Gospel Story Finder

When our oldest daughter started seminary, Nuria would take her early in the morning. This meant that I took care of the other children. I helped them get ready, we ate breakfast, and then I took them to school.

After a while, I thought, “Seminary is not working out! The family is divided. We are not all together for breakfast.”

That was until I saw my daughter studying the scriptures on her own one night. I was so happy and grateful that I became a believer in seminary! A while later, Nuria was called to teach early-morning seminary. When she entered law school, I took over and taught for six years. At times it was a sacrifice, but I had the blessing of teaching all our children in seminary.

Gage stared at the empty old bottle and turned it over in his hands. It was small and misty green, with a cork stopper in the top. Grandpa Russell had given it to him after his baptism.
“What is it?” Gage asked. “I know it’s a bottle—but there’s nothing in it.”
“Oh, it’s full,” Grandpa said.
Gage shook the bottle. “Well, it looks empty to me.”
Grandpa laughed. He pulled out the cork and held the little bottle near Gage’s ear. “Can you hear it?” he whispered.
“Hear what?” Gage whispered back.
Grandpa smiled. “Silence,” he said. Then he put the cork back in the bottle. “In today’s world, silence is pretty hard to find. It’s like medicine, and each drop is as precious as gold.”
Gage said thank you and took Grandpa’s strange gift home. But he didn’t think about it much.
A few weeks later, Gage’s uncle Vince passed away. After the funeral, lots of relatives crowded into the front room at Gage’s house to visit. Gage escaped to his bedroom and closed the door. He could hear the muffled voices of his parents and relatives down the hall.
Gage saw the old green bottle sitting on his desk and picked it up. He turned it over in his hands. Grandpa had said silence was like medicine. Gage needed to find some peace and comfort after Uncle Vince’s funeral.
Gage pulled the cork loose from the bottle and tipped it over his head, pretending to let a little silence pour out. He knew the bottle wasn’t really full of silence. But he knew he needed some quiet time to feel close to God.
He felt tears build up in his eyes. Uncle Vince wouldn’t be there anymore—no more silly jokes, no more wrestling with him. Gage’s heart hurt from missing him.
Then in the silence, Gage felt something warm grow in his heart and soften the pain. He remembered that Uncle Vince wasn’t gone forever; he had just moved on to the next world. Because of Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation, everyone would live forever. Gage was still sad, but he knew that someday he could see Uncle Vince again.
As he held the bottle in his hands, Gage felt peaceful inside. He knew it was because of the Holy Ghost and not the bottle. The bottle had just reminded him to be quiet so he could feel the Holy Ghost. He corked the bottle and set it down.
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story.
Then he went back to the front room to be with his family. He could carry the peace and comfort of the Holy Ghost inside of him even outside his quiet room.

Salmon, Idaho, may have the friendliest fireplugs of any town in the U.S. As a community service project the Aaronic Priesthood youths and Young Women of the Salmon Idaho Stake volunteered to paint city fireplugs a shiny yellow with red caps. Once they got started the young people decided to add a little zest to the project, and several fireplugs wound up with “Have a Happy Day,” “Smile,” or “Howdy Do” painted on them.
Wayne Van Hoose, president of the Salmon First Ward youth committee, said the young volunteers, ages 12 to 17, divided into groups for the project, with the city furnishing the paint and the young people the brushes and the elbow grease.

Vienna. What a magnificent, historic city, but what a huge place in which to be looking for a missionary companion! Elder Thomas Biesinger, age 39, just off the train from Germany, looked in vain for Elder Paul Hammer, who was to arrive by train about the same time. November 25, 1883. 5:30 A.M. He waited in the railroad restaurant until daylight, then walked outside the station and from an elevation looked out at the Austrian capital. He was awestruck as he thought about his difficult mission, and in his mind he conversed with Vienna:
“Thou City of Vienna, thou boasteth thyself as being one of the proudest cities of the East and the beauties of thy gardens and parks are perhaps not excelled in the world. Thou also containeth many ancient relics amongst the abode of a monarch who sways his proud sceptre over a dominion containing nearly forty millions of inhabitants.”
Vienna, he recalled, had 20 years before expelled one of the most noble and intelligent Apostles of the Restoration, Orson Pratt. “Again God has extended his mercy unto thee,” he warned Vienna in his mind, “and has inspired his servant the prophet to send to thee other messengers. One of these has just entered the city, though much inferior in wisdom and intelligence to the one thou rejected.” The lonely elder then prayed for God to have mercy on Austria, to “soften the heart of the emperor and officers of the land, that thy servants may be permitted to stay and [be] given liberty to search for the honest in heart.”
His prayer, however, would require decades for fulfillment. For Austria-Hungary, an empire old and mighty, was not a land of freedom. In order to keep its different states and nationalities from breaking away, a police state prevented anyone from preaching new ideas, political or religious.
He rented an inexpensive room with cooking facilities, then checked with the Vienna police to see if his companion had registered with them. No sign of him. Because Elder Hammer was the senior companion, Eider Biesinger did not start his actual missionary labors yet, except to enter into conversations with people he met as he went back and forth to the railway station. They finally found each other on December 3 and discovered that for a week they both had been living in different quarters on the very same street!

