Gospel Story Finder

Dr. Salesi Havili’s answer to a fervent prayer occurred in the operating room of the Vava‘u Hospital. Dr. Havili and his wife, Selu, had joined the Church one year previously, in 1977, and were preparing to go to the temple. But he found that an experience during surgery was a test of faith that he needed to pass before taking that step.
Within the limitations of an island hospital, two surgeons and Dr. Havili, the anesthesiologist, began operating on Mafi Vakaloa, an elderly gentleman. When the nurse whispered to Dr. Havili that she could no longer feel Mafi’s pulse, Dr. Havili discovered that the patient had died on the operating table. Panicking, he checked and rechecked everything, trying to discover what went wrong. Finally, he began to pray:
It was a desperate but shallow prayer at first. After all, I knew scientifically that Mafi was dead. And given the limitations of my knowledge and environment, I had exhausted my personal resources in trying to revive him.
I continued to pray, a second and third time. Guilt and doubt dominated my feelings. Although I begged Heavenly Father to restore Mafi’s heartbeat, I was too aware medically that he was dead, and too fearful that I had caused his death. But as I prayed again and again, I had the sensation that Mafi’s life depended on the genuine sincerity of my prayer and the quality of my belief—that this crisis was to test my faith, almost on the eve of my going to the temple.
Eighteen minutes had passed since Mafi’s heart had stopped beating. I asked more fervently, reasoning with the Lord and promising a total concentration of my life to him if he would revive this man.
Finally I bowed my head again and prayed with a fervor and intimacy unmatched in previous prayers. As I spoke to the Lord, I suppressed every fragment of doubt and prayed until I knew that when I opened my eyes, Mafi’s heart would begin beating.
Miraculously, it was so. Mafi’s heart resumed beating after twenty-five minutes of not beating at all. I was overwhelmed with joy and awe. The next morning, I told the doctors and the nurse what had happened. As I made my rounds to the different wards, I was touched to see Mafi’s wife sitting on the edge of her husband’s bed. Mafi was very much alert, articulate—and alive.

During the last week of school, Shawn had appendicitis and had to have an operation. He missed his school’s field day and a field trip while he was in the hospital. Then he had to spend the first three weeks of summer inside recovering. Shawn was disappointed, but he never complained. He was too busy finding other things to do! Among them were reading books and drawing, two of his favorite pastimes. His dad says, “Shawn can find a way to have fun in any circumstance, so if someone had to get sick and miss out, it couldn’t have happened to a better person.” The doctors told him that on July fourth, a month from the day of the surgery, he would be well enough to play outside. He celebrated with a water balloon fight!

A few years ago, we decided to bottle peaches for our grandpa for Christmas. We knew that he liked simple gifts and loved peaches. Mom helped us boil the peaches, peel them, and put them in jars. It was so much fun to bottle the peaches and learn something new. On Christmas, we went to our grandpa’s house and were excited to carry in the big box of peaches. He was so happy when he unwrapped the box and saw all of the peaches inside. He told us how proud he was of us for learning how to bottle peaches. Now we give him Christmas peaches every year.

Amy was baptized this year. “My daddy baptized me, and he made me stay under the water for a long time to make sure I was all the way under.” When she came up, she took a big breath and said, “I’m all clean.” Later, she added, “I felt really different when I was baptized. I felt clean afterward and wanted to stay clean.” Whenever Amy has to make a hard decision, she asks herself, “What would Jesus do?” She always tries to help people and even animals who need help.

