Gospel Story Finder

Kay Lynn Wakefield learned an important lesson from a woman who worked at the Garden Tomb. “As we were hurrying along,” says Sister Wakefield, “the sounds of a clear soprano voice filled the air. I felt so drawn to the ethereal sound that I left the crowd and went to find out where it was coming from. And then I saw her! A little English lady sweeping one of the paths in the garden.
“As I visited with her, she expressed to me the joy she feels each day as she sweeps the paths at the Garden Tomb, often singing all the way. I told her that the Tabernacle Choir was going to sing in the Garden Tomb that day. Her eyes filled with tears, and she said, ‘Yes, I know, and I feel so privileged to be here today to hear them.’ Then I embraced her and left to again join the crowd. Once again I had been reminded not to be so intent on reaching the final destination that I forget to enjoy the journey.”

The story is told of a family who had a grandmother who had to live in a home for the elderly. Once each year they would visit her. On that occasion, they would take her a new blanket. As they were returning home from one such visit, one of the father’s young sons asked, “Daddy, why do we visit grandmother every year?”

The father answered, “So she will know that we love her.”

Another question: “Daddy, why do we bring her a new blanket every time?”

The father answered, “So she will remember that we’ve been here and that we have not forgotten her.”

Then a pause. “Daddy, what color blanket would you like when I come to visit you?”

Lukáš cares for a sleepy little hamster named Kikina. He feeds his pet seeds, carrots, potatoes, apples, oranges, and nuts, and keeps the hamster house clean so the small animal will stay healthy. When Kikina is awake, Lukáš talks to him. He used to put Kikina in a toy car and pull him around the room. That was until Kikina jumped out of the car window one day. Lukáš has decided the hamster doesn’t like riding in the car.

Sister Whang taught her girls to help spread the gospel. When President Till arrived in Korea in 1974, he learned from a survey that only 10 percent of the people in Seoul were aware of the name of the Church. During his three years as mission president, he and his missionaries concentrated on changing that. With Sister Whang’s permission, President Till assigned several elders—who formed a singing group known as “New Horizon”—to work directly with the Tender Apples choir to put on a musical show that would introduce the people in Korea to the gospel.
The group became immensely popular. Through it all, President Till remembers, Sister Whang “taught the girls that they shouldn’t be too proud of themselves, because they were just doing what they were supposed to do.” At the end of three years, more than 70 percent of the people in Seoul recognized the Church’s name.

Sometimes the Lord reveals truth to us when we are not actively seeking it, when we are in danger and know it not. I remember that on one occasion I had been driving for long hours alone on high Bolivian mountain roads a single lane wide. As I approached a sharp turn an impression came into my mind: “If my wife were here she would tell me to honk the horn.” I did, and as I turned the corner I saw a jeep skidding to a halt; it had heard the warning sound. Had I not done it I would have been in trouble. Not two hours later the same thing happened, this time with an ambulance.

In 2005 my best friend passed away from cancer. Sun was not a member of our church, but he was a fine and honorable Christian man with a wonderful family. A couple of nights before the funeral I had a dream about him. If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to read a description of this dream, which I delivered as part of his eulogy:
During a fitful night’s sleep, having just found out that Sun had passed on to rejoin the Lord, I had a deep desire to see him once more—to make sure he was all right, or perhaps simply to test my faith. I dreamed I was walking along a corridor in a building where I work. I came across a turnoff into another corridor. It was dark, but I could just make out the shadow of a person facing away from me. I could see just enough to realize that it was Sun. He appeared to be waiting for someone. My first thought was one of fear: I did not want him to be in the dark, all alone. So I began to approach him. As I got nearer a light began to glow around him and get brighter. It was then that I realized it was not Sun who was in darkness; it was me. He was bathed in a vivid light that swept me into it. Without saying a word, he turned around and grabbed me in a hug as I began to weep. I then knew that he was there for me—that he was in an eternal light that would never go out.
We know the source of this light. According to the Gospel of John, Jesus said, “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”1 In the Book of Mormon Alma taught his son Shiblon that the Lord Jesus Christ “is the life and the light of the world.”2 Although I have no idea if my dream had a literal quality, I like to believe that my friend has entered into this light.

