Gospel Story Finder

While playing basketball at BYU back in the days of those really short shorts before you were born, one night before a game at the Marriott center, President Ezra Taft Benson, the living Prophet, came to visit us in a reception room. It was a very special 15 minutes. Just before we were headed out to play our coach asked the Prophet if he had any words of wisdom for us. In response, President Benson took about 60 seconds and, for me, taught one of the most important lessons in my life at that time when I was 23, and today in my fifties. Among other things about the Holy Ghost, he said, “The Spirit will be your greatest asset in life. If He is with you, you will achieve all your righteous desires. If He is not, you won’t!” To my best recollection, he went on to say that we can fool a lot of people, but not ourselves. We know if we have the Holy Ghost in our lives, and we know if we do not. He then invited us to do whatever was needed to have the Spirit in our lives.

As a young girl, I developed a strong imagination and sense of humor. Listening to music was one of my favorite pastimes. I often pulled out our old record player and listened to the music from popular plays and movies such as Carousel, Oklahoma, and the Music Man. I had never actually seen them, so I created my own plots and story lines based on the words from the songs. I also made up all the dances and acted out many of the roles. It didn’t take much to make me happy. A few dress-up clothes from my parents’ closet, a record, an empty room, and I was off on an adventure.
In my mind, I traveled to many faraway places and experienced many marvelous things. In fact, later in my life, when I was able to travel, I discovered that the places I visited in my imagination were almost more fun and exciting than trips I actually took.

Scott learned about raising guide dogs at an assembly at school. “The speaker brought three dogs to give a demonstration. I thought it would be neat to raise one. I went home and asked Mom and Dad, and they said they would have to talk about it. Mom went to a guide dog meeting one day, and they decided to let me try it.”
Scott’s mother, Kay, had some reservations. “I was leery at first because it is such a commitment. The dog has to be in the house and sleep right beside the child’s bed at night. But we’ve loved the experience. We take the dog everywhere, to visit Grandma, to family reunions, to the grocery store, or whenever we come to town.”

