Gospel Story Finder

After graduation David couldn’t wait to turn 19 and send in his mission papers. His doctor attached a note verifying he was totally independent.
But it was not to be. Instead of a calling, David’s letter informed him he could not serve a full-time proselyting mission.
“When I heard this, I was crushed,” remembers David. “I had worked so hard, and it seemed it was all taken away from me in just a matter of seconds.” Even though David had given it his best, he felt strongly he must continue to pursue a mission. An interview was arranged with Elder David B. Haight of the Quorum of the Twelve, who lovingly assured David there was a mission for him.
One week later he was called to serve a welfare mission at the Deseret Industries (D.I.) in St. George. Nothing had prepared him for such a call. “To tell the truth, I was disappointed.” But he kept hearing these words to the song, “I will go, I will do,” run through his head and knew the Lord wanted him there.
“I look back now and think how foolish I was. I had no clue what a blessing this mission would be,” David says.

One mother did her best to teach the steps of repentance in her home. Then came the day she helped her five-year-old son internalize the principles when she accompanied him to the store to account for a candy bar he had stolen. That experience is one the boy will never forget. He learned firsthand about taking responsibility for his actions. With fear in his heart, he returned the candy bar, offered an apology to the store manager, and promised never to steal again. I am pleased to report that he has kept that promise. I know—because I was the mother, and my son was the five-year-old.

The Lord often used parables relating to the land in teaching accountability and stewardship. When I was a small boy, I would visit my grandparents at their ranch during the summer. There was no electrical power, running water, or indoor plumbing. There was, however, a spring of water next to their small ranch house. The spring created a little pond of clear, pure water, where several times a day I would help my grandmother carry water to the house for drinking, cooking, bathing, and washing clothes. My grandparents loved this life-giving spring and took special precautions to protect it.
Many years later my grandfather was in his early 90s and did not live on the property; he was unable to maintain or oversee it. I drove him to see the ranch which he loved. His high expectations at seeing the ranch turned to disappointment when he realized the fences that protected the spring had fallen into disrepair and cows had damaged the spring and the precious, pure springwater had been significantly polluted. He was upset with the damage and the pollution. To him, it was a violation of a trust he had observed all his working life. He felt somehow he had not protected that life-sustaining spring which had meant so much to him.
Because of my grandfather’s reaction to the polluted spring, improvements and protections were undertaken which returned the spring to its original beauty and purity.

That was in June 1974. One year later there was another change of a historic nature. It was announced that Churchwide June Conferences held in Salt Lake City would be discontinued. One of Ruth’s most memorable experiences came during the last June Conference session held in the Salt Lake Tabernacle. Traditionally, every year the leaders of the MIA sang “Firm as the Mountains Around Us” during the opening session. It was the last time that Ruth May Fox’s hymn for youth would be sung in such a setting. The song was announced, and then the conductor arose. But instead of raising his arms to lead the singing, he called for President Funk to come forward. “Because of her great love for youth and her dedication to them, we feel it only fitting that she conduct this song at this special time.” Surprised but willing, she was assisted by the Brethren nearby to climb onto the conductor’s stand. With exuberance she led the thousands of leaders packed into the Tabernacle in singing: “O youth of the noble birthright, Carry on, carry on, carry on!”

I actually go to a religious school, and we wear uniforms—purple blazers and black pants with a shirt and tie. Even though it’s a religious school, there’s not a lot of people who believe, and the people that are religious never really show it. I like all the missionary opportunities I get because I am the only member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in my school.
My phone wallpaper is a picture of Jesus because a lot of times people will see you open your phone and they’ll see it and ask about it. It’s a great gateway to a conversation about the gospel! I also have a wristband that says, “I Am a Child of God.” I wear it so much that I have a tan line because of it, but I just decided to keep wearing it because people are always asking me about it. A lot of times they ask if they can be a child of God. I just tell them that they are!

