Gospel Story Finder

I recently learned of a particular young adult sister who decided to serve a full-time mission. She had developed a capacity to connect with and relate to people from almost every belief system, political persuasion, and nationality, and she worried that wearing a missionary name tag all day, every day, might become an identifier that could impede her exceptional ability to establish relationships. Just a few weeks into her mission, she wrote home about a simple but meaningful experience:
“Sister Lee and I rubbed salve into an old lady’s arthritic hands—one of us on either side—while we sat in her living room. She didn’t want to listen to any spoken messages, but let us sing, loved us to sing. Thank you, black missionary name tag, for giving me license to have intimate experiences with complete strangers.”

Later in my life, the missionaries came and shared the plan of salvation with me. I received a testimony of the truth and was so thrilled at what I was learning that from that day forward I had no problem in my conviction to keep the Sabbath day holy—but the practice of doing so was not always easy.
I was married at the time I began meeting with the missionaries and my husband did not share my enthusiasm for the Church—yet he was a good man with high principles and a Lutheran background. But I was challenged on how to stay true to my Sabbath day convictions without causing grief and discord within my family. During this “wilderness” time for me I received important advice that my family was most important and that I should do whatever I could to keep us together.
Baptism was withheld from me and so I did not have the constant companion of the Holy Spirit to guide me. But I loved my family and so I embarked on a course to stay true to honouring the Sabbath whenever possible and where I could, yet allowing myself to join in my husband’s social activities if he planned these on the Sabbath—without complaint. These activities were mostly contained within our circle of friends and sometimes they involved business or public functions.
Even after South Africa no longer adhered to keeping the Sabbath day holy, I chose never to fill my car with fuel or purchase household or personal goods on the Sabbath, something that was encouraged by my husband. An activity that my husband did enjoy was watching Formula One motor racing on TV on a Sunday afternoon and he wanted me to share his interest, which I did. Our home was generally peaceful on the Sabbath and we both liked to listen to good classical music and which I intermingled with sacred music. I also found, when it was appropriate to my conditions, to keep my Sunday dress on. This helped me mentally choose fitting activities and behaviour while staying in harmony with my family circumstances.
I had challenges at first in going to church and chose to attend only sacrament meeting and Sunday School—so as not to be away from home for too long. On Saturdays I always pre-­prepared a good Sunday meal and any animosity from my husband at my Sunday absence from home was soon forgotten. This was the pattern of my life for 22 years and there was in the end a greater harmony and acceptance of my limited Sabbath day values, but fully integrated in our lifestyle. Eventually, heartened by my husband’s changing attitude, my journey in the Church culminated in my baptism. Now I could have the companion of the Spirit to help guide me in the future.

I witnessed firsthand how these blessings—as promised by our dear prophet—changed the life of Brother Joseph Tembo* from the Copperbelt in Zambia. We visited this brother when I was assigned to preside over a district conference a few years ago. Upon entering his home, I noticed in his room a small table on the left with a pile of scriptures. I just marveled as I was informed that he had been inactive for the past seven years and had become somewhat disaffected. As we discussed with him, he said something profound, “I haven’t been going to Church for the past seven years because of some offense. I still know the gospel is true. Reading the Book of Mormon daily has kept me going.” The Book of Mormon had surely comforted, strengthened and consoled him during his greatest time of need. It was therefore easy to help him find his way back to Church again.

This also strengthened my own testimony that scripture study should have a daily set time, not leftover time! And as President Harold B. Lee cautioned, “If we are not reading the scriptures daily, our testimonies are growing thinner.”11

As we seek to increase our faith in Heavenly Father and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and His Atonement, we need to “press forward, feasting upon the word of Christ, and endure to the end.”12 “The words of Christ will tell [us] all things what [we] should do.”13 The Book of Mormon is for our profit and learning. It testifies of Jesus Christ and answers the questions of the soul.

Recently, Brother Lovell had the opportunity to travel to Paraguay with a group from our campus as part of a humanitarian effort. Through working with the missionary couple there, they received word of items to bring that would be so appreciated by sweet members of the Nivalcle tribe, who have little to nothing. There was a devastating flood a few years back that destroyed a large part of their town, resulting in many moving closer to the larger towns of the area and establishing a new settlement. While there are a few families who have made some economic progress, most are struggling with average earnings of less than the equivalent of $250 dollars per year.