Nine-year-old Carrie hurried around the corner of the grocery store aisle, trying to keep the cart out of the reach of her six-year-old brother, Andy.
“No fair!” he cried. “You’ve pushed it the whole time we’ve been here.” He tried to grab the cart, but Carrie twisted it away, accidentally hitting a row of ketchup bottles lined up neatly on a shelf. Two of the bottles crashed to the floor and shattered, spraying their bright red contents everywhere. The two children stared in horror at the broken glass and scarlet ketchup.
Mom came around the corner just then, saying, “I want you two to stay with me …” Her words trailed off as she saw the mess on the floor and the misery on Carrie’s and Andy’s faces.
“It looks like there’s been an accident,” she said. “It’s all right. Sometimes things break and have to be cleaned up.”
Mom found a clerk, who cleaned up the ketchup and glass without getting mad at Carrie or Andy. Carrie still felt terrible. She knew it wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t been swinging the cart to keep it away from Andy. Before they left the store, she quietly told Mom how the bottles had been broken. Mom listened solemnly while Andy stood with a scared expression on his face.
“Are we in trouble?” Andy asked, struggling to keep from crying.
Mom hugged Andy. “No, I think you feel bad enough about what happened that you’ll be more careful in the grocery store from now on. But, Carrie, what do you think you need to do to make up for the store losing those two bottles of ketchup?”
“I think I need to pay for them. I didn’t mean to break them, but it was still my fault,” Carrie replied.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Mom said. “I can lend you the money for now, and you can pay me back at home.”
At the cash register, Mom explained that Carrie had been playing with the cart when the bottles broke, so she wanted to pay for the ketchup. The clerk thanked Carrie for being honest, and Carrie felt much better.
At home, Carrie didn’t feel quite as good when she gave Mom part of the money she had been saving for a tape player, but she was glad she didn’t have that sick feeling she had experienced after the bottles exploded on the floor. She remembered how red everything looked. She had been afraid the ketchup would stain the floor, forever reminding her of her mistake. But it had come clean with a wet mop.
A few months later, Carrie finished Sunday dinner and flopped down on the couch with a big sigh.
“What’s the matter?” Mom asked. “That’s a pretty heavy sigh for a Sunday afternoon.”
“Mom, I have to give a talk in Primary next Sunday on Jesus’ Atonement. I’m not even sure I know what the Atonement is.”
“This sounds like a good Sunday activity,” Mom said, sitting on the couch next to Carrie. “Tell me what you do know.”
Carrie was quiet for a moment. Then she replied, “I think it’s when Jesus suffered for our sins. If we repent, we don’t have to suffer any more for them because He already did. Then we can be forgiven.”
“Good!” Mom said, squeezing Carrie’s arm warmly. “You understand a lot. Tell me about being forgiven. What does that mean?”
“Well, I guess it means that we’re not in trouble anymore.” Carrie thought some more. “I mean, Heavenly Father forgives us, and we can forget about what happened.”
“Do we forget completely?” Mom asked quickly.
“Well, no—we have to remember never to do that wrong thing again. And we have to try to make up for what we did, like me apologizing to Andy if I yell at him or something. But once we’re forgiven, we don’t have to keep feeling bad. But, Mom,” Carrie asked, “how do I explain this to the kids in Primary? The three-year-olds are going to be totally lost!”
Mom was excited, her eyes twinkling. “Do you think they’d like a flannel-board story?”
“Sure. But how can I do that for the Atonement?”
“Think ketchup,” Mom said mysteriously.
Carrie looked at her in confusion, then cried, “Perfect!” as she bounced off the couch and hurried into the kitchen for paper, pencils, and construction paper. Carrie worked on her talk all afternoon, cutting out figures and thinking about her story.
The next week even the Sunbeams forgot to wiggle in their chairs as Carrie gave her talk. She put up a cut-out shape of a ketchup bottle, then the broken container with a big pool of red below it. The children were shocked by the thought of breaking two whole bottles of bright red ketchup.
Carrie explained, “We can make mistakes that seem too horrible to be forgiven. But if we repent, we can become clean from sin, just as ketchup can be mopped up off a floor.” She took down the picture of the broken bottle and replaced it with a picture of a sparkling clean floor.
“Jesus helps us ‘clean up’ when we commit a sin if we feel truly sorry and try to repair the damage we’ve done. He has suffered for our sins, so we don’t have to feel guilty forever. He helps us feel good again after we repent.”
She ended her talk with a scripture from the Bible, explaining that even if our sins are like scarlet, we can become white as snow through repentance, because of the Atonement (see Isa. 1:18).
As Carrie sat down, she looked at Mom sitting on the back row of the Primary room. Mom winked, and Carrie smiled back. This was the best talk she’d ever given. Maybe the rest of the family would like a repeat for family home evening!

My husband and I were living in on-campus housing at the Texas State Technical Institute when our two oldest children were four and two. It was our first experience in Texas hill country, and I loved it! Every spring, central Texas is awash with flowers. In gardens, woods, vacant fields, on roadsides, everywhere I looked there were more blossoms to see.
I took my children on stroller rides nearly every day. We’d find new places to explore, and I let the children pick as many wildflowers as they wanted. We’d finish our ride through a neighborhood where most of the houses had beautifully maintained flower gardens.
One day we came around a corner to discover a large mass of papers spread across one of the flower gardens. The wind quickly scattered the paper all over the yard. I decided to tidy up the litter before it spread further. I grabbed handfuls of pages and stuffed them in my diaper bag.
As I looked down, I realized I was holding pornography. Appalled, I asked my children to stay in the stroller as I snatched up the rest of the pages. I became upset as I saw glimpses of things I never wanted to see. In my heart, I began complaining, “Why didn’t God warn me to go another way home?”
Then I heard the unmistakable huff of school bus brakes. About a dozen kids got off the bus. They all moved past the yard that had been filled with pornography only moments before.
In that moment, my whole perspective changed. I now knew why I hadn’t been warned to go another way. I was grateful I was there to pick up those pages so those children could be spared seeing those damaging images. As I made my way back home, I thought, “What if the school bus had come later? What if I had never found out why I had that experience? How long would I have been upset with God?”

I remember a road trip with friends during a BYU break. As we were preparing, I was delegated to take our collected funds and buy a box of copies of the Book of Mormon at the BYU Bookstore.

I asked, “What will we do with a whole box of copies of the Book of Mormon?”

My friends said, “We will write our testimonies in each book and share them as we travel.”

And that is what we did. Choose your friends and associates well so you learn by the Spirit things you always want to remember.