When Cassie fell in love with Albert, she worried about falling into the same negative communication patterns she had seen in her first marriage. So they took a marriage class together, where they learned to:
Practice listening skills.
Honestly share feelings.
Cooperate, not compete.
Agree to disagree when needed.
Discuss money management.
“Building a successful marriage takes practice, but we love each other enough to make it work,” Cassie said.

Another time, Joseph was again playing ball with some men and young men from town. When the game was finished, Joseph called the men together.
Brethren, hitch up your teams.
The men did just as Joseph asked and drove into the forest to gather wood.
This is the 39th and last wagon.
We did good work today, brother. Would anyone like to pull sticks?
Joseph was strong and good at a game called pulling sticks. He pulled up each opponent, one after another.
When they finished pulling sticks, Joseph called the men and young men around again.
Take these wagons out, and cut the wood for anyone who needs it.
The Saints loved to do what the Prophet asked, even if they were weary from a long day of hard work and play.
Haul ’em out, boys! Let’s do what the Prophet asks.

Randy Thomas and Heather Young, both members of the Cherry Hill New Jersey Stake, take their dogs to church on Sunday. They also take them to stores, schools, restaurants, airports and other public places.
How do they get away with it?
Actually, Randy and Heather are encouraged to do all these things. The dogs they take care of—a new puppy every year—will eventually belong to a blind person and will be their “eyes” when they go out in the world.
“Initially, I got into this project because I liked the idea of getting a new puppy every year,” says Heather. “It’s hard to let them go after you train them and bond with them for a whole year, but it feels good to know that you’re helping someone else.”
Randy, Heather, and all of the other youth involved in the project give mobility and freedom to hundreds of people each year.
“Once I first picked up the harness handle I knew that the world of possibilities now lay at my fingertips,” says one recipient.
For Heather and Randy, comments like that make it all worthwhile.

It wasn’t until I had children of my own that my mother shared with me her conversion story. She grew up shortly after the Great Depression. When she was young, her parents could not provide food for their children, and they were sent to live with friends and relatives.
My mother, then Dorothy Smith, was sent to live with a family in Pennsylvania. But she didn’t have any shoes. Eventually her parents sent her a pair of shoes, but they were too big. The father of the family told her to sit on the dock of the nearby river and soak her shoes so they would shrink. The name of that river was the Susquehanna River, the same one in which Joseph Smith was baptized.
She did as she was told, but the river was rain swollen and swift. No sooner had she put her feet in the water than the powerful current ripped the new shoes off of her feet and they were gone, sinking out of sight into the muddy water. To her and the family, it was a tragedy. She again had no shoes.
Years later when she was a young mother living in southern California, Dorothy and some neighbor ladies were taking missionary lessons. While walking home one of the ladies said, “How do we know if any of this stuff is true? How do we know if Joseph Smith really saw God or even if there was a Susquehanna River?”
My mother piped up at that moment and said, “I know that there is a Susquehanna River, because I lost my shoes in the Susquehanna River.” The moment she said those words, the Spirit bore witness to her that all the rest of what the missionaries had said was also true.
My family was later baptized when I was about eight. After my mother passed away, it slowly occurred to me what the impact was of her losing her shoes in the Susquehanna River. All of her other family members eventually joined the Church. Many of my relatives and I went on missions and baptized many people, which in turn led to others going on missions and baptizing even more people. Many of my relatives and I have served as ward mission leaders multiple times in our respective wards. All in all, I estimate that about 2,000 people have been led to the gospel of Jesus Christ because my mother lost her shoes in the Susquehanna River. It is a marvel to me that a series of tragedies such as the Great Depression, which led to a family being separated and then my mother losing her only pair of shoes, would lead to such a marvelous blessing in the lives of so many.

