Gospel Story Finder

It is in obedience to a divine thought that I now share with you a second experience, one that involves my son Sa’olotoga. We call him Sa’o for short. Sa’o is the second of my four sons, and he was born with many challenges, including being deaf and insensate. Though he was physically in the world, he was unable to move or hear or feel the world around him.

Neurologists taught us that we could help Sa’o by using intentional and consistent patterning. Each day, several times a day, I would hold a patterning session with Sa’o using exercises such as these: I would take a cup of hot water and a cup of ice water and put a metal spoon in each cup. Then I would say, “This is hot” and place the spoon from the hot water on the back of Sa’o’s wrist. The spoon was not hot enough to burn but hot enough to recognize the temperature. I would then say, “This is cold” and put the spoon from the ice water on the back of his other wrist. I repeated this pattern using textures, saying, “This is soft” or “This is rough.” Sa’o also had tactile sessions of massage, patting, scratching, and feather rub to help him learn how to feel as well as patterning sessions multiple times a day to help him learn how to move.

Now you might be thinking, Why did you need to verbally tell him what he was supposed to be feeling if he was deaf? I had the same thought when we were taught what to do for him. But I wanted so much to help him and didn’t want my skepticism to prevent his chances of receiving help. So I chose to trust that the medical specialists knew more than I did, and I faithfully followed their instructions.

At the same time, we were doing auditory patterning sessions throughout the day to help Sa’o hear. I would say things such as “This is a handbell,” “This is a sparrow,” or “This is a fire engine.” [Audio clips were played for each sound.] Incidentally, that is when I learned that this is a cougar [an audio clip of a loud meow was played] and this is a BYU cougar [an audio clip of a mighty roar was played]. We would ensure during each auditory patterning session that there were no other distracting noises so that it was easy for Sa’o to discern the sound.

Over time, Sa’o began to show signs that he could hear things. We first noticed it with his startle reflex. I still remember the day when he was about fifteen months old when he startled and cried because someone shut the door loudly. That was later followed by him looking in my direction when I called to him. And then one day when I said, “This is hot,” he reacted before I put the spoon on his wrist. We were able to stop with that specific patterning, but it was still several years before he fully developed the reflex to pull his hand away when he touched something hot.

Over the years Sa’o learned to crawl, creep, walk, and even run—well, it’s more like a trot. He is still nonverbal and has many other challenges, but he can hear and feel the world around him, and he communicates with us in many ways.

There are many truths that I have been taught by the Spirit through this experience. I’ll share just a few.

A true story of faith to become self-reliant that I find inspiring concerns a brother that I will call Didier (not his real name). Didier served in the Nigeria Calabar Mission at the time that I served there as mission president. When he completed his mission, Didier was serving as a zone leader. He was an obedient, quietly determined, and hard-working missionary. Both of Didier’s parents had passed away when he was young. At that point, he was taken into the custody of his maternal uncle, who raised him and introduced him to the Church. But before Didier completed his mission, his uncle was overcome by a terminal illness and passed away. Didier’s circumstances appeared bleak and desperate.

Returning home, and without any able members of his immediate family to turn to for help, Didier decided that he would continue to put his trust in the Lord who had sustained him up to that point. He decided to find out what he could do to move forward in his life. Through prayer, he got the impression to study what people who were self-reliant in his hometown were doing to sustain themselves. For several weeks, he walked the streets moving from shop to shop, observing the business that was going on, and how people were coming and going.

He reached the conclusion that he would likely live a reasonably good life as an electronics technician repairing TVs, radios, and other electronic equipment. The problem was that he had no skills, no money, and he did not know where to begin. Again, through prayer, he got the impression to ask the owner of one electronics repair shop, how he could get practical training to work as a technician. The man told Didier he could train him for about two years at a fee.

Excited, he contacted his ward self-reliance specialist and asked to be considered for a Perpetual Education Fund loan so he could get the money to pay the shop owner and obtain the training he believed would help him earn enough to meet his temporal needs. Then came his major disappointment. The specialist explained to him that PEF loans were only given for recognized training institutions, and loan money could only be paid directly to the bank account of the training institution. The shop owner was not a registered training institution and did not have a bank account. Didier was at a dead end.