Words fail to express the deep feelings of gratitude for the Lord and the missionaries He sent to our home. The Lord blessed me with the knowledge of the restored gospel, and I felt an urgency to share this knowledge with others. I wanted to be a missionary.
Within months, my sister Dina and I were called as local missionaries in San Salvador. This calling gave us the opportunity to go door to door to share the glad news of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ and bring many people to the waters of baptism. In due time, we both served full-time missions in the Central America Mission.
My mission had a great impact on my life. I learned to rely more on the Lord, to seek the guidance of the Spirit, and to feel an overwhelming love for God’s children. My knowledge of the scriptures and my understanding of the doctrines increased. So did my desire to be obedient and to keep the commandments with exactness. My testimony of the Savior and His infinite Atonement was strengthened. My missionary experiences became part of who and what I am. Missionary work became my passion. It has impacted my life and that of my family more than anything else.

I have a very good friend who was the chief executive officer and manager of a very large corporation. The call came to him to preside over a mission, and like so many of our wonderful men who have great skills and capabilities and responsibilities, when the call came from the Lord, there was no question. He had thought enough through his life that it was instantaneous in his thought process to accept the call. What was to happen to the business? What was to happen to this great enterprise? Well, situations were worked out, and management was worked out to the best degree. But in three years lots of things can happen to a business when the guiding light is not there to lead on a day to day basis. Ultimately, some of the assets of the company were sold. But toward the end of the mission of this great man, an opportunity arose. Within days after his release, he was back in business with a program far bigger than anything he had before he was called to be a mission president and is presently managing and, I believe, bringing about one of the major corporations to be based in the state of Utah.

Now how did he do that? Well, I suppose by the mistakes he had learned through his life, but most importantly he had learned to think straight so when this second opportunity came up it was easier for him to define, to determine, to make decisions, and to move forward.

Last summer when I was going to school in Manchester, England, I had to ride the bus into town every day. Then I had to walk several blocks through the worst part of the city to get to my college. I remember that the most corrupt street of all was right next to my bus stop. The walls of the street shops were covered with obscenities, pornographic posters, graffiti, and vulgar swear words. There were several bars, where open doors sent out loud, suggestive music. People inside called out crude things to me as I walked. The first time I went into town for classes, I got off the bus and walked right down this street. About halfway down, I was so sick, offended, and afraid, that I didn’t think I could make it the rest of the way. I did, with my eyes shut as much as possible, but I decided at that moment that I would never walk down that street again.
Being far away from our home and family, I had plenty of things to worry about and more temptations than I could ever list. I certainly didn’t need to add this street to my worries. So, everyday when I got off the bus to go to school, I would walk an entire block out of my way to avoid that street. Sometimes on rainy mornings when I was late to an eight o’clock class I would want to forget what I had resolved and take the shorter route. But I knew I would feel sick inside if I let myself be exposed to unclean things.
Crossing that street to take the long way around every morning just became a habit. After a while, I didn’t even think of why I was doing it. Then one afternoon a friend of mine, Bob, offered to show me a new music store close to my bus stop. As we left the college together, I automatically crossed the street.
“What are you doing?” Bob asked.
Without thinking, I answered, “I can’t walk on that street.”
“Why not?” he laughed.
Suddenly I heard myself blurting out the whole story. I was far from home and didn’t want to return to my family with a lot of junk in my mind that didn’t belong there. I was uncomfortable on that street.
Bob was several years older than I and much more worldly-wise. I fully expected him to laugh again, and I felt foolish for even telling him about my feelings.
Waiting for his laughter, I looked up to find a very subdued expression on his face. After a few minutes of silence (very uncomfortable ones for me), he told me he wished he’d had a commitment like mine when he first came to school. “I wish I had crossed a few streets, Viv,” he said. “I’m ashamed to go home and see my family. I can’t look Mom in the face after some of the things I’ve seen and done.” We stood in silence for a few more minutes, but it was a comfortable one now. Then he took my arm, and we crossed the street together. We found our music store in no time at all, and had a chance for a wonderful conversation because of our roundabout route. He is now a friend I will always treasure.
I didn’t have to preach a sermon on moral and mental cleanliness. All I did was cross a street when there was something I wasn’t supposed to be exposed to on the other side. He didn’t sneer or criticize or think I was weird. By doing what I knew to be right, I actually earned his respect and friendship.

