Gospel Story Finder

“Wider, please.”
Lane was reluctant to show the tartar on his teeth to the cute, new dental assistant, but he had no choice. She pulled the overhead light closer. He admired her green eyes, all he could see of her face. The rest was hidden behind the surgical mask. He watched her gloved fingers juggle the little dental pick and mirror as she scraped at his teeth.
Lane was relieved to see that Rhonda, the regular assistant who had worked there for years, was not there. She was an older woman who had always been very nice to him, but she had a horrible case of dandruff and he could see the flakes all too clearly whenever she bent her head over his open mouth.
“You must be new,” he managed to say to the assistant. It was obvious, but it was all he could think of to say. “I’ve been coming to Dr. Hodges since I was a little boy, and I’ve never seen you here.”
“Mmmm,” she said, concentrating. “Just moved here. How often do you floss?”
“Uh, well, maybe a few times a month. I kind of forget to do it every day,” he admitted. Now he regretted being so lax with his flossing. He was probably not making a very good impression. He would have to hurry to change that. Once Dr. Hodges injected the anesthetic, his mouth would go numb. It would be impossible to impress her with a lopsided smile and garbled speech. He wondered how he could let her know that he had made the winning basket last year in the high school playoffs without seeming arrogant.
He missed his chance. The assistant squirted his mouth and suctioned the water out, dabbed his face with the paper bib pinned around his neck, then left. He heard his little brother Evan talking to her from the cubicle next to his. Evan would talk her leg off. Dad had predicted that Evan would grow up to be either a police negotiator or an auctioneer.
“Hey, my brother has to get his teeth fixed, and he already had a whole bunch of shots. I don’t think he cried. He’s getting a short haircut, and my mom and dad bought him a bunch of suits and ties.”
“Wow,” was all the assistant said, in a dull-sounding tone. She told Evan, “I’m putting some of this cleaning stuff on your teeth. It’s a little gritty, like sand, but it tastes like cherries. I’ll use this little tool and scrub your teeth with it, okay?”
“Oh, that’s like the cleanser I use on the bathtub on Saturday when I do my Saturday jobs. Except it tastes better.” There was a pause, and then Evan said, “Not that I ever ate cleanser. Yuck!”
It was quiet while the assistant scrubbed his teeth, but as soon as Evan’s mouth was free, Lane could hear him talking again.
Dr. Hodges came in. For a moment, Lane was distracted while the dentist examined his teeth and got ready to give him the anesthetic.
Lane could hear Evan as he continued to talk. “I’m getting baptized next Saturday. I’m eight, so I’m old enough because I mostly know how to tell right from wrong. Baptisms are in a big font like a warm swimming pool. I guess it’s like a bath for my spirit. Hey, you can come if you want. It’s at seven on Saturday night at Westbrook chapel, just a couple blocks from my house.”
Lane was thinking, Come up for air, buddy, even as his eyes squinted in pain as Dr. Hodges nestled the needle into the back of his mouth.
Evan kept talking. “My brother’s going on a mission. It’s for our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Some people call us Mormons because we have the Book of Mormon. It’s kind of like the Bible, but we read the Bible, too. Anyway, my brother will go to Argentina and baptize people there after he teaches them about the gospel. They put on white clothes and go under the water too. Nobody drowns,” he added.
Then Evan said, “He’ll be gone a long time. Two whole years. And nobody pays him. He usually doesn’t do things for free.” Lane could hear a smile in Evan’s voice when he said, “And I get his room.”
Dr. Hodges chuckled and said, “Your little brother’s quite a talker.” All Lane could say, with his mouth full of anesthetic, was, “Tell me about it.”
In the next cubicle, the assistant said, “Evan, we’re all done. If you want, you can wait for your brother here.”
“Okay,” Evan answered cheerfully. “I brought my Friend with me. Do you get the Friend?” Without waiting for her to answer, he continued, “I don’t think the dentist gets it because I didn’t see it with the magazines in the waiting room.”
