Gospel Story Finder

The first car we owned as newlyweds was what is affectionately known as a “Laie car”. It had spent many years on campus being passed through numerous owners by the time we bought it for a whopping $250. If you own a car with that sort of price tag, please understand the reason they call them “Laie cars” is because they should not be driven outside of Laie, if at all. However, one morning Brother Brothers and I were driving to pick-up a new student arriving from Tahiti at the airport. Half-way through the Wilson Tunnel on the Like Like Highway, we heard a loud bang under the hood immediately followed by torrents of white smoke streaming out from the engine. We feared it was about to ignite and we would be going out in a blaze of glory. However, we made it to the top of the tunnel and pulled over to find it was a radiator hose which had exploded and spewed the contents of the radiator all over the engine thus creating all the smoke.

This was still in the BC years “before cellular” so we had no phone and no idea what to do. So we did the only thing we could, we prayed a mighty prayer then tried to turn the engine back on. It worked. We pulled the car around, took a deep breath, and headed back into the tunnel with the car in neutral and our faith on turbo the whole way down the mountain. At the bottom intersection, the light which was always red was miraculously green despite no other cars coming down before or after us. We coasted through the intersection and turned into the first neighborhood we could where suddenly the car’s engine just stopped. Then we finally exhaled and said a prayer of gratitude.Conveniently, there was a man standing in the carport right where we stalled who was wrapping lau lau at 6 am on a Sunday for some reason. He let us use his phone and get the help we needed to get our Laie car repaired and back home. The new student waiting at the airport caught a ride with someone else and we had a great laugh about it later.You would have thought we learned our lesson about trusting a Laie car but we were poor desperate students and had to put our trust in the Lord several more times with that car before it was towed off into car heaven. We were blessed over and over because of our faith and trust in the Lord.

We went to church in Port Harcourt from Omoku, our hometown. It was about two-hour drive. We did this every Sunday until sometime in 2001 when the Port Harcourt West Stake Presidency authorized me and family to stay back and worship in Omoku under the supervision of the Rumueme Ward. We reactivated some members of the Church who resided in our town and surrounding towns, two of whom were old schoolmates at the university. We started worshipping in my one-room apartment and later moved into a three-rooms flat in the city center where, on the 9th of January 2005, the Church was officially organized with me as the first branch president and my wife as first counsellor in the Relief Society. We had 36 members of our branch.

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

Another example comes from the ministry of the Prophet Joseph Smith. In 1833 the Prophet accompanied Freeman Nickerson to Canada to visit his sons Freeman and Moses. They were received rudely by young Freeman. He said, “Father, . . . I had just about as soon you had brought into my home a nest of scorpions and turned them loose upon us. . . . I know all about Joe Smith . . . ; the papers are full of him and his works, and I want none of either. . . . But, . . . I’ll welcome them for your sake.”

Two days passed. Relations became more cordial, but there were no attempts to discuss religion. Freeman had boasted to his wife how he could handle Joe Smith.

On the evening of the second day, Freeman invited everyone to the living room. “He threw the family Bible on to the table . . . with the challenging remark: ‘There! Now go to it!’”

The Prophet did not “go to” the Bible. “Instead, he related his own dramatic experiences, . . . told with the utmost simplicity, but with great earnestness.”

Freeman apologized for his rudeness. Before the Prophet left town, 14 people, including the Nickerson brothers, were baptized by the Prophet. (Taken from John Henry Evans, Joseph Smith, an American Prophet [New York: Macmillan, 1936], 86–88.)

Harry Glick, a Mormon Jew, tells how his grandfather, Rabbi Louis Hersch, had one ambition more than anything else, and that was to go to Jerusalem and weep bitterly over the small, battered remains of an inaccurate replica of a wall—a part of the once glorious temple of Jerusalem. “Why,” he asked, “should this rabbi—a Ph.D. as far as worldly designations are concerned—why should he, a Levite, who could only sweep the floors and wash the sacrificial altars of the temple, want to go there? It was because he longed to see the return of the glory of those days when God’s chosen people talked with God and he led them by the hand. Grandpa Hersch died at seventy without ever making the trip,” Brother Glick went on to say, “but he would gladly have traded those seventy years for one moment that we spend in one session in our temple, had he known that the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob had set those temples up.”

