Gospel Story Finder

Jane was always forgetting things.
Sometimes she forgot to hang up her coat. Sometimes she forgot to put her toys away. Sometimes she forgot to brush her teeth and make her bed. And almost always when she checked out books at the library, she forgot to return them until they were overdue.
But what made Mother most unhappy was that Jane often forgot to bring her boots home from school. Or her cap. Or her mittens. Every winter morning Jane dressed warmly before leaving for school. But when Jane came home, very often her mittens were missing. Or her cap. Or her boots.
Mother would say, “Jane, did you forget again?”
And Jane would always answer, “Oh, Mother, I’m so busy thinking that I don’t have time to remember.”
One Friday afternoon Jane was very busy thinking. The sun was warm when she came out of school. She walked along, kicking a stone in front of her. She didn’t notice that she had forgotten her cap and her mittens and her boots. She was too busy thinking.
When Jane opened her eyes on Saturday morning, she saw something outside her window. She rushed over to look out at the small white flakes that were falling.
“Hurray!” Jane called. “It’s snowing!”
She put on her Saturday play clothes and ran out to the kitchen.
“Your breakfast is ready,” Mother said.
“I have to hurry,” Jane cried, “because I want to play in the snow!”
But when Jane started to get ready to go outside, her face wrinkled up in a frown.
“Where are my boots?” she called.
“I don’t know,” Mother answered. “Did you forget to bring them home from school?”
Jane nodded her head. “And I guess I forgot my cap and mittens, too,” she said slowly after she had looked all around her room. “But I remembered my coat,” she finished proudly.
“Jane,” Mother said patiently, “you can’t go outside to play in the snow wearing just your coat.”
“Please,” Jane pleaded, “I love the snow.”
“Well, maybe I can think of something,” Mother said. And she did.
She thought of boots belonging to Jane’s big brother Bud, to use for Jane’s feet. Of course, they were too big, and Jane could barely lift her feet to walk in them.
Then Mother thought of the scarf that belonged to Daddy, to use for Jane’s head. Of course, it was too long and had to be wound three times around Jane’s head. She could hardly see out.
And finally, Mother thought of her own gloves, to use for Jane’s hands. Of course, the fingers were too big and too long and just kept flapping even when Jane pulled the gloves on as far as she could.
But at last Jane was ready to go outside.
She decided to make a snowman. Over and over she rolled the snowballs. Next she piled them one on top of the other, and finally her snowman was finished. She put a broom in his hand and an old hat of Daddy’s on his head.
Just then Daddy drove up.
“Hi!” Jane called out.
Daddy pretended to be surprised.
“Who’s that talking?” he asked. “All I can see are two funny looking snowmen.”
“Oh, Daddy,” Jane said. “I’m not a snowman. I’m Jane.”
“So you are,” Daddy laughed. “But why are you dressed up like that? Are you trying to scare the snowman?”
Jane began to laugh. “Daddy, you know I’m not. It’s just that I was thinking so hard yesterday that I forgot to bring home my boots and cap and mittens.”
“Well,” Daddy smiled, “you had better come inside now to eat some lunch. We don’t want you to frighten someone who is driving by.”
After lunch Jane started to get ready to go back outside. But Bud needed his boots to go sliding with the boys. Daddy needed his scarf when he went to the hardware store. And Mother needed her gloves when she went outside to sweep the front porch.
So Jane had to sit all alone inside the house, just looking out at all of the beautiful white snow.
On Monday afternoon Jane came running home from school wearing her cap and her mittens and her boots.
“Why, Jane,” Mother said, “you remembered everything. Have you given up thinking?”
“No, Mother,” Jane answered. “I’m still thinking, but now I’ve decided to think about remembering things.”