Lane didn’t think the assistant understood Evan because she said, “Your friend, huh? What’s his name?”
Evan patiently explained, “No, the Friend isn’t a person; it’s a magazine for kids about my church. There are magazines for big people, too. You can look at mine and see what’s in it. There are stories and games. I was trying to find all the stuff hidden in this picture.”
Lane could hear the assistant putting instruments away and moving around in the cubicle. Lane’s attention quickly became focused on his own mouth as Dr. Hodges carefully drilled out his cavities and applied the fillings.
Evan was still talking. “My brother is going to explain about the Church on his mission to people like you who don’t know about it. You’d really like it. We learn about Jesus and how to be like him. I have my own Book of Mormon, but my grandma will give me a brand-new one with gold on the edges and my name on it when I get baptized. I think the dentist needs one in his waiting room. He can have my old one. I brought it to read the part about Jesus coming to America. My dad marked the place for me.”
Finally, the appointment was over. Lane tried one last time to talk to the assistant. “Sorry about my little brother,” he said, flashing his clean teeth in what he hoped was a brilliant smile, though he could feel only half his mouth curve upward. “He’s really a chatterbox.”
“No problem,” the girl said. “I think he’s cute.”
Lane refrained from asking what she thought of Evan’s older brother, though he was tempted. He hoped she thought he was cute, too.
She said, “Going to Argentina, huh?”
“Yes,” Lane said, quickly adding, “I’ll only be gone for two years. Do you plan to work here for a while?” She smiled and left to clean more teeth.
Evan picked out a toy dinosaur from the dentist’s treasure chest, then told Dr. Hodges, “I’m leaving you this book for your waiting room.” He held out his Book of Mormon to show him. “It doesn’t cost you anything.”
Dr. Hodges looked puzzled but nodded his consent and then went to attend to a patient.
On the way home, Evan suggested they stop at the store for some candy, but Lane said no. “You want to undo all the work we just had done? That’s how you get cavities! You keep it up and the only thing you’ll be able to eat will be soup.”
They rode in silence for a split second. “Is that how you got all your cavities?” Evan asked.
After the baptism, Evan changed into dry clothes and was talking to his grandpa when he looked to the back of the room and started waving furiously. “Hey! You came!”
Lane was startled to see Dr. Hodges standing near the back. Evan called out, “Hey, he’s my dentist!”
The boys and their parents made their way to Dr. Hodges and told him they were glad to see him. Dr. Hodges smiled at Evan and said, “You were right, Evan. You didn’t drown.”
To Evan’s parents, he said, “I hope you don’t mind my coming. My sister has been writing to me about the Book of Mormon, and she has been talking about getting baptized. Evan invited us to come to his baptism when he was at the office last week, and I wanted to see what your church was about. I’ve known your family for years, and I know you’re good people, but I didn’t realize you were Mormon until Evan brought in his Book of Mormon and told us about your church.”
He spoke to Evan again. “I hope you don’t mind that I took your Book of Mormon home with me. I’ve really enjoyed reading it.”
After they got home, Evan came into Lane’s room, where Lane was packing his suitcase. Lane had been quietly getting ready to go to the Missionary Training Center, thinking about Evan’s baptism. He was feeling ashamed. He had had plenty of opportunities to talk about the Church at the dentist’s office and didn’t. He was too busy hanging onto the last shred of his social life before leaving. He had thought it would be hard to be a missionary because he didn’t know what to say to people. But wasn’t missionary work just getting the word out and being happy about having the gospel, like Evan? It was that simple.
“Hey, buddy,” Lane said, hugging his little brother, “you are one terrific missionary. Think you might fit into my suitcase? I could be your junior companion.”

