Gospel Story Finder

Tired of being the only one with your high standards in your peer group? Try doing what the youth on the island of Yap did—they created their own peer group.
Yap is about 532 miles southeast of Guam, has an area of 39.1 square miles, and has a total population of nearly 9,350. The Church is growing rapidly there, and the LDS youth have a reputation for not smoking, drinking, taking drugs, or chewing the betelnut, a druglike substance that stains the teeth and harms the body. The LDS youth are also noted for breaking down the island’s rigid caste system. Everyone at church is treated as a child of God, regardless of family status.
Recently, the youth worked with their leaders and the missionaries to organize a one-day mission activity. They participated in everything from interviews to an MTC experience to proselyting, while dressing like missionaries and following mission rules. As a result, 49 copies of the Book of Mormon were placed on their island. Already some of the people they contacted have been baptized.

For some, there will come the temptation to dishonor a personal standard of honesty. In a business law class at the university I attended, I remember that one particular classmate never prepared for the class discussions. I thought to myself, “How is he going to pass the final examination?”

I discovered the answer when he came to the classroom for the final exam on a winter’s day wearing on his bare feet only a pair of sandals. I was surprised and watched him as the class began. All of our books had been placed upon the floor, as per the instruction. He slipped the sandals from his feet; and then, with toes that he had trained and had prepared with glycerin, he skillfully turned the pages of one of the books which he had placed on the floor, thereby viewing the answers to the examination questions.

He received one of the highest grades in that course on business law. But the day of reckoning came. Later, as he prepared to take his comprehensive exam, for the first time the dean of his particular discipline said, “This year I will depart from tradition and will conduct an oral, rather than a written, test.” Our favorite trained-toe expert found that he had his foot in his mouth on that occasion and failed the exam.

When I was in elementary school, we walked home on a paved trail that wound back and forth up the side of a hill. There was another trail, unpaved, called the “boys’ trail.” The boys’ trail was a path in the dirt that went straight up the hill. It was shorter but much steeper. As a young girl, I knew I could walk up any trail the boys could. More important, I knew I was living in the latter days and that I would need to do hard things, as did the pioneers—and I wanted to be prepared. So every now and then, I would lag behind my group of friends on the paved trail, remove my shoes, and walk barefoot up the boys’ trail. I was trying to toughen up my feet.
As a young Primary girl, that is what I thought I could do to prepare. Now I know differently! Rather than walking barefoot up mountain trails, I know I can prepare my feet to walk on the covenant path by responding to the invitations of the Holy Ghost. For the Lord, through His prophet, is calling each of us to live and care in a “higher and holier way” and to “take a step higher.”1

I was a little stressed out. It was seventh period, and by the end of school I had to turn in my biography, which would be read to 500 of my classmates at a prom assembly. What did other people honestly want to hear about me? I wasn’t popular like everyone else selected for the honor of being on the prom court. Did anyone really care?
Suddenly, a girl named Sammy piped up, “Shelby, you’re a funny guy! Just be yourself.”
Then Derek chimed in, “You’re always talking about your church. Why don’t you say something about that?”
Jokingly I responded, “Why don’t I just offer everyone a free Book of Mormon? That would be a bit different.”
Everyone laughed and dared me into actually doing it.
I scribbled something down and read it to my classmates. They laughed and said they liked it. So, I turned it in.
The day of the assembly came, and I was a bit nervous. I didn’t exactly hang out with the “popular crowd” on the weekends. Most of the kids on stage had been royalty on multiple occasions, and they acted like it was routine. I sat back and casually tried to fit in.
Before I knew it my senior class began filing into the auditorium. The class president took care of some class business and then started introducing the prom court. I sat, nervous and excited, up on the stage and listened as the other biographies were read. The girls stood up one by one and were escorted by guys from the court. They walked into the aisles of the auditorium while someone continued to read their biographies as they made their way around the auditorium and back to the stage.
Then my turn came. I escorted a girl and headed for the aisle. I could hardly take the anticipation as I waited for them to get to the part about the Book of Mormon. How was everyone going to react? What would people say about me?
I finally heard the announcer read, “One of the most important things to him is his church. Speaking of which, if anyone would like a free copy of the Book of Mormon, feel free to call him or just ask him, and he’ll be more than happy to get you a copy.”
There was a slight snicker in the crowd. Some church members might have thought, “If only they knew he wasn’t joking!” or maybe, “Shelby’s gone a bit overboard this time.” Other kids may have groaned, thinking, “There he goes again. He’s always talking about his church.”
There were, however, a couple of students who took notice. Three friends came up to me during that next week and asked if they could have a copy of the Book of Mormon. I don’t know who was more surprised when I asked for three copies of the Book of Mormon—the missionaries or me. I made sure all three of my friends got a copy and offered to have the missionaries teach them. Only one of my friends, Joel, said yes.
Joel started coming over to my house a couple times a week to meet with the missionaries. It was really fun. The missionaries were such good teachers. The things they taught about—the Apostasy, the Restoration, and the Book of Mormon—just made so much sense. Joel seemed to agree.
One day the conversation moved to baptism. The missionaries turned and looked at Joel and said, “Joel, will you follow the example of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and be baptized by someone holding the proper priesthood authority?”
Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe. My mind started racing. What in the world had I done? Missionaries were talking to my friend about baptism! What would he say or think? Would this affect our relationship forever? All I could do was sit and eagerly await his response.
Joel paused, looked at the missionaries, and said, “That’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot. Yes. I think it’s something I want to do.”
I really liked what I was hearing. Joel continued to take lessons at my house and was eventually baptized.
Looking back, I wish I had been a better missionary in high school. It’s so easy. All I did was randomly ask if anyone wanted a Book of Mormon. Three kids took me up on the offer, and one was baptized.
While sharing the gospel can be easy, it is also a skill. That skill will only come through prayer, scripture study, talking with more experienced members, and plain old practice. All the Lord expects of us is our best. It is His work. We need to pray for those experiences and then follow the Spirit and open our mouths when those opportunities come.
After seeing the excitement missionary work can cause, I want to to share the gospel with people for the rest of my life.

