled around the world. I thought I had seen everything and had everything. Then one day that young man who is sitting here came to my door. Time was heavy on my hands; I let him in; I listened to him. He intrigued me, and I listened again. He has brought something to me more wonderful than all I have ever seen or all I have ever known. And I want to bear testimony to the truth of what he brought, and before you people here, express gratitude of the Lord for having sent him to my door.’
“He was talking about my boy. I am not a sentimental sort of a man, but the tears began to roll off my cheeks. I’ve come closer to my boy in one day in the mission field than I came in twenty years at home. I have concluded to be a better man myself. I have changed my life so that I may be worthy of my son.”
Gordon B. Hinckley“The Consequences of Conversion,”BYU Speeches of the Year, January 28, 1959, pp. 3–4.

“I need to tell you something, Mom,” Melissa said, looking at the floor. She took a deep breath and started to cry.
“My teacher is really mad because someone wrote on the bathroom wall,” Melissa said. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but someone else started writing and I thought it was funny, so I did too. I feel so bad inside. What can I do?”
Mom gave Melissa a hug and pointed to a picture on the shelf. It was taken on the day Melissa was baptized. “Do remember what Uncle Brett talked about at your baptism?”
Sniffling, Melissa nodded. “That the Holy Ghost can help us know what is right and wrong,” she said. “He said if I did something wrong I would get a bad feeling. Is this what he was talking about?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “What else did he say?”
Melissa thought for a moment. “When we mess up we can repent by asking for forgiveness and fixing what we did wrong,” she said. “And promising to never do it again.”
As Melissa said those words, she knew what she needed to do.
Before the school bell rang the next morning, Melissa was at her teacher’s desk.
“Mrs. O’Dell, I wrote on the bathroom wall,” Melissa said, her heart pounding. “I’m really sorry, and I will clean it up.”
Mrs. O’Dell looked at Melissa for a moment. “You’ll have to stay after school to clean it,” she said. “And you need to tell your mother what you have done.”
“I know, I already told her. I promise to never do anything like this again,” Melissa said.
Melissa smiled as she walked to her desk. The bad feeling she had yesterday was gone.

Name has been changed.
I began to drink at a young age. In the country where I lived, that was socially accepted, and I felt pressure to drink to be accepted.
After I got married, my husband and I became submerged in alcoholism. This truly worried my parents. Even after my husband and I had our first child, our addiction to alcohol did not stop.
Soon after the birth of our child, I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I stopped drinking and started making progress to overcome my addiction. These changes irritated my husband, and he was upset that I would not drink and party with him.
After much prayer and fasting, seeking to determine the will of the Lord, I left my husband and moved to the United States. As I strived to live the gospel of Jesus Christ, I was able to overcome my alcoholism, but I still struggled to manage my anxiety and feelings of desperation. I eventually got remarried to a fellow Church member, but I continued to struggle.
I was invited to an addiction recovery program group by a sister at church. I have no doubt that Heavenly Father is mindful of me because what I learned there was specifically for me. We discussed how the feeling of isolation is a common element for those who have experienced addiction. This isolation was something that I had imposed on myself and struggled with.
Through the addiction recovery program, I realized that I do not have to live isolated from God and others. I have the strength and the faith to face challenges and overcome them.
Now I know that I am not alone. I still attend the group meetings, and sometimes my husband attends the group meetings with me. There are people from everywhere at the online meetings, and we learn from each other’s experiences and offer support to each other. My bishop, my husband, and my children also know that I need their support.
Most of all, I know that it is through the Atonement of Christ that I can overcome my addiction.

The following year I left Barranquilla, Colombia, to go to Bogotá for a month with my mother because she needed chemotherapy. During that time I prayed constantly and felt close to the Lord. I decided to change my university major, and through inspiration, I learned that the Lord wanted me to devote my life to teaching children. When I returned to school, I began working on a degree in special education.
I knew that Heavenly Father had given me my calling in Primary to prepare me. As I served, I discovered my true vocation, and as I lived the gospel and lost myself in service, I felt that I was in the Lord’s arms.

