Gospel Story Finder

Every time they saw Mehitabel, Grandpa’s friends challenged her with “Riddle me this!” and “Riddle me that!” But Mehitabel always came up with a clever answer. It began to look as though the whole summer would pass without Grandpa’s buying his friends a treat.
Then one day Mrs. Gray had a riddle poem for Mehitabel. “Riddle me this, Hitty, if you can,” she said. “Who are the people, and what is the poem the tale of?” Then she recited:
“One was in the dungeon;
One was in the street.
The lost one and the searcher—
How could they ever meet?”
Mehitabel knew at once that she was stumped. Oh, she knew that she had heard the story somewhere, But what was it about? she asked herself. And who was in the dungeon? The Little Lame Prince? No, he was in a tower, not a dungeon, and he wasn’t really lost. Robinson Crusoe? No, he was on an island, and no one was searching for him. The princess in Rumpelstiltskin? She wasn’t locked in a dungeon, and no one was searching for her, either.
Maybe it wasn’t a person, Mehitabel continued in her thoughts. Maybe it was an animal—or a thing. Yes! A thing! What does one search for? Gold? She sighed with relief. She may not have Mrs. Gray’s answer, but at least she had one. She turned to Grandpa’s friend and said. “The lost one in the dungeon was gold in a mine. The searcher was the miner who was trying to pan the gold from a stream.”
Grandpa chuckled. He had been worried for a minute, but Mehitabel had done it again.
However, Mrs. Gray said, “You’ve given a very good answer, Hitty, but I think even your grandpa will admit that the better answer comes from history.” She smiled at Mehitabel and said, “The one in the dungeon was King Richard the Lionhearted. The searcher was his minstrel, Blondel.”
Grandpa nodded. “Yes, that’s right. I know the story—King Richard was captured by the duke of Austria and locked in a castle on the Danube River. I’d forgotten that old story. You stumped her fair and square, Mrs. Gray. And I’m happy to pay up.”
Grandpa called to the ice-cream vendor and motioned for him to come over. “Let each of my friends choose the flavor of ice-cream cone he wants. The treat’s on me today!”
Carlos Sanchez wanted blueberry. Mrs. Gray asked for vanilla. Mr. Loomis’s favorite was cherry marshmallow. Grandpa said, “I’ll have peppermint. What about you, Mehitabel?”
Mehitabel looked hard at the ice-cream vendor. “I’ll have black mud,” she said.
“Mud!” shouted Grandpa.
“Mud?” yelled Grandpa’s friends.
The ice-cream vendor didn’t bat an eye. He took an empty cone and filled it with something that looked exactly like mud. Handing it to Mehitabel, he grinned and said, “I guessed your riddle, young lady. That’s licorice ice cream!”
Grandpa shook his head, chuckling. “That Mehitabel!”

Remember that Heavenly Father answers our prayers in the way that is best for us. It may not be the answer that we want, but it is always the right answer. I remember my Primary graduation. Back then, we wore bandalos (felt bands worn around the neck and that emblems and awards were attached to), and my Primary teacher told me that I needed to wear mine. I couldn’t find it! My mother told me to pray about it, so I knelt and asked Heavenly Father for help. I soon received my answer. The Spirit told me to look underneath my dresser drawer. When I reached up under it, I found my bandalo caught on a sliver of wood. I never would have looked there if I hadn’t prayed for help. We need to always remember that if we ask, we shall receive (see Matt. 7:7–8). If we ask Heavenly Father for guidance, the Spirit will whisper to us what we should do.

Two years ago we took our dog, Jake, with us to Grandma and Grandpa’s house for Christmas. Jake ran off right before a really bad snowstorm. My dad drove around looking for him for a couple of hours, but could not find him.
My dad called our family together and told us that Jake was lost and that we needed Heavenly Father’s help to find him. We knelt together, and my dad asked me to say the prayer. I asked Heavenly Father to let some nice people find him and take care of him and help him come home to us because we loved him.
My prayer was answered. Some nice people found him in a cow pasture. They cleaned him up and fed him. The next morning they called us, and we picked him up. Heavenly Father helped Jake stay safe as he crossed a busy road, and He led nice people to help him. I know Heavenly Father answers prayers because He answered mine.Dwight P., age 6, with help from his mom, Utah