When the Millers gathered for dinner Saturday night, they were surprised to see flowers on the table and the best dishes set at each place. Dinner was especially nice, and when Mom brought out a fancy cake for dessert, Billie Jo wondered who was having a birthday.
Dad took a piece of cake. “What’s the occasion?” he asked.
“I don’t really know,” Mom said. “I just felt like celebrating. Maybe it’s the happy feeling we’ve had in this house all week without any fights. Or maybe I was remembering our family home evening and wanted to be prepared in case Jesus decided to come for dinner tonight.”
Everyone laughed, but when they bowed their heads for family prayer that night, they all felt in their hearts as if Jesus really had come to visit their home that week.

One night a grandfather was reading a story to his four-year-old granddaughter when she looked up and said, “Grandpa, look at the stars!” The older man smiled kindly and said, “We’re indoors, honey. There are no stars here.” But the child insisted, “You have stars in your room! Look!”
The grandfather looked up and, to his surprise, noticed that the ceiling was peppered with a metallic glitter. It was invisible most of the time, but when the light struck the glitter a certain way, it did indeed look like a field of stars. It took the eyes of a child to see them, but there they were. And from that moment on, when the grandfather walked into this room and looked up, he could see what he had not been able to see before.

Do you know what an “oma” and an “opa” are? Jenneke and Amberley Kurtz do. “Oma” and “opa” are Dutch for “grandma” and “grandpa.” Jenneke (8) and Amberley (10) know even more than this about their family history, including their Dutch ancestors.
They live in the Tawa Ward of the Wellington New Zealand Stake with their parents, Julie and Dick Kurtz. They have an older brother, Ben (15), and an older sister, Desiree (13). The Kurtz family’s favorite game to play is Family History Bingo. You probably have never heard of that game before, because the Kurtz family made it up. Playing it helps them learn the names of their ancestors, a little bit about them, and how they are all related.
Jenneke loves Family History Bingo. She loves her oma, too, and was really happy when she came from Hamilton, New Zealand, to play the piano at Jenneke’s baptism. Because her grandma doesn’t live nearby, they don’t get to see each other very often.
For her baptism, Jenneke received a set of scriptures, which she has started reading with her family in the mornings—on her own, too.
Amberley also loves to read. “She could read a book all day,” her father says. Actually, she could read a book a day for 150 days! That’s how many books she’s collected so far.
Amberley likes to cook, especially pasta. Her mom says that she should have been born in Italy instead of New Zealand because she likes to cook pasta so much.
Both girls enjoy doing things with their family, such as going on walks, going on vacation, and fishing.
The girls like to do some things by themselves. Jenneke likes to take care of plants. She grows sunflowers in the garden and likes to work outside. Last year, some of her sunflowers grew to be even taller than she is!
Besides gardening, Jenneke likes to spend time with animals—especially her orange cat. With Desiree’s help, Jenneke runs a cat-feeding business. She visits many cats in the neighborhood to feed them for other families.
Amberley likes animals, too—especially rabbits. She wants to be a veterinarian when she grows up. She keeps two rabbits in large cages behind her house. She takes good care of them and feeds and cleans them regularly. “Amberley is really kind,” Ben says—and not just to her animals. Desiree says that Amberley is generous with everyone.
Amberley likes to play cricket with Ben. She also enjoys shooting a netball outside her house. (Netball is something like basketball and is played with a soccer ball.) She is a good netball player and has been player of the month at her school three times. When she first started playing, she was having trouble catching the ball. But as she listened to her coaches and kept trying, she became a lot better at it.
Both girls play musical instruments. Amberley is in her fifth year of piano lessons, and Jenneke is learning to play the recorder. Sometimes they play duets.
Like most sisters, Jenneke and Amberley are alike in many ways, different in other ways. Amberley is quieter and likes sports; Jenneke is more outgoing and likes to garden. But even though they are different—as different as a piano and a recorder—they play together in harmony. They both hope that someday their descendants will learn about them and about how much they love their family and the gospel. Maybe their descendants will learn those things in a game like Family History Bingo.