But Didier had observed the goings on at the shop long enough to know that this was a good business if he would work hard. Moreover, he was drawn to the work and admired how a non-functioning TV could suddenly be brought back to life. In this moment of intense discouragement and apparent hopelessness, he again turned to the Lord in prayer. The impression came to go back to the shop owner, explain to him his situation, and offer to enter into an apprenticeship contract that he would pay for after he had completed his training and started working. He did not know how the shop owner would respond, but he decided to try. After deep reflection, the shop owner accepted his proposal on the condition that Didier provide a character reference, which he gladly did.

Two years later, Didier—now with his wife, another returned missionary, at his side—completed his practical apprenticeship as an electronics repair technician. He developed a strong relationship of trust with his trainer, who also became his mentor. Didier was a good student and an asset to the shop. The shop owner offered to hire him as an employee, which Didier gladly accepted. This gave him the opportunity to immediately start paying what he owed for his apprenticeship.

A year later, Didier felt that he knew enough to start his own business. With what he had saved from his employment earnings, he rented a small shed in another part of town. As he had become known to several good clients while working with his trainer and mentor, his business picked up steadily. After two years, he had saved enough money to buy a 40-foot container which was going for a bargain. He rented a plot where he placed the container and moved his repair shop to the new premises. In another year, he bought the plot on which his repair shop stood.

Didier was now his own man, feeling in full control of his life, and deeply grateful to the Lord for sustaining him as he waded through uncertain territory in his life.

My hope and invitation is that despite the gloom of the past 18 months, and of anything else the world might throw at you to try to destroy your hope, you will not let go of your faith. I hope that you will draw inspiration from the experience of Didier, a young man whom I came to know and who, under conditions that could have allowed despair to rule his life, decided to trust in the Lord and to go forward despite the overwhelming weight of his discouragements. Today, Didier serves as a stake high counsellor, and he and his family stand independent. He is confident that if he does his part, the Lord will see him through any challenge that he may face.

A few years ago, our daughter and son-in-law were asked to team teach a Primary class of five active four-year-old little boys. Our daughter was the designated teacher and our son-in-law the designated enforcer, doing their best to maintain a sense of calm amidst occasional chaos in order to teach gospel principles to the children.
During one especially rough class, after a number of warnings to an energetic little boy, our son-in-law escorted the four-year-old out of the classroom. Once outside the room, and about to talk to the little boy about his behavior and the need to find his parents, the little boy stopped our son-in-law before he could say a word and, with his hand up in the air, and with great emotion, blurted out, “Sometimes—sometimes—it’s just hard for me to think about Jesus!”

A recent missionary-for-a-day activity conducted by the young people in the Renton Washington Stake resulted in five baptisms in two states as the result of one referral.
Heidi Vikari and Claudia Judd of the Renton Third Ward were assigned a tracting district in an older part of the town. The two took copies of the Book of Mormon and knocked on 15 doors that day, and at the last one, a woman responded to the message. She and a nine-year-old son were taught and baptized. She then referred the missionaries to a brother in Oregon, who also accepted the gospel. He, in turn, sent missionaries to another couple who also joined the Church.
Thus, within three months of knocking on doors in the stake’s semiannual missionary-for-a-day program, one contact resulted in five baptisms.