In 1843, the British author Charles Dickens wrote his classic story A Christmas Carol. It’s about an old man named Ebenezer Scrooge, who doesn’t care about anyone or anything as much as his money. To show just how miserable a person Scrooge is, Dickens portrays him as scoffing at Christmas and anyone who wants to celebrate it. Then, at Christmas, he’s visited during the night by spirits who show him his Christmases in the past, present, and future. These visions cause him to reflect on his life, on the state of his soul, as well as on his relationships with other people. He vows to change—and he does. The new, better Scrooge is happier and blesses others.

In L’viv, a city in western Ukraine, Yuri Voynarovich and his family started searching for truth when he was just 10 years old. For years they visited different churches. Then his uncle invited them to attend a branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Yuri’s parents were soon baptized and confirmed.
“I didn’t go at first,” Yuri says. “I kept searching on my own.”
But his parents, who knew the Church was true, didn’t give up on their son. They invited Yuri to English lessons and youth activities as well as Sunday meetings. Finally, the missionaries themselves invited him to English classes.
“I couldn’t say no to them,” Yuri says. So he went. Then he went to church. Eventually he too was baptized.
“Since that day I’ve had many more experiences that have built and molded my testimony and character into who I am today,” he says.
“I often see people who suffer from bad choices they’ve made,” he says. “I understand sometimes it’s hard because of temptations and peer pressure, but we shouldn’t give up. Later we can see the blessings that come from obedience.”
Yuri, now 17, serves as the branch mission leader and branch clerk in L’viv.
“I am so thankful for the Church and all it has done for me,” Yuri says. “I love this Church. I encourage everyone to hold to the iron rod and never let go.”

Author’s Note: There were many more challenges for Elizabeth on the trek west. Elizabeth’s mother gave birth to a baby boy on the trail, and Elizabeth had to nurse her mother, tend the younger children, and do her mother’s chores as well as her own. Once Elizabeth was out washing when a sandstorm hit. She became lost and wandered for three days before she was found. Finally in October 1863, her family arrived in the Salt Lake Valley with little food or clothing. Later, Elizabeth married and became a mother in Israel as foretold. All the Lord’s promises to her were fulfilled.

The power of the law of sacrifice is often manifested in the willingness of the Latter-day Saints to serve missions to bring others to Christ. One day a student sat in our office and talked about her desire to serve a mission. She was a reserved person. We talked about how going on a mission would involve talking to lots of people. She looked up and said, “Yes, when one agrees to serve the Lord, it will involve sacrifice.”

Our children’s great-grandfather J. Leo Seely received a mission call in 1914 to the British Mission and served the Lord in Ireland. He left his wife and little children for two years. The depth of his sacrifice has become clear to us as we read their letters. Because of the power of this man’s example and that of his noble wife, his son served a mission, and over 50 of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren have gone forth to serve the Lord in missions that cover the world.

Great-grandmother Kathryn Greta Calder was called to serve a mission in California in 1920. Following her example, her daughter, granddaughters, and now great-granddaughters have also served missions. As we watch our children open mission calls, and as you watch your friends and families open theirs, we see the image of God in a person who is willing to follow in the footsteps of the Savior, to sacrifice for the salvation of His children. They have the faith and the courage to go wherever the Lord calls them.

“I don’t know what to do for my social goal,” Maya said. She sat down on the couch and flipped through her Children’s Guidebook.
“Do you like any of the goal ideas in your booklet?” Mom asked.
“The one about welcoming others sounds fun,” Maya said. “It says to introduce yourself to someone new and help them meet other people.”
Maya looked up from her booklet. “But I don’t know anyone I could welcome. Will you pray with me, Mom?”
Mom sat down next to Maya. “Dear Heavenly Father,” Maya prayed, “please help me know who I can welcome. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
After the prayer, Maya thought about her friend Jayden. They always played together when Jayden came to visit his grandma. And now Jayden, his dad, and his brother and sister had moved in with his grandma.
“What about Jayden?” Maya asked Mom. “I don’t think he and his brother and sister know many other kids here yet. Maybe I can help welcome them.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Mom said. “What do you want to do?”
Maya thought for a minute. “Maybe we could have a friendship party!” she said. “We could invite some kids from Primary.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Mom said.
Maya and Mom chose a day for the party. They called Jayden’s dad and took invitations to the kids in Primary. Then it was time to plan the fun! Maya and Mom came up with some games. They made lots of snacks and decorations.
The day of the party finally came. Maya was excited for Jayden and his siblings to meet everybody.
“Do you think they’ll have fun?” Maya asked.
“I’m sure they will,” said Mom.
Soon everyone came. Jayden and his brother and sister had big smiles. They played games, ate snacks, and made new friends. Maya was happy to see everyone have a good time together.
“Thank you!” Jayden said after the party. “That was so much fun.”
Maya smiled. She was glad she could help Jayden and his family feel welcome and loved. The friendship party had been a success!
This story took place in Canada.

