Gospel Story Finder

Sister Mercy Dady, beads instructor, declared, “When our class started, getting beads was not easy for YSAs due to financial challenges.” Sister Dady purchased all the beads required for the first two weeks and provided the class with all essential tools and materials. This initial sacrifice gave the class a successful start. Some of the YSA were able to contribute small amounts of money to purchase the beads required for subsequent classes.

There was a time, however, when it appeared that the Church had a very limited future in Ghana. It is impossible to tell the story of Latter-day Saints in this country without explaining what has come to be known as “the Freeze.”
In June 1989 the government banned all public worship, proselyting, and other activities of the Church. Members believe the ban was motivated by widely distributed misinformation about the Church.
In Abomosu, civilian authorities and soldiers escorted President Stephen Abu to the meetinghouse, where everything in the building was inventoried, the keys were confiscated, and he was warned that members were forbidden to use both that property and the Church farm outside the village. Priesthood leaders in other areas of Ghana had similar experiences.
Worship in the home was not expressly forbidden, and members began holding services on a family basis. “But you could not sing loudly, or you would be picked up,” President Abu recalls. He was among those who were jailed or punished after being accused of violating the ban. Some members were evicted by landlords. Despite the risk, however, priesthood leaders continued in their roles as shepherds, quietly visiting individuals and families to lend them strength.
In November 1990, apparently satisfied that Latter-day Saints could contribute to their society, the government lifted the ban. Joyously, Ghanaian members spread the news from home to home. Young Ghanaian missionaries serving in their own country had been honorably released at the beginning of the Freeze, but except for a few who had married or were out of the country, they eagerly returned to finish their missions.
Many members now look back on that period as a blessing that strengthened their faith and brought new spiritual opportunities. John Buah, who has served as a counselor to two mission presidents, notes that “after the Freeze, good people wanted to know more about the Church.” Curious to find out if things they had heard were true, they asked LDS friends or neighbors—and accepted the resulting invitations to learn about the gospel. Many of these people were baptized.

Consider that you are invited to a friend’s house for breakfast. On the table you see a large pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice from which your host fills his glass. But he offers you none. Finally, you ask, “Could I have a glass of orange juice?”
He replies, “Oh, I am sorry. I was afraid you might not like orange juice, and I didn’t want to offend you by offering you something you didn’t desire.”
Now, that sounds absurd, but it is not too different from the way we hesitate to offer up something far sweeter than orange juice. I have often worried how I would answer some friend about my hesitancy when I meet him beyond the veil.
A story related by Elder Christoffel Golden, of South Africa, refreshed my concerns. He was recently in Lusaka, Zambia, attending a meeting of new converts. A well-spoken, well-dressed stranger with a Book of Mormon in hand walked in. He stated he had driven past the chapel many times and had wondered what church met there and what they taught for doctrine.
At the conclusion of the meeting, this gentleman stood up, raised his copy of the Book of Mormon high in the air, and asked, “Why have you kept this book hidden from the people of Lusaka? Why have you kept it a secret?”
As I heard this story, I flinched that one day some friend might ask me, “Why have you kept this Book of Mormon, with its message of truth and salvation, a secret?”
My reply, “I was afraid I would damage our friendship,” will not be very satisfying to either me or my friend.
Brothers and sisters, I pray that we may put our fears and our hesitancy behind us and no more keep secret the great treasure that is ours.