I want to share with you one such experience. As an 11 year old scout, I learned a great lesson from an assistant scout master who took us into the woods to give us a lesson in AX SAFETY. After speaking for a few minutes and giving us a lecture on how to care for an ax and to be careful with it, the Assistant Scout Master said: "I will now teach you how to safely use an ax when chopping down a tree." He identified a young tree to chop down. We gathered around to watch. He showed us how to grip the handle. He took a swing at the tree. The ax glanced off the trunk of the tree and hit him squarely in the knee, splitting his knee wide open.

It was the best lesson on AX SAFETY that a group of 11 year old scouts could have ever received! We all went home that day with a deep understanding of the importance of Ax Safety.

In the same way, if we are wise we will learn from the mistakes of others. The more vivid the mistake, perhaps the more lasting and important the lesson. I have never looked at an ax since that day without having a sense of respect for the ax and an understanding of what can go wrong. I learned the lesson taught by the Assistant Scout Master. I want you to know, I STRONGLY believe in Ax Safety.

Alison listened eagerly as the bishop announced that their ward would be having a Christmas open house this year. “We want it to be a special evening,” he said. “It will be a wonderful opportunity to invite friends and neighbors.”
Alison loved the Christmas holidays. She liked shopping for presents for her family and friends and singing Christmas carols. And she loved reading the story of Jesus’s birth and thinking of Him as a small baby.
The bishop’s next words caught her attention. “Because of the open house, we won’t be having our traditional ward Christmas party this year.”
Alison frowned. “No party?” she whispered to her mother. The ward Christmas party was one of her favorite parts of the season.
Mom put a finger to her lips.
“Some of our friends and neighbors do not understand that we are Christians,” the bishop continued. “We want them to know that we believe in Jesus Christ.”
Alison turned her attention back to the bishop.
“The open house will focus on Jesus Christ,” he said. “We’re asking families to bring nativity sets, and we will have a live reenactment of the Nativity scene.”
As the time drew near for the open house, Alison started getting excited. Mom and Dad invited an elderly neighbor to go to the open house. Alison invited Erica.
The night of the open house, Alison helped Mom wrap both of the family’s nativity sets in newspaper. Then Mom and Dad drove her to pick up Erica.
When they got to the church, Alison and Erica looked at nativity sets from Japan, Austria, the Philippines, and many other countries.
Then the girls went outside where the young men and young women were acting out the Nativity. There were live cows, sheep, and even a nanny goat. “Everything but a camel,” Alison said.
The bishop asked everyone to gather in the chapel. Alison and Erica sat with the Primary children. The children sang “Picture a Christmas”1 and “The Nativity Song,”2 and the ward choir performed parts of Messiah.
“That was really great,” Erica said on the ride home. “I wish my parents could have come.”
“Maybe next year,” Alison said, smiling. She thought about the open house and realized she hadn’t missed the Christmas party after all.

A couple weeks after I started going to seminary, Heather asked me if I was interested in having the missionaries teach me the discussions. What are missionaries, I thought? I imagined two old bald men who carried briefcases everywhere they went and had no personality. But when I met the Elders, I knew I was wrong. They made learning fun. Not only did I grow to love them and the family that invited me into their home every Sunday night, I also grew to love the Lord and his church.

Many who hold the Aaronic Priesthood realize it is a preparation for a lifetime of service. Gerardo Emmanuel Bagnati, 12, of the Floresta Ward, Buenos Aires Argentina Liniers Stake, says: “I always looked forward to receiving the priesthood. I loved asking my father and grandfather about it and listening to their experiences. When my ordination day finally arrived, I woke up early and thanked the Lord for His confidence in me and promised Him I would never willingly disappoint Him. When my father put his hands on my head and ordained me a deacon, I felt I had ceased to be a child and had become an adult. I’ll never forget it.”

