Gospel Story Finder

I want to thank each of you—the translators and all those who help publish the Liahona. It is because of you that I have the blessing of holding the words of our prophets and the General Authorities in my hands.
I was baptized as a child but was lost to the Church for a long time. When I heard Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (in October 2004 general conference), he helped me believe that the Savior made it possible for me to be redeemed from my sins. I have experienced that change of heart spoken of by Alma, and my joy is complete.Araceli Arroyo Romero, Mexico

Scott was not the best athlete in his high school. He had not carried the ball or tackled anyone in football, won any races in track and field, or scored any points in basketball. Yet that year his school’s athletes, coaches, and parents gathered to present him with their most prestigious award, the award for best athlete of the year. In the past, young men and women who received the award were on championship teams or won individual honors. Several had gone on to college with scholarships attesting to their abilities. Why they now gave the highest award to someone who had not been a member of any team is a story of sensitivity and gratitude for a boy honored for a different type of achievement.
I know this story because I am Scott’s priesthood adviser. I knew that Scott was given the award because he had, as manager of the football team, contributed his enthusiasm, warmth, and work to the team members. After one ugly incident when Scott was abused by a member of the team, the coach and other team members became very protective of him. Because of their love they voted to give him the award.

Richard’s life, before joining the Church, was one of welfare checks, food stamps, social worker interviews, public health clinics, and unpaid medical and utility bills. Neither Richard nor his wife knew how to handle even small amounts of money. Richard experienced a marvelous conversion to the Church but came in with many personal deficiencies. He had great difficulty in holding a job. He was referred by his bishop to Deseret Industries for employment. For the first time in his adult life, he began earning a regular paycheck. As Richard worked at Deseret Industries, he began to develop pride in himself. He no longer humped over when he spoke. His wife and children began to develop respect for him as patriarch in the home.
The Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator worked closely with Richard as did his bishop. A checking account was established in his name. A workable family budget was outlined and agreed to. Doctor bills that had remained unpaid for over a year were paid. A two-and-a-half-month-old electric bill was paid the day the power was to be shut off. All other bills were slowly brought up to date and handled properly.
Richard’s life was changing. He felt self-worth and direction. Early in July of this year, the general manager of a large laundry-linen business came to the Deseret Industries. He was looking for good employees. Richard was to be given the chance to interview for a job. He expressed great anxiety about the interview. Richard and the Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator practiced interviewing over and over. Richard passed the interview and was hired. A new life-style was about to begin.
When Richard left Deseret Industries, a luncheon was held in his honor, during which the following was recorded:
“Brothers and sisters, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have found a job in the labor market which will pay me more money than I have ever made before. For the first time in my life, I will be able to provide for my family in the way our Heavenly Father wants me to. I am progressing, which is what this life is all about. The bad news, or I should say the sad news, is that I will be leaving all of you. I love you from the bottom of my heart. I am grateful for what Deseret Industries has done for me. I pray that you will all find the happiness I have experienced in working at Deseret Industries. I especially want to thank both Jim Wilson and my bishop who have done so much for me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Richard surpassed his own and his new employer’s expectations. He has recently been promoted and given a handsome increase in salary. A soul, a human life, has been blessed—probably nothing else could have done what a bishop and a Deseret Industries rehabilitation coordinator did.

Kirsty Slater, now 17, first met the Grices when she was 9. They invited her to a Primary party, then other activities. By age 14 she was a regular visitor, and the missionaries began teaching her at age 15.
“I had a calling before baptism and was doing my Personal Progress,” she smiles. “I was second counsellor in the Mia Maids.” On 4th February 1990 her parents eventually agreed to Kirsty’s baptism, and family attended in full force—aunts, uncles, and all.
“Conventions and testimony meetings were a great influence,” Kirsty admits. “Church gives me something to aim for. Sometimes it’s hard, but it seems to make things more complete. Seminary helped me learn a lot before baptism. I got answers to things I didn’t understand.”