At the beginning of 2007, my husband and I were called to produce a cultural celebration for the rededication of the temple. The event was to be held on November 3, a day before the rededication sessions.
Our aim was to involve as many youth as possible from the stakes in Tongatapu and to come up with a presentation that would spiritually prepare the Saints for the temple dedication the next day. The event would be broadcast and televised live to the outer islands as well as to Tongan stakes around the globe, so this was a mighty task.
During the week of the rededication, it rained heavily. At our final rehearsal, on November 2, the skies were overcast. I asked the youth to return to their homes and pray for good weather so they would be able to perform for Tonga and for those who would be watching via satellite, especially the prophet. That night it rained hard, and the next morning the weather was still foreboding.
On Saturday evening, 3,000 young people gathered at Teufaiva Stadium to hear from Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who had been sent to rededicate the temple due to President Hinckley’s frail health. I will never forget the performance. Everything fell into place. The weather was perfect, the sound system that had malfunctioned earlier was excellent, and those young men and young women danced their hearts out.
We had witnessed a miracle. Heavenly Father heard the prayers of His children and kept the rain away. At the same time, we were able to set the tone for the temple dedication the next day, reminding members that eternal families are the treasure that lasts and that temples are built to bring such blessings to pass.

I grew up in a small town and participated in a 4-H club that each year required me to purchase a lamb or a calf to raise. I had to maintain a workbook to keep track of what I paid for feed, veterinarian bills, and anything else I needed. The most memorable lamb I had was when I was nine. I bought a Southdown-cross lamb from a farmer and took good care of it. My dad helped me, and the county agent met with members of the club periodically to sign off in our workbooks. I learned how to raise and show that lamb, including shearing it so it would look its best.
I ended up taking it to The Dalles, Oregon, livestock show, and I won the grand-champion prize. The lamb weighed 92 pounds, and I received $2.50 per pound for my efforts. For a nine-year-old, that was a lot of money. And because of the records I had kept, I knew how much I earned after costs. For me, that was good training. For the last 20 years, I have been self-employed. I’ve paid my tithing on the same basis I learned when I was nine.

The youth of one ward in Washington state came up with a plan to focus on service for an entire year. Throughout the year, each hour of service was marked by a white address label that was then attached to a large cardboard cutout of the temple. These young men and women came up with an amazing variety of ways to serve: babysitting, doing yard work, community coaching, doing baptisms for the dead, mentoring, helping at a community center, splitting wood, visiting a nursing home, tutoring, serving at school camp, and more. Many of the youth even turned down payment for their work, opting instead for the service stickers they could add to the temple cutouts. One of the main projects of the year was completely redoing the yard of a Young Women leader going through chemotherapy. At their ward conference in January, these youth presented their stake presidency with two huge temple cutouts covered with their service bricks representing the 2,070 hours given that year.

I wanted to get better at cooking. So when I got my Children’s Guidebook, I set a goal to cook with my dad. Whenever my father would cook, I watched him and saw how cool it was. I wanted to learn to cook like him.
My dad and I went to the store to buy ingredients. Then he taught me step by step how to turn flour into a beautiful cake. Later he also taught me how to make other things.
Working on this goal has helped me be closer to my dad. I love spending time with him! He has been a great teacher. One thing he taught me was that when we’re cooking, I can’t be distracted on my cell phone!
Now when I think of cooking, the feeling that explodes inside me is joy, because I love cooking! This goal helps me not only do something I love but grow spiritually too. I like that I get to choose my own goals. Heavenly Father wants to help me with this goal because He wants me to grow my talents. He wants to help me because He knows it makes me happy.

I felt so different from everyone my age. Even if I was invited to hang out with friends and my parents encouraged me to go, I struggled to have fun because I felt guilty that my parents had so much to do at home. Other times I would have a hard time enjoying myself when Barbara was struggling with her health. Most of the time, I just wanted a friend to sit down with me and listen.

Sometimes I felt like no one understood what I was going through. But a few things helped remedy that loneliness. I decided I’d try to reach out to people who might be feeling similarly. When I did go to activities or church, I tried to include those who were sitting alone or who looked like they were having a bad day. As Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “Miracles occur when we care for each other as He would.” 1 And I saw miracles come into my life. I felt much more comfortable going to activities and was happier when I offered love to others.

