Gospel Story Finder

Excitement and laughter seldom leave Steve’s house. The Crandalls live life to the fullest, with an intensity that shows even in their recreation. Steve and 11-year-old Danny once entered a local 26-mile marathon cross-country race. When Steve gave out early and quit the race, Danny kept going. He finished third in his category, the youngest of the contestants. “One of us had to finish,” he said with his head bowed.

This is a change-about story. Color, then cut out the squares at the end of it and put them in a small paper sack or other container that you can’t see into, then read the story aloud with a friend or your family. Whenever you come to a blank, fill it in by drawing a word out of the sack.
From the time Benjamin woke up that morning, everything seemed to go wrong. To begin with, when he decided to wear ____________________ to school, he couldn’t find it because it was hidden under ____________________. So he had to put on ____________________, instead, even though it was upside down and inside out.
“It’s not funny!” Benjamin muttered grumpily when his reflection in the mirror showed ____________________ draped around his neck and ____________________ hanging down in front. He sighed. This was going to be a dumb, crazy, mixed-up day.
Just then Mother called, “Hurry, Benjamin, so you’ll have time to eat ____________________. Your teacher will be pleased if you have ____________________ for breakfast.”
“I’ll be late if I eat that!” Benjamin exclaimed. He snatched ____________________ out of the refrigerator and dashed out the front door, putting on ____________________ to keep him warm.
“Wait!” Mother called. “You forgot ____________________ and money for ____________________!”
But it was too late. Already ____________________ bus was rounding the corner and coming to a stop. Most of the seats were filled by ____________________, ____________________, ____________________, ____________________, and ____________________. In place of ____________________, the regular driver, ____________________ sat behind the wheel.
“Climb aboard!” he snapped, sounding just like ____________________. “We can’t wait here all day!”
With a great clashing of ____________________, the driver raced down the street, narrowly missing ____________________ and a lady pushing ____________________ in a baby buggy. In the back of the bus, a chorus made up of ____________________, ____________________, ____________________, ____________________, and ____________________ suddenly began to sing. There was no doubt about it—it was another dumb, crazy, mixed-up day!
At school, things were even worse. During math, the teacher asked, “Benjamin, what is nine times seven?” and he answered ____________________. During social studies, Benjamin tried to hand in ____________________ for his homework, and it spilled all over ____________________ on the teacher’s desk. And at noon he found that Mother had packed ____________________ and ____________________ for his lunch. “Oh, no!” he groaned. “When will this dumb, crazy, mixed-up day ever end?”
After lunch period it was time to practice with the band, one of Benjamin’s favorite classes. But when he reached in to take his horn out of the case, he found ____________________ there instead.
“Come, come, Benjamin,” the band leader scolded, “Whoever heard of playing that in a school band? If your horn isn’t here, borrow ____________________.”
Poor Benjamin was so embarrassed that he bolted out the door and ran blindly down the hall. On the way he bumped into ____________________ and ____________________. At last the bell sounded, and school was over for the day. Benjamin rubbed his jaw with ____________________ and sighed with relief.
After ____________________ bus took him home, Benjamin hurried into the family’s cheery kitchen. At least Mother always set out a delicious after-school snack. But not this time! There on the counter was ____________________ to eat and a glass with ____________________ in it!
Benjamin lost his appetite. “I’ll just put on ____________________ and go to bed,” he declared. “And I’ll stay there until this dumb, crazy, mixed-up day is over.”
And that’s what he did.

a purple puppy
a squashed skateboard
a green giraffe
a brass button
a prickly pelican
a limp lantern
a cuddly kitten
a wilted watermelon
a zany zebra
a dozing dodo
a pink porcupine
a leaping lizard
a helpless hippo
a jogging jackal
a snoopy skunk
a squeaky saxophone
a broken bicycle
a cinnamon camel
a strawberry soda
a toothless tiger
a sassy snake
an orange octopus
an angry alligator
a happy hobo
a nippy noodle
a crispy cracker
a leaky lemon
a rattling rollerskate
a grinning gorilla
a bouncing broom
a prancing pony
a dippy donkey
a frisky frog
some jiggling gelatin
a bent bucket
a polka-dot pumpkin
a croaking company
a rusty rainspout
a friendly fox
a dimpled doughnut
a quirky quince
an exotic explorer