The third key relationship we have is with our fellowman. We build this relationship one person at a time—by being sensitive to the needs of others, serving them, and giving of our time and talents. I was deeply impressed by one sister who was burdened with the challenges of age and illness but decided that although she couldn’t do much, she could listen. And so each week she watched for people who looked troubled or discouraged, and she spent time with them, listening. What a blessing she was in the lives of so many people.

You know, conference is a great time for spiritual uplift, for association, and for wise counsel. With all the counsel I’ve been hearing, I couldn’t help but reminisce a little bit about the young athlete who attempted most all sports but had never tried skydiving. And so he took several theoretical courses in how to jump.
When the day came for the solo flight, he became a little fearful, so he approached his instructor and said, “I’m not sure I want to go through with this.”
The instructor said, “Don’t worry. We’ll protect you by putting two added parachutes on you.”
The plane took off and arrived at the three thousand foot level. With some fear and trepidation he was pushed out.
On the way down, at about two thousand feet, he remembered that that’s when you pull the rip cord. He did so, and the chute didn’t open. He pulled the second, and it didn’t open. He pulled the third, and it didn’t open.
To his amazement, at about that time he met in the air, coming up from the ground, another man. They passed on the way. The young parachutist shouted to his new friend, “Pardon me,” he said, “do you know anything about parachutes?”
“No,” his friend shouted back, “what do you know about Coleman lanterns?”
I suppose it seems all of us are in need of good counsel.

Although it often took an hour to make it through one chapter of the Book of Mormon, Cham Nap Kong didn’t get discouraged. Every Tuesday the 14-year-old Cambodian boy would struggle through a chapter of the first English book he ever tried to read outside of school.
He had received a Book of Mormon for Christmas. When summer arrived and the pressures of school were gone, he asked soft-spoken Delaures Harkness, a sister in his ward, to help him read it. When she met Cham Nap, Sister Harkness “just took a liking to him. He really wanted to study the scriptures,” she says.
“I wanted to know about Jesus and the Mormon church. I wanted to understand it,” explains shy Cham Nap in a suddenly decisive tone.
Progress was slow. It took all summer to make it through 1 Nephi.
Cham Nap’s schooling, before he came to the United States four years ago, was very limited. As a child he attended kindergarten, but political unrest in Cambodia prevented him from attending any more school. In 1979, he went to Thailand with his aunt, uncle, and cousin to escape the war. There they lived in a refugee camp. Cham Nap has not seen or heard from his mother or brothers and sisters since then.
“In Thailand I went to school for about one month and learned to read and write a little Cambodian,” he explains. That’s also where his friends first told him about Jesus Christ and the LDS church.
Before coming to America, he and his relatives were sent to Indonesia for seven months to learn English. “I just learned the first words—‘hello,’ ‘how are you,’ and a few to use in the home.”
They arrived in the United States in 1981 and settled down in Salt Lake City. Cham Nap attended school with many other Southeast Asians at South High School. He had an LDS school teacher who invited him to go to church, and then she sent the missionaries to his home.
His friends in Thailand had told him the LDS church was a good church. “I heard that Mormons didn’t drink, and they went without food and water the first Sunday every month,” he says. “The missionaries taught me about the gospel. It made me excited because it’s so good. I wanted to clean my sins and be a good person.”
He had attended other churches, but he felt strongly that what the LDS missionaries taught him was true. He was baptized on October 23, 1982, in Salt Lake City. About that time he became friends with Delaures and Harold Harkness. Brother Harkness was a counselor in the presidency of the Cambodian Branch of the Salt Lake Park Stake. Cham Nap occasionally ate dinner with them, and they often gave him a ride to church.
During the summer, he would go to their home every Tuesday, and for half an hour to an hour he would struggle to read one chapter in the Book of Mormon. “We didn’t read a lot every time because it just seemed awfully hard for him,” Sister Harkness says. “I tried to explain what the words meant as we went along. Then we’d talk about what we read. It was hard for him to grasp at times.”
When Cham Nap first started going to church, he didn’t understand anything except for sacrament meeting, which was translated into Cambodian. But he kept on going because it made him happy. “Even though I didn’t understand in the classes, I felt the Spirit and I liked to go. Afterward I’d go to Sister Harkness and ask her questions and she would teach me.”
Cham Nap now lives with a foster family in Farr West, Utah. He is an eager eighth grader who wants to perfect his English, so he takes two English classes. It is still difficult for him to read, but he studies the scriptures regularly, usually for an hour on Sundays and frequently after school. “The words I don’t understand I look up in the dictionary,” he notes.
He has three church books in Cambodian, including Book of Mormon Selections, which he studies along with the scriptures in English.
Cham Nap says he likes to study and learn more about the gospel. “I want to be a missionary and teach people and make them happy. I want to share what I have learned.” Just like Ammon, the Book of Mormon prophet he’s reading about right now.

