Gospel Story Finder

We have created a tradition for our family of six children that they like very much. Each year at Christmastime, we prepare carols, bake cookies, make rag dolls, and gather some of the children’s own toys and clothing in preparation for our activity. Then, with one of the children dressed as Santa Claus and the others as his helpers, we visit the old and sick in our ward, people in a nearby hospital, and less fortunate people in the streets. This activity has helped us feel the true meaning of Christmas and learn to be more like Jesus Christ.
Fajardo Romero Family,Casas Grandes Ward, Colonia Juárez Mexico Stake

Family relations class, a debate is raging. Dr. Holgate raised the question. “Is there ever a time when parents are justified in asking their children to leave home?” The arguments churn on. The class consensus seems to be that, yes, there are rare occasions when a child should not be allowed in the home, such as if his or her behavior is damaging the entire family or setting a bad example for younger siblings. Dr. Holgate is at the front of the class, looking slightly entertained. Class is almost over.
“Any other thought?” she asks.
“Yes!” my mom says.
“Go ahead.”
“When you have children, they are yours forever, not just in good times or okay times, but always. You have to love them always, show them that you care always, and be there for them always,” Mom says, her voice slightly quivering.
It is an amazing turn of events. The class bursts into applause. Up front, Dr. Holgate is beaming. The buzzer sounds and class is over. Several students come up to talk with my mom, the new class star. One of them is Carianne who grasps her arm and says, “Ruth, what you said is true.”
While I’m happy for my mom, it’s a little difficult to accept that Carianne is more impressed with my mother than with me.

Construction work on the Quezon City Chapel progressed fairly well. However, I encountered a little problem—the construction approach and methods used in the Philippines varied from the construction approach and methods I was used to in the United States. For instance, it was hard for me to get used to seeing so much timber set up prior to actual digging of the foundations but I learned soon that I cannot change the methods used and expect to get chapels constructed, at least right away. But one method that I insisted the contractors use is the use of pumped concrete to the ridged frames so that there will be a monolithic pour and not have any cold joints in the truss structure. The workers were not familiar with this method but later on the men worked well in handling the moveable pipes for the flow of the concrete.
About five months after construction work on the Quezon City Chapel started, work on another chapel—the Caloocan Chapel, began with the same contractor. The aesthetics of the chapel site and the chapel itself can be classed as possibly the best in Asia at that time.
Even before the Caloocan Chapel was finished we bid another chapel—the Clark-Angeles Chapel in 1972. Engineer Avelino V. Tanjuakio was the contractor who won the bid. Ground breaking was held on June 6, 1972 on the very day that the big flood of 1972 started. Construction work started on September 1972. This chapel became a landmark to travellers going to Baguio and the northern parts of the Philippines. It is located along the national road and people now are able to see a Mormon chapel springing up in their midst.
In 1973 President Carl D. Jones became the President of the Manila Mission. Plans to build more chapels were placed on the drawing board. We were also beginning to purchase more chapel sites.
After Clark-Angeles Chapel was completed, work on the Cavite Chapel started. It was interesting to note that laborers digging the foundations of the Cavite Chapel were always digging in one meter of water because the water table was almost ground level and we had two pumps constantly pumping out the water so that steel could be set and concrete poured. I respected those laborers for the way they worked and the conditions under which they worked. I had to learn tolerance to a greater degree than I had known before.
Members have now become excited with the building program. Until the Quezon City Chapel was constructed there was only one chapel in the Philippines. It is the Buendia Chapel which was reconstructed in 1974 due to the deterioration of the laminated trusses. A Stake office was also built within the chapel compound. The tremendous growth of the Church by now demanded the construction of more chapels. When the Cavite Chapel was finished and the reconstruction of the Buendia Chapel was accomplished, we planned the construction of chapels in the southern regions as all of the chapels so far built were in the Manila area.
In 1975 chapel construction was started in Davao, Bacolod and Cebu and they were completed in 1976. At this time the Marikina Chapel and Los Baños Chapel were constructed.
The Cebu Chapel was a construction challenge due to its location, being on the site of the last resistance of the Japanese in World War II and the hill it was constructed on had many tunnels which had to be sealed and filled. Because of its split level type of construction and its aesthetics, people from far and wide acclaim the Cebu Chapel as the best in Asia. It is a very prominent looking edifice which also serves as a missionary tool in proselyting.
By this time nine chapels were constructed and one rebuilt—the Buendia Chapel. In 1977 four more chapels were constructed for Pasay Ward, Manila Ward, Santa Mesa Ward and Baguio Branch, making a total of 13 chapels built and one rebuilt. At present there are a total of eleven chapels now to construct and/or ready for ground breaking. There are approximately 25 additional chapel sites and a Stake office to build, new Mission offices, building to be remodeled in Ozamis, and the remodeling of the Manila Mission office.
But with all these construction works, the highlight of my stay in this country is seeing the baptism of two fine men who worked with me—Juanito Gutierrez, my first contractor who is now Bishop of the Marikina Ward, and Engineer Avelino V. Tanjuakio who is now Governor Elect of the Kiwanis of Luzon. I will cherish my association with many wonderful people and friends especially my efficient secretary, Miss Nilda Austria.
My family and I will go home with our hearts full of love for the Filipino people and will long remember our experiences here in building chapels for the Lord. I have constructed many buildings in the million dollar bracket but I can say without reservations that the last eight years in the Philippines have been the greatest challenge of my life. Truly, the best eight years of our life have been well spent in the Philippines.
Since we arrived my family has increased three more. I now have two sons, David and Daniel, ages 5 and 8, and a daughter Rebecca Rachel, 3 years old. This is an actual fulfillment of our patriarchal blessings. Certainly, we will leave with mixed emotions when the time comes. My daughter LaVonne said, “Papa I don’t know anything except in the Philippines, I grew up here.” I think we all did a little.

