Gospel Story Finder

A homely story contains a warning. I like this story because it translates easily into different languages and cultures.
Two men formed a partnership. They built a small shed beside a busy road. They obtained a truck and drove it to a farmer’s field, where they purchased a truckload of melons for a dollar a melon. They drove the loaded truck to their shed by the road, where they sold their melons for a dollar a melon. They drove back to the farmer’s field and bought another truckload of melons for a dollar a melon. Transporting them to the roadside, they again sold them for a dollar a melon. As they drove back toward the farmer’s field to get another load, one partner said to the other, “We’re not making much money on this business, are we?” “No, we’re not,” his partner replied. “Do you think we need a bigger truck?”
We don’t need a bigger truckload of information, either. Like the two partners in my story, our biggest need is a clearer focus on how we should value and use what we already have.
Because of modern technology, the contents of huge libraries and other data resources are at the fingertips of many of us. Some choose to spend countless hours in unfocused surfing the Internet, watching trivial television, or scanning other avalanches of information. But to what purpose? Those who engage in such activities are like the two partners in my story, hurrying to and fro, hauling more and more but failing to grasp the essential truth that we cannot make a profit from our efforts until we understand the true value of what is already within our grasp.

Each year the program varies from guest speakers to lessons given by family members. One year Grandma Jones gave each family a small book on the Prophet to read prior to the party. They then took turns expressing their feelings about the Prophet and bearing testimonies of the Savior. That was the year one of their less-active sons expressed his love and gratitude to each family member and began coming back to church.

Junior is already preparing for his. He has asked his mother to teach him how to cook and do his laundry and talked with his father about finances. Junior sees only one problem with missionary service. “I want my own room.” Why go on a mission and risk having a roommate? “Because I don’t want to be selfish to people who don’t know about the gospel. It will make them happy, and I want all the world to be happy.”

When Ryan Wilkinson moved from Horsefly, British Columbia, Canada, to Bountiful, Utah, during his junior year of high school, he left Horsefly with $255 in his savings account.
That’s $255, Canadian. Or somewhere in the vicinity of 190 U.S. dollars.
Ryan’s goal was to leave for a mission soon after he turned 19 in February 2000. Since Ryan knew he needed approximately $9,000 for the two years he planned to be in the mission field, he could do the math. “What I had in the bank wouldn’t even last me a month as a missionary,” he explains.
So Ryan did what anybody in need of eight or nine grand would do.
“I went looking for a job.”
In Canada, Ryan had worked wrapping potatoes in aluminum foil at a nearby restaurant. “I got $5 for each box,” he says. Lots of potatoes but not much money.
So with less than two years before he turned 19, Ryan put a plan in place once he got to Utah. “I figured if I could earn $2,000 before I graduated from high school, I could earn the rest by getting a full-time job once I was out of school,” he says. The plan was feasible since Ryan decided he wasn’t going to go to college until after his mission.
When Ryan put on the cap and gown for Bountiful High School’s class of ’99 commencement exercises, he had about $1,800 in his account, just short of his goal but in the neighborhood. All that money came from his work as a bagger and then as a cashier at a local grocery store. “I even got a 15-cent raise when I was promoted,” he says with a smile.
Not long after graduation, a neighbor who was building a house down the street from the Wilkinsons approached Ryan and his brother Mark about working construction for the summer. “We didn’t know what we were doing, but we learned as we went,” Ryan says. “That was a pretty good job. We put on the roof, and I put on all the shingles. I helped put in the windows and doors, and I helped pour the cement for the basement floor.”
Ka-ching. Ka-ching. The money began adding up.
But two jobs, apparently, weren’t enough.
“I heard about this other job—a graveyard shift—from midnight to six in the morning where I’d be unloading boxes from a truck,” he says. “And it paid a lot more than being a cashier. But since it would be a harder job, I decided to quit my [grocery store] job.”
But being a conscientious employee, Ryan gave two weeks’ notice at the grocery store. And this is where his schedule became a little tricky.
“I did the three jobs for two weeks. I’d start in the morning and go build the house from eight until about five. Then I’d go to the store from seven o’clock to eleven,” he says. “After I cashed out the money, I’d head to the loading dock. I worked from midnight to six.”
What about sleep?
“I didn’t get a lot,” he admits.
Fortunately, that torturous schedule ended, and he could settle back in to the relaxation of working only two jobs.
“Yeah, everybody says that going on a mission will be the hardest thing I’ll ever do in my life,” Ryan adds. “But it seems that going on a mission will be a break for me.”
Guess he’s finding out.
On March 1, Elder Wilkinson entered the Missionary Training Center. Two months later he left for the Italy Rome Mission. He earned a little extra for the purchase of suits, shirts, shoes, and all the other things he needed to be a missionary. But he had the $9,000 in his account for the 24 months he’d be gone.
“I always knew I was going to earn the money for my mission,” Ryan adds. “I just didn’t know how.”
He does now.