The worst part of it was the look on Ben’s face as soon as he saw me. No one had ever been afraid of me before, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t blame Ben, though. The kids had been really mean to him yesterday. He had a bandage on his chin, and I wondered if he had cut it on the fence, trying to get away from them. No, not “them”—“us”! I had been there too. I didn’t push him or call him any of the ugly names that had rung in my ears all night. But I hadn’t tried to stop them. I’d even laughed when Ron had tried to trip him.
That’s why I had to talk to Ben in the coatroom. “Don’t be scared,” I started. “I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m not going to tease you anymore. I’ll try to not let the others do it, either.”
“I’m not scared,” Ben lied. I didn’t blame him for that, either. I guessed that he was trying to be brave—he was even trying to smile. “Does this mean that you’ll be my friend?”
“No.” It sounded ruder than I meant it to. He quit smiling and looked confused. I tried to explain. “It was really wrong for everyone to gang up on you. But even though we do some wrong things, these guys are my friends—we’ve known each other since kindergarten. I don’t even know you. But I’m not going to let everyone pick on you again.”
Ben still looked confused, but we had been in the coatroom way too long. …
At recess, I took my football out, and most of the other boys went with me. We fifth-grade boys play the sixth-grade boys after school on Fridays. They always win, but we try, and we practice every recess.
I saw Ben sitting by the classroom door. He was alone, but no one was bothering him. He laughed out loud when he saw Ron throw the ball. Ron never threw a football straight. His throws were long but wobbly, and no one could catch them. Ben was lucky that Ron didn’t see or hear him laughing. Ron couldn’t take a joke, and he fought a lot better than he threw a football.
After lunch, Ron started shoving Ben away from the drinking fountain, and he called him a few names. But everyone followed me when I yelled, “Last one to the fence is a wet dishrag!” Even Ron followed—he hates to be last. So Ben got his drink, and no one bothered him for the rest of the day.
I was feeling pretty proud of myself when I told Mom about it after school. She shook her head. “That’s a good start, but what he really needs is a friend. Maybe if no one is teasing him, someone will find out what kind of friend he can be.”
The rest of the week most of my friends just ignored him, and after a try or two, even Ron began to let him be. By the end of the week, though, I was wishing that someone would be his friend soon, because it really bothered me to see him alone all the time.
We lost the Friday-afternoon game, and I couldn’t wait to get home. Dad had asked me to help him paint our fence on Saturday. I was the only boy my age in our ward who went to West Elementary, so I wasn’t going to have to worry about Ben or school or even football for two days!
While we painted the fence, I told Dad about how I had been keeping the kids, especially Ron, from teasing Ben all week. I told him what Mom had said about someone becoming his friend.
“Who do you think will be that friend?” Dad asked.
“I don’t know. Not me. He wears corduroy pants and green sweaters.” I thought Dad would understand, but he didn’t.
“Can’t someone in corduroy pants throw a football far enough?” he asked with a funny smile on his face.
“How would I know? I’ve never seen him throw a football. He just sits by himself.”
“So how are you going to find out what kind of friend he is under that green sweater?”
“Why do I have to find out? Someone else can! I stopped the teasing!”
“Oh, someone will, eventually,” Dad said. “I just figured that since you stopped the teasing, you’d have a head start on being friendly. The others don’t seem to have that kind of gumption.”
I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. I knew that Ben’s clothes weren’t the important thing, but if he didn’t know what to wear, how could he be one of us? If I tried to include him, what would the other guys think? What if he laughed at Ron again? Would I get beat up too?
Saturday night, Dad went with the elders quorum presidency to welcome a new family into the ward. He didn’t get home until after I’d gone to bed, so I didn’t know that Ben would be in my Valiant class the next day at Primary. But there he was. I could tell that he was uncomfortable. So was I. But he smiled nervously at me, so I smiled back.