Laura was looking out the window when she heard Sister Warren say, “Laura, can you guess from the clues I’ve just given whom we will learn about in our lesson today?”
Rob started to laugh. “Perfect little Laura wasn’t listening!” he teased.
Laura could feel her face getting hot. She whirled around and faced Rob. “Even when you do listen, you never know any answers!” she snapped.
When Primary was over, Sister Warren asked Laura and Rob to stay for a moment. She wrote “Mosiah 27:3–4” on two small pieces of paper. She handed one to each of the children, saying, “During King Mosiah’s reign, a strict command was given to all the church members. Will you find out what it was? Then I’d like both of you to read this scripture aloud to the Primary next week.”
Laura found the scripture and read it carefully. The parts she understood best were: “There should be an equality among all men” and “every man should esteem his neighbor as himself.”
Laura thought about Rob. She had been unkind. Sometimes she thought she was a better person than Rob because she usually knew the right answers.
When Rob read the scriptures in his Book of Mormon, he knew that making fun of Laura had been wrong. He felt bad when he remembered how embarrassed she had been. At Primary the next week, Sister Warren began by saying, “Did you know that there are over five billion people who live in this world right now? Did you know that every single one of them is different? Heavenly Father created each person and loves everyone.
“When we treat each other with respect, honor, and love, we are showing reverence for Heavenly Father. We must be courteous and kind to every person, even those who may seem to be very different from us.”
Then the class played a game called “We Are Different.” When the game was over, Sister Warren asked Laura and Rob to read the scriptures in Mosiah to the Primary. Then Sister Warren said, “Some of you may have noticed how courteous Laura and Rob were as they helped you play this game. Their example helps us see how treating all people with respect is a good way to show reverence for Heavenly Father and Jesus.”

I just have to thank you for the New Era. It really brightens my day. Just recently I read one through from cover to cover and then lent it to a girl friend. She quickly devoured every word, and then I took it to my place of employment—the Jackson Hole Playhouse Theater—where it was passed around one evening. One of the guys in the cast “adopted” it, and I haven’t seen it since! I am an investigator of the Church, and I can’t express in words how much the New Era has helped me in my studies. In fact, you may wish to know that I plan to be baptized.
Cindy ShufeldtJackson, Wyoming

In a recent message of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s Music and the Spoken Word, a story was told about an elderly man and woman who had been married for many decades. Because the wife was slowly losing her sight, she could no longer take care of herself the way she had done for so many years. Without being asked, the husband began to paint her fingernails for her.
“He knew that she could see her fingernails when she held them close to her eyes, at just the right angle, and they made her smile. He liked to see her happy, so he kept painting her nails for more than five years before she passed away.”14

In 1975, as a result of a civil war, Arnaldo and Eugenia Teles Grilo and their children had to leave behind their home and all that they had built through decades of hard work. Back in their native country of Portugal, Brother and Sister Teles Grilo faced the challenge of starting all over again. But years later, after joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, they said, “We lost everything we had, but it was a good thing because it compelled us to consider the importance of eternal blessings.”
They lost their earthly home, but they found the way back to their heavenly home.

“I have been inspired by the temple all my life,” says Caitlen Christensen, 16, of the Rockledge Ward in the Cocoa Florida Stake. “When I was younger the Salt Lake Temple was being updated. I was upset because I was unable to see it up close. All I wanted was to touch it. We asked a missionary there and got permission to get close enough to touch it. I had no idea why this was so important to me then; now I know. I know that Christ dwells in the temples and the action of me touching it gave me the feeling that I was touching Christ himself, like the woman who knew she would be healed if she just touched His robe.
“This picture I took was a big testimony builder for me. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of my purpose in life and that Christ knows and loves me. It also reminds me of my goal of an eternal marriage in the temple.”