Brother Paul himself was a convert to the Church. While in Nassau as consul general, he became interested in the Church, made inquiries, flew to Utah, and attended general conference there. Impressed by what he learned, he was referred to two LDS families living in the Bahamas—the McCombs and the Ballards. These families had been holding church services in their homes. Alexander Paul and his family were taught the gospel and baptized. It was then that he invited the Ferriers to investigate the gospel.

I had been working at the movie theater for less than a month by the time my co-workers discovered I was a member of the Church. Several co-workers asked me questions about the Church and I answered them, but I never invited anyone to learn more. One co-worker, Garrett, had been assigned to work many of the same shifts that I had been, and we quickly became friends.
One night we were both assigned to clean theaters between showings. Garrett started asking me questions about the gospel. I answered his questions and then felt a distinct prompting to invite him to church. My heart raced. I had never invited anyone to learn more about the gospel. Missionary work terrified me. I was afraid that if I shared the gospel and Garrett wasn’t interested, things would be awkward between us. But the prompting was so strong I knew I had to follow it.
“You should come to church with me sometime,” I said, trying to control the tremor in my voice.
“No way!” Garrett exclaimed.
I was stunned. I was grateful we were in a dark theater so he couldn’t see how embarrassed I was. As we finished cleaning the theater in silence, I wondered why I had been prompted to invite Garrett to church. Did Heavenly Father just want to humble me? I didn’t know, but I was sure that things would never be the same between Garrett and me. We went out into the hall, and Garrett broke the silence. Soon, we were laughing and joking. There was no awkwardness.
Then the realization hit me. I had finally attempted to share the gospel, and though my invitation had been rejected, I was still standing. I had nothing to fear. Since then I have been able to share the gospel several times and have had some positive experiences. I’m grateful for this experience, which helped me overcome my fear of missionary work.
[illustration] Illustration by Sam Lawlor

It was a difficult six months. “When the missionaries were teaching him,” María says, “the Spirit was there. But when they left, the Spirit seemed to leave—and Carlos was left to himself. I fasted for him often.”

“A Uruguayan elder who taught me had a character just like mine,” says Carlos. “We had lots of discussions. I would ask hard questions, he would answer me, and I would try to refute him. I enjoyed discussing the gospel like that. I wanted the direct message, and he helped clarify lots of things.

“Then I decided to do my part and see what would happen,” he says. “I stopped smoking—I used to smoke two packs of cigarettes a day. I stopped drinking. I bought some Catholic books, studied them all, and talked with my uncle who was a Catholic priest. Then I got a book about LDS Church history.” He took some time off work, hoping to find a quiet place to study and meditate.

Then, as if on cue, a relative called and offered the Roigs the use of her house for two weeks—a quiet place in the country. It was just the retreat he needed. “I sat down and read and prayed,” says Carlos. “I read the history and the doctrine. By that time, I had already accepted the fact that this must be true. I just needed to make the decision.