As a physician, I have been with many patients who were close to death. But few of these experiences have touched my heart the way my experience with Cal and Lola Hamilton did.
At age sixty-two, Lola had been ill for years. Nearly blind from diabetes, she had severe arthritis and chronic heart and lung disease. She seemed weary, worn, and older than her years.
But her husband, Cal, did not think of Lola’s ill health as a burden. Cal was healthy and strong. He looked ten years younger than he was, and he still managed an active farming business. Yet in the two hears I had known them, his foremost concern was always his wife’s comfort and well-being.
Caring for Lola was practically a full-time nursing job. Yet Cal did most of it himself, always cheerfully and enthusiastically. Their children, all married now, also helped. The care Lola received at home was often better than she could get in a hospital.
In two years, Lola was hospitalized four times—each for a long period of time. Cal stayed with her constantly, sleeping in a chair at her side or on a little cot. He left long enough to eat a meal only if one of the children was there. Never through all those days did I hear a critical word about a nurse, a hospital worker, or anyone else. Instead, Cal praised and thanked us.
When Lola finally had a massive stroke, Cal was devastated. He never left her side. As she lay unconscious, Lola received a priesthood blessing, surprisingly promising that her full functional capacity would be restored. Because of that blessing we did everything we could to prolong her life.
The days passed and Lola remained unconscious. Cal never left the hospital, but day after day the strain and agony on his face increased and discouragement showed. He looked so thin and tired that I wondered if he had stopped eating. He caught only a few minutes of uninterrupted sleep her and there. Each time Lola’s noisy breathing caught or changed a little, he jumped up to check on her.
Such stress often brings out the worst in a person’s character. But Cal continued to be courteous. This gentle man showed dignity in his grief.
One Saturday after leaving Cal and Lola, I went back to the doctors’ lounge and slumped down on chair. Tears came to my eyes as I thought about Cal’s pain and grief.
Once again, I bowed my head to ask my Heavenly Father if there was something, as Lola’s doctor, that I could do to help. Was there something that I had left undone? I asked about Lola’s priesthood blessing. Why would anyone make such a statement? Was the priesthood holder truly inspired to say what he did?
At that moment, a thought came forcefully into my mind. The only way Lola could be restored to her full capacity was to move on to the next life. I had had this thought before, and I had even mentioned it to Cal. But this time it was accompanied by a feeling of great joy. In my mind, I could see Lola, sweet and attractive, with all her functions restored.
My grief was gone. I felt the unmistakable joy and peace that only the Holy Ghost can bring.
I left the doctors’ lounge with peace in my heart. A few hours later Lola died quietly and peacefully, and Cal finally went home.
I am grateful to Cal, who, by his example, taught me the meaning of love and sacrifice. I am also deeply grateful to the Lord for the miracle of personal revelation that turned a distressing, faith-shaking experience into a sweet, faith-building one.

by Nancy Gunn
As the “Star Spangled Banner” was played at the Boy Scout Hokushinetsu-Taikai Jamboree in Toyama, Japan, Kenneth Gunn and Karl Guymon of the Salt Lake Hunter East Stake discovered a new feeling of pride in their country. The two Eagle Scouts were the only two American Scouts at the jamboree which 4,500 Japanese Scouts attended. Kenneth and Karl were guests of the Matsumoto Scout Troop.
The two Scouts prepared for the experience by taking English and Japanese versions of the Book of Mormon with them, along with Church pamphlets and Tabernacle Choir records. They wanted to make their trip a missionary experience as much as possible. Kenneth’s family even placed their photo in some of the books, and each family member who was old enough wrote down his or her testimony, placing it in one of the books.
Their first day in Matsumoto the two Scouts met the mayor and presented him with a plaque from Salt Lake City, which is Matsumoto’s sister city. During their 2 1/2-week visit, the boys stayed with various families. They were overwhelmed by the courtesy shown them by their host families.
The five-day jamboree was held near Toyama Bay in the Japanese alps. One of the requirements of the camp was that the Scouts all attend a worship service on Sunday. Kenneth and Karl held their own sacrament service.
The two Scouts felt that their short mission of sorts was very successful and that their polite refusal to drink tea, along with the gifts they gave of the Book of Mormon, pamphlets, and records, helped them plant seeds for future missionary efforts in Japan. They learned to love the country and its gracious people on their once-in-a-life-time trip.

Leaders in both organizations can work together to plan activities that will build friendships. In one ward, the young women wanted to learn to sew, so they asked the sisters in Relief Society to help. At a Mutual activity night, each young woman was paired up with a Relief Society sister who helped her make a skirt. Later the pairs finished the skirts at home. Then the young women invited the Relief Society sisters to a fashion show where the girls modeled their colorful new skirts.

In the first instance, the young women reached out to the Relief Society sisters, and in the second, the Relief Society sisters reached out to the young women. In both instances, the friendships continued and blessed the lives of all.

