Gospel Story Finder

Some time ago while visiting two stakes, I saw the evidence of the point I am trying to make. Both stakes were in predominantly Latter-day Saint communities. Both were affected seriously by the same severe but temporary disruption of employment. Generally, when I arrive in a new community for stake conference, I drive around the neighborhood or countryside to get a feel for the kind of people who live there. For example: Are their yards well taken care of? Are their homes well cared for? Are there old dilapidated barns and outbuildings, or are the properties neatly maintained and fenced? In other words, how much pride do the people have in themselves and their community?
In the first stake I refer to, I saw well-cared-for homes and yards. It seemed that this was a prosperous, so-called middle-class area. Some would have thought it an affluent area from the number of recreation vehicles in the driveways—boats, campers, and motor homes. As I met with the stake presidency, I commented on the apparent prosperity of the people. However, when reviewing the welfare needs of the people, I was shocked to see the demands made on the fast-offering funds and the bishops’ storehouse.
The stake president informed me that within a week or two of the closing down of the major employer, many families came to their bishops for assistance. They had very limited reserves from which to take care of themselves. He also mentioned there were some faithful members in his stake who from their reserves had taken care of their own needs as well as assisting some of their neighbors.
In the second stake, which was some distance from the first but which was impacted heavily by the same employment problem, I saw few recreation vehicles. As a matter of fact, I saw little evidence of affluence, although the properties were neat and tidy. Here I was surprised to see practically no fast offerings or bishop’s orders being used.
I asked the stake president if his bishops understood and were discharging their responsibilities for the poor and those in need. He indicated that, while some families had needed to seek assistance from their bishops, most of the members recognized their responsibility for their own welfare and were prepared to take care of themselves.
You see, the priorities of the members of these two stakes were very different. Many in the first stake were not prepared and expected the Church to take care of them, while in the second stake the situation was reversed—the majority of the people had prepared to meet their own needs.

A young woman on a university volleyball team tells of the time when she and her friend Muki were playing together in a championship match:
“I remember it being a close game. … Gracie [on our opponents’ team] rounded her approach, jumped, and smacked the ball as hard as she could. … The line judges signaled out, and the head official raised his finger to show a point for [our team]. We began giving our usual high fives when we noticed that Muki was hand-motioning to the official that she touched the ball on her block. Muki was calling her own touch. The line judges … were … signaling out, [indicating] that there was no touch.
“The quiet, withdrawn Muki had showed an act of integrity and honesty like I had never seen before. Gracie Shute was so impressed that she talked with Muki after the match. … Muki later gave Gracie a Book of Mormon. I don’t know if Gracie has read the book … , but I do know that Gracie was touched by Muki’s example, as we all were.”

I always looked forward to Primary activity day because it meant exciting activities, great games, and tasty treats. Sometimes the activities were serious and spiritual, and I liked those too, because I learned so much. But of all the great activities I went to, I remember one more than any other.
At 10:00 on the dot that Saturday, I showed up at church, along with the rest of the Primary-age children in my ward. After an opening prayer, a song, and a few instructions, we split into groups. I followed my group into a classroom and was surprised to find a large piece of green-and-white-checked fabric and a piece of solid green fabric, with a layer of fluffy stuff in between. It was all stretched out and tacked to some boards. Nearby were yarn and big needles. “A quilt,” I thought. “Who would be tying a quilt right in the middle of our Primary activity?”
“We are all going to help tie this quilt for someone in the ward who isn’t feeling well,” one of our Primary leaders explained. “After it’s finished, we’ll give it to her.”
“What a great idea!” I thought. When I’m having a hard time, I enjoy wrapping up in a nice warm blanket. But I wondered how well it would turn out since I had never tied a quilt and was pretty sure the rest of the Primary hadn’t either.
Then the Primary president announced who would receive the quilt—my own lucky mom! I was even more excited to try my hardest so the quilt would look nice.
My mom had been very ill all month. In fact, Grandma had to stay with us for a while because Mom was so sick she couldn’t take care of us. She had to be released from her Primary calling too. Even though Mom’s illness wasn’t easy for our family, something good was going to happen. I would have a baby brother!
With the help of our leaders, we set to work. Even though I wondered if we could really do it, we tied that quilt. Everyone made a stitch or two. Then we each wrote a message, signed our name, or drew a picture in a book that went along with the quilt. I knew what we were doing would mean a lot to Mom because she told me how much she loved and missed all the children in Primary. And the person who bought the fabric must have been inspired, because green is Mom’s favorite color.
Tying the quilt wasn’t hard, but keeping quiet about it sure was. A few weeks later, the secret was finally revealed. On a sunny Sunday morning during singing time, we all walked a block from the church and around the corner to my backyard. We sat on the lawn and waited while one of our leaders knocked on the door.
You can probably guess that when Mom stepped outside and saw all the children gathered, she cried. She cried even more when we sang some of our favorite Primary songs in our best voices. Then the Primary president presented the finished quilt and the book of messages.
“Your singing was beautiful,” Mom said through her tears. “This is one of the nicest things that has ever happened to me.” I knew she meant it. She smiled and cried some more and said that she was going to go inside, wrap up in the quilt, and read every message we had written.
Mom still has that quilt, and I know she always will. It has a few extra long loops of yarn on the back where some of the stitches weren’t pulled all the way through. Mom says that makes it even more special. To this day, when someone in the family is sick or has a bad day, nothing makes us feel better than wrapping up in the memories and warmth of what we affectionately call the “Primary quilt.”