What happens when what we have been imagining actually occurs? Let me tell you about one young man that I know personally who got that kind of attention and made an appropriate response.
Not long ago and not far away a boy entered a pharmacist’s shop, told the proprietor that he was Bob Brown, son of Mrs. Helen Brown, and inquired if there was any possibility for him to work at the pharmacy to pay for medicine which the store owner had supplied the family but for which he had not yet been paid. Mr. Jones didn’t really need any additional help, but he was so impressed by the unusual conscientiousness of this seventeen-year-old high school boy that he made arrangements for Bob to work at the store part time on Saturdays.
That first day of diligent work greatly impressed the businessman, who at the completion of it handed the young man an envelope containing twelve dollars—the agreed-upon wages. The boy took two one-dollar bills from the envelope and asked Mr. Jones to give him change for one of them. Bob put the other dollar bill and twenty cents in his pocket, deposited the eighty cents change in the envelope with the ten-dollar bill, and handed that money to Mr. Jones to apply to the family account, asking if that division of wages was agreeable to the pharmacist. Well, Mr. Jones tried to insist that Bob keep a larger portion of the money. “You’ll need some money for school,” he said, “and besides, I’ve already decided to increase your pay in the future. Why don’t you keep at least half of the twelve dollars?”
“No, sir,” said the seventeen-year-old. “Maybe later I could keep a little more, but today I would like to pay the ten dollars and eighty cents on our bill.”
At that moment some of Bob’s friends came by and asked him to attend a movie with them. He said he couldn’t, that he had to go home. They continued to tease him to go with them until finally he informed them firmly that he didn’t have any money and couldn’t go with them. Mr. Jones, observing all of this, was about to intervene again to offer money to Bob when one of the boys who had playfully jostled him heard the twenty cents rattle in Bob’s pocket. The bantering began again, because obviously he did have some money. Quietly Bob finally said, “Look, guys, I do have a little money but it isn’t mine; it’s my tithing. Now take off, will you please. I need to get home to see how Mom’s doing.”
When Bob and the others had left the store, Mr. Jones went to the telephone and called a physician friend. “Doctor,” he said, “I have been filling your prescriptions for years and have long admired your reputation as a fine surgeon. I’ve also known you are a Mormon bishop, but I have never had any interest in your religion. But I now have one of your boys working for me who is so different that I need to learn about a religion that can produce a young man like that.”
Arrangements were made, and the pebble dropped into the life of Mr. Jones by Bob Brown began the extending circles that to this point have gently washed the druggist and members of his family and many others into a warm, loving life as fellow citizens with the Saints in the household of God.
Somehow early in his life Bob has mastered principles and developed character that set him apart from most others. He is a regular boy in every choice sense of the description. Can anyone doubt that he will be an equally fine man, a good husband, a regular dad, a concerned leader who will help many others?

Seventeen-year-old Bikki Sahi has recently been baptized. And like many of the other Latter-day Saint youth here, he is the only member in his family. He feels strongly that he has “chosen the right way.” Bikki has a new but beautiful testimony to share. “When I first came to the Church, I felt peace in my heart,” he says. “I also felt that my tensions and sadness were driven away. The brothers and sisters showed me their love and taught me about Jesus Christ and the Book of Mormon. When I obeyed the commandments, it helped me improve my habits, and I felt good. I know that Jesus is the Christ and that the Book of Mormon is true.”

Liking the school was one thing, but getting accepted was another thing altogether.

“I had to audition in front of the teacher,” Kamila said. “It was really hectic, because I had to create two storyboards [outlines of her film ideas] to present. I wasn’t prepared on the first day like everyone else, so I had to go on the second day. On the way there we got a little lost, and I was late. My mom told me not to worry and to call my dad. I did, and he said a prayer with me over the phone. It was nice.”

Kamila calmed down and presented her storyboards. The result? She was accepted into the program, and she just started her third year there.

I had the blessing of growing up in a small branch. Because our numbers were few, the youth were called upon to actively participate in all aspects of the branch. I was very busy and loved feeling useful. On Sundays I officiated at the sacrament table, served in my priesthood quorum, and functioned in various other callings. During the week I often accompanied my father and other adult priesthood holders as we home taught members, comforted the sick and afflicted, and helped those in need. No one seemed to think I was too young to serve or even to lead. For me, it all seemed normal and natural.
The service I rendered during those teenage years helped me build my testimony and anchor my life in the gospel. I was surrounded by good and compassionate men who were committed to using their priesthood to bless the lives of others. I wanted to be like them. In serving with them, much more than I realized at the time, I learned to be a leader in the Church and also in the world.

That definition of endurance is the approach I took to completing my required statistics class. After a few classes, I realized that stats was not a course I would learn easily. I spent more time studying for that class than any other only to reap D's and F's on my quizzes and exams. It was frustrating and humiliating when I was used to getting A's and B's. When I considered dropping the class because of my poor grades, my friends reminded me it was a required class for my major, and unless I changed my major, I would have to still take the class again so why not "just get it over with", in other words endure to the end of the semester.
I murmured about my inability to understand the concepts of statistics to my friends and classmates in order to explain my low grades and, I guess, to get some sympathy. I convinced myself that if I could just pass the class, I would be happy. So I endured the class, did the probability exercises, and cringed each time I took a quiz or test, but I was determined NOT to retake that class. In the end, my endurance paid off. I was ecstatic when grades were posted and I passed my stats class with a D. Achieving a D in that class was like getting an A in my English 315 class. I had definitely endured the pains of statistics.

