Gospel Story Finder

Thousands of years ago, glaciers pulverized rocks and scooped through the landscape outside what is now Buffalo, New York. The ice rivers left behind a series of soft-shouldered mounds called drumlins, hills that are today rich in foliage and equally rich in memories. It was in one such hill many miles to the east, Cumorah, that Moroni buried the plates of gold. It was in 1820, in a grove surrounded by drumlins, that Joseph Smith kneeled in prayer.
It was also in these hills that members of the Iroquois confederacy—the Cayugas and the Senecas, the Mohawks and the Tuscaroras, the Oneidas and the Onondagas—once hunted and fished and dwelled as part of nature. It was here these Indians joined in council as they ruled a vast region, including the upper Mississippi.
Now it is January in the land of the drumlins. On one of the highest hills, at the top of a country lane called Zoar Road, whitewashed rocks mark a dirt driveway leading to the home of a modern-day Indian family, the Monty Campbell family. Normally at this time of year, snow is so deep that drifts cling to barns and smother trees. But this year, snowfall has been negligible. In fact, this morning is like a spring morning, even though it’s the middle of winter. And that’s fine with Phil Campbell, 17, and his younger brother, Joe, 13. They’ve got chores to do before school, and it’s easier to do them when the weather’s warm.
A casual observer watching them would be impressed to see other children joining them in their farm tasks. Jabez, age 7, and Nicholas, 6, for example, help mix slop for the pig. Christine, 16, Lynn, 11, and Julie, 10, are glad to feed the horse or keep a lookout for the school bus that only stops once on its way to Gowanda, the nearest town.
It isn’t until Sister Campbell steps to the door and calls everyone inside for prayers that the visitor would suddenly realize that all those children loving each other and working together aren’t just neighborhood acquaintances. They are brothers and sisters, part of a family of 11 brothers and sisters. With mom and dad, that means 13 Campbells under the same roof. And the Campbells are a family proud of being a family, proud of their Lamanite heritage, proud of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the joy that comes from living Christian principles. They are a family that knows what a deep experience sharing can be.
A few years ago, the Campbells lived on Chestnut Street in town. Their home was spacious and it had a swimming pool. The Campbells had two sons, but were told by doctors that because of medical complications it was unlikely Sister Campbell would have any more children. So the parents decided to continue their family anyway—by adopting.
“We feel as though we’ve always been a family,” Phil said. “Some of us just took a little longer to get here. First came Mike (who is 19 and currently serving in the Washington Seattle Mission), then myself. Then we adopted Lynn. Then we decided Lynn needed a sister, and Julie was adopted. Then the agency called and asked if we would like another girl, and Christine joined us. Then we wanted Jabez (“J.J.”) to even up the boy-girl ratio.
“Dad and mom prayed and prayed about having another child of their own but had nearly abandoned hope, even though they felt the Lord would bless them. Then miraculously Sam was born without any problems. It surprised everyone, since we had figured J. J. was the caboose! Then when Joe (“Little Bear”) was adopted, he filled in the space between Christine and Lynn. Then we wanted another girl, but Monty Jr. (“June Bug”) needed a home, and we all fell in love with him.
“We thought that was it, but then the agency called and asked mom and dad if they wanted two more!” So Nicholas and Doug joined the family. Now the roll call at the dinner table reads like this: Mike (he’s always remembered, and sometimes his letters are read aloud), Phillip, Christine, Joe, Lynn, Julie, Jabez, Nicholas, Sammy (5), Doug (4), and Monty Jr. (2). “That makes 11,” Sister Campbell said, smiling. “And now we figure one more would be perfect.”
Sister Campbell explained that she and her husband are the only Indians listed with the adoption agency, and that because they have such a positive record, the local magistrate (himself one of 11 children) is eager to help. “It’s our experience in family court that we don’t find too many happy occasions such as this,” Judge Victor E. Manz said. “At a time when people say the family is falling apart, this family is a true inspiration.” Although the children come from various tribes, they are all adopted into the Cayuga tribe when they join the family.
“Kids at school ask me how big my family is, and when I say 11 kids, they say ‘Wow!’” Lynn said. “They want to know if it takes two cars to get us around.”
“People are surprised that we left a newly remodeled home and moved into a house that’s cold in the morning and that we’re improving on our own. They wonder why we gave up what we had, when with fewer people we could have more money,” Phillip said. “I tell them we’re richer now because we have more brothers and sisters. And I think maybe we’re closer to the Lord, too, because we’ve had to sacrifice to be together.”

