Gospel Story Finder

I find the New Era very helpful in my daily life. No matter what is going on, I can turn to the New Era for help. I really enjoyed “Somebody Had It Harder” in the November 2003 issue. I can relate to the author, Elder Preston. I am a new missionary. I entered the mission field unsure of what I was doing here. Then one night, while studying, I learned that the Lord knows why I am here. I know He put me in Nebraska at this time, and I will do His work.Elder Brian Bodell, Nebraska Omaha Mission

The other day I had a friend over who is not a member of the Church. He saw a picture of Jesus on our refrigerator, and told me that he did not believe that Jesus was real. I said, “Jesus is real, and I believe in Him!” I then told him that Jesus really lived on this earth a long time ago and that He died, but on the third day He was resurrected. I told him that because of Jesus, we will be able to live again after we die too.
My friend listened to what I was saying as he looked at the picture of Jesus. He seemed to believe that what I was telling him was true. I want to give him a Book of Mormon with my testimony written in it for his birthday. I know this Church is true, and I am thankful when I can share my testimony with my friends.

Many individuals and families in countries around the world were prepared to receive the message of the Restoration. These included the Prophet’s parents, Joseph and Lucy Mack Smith, two deeply spiritual individuals who were raised in a culture that taught them to love Jesus Christ and study the Bible.

For years, Joseph and Lucy had experienced financial, health, and other setbacks in New England, in the northeast corner of the United States. By 1816, when they lost their crops because of the worldwide climate change caused by the eruption of Mount Tambora in Indonesia, Joseph and Lucy had little choice but to give up on New England and make a courageous decision to leave the safety net of family, friends, and community.

As volume 1 of the new history of the Church states: “Joseph Sr. loved his wife and children dearly, but he had not been able to provide them much stability in life. Bad luck and unsuccessful investments had kept the family poor and rootless. Maybe New York would be different.”16

In many ways, the Smith family’s failures in New England pushed them to western New York, where religious excitement increased and inspired Joseph Smith Jr. to seek the Lord in his quest for forgiveness and direction. It was also where the gold plates lay hidden, waiting for him to locate, translate, and publish them.

I want to share a story with you that you are all pretty much familiar with, but this time I want you to become part of the story, if you don’t mind. Imagine the following:
Imagine that you live at the time of Christ. You work in the city of Jerusalem but live four miles outside the city, and so you have to walk to and from the city every day. You also understand that it is the law that when any citizen of Palestine, which you are, meets a Roman Soldier, and there are plenty of them around, that he can legitimately compel you, the citizen, to carry his belongings for one mile, regardless of where you are or in what direction you may be going. So, here is the scenario that I want you to picture in your mind: Are you ready?
It is Friday afternoon at the end of a long week of work. You are tired and anxious to get home. You decide to stop at the market before you leave the city, to pick up a few food items. You do so and put them in a sack, and fling it over your shoulder. As you go out of the city gate and begin your journey home, you have this feeling come over you—that just because it’s Friday and just because you are tired, and just because you have four miles to walk, it is going to be just your luck to run into a Roman soldier on the way home. Do you ever get those kinds of feelings, that just because of how things have been going on a particular day, something crazy is going to happen? You just know it! Well, that’s the way you are feeling today. You walk a couple of miles. It’s dusty and hot. The bag over your shoulder is kind of heavy, and you can’t wait to get home, get a cold drink, and put your feet up to rest. You keep walking and you begin thinking, “Oh, I’ve come over two miles already! Maybe I’ll be lucky after all. Maybe that was just one of those crazy thoughts I get because I am tired!” Then you see an object off in the distance on the road. You can’t tell exactly what it is, but you keep walking, hoping that it isn’t what you think it is. As it gets closer you can see that it is clearly a Roman soldier, and he’s a big one! You keep walking on the opposite side of the road from him, of course, and look down at the road pretending not to notice him. But, you know that he is looking right at you, and you know exactly what he is going to ask you to do! Finally you can see his feet. You pretend not to see him, then you hear a big voice roar at you, “You—come and carry my stuff!” You have only a half mile to go before you get home, and he is going the other way! He has a huge metal shield and heavy iron sword, plus a large sack on his back, and he throws them down in the dust at your feet! Of course you don’t want to leave your own sack at the side of the road, so you have both his things and your sack to carry! Picture yourself picking up his sword and shield, and his sack, as well as your sack, and trying to get them situated on your shoulders. This isn’t going to be easy. Now, brothers and sisters, would you mind closing your eyes and picturing yourself walking with the soldier while I ask you some questions about how you might be feeling as you make this journey? Would you do that?
You begin walking—just picture it in your mind. Question: Who is in control in this situation? What might be some of your thoughts and feelings toward the soldier as you walk? We all know how anger, frustration and resentment can build up within us at moments like these. Another question: Where would you walk—beside him, in front of him, behind him—and why? Would you be talking with him? Would there be any conversation at all between you? Now, after walking for some time lost in your thoughts and feelings, you notice the mile marker is coming up on your right. There is just a short distance to go to complete your obligation to him, and he cannot force you to go any further! But then you have this crazy thought come into your mind and heart—“I think I’ll go another mile, just to see what happens!” And the more you think about It, the more excited you become. Your heart begins to beat faster within you. You get a big smile on your face. Your step quickens, and you feel new energy flow into you; you can’t wait to step across that line! Now you’ve had these kinds of thoughts and experiences haven’t you—to go an extra mile, to do something good that no one is expecting you to do? It’s so fun! You decide that you won’t say anything; unless he asks, you will just keep going! Joy fills your heart. This is one of the most exciting moments you’ve had recently! At the very moment you step across the line into the second mile, everything changes! He stops in his tracks with a look of unbelief on his face, and yells, “Hey you, what are you doing?” You look back at him, and tell him you just decided to go a little further with him, and turn and keep going. He starts to follow you; he actually hurries to catch up with you and walks beside you. He then stops you—puts his hand on your shoulder and looks you in the eye—he wants to know why you are doing such a crazy thing? Yes—things are very different now in this second mile—you are now in control—and you now have great opportunities and privileges that you didn’t have before during the first mile!
Brothers and Sisters (you can open your eyes now), the moment we step across the line into the second mile in living the gospel of Jesus Christ, everything changes from what it was during the first mile. The biggest change will probably be within us, but it can also have a powerful ripple effect in the lives of those around us. Some of the sweetest, most delicious, and greatest blessings of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ are found only in the second mile, but we have to go the first mile in order to get into the second.