That trust has blessed my life and the lives of my family. Years ago I heard President Ezra Taft Benson speak in a conference like this. He counseled us to do all we could to get out of debt and stay out. He mentioned mortgages on houses. He said that it might not be possible, but it would be best if we could pay off all our mortgage debt.9
I turned to my wife after the meeting and asked, “Do you think there is any way we could do that?” At first we couldn’t. And then by evening I thought of a property we had acquired in another state. For years we had tried to sell it without success.
But because we trusted God and a few words from the midst of His servant’s message, we placed a phone call Monday morning to the man in San Francisco who had our property listed to sell. I had called him a few weeks before, and he had said then, “We haven’t had anyone show interest in your property for years.”
But on the Monday after conference, I heard an answer that to this day strengthens my trust in God and His servants.
The man on the phone said, “I am surprised by your call. A man came in today inquiring whether he could buy your property.” In amazement I asked, “How much did he offer to pay?” It was a few dollars more than the amount of our mortgage.
A person might say that was only a coincidence. But our mortgage was paid off. And our family still listens for any word in a prophet’s message that might be sent to tell what we should do to find the security and peace God wants for us.

John Taylor’s youth had prepared him well for a lifetime of dedicated service to the Lord. He sensed even when he was young that a guiding hand was over him, watching and protecting him until he was ready to fulfill his foreordained mission in life. As he left Liverpool in 1832 to join his family and eventually his life’s work in the kingdom, he experienced a severe storm soon after the ship was out to sea. Undaunted, he recalled, “So confident was I of my destiny that I went on deck at midnight, and amidst the raging elements felt as calm as though I was sitting in a parlor at home. I believed I should reach America and perform my work.” (Life of John Taylor, p. 29.) That work and the formative influences of his youth in accomplishing it stand as a remarkable example for us to the present day.

Two years after my father’s death, I left Uruguay on a mission to Peru. Upon my return, life blessed me with a family of my own, university degrees, and a career in business. I became an international executive, which made it necessary for us to move from country to country—Peru, Argentina, Venezuela, and the United States. My home base was then in the United States, and I eventually became a citizen.
Then life took a sudden turn. I became a diplomat for the United States government, first in Mexico, then in Chile. I sought the assignment to Chile because I desired to get to know the country where I had been born and perhaps find more about my father.
A few months after my arrival in Chile, I had the opportunity to make an official visit to Antofagasta, the city of my birth. I knew that my father, a British subject from whom I had inherited my name, had worked at the Chile-Bolivia Railroad as his own father once had. Therefore, I asked my secretary to make an appointment with the president of the Chile-Bolivia Railroad to see what I could learn about my father. As the main diplomat on commercial business, this meeting with the railroad was eminently qualified for my assignment as well.
Because the company’s president was traveling, my secretary set up an appointment with another executive by the name of Jorge Lyon on a Saturday morning. Saturday came. I put on my best suit and headed for the offices of the railroad. Mr. Lyon soon arrived, and I introduced myself as John Harris, head of commerce for the United States in Chile. He was a stately man in his sixties, who had sacrificed part of his day off to see a visitor from Chile’s main trading partner.
I started the conversation with the usual questions about goods transported, tonnage routes, and expansion plans. After a few minutes, Mr. Lyon interrupted me and said, “It is quite a coincidence, but I used to work at the railroad for a man with your same name.”
I remained silent for a moment. John Harris is not a common name in South America, much less in a railroad company in the midst of the Atacama Desert. I knew I had found someone who had known my father personally.
“How was he?” I managed to ask. But inside I was asking questions similar to those of Joseph of Egypt: Did he love me? Did he care about me?
Mr. Lyon answered. “He was a good man. He hired me and trained me. He was a patient and good teacher. He knew the railroad business better than anyone else in the company.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “He was my father,” I said, barely containing a tear.
Mr. Lyon then showed me what my father did and where he worked. I did not find out about his feelings toward me; for that I will have to wait a few years. But in my search I have been able to define my feelings toward him.
That day in the city of my birth, I learned something about my two fathers. I learned about the life of my earthly father, but more importantly, I learned that my Heavenly Father cared enough for me that 33 years after my father’s death he had helped me find the only man alive in Chile who had known my father. If the president of the railroad had been able to receive me, I would have missed the opportunity to meet Jorge Lyon and thus learn about my own father.
I have learned that our Father in Heaven lives, that He loves us, that He indeed cares for us and is always close to us. I know I was guided by the Lord to meet Jorge Lyon in order to satisfy my thirst to know my earthly father. How grateful I am for the plan of salvation and eternal life and for the opportunity to reunite with loved ones in the next life.