But her children had not forgotten her, either. Susan, only seven at the time of the separation, ran away when she was eleven and sought refuge with a Mormon family, hoping to find a trace of her Mormon mother. The baby was already dead; another daughter would die a few years later. But about 1870, a missionary met Susie Williams and mentioned her to the Yates family in Scipio. With so fragile a clue, mother and daughter were reunited in Utah.

The answer has to be in that room. Maybe I missed a false wall, Jackson thought.

“How do you spell kiwi, Jackson?”

“Uh, what, Miss Grouder?”

“Kiwi. How do you spell it? We’ve been talking about the spelling test for the past 10 minutes. Where have you been?”

“Trying to rescue the princess of Mendoza,” Chester whispered from his seat behind Jackson.

Jackson felt his face getting hot. He had no idea how to spell kiwi.

Miss Grouder sighed as she gave Jackson’s spelling test back to him. He had spelled most of the words wrong.

On the way home, Jackson crumpled the spelling test and stuffed it into the bottom of his backpack. Chester ran up behind him. “Do you want to come to my house and play soccer?”

“No,” Jackson replied. “I think I’ve figured out how to rescue the princess. Do you want to come watch?”

“Sit there and watch you play?” asked Chester. “No thanks! Seems like all you think about lately is video games.” Chester turned the corner toward his own house.

At home, Jackson turned on the computer and started the video game. I’ll play one game, he thought, and then I’ll get going on my homework.

Two hours later his mother called, “Time to eat, Jackson. We have to hurry or we’ll miss the start of the movie.”

“Coming, Mendoz—uh, Mom.” If I can just get past this guard, he thought. His hand deftly moved the joystick back and forth. Too late. The figure on the screen toppled over. No fair! I’ll play just one more. I know I can do it.

Suddenly the house seemed awfully quiet. Jackson grabbed his jacket and ran to the front door. His family was gone. There was a note on the table: “Gone to the movie. Wish you had come. Home by 8:00. Call Grandpa if you need anything.”

It’s all the guard’s fault! Jackson thought angrily as he stomped to his bedroom. His unfinished homework was on his bed. Beside it lay his scriptures. He hadn’t read them all week. And there was the family home evening manual. He was supposed to give the lesson next Monday. But he didn’t feel like doing any of those things tonight.

Good thing it’s Friday, Jackson thought as he headed back to the computer. I’ll catch up on everything tomorrow.

But he didn’t catch up the next day—or the next. And it wasn’t long before the sound of the piano interrupted Jackson’s concentration on his latest attempt to rescue the princess. It was his sister playing the opening hymn for family home evening.

Family home evening! He had intended to prepare the lesson on Sunday, but he had gotten closer to rescuing the princess than ever before. Now it was too late to prepare.

Jackson grabbed his scriptures and ran to home evening. He would fake it. After all, they often read a scripture and talked about it so long they never got to the lesson. He would make sure they did that tonight.

“And help us apply the lesson to our lives,” his little brother said as he finished the opening prayer.

Jackson opened his scriptures to where he had last read. “Dad, could you read a scripture for us?” he asked. “How about Ether 12:27?”

His father read: “And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”

“What do you think that means?” Jackson asked.

“Well,” said his father thoughtfully, “I think it means that we are given weakness to help us be humble. If we acknowledge our weakness and ask Heavenly Father to help us overcome it, it will become a strength to us.”

Mom raised her hand. “Soap operas were my weakness. Some days I didn’t do anything but watch my shows. The television was like a magnet, drawing me to it. It wasn’t until I admitted I had a problem that I figured out a solution.” Then she told how she had prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help her give up those shows.

Jackson squirmed in his chair. This wasn’t going quite like he wanted it to. He began to think about how much time he spent playing video games.

“When I worked at the candy shop,” his older sister began, “I practically ate my paycheck each week in candy. I prayed about it, then decided to set a candy quota for each day. If I stuck to my quota, I rewarded myself by putting the money I would have spent on candy toward a new pair of jeans. Some days I didn’t make it, but gradually I ate less candy.”

Jackson thanked everyone for their participation and bore his testimony that while we all have weaknesses, we can overcome them with Heavenly Father’s help. In fact, those weaknesses can even become our strengths.

After the closing prayer Jackson went to turn on the computer. Maybe a video game would help him forget the growing uneasiness inside him.