Nathan and his cousins were playing by a large irrigation ditch. They knew that they shouldn’t play so close to it, but it was fun to throw rocks into the water, and it was cooler near the water on this hot summer day. Suddenly Nathan slipped and fell in. His cousins yelled for help. Fortunately the aunts and uncles were not far away. Uncle Gary jumped the pasture fence, ran to the ditch, and pulled Nathan from the water just before he went into a culvert under the road. Uncle Gary saved Nathan’s life that day.
You can probably imagine how grateful Nathan’s family was to Uncle Gary that summer day. How much more grateful we ought to be to Jesus Christ! His Atonement made it possible for us to live again forever. His Atonement paid the price for our sins if we repent. No wonder we celebrate Easter! In some parts of the world, people greet each other at Easter time by saying, “Christ is risen!” And their friends reply, “In truth, He is risen.” Jesus Christ—our Savior and our Redeemer—is risen! How great is our joy!

To help explain what the Savior has done for us, President Boyd K. Packer, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, told the story of a man who borrowed a great deal of money. He bought something he had always wanted. But when the bill came due, he could not afford to pay it. He knew that his creditor would take away his possessions as payment and throw him in jail.
Then the man’s friend came to rescue him. The friend asked, “If I pay your debt, will you accept me as your creditor?” The man gratefully agreed, and his friend told him, “You will pay the debt to me and I will set the terms. It will not be easy, but it will be possible.”
Because the friend was willing and able to pay, the creditor received the money that was fairly owed him. At the same time, the man was able to keep his possessions and not go to jail. (See “The Mediator,” Ensign, May 1977, 54–55.)

Her mother, Castorina, was baptized the following month, along with Eulogia’s daughter, Liduvina. Another daughter, Lina, wanted to be baptized, but her new husband opposed it.
“I believe my parents’ love and patience helped us live our lives sharing the gospel,” Lina says. Even though she was not able to be baptized at first, she served in the Church as faithfully as anyone could who was not a member. Eventually, in 1986, when her husband’s opposition had softened because of the example of his wife and children, Lina joyfully entered the waters of baptism.

To begin with they were all in the same ward, but then the wards were split. Melissa ended up in one of the new wards, and Marny and Nancy were in the other.
“After they split the wards, and we figured out who wasn’t going to be where, we all started crying,” Nancy remembered.
But there were still chances to get together. There are plenty of excuses in this beautiful land, whether on river, bayou, lake, land, marsh, swamp, or sea.
And if none of those places work out, there is one even better spot. Sometimes on a Sunday morning when they get a little lonely for one another, the three friends get together at church. “Sometimes I just stay and go to their ward’s meetings after mine are over,” Melissa says. “And sometimes they’ll come early and go to mine before going to their own.”

This story took place in Japan.
Akari helped her little sister, Miori, put out their Nativity set. She loved getting ready for Christmas.
The figure of the baby Jesus reached up from the manger with a smile on His face. Akari smiled too. It made her think about how much Jesus loved her. Many people in Japan didn’t celebrate Jesus Christ’s birth like Akari’s family did. But they still gave gifts and spent time with family around Christmas.
Dad’s phone rang. He picked it up and talked for a minute. “Thanks for the reminder,” he said. “I’ll see you on Christmas morning.” He put down the phone.
“Are you going to the service project?” Akari asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “I’m going to Tokyo to help give food to people without homes. Some people in our ward help out every year.”
“Can I come this time?” Akari asked.
“Sure!” Dad said. “Miori can come too.”
On Christmas morning, Akari’s family woke up early to open presents. Akari loved her gift! She was excited to play with it later.
Mom packed lunches for everyone and hugged them goodbye. Then Akari, Dad, and Miori got on the train.
When the train got to Tokyo, Dad led Akari and Miori to a park with lots of tents and people.
“These are the people we are here to serve,” Dad said. “They don’t have much, and having food for Christmas will be a blessing to them.”
A group of people set out bread rolls, noodle bowls, and desserts on tables. Akari saw some kids her age helping too.
“Are all these people from our church?” Akari asked Dad.
“Not all of them,” Dad said. “Isn’t it great how many people want to help?”
Akari, Miori, and Dad put food into boxes. Then they helped give the boxes to the people in line. “Merry Christmas,” Akari told each person.
Soon all the boxes were gone. But there were still people in line waiting for food!
Dad frowned. “I guess there isn’t enough.” He turned to the people waiting. “I’m so sorry. We’re out of food.”
Akari didn’t want those people to go without food. Was there something she could do?
“They can have my lunch,” she said.
“Good idea!” Dad said. “Let’s all share our lunches.” The other helpers nodded. They got out the lunches they’d brought for themselves. All the people in the line got some food!
Akari was a little hungry, but that was OK. The people at the park needed the food more than she did.
“I’m proud of you,” Dad said on the train ride home. “That was nice of you to share your food.”
“It’s what Jesus would do,” Akari said.
Akari felt warm and happy inside for the rest of the day. And not just because it was Christmas! She was glad she could share the Savior’s love.
What did Akari do to be like Jesus?
Illustration by Amanda Yoshida