Lidia trudged up the long farm lane, not even turning to wave to her friends still on the school bus. Her mind was too busy with her problem: What can I possibly find between now and tomorrow morning to take to the class auction? The auction, with its proceeds going to the Junior Red Cross, was an annual affair in the country school, but it was a new experience for Lidia.
Oh dear. As if I haven’t got enough to worry about learning a new language in a new land, and trying to make new friends in a new school.
Her problem was instantly forgotten, however, when she opened the cottage door and saw a letter on the floor. It bore an official-looking return address, and it had a Red Cross emblem in the upper left-hand corner.
She knew that she would have to be patient until her parents came home for supper; then she would read it to them. Without the advantage of school, which Lidia had in this new country, her parents’ knowledge of English was very limited.
If only the letter contained some good news about her uncle! Lidia placed the envelope against the only ornament on the shelf, a little blue glass pony. As her fingers touched the figurine, she prayed fervently that it would soon be reunited with its mate, the one that used to sit by its side in their house in Poland. When they had made plans to emigrate to America, not knowing when—or even if—they might meet again, the two Jelinek brothers had each taken one of the glass ponies, praying that they would be together again one day.
Mr. Williams, who owned the farm where Lidia and her parents lived, admired the pony one day and was told the story of the two brothers. He had written to the Red Cross, asking for information. Surely this letter would tell them that the younger Jelinek was now in the United States too!
Remembering that she had promised to start preparing supper, Lidia went into the kitchen and got out pots for the vegetables. As she set the table, she looked on all the cupboard shelves. There was nothing that she could take to the auction sale tomorrow! Not a trinket, not a spare dish, nothing. There were only the bare necessities that the Williamses had kindly provided for them. She dreaded being the only one in her class not to add some object to the collection on her teacher’s desk.
The door suddenly opened, and Lidia rushed with the letter to greet her parents. And while they waited apprehensively, she stumbled through the unfamiliar phrases as she read the letter to them. Then, as she came to the closing sentence, she slowly read these discouraging words: “We are sorry that we have found no trace of your brother. However, be assured that we will keep trying …”
Silence hung in the room. Then Father said quietly, “I’ll wash. Then we’ll eat supper.”
After the usual prayer of thanks for food and shelter, the family avoided speaking of the letter. Father told of a sick cow that was now getting well; Mother had helped Mrs. Williams clean the attic of the rambling old farmhouse.
“And how was school, Lidia?” Father asked.
The girl kept her eyes on her plate as she answered, “Fine, Father. Fine.”
“But you are very quiet,” Father pursued. “You have trouble at school?”
“No, no trouble.”
“So?”
“It’s just this auction at school tomorrow, and I should take something.”
“Auction?” Mother asked. “What is that?”
“Oh, everybody takes something, then the teacher asks for bids, and the one who bids the highest buys the book or ornament or whatever. The money goes to the Red Cross.”
“That is good,” Father said, nodding. “The Red Cross helped us many times. Here, take this.” Reaching into his pocket, he drew out a few coins.
“No thanks, Father,” Lidia said, pushing it away. “I have money of my own I earned from weeding the garden for Mrs. Williams. But we are supposed to take something that can be sold.”
Father looked around the room. “There is so little here.”
Lidia’s face fell. “I know,” she cried. “There’s nothing I can take—nothing in this place!” She hung her head to hide her tears and wished that she had kept her words in check.
The girl waited for her father to scold her; instead, he got up slowly and went over to the shelf. He stood a minute, then he came back with the glass pony in his hand. “Take this,” he said quietly.
Lidia’s eyes widened. “You don’t mean … the pony?”
Father nodded.
Lidia felt the smooth blue glass and touched the black eyes. Nobody spoke. She knew how much the pony meant to her father, and she sensed that her parents were thinking back to happier days when there were two little ponies standing together on the top of a piano.
In the morning the glass ornament sparkled on her teacher’s desk, and it brought the highest bid in the auction. Nancy Crane, its new owner, wrapped it carefully in tissue paper and put it in a box. Lidia could not help feeling sad as she watched.
At supper that night, Lidia described the sale and told her parents that Nancy said that she would take very good care of the pony.
“It’s good,” Father said, smiling, “that the pony helps the Red Cross in a very small way.”
While Lidia was wiping the dishes after supper, a knock on the door startled them. Looking past her father at the open door, Lidia saw her schoolmate Nancy. A tall man was with her.
“Hi, Lidia,” the girl called. “This is my father, and we’ve come to see you about the glass pony.”
As they sat around the table, Nancy’s father took the glass pony out of his pocket, set it on the table, and began explaining: “I couldn’t believe it when Nancy brought this home. Your Lidia had told her that it was but one of a pair and that you left the other in Poland.”
“Yah,” Mr. Jelinek replied, “with my brother.”
“Well,” the other man paused dramatically. “I’ve seen the mate to this pony.”
Lidia saw Father’s hands clench tightly, and Mother’s hand cover her mouth. “You are sure of this?” Father whispered.
“As sure as my name’s Walt Crane. I saw it only a few months ago.”
“How, Mr. Crane?” Lidia asked. “I mean, who had it?”
“A young man came asking for work. I didn’t need any extra help, but I knew that my cousin in Grand Falls did, so I drove him there. I saw the mate to this pony when I helped him move in.”
“This place, is it far?” Lidia asked.
“About 190 kilometers. Listen, everyone, come home with me, and I’ll telephone my cousin. As best as I can recollect, that young man did look like you, Mr. Jelinek. He must be your brother.”
As the Jelineks grabbed their jackets, Nancy gently placed the glass pony on the shelf. “Keep it, Lidia,” she said. “Soon they’ll be a pair again.”
As they were driving up the lane to the Crane farm, Lidia said to Nancy, “It’s really funny. Just yesterday a letter from the Red Cross said that they had not found my dad’s brother yet but that they’d keep trying. And it was actually through the Red Cross auction today that we have found him!”
She felt a hand on her sleeve, and Nancy said, “My grandma always says, ‘God often works in mysterious ways.’ And I guess that it must be true.”