This story took place in the USA.
Annie rubbed the fabric of her dress. She tried to listen to the speakers. But she had a nervous, fluttery feeling in her stomach.
Today was the day Annie would start going to Young Women. She’d go to class right after sacrament meeting was over. Everyone told Annie she should be excited, but instead, she was scared.
She looked over at Tami, her older sister. Tami had been in Young Women for three years, and she loved it. She always told Annie how great it was. “You’ll make so many friends,” Tami said. “It’s different from Primary. It’s almost like you’re a grown-up.”
But Annie wasn’t like her sister. Tami liked to meet new people, and it was easy for her to make friends. Annie was quiet and would rather read or draw than talk to others.
Annie also had acne, and she felt shy about how she looked. She used special cream, which helped. But the red bumps on her skin just wouldn’t go away.
After sacrament meeting, Annie dragged her feet in the hallway. “I can’t go to Young Women today,” she told Mom and Tami.
Mom looked worried. “I thought you were excited about going to Young Women. What happened?”
“I don’t know any of the older girls.” Annie touched her face. “And they’ll probably laugh when they see me.”
Mom gave Annie a hug. “Remember that Tami will be there too.”
“I’m not like Tami,” Annie said. She looked at her sister. “You’re good at talking to people.”
“I know it’s hard to go to a new class,” Tami said. “But we’ll do this together. I felt scared when I started Young Women too.”
Annie stared at Tami with wide eyes. Tami always seemed so brave! She’d even tried out for her school musical and gotten the lead part. Annie didn’t do things like that. She just tried not to be noticed.
“But you’re never scared,” Annie said.
Tami smiled. “Of course I get scared! I was scared when I tried out for the musical. You know what I did?”
Annie shook her head.
“I prayed and did my best. And I helped other kids too. It seemed that a lot of them were scared just like me. Helping others be brave helped me be brave.”
Annie thought about that. Could she do what Tami did and help other girls in her class not be scared?
“Do you think you can go to Young Women today?” Mom asked.
Annie breathed deeply. Then she nodded. She could do it.
Annie and Tami walked to the Young Women classroom. Annie looked at the other girls. Some of them looked nervous like she was. Julie twisted a strand of hair around her finger while Erica chewed on her fingernails.
Annie thought about how she could help them. She went over to sit by Julie. “Are you nervous too?” Annie whispered. “It’ll be OK.”
Julie smiled, and Annie smiled back. Annie felt less scared now. Maybe Young Women really could be great.

Pain and concentration contorted Clint Smith’s features as the 17-year-old clung desperately to the cliff face with one hand. A faint clatter of pebbles meeting the earth reached his ears from some 50 feet below. While climbing the massive granite wall, his feet had slipped from beneath him. Gravity tore one hand from its hold and threatened to unglue the other.
The scene would be frightening if you didn’t know that Clint is an experienced climber decked out in safety gear and securely attached to a belay line handled by a man with more than 30 years of climbing experience. After an agonizing moment, Clint got his feet back under him and smoothly ascended the remaining rock to the top.

After I quit drugs, I turned to alcohol. I can honestly say I was a high school alcoholic. When I decided I wanted to quit, I couldn’t—at least not by myself. I didn’t care enough about myself to do what I knew I needed to do.
Then I became close friends with a good, active Latter-day Saint girl. She couldn’t understand what I was experiencing, but she did know I was honestly trying to get out of the mess I was in. It hurt her when I slipped back into my bad habits. I finally quit drinking because I knew it hurt her, and I knew I couldn’t lie to her.
Keeping my morals straight was so hard under my weakened condition that I avoided any social contacts with girls except with ones as good as my Latter-day Saint friend.

A few weeks later, our two youngest children got lost in a large department store where we had gone to get new eyeglasses for the older children. After waiting a while, they got bored and decided to go off on their own, looking for the toy section. The consequence was that they got separated from us.

What did they do when they realized that they were lost? They went to a secluded spot in the store and offered a faithful prayer that they would be reunited with us. Then they stepped out of that spot, with great faith that they would be found. At that same time, their older brother saw them as he was looking for them in that area.

I’m not good at basketball. Call it genes, call it natural ability, call it whatever—it always seems like everyone else on the court has it, and I don’t. This often makes me feel out of place.
This fact didn’t stop my friends from inviting me to play basketball. I would just run up and down the court, pretending I knew what I was doing. I don’t think I fooled anyone. But, to their credit, my friends did their best to include me.
During one game, I took a shot and the ball flew toward the basket. It hit the backboard, the rim, then fell through the hoop. I couldn’t believe it. Purely by luck, I made the shot!
Understanding the uniqueness of this moment, my friends congratulated me. I didn’t contribute much to that game, but I felt like I belonged, and that meant a lot.