Recently, a man sent me a book. He is a doctor of philosophy in a great university. He told me that reading that book had become a significant experience in his life. I read it. It is the story of a boy in Paris who, in an accident, was blinded at the age of eight. It is an account of how when darkness surrounded him, there came a new light into his life. When he was 16 or 17, the Germans conquered France and German soldiers marched into Paris. This blind boy, a brilliant student, organized a resistance group. He and his associates ran an operation for getting information and circularizing it with a little newspaper they printed on a duplicator. The effort grew until they were distributing more than 250,000 copies an issue. Then he was betrayed by a member of the group, arrested, and sent to Buchenwald. There in filth and despair he lived with similar victims. He could not see, but there was a light within him that rose above the tragedy of his circumstances. He survived as a leader among those in that foul camp. The little newspaper he started became a great newspaper. I read that book and was lifted and strengthened by the story of that remarkable young man. If you cannot find good heroes and heroines for your children on television, help your children find them in good books.

When I was finally blessed with the foundations of a testimony in this great latter-day work, it was not yet the end of my journey to baptism. Why? Because I was aware I would have to sacrifice many friendships and relationships I’d had with people my entire life. I knew there were people who meant a great deal to me who would never want anything to do with me again — and they didn’t. I had spiritual leaders in my life tell me I was turning my back on Jesus Christ and what He’d done for me. More than anything else, that hurt me deeply. I investigated and learned more of the Church because I love my Saviour so much. If I didn’t love and believe the Bible as much as I did, or have the foundations I had, I would never have believed the Book of Mormon.
A few weeks later, I realised something: Jesus Christ walked the walk to Calvary for me, the least I could do is walk the walk to the baptism font, and beyond, even if I had to do so alone, without the friends I’d had for decades. I did so. Every sacrifice I made to join the Church of my Lord Jesus Christ was far outweighed by the bounteous and sacred blessings He gave me.
It was a long journey which took very close to 10 months. But the walk through the valley took me to the truth, to the temple, to my beautiful wife, and closer to my Saviour, Jesus Christ.

Concerned because Farmington’s boys were often getting into mischief, Aurelia asked Eliza R. Snow, the sister of Lorenzo Snow, if there should not be an organization to help little boys grow into good men. Sister Snow relayed the suggestion to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, the governing body of the Church following the death of Brigham Young. John Taylor, the President of the Quorum, gave his approval, and Sister Rogers was called upon to organize and serve as the president of the first Primary in the Church. She wisely decided that girls should also be part of the organization, and the first Primary was held in Farmington Ward on August 25, 1878.

Regardless of one’s opportunities for formal education, a person can engage in lifelong learning. My grandfather was Jim Gordon. His parents were Scottish immigrants. He was only able to finish the eighth grade before he went to work. He drove a delivery wagon in San Francisco when he was a young man.

Automobiles replaced horse-drawn wagons. Later my grandfather became a mechanic. He brought books about diesel engines home from work, and he read them. Eventually he became the supervisor over all the diesel equipment for a substantial company. Although his opportunity for formal education was limited, he kept learning on his own. His most important learning experiences occurred when, later in life, he decided to enter the waters of baptism and to receive the blessings of the temple.

When my grandfather was young, he drove a horse-drawn wagon. However, his world changed. During his lifetime he flew in passenger planes, and astronauts landed on the moon. Your world will change too. Many of the changes will be positive and exciting; others may present challenges. Will you be prepared to meet the challenges that will arise during your lifetime?

