Gospel Story Finder

Take 50 eager students, 1,260 empty containers, and 21 tons of wheat, and you have an energy-packed service project that’s still sending tremors through southern California.
Junior college students at Los Angeles Pierce College—many of them enrolled in the Woodland Hills Institute of Religion—took upon themselves one goal: to help families get food storage.
And orders they got! In fact, so many people from throughout the Los Angeles area responded to the service project—even some nonmembers—that they had to arrange for three shipments of wheat to fill orders for 63 tons.
The first step was to investigate food storage requirements—protein and moisture contents as well as best packaging methods. With the tracks laid, the students began the task of crew organization, paper work, and word-of-mouth advertising in preparation for their first shipment of 21 tons of hard winter wheat.
The delivery day was never to be forgotten.
After the wheat arrived the real work began; the wheat was poured into containers, sealed airtight, and loaded during a heavy rain onto pickup trucks for personal delivery to each home.
“I’ve never been so wet and worked so hard in my life,” said Meli Estrada with a laugh. “And I’ve never seen so many kids having so much fun together.”
“Most of the people couldn’t believe we were delivering right to their doorsteps,” commented Claire Smith.
For most of the young people the real satisfaction came with the comments from customers who said, “This is what it took to really motivate us to get our year’s supply.” And, “We don’t have any room, but if kids are going to work this hard to get it to us, we’ll store it in our living room if we have to.” Another said, “I’ve never known a thing about wheat, but I’m going to learn right now how to make bread.”
A free bonus with all orders was a mimeographed sheet of whole wheat recipes and a food storage checklist.
The consensus of everyone involved in the food storage project was summed up by Pat Morley, a nonmember from Canoga Park: “It’s great to be together with your friends doing something fun and at the same time doing something that is so necessary.”

I felt very happy to enter the waters of baptism. My brother, who served a mission, baptized me!
Astrid V., age 8, Arequipa, Peru

I am originally from Colombia, but currently live in Nova Scotia, Canada. I am the only Spanish-speaking member of my ward. Imagine my delight when a Spanish-speaking missionary was assigned to my ward! He not only comes from Colombia, but he also receives—and shares with me—the Spanish Liahona. I feel greatly blessed by my Heavenly Father to be able to read gospel-related articles in my own language.
Ligia AnguloDartmouth Ward, Dartmouth Nova Scotia Stake

During his lifetime, Churchill was a member of Parliament, a cabinet member in the English government, and First Lord of the Admiralty during World Wars I and II. When he was appointed Prime Minister in 1940, during World War II, he told the people, “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat”—which he gave plenty of for the next five years!

While investigating the Church, he came upon a scripture in the Book of Mormon that read, “Men are, that they might have joy” (2 Nephi 2:25). “That scripture rang in my ears,” Elder Kearon says. “In those I had met, I saw how our lives can be enormously enriched by following the Savior’s counsel to be of good cheer.” He joined the Church on Christmas Eve of 1987.

Donovan aimed his slingshot at the empty soup can on the stump.
He stretched back the slingshot’s rubber tubing.
“What are you doing?” his little sister, Dana, asked.
“Watch this!” he said.
Thwack!
The rubber snapped back into place as Donovan let go, sending the small rock flying. Some leaves in a nearby tree rustled. But the tin can didn’t move. Donovan stuffed the slingshot into his back pocket. He had missed. Again!
Dana tilted her head to the side. “What am I supposed to see?”
“Nothing,” Donovan said. “Come on. Let’s go home.” They started heading back to the house.
Donovan kicked a stick out of his way. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to use Dad’s slingshot right. And he loved that thing! He always liked using it when Dad was out of town working, like now. It helped him feel close to Dad when he couldn’t see him.
He pulled the slingshot from his pocket and spun it slowly in his hand. The rough bark had become smooth a long time ago. Dad had made the slingshot out of a strong tree branch and used it for years before giving it to Donovan.
Dad had pointed at the soup can that day. “When you focus, amazing things can happen.” Donovan still remembered what happened next. Dad had aimed the slingshot and hit the soup can. In one try! He made it look easy. Donovan really missed him.
He was still thinking about Dad when he fell asleep that night.
The next morning, Donovan carried his slingshot to his favorite patch of trees to try again.
“Focus …” Donovan said as he stared at the can on the stump. He placed another small stone in the slingshot and pulled back.
Dad keeps trying, even when things don’t always work out, Donovan thought.
Donovan tried to stop thinking about all the times he had missed before. He closed one eye, the way Dad taught him. He really focused. Donovan didn’t look at anything else but the red soup can.
Taking a deep breath, he let go.
Thwack!
CLUNK!
Donovan blinked in surprise as the can sailed off the stump. “I did it!” he said. “Yes!”
Later that night, Donovan sat next to Mom after dinner. He held up the slingshot.
“I finally hit the can today,” he said, grinning.
“Well done!” Mom said.
“You know, I think this slingshot is my favorite thing in the whole world,” Donovan said.
“Oh?” Mom asked.
“Yup. Because it helps me think about Dad and feel close to him.”
Mom smiled. “I think he’ll be happy to know you feel that way. And guess what? Dad will be home in only three days. You can show him your new skills.”
Donovan could hardly wait! “That gives me an idea,” he said.
He ran to find Dana. He could teach her to use the slingshot the same way Dad had taught him!
“Hey, Dana,” he said. “Wanna learn how to use the best slingshot in Jamaica?”

