Gospel Story Finder

A story is written by Roy H. Stetler, publisher of a religious journal in the East:

“It occurred outside the Crimean Castle of Livadia. The castle was aglow with lights. A soldier was pacing in carefully measured steps back and forth, guarding the castle, which, at the moment, housed within its walls a most momentous conference of world men. The soldier appeared proud of his task, for what soldier would not like to tell his children, and grandchildren, that he had once done guard duty for the momentous meeting of the ‘Big Three.’

“Suddenly, out of the darkness, like a phantom, a figure appeared on the path that led to the entrance of the castle. As the figure approached, the guard commanded, ‘Halt! Who goes there? Come hither and make yourself known!’ And with that the guard quickly took his gun from his shoulder and poised it for any emergency.

“The stranger spoke. ‘I wish to meet with the men who are in the castle.’

“‘Preposterous!’ exclaimed the guard. ‘You cannot enter the castle. Do you not know that the “Big Three” are meeting to decide the course of the whole world? No one is permitted to enter.’

The man replied, ‘You say it is the “Big Three”? Why are they called the “Big Three”?’

“‘They are they,’ said the guard, ‘who shall say how this world shall be ruled.’

“The stranger looked intensely at the guard. His eyes flashed as he said, ‘That is why I must be with them, because I can help them. I have a plan that will really work, and will keep the peace of the world, if they will only adopt my plan.’

“The soldier laughed. ‘Go on your way, man; you have no credentials.’

“The man replied, ‘Credentials? Perhaps not—here.’ And he raised his hand in salute as he left. The guard saw an ugly scar in his hand. Then he looked at the other hand, and it, too, had a scar.

“‘You were in battle?’ he asked, a little more gently. ‘I see wounds in your hands.’

“The stranger turned again. ‘No, I did not think you would notice,’ he replied. ‘No, I did not receive these wounds in battle.’ With that, he disappeared suddenly, as if the darkness had enveloped him.

“The guard looked after him, and marveled. ‘I should have known!’ he exclaimed. ‘If only I had let him in!’ And he slumped to the ground in dismay.”

This was he who brought blessings to all the inhabitants of the earth. This was he who spoke of those who would ask the stranger this question:
“What are these wounds in thine hands and in thy feet? Then shall they know that I am the Lord; for I will say unto them: These wounds are the wounds with which I was wounded in the house of my friends. I am he who was lifted up. I am Jesus that was crucified. I am the Son of God.” (D&C 45:51–52.)

Due partly to the efforts of David Alan Carter, Dodge City, Kansas, is in the news again. But this time, it’s not because of cowboys and gunslingers. David, a member of the Dodge City Branch, Kansas Central District, Independence Missouri Mission, was the moderator of a panel of four that took third place nationally in a tape-recorded discussion. The topic was pornography, and although they touched on many areas of the problem, most of their 20-minute discussion concerned constitutional questions. The four panel members (of whom only David was a member of the Church) were all students at Dodge City Community College, one of just two community colleges in the nationwide competition. David serves as elders quorum secretary and Course 8 Sunday School teacher in the Dodge City Branch, attends school, and works part-time at several jobs (including a family-owned and operated drive-in movie theater) to earn money for his mission.

