Gospel Story Finder

A Church history story illustrates the difference.
A small six-year-old boy wandered away from his handcart company during a storm and was lost. When the storm subsided, Robert and Ann Parker realized their boy was missing and began searching. For two days an organized search was unsuccessful. The decision was made that the company must move on because of the approaching winter.
A pioneer journal records the following:
“Ann Parker pinned a bright [red] shawl about the thin shoulders of her husband and sent him back alone on the trail to search again for their child. If he found him dead he was to wrap him in the shawl; if alive, the shawl would be a flag to signal her. Ann and her children took up their load and struggled on with the company, while Robert retraced the miles of … trail, calling, and searching and praying for his helpless little son.”
One suspects that he did not just casually look behind a few trees or leisurely walk along the trail, but that he vigorously investigated every thicket, every clump of trees and gully or wash.
“At last he reached a … trading station where he learned that his child had been found and cared for by a woodsman and his wife. [The boy] had been ill from exposure and fright. [But] God had heard the prayers of his people.
“Out on the trail each night Ann and her children kept watch and, when, on the third night the rays of the setting sun caught the glimmer of a bright red shawl [above her husband’s head], the brave little mother sank in a pitiful heap in the sand. … [She] slept for the first time in six … days.”

Everyone has to be converted. Everyone at some point in life has to know for themselves that Jesus is the Savior. At youth conference, the testimony was so strong that I began to feel it too. I prayed the night we got home, and the next day at testimony meeting, for the first time since I was a child, I bore my testimony. I felt for myself that Jesus is the Savior.
Rachel Yorke, 16Hayward, California

When President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) was a young man, he and his family lived on a farm during the summer. He had this experience there:
“There was a dead tree I wished to pull. I fastened one end of a chain to the tractor and the other end to the tree. As the tractor began to move, the tree shook a little, and then the chain broke.
“I looked at that broken link and wondered how it could have given way. I went to the hardware store and bought a repair link. I put it together again, but it was an awkward and ugly connection. The chain was never, never the same.”1
Think of yourself as part of a chain—a family chain. President Hinckley said we should never let ourselves be a weak link in our family chain.

Richard Van Hagen, currently president of the Edinburgh Scotland Stake, owes his Church membership in part to the pioneers. He first became interested in the Church because of a radio program. One day while driving in the country, he found that the car radio signal was so faint that he couldn’t hear it. He changed stations to find one he could hear better.

“The only program I could hear loud and clear was about the Mormon pioneers,” he says. “I was absolutely spellbound, and I remember sitting and listening long after I had arrived at my destination, quite unable to switch the radio off and get out of the car.” Until hearing the program, Brother Van Hagen knew nothing about the Church. But he was impressed by the early Saints’ faith and courage. “I admired their determination and felt great respect for them,” he says. He feels that it was no accident that he heard the radio program. “I have sometimes wondered if it was actually broadcast at all,” he says. A few weeks later, missionaries knocked on his door, and he accepted their message and joined the Church.