When I was a boy, I used to go with my father to the stockyards. We lived on a small farm and occasionally sold a few animals there.
The holding pens for the cattle, hogs, and sheep were on the river bank. A fenced bridge spanned the river and connected with a ramp that angled up to the top story of a processing plant on the other bank. Since the animals to be butchered had to be herded across the bridge and up the ramp, the men who managed this operation developed a clever solution. They trained a black goat to enter the sheep pens, mingle with the sheep, and then lead the way across the bridge and up the ramp through the door of the processing plant. Once inside the doorway, the goat stepped aside, and the sheep pressed on to their ultimate fate.
I remember watching this scene as my dad explained the operation. He paused, then added, “Let that be a lesson to you; be careful who you follow. Make sure you know where you are being led.”
I’ve never forgotten that experience. When I think of fathers leading, teaching, spiritually feeding their families, I remember how my father did it—in simple but lasting ways. The opportunities to teach important lessons are not always planned. They often arise out of our day-to-day experiences—here a little and there a little, taking advantage of a teaching moment.
It encourages me to read Enos’ experience, showing that his father’s effort to provide spiritual nourishment did not have their greatest impact immediately. (Enos 1:3.) Sometimes it may seem that our efforts are of little avail, that they are being ignored or at best grudgingly endured. But experiences such as the one I had as a young boy, watching a black goat named Judas, are witnesses to me that the return is worth the investment, even when it takes a while to gather interest.

My high school football team was playing for the North Carolina state championship. Our coach, Bill Grice, was not only a great coach and motivator, but he had never, in our presence, taken the Lord’s name in vain; had never cussed; and had never used any expletives or profanity. He had never lost his cool.
We were in the locker room getting ready for the big game. It was raining so hard we had to yell at each other to be heard. Coach Grice asked our equipment manager to hand out the mud cleats. We heard the equipment manager say, “I forgot the mud cleats, coach.” But Coach Grice didn’t hear him. We nudged one another and realized that for the first time in our presence, Coach Grice would in fact lose his cool and swear.
We steadied ourselves as Coach Grice asked, “Where are the mud cleats?”
“I forgot them, coach,” repeated the equipment manager.
It became absolutely silent in the room except for the rain pounding on the roof.
Then Coach Grice said, “Well, shucks, we’ll have to play without them!”
Oh, coach, how proud we were! We tied the football game and lost the state championship on the flip of a coin. But we won the most important honor. Our coach didn’t let us down.

I recall a President of the Church, now deceased, who visited his daughter in the hospital following a miscarriage.

She was the mother of eight children and was in her early forties. She asked, “Father, may I stop having children now?” His response was, “Don’t ask me. That decision is between you, your husband, and your Father in Heaven. If you two can face him with a good conscience and can say you have done the best you could, that you have really tried, then you may stop. But, that is between you and Him. I have enough problems of my own to talk over with Him when we meet!” So it is clear to me that the decisions regarding our children, when to have them, their number, and all related matters and questions can only be made after real discussion between the marriage partners and after prayer.

I am also reminded of President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), who was assigned to succor members of the Church in Germany following World War II. “Through the God-inspired welfare program, he literally fed the hungry, comforted the weeping, and lifted closer to heaven all with whom he met.”2
Years later, President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) referred to that event at a dedication service in Zwickau. At the meeting, an elderly Church member approached him and said: “Please tell President Benson that we love him. He saved our lives: mine, my wife’s, my children’s, and many, many others.’ He was as an angel sent by God to literally restore to us hope and confidence in the future.”3