Janet lay in a hollow on the sand dune and watched the surfers swimming off the beach below her. There were only a dozen or so swimmers this afternoon. The gusty Australian westerlies whipped the stinging sand around bare legs and into eyes. Most people waited to go swimming until evening when the wind died down. Tonight the beach would be crowded with people trying to cool off from the hot day.
Janet snapped a ti-tree twig from a bush close by and swiped at the small bush flies clustering around her legs. It isn’t fair, she thought. Other people are able to go to New Zealand. I wish we could.
Her father was the branch president, but his family didn’t have enough money to go to the New Zealand Temple with those who were going there next month to be sealed as families.
“When baby Richard was born, we used the money we had saved for the trip to pay the doctor and hospital,” her mother had explained. “So we won’t be able to go with the group this year.”
Janet slammed the screen door and rushed out to the sand dunes, her favorite place to think.
There is just no place we could get the money for the trip, she decided. She knew Grandfather Turner had money, but he wouldn’t help. He had never forgiven Mother for joining the Church and marrying Daddy.
Janet loved her grandfather, even though she seldom saw him. Maybe I should visit him, she thought, as she wiped her eyes. Maybe he is just a lonely person. Thinking about him now, Janet decided she would like to see him.
After school the next day, she walked slowly up the hill toward Grandfather Turner’s house. She was anxious to see him but she was also a little nervous.
A few minutes later, she stood on the wide veranda knocking on the front door of the big house. No one came. But Bluey, Grandfather’s cattle dog, barked furiously. Janet looked around the side of the house and saw the dog tied up in the shade of the peppercorn tree. Perhaps Grandfather was in the back yard.
Janet walked around the side of the house. “What’s up, Bluey?” she asked. “Don’t you remember me? I haven’t seen you for a long time. Where’s Grandfather?”
Just then Janet noticed that the dog was panting by his empty water bowl. “You’re thirsty, Bluey! Grandfather must be ill, for he’d never forget to give you water on a hot day like this.” She ran back to the house.
“Help!” A voice sounded very faint. From far away it came again, “Help!”
Across the yard, through the vegetable garden, and under the jacaranda tree Janet raced. And there, sprawled in the doorway of the chicken house, lay Grandfather.
“I tripped over the jacaranda root,” Grandfather moaned. “I meant to chop it out long ago. I think I broke my hip, and I’ve been lying here since early this morning when I came to feed the chickens. I thought help would never come.”
“Oh, Grandfather, I’m so sorry,” Janet comforted, “but I’ll go for help.” She ran into the house, found the telephone, and dialed the district hospital. Speaking quickly but carefully, Janet told them to send an ambulance to Mr. Turner’s house on the top of the hill on Murray Road.
A few days later when Grandfather was feeling much better, a small family gathered around his hospital bed. Grandfather held Janet’s hand. “I never was so glad to see anyone as I was to see you, young lady. But how did you happen to come just when I needed you?”
“I was lonesome to see you and thought I’d ask you to be friends with us,” Janet replied.
“For a long time I’ve been sorry that I’ve been so stubborn,” Grandfather admitted. “But I was too proud to say so. What happened the other day showed me that I need my family.
“A church shouldn’t divide a family,” Grandfather continued, “so when I’m all better I’ll visit your church with you.”
“That would be great,” Janet said as she squeezed Grandfather’s hand.
“Our church unites families,” Daddy explained. “We’d like to tell you all about it. We had hoped to go to the New Zealand Temple next month, where we could be sealed to each other as a family, but we aren’t able to do so. Maybe if we wait another year, we’ll have another important member of our family going with us.” Daddy smiled at them. “That will certainly be worth waiting for!”
And Janet felt a warm glow of promise.

During our first holidays together as a married couple in 1973, my husband received a $40 Christmas bonus. Though we didn’t have much money for gifts, we decided to spend the bonus on a family who had recently lost their husband and father. We had so much fun shopping for presents and then leaving them on the family’s doorstep that we made the secret project a family tradition.
Over the years we were blessed with four children. As soon as each child grew tall enough, he or she would take a turn at Christmastime wearing a special coat that we used only once a year. Adult-sized, dark in color, and hooded, the coat made a perfect disguise for sneaking up to someone’s doorstep in the dark to leave gifts.
Every autumn we would vote on who our secret family would be that Christmas and on what gifts we would give them. The children would decide who would have the honor of wearing the Christmas coat and delivering the presents that year. On abundant years, we would give homemade quilts or clothing along with toys, books, and goodies; on leaner years, we would give stockings filled with smaller items.
When Christmas Eve finally arrived, the lucky child would don the coat and put on gloves and large boots to complete the disguise. With everyone in the car, we’d park a short distance from the chosen house, and our little elf would make his or her way to the front porch. The fear of being seen or suspected made it even more exciting!
Back in our cozy home we would sit together with hot cocoa and bread sticks and relive the evening’s adventure. With full tummies and warm hearts, we would read the Christmas story from the Bible and appreciate what the Savior’s life taught us about service.
Christmases were always wonderful, and we never missed a year of our tradition.