I remember thinking of this freedom and this peace when I faced a young man and a young woman across the desk of my office. He was handsome, tall, and manly. She was a beautiful girl, an excellent student, sensitive and perceptive.
The girl sobbed, and tears fell from the eyes of the young man. Both were university students. They were to be married the next week, but not in the kind of wedding of which they had dreamed. They had planned that to come three years in the future, following college graduation.
Now they found themselves in a situation that both regretted and for which neither was prepared. She was pregnant. Shattered were their dreams of schooling, the years of preparation they knew each needed for the competitive world that lay ahead. Rather, they would now have to establish a home, and he would have to support his family with whatever work he could find.
The young man looked up through his tears. “We allowed ourselves to be led astray,” he said.
“We’ve cheated one another,” she responded. “We’ve cheated one another and the parents who love us—and we’ve cheated ourselves. We were betrayed. We believed those who told us that virtue is hypocrisy; and we’ve found that the new morality, the idea that sin is only in one’s mind, is a trap that’s destroyed us.”
They spoke of a thousand thoughts that had crossed their minds in the fearful days and the anxious nights of the past few weeks. Should she seek an abortion? The temptation to do so was there. No, never, she had concluded. Life is sacred under any circumstance. How could she ever live with herself is she took measures to destroy the gift of life even under these conditions?
The child could be placed for adoption. There were excellent organizations that could assist in such a program, and there were good families anxious for children. But they had dismissed that thought. Whatever happened, he would never leave her to face the burden alone. He was responsible, and he would meet that responsibility even though it would ruin the future of which he had dreamed.
I admired his courage, his determination to make the best of a difficult situation; but my heart ached as I watched them, distressed and sobbing. Here was tragedy. Here was heartbreak. Here was entrapment. Here was bondage.
They had been told of freedom, that evil was only a thing of the mind. But they found they had lost their freedom. Nor had they known peace. They had exchanged their peace and their freedom—the freedom to marry when they chose to marry, the freedom to secure the education of which they had dreamed, and, more important, the peace of self-respect.