On a trip to visit my brother, I was seated in the back of the plane where the flight attendants sit. The two rows of seats in that area face each other.
I introduced myself to the people sitting around me and then mentioned that I would be attending Brigham Young University. A man sitting across from me said his daughter had a good friend who had just left on a full-time mission. His daughter knew a little about the Church, but he knew almost nothing. The flight attendant immediately proclaimed that she wouldn’t want to belong to “that church” because it opposed women. The man said he had heard something similar—that Latter-day Saint women were considered less than men, that they couldn’t hold the priesthood or preside in meetings, and that the Church was male dominated.
Then, turning to me, he asked, “How do you feel about that?” All seven people turned to me and waited.
My heart began pounding. As a child I had memorized the Articles of Faith for just such an encounter, and as a teenager and young adult I had practiced bearing testimony of Joseph Smith’s vision and of the Book of Mormon. But I didn’t have the faintest idea how to answer the man’s question. I prayed silently for Heavenly Father to guide me.
Then I said the first words that came to my mind: “You simply don’t know about Relief Society.” The looks on their faces indicated that they didn’t.
“The priesthood functions in conjunction with the women, all of whom are members of Relief Society,” I explained. “We have a woman Relief Society president who guides the activities of the women in the Church all over the world. The responsibility of the women is to bring tenderness and charity into the lives of the members and especially into the lives of their families.”
The people around me listened attentively.
“We live in a strange time when some women want women to act and think and be like men. But we believe God divides tasks. We expect women to be leaders among the women and joint leaders in their homes. The men lean heavily on us for counsel in these areas. It is a righteous balance. It makes our Church organizations and our homes successful. And we truly believe that the man is not without the woman, nor is the woman without the man in the Lord (see 1 Corinthians 11:11). We believe we are not whole without each other. We do not believe we were created to compete with one another but to complement one another.”
I felt blessed when I had finished. I knew the words I had spoken were from the Spirit. Every person seemed satisfied with my explanation. Then the man said, “Tell us more about your church.”
Then, for the next two hours, I had the joyous opportunity of talking about the Restoration, answering questions, and bearing testimony of the gospel I love.

In the early days of our marriage, our children came at close intervals. As parents of little children will know, in those years it is quite a novelty for them to get an uninterrupted night of sleep.
If you have a new baby, and another youngster cutting teeth, or one with a fever, you can be up and down a hundred times a night. (That, of course, is an exaggeration. It’s probably only twenty or thirty times.)
We finally divided our children into “his” and “hers” for night tending. She would get up for the new baby, and I would tend the one cutting teeth.
One day we came to realize that each would hear only the one to which we were assigned, and would sleep very soundly through the cries of the other.
We have commented on this over the years, convinced that you can train yourself to hear what you want to hear, to see and feel what you desire, but it takes some conditioning.

On Sacrifices to Keep the Sabbath
Sometimes we worked until midnight on Saturday to keep from breaking the Sabbath. We went to church the next day, often without much sleep. Once we came home from church, and a cow had gotten caught in the pasture fence and died. There were times when we had millions of yen worth of damage to our cut hay because it had lain in the rain on the Sabbath. We knew accidents didn’t happen because it was Sunday. If you worry about that kind of thing, you would never be able to keep the Sabbath. Accidents can happen anytime.

