Gospel Story Finder

Alison knew it was going to be a bad day. The world outside was gray and drizzly. Mommy told her she had to clean her room. And—worst of all—there was a big bowl of cold oatmeal on the table that she still had to eat.
“I wish it was tomorrow already,” she mumbled.
Mommy looked up from the computer where she was working. “Oh, things aren’t that bad, are they?”
Alison nodded without saying anything more.
“Well, then,” Mommy said, “why don’t we play the Thank-You Game. Find a reason to be grateful for everything you can. No complaining is allowed. If you can do it the whole day, I’ll give you a surprise.”
“That’s a funny game,” said Alison.
“I’ll help you begin. Why are you grateful for oatmeal?”
Alison thought a moment. “I guess it’s better than a bowl full of bugs to eat.”
“Well, that’s a start,” Mommy chuckled.
Alison gobbled down her oatmeal, to get it over with. “I’m grateful I have orange juice to help wash the oatmeal down,” she said.
Then she went to her room. It was a mess! How can I be grateful for a messy room? she wondered. “I know—I’m grateful I have all these toys to play with.” She hummed as she put them all away.
The drizzle outside turned into a freezing rain that tap-tap-tapped against the window. Alison pressed her nose against the frosty glass.
I’m grateful the rain comes so that the flowers don’t get thirsty, she thought.
When her room was tidy, she got out her play dough. She made funny shapes with it and squished it through her fingers. “I’m grateful for things that feel good in my hands,” she giggled.
Alison was having a busy day. Soon her eyelids began to grow heavy.
“I think it’s nap time,” Mommy said.
Alison was going to complain, but she remembered that it wasn’t allowed. She climbed onto her bed and reached for her stuffed rabbit. “I’m grateful I have Charlie to snuggle with,” she told Mommy.
The Thank-You Game got easier and easier. It wasn’t turning out to be such a bad day, after all!
That night Mommy looked pleased. “You played the game really well, Alison,” she said, “Here’s your surprise,” She gave Alison a strip of bubble-gum-scented stickers along with her usual hug and kiss.
Alison smiled. “It turned out to be a really nice day,” she said. “I’m grateful for bubble-gum stickers and hugs and kisses and you!”

I have since learned that my father was born in Tiruchirappalli, Tamil Nadu, India. He was the youngest of six children. His father, Harold Norman Watts, was a railway man in the signals division. When my dad was just eighteen months old, his father Harold passed away, leaving his mother Daisy to care for their large family. Through the kindness of Christian boarding schools and Daisy’s hard work, all the children received a good education and made good their lives.
In 1972 my father, his mum and two brothers and two sisters immigrated to Australia establishing themselves in Perth, Western Australia. My father joined the Australian army in 1973, serving in various postings. He met my mother in Melbourne in 1982 and their first date was to a Stake YSA dance. Later, my mother introduced him to the missionaries. Accepting what he had been taught and with the faith and testimony the size of a mustard seed, he was baptized on 9 May 1982. A year later my parents were married and sealed in the New Zealand Temple. Together they had five children. Heavenly Father and living the Gospel have been a blessing in all our lives.
In 2011 my brother Anthony was called to serve in the India Bangalore Mission. I was twelve years old and I remember him telling us how hot it was and how the electricity would always go off and you just lie in bed in a puddle of your own sweat! He would always talk about the rats he would catch in his apartment too and how he would use a bucket to go to the toilet. It all seemed so foreign and different.
Seven years later I too was preparing to serve a mission. I remember the night my call letter came, and I had all the family gathered around. Everyone had made their guesses as to where I would go. We all thought that I for sure would go to Temple Square. When I actually read my call, I was absolutely shocked! I thought, “Do they know that I am a girl!?” I knew that there were girls serving in India when my brother was on a mission, but they were Indian girls! I had no idea that they sent foreign sisters there and I wondered if I was the first one? Later I learned that I am the first sister from Australia to serve in India.
Another shock was how soon they wanted me to be prepared and ready to leave. I had just eight weeks from the time I received my call to the time I had to report to the Provo MTC. I quickly applied for my overseas Indian citizenship. It normally takes 6-8 weeks or more to arrive which meant that it would have come on the day I was supposed to leave. I knew there was a reason I was to leave so soon so I just put my faith and trust in the Lord that everything would work out. I ended up getting my visa in just five weeks! That is just one of the miracles I saw as I prepared for my mission. It was a crazy whirlwind getting ready for my mission, but it was a testimony to me that the India New Delhi Mission was where I needed to be.
Before leaving Australia for India, I was blessed to participate in the sealing of my father’s family members in the Melbourne Australia temple. Although I did not know my grandmother very well, this made me feel closer to her. And now that I am here, I am coming to understand my father better. I see his friendliness and hospitality in the Indians I meet every day and have come to know that it is part of the culture.
I am so thankful to be able to experience the joy and growth that sharing the gospel I love brings to me and to others. I know that this is the Church of Jesus Christ, restored and established once again on the earth. I know that the Saviour lives and that his Atonement is real. I have been able to feel comfortable no matter where I am in the world as I know that I will always have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost and always be able to feel of my Heavenly Father’s love for me.