One of the suggestions was for the group to bring some sports equipment for the children to play with—soccer balls preferably, but anything that could be found would be greatly appreciated. We contacted Trent Shippen and some of the coaches in the Activities Sports area and they willingly gave some equipment. I happened to mention what was taking place to Brother Shaum one day and the next morning he excitedly showed me the campus surplus sale with listings for basketballs, volleyballs, and soccer balls. I quickly called Gayle Weatherston at the surplus office and explained what was needed, being hopeful that these items were still available. She in turn contacted Larry Wickham at Continuing Education whose office placed the items on the surplus list.

Meanwhile, Brother Lovell wrote an e-mail to Brother Wickham explaining the need for this equipment for the children in Paraguay and before the end of the day; he had more basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls, footballs donated than he could take with him. A coincidence? I don’t think so. As I marveled at the sequence of what had taken place, it occurred to me, that yes, we could have gone and purchased this equipment or even collected funds to purchase what could be taken to Paraguay, but these employees were allowed to play a role as “an instrument in the hands of the Lord” to bless the lives of His children in a far-away village in Paraguay.

Early one evening I walked into the kitchen where my parents were, and almost instantly I could tell that something was wrong. They had their heads bowed together in conversation.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, thinking it was nothing more than a leaky faucet.
“Kristen, Mrs. Johnson called today,” my mother began, her voice soft and gentle. Mrs. Johnson had been our friend and neighbor in Ohio, before we moved.
“Honey, remember when you used to baby-sit for the Herrera children? After we moved, the doctors discovered that Mrs. Herrera had a brain tumor that was in a place that couldn’t be operated on. By the time they found it she only had three months left to live. She died a little while ago.” I could tell that Mom was trying to break the news gently because she knew how much I had liked their family, especially Mrs. Herrera.
I nodded my head and half ran, half stumbled out of the kitchen. Once I was safely hidden in my room, I flopped down on my bed and the tears came. I thought of her children and how they were too young to be without a mother. I could remember nights that I baby-sat for them, when they would pretend to be asleep, but the moment their mom walked through the door they would jump out of bed and run to her.
I crossed my arms over my chest and stared angrily up at the ceiling. It seemed so unfair that Heavenly Father would allow a mother to be taken away, especially from four small children who needed her so much.
Finally, in search of some comfort, I picked up my scriptures and flipped through the pages until three verses in the Doctrine and Covenants caught my eye. “And all they who have mourned shall be comforted. And all they who have given their lives for my name shall be crowned. Therefore, let your hearts be comforted concerning Zion; for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God” (D&C 101:14–16).
It was exactly what I needed to read, and it had been there all along in my scriptures. I’d always heard that the scriptures would help me in my life, but I never really understood how until that day. Throughout my life I know that I will have many challenges and obstacles that I must overcome, but now I will remember where to look when I am in need of comfort.

A year earlier, everything had been in place for the journey. Both of the parents and all eight children living at home had worked hard to earn and save enough money. (The oldest son was married and had moved from home; another son had died.) Brother Paronda and his boys raised and sold corn, rice, potatoes, melons, and bananas. Sister Paronda and the three daughters tended their sari-sari store (a small neighborhood retail store where they sell “a little bit of everything”). And the older sons took turns driving the family’s jeepney (a small passenger bus) to earn extra money. Then, when all the preparations had been made, Brother and Sister Paronda and the eight children had received temple recommends.

But just before they were to leave for Manila, their jeepney was in an accident, and two passengers were seriously injured. The jeepney was not insured, and the family’s temple fund was depleted as Brother Paronda paid for medical treatments, including hospitalization, for the injured passengers. The temple trip had to be postponed.

“Sometimes in the world we encounter a lot of problems,” says daughter Marilyn. “But whatever hardship or persecution we encounter, we can live happily by obeying what the Lord asks us to do. Nothing is impossible with the Lord if we have faith that he will help us.”

Eleven months after the jeepney accident, they had finally saved enough money again to make the trip. Then the typhoon hit! Their home and store were spared, but their crops were destroyed. Streets were flooded, and travel was impossible.

Surrounded by chaos, they still felt that their most urgent need was to get to the temple immediately. “We were in a hurry to be sealed,” explains Brother Paronda. Unfortunately, in only two or three days the temple would close for several weeks.

Finally, during the night at the height of the storm, the family knelt in prayer. “We asked the Lord to stop the storm so we could go,” says Brother Paronda. “Heavenly Father answered our prayer. The storm stopped during the night, and we had good weather for our journey.”