Some years ago I visited a meetinghouse of another denomination. Etched in the beautiful stained-glass windows which had been brought from Europe was the name of their donor; carved into the majestic pulpit made from the cedars of Lebanon were the initials of a wealthy benefactor; the most desirable pews were named after prominent families who had donated the most to the chapel building fund.

Kresimir is practically idolized in his hometown of Zadar, and he returns the feeling of warmth. An Italian team was so impressed by his performance in the European championships that it offered him a $200,000, three-year contract, but he turned it down, preferring to remain in Zadar.

President Joseph F. Smith described his experience with this mighty change: “The feeling that came upon me was that of pure peace, of love and of light. I felt in my soul that if I had sinned … it had been forgiven me; that I was indeed cleansed from sin; my heart was touched and I felt that I would not injure the smallest insect beneath my feet. I felt as though I wanted to do good everywhere to everybody and to everything. I felt a newness of life, a newness of desire to do that which was right. There was not one particle of desire for evil left in my soul. I was but a little boy, it is true, … but this was the influence that came upon me, and I know that it was from God, and was and ever has been a living witness to me of my acceptance of the Lord.”

On Tuesday, April 6, 1830, Joseph Smith Jr., Oliver Cowdery, Hyrum Smith, Peter Whitmer, Jr., David Whitmer, and Samuel H. Smith met in the 20-foot square log cabin of Peter Whitmer Sr. at Fayette, Seneca County, New York and organized the Church.