Stephen Norris (here with his dad, Kim) almost backed out of the opportunity of a lifetime. After being chosen as one of three students to live in Germany for a year, a former student casually mentioned that Germany had two religions, Catholic and Protestant.
“If you’re anything else,” she said, “you’re pretty much out of luck.”
Not wanting to miss church attendance for a year, Stephen was ready to decline the honor of being chosen, until the former student told him something else.
“Latter-day Saint kids are different, though. They always seem to find their church by bike or bus or whatever.”
That was the green light Stephen needed. This priest from Birmingham, Alabama, will spend the school year living with a German family and learning about German culture.
He will also have some new gospel experiences, like participating in the German Scouting program and doing a year of home-study seminary. And, of course, he’ll attend church. Even if it means riding his bike.

In those days, too, the Church did not have a family home evening program like we have today, but my family did have family nights. One of the fondest memories I have is of sitting on Dad’s lap during family night as he read us stories from the Book of Mormon. It was the beginning of my testimony of the Book of Mormon, and my love for my father and mother grew as well.
After we spent this time together, we played games like Hide the Thimble, and Button, Button, Who’s Got the Button. We played basketball too. In the winter we’d take a metal coat hanger, bend it into a circle, and wedge it above a door. We’d wad up some stockings for the ball. Of course, we couldn’t dribble the ball, but we could shoot it at the hanger-basket, and we could pass it to each other. We loved playing together.

Originally from Fiji, Reena Naidu’s family moved to Sydney, Australia, when she was young.
She discovered her gift for art in high school when an assignment required her to submit a self-portrait. “At about the same time, I read a Church talk about developing our talents and I felt inspired to develop my artistic skills,” Reena says.
She followed that inspiration to the National Art School in Dalinghurst, Sydney, where she earned a master’s in fine arts. Today she is a manager for an art supplies company where she helps others select the right materials for their art projects.

After our family moved a hundred miles south to Santa Barbara, Arthur performed a simple service for me that has made all the difference. My mission call in 1950 came while the Korean War was raging. As I was about to depart for the mission, a telegram came from the Missionary Department requiring that I obtain a written release from my San Luis Obispo draft board as a condition of entering the Salt Lake Mission Home. Although obtaining such a release seemed impossible, we decided to try. Mother and I drove to San Luis Obispo, without an appointment, but acting on the impulse of the Spirit. As we neared San Luis Obispo, another impression came to first visit our friend Arthur at the high school.

“I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll call the chairman at the draft board. He is a friend of mine. We serve on the Boy Scouts council together,” Arthur said. The call resulted in an invitation to come at once for an interview. As we sat across the desk from him, the chairman explained the difficulties in our request, then said, “I’m going to sign this release. I know of no better man than Arthur Godfrey. If he believes this is right, I will take his word. There is no one I respect as much as I do Arthur.” Instead of going to war I went to Montana and Wyoming to share the gospel. Those two years have made all the difference in my life. I owe them to my friend and to our Lord.