Sometimes we don’t do good things to the "least of these my brethren," because we judge them. We put a label on them and then rationalize our misbehavior or our non-behavior toward them. Years ago, we moved in next door to an older couple who yelled so loud at each other, I was first disturbed, then disgusted by what sounded like constant quarreling. My resentment of the couple for all this noise kept me from making their acquaintance. "Little wonder no one visits them," I thought. As time went on, however, I suspected that they must be lonely. I was not aware of any family coming to see them. After many months, I mentioned this to another neighbor and wondered if I should visit them. This neighbor said, "I think it would be a great idea, but when you visit them, you’ll have to yell because they are both nearly deaf."

(Donna) Brother Checketts and I recently celebrated our 35th anniversary. We met in Provo. He was in my family home evening group. One Monday night he gave a very impressive lesson. I was interested. We started dating and after a short time we were engaged and later we were married in the Salt Lake Temple. After knowing each other just a few months we hadn’t quite figured each other out. I found out that day that he had some pretty big dreams.
When Shayla was just a baby I remember sitting on our front porch talking about our future. Max told me some interesting things that he wanted to accomplish in his life, one of them being he wanted to earn a PhD. Education wasn’t a priority in the family I grew up in, so I thought getting a doctorate was a pretty lofty goal.
12 years and six children later, he earned his PhD from Utah State University. It was a long road with a lot of bumps, but he never gave up. He became Dr. Max Checketts.

9:28 A.M.
Elder Darren Majeran and Elder Josh Graham say a prayer, grab their bike helmets, and head out the door. No car for them. They need to get to Bonnie Brae Street for an appointment with an investigator, but they have a little time before that so they go on two callbacks to people they’d met last week. They pedal down the driveway and onto the street.

9:55 A.M.
There is no answer at either home, so back on the bikes they go. Their investigator on Bonnie Brae likes what he has heard about the Church, but he is having a problem understanding the concept of the priesthood and authority. They’re prepared to try to answer his questions.

10:07 A.M.
The investigator seems happy to see the missionaries. He has read two of the pamphlets the elders left with him on their last visit, and he’s prepared to discuss them. He seems very earnest in his desire to learn. He’s just not sure he can accept what they are teaching.

11:20 A.M.
“I thought it went okay,” Elder Majeran says after the meeting. “It’s just going to take some time.”
Next stop: the corner of Harvard Street and Ramona Avenue. The missionaries lock their bikes to a stop sign and begin going door to door. Elder Majeran and Elder Graham go to 19 houses, but very few people are home, and nobody invites them in.

12:15 P.M.
The missionaries break for lunch and talk about what just happened and what’s ahead. Elder Graham has been a missionary for about seven months, and he’s settled into a daily routine. “I guess the work has been the way I expected it to be. I haven’t done quite as much teaching as I thought we would,” he says. “But when you do, and you see people make changes in their lives and know you’ve been a part of that, it’s great.”
He continues: “If we tracted for a whole day and did nothing else, we’d probably get in maybe two or three doors.”
“We do a lot of talking through screens,” Elder Majeran adds. “But we usually have pretty good success once we get in.”
Today won’t be one of those days, however.

1:22 P.M.
It’s more of the same in the afternoon, although there is something to look forward to tonight. A family committed to receive baptism is scheduled for a sixth discussion, and another family in the ward has invited the missionaries to dinner.

7:03 P.M.
With dinner concluded (“The chicken was really good. Sister Wilson is a great cook,” Elder Graham says), the missionaries end up teaching a discussion to a person referred to them by a member. That is followed by the discussion to the family scheduled to be baptized.

9:35 P.M.
Another day is complete. Elder Majeran is tired but happy. “Not bad. We got a lot done today,” he says. As they change from their proselyting clothes and get ready for bed, they make phone calls to the zone leaders and the ward mission leader.