“But there was something within me that was keeping me from it. I wondered what the problem was. One night in my bedroom, I had the Bible and Book of Mormon open. And I found a scripture that says that if we want to come to the Lord, we must ask forgiveness from those we’ve offended. (See 3 Ne. 12:23–24.) That scripture really made me think. Whom had I offended?”

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. “There was something in my life that I needed to confess and repent of. But because of my fear of losing my family and losing everything, I had kept it to myself. Now I knew that I would have to repent completely and sincerely. I believed in Christ, and at that moment I was illuminated with the truth that I hadn’t accepted before—that Joseph Smith was a prophet. And I was also illuminated with all that had to do with the gospel. At that moment, my heart broke.

“So I went to my wife and said, `You’re going to cry. And it’s going to be hard.’ I knew in my heart that I could lose everything, including my family. But I couldn’t keep quiet. It was hard, but María accepted my repentance.

“Her understanding, love, and faithfulness have changed everything in me,” he says. “I remembered Saul of Tarsus, who changed totally after the Lord came to him. That’s how it has been with me—a 180-degree change.”

Carlos was baptized soon afterwards, on 14 February 1984. A year later, he and María and their children were sealed in the São Paulo Temple. “My wife’s patriarchal blessing has been fulfilled,” he says.

Wilford Kimball was our bishop when I was an older teenager. He had two daughters who were my age, Ardyth and Virginia. Every, I mean every, Sunday evening we would go to Bishop Kimball’s house. Always they would be there. Always we would have refreshments. Never once did any of us feel unwelcome. It wasn’t just for a few months but literally for a few years. I don’t know how they ever afforded it, let alone put up with ten to fifteen teenage youths for two to three hours every Sunday night.
From the little group who attended those get-togethers there have been five or six bishops, several high councilors, two stake presidents, several counselors in stake presidencies, a General Authority, and wives of all these priesthood brethren. Bishop Kimball himself was later called as a stake president and then as a mission president, and there are some who were there who followed him and also became mission presidents. What a privilege to walk with Wilford Kimball and his wife in high places, their home.

When I first met with the missionaries, I did not understand much of what they said, and to tell you the truth, I may not have paid much attention to them. My heart was closed to a new religion. I wanted only to prove they were wrong and to gain time to convince Renee to marry me anyway.

Today my children have served and are serving missions, and I understand the sacrifices that these young men and young women make to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. Now I wish I had paid more attention to Elder Richardson, Elder Farrell, and Elder Hyland, the wonderful missionaries who taught me.