Let me tell you about a woman who has woven her strand of kindness and compassion into my life. Sister Rosetta Colclough, a missionary in Hawaii, came to my junior high when I was eleven and invited all the students to a special religion class taught at the little Mormon chapel near the school. Three other Japanese girls and I, all Buddhists, accepted the invitation. That was the beginning of my Christian instruction, and four years later, I joined the Church.
Last March I received a letter from Rosetta Colclough Stark, now living in Arizona. She enclosed in her letter a little article she had written for her ward newsletter in 1978, fifteen years ago, describing those religion classes:
“One day on the eleven o’clock period, only four [Japanese girls] came to class. I was very disappointed there were so few. … [But] near the close of the period, we stood in the little chapel with bowed heads and closed eyes, repeating in unison the Lord’s Prayer. The soft Hawaiian sun filtered through the windows. As we prayed, I suddenly felt a bright light envelop us, coming from above like an inverted cone. A wonderful feeling of peace and joy filled my heart. I led the prayer very slowly as the bright light enfolded us. I was sure the girls felt it also, as their faces shone with an expression of deep reverence. We almost whispered ‘good-bye’ so as not to break the spell, and they tiptoed out. I thought, ‘One or more of those girls will join the Church and become a great influence for good.’”
She continued: “[After] I returned home, often the sweet faces of those four girls passed before my inward eyes, and I wondered about them. There was one, Chieko Nishimura, that lingered in my mind, and I often looked at the picture I had taken of them.
“Ten years later, my husband and I were attending our sacrament meeting in the Imperial Ward, Salt Lake City, when it was announced that a young Japanese couple from Hawaii would be the speakers. … My heart nearly jumped up into my throat. Yes, it was my little Chieko. … Chieko and I had a joyous reunion after the meeting. We marveled that out of all the many wards in that big city, they should have come to speak at my ward. We were sure the Lord had a hand in it.”
Rosetta lost track of me after my husband and I moved to Colorado but was surprised and delighted, when she was watching the Relief Society sesquicentennial broadcast on March 14, 1992, to hear my name announced. That afternoon she sat down at her typewriter in Arizona and began her letter to me. She said: “[When] I heard your name announced by Sister Jack … I sat up straight and watched the TV screen eagerly and saw your name appear on the screen. Then you started to speak. The dark hair has turned to silver, but that sweet face was easily recognized. Yes, this is my little Chieko whom I taught at the Honomakau chapel in Kohala so many years ago. As I listened to your voice, tears of joy ran down my cheeks. …
“I thank my Heavenly Father that I had the privilege of teaching you about Jesus Christ our Savior in that little chapel. … I have been blessed three times because of it; first, that I was there to experience that light from heaven with you; second, that you came to my ward in Salt Lake City to speak; and today, when I heard you speak to the women of the world via satellite.”
Rosetta says she was blessed, but Rosetta did not know how she was blessing me with her kindness. Even while she was writing that letter, my husband, Ed, was being taken to the hospital, stricken down by a cardiac arrest on the afternoon of the sesquicentennial broadcast. Her letter reached me with a special compassion and love when my sons and I were struggling to accept the fact that Ed would not recover. I did not see the light she felt while we four little Buddhist girls repeated the Lord’s Prayer with her, phrase by phrase. But I know the Spirit whispered to me during that experience, reminding me of my true identity as a daughter of God and prompting me to let those teachings sink deep into my heart so that I could also become a daughter of Christ in the waters of baptism.
Rosetta’s life has touched mine only three times, but the Savior’s love was in each encounter. Rosetta brought me the gospel, she rejoiced with Ed and me after our baptisms, and she brought me great comfort by reminding me of Heavenly Father’s profound love for me when I was suffering such pain while Ed lay dying. I needed that reassurance and love. I needed to remember that Heavenly Father, fifty years earlier, had reached down and laid his hand on a skinny little Buddhist girl and said, “You are my beloved child.”
I’ve shared this story with you because it illustrates so beautifully how our lives weave together in ways we cannot guess or plan. Because Rosetta acted with faith, with kindness, and with love, the pattern created by her life encountering mine is a beautiful one. I know that she has woven shining strands into the lives of many others.

Opportunities often arise for religious discussions at work. Brother Robertson recently had occasion to interview a new employee. Halfway through she asked suddenly, “Are you a Mormon, sir?”

When he answered yes, she said, “Two American lads came to teach me the other day. When I said I was coming here soon, they asked me to look out for a man named Bruce Robertson. I told them you were my new boss.” This young lady now has the unique opportunity to work and learn the gospel at the same time.

One of my visiting teachers, who had no idea what turmoil I was experiencing, called and made an appointment to see me. During her visit she shared a story about Emma Somerville McConkie, who had served as a Relief Society president during the early days of the Church in Utah. A woman in Sister McConkie’s ward had several children, including a new baby. Because the woman’s family was poor, Sister McConkie went daily to the home, taking food and helping the mother care for the child.
“One day [Sister McConkie] returned home especially tired and weary. She slept in her chair. She dreamed she was bathing a baby which she discovered was the Christ Child. She thought, Oh, what a great honor to thus serve the very Christ. As she held the baby in her lap, she was all but overcome. … Unspeakable joy filled her whole being. … Her joy was so great it awakened her. As she awoke, these words were spoken to her, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.’”1

The news was heartbreaking. Doctors informed the family that their father had cancer and would live only a few more months at best. Medical science could do no more.
One of the grief-stricken sons was a nuclear engineer, an expert on what man can do through the miracles of technology. But in this situation, technology was helpless.
In a spirit of fasting and prayer, Richard Scott and his four brothers gathered in a circle and gave their father a priesthood blessing in which he was promised a full recovery. The blessing was fulfilled.