But he couldn’t ignore the feeling he had. Did he really have a problem with video games? He didn’t spend much time with Chester or his other friends anymore. He had gotten a bad grade on a spelling test for the first time. He hadn’t read the scriptures all week. And he had missed the family movie. He knew it was time to apply tonight’s lesson to his own life.

Jackson turned away from the computer and went to his bedroom. He flopped down on his bed and opened his scriptures to Ether. The princess would have to wait. Right now he had some reading and thinking to do.

Illustrations by Scott Peck
I’m open! Pass it to me!
Quit trying to play with us, Sadra. The game is full.
But she always plays soccer with us … What’s going on?
Why did you do that? Sadra’s our friend.
We decided she’s not our friend anymore.
You shouldn’t play with her, either. Not if you wanna hang out with us.
That night …
The next morning …
You’re up early. Have you decided what to do about your friends?
Yes. I’ve been praying about it. I want to be a friend to Sadra.
I’m proud of you.
Later …
Hey, Sadra, I made cookies this morning. Want some?
Sure, thanks!
So, any chance you could teach me some of your awesome soccer moves later?
Sure!
Maybe our other friends will come around too!

Thirty-six years ago I served a mission in southeast Mexico. At that time there were no stakes, with the largest cities in the mission having only two branches. There were limited opportunities for education and much poverty. With two or three exceptions, all the missionaries were from the United States.
I remember the people of the Nealtican Branch. All buildings in the town were made of adobe, except the Catholic cathedral and the LDS chapel. I remember standing in the small adobe house of the branch president. It had a dirt floor, windows with no glass, and a rug hanging over the entryway. There was no furniture in the house. His family had no shoes.
But they were a happy people. He told me that they had sold everything they had to buy bus tickets to the Mesa temple, where they were sealed for time and all eternity. Many of the branch members had done the same thing.

In 1992 two sister missionaries in Zagreb, Croatia, were returning to their apartment one evening. Their last teaching appointment had been some distance away, and it was getting dark. Several men on the trolley made crude comments and became rather menacing. Feeling threatened, the sisters got off the trolley at the next stop just as the doors closed so no one could follow them. Having avoided that problem, they realized they were in a place unknown to either of them. As they turned to look for help, they saw a woman. The missionaries explained that they were lost and asked the woman if she could direct them. She knew where they could find another trolley to take them home and invited them to follow her. On the way they had to pass a bar with patrons sitting along the sidewalk in the gathering darkness. These men also appeared threatening. Nevertheless, the two young women had the distinct impression that the men could not see them. They walked by, apparently invisible to those who might have had a mind to harm them. When the sisters and their guide reached the stop, the trolley they needed was just arriving. They turned to thank the woman, but she was nowhere to be seen.
These missionaries were furnished a guide and other blessings to protect them physically. As you become converted, you will have comparable protections to keep you from temptation and deliver you from evil. Sometimes evil will not find you. Sometimes you will be protected when evil is made invisible to you. Even when you must confront it directly, you will do so with faith, not fear.

A recent experience illustrates the importance of each of these little children. One Saturday morning I was preparing for an activity with one of my grandsons. But before we could make our exit out the door, I heard another small voice inquiring, “Can I go too, Grandpa?” Did you ever try to say no to such a request? That activity would not have been the same without that someone else who really wanted to “go too.” Just as surely, heaven will not be heaven if some of our children who want to “go too” are left behind.

Each of us must courageously and firmly stand up for what we are and what we believe. When President Joseph F. Smith was a young man, he was faced with this predicament:
“One morning when he and several other missionaries were returning to Salt Lake City, a group of rough Mormon-haters rode up on horses, firing their guns and cursing.
“The leader jumped off his horse and shouted, ‘We will kill anyone who is a Mormon!’ The other missionaries had fled into the woods, but Joseph F. bravely stood his ground. The man shoved a gun in Joseph F.’s face and asked, ‘Are you a Mormon?’
“Joseph F. stood tall and said, ‘Yes siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through!’
“The man was surprised at his reply. He put the gun away, shook Joseph’s hand, and said, ‘Well, you are the pleasantest man I ever met! I’m glad to see a fellow stand up for his convictions.’ He jumped back on his horse and rode off with his companions” (Friend, Aug. 1995, p. 43).

