Gospel Story Finder

Although the Church began its first decade with only six members, “unhallowed hands” made every effort to stop the spread of the gospel and destroy the Church in its infancy. Joseph Smith soon learned how mobs may combine. From Church history we read:

Certain residents of Hiram, Ohio, vented their personal feelings with mob action directed against the Prophet and Sidney Rigdon. Stimulated by whiskey and hidden behind blackened faces, a gang of more than two dozen men dragged Joseph from his bed during the night of March 24, 1832. Choking him into submission, they stripped him naked, scratched his skin with their fingernails, tore his hair, and then smeared his body with tar and feathers. A vial of nitric acid forced against his teeth splashed on his face; a front tooth was broken. Meanwhile other members of the mob dragged Rigdon by the heels from his home, bumping his head on the frozen ground, which left him delirious for days. The Prophet’s friends spent the night removing the tar to help him keep a Sunday morning appointment. He addressed a congregation that included Simonds Ryder, organizer of the mob. [James B. Allen and Glen M. Leonard, The Story of the Latter-day Saints (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1976), p. 71]

Ryder was a convert who disaffected because the Prophet Joseph misspelled his name.

Eric was different from the other kids and he knew it. But he wasn’t sure whether he liked being different. He often thought about it when he woke up early in the morning and had to stay in bed and be quiet so he wouldn’t wake up his brothers. Sometimes he would turn on his lamp and read. Other times he would lie in the dark and listen to the cars and trucks whizzing by on the turnpike or to the rooster crowing. Then he would think about how far away the cars and the rooster were and why he could hear them so well in the morning, when he never even noticed them in the daytime while he played.
Sometimes Eric would think about his curly red hair and how the other kids called him “Red, Red, the Fire Head” and how he had to share a room with his three brothers instead of having a room all by himself like his friend Andy Rogers. Those were times he didn’t like being different.
It wasn’t just his red hair and waking up early that made Eric different. And it wasn’t just having seven brothers and sisters when his friends had only one or two. Eric was the only one in his school class who went to Primary and the only one in his neighborhood who couldn’t play boisterous games on Sunday.
Most of the time Eric didn’t like being different, but lately he was thinking about something else. In two weeks it would be his birthday and he’d be eight years old. Sometimes when he’d wake up in the mornings, he’d think about being baptized. He tried to imagine how it would be when he put on the white clothes and walked down the steps into the water. He could picture his dad standing in the water waiting for him and holding out his hand for Eric to take. This thought made Eric feel good.
One day on the way home from school Eric talked to Andy about being baptized. “Are you going to be baptized when you’re eight?” he asked his friend.
“I don’t think so,” Andy replied. “I don’t know much about that stuff.” Boy, Eric thought, different again!
Then Andy asked, “Will you be baptized when you’re eight?”
Eric looked at Andy for a moment and decided, Andy won’t tease me if I tell him about it because he’s a good friend. “Yes, I will,” Eric answered. “In two weeks it will be my eighth birthday. And that’s old enough to be baptized. I can hardly wait.”
Then an exciting idea came to Eric. “Say, Andy,” he asked, “would you like to come to my baptism? My dad’s going to do it. I get to wear all white clothes and sit on the front row with my dad. You could come and bring your dad, too, if you want to.”
When Eric’s baptism date finally came, his whole family went with him. Andy and Mr. Rogers were there too.
Before the baptism all the people participated in a brief service. First there was a song and then a talk about Jesus being baptized and about the importance of following Him.
Jesus was different too, Eric realized. It was a very comforting thought.
When it was time to be baptized, everything happened just like Eric had imagined. But now he could really feel Dad’s strong hand reach out for his. He could feel the cool water pushing softly against his waist. For a few moments Eric didn’t think of anything at all except the sound of his dad’s voice and the warmth of his dad’s hand and the cool water all around him.
After the baptism and after he and Dad had changed clothes, Eric shook hands with everyone, and his mother gave him a tight hug. Then Eric and his dad walked to the back of the room to see Andy and Mr. Rogers, who were both looking pleased. Dad shook hands with Mr. Rogers and said, “Thanks for coming, Frank.”
Mr. Rogers waited a moment before he answered. “It was my pleasure,” he said. “It was a lot different than I expected. I’m glad we were here to see it.”
Then he turned to Eric and shook his hand. And Eric knew that something very important had happened not only to him but to Andy and his father too. And then Eric knew that in some ways it was good to be different.