We have done some unusual things, too. We had two priests who just couldn’t seem to overcome the allure of bed on Sunday morning. They had great difficulty in coming to priesthood meeting. We decided that, if they wouldn’t come to priesthood meeting, then we would take priesthood meeting to them. After deciding which of the two young men to visit first, we left the meetinghouse and went to the first home.
I want you to know, brethren, that I was really concerned about how the father of that home would feel about all of us being at his house at 8:00 a.m. In fact, as we were waiting at the door, I was thinking that it sure would have been wise if I had called him the night before and told him what we were going to do.
The father answered the door, and we explained our purpose. Brethren, he couldn’t have been more gracious. As we climbed the stairs, we found our brother sleeping as only a young man can sleep. I will never forget how totally surprised he was when he awoke to find us all around his bed. Well, we had a great meeting, complete with business, a lesson, and some concluding thoughts on activation.
We decided we had hit upon a rather effective activation technique. We also decided to use it next week on the other young man. During the week the word about what we were going to do got out. Next Sunday, for the first time since I had been the bishop, 100 percent of our quorum members were at priesthood meeting. I can report to you that one of these young men is presently serving a full-time mission and the other will soon be serving.

In 1991 Larisa Deeva served as a hostess for two Young Ambassadors on their tour to Riga, Latvia. She recognized the Spirit in the lives of these young men and wanted that spirit to be a part of her life. As she received a copy of the Book of Mormon in Russian from her guests, she proudly displayed it right next to the Bible in her home.

In a letter to Young Ambassador Richard Higbee, Larisa wrote in halting English:
I don’t know how to thank you for all that you have done for me. I am so very glad met you. I am happy found fine friends. It was unforgettably for me! I was visit the paradise with you. I have believed in God! You have agitated my excite! . . . You have given back me sense in life. I wasn’t know why and what for I lived. And you present me wings! [Letter to Richard Higbee from Larisa Deeva, 1990]

Sister Deeva was baptized on August 22, 1992. In a subsequent letter to Richard Higbee, Larisa wrote:
In August of last year I was baptized. I was the first member in the Church here in Riga. Now there are approximately 30 members in this branch. I play the piano in our ward. Now I have God in my life, and He helps me deal with all of my struggles. I know that this church is true and know that our Heavenly Father loves us. [Letter to Richard Higbee from Larisa Deeva, 1993]

As the Young Ambassadors returned to Latvia to present a fireside for the new Riga Branch on May 30, 1993, we were pleased to learn that Sister Deeva had been sustained as president of the Relief Society. Larisa Deeva found the truth, was nourished by its power, and with great eagerness made the choice to follow the light.

Grandmother was visiting us, and we were just ready to go out on a fun family outing when a minor disaster struck—we couldn’t find the keys to the car. Children, parents, and Grandmother searched everywhere, but the keys were not to be found, and we thought in dismay that we would probably have to stay home. Then Grandmother excused herself and went into her bedroom. In just a few minutes one of the children suddenly found the keys—just barely hidden under a corner of a rug.
As we drove happily to our outing, someone asked Grandmother, “Why did you go into your bedroom instead of looking for the keys?” Grandmother’s answer was absorbed carefully by five young children; “I knew how disappointed everyone would be if we didn’t go on the outing, so I went in and prayed that we could find the keys. I just knew we would find them after that.”

Richard Van Hagen, currently president of the Edinburgh Scotland Stake, owes his Church membership in part to the pioneers. He first became interested in the Church because of a radio program. One day while driving in the country, he found that the car radio signal was so faint that he couldn’t hear it. He changed stations to find one he could hear better.

“The only program I could hear loud and clear was about the Mormon pioneers,” he says. “I was absolutely spellbound, and I remember sitting and listening long after I had arrived at my destination, quite unable to switch the radio off and get out of the car.” Until hearing the program, Brother Van Hagen knew nothing about the Church. But he was impressed by the early Saints’ faith and courage. “I admired their determination and felt great respect for them,” he says. He feels that it was no accident that he heard the radio program. “I have sometimes wondered if it was actually broadcast at all,” he says. A few weeks later, missionaries knocked on his door, and he accepted their message and joined the Church.

In 2011, while I was serving with my husband as mission leaders in beautiful Curitiba, Brazil, my phone rang during a meeting. Rushing to silence it, I noticed the call was from my father. I quickly left the meeting to answer: “Hi, Dad!”