Nikki and Breck Fullmer quarreled constantly. Most of their fights were about Nikki borrowing her brother’s T-shirts, and Breck playing music at home that his sister didn’t like. Nikki and Breck were both looking for a way out of their conflicts when they decided to participate in their stake’s “Time Alone” experiment.
Nikki knew her brother liked to drink soda pop, so she invited him to go get one with her. He thought it was a fine arrangement, since she was buying. After the soda they talked and drove around for an hour. After just one rendezvous, Nikki said, “He’s at a stage where he’ll do just about anything to be cool. And now he thinks it’s cool to be with me.”

For those who, for whatever reason, fall into temptation and are dwelling upon unrighteous actions, I assure you that there is a way back, that there is hope in Christ. A few years ago, I had the opportunity to visit with a dear member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who went through a very difficult time in his life after committing a major transgression. When I first saw him, I could see a sadness in his eyes, accompanied by a brightness of hope in his countenance. His very expression reflected a humble and changed heart. He had been a dedicated Christian and had been richly blessed by the Lord. However, he had let a single improper thought invade his mind, which then led to others. As he steadily became more and more permissive of these thoughts, soon they took root in his mind and began to grow deep in his heart. He eventually acted upon these unworthy desires, which led him to make decisions against everything that was most precious in his life. He told me that if he had not given place to that foolish thought to begin with, he would not have become vulnerable and susceptible to the temptations of the enemy—temptations that brought so much sadness in his life, at least for a period of time.