The next day, they rented a jeepney (their own was still not in running condition), and Brother and Sister Paronda and the eight children crowded inside for the fifteen-hour trip. After driving through the night, they arrived at the temple the day before it was to close. Immediately they changed into white clothes, and everyone who was old enough (father, mother, and six children) received the temple endowment.

Then the parents were sealed to each other, and the children were sealed to them—including their son Alan who had died twelve years earlier as an eight-month-old baby. “Even though Alan isn’t living with us at this time,” says Marilyn, “we know that someday we will be together again. He is still a part of our family.”

“I am so grateful,” says Sister Nelly Paronda, “that my whole family can now be together forever.”

When they left the temple that day, it was late. And they had had no rest from their journey. “But we did not feel tired or hungry,” says Marilyn. “We felt very happy that the Lord had answered our prayers.”

The following day, they attended the temple again. Later, the oldest son, Noel, was sealed in the temple with his wife and children. And family members have returned to do ordinance work for grandparents and great-grandparents.

Brother Paronda was the first Filipino to serve as president of the Goa Branch. He is currently serving as the first Philippine president of the Goa District. Looking back, he puts the jeepney accident and the typhoon into perspective: “They were trials and challenges to prove how faithful we would be.”

When I was a little girl I assumed that when I grew up I would become a mother. Shortly before Chad and I were married he bought a used Volvo station wagon, buying it not only because its price fit our very limited budget but also because we anticipated filling it with a baby and baby paraphernalia. However, that used car died a miserable death years before we ever had a baby. For thirteen years we could not get pregnant. Chad and I decided early on that we weren't going to let that get in the way of our happiness, and it didn't.

However, it did change things. For example, I found myself struggling with who I was. If I wasn't a mother, what did it mean to be a woman? One day when I felt particularly identity-challenged, Chad suggested that I go back to school and study the history of women. I loved that idea, and so embarked on three years of studying the lives of women from the past. While I focused on women in American history, my studies gave me an increased appreciation for women in the ancient scriptures.

One of the women that I most connect to in this ancient record of wrestling with weaknesses is Sarah. Like many of the women in ancient scriptures, her life is recorded primarily in relationship to her husband Abraham. In particular, I can relate to her laughter after years of waiting when she found out she was pregnant in her old age. Like Sarah, we prayed for many years to have children sent to our home. Still, Chad was incredulous when I told him I thought was pregnant. After I "passed" the store-bought pregnancy test, Chad insisted that I look on the package to find its reliability. When I couldn't find it, we rushed over to Safeway to buy a new test to confirm what the first test had hinted at.

In my own case, at the very time I found I was pregnant I had recently graduated with my Masters Degree and was planning on embarking on a Ph.D. I found myself wanting both an education and motherhood but I wasn't sure I could do both without hurting the child I was expecting. My feelings were not monolithic but full of layers and complexity.

Near the end of the testimony meeting, when there were a few moments for me to speak, I asked the young lady who had brought her child up to be blessed if she would come up and stand by me, which she did. In the meantime, while the testimony meeting was going on, I asked the bishop, whispering into his ear, “Where is her husband?”

The bishop said, “He’s in jail.”

I asked, “What is her name?” and he told me her name.

She came up and stood by my side, carrying the little baby. As we were standing at the pulpit, I looked down at this little precious baby, only a few days old, and this mother—the mother of that little daughter, who had brought her to receive a blessing at the hands of the priesthood. As I looked at the mother and looked at that precious little child, I wondered what she might become or what she could be. I spoke to the audience and to this young mother about the proclamation that was issued five years ago by the First Presidency and the Quorum of the Twelve—a proclamation on the family—and of our responsibility to our children, and the children’s responsibility to their parents, and the parents’ responsibility to each other. That marvelous document brings together the scriptural direction that we have received that has guided the lives of God’s children from the time of Adam and Eve and will continue to guide us until the final winding-up scene.

As we talked about it and as I looked at that beautiful little baby, I thought of last summer. Ruby and I were up in Idaho for a short visit, and we met some people from Mountain Home, Idaho—the Goodrich family. Sister Goodrich had come to see us and had brought her daughter Chelsea with her. In part of the conversation that we were having, Sister Goodrich said Chelsea had memorized the proclamation on the family.

To Chelsea, who is now 15 years old, I said, “Chelsea, is that right?”

She said, “Yes.”

I said, “How long did it take you to do that?”

She said, “When we were young, my mother started a program in our house to help us memorize. We would memorize scripture passages and sacrament meeting songs and other types of things that would be helpful to us. So we learned how to memorize, and it became easier for us.”