A joint sports experience they remember is the football game when each of them made a touchdown. During another game, they all recovered the same fumble. Doug got to it first, then Dan drove in on top of him, followed by Dave.
“I guess sometimes we have an advantage,” says Dan. “We can usually figure out what each other would do in a situation.”
However it is that they do it, their coaches like it. El Modena’s football coach, Bob Lester, has only one complaint—“I wish they were quintuplets!”

Several years ago our house was robbed. Almost everything of worth was taken, including my mother’s wedding ring. We’d never been able to afford a new one.
One year as we approached another Christmas season, my six-year-old brother, Jason, and I were coming home from an activity. Jason leaned toward me and whispered in my ear that he wanted to get Mom a new wedding ring. He said she should have one. I told him it was a good idea and that I would think about how to do it.
I thought about it, I planned, I schemed, and I tried to think of some way we could save enough money. I figured we could slip away for a few minutes while Christmas shopping with Dad. Before we went off on our own, however, Jason decided that we should let Dad in on the secret. Dad was surprised but happy and said that was the sweetest thing he had heard all day. He said we could all go together and choose the ring after we had finished the rest of our shopping.
We spent a while looking at different rings. Jason made the final decision, choosing a ring with a ruby in the center surrounded by three tiny diamonds on each side. It was perfect!
On Christmas morning our gift was the second present opened. As my mom unwrapped it, I felt tense. A thousand thoughts went through my head: what if she doesn’t like it, what if it’s too big, what if she doesn’t think it’s right for her kids to be giving her a wedding ring?
When Mom saw the ring, Jason explained what we’d done. Her face broke into the hugest smile, and she hugged him. She put the ring on right away and said “thank you” a dozen times over. She told Jason that someday she and Dad would replace the stolen ring, but until then, the ruby ring would be her wedding ring.
I sat in the background and just watched the whole thing, feeling extremely relieved and happy.
I have never had a better Christmas. I was so happy to see my mom happy that I hardly cared about my own presents. I believe that is the true spirit of Christmas: giving. We can find so much more happiness in giving than in receiving. Although I’ve known this truth for years, I’ve never been more struck with it than I was on that morning.

I remember visiting a friend in southern India. We had first come to know him twelve years previously when we went there in response to his request that someone come to baptize him. Ten years prior to that request he had found a missionary tract of the Church, but how or by whom it had come into that part of the world he did not know. He wrote to the Church offices in Salt Lake City. Other Church literature was sent to him which he read.

We did not baptize him when first we met him; he was not ready. But we arranged for him to be taught the gospel and he was baptized some months later.

This man worked as an accountant in a cement plant. His salary was meager. His house was small, but his heart was large and overflowing. Out of a great love for others that came from his understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ, he built a school with his own hands on a piece of ground he bought from his savings. It was a simple rough building; but studying there were some four hundred poor children, each being brought out of the darkness of illiteracy into the light of learning. What this act of love has meant and will mean in their lives is beyond calculation.

Through this one man’s efforts, there were established five small branches of the Church in the rural villages of southern India. The members constructed three or four little buildings, neat and clean. Over the door of each was a sign, in both English and Tamil, that read, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” The floors were of concrete and without benches where the people sat together as we met, shared our testimonies, and partook of the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper.

There are now a little over two hundred members of the Church among the vast millions of India. Some day, someone will write the story of the Church in India. That story will be incomplete unless there is a chapter on my friend who lost himself in the service of others.