Sara slipped into the long, soft, blue robe that she was to wear in the Christmas program. Pulling the matching hood over her brown curls, she turned to Jennie. “Do I look like Mary now?”
Jennie grinned. “You sure do, except for your size. It won’t matter, though, because Joseph is only eight too.”
Sara giggled at Jennie’s joke, then said seriously, “I really wanted to be Mary in the program, but now that it’s time for the performance, I’m a little scared.”
Jennie reached out to straighten the folds on Sara’s robe. “You’ll do just fine. Everything went well at rehearsal this morning.”
Sara’s stomach gave a little lurch when she heard the organ begin playing “Silent Night.” That was her cue to go on stage.
Sister Perkins came over and smiled at both girls. Looking at Sara, she said, “The curtains will be opening soon. It’s time for you to take your place.”
Sara hurried to her spot on the stage and sat down on a bale of straw. Eric, who was playing Joseph, was already there beside the manger. As Sara bent to arrange the blankets around the doll representing Baby Jesus, she heard the music change and the gentle strains of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” swell.
The curtains slowly opened on the quiet scene. A single spotlight highlighted Mary and Joseph admiring the Baby Jesus. Neither Mary nor Joseph had to say anything. Brother Egger stood out of sight with a microphone and told about the events of Jesus’ birth as they were silently portrayed on stage. The organ played softly while he spoke: “And it came to pass in those days, …”
Sara was distracted by something moving just below the stage. She moved her eyes carefully, trying not to turn her head and spoil the scene. There, climbing the stairs to the stage was her three-year-old sister, Katie.
Sara’s heart sank as Katie came toward her. What shall I do? she wondered. Why isn’t Katie sitting with Mom and Dad? Sara sneaked a peek at her parents. Her mother wore a stricken, helpless look. Sara felt Katie brush against her knees as she bent to look into the manger. Katie’s going to ruin the Christmas program! Why did she have to do this?
Sara was startled out of her thoughts by Katie’s awed “Oh! He’s beautiful!”
As Katie continued to just stand and intently watch the doll in the manger, Sara swallowed and felt calm. There was something about the spell around Katie that Sara couldn’t bring herself to break. 1 think the best thing to do is just let her stay, Sara decided. She’s being quiet.
So Sara reached out and slipped her arm around her sister’s waist and nestled her next to her on the bale of straw. Katie relaxed against Sara, still gazing lovingly at the Baby Jesus.
Katie sat watching quietly as the shepherds came. The organist played “The First Noel,” and Brother Egger read from the Bible about the shepherds coming to see Jesus. Even after the shepherds had left and the Wise Men had entered, Katie leaned against Sara, enraptured.
Katie really loves Baby Jesus, Sara thought. I don’t blame her for wanting to get close and see better. She gave Katie a little squeeze. I’m really glad now that she came.
When the curtains closed, Sara gently whispered into Katie’s ear, “It’s time for the next scene, so you must go back to Mommy and Daddy.”
Katie looked at her sister. “OK.” She started to leave, then paused and turned. “Thanks, Sara. I liked looking at Baby Jesus with you.”
Sara smiled. “I’m glad.” She led Katie to the side stage door. “Now go back to Mommy.”
After the program the students looked through the crowd for their families. Just as Sara found her parents, she overheard an elderly man speaking to her mother. “I’m so glad I came. Because of your girls, I caught a glimpse of the Savior tonight that I’d never seen before. Thank you.”
Nobody at home said anything about Katie’s unexpected appearance in the program until Mother tucked Sara into bed. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Katie,” Mother said, “but I’m really sorry she interrupted your program. She’d slipped off Dad’s lap, and by the time we realized what she was doing, she was up in front, and it was too late to stop her.” Mother sat down beside Sara on her bed. “I hope it didn’t ruin things for you.”
“No. It was fine, Mother.” Sara squeezed her mother’s hand.
“I really admired the way you handled it,” Mother continued. “It’s hard to know what to do at times like that. What you did was beautiful. Usually people giggle when something unplanned happens, but people got especially quiet after Katie said how beautiful the baby was.”
“At first I was really worried,” Sara admitted. “I didn’t know what to do. Then I realized that the real Mary would have wanted her sister, as well as shepherds and Wise Men, to see her baby. Anyway, there was something special about Katie tonight. It was as though she really understood about Baby Jesus somehow.”
“You’re right, Sara.” Mother’s voice was soft. “Several people came up to me afterward and said the same thing. Even though Katie’s part in the program wasn’t planned, I think it touched people’s hearts. I think a lot of people will never forget tonight’s program.”
Sara settled back on her pillow. “I’m glad.”
Mother bent to kiss Sara. “I think you’re really special too. You taught us older folks a lot in the kind way you treated your sister. I’m sure Jesus was pleased with how you represented His mother tonight.”

While I was serving my first mission to Mexico and Central America, my companion and I received a very interesting final assignment from our mission president. He asked us to leave the mission home and go down to Oaxaca, in Southern Mexico, where some months before missionaries had been withdrawn due to religious and political persecution. Their lives had been threatened by mobs. A few converts had been baptized, but a real organization of the Church had not been established. As a result, these new members had been left alone, and for months the mission president heard little about how things were going.

We were given a list of names and asked by the mission president to go there, find the people, see how they were doing, and, if possible, locate a place where we could quietly conduct a sacrament meeting. For all those months, they had not had the privilege we take so much for granted of partaking of the sacrament each week.

We arrived early in the morning and immediately searched for the address of the first name on the list. We located her address and passed through a door in a high adobe wall that surrounded a crowded cluster of tiny huts around a central area where there was a common water source.

It seemed that all eyes were upon us. Back in the corner in the least prestigious part of the area was a little grass-thatched hut with a dirt floor. This sister came to the door, saw us, and easily recognized by our dress that we were missionaries. With tears in her eyes, she rushed to us and greeted us with a hug. We identified ourselves and the purpose of our assignment from the mission president.

After this brief exchange, she went back into her hut and brought out a clay jar into which she put her hand and withdrew some pesos and centavos she had been saving for months. Even though she had been alone without any Church organization, she had been saving her tithing with faith and hope that someday her tithing would be taken to the appropriate place.