“Today is the happiest morning in this year. Today is the first [day of] morning seminary,” wrote a Church member in Russia. “How and when [did this thought] originate about daily morning seminary? I remember there was a lesson for our CES teachers that mentioned about the daily seminary program in the United States and Europe and that got stuck in my mind. At that lesson I felt the power of the Holy Ghost which brought a thought unto me that we should have seminary here. Then I felt that the Lord endows everything for this job: possibility, strength and help. We have to have just willingness to accept such a gift.
“After that meeting I felt great inspiration. Some mothers got frightened a little with the idea because children will have to get up early in the morning and in school, they are overloaded, and some finish the school this year and will be entering higher educational institutions. But fathers, who have the priesthood, completely supported me, having said that daily studying of the scriptures is so needed for youth, will teach them discipline, and also will help them gain the Holy Ghost which during the day time and school lessons will help to withstand the temptations of Satan” (comments from Maria Rupysheva, Vyborg, Russia, fall 1996).

I am reminded of an experience with one who learned for himself how absolutely essential the Savior is in the process of repentance I first met Bill after his disfellowshipment from the Church, he was trying to come back. Although not raised in the Church, Bill had become a member as a mid-teenager. Now, years later, he is a fine man, well educated, married in the temple, with a growing family of small children, and serving faithfully in a leadership position in the Church.

Bill described to me his difficult journey to true repentance. He told me of the deep sorrow he felt after he had seriously sinned. He knew he had violated sacred covenants which were essential to his eternal sealing to his family. He loved his children and his wife. At first he believed he could keep his sin a secret. He had a testimony of the gospel and believed in the Savior, but somehow Bill had come to think that he could personally and privately work out his repentance. In the long weeks and months following his sin, Bill would occasionally awaken in the middle of the night in a cold sweat with a feeling of indescribable despair. The same feelings persisted in times when he was alone or in private contemplation. He always felt in those dark hours that all was lost, but he concluded in his heart to take his chances at the bar of judgment, rather than inflict the pain on his family their knowledge of his selfish, sinful act would cause.

As Bill poured out his heart to me, I thought of Alma the Younger who had spent his early life in disobedience to God’s laws and in opposition to the Church. Alma’s description of his feelings upon realization of what he and done paralleled Bill’s, “But I was racked with eternal torment, for my soul was harrowed up to the greatest degree and racked with all my sins.”[11] And in verse 15, “Oh, thought I, that I could be banished and become extinct both soul and body, that I might not be brought to stand in the presence of my God, to be judged of my deeds.”

Under Satan’s influence, Bill had concluded in his mind that if he punished himself enough while at the same time continuing to fill his church obligations, surely he would be forgiven. Bill told me of his love for running, and how, in order to punish himself, he would run for hours at a time, up steep hills and down, until he reached a state of total exhaustion, convinced that if he experienced enough pain he might be forgiven.

Bill’s loving father, who was not a member of the Church, could see that Bill was greatly troubled. Although not aware of Bill's specific problem, his father recommended, arranged , and paid for counseling which they both hoped would give Bill some comfort and peace. But even with counseling, there were always those terrifying moments when Bill knew what he had done would cost him everything.