On another island, this one called, Niuatoputapu (which means ‘sacred island’) on another typical day, another experience forever changed me.
My Tongan companion, different from the first, and I came through the thick jungle from the village of Vaipoa, where we lived in the middle of the island and into one of the only other two villages on the island, called Falehau.
A large crowd was gathered around the thatched fale or hut where a Missionary Branch President, who had been called to serve on this island, with his wife, and their two children, were staying.
The younger of the two children, a son, about 6 or 7 years old had been playing with a friend. When he became thirsty he rushed into their home and grabbed a bottle from the corner, of what he thought was water. In Tonga at the time, it was common to store a variety of liquids in brown-colored glass bottles. There might be water, soda pop, kerosene or benzene.
The son thought he grabbed the bottle with water in it. In his hurry to rejoin his friend he gulped down the liquid from the bottle. It turned out to be benzene. He ingested so much, in fact, that he almost immediately went into convulsions.
When my companion and I arrived the boy’s father, this Missionary Branch President, was sitting crossed-legged on the ground and was just starting to lay his son’s twisting and turning body on his lap. The mother was close by with an agonized expression on her face. She had her arm around the boy’s older sister, whose face was naturally filled with concern.
There were maybe 50-60 people from the village already gathered around and more were running to the scene.
As the father held tightly to his son, a strong athletic looking man nearby said, loudly enough to be heard by all, “What a blessing from God. The government doctor is still here. Let’s hurry to get him!”
A Tongan government boat had been in port for a few days. A doctor employed by the government had been on board for his semi-annual trip to the island. He had treated a number of villagers for various ailments during his brief stay. He was now on board the boat just beyond the reef that circled the island. The captain of the tug-like boat was just preparing to return to the capital city of Nuku’alofa, which was a long journey away.
As the man rushed to the beach, two other men joined him and the three of them began to push an old and scarred wooden canoe into the water with the intent of paddling out to the government boat to bring the doctor back, so he could help this poor little boy who all could see was suffering in a terrible way.
Just as the first of the three men climbed into the canoe, the father called to them, “Please, please come back!” Hesitatingly, the three men paused and then started to come back, all with puzzled looks on their faces. One anxiously exclaimed, “We have to hurry or we will miss the doctor! The boat is ready to leave!” As he said this, the three men started back towards the canoe once again.
And once again, the father called to them, “Please come back!” As they hesitated they seemed completely bewildered, as did the rest of the villagers who were gathered there.
Finally, the father declared in a steady, almost peaceful voice, “There will be no need for the government doctor today, for we will call upon the Master Doctor to bring the needed healing!”
Everyone stood in stunned silence as this father and missionary, with what appeared to be a dying son still on his lap, began to teach them. He spoke of the Savior, Jesus Christ, who had lived a sinless life and who had taught us all how to live. He spoke of the mighty miracles Christ had performed. He spoke of the atoning sacrifice of the Savior and how that sacrifice made it possible for us all to repent and to return to the presence of God the Father one day.
As the father spoke, as he taught under the influence of the spirit, there was a look of utter astonishment that settled over the gathered villagers. There was an obvious worsening of the son’s condition, for now he was turning a horrible shade of purple and was struggling to even breathe, yet the father taught on!
He spoke of the Priesthood, bestowed by Jesus upon those worthy to act in His name. He spoke about Priesthood power, God’s power, which when united with faith could do all things that were in accordance with the will of God the Father. He described how he would use that power, in the name of Jesus Christ, to heal his son.
He then placed his hands upon his son’s head, who now looked as though he was already beginning the journey through the veil to the other side, but by the power of the Priesthood he held and in the name of Jesus Christ the boy’s father blessed his son to be healed from the suffering, from the malady, from the poison ingested and from any lasting effects of the same.
The son’s face immediately began to return to its normal color and his breathing with it. He now lay on his father’s lap as if peacefully asleep. In a moment, his eyes opened. He looked into his father’s face, reached up and gave him a big hug. He then looked around and saw the entire village gathered together, with eyes wide open, many with tears rolling down their cheeks. The boy got a surprised look on his face, like he didn’t understand what was happening, but he spotted his friend, with whom he had been earlier playing, in the crowd, jumped off his father’s lap, ran to his friend, grabbed his friend’s hand and the two of them went off to play once more.
The villagers marveled at the scene. Then they all looked back at the father. In a calm and inviting voice, while still seated on the ground, he acknowledged before them God’s bounteous blessings and gave credit to Jesus Christ for the healing of his son. He reminded them that he was a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and that he had been sent to them, to this village, on this island, to share with them the message of that Jesus.
During the ensuing months, many listened and a number were baptized. These were the first baptisms on that island, if my memory serves me well, in over 10 years.
As I talked with this missionary father and his family following what was for me a life-changing experience, I found myself asking about how he did what he did. How was he able to be so composed when his son’s life was clearly at risk? How was he able to so patiently teach the people of the village while his son’s condition was growing worse and worse by the minute? How was he able to be so confident that his son would, in fact, be healed?
He responded to my questions with a series of questions of his own: Are we not missionaries? Was this not a wonderful opportunity to teach the gospel to those who might otherwise be unwilling to listen? Was this not a unique opportunity to help them understand and even witness the power of the Priesthood? Was this not a special opportunity to help them understand that Jesus really is the Christ and that His Church is in reality here on the earth today? Was this not an appropriate way to help them begin to partake of the blessings now that can come only from and through the gospel of Jesus Christ?
And finally, to me his most penetrating question, “Do not the scriptures teach us, ‘Ask and ye shall receive?’”
For him, it was clear, there was nothing more natural than to do what he did in the way he did it! He concluded one of our conversations with, “All I do is ask and the Lord answers!”