Tavita started learning patience when he was a young boy. He needed a direction in his life, and when he was thirteen years old, a good friend got him into weight lifting. By the age of fourteen, Tavita could lift almost twice his own weight.
“People thought that I was twenty years old when I was only fourteen because of the way I acted and the way I looked. I had the body of an adult. Even so, I still loved to play and watch cartoons on television.”
In the following years Tavita continued to grow in both strength and size. He entered and won weight lifting competitions around the country. At the age of fifteen Tavita traveled to Little Rock, Arkansas, where he was recognized as the strongest 14–17 year-old in the United States. For five years he won national titles. By the time he was eighteen years old, he could squat-lift 412 kilos.
In high school Tavita excelled at weight lifting and football. In his first season playing football, he was selected for high school teams at both the state and then the national level. His list of awards goes on and on. “I excelled in football and weight lifting because they are the two sports I love the most,” he says.
But Tavita excelled not only because of his love for the sports, but because he taught himself strict discipline. That discipline helped him learn Cantonese while still preparing to enter the Hong Kong Mission. “When I got my call to Hong Kong, my next thought was, ‘What is a 120-kilo Samoan going to do there?” But I knew that was where Heavenly Father wanted me to serve.”
At the beginning, Tavita had difficulty learning the language. It was frustrating to not be able to communicate his strong feelings about the gospel. “Through patience and prayer I learned to endure. The relationship between my Heavenly Father and me grew closer, more than I ever thought it could. My knees literally had calluses on them.”
Patience and long-suffering helped him succeed on his mission. These attributes have continued to help him succeed in his college studies and football career. During high school, he thought he had to prove something. But now all he feels he needs to prove is his worthiness to his Heavenly Father.
Tavita continues to work out six days a week. “I take a lot of pride in building the body Heavenly Father gave to me. I want to keep it clean and to keep it physically as well as spiritually fit.”
Tavita also strives to be a good example to all his friends, both members and nonmembers. He wants to have a positive influence on those around him.
But first and foremost is his relationship with the Lord. “The relationship I have with my Heavenly Father is a little like the one I have with my own dad and mom. I try to serve Him to the best of my ability and to do what He wants me to do.”
Tavita’s father recently died, and his mother is living in California. But every opportunity they have, the family gets together to have fun. Tavita especially enjoys working on cars with his brothers and cousins. ‘I love to fix cars. I love anything to do with hands and tools. I have a strong talent for being able to fix and repair things. In fact, my father was a mechanic, and my brothers are also mechanics.”
Tavita has enthusiastic advice for the young people of the Church. “Serve a mission. Especially the young men when they turn nineteen years old. Go now. It might not be the easiest, but it will be the best two years of your life.”
He also advises youth to learn the importance of the gospel in their lives.
“Stay close to the Church,” Tavita adds. “Have a close relationship with your Heavenly Father. It has helped me.”
And that’s the kind of attitude which, whether he’s standing or kneeling, makes Tavita Sagapolu a true spiritual giant.

The screen door slammed its familiar afternoon bang. “Mom! I’m home!” Marcus called out.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Mom called back.
Marcus pulled his shoes off by the front door, then made his way to the kitchen. His nose told him hot cinnamon rolls were waiting. He smiled.
“Would you like one?” Mom asked, pouring him some milk. “How was school?”
“It was OK.” Marcus sank his teeth into the warm roll. “There’s a new girl in my class.”
“Oh?”
“Her name is Karen, and I feel really sorry for her,” Marcus said, staring quietly out the window.
“How come?”
“Well, she has only one arm. And you could tell she was scared to come to a new class. She looked at her shoes all day and didn’t talk to anyone.”
Marcus’s family had moved recently, and he knew how difficult it was to be the new kid at school. He couldn’t imagine how hard it would be if you looked different, too.
“I hope that you were kind to her,” Mom hinted.
“I smiled and said hi, but I don’t think she noticed. Most of the kids stared at her missing arm all day. Some even whispered and pointed, and you knew they were talking about her.”
Mom frowned. “I don’t imagine that that made her feel very welcome.”
“No, probably not.” He didn’t mention that one of the boys who had joked and pointed the most was his new friend, Tim. Marcus had been embarrassed each time Tim did it, but he hadn’t known what to do about it.
That night, Marcus’s father gave the lesson for family home evening. He talked about President Hinckley’s great love for all people and his counsel that each of us should be a little kinder to those around us. Dad asked each member of the family to think of someone to whom they could show a little more kindness.
Marcus thought hard while his little sisters took their turns. When Dad called on him, he replied, “I can show more kindness to Karen, a new girl in my class. She doesn’t have any friends yet.” Mother gave Marcus a smile of encouragement and a quick wink.
After he and Mom told whom they would be kinder to, Dad said, “OK then, I’ll expect to hear a report from everyone tomorrow night at dinner.” He closed the lesson by bearing his testimony about how important it is to follow the prophet’s counsel.
That night, Marcus fell asleep wondering how he was going to make friends with a girl who stared at the floor all day. And he worried about what Tim and the other guys in his class would think when he tried to be nice to her.
When Marcus walked into his classroom the next morning, he half-hoped that Karen would be absent. But she was sitting at her desk, looking straight down at a book and seemingly unaware of anyone else. That’s when Marcus had an idea. He went and spoke quietly to his teacher, Mrs. Meyers.
Every Tuesday was “book buddy” day in Marcus’s class. After lunch, Mrs. Meyers announced that they would divide into pairs to read out loud to each other. As she called out the book-buddy assignments, she paired Marcus with Karen. Tim grinned as he leaned over and whispered, “Tough luck! Guess you’ll have to hold the book and turn the pages, since she has only one arm.”
Marcus looked at Tim and smiled, “That’s OK. I don’t mind.” Tim’s grin disappeared as he watched Marcus cross the room to Karen’s desk.
A warm feeling filled Marcus’s heart as he smiled into Karen’s hesitant eyes. “Hi! I’m Marcus. What do you want to read?”
Karen looked up at him blankly, then ducked her head without saying anything.
“Do you like the Magic Time Machine series?” Marcus continued. “I just finished the one where they go to ancient Rome. It was great!”
“Really? That’s the one I’m reading right now!” She looked him right in the eyes and grinned happily.
“No way!” Marcus grinned back. “You’re going to really like the ending.” Marcus made himself comfortable in the chair next to her. He thought about his father’s challenge, and he was grateful for President Hinckley’s counsel. Not only had he found a way to be kinder, but he’d made a new friend, too!