Caleb rolled over in bed and sighed. He thought about his favorite online game. That castle I built yesterday was awesome—if I ever get the chance to finish it! But I can’t keep playing when everyone’s using bad words. Maybe Henry and their other friends were playing online together right now.
Just then Mom knocked on his door and saw Caleb still in bed. “Why aren’t you getting ready for church?”
“I don’t want to go,” Caleb said. He turned and stared at the wall.
“Are you still thinking about the message board yesterday? I talked to Henry’s mom like you asked.”
“But it didn’t even make a difference.”
“I’m sorry about the game,” Mom said. “For now, can you get ready so we’re not late?”
“I’m tired of feeling different!” said Caleb. “I just want to do what my friends are doing. They’re not going to church today.”
Mom nodded. “Sometimes choosing the right is lonely, but that’s one reason we go to church.”
“To feel lonely?”
“No, to feel the Holy Ghost. When we feel lonely, the Holy Ghost can comfort us.”
Caleb didn’t say anything. But why am I the only one who has to make good choices? he thought. No one else stopped playing when they saw the bad words.
“Can we talk about this more after church?” Mom asked.
“OK.” Caleb slowly got dressed and grabbed his scriptures.
During sacrament meeting, Mom asked Caleb how he was feeling.
“Bored. I want to go home.”
Mom put her arm around Caleb. “Are you listening to the talks? This is a good one.”
Caleb looked up. Bishop Marsh was talking about commandments. Caleb started listening. After a while, a peaceful feeling started to push out his grumpy feelings. He kept listening. The feeling grew stronger until it seemed to fill him all the way up.
“How are you feeling now?” Mom whispered.
“Pretty good.”
In Primary they talked about how the Holy Ghost can guide and direct us. When Caleb came home, he felt like everything would be OK. He was actually glad he’d gone to church.
On Wednesday, Caleb was doing his homework in the kitchen. Mom came and sat by him.
“By the way,” she said, “Henry’s mom found out who was using the bad words and asked him to stop. It turns out some other kids were uncomfortable too. She started monitoring the message board, and everyone’s using better language.”
Caleb nodded and twirled his pencil. “Well, Henry and I decided we were getting too addicted to the game, so we’re taking a break. It’s nice to not always be thinking about it. But I’m glad the guys are using good language.”
“Sounds like you helped your friends make better choices,” Mom said. “Remember how you said you felt different from your friends? Well, there’s something that does make you different, but in a good way. Do you know what it is?”
Caleb thought. “I have the gift of the Holy Ghost?”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “The Holy Ghost helps you notice and avoid things that can hurt your spirit. I think He also prompted you to have me talk to Henry’s mom. Sometimes you’ll be the only one making a good choice. But when you follow the Holy Ghost, you’ll be happier in the long run.”
Caleb smiled. He did like having the Holy Ghost with him—even if it meant being different.

In June 1898 Elder McBride, with only a few dollars in his pockets, left for Salt Lake City to be set apart for his mission. There he received a special blessing from a General Authority of the Church. The blessing contained a promise that if he would fill an honorable mission, obeying those who were in authority over him, he would have power to command the winds and waves of the sea to be still.
Elder McBride and his companion were called to travel to the island of Savaii to prepare for a conference to be held there. As they drew near the island in a boat, a fierce inland wind suddenly forced them back out to sea. Having no compass, they knew that they would be lost if they didn’t keep the island in sight. They and the Samoan men with them took turns rowing until all were exhausted, their hands blistered and raw.
Suddenly Elder McBride remembered the blessing that had been given to him. He arose at once and stretched forth his hands. In the name of Jesus Christ he commanded the winds and the waves to be still. Immediately the winds subsided, and the terrifying waves became peaceful, astonishing the frightened natives. Although the men were now far out to sea, they turned their boat toward the island and rowed to it safely.

Deborah Thomas of the Hollywood Ward, Ft. Lauderdale Florida Stake, has served in several leadership positions this past year. As one of five LDS students in her high school, she served as student-body president and was selected as homecoming queen. Deborah was also involved as Debate Club vice-president, in Students Against Drunk Driving, and on the swim team. In her ward she has served in the presidencies of all three of her Young Women classes.