When I was 14, I lived with my family on a small island off the coast of Malaysia. Weather on the island was always warm, so my family enjoyed an occasional escape to the cool highlands on the mainland. During one such escape, we decided to visit a small mountain village accessible only by a narrow road. For safety reasons, this road was closed after dark. During the day, it operated on an alternating hourly schedule with one-way traffic flow directed either up or down the mountain.
After spending the afternoon on the mountain, we decided to return to our hotel. We waited patiently for the traffic direction to change and began our descent. When we were about halfway down the mountain, the engine of our car stopped. With great effort, my father steered the stalled car into a clearing along the side of the road. He inspected the engine but couldn’t find the cause of our problem. Everything appeared to be fine, but the engine would not start.
We quickly realized how difficult our situation was. Even if we could find the cause of our engine trouble, we did not have the tools needed to make major repairs. We could not walk to find help because the only towns with services were miles away. We had little hope for help from other motorists because traffic was light and the road would soon be closed for the night.
Knowing that we could not solve the problem ourselves, my father called us together and led us in a family prayer. He explained the situation to Heavenly Father and asked for guidance and help in getting the engine started. As we said amen at the end of the prayer, the clearing was filled with a strong breeze that moved the surrounding trees and bushes. The air had been unusually still up to that point, and we all felt that the breeze was Heavenly Father’s way of telling us not to worry, that our prayers had been heard.
About a half hour after our family prayer, we heard the sound of a vehicle making its way up the mountain. When it came into view, we could see from the telephones painted on the doors that it was a government telecommunications vehicle. As it rounded the corner, it came to a halt, and three men walked over to our car. My father explained the trouble we were having, and the leader of the group assured us they would fix our car.
The men unloaded an array of specialized tools and began a systematic check of the engine. It was clear that the men were highly skilled and, after 30 minutes of work, they found and repaired a problem in the car’s electrical system.
As they packed up their tools, my father thanked them for their help and asked what had brought them up the mountain. The leader of the group explained that a television transmission tower on the mountaintop had gone dead. They had been sent to repair the tower but had felt compelled to help our family, even before restoring television service to a large part of the country. When we inquired further, we learned that the television transmissions had ended about the same time our engine had failed.
As we started down the mountain again, my heart was filled with gratitude for an earthly father who could call down the blessings of heaven and for a Heavenly Father who sent people to help us.

The humbling experiences of the last year of my marriage were particularly difficult. Learning about my spouse’s infidelity, opening my private life to my bishop and stake president, dealing with my husband’s decision to leave, beginning divorce proceedings, and watching my children suffer because their father was no longer in the home were only the beginning of what seemed to be wave after wave of challenges. I also lost the close relationship I had enjoyed with my in-laws; had to seek financial assistance from my family, ward, and state; agonized over an injury to one of my daughters; endured a cancer scare of my own; recovered from a serious car accident; struggled to complete my bachelor’s degree; and suffered job-search disappointments. By the end of that year, I was stripped of pride. I felt unencumbered before the Lord—humbled by a “sense of [my] nothingness” (Mosiah 4:5) and by a complete dependence on Him as my only anchor in a sea of change.
Yet instead of feeling despondent, I saw my state as an opportunity for Heavenly Father to work His will in my life. I began to understand the relationship between adversity and spiritual refinement. During my troubles, I frequently asked myself, What would Heavenly Father want me to do in this situation? I sought specific answers through prayer, scripture study, pondering, and temple attendance. Through this process of seeking and receiving divine guidance, I acquired increased patience and deeper trust in Heavenly Father.

For more than twenty years, Sister Cécile Pelous, a member of the Cergy-Pontoise Branch, Paris France Stake, has worked for the finest fashion houses in Paris—Dior, Cardin, and Ricci. She designs and makes dresses for the wealthiest women in the world.
But since 1986, this graceful, dynamic women has used her glamorous career as a means to do quite a different work. She spends three months every year serving the destitute of India. Working in the impoverished suburbs of Calcutta and in the orphanages of Bengal, she dedicates all of her savings, along with donations from French friends, to the relief of poor children—with the assistance of local people of goodwill.
Cécile discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1974 when she was visiting the United States on a tour. Her group happened to stop at Temple Square and attend a performance by the Tabernacle Choir. “It was an intense emotional experience,” she says. Later, she told her fellow travelers that listening to the Choir was the part of the tour that she liked best.
Months later, missionaries knocked on her door back in France. Cécile was not interested until one of them said he was from Salt Lake City. Remembering her experience there, Cécile asked the missionary if he represented “the church with the choir.” When he said yes, she let them in and listened to their message. She was baptized a few months later—in 1975.
Eleven years later, in July 1986, Cécile took her first trip to India. “I went to Calcutta during vacation, with the idea of helping my neighbor,” she says. “I took with me my first-aid certificate, my goodwill, and my suitcases packed with medicines.” She had read about and had heard lectures describing conditions in India. “I knew there was plenty to do,” she says.
The work she found to do was mostly among the elderly, babies, and handicapped children of Calcutta. “I found opportunities to get busy and stretch myself. Dirty clothes and sheets had to be boiled and washed, meals prepared, patients fed in night shelters and almshouses, and medical care given,” she says. “The dying had to be washed, and warmth and affection had to be given them to help them leave this world. There were babies to change and feed who were so weak that you would wish you could force your own health into their bodies.” She worked first with Mother Theresa’s Sisters of Mercy and then with other groups.
“I am not a heroine,” Cécile says. “My experience in India is one of love and friendship.”
During that first trip to India, Cécile also discovered a home for one hundred elderly people, most of them bedridden. “There were only two Catholic missionaries to cater to the needs of all, and one of them had been sick for three days. When another volunteer and I arrived, we immediately rolled up our sleeves and went to work,” she says. “Sister Thérésina, one of the missionaries, kissed me and said, ‘The Lord has sent you!’ and I believed her.”