When I was in high school, I was one of three LDS students in a student body of five hundred. One year I sent invitations out for my 16th birthday. On the bottom they read, “No alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs.” When I gave those invitations out, my parents and I were afraid that no one would show up at the party. However, 35 out of 50 did show up.

About a month later, I received an invitation to a friend’s party. On the bottom it read “No alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs.” More such invitations followed in the next two years.

What you have to do is decide now what you will do and then stick to it. True friends will accept you for who you are. They may continue to smoke or drink, but they won’t pressure you once you’ve politely said, “I don’t smoke” (or drink, or whatever). If they do continue to pressure, find a new set of friends who accept you for you and what you stand for.

I asked my mom if I could play outside with my friends. She said, “Yes, but don’t go too far.” When I got outside, my friends were waiting for me. “Should I get my scooter?” I asked. “Sure,” said Derek. Sam said they were going to the park. I remembered what my mom had told me, and I heard a voice say, “Don’t do it. Don’t do it.” I said that I wouldn’t go. Right after they left a car passed by. I knew I probably would have been hit. I am happy for my mom and the Holy Ghost who guide me through my life.

I close with this last true story as it was given by the Reverend Bob Richards. It always touches my heart, and it may touch yours also.

Lou Little tells it about his greatest football team. They were on their way to the conference championship. One last game. He had a boy on his squad who couldn’t quite make the team for four straight years. Just before the game—three days before—Lou was given a telegram to give to this boy that his only living relative had just died. The boy looked at the telegram and said, “Coach, I’ll be back for Saturday’s game.” The morning of the game he came up to his coach and said, “Lou, I want you to put me in this game—I know I haven’t made the first team yet, but let me in for this kickoff. I’ll prove to you that I’m worthy of it.” Well, Lou could see he was emotionally disturbed and he made all kinds of excuses, but finally he thought, “Well, he can’t do much harm on the kickoff; I’ll put the boy in.”

The roar of the crowd was heard at the kickoff. The opposing quarterback took the ball on the goal line, moved up, and on the seven-yard line met with a tremendous tackle—the boy had dropped him in his tracks. On the next play Lou left him in—he made the next tackle—he was in on the next tackle—you couldn’t move him out of there. He made practically every tackle that day—terrific downfield blocking. He was the reason why Columbia won the championship. Afterwards, all the guys were pounding him on the back. When they were all done, Lou Little went up to him and said, “Son, I don’t understand it. Today you were an all-American. I’ve never seen you play like this in four straight years. What happened?” And the boy looked up at his coach and he said, “Coach, you knew my dad died, didn’t you?” And he said, “Yes, I handed you the telegram.” He said, “You knew he was blind, didn’t you?” He said, “Yes, I have seen you walk him around the campus many times.” He said, “Coach, today is the first football game my dad ever saw me play.” It makes a difference, friends, when those unseen eyes are watching. (“Life’s Higher Goals,” by the Reverend Bob Richards.)