Unexpectedly, his voice was filled with emotion: “Hi, Bonnie. I need to tell you something. I’ve been diagnosed with ALS.”

My mind swirled with confusion, “Wait! What is ALS?”

Dad was already explaining, “My mind will stay alert while my body slowly shuts down.”

I felt my whole world shift as I began to wrestle with the implications of this grievous news. But on that unforgettable day, it was his last sentence that found a permanent place in my heart. My dear father said with urgency, “Bonnie, never give up an opportunity to testify of Christ.”

I have pondered and prayed over Dad’s counsel. I have often asked myself if I fully know what it means to never give up an opportunity to testify of Jesus Christ.

Yet this plea felt more personal! It seemed as though he was saying, “Bonnie, don’t let the world overtake you! Stay true to your covenants with the Savior. Seek to experience His blessings every day, and be able to testify through the Holy Ghost of His power and presence in your life!”

My father has been gone for over 11 years now, but his words are alive in me. “Bonnie, never give up an opportunity to testify of Christ.” I invite you to join me in accepting his invitation. Look for Christ everywhere?I promise He is there! True joy rests on our willingness to come closer to Christ and witness for ourselves.

Papa laid a bright pink bracelet on the dining room table.
“Oh, Papa,” I cried. “Where did you get it?”
“I found it on the sidewalk in front of the barber shop.”
I picked it up and carefully slid it onto my wrist. I felt so beautiful. I’d never, ever worn anything so pretty.
“Can I have it?”
“Would you want to keep it when it belongs to someone else?” Mama asked.
“But maybe we can’t find who it belongs to.”
“Well, if we can’t find the owner, then you may have it,” Papa said.
That night when I knelt to pray, I wanted to ask Heavenly Father to bless us so we couldn’t find the owner. But the words wouldn’t come out. I tried three times, but I just couldn’t feel good about saying it. So I climbed into bed and decided to pray later.
The next morning I hurried into the kitchen. “Can I wear the pink bracelet to school?”
“That’s a good idea,” Papa said. “Maybe one of your classmates will see it and know who it belongs to.”
I skipped to my room to pick the perfect dress to go with the bracelet. Then I had a scary thought. If someone recognized the bracelet, I’d have to give it back. So I picked a blue dress with long sleeves. I pushed the bracelet way up under my sleeve. I worked it clear up over my elbow and pushed it to the very top of my arm. No one would see it there.
Usually I liked school, but not that day. It was too warm for my long-sleeved dress, and wearing the bracelet way up on my arm was uncomfortable. At recess I didn’t feel like playing, so I stayed in.
When the bell rang for the end of recess, I hurried to the drinking fountain and bumped into Stella. I noticed she was wearing a string of beads that were exactly the same pearly pink as the bracelet on my arm. I caught my breath. “Oh, Stella, where did you get such pretty beads?”
“My aunt sent them to me. She sent me a bracelet too, but I lost it.”
“Where did you lose it?” I asked.
“On the way home yesterday. I searched all the way up and down the sidewalk both ways, but it’s gone. I hope one of my friends finds it.”
I didn’t know what to do now. It felt like the bracelet was making a rash on my arm to punish me for hiding it.
Back at my seat I realized why it had been hard to say my prayers last night. It was because I wasn’t being honest. But now, all I wanted was to give Stella her bracelet.
The classroom was buzzing like a beehive. It wasn’t a nice, quiet place like my bedroom, but all at once I wanted to pray. From deep down in my heart I told Heavenly Father how sorry I was. I asked Him to forgive me and to please help me do the right thing with the bracelet. I suddenly felt good inside, and I began to gently work the bracelet down my arm, past my elbow, and onto my wrist.
As we left the school building, I stepped alongside Stella and handed her the pink bracelet. “You found it!” She squealed and gave me a hug.
“You said you hoped a friend would find it for you.” I smiled. “Well, that friend just happened to be my papa.”

Canby Second Ward
The Primary children of the Canby Second Ward, Oregon City Oregon Stake, enjoyed a missionary activity. They wrote letters to missionaries serving from their ward and accepted the challenge to give a Friend magazine to someone who is not a member of the Church. Returned missionaries shared mission experiences. The children continue to be successful missionaries by being great examples, sharing the gospel, and inviting their friends to Primary.