What do rabbits, postage stamps, and children’s music have in common? They are some of the things that have helped nine-year-old David Whitworth to save for his mission.
For nearly two years David raised Harry, then Jule, two Angora rabbits. Angoras need their loose fur plucked frequently, and David plucked the soft, fine fur and sent it to his grandmother in New Mexico. She paid David for the fur, which she combined with wool on her spinning wheel to make soft yarn for knitting.
He saved most of his rabbit money in a special missionary bank that his Uncle Tim made for him one Christmas. The bank looks like a brown leather book, and it sits on the bookshelf; but it is really made of wood and is hollow.
Although Harry and Jule died recently, David plans to get more Angora rabbits as soon as possible. Meanwhile, the savings in his missionary bank grows. Before the family’s recent move from California to Kentucky, his older sisters, Erin (16), Shaunda (14), and Katie (12), paid him for helping them deliver newspapers on their five routes. Now he gets paid for helping his parents in two small businesses that they run from their home. He helps his dad put postage stamps in vending machines, and he helps his mom with office work, booths, and workshops in her business of selling children’s music.
Besides saving money, David prepares in other ways for his future mission. He is learning to be responsible and dependable. He can cook a whole meal when asked, is learning to sew, and takes his turn at washing dishes and other household chores. He can even change the diapers on his two-year-old sister, Maryvonne!
Missionaries do not sleep in late, and David has learned to get up early: On school days, the family is usually awake by 6:00 A.M. so that everyone can eat, dress, have prayers, and read the scriptures before the bus comes at 7:15. During the summer, they get up at 6:00 A.M. to help in the family’s large garden for an hour before Dad leaves to work in nearby Lexington.
David is also following the prophet’s counsel to learn a second language. In California, David was in a bilingual classroom. At his Kentucky school, his mother teaches Spanish twice a week to David’s class and to the classes his brothers, Josiah (5), and Jonathan (7), are in.
David works hard in school. He is a member of his school’s Academic Team, which competes with teams from other schools to give the fastest correct answers to questions on many subjects. And for a special school project, he recently typed and illustrated a science fiction book that he wrote called “Survival in Z-P.”
David also has plenty of time for just having fun. He likes quiet activities like reading, drawing, and chess. And he enjoys basketball, baseball, tennis, swimming, Cub Scouts, and exploring the small woods around a clubhouse built in the hollow behind the family home.
If you ask David what he wants to be when he grows up, he’s likely to answer, “A missionary, a dad, an artist, a baseball player, and a cartoonist—maybe.”

Shortly before my wife was to give birth to our first child, we learned that the baby must be born by cesarean section. I was then a student at Brigham Young University, going to school full time and working almost full time. From my meager earnings, a little over $1.00 an hour, we had saved enough money for the hospital and doctor bills, but nothing in our plans or emotions had prepared us for this shocking announcement. We scarcely knew what a cesarean birth was, and we feared the worst.

A few days later we faced our ordeal. After what seemed an eternity, I stood at a window in the hospital hallway, looking into a basket containing our firstborn. The joy of seeing her and knowing that my beloved companion had survived the operation was inexpressible. As I experienced that moment, I became aware of a stranger standing beside me. He introduced himself as Dr. N. Frederick Hicken, the surgeon who had come from Salt Lake City to perform the operation. His presence reminded me that a surgeon’s fee had not been in our plans, and I began to ask him if I could pay his fee over a period of time. “Don’t worry about that, young man,” he said in a kindly way. “This is one from the Hickens to the Oakses.” Before I could stammer a thank-you, he was gone.

I was filled with wonder at this unexpected gift. Our benefactor must have known my father, a young medical doctor who died when I was a boy. He must have given us this gift because of something my father had done. I marveled at the goodness of this man who had come to us in our crisis and had, without recompense, used his powers to preserve the lives of those I loved. The emotion of that moment made the memory indelible. The name of that doctor is precious to me. I will always remember him.