Recently my wife and children were very ill from an unusual bacterial infection. I gave them blessings and prayed for them. Then, not wanting to expose anyone else to their sickness, I arranged my work schedule to be able to be home to care for their needs. It was soon apparent that my acts of service to help them through three weeks of illness became a strong binding force for us. Such struggles in life sometimes push marital partners apart, but crises can serve as the training ground for commitment. We often perform such acts of service because we are committed beforehand, but in many instances service precedes commitment. It is in serving each other that we become committed to each other.

And love endures through the hardships of life. The Apostle Paul taught: “Charity suffereth long. … [It] beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth” (1 Corinthians 13:4, 7, 8). I watched a mother’s enduring love for her alcoholic son. She never gave up praying for him and being available for him. In his later years, he finally “came to himself” (Luke 15:17), kept a respectable job, and used his mechanical skills to fix up his mother’s house.

“I’m 18, too, and had been inactive for several years. Recently this changed. My branch president began visiting me, and he gained my trust to the point that I talked with him about my problems. This greatly relieved the burden I was carrying.

“The missionaries also began visiting me. I began reading the Book of Mormon and praying again. Much of this was because of a long period of fasting, praying, and fellowshipping by members of the Church. Because these people would consistently show their love for me, I gradually came around. They also showed me how the Church could help me with personal goals.

“If you truly want to reconvert your friend, try doing with him what my friends did with me. And pray for the Lord to soften his heart. With God’s help, he’ll come around. I know I did. But it may take a while.”
Braun ThompsonAustin, Minnesota

Years ago, I received a phone call from an individual who had been arrested for trespassing. He told me it had been revealed to him that additional scripture was buried under the ground floor of a building he tried to enter. He claimed that once he obtained the additional scripture, he knew he would receive the gift of translation, bring forth new scripture, and shape the doctrine and direction of the Church. I told him that he was mistaken, and he implored me to pray about it. I told him I would not. He became verbally abusive and ended the phone call.

I did not need to pray about this request for one simple but profound reason: only the prophet receives revelation for the Church. It would be “contrary to the economy of God” for others to receive such revelation, which belongs on the prophet’s runway.

This year marks the 200th anniversary of the birth of John Rowe Moyle. John was a convert to the Church who left his home in England and traveled to the Salt Lake Valley as part of a handcart company. He built a home for his family in a small town a valley away from Salt Lake City. John was an accomplished stonecutter and, because of this skill, was asked to work on the Salt Lake Temple.
Every Monday John left home at two o’clock in the morning and walked six hours in order to be at his post on time. On Friday he would leave his work at five o’clock in the evening and walk almost until midnight before arriving home. He did this year after year.
One day, while he was doing his chores at home, a cow kicked him in the leg, causing a compound fracture. With limited medical resources, the only option was to amputate the broken leg. So John’s family and friends strapped him onto a door and, with a bucksaw, cut off his leg a few inches from the knee.
In spite of the crude surgery, the leg started to heal. Once John could sit up in bed, he began carving a wooden leg with an ingenious joint that served as an ankle to an artificial foot. Walking on this device was extremely painful, but John did not give up, building up his endurance until he could make the 22-mile (35-km) journey to the Salt Lake Temple each week, where he continued his work.
His hands carved the words “Holiness to the Lord” that stand today as a golden marker to all who visit the Salt Lake Temple.
John did not do this for the praise of man. Neither did he shirk his duty, even though he had every reason to do so. He knew what the Lord expected him to do.
Years later, John’s grandson Henry D. Moyle was called as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve and, eventually, served in the First Presidency of the Church. President Moyle’s service in these callings was honorable, but his grandfather John’s service, though somewhat less public, is just as pleasing to the Lord. John’s character, his legacy of sacrifice, serves as a banner of faithfulness and an ensign of duty to his family and to the Church. John Rowe Moyle understood the meaning of “lift where you stand.”