My dad looked like an angry mud monster. Our van and our moving truck were both stuck in the mud on a deserted road. Dad and Mom were trying to move them, but the mud was deep. Each time they tried to drive, the wheels spun and mud flew everywhere. Dad was getting more and more frustrated.
My brother and sisters and I stood away from the truck and van.
“Why is Daddy getting dirty?” my little sister Karen asked.
“He’s trying to get us out of the mud,” I said.
Mom tried driving the van again. The wheels spun, showering Dad with more mud. Splat!
“That’s enough. You can stop!” Dad yelled. Then he grumbled to himself.
It bothered me to see Dad upset. I could tell it was worrying Karen too.
“We’re really stuck, aren’t we?” Karen asked.
“Yes, we are,” I said.
Karen suddenly walked toward Dad. “Daddy, I have an idea,” she said.
“Not right now, honey,” he said. “Please stay out of the way.”
Mom walked past carrying a muddy blanket.
“Mom, I have an idea for Daddy,” Karen said.
“Daddy’s really busy right now,” Mom said as she shook the blanket to get the mud off of it.
“I have an idea of how we can get out of the mud,” Karen said.
“Oh, really?” I could tell Mom was only half listening.
Karen raised her voice to get Mom’s attention. “We can say a prayer.”
Mom looked at Karen. Then she said, “That’s a really good idea.”
Mom led Karen to where Dad was working in the mud. “Karen has a good idea,” she told him.
Dad looked frustrated but stood up. “OK,” he said. “What?”
“Why don’t we pray and ask Heavenly Father to help us get out of this mud?” Karen said.
Dad still looked grumpy, but he said, “All right, you can say a prayer for us.”
Mom gathered our family together, and we all bowed our heads.
“Heavenly Father, we are stuck,” Karen said. “Please bless Daddy to find a way to get us out of this mud. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I felt comforted by Karen’s prayer.
Then Dad got an idea. He climbed into the truck, grabbed a broomstick, and put it under the wheel of the van. Mom started the engine and drove the van right out of the mud! Then Dad put the broomstick under the wheel of the truck. Mom drove the truck right out of the mud too!
As everyone got ready to go, Dad changed into clean clothes. He looked a lot less like a mud monster, and he looked a lot happier too! Dad hugged Karen and said, “Thank you for your prayer.” Then he called to the rest of us. “Everyone, we need to thank Heavenly Father for getting us out of that mud. And this time I’d like to say the prayer.”