While I was growing up, attending institute wasn’t necessarily a goal for me. Although Elder L. Tom Perry (1922–2015) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles compared institute to “a shield of protection around you to keep you free from the temptations and trials of the world,”1 I thought that once I attended seminary, that was it! I thought I had learned all I could. My seed of faith was planted, and I was ready to grow. I thought I had all the gospel knowledge I needed to take on the world.
But soon I found all the temptations of the world were staring back at me. For me, the transition into young adulthood was not easy. Seminary had given me the spiritual tools I needed, but I didn’t know how to use them.
My first few years as a young adult were spent between my home in New Zealand and the United States. I had a scholarship to a college in Massachusetts and, as a student athlete, I found that my time and focus were never directed toward church. Near the end of my studies, I had not gone to church or done anything related to the gospel in over two years.
I had unknowingly made myself vulnerable in my spiritual fight against the world.
And the world was winning.
But things changed when I came home to New Zealand to finish my last few years of study. I started dwelling on my guilt and shame about neglecting my spirituality. And after being away from the gospel for so long, I had questions and assumptions about the Church that were consuming my small seed of faith.
As I walked around my university with my head down, I came across the institute building. With a heart heavy and full of questions and a crumb of faith left, I convinced myself to go in. I was skeptical of the gospel and was reluctant to indulge in anything Church related, but I enrolled in a class thinking that it could help me find some guidance.
That one class started me on a path that changed my life. And from it, I learned four valuable lessons.
One of the biggest questions I had when I started the class was “Does God still love me?” I was so conflicted about the choices I had made when I had gone away to school. I felt like I had reached a point of no return. But as I continued to attend institute each week, there was always one message in every lesson that stuck with me: “God’s love knows no bounds.”
We may make mistakes, but the gentle reminder from my teacher that our Heavenly Father loves us perfectly was one of my biggest takeaways coming out of each institute class my first semester. I realized that no matter how much we think otherwise, He loves us and wants to guide us.
I had so many questions about the Church growing up, but I never felt like I could voice them out of fear of being judged. And as a young adult, I had even more questions.
When I began attending institute, I was focused more on my unanswered questions than on my faith and the truths I did know. And when the COVID-19 pandemic hit and stress and anxiety consumed me, I struggled to feel the Spirit. Hoping to feel something, I decided to kneel and say a prayer for the first time in months. Before I said a word, tears filled my eyes as I was enveloped in a strong feeling of love. I pleaded with the Lord to answer all my questions, lighten my burden, and bring me peace.
Soon after that prayer, my institute teacher sat with a classmate and me and asked us what young adults need, as he was hoping to create classes that would address the most common struggles and questions. It was comforting to know how much he wanted to help, and I opened up about how I had been feeling. As we talked through the afternoon about our needs as young adults in the Church, I found an answer to my prayer in my classmate’s words.
I realized that I wasn’t the only one with questions and that they weren’t anything to be ashamed of, like I had previously thought.
I felt spiritually uplifted after that conversation, and I was confident for the first time that Heavenly Father cared about my questions and that He would help me find answers in time.
Young adults in the Church are on different paths and have different outlooks, and it can be hard for us to find common ground with one another. But the one thing that we do have in common is the gospel.
With my growing involvement in institute, it was amazing to hear from young adults with so many unique experiences finding their spiritual footing in their fight against the adversary.
The isolation I had been feeling started chipping away when I was at institute. Through constant fellowship and conversations about the gospel, I built friendships, and the influence of these friendships blessed and inspired me to keep building my faith.
As a youth, I went to church because my parents wanted me to. My testimony of the gospel was only a shadow of theirs. But as I continued to grow and seek truth at institute, I learned to stand on my own testimony instead of hiding behind my parents’ testimonies. The seed of faith I had planted years ago started to sprout rapidly since my institute classes provided it with the soil and nutrients it needed to flourish.
Ultimately, institute has played a great role in my conversion to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Institute continues to help me grow my faith and has provided a safe haven for me to ask difficult questions. Although I have been a member all my life, it wasn’t until I attended institute and learned to apply gospel principles in my life that my testimony became sincere and, more importantly, mine.
Participating in institute provides opportunities for numerous blessings for young adults. President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) promised, “As you participate in institute and study the scriptures diligently, your power to avoid temptation and to receive direction of the Holy Ghost in all you do will be increased.”2
I reiterate and emphasize these promised blessings of institute from our past beloved prophet. My constant battle in trying to keep up with the changes of young adulthood became easier when my testimony of the gospel became stronger. Participating in institute helped me develop my testimony, which truly became my shield in avoiding the temptations of the world, and through the constant scripture study alongside my fellow young single adults, I saw how institute is truly a divinely inspired program from our Heavenly Father.

Rescue and Jessica: A Life-Changing Friendship, by Jessica Kensky and Patrick Downes, illustrated by Scott Magoon. Rescue is trained to be a seeing-eye dog. Then he finds out he’s better suited to become a service dog. He’s worried that he’s not up to the task. Then he meets his new owner, Jessica, who lost both of her legs in an accident. Despite both of their challenges, Rescue and Jessica learn to help each other find happiness.

A great example in my life of unselfish service is Sister Victoria Antonietti. Victoria was one of the Primary teachers in my branch while I was growing up in Argentina. Each Tuesday afternoon, when we gathered for Primary, she brought us a chocolate cake. Everyone loved the cake—well, everyone except me. I hated chocolate cake! And even though she would try to share the cake with me, I always turned down her offer.
One day after she had shared the chocolate cake with the rest of the children, I asked her, “Why don’t you bring a different flavor—like orange or vanilla?”
After laughing a little, she asked me, “Why don’t you try a little piece? This cake is made with a special ingredient, and I promise that if you try it, you will like it!”
I looked around, and to my surprise, everyone seemed to be enjoying the cake. I agreed to give it a try. Can you guess what happened? I liked it! That was the very first time I had enjoyed a chocolate cake.
It wasn’t until many years later that I found out what the secret ingredient was in Sister Antonietti’s chocolate cake. My children and I visited my mother each week. On one of these visits, Mom and I were enjoying a slice of chocolate cake, and I related to her how I came to like the cake for the very first time. Then she enlightened me with the rest of the story.
“You see, Cris,” my mom said, “Victoria and her family didn’t have a lot of resources, and each week she had to choose between paying for the bus to take her and her four children to Primary or buying the ingredients to make the chocolate cake for her Primary class. She always chose the chocolate cake over the bus, and she and her children walked more than two miles [3 km], each way, regardless of the weather.”
That day I had a better appreciation for her chocolate cake. More important, I learned that the secret ingredient in Victoria’s cake was the love she had for those she served and her unselfish sacrifice in our behalf.