New in school, Janet is an obnoxious, outspoken bully. When Sister Card asks her Merrie Miss class to help fellowship Janet, they’re surprised to learn that she is a member of the Church but reluctantly agree to help. They decide to secretly leave surprises for Janet on her front porch for a week. On Saturday, the class personally delivers a beautifully wrapped gold heart necklace to her. Questioning their motives, she accuses them of trying to bribe her, thanks them for the unopened gift, then shuts the door in their faces.
I felt like someone had just slapped me across the face. “Boy,” I said. “She’s a real creep. We were only trying to do something nice.”
“She didn’t even open our present,” Amy said.
“I knew this wasn’t going to work,” Jill said.
“Now, just a minute,” said Sister Card, as we all got into her van. “Maybe Janet was right. Maybe we were just trying to bribe her.”
We were quiet for a minute. Then Mandi said, “How can we like someone who acts like that?”
“I’m not sure I want her to come if she’s going to treat us that way,” Christina said.
“Girls, I can see that this isn’t going to be as easy as we thought,” Sister Card said. “Perhaps we need to ask ourselves what the Savior would do if Janet were in His Primary class.”
Well, she had us stumped. None of us could think of something that Jesus Christ might do in a situation like this one. We looked at Sister Card expectantly, waiting to hear the answer. Instead, she smiled at us and said, “I challenge each of you to find out, then do it.”
The next day at lunch recess, I saw Janet across the playground. She saw me and yelled, “Hey, there’s Redhead-Wet-the-Bed!”
All the kids around me laughed, and I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Why does she have to say things like that? I wondered, walking away to find Jill. How can anyone be nice to a girl who acts that way?
I was still thinking about Janet when I found Jill. “I don’t know what Sister Card expects us to do about Janet. She hates me. I don’t like her very much, either,” I said.
“I know what you mean,” Jill answered. “Can you imagine what our Primary class would be like if she did come?”
I hadn’t thought about that, and the visions that ran through my mind as I thought about it were not pleasant. “She’d ruin everything!”
Later that evening, I was still thinking about Janet. I couldn’t get her off my mind. “Mom,” I said, “Sister Card wants us to come up with an idea to get Janet Willard to come to Primary. You know we already tried being pixies to her for a week, and I told you how that didn’t work. She’s so mean to everybody that I’m not sure I really want her to come.”
Mom thought for a few minutes, then said, “Maybe the first thing you should do is pray for the ability to like Janet.”
I was mystified. “But how will that help Janet want to come to Primary?”
“Well, it’s pretty hard to help someone you don’t like. Your efforts won’t be very enthusiastic, and she’ll know that you aren’t sincere. You need to pray for Heavenly Father’s help, then try being nice to Janet even if she isn’t nice to you.”
“That’s going to be hard,” I said.
“I know,” said Mom. “That’s why it’s so important to ask for Heavenly Father’s help.”
On Sunday when Sister Card asked us if we had decided what Jesus would do about Janet, I told everyone what Mom had said to me. Sister Card smiled and said, “You have a very wise mother, Esther. If you’ll all open the New Testament to Matthew 5:44, you’ll see that the Savior said the same thing: ‘But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.’”
We were all very quiet as we thought about what this really meant in our relationship with Janet.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Christina said, breaking the silence.
“You’re right. It isn’t going to be easy,” Sister Card said. “But then not many things that are really worthwhile are.”
We decided we were going to be so nice to Janet that she wouldn’t know what to think. Sister Card cautioned that we should be very patient and not get discouraged if she didn’t respond positively right away. “Janet has had ten years to learn and practice the behavior she has now, so don’t expect her to change overnight.”
The next day when I went into our classroom, I heard Janet’s familiar greeting before I even saw her. “Hey, there’s Redhead-Wet-the-Bed!”
Instead of ignoring her and walking away, I went over to her and said, “Hi, Janet. Do you want to play kickball with us at lunchtime?”
She was so surprised that she didn’t answer at first. Then she said, “Not me! That’s a sissy game,” and walked off.