Examples: “One of my best friends grew up with a strong Buddhist background. At first, I doubted that she would join the Church. But I mentioned it from time to time, and gradually she became curious about the gospel. She prayed daily. She read the scriptures. But she had so many questions I began to feel she might always have some belief in the Church but not join it. Then one day she told me she had decided to be baptized, that she had felt the witness of the Holy Ghost that the Church is true. I was very happy then.
“Another of my classmates studied for a long time and had a testimony, but she didn’t want to be baptized because she was afraid of water. She couldn’t imagine standing in the baptismal font. So we prayed and decided she should try her faith. The baptismal date was set. Even the day before she was still scared. So we prayed again. About 11:00 P.M. that night, she called me to say she had found peace about it and would be baptized.
“There have been many others. Each time I saw one of my friends standing in the baptismal font, I think I was as happy as they were. Once again I could see someone become a member of the kingdom of God.
“Now, even though we are members of different wards, we all keep in touch with each other. It is wonderful to know they have become happier and that they now want to share the gospel.”
Mei Ling regularly writes in her journal, too. And she serves as chorister during her ward’s sacrament meetings.
And even though schoolwork is a high priority, she finds time to join the other Latter-day Saint youth of Taipei for Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women activities.
“I love to take my guitar to the hills and sing, or go to the beach to swim. I like horseback riding at the youth park, or ice skating. And of course it’s only that much better when it’s a Church activity and friends and classmates come along.
“During the mid-autumn festival this year, we’re planning a party at the park. We will build a fire and sing and enjoy the beauty of the moon, which is an old Chinese custom.”
When Mei Ling thinks of future activities like that, she also thinks about things even further in the future.
“It is said that the Taiwanese are full of genuine human warmth—but I believe the people would have even more love and kindness among themselves if they had the gospel. I believe that someday most of the people in Taiwan will be Latter-day Saints. Then from here the Church will continue to grow throughout all of Asia, throughout all the world, as we reach out to our brothers and sisters everywhere.”
In learning about the Church, there are some lessons that Mei Ling has learned well.
“I think that someday I will certainly be married in the temple,” she said. “I will also do the ordinances for my ancestors. I want to enter into the kingdom of God and provide the same opportunity for my family before me. If they aren’t baptized, how can they enter the kingdom of God? So I have to do the ordinances for them. As far as my marriage is concerned, I think that the person I marry will be someone I love and that he will also love me. We will not like the idea of being separated after death. So we will go to the temple and be sealed forever. And because there will soon be a temple in Taipei, we won’t have to travel far.”
Right now, though, Mei Ling said her first priority is to put her own life in order. “Since I now have to go to school both day and night, I am busy. There is tremendous pressure. But as long as I am able to manage my time well, the Lord will bless me to find time to do what he has asked.”
Since she joined the Church, Mei Ling has progressed in two kinds of learning. She has continued her schoolwork, and she works hard at it. But she has also learned that by studying and sharing the gospel, she can help others to acquire a type of knowledge more important than any secular education.
Every weekday, the students of Taipei City Junior Business College come to school, open their books, study their lessons, return home and study some more. In a busy, crowded metropolis like Taipei, their activity may seem just another part of the rush and hurry. In the school’s student body of thousands, one LDS girl may not seem to most of her peers to stand out in a crowd.
But just as the schools of Taiwan have taught students and teachers alike ways of sharing knowledge with each other, the still small voice has taught Chu Mei Ling how to share her testimony with those around her.
There certainly must be lessons to be learned from both.

When twenty-one-year-old Sunita Kumari, an Indian sister, wanted to join the Church, her older brother tried to stop her by arranging a marriage for her. After the members of the Rakiraki Branch fasted and prayed with Sunita the marriage fell through, and she was baptized.
A few months later, branch members again fasted and prayed with Sunita, this time that she might be able to find a job. She had been looking for work since she had completed her schooling four years earlier, but now she felt it was especially important to earn money “so that I could pay my tithing and help the poor people.” A week later, Sunita was offered a job as a secretary for a new business. Since that time, she has served as a missionary in the Suva Fiji Mission.

Masha has special feelings for small children—and she simply won’t put up with bullies. Once an older boy threatened a group of little children, yelling that he was going to hit them with a tree branch he was holding. Seeing what was happening, Masha stood up to him and told him to leave the children alone. “When I turned and started walking off with the other kids,” she says, “he hit the back of my legs with the branch.” It stung her bare skin, but Masha didn’t try to get back at him. She was more concerned about getting the little children away from him.