He knew all the Primary songs, and he sang “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission” as loudly as I did. Sister Alvarez reminded us to sing, because we were trying to out-sing each other and we were practically yelling. She asked us if we were really planning to go on missions. Ben said that his brother was on a mission in Texas now.
In class, he showed me a wallet that his brother had sent him. It was real leather, with leaves and acorns tooled into it. It had his name carved on the inside—and a picture of his brother. He looked just like Ben, only much older. Ben said that his brother was going to play football for Brigham Young University after his mission. Then Ben said that he wished he could keep in practice, because he’d always played with him when his brother was home from school.
“We play all the time at school—you should play with us.” I’d said the words before I’d thought about them, but they seemed the right thing to say, so I didn’t try to take them back.
After the lesson, one of the guys asked Brother Clark why he was Brother Clark in church, but Mr. Clark at school. Brother Clark told us that it was because of something King Benjamin had said in the Book of Mormon. He read to us where the king called his people together to tell them about serving Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. He said that when they were baptized, they became the “children of Christ.”* That made us all “brothers” and “sisters.” Then Brother Clark read a scripture in the New Testament that said the members of the Church were “no more strangers” but were now “of the household of God.”**
Well, that explained why Ben didn’t seem so strange anymore—and why it wasn’t hard to be friends with him, after all. He was “no more a stranger”—he was my brother! So of course I’d asked him to play football with us! I just hoped the other guys would understand. That night I prayed that I would have the kind of gumption that Dad thought I had.
At recess on Monday, Ben almost did blend in. He must’ve practiced a lot with his brother, because he—Ben, I mean—could throw farther and straighter than any of the rest of us. It was beautiful to watch the football leave his hand and fly wherever he wanted it to go. And he could catch almost as well as he could throw—he just seemed to appear wherever the ball was about to land. He could even catch Ron’s wobbly passes!
The only time all day that I worried about Ben was when he tried to help Ron throw the ball straight. Ben was clear across the field when he yelled to Ron, “Grip the strings,” so I knew that Ron couldn’t get him. But I did think that he’d blown his chance to fit in at school.
I was wrong, though. Ron didn’t say anything! And he must’ve gripped the strings, because he threw the ball straight, and clear back over to Ben!
Ron and Ben were always together after that, except when Ron went home for lunch. Then Ben and I ate together in the cafeteria. One day I told Ben how surprised I was that he and Ron were such good friends.
“I knew that Ron would be my friend if I could get him to stop teasing me.”
“How’d you know that?”
“Because my mom said that at every school there’s someone who needs a friend to help them with something and that I’d find one here. When I saw Ron throw a football, I knew he was the friend who really needed me! And after we beat the sixth-grade team on Friday, I’m going to ask him to come to church with us on Sunday.”
I must’ve looked surprised, because Ben laughed again and added, “Maybe Brother Clark and Sister Alvarez can get him to quit trying to beat everyone up.”
When we really did beat the sixth-grade team—for the first time in history—Ben did as he’d promised. I was surprised again when Ron said, “Sure.”
Now there are three of us from West Elementary at Primary every Sunday. Since snow has covered the football field, we’re working hard at something else—memorizing Articles of Faith. In two more weeks Ron, Ben, and I are going to say them together in sacrament meeting when Ben’s brother reports on his mission.
We have something exciting to report, too: Ben and his parents and me and my parents all meet every Tuesday night at Ron’s house with the local missionaries. His dad said that anything that can keep Ron out of trouble the way going to Primary with Ben and me has is worth investigating. Ron’s mom said that if we do a good job on the Articles of Faith for Ben’s brother, we can say them again at Ron’s baptism!