It was a hot day, and Audrey and her mom were driving home from the grocery store. Among the bottles and packages was a special treat that Audrey had picked out: a box of rainbow ice pops. They were Audrey’s favorite kind of ice pop, even if they did make her mouth turn blue and red. She could hardly wait to get home, have a rainbow pop, and play in the sprinklers to cool off.
“Oh dear,” Mom said, slowing down the car. “All the traffic is stopped ahead.”
As they slowly moved forward, Audrey saw several people standing in the road wearing hard hats and bright vests. They were holding up signs to stop the cars. They looked hot and sweaty.
“Roadwork,” Mom said. “I forgot they were doing that today. I guess we won’t be getting home soon. We’ll just have to be patient.”
“Mom, we need to get home soon, or all my rainbow pops will melt,” Audrey said.
“I’m sorry, but if we’re stopped a long time they probably will melt,” Mom said.
“Can I have one now?” Audrey asked.
“You know we have rules against eating in the car,” Mom reminded her. “Especially sticky things. Sorry, honey.”
Audrey frowned. She was sad to think her rainbow pops might be puddles by the time they got home.
Just then they pulled up next to a road worker. “I need you to wait right here, ma’am,” he said to Audrey’s mom. Then he pulled out a rag and wiped his forehead. “Sure is a scorcher,” he said.
Then Audrey got an idea. She reached into a shopping bag, pulled out the box of rainbow pops, and handed it to Mom.
Mom smiled at Audrey. “Great idea,” she said. She handed the box through the car window to the road worker. “Maybe this will help,” she said.
The man grinned. “I’ll have no problem sharing these. Thank you, ma’am.”
Mom pointed to Audrey. “It was my daughter’s idea. I bought them for her.”
The man waved to Audrey. “Thank you, miss. You’ve made our day.”
Audrey grinned back. She was glad the rainbow pops wouldn’t be wasted.
“That was very kind of you, Audrey,” Mom said. “Maybe when we get home we can make some juice pops instead.”
“Maybe,” Audrey said. She didn’t like juice pops as much as rainbow pops, but she was still glad she gave away her rainbow pops.
As they drove past more road workers, Audrey saw some of them holding up their rainbow pops to stop traffic, while others were doing their work with red or blue mouths. Audrey was sure they all looked a little cooler and a little happier, and that made her as happy as Christmas in July.

Christmas is a giving time of year for the young people of the Mt. Pleasant Second Ward, Mt. Pleasant Utah Stake. The youth were involved in service projects that helped emphasize the true spirit of giving.
In a combined effort to include the entire ward in their Christmas service projects, the Young Men and Young Women supplied 12 small Christmas trees to special members of the ward, some elderly and unable to get a tree for themselves and some who simply deserved a little extra cheer. The Young Men cut the trees, attached stands, and arranged to deliver the trees. The Young Women procured lights and decorations. The highlight of the evening was the surprised looks on the recipients’ faces as the youth went caroling to deliver the trees. One brother commented, “Why, no one has ever brought me a Christmas tree before!”

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.

Entering adulthood, Elder Christophe G. Giraud-Carrier had grand plans—start a rigorous college path, obtain an educational deferment to serve a full-time mission, marry his teenage sweetheart, and then begin family life and his profession as an engineer in his native France.
While the mission and marriage went as planned, other expectations did not. The deferment did not happen, but a transfer to Brigham Young University (BYU) did, followed by a desire to teach on the university level. University jobs in France were scarce for one educated outside the country, so raising a family, having a different career, and serving in the Church came in different countries and on the Lord’s timetable.
“The mere fact that very few things have happened in the way that we planned allowed us both to realize that if we let the Lord do His thing and take us places, then that’s where He wants us to be and that’s where we can serve,” said Elder Giraud-Carrier. “It has helped us to learn to trust Him, to trust that He can make of our lives more than we otherwise could.”