One older brother taught me an important lesson when I was five years old. That was when my twin, Karl, and I received a puppy. We did not understand the responsibilities that come with having a pet—we thought it was just another toy that didn’t require any particular care. We didn’t worry too much about giving the dog food or water or taking care of it. But we had an older brother who felt just the opposite. He had a great love for animals. He saw the need and took care of our puppy.
That dog grew up thinking that it belonged to our brother, and we used to argue about whose dog it was. Karl and I insisted that it was our dog, and we had contests with our older brother to see whom the dog would go to if we called to it. The dog always went to our brother.
The dog understood loyalty and the love our brother showed it. This experience taught me a powerful lesson about the law of the harvest, which tells us that as you sow, so shall you reap. My brother planted love when he took care of our dog, and he reaped the rewards of trust and loyalty.

My dad is older than all my friends’ dads. He is too old to do anything.
At the pool last summer, Jimmy’s dad did a triple somersault off the high dive. Everyone cheered. I asked my dad if he would do one, too.
He laughed. “Steven, I wouldn’t survive a fall like that. Let’s get in the pool, and I’ll teach you the backstroke.”
So I learned the backstroke, but no one was cheering.
In the fall, I went out for soccer. Megan’s dad was the coach. He ran up and down the field with us for hours, shouting out the plays and showing us how to kick. My dad watched from the bleachers.
“Dad, can’t you be assistant coach or something?” I asked.
“I don’t have the energy to keep going for that length of time, Steven. But I’ve thought of a few new plays I’d like to tell your coach.”
Megan’s dad used the plays, and we won most of our games. At the end-of-the-season banquet, Megan’s dad got a trophy. My dad just watched and applauded.
During the winter, our class went on a ski trip. All the fathers came, and they all skied down the toughest slopes. All except my dad. He would only go on the smallest slope.
“I don’t need any broken bones at my age,” my dad said when I begged him to try a bigger hill. And instead of always skiing, my dad helped some of the beginners learn to stay up on their skis.
Then at the end of the school year, our class had a parents’ day program. Most of the parents took off work to come and talk about their jobs. Since my dad was retired, I figured he wouldn’t have anything to talk about.
I sat next to John. I didn’t see his father on the stage. “Where’s your dad?” I asked.
“He couldn’t come. He’s away on a business trip. He’s gone a lot.” John wasn’t too happy about that.
“My dad’s always around.”
“You’re lucky.”
One by one the parents got up and talked about their jobs. Some of them had really exciting jobs. One was a pilot, and one was a paramedic. One father even taught skydiving. After the skydiver, it was my dad’s turn. What is he going to talk about? I wondered.
“My job is my son Steven,” he began. “I like to help him learn things and to participate in his activities. I hope I’m always there when he needs me. He doesn’t think I do anything exciting, but to me, being with him every day is the most exciting thing I could do.”
I was so surprised, I couldn’t move. Even when everyone else in the room stood up and applauded him, I still couldn’t move.
After the program, I ran to find my dad. I told him that I understood and that I was glad he wasn’t too old to be my dad.

Walter and Ernestine Walser were called to Peru. Former Bishop Walser was soon called as a branch president in the remote interior mountains. With his limited Missionary Training Center Spanish, Elder Walser had to choose counselors, hold meetings, teach, train, reactivate, ordain, and so on. In fasting and prayer he received impressions from the Spirit and went about his work. Elder Walser wrote, “I learned that even with limited language, whenever it was needed, enough Spanish was given me to communicate, and I knew it was from the Lord.”

Like many adventures, there were hardships and sacrifices, but the Walsers said that the genuine love and affection of those wonderful Peruvian people and the feeling of being needed more than compensated. They are grateful for their spiritual adventure in serving the Lord.