Edna Amburo also had difficulty reading the Book of Mormon at first—not just because she found it hard to understand, but because friends told her she was “going to the fire” for reading it. “All my friends told me to burn the book,” she says, “but I decided not to burn it because I felt the Book of Mormon was the word of God.”

Edna was baptized in 1990. Shortly thereafter, she was called to teach the Book of Mormon to seminary students.

“I said, ‘How am I going to teach? I am not an educated woman. I am not a good speaker in English, and I am not a good writer. I left school in grade five.’”

Branch members and the full-time missionaries encouraged Sister Amburo to ask the Lord for help. She took the suggestion seriously and spent a tearful two weeks fasting and praying that the Lord would help her to become an effective teacher.

“I found Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5] and exercised it,” she says. “I saw it was true. I got peace in my heart. I got joy. And I was happy that I was going to teach seminary. I really love the Book of Mormon. I understand it now.”

Sister Amburo attributes her spiritual and intellectual growth to help from her Heavenly Father. In addition to teaching seminary, she teaches Sunday School and serves as a counselor in the Popondetta Branch Relief Society presidency.

“Step by step I came along. The Church has helped me a lot. It is a learning church.”

Inside the locker room, you could hear the fans cheering. The Iowa, USA, women’s high school varsity basketball championship game was about to begin. The team in black jerseys—who’d clawed their way into the finals—were ready.
Sixteen girls listened attentively to an inspiring pump-up speech from team manager Hailey B., 16.
In her pregame speech, Hailey told them, “We’ve worked hard for this the entire season, and now it’s our chance to prove we can be champions.” Then they stormed the court as the crowd roared.
Oh, and by the way, Hailey’s team won the state title, 46-42.

In England, Elder Woodruff learned that a large group of people called the United Brethren had gathered to worship and to ask God for more knowledge of truth.
Elder Woodruff: John, this is inspired! The Lord sent me to Hereford to teach these people.
Elder Woodruff’s success with the United Brethren was even more astounding than his boyhood success with fishing. In two days he baptized six hundred people!
Constable: I have been ordered to arrest you, Elder Woodruff, for preaching to the people.
Elder Woodruff: But I have a license to preach the gospel, sir. If you will sit in this chair until the meeting is over, we will talk about this misunderstanding and get it settled.
By the end of the meeting, there was nothing left to settle.
Constable: I, too, wish to be baptized, Elder Woodruff.
Four ministers: So do we.