Annelise Nielsen is a third-generation member of the Church. Her grandma and grandpa converted, her dad grew up in the Church and married a member, and they had Annelise. They’re all now members of the Frederiksberg Ward, and Annelise, a Beehive, is, along with Pia, one of the few young women in the ward.
And the ward currently meets in a rented building. There is an elevator in the building, but it’s pretty slow so Annelise takes the stairs. Up three flights gets her to the top floor of the building, where she enters the chapel. The building is clean and nice, but Annelise says there is a temporary feeling about where the Frederiksberg Ward meets. She looks out the window of the chapel and points.
“That’s our old chapel right there,” she says. She’s looking at a beautiful brick building one block away, the first the Church built in this country. And it sits empty—for good reason.
“That is where our temple is going to be,” Annelise says.
The Frederiksberg Ward chapel is in the process of being converted into a temple that will serve the members in Denmark and other parts of Scandinavia. So to get a temple 10 minutes from her house opposed to the 12 hours it takes by car to get to the Stockholm Sweden Temple is a real blessing and worth the sacrifice.
But there’s still the issue of the Church building a new chapel. The lease on the temporary chapel will expire soon. So on this Sunday, the members of the Frederiksberg Ward are holding a fast, praying that the Danish government will approve building a chapel on property the Church has purchased.* Annelise joined other ward members in fasting and prayer for this special purpose.
This morning, Annelise admits she’s hungry. “But when I fast I feel close to God and I feel more humble,” she says. “I don’t feel like fasting is that much of a sacrifice, and I believe if everybody in this ward prays for the same thing then our Heavenly Father will help us.”
After sacrament meeting, with her fast almost complete, Annelise doesn’t make a mad dash home to get some food. Instead, she walks out the door holding the arm of Kristel Pedersen, a 96-year-old member of her ward. Sister Pedersen joined the Church in 1958 and taught Annelise’s father in Sunday School. Each month, Annelise gets to know her better by taking time to visit with her.
“Sister Pedersen is nice to talk with. I think she’s a strong woman because she’s the only member of the Church in her family. Her husband never joined, and her children were already grown up when she was baptized,” Annelise says. “She’s 96 years old, and she still comes to church each Sunday.
“I admire people like Sister Pedersen,” Annelise adds, “who are close to Heavenly Father. And when I do things like fasting, it brings me closer to Him too.”

I remember one day there came into my business place a man and he said, “You know, I’ve got to have a hundred dollars. I’ll give you ten dollars for the use of a hundred dollars for one week.” And I thought, “Have you gone crazy? What’s the matter? Ten dollars on one hundred dollars would be ten percent for a year, it would be about 500 percent for a week. What are you thinking about? Have you lost your reason? Why don’t you plan? Why don’t you anticipate your needs and then provide for them?”

When I was in the bank I found a little extra time and needed a little extra money, and I kept books for some of the stores in town, especially one little department store. And one of the shocking things of my life was to find on the books the accounts of many of the people in the community that I knew. I knew them. I knew approximately what their income was, and then I saw them wear it away. In other words, I saw they were buying their clothes, their shoes, everything they had “on time.”

And I found that it was my duty to make the bills at the end of the month for them. And many of them couldn’t pay at the end of the month. They couldn’t pay even the installments that were arranged for them. And having been reared in a home that took care of its funds, I couldn’t understand it. I could understand how a person could buy a home on time or perhaps could even buy an automobile on time. But I never could quite understand how anybody would wear clothes they didn’t own. Or eat food that they had to buy “on time.” I had a good deal to do with the merchants in the town and found that their books were cluttered with accounts for food, for cheese, for bread, for milk, for other things.