When I was a child in Samoa, my friends and I never seemed to get tired of swimming. It was our favorite thing to do. I remember that as a four-year-old I even wanted to go swimming with my friends on Sunday after Sunday School—as if there weren’t enough hours for playing together in six days a week. But I was reared in a good Latter-day Saint home, and I recall vividly how my wonderful mother worked with me to keep the Sabbath day holy.
Mother solved the problem by directing me toward the scriptures. Knowing how much I liked to show off by reciting from books, she asked me how I would like to learn to read and recite passages from the scriptures. I jumped for joy at the opportunity, so she said to me, “All right, I’ll meet with you every Sunday after dinner to help you learn passages from these two books”—she held up the Bible and the Book of Mormon.
The first passages I learned to repeat from memory were the Ten Commandments and the first Psalm. Then I learned to recite the story of Lehi’s family from the Book of Mormon. Naturally, the more I learned, the more the principles contained in these scriptures became a part of my life—something that was strengthened by the example of my parents, who lived the gospel very faithfully in our home. By the time I left home for college in 1962, the teachings of my parents were well planted in me.

While touring the New England Mission in May 1960 accompanied by his wife Camilla, Elder Spencer W. Kimball taught much to many. One day is particularly memorable.
Elder Kimball had requested and been permitted to take time to do some genealogical research on the actual location of the birthplace of his grandfather, Heber C. Kimball. While it had generally been concluded that Heber C. Kimball was born in Sheldon, Vermont, Elder Kimball wanted conclusive proof. He also wanted to check for other genealogical information.
Searching stores on the main street of St. Albans for helpful maps and checking records in the city halls of St. Albans and Sheldon, he received mainly general information that confirmed what he already knew. And so, early the next morning, he visited the cemetery. The dew was heavy, but presented no obstacle to his moving about among the headstones looking for Kimball names. When finding any, he would sparkle with joy and record the information in his notebook.
Imagine his influence on me as I watched him and Sister Kimball poring over record books and relating any information they found to that which they already had. I sensed a feeling of fulfillment in the Kimballs in their being able to spend this time in the area from which Elder Kimball’s illustrious grandfather had come.
In order not to lose the chance to teach and train, Elder and Sister Kimball ended this most unusual day in meeting with the Saints in Barre, not far from Sharon. Sister Kimball instructed ninety sisters and Elder Kimball provided over forty brethren with priesthood leadership training. Concluding the visit with a district meeting of the Saints from all parts of Vermont, Elder Kimball issued the Saints the challenge to double their membership by the end of the year.
Teaching. Always teaching!

One day someone called me at work, claiming to be from the governor’s office and wanting to know if I would be interested in a position as the governor’s assistant. I laughingly asked, “Who is this?” He explained that the call was legitimate and invited me to come the next day for an interview. I went with a sinking feeling that it could be a joke. It wasn’t. The interview went well, and I was hired on the spot.
In my new job I used the skills I had gained from years of speaking in church. The governor could not attend all the events to which he was invited; therefore, his staff members were expected to speak in his place. All those talks in church and from serving in leadership positions had given me the experience I needed to speak in public alongside senators, local and national dignitaries, and celebrities. I served as the governor’s assistant for seven years until we both retired.

“Will the ice be solid enough today, Grandma?” asked Mary Running Deer. She pressed her face against the cold window pane in their little home on the reservation. The Dakota prairie was awash with snow as far as she could see.

Grandma’s answer was a surprise. “Let’s get bundled up, for it’s cold out on the pond!” she declared with a twinkle in her dark eyes.

“You really mean it, Grandma!” exclaimed Mary.

“Oh, I can hardly wait!” chimed in Mary’s sister, Nancy.

Grandma touched the tip of her nose and smiled. “It felt cold enough last night to frostbite my nose. I’m sure the pond is frozen solid enough for me to teach you girls our old Indian game.”

The proper name for Grandma’s old Indian game is Nit an tai sin um. But the girls usually just called it “Grandma’s old Indian game.”

Mary and Nancy scurried to find their winter coats. Grandma wrapped herself in an Indian blanket coat and slipped into a pair of sturdy buckskin leggings.