Finally, after months of painful, but futile, attempts to overcome the effects of his sin by himself, Bill sought help from his friend, the Branch President. From that moment to the day I first met Bill months later, he had felt a growing sense of relief. At first it was hard, very hard. When Bill was disfellowshipped, his church leaders provided loving help for him and his wife. Over time, Bill had fully and gratefully given up his sin and returned to Christ.

Bill wept openly as he expressed to me his love for his wife and family, for his Church leaders, and most of all for the Savior. Bill had come to realize that no act of his alone would atone for his sin. The only price which would ransom his soul had been offered in Gethsemane and Calvary by Jesus Christ. Divine forgiveness could only come through Bill's humble acceptance of Christ’s unmatchable offer. And the process of repentance had worked its miracle for Bill. The miracle of forgiveness.

“Behold, he who has repented of his sins, the same is forgiven, and I, the Lord, remember them no more.”[12]

Bye, Molly! We love you!
Be a good helper for Grandma!
I miss Mom and Dad. When will they get home from the hospital?
After your sister is born. Then you’ll get to meet her!
I don’t know if I really want a sister.
Hey, I need your help with a special surprise.
Let’s make a treat for your parents. What should we make?
Brownies are Mom’s favorite!
Wow, you are a good assistant chef! You know something else your family needs help with?
Eating brownies?
Probably! But you can also help by being a kind big sister.
Really?
Yes! I can tell you know how to help your family.
I have an idea for another surprise.
I can’t wait until Mom and Dad AND the baby come home!

Even though Alicia Settle must rely on her motorized wheelchair to get around, it didn’t stop her from going to the Oakland California Temple to do baptisms for the dead. She went in response to the bishop’s assignment that all worthy members of the ward participate in temple work on their ward’s temple day. Alicia was able to perform the task with the help of her ward leaders and classmates and some advance planning.
Alicia is a member of the Milpitas First Ward, San Jose California Stake.

“I actually struggled for months to know the right time. I pondered and prayed every night. A few months later, my bishop asked if I had my patriarchal blessing. I said no, and he said, ‘OK! Let’s do an interview after church today!’ After talking with my bishop, I felt ready to receive my patriarchal blessing. I realize now that my bishop’s question was an answer to those prayers I felt weren’t being answered.”
Makaya S., Texas, USA, received blessing at 15

In our squadron I had a dear friend who was an outstanding football player. Years before, his team played in a New Year’s Day bowl game. Before a sold-out stadium and a large television audience, his team lost 61-6. It turned out he and a few other members of his team had not kept the training rules. They paid a dear price. They had to live with knowing they were not prepared to play the big game; they had to live with the final score for the rest of their lives.
Years passed. Two members of this same football team were in my flight training unit. One was an exemplary, well-disciplined student and a model pilot who had learned his lesson well from the bowl game.
However, the other had not learned to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When his turn would come to learn emergency procedures and to precondition his mental and physical responses so they would be automatic, even instantaneous, my friend would put his arm around the airman instructor and say, “Check me off for three hours of emergency procedure.” Then, instead of training, he would go to the pistol range or play golf or go to the officers’ club. But he never learned the emergency procedures.
On one occasion he was asked what he would do in an emergency. His answer: “I am never going to bail out; I am never going to have an emergency.”
On an evening mission a few months later, fire erupted in his plane, and it dropped below 5,000 feet, spinning in flames. Noting the fire warning light, the younger pilot who was with him said, “Let’s get out of here.” And with the centrifugal force pulling against him, the younger man, who had taken his training seriously, bailed out. His parachute opened at once and he slammed to the ground, receiving serious injuries. But he survived.
On the other hand, my friend stayed with the airplane and died in the crash. He paid the price for not having learned the lessons that could have saved his life.