May I share with you an experience that took place on the island of Okinawa in the Servicemen’s District? As the local Okinawan members were excitedly preparing to go to Tokyo, which is nearly 900 miles away, for the area general conference, the young people of the Servicemen’s Branch found out that an active young Okinawan family was not planning to go with the rest of the branch. When approached and asked why he was not going to conference, this faithful brother hesitantly replied that he just could not afford to take his wife and children at this time; it was out of the question.
The young people of the Servicemen’s Branch immediately met and planned a cookie sale project to raise funds necessary to send this family to conference. The young people baked cookies in their parents’ homes; later when they were busily engaged in selling these cookies, they were pleasantly surprised when they approached the servicemen to purchase their cookies, explaining the purpose of their project. Without hesitation the servicemen all bought cookies and donated money in excess of the purchase price, so that the young people could reach their goal. The happy result was that this young Okinawan family was able to go to Tokyo to conference with the rest of their branch, because of the help they received.
The young people of the Servicemen’s Branch all learned a great lesson in giving and loving; they learned through experience that persons who really care for others and who give some of their time, talents, and belongings for the good of others are the ones who really receive the fullest blessings of life.

One day while I was at church, one of the sisters expressed to me that she was feeling lonely. Like her, I was also a widow and lived by myself. Suddenly, I had an idea: why didn’t we get together on Mondays and hold family home evening? We could also invite other sisters who lived alone.
I did a little research and found eight women in our ward who might participate. Six were widows, one was single, and one’s husband wasn’t a member of the Church.
With my bishop’s approval, I arranged for all of us to hold family home “afternoons” together. (We hold it early in the day because most of us don’t see well and don’t like being out after dark.) We take turns meeting in each other’s homes and giving a brief lesson. Perhaps the most important thing that has come from this is a true feeling of friendship that binds us together in love as sisters.
All of us eagerly await our family home “afternoons.” We feel happy to be studying the gospel together, and we enjoy wonderful friendships that strengthen our faith and our love for the Lord Jesus Christ.

When it was time for me to go on a mission, I was very excited to serve the Lord. Just before I was to leave, however, I found out that I had bone cancer. The chance of living long enough to serve a mission wasn’t very high. I had faith that the Lord would provide a way if He wanted me to go. My father gave me a blessing in which I was told that I would serve my mission in Mexico, serve in the Church all my life, and have a family. My right arm had to be amputated above the elbow, but my life was spared, and the promises I was given have all been fulfilled.

My orthodontist told me I needed to have four teeth pulled. My permanent teeth were ready to come in, but my baby teeth were not yet loose. I was very frightened. That same day, the September 2008 Friend arrived. There was a letter in it from a girl my age who went through a similar experience. She said a prayer to help her get through it, and all she felt was a small tug as her teeth were pulled.
It made me feel better to know that someone else had gone through the same thing. Before I went to the dentist, I said a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to comfort me. Like the girl who wrote the letter, all I felt were a few tugs and the teeth were out. I know Heavenly Father can help us when we have difficulties.