I have wanted to serve a mission since I was 8 years old. I am now 15 years old, and I want to serve the Lord. When I read “The Hope of a Missionary” in the July 2005 Liahona, I was inspired to begin preparing to serve. The young man in the story made many sacrifices to be able to serve, and I can do the same.
I want to express my gratitude for those who are involved in distributing the good news of the Liahona all over the world. It inspires us and can help us obtain great blessings.Julius J. Andrada Jr., Philippines

I truly believe that those who have the ability to reach out and to lift up have found the formula descriptive of Brother Walter Stover—a man who spent his entire life in service to others. At Brother Stover’s funeral, his son-in-law paid tribute to him in these words: “Walter Stover had the ability to see Christ in every face he encountered, and he treated each person accordingly.” Legendary are his acts of compassionate help and his talent to lift heavenward every person whom he met. His guiding light was the Master’s voice speaking, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these … , ye have done it unto me.”

After two meetings for that purpose, it became a close contest among President Ruben M. Lacanienta’s Ang Ilaw, Joel Macariola’s Ang Pahatid and Leon C. Rodriguez’ Bagong Tinig, the last two being from Makati II Ward … and, of course, TAMBULI.
Many submitted the winning name, the first two of whom were Roberto Culas of Parañaque Ward and President Baltazar G. Federico of the San Fernando, La Union Branch. President Federico even wrote a short piece about his entry, which appears on page 33 of this issue. Both winners may now look forward to receiving 12 free issues.

In October 1840, 34-year-old Vilate Kimball wrote a letter to her husband, Elder Heber C. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “President [Joseph] Smith has opened a new and glorious subject … which has caused quite a revival in the church,” Vilate wrote to Heber, who was serving his second mission to Great Britain. The subject of Joseph Smith’s teaching on this occasion was baptism for those who hadn’t had the opportunity in their lifetimes.
“Joseph has received a more full explanation of it by Revelation,” she reported. “It is the privilege of this church to be baptised for all their kinsfolks that have died before this Gospel came forth.” Vilate celebrated the revelation that in doing these proxy baptisms for deceased family members, “we act as agents for them; and give them the privilege of coming forth in the first resurrection.”
The Kimballs had moved from New York to be with the Saints in Kirtland, Ohio, and then moved to Far West, Missouri. Just a year later, in 1839, they had to flee Missouri with thousands of other Latter-day Saints to escape persecution at the hands of violent mobs. They made their home in Nauvoo, hundreds of miles from where their journey had started.
Although their arrival in Nauvoo had been under trying circumstances, Vilate’s October 1840 letter to her husband was teeming with excitement. “I want to be baptised for my Mother,” she exclaimed. “I calculated to wait until you come home, but the last time Joseph spoke upon the subject, he advised every one to be up and a doing, and liberate their friends from bondage as quick as possible. … Thus you see there is a chance for all. Is not this a glorious doctrine?”
Vilate was one of the first women to be baptized for the dead in Nauvoo.

“Planning in advance and preparing yourself to live a perfect day is very important. Believe you can do it,” commented Gene. “I was one of those people who didn’t really forget about it, but I just kept hoping it wouldn’t come. I’d never thought of trying to live a perfect day before, and the idea was a little frightening.
“On a scale of 1–10 I would have rated my perfect day about a 6. I was a little better than normal, just because I was conscious and aware that I needed to at least try. But I didn’t really prepare myself, and I didn’t have the kind of day I would like to have had.”
How does one prepare for the day? “Those times in my life when I have felt really close to the Lord are when I have been praying with my family and studying the scriptures. I found that on my perfect day my thoughts would wander. All the garbage I had been feeding into my brain over the past several years seemed to surface on that day. I hadn’t prepared myself to live a good day—a perfect day. I was a failure in the attempt to live perfectly, simply because I didn’t take the time to prepare myself. But even so it made an impact on my life. I’d never even thought of trying to live a perfect day before, but now think of it often—and someday I’ll make it.”

Mountain Point Third Ward
The Primary children of the Mountain Point Third Ward, Draper Utah Mountain Point Stake, visited the grounds of the Draper Utah Temple and a nearby stake center. They learned how temples can help us become eternal families. The children had pictures taken as reminders of the temple and becoming a forever family. Several teachers wore their wedding dresses to the activity and talked about being married in the temple and sealed forever.