Whenever Robert Norton got on a bike, he was a whole new person.
“Robert would go outside at eight in the morning and ride his bike in our driveway until ten at night. He got so good at it that he was the fastest Special Olympics cyclist in Connecticut,” says his younger brother Lee. “Before he got involved in Special Olympics, Robert was a loner. But when he came to Special Olympics, he opened up. He made friends, and kids at school started talking to him, though they hadn’t before.”
For nearly 30 years, the Special Olympics has been helping athletes with disabilities compete with one another on local, national, and international levels. Robert, who was mentally disabled, competed in many Special Olympics before he died in 1992. “I miss my brother, and I never put him out of my mind,” explains Lee. “The Special Olympics really fulfilled Robert’s life and was a great thing for him.”

I want to share with you a story about two missionaries tracting on a hillside above Baden, Switzerland, who learned the power of this principle. One of the missionaries had trouble with his right contact lens. He took it out; but the wind caught it, and it was lost. They searched to no avail and then decided to pray. Here is what happened in Elder Richard Cracroft's own words:

"As I concluded the prayer and stood up, I received one of those Joseph Smith 'flashes of intelligence' . . . Explaining the plan to my startled companion, I stood . . . in the same place I had stood earlier [and] squeezed out my left contact lens. Assured that my companion was on his knees and at the ready, I put my left lens . . . on my finger some six inches from my face. . . . A slight breeze caught my left lens, and it was gone. . . . I stood stock-still, heart in throat, until Elder Reading said, 'I see it. It's still in the air.' 'Don't lose it,' I pled. 'It's still up,' he whispered. . . Then, from. . . further away, he exclaimed, 'It's starting to fall!' 'Keep your eye on it,' I pled again. 'I see it! I see it!' he said. There was a long pause and then, 'Oh . . . ! Oh . . . !' I braced. He said, . . . 'it's landed almost right on top of the other lens!' 'You see the other lens?' I shouted. 'Yes, it's right here!' Unable to see a thing, I crawled over to him. Slowly, he planted in my palm, in order, my left and right lenses. . . I wet the lenses and . . . implanted them . . . [W]e knelt, and full of gratitude I thanked . . . God for tender mercies."[16]

DJ walked out of the church building with the other kids who had come to the Saturday activity. They’d already had a lot of fun. He couldn’t wait to see what was next.
Brother and Sister Jones led the group to the back parking lot. A bunch of plastic chairs were set up in a really weird arrangement—not in rows at all.
“So,” Brother Jones said, clapping his hands together and smiling, “who wants to try our obstacle course?”
DJ’s hand shot up. Awesome! He loved obstacle courses! This one looked kind of easy, but that was OK. It would still be cool.
Sister Jones nodded to DJ, then turned to the other kids. “You’ll all have a chance,” she said with a smile. “But I’m afraid it’s not as easy as it looks.”
She pulled a blindfold from her pocket.
DJ stared at the blindfold, then back at the chairs. This was going to be a lot harder than he’d thought.
“Don’t worry, DJ,” Brother Jones said. “You’ll have help. Who would like to be DJ’s helper?”
This time his friend Sam’s hand went up first. Sister Jones sent Sam to the other side of the obstacle course. “OK, Sam, your job is to tell DJ how to get through without running into any chairs. If he needs to go left, right, back, or forward, you tell him. Understand?”
“Yup!” Sam said.
Brother Jones placed a hand on DJ’s shoulder. “DJ, listen closely to Sam’s voice. If you bump into a chair, you’ll have to take three steps back and keep trying. Ready?”
“I think so,” DJ said. It still sounded fun, but he was starting to wish he hadn’t volunteered first. He’d probably bump into at least two or three chairs.
Brother Jones tied on the blindfold. “Good luck!”
“OK,” Sam said. “Walk forward three steps.” DJ started moving his feet. It felt so strange, walking in the dark like that.
“Now another two steps,” Sam said. “Yeah. Now one more. Good. Now turn left.”
As DJ kept dodging the chairs, he started feeling confident.
“Turn right,” Sam said a minute later. But DJ didn’t listen right away. He thought for sure he remembered a straight path right about there. He could get through faster if he kept going the way he was headed. He took a step or two without turning.
“Wait,” Sam said. “I said turn right!”
“I will in just a—” DJ bumped right into a chair. It slid across the ground. Oops …
“That’s OK,” Brother Jones said. “Just back up and try again.”
DJ felt silly. He should have listened to Sam. He carefully backed up three steps.
This time Sam talked him all the way through without another bump. The other kids clapped as DJ took off his blindfold and gave Sam a high five.
Sister Jones pointed at the chairs. “Our lives can be like this obstacle course,” she said. “It’s not always easy to see problems on our own. But we have a helper too. Can anybody tell me who that helper is?”
Shayla raised her hand. “The Holy Ghost!” she said.
Brother Jones nodded. “Exactly. He can help us avoid hidden dangers. Now who’s next?” All the other kids raised their hands at once.
DJ decided right then that he would always listen to the Holy Ghost. He knew then he would be safe from hidden dangers.