Some time ago, while laboring in the Lord’s missionary service, a wonderful missionary came to see me. It was near the end of his mission. He was very depressed. Saddened by his own perception of personal success, he had imposed upon himself a standard from which he had fallen far short. As he spoke, he recounted for me the difficult time he had experienced in the MTC. While he was there, his father had died unexpectedly, and for a brief period of time the elder had considered leaving the mission and returning home. But, encouraged by a loving mother and spurred on by an individual commitment, he continued his training and finally found himself in the beautiful country of Bolivia.

I listened to him as he told me of the initial efforts he had made in his mission to work hard, pray often, follow all the rules, and be a model missionary—expecting, of course, to be rewarded with hundreds of baptisms. But, unfortunately, the baptisms had not come. Gradually he began to slacken his pace. He felt that his prayers were not being heard, so why pray? The mission rules seemed somehow to be burdensome. They were restrictive, silly things, written by the mission president only to goad and irritate him and the other missionaries.

In despair, he said, “And now I’m nobody! What I do won’t make any difference!” Then searchingly, he quickly added, “Will it, President Hammond?”

Now I spoke softly to the young missionary with all the fervor of my soul. I placed my hand on his and said, “Are you ready to go back out into the field of labor? Can you make a difference in the lives of these special Bolivian children of our Heavenly Father? Are you ready to once again ‘take up your cross, follow [him], and feed [his] sheep?’ (D&C 112:14).

It was apparent that his attitude had changed. With a renewed spirit of dedication, tears slipping down his face, he committed himself once again to the work of the Lord. We knelt in prayer together. I blessed him that he would be able to find the way.

Although he had been weak, I felt an inner confidence in him. As I sought to find direction from the Spirit for a new assignment for the elder, I surprised even myself by sending him to one of the most difficult and remote areas of Bolivia—a small community near the Argentine border named Bermejo. The work had gone badly there for some time, with only a few baptisms to reinforce the little handful of Saints who were discouraged and finding it hard to keep the faith.

But the Lord and his ways are wonderful to behold. In his weekly reports to me the missionary told of his diligent efforts to contact the people and preach the gospel to them. He indicated that they were slow to listen, but that he was continuing his faithful stewardship in that part of the Lord’s vineyard. And then it happened!

Overnight a small river running near the village of Bermejo, fed by heavy rains in the mountains, rose to a height never before known in the history of the land. Homes were swept away; and people were drowned. The only bridge connecting the city to the main road was torn from its footings and washed downstream. Communications were destroyed. There was chaos everywhere. Two young missionaries were caught in the turmoil of death and destruction caused by the flooding waters. And one remembered that “a man can make a difference.” He threw himself into the turbulent waters to rescue many who were drowning; he sought for those buried beneath fallen buildings; he gave relief to the injured and succor to the hungry.

And a miracle occurred! He became a hero. He was lauded by the newspapers. His name was spoken over the airwaves. The people mentioned his name with reverence. Those who had previously rejected him and the message he carried now searched him out. Their doors were opened to receive him. They loved him! They accepted his burning testimony of Jesus Christ and the gospel restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith. In the few months that remained of his mission he brought scores of wonderful people into the Church. He saw the men receive the holy priesthood and their wives become more lovely in Relief Society activity. Today a beautiful chapel stands in Bermejo. On the Sabbath day it is full of people who still remember one faithful elder who made a difference.

Throughout his life, the Prophet Joseph Smith provided countless examples of courage. One of the most dramatic occurred as he and other brethren were chained together—imagine, chained together—and held in an unfinished cabin next to the courthouse in Richmond, Missouri. Parley P. Pratt, who was among those held captive, wrote of one particular night: “We had lain as if in sleep till the hour of midnight had passed, and our ears and hearts had been pained, while we had listened for hours to the obscene jests, the horrid oaths, the dreadful blasphemies and filthy language of our guards.”

Continued Elder Pratt:

“I had listened till I became so disgusted, shocked, horrified, and so filled with the spirit of indignant justice that I could scarcely refrain from rising upon my feet and rebuking the guards; but [I] had said nothing to Joseph, or any one else, although I lay next to him and knew he was awake. On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:

“‘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. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’”

Joseph “stood erect in terrible majesty,” as described by Elder Pratt. He was chained, without a weapon, and yet he was calm and dignified. He looked down upon the quailing guards, who were shrinking into a corner or crouching at his feet. These seemingly incorrigible men begged his pardon and remained quiet.