One morning, as soon as all six canoes were loaded and launched, the group met in the middle of the lake. The girls held on to the gunnels of neighboring canoes as maps were unfolded and the course for the day discussed. According to the map there seemed to be two choices. Either they could paddle across the lake, unload, and hike across a 120-rod portage, or they could stay in their canoes and attempt to paddle up a small stream to the neighboring lake.
To the girls there seemed to be no question—anything to get out of unloading the canoes and portaging. Stake President Hennebry, who along with his counselors were accompanying the girls as priesthood advisers, pointed out some potential problems. Nobody in the group had been this way before. No one was absolutely sure that the stream on the map would be wide enough to handle a canoe. The portage was steep and difficult, but it was a sure thing. It was the group’s decision. They would take a vote.
The thought of missing a long, hard portage was enticing. The majority was willing to take a chance on what seemed to be the easier route, the stream.
When the first canoe reached the mouth of the stream, it was blocked by a beaver dam. “No problem,” said Andrea Miles, Karen Johnson, and Ganine Conner, “we’ll pull our canoe over the dam and scout on ahead and see what the stream looks like.”
It was deceiving. Because of the beaver dam, the stream widened into a pond and looked at first like it was going to be the easy route everyone hoped it would be. All six canoes were lured in, and they followed the twisting, curving stream. Another beaver dam was crossed, then another. The stream was getting so narrow that the canoeists could hardly fit a paddle between the edge of the canoe and the bank.
The stream became shallow, and the girls had to get out and walk. At first, everyone tried to keep her shoes dry, but as one by one they slipped off of dry footing and into the sticky mud, they gave up and tried to wade. The mud was waist deep, and they had to tow the canoes behind them. The sucking, gooey mud pulled at each leg with every step. They abandoned any hope of staying clean and dry. But where was the next lake? Wouldn’t it be around the next curve, or the next? Finally their leaders said that it was hopeless. The stream was becoming nothing more than a swamp, and still the lake was nowhere in sight.
Tired, muddy, and discouraged, the girls turned their canoes around and started back the way they came. Only it was harder getting out than it had been getting in. They had broken the beaver dams during their entrance, and the water had drained out of the ponds leaving them high, but certainly not dry.
After slogging through a mile or so of mud, the last canoe was again back at the starting point. After rinsing off and climbing back in their canoes, the group gathered for a moment of thought. They had wasted the whole morning in a useless attempt to find an easy way. Now they would have to turn around and take the long portage, the trail so clearly marked that would take them to the next lake. The comparisons to life were only too obvious. As the girls tried to clean up a bit, rest, and eat lunch, they were subdued as they thought about their experience. Slowly, they began to draw analogies to their own lives.
Sister Rice, the Young Women president said, “Much of the time we think we can gamble and take the easy way, but it often gives us nothing but grief. We became mired down so we could hardly move, but we repented of our decision and turned around. It was hard just getting back to where we had started from. If we had been wise, we would have taken the ‘straight and narrow’ way, the portage, and been ahead.”
Later at the last night fireside, President Hennebry again reminded the girls of their experience. “You’ve experienced something you can relate to life. But on this trip you can remember the experience without remembering the pain. Satan has a map which marks what seems to be the easy way that will still get you where you want to go. It’s an attractive lie. Just like our experience in the swamp. At first the barriers were easy to cross, but it made it so much harder to come out. In life if you find that you have chosen the wrong stream, no matter how hard it is, repent and come back.”
The lesson on making decisions was a valuable one. The girls learned from it and remembered. Throughout the rest of the trip, if anyone jokingly asked, “Hey, there’s a stream on this map. Do you think we ought to try it?” they would be shouted down with a loud, “No, thanks.”
After returning the canoes to the outfitter, washing their faces in the luxury of hot running water out of a tap, and combing their hair in front of a real mirror, the Summiteers spread out a map and mentally retraced their route.
When their fingers stopped at Gebeonequet Lake and the stream that went nowhere, they made a resolve. On future canoe trips and in their own lives, they would follow the correct paths. And because of their associations with fine leaders and advisers and by relying on their Heavenly Father, they knew that their feet would be guided as was promised in the scriptures.
“I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them” (Isa. 42:16).