Every time I have the opportunity to direct myself to young people, I have a difficult time to keep from weeping. You see, once I had a boy, and when he had spent one year in college, he went to war. I like to think he went bravely.
When he was interrogated by the sergeant in charge, the sergeant said, “There are these schools.” And he named them—“radio, cooking, foreign language, intelligence, hospital. …” He named about eight of them. The young men were told that they could go to one of these, if they wanted to choose, before they went further into the army. He said, “You can go to one of these schools, or you can take combat.” And my son and one other young man with him said without any hesitation, “We’ll take combat.”
Later I said to him, “Why did you ask for combat?”
And he said, “Someone has to do the fighting.” He said that he did not want to have it on his conscience that he had deliberately dodged so that some other boy might have to take a chance on being killed. He said, “If anyone has to die in this war, I would feel terrible if I didn’t take my share of the risk.”
To me he is still twenty—about your age. And so perhaps you will allow me to speak to you as though I were speaking to him. The advice I would give you, I would give him.

One Sunday evening after church, my mom was making popcorn on the stove. The phone rang, so she went to answer it, leaving the stove unattended. My sister and I were in a room next to the kitchen.
Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw my four-year-old brother, Spencer, walk around the corner into the kitchen. As I glanced in that direction, I heard an explosion. I saw the kitchen walls turn bright orange. My sister, Mallory, ran into the kitchen and saw that the popcorn had caught on fire. I ran in, thinking my brother was in there. He wasn’t, so I didn’t think any more about it then.
My mother grabbed the flaming pan and threw it into the sink. Luckily, she stopped herself before turning on the water, knowing that water would spread a grease fire. I grabbed the fire extinguisher and put out the flames before the curtains could catch fire.
After the shock of the fire wore off, I discovered that Spencer had been downstairs the entire time and hadn’t been in the kitchen. My sister also thought she had seen Spencer at the same time I did. I believe we were being prompted to look in that direction to protect ourselves.
During that week, I had been reading a book about a flash fire, which got me thinking of how I would react to a fire. Just days before the incident, I had checked our fire extinguisher. I thought I was being paranoid, but the prompting kept coming back for me to make sure it was working. I was prepared to grab it and operate it properly when I was faced with the fire. I am so thankful my Heavenly Father is always there for me and that I listened to the Holy Ghost.

Hanging high on a mountain, a glacier peeked down through the clouds as the line of girls crawled along the glacial moraine. Walking was strenuous, so it was a relief to cross a snowfield and clamber up a slope to a wide shelf to camp. Shallow soil posed a problem in setting up tents, as Mary and Jeanie discovered. They arose in the dark of night, amid rain and wind, to repeg their collapsed tent. Brrrrr!

Spirits were high as we went to sleep, wondering if the pass was as steep as it looked in the pictures we’d seen. The next morning we ate breakfast in fog and wind. As we started to take tents down, rain descended. Standing in the wind, shivering and wet, we were eager to be on the move.

“I wonder how bad the pass is? We have a mile to go before we’re over. Let’s hit it!”

The mile took over three hours of hard climbing over rocks and across snowfields. The wind became a cold river of air pushing rain up the pass. The uncompromising trail went straight up into a world of swirling gray clouds and immobile black granite. It was impossible to stay warm during rest stops and impossible to climb steadily without resting.

Colleen pushed herself so hard she finally collapsed just before the summit. Sweating had caused her to become chilled from the wind. Brother Otte carried her pack, and, dressed in down clothing for warmth, she went on.

“I don’t think I’ll ever make it. Just as it seems we must be at the top, there’s another ridge to climb!”

“I wish there were some trees to break the wind. I’m so cold.”

Finally the vertical became horizontal, and we were at the summit. Everyone was cold, wet, and tired as we stopped for lunch just over the top of the pass in Canada. We rested at a stone crib that was used as a support for the old aerial tram cables that had lifted supplies over the pass during gold rush days. Girls took turns holding up a poncho, forming a windbreak for those who most needed to rest.

“I’m so cold. The wind blows right into my bones.”

After a much-needed cup of hot soup, the girls trudged on, moving as fast as possible in an effort to stay warm. Fog and rain made following trail markings risky and prayer a necessity.

“Where’s the trail? I can’t see the markings.”

“I don’t know. Just try to follow boot tracks.”

Descending slowly, the trail covered masses of ice, mini-glaciers of bright blue with frigid streams of melted water running beneath the caps of white. We didn’t take time in the punishing wind to fully appreciate the beauty of the high country, but it was too overwhelming to miss entirely.