Shortly after I returned from my mission, my stake president asked me to interpret for Elder Hartman Rector Jr., then of the Seventy, who had come to Mendoza, Argentina, to preside over a stake conference. These marvelous opportunities have continued over the years. I interpreted for President Thomas S. Monson and other General Authorities during the 11 dedicatory sessions of the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple.
During four of those sessions, I read the dedicatory prayer in Spanish from the pulpit in the celestial room. My voice broke up several times because of my emotions; tears filled my eyes and flowed down my face. I was reading the inspired prayers and promises for my country from Heavenly Father, who lives and reveals His will, just as He did 12 years earlier through my mission president when I accepted the challenge to learn English.
I also interpreted for the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley, during the four dedicatory sessions of the Montevideo Uruguay Temple and the four dedicatory sessions of the Asunción Paraguay Temple.
It’s difficult for me to explain how sacred those moments were for me when I stood alongside prophets, seers, and revelators in the Lord’s house. I felt somewhat like Peter, James, and John when they had the amazing experience of seeing Jesus transfigured. Peter expressed my feelings when he told Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here” (Matt. 17:4).

In 1997 our branch president announced that the branch would do a service project in the neighborhood surrounding our meetinghouse. We were doing this activity to join with Church members all over the world in commemorating the 150th anniversary of the arrival of the Latter-day Saint pioneers in the Salt Lake Valley.
The activity involved cleaning roads and filling potholes. The branch president said we would get dirty but that the activity might give us an opportunity to talk with others about the Church.
I didn’t think I would go because my professor had scheduled extra lectures at the same time as the activity. I felt that everybody would understand, but then I came across a pamphlet titled Faith in Every Footstep. When I read excerpts about the travails of the Saints on their trek to the western United States, I was moved to tears. Some Saints left their comfortable homes to go to a desert, unsure of what they would find. Others forged ahead even after every other member of their family had died along the way. In the midst of sickness, pain, hunger, and poverty, they had faith that if they migrated to the West, they would be free from oppression.
I felt bad that the early Saints had to make great sacrifices, even their own lives in some cases, to see that the Church continued moving forward. Because of their sacrifice and faith, I now enjoy the blessings of the gospel.
I then realized how small a sacrifice I would be making by comparison. I was being asked to give a mere two hours of service and to share the gospel with a few people, and I was making excuses for not attending.
I forgot about the lectures and participated in the activity. I got dirty, but people did come and ask about the Church. I felt happy for being involved, and I have since graduated from the university—despite missing a few lectures.