“Look!” Danielle lounged against the bed, holding a pencil “cigarette” between her fingers.
“You look like a girl in the magazines,” Sidney said. “Will you smoke when you grow up?”
Danielle frowned. “I don’t know.” They all knew that her mom smoked.
“People die from smoking. Aren’t you worried about your mom?” Jessica asked.
Danielle tossed the pencil down. “Remember the policewoman who came to school and talked about drugs? Well, I went home after school that day and asked Mom to quit.”
“Wow!” Jessica exclaimed. “What did she say?”
“She said that she’d tried to quit when I was a baby, but it was too hard.”
“That sounds like my parents,” Sidney said. “When I told them that drinking alcohol was bad, my dad said, ‘It is a tradition in our family to drink wine, and I’m not about to break tradition!’”
“It’s strange,” Danielle said. “They teach us in school not to do something, but everyone still does it—even our parents and teachers.” She glanced at Jessica. “Everyone but your family.”
Jessica’s face grew hot. She didn’t know what to say. She was relieved when Sidney’s mom called to her. “Jessica, your mom is here!”
Jessica ran for the door. “Bye, Danielle. Bye, Sidney. I had a lot of fun.”
As Jessica joined her mom, she thought, It’s too bad Danielle’s mom smokes. If Mom smoked, I’d worry about it all the time.
Mom saw her frown. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” Jessica jumped into the car. “I’m just glad you’re so healthy.”
Mom started the car and pulled into traffic. “I’ll feel healthier after this baby is born.”
“A few weeks, right?”
“Right. That’s why Grandpa is watching you kids tonight. Dad and I are going on a date before life gets too busy.”
“Yahoo! Another late night!”
Mom laughed. “But not too late. Tomorrow is Sunday.”
Later, when Kaylie and Meghan were in bed, Jessica and Grandpa played games and talked.
“You’ve been painting your nails, Popcorn.”
Jessica smiled at her nickname. “Sidney and Danielle painted my nails.”
“I remember them—two little pixies.”
“That was a long time ago, Grandpa. We’re growing up now. I’m graduating from Primary in a few months.”
“A young woman! Not my granddaughter!” Grandpa harrumphed. “Pretty soon you’ll think you know everything—just like your mother at your age. Why, she was the one who persuaded me to become an active Latter-day Saint.”
“Grandpa!” Jessica gasped. “I thought you were an active member of the Church all your life.”
Grandpa shook his head. “I joined the Church when your mother was a young girl. Before I joined it, I smoked and drank. Later, I went back to my old bad habits. It was hard to quit again.” Grandpa shrugged. “I finally just gave up trying.”
Jessica stared at him. “And Mom got you to quit?”
“She came home one day singing about eternal families. She wanted to know which temple we were sealed in. When I told her that I couldn’t go to the temple, she cried.”
“But you were married in the temple, Grandpa! Mom told me.”
“Yes, but only after preparing myself. I had to work at it.”
“Did you ever feel like smoking again?” Jessica asked, remembering Danielle’s mother.
“All the time. But whenever I did, your mother knew. I can see a lot of her in you.”
Grandpa poured them each a glass of apple juice, and they went out to the back porch swing. Something was troubling Jessica, but how could she explain it to Grandpa? Finally she said, “Grandpa, our family is different.”
Grandpa grinned. “Downright peculiar.”
“Grandpa!” Jessica was relieved that he wasn’t angry, but she still needed help. She remembered how embarrassed she had felt when Sidney said that Jessica’s family did everything right. Why was she embarrassed about being good?
Grandpa took a sip of his juice. “So you don’t like being different.”
Jessica shrugged. “Danielle’s mother smokes, and Sidney’s parents drink wine, but our family never does anything like that. Some of the kids at school watch movies that Dad and Mom won’t even see. I just feel like I’m kind of strange.”
Grandpa smiled. “You are strange, Popcorn.”
“Grandpa, I’m not joking. It’s hard to be different. I’m afraid I’ll lose my friends.”
Grandpa got up and went inside. He came back with his well-worn scriptures and thumbed through the pages. “‘But ye are a chosen generation,’” he read aloud, “‘a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.’”* He looked up. “Do you know what that means?”
“That we’re supposed to be different?”
“Yes, and we are different. You accepted the name of Christ at baptism, Jessica, and you promised to follow Him. Now you are getting old enough to see more clearly what that means and the wonderful difference it makes.”
Jessica thought it over. “My friends see the difference, too, Grandpa.”
“If they are true friends, they’ll stand by you. Some of them may even stand with you.”
Jessica thought, Maybe Grandpa’s right. Mom stood for what was right, and Grandpa quit smoking. What if I stand by Danielle?
She smiled up at Grandpa. “I’m glad Mom helped you quit smoking. Otherwise we might not be a forever family.”
“I’m glad, too, Popcorn. I’m glad, too.”
“Whether we like it or not, each [member of the Church] is set apart from the world. … Though discipleship with the Lord requires times of standing humbly and courageously apart, the Lord will not forsake us. He also gives us the association of others who can edify [inspire] and strengthen us as we go about our work of blessing others in the world.”President Gordon B. Hinckley(Ensign, September 2001, pages 2, 5.)

Charles Francis Adams, grandson of the second president of the United States, was a successful lawyer, a member of the U.S. House of Representatives, and the U.S. ambassador to Britain. Amidst his responsibilities, he had little time to spare. He did, however, keep a diary. One day he wrote, “Went fishing with my son today—a day wasted!”

On that same date, Charles’s son, Brooks Adams, had printed in his own diary, “Went fishing with my father today—the most wonderful day of my life” (quoted in Scott Walker, Daily Guideposts: 1994 [Carmel, N.Y.: Guideposts, 1993], p. 67).

When I was 14, I began working for a neighbor who raised bees as a hobby. My job was to take care of his horses, paint fences, mow the lawn, and weed the garden.
The beehives were located in the field behind the garden, and it seemed like every time I was there I’d end up getting stung or chased by some angry bee. I was beginning to wonder if the bees were trying to avenge the death of their long-lost ancestor.
I told my neighbor I was going to need combat pay if he wanted his garden weeded. He told me what I really needed was the right equipment. We went into his basement and he got out his bee suit: thick gloves with sleeves that went all the way up my arms, white pants and shirt because white tends to pacify bees, boots, a hat, and a screen mask that covered my face and head.
Feeling protected, I journeyed outside. Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I felt something crawling around on my head. There was a hole on the top of the mask. I’m not sure who panicked first, the bee or me. I took off running for the house, but before I got very far it was too late.
I guess you could say I got the point that day. But I really got it later when I was reading in Doctrine and Covenants 27:15 [D&C 27:15] where it says, “Wherefore, lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand.”