Fortunately, like the prodigal son in the famous parable found in the gospel of Luke, “he came to himself” and woke up from that nightmare. He renewed his trust in the Lord and felt true contrition and had the desire to eventually return to the Lord’s fold. That day we both felt the Savior’s redeeming love for us. At the end of our brief visit, we were both overcome with emotion, and to this day, I remember the resplendent joy in his countenance when he left my office.

But first, with regard to the basic principle, let me tell you of an experience in which I personally learned from a mistake.
The general lesson I learned from this mistake concerns the importance of preparation. More particularly, I learned that when you argue a case in the United States Supreme Court you can never prepare too much.
One of the customs in the Supreme Court is that lawyers arguing cases for the government always appear in formal attire called a morning suit, consisting of striped pants, a vest, and swallowtail coat. I bought such a suit from a fellow who left the solicitor general’s office at about the time I joined it. He was nearly my size but a little bigger around the middle. Following my first argument Janet told me she thought my argument was all right, but that my hair kept falling down in my eyes and my pants were baggy. She told me to bring the pants home so she could fix them.
My next argument a month later involved an important constitutional issue, citizen and taxpayer standing to bring constitutional challenges in federal courts. The morning of the argument, as I was changing into my government lawyer uniform, I tried to anticipate the questions that I might be asked. I remembered that Justice Harlan in a dissenting opinion in a case called Flast v. Cohen had suggested what he characterized as a possible Hohfeldian analysis that might be applicable to this citizen standing issue. I didn’t remember precisely what he had said, and my first inclination was to reread that opinion before I went to the Court. But then I said to myself, “No, it’s just an abstract theory in a dissenting opinion, no subsequent opinion has even acknowledged it, and the briefs don’t discuss it. No one is going to ask me about it, and, besides, I need the extra time to apply some safety pins to my pants and comb my hair just right and then spray it.” I had forgotten to take the pants home to Janet for alterations.
It was not until after my argument time had expired, and I was in the process of sitting down, that Justice Stevens said, “By the way, Mr. Solicitor General, what is your view of Justice Harlan’s theory in Flast v. Cohen that there may be a Hohfeldian analysis applicable to the citizen standing issue?”
Well, if you read the transcript of my answer to that question, it will remind you of a high foul ball hit back behind home plate and out of play. The batter was not put out, but no runners advanced. Then, when I returned to my office, the first thing I did, of course, was to read Justice Harlan’s opinion, something I should have done two hours earlier. You can imagine my dismay when I discovered that Justice Stevens’ question was a home run ball, which I should have hit out of the park. But all was not lost. Three separate people came up to me after that argument and told me how nice my hair looked and how well my pants fit.

A number of families in the Richards Bay Ward, Durban South Africa Stake, are enjoying the fruits—or vegetables—of a year-old garden-plot program that began with the help of the full-time missionaries and the Church Welfare Department.
Many of the Church members in the townships surrounding the Richards Bay meetinghouse struggle financially because of high unemployment rates or low wages.
Elder Jack Davidson, a senior missionary serving in the area in 2006, saw a great opportunity in an unused portion of the Church property surrounding the Esikhawini meetinghouse and the excellent gardening skills of a few of the members. Vegetables could be grown year-round, and surplus produce could be readily sold to members of the community.
The Church had purchased property on which three small temporary Church buildings (a chapel and two sets of small classrooms) were built to serve the members’ needs at the time. These buildings, lawns, flowers, and parking occupied only about one-third of the property. The rest, about 45 meters wide by 80 meters long, was in tall, rough grass and weeds. This property was to be used for more permanent buildings as warranted in the future. A security fence surrounds the property.
It took almost six months for Elder Davidson to accumulate the resources to buy the tools, irrigation supplies, and other equipment and to build a secure building to house tools and supplies. The funds came from LDS Humanitarian Services and generous donations from family and friends.
The secure storage building was essential not only for security but for effective use of the site by members. Only a few members in Esikhawini have cars. If they were to try to garden without this building, they would have to carry heavy tools to and from their homes. Anything left on the site could be stolen. Also, some of the new gardeners would not be able to afford tools. With the building in place, members can check the hand and power tools in and out. Part of the overall ward gardening plan is for members and missionaries to take items from this set of tools and equipment to other townships in the ward to help members set up gardens. All the tools and power equipment are portable in a pickup truck.
Beginning in March 2006, more than a dozen full-time missionaries in the Richards Bay Zone of the South Africa Durban Mission set to work to help create the family garden plots and secure building and composting facilities.
Richards Bay Ward bishop Ted Baldwin laid the blocks for the secure building, and others helped as needed with this and the cement work.
Elder Davidson and the rest of the elders focused primarily on clearing the land so the plots could be laid out, the cultivating could get underway in earnest, the irrigation system could be installed, and the gravel could be cleaned out. Youth often turned out to help and to learn to use the equipment. The plots were to be 6 meters by 10 meters with one-meter paths all around.
As each plot was finished and ready for planting, families from the Esikhawini township were ready to take over and plant winter vegetables. Some of the families had already raised seedlings at home in anticipation of the gardens.
The number of individual plots had finally reached the set goal of 30 in early June. Throughout the process, the community took notice of the activities. On most days a few people would stop and ask the members or missionaries questions. Several of these conversations led to missionary lessons.