Shadows wrapped the room in darkness as I lay awake listening to my husband breathe, trying to determine whether he was sleeping. It had been only two days since our 12-year-old daughter had passed away from a sudden traumatic accident. I closed my eyes again, but sleep evaded me. My heart yearned for my daughter. All the knowledge of the plan of salvation couldn’t ease the ache of missing her.
As dawn neared, I felt a sudden, intense longing. The sun would be rising soon, and in my mind I saw the sky bathed in soft pink light. Our daughter loved the color pink. A pink sunrise would be just the thing I needed to feel close to her again.
“Let’s go watch the sunrise,” I whispered to my drowsy husband.
We stood in the driveway, faced east, and waited … and waited. Though the sky lightened, the sun did not push through the low-lying clouds.
I leaned my head on my husband’s shoulder and sighed, trying to pretend it didn’t matter. But I wanted more. I needed more. Surely Heavenly Father could have granted me this desire after taking our sweet girl home to Him.
As my husband turned to go inside, looking behind us toward the west, he said, “Look!”
I turned. Behind us the clouds were bathed in a delicate blush, golden light surrounding them. My breath caught, and tears crept to my eyes. It was more beautiful than I could have imagined. It felt like a hug from our daughter. I knew Heavenly Father was aware of my aching heart and was sending a promise of hope for the future—a gentle reminder of eternal families and all the beautiful moments yet to come.
I have thought often on that beautiful moment and the new perspective it gave me. Who looks for a sunrise in the west? And yet that is where my miracle was waiting. How many blessings and miracles do I miss because they come from unexpected places? How many times do I focus on what I think should be and miss the glory of what is?
We had prayed relentlessly for a miracle that was denied, but as I looked around with my new perspective, I saw the miracle of the four lives bettered through our daughter’s organ donations, the miracle of family love and ward unity, and the miracle of service. I have felt deep sorrow, but I have also felt powerful hope fill my soul with each blushing sunrise, each rosy sunset, and each pink flower that crosses my path.
Now as the sun rises, I look east and then turn to look west. I smile with the realization that there are always miracles and blessings to be found—and that the sun will always rise on our sorrows if we let it.

On an airplane flight a few weeks ago, a friend of mine engaged a lady in conversation. He told her about his trip to Anderson, South Carolina, to visit a fourth cousin because he was seeking information concerning some of his ancestors. He asked this lady sitting next to him, “Would you like to know why I am interested in my ancestors who died long ago?”
“Yes, I would,” she replied.
“I was trying to find information about my forebears so I could perform certain work for them in the temple. Do you know where the Savior was during the three days His body lay in the tomb following the crucifixion?”
“No. Where?”
He continued, “Peter, the apostle, said Christ preached to the spirits in prison who were disobedient in the days of Noah.” And then he said, “Now, do you think the Savior of the world would spend three days preaching to such people if they could not do anything about it?”
“No, I don’t. I have never thought of that,” she said.
He proceeded to explain baptism for the dead and the resurrection. He quoted Paul: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29.)
“Do you remember the phrase ‘until death do you part’ being used when you were married? Your marriage contract ends when either of you dies.”
She replied, “I guess that’s right, but I had never thought of it that way.”
He continued, “My wife died the forepart of last month, but she is my wife eternally. We were married by one having the priesthood authority to bind in heaven that marriage performed here on earth. We belong to each other eternally; and furthermore, our children belong to us forever.”
Just before landing he said to her, “Do you know why we met? It is so you too can learn about the gospel and be sealed to your husband, your children, and your progenitors for eternity—to become an eternal family.”
Soon after this incident, he mailed a copy of Elder LeGrand Richards’s book A Marvelous Work and a Wonder to this lady and her family and tucked his name card inside. The name of this woman eventually found its way to some full-time lady missionaries laboring in her city in Pennsylvania. After the missionaries’ first contact with her, they wrote, “Mrs. Davis was extremely gracious. You should have seen the light in her eyes when she met us. Brother Cummings had planted a most fertile seed with his testimony and confidence that he and his loved ones would be together after this life. As missionaries we felt at peace. We were impressed that the Lord would attend our efforts because this family was prepared.”

Way back in 1969, I was in South America. I flew from Argentina to Santiago, Chile. The Andes mountains were dry. There was no snow. The grass was burned. Chile was in the midst of a devastating drought.

The people pleaded for help in bringing moisture.

We dedicated two new buildings on that visit. In each of those dedicatory services we pleaded with the Lord for rain upon the land. I have the testimony of many who were in those meetings that the heavens were opened and the rains fell with such abundance that the people asked the Lord to shut them off.