After his baptism, Jorge had to forgo many social customs associated with his budding banking career. At first he was the target of teasing and jokes from co-workers who were curious to see how long he could go without a drink or a cigarette. But Jorge remained faithful to his covenants, and his critics eventually became his greatest protectors from those who tried to pressure him into disregarding the Word of Wisdom.

Listen to the example of a young woman who wrote: “Right now in my family we are going through a tough time. I have been given the opportunity to fill my mother’s role. Sometimes I have to not participate in activities after school so I can care for my brother. Sometimes I have to not go out with my friends so that I can cook dinner or go grocery shopping.” Then she adds, “Because of this responsibility, I have learned a great deal about being a mother, growing up and taking responsibility, not only for myself but for others.”

Now, where temples have long been established, it is time for a renewed and continuing preparation. This is the work of home teachers, quorum presidents, bishops, and especially high priests, as well as all others involved in teaching the gospel. I remember one elders quorum president who determined that his leadership objective would be to help every member in his quorum to go to the temple. His initial report stated that all but six had qualified. He later reported that all but three had gone before he was released. After his release, however, they “got” the other three.

I would like to thank you for your articles “Gold Mine” and “Stephen” in the May New Era. Never before have I been so touched by a magazine. I live in the same ward in which Stephen Farrance lived. A few years ago Steve showed me the story “Gold Mine.” It was his intention at that time to have it published in the New Era. After his death I intended to get the story and send it to you. You can imagine my delight when I discovered it in the May issue. It brought tears to my eyes as I read it again.
Stephen was a fighter. Never did I see him give up on anything that he started. He was a fierce competitor and always put up a strong battle at the scripture chases. Stephen loved life and got the most from it. In the last weeks of his life, he was serving others, directing and producing our roadshow. The week before the performance, we practiced every morning at 5:30 A.M. For Steve this meant getting up at 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning to be at the church on time. He was always there.
The roadshow took place on Friday and Saturday nights. On Friday night Steve was cheering us on. That evening he went to the hospital, and the next morning he passed away. That night we were all surprised to see his family at the church giving us encouragement. We gave it our best, and for some reason I could remember my lines, which I had forgotten the night before. I could hear Steve telling me the words. It’s something I shall never forget. Steve was a wonderful person, with as much drive and enthusiasm as anyone I have known. I feel privileged to have known him. He was a good friend and a fine example of a true Latter-day Saint. I hope to meet Steve again. He touched the hearts of all who met him.
Brian BurgessBurnaby, British Columbia, Canada