Diagnosed with bone cancer at age 14, Mason met the challenge with faith. His mother relates, “Mason still battled with fear, but he chose to not let it limit his faith and love.”
In August of 2021 my wife and I met a dear couple whose friendship we have come to cherish. Their son, Mason, had just been diagnosed with a rare bone cancer known as osteosarcoma. Prior to the diagnosis, he was by all appearances a healthy 14-year-old with a sore leg and stained baseball uniform from sliding into home plate.
Soon, however, Mason’s life seemed to capsize. He was abruptly launched into daunting discussions with medical professionals about chemotherapy, radiation, surgery, possible amputation, and life expectancy. His mom describes what happened when doctors asked if he would like to know the probability of survival: “After a long silence of processing new and overwhelming emotion, tears silently fell to the floor. He boldly answered, ‘No, thank you! I’m good!’ With those few words, he resolutely began choosing how he would face his trial.”
Mason’s cancer was aggressive. His body rebelled against each life-extending treatment. His mother shares, “We felt an overwhelming desire to freeze time, but time moved forward and we experienced the loss of everything we had known as normal.” She continues, “Alongside the crushing fear of the future, we also witnessed the creation of strength, power, and peace beyond our earthly capabilities. We had no other explanation than this: God amplified our capacities. We received miracles, though different than those we wanted at the onset.”
Mason’s mother recounts, “One night Mason walked by the bedroom where I was saying prayers with his eight-year-old sister. Through her tears she voiced her worries about her brother. I held her tightly, and we cried together. Mason kneeled beside us and wrapped us both in his weakening arms. He chose to wade deep into uncomfortable emotions and set aside his personal fear so he could help his sister and me. He strengthened us to face our sorrow by joining us in our sorrow.”
“Mason realized he didn’t need to wait to be cured before his faith was strengthened,” his mother says. “He was able to trust in God, and this enabled him to loosen his grip on his own vulnerability. I watched miracles unfold within our family and even within the community as God helped us see that love was—and is—more powerful than fear. Mason still battled with fear, but he chose to not let it limit his faith and love.”
Just six months after his initial diagnosis, Mason courageously graduated from mortality. He repeatedly chose to let God prevail and was delivered from all his fears.

I had just gone through some dating heartache and was spending a lot of time at my sister’s. Inevitably we ended up eating junk food, watching TV, and taking naps. Waking from one of these naps, I remarked, “I don’t think we’re very good for each other.” We laughed, but that night I thanked Heavenly Father for the realization that I was using my sister as a security blanket and prayed for greater understanding of what I might do to move forward with my life. Over the next few months, that prayer was answered as I gained understanding one concept at a time.

I have been in the hospital a lot in the last year. Sometimes I bring the Friend to read because it makes me feel better. I like when there are posters of Jesus. I also like Matt and Mandy and stories about Joseph Smith.