Another group of Ogden stakes performed a service that not only delighted thousands of visitors to Temple Square during the Christmas season, but will bring joy to dozens of children in Israel. The Young Women made stuffed stocking dolls dressed in the native costumes of nations throughout the world. The dolls were tied with wide red ribbons to trees in both the North and South Visitors’ Centers on Temple Square. Each girl researched the country her doll was to represent and tried to make the costume look as authentic as possible. She then attached a note with her name and address to the doll.
After Christmas, the dolls were packed in the suitcases of participants on Brigham Young University’s study abroad program to Jerusalem. The dolls were transported by the students to Israel where they were given to Arab orphans in Bethlehem. When the first doll was delivered, a small, bespectacled girl named Ikhlass received it. She clung to her new doll throughout the day, taking it with her as she played, ate, and slept.
Donalyn Lewis of the Salt Lake Cannon Stake found that giving service also made her feel better about herself. After working with a project involving elderly members of her ward, Donalyn said, “They make me feel like I’m somebody.” And Kara Nelsen of the Salt Lake Holladay Stake discovered the long-lasting and profound effect service can have. Kara said, “In order to love someone, you have to get to know them.”
Service defies the laws of give and take. It is a special thing that gives to the giver as well as giving to the receiver. The sweet taste of service comes to both. It fills those in need and it satisfies those who give. Taste the sweetness of service.

I’d never been very committed to indexing. I love temple work and have used FamilySearch.org to find family members’ names to take to the temple. I believe the Lord has inspired technological advancements to further and hasten His work. And I understand that indexing performs a critical function of making searchable records accessible. But my efforts at indexing had still been intermittent and weak.
Enter COVID-19 and temple closures. In the April 2020 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson said: “While worshipping in the temple is presently not possible, I invite you to increase your participation in family history, including family history research and indexing. I promise that as you increase your time in temple and family history work, you will increase and improve your ability to hear Him.”1 Right after this invitation was given, I was quarantined because of exposure to someone with COVID-19. I decided to use that time to try indexing again.
At first my experience was the same as before—slow and frustrating. I don’t easily understand other people’s handwriting or the formats of different forms. Then I remembered what I learned in Saints, volume 1, when Joseph Smith was translating the Book of Mormon: “He had to be humble and exercise faith as he studied the characters.”2 At that same time, Oliver Cowdery was unable to translate, in part because he “took no thought save it [were] to ask” (Doctrine and Covenants 9:7). I didn’t want to find myself making the same mistake as Oliver, so I applied myself with a little more enthusiasm and commitment.
Ever since that moment, instead of wincing or shying away from difficult indexing projects, I relish the opportunity to work hand in hand with the Lord in indexing names so that those who have passed can become one step closer to receiving ordinances in the temple. As I study out in my mind the details of the records before me, I feel greater patience in my persistence to understand the records, and I recognize the Lord’s hand in my understanding when it comes. I have felt the fulfillment of President Nelson’s promise—I am increasing in my ability to hear the Lord.
I am thankful for the opportunity to participate in the work of salvation and exaltation! Indexing is an amazing opportunity to emulate the Prophet Joseph Smith in laboring to comprehend what would otherwise be incomprehensible to us but can become clear through the gift and power of God.

The unique qualities possessed by these men and women whom I have mentioned can be of invaluable assistance to us as we face the problems and the trials which lie ahead. May I illustrate by mentioning the experience of the Jerome Kenneth Pollard family of Oakland, California.

This past May, as Elder Taavili Joseph Samuel Pollard was traveling to the mission office on the last day of his mission in Zimbabwe, the mission car he was driving somehow spun out of control and hit a tree. A passerby was able to rescue Elder Pollard’s companion, but Elder Pollard, who was unconscious, was trapped in the car, which burst into flames. Elder Pollard perished. His mother had passed away eight years earlier; hence, his father was rearing the family alone. A brother was serving in the West Indies Mission.

When the news of Elder Pollard’s death reached his father, this humble man—who had already lost his wife—called the son serving in the West Indies Mission to let him know of his brother’s death. Over that long-distance telephone line, Brother Pollard and his son, no doubt grief stricken and heartsick, sang together “I Am a Child of God.” Before concluding the call, the father offered a prayer to Heavenly Father, thanking Him for His blessings and seeking His divine comfort.

Brother Pollard later commented that he knew his family would be all right, for they have strong testimonies of the gospel and of the plan of salvation.

Other traditions I grew up with that have continued in my own family today are family prayer and scripture study. Although we were not members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was a boy, my parents had strong Christian roots and taught us good values.
Our regular prayer and scripture study prepared us for when the missionaries knocked on our door. I was 20 years old at the time. We immediately recognized the truths the missionaries were teaching as we learned about modern prophets, the Book of Mormon, and the Restoration of the gospel. As I read the Book of Mormon, from the very first verse I knew it was true. Our entire family was soon baptized.