By lunchtime, the last group of Richmond Ward youth are putting finishing touches on a wall at Svetlana Iskiyayev’s Village Shoe Shop. They have spent the morning tidying and painting the back room of the shop.
Svetlana and her husband left careers as a doctor and a lawyer when they came to Virginia from Russia several years ago. Now they are building their dreams here. And Helen Capehart, 16, is happy she can help them. She has invited two nonmember friends to help her today and hopes that they, as well as the Iskiyayevs, will see the light of the gospel through her service.
After all, examples of service are what drew Helen to the gospel herself just a short time ago. She says, “I’m so grateful that the Lord led me to this church, and for the awesome examples my friends here have been to me. My biggest example now is Jesus Christ, and I find so much joy in serving him. I hope I always have this feeling in me.”
Most likely, that feeling will stay with Helen because she has found an important key to sharing the gospel—service.
As youth from the Richmond Ward close their day of service with a testimony meeting, Helen once again captures the essence of this activity. “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt the Spirit so strong in my life as when I am serving the Lord,” Helen says. “Look at all those magazines with beautiful people on the covers. The world says that’s beauty. But when I was working today, I got paint and dirt all over me. And I think that is the Lord’s true definition of beauty.”

“One time my friends were going somewhere to smoke,” says Norelia, “and I said, ‘Remember what my religion is? I don’t do those things.’ Some of them have come to understand that smoking is a dirty habit and have tried to stop. They call me ‘the perfect one’ and always ask me for advice. I tell them I’m not perfect but I try to live the standards of my church. They respect my beliefs, and I think I have sown a few seeds that may be a source of strength to them someday.”

Holly leads a busy and exciting life, so she had plenty to talk about. At the time of her grandparents’ visit, she had just finished her last year in Mt. Royal Junior High School, where she served as student-body president. She was looking forward to going on to Western Canada High School, which she is presently attending. At Mt. Royal, there were not many Mormon students, but they were admired and respected for their way of life. “You hear stories about Mormons getting teased,” she said, “but that really didn’t happen at all. It was the exact opposite. They really respected me. Several of them said, ‘How come you’re like you are? I wish I could be like you. I wish I had the family you do. I wish I had the same idea of life as you do. It seems like you’re always happy. You’re almost perfect. How can anyone have so much fun and not get drunk or even go to wild parties in the first place?’

“They just didn’t understand, and so a few of them started coming out to some of our Church activities like the dances and Mutual, and they really enjoyed it. And now they will say at school, ‘See you Saturday night at the dance.’ They don’t even want to go to wild parties anymore. They just want to come to Church activities because they see how much fun sharp Mormon kids can have without drugs or alcohol.

“The Mormon kids that I associate with are my really good friends, and we like to do stuff together. They’re always trying to do what’s right. They don’t fall because of peer pressure. I’m very fortunate to have good friends at school who have chosen the gospel way of life. We all kind of cling together as Mormons, but we also try to influence our school friends and work together to bring them to the dances and other activities. We always try to make everyone feel welcome. It’s up to us, and we’ve all realized that.”

Holly’s missionary work is paying off too. “My friends at school come to me asking about the Church, and I talk to them about it. There are about ten that are very interested right now.”

The biggest payoff of all came last year. “My best friend since grade school had been coming to church with me for a number of years, and last year her parents finally said that she could be baptized. That was probably the neatest thing that happened to me last year.”

Throughout the U.S. and Canada there are 2,775 Lamanite students representing 75 tribes on the Church’s placement program. The four Sioux Indians from South Dakota living in Burley, Idaho, have made a particular impression by sharing their culture and abilities with members of the Burley Idaho Eighth Ward. The four are Gertie Eagle from Bullhead, Charles White Eagle of Thunder Butte, and brothers Raymond and Donald Pine of McLaughlin.
Gertie is sharing her ceremonial dancing ability with the Perkins family where she lives during the school year. In exchange, her “sister” Jean is giving her lessons on the organ.
Gertie is a convert to the Church and was encouraged by her mother to join the program. “At home I am the only member of the Church in my family. Here we go to Church as a family and have family home evenings and family prayers.”
Charles, 12, is active in football, edging out his older “brother” Todd for a spot on the team. “That didn’t mean I was better, just a little bigger,” he said modestly.
Raymond, 15, has been demonstrating his carpentering skills for one of the area families. In addition to nine-year-old brother Donald, also staying in the Eighth Ward, Raymond has three other brothers and sisters on the program.
Ward members report that the program has been a two-way street for members of both cultures, and each has learned much about the other.