She stood there in the poorest of clothing, bare feet, holding an infant child. She obviously had many unmet needs; yet, she was handing us money. My first impression was not to accept it and to encourage her to spend it wherever she might need it. Then I realized that was not my prerogative because she was obeying a commandment. She had gained a testimony that tithing is a divine commandment and was willing to live that principle—even when she was alone.

As a graphic designer, I have to work in the many different artistic styles required by various clients. To do so, I have found value in having a pattern. Even though the client may explain the job and its desired result in great detail, I’ve found that it helps me to have an image to look at as I work. That pattern—even if it is only a mental one—reminds me of my goal and keeps me on a consistent track.

You are truly amazing. Thank you for printing the April 1994 special issue about Jesus Christ. I was having some problems deciding my plans for the next year in school when I picked up my New Era and saw the Mormonad “You Are Never Alone.” Once I read it, a peacefulness came over me and I realized that Jesus is not going to leave when we need him. We need to turn to him and have faith that he knows what’s best for us. The Mormonad poster came to me at the best time. I hung it in my room to remind me every day that I am not alone.
Lucie PetersonBenecia, California

“This is going to be the boringest family home evening ever!” groaned Jeremy, slumping in his chair as he pushed his carrots into his potatoes. “Couldn’t we just stay home and make jelly bean cupcakes? What kind of Easter celebration is this? We aren’t even going to go to the town Easter egg hunt!”
Even as he said this, Jeremy knew why that tradition had ended. For the last two years the younger children had wound up in tears because older ones had snatched up most of the eggs. Then in the car on the way home, there was also a disagreement when Mom and Dad insisted that the eggs be equally divided.
“We’ve already discussed this,” said Dad firmly. “Too many Easters have come and gone with very little thought about its real meaning. It’s time our family made a change. Tonight’s service project is the sort of thing the Savior was doing the last week of his life—helping others.”
“But why her?” moaned Jeremy.
“That’s enough,” said Mom. “Finish your dinner. We don’t have a lot of time before the sun goes down.”
Sullenly Jeremy sat up and started in on the cold potatoes. It wasn’t that he had anything against their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Adams. And it was obvious that an eighty-year-old widow needed help. But why couldn’t they do something for someone like Sister White? Every time anybody did anything for her, she treated them with delicious homemade cookies.
Or what about the Spencers? Jeremy’s Primary class had helped them move in. The very next Sunday Sister Spencer had even cried as she bore her testimony about “those wonderful Blazer boys.”
And the time Jeremy’s Cub Scout den had cleaned up the playground at the park hadn’t been too bad, either. The mayor himself had written them a thank-you note and sent them each a coupon for an ice-cream cone.
But it was going to be different with Mrs. Adams. She hardly did any cooking—she had most of her meals brought in to her. She didn’t go out in public enough to tell anybody else how wonderful Jeremy’s family was, and she certainly didn’t have enough money to treat everyone to ice cream. Besides that, she was hard of hearing. She’d probably sit in her house, watching TV and never even notice that they were working in her yard.
Cleaning Mrs. Adam’s yard was about as hard as Jeremy had imagined. It took his whole family nearly two hours to rake up the dead leaves and grass and prune the bushes on the side of her house. It was nearly dark when they finished. And he’d been right about Mrs. Adams and the TV. She had it turned up so loud that they could hear it outside. She never knew what was going on only a few feet away, right outside her door. Even so, Jeremy started to smile when he thought about how surprised she would be.
Jeremy’s oldest sister, Kim, was helping him tie up the last bag of dead leaves. “I know how you feel about tonight. I had a date I had to turn down!”
Jeremy didn’t quite know what to say. Kim was in high school and was so busy that he hadn’t really talked to her for a while.
“But this morning in seminary,” Kim went on, “Sister Hansen reminded us that no one has ever done more for other people on this earth than Jesus. When He prayed in Gethsemane and when He died on the cross, nobody said thank you. Anyway, I started thinking that maybe it would be a good way to celebrate Easter, to do something hard without getting thanked.” She smiled. “You’re quite a worker, you know that? And I happen to know that Mom made brownies for us, so cheer up.” She picked up the bag and carried it out to the curb.
But it wasn’t the brownies that Jeremy was thinking about as he watched her go. He was thinking about how strangely peaceful he felt. The last dark pink of the sunset was just fading, and he could barely make out the rest of his family as they gathered up the rakes and pruning shears and things and headed home. But he knew that they were there, and he knew that he loved them. He could see Mrs. Adams through her living room window as she stood up with her cane to go into the kitchen. And while Jeremy didn’t understand all of those feelings he was having, he knew for sure that Easter Sunday was never going to be the same again.