Another missionary wrote:
“The mother of a poor family came to me and my companion and asked us when we were going to eat at her home. Knowing of the family’s humble circumstances, I talked to the branch president. He said, ‘Elders, this family has taught us a lot by their example of humility. It is a great privilege to have them in our branch. They are poor, but they really want to participate. We want you to go. If their food isn’t enough, come by my house afterwards and eat with us.’”

Moses Lwakihugo, from the Democratic Republic of the Congo, lost his father to war in 1997. Moses lived in refugee camps for over 10 years. Now a priesthood leader in the Swahili group in our ward, he said, “I noticed something different about the members of the Church. They actually live what they teach. In other churches I had been a part of, nobody came to visit me. In this ward, people were checking in and bringing meals when my family was sick. I have never seen a church so full of love.”

You are always concerned for the people you have baptized, and you always wonder how they’re doing. About seventeen years after that first mission, my wife, Carol, and I had an opportunity to travel to Brazil. When we landed in Rio de Janeiro, our taxi driver happened to be a Church member. We told him who we were, and I talked to him about being in Brazil on my mission. No sooner did we get checked into our hotel room than our telephone rang. I thought, Who could be calling us here at this hour? It was someone from the mission office, inviting us to dinner at the mission home the next evening. We arrived at the appointed time, the door opened, and there stood my ex-Protestant minister convert. He was the mission president! What a thrill!

One day I talked back to my mother. Each of us yelled at the other. Our words were hurtful. Later, I opened my scriptures and read about love. I decided to ask my mother to forgive me. She had left, and when she returned, she put a note on my pillow. She said she was sorry. She just expected me to help her more with household chores. After reading her message, I hurried to tell my mother how sorry I was and how much I loved her, while giving her a big hug. It was a wonderful moment. Since that time, the message of love revealed to me in the scriptures has stayed with me, and I have tried to avoid quarreling by speaking to her with kindness. Tell your mother you love her, and she will do the same. Control yourself when something she does irritates you, and instead think about all of her good qualities. Seek to know what she expects of you. I am certain that by your doing this, the situation will resolve itself.
Raquel L., 21, Bourgogne, France

One young man started by working on diligence.
“I wanted to develop more Christlike attributes, so I studied my scriptures and Preach My Gospel. In chapter 6 of Preach My Gospel, I found a suggested pattern for developing Christlike attributes and decided to try it with the quality of diligence. First I wrote down my own definition of diligence and the questions I had about it. Then I went through the suggested scriptures on diligence and recorded my impressions and answers I found as I read. Afterwards I set a goal to be more diligent with my schoolwork and have found myself feeling more motivated and consistent as I pray each night for diligence.”