When my Beehive leader told us that we were going to the Ogden Utah Temple to do baptisms for the dead in a few days, I was suddenly both very excited and very nervous.
It would be my first time doing baptisms for the dead, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. For one thing, I couldn’t remember the special way you were supposed to hold the arm of the person baptizing you. It had been over four years since my own baptism. What if I did it wrong? And what if I couldn’t find my recommend that day? There were so many worries going through my head that I couldn’t concentrate on the lesson.
That night at dinner I told my family the news. My brother, who is 14 and has done baptisms for the dead before, told me I would love it. “It’s really cool,” he said.
My brother was right, it was cool, very cool!
There were a lot of things that made it special. The thing that I will always remember about that first time in the temple was feeling the Spirit. I’ve heard that the temple is a sacred place, but now I better understand what that means, because I felt that sacredness through the Spirit.
I loved how friendly the temple workers were. They made me feel welcome and showed me exactly what to do while I was there. I don’t know why I was worried about doing something wrong. They helped me do everything the right way.
While we waited for our turn, we watched the group ahead of us through the windows overlooking the font. I had seen pictures of temple fonts, but seeing one in real life was a lot different. I was surprised how big the 12 oxen figures were.
I had never thought about how the people on the other side of the veil feel when their work is done. The person who spoke to us before we did the baptisms said that those people have been waiting a long time for this day. We were also told that we might get to meet them in the next life because they would appreciate our doing their temple work. That made me want to take each baptism seriously, even if I knew I couldn’t possibly remember the name of every person.
Another thing that was especially memorable that day was that the person performing the baptisms and confirmations for our group was a returned missionary from our ward. He hadn’t even been home a week, and he came to the temple with us. He even provided the names. He had brought them home from France, and he pronounced each name with a perfect French accent.
Later, when I got home and walked through the door, I yelled, “That was so totally awesome!”
I didn’t quite know what to expect when I went to the temple for the first time, but I definitely didn’t expect to be so eager to go back. I now realize that while I was in the temple, I left the world behind. That’s why I could feel the Spirit so strongly. That must be why our bishop was so happy to know we went to the temple. He wants everyone to feel that Spirit.
My brother was right. I loved the temple, and I can’t wait to return!

One Saturday morning Brady picked one of his favorite books from his shelf and wrote inside the cover: THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ME. Brady wasn’t sure why he had done it, but now that he had done it, he wanted to write those same words in every book that he owned. So he did.
At noon his older sister Kate walked into his room to tell him lunch was ready. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, closing the book he had been writing in.
“You are, too, doing something,” insisted Kate. “I saw you. You were writing something in one of your books. Let me see what it is.”
“No!”
“Yes!” Kate tried to grab the book from Brady. They tugged at the book between them. Kate won. She always did.
“This book belongs to me,” she read aloud.
Out loud it sounded dumb to Brady.
“Brady,” said his sister, “how is anybody going to know who ‘me’ is? You need to write your name.”
To Brady’s surprise, Kate’s question and suggestion made sense. “Oh,” he said. “Thanks.”
His sister said, “You’re welcome.”
After lunch Brady spent most of the afternoon adding his name to the writing in the front of his books. Each one looked like this: THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ME, BRADY.
By the time he was done, he felt so proud to see his name in all of his books that he began writing it on everything—his tennis shoes, his ruler, his shoe box with his shell collection in it, his map of the world, and his baseball mitt.
Then Brady wondered if his mother would be angry and yell at him for writing his name on everything. He decided he didn’t want to find out. So he taped a big sign to his door that read: THIS ROOM BELONGS TO ME, BRADY. KEEP OUT!
It wasn’t long before his sister knocked on his door and asked, “What’s going on, Brady? What’s the sign for?” And before Brady could say “keep out,” his sister had opened the door, walked into his room, and sat down on his bed. “May I borrow your bike, Brady? Just for a few hours?” she asked.
A strange new feeling came over Brady. He shouted, “No! It’s my bike. It belongs to me, Brady. And you keep away from it!”
“OK, OK,” said his sister, and she left.
That night, at the movies, Brady’s mother reached over and took some popcorn from Brady’s popcorn box.
“Mom,” whispered Brady.
“Be quiet,” whispered Brady’s father. “Watch the movie.”
But as soon as Brady looked back at the screen, his mother reached over and took some more popcorn. She did it again, and again!
Brady stood and said loudly, “Please, Mom, stop taking my popcorn!”
And she stopped. Brady thought it was because everyone in the theater had turned and glared at her.
For several days afterward, whenever someone wanted to “help” Brady finish his ice cream or whenever someone wanted to “borrow” a stick of his gum, Brady puffed up big and said: “No, it belongs to me, Brady.” He had never felt so powerful.
Now Kate never walked uninvited into his room. And there was never any confusion about what belonged to Brady. At first Brady was glad to know that he could make people leave him alone. But he noticed something else had changed too. When Brady wanted to use his sister’s paint set or to stick his finger into the cookie batter to taste it, or to “borrow” his father’s shaving lotion, he was always told “No! It belongs to me.” And Brady had to do without.
Brady began to feel uncomfortable and left out. When he thought about it, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had started naming and claiming things in the first place. He decided that he liked the way things were before.
Brady knew he couldn’t take his name off all of his possessions, but he could do one thing. He could take down the KEEP OUT sign from his door and put another one up instead.
So he did.
This one read: WELCOME, FRIENDS!