“I will go first,” says Irinka every first Sunday of the month. With hands holding tight to the chair and eyes full of excitement, she works up the courage. Irinka is only nine years old, but it seems like she’s the bravest of all eight members who come to church regularly in her branch in Bulgaria.
Before she stands up, Irinka usually waits to see if someone else wants to bear testimony first. Everyone secretly gives her a glance and waits for her to go up front. Finally, with a big smile, she walks to the pulpit. The branch president gets her a stool to step on so she can see the members. Irinka, the only child in Primary, looks at the small congregation and starts talking.
She doesn’t appear nervous that everyone is looking at her. The members listen to her sweet voice. As she speaks of Christ, the scriptures, and the truthfulness of the Church, she is influencing the testimony of everyone else.
When she sits down, everything is quiet and it seems that the Spirit has touched other hearts. Then one of the members stands up to bear testimony, and then another and another …

After completing PathwayConnect, I decided to enroll in the public health program at Brigham Young University-Idaho. I completed a certification in public health planning and implementation, health method evaluation and epidemiology. I have learned to support the world in disease prevention and developed a pandemic health program. I was very happy to support my country during the COVID-19 breakout in Kinshasa. People were amazing. I learned more skills about how to control this disease in my community.

Once upon a time there was a little Slobovian boy named Gorb who lived in a little boardinghouse with 10,000 Slobovians. Every morning all 10,001 of them were served the most nutritious breakfast cereal available anywhere—Captain Steadfast’s Forthright Whole Wheat Crunchies. Now federal agencies and senate hearings had proven not only that Captain Steadfast’s was the best breakfast food known to man but also that it was, spoonful for spoonful, the most economical cereal on the market. And it tasted great.
One morning just at breakfast time a stranger walked into the boardinghouse and casually tossed a new cereal onto the table that, he said, was groovy, outasight, and everyone was eating. It was called Gurgle, Twaddle, and Sop. Some of the guys said they had heard it was pretty bad, but 10,000 hands nevertheless reached for the box and heaped their bowls high because, after all, it obviously was the thing to do. However, when the box came to Gorb he kindly said, “No, thank you,” and he poured himself a bowl of Forthright Whole Wheat Crunchies.
“Comment!”* roared a chorus of 10,000 Slobovian voices.
“Well, it isn’t any great mystery,” replied Gorb. “I just read on the box here that Gurgle, Twaddle, and Sop has no vitamins, no proteins, none of the good stuff Captain Steadfast’s has, and it even admits to having some real junk in it. The price looks pretty expensive, and I’ve heard it can really taste gross. Besides—I like these Crunchies.”
At that point 10,000 fists hit Gorb on the jaw. “What gall,” mused Gorb as he shrugged his shoulders and went on eating his Captain Steadfast’s.
But even as Gorb was taking his lonely stand, some strange things began to happen around the table. Many of the 10,000 said they were sick; some said they were seeing strange things; a few said they couldn’t see anything at all. Several fell face first into their Gurgle, Twaddle, and Sop, and at least one just cried and cried. But those who were still able kept forcing down the G, T, & S because, after all, somebody had said it was groovy and outasight and everybody was eating it.
It wasn’t long before just one person remained sitting at the table; 10,000 others were screaming around the room or sobbing at their benches or just retching on the floor. The place was a bad scene that didn’t look either groovy or outasight, but at least everybody was doing it—except Gorb. He just quietly finished his Whole Wheat Crunchies and wondered why new always meant better to so many people.
Moral: 10,000 Slobovians can be wrong.