Tiger Brown was the meanest man I’d ever met. During the first summer after my mission I worked a highway construction job. Tiger was the foreman. He was about 60, short and stocky, with a bulldog neck and face. His eyes were small and angry, like a bear’s eyes.
My job was to follow a machine that laid down asphalt mix and to make sure the surface was clean and level. Large rocks would make their way through the machine, ending up buried in the asphalt. I would have to pick them out with a shovel and fill in the hole with hot mix from the front of the machine. Then I’d rake it smooth so it matched the rest of the road surface. We were laying a new surface on a highway in the west desert of Utah that summer. In the middle of the day the temperatures would be a hundred plus in the shade, and with the steaming hot asphalt it was nearly unbearable. The machine would often drop several big rocks at once, and I’d have to run just to keep up.
About four times a day Tiger would come by.
"Hey!" he’d growl at me above the roar of the machine. He would walk up to me with quick steps, his head down, pawing the air with his arms moving like an attacking grizzly. He always wore the same clothes—a ragged blue denim jacket, old khaki pants, a worn-out flannel shirt, and a dirty baseball hat. If you didn’t know him and saw him in downtown Salt Lake, you’d probably feel sorry for him and offer him a dollar. On the job no one ever made that mistake or even had to ask how he got his nickname.
"That’s not the way you do it," he would mumble, grabbing the shovel out of my hand. For ten minutes he would do my work. He would attack it with a vengeance terrifying to watch. No matter how far behind I was he would catch up to the machine in a quarter of the time it would have taken me. There was nothing I could do then but stand, humiliated, watching until finally he’d hand the shovel back to me.
"I should have hired your grandma," he’d snarl, and then after a disgusted glance he would stalk off.
He watched his crew like a red-tailed hawk watches a covey of mountain quail. If there was ever any indication of something out of order, the work moving just a little slow, or if the new road surface wasn’t perfectly level, or if the asphalt mix wasn’t just right, he would swoop down with that eagle nose and those fierce eyes, yelling, "Hey!"
I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I had bad feelings for the man, feelings that almost bordered on hate. I felt that way until about the second month of work.
We’d finished a stretch of road and were getting the equipment ready to move to a new location. The place looked like an ant bed that had been kicked. The work was moving fast, and the crew was on the run getting their equipment onto the back of trucks and large trailers. Tiger came suddenly into the middle of this scene waving his arms and yelling.
"Hey! Hey!"
He stopped all the work and grabbed the driver of a large crane by the arm and directed him toward the hot mix machine. The hot mix machine was a 50-foot long cylinder used to mix gravel and hot tar. When the crane reached the hot mix machine Tiger had the operator lower a hook that hung by cable from the crane’s arm. With the entire crew watching and wondering if he’d finally slipped his gears, Tiger put his foot in the hook and jerked his thumb upward. He rose up to about 40 feet, level with the top of the hot mix machine.
After reaching the cylinder, he carefully bent down and picked up a small bird’s nest full of bald-headed baby birds. The proud and very worried parents, two kingbirds, were hovering over the nest. Tiger jerked his thumb downward. When he reached the ground, he walked over to a small cottonwood tree and gently placed the nest in its branches. He had several of us put barricades around the tree.
"Hey! Hey!" he yelled when he turned around. "Get back at it. You think this is a spectator sport? I should have hired your grandmothers."
Tiger still barely nodded when I said good morning to him, and he yelled at me and took my shovel when my work wasn’t up to his standards; but after the incident with the birds I saw him in a different way.
We broke the Utah record a few weeks later for the amount of asphalt laid in a day. The inspectors said it was as smooth and as good a surface as they’d ever seen. Whenever I drive over that highway I feel a sense of pride. Tiger believed in giving a good value of work for his dollar and he expected the same from his crew. I started looking past his faults to the good in the man. By the end of the summer I not only learned to respect Tiger, but I also learned to like him.
Since then I’ve found there are many people like Tiger, and I’ve had to look past their faults to see the good. Some have become very good and valued friends.

Being conscious of the types of performing which are uplifting, and using her voice to provide those kinds of performances, has given Shula some very special opportunities. When Shula was 12 she was chosen to sing the prelude music at a regional conference presided over by President Howard W. Hunter in Birmingham Town Hall. Shula was especially thrilled when President Hunter requested she come down from the choir. “He gave me a hug and thanked me for singing,” she says.

At the same time, 10 miles to the south, Raul Hernandez and his wife, Anna Maria, have just finished preparing their martial arts studio for an evening class. A Liahona magazine adorns the counter adjacent to chairs and a bench where parents make themselves comfortable as their sons and daughters head to the studio’s colorful padded floor.

As different as the Hernandez and Yoshida businesses are from each other, they have something important in common. They owe their success, at least partially, to principles taught through the Church’s self-reliance initiative.

Raul Hernandez began martial arts training when he was only 6 years old. By age 13, he was teaching others, and by age 17, he had opened his first martial arts studio in Mexico.

“At first, I didn’t know if a self-reliance course would help us,” Raul says of his studio in El Paso. “But our business wasn’t going great, and I didn’t know what to do to improve it. I thought, ‘What can I do without having to spend more money?’”

Thanks to the same course attended by fellow ward member Julio Yoshida, Raul and his wife, Anna Maria, developed some great ideas. They used those ideas to improve their business organization, bookkeeping, professionalism, and advertising.

