Gospel Story Finder

The summer was almost over when one Saturday morning Dad said, “I know a fishing hole I think I’ll visit this afternoon. Do you boys have anything special planned for today?”
The boys’ eyes lighted up in happy anticipation, and right after lunch they all started for Willow Creek. When they reached the stream, Dad turned off the main gravel road onto a steep dirt one.
The road was narrow and full of curves but finally widened out along the creek bank. After Dad helped the boys untangle their lines and bait their fishhooks, he went a short distance downstream to find a good fishing hole.
James and Joseph didn’t notice the sun clouded over until a loud clap of thunder startled them. With a sudden wild gust of wind, heavy rain began to fall. They hurried back to the car, wet and frightened.
Dad opened the door, climbed inside, and said cheerfully, “Guess we better be starting for home.”
The downpour of rain had turned the dirt road into a sea of mud. Dad tried to plow through it but the wheels began to spin out of control. Each spin edged the car closer to the embankment.
The anxious moments ticked slowly by while they all thought of their comfortable home. Father suggested that the boys kneel on the seats of the car while they all prayed for help.
The rain continued to splatter the windows of the car until it seemed as if the car were on an isolated island. But soon above the noise of the pelting storm, they heard the roar of a motor and saw a four-wheel-drive jeep come into view.
The jeep pulled up alongside the stalled car, and a man jumped out. It was an answer to prayer when he called, “We knew someone needed help in this storm!”
He fastened a chain to the front of their car, and with the help of the jeep pulled them safely back to the main road.

Our influence is surely felt in our respective families. Sometimes we fathers forget that once we too were boys, and boys at times can be vexing to parents.
I recall how much, as a youngster, I liked dogs. One day I took my wagon and placed a wooden orange crate in it and went looking for dogs. At that time, dogs were everywhere to be found: at school, walking along the sidewalks, or exploring vacant lots, of which there were many. As I would find a dog and capture it, I placed it in the crate, took it home, locked it in the coal shed, and turned the latch on the door. That day I think I brought home six dogs of varying sizes and made them my prisoners after this fashion. I had no idea what I would do with all those dogs, so I didn’t reveal my deed to anyone.
Dad came home from work and, as was his custom, took the coal bucket and went to the coal shed to fill it. Can you imagine his shock and utter consternation as he opened the door and immediately faced six dogs, all attempting to escape at once? As I recall, Dad flushed a little bit, and then he calmed down and quietly told me, “Tommy, coal sheds are for coal. Other people’s dogs rightfully belong to them.” By observing him, I learned a lesson in patience and calmness.

I saw him riding the bus every day on my way home from the university. He always wore the same baggy T-shirt, worn-out tennis shoes, and big smile. And he always sat by himself. He was a special passenger, though, because he was mentally challenged.
Every day the Spirit prompted me to say hello to him. Every day, however, my pride stopped me. I was afraid that someone might see me associating with someone different from everyone else. After all, I had a reputation to keep.
One winter afternoon, when the Spirit was especially strong and my courage was a little greater, I got on the bus, saw him in his usual spot, and sat down next to him—not too close in case I chickened out. When I was almost to my stop, I closed my eyes, said a silent prayer, and turned to him.
“Hi,” I said in an insecure but friendly voice, “I’m Ashley.”
When he smiled at me, my fear and pride immediately melted away.
“I’m Lenny,” he shyly replied.
With those few words, we began a bond of friendship.
The next day I sat next to Lenny again, but it was easier—we were friends. As I sat down, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a handmade Valentine’s Day card. It was addressed to “The pretty girl I see on the bus every day.”
Valentine’s Day was long passed, but Lenny had made this special card for me and had been patiently waiting for the opportunity to give it to me. I couldn’t keep the tears from trickling down my cheeks. How grateful I was that the Spirit hadn’t given up on me and that I had finally put aside my pride and faced my fear of talking to Lenny.
Now he comes to Sunday dinner every week and has become like another member of my family. Every day Lenny helps me remember the blessings that come from forgetting pride and having courage to do what is right. Seeing him every day reminds me of 1 John 4:18: “There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear.”