Steve* was 15 when his parents divorced. When his family split up, Steve drifted into complete inactivity. Today, he recommends that teens lighten their burdens by staying close to the Lord. “Getting out of the Church is not the way to find relief,” he says. “Life is a rocky road, and you need all the help you can get.”
Steve says that when his parents divorced, he felt betrayed. “We were Latter-day Saints, and divorce was not supposed to happen to us. But by leaving the Church, I made things a lot tougher on myself. You need the Holy Ghost with you.” Steve eventually returned to activity, which led to his temple marriage and a happy family of his own.
Steve believes children of divorced parents can learn from their parents’ mistakes. “I believe I have gained insight,” he says. “I’m aware that everything needs hard work.”
Steve has always tried to be honest with both parents about his feelings and preferences. In addition, “I just refuse to get in the middle of any disagreement or negativity. I have made that clear.” If one parent talks negatively about the other, Steve asks that parent to stop, asking to be excused from the room if necessary.

Mary Hobson, the eighth of nine children born in Farmington, Utah, in 1853, kept house for her older brother Alma. He had a store in Richmond, Utah, and was the first telegraph operator there. He taught Mary, age 15, telegraphy and sent her to a special school for this in Logan. She helped him and was the first woman telegrapher in Richmond. Then Alma moved to Franklin, the oldest town in Idaho, and kept a store, post office, and telegraph office there. Mary helped him and thus became the first woman telegrapher in Idaho. When Alma moved back to Richmond, Mary stayed in Franklin and managed the store, post office, and telegraph office for several years.

I am an ardent sports fan. Long will I remember a TV sportscaster as he lauded the marvelous performance of Y. A. Tittle, one of the all-time great professional football quarterbacks. He said: “This will be the key play of the game. Tittle has the snap from center; he fades to throw, but his line cannot hold. It appears the game is over.
“Wait! Tittle has eluded his tacklers; he has fallen deep behind the line. He cocks his arm to throw, and the pass is away and caught in the end zone for a touchdown.
“That was a great second effort by Y. A. Tittle!”

Some years ago, one of our young married daughters and her husband asked Sister Rasband and me a very important, life-influencing question: “Is it still safe and wise to bring children into this seemingly wicked and frightening world we live in?”

Now, that was an important question for a mom and dad to consider with their dear married children. We could hear the fear in their voices and feel the fear in their hearts. Our answer to them was a firm “Yes, it’s more than OK,” as we shared fundamental gospel teachings and our own heartfelt impressions and life experiences.

Now, what about that daughter and son-in-law who asked the very heartfelt and probing, fear-based question years ago? They seriously considered our conversation that night; they prayed and fasted and came to their own conclusions. Happily and joyfully for them and for us, the grandparents, they have now been blessed with seven beautiful children as they go forward in faith and love.

Knowing that I have covenanted to take upon myself the name of Christ gives me a sense of duty to follow Him, but it’s not always easy. One time at a group activity I saw a kid who didn’t have anyone to talk to. I felt like I should go talk with him. At first, I didn’t want to. I am not that great at putting myself out there to make friends. But remembering what Christ would do, I found the strength to make a new friend. As I was talking to him, I could feel the Spirit prompting me to ask questions and have fun.
Evan A., 16, Utah, USA

It had been several years since my husband, Jerold, passed away. The cancer had come quickly and aggressively, and in three months he was gone. Now I was thinking of him as I worked in my yard.

As I was repotting a plant, I had a thought. Before I intervened, the plant was doing OK. It was at home in the pot it was already in, but it was not flourishing. I knew if I didn’t repot it at some point, it most likely would stop flowering and maybe even stop growing. It certainly wouldn’t be able to do its best.

So, I decided to give the plant room to grow by transplanting it to a larger pot. Not a great big pot—one that was just two inches larger in diameter. If I gave it too much space, it could end up overwatered and die from root rot.

I expected the plant to struggle as it tried to adapt. It had been quite comfortable, all snug in the pot that it had become accustomed to. It wasn’t aware that change would help it to keep growing. I needed to nurture it along, giving it proper light, water, and the extra nutrients required during this time of adaptation. I knew it would, eventually, flourish and flower again.