One of the most spiritual experiences of my life occurred when my Mom was first diagnosed with cancer. As anyone who knew her would attest, my Mom was one of the most vibrant, loving, selfless persons on earth. If anyone deserved to live, and would have the will to live, it was Mom. We were all hopeful she would beat the cancer. I went to the hospital to see her and give her a blessing. I fully expected to bless her that she would overcome the cancer and be made whole. However, shortly after starting the blessing, I had an overwhelming feeling that many of Mom’s loved ones who had passed on were in the room, surrounding her with loving arms outstretched, welcoming her to their Heavenly home. I knew instantly that Mom wouldn’t survive the cancer, but would be welcomed home when she died. I didn’t share this experience with anyone except maybe Bonnie until after Mom passed away. I didn’t want to discourage anyone from having hope and sharing their hope with Mom. My Aunt Lucy, who was a nurse, and my Grandma Jones were particular sources of hope. Their hope that she would continue to live in this life wasn’t granted, but we all knew that Mom had hope for a better life.

I recently noticed my tendency to use electronics during church and youth activities. It had become a habit. Anytime I saw my phone, I immediately had to grab it and check to see if I had any new notifications or text messages. The solution? Hiding my phone from myself. Whether it was in a bag, under a chair, or even with a friend—if I couldn’t see my phone, I wouldn’t be tempted to use it.
Taryn M., 15, Florida, USA

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, learned this when he was training to be a fighter pilot. During fitness training, he noticed that men who smoked and drank repeatedly outran him.

“I remember thinking, ‘Wait a minute! Aren’t I supposed to be able to run and not be weary?’” he said. “But I was weary, and I was overtaken by people who were definitely not following the Word of Wisdom. I confess, it troubled me at the time. I asked myself, was the promise true or was it not?”

Like many of us, President Uchtdorf had to wait for an answer.

“Years later I could see clear evidence of the temporal blessings that come to those who obey the Word of Wisdom—in addition to the spiritual blessings that come immediately from obedience to any of God’s laws,” he said. “Looking back, I know for sure that the promises of the Lord, if perhaps not always swift, are always certain.”1

I recently learned a modern story that parallels this situation from Old Testament times:
A Latter-day Saint couple bought a restaurant that had not previously been highly successful, but they planned changes to put new life into the business. Sunday had been one of the restaurant’s busy days, and some of their acquaintances—including a close friend who had loaned them money to buy the business—urged them to keep it open on Sunday. The couple agonized over whether to close the restaurant on Sunday; after all, it defied good business logic. But they finally decided to close it, follow their own beliefs, and trust in the Lord. The succeeding months saw an immediate increase in sales, and since then the business has steadily and consistently grown.
This couple’s experience, along with the experiences of others, teaches us that the Lord rewards those who obey his commandments. Just as he promised the Israelites of Moses’ day a double amount of manna on the day before the Sabbath (see Ex. 16:29) and a more bountiful harvest during the sixth year to provide for the seventh and eighth years (see Lev. 25:3–7, 20–22), in a modern restaurant, he can increase sales on Friday and Saturday to compensate for—and often exceed—what could have been earned on the Sabbath.

In addition to a belief in the existence of God, we must know something of his character and attributes or our faith will be imperfect and unfruitful. Faith will avail us nothing unless it is based on true principles. This is illustrated in a story I have told before about the meeting of the Indians with the Europeans when they first began their explorations in the New World. The Indians were amazed at the power and explosive qualities of gunpowder and asked many questions about how it was produced. Taking advantage of the ignorance of the savages and seeing an opportunity to increase their wealth through deception, the Europeans told them it came from the seed of a plant. The Indians believed them and purchased some seed in exchange for gold. They carefully planted the seed and watched it grow, but of course they did not get any gunpowder. No matter how sincere one’s belief may be in an error, it will not change the error into truth.