During her Peace Corps service, Martha recalls wanting an understanding of eternity and her place in God’s plan. She had inborn faith in a loving Father in Heaven. “I began feeling spiritual promptings telling me to set my house in order,” she remembers. “But when and for what reason was not clear.”
As Martha continued to lose herself in service, she began to awaken spiritually. She occasionally became discouraged, but remembers that she felt very close to God. “I relied on his Spirit to strengthen and direct me,” she says. “During this time, I had a dream similar to the one I would later recognize when I read the Book of Mormon—that of the rod leading to the tree of life. Other dreams assured me that my Heavenly Father would lead me from darkness into the light.
“I began reading my Bible daily but did not understand it,” she says. “I didn’t know what my next step should be—I just trusted the Lord. Then my mother became ill and I returned to Atlanta to care for her. I still continued to search the scriptures.”
While Martha stayed at her mother’s home, two missionaries came to the door. “We are here to teach you the restored gospel of Jesus Christ,” they said. After the first lesson, Martha felt grateful for additional knowledge, but she wasn’t inclined to join this “true church.” But by the third lesson, she began to receive answers to her prayers. She felt strongly that she was being led to this church where she would find people who would love and accept her.
On 1 May 1983, Martha Poston was baptized. She recalls that “my soul hungered and my mind and spirit were athirst, and God didn’t fail me.”

I hated early-morning seminary. I was raised in Boulder, Colorado, and all we had was early-morning seminary. I tried every excuse why I should not go: “Teenagers need their sleep.” “My life is too busy.” “I’m too tired to pay attention, so I don’t get anything out of it.” Nothing worked. Every morning around 5:45, my mom would wake me, push me in the direction of the shower, and get me out the door for seminary.
This was my pattern all four years until the late fall of my senior year. I arrived at seminary, but the teacher had not shown up. A good friend of mine stood up in front of the class and said, “Since the teacher isn’t here, I think we should just take turns reading aloud the assigned reading.”
Someone started reading 2 Nephi 33:10–11: “Hearken unto these words and believe in Christ; and if ye believe not in these words believe in Christ. And if ye shall believe in Christ ye will believe in these words, for they are the words of Christ, and he hath given them unto me; and they teach all men that they should do good.
“And if they are not the words of Christ, judge ye—for Christ will show unto you, with power and great glory, that they are his words, at the last day; and you and I shall stand face to face before his bar; and ye shall know that I have been commanded of him to write these things, notwithstanding my weakness.”
As I listened to these words, I thought, “I believe in Christ. If I believe in Him, then these words are true.” As I completed that thought, the Spirit touched me more profoundly. I was so struck by it that I remember looking around the room to see if others were feeling the same thing. They didn’t seem changed or appear as if they were feeling something different. This was a lesson that I was learning privately, just for me. The feeling didn’t go away. I carried it with me for the rest of the day. It was the beginning of a strong testimony for me.
I have often thought about that event and contemplated the act of being diligent. I had been attending seminary reluctantly for almost four years. But because I was diligent and obeying my mother’s desire that I attend, I was taught by the Spirit. If I had been at home in bed sleeping, I would have missed that opportunity. It is often when I least expect it, when I have been diligent day after day, month after month, and year after year attending church, reading the scriptures, or praying that the Spirit whispers to me and confirms the truth of the gospel. I am glad I learned that lesson at 17 while attending early morning seminary.

I’ve had many problems with my temper. I used to yell at people because I thought they were such idiots. I would easily and quickly lose my temper. The way I overcame this was by reading the Book of Mormon, writing my feelings down on paper, and making a conscious effort to change. After about a week, I could tell that I wasn’t getting angry at people nearly as often.