When I was in high school, I almost always felt far away from God and Jesus Christ. Everyone around me appeared to be so much more spiritual and had all these neat spiritual experiences.
I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong. I attended church, read the scriptures, prayed, and went to the temple when my ward planned temple trips. But I still felt like I was missing something.
It wasn’t until my mission that I realized what that missing puzzle piece was: Jesus Christ.
I had been focusing on doing things rather than focusing on the Savior and becoming a devoted follower of Him.
To be clear, righteous habits are good. Living the commandments helps bring us to Jesus Christ. But sometimes we get so caught up in “church tasks” that we take the Savior out of the very activities that are meant to bring us to Him. This can leave us feeling spiritually empty.
Recently some friends of mine who left the Church told me they’ve never felt happier and more at peace. It was so confusing to me! If this is Christ’s Church, how could that be?
As I listened to my friends’ experiences and concerns, I realized that it wasn’t leaving the Church that brought them peace; it was leaving behind the to-do lists they felt they had to keep up on. Once they left the Church, they also left their spiritual to-do lists behind.
But that is not what the Savior had in mind when He established His Church and gave His commandments.
Elder Donald L. Hallstrom of the Seventy once taught: “Some have come to think of activity in the Church as the ultimate goal. Therein lies a danger. It is possible to be active in the Church and less active in the gospel. Let me stress: activity in the Church is a highly desirable goal; however, it is insufficient.”1
It is possible to be doing the right things but completely miss the why behind them.
It is possible to be doing the right things but completely miss the why behind them.
Sister Tracy Y. Browning, Second Counselor in the Primary General Presidency, had a significant insight about the Israelites in the New Testament: “Just as we are today, God’s ancient people were invited to see their lives through Him in order to see more of Him in their lives. But by the time of the Savior’s ministry, the Israelites had lost sight of Christ in their observances. …
“… The children of Israel, in this state, believed that the practices and rituals of the law were the path to personal salvation and in part reduced the law of Moses to a set of protocols administered to rule civilian life. This required the Savior to restore focus and clarity to His gospel.”2
Sometimes Satan doesn’t distract members of Christ’s restored Church so they’ll commit serious sins. Instead he takes the very things we think are good and convinces us to see them incorrectly.
As President M. Russell Ballard, Acting President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, taught: “Sometimes faithful Latter-day Saints … begin to focus on the ‘appendages’ instead of on the fundamental principles. That is, Satan tempts us to become distracted from the simple and clear message of the restored gospel.”3
Rather than bringing us peace, our efforts to live the gospel can sometimes result in some stress and frustration. This is exactly how Satan wants us to feel about the gospel. If he can’t get us to sin, he will convince us that living the gospel is too hard, too exhausting, and more than we can successfully achieve.
Back in high school, I thought I wasn’t doing enough. That fear of inadequacy was why I didn’t feel as spiritual as those around me.
Although our actions can be signs of our conversion, we can’t allow our outward activities to define our spirituality entirely. If we do, we may begin placing the weight of our salvation on our own shoulders rather than relying on Jesus Christ.
We can’t allow our outward activities to define our spirituality entirely.
President Nelson has urged us to have our focus “riveted on the Savior and His gospel.” 4 This will take us from spiritual checklists to peaceful and joyful conversion in His Church. “Nothing invites the Spirit more than fixing your focus on Jesus Christ.” 5