Big teardrops splashed down Bobby’s cheeks as he watched Freddie and Dick lug Freddie’s wading pool over to Dick’s house. All the way home from school, the three boys had eagerly planned making a jungle hideout in a pile of dirt behind Dick’s garage. Dick’s father had said they could.
Freddie’s wading pool would be their hidden lake. The green branches Dick’s father had pruned from his shade trees would be the jungle trees. They would use their stuffed toys and odd-shaped rocks and pieces of bark for animals. Bobby knew where there was a crooked stick, streaked brown, that looked like a snake. He planned to put it on one of the trees for a huge python, just like in real jungles.
They were going to wear their shorts and go barefoot, like Tarzan. They’d creep through their jungle with bows and arrows, looking for wild animals. Oh, what fun they were going to have!
Bobby had rushed into his house to get a snack and to put on his shorts—and there, on the refrigerator door, was the note: DON‘T FORGET, BOBBY! Love, Mom.
He was so disappointed that he didn’t even look to see what she had left for a snack. Who’d feel like eating when he had to weed two rows of corn before he could play!
It didn’t help to remember that it was his own fault. He had fooled around all day Saturday while Dad, Mom, Susan, and Peggy did their weeding. Then, when he was about ready to start, who should come but Aunt Alice, Uncle John, Nick, and Michael.
“We’ll let it go for now. We mustn’t disappoint your cousins. They have come all the way from Bountiful to play with you,” Mother had said, adding firmly, “but you may not play after school Monday until your weeding is done.”
And there was the note to remind him.
Bobby started to cry. He felt awful. He felt even worse when he saw Freddie and Dick go by with the wading pool. They were going to make their jungle without him. And it was his own fault.
Trudging to the garden, he began pulling weeds. He started working fast, hoping to finish in time to play awhile before dinnertime. Then he remembered how Dad had told him to be extra careful to not injure the tender stalks of corn. He couldn’t work fast. He had to be careful.
When he looked down at the row of corn, it looked as long as a road that never ends. And he had two of those long rows to weed before he could play! He’d never get through in time to play jungle with his friends.
Bobby started to cry again, which, of course, only made matters worse—no weeds got pulled while he cried.
He noticed a shadow approaching and looked up. His father was standing behind him.
Usually Bobby was happy when Dad came home. But not today. If Dad was home already, it would soon be dinnertime. That meant no time at all for play.
“My boy seems upset,” Dad said.
Bobby tried to sniff back the tears.
“Those rows must look mighty long to you,” Dad guessed.
“Yes,” Bobby sobbed. “And Dick and Freddie are making a keen jungle—and I don’t get to help.”
“I know a trick,” Dad said.
“What kind of trick?”
“One that makes long rows grow shorter,” Dad answered, his eyes twinkling.
“No trick can do that.”
“Try it and see.” Dad tossed a small stick a little way down the row. “If you don’t look one bit farther than that stick, the row will grow shorter. Go on. Try it.”
Bobby started pulling weeds. In no time he had reached the stick.
“Now throw it a little farther down. But don’t look up,” Dad said.
This time Bobby seemed to reach the stick even faster. Dad tossed the stick again, and Bobby weeded to it. Again. Suddenly Bobby’s head almost touched the fence. He had reached the end of the row! “Wow! The row really did grow shorter!”
“Now do the other row the same way,” Dad suggested.
Bobby tossed the stick, then weeded to it. Again and again he tossed the stick and weeded to it. Then, as if by magic, he was through!
“Now look at the rows,” Dad said.
Bobby was amazed. The two rows weren’t shorter at all. They were as long as the other rows in the garden, just like before.
Then Bobby understood Dad’s “trick”: To make a job go faster, do it a piece at a time and work with a will. He looked up. The sun was still a long way from the mountain. Dad must have come home early. There was still time for play!
“Yippee!” he shouted. He gave Dad a big hug, hurried inside to change his pants, then got his “snake stick” and rushed to Dick’s yard to help transform a pile of dirt into a dark, mysterious jungle full of adventure and fun.