I'd like to share a story that may help us consider the nature of reflexes.

During my freshman year at BYU in Provo, my roommate and I decided to take a martial arts class together as an elective one semester. We were impressed with our teacher, who was a very skilled martial artist, and he described to us how an expert will practice punches, kicks and forms until they become deeply ingrained in his or her mind and body. Such 'muscle memory' would be useful when called upon in defensive situations where reflexes would need to take over. Our teacher told us of an experience in which he and some other students once gave an exhibition with their instructor, he was a multi-level black belt, and this was to be done during the half-time of a basketball game. The exhibition was choreographed to showcase the various techniques, and defensive moves in a simulated multi-person attack. Our teacher recounted that during the exhibition he found himself slightly out of step with the planned choreography, and consequently found himself in a different position than practiced. As he approached his instructor from behind, the instructor turned and instinctively and reflexively altered his moves and struck our teacher with some force in the nose. Our teacher was stunned, but did his best to continue with the rest of the exhibition. Afterwards he was talking with his instructor about the incident, and the instructor explained to him that he had been out of position, and it was a position that was unplanned and unanticipated. So his instructor naturally reacted based on training and reflexes he had developed over the years. He seemed, almost to react at the exact time a perceived threat was detected.

Both his parents and he understood the importance of education and a mission. After his graduation from the university, he faced a major decision in 1933, when he was called to go on a mission. At that time, most young men in the Church were not able to serve because of a global economic depression that deprived nearly everyone of available cash. Earlier, his wonderful mother, with foresight and faith, had established a small savings account for his mission. Though she died before his call, her fund sent him on his way.

Shortly after Elder Hinckley’s labors began in England, he became discouraged and wrote to his father. After reading that letter, his father’s wise reply closed with these words: “Forget yourself and go to work.” Thanks to noble parents and a crucial decision to remain, Elder Hinckley completed his mission with honor. Now he often states that the good things that have happened to him since have all hinged upon that decision to stay. On his mission, he developed good habits of study, work, communication, budgeting, time management, and more. There he learned that nothing is too hard for the Lord.

When I was about 16, we had an activity about being a full-time missionary. We divided into pairs and lived like missionaries for a week. That was the first time I learned how important it is to share our testimonies with others. This activity helped me realize not only how hard it is to serve the Lord, but also the joy we feel by sharing the gospel and seeing how Christ’s teachings change someone’s life. It helped me understand what it is like to “stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places” (Mosiah 18:9).

Some years ago I was in Monroe, Louisiana, attending a regional conference. It was a beautiful occasion. At the airport on my way home, I was approached by a lovely African-American woman—a member of the Church—who said, smiling broadly, “President Monson, before I joined the Church and became a member of Relief Society, I could not read nor write. None of my family could. You see, we were all poor sharecroppers. President, my white Relief Society sisters—they taught me to read. They taught me to write. Now I help teach my white sisters how to read and how to write.” I reflected on the supreme joy she must have felt when she opened her Bible and read for the first time the words of the Lord:
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”
That day in Monroe, Louisiana, I received a confirmation by the Spirit of the exalted objective of the Relief Society to help eliminate illiteracy.