I said, “Then you can give it all?”

She said, “Yes, I can give it all.”

I said, “You learned that when you were 12 years old; you’re now 15. Pretty soon you’ll start dating. Tell me about it. What has it done for you?”

Chelsea said, “As I think of the statements in that proclamation, and as I understand more of our responsibility as a family and our responsibility for the way we live and the way we should conduct our lives, the proclamation becomes a new guideline for me. As I associate with other people and when I start dating, I can think of those phrases and those sentences in the proclamation on the family. It will give me a yardstick which will help guide me. It will give me the strength that I need.”

Lizzie, give it back! I’m playing with it!
No!
Girls, please stop fighting. Lizzie, you need to go to your room. Alice, I’d like to talk to you.
It’s not fair, Dad! I was playing with my unicorn, and Lizzie grabbed it. She always ruins things.
It’s tough to be a big sister. Do you know what helps me when I get mad?
What, Dad?
A scripture in the Bible. It says, “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger.” This means that if you speak kindly and softly, angry people will feel calmer. If you speak rudely or shout at them, they will just get angrier.
Do you think that will work with Lizzie?
Next time, just try it and see what happens.
I want the fairy wings!
Alice remembered what Dad had told her.
Lizzie, would you like to wear my crown? You can be a princess, and I’ll be your fairy friend.
OK, I’ll be a beautiful princess!
Come on, your highness. Let’s play!

Sandra
Photograph by Cindy Smith
Like many young women in Uganda, Sandra walks more than a mile to church, helps clean the meetinghouse on Fridays, and attends seminary on Saturdays. During the week, she rises before 5:00 a.m. to read schoolbooks, and then she walks to school, returning home after 6:00 p.m. She missed a year of school because of financial difficulties but faces her challenges with a positive attitude: “The gospel has really helped me to stay steadfast and immovable.”
Sandra is the only Church member in her home, but her parents support her Church service, such as helping when the ward cleaned the grounds of a local orphanage. Her family sees how the gospel has helped her be strong, even when facing unresolved problems. Reflecting on the source of that strength, Sandra says, “When I go to church, I feel like I am putting on the armor of God” (see Ephesians 6:11–17).
A more recent convert, Susan, loves the Church. Originally from South Sudan, her family fled hardships and was blessed to receive the missionaries in Uganda. As a refugee, she found peace and protection in the gospel. On Sundays she would bring her younger siblings to church, as well as up to 10 other children who are not Church members. After the unexpected death of a family member, she returned to South Sudan, where she waits for the Church to be established in her area. Both Susan and Sandra face challenges, but they rely on God and enjoy the fruits of living the gospel of Jesus Christ (see Alma 32:6–8, 43).

One day Sam went for a walk with his big brother Eric.
“Don’t go too far,” called Mother as she waved goodbye.
Sam ran ahead. He came to a speckled toad in the road. He waited for Eric.
“Toad,” said Eric. “Toad,” repeated Sam. The toad hopped away.
Sam ran on. A long gray thing wiggled in the dust. “Snake,” said Eric.
“Snake?” asked Sam. He watched it slither away.
A big bird flew over the trees. Sam pointed a fat finger.
“Hawk,” Eric said. “Bird!” said Sam. He laughed and laughed. He knew a bird when he saw one.
The boys came to a pasture fence. Curious cows came to stare at them. The cows liked the grass the boys pulled and threw through the fence.
“We’d better start back now,” said Eric.
“No!” said Sam. The road went over a brook. Sam looked at the water on one side of the bridge; he looked at the water on the other side. Then he ran up the hill beyond the bridge.
“Stop!” shouted Eric. “You are going too far. You can’t walk back.”
“Can too!” called Sam, and he walked up, up the hill. He began to walk slower and slower.
“Come back,” begged Eric.
Sam stopped. He turned around and looked down the hill and over the bridge. Home was a long way off. He was tired.
“I can’t walk home,” he whimpered. “My legs won’t go.” He sat down in the middle of the road and began to cry.
“How would you like a horse to ride home?” Eric asked.
A horse? Sam stopped crying.
Eric stepped over to a tall bush beside the road. He broke off a stout branch. He stripped off the twigs and leaves. He tied his handkerchief to one end of the stick. It made two funny ears.
Eric handed the stick horse to Sam. “This is Twiggy. He is a fine horse. He’ll gallop and trot. You’ll be home in no time.”
Sam got up. He threw one leg over Twiggy. Then away he rode.
He almost beat Eric home.