In San Antonio, Texas, I met a man who had married a faithful Latter-day Saint girl. He was not a member of the Church, and they made an agreement that they would not discuss or argue about religion. His wife was true to her commitment, but shortly after they were married the missionaries came calling. He remained true to his commitment and didn’t argue or complain, and the missionaries just kept coming. He went through so many sets of missionaries he lost count. Three years went by, but he still remained indifferent to the gospel. He was a good man; he was just not willing to expend the faith necessary to believe.

One evening he came home from work, and his wife said, “The missionaries are coming tonight.”
He thought to himself, “Oh, no. Not again! Haven’t I been through this enough already?”
But that night was different. An older stake missionary was with the elders, and as they began the lesson, he said to this man, “It’s time you joined the Church. You need to make the decision now!”
And he heard himself saying, “I know. You’re right. It is time.”
As he said those words, he felt a powerful confirmation of the Spirit and knew it was true.
He later said to me, “I really didn’t know until that moment, but then I knew with a confirmation that I could not deny.” His one step of faith into darkness opened the door to the confirming Spirit.

When I was a teenager, my six-week-old sister, Carol, had whooping cough. Those were the days before antibiotics. I was working then as a grease monkey, or mechanic, at a bus station. I can remember coming home one night after my shift, seeing the lights on in my home, and knowing that it was a bad sign.
As I walked into the house, I saw Carol lying on the dining room table. She was having difficulty breathing and was turning blue from lack of air. We quickly summoned a neighbor, who joined Dad in giving her a blessing. I thought she was going to die, but I watched her stay alive by the power of the priesthood as they got her to the hospital. She stayed there for two or three weeks, and I continued to see the Lord bless her and pull her through. That experience of seeing the priesthood in action impressed itself forever upon my mind.

Let’s start a secret club,” said Goose.
“What a good idea!” exclaimed Squirrel. “Who will be in the secret club?”
“That will be the secret,” said Goose. “Anyone with feathers may be in our club.” Goose ruffled her snow-white feathers.
“Oh,” said Squirrel. He shook his long tail.
Goose smiled. “Anyone with feathers or a long tail may be in our club,” said Goose.
“Good,” said Squirrel. “Let’s tell my friend Turtle.” They went off to find Turtle.
“Hello, Turtle,” said Squirrel. “This is my friend Goose. We have a secret club.”
“Terrific!” said Turtle. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose and I,” Squirrel replied.
“And anyone with feathers or a long tail.”
“Oh,” said Turtle. She pulled her head into her shell.
Squirrel looked at Goose. They smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell may be in our secret club,” said Squirrel.
“That’s fine,” said Turtle. “Let’s tell my friend Dog.” They all went off to find Dog.
“Hello, Dog,” said Turtle. “These are my friends Goose and Squirrel. We have a secret club.”
“Do you?” said Dog. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose and Squirrel and I,” said Turtle. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell.”
“Oh,” barked Dog. He looked at his own short tail.
Turtle looked at Squirrel and Goose. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks may be in our secret club,” said Turtle.
“Good,” barked Dog. “Let’s tell my friend Frog.” They all went off to find Frog.
“Hello, Frog,” said Dog. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, and Turtle. We have a secret club.”
“Really?” asked Frog. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and I,” Dog answered. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks,” explained Dog.
“Oh,” said Frog. He stuck out his tongue and caught a fly.
Dog looked at Goose, Squirrel, and Turtle. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks or eats flies,” said Dog.
“Fine,” said Frog, swallowing the fly. “Let’s tell my friend Rabbit.” They all went off to find Rabbit.
“Hello, Rabbit,” said Frog. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and Dog. We have a secret club.”
“Really?” said Rabbit. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and I,” said Frog. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks or eats flies.”
“Oh,” said Rabbit. She twitched her long ears.
Frog looked at Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and Dog. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, or has long ears,” said Frog.
“Super!” cried Rabbit. “Let’s tell my friend Pig.” They all went off to find Pig.
“Hello, Pig,” said Rabbit. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and Frog. We have a secret club.”
“You do?” asked Pig. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, Frog, and I,” said Rabbit. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, or has long ears,” said Rabbit.
“Oh,” said Pig. He rolled over in the mud.
Rabbit looked at Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and Frog. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, has long ears, or likes to roll in the mud,” said Rabbit. She was out of breath!
“Perfect,” said Pig. “Let’s tell my friend—”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Goose.
“Remember, this is a secret club. Does your friend have feathers?”
“No,” said Pig, “she doesn’t have feathers.”
“Or a long tail?” asked Squirrel.
Pig shook his head.
“Does she have a shell?” asked Turtle.
“No,” Pig replied.
“Does she bark?” barked Dog.
“No, she doesn’t,” said Pig.
“Then she must eat flies,” said Frog.
“Never,” said Pig wearily.
“Well, does she have long ears?” asked Rabbit.
“No,” answered Pig, “her ears are very small. She doesn’t like to roll in the mud either.” Pig looked sadly at his friend Rabbit as he brushed some mud from his nose. “But she’s still my friend,” Pig said at last.
Rabbit twitched her long ears at her friend Frog.
Frog ate a fly that buzzed around his friend Dog.
Dog barked softly at his friend Turtle.
Turtle poked her head way out of her shell to look at her friend Squirrel.
Squirrel shook his bushy tail at his friend Goose.
Goose pulled a long white feather from her tail and gave it to Pig. They smiled at each other.
“Pig knows the secret of this club,” said Goose. “It’s not feathers, tails, shells, barking, flies, ears, or mud. The secret is friendship.”
And they all went off to find Pig’s friend.