We were swimming in the pool at a hotel and found a pocket watch at the bottom of the pool. We asked a lot of people if the watch belonged to them. They all said no. At the end of the day, we felt like we should go to the pool one more time with the watch. There was a family in the pool. We asked if the watch was theirs. They said it was, and they had been looking for it all week. It belonged to their dad, and it cost a lot of money. I’m glad we listened to the Holy Ghost so the watch could be returned.

Family members, especially spouses, probably have the greatest need for trust. And they should be able to have the greatest confidence in one another. Yet there are those who violate that trust. I still remember two men I worked with nearly eighteen years ago. Upon learning that I was engaged to be married, they proceeded to tell me some extremely personal things about their wives. I didn’t want to hear it, and I got away from the presence of these men as quickly as I could. I wish I had had the maturity to tell them kindly that I didn’t want to hear such things and that their wives would likely be horrified at this betrayal. But even then I did have the maturity to see the enormous wrong these men were doing and to vow that I would never betray my wife in such a way.

I was in his office on one occasion prior to my call to the Twelve. I did the printing of his books, as I did for many of the other Brethren. On that particular occasion I noticed a painting on the wall, and I said to him, “President McKay, that’s a lovely painting. Is it a rendition of your childhood home in Huntsville, Utah?”

President McKay sat back in his chair, gave a familiar David O. McKay chuckle, and said, “Let me tell you about that picture. A sweet woman came in to see me one day and presented to me that beautiful painting, framed and ready to be placed on the wall. She said, `President McKay, I have spent the entire summer painting this picture of your ancestral home.’” He said he thanked her profusely and accepted the gift. “Do you know, Brother Monson,” he continued, “that sweet woman painted the wrong house. She painted the house next door! I didn’t have the heart to tell her. She may come back, so that’s why it’s hanging on the wall.” But then he made this comment, and here is a vital lesson for us. He said, “In reality, Brother Monson, she painted the right house, because when, as a young boy, I would lie on the bed which was on the front porch of my ancestral home, the view I had through that screened porch was of the very house she painted. She did paint the right house for me.”

One Sunday I was so sick that I had to stay home from church so I wouldn’t get everybody there sick. Before my mom and my brothers went to church, they gave me a short lesson on the Word of Wisdom.
My dad stayed home from church with me, and we had our own lessons from the Friend. We read the stories to each other, and I did the activities. Even though I missed church, I still learned about Jesus with my dad. It felt good to have a lesson and do the reverent activities.
I think that by doing these things I learned to choose the right even when I was sick and missed church.Rachel Lyn Cox, age 8Hyde Park, Utah

Ever since I was young, I knew I wanted to serve a mission. And when I opened my mission call, I felt the Spirit stronger than I ever had before.
During the time I was preparing to receive my mission call, I had the opportunity to attend a devotional where Elder David A. Bednar of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles spoke to a group of youth and young single adults. I had no idea that he’d be coming, and when I saw him, I couldn’t wait to hear what he had to say. He said he wanted to have a question-and-answer session. And when he asked for questions, I jumped at the opportunity.
“What is the most important thing I can do to prepare to be an effective missionary?” I asked.
He looked right at me and said, “Get over yourself.” At first I was taken aback. I had to think twice to make sure I hadn’t said something wrong, thinking maybe I was being scolded a little.
But then he explained that serving a mission is not about me; instead, it’s about serving the Lord and completely losing myself in that service. This advice completely changed my missionary preparation and my outlook on missionary service.
For future missionaries, including me, it can be easy to become prideful and say, “I can’t wait to baptize lots of people.” But this isn’t a good mind-set to have. Instead, it would be better to say, “I can’t wait to serve the Lord. I will do what He wants me to do because I’m serving Him and He is giving me a chance to participate in His work.” It’s all about getting over yourself and serving others.
Since Elder Bednar gave me that advice, I’ve thought about it every day. If I’m ever tempted to not read my scriptures because I’m too tired, I imagine Elder Bednar saying, “Get over yourself.” While it would be nice to get some extra sleep, studying the scriptures is something that Heavenly Father wants me to do every day. Besides, it’s not about me; it’s about serving Him.
I’ve also started putting more effort into my scripture study since I received this advice. My goal is to not just read them, but also to understand them so I’ll be more prepared for my mission. Now when I read my scriptures, I take out my journal and write down a question. As I read, I look for answers to that question and write those answers down. One time I wrote down the question, “What are the traits of an effective missionary?” As I studied the scriptures, I learned about traits I can develop as I prepare for my mission.
I can’t wait to serve a mission. I’m excited to lose myself in missionary service as an instrument in God’s hands. It’s a chance to just focus on the Lord and His people. It’s not about me. It’s about doing all of the small and simple things the Lord wants me to do.