Amidst the terrible hostilities in Missouri that would put the Prophet in Liberty Jail and see thousands of Latter-day Saints driven from their homes, Sister Drusilla Hendricks and her invalid husband, James, … arrived with their children at a hastily shaped dugout in Quincy, Illinois, to live out the spring of that … year [of great suffering].
Within two weeks the Hendrickses were on the verge of starvation, having only one spoonful of sugar and a saucerful of cornmeal remaining in their possession. In the great tradition of LDS women, Drusilla made mush out of it for James and the children, thus stretching its contents as far as she could make it go. When that small offering was [eaten by them], she washed everything, cleaned their little dugout as thoroughly as she could, and quietly waited to die.
Not long thereafter the sound of a wagon brought Drusilla to her feet. It was their neighbor Reuben Allred. He said he had a feeling they were out of food, so on his way into town he’d had a sack of grain ground into meal for them.
Shortly thereafter Alexander Williams arrived with two bushels of meal on his shoulder. He told Drusilla that he’d been extremely busy but the Spirit had whispered to him that “Brother Hendricks’ family is suffering, so I dropped everything and came [running].”

I don’t like that George Bacon! Yesterday he dipped my braids in black ink, and today he pulled out my hair ribbon.
This evening George Bacon walked by my house, playing softly on his harmonica.
George came calling tonight. We had a lovely visit. After he left, I found his handkerchief in the corner of a chair. I wonder if he means for me to keep it.
George and I are to be married tomorrow! Mother will let me borrow her beautiful gold pin to wear.

Jared is home from college. I asked him how he liked it, and he said, “It’s all right academically, but the social life isn’t too great.”
Mom says Jared’s problem is that he’s always trying to date the movie star type of girl, but he isn’t the movie star type of boy. Maybe that’s my problem too. I want to look like a model, but I’m not really that kind of girl. Not yet, anyway. I bet I could be if I tried. I’m going to begin as soon as Christmas is over.

Sister Atistosgbui shared her thoughts on being an instructor. “Volunteering as an instructor over the past few weeks has been challenging, yet an eye-opening, learning opportunity for my students and me. My desire to see the YSA succeed motivated me to sacrifice my resources to transporting mannequins, pressing iron, and sewing machines among other things from my workshop to the gathering place and back twice every week. Although the cost of transporting the equipment to class was high, I knew the Lord always blesses the cheerful giver”, she said.

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.

Since 2008, a team of local volunteers have coordinated a Christmas Day luncheon and festivities to ensure no one spends the day alone. This event enjoys fellowship from many different people including new migrant families, international students, those who have left unsafe homes, people experiencing financial challenges, empty nesters and those separated from family due to COVID border closures and other reasons.
Sister Anouck Van Dyck has been the chairperson for the last three years and said this event is a collaboration between local volunteers, the City of Joondalup Council and various businesses to ensure everyone knows they are loved and appreciated on this very special day. The Perth Australia Mission helps with this by providing a setup and pack down service and are now part of the official entertainment program singing carols to invite the Spirit of Christ into everyone’s hearts.
Of their involvement, Perth Mission President Michael J. Stone commented: “What a great delight to be involved in such a deserving community project during this special Christmas season.
“Our missionaries were thrilled to be of service and truly felt the spirit of Christmas as they worked and sang on Christmas Day to those in the community that might otherwise have had a lonely Christmas.
“We are grateful for the opportunity our missionaries have had to give to the community through work and song on Christmas Day. In serving others, their spirits were lifted towards the Saviour—a wonderful day and blessing for all.”