Saint John, New Brunswick—
Growing up in a ward with relatively few young people my age was difficult. Although our stake was quite large, it was spread over such an enormous geographical area that developing meaningful and regular association with other young people in the gospel was nearly impossible.
Life was a constant challenge with all of my friends being nonmembers, and many of them not attending any church at all. When I was 14, I began to challenge the authority around me. To my parents’ credit, they remained firm and steadfast, and never wavered in their guidance or discipline. Despite my constant refusing of alcohol, drugs, and all the other activities which had become regular weekend occurrences among my friends, I remained confused and frustrated.
That year, as always, I took part in our stake temple trip. Living in the Saint John New Brunswick Stake meant an 18-hour journey to the temple in Toronto. Three buses filled with young people began the trip, and I spent the entire week with the youth of our stake. The week was full of excitement and enjoyment. We went shopping, we visited the Sacred Grove in Palmyra, New York, and had a wonderful testimony meeting on the temple grounds. However, it was during my work in the temple that I would witness one of the most incredible experiences in my life.
I had long been aware that people experience gifts of the Spirit in different ways. For many, it is the familiar still, small voice. For others, a warm sensation or a chill running up their spine. It was after having served as a proxy for a set of baptisms and confirmations that I realized my own ability to interpret the Spirit.
I was sitting quietly looking on as my friends entered and exited the font. I was overcome with a feeling of peace and warmth when suddenly I looked up and was amazed at what I beheld. I watched as the room in its entirety and all its contents began to radiate an aura of light. It was an incredibly brilliant, golden white, and it encompassed everything.
Suddenly I realized I was privileged to have been worthy to enter the temple that day. All the confusion and frustration I had felt because of the challenge of living the gospel vanished. I knew that I was party to a higher realm of existence, one of indescribable beauty and wonder.
I know without a doubt that we all have personal access to divine guidance. Living the gospel standards assures that we are all ready and able to receive the delicate intuitions that are necessary for our progression.
The strength of the Holy Ghost is more than just a tool for helping us determine right or wrong. It flows through us and gives us the power to make positive changes in the world around us.

Some years ago, Zulma—my wife, my better half, my best part—received some difficult news just two weeks before the wedding of one of our children. She had a tumor in her parotid gland, and it was growing rapidly. Her face began swelling, and she was to immediately undergo a delicate operation. Many thoughts ran through her mind and weighed on her heart. Was the tumor malignant? How would her body recover? Would her face become paralyzed? How intense would the pain be? Would her face be permanently scarred? Would the tumor return once removed? Would she be able to attend the wedding of our son? As she lay in the operating room, she felt broken.

In that very important moment, the Spirit whispered to her that she had to accept the will of the Father. She then decided to place her trust in God. She strongly felt that whatever the result, His will would be the best for her. Soon she drifted into surgical sleep.

Later, she wrote poetically in her diary: “On the surgeon’s table I bowed before Thee, and surrendering to Thy will, I fell asleep. I knew I could trust Thee, knowing that nothing bad can come from Thee.”

She found strength and comfort from surrendering her will to that of the Father. That day, God blessed her greatly.

First, let me give you the words of the young man speaking to a ward sacrament meeting. I was there. Try to remember what you were like when you were 14 years old and listen to hear him say more than so young a man could reasonably know:
“I have really liked being a member of the teachers quorum in our ward since I turned 14 last year. A teacher still has all the responsibilities of a deacon plus some new ones.
“Since some of us are teachers, others will be someday, and everyone in the Church is blessed by the priesthood, so it’s important for all of us to know more about the duties of a teacher.
“First of all, Doctrine and Covenants 20:53 says, ‘The teacher’s duty is to watch over the church always, and be with and strengthen them.’
“Next, Doctrine and Covenants 20:54–55 says:
“‘And see that there is no iniquity in the church, neither hardness with each other, neither lying, backbiting, nor evil speaking;
“‘And see that the church meet together often, and also see that all the members do their duty.’”
The young man continued:
“The Lord is telling us it’s our responsibility to not only care for the Church but to also care for the people within the Church the way that Christ would because this is His Church. If we are trying to keep the commandments, be kind to each other, be honest, be good friends, and enjoy being together, then we will be able to have the Spirit with us and know what Heavenly Father wants us to do. If we don’t, then we can’t fulfill our calling.”
He went on to say:
“When a teacher chooses to set the right example by being a good home teacher, greeting the members at church, preparing the sacrament, helping at home, and being a peacemaker, he’s choosing to honor his priesthood and fulfill his calling.
“Being a good teacher doesn’t only mean being responsible when we are at church or at Church activities. The Apostle Paul taught, ‘Be thou an example of the believers, in word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, in purity’ (1 Timothy 4:12).”
Then the young man said:
“No matter where we are or what we are doing, we can be a good example of righteousness at all times and in all places.
“My dad and I home teach the Browns. Every time we go over there, I have a great time visiting and getting to know them. One thing I really like about the Browns is whenever we go over there, they are all willing to listen and they always have good stories to share.
“When we know people in the ward well because of home teaching, it makes it easier to do the next duty of a teacher, and that’s greeting the members at church. Helping people feel welcome and included at church helps all the members of the ward feel loved and prepared to take the sacrament.
“After greeting members who have come to church, teachers help each Sunday by preparing the sacrament. I really enjoy passing and preparing the sacrament in this ward because everyone is so reverent. I always feel the Spirit when I prepare and pass the sacrament. It’s a real blessing to me that I’m able to do it every Sunday.
“Some service like passing the sacrament is something people see and they thank us for doing it, but other service like preparing the sacrament is usually done without anyone noticing. It isn’t important if people see us serving; what’s important is that the Lord knows we have served Him.
“As teachers, we should always try to strengthen the Church, our friends, and our family by fulfilling our priesthood responsibilities. It’s not always easy, but the Lord gives no commandments to us ‘save he shall prepare a way for [us to] accomplish the thing which he commandeth’ (1 Nephi 3:7).”
As that young man concluded, I continued to be amazed at his maturity and wisdom. He summarized by saying, “I know we will become better if we choose to follow [Jesus Christ].”