Several years ago, the Salt Lake City newspapers published an obituary notice of a close friend of mine—a mother and wife taken by death in the prime of her life. I visited the mortuary and joined a large number of persons gathered to express condolences to the distraught husband and motherless children. Suddenly the smallest child, Kelly, recognized me and took my hand in hers. “Come with me,” she said; and she led me to the casket in which rested the body of her beloved mother. “I’m not crying, Brother Monson, and neither must you. My mommy told me many times about death and life with Heavenly Father. I belong to my mommy and my daddy. We’ll all be together again.”

Through tear-moistened eyes, I recognized a beautiful and faith-filled smile. To my young friend, whose tiny hand clasped mine, there would never be a hopeless dawn. Sustained by her unfailing testimony, knowing that life continues beyond the grave, she, her father, her brothers, her sisters, and indeed all who share this knowledge of divine truth, can declare to the world: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” (Ps. 30:5.)

A lot of what she learned at church was familiar to Muriel, who’d been taught about God and Jesus Christ her whole life. Other topics were new. “I’d never heard of Joseph Smith or Brigham Young or the Book of Mormon,” she said.
Those weren’t the only new things. There was a whole new culture to learn. Here, Church members made a big difference. They taught the family how to use some of the electronic devices and appliances that were different from back home. They helped with the language. And they helped most of all by simply being friends.
Muriel encourages youth today to do the same thing. “Refugees need friends too. Our family didn’t have any friends when we came to this country, but once we joined the Church, we had so many people visit us! Now we have many friends.”
Over the years, Muriel has been able to help serve those same friends who blessed her life early on.
After she entered Young Women, Muriel served in class presidencies and assisted with all kinds of youth activities. She served and taught and shared her testimony.
But one of the best ways she continues to help her friends is by lending her strength in the gospel and her faith in God.
“Some of my friends are struggling to find hope right now,” she says. “But I always tell them, nothing bad lasts forever. For me, I feel like there’s nothing God can’t get you through.
“Sometimes all I can pray for is courage to hold on longer. To keep pushing on. God has always helped me find that courage. For the most part, the blessing of courage to keep pushing ahead is all you really need.”

I have a friend who prays every day to meet someone who is prepared to receive the gospel. He carries with him a copy of the Book of Mormon. The night before a short trip recently, he decided not to take a copy with him but instead to carry what is called a pass-along card. But in the morning a spiritual impression came: “Take a Book of Mormon with you.” He put one in his bag.
A woman he knew sat next to him on the plane, and he wondered, “Is this the one?” She rode with him again on the return trip. Now he thought, “How should I bring the gospel up?”
Instead, she said to him, “You pay tithing to your church, don’t you?” He said that he did. She said that she was supposed to pay tithing to her church but she didn’t. And then she said, “What is this about the Book of Mormon?” He explained that the book is scripture, another witness of Jesus Christ, translated by the Prophet Joseph Smith. She seemed interested, so he reached down into his bag and said: “I was impressed to bring this book with me. I think it is for you.”
She began to read it. As they parted, she said, “You and I are going to have to have more conversations about this.” What my friend could not know—but God did—was that she was looking for a church. God knew she had watched my friend and wondered what about his church made him so happy. God knew she would ask about the Book of Mormon, and He knew she would be willing to be taught by the missionaries. She was prepared. So was my friend. And so can you and I be.