On one occasion, arrangements had been made for Elder Taylor to speak to a large group near Columbus, Ohio. Shortly before the meeting, some of the brethren overheard that several men were planning to tar and feather Elder Taylor.
Undaunted, Elder Taylor stood before the congregation and began his remarks by stating:
“I see around me the sons of … noble sires, who, rather than bow to the behests of a tyrant, pledged their lives, fortunes and sacred honors to burst those fetters, enjoy freedom themselves, bequeath it to their posterity, or die in the attempt. …
“… I have been informed that you purpose to tar and feather me, for my religious opinions. Is this the boon you have inherited from your fathers? Is this the blessing they purchased with their dearest hearts’ blood—this your liberty?”
Then, tearing open his vest, he said, “Gentlemen come on with your tar and feathers, your victim is ready.”8
The audience was silent, and no one moved. Elder Taylor paused for some moments, and then he continued to preach with power for nearly three hours.

My orthodontist told me I needed to have four teeth pulled. My permanent teeth were ready to come in, but my baby teeth were not yet loose. I was very frightened. That same day, the September 2008 Friend arrived. There was a letter in it from a girl my age who went through a similar experience. She said a prayer to help her get through it, and all she felt was a small tug as her teeth were pulled.

It made me feel better to know that someone else had gone through the same thing. Before I went to the dentist, I said a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to comfort me. Like the girl who wrote the letter, all I felt were a few tugs and the teeth were out. I know Heavenly Father can help us when we have difficulties.

The Latter-day Saints had many problems in Missouri. In the autumn of 1838, Governor Boggs told leaders of the state militia (army) to force the Saints to leave the state.
The Mormons must be treated as enemies.
Joseph and other Church leaders were arrested for crimes they did not commit. The militiamen mocked the prisoners and kept them out in the rain without any shelter.
The commander of the militia told General Alexander W. Doniphan to shoot Joseph and the other prisoners. The prisoners prayed that they would not be killed. Their prayers were answered.
It is cold-blooded murder. I will not obey your order.
The next day the guards watched closely as the prisoners said good-bye to their families in Far West. Joseph’s wife and children were grateful to see him alive but very sad to see him go away. Joseph worried about them.
God alone can protect them and deliver me from the hands of my enemies and restore me to my family.
The militia took many Latter-day Saint prisoners to Independence, then to a jail in Richmond. Later, Joseph and a few other men were moved to a jail in Liberty.
The guards treated the prisoners badly. One night the guards at the Richmond jail told each other about the terrible deeds they had done to the Latter-day Saints. Joseph stood up and rebuked them.
Silence! In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you and command you to be still.
I will not live another minute and hear such language.
The guards apologized. They were quiet for the rest of the night.
Other guards watched over the prisoners as they traveled to a different county for a court trial. One night the guards got drunk. They allowed Joseph and the other men to take their horses and escape.
I shall take a drink and go to bed, and you may do as you have a mind to.
After spending almost six months in prison, Joseph was reunited with his family in Quincy, Illinois.