Gospel Story Finder

During one of the most difficult times of my divorce, I was called to serve as an institute teacher. I wondered how I could effectively serve when I was facing such enormous challenges in my personal life. But as I prepared lessons, I was strengthened in my own difficulties and could empathize with my students’ difficulties. I came to know my young single adult institute students over those several years, and the testimonies they shared gave me courage as I tried to move the mountains in my life.5

It wasn’t until after my first business venture broke down and my second one burned to the ground that I wondered if I would be able to take my fiancée, Beny, to the temple. We had heard that getting there would be a trial of faith, but when we made temple marriage our goal, we had no idea how thoroughly our faith would be tested.
Beny and I met in our native Panama after serving missions. At the time, couples in Panama who wanted to start their married lives in the temple were married civilly just before traveling to the nearest temple, the Guatemala City Guatemala Temple. It would be an expensive and difficult trip, but being sealed was a blessing we did not want to live without.
The day after I proposed, I lost my job. Undaunted, I decided to earn money by giving bus tours. My bus broke down the first night. Concerned but determined, I next decided to sell T-shirts. The morning I went to pick up the shirts from the manufacturer, I found that the building had burned to the ground the night before. It seemed that my hopes had gone up in smoke too.
It was only a few months before the next scheduled temple trip, yet to this point, every effort I had made to raise money had ended in abrupt failure. I left the smoldering rubble and went to find Beny.
“I have nothing,” I told her. “Maybe you shouldn’t marry me.”
“If I were marrying for money, I’d be married already,” she said. “But I’m not marrying for money. I’m marrying you because I love you.”
That was a turning point. We felt that we had passed an important test. As we pushed ahead with faith, doors began opening. I found work making furniture, though the pay wasn’t enough to meet our needs. Then a kind bishop offered to help us with our bus fare. As exciting as his offer was, it didn’t feel right. We were intent on being self-sufficient. But seeing that he truly desired to help, we asked him if he could give Beny a job instead. He did.
After earning enough money to travel to the temple, we married civilly and were at last on our way to Guatemala with 10 other Church members. But our test wasn’t over yet.
Widespread transportation strikes stopped us at the border of Costa Rica. After waiting at the border for two days, our driver decided to turn back. But Beny and I, along with two brothers and one other couple, decided not to give up. After watching our bus turn around and leave us, we walked into Costa Rica. We kept walking, sleeping in roadside shelters, until we reached the Nicaraguan border. From there we managed to take a taxi to the capital city, where we purchased a bus ticket to the Honduran border. Two days—and two more buses—later we finally arrived at the temple. We were happy, but we were dirty and tired, and we had spent far more than we had planned.
After cleaning up, Beny and I realized that we were missing our living-ordinance recommends! What made matters worse, our bishop in Panama was scheduled to leave that same day on a business trip. We were brokenhearted. Had we passed through all of our trials for nothing? We ironed Beny’s wedding dress and trusted that if the Lord had helped us get that far, He would see us through to the end.
Though we expected our bishop to be gone, we decided to call him anyway. To our surprise, he had not taken his business trip after all. He said he felt that he should stay home instead. We were thrilled! He promised to fax the needed paperwork as soon as he could get to a fax machine.
We waited and waited, all the while praying in the temple’s marriage waiting room. It was Saturday, and in two hours the temple would close until Monday. What could be taking so long? At last the fax arrived, with an apology from the bishop: the power had gone out just as he was preparing to send the fax.
Finally, after all our trials and delays, we were sealed eternally as husband and wife. Our joy—worth the working, the waiting, and the worrying—was full!
Not everyone getting married in the temple will face such challenges, but for Beny and me (and the others who went to the temple with us), these experiences were a refining process. Three of the four brethren who made it to the temple on that trip were later called as bishops. Two are currently serving as counselors in stake presidencies. We’ve all been so blessed. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life.
If our goal to marry in the temple had been only for worldly love, we wouldn’t have made it. But because we believed in the sealing power of the priesthood restored in our day, we didn’t give up, knowing that our temple marriage—for time and all eternity—was worth whatever sacrifice we had to make.