Anthony Antelope was so absentminded, he thought he was an anteater. That was because his last name began with ANT.
He became as angry as an alligator when he couldn’t catch any ants. He aimed at ants, but he wasn’t able to gather any amount of them. Although he was amazingly agile, as soon as he advanced against ants, he found those active insects absent.
Ambitious Anthony was not able to eat. His ant-catching acts always caused accidents. Afterwards, Anthony was usually ailing and always hungry!
In the afternoon Amy, the Angora cat, said, “Anthony, allow me to alert you that you are an authentic African antelope and absolutely no relation to any anteater.”
“I’ve always been an anteater,” replied Anthony. “I adore ants, but I can’t catch any. Aren’t you aware that I must appease my angry appetite with ants?”
“You should be ashamed, Anthony! You aren’t an anteater. I advise you that you are an admirable antelope,” answered Angora Amy. “My advice to you is to admit you aren’t an anteater. All the animals will stand aside to watch an active, alert antelope. No one stands aside for an antelope acting as an almost anteater.
“Instead of ants, which you admit you aren’t able to catch, try some grass. Other antlered antelopes eat huge amounts of grass and they are still alive,” added Amy.
Anthony accepted an ant-sized amount of grass from Amy. He apologized after eating it, and admitted that it tasted altogether different from how he thought grass would taste.
“It appears that my antelope appetite has been aroused for this food,” announced Anthony. “Thanks to you, Angora Amy, I am able to be an actual antelope and not an artificial anteater who found it awfully awkward obtaining ants.”
There are over 125 words beginning with A’s in this story. How many do you remember?