Although we live on the east coast of Queensland, Australia, we are Germans. My husband, Siegfried, was born in Danzig, and I was born in what is now the Czech Republic. When we considered going on a mission, we had concerns. Our family is constantly growing. The separation would be very hard for us. Our little house couldn’t be rented, and there were financial worries. We discussed it together and spoke about all the pros and cons. But in the end we knelt down and asked our Father in Heaven for guidance. After that it was very easy. We both had a good feeling and the certainty that we should go on a mission.
In the application the bishop gave us, we could list the country we wanted to go to. Of course that was Germany. And although it seemed rather doubtful that we would be sent to the other side of the world, our Heavenly Father knew exactly what we needed. We were asked to fulfill a temple mission in Freiberg, Germany. I was excited because I still understand the Czech language from my youth and can speak a little bit. I knew that members from Eastern Europe often visit the Freiberg temple.
We began our mission on February 25, 1992. Our temple president was Jirí Snederfler, and his wife, Olga, was the temple matron. What excellent people they were—loving and always friendly.
We experienced only good things in Freiberg. Everyone was helpful and nice. We worked hard, and we were a large family of temple workers who loved each other. We still keep in touch with many of them.
The highlight of our mission was the visit from the first members in Ukraine. We had prepared ourselves. The mission president’s wife spoke Russian, and even I learned part of one of the ordinances in Russian. These members had such a reverence for the house of the Lord. As they came and left, they bowed in humility. They were so happy they could receive their endowments, and many cried for joy and didn’t want to leave the temple.
Polish members come often to Freiberg, and at first my husband was nervous about meeting them. His grandmother had starved in a camp in Poland after World War II. But through meeting with these brothers and sisters and worshiping together with them, my husband was emotionally healed. This was a great blessing brought about by our mission.
My great blessing was becoming acquainted with a Czech sister named Marie Smidova. With her help I was able to begin work on my family history. There were no Church microfilms from the region I needed, and my knowledge of Czech isn’t sufficient to write to Czech officials for information. Sister Smidova has done much for me, and I am very thankful for her help.
When we returned home after 18 months, we were amazed at how our financial situation had improved. Our little house waited for us, and our children prepared a lovely welcome. After a year we went to Sydney, Australia, to serve a temple mission there for a year.
We are thankful for the experiences we have had through our work. We would remind every senior couple of the saying of President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985): “Do it now!”

A few years later, when my sister, Briélan, was seven, she was invited to go to the beach with some friends and their parents. My mom told her the same thing she had told me: go and have fun, but don’t go swimming. When my sister got to the beach, her friends’ parents told her she could go ahead and swim. They wouldn’t tell her mother, so it would be OK.
Even though my sister thought my mom would never know, she told her friends’ parents that she would not go swimming because her mother had asked her not to, and she wanted to be obedient. The grown-ups tried to convince her it was OK, but she still said no because she knew she should do what was right, and they were trying to get her to do something wrong.
My sister’s day at the beach was just as hot as mine at the pool, and she wanted to swim just as badly as I did. But my little sister became my big example when she chose to honor our parents by obeying them.

Maria had been less active for more than 20 years. A few months ago, we spent a couple of hours with her in our home, exploring her family through census and other records. At one point she burst into tears exclaiming, “I’ve learned more about my family in two hours than I’ve known in my whole life!”
At the end of our time together, we introduced to her the Relatives Around Me feature of the FamilyTree app. It turned out that my husband and I both are distantly related to Maria. She burst into tears again, saying she had thought she was alone. She never knew she had family in the area. A few weeks later Maria met with our bishop. She is now working on preparing for the temple, and she has met many “new” cousins in our ward!
Carol Riner Everett, North Carolina, USA

Until then, though, we must be steadfast and immovable. I saw that in a wise owl this past summer. On June 21 of 2018, I made this journal entry:

My office day began with a weekly one-on-one with [Academic Vice President] Kelly Burgener. He consented to join me in the Ricks Gardens, where we had a table to ourselves in a stone alcove, enjoying the shade of a giant cottonwood tree.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have the tree to ourselves, as a large crow had chosen a branch directly above us as his perch. The crow’s presence would have gone unnoticed had it not been for his constant, ear-splitting cawing.

I looked up several times, in annoyance, before noticing the crow’s reason for making such a ruckus. No more than a foot from the crow sat a motionless owl, whose mottled plumage matched the hue and texture of the cottonwood’s bark. The crow was clearly engaged in a turf war with the owl. But the owl seemed unconcerned, even oblivious.

For much of my hour with President Burgener, I wished that the owl would fly off or perhaps give the crow a piece of its mind, even brandish a talon. But I finally recognized the obvious moral of this story. The owl must have known that its far greater strength, as well as its sharper talons and beak, made the crow’s bluster irrelevant. There was no need to waste any energy or plumage on the mocking crow.

That is a marvelous metaphor for any work we do in the Lord’s service. Because of the importance of the work, noisy crows will inevitably gather and threaten. But they pose no real threat. They can impede our progress only if we make the mistake of engaging them or merely becoming distracted from our destination. The proverbial dogs may bark, but the Lord’s caravan moves on.