About seven months ago, we had our sixth child. A few days before he was born, my wife’s grandmother, Marcella Brede, passed away, and one of the names our newborn son carries is her name. When I think of Tutu, as we call her, I think of enduring to the end. She was orphaned as a youth, she was a convert, she was a young mother who singlehandedly raised five children in the Church in a part member family like my mom did for us. She was widowed (for almost 30 years) after caring for her husband who had Alzheimer’s. She was a cancer survivor and had some serious health issues, but despite her health, she served faithfully in various callings and was a long time temple worker, and even in her older years, she served as a full time senior missionary at the Washington D.C. Temple.

When I think of Tutu, I think of enduring to the end. She was of course not perfect. In fact, one of her weaknesses was not letting others help her; she had a stubborn resolve to be on the giving side as compared to the receiving side. She endured well because of her giving and nurturing nature. Three things come to mind when I think of her and her legacy:

The first is food. I think of her guava jam, her famous chocolate cake recipe, and also her squid luau recipe, which we still use. Tutu fed people; she nourished and nurtured people, more than just with food.

Second, I think of the blanket she sewed for me when I graduated with my Ph.D. She sewed blankets for all of her graduates. Knowing I was a proud Kahuku Red Raider for Life, she made a red blanket that we still use today. We felt her warmth and comfort when she was here with us, and we still feel her comfort and love today from beyond the veil. Tutu was always in the mix, and I’m confident she’s working hard on the other side, just like she did here on this earth.

The third thing I think of is the leis she would make. Her grandchildren, including my wife and even our children, would help her pick flowers, and she would sew the leis. In addition to making leis, she was good at stringing family together and including everyone. Today, we perpetuate some of the family traditions she established which have helped keep the family close.

So when I think of where I want to be at the end of my life, I want to be like Tutu, to endure well with a life of service – giving, nurturing, comforting – and stringing people together.

When my dear wife returned home to our Heavenly Father, it was necessary for our family to find a suitable grave site. In doing so, I faced opposition when I wanted to have the term resting place included on the gravestone. The term did not meet the cemetery management’s policy.
Thus ensued a tenacious struggle. At one point the minister of the church to which the cemetery grounds belonged asked about the term. I was able to bear my testimony that I believe in the literal resurrection of the body, quoting the Savior: “All that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth; they that have done good, unto the resurrection of life” (John 5:28–29). I testified that this grave is a sacred resting place for us until the Resurrection.
Then the minister made an inspired suggestion: “Have the following words inscribed on the gravestone: ‘The Bohne and Lehmann families are resting here in anticipation of the Resurrection.’ ” So it was done. And with that, my testimony was chiseled in stone.