It was Helamán’s first day of school. He wore his favorite shirt, and he had a new pencil. His new teacher let him sit at a table with his friends Sylvester, Jorge, and Miguel. It was a good day.
“Put away your things,” said Señora Martínez. “It’s time to eat lunch.”
Helamán’s family always prayed together before meals. He raised his hand. “Señora Martínez, are we going to pray before we eat?”
Señora Martínez smiled at Helamán. “You may say a prayer for your food if you would like.”
Helamán and his friends opened their lunches.
“What is a prayer?” asked Sylvester.
“It’s talking to Heavenly Father,” said Helamán. “It’s the way we thank Him for our food.”
“Can you say a prayer for all of us?” asked Miguel.
Helamán folded his arms. His three friends folded their arms too. Helamán closed his eyes and bowed his head. His friends did the same.
Then Helamán said a prayer, just like his family did. He thanked Heavenly Father for the good day they were having and for their lunches. He asked for a blessing on their food. He ended in the name of Jesus Christ and said, “Amen.”
Sylvester, Jorge, and Miguel looked up.
“You can say amen too,” said Helamán.
His friends grinned and said, “Amen.”
The next day at lunchtime, Sylvester said, “Say a prayer, Helamán.”
“Yes, say a prayer, Helamán,” said Miguel. Jorge nodded.
So Helamán prayed again. This time he said he was extra thankful that his mom had made him a ham and cheese sandwich, his favorite. He asked Heavenly Father to help them learn in class that day.
Each day at lunch, Helamán’s friends said, “Say a prayer, Helamán.” And each day, Helamán said a prayer. He prayed with his friends each day for a week.
The next Monday at lunchtime, Miguel said, “Today I will pray.”
Helamán was surprised. He folded his arms, closed his eyes, bowed his head, and listened while Miguel prayed.
Miguel began by saying, “Dear Heavenly Father.” He thanked Him for their food and asked Him to bless it. He ended in the name of Jesus Christ and said, “Amen.”
“Amen!” said Helamán and Jorge.
“Amen,” said Sylvester. “I didn’t know you could pray.”
“I learned by listening to Helamán,” said Miguel. “I asked my parents if I could say a prayer on our meals at home. They said yes, so I pray just like Helamán does.”
“Wow,” said Sylvester. “I think I’ll ask my parents if I can say a prayer at our meals too.”
“Me too!” said Jorge.
Helamán smiled. He was glad he had been able to help his friends learn to speak with Heavenly Father. He knew Heavenly Father loved him, and Heavenly Father loved his friends too.
This story took place in Mexico.

One of many outstanding missionaries with whom Sister Funk and I served was Elder Pokhrel from Nepal. After being a member of the Church for only two years, he was called to serve in the India Bangalore Mission, an English-speaking mission. He would tell you he was not well prepared. That was understandable. He had never seen a missionary until he was one, because no young missionaries serve in Nepal. He did not read English well enough to understand the instructions included with his call. When he reported to the missionary training center, instead of bringing nice slacks, white shirts, and ties, he packed, in his words, “five pairs of denim jeans, a couple of T-shirts, and a lot of hair gel.”

Even after he obtained appropriate clothing, he said he felt inadequate every day during the first few weeks. He described that time of his mission: “Not only was the English difficult, but the work was just as challenging. … On top of all of that, I was hungry, tired, and homesick. … Even though the circumstances were tough, I was determined. I felt weak and inadequate. I would pray at those times for Heavenly Father to help me. Without fail, every time I prayed, I would feel comforted.”

Though missionary work was new and challenging for Elder Pokhrel, he served with great faith and faithfulness, seeking to understand and follow what he was learning from the scriptures, Preach My Gospel, and his mission leaders. He became a powerful teacher of the gospel—in English—and an excellent leader. After his mission and some time in Nepal, he returned to India to continue his education. Since January he has served as a branch president in New Delhi. Because of the real growth he experienced as a missionary, he continues to contribute to the real growth of the Church in India.

The salesman said, “It’s rather interesting that you should ask those questions. A few nights ago I was at the airport in Salt Lake City and it was extremely crowded. I hadn’t been there very long when your ‘boss’ came in. The only empty seat was right next to me, and there I was smoking a cigarette. As he sat by me I turned away from him and blew the smoke in the opposite direction. He then put his arm around me and said, ‘Never mind, young man. We know that not all of the people in the state of Utah are members of the Church.’”
Then the salesman told me that the man, President David O. McKay, my “boss,” had asked him basically the same questions that l had.

Renisha has also had chances to share the gospel with her school friends. One day, she was talking with her group when another girl joined and said she had heard something strange about the Church. One of the girls pointed to Renisha and said, “She’s a Mormon.” Renisha felt a little nervous, but the group wanted to learn more, so she explained what she believed. “There are so many untrue things about the Church on social media,” she said. “But I was able to share my testimony, and they understood better who we are and what we stand for.”

Of course, Shawn’s living style and his quiet manners have made the occasional boisterous tough guy misjudge him. One bronc rider just couldn’t get used to a polite, soda-pop-drinking cowboy who went to church, shaved every day, and wore clean clothes. He insisted on calling Shawn feminine names. When asked politely, he wouldn’t apologize and insisted on settling the matter in an old-fashioned western fist fight. They stepped out behind the chutes and Shawn beat him soundly, gaining the cowboy’s respect and his friendship in the process. Later, when the cowboy learned that Shawn also happened to hold a Montana State Golden Gloves boxing championship and was a Montana Athlete of the Year, he felt better about his defeat.