Illustrations by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
The Prophet went to visit his aunt and uncle. His uncle and his cousins were sick with the fever and chills.
Joseph, your uncle has the worst of it. I fear for his life.
Here, Uncle, have my shoes.
But, Joseph, what will you wear?
Joseph rode home without his shoes.
He sent for his uncle and had him brought to his home.
He will heal better at my house. Emma will take good care of him.
He also sent many supplies to help the rest of the family recover.
Thank you, Joseph. Thank you.
The Prophet’s genuine love for others saved his uncle’s life and eased his aunt’s burdens.

In 2016, when the Brazzaville Republic of Congo Stake launched its first self-reliance classes, many of the Relief Society sisters in the stake signed up to attend. The 12-week course provided the sisters with economic empowerment and paved a path for them to become spiritually self-reliant. “Temporal autonomy and spiritual autonomy go hand in hand,” said Lucia M. Boyembé, one of the participants.
Boyembé, a graduate student and an entrepreneur at heart, already owned a small business when she started the self-reliance course. The class taught her how to build a strong foundation for her business as well as bookkeeping skills. She began keeping separate records of her personal and business accounts and setting aside money in a savings account. “When I started my business of selling feminine products, I offered credit loans to my clients and they wouldn’t pay me back,” explained Boyembé. The self-reliance course taught her to ask God specific questions about her business. “I prayed to God to know what I needed to do, and He revealed to me that I needed to pay my tithing.” Boyembé said that after she began paying her tithing regularly, her clients began to pay back their loans, and her business started to flourish. As a result, Boyembé gained a testimony of the spiritual and temporal importance of the law of tithing.

When the announcement was made that all temples were closing indefinitely during the pandemic, I remember calling Keaton (my fiancé at the time) and discussing what our next steps should be. We were supposed to be married in the temple in a few weeks, and we weren’t sure if we should wait until the temples reopened to get married or if we should get married civilly and then get sealed later.
Personally, I was heartbroken because I had always imagined my wedding day in the temple and that chance was slipping away. I also had been planning to receive my endowment the same week as our wedding, so we would have to wait even longer when temples reopened for both an endowment and a sealing appointment.
Ultimately, after a lot of prayers and discussion, Keaton and I chose to be married civilly on our original temple date. But we were determined to be sealed once the temples reopened.
As we waited for the temples to reopen, we used our waiting time to learn even more about the covenants we would be making in the sealing ordinance (and in my endowment). Keaton and I talked to our bishop about taking a temple prep class, and he was inspired to ask Keaton to be my teacher. Week after week, Keaton and I would sit together and discuss the temple.
This was an incredibly special and empowering time in our relationship as we discussed the covenant promises we’d be making to one another when we were sealed.
Six months after our civil marriage, I received my endowment and Keaton and I were sealed. We were surrounded by family, but unlike the day we were married, we weren’t nervous or anxious—we were so excited! Our focus was solely on what eternal marriage is about—the covenants we were making. Of course, the celebrations and activities that usually take place on a wedding day are so exciting and enjoyable. But I’m grateful for the time we had to truly prepare to make covenants with each other and with God. No matter if you are married civilly or in the temple first, I know that genuinely preparing to make covenants with your spouse and making that ordinance the focus of your wedding day is one of the greatest joys you’ll ever experience.
The moment we knelt across the altar and were sealed, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude, love, and joy filled our hearts. We both immediately felt a profound difference in our relationship.
Although we had been happily married for the past six months, that night Keaton and I talked about a special sacredness we now felt in our marriage. A new sense of wholeness and peace has come into our relationship. The Spirit in our home that night was so strong it was almost tangible. We felt a whole new level of love for each other and for the Savior in our hearts. And we knew it was because we had bonded ourselves to each other and to our Heavenly Father through everlasting covenants.
Through our experiences, Keaton and I have witnessed the importance of building and strengthening our relationship individually and together with our Savior Jesus Christ and our loving Heavenly Father. Being sealed in the temple allows us to fully feel the power that making and keeping covenants brings into marriage—how they truly can transform our love for each other and invite the Savior’s healing, redeeming, and enabling love into our relationship.
Keaton and I have experienced “all the difference” in our lives that President Nelson described. Recently, we also welcomed our first child, a beautiful little girl, who has opened our hearts and minds to God’s love for us on a new level. Every time we look into her beautiful eyes, we are reminded of the profound blessings of the temple and eternal families. She is ours forever, and Keaton and I will be blessed to be together forever because we are sealed for time and all eternity.