My grandparents didn’t have a lot of money. Grandpa and Grandma ate what they raised on their farm and worked hard to make ends meet. Grandma sewed temple burial clothes, and Grandpa sold subscriptions to a national magazine. Sometimes I went with Grandpa on his magazine-subscription visits.
Watching my grandparents and my mother, I learned to work very hard. From their example, I also learned the importance of paying tithing. Even though Grandpa and Grandma were very poor, they always paid a faithful ten percent tithing on everything they earned. During very difficult financial times, many neighbors lost their farms. Grandpa often said that he kept the farm because the Lord blessed him for being obedient and paying tithing.

One of these challenges came when I chose to pay an honest tithe when I was away from home. Every year my dad would take us to tithing settlement. He would help us calculate our tithing, and we would pay it. All during the time I was growing up, I developed this habit of paying tithing. If you had asked me at the time, I would have told you that I had a testimony of tithing.

When I finished high school, I had been admitted to Harvard University, so I worked that summer and earned money to pay for the expenses that weren’t covered by my scholarship. By the end of the first semester, I had foolishly spent all the money that I had earned to get me through the whole year.

At the start of the second semester, I got a job. I couldn’t work very much because I was a full-time student, but I worked a few hours a week and received my first paycheck. Of course, it wasn’t very much, but it was all I had to get by until the next paycheck.

Then the question arose in my mind, “What about tithing?” I had been in the habit of paying my tithing but had always had sufficient money to pay the tithing. Here I was faced with the challenge: do I pay my tithing when I don’t know if I’ve got enough money to get through the next two weeks?

As I thought about it, I remembered the scripture in Malachi 3:10, where the Lord promises, “Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.”

So I realized that was my answer. I would leave it up to the Lord. I paid my tithing, not sure if I had enough money to carry me until the next paycheck. And a miracle happened. I made it through that two weeks.

It came to me so powerfully that the Lord keeps His word. The Lord came through the way He promised. Just as the scriptures say, if we pay our tithing, He will bless us. That same miracle happened every two weeks throughout the rest of the semester. Before, I had thought I had a testimony of tithing, but now, because of my correct decision, I had a powerful testimony of tithing. The Lord always does what He says, so my testimony continued to grow step-by-step.

Just like Esther, Joseph Smith, Joseph of Egypt, and many other scriptural figures, you can have the courage to stop your friends from speaking inappropriately about others. I was going through the same situation, and I had the courage to talk to my friends in a loving and understanding way. In the end, they accepted and understood how important it is to use pure and worthy language! Besides reading the scriptures and praying, fasting helps a lot in those situations. Pray and ask with faith that our Heavenly Father will give you the courage to speak and touch the hearts of your friends.
Paola H., 17, San Salvador, El Salvador