“Time for scripture study,” Dad called. Randy came running and was the first one to arrive in the family room. He climbed into Dad’s big soft chair and waited. Soon Sarah arrived, then Michael and Meg. They all carried their scriptures. When Mom and Dad came into the room, they were glad to see that everyone was ready for scripture study.
“Thanks for being so obedient and coming when we called,” Mom said. “Who’s going to start reading?”
“Me!” Randy shouted.
Everyone stared at Randy. “You don’t know how to read,” Michael said.
Dad lifted Randy up and sat him on his lap. “When you’re a little older you’ll be able to read, too,” Dad said.
“But I want to read now,” Randy said. “Everybody reads but me.” His lip began to quiver.
“You’re too little,” Meg said gently. “I didn’t get to read when I was your age either. You’ll just have to wait.”
“My Primary teacher said we should read our scriptures every day,” Randy said.
“OK. Quiet down, everybody. Let’s start with prayer,” Dad said. “Maybe Heavenly Father will help us know what to do to help Randy feel better.”
After prayer the family began to read in 1 Nephi 8:5 about Lehi and his dream of the tree of life.
Mom read, “‘And it came to pass that I saw a man, and he was dressed in a white robe; and he came and stood before me.’”
Then Michael read, “‘And it came to pass that he spake unto me, and bade me follow him.’”
Then Meg began, “‘And it—’”
“‘Came to pass,’” Randy called out before Meg could finish.
Everyone stared.
Then everyone giggled, including Randy.
“You can help us read,” Dad said with a smile. “Every time we come to the line ‘and it came to pass,’ I’ll point to it and it will be Randy’s turn to read. Is that OK, everybody?” Everyone nodded and smiled.
Meg finished the verse, “‘That as I followed him I beheld myself that I was in a dark and dreary waste.’”
They read about God’s tender mercies toward Lehi after he had traveled for many hours in the dark and dreary wasteland.
Dad pointed to the next verse.
“‘And it came to pass,’” Randy read with a smile. Then Mom finished, “‘After I had prayed unto the Lord I beheld a large and spacious field.’”
“‘And it came to pass,’” Randy read again.
Then Sarah finished, “‘That I beheld a tree, whose fruit was desirable to make one happy.’”
Randy knew what it felt like to be happy. Finally it had “come to pass” that he could really be a part of family scripture study.

While I was in medical school preparing to become a physician, I had an advisor or mentor who helped me decide that I wanted to be a teacher as well as a practitioner of medicine. He was helpful with his counsel and opened some doors for me that required extra effort on his part. I recognized what he had done and tried to thank him. I was sincere but said I didn't know of a way to compensate him adequately for the service he had rendered me. He said, "The only way you can really thank me appropriately is to become a good teacher and an excellent doctor yourself." Most of you may not choose to become doctors, but the principle and counsel are the same, whatever career path you follow. The only way we can appropriately thank those who have gone before us is to be the best that we can be and help those who follow us do and be their best also.

He was a very traditional Navajo, and he taught us many of the Navajo ways. I learned not to be so inquisitive, because this is considered bad form in the Navajo culture. When I stopped asking questions, and when the mood suited him, he would tell us about his life. He took us out to the river and his other favorite places. He showed us foxholes and where the coyotes had been. He taught us to herd sheep. He showed us how he built the tall, black-robed figures that had ended our first visit. They were not designed to terrify sister missionaries but to frighten away coyotes that might harm his flock.
He loved his sheep and would take them miles each day in search of the best grass. He took the lambs inside with him when the nights were cold. He was a very caring man.

As he drove, he remembered his disastrous first-grade school year in a small farm community, reliving the panic as he attempted to answer a teacher’s question but stuttered so badly she finally turned to someone else for the answer. On the playground that year, other boys in the class had mimicked him day after day until finally he would not even go out for recess.
They had moved to a larger town after that year, and careful professional therapy had helped him overcome the problem, but the emotional scars were still there. He couldn’t speak to large groups.