Imagine that one morning, you wake up and realize there’s a cloth blocking your vision. You try to pull it off, but your attempts are in vain, and ultimately you give up and accept that you’re destined to live your life in darkness. Hopelessly, you let your head fall in defeat. Then suddenly you hear a voice—someone is telling you to take his hand, saying that he can help you if you will only believe and trust him to lead you. Could you put your full trust in him?

Thanks for helping me study for that science test. I passed, thanks to you.
No problem!
Umm … how come you’ve been so nice to me after some of us were so mean when you first got here?
Well, after you failed that first science test you looked like you needed some help.
And we had a lesson in our family home evening about being kind to others.
What’s family home evening?
Family home evening is where we get together and have lessons, and games, and treats.
My family doesn’t do anything like that.
Hey! Does your family want to come to our home evening next Monday night?
Sounds fun. I’ll ask my mom.
Mom, can I be in charge of family home evening on Monday? I invited Audrey. I hope that’s OK.
… I’ll make brownies and …
To be continued …

Not long after my ordination as a teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, I was called to serve as president of the quorum. Our adviser, Harold, was interested in us, and we knew it. One day he said to me, “Tom, you enjoy raising pigeons, don’t you?”
I responded with a warm, “Yes.”
Then he proffered, “How would you like me to give you a pair of purebred Birmingham Roller pigeons?”
This time I answered, “Yes, Sir!” You see, the pigeons I had were just the common variety, trapped on the roof of the Grant Elementary School.
He invited me to come to his home the next evening. The following day was one of the longest in my young life. I was awaiting my adviser’s return from work an hour before he arrived home. He took me to his pigeon loft, which was in the upper area of a small barn located at the rear of his yard. As I looked at the most beautiful pigeons I had yet seen, he said, “Select any male, and I will give you a female which is different from any other pigeon in the world.” I made my selection. He then placed in my hand a tiny hen pigeon. I asked what made her so different. He responded, “Look carefully, and you’ll notice that she has but one eye.” Sure enough, one eye was missing, a cat having done the damage. “Take them home to your loft,” he counseled. “Keep them in for about 10 days, and then turn them out to see if they will remain at your place.”
I followed Harold’s instructions. Upon his release, the male pigeon strutted about the roof of the loft, then returned inside to eat. But the one-eyed female was gone in an instant. I called Harold and asked, “Did that one-eyed pigeon return to your loft?”
“Come on over,” he said, “and we’ll have a look.”
As we walked from his kitchen door to the loft, my adviser commented, “Tom, you are the president of the teachers quorum.” This, of course, I already knew. Then he added, “What are you going to do to activate Bob, who is a member of your quorum?”
I answered, “I’ll have him at quorum meeting this week.”
Then he reached up to a special nest and handed me the one-eyed pigeon. “Keep her in a few more days and try again.” This I did, and once more she disappeared. Again the experience: “Come on over, and we’ll see if she returned home.” Came the comment as we walked to the loft, “Congratulations on getting Bob to priesthood meeting. Now what are you and Bob going to do to activate Bill?”
“We’ll have him there next week,” I volunteered.
This experience was repeated over and over again. I was a grown man before I fully realized that indeed Harold, my adviser, had given me a special pigeon, the only pigeon in his loft he knew would return every time she was released. It was his inspired way of having an ideal personal priesthood interview with the president of the teachers quorum every two weeks. I owe a lot to that one-eyed pigeon. I owe more to that quorum adviser. He had the patience and the skill to help me prepare for the responsibilities which lay ahead.

I arrived home. I heard crying as I walked in. It was Steven, my brother. He’d been teased at school and didn’t want to go back. The words from my patriarchal blessing echoed in my mind: “You may help the needy with your time, effort, and means.” Here was my brother in need.
“Hey Steven, you wanna go get some ice cream? Tell me what happened.”
Steven and I talked about his peers. Maybe I didn’t say anything helpful, but I could tell that my companionship meant a lot to him.
That experience with Steven taught me a lesson: the poor are just as likely to be in your home as on the streets. There are all sorts of needy people in the world—those who need food and shelter, of course—but also those who need love, counsel, and encouragement.
I haven’t given up my dream of ending the world’s social troubles, but for now, whenever I get the itch to seek out the needy, I’m inclined to go knocking at my brother’s bedroom door first.