Their collaboration came about after Abby started writing music again, following the birth of their fifth child, when she heard about Sam’s professional musical experience from a fellow member in his ward. Sam helped Abby record the songs she had written and they worked together on other compositions, even from opposite ends of the United Kingdom. They have since released a full CD of original Christmas songs, which has also been printed as sheet music for others to use.

One woman wanted more than anything else to marry a righteous priesthood holder in the temple and be a mother and a wife. She had dreamed about this all her life, and oh, what a wonderful mother and loving wife she would be. Her home would be filled with loving-kindness. Never a bitter word would be spoken. The food would never burn. And her children, instead of hanging out with their friends, would prefer to spend their evenings and weekends with Mom and Dad.
This was her golden ticket. It was the one thing upon which she felt her whole existence depended. It was the one thing in all the world for which she most desperately yearned.
But it never happened. And, as the years went on, she became more and more withdrawn, bitter, and even angry. She could not understand why God would not grant her this righteous desire.
She worked as an elementary school teacher, and being around children all day long simply reminded her that her golden ticket had never appeared. As the years passed she became more disappointed and withdrawn. People didn’t like being around her and avoided her whenever they could. She even took her frustration out on the children at school. She found herself losing her temper, and she swung between fits of anger and desperate loneliness.
The tragedy of this story is that this dear woman, in all her disappointment about her golden ticket, failed to notice the blessings she did have. She did not have children in her home, but she was surrounded by them in her classroom. She was not blessed with a family, but the Lord had given her an opportunity few people have—the chance to influence for good the lives of hundreds of children and families as a teacher.

Janette Kasl lost her father when she was ten. Although she is now the mother of four, she vividly remembers how she wanted people to talk to her about the experience.
“I remember that I went back to school and everybody was studying as usual and I’d just had this trauma in my life and nobody was doing anything different. I just wanted to scream. Don’t keep silent. The more it was avoided, the more I thought that it wasn’t important to anyone else, and it was really important to me, so it was very hard,” she says.

Christmas is a great time to try to help your friend, especially because it is such a family-oriented time and will probably be particularly hard. But don’t forget your friend after the New Year’s parties are over. “That time is a letdown, even for people with normal families,” says Janette. “You can ease the letdown by visiting or just being there. The week after Christmas might be a good time to get someone involved in a service activity or something.”

“Every situation is different,” says Janette. “Something that worked one time might not again. The important thing is that you keep trying to help.”

One Saturday when I was nine or ten years old, I remember hopping onto my red and black bicycle, complete with broken chain guard and peeling checkered decals, and heading off for a morning of healthy exercise. The morning was warm, and the rising sun held a promise that the mercury had only one direction to go—up.
We set out and quickly settled into a comfortable pace. I believe it was my dad’s love of the mountains that seemed to draw us up to the mouth of a nearby canyon. The last hill was quite a steep climb, especially for a nine-year-old boy on a broken bicycle.
As the hill came into sight, my father said, “Go ahead and build up speed; do what you need to do to make it to the top.” I then did my best Greg Lemond imitation, pumping my legs as fast as they would go, building momentum to carry me up the hill … which got me all of about 15 feet up. I quickly lost speed and began imagining myself jumping off my bike in admitted defeat.
I kept pedaling as hard as I could, but my morning bowl of cereal was failing me. I tried my best and pedaled with everything I had. Somehow I kept moving! To my surprise, my scrawny legs were propelling my equally scrawny body and red bicycle up that hill. Ha!
It was amazing. Halfway up the hill I turned to look back at my dad. It was then that I realized why I kept moving. There was my dad, with his hand placed gently on the back of my bicycle, pushing me to the top. By the look on his face and the gasps of air that he gave, I knew it was extremely difficult, but he continued until we reached the top.
Though I’ve long since outgrown the red bicycle, my dad continues to “run” with me now. I can feel his influence every day as I prepare to head out. The “uniform” I wear today consists of a white shirt, dark pants, tie, and nametag bearing the names “Elder Steadman” and “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Throughout my life, my father has helped me up countless hills. He helps me prepare and warns me of hills in my future. Whenever I think of jumping off in failure, he urges me to work my hardest and gives me the extra strength I need to make it. Sometimes I don’t notice his help, but when I turn to look back at my accomplishments, I soon notice that I haven’t been alone.
Not only has my dad taught me how to be a good father someday, but he has also shown me how to be a son, his son, as well as a son of our Heavenly Father. My father truly reflects the light of Christ and His love.