Kathryn Marrett of the Camp Hill Ward, Brisbane Australia Stake, discovered the power of storytelling. “As a mum with small children, I found it a challenge to keep them interested in family home evening,” writes Sister Marrett. “After praying for inspiration, I decided to focus on a different value every month. I chose honesty as the first topic. Soon ideas began to flow, and the children and I began making up stories together about honesty. We made up imaginary children and used them in every story. It was fun to create different situations and explore the results of good and bad choices.
“Now when something needs to be dealt with, such as a bike left in the rain or bad language, we talk about the appropriate value and make up stories featuring the same imaginary children. Of course, these stories are only one way we teach good values. The scriptures and other Church materials provide the foundation for our gospel teachings.”

I had my eyes opened to “looking beyond what I could see” while serving as a mission president. A young elder arrived with apprehension in his eyes. As we met in an interview, he said dejectedly, “I want to go home.” I thought to myself, “Well, we can fix this.” I counseled him to work hard and to pray about it for a week and then call me. A week later, almost to the minute, he called. He still wanted to go home. I again counseled him to pray, to work hard, and to call me in a week. In our next interview, things had not changed. He insisted on going home.
I just wasn’t going to let that happen. I began teaching him about the sacred nature of his call. I encouraged him to “forget [himself] and go to work.” But no matter what formula I offered, his mind did not change. It finally occurred to me that I might not have the whole picture. It was then that I felt a prompting to ask him the question: “Elder, what is hard for you?” What he said pierced my heart: “President, I can’t read.”
The wise counsel which I thought was so important for him to hear was not at all relevant to his needs. What he needed most was for me to look beyond my hasty assessment and allow the Spirit to help me understand what was really on this elder’s mind. He needed me to see him correctly and offer a reason to hope. Instead, I acted like a giant demolition wrecking ball. This valiant elder did learn to read and became a very pure disciple of Jesus Christ. He opened my eyes to the Lord’s words: “For man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7).