As I thought about my life as a widow, I realized that I was like that plant. I had been comfortable. I had been doing fine. But when my husband passed away, I heard the Spirit whisper that I was entering a new phase of growth. I still had things I needed to learn and do in this life.

Over the next two years, seven other men in our ward also passed away. I started asking my newly widowed friends to get together, to talk, to visit, to serve others—so that each of us could feel just a little less lonely. None of us would have chosen to be “repotted.” But as I adapted to mortal life without my husband, I found that I could provide support to others who faced a similar challenge. I also found there were many opportunities to spend time with children and grandchildren and reassure them that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, in the next life our family can be together again.

I never would have anticipated the growth that would come to me because of the loss of my spouse. But Heavenly Father stepped in and “repotted” me, giving me room to grow by placing me in a little bit larger pot—a new challenge that provided an opportunity for growth.

I still miss Jerold every day. Years later, I still struggle as I am trying to adapt to the change of being without him. But I know the Lord will nurture me along the way. With time, and with trust in Him, I will flourish and flower once again.

Before any temple is dedicated, children and adults can go to the temple open house and see what a house of the Lord looks like on the inside.
Aubree, Reese, and Ellee M. live a few blocks from the Draper Utah Temple, so they watched as it was built week by week. They even saw a big crane lifting the angel Moroni into place. “That was really awesome!” 10-year-old Aubree said. “But the best day ever was when my family and I got to go inside.”
As soon as they walked through the temple door, the children felt a special spirit. Their tour guide explained that “everything in the temple is sacred,” Aubree said.

Nine years later Annie married Soren Hansen. They had eight children. When Soren died, Annie sold sawdust to the butcher shops to support her family. Every day she hitched her yellow pony to a little cart and carried a load of sawdust to nearby Oslo.
One day as Annie neared the open-air market, she heard a strange commotion. Two young men were speaking to a crowd gathered near the vegetable market. Annie was curious and stopped to listen. They spoke about a prophet and the Book of Mormon.
Their message stirred Annie’s heart. On 2 March 1857 she was baptized as one of the first converts in Norway.

Josh’s interest was sparked in early 1996 when many of his fellow fifth-grade classmates were attending a school-sponsored ski school. Instead of skiing, the 10-year-old signed up for an alternative minicourse on genealogy offered by the school. Josh’s mother, Judy Taylor, initially was concerned that two hours of genealogy each week would be too long for her young son. But he soon was hooked and found himself wanting to stay longer and longer at the local family history center.
While his parents, who teach music at Ricks College, were touring with the college orchestra a few months later, Josh stayed with his grandparents for a few days in Logan, Utah. His grandparents, who were serving as family history missionaries, took him to the family history center, where he learned more about the computer programs used by genealogists. Later that year, Josh read in his ward newsletter that Church leaders were looking for more local family history missionaries.
“That caught my attention, and I thought it would be fun,” he says. Josh then prayed about what to do, finding his answer that night while reading his scriptures.
“Right then I knew it was my answer, so I went to see my bishop,” he says. Bishop Kendell Nielsen of the Rexburg 15th Ward says he was a bit surprised, but encouraged the boy to pursue his desire. Josh soon was asked to work at the family history center located at the Rexburg North Stake Center. He has now switched to the family history center at the college, where he serves as an assistant for about seven hours each week. His parents say they have seen signs of maturity because of their son’s work.
“It’s made him a better student,” Sister Taylor says. And it’s dramatically helped his spelling. Before he’s allowed to go off to the center, he’s told his schoolwork must be done. “So it gets done pretty quickly,” Josh’s mom adds.
Josh was recently honored by his school as Student of the Month in English, a subject in which he had struggled previously. His father, David Taylor, adds, “We’ve noticed a dramatic improvement in his social skills.”
Josh tells of a time when a woman was trying to find her long lost brother. When she found the man’s name listed in the Social Security death index, the woman broke down and cried. She didn’t realize he was dead. “You don’t know what to say,” Josh says. “I let my grandma take over.”
When he’s not helping others, he works on his own family line. Recently, he found an ancestor for whom the family had been searching for years. At that point, one of his relatives remarked, “He really does know what he’s doing, doesn’t he?”
Josh’s interest has spurred other family members to work on genealogy too. His mother, who in the past didn’t have the time, suddenly finds herself at the center more often. And his other set of grandparents also have begun researching their family line.
His grandmother Martha Taylor of North Logan, Utah, says their common interest in family history has tied the family together. “I find it’s been a real bonding thing between us,” she says. “It’s given us so much to talk about and to build a relationship around.
“He knows computers much better than I do,” Sister Taylor adds. “On the other hand, I slow him down and tell him to do it thoroughly.”
Blaine Bake, director of the family history center at Ricks, says, “I wish I were in his shoes. He’s at the beginning of his life, and I’m at the winding-down stages, and there are going to be so many technological changes. Now that he’s 12, he’s looking forward to doing the temple work for some of the ancestors he has researched.”
But family history isn’t Josh’s only interest. He plays percussion in the school band and has acted in several theater productions at Ricks College. Last year he also placed first in his division in the Idaho State History Fair.
As for the miniclass in genealogy where his interest all started two years ago? This past winter he taught the class.