There was no moon, and it seemed extra dark to Nellie Kunz as she sat by the fire. She stared into the darkness toward the trees that she knew were there. She wished she had never heard all the stories of mountain lions and wolves that her father and brothers had told.
Nellie was twelve years old, and this was the first time she had come to the sheep camp to cook for her father and brothers and the hired men. They were up in the mountains and over fifty miles from home.
Zina, Nellie’s younger sister, sat beside her and poked a stick at the burning embers. She had come to be Nellie’s assistant and companion while the men took care of the sheep. Besides being sisters, the girls were best friends.
“We’d better get to bed now,” their dad said. “The sheep are all settled down for the night, and we have a lot of work ahead of us in the morning.”
“I’m tired anyway,” said Zina. “And Nellie and I have made a comfortable bed in the wagon.”
“Good night, Daddy,” Nellie said as she gave him a hug. “Good night!” she called to the others.
Zina climbed into the wagon first and Nellie followed her. The wagon was covered with canvas and all their food supplies were stored inside. The girls had made a bed of straw topped with their favorite quilts and pillows from home.
The men slept under the stars near the campfire. Nellie didn’t envy them at all. She liked the idea of sleeping in something enclosed and comfortable. It seemed a little safer and more like being at home.
“It’s so quiet,” whispered Zina.
“Yes,” agreed Nellie. “It’s far more quiet than when Sister Jenkins dropped a pin for us to hear in Primary last week.”
“Don’t forget your prayers,” said Nellie. As she knelt on her soft down quilt, she thanked Heavenly Father for her family and for her many blessings. She asked him to watch over and protect all of them.
“Are you scared?” whispered Zina.
“Sure. Are you?” answered Nellie.
“Yes,” said Zina and they squeezed each other’s hand before they snuggled down into their quilts.
Zina became more and more quiet and Nellie knew she was falling asleep. But Nellie couldn’t sleep. She lay wide awake, staring at the darkness.
After a while she heard a noise. At first, Nellie thought it was the wind blowing the tree branches, but then she felt sure something was moving outside. The sound came closer and closer, and soon Nellie could hear another sound—a heavy breathing sound.
“Zina!” she whispered. “Zina!” She gently shook her sister’s arm.
“What’s the matter?” answered Zina.
“I don’t know,” whispered Nellie, “but when I count to three, scream as loud as you can. One … two … three!” Both girls screamed.
There was a crashing sound beside the wagon as something bounded away. Dad and all the men jumped up from their bedrolls, grabbed their guns, and raced for the wagon.
Everyone was shouting and talking at once for a few minutes as Nellie and Zina tried to tell what they had heard. The men started the fire up again and, holding their torches high, they looked around the wagon. “Looks like the tracks of a mighty big mountain lion,” said Nellie’s oldest brother when he came back from his search. “Took off through the woods.”
“There’s no use trying to track him down,” said Dad. “He’s clear over the mountain by now, with the scare these two girls gave him. I’ve never heard such a row.”
Nellie smiled at her dad, though she was still shaking. “Come on, Zina,” she said as they climbed back into the wagon. “Let’s kneel down again. We need two prayers tonight—another one to say thank you.”