Hiking into the foothills and onto the mountain east of Manti, Utah, was a favorite activity for me when I was growing up. One crisp fall day when I was about ten years old, my friend and I decided to go for a hike.
My mother carefully wrapped two peanut butter and jam sandwiches and pieces of raisin pie in waxed paper and put them and an apple apiece in brown paper bags for us to take for our lunches.
I enjoyed the cool, fresh air and the smell of the fields and orchards as we made our way past the outskirts of town, past one neighbor’s farm and through another’s apple orchard. The trees were loaded with delicious red apples.
We were each carrying a large burlap sack, as we hoped to find pine nuts. As we took the narrow trail through the sagebrush and into the junipers, we found a piñon pine tree here and there, and a few pinecones.
We put the cones, sticky with fresh pine gum, into our burlap sacks, with the knowledge that each hard, green cone contained a number of pine nuts locked tightly inside it. I loved pine nuts then; I still do. The Indians liked them, too, but they gathered them for survival. They made a pine-nut bread that was half pine nuts and half grasshoppers. I preferred my pine nuts straight.
My friend and I climbed higher until we came to a maze of flat, white rocks laid out so that they formed a huge letter “M” visible throughout the valley below. At the top right side of this letter, we found a large, flat rock and sat down to rest. Taking our shoes off to cool our feet on this smooth rock, we enjoyed looking down on Manti, out across the fields and valleys, and beyond. The air was clean and clear, and we could smell the mixture of sage, juniper, and pine. It was good to be alive!
So that we could roast some of our pine nuts, we gathered dry brush and limbs and started a fire. It was soon blazing quite high—too high!
The flames caught onto a nearby clump of sagebrush, then another and another. It looked as though it would soon spread to the whole mountainside and be a forest fire. We had learned to put a fire out by pouring water on it, but we had no water, so we tried to beat it out with our burlap sacks, but every time we beat at the fire, it seemed to fan out and spread more. In desperation my friend said, “I’ll go for help.” He pulled his shoes on and took off running down the mountain.
I was alone! I went to my knees in prayer. “Father in Heaven, help me put this fire out.” This is all I remember saying. I don’t know what I expected. There was not a cloud in the sky, and it didn’t suddenly start to rain. I didn’t hear a voice telling me what to do, but He answered my prayer.
Before I’d even gotten off my knees, I was impressed to start throwing dirt on the nearest burning bush, and then on the next one. I threw dirt on another, and another until I had encircled the entire fire and had it under control and only smoke was left blowing up on the mountain where the fire had been.
I had not heard a voice saying, “Throw dirt on the fire,” but I had felt strongly impressed to do it. In some way Heavenly Father had conveyed that intelligence to my mind. If I forgot to thank Him then, I have thanked Him many times since then!
I am grateful, too, for the way He answered my prayer. He didn’t put the fire out. He could have, but I’m glad that He didn’t. I would have been embarrassed. Instead, He allowed me the dignity of putting the fire out, which boosted my self-confidence and helped me realize that I could solve difficult problems with His help.
I learned many lifelong lessons from this experience, the first being to not start a fire next to brush with a breeze blowing. More important, I learned that the prayer of a small boy on a mountain would be heard and answered. I also learned that Heavenly Father will generally not do for us what we can do for ourselves but will prompt us to use our own intelligence, our own strength, and the materials at hand, such as the dirt under our feet.

“What are you doing?” Nate asked his big sister, Jessica.
“Writing a thank-you to Grandma for my birthday present.”
“I want to write one too.”
“You don’t know how to write yet,” Jessica said. “Besides, you write thank-yous to someone who gives you a present, and it wasn’t your birthday.”
“Oh,” said Nate, rolling his tongue around in his cheek. Then he started to grin. “I know someone I can make a thank-you for. I’ll be right back.”
A minute later, Nate dumped crayons, markers, and a big sheet of plain white paper on the table.
“Now what are you doing?” Jessica sighed, moving over.
“Making a thank-you picture. I can’t write, but I can draw.”
“Who are you thanking?”
“It’s a surprise.” Nate picked up a yellow crayon, drew a round sun, and colored it in. Then he used markers to make a red house with two blue windows and a door.
Jessica peered at it. “I know who that picture’s for. It’s for Dad.”
“No,” said Nate, smiling. He drew his black cat, Pepper, and the swing hanging from their big oak tree.
“I bet that picture’s for Mom,” Jessica said.
“Nope.” Nate picked up a blue crayon. He colored birds flying in the sky, and the pond next to their house.
“I’m done,” said Jessica, putting her note into an envelope. “Now I have to write Grandma’s address on it and send it.”
“I’m done, too,” said Nate, coloring a frog by the pond.
“I bet that picture’s for your kindergarten teacher,” Jessica said.
“No,” Nate said. “It’s for someone who gives me different things every day. It’s a thank-you picture for Heavenly Father.”
Jessica smiled. “You’re right, Nate. He does give us all kinds of presents.”
“Do you think he likes my thank-you picture?”
“Sure he does. Everyone likes it when you say thank you.”
Nate smiled. “Help me hang my picture up for Heavenly Father to see. Then I’ll help you mail yours.”