Suddenly there was a loud thumping underneath the wooden table in the corner.

Mary laughed. “Old Buck doesn’t want to be left out of the fun,” she said.

The big yellow dog slowly pulled himself up from his resting-place. He laid his graying muzzle on Mary’s knee as she sat down to put on her boots.

Grandma’s weathered face crinkled into a grin. “When will that dog realize he’s getting too old for these excursions?” she asked, shaking her head and then pushing her gray hair into place. “In dog years, Buck is even older than I am,” Grandma added.

Hearing his name, Buck wandered over and shoved his nose into Grandma’s hand. She patted the dog affectionately and spoke directly to him. “I’ll have to admit you are an amazing dog, Buck. What would I ever have done without you, especially with me trying to be both a mother and a father to Mary and Nancy!”

Mary spoke up. “I’ll never forget the time I fell into the pond when I was just a little girl, and Buck pulled me to safety while I held on to his tail.”

“And not only that,” reminded Grandma, “Buck pulled you all the way home on my travois. He was so careful to choose the best route because he knew you were hurt.”

Nancy opened the door with a mittened hand, and Buck was the first one out into the cold, clear air. Nancy smiled. “Buck knows where we’re going. He never lets Mary very far out of his sight, especially when we’re going near the pond.”

Mary grabbed a shovel from the side of the house, and everyone began trudging across the brilliant white snow.

Buck struggled along behind in their footsteps, but he just wasn’t up to bounding and playing in the snow as he had done in past winters.

Grandma explained how to play the old Indian game as they went along. “See all the sticks and small stones in this bag,” Grandma said, pulling open an old deerskin bag. “My grandmother and her grandmother before her used to play this same game on the ice when they were young girls.” She paused. “I’ve heard some people say that Nit an tai sin um is a little like a sport called bowling. But I’m sure bowling doesn’t compare to this game.”

Mary and Nancy couldn’t help smiling at each other. Grandma always preferred the old Indian ways.

When they reached the pond, the two girls shoveled the snow off a large space on the ice. And Grandma shook the contents of the little bag onto its smooth surface.

After handing several small stones to each of the girls, Grandma began her instructions: “Now you must sit about ten feet apart to play this game—”

Suddenly, everyone heard a sharp cracking sound from the other end of the pond, followed by the sounds of splintering ice and splashing. A shrill, terrified yelp echoed across the pond.

“Oh, no!” gasped Grandma. “Buck has probably broken through the thin ice where the little creek runs into the pond.”

“Grandma! We must save him!” cried Mary, dashing across the snowy pond.

“Stay close to the bank!” Grandma called hoarsely.

They could hear Buck thrashing desperately to keep from going under the ice. Mary, Nancy, and Grandma half stumbled, half ran along the snowy bank. Buck’s shrill yips were a plea for help. Then abruptly the yelping stopped. Mary and Nancy looked at each other in panic. Has Buck gone under? they wondered.

The girls’ footsteps became frenzied. Then they spotted Buck lying very still on the snowy bank. Somehow, the valiant animal had managed to pull himself from the icy water.

“Oh, Grandma!” choked Nancy, tears running down her cheeks. “Will he die?”

“Not if we can quickly get him back to the warm house,” panted Grandmother, gasping for breath. “But how will we ever carry him? He’s so heavy.”

“Grandma!” burst out Mary hopefully. “The travois! We can pull Buck back to the house on your travois.”

Mary and Nancy sped back to the house, and hauled to the pond the travois poles, blankets, and Grandma’s huge buffalo hide that had been in the family longer than any of them could remember.

The two girls wrapped the suffering dog in the blankets and comforted him with soft words.

Grandmother tied the hide to the two poles and made the travois sturdy. “I’m glad my grandmother saw fit to teach me some of the old Indian ways,” she observed.

This time when Nancy and Mary smiled at each other, they were in complete agreement with Grandma.