I will never forget my first temple recommend interview with my bishop as I was preparing to go to the temple for my own endowments. The bishop was my father. Every day we spent a lot of time together, and he could have interviewed me in our home, in the barn, in the field, in our car, or in any convenient place. But Dad wanted to make this a special occasion, one that I would remember.
One day I received a telephone call from the bishop’s office. Dad wanted to set up an appointment with me for a temple recommend interview. I thought this strange, as he had never called before to set up an interview or an appointment with me. We arranged a time for a meeting in the bishop’s office. The appointed time came. When I arrived in his office, his desk was completely cleared, which was unusual, because normally it would have been almost covered by papers and books. Only the scriptures lay on top of the desk. In addition to giving me the formal interview, Dad wanted to make it a learning experience for me.
He passed the scriptures over to my side of the desk and asked me to read: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. Thou shalt not steal; neither commit adultery, nor kill, nor do anything like unto it” (D&C 59:6). The last sentence stuck in my mind.
Illustration by Mike Malm
We then discussed what it meant to be morally clean. The discussion focused on cleanliness of thought. Our thoughts, he said, usually develop into actions. If our thoughts remain clean and pure, we will never commit acts that would prevent us from holding a temple recommend.
Next, he picked up the scriptures and read the promise of the Lord related to the Word of Wisdom (see D&C 89:18–21). We discussed the value of keeping our physical bodies as healthy, wholesome homes for our eternal spirits. The spirit of man should be housed in the cleanest tabernacle we can build while we are here on earth.
Then my father handed the scriptures back to me to read: “Behold, there shall be a record kept among you; and in it thou shalt be called a seer, a translator, a prophet, an apostle of Jesus Christ, an elder of the church through the will of God the Father, and the grace of your Lord Jesus Christ,
“Being inspired of the Holy Ghost to lay the foundation thereof, and to build it up unto the most holy faith. …
“Wherefore, meaning the church, thou shalt give heed unto all his words and commandments which he shall give unto you as he receiveth them, walking in all holiness before me” (D&C 21:1–2, 4).
We discussed the necessity of honoring and sustaining the prophet. We have been promised that the Lord will never let His prophet lead us astray. Here is a sure foundation on which we can build our lives.
Next my dad read: “There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—
“And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated” (D&C 130:20–21).
We talked about the importance of being obedient to the law of the Lord and the payment of tithes and offerings to Him as a test of our faith.
Finally, we turned to the scriptures and read: “The veil was taken from our minds, and the eyes of our understanding were opened.
“We saw the Lord standing upon the breastwork of the pulpit, before us; and under his feet was a paved work of pure gold, in color like amber.
“His eyes were as a flame of fire; the hair of his head was white like the pure snow; his countenance shone above the brightness of the sun; and his voice was as the sound of the rushing of great waters, even the voice of Jehovah, saying:
“I am the first and the last; I am he who liveth, I am he who was slain; I am your advocate with the Father” (D&C 110:1–4).
We talked about the eternal hope we have in the Atonement of our Lord and Savior, and how necessary it is that we partake of these sacred ordinances so we can receive the greatest gift He has given us, the gift of eternal life, life with Him.
Dad filled out the temple recommend form and had me sign it, gave me a warm handshake, and congratulated me for being worthy to hold a current temple recommend. I left the office feeling exhilarated because I had passed one of the most important tests of my life. I had been deemed worthy to hold a temple recommend. I made a commitment to myself that I would always live worthy of holding a current temple recommend.

A few years ago, my friend Jack swore a lot. I knew that Jesus and God didn’t want that. I asked him if he could stop swearing around me, and he had enough respect to stop. We’re best friends now.
Now whenever he hears someone swearing around me, he’ll apologize to me and ask them to stop. I think that’s really cool. He’s come to church a few times and even said a prayer. I asked the missionaries for a Book of Mormon and gave it to him.

I can remember making many goals to complete the Book of Mormon. I made many attempts but would slowly lose interest and then start over again later. It wasn’t until my first year in college that I truly “experimented upon the word” (see Alma 32:27). I began getting up at 6:30 every weekday morning and reading for half an hour. Because I had an allotted time, I didn’t feel anxious to be done.
I began looking forward to reading the scriptures. After I read, I felt happy and peaceful. My whole day was affected. I could more easily keep a prayer in my heart. The Spirit stayed closer than before. My worries did not disappear, but my days really were happier.
I realized I was gaining a testimony of the scriptures. I had no idea that obeying the commandment to read the scriptures would bring me so many blessings. I felt as though I had been let in on a secret that only scripture readers knew.
Before I started my experiment, I didn’t really understand why we are commanded to read the scriptures, but I had a little faith—faith enough to read for a short time every day. And, as Alma taught, I gained a testimony.