Elder Matthew Cowley once asked an elders quorum president how his elders were getting along as a quorum. “Do you do anything to help one another?” “Oh, yes,” was the response. “We’ve got a member of our quorum in the hospital in New Mexico. He was a vigorous young man, buying a farm, a hard worker with a lovely family. All of a sudden he was stricken.” That could have meant the end of his farm and family security.

The elders quorum president said, “That was our loss as much as for his wife and children. So we took over, and we’ve operated that farm. All he has to worry about is getting well.”

When Ioana Schifirnet joined the Church as a young teen in Romania, the young adults in her branch welcomed her and included her in their classes and activities. “They became my best friends,” she said. “They made me feel like I belonged.”
Ioana concluded, “Looking back, I would have joined the Church of Jesus Christ without those young single adults. But having them helped strengthen me in ways I needed.”

Presiding Bishop H. David Burton visited Higashi Matsushima, Japan, in June 2011 to assess the country’s condition since the March 11 earthquake and tsunami and to observe Church relief being offered there. Search “Burton, Japan” on news.lds.org.

Easing the pain of losing a child is difficult, if not impossible. But after hearing Sister Read tell her story during a youth conference meeting, and hearing another talk given by Kevin Capener, a young father who lost an infant son, the youth in the North Ogden Utah Ben Lomond Stake were eager to do anything they could to help. So, as a youth conference activity, they decided to “blanket” a local hospital with service.
The nearly 400 young people attending the conference spent an afternoon making more than 500 infant quilts to be given to parents whose newborn babies have died. After the parents have held their baby in the blanket for the last time, the blanket can be kept as a reminder to the parents.
“I hope that this blanket will be used, held, and cherished,” says Mark Miller, a priest. “I want [the parents] to know that there is someone out there who cares about them.”
In just a few short hours, the youth had a stack of quilts ready and waiting to be presented to a representative from Ogden’s McKay Dee Hospital.
It may seem a little thing, making tiny quilts for parents to use after the loss of a child. But sometimes the things people do aren’t measured by the size of their service, but rather, by the size of their hearts.

As we have already noticed, Chauncey West was not all seriousness. On April 12 he rented a “wheel” and rode out to his cousin Abraham H. Cannon’s place and there found “Uncle George and about 20 of my cousins and aunts there at a family gathering.” Another bicycle ride followed the next day, when, at 6:00 in the morning, he and LeRoi met three young ladies.
“The girls looked very neat in the tight fitting waists and bloomers. I rode along the side of Miss Abbie Wardrobe and enjoyed the trip very much. We returned after about one and a half hours ride with our partners. Then leaving them at home we started for Becks Hot Springs and had a fine trip. We went around the sloping bicycle track and then returned. We then started for the Fort, namely Fort Douglas. We had a hard ride going up, but coming down I just sailed.”
He was ready for a short nap when they got back to LeRoi’s place. Then they caught a train for Saltair beach, did some sightseeing, and returned for an evening at Miss White’s.

Along with the blessings, however, I have known some difficult challenges and heartaches. I am grateful for the lessons learned in these adversities. As a young man, I lived through the Great Depression, when banks failed and so many lost their jobs and homes and went hungry. I was fortunate to have a job at a canning factory that paid 25 cents an hour. That may have been all I was worth! But it helped me get my education. I served three long years in the military in World War II. One time when we were in peril of our ship capsizing in a horrendous storm in the Pacific, I put myself in the Lord’s hands and fervently promised Him that if I survived I would try to serve Him all of the days of my life.