“Look at those tiny bell flowers. They are such a delicate, waxy white; it’s incredible they survive!”

Alive with flowers and small plants, the high country was dotted with basins of water that would exist a few short weeks or a month until the winter snows began again.

Gazing miles and miles down the treeless trail of rock and tundra, we had the exhilarating impression of being at the very top of the world. We followed the river past a series of crystal-clear lakes until the tree line began again a few miles before Lindeman Camp. We walked along the brim of a deep gorge and looked far down to the violently boiling water, scarcely able to imagine the quiet of winter when the land would be ice-locked. The gorge had been used as a highway during winter by the gold rush stampeders.

Lindeman, now the site of a four-bunk cabin built by the Canadians, was once a sprawling city of tents. Eager to push on to the goldfields, many people lost their lives falling through the lake ice in spring. Men suffering from gold fever would rather risk their lives on rotten ice than take the extra time and effort to go overland.

The last group reached camp at 10:30 P.M. after stopping on the trail to rest and cook dinner. A mile from camp an “emergency squad” met the stragglers and helped carry their packs. Somehow 18 people were squeezed into the four-bunk cabin.

The last day of hiking was a forced march as we pushed hard to make our train reservations at Bennett. Stopping for a brief rest, Colleen, with tears in her eyes, called for her counselor.

“I just can’t go on. I can’t make it. My ankle hurts so bad.” “Would you like a blessing?”

“Brother Otte, we need your priesthood.”

After the blessing the pain persisted, but Colleen was blessed with strength and a new determination and was able to continue hiking.

Rest stops became more and more frequent as we tried to keep the line together. Finally the counselors decided to send the faster girls ahead to catch the train. We had 20 confirmed reservations and ten standby seats. If we missed the train, it might take a week to get all the girls back to Whitehorse, and we were almost out of food.

The trail bounced up, then down, up, then down, crossing boggy areas and following low ridges along Lake Lindeman, which could be seen a mile away through the primeval pine trees. Unfortunately we were concentrating so hard on putting one foot in front of the other that we missed much of the beauty. The last few miles were sprinkled with sandy patches that made hiking especially tiring.

Toward the end of the seven weary miles, a train whistle blew. Tired girls almost broke into a run, and it was hard restraining them to the pace.

“There’s the old church! We’re here!”

We were in time for a good meal at the station before the train left for Whitehorse.

Now, around the fire in Whitehorse after a Sunday of worship and a delicious meal with the Whitehorse Saints, we were reliving the experience one more time before starting home the next morning. As the fire died away, the chill went unnoticed in the warmth of the Spirit. A theme of priesthood and prayer threaded the testimonies.

“The last day as we were rushing to meet the train, we stopped at a rock outcropping to rest, and Brother Woolley asked me to say a prayer. As I knelt upon the earth, tears streamed down my face and an overwhelming feeling of sweet humility filled my being. I felt an overpowering desire to always be close to my Heavenly Father and live so I would please him. The words poured from my mouth and I prayed publicly for the first time in my life by the Spirit. I was prompted to ask for strength and that we might make the train on time. We did. I also asked for a special blessing upon the girls behind us. It was incredible, but they reached the station only 15 minutes to a half hour behind us. I’m so very thankful I had this camping experience and the opportunity to rely so heavily on the Lord.”

“The Lord’s blessing was upon us all through the trip,” began another testimony. “Although the weather was bad, it made us depend upon the Lord. They asked us if we felt we could hike to Jackson County, Missouri, and several girls said yes. This hike has been a proving ground and will be a source of strength for all of us the rest of our lives. As we look back on the Chilkoot Trail, we’ll know that with the Lord’s help, we can do anything.”

My daughter Kristen returned 8 days ago from serving a full time mission in London. She followed her younger brother who returned a few months ago from serving in Ghana, Africa. Kristen was an amazing missionary. Before her mission, for several years Kristen didn't know if she should serve a mission. She went back and forth. She didn't have a clear witness from the Holy Ghost. Finally, I encouraged her to exercise her faith, to jump in with both feet. So, she prepared herself and sent in her mission papers. Even then, she still did not have a witness. I was with her when she opened her mission call. As she pulled the letter from the envelope, she read out loud: "Kristen Christensen, You are hereby called to serve as a missionary in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints in the London England mission." Then, she stopped and her lips began to quiver and a tear ran down her cheek. I knew she knew. And she did. She saw with the Spirit, with new eyes, what was right for her in her life.