I remember the privilege of performing a sealing ceremony in the temple for a family I had known for many years. The scene was tranquil. The cares of the outside world had been temporarily discarded. The quiet and peace of the house of the Lord filled the heart of each one assembled in the room. I knew that this particular couple had been married for eighteen years and had never before been to the temple. I turned to the husband and asked, “Jack, who is responsible for bringing this glorious event to fulfillment?”
He smiled and pointed silently to his precious wife who sat by his side. I seemed to sense that this lovely woman was never more proud of her husband than at that particular moment. Jack then directed my attention to one of the brethren serving as witness to this ceremony and likewise acknowledged the great influence for good that he had had upon his life.
As the three beautiful children were sealed to their parents, I could not help noticing the tears which welled up in the eyes of the teenage daughter and then rolled down her cheeks, finally tumbling upon clasped hands. These were sacred tears, tears of supreme joy, tears that expressed the silent but eloquent gratitude of a tender heart too full to speak.
I found myself thinking, Oh, that such men and women would not wait eighteen long years to receive this priceless blessing.

With this unique capability and emphasis on the worth of souls in the sight of God also comes the opportunity for confusion. We live in a materialistic world. Some become confused and seek identity through riches or the accolades of men. The Savior makes it very clear in his teachings that it is not possible to realize the identity of which I speak through such means. In Luke 18:18–25 we read:
“And a certain ruler asked him, saying, Good Master, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?
“And Jesus said unto him, …
“Thou knowest the commandments, Do not commit adultery, Do not kill, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Honour thy father and thy mother.
“And he said, all these have I kept from my youth up.
“Now when Jesus heard these things, he said unto him, Yet lackest thou one thing: sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.
“And when he heard this, he was very sorrowful: for he was very rich.
“And when Jesus saw that he was very sorrowful, he said, How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of God.
“For it is easier for a camel to go through a needle’s eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”
It was not that the man was rich but that he coveted his riches and would not share his wealth with the poor.
Another example is also recorded in Luke:
“And he spake a parable unto them, saying, The ground of a certain rich man brought forth plentifully:
“And he thought within himself, saying, What shall I do, because I have no room where to bestow my fruits?
“And he said, This will I do: I will pull down my barns, and build greater; and there will I bestow all my fruits and my goods.
“And I will say to my soul, Soul, thou hast much goods laid up for many years; take thine ease, eat, drink, and be merry.
“But God said unto him, Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be, which thou hast provided?
“So is he that layeth up treasure for himself, and is not rich toward God.” (Luke 12:16–21.)
Contrast these with the story of a sixteen-year-old priest who answered the telephone one day to hear the voice of a popular disc jockey on a local radio station. He was asked a question and when he answered it correctly was informed he had won an expensive sports car. It seemed like a dream come true for a teenage boy. A loving bishop was concerned about what such a car might do to the boy, thinking it might draw him away from all we hold dear. He asked him about his feelings. The bishop could hardly believe his ears when the young man indicated he was not going to take the car but would accept a cash award instead. He said, “Now my mission is paid for.” What an outstanding example of proper balance in an attitude toward worldly wealth or recognition and Christlike values.

My eyes filled with tears as I drove to the hospital for more testing. I had been diagnosed with cancer after the birth of my daughter two years earlier. I had undergone surgery and received treatment, and I was about to find out if the treatments had worked. “Heavenly Father, I have learned a lot from this experience. Please take this trial from me. I want to raise my daughter and one day serve a mission with my husband. Please heal me.”
The tears rolled down my face. Suddenly my prayer changed to the words of the song “A Child’s Prayer.” Something compelled me to speak out loud.
Pray, he is there;
Speak, he is list’ning.
You are his child;
His love now surrounds you.
He hears your prayer.
An overwhelming feeling of love came over me. I felt that Heavenly Father knew me and was concerned about me and was listening to me. I felt that everything would be OK.
I received the results the next day. The tests showed no signs of cancer. I felt a huge burden lifted from me. The following day, however, my doctor called and explained that although the earlier results were clean, the blood test showed I still had significant cancer activity. “How could that be?” I questioned. If this was really what was going on, why had I felt that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer?
I tried to put my doubts aside as I returned for more testing. These results showed not only that I still had cancer but also that the cancer had spread. I couldn’t help but wonder about my experience in the car. I couldn’t deny what I had felt, yet I started to doubt my interpretation.
The new information was overwhelming and caused serious reflection. I felt that I still needed to learn something from this trial. As I pondered, I realized that I had been going through all the motions of an active Latter-day Saint, yet I often did things out of habit rather than sincerity. I was not at the spiritual level where I wanted to be. I needed to return to the basics, so I began focusing on areas that would bring me closer to Jesus Christ. I needed His strength to make it through my trials.
As I put more effort into spiritual matters, my faith in Jesus Christ and His plan for me increased. I realized that my experience while driving to the hospital really was an answer to prayer. As I acknowledge and accept that answer (that everything will be fine), I recognize that Heavenly Father does not always specify when everything will be taken care of. I may never be completely healed physically, but I am learning to accept His will. My life is truly in His hands.
Seven years have passed since I was diagnosed with cancer. I have had numerous surgeries and treatments, yet I still have cancer. Life, however, goes on, and I’m grateful for that. With my trials have come blessings, including a second daughter. Most important, the Lord’s answer that “everything will be fine” still comforts me.
Update: Sister Coston’s latest checkup, at eight years since diagnosis, showed no signs of cancer.