Pam had never really thought of herself as being different. She had always known, of course, that she was Korean and that she had been adopted by Mom and Dad when she was just a baby. She loved to hear the story about how her parents went to the airport to get her and how excited they were to have the baby placed in their arms. She enjoyed looking at the special album her mother had, which contained her medical report, a brief history, and several pictures. She giggled at the two small pictures of the chubby baby in the strange Korean woman’s arms. Her mom always told her that she and Dad had taken one look at those pictures and said, “Yes, we want that child!”
But today she didn’t feel wanted as she huddled in a corner of the school yard and tried to keep the tears from falling. Just a few minutes ago their teacher, Mrs. Macy, had lined them up by the door and asked,
“All right, who’s turn is it to be the line leader for kickball today?”
“Me! Me!” Randy had demanded loudly.
Mrs. Macy had been gentle but firm. “Randy, you were leader last week.” After checking her list, she had given the ball to Pam.
When they were outside, Randy had come up to Pam and demanded to be the leader.
“It’s my turn. I want to do it,” Pam had said, clutching the ball more tightly.
“Come on, Pam. Let me do it.”
“No.”
“You dumb Chinese!”
The words had come out harshly and spitefully. Pam had frozen. Randy, pleased to be getting a reaction from her, had continued, “You don’t even belong in this country. You’re not like us at all! Why don’t you just go back to where you came from?”
Pam had felt the eyes of her other classmates boring into her. No one had said a word. Pam had dropped the ball and had run across the field.
It was hard to go back to the classroom when the bell rang. Pam slumped down in her seat all afternoon and didn’t speak to anyone. The minute school was over, she rushed out of the building and raced home. She gave her mother a brief hello, then locked herself in the bathroom. She stared at her slanted eyes, olive complexion, and straight black hair. She was different!
Pam barely said anything during dinner, but it all came pouring out when her mother brought out a pink brocade Oriental jacket she had bought for Pam.
Pam’s thank-you for the gift was barely audible.
“Don’t you like it?” her mother asked. “I think it’s beautiful.”
“No, I don’t!” Pam burst out. “It looks Oriental. I want to look like everyone else!”
Her parents exchanged glances. “What happened today, Pam?” her mother asked quietly.
Pam told them about what Randy had said and how the rest of the class had stared at her.
“Randy is mistaken,” Dad said. “First of all, you are not Chinese; you are Korean. You’re certainly not dumb. And what is most important to us, you are our daughter, and we love you very much.”
Talking to her parents helped. Pam felt secure in their love for her. But she still dreaded going to school the next day. She waited until the very last bell had rung before hurrying to her seat. She stared straight ahead throughout the class period, and when recess time came, she went to a corner of the field and stayed by herself. She didn’t talk to anyone the whole day, not even to Patti, her best friend. When school was over, and Patti started toward her, to walk home together the way they usually did, Pam hurried away.
Pam kept to herself the next week too. She didn’t play with anyone at school, and she spent her time at home reading in her room. Her mother urged her to go out and play with her friends, but Pam just shook her head.
The following Monday she walked home slowly. There was no need to hurry anymore, because Patti no longer tried to catch up with her. Pam was just heading into the field across from the service station when she heard a low whine. Something or somebody was in trouble! She stopped and listened. There it was again, a whine of pain just to her left. She hesitantly walked toward it. Bending down, she saw a dog tangled in some brush so that it couldn’t get free. While she spoke soothingly to the dog, Pam gently freed his trapped leg.
It was after she had untangled the dog and he was licking her hand gratefully that Pam got her first real look at him. He was the funniest-looking dog that she had ever seen. He had one huge black patch around one eye, and his nose was bent to one side. His ears were way too long for his short body, and Pam saw that his legs were short and bowlegged.
As Pam started for home again, the dog waddled along right behind her. “Go away now!” Pam told him firmly. “Go home!”
But the dog kept following her. When she reached her house, she wondered, What am I going to do with him? She knelt down and scratched him behind the ears. Again the dog’s tongue licked her. Pam sighed and went into the house, her new friend right at her heels.
“Pam, what is that!” Mother exclaimed.
Pam explained how she had found the dog and how he had followed her home. “He’s awfully skinny, Mom—can I feed him something?” she pleaded.
Worried about the dog’s ownership but happy to see Pam interested in something again, her mother went to the refrigerator for some leftover meat.
Pam spent the rest of the afternoon with the dog. She decided to call him Hector. After she gave him a bath with the garden hose, she brushed his coat until it was dry and shining. Then she found a stick and tried to teach him to chase it. When Hector got the idea and bounded eagerly after the stick with his curious lopsided gait, Pam laughed with delight. By the time her father came home, she thought Hector was the cutest dog she’d ever seen.
“What’s that?” Dad asked.
Pam giggled. “A dog!” She explained again how she had found him. “I call him Hector. Can we keep him? Oh, please! Can we?” she pleaded as her mother joined them in the backyard.
Her father knelt down beside her and Hector. “OK—but only if you check the newspaper. He probably belongs to someone, honey.”
“I will, Dad, but I’m sure he doesn’t! There’s no collar or anything. Please. I love him!”
“That funny looking thing?”
“He’s not funny looking!”
“What do you mean? Look at that patch, that nose, those legs.”
Pam drew Hector protectively into her arms. “But I like him! Just because he looks a little different from other dogs doesn’t mean that he isn’t the most super dog in the world. I love the way he looks.”
Her father stroked her hair. “Why, Pam. Do you mean that a dog—or a person—can look different and still be very wonderful and very loved?”
“Yes! That’s what I like about Hector. He’s different! He’s—” she stopped as she realized the point her father was making. Maybe she was a little different from the other kids, but Dad and Mom and Mrs. Macy and her friend Patti liked her just as she was!
Dad went into the house, and Pam sat outside for a long time, thinking and stroking Hector’s back. At last she got up and went into the house, with Hector following her. Her parents were sitting in the living room.
“I’m going to call Patti,” she said. “I want to see if she can come over after dinner and meet Hector.”