For example, one young girl had great physical beauty. When she walked in a room of strangers, people stopped talking. They seemed in awe of her looks. Boys she didn’t know would stop her and ask for her telephone number. Attention and opportunities came to her just because of how she looked. She was popular and had friends. But in speaking with a Young Women leader, she confessed that her good looks sometimes made her uncomfortable. She explained that she didn’t know if people liked her for herself or because she was pretty. Sometimes friends were only friendly for a short time. She didn’t trust any of the young men who approached her because she felt they didn’t really want to get to know her; they just seemed to want to go out with her because of her looks. Instead of making her happy, her beauty made her feel insecure because she wondered if people would still like her if she weren’t beautiful.

That afternoon, orders came from firemen to evacuate the mission home so it could be dynamited and razed in an effort to clear a fire line. Drawers, beds, rugs, furniture, record books, and suitcases went onto a horse-drawn dray that took them to a small park two blocks away. Here the load was placed in a compact pile and covered with a carpet, under which some of the elders tried to sleep that exciting night. The fine organ recently given to the branch by the mayor and other friends was safely stored with one of the members.
On Thursday, as the fires and dynamiting continued, the Robinson family and several other Saints relocated in Golden Gate Park—a day late for the scheduled picnic! There they were better off, they knew, than other homeless members camped in Jefferson Square, where sanitary conditions were abhorrent. For food, the Saints took turns waiting in bread lines which ran four abreast and blocks long; two or three loaves per person was the limit—if supplies outlasted the line. A special pass allowed President Robinson to cross the bay to Oakland for bread, bringing back “two suitcases full each day, distributing the same to the women and children in greatest need in four parks we visited.”

While at Eastmont Junior High, Dene was approached by Coach Massey. He knew Dene played soccer and asked him to try kicking a football. Coach Massey was impressed with what he saw. When he moved up to be freshman coach at Alta High School, he asked Dene, who was to be a freshman at Alta in the fall, to come and try out for the freshman team. Dene was kicking so well that Coach Massey sent him to see Coach Berry, who needed a place kicker for the varsity team. And so the 105-pound freshman soccer star found himself competing with two big, strong seniors for the varsity job. When Dene stepped up and booted a 45-yarder, the seniors both started making other plans for the football season.