One day I remember I met in the grocery store some old friends of mine, and this woman had just paid eighty dollars for a small supply of food that she was carrying out of the grocery store. And I came in and bought one or two small things, and she said to me, “How can you do it? How can you do it?” And I said, “Well, I have a wife who is careful and she doesn’t waste anything. She doesn’t throw anything away. She just makes it over, uses it again. And we buy only what we need. And instead of buying the prepared things we can buy as many potatoes probably for a dollar that it would take many, many dollars to put into chips and in other preparations.”

I have heard my mother-in-law, who was a very careful cook in her home, say many times, “That woman throws more waste from the kitchen than I would use in a month.” And I have seen that in many homes. And so I think that we need to be very, very careful.

I agree with all that Brother Ashton has said this day with regard to the financing of the family in the home. Every family should have a budget. Why, we wouldn’t think of going one day without a budget in this Church or in our businesses. We have to know approximately what we may receive and we certainly must know what we are going to spend. And one of the successes of the Church would have to be that the Brethren watch these things very carefully, and we do not spend that which we do not have.

I remember a case in my life a few years ago. I was in my office on the second floor. A young man came in. He was bedraggled, he looked pretty bad. His clothes were hanging loose, and I was afraid he was going to jump out my window. He was desperate. He told me he had just lost his wife. She had left him and taken his two sons with her. She did not leave anything to pay the numerous bills that they had. And life looked pretty desperate. He had even gone to drinking a little bit.

I finally said to him, “Well, now, I am going to help you if you would like me to. I will get you a job. It won’t be a very good job. It won’t be maybe the thing you have been used to doing. It won’t bring in the amount of money you have been used to spending, but if you need a job I will get you one and I will help you with the problems that come to you.” I got him a job at the hospital for eighty dollars a month.

“Oh,” he said, “I can’t live on that.”

And I said, “eighty dollars will be better than what you are getting now.” He agreed and finally he went to work. It was temporary, but it took care of the situation.

And I said to him, “Now, why don’t you, Bill, take your car and put it on blocks and walk to work because that will be good for your health as well as you will finally get caught up on your indebtedness. Why don’t you go to the music store and tell them you will pay out the cornet for your boy at two dollars a month and go to this other store and pay this much on your gas, you will pay this much on something else.”

He said, “Oh, they would laugh at me. They wouldn’t take that.”

And I said, “You try them.”

And when he came back after the first week, he said, “Well, they surprised me. Those people said, ‘That’s wonderful, I appreciate what you are paying. We will assist you.’”

And so when he came back the first week, he gave me a list of the things that he had been spending for, and I said, “What is this newspaper here? Costs ten cents a day, doesn’t it? That is seventy cents a week. You pay that on your obligations instead of buying the paper. There are several of them at the hospital. You can read them. And what is this shoe shine every day.”

“Oh,” he said, “I have to have my shoes shined.”

And I said, “Yes, you do, but you can shine your own shoes. Why don’t you use a few cents and get a can of polish and shine your own shoes?”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that,” he said. “I never have done it. My father didn’t do it.”

But here and there we finally got him to be willing to do this. And it was only a matter of a few months until he had a better job, paying twice as much with prospects of even doubling, and doubling again. And he was getting along fine. He had a little cheap room, he had a little hot plate. He cooked his own egg every morning, and he ate bread and milk at night, and he ate at the hospital at noon for free. And it was amazing how quickly he was out of debt, though it had run into thousands of dollars.

In my hand I am holding a pair of pioneer shoes. They were made by a modern-day pioneer, Brother Robert King, while he was serving as a missionary in Nauvoo. He was the first member of his family to join the Church, or so he thought. Brother King and his wife are currently serving as family history missionaries, and in the course of his research, he discovered that his great-grandfather Reed and his great-uncle Abraham joined the Church in 1835. But Reed was lost. He wandered down unknown paths, and the tender seedling of faith within him died.

Allow me to tell you the rest of Brother King’s story. Remember that the seed of faith was planted in the lives of both his great-grandfather Reed and his great-uncle Abraham. What became of Abraham? He kept the faith. Feeling fulfilled in the cause, Abraham endured the persecutions and trials of the pioneer migration west. Due to Abraham’s commitment to the cause of Zion, his posterity includes more than 2,000 members of the Church today.

Just as Abraham is loved and revered for being a courageous pioneer in his family, so will be my friend Robert King. He pioneered his way through a lost line of family history and caught up with his great-grandfather Reed. Because Brother King chose to seek for “the things of a better” and don his pioneer shoes, he is a conduit through which generations, both past and future, will receive the blessings of the gospel of Jesus Christ.