Elder John O. Leyer, 19Indianapolis, Indiana

I was sitting on Mom and Dad’s bed, missing them an awful lot, when the phone rang.
“Hey, Levi. Guess what?” Dad said. “Your sister Nora was born this afternoon!”
I could tell Dad was happy, but his voice also sounded weird—like he was worried.
“How big is she?” I asked, wondering if I really wanted to know the answer.
Dad was silent for a moment. “A little more than two pounds,” he said. Now he definitely sounded worried. Nora was supposed to be born during Christmastime, but it was still September. “She’s tiny, all right,” Dad continued. “Remember to pray for her, Levi. And pray for us too so we can trust that Heavenly Father knows what’s best for our family.”
After I hung up the phone, I went into the kitchen and picked up a bag of beans that Mom was planning on making into soup. The package said it weighed about as much as Nora did right now. I held it in my hands, trying to imagine what a baby that size would look like.
“Her spirit was just with Heavenly Father,” I thought, remembering what I had learned about the pre-earth life and the plan of salvation. I knew that even if Nora died, we would get to see her again because we were all sealed together as a family. But I also hoped she would stay with us here on earth.
Over the next few months, Mom and Dad were at the hospital a lot. Grandma and Grandpa came to our house to help take care of me and my younger siblings. The ward fasted and prayed for our family, and nice ladies from the Relief Society brought dinners for us sometimes. Everyone wanted to know how Nora was doing.
One evening, Mom and Dad called all of us into the living room. They told us that Dad was going with the bishop to give Nora a blessing. After Dad left in his suit and tie, Mom gathered all of us around the couch to say a prayer.
“Please bless Dad as he gives Nora a priesthood blessing,” Mom prayed. Her voice grew soft. “And please, if it is Thy will, allow her to come home and be healthy.”
As we prayed, I could feel the Holy Ghost fill the room with peace and love. It was like Heavenly Father was telling me that, no matter what happened with Nora, it was all part of His plan.
Later that night, Dad came home and told us that something wonderful had happened at the hospital. Usually Nora’s room was loud and noisy. There were lots of machines and monitors with alarms and flashing lights, and nurses and doctors were always hurrying around to help the tiny babies there. But when Dad and the bishop arrived, things were different. All of the machines were quiet. The nurses were sitting by the babies, watching over them. Dad and the bishop were able to give Nora a blessing without any interruptions.
I don’t know whether Nora will grow up here on earth or return to live with Heavenly Father soon. But I do know that Heavenly Father hears and answers our prayers, and I feel peace when I remember that He has a plan for every member of my family.

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.

Skeeter Lagree pulled himself from his bed like a reluctant butterfly from its cocoon. It isn’t fair! his thoughts told his reflection in his dresser mirror. I’m just a twelve-year-old boy.
When he pulled back the curtain at his window and gazed out, he decided it was more than just unfair. “I’m not going to collect fast offerings on a day like this, Bernard!” he said out loud to his pet goldfish in the little fishbowl on his dresser. “It’s snowing! Mom’s in St. George, taking care of Grandma. And Dad’s sick in bed, so he can’t drive me around the neighborhood.”
The boy watched a dog amble down the street, appearing almost suspended by the icy wind, then crawled back into bed. “It won’t hurt if I miss collecting fast offerings just this once, Bernard. The other deacons will tend to it. They probably have rides. I’d have to walk all the way around the block to the meetinghouse just to pick up a route!”
Bernard’s “gaze” began to bother Skeeter. He wondered if his conscience had eyes like that—big and round and unblinking. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it isn’t polite to stare?” He rolled over and faced the wall.
What greeted him there was even worse! It was a picture of a family pulling their handcart across the plains in the dead of winter. The woman was straining at the crossbar. Her husband lay in the cart, too sick to walk, his hollow eyes gazing painfully at their child, about Skeeter’s age, crawling beside the cart. The pioneer boy was too weak and cold to stand. His bedraggled clothes were caked with ice, and his feet were bleeding.
The handcart pioneers were engaged in a noble cause, too, his conscience told him, like the other deacons who’ll be fulfilling their duty to the Lord this morning. But these pioneers, his father had read from a worn book during a recent family home evening, had traveled on foot more than 1300 miles! And all I have to do is walk around the block.
Suddenly he heard a tapping. He rolled over to discover a bare limb of a tree tapping and scraping against his window. A moment later, he was kneeling beside his bed, asking Heavenly Father for forgiveness.
Skeeter jumped up and quickly dressed in his Sunday clothes, slipped into his winter coat, told his dad where he was going, and started back down the hall toward the front door. He paused and poked his head into his own room. “Shouldn’t you be about your duties, Bernard?” he asked his pet. “And don’t pretend that you don’t know what they are!” he added at the fish’s seemingly blank look. “You’re a fish, aren’t you? So, do something … fishy. Besides staring! Remember who feeds you,” he warned with a chuckle. “Except today, of course—it’s fast Sunday!”
Skeeter’s father heard his chuckling. The next thing he heard was the front door opening and closing as his son went out into the cold, snowy morning on the Lord’s errand. He rested his head back on his pillow and smiled. “That’s my boy,” he said softly. “That’s my boy.”