Because of some unique experiences I have had, I’ve been thinking about the meaning of reverence. Here’s how President Dallin H. Oaks, First Counselor in the First Presidency, defines it:
“Worship often includes actions, but true worship always involves a particular attitude of mind.
“The attitude of worship evokes the deepest feelings of allegiance, adoration, and awe. Worship combines love and reverence in a state of devotion that draws our spirits closer to God.”1
What comes to mind when you think of reverence? Would the following scenarios be considered reverent or irreverent in a sacrament meeting?
A child drawing in her coloring book.
A young man passing the sacrament while wearing headphones.
A man jumping and waving his arms wildly.
A young woman playing a game on her phone.
A missionary randomly yelling.
A woman always sitting in the foyer, never in the chapel.
A man lying on a mattress in the chapel aisle.
A group of members making gestures and loud noises.
A teenage girl sitting under her chair.
A woman pacing back and forth in the back of the chapel.
Most of us would agree that a missionary shouting in sacrament meeting is much less reverent than children drawing pictures to keep themselves occupied. But let’s take a moment to review our assumptions about reverence by walking through these 10 true scenarios—each of which I have experienced personally in Church meetings.
A child drawing in church. This practice is commonplace and accepted readily by nearly all members. We know that this is usually not irreverent unless we allow ourselves to be distracted by it.
A man passing the sacrament while listening to music on his headphones. This would be wildly inappropriate in most cases. But let me share “the rest of the story.” I knew a man who has a strong testimony and has served a mission and accepted a variety of callings. In recent years, however, he was diagnosed with a schizoaffective disorder. Wearing headphones lets him listen to soft, peaceful music and helps block out the ever-present voices in his mind. He is able to feel the Spirit and reverently serve others with the help of his headphones.
A young man jumping and waving his arms wildly. The rest of the story: This nonverbal brother with autism becomes excited every time he sees the bishop on the stand. He communicates his enthusiasm by ?apping his hands and jumping.
A young woman playing a game on her phone. The rest of the story: This sister combats her social anxiety by quietly playing games on her phone. In fact, she is better able to reverently listen and receive the speakers’ messages because her anxiety is focused elsewhere.
A missionary randomly yelling. The rest of the story: While I was in the missionary training center, a missionary in my zone had Tourette’s syndrome. Periodically, he would shout in class, the lunchroom, and Church meetings. His yelling was not seen as irreverent; we quickly saw that he was prepared to serve, eager to share the gospel, and full of the Spirit.
A woman sitting in the foyer each week and never in the chapel. The rest of the story: While I was working for the Church in Salt Lake City, a sister wrote to our Disability Services of?ce about her experience with post-traumatic stress disorder because of her military service. Because a cell phone ring or other sudden noise could spark a ?ashback, she never sat in the chapel so that she didn’t unintentionally hurt anyone.
A man lying on a mattress in the aisle. The rest of the story: When I moved into a new ward, I was surprised to see a brother on a moveable hospital bed in the chapel. This man had many disabilities and was only able to attend church in this way. I quickly realized this was typical for this ward, and I adapted quickly. His being there was not irreverent but, in fact, quite the opposite. After all, didn’t the Savior heal a man who had been lowered down on his bed by his friends into a crowded house? (see Luke 5:18–20).
A group of members making loud noises and large gestures. The rest of the story: Deaf congregations can be “loud” to hearing attendees. For the deaf community, it is not irreverent for someone to make noises, laugh, or cough loudly, but it is considered irreverent for members to sign about worldly things during sacrament meeting.
A teenage girl sitting under the chairs. The rest of the story: When I was a teenager, one of the girls my age always sat under her chair in class. This young sister had grown up in many foster-care homes and only felt safe in an enclosed area. Since then, I have recognized that we cannot expect students to learn when they are in ?ght, ?ight, or freeze mode. Students must feel safe if they are to learn and, most importantly, feel the love of the Savior.
A woman pacing back and forth in the foyer. The rest of the story: This is, in fact, me. I have struggled with anxiety for over a decade, with bouts of severe anxiety and other health issues. During these times, the only way I can attend church is if I am able to move. Pacing or playing with a tactically fun trinket in my hands is sometimes the only way I can pay attention to the speakers and feel the Spirit.