In 2001 Juanita was diagnosed with advanced breast cancer and was given a 50 percent chance for five-year survival. Our best option was to pursue an aggressive but very taxing course of chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation. We were discouraged when after eight weeks of nauseating chemo the large tumor had not shrunk at all. During this trial I went jogging and recited the proclamation as loud as I could to relieve the stress I was feeling. It comforted me.
On one jog when I got to “Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer,” I stopped. I felt a sense of peace as an impression formed in my mind. It was the Saturday morning before fast Sunday, and I felt inspired to send an e-mail to everyone I knew, inviting them to fast and pray and exercise their faith for Juanita so that the chemotherapy would be effective. We received a great outpouring of support. Even friends of other faiths described powerful experiences with fasting and prayer. Without our asking them to do so, friends in Australia, Japan, Hawaii, Salt Lake, Boston, Belgium, and South Africa put Juanita’s name on the prayer roll in their temples. The results were miraculous. Immediately our mood and our faith improved. And during the next four weeks of treatments, the tumor almost totally disappeared. Juanita finished the treatment, and no measurable cancer remained. We were so grateful! But this wasn’t the end of our trials or of the continued comfort the proclamation brought us.
In early 2004 we were devastated to learn that Juanita’s cancer had returned, this time in her lungs. In somber tones our doctor told us he would try to keep the cancer under control as long as possible, but there was now no possible cure. At first I felt betrayed and hopeless. Juanita and I had righteous desires and plans. What about the missions we were going to serve together? What about the grandchildren we were going to strengthen spiritually? How could this happen to us?
As I went through the proclamation again, this time it was as if someone turned a flashlight on to highlight the words “Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother.” I recognized my children were entitled to be raised by a father and a mother. This statement filled me with hope that in the face of very large medical odds Juanita would be blessed with a miracle and be healed.
We lived a fairly normal and hopeful life for about six months, but then the cancer began to take its unmistakable toll. Juanita lost weight rapidly and acquired a nearly constant and uncomfortable cough. Even the smallest exertion left her struggling for breath. Things seemed always to get worse and never better. Soon it became apparent that it was not God’s will for Juanita to live very much longer. I was at a complete loss to explain why God had not stepped forward with the miracle we so badly needed and so sincerely hoped for. But then again the words of the proclamation provided inspiration and comfort: “Sacred ordinances and covenants available in holy temples make it possible for individuals to return to the presence of God and for families to be united eternally.” Through many tears my understanding was enlarged to see that Juanita would indeed receive a miraculous healing. Because of the plan of salvation, Juanita would pass from this life into a beautiful place to be greeted by her father, our daughter who had passed away, and the Savior. Because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ, Juanita would be healed and at the Resurrection receive a perfect body, free from cancer and any other illness. I could also see that through all eternity our children would have access to her influence as their mother—another miracle.
I also felt impressed that there was much we could yet do in this life to give the children continued access to her wisdom. I received a clear impression that it was time for us to stop focusing our faith on a physical miracle that was not in keeping with God’s will and focus instead on learning as much as we could from Juanita in the short time we had left. We needed to be better prepared “to return to the presence of God and for [our family] to be united eternally.” In our family testimony meeting we expressed these feelings poignantly, and their truth washed over us all. Then we went to work.
Juanita wrote her testimony of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, and I wrote mine as well. We printed and laminated them along with our pictures in a size that would fit in the children’s scriptures. Juanita then wrote long letters in her own hand to each of the children, expressing appreciation and offering words of encouragement and advice. We recorded Juanita’s sweet voice singing hymns, Primary songs, and childhood lullabies and made CDs for each of the children and for future grandchildren. We also recorded messages to be listened to on special occasions such as going to the temple, leaving on a mission, getting married, giving birth to a child. Juanita crocheted baby blankets and bibs for future grandchildren. Our lives now became focused, full of activity, and we received great comfort from the Spirit. All this came as a result of inspiration from the proclamation.
All of our children were at Juanita’s side when she died, and each had the opportunity to share tender communication with her. She was alert and talked to us until about 10 minutes before she passed away. That’s when I told her, “I love you,” and she responded in Spanish, “Lo mismo,” which means “Same to you.” Those were her last words. Her passing was sweet.
I have marveled at the numerous specific and personal ways the proclamation has blessed me and my family since that Saturday night more than a decade ago when I first heard it. It has changed our lives forever. It is the word of God, and it can be the basis for great joy and happiness in family life, even in the midst of unfathomable trials. I know by the Spirit that “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” is an inspired document for families today, and if seriously studied, it will open the windows of divine assistance for our families.

It just took a little imagination and a good idea and Patricia Louderback ended up a winner. A member of the Moanalua Ward, Honolulu Hawaii West Stake, Pat was a top contributor to her state health fair. Pat won trophies for her poster urging drinking parents to “Go Home to Your Family” and another emphasizing “Alcohol Doesn’t Make Your Problems Go Away. It Adds to Them.” George R. Ariyoshi, Governor of Hawaii, presented the awards to Pat.
After graduating from Moanalua High School next year, Pat hopes to enroll as a sociology major at Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho.