When I was almost 18, I flew to a small town called Soldotna, Alaska, to work for the summer. This was my first experience living away from home. My parents had arranged for me to work for and live with their good friends the Wrights, who owned the local grocery store. I hoped to earn enough money for college. I also hoped to return home with an answer to a question that repeatedly entered my mind: Is there really a God?
I needed to obtain an answer for myself. So I resolved to pray every night and ask God if He was real. Somehow I felt that if God existed, He would answer my prayer. If I never received an answer, then I would know He didn’t exist. Simple, I thought.
At the Wrights’ home, I shared a bedroom with their daughter Lisa. She was home from Brigham Young University for the summer and worked at the grocery store with me. I admired Lisa from the start. She was beautiful, intelligent, confident, and enthusiastic about life. That summer we spent nearly every hour of every day together.
I loved listening to Lisa tell me about college life. Her life sounded fun and very independent. Lisa had her life organized and balanced, with the right priorities firmly in place.
My admiration for Lisa grew as I observed her reading the scriptures daily and praying each morning and night. I wanted to ask Lisa how she had obtained her faith in God but felt ashamed of my lack of faith. I remember lying in bed, wondering what Lisa talked to God about in her prayers.
Every night I knelt by my bed and said a quick prayer, asking God if He was there. Yet I didn’t feel anything special or spiritual. I did not hear a voice. I felt the same after my prayers as I did before them. This nightly routine went on for two months. Discouraged, I found my doubts in God increasing.
One night, when I was feeling deeply homesick, tears welled in my eyes. I desperately wanted to be near my family, friends, and familiar surroundings. Aching to talk to someone who knew and loved me, I knelt in prayer. “God, I really need You right now,” I began. For the next several minutes, I released my true feelings to my Father in Heaven. I told Him everything. I talked with Him as though I believed He was there.
A warmth wrapped around me. I began to feel as though Heavenly Father had come down and taken me in His arms. I was no longer alone. Love and peace embraced me. I knew there was a God.
I wondered why receiving an answer to my prayer took more than two months. Jeremiah 29:13 gave me the answer: “And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me with all your heart.”
I finally received an answer to my prayer after I dug deep into my heart. I placed faith in God’s existence. I searched high into the heavens with my words and tears.
My life has changed because of that one night. I served a mission and married in the temple. My faith in God’s existence continues to increase.
I often think back to that summer in Alaska. Without Lisa’s example, I might not have persevered through those months of praying. I might have quit and never discovered the love of my Heavenly Father. I will forever be grateful to Lisa and her example. She helped me come to know God and feel His love for me.

Ever since Tavita was 11, it was his dream to serve a mission—and nothing was going to stand in his way. He loved to sit and listen to returned missionaries share their spiritual experiences, and each day he grew more determined that he too would serve. By the time Tavita was a college freshman, preparing to sign scholarship agreements to play football at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, he made sure he could leave for two years to serve the Lord.
After serving an honorable mission, Tavita returned to his spot on the Hawaii roster and this fall will suit up as offensive guard.

In life’s spiritual battles, “we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against … rulers of the darkness … [and] against spiritual wickedness” (Ephesians 6:12). We, too, need to be reminded of what the fight is all about. Elder Neal A. Maxwell (1926–2004), a former member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, expressed this thought in an eloquent, albeit brief, conversation.

In 2004, I visited Elder Maxwell in his hospital room not long before he died. He was so kind to everyone who visited or helped him. Health-care workers went into his room and came out weeping. I said to him, “Elder Maxwell, this is really hard.” He chuckled and said, “Oh, Dale, we are eternal beings living in a mortal world. We are out of our element, like fish out of water. It is only when we have an eternal perspective that any of this will make any sense.”

I started working a second job to earn money for my mission, but I wasn’t treated well, and it was coming at the expense of my schooling and happiness. When I fasted and prayed, the answer I got was to hand in my resignation immediately and that everything would be OK.
Now I’ve received multiple other work offers, including some for photography. I honestly believe that God is fulfilling His promise because I was obedient to His prompting.