Brethren, our Lord and Savior said, “Come, follow me.” When we accept His invitation and walk in His footsteps, He will direct our paths.
In April of 2000, I felt such direction. I had received a phone call from Rosa Salas Gifford, whom I did not know. She explained that her parents had been visiting from Costa Rica for a few months and that just a week prior to her call, her father, Bernardo Agusto Salas, had been diagnosed with liver cancer. She indicated that the doctors had informed the family that her father would live just a few more days. Her father’s great desire, she explained, was to meet me before he died. She left her address and asked if I could come to her home in Salt Lake City to visit with her father.
Because of meetings and obligations, it was rather late when I left my office. Instead of going straight home, however, I felt impressed that I should drive further south and visit Brother Salas that very evening. With the address in hand, I attempted to locate the residence. In rather heavy traffic and with dimming light, I drove past the location where the road to the house should have been. I could see nothing. However, I don’t give up easily. I drove around the block and came back. Still nothing. One more time I tried and still no sign of the road. I began to feel that I would be justified in turning toward home. I had made a gallant effort but had been unsuccessful in finding the address. Instead, I offered a silent prayer for help. The inspiration came that I should approach the area from the opposite direction. I drove a distance and turned the car around so that I was now on the other side of the road. Going in this direction, the traffic was much lighter. As I neared the location once again, I could see, through the faint light, a street sign that had been knocked down—it was lying on its side at the edge of the road—and a nearly invisible, weed-covered track leading to a small apartment building and a single, tiny residence some distance from the main road. As I drove toward the buildings, a small girl in a white dress waved to me, and I knew that I had found the family.
I was ushered into the home and then to the room where Brother Salas lay. Surrounding the bed were three daughters and a son-in-law, as well as Sister Salas. All but the son-in-law were from Costa Rica. Brother Salas’s appearance reflected the gravity of his condition. A damp rag with frayed edges—not a towel or a washcloth but a damp rag with frayed edges—rested upon his forehead, emphasizing the humble economic circumstances of the family.
With some prompting, Brother Salas opened his eyes, and a wan smile graced his lips as I took him by the hand. I spoke the words, “I have come to meet you.” Tears welled up in his eyes and in mine.
I asked if a blessing would be desired, and the unanimous answer from the family members was affirmative. Since the son-in-law did not hold the priesthood, I proceeded by myself to provide a priesthood blessing. The words seemed to flow freely under the direction of the Spirit of the Lord. I included the Savior’s words found in the Doctrine and Covenants, section 84, verse 88: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.” Following the blessing, I offered a few words of comfort to the grieving family members. I spoke carefully so they could understand my English. And then, with my limited Spanish language ability, I let them know that I loved them and that our Heavenly Father would bless them.
I asked for the family Bible and directed their attention to 3 John, verse 4: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.” I said to them, “This is what your husband and father would have you remember as he prepares to depart this earthly existence.”
With tears streaming down her face, Brother Salas’s sweet wife then asked if I would write down the references for the two scriptures I had shared with them so that the family might read them again. Not having anything handy on which I could write, Sister Salas reached into her purse and drew from it a slip of paper. As I took it from her, I noticed it was a tithing receipt. My heart was touched as I realized that, despite the extremely humble circumstances in which the family lived, they were faithful in paying their tithes.
After a tender farewell, I was escorted to my car. As I drove homeward, I reflected on the special spirit we had felt. I experienced, as well, as I have many times before, a sense of gratitude that my Heavenly Father had answered another person’s prayer through me.

It was also a time of spiritual tempering. When Lucy had been given up to die from consumption, she covenanted to serve God all her days and to seek “the religion that would enable [her] to serve him right,” even if “obtained from heaven by prayer and faith.” She was healed and faithfully sought that religion for the next two decades, not yet understanding that her own son would introduce her to it. “For days and months and years,” without ceasing, she “continued asking God … to reveal … the hidden treasures of his will.” Joseph Sr.’s mistrust of organized religion did not let him share her quest among the churches she had access to, but it did not become a source of contention between them. Rather, she prayed sincerely for consolation and was comforted by a dream that assured her Joseph Sr. would accept the truth when it was presented to him.

As a junior high school teacher with eight children, I needed to provide at least GHC 5.00 as pocket money to each child every school day. None of the days were for rest in my family, including Sundays. My wife needed to work hard with the children to make ends meet. She sold mashed kenkey (ice kenkey), water, cocoa drinks, or farm produce I brought from the farm I owned aside my teaching job.
After my family’s baptism, the missionaries taught us the importance of Sabbath day observance. We found it difficult and inconvenient to observe the Sabbath due to the high financial challenges we faced. The missionaries taught us to our understanding from scriptures such as Mosiah 13:16–19 and Exodus 20:8–11. Reading such scriptures overturned events of the family. We prayed for the Lord to help us keep His day holy by providing for our needs from Monday to Saturday.
While offering a prayer in our family home evening one Monday, I declared that henceforth there should be no more sales on Sundays. My children jubilated with the hope that Heavenly Father would provide. The Lord indeed answered my prayers. Each of these children have now completed various levels in their education, and four of them are returned missionaries with university education.
Thus, the Savior will bless His people who obey and keep the Sabbath day holy.