For Alvin Martinez, rising against the odds is just like turning swampland into skyscrapers. Despite having polio, which left his left arm and leg dislocated, the 17-year-old priest is an inspiration to his fellow youth.
Alvin was born healthy, and like other newborn Filipino babies he was given polio shots. But somehow, the vaccine attacked his nerves. His right leg and arm started turning immobile, while his left fingers curled up. The polio vaccine rendered his entire right side paralyzed.
Alvin often became the subject of jokes in school when classmates would see him limping his way to class.
“Hey, it’s Alvin,” somebody would shout.
“The way is straight,” another jeered, “but how come you walk crooked?”
“Alvin, Alvin pilay!”
Pilay means cripple; it was a jeer his straight-walking classmates loved to bestow on him.
The teasing wasn’t the only trial. His father suddenly died of a stroke. Struggling with his family’s loss and his classmates’ snide comments, Alvin drifted from school and church activity and found another barkada, or group of close friends.
In Manila, a barkada can consist of either buddies who can build you up or let you down. Alvin still tried to maintain his LDS standards even when friends coaxed him to smoke. “My older friends would invite me to smoke,” he remembers, “but I told them I was a Mormon.”
Alvin finally resolved to rise up despite his limitations and, like David of old, conquer his personal Goliaths. He made a firm resolve to continue schooling. His widowed mother, who now works as a seamstress, was delighted. She had patiently reminded him that his future was brighter if he had a good education.
At school, Alvin found a new barkada, classmates who treated him with respect. “All my classmates are so kind and friendly,” he beams.
But it was Alvin’s strong spirit within his rather frail frame that amazed many. After all, isn’t it the inside of a person that really counts?
A little bit shy at first but actually fun-loving and witty, Alvin also found the Church to be a home away from home. “I enjoy being in church,” Alvin says, “and I like being with my fellow young men.” And because of the influence of good Church friends and priesthood quorum members, Alvin’s testimony was strengthened and he found himself, with the help of his youth leaders, back in church. In visiting Alvin, they would often tell him not to be ashamed of his disability. “We wanted him to know that he was valued,” one youth leader recalls, “and he did feel appreciated eventually.” Alvin is grateful for the missionaries that taught his family, and he’s even more grateful for the youth leaders who helped him come back to church after going through some real struggles.
Today, Alvin is one of the most active Young Men in his ward. Being with his church friends is something he relishes. “They are not ashamed to be with me,” he brightens up, “and they don’t even joke about me.” Instead, it’s Alvin who cracks jokes with them.