I was called to a home in a little village in New Zealand one day. There the Relief Society sisters were preparing the body of one of our Saints. They had placed his body in front of the big house, as they call it, the house where the people come to wail and weep and mourn over the dead, when in rushed the dead man’s brother. He said, “Administer to him.”
And the young natives said, “Why, you shouldn’t do that. He’s dead.”
“You do it!”
… I had [a faithful old Maori] with me. … The younger native got down on his knees and he anointed this man. Then this great old sage got down and blessed him and commanded him to rise.
You should have seen the Relief Society sisters scatter. He sat up and said, “Send for the elders; I don’t feel very well.” … We told him he had just been administered to, and he said, “Oh, that was it.” He said, “I was dead. I could feel life coming back into me just like a blanket unrolling.” He outlived the brother that came in and told us to administer to him. …
God does have control of all of these elements. You and I can reach out, and if it’s His will, we can bring those elements under our control for His purposes.

For David Wojnar, 22, from Springfield, Massachusetts, a good friendship played an important role in his conversion to the Church. Now a missionary serving in Utah Salt Lake Mission, Elder Wojnar talked about the role of friendship in missionary work.

“When I graduated from high school, I decided it was time to move away from home. I got a job in Virginia and moved in with an old friend. One of my roommates was LDS. We soon became good friends. We did things together, and we could talk about anything. He had a sincere interest in me. We were friends first, and being friends probably helped more than anything else,” Elder Wojnar explained.

“Eventually, he asked me to go to a Young Adult activity with him. They were putting on a play. The young people came up and made me feel welcome. They all were excited about meeting someone new,” Elder Wojnar explained. “They were different from anybody I had run around with before. There was a different spirit.”

“When I became involved in the activities and started attending church, the members made me feel special and important. They never put me down because I was a member of another church. I felt good being around them.”

At that time, Elder Wojnar still wasn’t ready to commit himself to baptism. “My other roommate, my friend from Massachusetts, was taking the discussions and was almost ready for baptism. When the missionaries came, I always found an excuse to leave. Most of the barriers I had were just fear and not knowing what would happen. I was determined to serve the Lord, and I just needed time. No one seemed excited or upset about the hesitancy that I was experiencing. My friend was patient and didn’t give up on me. He was still my friend, and eventually I did make the commitment,” Elder Wojnar said.

“Being sincere is one of the most important aspects of missionary work,” Elder Wojnar explained. “If you’re sincere and a true friend, people will respond to the gospel. It’s not as important for members to teach the doctrines as it is for them to plant the seed. Being a good example is also important. It means more than just living the principles. It means going out and showing the results of living the gospel. Don’t be afraid to let people know you’re a Mormon. I’m tickled pink whenever I can tell anybody I’m a Mormon,” Elder Wojnar concluded.