I guess I’ve really changed a lot, for the better, I hope. I got into a big argument with Jared today, though. I know I should show more love toward him, but it’s hard when he acts as aggravating as he did today. He came storming into the house, shouting, “I hate girls!”
“Why?” I asked.
“They’re stuck up, that’s why! The Church leaders are always telling us fellows that we should get married, but how can we when all the girls think they’re too good for us?”
I felt like hitting him. “I like that! I spent all last year losing weight and trying to make myself attractive like President Kimball tells us to, but do you think guys are swooning at my feet? No! The trouble with you and all your snobby friends is that you only want to take the glamorous girls out. They already have plenty of dates. You never pay any attention to the girls who have to try hard to be pretty!”
He considered that. “Don’t all girls try hard to be pretty?”
I thought for a moment. “I guess we all just try to be our best.”
And, as far as I know, that’s the truth.

An elder told of traveling from Vietnam and arriving at a refugee camp near Seattle, Washington. While trying to learn English so he could live in the United States, someone gave him a small card with a picture and an address on it. He kept it for some reason. Later, when he was asked where he wanted to live he showed this card to the customs official. “I can’t send you there,” he was told “but I can send you to a place nearby.” He was sent to live with a Latter-day Saint family in Salt Lake City where he learned about the Church. As he finished telling me this story, he showed the card he had been given in the refugee camp. It was a picture of the MTC. “I am here, President,” he said. Like the others, he thought it was a privilege to go on a mission.

They aren’t great basketball players, but they are determined, I thought as I watched the opposing team run up and down the court.
They were younger, less experienced, and shorter than our basketball team. But they kept on trying, even when it was clear that they didn’t have a chance of winning.
Randy, a boy with sandy-blond hair, played like he didn’t know what the score was. Although he rarely had possession of the ball, he chased it up and down the court as if the whole game depended on him.
When his teammates did pass him the ball, he would carry it four steps, stop, bounce it, and pass it to another player. But the referees didn’t call a penalty, and no one complained. Randy, who is mentally handicapped, was doing his best.
With seconds left on the clock, he got the ball and his teammates yelled for him to shoot. Concentrating so hard that his tongue hung out of his mouth, he shot—and missed. One of our players rebounded the ball, hesitated, and then tossed the ball to Randy.
“Shoot the ball!” our player yelled, and members of both teams joined in the cheer.
The ball went up, hit the rim, and bounced off. Again, Randy was given the ball, and again he missed. Time had run out, but the buzzer didn’t sound, and the referees stayed at half court. Everyone yelled for him to try again. This time the ball arched and swished the net, and the last two points of the game belonged to Randy.
The crowd went wild, and the members of both teams surrounded Randy to congratulate him. He jumped up and down as though he had won the game. And I realized that he had.
And so had every player in that game. They had been true sportsmen: fair and generous. That night no one went home feeling angry or disappointed. There was no bragging or teasing. There were no losers, only winners.

You know what makes me smile most? When Mama says she called me her little china doll—I was a baby then. I don’t remember much about that but I remember some kids saying, “Cindy, Cindy, Cindy, yeah, yeah, yeah,” and making funny faces, and Mama shooing them away and then holding me against her and crying. I don’t understand it yet.
I remember when a strange man came to our house when the chapel was finished. He was from Salt Lake.
“He’s an apostle of God,” Daddy told me. I stood and stared at him and pinched his arm until Mama pulled me away.
“Don’t bother Brother Kirkham, Cindy,” she said.
“It’s all right, Sister Abbott,” he said. His eyes twinkled and he lifted me onto his lap. He put one hand on my hand.
“Cindy’s no bother.” He smiled, and I felt something warm inside of me. “Brother and Sister Abbott, this spirit is so special in God’s eyes,” he went on, “that she was sent to earth for her mortal body in such a way that she cannot be tempted by this world. She will return to God as pure as she came. You have been chosen to take care of this special spirit. Try to understand her for she certainly holds hands with God.”
Mama didn’t cry as much after the apostle went away, and Daddy began to whistle. The children didn’t say, “Cindy, Cindy, Cindy, yeah, yeah, yeah” anymore. They took my hand and said, “Come and play with us, Cindy.”

Jenna Beverley of the Chorley Ward said: “I knew that so many families would be without [food] over the holidays, so when I heard Holiday Hunger East Lancashire needed help, I knew we could use our car and time for good. It was great to see people come together, with what they had, to make this happen at such short notice. What I thought would be a one-hour service project turned into a six-hour quest to provide some relief to as many families as we could, but it was incredible to see the community come together for so many who requested help.”

Jenna’s son Isaac, aged 12, described the experience, “It was kinda stressful to deliver so many meals to people’s houses, especially when it was bad rain and then the phone battery died, so we didn’t know where we were going … but we did it!”