Tall pine trees flew past the car in a blur. Owen stared through the back window. If I were Robin Hood, this would be the perfect hideout forest, he thought. Mama drove while Uncle Eric helped with directions. They were going to a big family picnic at his great-uncle’s house.
Owen rolled down his window. The scent of pine filled his nose. Yup, the perfect Robin Hood forest.
“This place is so cool!” Owen said. “Let’s call it Adventure Forest!”
Uncle Eric smiled. “I think you’ll like it. There’s a stream and plenty of woods for you and your cousins to explore.”
“Is there an evil sheriff waiting in the woods?”
Uncle Eric laughed. “I’m not sure. Let me know if you find one, though.”
The car stopped a little later, and everyone climbed out. Owen was itching to start exploring. He saw a small hill up ahead.
“Can I go check out what’s over that hill?”
Mama nodded. “Just stay close enough that you can hear me.”
Another car pulled up. Owen grinned as his cousin James hopped out. “James! Wanna see what’s over that hill?”
“Can we? Please?” James asked his parents. Soon Owen and James took off running. In no time they reached the hilltop.
“Let’s race down,” James said.
As they reached the bottom, Owen saw a pile of soft dirt at the bottom. He jumped right in, pretending he was Robin Hood leaping into a wagon full of bad guys.
Ouch! The tops of his feet felt like they were on fire! He jumped out, yelling in pain.
Suddenly Mama appeared. She grabbed Owen and ran for the nearby stream. Mama plunged his feet into the cold water, sandals and all.
“What happened?” Owen cried. “All I did was jump in some dirt!”
“That wasn’t dirt,” Mama said. “It was hot ashes. Someone must have had a campfire last night and not put it out completely.”
After Owen soaked his feet for a while, Mama carried him in to his uncle’s house.
They found his cousin, who was a children’s doctor. Doctor Mark put medicine on the burns and wrapped them. Then he and Uncle Eric gave Owen a priesthood blessing.
Not much of a Robin Hood adventure after all, Owen thought as they drove home.
That night at bedtime, Mama said, “Remember that Heavenly Father loves you.”
Owen sat up in bed. “I know He does. But why did He let me burn my feet?”
Mama sat next to him. “Heavenly Father doesn’t always stop bad things from happening, but He helps us get through them. For example, I’m grateful I saw you from the hilltop right when you jumped into those ashes.”
She ran a hand through Owen’s hair. “Plus, Heavenly Father helped me know immediately that I should put your feet in the stream.”
Mama and Owen talked about more things to be grateful for—like the priesthood blessing he got. Then Owen prayed. As he started listing what he was thankful for, he was surprised at how many things came to mind. Owen felt warm and happy. He knew Heavenly Father was listening.
Owen hugged his mom. “I’m glad Heavenly Father loves me.”

I love going to the library to check out books. I especially like to check out books about my favorite superheroes. One time I brought a book home that I was really excited to read, but when I opened it, one of the drawings was a girl who wasn’t dressed very modestly. I brought the book to my mom, and she asked what I thought we should do about it. I said I thought we should take it back to the library and not look at it. I felt happy inside after I made the right choice.
Caleb O., age 4, Utah, USA

About five years ago, two missionaries came to my home in Ecuador. I was impressed with their appearance and kindness and agreed to listen to their message. I found their message interesting, but I had some doubts about it. However, I completed the reading assignments from the Book of Mormon for each of our meetings and accepted the challenge to pray.
When they finished the six lessons, the missionaries invited me to be baptized. Although I prayed constantly to know if these things were true, I didn’t believe I had received an answer. I expected to see an angel, the gold plates, or some other heavenly manifestation.
One night I was reading something about Ezra Taft Benson, who was then the President of the Church. I felt a strong desire to know if he was a prophet. I no longer aspired to see a vision—I simply wanted a witness of the truth. After praying for some time, I heard a quiet, penetrating voice testify to me that Ezra Taft Benson was a prophet, and I felt a burning sensation in my chest.
I had obtained my testimony—not through an angelic visitation, but through the still, small voice. It was with great joy and gratitude that I accepted the invitation to be baptized.