There are lots of ways the Thordersons learned this truth, but one of the most important ways they learned to serve was through Grandma Julie. Grandma Julie was really Eva Julie VanGard. Sister Thorderson was her visiting teacher for ten years. For the last six years of her life (she was 102 when she died in the spring of 1989), Grandma Julie lived with the Thordersons.
“Having Grandma Julie move in with us was the greatest thing that ever happened,” says Sister Thorderson. “A lot of kids do not know how to relate to older people, and these kids are so good with older people; it’s wonderful.”
They all remember Grandma Julie fondly and love to tell funny stories about her. Kurt, who is the second oldest, remembers Grandma Julie as a natural part of their lives. “She would be here when we would have friends from church and school over. The room would be packed with people, and she’d be right in the middle of everything.”
Jim, the third oldest, said Grandma Julie loved to tell them stories about her life—usually more than once. But that didn’t matter to the Thordersons, because they loved this little, fragile lady as if she were their own grandmother. They learned to give unselfish service in their family because of the care she needed and the love she gave. Grandma Julie prompted them all to be more considerate and loving toward each other, which is a big part of being friends with your brothers and sisters.

A recent convert from Canberra, Australia, says the following: “I was born into a religious family where religion was taken seriously. I had a strict Christian upbringing. However, I drifted away from the church at about twenty years of age when I left home to attend teachers college.
“From that time on I felt an emptiness of purpose in some way, and each year or so would find me searching out and studying a new spiritual creed. I studied yoga and practiced meditation, read about Hinduism, Buddhism, Zen Buddhism, and most of the Protestant religions and Judaism. Somehow none of these held out anything I was seeking. Then I stopped searching, and when the elders came calling, I had mixed feelings about letting them in. I did not want yet another fruitless search, but I thought it only reasonable to hear the message and then decide. For a few lessons I was not convinced that there was anything different in the lessons from what I had already heard elsewhere. Then slowly, through the patience of the elders, I began to get the feeling that all they were saying was really true. They urged me to pray frequently, which I did; but still I was not sure. They explained how the Holy Ghost could come into one’s heart, and one could perhaps feel a warm glow inside. This was rather hard for me to imagine, but I believed them.
“One night the elders challenged me to take baptism the very next Saturday. I was surprised and felt I wasn’t ready, but I did agree to be baptized a week later, giving myself more time for questions and prayer. Then Elder Hurd asked Elder Nelson if he would bear his testimony to me. He did it so fervently that about halfway through I felt a warm spot in my heart which seemed to be coming from Elder Nelson; and as he spoke, it increased in size and intensity like a small cloud inside of me.
“When he had finished, both elders assured me that they had felt the presence of the Holy Ghost, but I didn’t tell them of my experience until a few days later. I felt too overcome to speak of it. Before they left they asked me to read Third Nephi, chapters 11 to 26, in the Book of Mormon before going to bed that night. As soon as they went out the door, I read avidly, and as I did, the warm glow returned to me and I needed no more convincing.”

“Things go fast when you work together, and when you work hard.” That’s the lesson Gail Morgan, 14, learned, when the Young Women of the Thetford Ward, Norwich England Stake, turned a port-a-cabin into a Young Women’s meeting room.
The cabin, located in the parking area adjacent to the meetinghouse, is a temporary solution to overcrowded facilities. “Before, we were meeting on the stage, with other classes all around, and it was very noisy,” said Tamaron Cary, 17. “Now, we’re separated from the noise.”
The Laurels made posters and used Mormonads to decorate the room, the Mia Maids made curtains, and the Beehives, who were busy on a Book of Mormon marking project of their own, joined the others as the curtains were hung and flowers placed in the room.