Through my letters home, I continued my efforts to share the gospel. I remember inviting my father to meet with the missionaries. He said frankly that he was not interested. Reading his response was one of the hardest experiences of my mission, but it gave me a greater drive to work hard and share the gospel with anyone willing to listen. I came to realize that everyone is someone’s family member and that by helping one person I might be answering someone else’s prayers. I strive to continue in my efforts in sharing the gospel, even though I am no longer a full-time missionary.

Lisa could hardly wait until Stephanie’s birthday party. The invitation promised fun games and tasty refreshments. Lisa carefully wrapped the stationery set she’d chosen for Stephanie and tied a purple ribbon around it.
When all the girls got to Stephanie’s house, Stephanie led them to the garage. It was decorated with crepe-paper streamers, and a brightly colored piñata hung from the rafters.
The girls took turns swinging at the piñata with a papier-mâché stick. Lisa gave the piñata a whack, but it didn’t break. When it finally broke, small candies spilled out, and everyone scrambled for them, laughing and squealing.
“We need some music,” one of the girls said.
Stephanie turned on a CD player. The music was loud, and the singer was singing some bad words. Lisa grew more and more uneasy. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. “I need to go home,” she whispered to Stephanie.
Stephanie looked surprised. “What’s wrong?”
“The music is making me really uncomfortable,” Lisa said.
Stephanie looked disappointed, but Lisa knew she needed to leave. She called her mother and told her what was going on.
“I’ll be right there,” her mother said.
Lisa went to wait outside. But soon Stephanie and the other girls joined her on the front porch. “We turned off the music,” Stephanie said. “Please don’t leave.”
The rest of the girls nodded in agreement.
“None of us liked it,” Stephanie admitted. “We just didn’t have the courage to say so.”
Lisa smiled. “Let me call my mom back before she leaves to tell her I’ll be staying after all.”
Stephanie threw her arms around Lisa. “Thanks for staying. The party wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Lisa hugged her friend back. Standing up for her standards hadn’t been easy, but she was glad that she had.

Not long after our friend Carolyn Rasmus joined the faculty of Brigham Young University, a group of her new teaching colleagues invited her to join them on a Saturday hike in the mountains above Provo. Carolyn was not a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but she had felt particularly welcome in her new circle of associates. She eagerly joined them for the climb.
As the sun steadily rose, so did the hikers on the mountainside. Then, as the ten o’clock hour approached, the group began to find places to sit down. Carolyn thought, “This is wonderful. How did they know I needed the rest?” and she, too, looked for a comfortable spot to stretch out. But the participants seemed unusually earnest about this particular break, some pulling out pencils and notebooks while one intently dialed a transistor radio.
What then happened would be a turning point in her life forever. One of her friends said, “Carolyn, we need to explain something. This is the first Saturday in October, and for us that means not only lovely weather and bright fall foliage, but it also means a general conference of the Church. As Latter-day Saints, wherever we are or whatever we are doing, we stop and listen. So we are going to sit here among the oak and the pines, look out over the valley below, and listen to the prophets of God for a couple of hours.”
“A couple of hours!” thought Carolyn. “I didn’t know there were prophets of God still living,” she said, “and I certainly didn’t know there were two hours’ worth!” Little did she know that they were going to stop again at two o’clock that afternoon for another two hours and then invite her to tune in at home for four more the next day.
Well, the rest is history. With the gift of a leather-bound copy of the scriptures from her students, the love of friends and families in the LDS ward she began to attend, and spiritual experiences we want all who make their way into the light of the gospel to have, Carolyn was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. With her introduction to general conference that day sitting high atop Y Mountain, Sister Rasmus had seen her own personal fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophetic invitation: “Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.”

Max got ready to play superhero. He put on his red T-shirt. He put on his superhero cape. Then he went to his little sister’s room.
“Come on, Mia,” said Max. “Let’s go save the day!”
Max and Mia went into the living room. They saw a basket full of clothes.
“Will you help me?” asked Mom.
“OK,” Max said. “Then we can go save the day.”
Max and Mia helped Mom fold all the clothes and put them away.
Then Max saw some trash on the floor. “Let’s pick up all the trash,” said Max. “Then we can go save the day.”
Max and Mia raced around the house. They threw away all the trash they could find.
They saw Mom sweeping the kitchen floor. “We can help you,” Max said.
Mia held the dustpan while Max swept the floor.
“Now let’s go save the day,” Max said.
Mom looked around at the clean house. Then she hugged Max and Mia. “I think you already did!”