In 1962, 11 of my high school classmates from Preston, Idaho, and I joined the National Guard. Basic training was like a vacation until we got to Fort Ord, in California.
We needed one another in order to survive our new military surroundings and the onslaught of the other recruits, many of whom used reprehensible language and seemed to have no morals. I sought every opportunity to be with my Latter-day Saint buddies for support from the harassment of our fellow recruits.
After basic training, a couple of my school classmates and I stayed on at Fort Ord to continue training in field communications. Soon, two of the tough, stout recruits in our training class began having a contest to see which one could say the most detestable and vulgar things. Each morning when they arose, they would shout vulgarities so everyone in the barracks could hear their filthy language.
One morning I found myself in front of them and, longing for relief, demanded that they stop. Embarrassed, they turned their ugliness on me, calling me several names. Then they warned me that they had better not catch me alone.
Later that morning, as I was picking up trash, I found myself alone between barracks. Suddenly I saw someone coming my way. It was one of the recruits who had threatened me.
I prepared for the worst as he approached me. But he began telling me how much he respected me and wished that he had the courage to live as I lived. He admitted that his parents would be disappointed if they knew how he was living. He said he would never again use vulgar language in my presence. Then he turned and left.
As I passed the next barracks, I saw the second fellow coming my way. He approached me and apologized for the way he had been acting. He also told me how much he respected me, saying he hoped that someday he could live as he had been taught.
One weekend when my Latter-day Saint buddies were on leave, these two young men invited me to go to a movie with them and their group. As we walked together, someone swore. The two stout recruits told the group that there would be no swearing while I was with them.
After the movie, when the group decided to go to a club for some drinking, my friends excused themselves, explaining that they were going to spend the evening with me. Once we were alone, they asked me about my family and the kind of church I belonged to that would help young men develop the standards by which our Latter-day Saint group lived. I answered their questions and told them about the Church.
I learned that heaven sustains courage and blesses those who stand up for what is right.

Father told me the story of Grandfather Durham, who had been inspired to compose a melody called “The Nephite Lamentation.” Thomas Durham had been promised in a patriarchal blessing that he would hear music as it was sung in the heavens. My father related how one night my grandfather had a dream. In it he saw twenty-four men by a stream. They looked very sad. Their leader arose and addressed them. Then he heard a melody played on what sounded like a trumpet. The impression came to him that it was a dream concerning Moroni and the last twenty-four Nephites. He awoke. In the late hours of the night he went to his little organ and played the tune he had heard and wrote it down. Later, a choir in southern Utah sang the tune to the words of “O My Father,” (Hymns no. 139) and it was published in modified form in the Primary songbook.

A beauty contest for guys? Well sure, why not? It’s the custom at Springfield High School in Oregon, and last year the only three LDS contestants won first, second, and third places.
Eric Markworth of the Springfield Second Ward was crowned Mr. SHS. First runner-up was Kevin Jones, also of the Springfield Second Ward. Second runner-up was Johnny Gambee of Springfield First Ward. His sister Beth was the emcee for the event. The contestants were judged in formal wear, sportswear, and talent.
All four of the LDS students involved were early-morning seminary students, and all but Johnny, who is a junior, graduated from four years of seminary. That means the winner might have to crown himself next year. The previous winner and first runner-up will be on missions.