From one of our associates who is deeply involved in helping people we learn of what happens when the Church steps in to help.
About twelve years ago Roger walked through the side door at Welfare Square. It took him at least fifteen minutes to tell the supervisors who he was and where he came from. Although he was a young man of eighteen years, he had great difficulty expressing himself. Part of his young life had been spent in an institution in a neighboring state. Now at the age of eighteen he was on his own.
This young man lived for some time alone in the mountains. Finally, he got a ride into Salt Lake City. He could neither read nor write, and speech was nearly impossible.
The brethren at Welfare Square found Roger a place to stay. Soon he had a bishop, and he gradually became active in the Church. Fellow workers at Welfare Square helped him to learn to speak so that he could communicate. He still has great difficulty, but his friends and associates can, with a little patience, converse with him reasonably well. He worked in several different jobs at the storehouse, and today he is an active elder in the Church. Roger now has a job in a large commercial enterprise and at the present time is totally self-sufficient.

On an August night three years ago, the Thornton family was in Roseburg, Oregon, at a baseball game. Before making the two-hour drive home to Reedsport, they stopped at a park to eat. The weary family then climbed back into their van that was stuffed with baseball equipment. At 11:30 P.M. the van pulled into their driveway, and the sleepy riders crawled out only to discover that six-year-old Greg wasn’t with them. Everyone panicked!
“Our focus wasn’t on anything except where he might be,” said LaRee Thornton, Greg’s mother. “We called 911, and it put us right through to the Roseburg police. My husband, Steve, started explaining the situation, and they said, ‘It’s OK. He’s right here.’ A Good Samaritan had found Greg alone at the park, shaking with fear. The man had wrapped him in a blanket and taken him to the police station.
Everyone wanted to go back to Roseburg to get Greg, but only Mom and Dad went; the rest of the family stayed at home, prayed, and waited. “It was 2:30 A.M. when we got back,” Mom continued. “Everybody had stayed up. Nobody wanted to sleep alone in their bedrooms that night, so we all slept in the living room together. Now we always want to make sure we know where everyone is. We’re kinder to each other and appreciate one another more.”

On December 1, 2002, I walked into a bookstore and bought a copy of the Book of Mormon. A brochure about the plan of salvation had been placed inside. On the brochure was written, “Sisters Burgey and Sorensen” and their telephone number. In July 2003, I called this number.
By the summer of 2004, I heard the missionary discussions from Elders Swensen, Vernon, and Gregory. Finally, on August 28, 2006, I was baptized. In the September 2006 Liahona, I read the article “Delayed Harvest,” by Rian W. Jones, which reminded me of the small actions that led to my baptism and confirmation.Nicolai Penchikov, Russia