Years ago I took a young man, 20 years of age, into the waters of baptism. My companion and I had taught him the gospel. He was the first in his family to hear the message of the restored gospel. He asked to be baptized. The testimony of the Spirit made him want to follow the example of the Savior, who was baptized by John the Baptist even though He was without sin.
As I brought that young man up out of the waters of baptism, he surprised me by throwing his arms around my neck and whispering in my ear, tears streaming down his face, “I’m clean, I’m clean.” That same young man, after we laid our hands on his head with the authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood and conferred on him the Holy Ghost, said to me, “When you spoke those words, I felt something like fire go down from the top of my head through my body, all the way to my feet.”

Frustrated with how hard it is to find modest clothing, young women in the Harris First Ward, Mesa Arizona Central Stake, gathered more than 1,500 signatures from like-minded friends and classmates in just three weeks. What started as a Laurel project for Lisa Prince and Julie Despain grew to include the other 30 or so young women in the ward and became front page news. The petition drive earned them a lot of attention, both from the media and from a couple of national clothing retailers.
The youth stood as witnesses in interviews with two Arizona newspapers, radio shows in Ireland and Arizona, and magazines in Germany and Australia. They also got to talk with vice presidents of two major department stores. The girls were invited to submit their ideas, participate in focus groups, and try out new fashions. Representatives of both department stores said more modest fashions were on the way.
“We had no idea we’d get the response we did,” said DeLynn Bodine, the Young Women president.
In the end the young women realized that living their values could bless people all over the world.

Dear Reed,
Today was the second worst day of my entire life! (The worst day was the day that you left home.) We had baseball tryouts, and I was terrible! I couldn’t do anything right. I need you here to help me. Dad says that he’ll practice with me, but you know how busy he is all the time. How can I ever learn to play baseball good enough to get on the team and then play for the high school and get a scholarship for college like you did? Sometimes I feel like a dumb little kid who can’t do anything right.
Do you know now what my secret is? My secret is that I don’t think that I can stand to have you be away for two years. I want you to come home right now! I need you, Reed. Please come home now!
Love,Buddy
P.S. If I ever decide to play baseball again, can I borrow your glove and bats?
Dear Buddy,
Last time you and I played baseball, you were as good as I was when I was your age—maybe even better! Your problem is that you want to be great right now. But you have a lot of work and practice and growing to do. Lots of the guys who were better baseball players than I was at seven and eight years old never made the college teams because they didn’t work as hard as I did all those years. So don’t give up if you really want to do it.
As far as the other problem goes, you know that I can’t leave my mission. But I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes I get homesick, and it really hurts inside when I want to see all of you and can’t. I miss playing baseball with you, Buddy, and going for ice cream and to the movies and talking in the dark after we’ve gone to bed. What I do when I get homesick is pray for strength and comfort. And then I try to forget about myself by helping other people. That seems to work every time.
You can help Elder Watts and me too. Please pray for the Brooks family and Will Landers. And pray that Elder Watts and I can help them.
Love,Reed
P.S. I’m afraid that my glove and bats are too big and awkward for you, but you can try them if you want. And you can have all my baseballs if you promise to wear them out with your practicing.
Dear Reed,
Something awesome just happened! When I got your letter, I tried to do what you said. I prayed for help so that I wouldn’t miss you so much. Then I prayed for the people you’re teaching. Then I thought that maybe I’d write a letter to them. But before I wrote, I got a letter from Bobby Brooks, and he said that you baptized him!
I want you to stay on your mission and find more people who want to learn about the Church. I want you to tell me all about your mission because I want to grow up to be a missionary just like you.
Please tell Bobby that I’ll write a letter to him soon.
I have to go now so that I’ll be on time for baseball practice.
Love,Buddy
(To be continued)

Thank you for the interesting articles about decorating your room without spending a lot of money. I have found the ideas very helpful—especially in fixing up a shabby wooden desk and bookcase. My sister and I got a pale color to match the walls and painted both pieces; then we got a darker color and put on the edges of the shelves and around the edge of the top of the desk. It looks great.
Kathy OkerlundOrem, Utah

In high school. After my mission I wasn’t accepted to a university, so I studied on my own. I read lots of books. I visited Europe to study the stained-glass windows of famous cathedrals. I stared at one window in Czechoslovakia for an hour! It was inspiring. I promised myself that someday I would try to make a window that beautiful. Now I get to make stained-glass windows for temples around the world.