Now, once you receive it, be obedient to the promptings you receive. I learned a sobering lesson as a mission president. I was also a General Authority. I had been prompted several times, for the good of the work, to release one of my counselors. Besides praying about it, I had reasoned that it was the right thing to do. But I did not do it. I feared that it would injure a man who had given long service to the Church.
The Spirit withdrew from me. I could get no promptings on who should be called as a counselor should I release him. It lasted for several weeks. My prayers seemed to be contained within the room where I offered them. I tried a number of alternate ways to arrange the work, but to no avail. Finally, I did as I was bidden to do by the Spirit. Immediately, the gift returned! Oh, the exquisite sweetness to have the gift again. You know it, for you have it, the gift of the Holy Ghost. And the brother was not injured, indeed he was greatly blessed and immediately thereafter the work prospered.

Last year a dear family friend passed away. Lucile was 89 years old and had been a widow for more than 20 years. She was not a rich woman, she was not famous, and most of the world knew nothing of her passing. But her family knew. Her neighbors knew. The members of her ward knew. For all who had experienced her love, her death had left the world a diminished place. During her years as a widow, Lucile had endured difficult challenges, including the death of a beloved grandson and infirmities brought on by age. But Lucile continued to nourish everyone she knew with her spirit, with her baked goods, with her quilts and afghans, with her humor and goodwill. And she loved to work in the temple. One spring day in 1981, she wrote in her journal: “This morning at 3:30 a.m., as I was walking up the path to the temple, I watched the flag gently blowing in the breeze and looked at the beautiful sky and thought how happy I was to be there. I felt sad for all the people who [were] sleeping and missing the awakening of a beautiful day.”

Most of us don’t think the world is “awakening” at 3:30 in the morning, and we’re perfectly happy to roll over in bed about then and allow Lucile to feel sorry for us. But what an attitude! Only a flow of goodness from within could explain it. Did she possess this purity of spirit at 15, at 25, or even 55? I don’t know. In most cases, it probably takes a lifetime of listening to the Holy Ghost before we know God’s voice so well and before we trust in the living waters enough to taste them throughout the entire day—especially a day that begins at 3:30 a.m. But I believe the living waters sustained Lucile during those long years when she might have given way to self-pity, and her life, her spirit, became nourishment to everyone she knew.

As a young man I came across a Mormonad that really struck me: “Adversity can make you strong.” I never imagined I would later find in this phrase the strength to go forward during challenges of my mission.
The town in the Argentina Buenos Aires North Mission where my companion and I were working was filled with people who viewed two boys in white shirts and ties with distrust. We knocked on many doors, with no result.
On one particularly hot and difficult day, when our tired bodies felt like they could go no further, it began to rain. Mud developed and stuck to our shoes, making tracting even more difficult.
We wanted to return home, but then I remembered the phrase from the magazine and told my companion, “Come on, Elder. All this adversity is going to make us strong.”
We offered a prayer and felt we should look up an old referral we had never been able to find.
We arrived at the house, and again the woman was not there. But another woman, Anita, was. We gave her a Book of Mormon, and she promised to read it. We felt great happiness because we knew the Spirit had led us to her.
As we began to teach Anita, she accepted all the principles. However, when it was time for the fourth discussion, she told us she didn’t want to be baptized and asked us to leave. My companion and I were disappointed, but we were prepared for opposition. We invited Anita to ask Heavenly Father if she should be baptized, and trusted she would receive an answer.
When we went back the next day, Anita had indeed received an undeniable answer of peace in her heart. Ten days later, she was baptized.
I have since learned that one year later, Anita made covenants in the temple and became a source of referrals for the missionaries and a great example to the members of her community.
I value the opposition we had because that was how we found the strength to serve the Lord in the best way we could. Even now that I’ve returned home to Chile, I don’t become discouraged with problems because I now know how adversity can strengthen us.