The Prophet Joseph Smith exemplified kindness in his life to everyone, old and young. One child who benefited from the Prophet’s kindness remembered:
“My older brother and I were going to school, near to the building which was known as Joseph’s brick store. It had been raining the previous day, causing the ground to be very muddy, especially along that street. My brother Wallace and I both got [our feet] in the mud, and could not get out, and of course, child-like, we began to cry, for we thought we would have to stay there. But looking up, I beheld the loving friend of children, the Prophet Joseph, coming to us. He soon had us on higher and drier ground. Then he stooped down and cleaned the mud from our little, heavy-laden shoes, took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped our tear-stained faces. He spoke kind and cheering words to us, and sent us on our way to school rejoicing.”

A member of our ward had to be on bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy. I had an idea that our family could take care of her son a couple of days a week. My brothers and sister and I helped watch him and make sure he was having fun when he wasn’t with his mom. It was so fun to have him come over and to know that we were helping his family.
Mason, Cooper, Weston, and Ellie T., ages 10, 8, 5, and 3, Georgia

Sometimes the answers we receive won’t make sense at the time. Near the time I turned 21, I was trying to decide whether to serve a full-time mission or not. I prayed about it and the answer I received was to not serve a mission.
At the time, this was challenging for me. Years later, I realized that if I had left grad school to serve a mission, and because of the transition from Ricks College to BYU-Idaho, there probably would not have been a faculty position available when I finished my master’s degree and I would not be here in Rexburg where Heavenly Father wanted me to be.
I sometimes half-jokingly refer to my employment at BYU-Idaho as my “forty-year mission.”
This is just one example; most of the time, I don’t know why I receive specific revelation or answers to prayers. I actually have a list of “why did that happen” questions to ask when I get to the other side of the veil. We have to trust Heavenly Father and move forward along our paths.

Another Mormon boy was sent east to an officers training school. A new commanding officer came into the camp, and they put on a banquet to honor him. There, by every plate, was a cocktail glass. When the proper time came, every one of those potential officers stood up with his cocktail glass to toast that incoming officer. All but one boy, and he raised a glass of milk. It would take a lot of courage, wouldn’t you think, to stand there with all those officers, and see all of those cocktail glasses come up, and stand and raise a glass of milk!
Well, the officer saw it. He made a beeline for that boy after the entertainment was over, and he said, “Why did you toast me with a glass of milk?”
“Well, officer,” he said, “I’ve never touched liquor in my life. I don’t want to touch it; my parents wouldn’t want me to touch it; and I didn’t think you would want me to either. And I wanted to toast you, so I thought you would be satisfied if I toasted you with what I am accustomed to drinking.”
The officer said, “You report at headquarters in the morning,” and told him what time.
I suppose that boy spent a sleepless night, but when he went into the officer’s quarters the next morning, you know what happened? The officer assigned him a place on his staff with this explanation: “I want to surround myself with men who have the courage to do what they think is right regardless of what anybody else thinks about it.” Isn’t that wonderful! He was an uncommon boy, wasn’t he? I hope you are all uncommon. I hope that if you are ever in a situation like that you will make the proper decision.