Lucy’s Heart
Lucy and her older sisters entered an art contest at their school about making the world a better place. Lucy knew she wanted to paint a heart. She said, “The world would be a better place if we have love in our hearts.”
A Loving Sister
When Lucy found out that her painting won the contest, she told her sister Ruby, “Yours is so good. I wish you would have won instead of me.” Lucy couldn’t believe it when she found out her painting won the contest for the whole United States too!
A Special Way to Communicate
It’s hard for Lucy to tell others what she is feeling. But she wants to help people feel loved and happy. And her paintings do that!

When I was a young man, my home was on Long Island about 30 miles from New York City. We had woods around us, and we enjoyed nature. My father had a large yard with hedges, rock gardens, fish pool, vegetable garden, lawns, and trees. They all required regular care. There were always chores, like cutting the lawn in the summer and raking leaves in the autumn. I thought we worked pretty hard taking care of our yard, but it was nothing like my father’s boyhood on the sugar beet farm in Burton, Idaho.
One day my father said to me, “You’re never going to learn how to work until you go out and work on the ranch with your Uncle Frank.” So I spent that summer in Skull Valley near Tooele, Utah, learning how to work.
The change from the lush greenery of my home in Long Island and Skull Valley’s dusty, stark desert environment was hard for me to believe. It gave me an appreciation of the first impressions the pioneers coming from Europe and the eastern part of the United States must have had when they were told, “This is the place.”
I had grown up near a large city. Ranch life was an education for me. I was impressed to see the cattle and the horses and the hard work necessary to bring about the harvest. I can remember the feelings when I first realized that an enormous amount of preparation was necessary before the crops were brought in. We had to plow, disk, harrow, plant, cultivate, weed, irrigate and then continue to cultivate, weed, and irrigate, endlessly it seemed. That summer was a great lesson to me. It is a cherished part of my heritage, because it was here in this almost desolate, remote corner of the world that I learned the law of the harvest.

I spent a year in Murray, Utah, as an exchange student and was baptized on October 22, 1976. When I received the New Era recently as a Christmas present from Sister Smith, I couldn’t believe it because I didn’t ever think I would read it in Japan. I took seminary at Murray High and enjoyed many articles from the New Era. Thank you, Sister Smith. This will be one of the most wonderful Christmas presents I’ve ever known.
Toy IshikawaFukui, Japan

I had an experience as a high counselor where I was asked to help set apart new leaders in a high priest group. It was one of those moments where it was too late to consult a book for the proper words and process. I had been present at many setting aparts but had never done it myself. I was nervous as I listened carefully to the stake president set apart the group leader. Now it was my turn to set apart one of the counselors. Very nervous, with halting and a few stumbles, I made it through the blessing.

What I didn't expect to discover was a lesson in priesthood leadership, but I did. I learned it through the actions of the good stake president. Throughout the blessing, the stake president stood next to me as I did my best. I was worried that the stake president would be unhappy with my current skill level. However, he remained calm, didn't jump in and correct, and didn't seem nervous. He didn't expect me to be perfect. His calmness and action let me know that my best was good enough.

His inferred confidence provided an opportunity to grow.