While living in the East some years ago, I read of an experience that took place on the floor of the United States Senate. As I recall, a debate was taking place. The leader of the debate in one party was Senator Hubert Humphrey of Minnesota. The floor leader for the other party was Senator Margaret Chase Smith of Maine. As time went on, it was clear that Senator Humphrey’s party would win.
On the morning of the vote, Senator Humphrey went out to his garden and cut some red roses. When Margaret Chase Smith arrived at her desk on the senate floor that morning, there was the bouquet of roses. This, of course, did not change Senator Smith’s mind concerning the issues, but it was a gesture of respect and appreciation.

When Hurricane Harvey hit Houston, Texas, USA, Hailey and London wanted to help. They saw news stories about libraries whose books had been ruined in the flood. Hailey and London love reading, so they decided to raise money for new books. They made more than 165 “Texas Strong” stickers. People from all over bought the stickers. Hailey and London donated all the money to their favorite library in Houston.

Abbie giggled. Happy, wiggly puppies hopped and flopped all around her. Which one should she pick?
A black puppy with a white spot on his chest ran over to her. He wagged his tail and licked her hand. And Abbie knew. He was the one! She scooped him up.
“This one, Dad!” Abbie gently hugged the warm, squirming puppy. “Let’s call him Spotty.”
When they got home, Abbie’s brother and sister were excited to meet Spotty. Spotty wagged his tail and rolled over for a tummy scratch. When Dad put the dog bowl down, Spotty buried his head in the food!
Later Dad and Abbie took Spotty for a walk. Dad gave Abbie the leash.
“Hold on tight,” Dad said. “Spotty might get scared and try to run away. You need to make sure he feels safe.”
“OK, Dad.” Abbie was bouncing up and down. She couldn’t wait!
They walked down the street. Well, Abbie and Dad walked. Spotty pranced. He sniffed bushes. He barked at squirrels. Every few minutes, he looked back at Abbie and Dad.
Soon they came to a house with three big dogs. The dogs growled and barked wildly from behind the fence.
Spotty froze. Abbie tried to pull him forward, but he wouldn’t budge.
“It’s OK. They can’t get to you,” she said softly. “You’re safe.”
Spotty just whimpered.
“Maybe you should carry him,” Dad said. Abbie picked Spotty up and walked across the street. He was shaking. When they couldn’t see the dogs anymore, Spotty calmed down. He licked Abbie’s face, and she set him down.
A few minutes later, Spotty started to slow down. His head drooped. He lay down on the sidewalk.
“Come on,” Abbie said. “We’re almost home.”
Spotty blinked at Abbie. He sighed.
“Aw. Too tired, buddy?” Abbie laughed. She picked him up again. This time she carried him the whole way home. Dad offered to help, but Spotty wasn’t very heavy. And Abbie loved him and wanted to take care of him.
That Sunday, Abbie’s Primary teacher talked about Jesus Christ.
“Jesus loves us so much that He suffered for us,” Sister Oliver said. “He felt all our sorrows so He could understand how we feel. That way, He can carry us through our trials.”
Abbie thought about how she had carried Spotty. That’s kind of how Jesus helps us, Abbie thought. Jesus might not really carry her, but He helped her feel stronger when she needed Him. Like the other night, when she was afraid of the dark. She had prayed and felt safe. Or when she was worried that she might forget her homework. She had prayed then and felt better—and she remembered it!
Abbie smiled. She knew that Jesus Christ loved her even more than she loved Spotty. And that was a lot!