When I was young, I attended a specialized preschool for children with autism. It changed the course of my life, so I wanted to give back. I decided to create interactive storybooks to help the children learn how to read.
I’d had multiple ideas for my project and prayed to know which one was right for me. The director of the school helped me know what they needed. I did the planning and organizing, but my family, friends, and quorum members helped a lot with the project. I was able to learn good leadership and planning skills.
Doing this project gave me a greater sense of gratitude for what they do at the school. It made me feel really good to help the school that had helped me so much. They were so appreciative, and they let me read one of the books to the class. I felt so good inside.
Christopher A., Utah, USA

It all started when Jess decided he didn’t have time to change clothes. He was in a hurry to get out to the playground where his friends were waiting. So he put on his playclothes right over his school clothes and went outside to play.
Now that wasn’t too bad, but the next morning …
“Remember to put on a clean undershirt,” Mother said when she woke Jess up.
“Yes, Mother,” Jess answered. And that is what he did. He put it on, but he didn’t take the old one off.
Jess smiled in the mirror. “That’s very smart of you,” he said to his reflection.
“Just think of the time you’re saving. Soon they’ll be calling you Jiffy Jess!”
And then he got another idea. “I can save even more time if I just put my clothes on over my pajamas.” He smiled proudly at his reflection. “Then at night I’ll only have to take off my clothes and hop into bed.”
And that’s what he did. His school clothes went on right over his two undershirts and his pajamas. It was quite warm, but if it would save time, it was worth it, Jess decided.
That afternoon he ran home and hurried to get ready to go outside to play. He pulled on his old shirt and pants over his school clothes, his play socks over his school socks, and then his shoes. It was a tight fit, but he made it.
As he went out the door, Mother stopped him. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“I’m fine,” Jess answered.
Mother took a step backwards and looked very carefully at Jess. She looked up to his head and down to his feet and then she shook her head.
“You seem to be putting on weight,” she said. “Gaining that much weight so fast isn’t good. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Jess was laughing inside, but he didn’t let Mother know. Somehow he knew she wouldn’t approve of what he was doing.
“I’m fine, Mother,” he said, trying not to smile. “May I go out now?”
“I guess so, but I’m worried about you.” Mother seemed bewildered.
“Don’t worry,” Jess shouted over his shoulder as he went out the door. “I’m just fine.”
He tried to run out to the baseball field where his friends were waiting, but with all those clothes on he could barely trot.
“It’s about time you got here,” Jonathan said, hitting his fist in his baseball mitt. “You’ve been holding up the game.”
“Throw me the catcher’s mitt and let’s play ball!” Jess shouted.
Jess got behind the batter and tried to squat, but his knees wouldn’t bend.
“Come on! Come on!” Jonathan shouted from the pitcher’s mound. “Let’s get going!”
Once more Jess tried to bend over, but it hurt! His knees felt as if they were wrapped in giant bandages, and he could barely breathe. He stood up straight, took a deep breath, and again tried to squat down. But with pajamas, two pairs of pants, two undershirts, two shirts, and two pairs of socks, he could barely even bend. He looked around to see if anyone had noticed. They had. Eight pairs of glaring eyes were moving in on him from the field.
“What’s wrong with you?” David asked in amazement.
“Well … well … ah …” Jess stammered, trying to figure out how to explain. He knew everyone would laugh at him. He could feel his face growing red with embarrassment.
“Here, Joel,” Jess finally said as he threw the mitt. “You catch. I’ll be right back.”
Jess trotted as fast as possible to the house. He took off all his clothes. Then he put his playclothes on again and started out the door.
“I thought you had gone,” Mother said without looking up.
“I forgot something,” Jess said.
“Oh,” Mother smiled at Jess. Then her eyebrows knitted in wonder and she shook her head.
“My, oh my,” she said. “You seem to have lost at least ten pounds! Are you sure you feel all right?”
“I feel better than I’ve felt all day!” Jess said as he ran back out to the playground to play ball.