It was the very first day in December, and although there was a light blanket of snow covering the grass and fields, the sidewalks were bare and dry. The air was nippy, and anyone outside could see his own cloud of warmth dispel the chill when he spoke.
Down the large staircase, warm within the Johnson house, hurried Cindy. She was pulling on the red and blue striped stocking cap Grandmother had given her. As Cindy reached the landing, Mom greeted her from the kitchen doorway.
“Hi, Mom,” Cindy said. “Can I go out and make a snowman before breakfast?”
“You certainly may,” Mom said.
“Call me when Dad comes down for breakfast, OK, Mom?” With that, Cindy grabbed her blue parka from behind the door, put it on, pulled on her mittens, and disappeared out the door.
Cindy huffed and puffed as she pushed the fat middle section of the snowman up onto the bottom mound. As she stepped back, she saw a small boy standing near the hedge that divided her yard from the neighboring field. “Hello,” Cindy called, waving to him.
The boy threw a snowball that landed by the half-built snowman. Cindy noticed that he made his snowball with bare hands that were very red and that his jacket needed a few patches. He wasn’t wearing boots or any kind of hat.
“Come on over,” Cindy called out.
When the boy only threw another snowball, Cindy decided that she should reply. She tossed a snowball, and it hit the boy’s leg. He turned and ran away.
Cindy went back to her snowman and began to form its head. When she mounted the ball atop the others, she said, “Well, hello there, Mr. Snowman. I’ll be right back.”
Soon she brought a scarf and a hat and placed them on the snowman. Cindy could see the little boy peeking over the hedge again. She pretended not to notice him as she walked slowly around to the backyard, looking for rocks to use for the snowman’s nose, eyes, and mouth. When she returned with the stones, she saw a large red button pressed into the center of the snowman’s face. It made a splendid nose.
“Oh!” Cindy exclaimed loudly. “You already have a nose. If I give you a mouth, will you tell me where you got it?” She pushed in some small stones in a crooked row across the snowman’s face, forming a mouth. “Now are you going to talk to me?” she asked as she stuck in two larger stones for his eyes.
When she stood back to admire her finished product, a snowball flew over her head and hit the snowman’s hat, knocking it down over one eye. Cindy turned suddenly and ran after the boy. She chased him around the corner and down the block, until he ducked out of sight.
Cindy returned home to eat breakfast.
“Cindy, the snowman looks terrific,” Mother said, looking through the kitchen window.
“Yes, you did a great job on him,” Dad agreed. “By the way,” he added, “today’s the first day of December. That means that the Christmas season is upon us. Have you finished your Christmas wish list?”
“No, not yet,” Cindy replied as she picked up her glass of juice. “Dad, do you go home teaching to that family that just moved in on Second North?”
“Yes. The Smith’s moved here from Idaho, and they have a boy a year or so younger than you. Why? Have you met them?”
“Not really, but I think I’ve seen the boy. Are they very poor?”
“Well, their father was supposed to work for the college, but his job fell through. He hasn’t found any work yet.”
“That’s too bad,” Mom commented, “especially with the holiday season just about here.”
Thursday afternoon Cindy took the long way home from school. She walked slowly along Second North. There was a small house with large trees in front of it and a broken-down fence around the yard. When she came to a gap in the fence, she saw a small snowman with a large red button nose looking back at her. It had a crooked pebble smile, just like her snowman. The little boy was playing alone on the porch.
“Hello,” Cindy called out, but the boy turned and slipped quickly into the house.
Puzzled, Cindy walked slowly on down the street. When she was almost home, a snowball flew past her head. She spun around but couldn’t see anyone. She walked a little farther, and when a snowball hit her in the back, she kept walking. A third snowball whizzed past her arm. Cindy ducked out of sight when she reached the hedge, then watched the boy peer around cautiously as he came her way. Just before he reached the hedge, he stopped, stood still for a moment, then turned and started back. Cindy sprang from behind the hedge and grabbed his sleeve. The boy tried to run, but she had a firm grip on his jacket. He looked up at her, and his bottom lip quivered.