“We began to promote our business on Facebook,” Raul says. “It turned out great. All of our new clients now come from Facebook.”

Another important idea they received from the course was how to better use their gym.

“We were using the gym for classes only three hours in the evening, Monday through Friday, but we pay rent on it for the whole day,” Brother Hernandez says. “I’m an architect, but I don’t always have work, so my mornings are often free. After I started the self-reliance course, I began to pray about the training we were receiving.”

Those prayers were answered when, “through the guidance of the Spirit,” Raul felt impressed to begin using his gym during morning hours to offer classes on weight-loss management and to give therapeutic massage, which he is trained in.

“I’ve taken other courses designed to help me with my business, but the Church’s self-reliance course is different because of its spiritual part,” he says. “The most important thing we got out of the course was the Lord’s help through the Spirit. The course brings His blessings.”

“The most important thing we got out of the course,” say Raul and Anna Maria Hernandez, “was the Lord’s help through the Spirit.”

When President Henry B. Eyring, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, studied physics and mathematics in college, he felt overwhelmed. His discouragement led him to stop studying and to think about quitting school.

But one night, he recounted that “help came as a voice, an actual voice in my mind. It was not my voice. It was a soft and loving voice—but firm. The words voiced were these: ‘When you realize who you really are, you will be sorry that you didn’t try harder.’”1

This insight led President Eyring to finish college, pursue graduate school, and later become a teacher. We may be content with where we are in our education or career, but God can see a potential in us that even we can’t always see. We lose nothing and gain everything by engaging in lifelong learning.

For Cathy Antonsson of Helsingborig, Sweden, saying no was not always easy or pleasant.

“It was rough. It’s not easy, but you have to pay the price for who you are. Sometimes I cried my eyes out because I had to stay home. It was difficult because many people here just aren’t religious.
“I went to Rome for two weeks on a school trip. In Italy, they always offered us wine. They have wine with most of their meals, so my friends kept offering me wine, and I kept saying, ‘No, I don’t drink that.’
“My friends spent so much money on drinks. Everytime we went out, I would put the same amount of money in my purse that they spent on their drinks. Before we left, I went to an exclusive dress shop and bought a very expensive designer dress. All my friends were really surprised when they saw it and said, ‘Hey, how could you afford that?’ I told them what I had done and that that was one of the advantages of not drinking.”
Despite the hardships, Cathy was glad she upheld her standards. “After I graduated from junior college (in Sweden, students 16 to 19 attend junior college), a boy that I used to date told me that when we started school he had set a goal that before we graduated he would get me to break my standards. He said it always bugged him that I was so moral.
“When we used to go out on dates, I always said, ‘Hey, no way. I want to be your friend, but I don’t do that.’ After it was all over, he told me, ‘I have never respected a girl as much as I respect you.’”

One day while carefully crawling over the frosty cliffs in search of random fossil bones, I came upon a spot where a few fossil mud-balls and some interesting bone scraps seemed to suggest it might be an area worth prying into. Our general collecting technique was to find a single bone exposed on the surface, harden it with shellac, and then chisel it free. In this one spot, however, I felt an urge to dig and see what might be below the surface. I pried several shoe-box-size sections of sandstone free with my ice ax, and kneeling down on the cold, dry sand, I split them apart for examination. I chanced to split one fragment in a manner that exposed a curious triangular bone about two inches long displaying a single tooth. I studied it for a moment and, unable to identify it, wrapped it carefully for Dr. Colbert to examine back in camp. I spent several hours on this small cliff. In so doing, I forgot to watch my face and as a consequence received a nasty frostbite on my right cheek and nose. The skin in these areas formed hard, cold, white patches.
That evening while I was eating and undergoing a painful thawing, Dr. Colbert came dashing into the mess hut and cried, “You’ve got Lystrosaurus!” I looked on my plate, then at my sleeve, and felt the back of my head, but failed to comprehend his excitement. “Lystrosaurus,” he repeated. “You’ve got Lystrosaurus!”
I sat there blinking dumbly and twitching my red nose. Finally I began to comprehend that he was referring to my day’s collection and not to my physical condition, and also that Lystrosaurus was the scientific name of a mammal-like reptile found abundantly in Africa. It seems I had found the right maxilla (upper jawbone) of one of these curious creatures, which have but two teeth in their entire skull. This unusual characteristic makes a bone from this animal a very important diagnostic fossil. Their presence on Coalsack Bluff as well as in Africa and India meant but one thing; these continents had once been joined as part of Gondwanaland!
My frostbite was still my most impressive feeling at that moment, but I later realized I had discovered what is said to be the single most important object that has yet been found relating to earth history, for it was first proof that there was once a great supercontinent on earth. Future exploration will naturally follow with possible discovery of complete fossil animal skeletons, but they will only be additional information, for the vital moment of truth has passed. The first discovery has been made.
It has now been one year since that discovery, and several workers have now published aggressive articles on continental drift. Although some of them ignore fossil vertebrates, they proceed with a confident vigor made possible only by a frozen nose and the revelation of a little one-toothed jawbone on Coalsack Bluff.