“Missionary work?” Sue Ann Yazzie, a 17-year-old Navaho from Shiprock, New Mexico, brushed long, black hair from her shoulders and smiled. Her warm, brown eyes sparkling, she said, “The best way to get someone interested in the Church is to be friends with him.”
A member of the Church for two years, Sue Ann talked about her conversion: “Even before I joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I believed that when we die we will be able to see friends and relatives who have died before us. I lost faith in the church I was attending when the minister said, ‘If you think you will be able to see your dead ancestors when you die, you’re mistaken.’ It was then that I asked the Lord which church was true. I promised I would keep the commandments if he would help me.”
Sue Ann wanted to attend high school off the reservation. When she was asked to participate in the Indian education program in Richfield, Utah, she accepted. In Richfield the Indian students live in a dormitory and attend local schools.
When one of the employees in the dormitory invited Sue Ann and several of her friends to a family home evening, she wasn’t really interested. “At the time I wasn’t sure if I liked the Mormon church. I didn’t know very much about it. But I went just to keep my friends company. That was when I first became interested in the Church. I liked what I heard.
“Later, when I read the Book of Mormon, many of the parts seemed familiar. When I was younger my grandmother told me many of the Navaho legends. It was from her that I first heard the story of the great white god, who will one day return,” she said.
Sue Ann wants to share the gospel with as many people as she can. Recently a friend of hers, Elouise Meyers, finished the missionary discussions and was baptized. Sue Ann explained, “I had an appointment with my bishop and decided to take a buddy with me. I took Elouise. I knew she didn’t know much about the Church. While we were waiting for the bishop, the missionaries walked by. I asked them if they were teaching anyone that night. They answered, ‘No.’ ‘Well,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you teach my friend?’ They set up an appointment.”
For David Wojnar, 22, from Springfield, Massachusetts, a good friendship played an important role in his conversion to the Church. Now a missionary serving in the Utah Salt Lake Mission, Elder Wojnar talked about the role of friendship in missionary work.
“When I graduated from high school, I decided it was time to move away from home. I got a job in Virginia and moved in with an old friend. One of my roommates was a Latter-day Saint. We soon became good friends. We did things together, and we could talk about anything. He had a sincere interest in me. We were friends first, and being friends probably helped more than anything else,” Elder Wojnar explained.
“Eventually he asked me to go to a young adult activity with him. They were putting on a play. The young people came up and made me feel welcome. They all were excited about meeting someone new,” Elder Wojnar said. “They were different from anybody I had run around with before. There was a different spirit.
“When I became involved in the activities and started attending church, the members made me feel special and important. They never put me down because I was a member of another church.”
At that time, Elder Wojnar still wasn’t ready to commit himself to baptism. “My other roommate, my friend from Massachusetts, was taking the discussions and was almost ready for baptism. When the missionaries came, I always found an excuse to leave. Most of the barriers I had were just fear and not knowing what would happen. I was determined to serve the Lord, and I just needed time. No one seemed excited or upset about the hesitancy that I was experiencing. My friend was patient and didn’t give up on me. He was still my friend, and eventually I did make the commitment,” Elder Wojnar said.
“Being sincere is one of the most important aspects of missionary work,” Elder Wojnar explained. “If you’re sincere and a true friend, people will respond to the gospel. It’s not as important for members to teach the doctrines as it is for them to plant the seed. Being a good example is also important. It means more than just living the principles. It means going out and showing the results of living the gospel. Don’t be afraid to let people know you’re a Mormon. I’m tickled pink whenever I can tell anybody I’m a Mormon,” Elder Wojnar concluded.
Patience is an important part of missionary work. Both Cindy, 15, and her sister, Tina Doxstater, 14, were involved in Church activities for two years before they were baptized. Cindy explained that she was impressed by the closeness of Mormon families and by the Church activities that her friends took her to. But she wasn’t ready or sure about making a commitment.
“The members of the Church accepted us for what we were,” she said. “They didn’t push, and that helped.” Cindy’s friends didn’t give up on her. When one of them said, “Why don’t you take the missionary discussions?” She said, “Yes.” With the encouragement of their friends and a science teacher at school, Cindy and Tina were baptized this year. The science teacher, Larry Anderson, baptized them.
Violet Wilson, 18, from Kellogg, Idaho, had also been involved in Church activities for several years before she joined. She said that an important influence in her joining was the members making her feel like she was one of them.
Cragg Rogers, 21, from San Diego, California, was first introduced to the Church when his parents gave him a survival trip for a graduation present. There were 37 Mormons and three non-Mormons enrolled in the program. They spent 28 days in a southern Utah desert.
“It was really a spiritual trip,” Cragg recalled. “From the first I noticed there was something different about the Mormons. Whenever we came up against hard circumstances, they would pray about it. We were out in the middle of the desert, with almost no food or water, and they held church on Sundays. They even had me give a talk, if you can believe it. In the general misery of a survival trip, everyone helped each other. There were no airs. That survival trip turned my whole life around,” Cragg said.
It was two years after that first introduction to the Church before Cragg finally joined. The spirit of the LDS friends Cragg had made on the survival trip left a deep impression.
“The spirit I felt on that trip was on my mind, and I couldn’t get rid of it,” Cragg said, smiling. “I finally decided to get into it and really find out what it was about. The members were more than willing to help.”
Referring to missionary work, Cragg said, “The best way to influence someone is to live what you believe. Be yourself and don’t try to be what you think someone else would like you to be. Those people who lived the way they should brought me into the Church. I’m grateful for them. I hope I can do the same. I may get turned down 40 times when trying to interest someone in the gospel, but the one success makes it more than worthwhile. I’m sure the people who helped me were also turned down many times,” Cragg concluded.
Being a true friend, having respect for other people’s values and beliefs, exercising patience, being yourself, setting an example, and avoiding forming member cliques that shut out or look down upon nonmembers are some of the important techniques these recent converts recommend in member-missionary work.
Sue Ann Yazzie said something else that applies to missionary work: “Missionary work? My advice is to get busy.”