When Lorenzo Snow was a young boy, he ran for his life from a charging bull! He quickly climbed a tall white oak tree and sat shivering from cold as the bull pawed the ground around the tree and slashed the air with his horns. With teeth chattering and his hands numb, Lorenzo prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for all your blessings. And please, dear Lord, tell my father to come and help me.” Just then, his father came riding on his horse and carrying a bullwhip. One crack from it sent the bull running. Lorenzo’s prayer had been answered by a loving Heavenly Father.

The story is told of a group of men who were talking about people who had influenced their lives and for whom they were grateful. One man thought of a high school teacher who had introduced him to Tennyson. He decided to write and thank her. In time, written in a feeble scrawl, came the teacher’s reply:
“My Dear Willie:
“I can’t tell you how much your note meant to me. I am in my 80s, living alone in a small room, cooking my own meals, lonely and like the last leaf lingering behind. You will be interested to know that I taught school for 50 years, and yours is the first note of appreciation I have ever received. It came on a blue, cold morning, and it cheered me as nothing has for years.”

Although we were much better off now, there still wasn’t enough food or clothing to go around. It was still cold, it was still stormy, and I still had no shoes. Our company found a ravine that we later named Martin’s Ravine, and we set up camp there. For three days there was a terrible blizzard. It was so cold! Even after the storm ended, we had to wait several days before we could travel over the fresh snow. Although there were now wagons and horses, I walked every step of the way. Only those who had frozen feet got to ride.
We camped at Fort Bridger for a few days of rest. More help came at that time. We kept right on traveling. We reached Salt Lake City on November 30, 1856, eleven months after we had left our home in England. Of the 576 people who had started with our company, about 150 of them had died and were buried along the trail, including my father.

I grew up on a small dairy farm. We milked a small herd of cows and we grew most of our own crops. My parents kept a large and well-tended garden and a small orchard adjacent to our home. So I am very familiar with the concept of harvest and it brings sweet memories to me. My mother adhered to the adage of gardening, “You eat what you can and what you can’t, you can!” In the late summer we began canning and freezing. We made freezer corn, we canned green beans and pickles. We bottled peaches and pears and other fruits. Later in the fall we picked apples and made them into apple sauce, pie filling, apple juice and apple cider. Tomatoes were canned and stored as salsa, juice or other sauces. Finally, our potatoes were dug up and bagged for the winter.

In addition to these activities, my parents stored a number of other food items. Of course the hard red wheat had its place in our basement storage room along with other staples such as flour and sugar. In a small shed adjacent to our home were extra freezers filled with frozen meats, jams and other items.

Try to visualize this with me. At the bottom of an old set of concrete steps in my parent’s home is their basement storage room. When you open the doors you are met with a rich earthy smell. Turning on the light reveals a relatively small space packed with shelves and at the end of canning season, these shelves are filled with jars and cans and boxes and tubs of the items I just described to you. If you were to walk into the outside shed you would see bags of potatoes on the floor, boxes filled with apples, tomatoes, fall squash and freezers filled with meat. Can you get a sense of the satisfaction, safety, self reliance and wealth this type of resource represents?. It makes me hungry just thinking about it.

This was our family food storage and it was used wisely. Once in place we didn’t just sit back and wait for a famine to strike before we began to use it. Items from these shelves adorned virtually every meal. My mother would pull from these stores items for side dishes, main dishes, garnishes and desserts

I watched her practice her considerable home economy skills as she used this resource to bless the life of our family and many others. On many occasions we would be about to sit down to dinner when company would arrive. They would be invited to join us. With a few quick trips to the basement, a meal that was intended for 6 would easily feed twice that. It was literally like witnessing the miracle of the loaves and the fishes first hand.

On more than a few occasions when Amber and I were newly married and our children were young. Our budget was stretched thin. As we left my parents home following a visit, we were almost always presented with a box or several boxes of food items from storage. My parents just seemed to know what we needed. We loved going home!