“These are very fine candles, young man. I’m glad to see that you took special care in making them. How much are you asking for the large ones?”
Thane looked up at the tall man in the fringed buckskin suit. “Two dollars for three, sir,” he answered.
“That certainly seems reasonable enough. I’ll take twelve.”
One day I’ll have an outfit like his, Thane thought after the man left. And I’ll wear soft, beaded moccasins and have a beautiful black-powder rifle.
There was something Thane wanted even more, but for that he needed fifty-two dollars. For a long time now he hadn’t thought of anything else.
“Boy, are you ever lucky to have him buy his candles from you,” Thane’s sister Stephanie said. She had come to bring Thane his lunch. “Do you know who that was, or are you daydreaming again? He’s this year’s bushway!”
“The bushway!” Thane exclaimed. Each year a man was chosen to be the bushway, or leader, of the Mountain Men Rendezvous, but Thane hadn’t realized that the man he’d sold the candles to was this year’s bushway.
“They say he’s really strict about having things exactly as they were a hundred fifty years ago,” Stephanie continued. “That’s why you don’t see any cars closeby, and inside the tepees people are cooking their meals over open fires. It really looks neat. How are things going for you? Do you have enough money yet?”
“If I keep selling at this rate,” Thane replied, “I soon will.”
“Well, good luck. I’ll see you later.”
Thane shifted his position on the blanket. He had been sitting there a long time, and his legs were beginning to hurt. From his location on Traders Row he could see on top of the many tepees the colorful banners fluttering in the afternoon breeze. The scene made him feel as if he were living in another time.
The people around him enjoyed reenacting the times of the early-day fur trappers. Besides the shooting contests with black-powder rifles, other contests included setting traps, throwing tomahawks, and starting fires without matches.
Thane always looked forward to the rendezvous, but this time even more than usual. Ever since the last one, when he had first seen the hunting knife with the caribou antler handle and the long shiny blade, it had been on his mind. At school he often drew pictures of the knife on his writing pad. He wanted it more than anything else in the world.
Three afternoons a week after school he had worked painting wooden hives for the Jones Beekeeping Company. In payment he received a little cash and all the beeswax his boss could spare. Then he had learned to make candles, and now with the money he had earned from selling his candles, he had almost enough to buy the knife. If he could earn just nine dollars more, the knife would be his.
Mr. James, one of the other traders, was holding the knife for him. Each time Thane made a sale, he took his money over to Mr. James. Perhaps by tomorrow afternoon he could pick it up. Right now he would take the bushway’s money there and see the knife again. It was getting dark, and soon everybody would put away their wares until the next day.
Thane was close to Mr. James’s tepee when a large boy came running through the trees and almost knocked him over.
He sure is in a hurry, Thane thought. He was just regaining his balance when two large hands grabbed his shoulders and roughly turned him around.
“No, no, he’s not the one we’re after!” Thane heard a familiar voice exclaim. “As a matter of fact, he’s the one I was saving the knife for.”
Thane twisted loose from the tight grip. The knife! My knife? What about my knife?
“Did anybody come through here just now?” Mr. James asked. “Some youngster took off with that knife I’ve been holding for you, and we want to make sure he remembers to bring it back.”
The men did not notice the sick look on Thane’s face as he numbly shook his head. He had seen somebody, but he wasn’t going to tell. The boy was a bully he knew at school, and he was a “boomer.” That’s what the kids called him, too—Boomer.
Thane knew little about boomers, only that they were people living in mobile homes at the edge of town. They had come because of the oil boom. Many of the men worked on the drilling rigs. One night Thane had overheard his parents say that they wished the townspeople and the newcomers could be better friends.
This situation with the knife sure wasn’t going to help anything. The rendezvous would be over in another two days. Thane needed some time to think it through, and for that he wanted to be alone. It was a good thing that his feet knew the way home, because his mind wandered in circles, searching for a solution.
Things looked a little better when he awakened the next morning. Maybe, just maybe, he had found the answer.
Boomer was not the kind of boy who would readily admit that he had done anything wrong. Thane hoped that he could talk to him alone at the general store. Sooner or later everybody in town went there.
Luckily, Thane didn’t have to wait long at the store before he saw Boomer walking down the road.
“Do you have a minute?” Thane asked, falling in beside the bigger boy. “It’s important.”
“Sure. What do you want?” Boomer acted tough, and his hands were buried deep in his pockets.
Thane took a long breath. “I know that it’s you they’re looking for. I saw you, but I’m not going to tell, if you promise to return what you took.”
“You must be joking. Why should I?” Boomer was belligerent and cocky, not denying anything. “Who else knows about this?”
“Nobody. This is just between us.”
Boomer hesitated. He had never really meant to take the knife; even now he wasn’t sure why he’d done it.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Thane suggested. “I’ll challenge you to a tomahawk throw. If I win, you return the knife.”
“And if you don’t?”
Thane smiled. “Then it’s up to you and your conscience.”
“How good are you, anyway?” Boomer asked.
“Good enough to think I can beat you,” Thane responded firmly. “I’ll go get my tomahawk and meet you at that big cut log in twenty minutes.”
Boomer was already practicing when Thane arrived. Without looking up, Boomer made a line in the dirt with the toe of his boot. “We’ll throw from here,” he said. “You go first. Two out of three wins.”
Thane positioned himself behind the mark and took careful aim. The boys alternated throwing their tomahawks. After two turns their score was exactly the same.
Much depended on the next throw. Thane wiped the perspiration from his hands, gripped his tomahawk, and threw it as hard as he could. The blade sped through the air and bit deeply into the heartwood of the log. He breathed a sigh of relief.
“Not bad,” Boomer said dryly. Completely expressionless, Boomer stepped up for his final throw. The tomahawk flashed in the sunlight and landed far to the right of the log.
Thane was surprised. It’s almost as if he did it on purpose, he thought.
“Well, that decided it. You won fair and square,” admitted Boomer, “and I’ll keep my part of the deal. I’ll return the knife right now.”
“Can I come with you?” Thane offered.
“All right,” said Boomer quietly. His steps slowed considerably by the time they reached Mr. James’s tepee.
Boomer squared his shoulders. “Sir, I’m the boy who took the knife yesterday. It was the wrong thing to do, and I’m sorry. Here. I brought it back.” Boomer reached inside his boot and pulled out the knife. “Maybe I could make it up to you somehow,” he added.
“I’m sure you can, son. It takes a big person to admit his mistake. You’ve done that, so I’m not going to be too hard on you. If you want a knife like this, Thane can tell you how to get one. Right, Thane? As a matter of fact, for helping me recover the knife, Thane, I want you to have it now and to consider your account as being paid in full.”
“I don’t know what to say. How can I thank you?” Thane stumbled over the words.
“Oh, that’s easy,” Mr. James assured him. “Just sell me some more of your candles.”
“I’d be glad to,” Thane exclaimed. “I’ll go home and get some right now. Why don’t you come with me, Boomer? I think my mother is making ice cream.”
Boomer didn’t hesitate a minute. “Hey! That would be great, if you’re sure it’s OK. I haven’t tasted homemade ice cream for a long time.”
Thane was beginning to understand that, more than anything else, Boomer needed a friend.
The boys walked along slowly, each lost in his own thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Boomer.
“Maybe, just maybe, you’re not such a bad guy,” Thane answered.
“Well! I see you’ve got good taste, anyway,” Boomer said.
Both boys smiled and responded to an unspoken challenge to race home.
“Hello, Thane! Hi there, Wilbert,” Thane’s mother called from the doorway. She took the mail from its box and went back into the house.
Wilbert! Thane wasn’t sure that he could trust his ears. Had he heard right? A name like that explained a lot of things. But how does Mom know Boomer? Maybe she knows his mother. Thane decided to ask her about that later.
“Since I know your real name,” Thane said cautiously, “would you mind if I call you Will?”
For a split second Boomer hesitated, intently studying the expression on the other boy’s face.
“Sure,” he answered with a relieved grin. “But let’s keep my real name a secret, OK?”