In December seven years ago, a 33-year-old mechanical engineer who was then maintenance manager of a big industrial enterprise in Manila seriously thought that a bad joke was being played on him. Someone had placed a copy of the Book of Mormon squarely on his desk while he was away for lunch.
Known in his company as a faithful member of a Christian sect with followers next in number only to the Catholic majority, he dismissed the situation with the contemptuous feeling that a slur was being made on his religious beliefs. The blue-covered book, however, looked good as a bookcase decoration, and he took it home only for that purpose.
Two months later, in February 1971, two young American missionaries knocked on the door of his home at 1558 de Pinedo street in San Andres Bukid, Manila. He was more than glad to let them in, not to listen to what they had to say but to debate with them. Counting on many years of Bible study behind him, he felt superior over the pair in terms of Biblical knowledge. He now recalls with a chuckle that, when the two missionaries began unfolding their message to him, he looked like Goliath in the face of two Davids (Elders Ferguson and Mortensen) as his offensive and defensive strategies crumbled away.
On May 15, 1971, barely three months afterwards, Felipe Guerrero Odulio was baptized at the Buendia chapel by Elder Kent Langston and confirmed by Elder Dean Cardoza.

Shawn and Mark Conrad, brothers in the Kalispell Third Ward, Kalispell Montana Stake, wield a mighty baseball bat. Both brothers were chosen to play on the Babe Ruth All-Star teams for their age divisions. Shawn, 13, played first base for the Kalispell All-Stars Team, helping to earn them the title of State Babe Ruth Champions. The team then advanced to the regional competition in Nanaimo, British Columbia. Mark, 15, played third base and shortstop for the Kalispell Rangers Team, which won the Montana State Babe Ruth Championship, advancing them to the Pacific Northwest Regional Tournament in Lewistown, Idaho.

One day, some years ago, when the youngest of my nephews was about 5, I received a phone call from his brother, 3 years his senior. “Now, Aunty Sarah,” the voice on the phone said, “you mustn’t be cross.”
Uh oh, I thought.
“R wants to talk to you, he’s very upset.”
A very sniffly voice came on the line. “Aunty Sarah, I’ve spent all of your money!”
Let me pause to explain the back story. In the days of angry birds and me being a very cool aunt, I had given my nephews access to my bank account (I know!), with strict instructions that they stick to the agreed budget and always pay me back with their pocket money at the end of the month.
This agreement had largely been honoured.
“What happened R?”
“I pressed the thing to buy the game and it didn’t work and so I pressed it a few more times, and now I’ve spent ALL of your money!”
“How much have you spent?”
“£30!”
As it turns out, I had £35 in the bank, so all was well, but here’s the point. In the light of his overwhelming distress and remorse, I would have done anything to comfort him. I did everything to console him that he had not, in fact, spent all of my money. And that if he had, his father and I would have sorted it out. Over and over, I reassured him that although terrible and enormous to him, what he had done was fixable and he could leave it with me. I told him all was well, that these app things are tricky to work when you’re 5 and that I loved him.
He stopped crying and after a time, we ended the call.
In that moment, I believe I felt some measure of the power and depth of God’s love for all of us, when we seek Him in utter despair and humility. When all feels hopeless. When the long burden feels too much to bear.
I had a glimpse into all that our Heavenly Parents must feel for us. I would have done anything to comfort and console my nephew. I didn’t care about the money, I only wished to reassure him. We know that the Saviour feels the same about us. May we learn to trust and believe that He will do, in fact has done, all that is necessary to carry the burden for us.

Kevin remembered the first time he had seen Jed. It was when they were both nine years old. A boy from a new family in the neighborhood had walked across the street and watched Kevin practice doing chin-ups on the branch of a tree in the front yard.
“How many can you do?” Jed had asked.
“Twenty,” Kevin had answered.
“That’s not so many. I can do 30.”
By the end of the day, they were both doing 40 chin-ups.
Through the years they had mutually pushed each other through one challenge after another. They were both presented with their Eagle Scout ranks at the same time. After that they continued to learn new skills—skiing, playing the guitar, cross-country running, baseball, fly fishing, and, just before Kevin had left, rock climbing.
On many Friday afternoons in the summer, Jed and Kevin drove into the mountains and camped—spending time hiking, fishing, or climbing the sheer granite spires near where they camped. By Saturday night they were packed again and heading toward home so they could carry out priesthood responsibilities on Sunday.
If it hadn’t been for Jed, I’d never have become an Eagle Scout, or even done much at all, Kevin thought as he rolled out of his sleeping bag and crawled over to his suitcase. Rummaging through it, he found his warm-up suit, socks, and tennis shoes, which he put on. He padded quietly through the house, being careful not to disturb his parents and two younger brothers.