Cindy smiled at him. “My name is Cindy,” she said. “My dad is your home teacher. Do you want to come to my house for some cookies?” The boy nodded, and then he smiled too.
Cindy let go of his coat, and they went to her house together. Soon, full of cookies and milk, the boy was answering all of Cindy’s questions.
Later Cindy told Mom, “Jason’s five years old, and I gave him my last year’s galoshes.”
After she had made a friend of Jason, Cindy started walking the long way home from school every day. And Jason waited by the fence for her every day and walked partway home with her.
A few days before Christmas Cindy and Jason were playing together. “I’m going Christmas shopping with my mom this afternoon,” Cindy told her friend.
“Oh,” was all Jason said.
“What do you want for Christmas?” Cindy asked.
“I don’t know. It’s not completely Christmas this year,” Jason answered.
Cindy looked surprised. “But it’s nearly here. You’d better decide soon.”
“Oh, I guess I’ll ask for a new coat or maybe a truck, but Mom says that we won’t be having much Christmas this year. She’s sad that we can’t buy even a Christmas tree. Because it won’t be completely Christmas this year, I might not ask for anything at all.”
Later, when Cindy was shopping with her mother, she was drawn to a window display, where a train chugged past a pond and went through a tunnel. As she watched it, she remembered the look on Jason’s face when he’d talked about his mother and Christmas, and suddenly the toys and other things that she’d seen weren’t so important.
On the way home her mother asked her which things she had liked best. “I don’t know, Mom,” Cindy said slowly. “I saw toys and books and some neat T-shirts and a lot of things I liked, but what I want most is for it to be completely Christmas!”
“Completely Christmas?”
Cindy tried to explain. “It doesn’t seem as happy this year, because Jason isn’t having a real Christmas—you know, with a tree and everything.”
“I see,” Mom said. “Well, Dad and I would still like you to make out your wish list. We’ll work out some way so that Jason has a nice Christmas too.” She gave Cindy a squeeze.
When Cindy went upstairs to her room that night, she took some notebook paper from her drawer and wrote:
Christmas Wish List
A Christmas tree for Jason
A new coat and mittens for Jason
A train for Jason.
She took the list downstairs and said, “Mom, here’s my list.”
Mom read her list and smiled. “Cindy,” she said. “Your dad will be home soon, and I’m sure the two of you can go pick out a tree for the Smith’s.”
On Christmas day Cindy was awake soon after daylight. She put on warm clothes and went quietly down the stairs. On the chair where she always hung her stocking were two big boxes, wrapped just alike. One had her name on it, and Jason’s name was on the other box! She quickly opened hers and discovered the same train set that she had seen in the store window. Cindy hurriedly put on her boots and coat and hat. When she picked up Jason’s box, she saw something fall. Reaching down, she picked up two pairs of new warm mittens. One had a tag that read “Cindy”; the other tag read “Jason.”
“All right!” Cindy exclaimed. Looking up she saw her mother and father smiling at her.
Dad said, “Brother Smith said they’d managed to get a new coat for Jason, so we got mittens to match it.”
Cindy gathered up Jason’s gifts and scampered outside. When she got to Jason’s house, she put the gaily wrapped box on the front porch, placed the new mittens on top of the box, rang the doorbell, then raced home.
“Merry Christmas!” Cindy shouted, giving Mom and Dad both a big bear hug. As Cindy again opened and peeked into the box that held her new train, she imagined Jason’s face as he peeked into his box.
After Cindy and her parents exchanged gifts, she sorted through the goodies in her Christmas stocking. Then she heard her mother call, “Come help me stuff the turkey, Cindy. We’re having company for dinner.”
“Company?”
“It’s a Christmas present for all of us,” Mother said. “The Smith’s are coming, and we’re celebrating Mr. Smith’s new job!”
“Hurray!” Cindy shouted. “Now it really is completely Christmas!”