Jimmy Weston munched on a handful of jelly beans as he walked home from school. “Sometimes I wish Dad wouldn’t get transferred so often,” he muttered, kicking at a loose stone on the sidewalk.
Rolf rode by on his bike. “Hiya, Shorty!” he shouted.
Jimmy liked Rolf, but he hated being called Shorty. He wondered what it would feel like to be as tall as the other guys in his new sixth grade class.
He finished the last jelly bean and went into his house through the back door. A note from his mom invited him to have some fresh cookies that she’d baked. It also reminded him to stack the last of the boxes used for moving and to sweep out the garage.
Jimmy had finished a cookie and was just changing his clothes when the phone rang.
It was Mrs. Cobb, his teacher. “Jimmy, I know you’re new in town,” she said, “and you probably haven’t heard about the fall parade we help with each year.”
“No, ma’am,” Jimmy replied.
“Our class has been asked to do something special this time. I’m asking my students to try to come up with some ideas.”
“I’ll try to think of something, Mrs. Cobb. Thanks for calling me.”
Moving and stacking the empty boxes didn’t take Jimmy long, and he had almost finished sweeping the garage when his mother turned into the driveway. He gave one last push to the broom, then tossed it into a corner. As he did so, a long stick fell toward him.
“Hey, Mom,” Jimmy called as he pulled another stick from against the wall, “what are these things?”
His mother had her arms full of groceries. Glancing over her shoulder, she replied, “Oh, I’d almost forgotten about those. Here, Jimmy, help me carry some of these sacks into the house, and I’ll show you what they are.”
Mrs. Weston pushed open the back door, and they quickly put the groceries away. Then they went back to the garage.
“Those are the old stilts that your father had when he was your age. I didn’t remember that we still had them. Why don’t you try them out?” Mrs. Weston held the stilts upright. “Stand up on this box,” she said. “It’s about even with the footrests of the stilts.” She held the stilts steady. “Now, put your feet into the stirrups.”
Jimmy laughed as he fitted his feet into place. “It’s kind of like mounting a horse,” he said.
Mrs. Weston said, “Keep the stilts parallel and tight against your legs as you pick them up and move forward—it’s much like walking.” She steadied Jimmy as he moved slowly around the garage. Then she took her hands away, and he was on his own.
“Hey, Mom, this is really neat! I’m tall … like a giant!” he whooped. Clumping around the garage, then up and down the driveway, Jimmy felt like a king looking over his lands. “How do I get down?” he yelled as he moved toward the house.
“Go to the side of the back porch, Jimmy,” Mrs. Weston coached, “and get off there just like you got on.”
Jimmy carefully slipped his feet out of the stirrups, stepped onto the porch, then carried the stilts back into the garage. “Wow, Mom, I’ve never felt tall before. That was great!”
That night after supper Jimmy practiced walking on the stilts again. It was even easier the second time.
Three days later Mrs. Cobb asked Jimmy and Rolf and four other children in the class to stay after school for a meeting. “Have any of you come up with some ideas for the parade?” she asked. “It’s only ten days away.”
“We could make a float again this year,” Rolf suggested halfheartedly.
“Or we could dress up in costumes,” one of the others said.
As Jimmy sat listening, he suddenly thought of something different that they could all do. “Why don’t we each make a pair of stilts? We can wear long jackets and go as giants.”
He stopped, wondering if the others would think his idea was silly. But they weren’t laughing; they were looking at each other and nodding excitedly.
“Sounds like a great idea, Shorty, but how do you make them?”
“We can work on them in our garage,” Jimmy said, trying to forget that Rolf had called him that name again. “My dad has a pair that he used when he was a boy. We can use them for our pattern.”
Mrs. Cobb smiled. “It sounds like a really different idea, Jimmy. A good one too. Thanks.”
On the way down the hall after the meeting, Rolf playfully punched Jimmy’s shoulder. “I guess if you get up on those stilts, I can’t call you Shorty anymore.” He grinned.
Jimmy grinned back. “That would suit me just fine, Rolf,” he said.
Munching jelly beans on the way home, Jimmy realized that he didn’t feel short anymore. Maybe it wasn’t his height that had made Rolf change his mind about the nickname, but the fact that he had been willing to help the rest of the group, regardless of what they called him. He felt as tall as any of them now.
The next few days were busy with sawing, hammering, and sanding. Finally six pairs of stilts were ready for the parade.
The childrens’ mothers had all gotten together and made matching long jackets and tall hats.
The day of the annual event was bright and sunny. Bands played, there were decorated bikes and fancy floats, and marchers threw sticks of gum and candy kisses as they passed by the kids. But the biggest cheers were for six striding giants in fancy long jackets and tall hats, grinning and nodding to the crowd.

Saturday, February 7, 2004, found my wife and me in a hotel in Gijón in northern Spain, where I was serving as president of the Spain Bilbao Mission. As we finished our evening meal, I checked my cellular phone for any messages I had not heard. It did indeed indicate that a missionary had called. I noted who it was and pushed the appropriate button to call him back.
The missionary answered the phone, and after a brief greeting, I asked him what he needed. He was surprised and replied that he had not called me. I insisted that my phone had registered a call from him, but he repeated that he had not called.
We ended our conversation, but five minutes later he called me back and said, “President, I have a problem that is really making me feel uncomfortable, and I’m beside myself over it. I prayed and asked the Lord for help to know what I should do. I didn’t feel like calling you, but while I was asking the Lord what to do, you called. I was surprised because I had not called you. I knew the Lord was telling me I needed to talk to you immediately.”
We talked for a time, and his problem was solved.
When I spoke with him two days later, I asked the elder again if he had called me. “No, President,” he replied, “that was the work of the Lord.” He verified that his telephone showed he had not dialed my number, even by accident.
The Lord said, “Be thou humble; and the Lord thy God shall lead thee by the hand, and give thee answer to thy prayers” (D&C 112:10). Alma, teaching his son Helaman, said, “Counsel with the Lord in all thy doings, and he will direct thee for good” (Alma 37:37). We must do what our Heavenly Father desires in order to feel the peace we constantly need. That unexplainable call was undoubtedly an answer to a young missionary’s prayer.