What does learning how to cut hair have to do with setting up stage lights?
“It’s all part of my plan,” says Lisa, a young adult now in her first year of college.
Lisa started cosmetology school at age 16. She even found a program that let her attend shorter days at high school so she could train at cosmetology school in the afternoons. The fact that she’s now at college studying theater tech doesn’t mean that the whole salon thing didn’t work out, either. In fact, everything is unfolding exactly how she’d hoped.
“I wanted to have a skill I could use to help pay for college,” Lisa says. “Plus, it lets me serve other people and save money on family haircuts for the rest of my life!”

Such loving support is vital even to those who might seem not to need it. Ironworkers, for example, have the reputation of being rough and tough. They belong to the craft that erects the steel framework of buildings and bridges. Some of the structures they erect rise into the sky more than 100 stories, and they walk on the narrow flanges of the beams they bolt into place. Some of the bridges they erect span bodies of water hundreds of feet below, and they walk on the narrow girders that will later support the weight of the concrete deck and the impact of heavy traffic.
These workers must be alert and wary, for one false step could be their last. It is essential that they keep their mind on what they are doing. Many accidents resulting in injury or death have been traced to a disagreement at home or to a heavy burden they carried which affected their emotions and took their mind off their work. While their trade gives them the reputation of being insensitive to risk they represent a cross section of normal citizens, whose feelings, concerns, responsibilities, and traits are like anyone else’s. The one trait in which they must excel, however, is self-confidence. They must be fearless.
Jim was an old-timer. He had been an ironworker for over 30 years and had worked on about every type of job in the trade, which gave him a rich background of experience. He had walked narrow beams hundreds of feet off the ground and shimmied to the end of beams to make the connections thousands of times. Connectors are supreme among ironworkers. They take the greatest risk, and their job requires the greatest courage. Jim was admired by his peers as a man of great courage and stability.
One day he was working with a crew of ironworkers on a job in the rugged mountains of the Colorado Rockies when a storm struck without warning. The rain poured down, the lightning flashed, the thunder roared, and the wind blew with fury. The ironworkers quickly descended and gathered in their work shack to wait for the storm to abate. They had been there for about 15 minutes when someone asked, “Where’s Jim?” He wasn’t in the shack. They went outside and looked up at the steel structure. There he was, standing on a beam with his arms wrapped tightly around a steel column. They called but got no response, so two of the crew went up the framework and found him frozen in panic. His arms were so tightly clenched around the column that they had to pry him loose. Then they fastened him to the cable of an erection rig and lowered him to the ground. He was petrified with fear.
They took him into the shack and warmed him by the fire. An hour later the storm was over, the weather was calm, the sun shone brightly, and the birds sang in the trees. The crew started back to work, but Jim stayed behind. He had lost his nerve and was afraid to get back in the air.
The foreman recognized the problem. It was not something for Jim to be ashamed of. It happens to the best of men. The situation needed wise care and attention. If Jim didn’t get back in the air now, he never would. The fury of the storm combined with the risk of his trade had broken the spirit of an old-timer. He alone could mend the damage. But he needed a helping hand as he had never needed one before.
The wise foreman put his arm around Jim and said that what had happened to him could happen to any one of them. The foreman told Jim to get back to work and assured him of his complete confidence that he could do so. Jim knew that the foreman was right. Every ironworker knows he has to go back. Jim knew he had to do it now. It would be even more difficult tomorrow if he didn’t go back today, and within a week it would be impossible. Finally, he demanded of himself that he get up on the steel structure and go to work. His legs felt weak and his body shaky. As he climbed the steel and cautiously proceeded to carry on, the members of the crew gave him a rousing cheer. That gave him the strength and confidence he needed. Jim went to work, and as he strove to keep pace with the others in the crew, he gradually regained his self-confidence. Had the foreman not been understanding or had the other members of the crew been critical, he would likely have been unable to return to work. Jim learned that his fellow workers were his true friends, for they had understood and given him support in a time of dire need.