Gently they eased Buck onto the travois. The exhausted dog looked up at his rescuers with soft, mournful eyes. Straining to lift his head, he weakly licked Mary’s hand.

A lump caught in Mary’s throat. “He’s trying to tell us thanks.” She paused. “Maybe by pulling him back on the travois, I can partly repay Buck for the time he helped to save my life when I fell into the pond.”

Mary positioned herself between the travois poles and pulled carefully. She wanted to give Buck as safe and comfortable a journey as her faithful friend had given her on this same travois many years before.

Eight-year-old Emily bit her lip as a smiling missionary handed her a small card with a picture of the scriptures on it. The missionaries were visiting Primary this week and handing out pass-along cards to all of the children.
“We want to give you a challenge,” the missionary said. “We want you to share the gospel with a friend. Think of someone you want to share your happiness with, then give the person one of these cards and talk about it.”
“Tell a friend about the gospel?” Emily thought. The idea made her nervous. Did she know anyone who would really listen? She wasn’t sure about that, but she did know someone who would make a wonderful Latter-day Saint—her best friend, Alyssa. She looked down at the card. What would Alyssa say if she gave it to her? Would she think it was strange? Would she laugh? Emily tucked the card inside her scriptures. She loved her friend and she loved the gospel, but she didn’t know if she was brave enough to accept the missionaries’ challenge. It seemed too hard and scary.
The next weekend Emily got all her jobs done early so that she could invite Alyssa over. She couldn’t wait to play their favorite game—Cannonball—which they had invented themselves. They piled up all the blankets and pillows they could find, then leaped into the pile, yelling “Cannonball!”
When they began to pile up the blankets again, Emily’s little brother and sister joined in, helping to make the pile bigger.
“Can we play, too?” her brother asked.
At first, Emily was annoyed. She wanted to play the game with just Alyssa. But then she realized that everyone would be happier if they all played together.
“Sure,” Emily said.
When they were tired out from Cannonball, they all pretended to be deep-sea explorers in a submarine.
“This is so fun!” Alyssa said.
Soon Emily’s brother and sister went outside. Emily took Alyssa to her room and played a new CD of really pretty Church music. Alyssa loved it. She even began to sing along with the chorus of one song. Hearing Alyssa sing about the gospel made Emily happy.
“Time for lunch,” Emily’s mom called. All the children ran to the table, and Emily’s brother reached for a slice of bread.
“Not yet,” Emily’s mom said. “Time for prayer.”
“I’ll say it,” Emily volunteered. Alyssa watched Emily and folded her arms like she did.
After lunch Emily and Alyssa went outside to play on the swings. Emily couldn’t believe it when she saw Alyssa’s mom coming to pick up her daughter. Time went by too quickly when she was having fun with her friend. She said good-bye and went back inside to help her mom.
That night as she opened her scriptures, Emily saw the card. Oh no! She had forgotten the missionaries’ challenge. She had spent the entire day with her friend and hadn’t said one thing about the gospel.
Her mother poked her head through Emily’s doorway, smiling. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
Emily looked up, surprised. “What for?”
Her mother came in and sat down on the bed. “For sharing the gospel with your friend today.”
Emily shook her head. “But Mom, I didn’t say anything about the gospel.”
“Yes, you did,” her mother said. “When you played with your brother and sister, you taught her that including others makes games fun and that we’re happy when we’re kind to our family.”
Emily thought about it.
“And,” her mother added, “you taught her gospel principles when you shared your Church music with her. You showed her how to pray when you blessed the food at lunchtime.”
Slowly, Emily smiled. It was true. She had shared the gospel with her friend—not with words, but with actions. She thought of how glad she felt when she heard Alyssa singing about being a child of God. Maybe someday Alyssa would remember those words and want to know more. Suddenly Emily felt very happy. She couldn’t wait to go to Primary on Sunday and tell her teacher that it wasn’t hard to share the gospel at all.