One such Ivorian was Phillipe Assard. Phillipe left for Köln, Germany, in 1971 to attend engineering school. While earning his degree, he met Annelies Margitta at a dance in her hometown of Remscheid. Before long, they married, Phillipe found employment, and the couple started a family.
In 1980 two full-time missionaries knocked on their door and presented the message of the Restoration, and the Assards quickly embraced the gospel. They were soon baptized and, in Brother Assard’s words, “overwhelmed with blessings.” Phillipe and Annelies were sealed in the Swiss Temple, and Phillipe found a new job that allowed him to better meet the needs of his growing family, by then consisting of a son, Alexandre Joseph, and a daughter, Dorothée Anne.
Despite the family’s improved economic conditions and increasingly comfortable life in Germany, Brother Assard began to feel drawn to his native Ivory Coast. He realized the development his country needed most would come only through the gospel of Jesus Christ, and he was determined to play a part in introducing the gospel to his country. An application to a company looking for engineers in Ivory Coast was turned down, but in 1984 Brother Assard decided to return to his homeland for a vacation and assess employment opportunities personally. He was disappointed to learn the company he had applied to was having financial problems. No other work opportunities materialized.
“I returned to Köln, but I had total faith in the Lord because I had this dream that the gospel must be established in Ivory Coast,” Brother Assard recalls. “So in 1986 after praying and fasting with my wife, I decided to return to Ivory Coast to give what I had received, to improve the lot of my family and my people.”
Before leaving Germany, the Assards received their patriarchal blessings, returned to the Swiss Temple, and traveled to Frankfurt, where they met with members of the Europe Area Presidency—Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin, now of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and Elder Russell C. Taylor, now an emeritus member of the Seventy. After explaining their desires to go to Ivory Coast, the family “received blessings and encouragement from them,” Brother Assard says, “and Elder Wirthlin gave me a list of all known members in the country, which was only a handful.”
Brother Assard quit his job, and the family sold their house and belongings. On 10 April 1986 the Assards left for Ivory Coast. They moved in with his parents in a small village near Abidjan—the nation’s largest city and its industrial center. Neither Sister Assard nor her children could speak any French. Nevertheless, Alexandre and Dorothée enrolled in school, while Sister Assard learned French from her in-laws and Brother Assard looked for work.
For an entire year Brother Assard fruitlessly sought employment. The strain of providing for his family weighed heavily upon him. He did not, however, let the difficulty of finding a job prevent him from moving the work of the Lord forward. He and Sister Assard sent letters to members on the list they had received in Germany. The Lucien Affoué family of Abidjan was the first to respond. Both families rejoiced to know they were not alone. Other members in Ivory Coast also responded but were too remote to meet with them.
Brother Assard directed the growing branch until Elder Marvin J. Ashton of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and Elder Alexander B. Morrison of the Seventy visited the country in 1987. At that time, United States embassy worker Terry Broadhead was set apart as the first branch president, with Brother Assard as his counselor. When Elder Ashton dedicated the land for the preaching of the gospel in September 1987, the country had 16 Church members.
Brother Assard later became the first native branch president in Ivory Coast. He also served as a district president. Sister Assard has been branch Relief Society and Young Women president and district Relief Society president. Her musical talent has proven invaluable in helping people learn Church hymns.
Temporal blessings soon followed the spiritual blessings. After being unemployed for a year, Brother Assard was hired by a European automobile manufacturer in Abidjan. His knowledge of French and German, along with his engineering degree, made a perfect match. Today he serves as assistant technical director for the company.
The Assards are eternally grateful for their blessings and for the guiding influence that directed them to Ivory Coast. Thanks to that influence, President Assard has seen the fulfillment of his dream that the gospel would be established among his people. Part of the fulfillment came on 17 August 1997 when the Abidjan Ivory Coast Stake was created, with Phillipe Assard as president. Through tears and smiles, Sister Assard says of the creation of this first stake in her adopted country, “We have worked and prayed for this day for 11 years.”
The Church’s first chapel in Ivory Coast was dedicated in April 1997, a decade after the country was dedicated for the preaching of the gospel and shortly before the creation of the country’s first stake. A chapel of their own represents a milestone for Ivorian Latter-day Saints, including the Affoués and the Assards, who have longed for a chapel in their native land since the two families first met under a tree in their home village 11 years ago.

Luke’s senior year was anything but normal.
After starting his senior year at the same Mississippi high school he’d been attending since he was a freshman, and with the same friends he’d known since age nine, Luke’s family moved to Alabama.
“I wasn’t too excited about the move,” Luke N., 18, admits. But he still tried to make the most of it. For one thing, he joined the tennis team at his new school.
And then he got to play all of one match before his whole world turned upside down.
Tennis? Canceled. Prom? Double canceled. Attending church? Attending school? Attending seminary?
You guessed it. All canceled.
Like the rest of the globe, Luke’s daily routine shifted gears in a massive way once the COVID-19 pandemic interfered with just about every area of his life.
“It’s definitely been disappointing,” he says. For Luke, the biggest heartache of all was not knowing for sure what’s going to happen with his mission call.
It’d be understandable for anybody in Luke’s situation to feel discouraged, but he says he finds heavenly help every day. “I see a lot of blessings in disguise.”