Grant was only six weeks old when his father, H. Grant Heaton, was called to preside over the Southern Far East Mission. Unlike most children in the United States, Grant spoke his first words in Chinese. His little sister, Lisa Lee, who was born a year and a half after the family moved to Hong Kong, also learned Chinese first.
The mission home was filled with happiness until March 1958, when Grant was three years old. One day his neck became stiff, and there was pain in his chest. Soon he could not walk on his legs. President and Sister Heaton asked the missionaries to fast and pray for their son, but still his condition grew worse.
Grant’s father gave him a special blessing before taking him to the hospital. After tests, the illness was diagnosed as paralytic polio. The doctors said Grant would soon need an iron lung to help him breathe. Polio is not common among the Chinese, however, and the only iron lung in the country was being used by a British sailor.
By the end of a week in the hospital, Grant was completely paralyzed. Only his eyes moved, and the little body that had seemed healthy just a week before was quickly wasting away.
One morning Sister Heaton was with Grant. It was so hard for him to breathe that she thought surely he would soon return to our Heavenly Father. Two men came to the hospital that morning. They represented the Chinese Saints who had held a special fast and a prayer meeting the day before.
Both men had been members of the Church less than a year and neither held the priesthood, but they wanted to help. They asked permission to pray for Grant. Sister Heaton readily agreed and bowed her head to join them. She felt the faith of these humble Chinese men as they knelt beside Grant’s bed and prayed that this little boy’s health might be restored.
As they rose to their feet and left the room, Grant’s mother followed them down the hall. She thanked them and then went to the refrigerator where special food for Grant was stored.
Just as she opened the door, a familiar little voice called from down the hall and she turned around quickly to see Grant coming toward her.
“Look, Mommy,” he exclaimed with a happy smile. “I can walk!”
The doctors were amazed, but when the polio symptoms did not return, they let Grant go home. President and Sister Heaton and the missionaries gratefully acknowledged the power of the Lord and the faith of the Chinese Saints in behalf of their son.
Grant is now eighteen and lives with his family in Salt Lake City, Utah. He doesn’t remember his illness in China. His strong legs that helped him make the football team and wrestle for his high school don’t remember either!
Not long after the Church was organized in 1830, the General Authorities thought of sending missionaries to China. It was not until October 1852, however, that three elders left Salt Lake and arrived in Hong Kong on April 27, 1853. They had many problems and were not successful in converting anyone. Before long they returned to Utah.
In January 1921 David O. McKay, who was then an apostle, and Elder Hugh J. Cannon visited China. It was at this time that Elder McKay dedicated all of China for the preaching of the gospel. Now there are three missions for the Chinese people: Hong Kong, Singapore, and Taiwan. Although the first missionaries were very discouraged, later ones have had thrilling experiences in China. “I Can Walk!” is one of them that took place in Hong Kong.

In a way a wheelchair is to the body what the education you have received is to the mind. You would be overwhelmed by how much a little chair with wheels can mean—how it can change lives. A young South American woman who was going to school—just like you have been—got hit by a truck. She spent the next 11 years in bed. We gave her a wheelchair. The next day she came back and said she had reenrolled and was starting her studies the next day.

The Young men of the Sunderland Ward, Sunderland England Stake, held a fund-raiser to provide subscriptions to the New Era for the inactive young men of the ward.

They auctioned off their Young Men president to do gardening, decorating, shopping, and car washing. Chiltern MacNaught, a priest, used his talent of ballroom dancing to hold a sponsored dance. Now every active and inactive Aaronic priesthood holder in the ward enjoys a monthly issue of the New Era.

My beloved and wonderful brothers and sisters, I seek an interest in your faith and prayers these few minutes that I stand before you. A few years ago, just before our departure for a mission to Belgium, our family went on a vacation. Upon arriving at a motel, our children were out of their clothes and into swimming suits before we could unload the car. As I passed the swimming pool, the sign struck me forcefully: “Do Not Leave Children Unattended.” Though I had read similar signs and ignored them many times before, I felt compelled to stay and watch my young children. (My wife wasn’t very happy; she was unloading the car.) In minutes, one of my daughters was in deep water, and deep trouble, and struggling for help. I dove into the pool, clothes and all, and with all the energy I had, I reached her just in time. I recognized that frantic yet unspoken call for help that day, and I will never forget it.