While Angie brushed her teeth, she stared in the mirror at the front teeth that seemed too big for her thin face, and she thought that they made her look like a monster. She shuddered and took a long time to rinse her toothbrush. Slowly she turned off the tap.
How she wished it was morning, with a sunny kitchen full of light and with breakfast waiting for her, instead of bedtime. Soft lamplight flooded her bedroom, but Angie thought only of the shadows in the corners and under her bed.
She whispered good night to Albert, her hamster, who lived in the cage on the table near the window in Angie’s room. Albert wasn’t afraid of the dark. She often heard him running on the wheel in his cage after the lights went out. She was glad he was there. Next to Mommy and Daddy, Angie loved Albert best, and knowing he was there made her feel less afraid. Angie’s friends teased her when she said that Albert was the bravest hamster in the whole world, but she didn’t care, because she knew that it was true.
Angie padded down the hallway to Mommy’s bedroom to say good night. Her father was away on business for a few days. Mommy smiled at her over her book and patted the bed. Angie crawled in beside her and settled into the crook of Mommy’s arm.
“May I sleep in here with you tonight?”
Mommy smiled. “It’s lonesome without Daddy, isn’t it? But I think you’d best sleep in your own room, or Albert might get lonely. Go brush your teeth, and I’ll come tuck you in.”
“I already did. But …” Suddenly Angie was crying. “I don’t want to sleep in my bed anymore. Not ever again! I want to sleep in here with you and Daddy, like when I was little.”
“What’s the matter, pumpkin?” Mommy’s strong arms held Angie tight. “Why don’t you want to sleep in your bed?”
“Because they’ll pull off my toes.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
“The monsters!” Angie took a deep breath through the tears that streamed down her face. “The little monsters that live under my bed!” There, she’d finally admitted it out loud.
“But, Angie, there are no monsters under your bed. You’re a big girl now, and you know that.”
“I hear them at night,” whispered Angie. “And I dream that they wait under the bed, and when I get in it, they pinch and pull my toes. That’s why I jump onto my bed from the middle of my room.”
“Well, I think we’d better go to your room and take a look together,” said Mommy with a smile.
Angie hopped down and ran ahead to tell Albert that Mommy was coming to scare away the monsters. But when she got to her room, the cage door was open, and the cage was empty. “Mommy,” cried Angie, “Albert’s gone!”
“What?” Mommy picked up the small cage. “Angie, Albert needs our help. We have to find him before he hurts himself.”
Angie surprised herself by not crying. “That’s right. I have to help Albert,” she said stoutly.
While Mommy went to get a flashlight, Angie stood in the middle of her room and looked around. Albert wasn’t anywhere that she could see. She didn’t want to look anywhere she couldn’t see from the middle of the room, for fear that the monsters would get her. It was dark in the corner by the bookcase and behind the rocking chair and under the bed. They were good hiding places for Albert or monsters.
But Albert wouldn’t go where monsters were, Angie reasoned, so she looked in places she thought a hamster would like. The shoe bag that hung on her closet door had twelve pockets for shoes, and Angie searched each one carefully. Albert wasn’t there.
She looked in every room of her dollhouse and inside the pencil box on her bookcase. The flowered bedspread was smooth; it showed no small lump the size of a hamster. Albert wasn’t anywhere. My room is too neat, thought Angie. If this were my friend Susie’s room, there would be lots more places to look.
When Mommy came back with the flashlight, they searched together without talking. Angie thought it very brave of Mommy to shine her light into all the corners and behind the bookcase. She held her breath, expecting to see the monsters she just knew were hiding there, but there was only dust and a pencil Angie had lost.
Finally, Mommy said, “See if he’s under the bed, will you, dear?” She handed the flashlight to Angie.
Angie peeked under the bed. “Albert isn’t there,” she reported quickly.
“Angela Mallory, you barely looked,” said her mommy in surprise. “Now take this flashlight and look under that bed and really make sure that he’s not there. I’ll go look in the linen closet.”
Mommy left, and Angie made herself walk over to the bed again. She got down on her knees and laid the flashlight on the carpet. Slowly she put her head and shoulders under the bed and turned on the flashlight. Her heart thumped very loudly. She knew what she would see: wrinkled monster faces with mean eyes and nasty smiles, and long bumpy fingers waiting to pull her toes.
In the moment it took her to think all these things, Angie had another thought: Albert! If I’m so scared, how must Albert feel? He’s so little! She just had to find Albert before the monsters hurt him.
Trembling, she moved the flashlight beam back and forth under the bed. She saw eyes. “Monsters,” she gulped.
She forced herself to shine the light straight at the bright yellow eyes that stared at her. Angie held her breath as the flashlight caught and held the tiny figure in its glare.
It was Albert, and he was all alone!
“Mommy, Mommy, come here!” she called.
Quickly Angie got up and moved the bed away from the wall. She picked Albert up very carefully and smoothed his fur, talking to him quietly as she carried him back to his cage. Albert chittered and squeaked, scolding her the whole time. Gently she put him into the cage on a pile of wood shavings and shut the little door tight. This time he wouldn’t get out!
“Did you find him?” Mommy hurried back into Angie’s room.
“Albert was under my bed. And you know what? There weren’t any monsters there. I guess there never were, or Albert wouldn’t have hidden there.”
Angie sighed happily as Mommy gave her a hug and they watched Albert play on his wheel. “Good night, Albert,” Angie said softly. “Thank you for showing me that I really don’t have monsters under my bed.”