“Millicent’s escaped!” “The elephant is loose!” The cries filled the circus grounds.
Freddie peered anxiously out of the red and gold trailer where he lived. He saw Randolph, the roustabout, running past. A thick coil of rope hung over his shoulder. “Millicent pulled her stake out of the ground!” the tall young man explained as he stopped to talk to Freddie. “Our customers are going to be unhappy if they can’t see the sideshow, and she’s blocking the entrance. I’m going to tie this rope around her and try to lead her back to the field where she belongs.”
“That won’t work,” Freddie said, earnestly, “but I know how to make Millicent move.”
Randolph chuckled. “You? Why, you’re the smallest boy in the circus. How can you move an elephant?” And he hurried on.
Freddie just smiled and scampered off toward the sideshow. Before long he came upon Chester, the oldest and wisest clown in the circus. He was wearing knobby shoes and was pushing a big black cannon ahead of him. At his side trotted Phil, his fluffy pink poodle.
“Millicent’s loose!” shouted Chester. “I’m on my way to fire my cannon. When she hears the explosion, she’ll move out of the way! Come along and watch.”
“I don’t think that’ll work,” said Freddie, walking alongside the clown. “But I know how to make Millicent move.”
Chester stopped. “You? You can’t make that pesky pachyderm move an inch. You can’t even make Phil roll over, so how do you intend to make an elephant move?” Chester asked as he hurried away without waiting for a reply.
Freddie just smiled.
Shortly, Freddie came upon a great crowd of circus performers—jugglers, fire-eaters, and lovely bareback riders. They were all talking about the elephant that wouldn’t move.
Alonzo, the lion tamer, boasted, “I’m going to wave my chair and crack my whip in front of Millicent. That’ll make that stubborn elephant move!”
“I don’t think it’ll work,” said Freddie solemnly. “But I know how to make Millicent move.”
“You?” The lion tamer snorted. “You know nothing about handling wild animals. How could you move that blissful behemoth!”
Freddie simply smiled again.
“Everybody stand back, please,” said Mr. Bertelli, the circus owner.
Freddie watched Randolph loop his thick rope around the great elephant. She towered above them, and her legs were thick as tree trunks.
Randolph pulled and pulled. His muscles bulged, and glistening perspiration streamed down his face. The fire-eater and the juggler joined the roustabout and, with stern faces, tugged on the rope. Still, the elephant refused to move.
“That’s the most immovable mastodon I’ve ever encountered,” Randolph declared disgustedly. “I think Millicent has taken root.” He gathered up his rope and walked away.
Freddie approached Mr. Bertelli. “Please, sir, I can make Millicent move,” he said.
“Stay out of the way, Freddie,” Mr. Bertelli replied, but not unkindly. “This is a job for men.”
Next, Chester touched a flame to the touchhole of his cannon. Freddie put his fingers in his ears and shut his eyes tightly. There was a moment of silence and then a loud BOOOOOOM! The sawdust-filled circus grounds shook with the sound. Freddie opened his eyes. Millicent heard that sound twice a day while Chester was performing. Cool as custard, she stood where she was.
“She must be going deaf,” Chester said disgustedly. The clown flop-flopped away, sadly wheeling his cannon.
Freddie tugged at Mr. Bertelli’s sleeve. “I can make Millicent move,” he insisted.
“If Randolph and Chester couldn’t do it, how could you?” asked the circus owner, patting Freddie on the shoulder.
It was Alonzo’s turn to try. The lion tamer twisted the ends of his long moustache and waggled his chair under Millicent’s trunk. His long black whip snapped an earsplitting KER-WHACK! Millicent blinked her little round eyes. She softly wrapped her trunk around the chair, set it to one side, and picked up Alonzo. The lion tamer helplessly waved his legs in the air. Abruptly, Millicent dropped him into the chair and, with a great snort, mussed his carefully combed hair.
“That stupid elephant! She doesn’t have any respect for me. Me! The finest lion tamer in the world!” Alonzo stalked off.
After that it was plain to see nobody else had an idea how to make Millicent move. A crowd was beginning to line up at the entrance. If Millicent didn’t get out of the way, no one could get by to see the sideshow!
Freddie strode confidently up to the peanut vendor. “One bag, please,” he said.
The boy took his sack of peanuts and approached the towering elephant. Freddie placed a peanut on the ground in front of Millicent. The elephant slowly lowered her long gray trunk and picked it up. She curled it gently into her mouth and stared at Freddie.
Freddie dropped another peanut a few feet away. The elephant took one large step and picked it up. The circus folk cheered! Millicent was moving!
Freddie backed his way toward the grassy field, dropping peanuts as he went. The big elephant followed, eating every peanut in her path!
Before long, Millicent had followed the trail of peanuts and had joined the other elephants in the meadow. She was back where she belonged!
“Hooray for Freddie!” proclaimed Chester. “He really did know how to make Millicent move!”
And from that day on, Freddie’s circus friends asked him questions about all sorts of things. When Freddie said he knew the answer, they all believed him.