I was so angry when I left school, I could hardly see straight! I couldn’t get out of that place fast enough. I stormed down the street toward Aunt Lydia’s house simply raging inside with every step.
Aunt Lydia saw me coming and was holding the door open for me as I fumed past her into the house. I flopped down in her big easy chair with a thud, dropping books everywhere.
Aunt Lydia is a comfortable, elderly lady with gray, wispy hair pulled straight back and pinned into a little, twisted bun. She has more wrinkles than I’ve ever seen on any other real person.
Discovering that I liked her was quite a surprise to me because I didn’t know you could be good friends and share so many ideas and feelings with a person that old.
I’ve often wondered what makes her so fascinating. It might have something to do with her china-blue eyes that you just can’t stop looking at, or maybe it’s her fun, easy laugh that makes you trust her.
Maybe I like her because she always lets me express whatever feelings I have and doesn’t tell me not to feel that way.
The story just poured out of me, while she pulled her chair up close to mine and listened. I was draped across the big chair with my legs dangling over one arm as I told her how much I hated Doreen!
Doreen had told Scott all sorts of lies about me and was trying to get him to like her instead of me. He was actually going to take her out! (Katy had told me all about it.)
How I hated Doreen! I’d never forgive her—ever! My gravestone will say, “Here lies the girl that hates Doreen!” She had turned on me for the last time, and I’d see to it that she never betrayed me again. I’d get even with her if it was the last thing I ever did. A plan was already starting to form in my mind on how to fix her so she’d never forget it. I wouldn’t rest until I saw to it that she got hers!
Aunt Lydia said she understood exactly how I felt, and then she went to the other room and returned carrying a box.
I sat up curiously as she reached into the box and handed me a big hunk of clay. I hadn’t handled a blob like that since kindergarten, and I asked her what I was supposed to do with it. She said she wanted me to make something that would express how I was feeling inside. (I felt like a pile of rotten garbage had exploded all over me!)
I dug into that mass and demolished it with a vengeance. I squeezed it, pounded it, and pinched it with all the fury inside of me. Boy, it’s a good thing you can’t kill clay because I was in the mood!
I didn’t know what I would end up with, and I didn’t much care, as long as it was ugly.
Later, when I had finished, Aunt Lydia told me to look at my thing and tell her what I was holding.
I described it as a ghastly mutation that had suction cup tentacles for arms and a vacuum-hose mouth that slurped up guys when they weren’t looking. It had a whooping doozy of a beak, big hairy feet, bulbous toes, and ears so long that they were tied up in knots. A couple of the bulgy eyes were a lot lower than the others (so it could cover more territory in looking for victims, I’m sure). The enormous body was covered with shaggy gorilla-hair except for the bald head, which sprouted only three, kinky hairs. Finishing off the masterpiece was a fine juicy wart right on the end of its crooked beak. “There,” I said, “let’s see how Scott likes that!”
I was really getting into this thing and feeling a little better. (In fact, I was enjoying it immensely!) I heaved a great sigh of relief and then sat silently reveling in my creation.
I had forgotten all about Aunt Lydia until she broke the silence by saying, “My dear, you described it perfectly, and what you’re holding is a ‘Grudge.’”
I snapped to attention, listening hard to get her meaning.
She warned me to beware of grudges for they can be the most vicious and destructive forces in life. She explained that this one, in my hand, was the only safe grudge that I would ever hold. She knew that I’d be tempted many times during my lifetime to pick up other grudges and hold them, but she cautioned me against it.
“Other grudges will eventually destroy you if you hold them very long,” she continued. “They begin by ruining your peace of mind and then your relationship with both God and man.
“They have voracious appetites and will consume the whole of your thought and being if you let them stay around,” she said. “They keep you so busy being miserable and thinking up ways to get revenge that you can’t get on with making your own happiness.”
She didn’t say any more. She just looked at me lovingly as I stared at my “Grudge” and pondered her words.
It all made so much sense, and I understood exactly what she was trying to tell me. I felt a sudden burst of peace and contentment take over the whole of me. No wonder I love Aunt Lydia and our visits so much.
She’s so smart. I jumped up and bounced over to hug her good-bye.
Jogging home, holding my new little clay friend, I knew that I could solve the whole mess, and I laughed right out loud.
I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my mom about my visit with Aunt Lydia. I couldn’t wait to share the whole story with her and tell her that if she ever wants to “hold a grudge” I have one she can hold—a safe one!
Then I wanted to call Doreen and see what really happened at school today!