In my pre-wheelchair stage of life, I loved seeing a clipboard come around in Relief Society. I often signed up to give service. It was a way to show my willingness “to bear one another’s burdens” (Mosiah 18:8).
It wasn’t the clipboard’s fault I couldn’t sign up anymore. In fact, I couldn’t sign my name at all. Because of my disability, I couldn’t even hold the clipboard. No one expected me to sign it. But, oh, how I wanted to! Service encircles us with God’s love and connects us to others. I desperately needed that feeling of connection myself.
Because I needed people to help care for me, my service didn’t seem worth the effort it would require of others to help me. That clipboard became a reminder of what I could no longer do—at least until my ministering sister saw my longing.
She asked me what I would like to do to serve, not just what I needed done for me. Then she signed my name on the clipboard. She came to my home and helped me make the meals I’d volunteered to prepare for others. She never suggested that I was in need of so much help myself that I shouldn’t be trying to help others. She was happy to spend time with me.
In the end, I realized my efforts were worth it. With my ministering sister’s help, I was able to do something. Whether or not that something meant anything to anyone else, it made a difference to me. Though it didn’t directly benefit my family or heal my body, it helped heal my heart.
EmRee Pugmire
Utah, USA

Martin Reynolds, 18, of Sutton Coldfield, has found extra blessings coming from hard work needed for his particular round.

“My mother and I agreed to deliver 2,800 daily papers around our area,” he explains. “These have to be dropped off at 14 pickup points in bundles of 100. We get up at 4.30 A.M. returning home by 6.00 A.M. Not only do I save for my mission and have money for other activities this way, but I also have the chance to talk with my Mum. We get along really well. And it’s been a good time for her to teach me to drive.”

A young father was literally sinking. He, his two children, and his father-in-law had gone for a walk around a lake. They were surrounded by majestic pine-covered mountains, and the sky was blue, filled with soft white clouds, emanating beauty and serenity. When the children grew hot and tired, the two men decided to put the children on their backs and swim the short distance across the lake.
It seemed easy—until the moment when the father began to feel pulled down, everything becoming so heavy. Water pushed him to the bottom of the lake, and a frantic feeling came over him. How was he going to keep afloat—and do so with his precious young daughter on his back?
His voice disappeared in the distance as he called out; his father-in-law was too far away to answer a desperate plea for help. He felt alone and helpless.
Near panic, he realized that his water-saturated shoes were weighing him down. While working to stay afloat, he began to attempt to get his heavy shoes off his feet. But it was as if they were held on with suction. The laces were swollen with water, cinching the grip even tighter.
In what may have been his last moment of desperation, he managed to pry the shoes from his feet, and at last the shoes released their hold, quickly falling to the bottom of the lake. Free from the heavy weight that had been dragging him down, he immediately propelled himself and his daughter upward. He could now swim forward, moving toward safety on the other side of the lake.