After World War II on a cold night in a train station in southern Japan, I heard a tap on the train window. There stood a boy wearing the same ragged shirt, a rag tied about a swollen jaw, his head covered with scabies. He held a rusty tin can and a spoon, the symbol of an orphan beggar. As I struggled to open the door to give him money, the train pulled out. I will never forget that hungry little boy standing in the cold, holding up his empty tin can.
Now in my 78th year, I understand what President Kimball was seeing; I know what he meant. That boy in Cuzco and the one in Japan and the other children about the world profoundly influence what I think and how I feel and what I pray for most earnestly. I constantly think of little children and their parents who struggle to raise them in ever more perilous times.

Primary lessons can sure stir things up! Last week Sister Pierson said that since we were all getting baptized this year, we should try to do what Jesus would want us to do and follow his example. “Melissa,” she asked me, “why did Jesus do things for other people?”
I said, “Because he loved them.”
So we talked about serving people out of love, not for thanks. Then Sister Pierson’s eyes started to sparkle, and Josey groaned because she knew that that meant that Sister Pierson had an assignment for us. “I would like each of you to do something for someone every single day this week,” she challenged us, “without their knowing. Small acts of service can make a big difference in peoples’ lives.”
Boy, would that be hard in my family. Mom and Dad notice everything we do, especially since they usually have to ask umpteen times before it gets done. They’d be really suspicious if things just started happening.
Monday after school, Mom said she had to take Jeanette, my big sister, to the doctor. As soon as she left, I peeked outside to see my brother, Billy, shooting baskets. I knew he wouldn’t be coming into the house for a while. I unloaded the dishwasher and put everything away exactly right. I even got the glasses up high without dropping one. It was really Billy’s turn to unload the dishwasher, but he waits until Mom’s practically yelling before he does it. This time Mom wouldn’t yell, and Billy would think she did it for him, and no one would guess that I’d done it.
It felt strange that evening—sort of peaceful. Billy did his homework without being told to, and Jeanette and Mom cheerfully cleared up after dinner. No one said anything about the dishes having been put away.
On Tuesday we made oatmeal-walnut-chocolate chip cookies. After we were finished, I took six out of the cookie jar, wrapped them in a napkin, and put them into a small paper bag. Mrs. Henderson next door is a widow and lives by herself. I know that she loves Mom’s cookies, so I put them on her doorstep, rang the bell, and ran behind some bushes to watch. She was really pleased when she found the cookies.
On Wednesday after school, I noticed Jeanette hadn’t made her bed, so I made it for her. It was hard because I had to get the bedspread tucked under the pillow just right so that there was still enough to pull over the top. I finally did it, but when I took one last look, there was a whole bunch of extra sheet hanging down on one side. I almost cried. I tucked it under the mattress, because I didn’t have the heart to start all over again, and I just hoped she wouldn’t guess that it was me who’d made the bed. When she came home that night, Jeanette didn’t say anything about it.
I got up the next morning, wondering if it was even worth doing anything, since nobody seemed to care. I mean, nobody had noticed anything enough to even ask who had done it! But I wanted to tell Sister Pierson that I had done the entire week, so I kept going.
Dad still had mud caked on his boots from last weekend, and I knew he’d need them again this Saturday, so when I got home from school, I found the old knife he uses as a scraper and spent a whole hour getting them clean again. Most of that time I was thinking that he’d better appreciate it.
Friday morning, my lunch was all fixed and ready to go when I got downstairs. I guess Mom did it—I even got cheese crackers! So I gave her an extra-big hug and felt good again. In the afternoon I quietly put all the clean clothes away while she was peeling carrots and potatoes for dinner, and I felt even better.
Saturday morning Billy and I got up early to watch cartoons. We get to do that until everybody’s up and it’s time to do chores. Dad came clomping in, in his boots, tickled Billy and me for a minute, then gave Mom a kiss. “Thanks for cleaning these off, Honey,” he said. “I’ve been putting it off all week.”
Mom looked surprised. “But I didn’t. I—”
But Dad had clumped out the door already. I just kept my eyes on the television and smiled inside, where Mom couldn’t see.
Mom let us watch TV an extra half-hour before she turned it off and said, “Get dressed—time for chores.” Her voice was happy, so we knew that it would be a fun workday instead of a drag.
I got all the way across my room to the dresser before I realized that someone had already made my bed—corners tucked up, sheets and blankets perfectly even, and my pillow all smoothed out. Downstairs, Mom was whistling. I smiled, inside and out. Little things do make a big difference. I’d have a lot to tell Sister Pierson on Sunday.