Ilnara Peixoto Marinho of Fortaleza, Brazil, had been sealed to her family in the temple. But for a long time the family had not been as active in church as they once were. Then one Sunday morning, Ilnara’s Young Women president showed up at her home, along with Sister Beck, who was in town and wanted to visit some young women. When Sister Beck asked Ilnara about her Personal Progress, Ilnara had to admit she had never worked on it at all. Then Sister Beck gave her a challenge. If she would find her book, finish one of the short experiences, and bring it to the fireside that night, Sister Beck would sign it off for her.

That day, Ilnara not only started working on Personal Progress; she also started helping turn her family’s life around. She began attending church. Then she and her sister began going with their mother. When Ilnara’s dad finally joined them, he was called to be in the bishopric. The whole family returned to the temple together. And it all started with Personal Progress.

Several years ago a friend of mine had a young daughter die in a tragic accident. Hopes and dreams were shattered. My friend felt unbearable sorrow. He began to question what he had been taught and what he had taught as a missionary. The mother of my friend wrote me a letter and asked if I would give him a blessing. As I laid my hands upon his head, I felt to tell him something that I had not thought about in exactly the same way before. The impression that came to me was: Faith is not only a feeling; it is a decision. He would need to choose faith.
My friend did not know everything, but he knew enough. He chose the road of faith and obedience. He got on his knees. His spiritual balance returned.
Some years after the blessing to my friend, I received a letter from his son who was serving a mission. It was full of conviction and testimony. As I read his beautiful letter, I saw how a father’s choice of faith in a very difficult time had deeply blessed the next generation.

At the same time, many Congolese emigrants found the Church in Europe and the United States. Mbuyi Nkitabungi was baptized in Belgium in 1980, served a full-time mission in England, and then felt prompted to return home in 1985. “One of my righteous objectives is to build … Zion in the heart of Zaïre,” he wrote to Church headquarters. “I know there is quite a few members from my country who are waiting for that opportunity. … Tell me everything I have to do.”
Nkitabungi was put in contact with other members in Kinshasa, who met in the home of Mike and Katie Bowcutt, an American couple. Like Nkitabungi, many members were Congolese Saints who had joined the Church abroad. Because the Church was still not legally recognized, however, the members held no public meetings. Nevertheless, the group quickly outgrew the Bowcutts’ home and moved their meetings to Nkitabungi’s garage.
In February 1986, the president of the country promised during a broadcast on state-run television that he would grant the Church legal recognition, and members soon began preaching the gospel openly. That same month, Ralph and Jean Hutchings, the first missionaries called to Zaïre, arrived and found a growing group in Kinshasa. Recognition was granted officially in April, and by June 1987 the Church was growing so quickly in Zaïre that a mission was organized, with Ralph Hutchings as president.
Missionaries also reached out to the unofficial congregations near Lubumbashi. Although the transition proved difficult for some, a second center of strength soon emerged. Between May and July 1987, 170 people were baptized. Some were traveling as far as 300 kilometers (186 miles) from Pweto, Kolwezi, and Likasi to attend meetings.
When 21-year-old Elie Monga of Kolwezi read the Book of Mormon in 1987, he was impressed. “I strongly felt,” he later said, “that that’s what I need.” Monga traveled the 300 kilometers to Lubumbashi to meet with the missionaries. After only one discussion, he decided to be baptized. After his baptism, with encouragement from missionaries, he held Sunday School meetings in his home. “We started gathering and teaching our friends [and family],” he said, “bringing them the message of hope through the restored gospel.” A large group was soon meeting in Monga’s home. When the first baptismal service in Kolwezi was held the next year, it took more than three and a half hours for Monga to baptize the 82 converts who had accepted the gospel. It was one success among many: in 1990, just four years after the Church received government recognition, branches and districts were thriving in Kinshasa, Lubumbashi, and many other cities throughout the country.