This story took place in the USA.
“Break time!” Ari’s teacher called.
Ari’s classmates lined up to go outside to the playground. But Ari and her friends always went to the library instead. They liked to borrow books and do crafts together.
Kristin and Ella were already waiting by the door. Ari grabbed her book and a stack of paper. Then she led the way down the hall.
“I hope The Dragon Keeper’s Secret is back!” Ari said. “I’ve wanted to borrow it for weeks.”
When they got to the library, the girls waved at Mrs. Franklin, the school librarian. She always greeted them with a bright smile. But today her smile didn’t seem as bright.
Ari frowned as she set her book on a table. “Did Mrs. Franklin seem kind of sad to you?”
Kristin shrugged. “She was probably just busy.”
“Maybe.” Ari sat down and pulled out a piece of paper. She folded it carefully, smoothing the fold with her thumb.
“What are we making today?” Ella asked.
“How about bookmarks?” Ari said. “They’re pretty easy. I’ll show you.”
Ari had been learning how to make origami. It was a type of art from Japan, done by folding paper into different shapes. Ari knew how to make all kinds of shapes, and she taught her friends what she learned.
Ari showed Kristin and Ella how to make each fold. Soon all three of them had a little square bookmark.
“It goes on the corner, like this.” Ari opened her book and slipped the bookmark over the corner of a page.
“Cool!” Kristin grabbed another paper. “I want to try it by myself.”
While they worked, they talked about books they had read and what they wanted to read next. Ari glanced again at Mrs. Franklin. She still seemed a little sad.
Soon Mrs. Franklin stopped by their table.
“Hi, girls.” She set a book on the table. It was the dragon keeper book! “This is for you, Ari. I know you’ve been waiting to read it.”
“Thank you!” Ari picked it up.
Mrs. Franklin sighed. “Someone robbed my car today. They took all my books and music.”
“That’s awful!” Kristin said.
Mrs. Franklin gave them a sad smile. “Well, it’s only stuff. Stuff can be replaced. I’m just glad no one was hurt.”
Ari watched Mrs. Franklin walk away.
“I wish we could do something to help,” Ella said.
Ari looked down at the origami bookmark in her hands. “Maybe we can!”
“Like what?” Kristin asked.
Ari grinned. “Come to my house after school. I have an idea.”
The next day, Ari, Kristin, and Ella went to the library during their break, like they always did. But this time, they didn’t just bring books. They had something special for Mrs. Franklin.
“We made these for you!” Ari gave Mrs. Franklin a bag. “We know we can’t replace all the things that were stolen, but we thought these might cheer you up.”
Mrs. Franklin looked inside the bag. It was full of origami—bookmarks, fish, hearts, butterflies. She smiled big.
“This is amazing! Thank you so much.” She pulled a piece of origami from the bag. It was folded to make a tiny book. “I’m going to use this mini journal to write all my happy little thoughts!”
Ari smiled back. She could always do something nice for others—one paper fold at a time.
Turn the page to make your own origami!
Illustrations by Brian Martin