1. Truman was racing around the dining room table when he saw Mom place an empty box on the kitchen counter and start to fill it with food.
What are you doing, Mom?
Thanksgiving is coming. I thought we could do service for another family by giving them food for a Thanksgiving dinner. Do you want to help?
Sure.
2. Truman ran to the pantry and found a box of stuffing mix.
Do you think they would want this?
Yes, I think they would be thankful for it. Go ahead and put it in.
3. Truman raced to the box and put the stuffing mix inside. Then he ran back to the pantry.
I’m going to be your super-fast helper, Mom.
That sounds great. Can you find some corn?
4. Truman quickly looked through the pantry and grabbed two cans of corn. He rushed back to the box and placed them inside. He was having fun helping as fast as he could. He put a lot of food in the box. Later, he even helped put a frozen turkey inside.
5. Now what are we going to do?
When it gets dark, Dad will take you to deliver the box.
Can we do it super fast?
Yes. Super fast.
6. When it got dark, Dad, Truman, and his older brother, Ethan, carried the box to the car. They drove for a couple of minutes until Dad parked down the street from the family’s house.
OK, guys. We’re going to put the box on the doorstep, knock on the door, and run.
Truman was excited about the running part.
7. Dad carried the box as Truman and Ethan walked quietly behind him. When Dad put the box down on the doorstep and knocked on the door, all three of them ran back to the car as fast as they could. Truman ran faster than ever.
8. As they drove away, Truman looked out the back window. He saw someone open the door, look around, and smile. He felt good about helping a family have a Thanksgiving dinner.
Do you think anybody saw us?
No way, Dad! We were super fast!

James Henry Rollins, a refugee from the mobs in Missouri, moved his family to Nauvoo and sought the Prophet’s help: “I went with him to his store and he asked Newell K. Whitney if he had any work for me to do. He replied nothing that he knew of then, that he had sufficient help at present. Joseph said to me, ‘I have work for you’ and he took me thro in the back of the store and showed me about the cords of hickory wood. He asked me if I were a good hand with the axe. I laughed and said, ‘Well, some little.’ He said the clerks here were too shiftless to cut their own wood. I asked him if he had a sharp ax. He turned to Lorin Walker and said, ‘Get the ax for him. I want him to chop up this wood,’ which I did and piled it up the same day. The next day he came to the store and unbarred the outside cellar door and he would unlock it from the outside. When the doors were opened and then asked me if I thot I could straighten up things and I told him I would try and see what I could do.
“He was pleased with the change I had made with the appearance of the cellar. …
“… At this time a good deal of work was being done on the Temple which the workmen received orders for their labor on the store.
“It was very much crowded for two or three days, and as I stood in the counting room door looking at the faces in the house, there were a great many very familiar with me, and they came to me as they were waiting for their pay, asked me if I could wait on them. Joseph being in the store at the time said to me, ‘Why don’t you wait on these people.’ I told him when I was ordered I would do so with pleasure. He then said, ‘go and wait on them.’ I then went to work behind the counter on the grocery side and payed off many orders this day and the next, the store being crowded constantly and at least 50 to 100 people to be waited on from morning until night and being so very close with so many present was very oppressive to us all.
“When Joseph came in, and saw us looking tired and pale, he told us to shut up the store that night and not open again for two or three days, which we did until we got rested. Then opened again for business” (“A Sketch of the Life of James Henry Rollins,” Archives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City, 1888, pp. 11–12).