Hyrum peered over the bookrack and checked to see that his mother was still in the next aisle.
When he saw her standing there, he continued to look at the books on display. The crowded Brisbane airport in Queensland, Australia, buzzed all around him like a beehive next to a flowering gum tree.
Suddenly, he heard announced over the intercom, “Passengers for flight QF555 to Sydney, please proceed to Gate 12.”
Hyrum ran into the next aisle, but his mom wasn’t there. He searched the bookstore, but she was gone! Hyrum began to panic and his heart started to beat faster.
He made his way to the crowded corridor, looking up and down for his mom. She was still nowhere in sight.
“Maybe she’s waiting at the gate,” Hyrum thought. He ran as fast as he could, scanning the passengers’ faces as he weaved through them. When he reached Gate 12, he looked over the rows of seats, but his mom wasn’t there either. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his reflection in the big glass window. Lost and alone, Hyrum began to cry.
As he sobbed, Hyrum suddenly felt a warm impression come over him. He imagined his mother kneeling beside him. He saw the gentleness of her smile and felt the softness of her hand. He remembered what she had told him earlier that morning: “Remember, Hyrum, if we get separated for any reason, I am only a prayer away.”
Hyrum immediately stopped crying. He closed his eyes. “Heavenly Father,” he prayed silently, “please help me find my mom.”
As he opened his eyes he heard someone say, “Excuse me, young man, are you OK?”
Hyrum looked around and saw a flight attendant looking at him.
“Are you OK?” she asked again.
“I’ve lost my mom,” he replied.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “We’ll find her.”
An announcement was made over the intercom, and soon Hyrum saw his mom hurrying toward them. He thought she might be angry, but she just hugged him tightly. Then they boarded the plane, and soon they were flying high above the clouds.
As he gazed out the window, Hyrum thought about what had happened. He knew that the Holy Ghost helped him remember what his mom had told him. He could still feel the warmth in his heart as he prayed to Heavenly Father, and he was grateful to know that help was only a prayer away.

I began studying the scriptures more earnestly and was allowed to start a Book of Mormon study group with my fellow inmates. The missionaries also met with me and others in prison. For the next 15 years, I listened to the missionaries’ lessons, and for the remainder of my time in prison, I tried to live differently. This wasn’t easy in that environment. But it was possible because of my Savior, who supported and guided me through that experience and into the next chapter of my life (see Mosiah 24:15).

I’ll admit it—I was suddenly scared. I stood at the back of the room as the workshop was about to begin. There were 56 youths and a handful of adults all seating themselves for the workshop. Although everyone seemed to be getting along fine, I couldn’t understand a thing that was going on. They were all deaf. I didn’t know sign language. And I was supposed to interview them. Help!
Sally Todd, director of the BYU Workshop for Deaf Youth, walked in the room and spotted me, looking somewhat forlorn and bewildered. She introduced herself, and we sat down as the workshop was about to start.
I didn’t know what the opening song was or what the exact words of the prayer were, but I began to feel something. The students acted so excited to be there. Whenever a question was asked, hands flew up, waving impatiently. Laughter came easily. There was an excitement for life that made me want to be near them.
I joined. It didn’t take long to join them; I wanted to share in their love for life. I put my pencil and paper down, forgot about interviewing, and decided to just be their friend for a while. When it was time to eat, I planted myself in the middle of the group and tried to communicate. Many could read my lips and some have partial hearing, so it wasn’t too hard. But once in a while, right in the middle of conversations, I would be stumped. So I would motion for them to wait a second, and then run and get an interpreter.
Willingly they aided in my efforts to learn finger spelling and all the simpler signs in just ten minutes. “Oh, that’s a Y. Now what was an S again?” They smiled at my excitement when I learned how to spell my name, say “I care,” “I love you,” and other phrases.
Before long they came up to me, tapped me on the elbow, and just started talking or signing or pantomiming. It was, at times, like a game of charades, but we were communicating! They told me about their dorm activities, the humorous skits they had performed that morning, where they were from, their schools, their majors—just about anything. When I couldn’t understand them, they would tease me about my handicap.
As the afternoon progressed, I forgot that I was supposed to be getting information and quotes for a story. It had slipped my mind. We sat around in a circle in the shade, swishing the flies away from our food, and talked and laughed. Suddenly I looked around and realized that we had become friends.
I learned. This group who sat around me had taught me that although different roads are taken, the goal is the same for all—to be His witnesses.
My world, too, had broadened. Realizing that I would be leaving soon, I felt reluctant to say good-bye. I hate good-byes anyway, and this one was going to be hard; they’d given me a new insight and understanding about a faithful people.
As we knelt in prayer, I watched as solemn faces with innocent eyes gratefully gave thanks.