On April 19 Chauncey went on a fishing trip with Wallace Boden and Henry Blackburn. They caught about 60 fish and sang as they drove home behind a team of ponies.

For many years, I dreamed of serving a full-time mission. But when I returned home after university graduation, I saw how badly my family needed me. My father’s health was challenged, and the family needed financial help. As the eldest of four children, I felt I should stay home and help. Heavenly Father blessed me with a decent job. Though it didn’t pay much, it was enough to get by.
Whenever I was asked about serving a full-time mission, I answered that I would. Every time I said this, however, my mother would look at me with a mixture of excitement and sadness in her eyes. I knew that if I asked to go, she would say yes and quietly keep in her heart her apprehension of losing family income.

The author lives in Wisconsin, USA.
Our Young Women group decided to focus on general conference and listening to the words of our prophets. We had a special lesson before conference discussing the importance of listening to our leaders. We talked about why we have it and how to prepare so that we can hear the messages Heavenly Father has for us. Everyone was encouraged to listen so that we could share with each other the things that “stuck to us.”
We went home with sticky notes and wrote down the things that “stuck” during conference. Afterwards, we took turns sharing all the wonderful messages and quotes that “stuck to us.”
We have done this activity for the past three general conferences. At first, some of the young women were hesitant to share and only brought one or two notes. But after doing it three times, the girls found they had so many spiritual insights we hardly had time to let everyone share. After showing their notes, many wanted them back so they could put them back in their journals or hang them up in their rooms.
We have found this to be a great way to really get into conference. And we are a stronger and more unified group because we know that we are all seeking strength and inspiration so that we can come closer to Jesus Christ and keep His commandments.
“I really like to hear what ‘stuck’ to the other girls. It helped me remember and think about things I may have missed or forgotten about during the different conference talks.”
Mikelle F., 17
“I really like our ‘What Sticks to You’ lessons from general conference. It is cool to listen to how the different talks impact and stick out to each of us. I like hearing the unique takeaways that everyone gets.”
Emily F., 17
“I’m grateful for the words of the prophets to help remind me of my importance and to remember the Savior.”
Chanelle D. 18
“It was fun to hear everyone’s thoughts and favorite moments. I liked hearing the different perspectives and sharing the love with my fellow Laurels.”
Olivia A., 16
“Doing ‘What Sticks to You’ helps me remember the Spirit I felt when I watched general conference.”
Hannah Q., 18
“The ‘What Sticks to You’ lesson helps me prepare for general conference. It allows me to take better notes and really reflect on the talks given.”
Julia C., 18

More than a hundred years ago President Brigham Young sent a family to a small, remote place in Arizona to make peace with the Indians.
The father of the family was away on Church business when an impression came to him that something was wrong at home. He headed there at once, arriving about four o’clock in the morning. He found his wife gently cradling their little baby daughter in her arms. The baby had fallen into an open fireplace and was severely burned.
The father took their infant in his arms and gave her a blessing. He promised her that she would live, that she would not be disfigured, and that she would sing before the prominent people of the world. The baby girl did live. She was not disfigured, and she grew up, raised a family, and sang in the Tabernacle Choir. The powers of heaven gave life back to that tiny child. And that sweet baby girl, who owed her life to the power of prayer, grew up and gave me life. She was my mother.