“No Santa this year,” my sister Lindi whispered to me. “But we have each other. Besides, next Christmas we’ll have a house.”
What! No Santa? My sister’s remark echoed in my mind. I could do without Santa, and I knew we were lucky to even have a place to live, but how would the younger children understand? Tears formed in my eyes when I thought that the lack of money would make my younger brothers and sisters learn the truth about Santa.
It was almost December. Two years earlier we had left our home in New Jersey for California to support our dad’s dream of owning his own veterinary practice. We left with the hope our house there would sell within a few weeks and we’d buy one in California. It didn’t sell, and the eight of us, and our large German shepherd, spent our first California Christmas in a 20-foot trailer.
A year later the house still hadn’t sold, but we were able to move into the back of Dad’s veterinary clinic. Six of us shared one bedroom, but we each had separate “areas” and thought it wonderful to have our own beds.
Paradise, California, was not a wealthy community. There were a lot of retired people and a lot of young families. Dad couldn’t stand charging those with financial struggles the normal fees, so we adjusted to less material lives, shopped at bargain stores, and dreamed about our future house. In those two years we made a lot of friends and not very much money.
But as Christmas approached, I knew friendship wouldn’t fill the stockings.
I was wrong.
The week before Christmas Dad came back into our apartment at least twice a day with tears in his eyes and candy, cookies, or fruit in his hands. The cards attached to these presents were messages of love and faith. Newly found friends were acting as if we were family.
On Christmas Eve we returned our clients’ kindness by caroling to their doorsteps. We gave our voices, and then a jar of honey from the bees we raised in New Jersey. Our off-key voices competed with barking watchdogs. Then we hugged a lot of adopted grand-aunts and -uncles and went home laughing.
When we got back to the clinic, my brother Vance jumped out of the Suburban. He came back quickly with a ham in his arms. “Santa came! Look! There’s a box of food and this big thing.”
We dashed to the back porch. “Cake mixes and Jello! Wow!” Laurel screamed.
“Dad, look—tamales in cans. You love tamales,” Brett said. We sat under the porch light joyously pulling things out.
Christmas morning we ran to the waiting room where our stockings had been propped in front of the reception desk. “I don’t think Santa left much this year,” Mom said. “What’s in there? Oh, look Lee, he left oranges in the toes.”
“And walnuts and almonds!” Vance said, excitedly. We dug through our stockings for the trinkets and some change Santa also left. Laurel told me she was glad Santa found out where we had moved. “They believe Santa came!” I thought.
Mom and Dad went out back to bring in their presents when we heard Mom call, “Oh, come here!” We all went running and looked outside to see two boxes this time—one full of presents and one stuffed with a turkey.
We brought it all into the cage room and unloaded our third bundle from “Santa” with excitement and disbelief. There were gifts for each of us—all from Santa Claus.
“Does Santa come more than once a year?” asked Bliss.
“I guess anything is possible,” Dad said, and I watched as he and Mom exchanged a look of shock and relief.
Later, as we ate dinner, we heard singing and then a deep voice calling, “Santa’s here!” We hurried for the fourth time to the door. There was a mobile home with Santa and Mrs. Claus out front carrying presents. “Hey, little one,” Santa said to my sister, “what would you like for Christmas? How about a big doll that walks?” He unloaded a doll for Laurel. She nearly burst saying thank you, then hugged him around the neck.
“How about you, young man?” Santa handed a packet to Vance. Vance was speechless. He gently took the package and stood staring with wonder.
The process continued. Mom tried to get their identity, but they simply said, “Merry Christmas!” and left after our abundant thank-yous.
When we got back to the cage room we looked at everything that had been brought and talked about the blessings we had. I will never forget what we learned in our home that season—that the presents were a treasure, but the real gifts were in our appreciation and the generosity of others. Our neighbors and friends shared the most priceless gift with us, the pure love of Jesus Christ.

You have saved your money for many years and have made many sacrifices to purchase an expensive new car. Finally, the day arrives when you have enough money to buy it.
As you are driving your new car home, you hear a thump-thump-thump. You pull over to the side of the road and discover that you have a flat tire. “I can’t believe this car!” you exclaim as you slam the door. “I spent all that money on it—and for what?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, you pull a can of gasoline from the trunk, douse the car, and ignite it. The new car with the flat tire is obliterated in an inferno.
Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? Who would destroy a fine car because of one minor problem?