“Who knows the parable of the Good Samaritan?” Sister Stewart asked her CTR class.
“I do!” exclaimed Erin, raising her hand. “It’s the story about the man who was hurt by robbers and two different men passed him by and the Good Samaritan stopped and helped.”
“Very good, Erin. Thank you. Not only did the Good Samaritan stop and help but he took the man to an inn. Let’s read about it in Luke 10:30–35. Who brought scriptures today?”
The children took turns reading the verses. Then Sister Stewart asked, “Dan, what did the Good Samaritan do at the inn?”
“He gave the innkeeper money and asked him to take care of the injured man.”
“That’s right. Not only did the Good Samaritan help the injured man but he went the extra mile and made sure that he would be cared for after they were at the inn. I challenge each of you to perform a service for someone this week and to go the extra mile. We’ll talk about some of your experiences next Sunday in class.”
On the way home from church, Erin tried to think of something she could do. It must be something for someone who really needs my help, she decided. Unfortunately she couldn’t think of anything. That night as she knelt by her bed, she asked Heavenly Father to help her find someone who really needed her help.
Days went by and nothing happened. Erin did a lot of good service. She helped with the dishes and made refreshments for family home evening, for instance. But they were all things she always did. Mother and Father were always grateful for Erin’s helpfulness and often told her so. But now Erin wanted to do something special.
Finally Sunday came again. A whole week had gone by, and no one other than her own family had needed Erin’s help. She sat in the car for a while, watching people walk by on their way into the church. What will I tell Sister Stewart and my class? she wondered as she got out of the car to go in for Sunday School opening exercises.
Just then the Armstrong family’s green van rumbled loudly into the parking lot. There were five children in the family, all under six years old. Sister Armstrong obviously had been in a hurry all morning, because her hair was still wet and one of the children was still eating a piece of toast. Brother Armstrong, a member of the bishopric, had needed to be at church for early morning meetings, so Sister Armstrong was left to get herself and her five children dressed in their Sunday best and to church on time.
As Erin watched, Sister Armstrong searched for two-year-old Lizzy’s shoes, which had been kicked under the seat.
Sister Perkins, the Relief Society president rushed by with her arms full of books, flowers, and papers, calling, “Good morning, Sister Armstrong!”
As Sister Armstrong struggled to put Lizzy’s shoes back on her, baby Mark spit up all over his clothes. Three-year-old Crystal had given gum to everyone while her mommy wasn’t looking, and now four-year-old Ashley had gum stuck in her pretty French braid. The only one who wasn’t causing a problem was five-and-a-half-year-old Marilyn, who had been sent into church by her mom to find her father. In the midst of all the confusion, Sister Armstrong sat down and cried.
Suddenly Erin realized that the Armstrong family was the answer to her prayers. She set her scriptures down on the sidewalk and rushed over to the van. Offering Sister Armstrong a tissue, Erin said earnestly, “Let me help you, Sister Armstrong. What can I do first?”
“Erin, you’re a lifesaver!” exclaimed Sister Armstrong as she dried her eyes.
Together they put Lizzy’s shoes back on, cleaned up Mark, and got the gum out of Ashley’s hair. Then Erin grabbed her scriptures before carrying Mark and the diaper bag into church. Partway up the hall they met Brother Armstrong.
“I see you’ve found yourself a Good Samaritan,” he said as he scooped up Mark and led the way into the chapel.
Erin sat with the Armstrongs during opening exercises, then offered to take Lizzy and Crystal to their Primary classes.
“You’ve been a great help this morning, Erin. Thank you very much,” said Sister Armstrong.
“I’d like to help every Sunday, if that’s all right. I can wait outside for you and then sit with you during Sunday School opening exercises.”
Sister Armstrong was very glad to accept Erin’s help. As she walked down the hall to her own class, Erin thought about the smile on Sister Armstrong’s face. A warm tingle flowed from Erin’s head to her toes. She had met the challenge to serve and go the extra mile.
That night as Erin knelt by her bed, she thanked Heavenly Father for guiding her to the Armstrong family and helping her learn how wonderful it felt to serve others and go the extra mile.