The warm smell of hot chocolate chip cookies wafted through the air as Mary came into the house from school. It was family night, and when Mother was in charge of treats, she always made chocolate chip cookies. As Mary burst into the kitchen, rows and rows of cooling cookies met her eyes. She reached for one, but Mother playfully swatted her hand with a dish towel.
“Wait till tonight,” Mother said. “They’ll taste even better if you wait.”
Mary reluctantly turned away from the warm cookies that sagged a little between the wires of the cooling rack. She wasn’t sure that she could wait!
“Oh, I suppose eating one now won’t hurt,” Mother said with a smile. “But only one!”
Mary grabbed the biggest one that she could find, then ran to her room and checked the supplies for her lesson. All the flannel-board figures of Helaman and the stripling warriors were colored and cut out. After practicing telling the story one more time, she decided that she was ready.
Dad was in charge of the activity that night, and he always thought of something fun to do. Sometimes they played games or went on walks. Last time they had played baseball. She wondered what he had planned for tonight.
The boys were in charge of music and prayers, and the thought of little Scott waving his arm in a giant circle as he led “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam” made Mary smile in anticipation.
After dinner and the dishes were finished, the family gathered in the living room. Sure enough, Scott’s arm was nearly worn out by the time they got to the last sunBEAM! Mary’s lesson went well, even though Jacob was a little disappointed that Helaman had only twenty stripling warriors instead of two thousand.
“Each one stands for one hundred,” Mary explained.
When Dad got his old hat from the hall closet, everyone knew what the activity was going to be: Charades!
“Let’s do songs!” Scott yelled.
“We’ve never done fairy tales,” Mother commented.
“Let’s do famous people,” Robbie cried.
“Nope,” Dad declared. “I’m in charge of the activity, so I get to choose the topic, and tonight it’s scriptures.”
“Good idea!” Mother said wholeheartedly.
“That sounds hard,” Robbie moaned.
“That’s not all,” Dad continued. “After the team guesses the scripture or scripture story, the team captain has to find the scripture reference and read one verse of it to us. And it all has to be done within four minutes! Your mother will be one team captain, and I’ll be the other.”
Mary and Robbie were on Dad’s team. Mom took Scott and Jacob into the kitchen to choose their scriptures. Dad and Robbie and Mary planned the hardest scripture stories that they could think of for Mom’s team. They decided to give Scott “Noah and the ark” and Jacob “Enos praying in the forest.” Mother got “Samuel the Lamanite preaching to the Nephites.”
When Mom’s team came back into the living room, she had a smug smile on her face. “We’re going to beat you at your own game!” she told Dad.
Scott went first and pretended to build something, then acted like a puppy, then a kitty. Jacob quickly guessed, “Noah and the ark.”
Robbie loved acting out “David and Goliath,” but Dad had trouble finding it in the Old Testament before the time limit was up. Neither Scott nor Jacob guessed that Mother was Samuel the Lamanite, so that gave Mary’s team a good lead. Then it was her turn. When she unfolded her paper and read “The thirteenth article of faith,” Mother’s team was grinning happily.
“You’ll never get it!” Jacob chortled.
Mary knew the thirteenth article of faith by heart. Last Sunday they had been practicing it in Primary Sharing Time. Hmmm, she thought. “We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous,and in doing good to all men …” Suddenly she had an idea. Will they guess it? she wondered.
Mary pulled her ear.
“Sounds like!” Dad yelled.
Mary nodded. She leaned over and hung her arm down near her nose. As she lumbered across the living room, she swung her arm gently.
“Elephant?” Dad asked.
Mary nodded happily. Then she ran around the room, glancing over her shoulder as if she were frightened.
“Are you scared?” Jacob asked. Mary nodded.
“Mary, did you read the paper carefully?” Mother asked.
Mary smiled and nodded, grinning. Mother was stumped!
Mary pretended to be an elephant again, then ran around the room.
“Is the elephant chasing you?” Father asked. Mary nodded excitedly and pulled at her ear again.
“Sounds like ‘chased by an elephant’?” Dad said, more puzzled than ever.
Suddenly Robbie yelled. “I know! ‘We believe in being honest, true, chased by an elephant, virtuous, and in doing good to all men!’”
“Yes!” Mary screamed. Dad grabbed his scriptures and flipped to the end of the Pearl of Great Price. He read as fast as he could. “‘We believe in being honest, true, chaste, benevolent, virtuous, and in doing good to all men; indeed, we may say that we follow the admonition of Paul—We believe all things, we hope all things, we have endured many things, and hope to be able to endure all things. If there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.’ The thirteenth article of faith. Stop!”
“Four minutes,” Mom said, pretending to be disappointed as Mary plopped happily into her seat.
“Got you!” Dad cried. “You thought you had us with that one, but Mary and Robbie were too smart for you!”
“I’m afraid so,” Mother said with a smile.
Jacob and Dad did theirs easily. Mom and Scott guessed right away that Jacob was Enos when he first pretended to look at a watch on his wrist, then kept peeking at it while he pantomimed praying. And the whole family laughed as Dad acted like a seasick Jonah inside of a fish. The scores were close, but Mary’s team won.
“I thought you were going to beat us at our own game, Mom!” Mary teased.
“We’ll beat you yet,” Mother said, winking at Jacob and Scott. “I’m in charge of treats, and losers get first choice!”
“Oh no!” Mary, Robbie, and Dad all groaned. But there were still lots of delicious cookies on the plate by the time that it reached Mary and Robbie and Dad. And everyone felt like a winner.