There has never been a time in my life that was more important than my own mission in preparing me for what I am now doing as a General Authority. I served in the British Mission from 1948 to 1950. All of England, Wales, Scotland, and Ireland were part of that mission. The Church had gone through a difficult period in the British Isles after World War II, and we were reopening the area to missionary work. We would knock on doors and hand out tracts about the Church.
You can’t be timid for long as a missionary. Street meetings were a very popular form of missionary work. We would set up a stand in the marketplace or town square, sing a few hymns, then bear our testimonies and answer questions.
The second day I was in England, I attended my first street meeting at Hyde Park in London. Six missionaries and our mission president, Selvoy J. Boyer, were there. President Boyer called on two missionaries to speak. I was one of them.
On my way up to the stand, he said to me, “Elder Ballard, you preach the gospel.” I quickly picked the principle of baptism and said everything I knew about it in about 30 seconds. That was a good experience because it made me realize very quickly how much I did not know. I realized I had a lot of studying to do.

Those who listen have the responsibility to prepare their hearts to be taught. My personal experience with general conference is not just listening to the words but also feeling what the Spirit of the Lord would want me to learn. I listen to general conference messages always with a willingness to learn what is important for me. On one occasion, the speaker was relating a story that I had already heard before and on a topic about which I felt satisfied regarding its application in my life. Immediately I felt an impression and heard something telling me, “Eustache, instead of telling yourself that you know what it is all about and that you are already doing it well, rather ask yourself why the Lord would want you to hear it and learn it again.” By listening to the talk, I learned something new that I would never have learned otherwise.

Leoncio Cauzon Alegre (the Spanish word “alegre” means happy or merry) has plenty of reasons to be a happy man, the foremost of which is that nine years ago, the truth was unfolded to him in, of all places, a grocery store located about 200 meters away from the former site of the Manila Distribution Center and Seminaries & Institutes offices of the Church.
The year was 1968. Bro. Alegre decided on buying some refreshment items from the grocery store after wasting the whole morning looking for an acquaintance in the Reposo area of Makati from whom he was to receive a reference book.
Two young missionaries were also in the store and in a few moments, he found himself conversing with the pair. One of them asked two golden questions. And the day, far from being wasted, suddenly turned into an eventful one that led this elderly man into greater and more enlightening doorways to the truth than he ever thought of in six decades of his life. The 7th of July that year, at the age of 61, he was baptized.

I recognized my pride when President Ezra Taft Benson spoke on cleansing the inner vessel. I imagined myself as a pitcher. How was I to get the residue of pride out of my pitcher? Independently forcing ourselves to have humility and trying to make ourselves love others is insincere and hollow, and it simply doesn’t work. Our sins and pride create a breach—or a gap—between us and the font of all love, our Heavenly Father.

Only the Savior’s Atonement can cleanse us of our sins and close that gap or breach.

We want to be encircled in the arms of our Heavenly Father’s love and guidance, and so we put His will first and with a broken heart plead that Christ will pour streams of cleansing water into our pitcher. At first it may come drop by drop, but as we seek, ask, and obey, it will come abundantly. This living water will begin to fill us, and brimming with His love, we can tip the pitcher of our soul and share its contents with others who thirst for healing, hope, and belonging. As our inner pitcher becomes clean, our earthly relationships begin to heal.

Hey, Mom, may I go play with Andy?
Yes. But promise you’ll stay out of the creek! It’s not safe after that big storm.
OK. I promise.
Let’s go to the creek!
All right … but I can’t get in the water.
Look how fast the water’s going!
Hey! We could use that as a bridge!
I dare you to go first!
That wouldn’t really be getting into the water …
Whoa! I’m stuck!
Andy, I’m scared! Get help!
Don’t move, Brian! Mr. Bowers is coming for you!
I’m sorry!
I’m so glad you’re all right!
Thank you so much.
You’re welcome. I’m just glad he’s OK.
I’m really sorry I broke my promise.
You could’ve gotten hurt! But I love you, and I’m glad you’re safe.
From now on, I’ll try to keep all my promises!
Promise?
Promise.