As soon as Samantha opened her eyes, she knew what day it was. She ran to the kitchen in her pajamas. “OK, Mom,” she said. “Let’s go to the beach. I’m ready.”
Her mom laughed when she saw Samantha. “You may feel ready,” she said, “but you don’t look ready. You’d better get dressed first and have some breakfast. Then we can get ready to go to the beach.”
Samantha ran upstairs, hopped out of her pajamas, jumped into her clothes, and skipped back downstairs again.
“Settle down,” said her mom. “You can’t eat properly when you’re a jumping bean.”
Samantha tried to drink her juice and eat her cereal slowly. She even tried to butter her toast slowly. But she was too excited.
After breakfast Samantha washed her face, brushed her teeth, and combed her hair. “Now can we go?” she asked.
“Pretty soon,” said her mom. “But first we have to decide what to take with us.”
“I know what to take,” said Samantha. She ran to her room and came back with a red bucket, a yellow spade, a swimsuit, a towel, and a beach ball. “OK,” Samantha said. “Let’s go.”
“What about lunch?” asked Mom with a smile.
“Oh,” said Samantha. “I forgot.”
They made the lunch together. Samantha washed carrots and celery, and her mom cut them up. Samantha made her favorite sandwich—peanut butter, lettuce, and tomato. Mom made some egg salad sandwiches.
They got the cooler and put the sandwiches inside with the vegetables, some fruit, and homemade cookies. Then they put ice packs on top, and Samantha shut the lid and fastened it. “Wow!” she said. “It’s cold in there now.”
“It has to be cold,” Mom explained, “or the food will spoil.”
They filled a thermos with milk, then took everything out to the car. The outside air was still cool, but Samantha knew that soon it would be very, very hot. She hopped up and down. “Come on, Mom,” she said. “Come on.”
“Samantha,” said Mom, “I want to go to the beach, too, but it’s important not to forget anything. Our day will be much more enjoyable if we prepare well. Preparation is important in just about everything we do. Now, there are still some things we need to take. Think how hot it will be. We can’t put ourselves in the cooler. But we can make our own shade.”
“The beach umbrella!” shouted Samantha.
“Right!” said Mom. “And we need little beach umbrellas for our heads.”
“Sun hats!” cried Samantha.
“Right!” said Mom again. “And when we’re in the sun, we need something creamy and smooth to spread on our skin so that the sun won’t burn us.”
“Suntan lotion!” shouted Samantha.
“You remembered!” said Mom. “And we need something for our feet in case there are sharp stones or glass on the beach.”
“Beach shoes!” shouted Samantha.
“You’re very smart,” said Mom.
They gathered all those things and put them into the car along with Mom’s bathing suit, beach coat, sunglasses, and a book. Mom also got extra towels, a change of clothes for Samantha, and a big blanket. Just before shutting the door, Mom called, “Let’s get going, Samantha.”
But Samantha didn’t answer.
Puzzled, Mom called again. Then she heard a giggle. Samantha was already in the car, waiting for her!

Stacy’s seventh Christmas was one her family would never forget. It was unforgettable because it was almost so very, very awful.
One autumn day, Stacy’s family had gone for a drive to see the colorful trees. When a truck suddenly came into their lane, Dad swerved to miss it and hit a tree instead. Dad and Mom were fine, and so were Adam and Will. But Stacy was hurt. Dad called for an ambulance to take her to the hospital.
Stacy woke up in the hospital with a bandage on her head and her leg in a cast. She would need to stay in the hospital for a while until she got better.
Stacy shared a room with three girls named Jenny, Tamika, and Kelly. Kelly could get out of bed, so she played games and read stories with the other girls. Stacy was glad to meet new friends in the hospital.
Every day the doctor checked on Stacy. Her leg was healing well, and soon the nurses removed the bandage from her head.
One day Kelly went home. The girls hugged and said good-bye.
“I’m glad you’re well, Kelly,” Stacy said.
“Thanks. Now you and Jenny and Tamika get better too,” Kelly said.
Eventually Stacy was allowed to get out of bed. Walking with crutches was hard, but once she learned to get around on her own she made friends with children in other rooms. There were many children in the hospital, all with different injuries and illnesses. Some were there only a short time, while others had to stay for many months.
In December, Stacy was finally able to go home. “I’m glad I get to go home, but I’m going to miss everyone so much,” Stacy told her parents.
As Christmas drew near, Stacy’s cast was removed, and she worked hard to walk without limping. One night Mom and Dad asked Stacy what she wanted for Christmas.
“There’s really only one thing I want,” Stacy said. “I want to take presents to the children in the hospital who don’t get to go home for Christmas.”
Mom hugged Stacy. “Is that really what you want? You don’t want anything for yourself?”
“That’s really what I want,” Stacy said.
Mom and Dad explained the plan to Will and Adam and added that there wouldn’t be much money left over for family presents.
“That’s OK,” Will said. “I think it’s a good idea.”
The family went shopping and picked out toys, games, and books. Then they wrapped the gifts and piled them in the car.
On Christmas morning, Stacy and her family drove to the hospital. Stacy grinned as she passed out the gifts. Some of her friends had gone home, and now other children were in their beds. Stacy had a gift for each one. Seeing their excitement when they opened their gifts filled Stacy’s heart with joy.
“How do you feel?” Mom asked as they left the children’s wing.
Stacy hugged her. “This might sound funny, but I loved Christmas at the hospital!”