3. Concentrate on your children’s individual strengths, avoiding negative comparisons with brothers and sisters. Judy hasn’t caused her parents a moment’s trouble. She attends her Church meetings regularly, has positive things to say about her seminary class, and has lots of good, active friends. But her younger sister, Patti, presents a puzzling contrast for her parents. She resists going to Church and is constantly in trouble with her teachers. She enrolled in seminary only at her parents’ insistence, but she misses class much of the time. She is attracted to friends who are inactive in the Church and disparaging of its values.
Patti sees little chance of outshining her sister for good attention, so unconsciously she seeks attention in other ways. Unfortunately the parents are compounding the problem by constantly holding her older sister up as an example. Patti rebels because of her strong need to “be her own person,” yet she feels guilty about her behavior and her self-esteem is low.
It’s not uncommon for parents to compare a child unfavorably with another child in the family. It may be done openly and consciously with statements such as, “Why can’t you be like John?” or “Sandra would never have done that!” Or it may be done in very subtle ways without the parents even being aware that such a comparison has been made. But in either case the message is often understood to be: “You are not as lovable or as capable as your brother or sister.” Usually, a parent uses comparisons to set up a positive example for the child to follow. But such comparisons are generally destructive to the self-esteem of children.

This story took place in the USA.
Kevin turned around in the computer chair. He hit random keys on the keyboard.
“Mom, can I play the racing game yet?” he called.
Mom looked in from the kitchen. “After you finish your homework.”
Kevin sighed. How was he supposed to focus on homework? He was so close to beating the next level of his favorite computer game. And his homework was, well, homework.
He guessed he could at least start on it. He scrolled through a website. It sure didn’t look as cool as the racing game.
Then Kevin saw a link. He clicked on it. The link took him to a website with pictures of people wearing no clothes.
This is bad, he thought. I should leave it. Kevin looked over his shoulder. No one was watching him. He looked at a few more pictures. He was just curious.
Kevin started to feel a little sick inside. He quickly closed the website. He tried to go back to his homework. It’s OK, Kevin thought. I just saw just a few pictures. But the bad feeling didn’t go away.
Kevin felt like he should talk to Mom about the website. But he was scared. What if she got mad?
That night, after dinner, Kevin helped Mom wash the dishes.
“Are you feeling OK?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Kevin said.
But he wasn’t OK. He felt like he was going to cry. The feeling that he should tell Mom came back. But Kevin was still scared.
Heavenly Father, please help me, he prayed silently. He felt a little better.
“Can I talk to you?” Kevin asked.
“Of course,” Mom said. “What do you want to talk about?”
Kevin looked at the floor. He wasn’t sure how to start. “When I was doing my homework, I looked at a site that had pictures of people without clothes. I was just curious. But now I can’t forget what I saw.”
“I’m glad you told me,” Mom said. She gave Kevin a hug. “Curiosity is normal. You know that those things are bad, and you shouldn’t be looking at them. But the good thing is that you were honest. You’ll feel better now because you told me.”
“You’re not mad?” Kevin asked.
“Of course not,” Mom said. “I love you. I want to help you. And so does Heavenly Father. He can always help you make things right.”
The sick feeling left Kevin’s stomach.
“I was scared to tell you,” he said. “But I felt better after I said a prayer.”
“It sounds like the Holy Ghost helped you be brave!” Mom said.
Kevin had felt calm and peaceful when he prayed. But even before he prayed, he had felt like he needed to talk to Mom.
“I think the Holy Ghost helped me the whole time,” Kevin said. “He told me the pictures were bad. And He told me I needed to tell you what happened.”
“I’m always here if you need to talk about things like this,” Mom said. “I won’t get mad. Let’s work together to make a computer safety plan.”
Kevin smiled. “That sounds like a good idea to me.”
Illustration by Laura Catrinella