The traffic signal changed to DON’T WALK just as the girls reached the corner. Carla stopped and lifted her sobbing sister up into the stone fence. She used a tissue to blot a trickle of blood from Pam’s knees and scratched hands. The dark-haired girl thought her little sister was more upset and angry than seriously injured. Still Carla was anxious to reach home and turn the problem over to their mother.
They had been playing at the park with friends when a group of older boys swaggered up to them and ordered the girls to leave the swings. The youths were too big for the play equipment but Carla and the others didn’t argue. The snickering boys were looking for trouble. As unfair as it was, the girls surrendered the swings.
Pam was too young to understand that it was best to avoid trouble and to leave the park at once. She had waited for her turn and she was determined to take it.
“Let’s go home, Pam. We can come back and play after supper,” Carla pleaded nervously. The other frightened girls had quickly left.
“No! They’re not playing fair,” Pam cried, looking stubborn. “It’s my turn and I don’t want to go home yet. You promised to swing me up high. I don’t want to play after supper. I want to swing now!”
“Pam, please! Let them have the swings,” Carla whispered. She tried to pry the little girl’s fingers loose from the chains, but Pam held on tightly.
“I’ll get that kid out of there!” the tallest boy boasted. He slapped Pam’s hands but she didn’t loosen her grip. The others laughed and shouted encouragement. Pam was frightened now and began to cry. One boy held Carla back when she tried to protect her sister. The tall one jerked and twisted the chains until Pam lost her balance and toppled out of the swing seat.
White with anger and fear, Carla fled with her wailing sister. The boys were scuffling over the swings and didn’t try to stop them.
Carla was busy trying to soothe Pam. She didn’t notice that a car had stopped at the curb until the driver called to her.
“Is the little girl hurt? Get in and I’ll take you home,” the smiling man offered, opening the car door.
Carla was so upset that she almost accepted the offer. She couldn’t stop Pam’s weeping, and the blood trickling down from her sister’s skinned knees frightened her. All she wanted to do was to get Pam home as soon as possible.
“Come on, honey, get in. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. All I want to do is help,” the driver said enticingly.
Suddenly Carla remembered repeated warnings about getting into cars with strangers. Her parents had told her never to accept a ride from anyone she didn’t know, no matter how nice the person seemed. She also remembered the lecture at school when a police officer had explained that some very sick people look normal but might be dangerous.
Something about the man bothered Carla. Most adults would have rushed to help a child who was hurt. But the florid-faced man didn’t really seem concerned about Pam’s injuries. He just kept inviting the girls into his car while glancing nervously into his rearview mirror. His darting eyes kept searching for anyone watching along the street.
Panic swept over Carla as she recognized a dented and rusted rear fender. She had seen the car before! The last two afternoons it had been parked near the play area at the park. The driver had stayed in it, apparently just watching the children.
Carla’s heart hammered with fear. “Thank you,” she stammered, “but we don’t need a ride. We live just down the block. We’re practically home now.”
It wasn’t true and the man sensed that she was not telling the truth. His eyes narrowed and he stopped smiling.
How can I run with Pam? Carla wondered. We’re over three blocks from home! Relief swept over her as she saw a neighbor’s car coming toward them. “Mr. Benning! Mr. Benning!” she shouted, waving frantically.
The stranger quickly slammed his open door and sped through a red light as Mr. Benning stopped his car and leaped out. Carla ran to him sobbing.
Later, with two police officers sitting in their living room, Carla felt embarrassed by all the trouble she seemed to be causing. Her parents were worried, and the policemen looked grim as one of them made notes.
“He didn’t really do anything,” she whispered shyly. “Maybe I was scared for nothing. Maybe he’s just a nice man who was trying to help us.”
“No, Carla. The man you’ve described isn’t a ‘nice’ man,” the tall officer stated flatly. “We know him. He’s suspected of being a child molester. If you and your sister had gotten into the car with him, you don’t know what might have happened. You were smart to remember all the warnings about accepting rides from strangers.”
Carla shivered and snuggled closer to her father. “I’ll always remember not to accept rides from strangers. And I’ll remind Pam and my friends too!” she said.
“Good,” the policeman said, smiling and closing his notebook. “The more children who remember, the easier my job will be. And don’t worry about any more trouble at the park. I’m going to talk to those older boys and their parents. When they understand that they may be banned from the park or arrested for bullying smaller children, they’ll stay at the ball diamond.” The officer smiled. “And none of you will have to miss your turns on the swings again,” he promised.