I flipped through the pages of the Young Women lesson I was going to give the following Sunday. The General Authority quotes it included were important and applicable, but they were old.
For example, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) was President of the Church when I was baptized. I valued his words, which filled the manual, but I worried that the young women wouldn’t connect to the words of leaders they didn’t know.
I prayed for guidance and felt prompted to try something new. I updated some of the stories and included quotes from the most recent general conference, quoting President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018). The results were overwhelming. We had a special lesson with a lot of participation. From then on, I used the lesson manual as a guide to prepare my lessons.
Such preparation took extra work. I had to study more, I had to get to know the young women better, and I had to think about the experiences they were having. Then I would look for examples and words from living Church leaders I could use to relate to their lives. I was happy to go the extra mile for the young women because of my love for them.
My leaders eventually noticed what I was doing. I feared they might reprimand me for being rebellious, but they encouraged me to continue.

The missionary journey took great physical courage as well as faith. While jumping onto a ferryboat in New York, Brigham slipped and fell against an iron ring on the deck, severely dislocating his shoulder:
“I directed brothers Kimball and Hedlock to lay hold of my body, and Brother Pratt to take hold of my hand and pull, putting his foot against my side, while I guided the bone with my right hand back to its place. … When I came to a fire I fainted, and was not able to dress myself for several days.27

My dad had been doing a lot of family history work. I loved hearing about my ancestors who were pioneers, ancestors who fought in the American Revolutionary War, and ancestors who had been kings and knights in Europe.
“How would you like to come to the Family History Library with me on Saturday?” Dad asked one day.
“Sure!” I couldn’t wait to see for myself the royal names on our pedigree chart.
We arrived in Salt Lake City and enjoyed the summer morning sunshine as we walked to the library. I became more and more excited the closer we got. There inside that big building were the names and stories of my own family—pioneers, soldiers, knights, and all.
Once inside, Dad pulled up a couple of chairs in front of a computer. We sat down, and he began navigating through databases to show me where our family tied into a royal line.
“Hmmm.” His forehead furrowed. “I can’t seem to find it today,” he finally said.
I was very disappointed. We spent the rest of the morning looking through books that held stories of my pioneer ancestors. I enjoyed that too, but I still wanted to learn about my other ancestors.
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “We’ll come back next weekend.”
The week flew by, and soon Dad and I were sitting in front of a computer in the Family History Library again. This time, Dad said, “Aha! Found it.”
He scrolled through names of kings and queens from all over Europe recorded there in my family history! There were so many names and dates that it would take many days to get them all into our family history software. “We’ll have to come back a lot to get all the information we need,” I said.
A woman working on the computer next to us glanced over and saw what we were doing. “I’m related to that line too,” she said. “I’ve been working here every day to get information about those ancestors.” Within minutes, she copied all of her information onto a disc and handed it to Dad.
As we walked back to the car, I thought hard. “Heavenly Father must really want us to find our ancestors, don’t you think, Dad?”
He smiled. “I think you’re right. If we had found the ancestors we were looking for last week, we may not have met our new friend here today. And had we not met her, we would not have been able to find so many of our ancestors so quickly.”
I knew that Heavenly Father had helped us discover almost 1,000 years’ worth of family history in one morning. He loves our ancestors as much as He loves us. We needed to help them just as He had helped us—by finding their names, learning about their lives, and making sure their temple work was done. Someday I will meet them, and we can be an eternal family.

When I was a boy, my maternal grandfather had a large cherry orchard. I had the opportunity to work in the orchard, mostly in the summer during the harvest of the cherries. As a very young boy, I found that the extent of my involvement was being handed a bucket and then sent up a tree to pick the cherries.

The harvesting of cherries changed significantly when my grandfather purchased a machine called a cherry shaker. This machine grabs the trunk of the tree and shakes it, causing the cherries to fall out of the tree onto nets that are used to collect the cherries. I noticed that when the shaker would begin to shake the tree, almost all the cherries fell out of the tree within seconds. I also noticed that it didn’t matter if the tree was shaken for 10 seconds or a full minute, some cherries would not fall. They were truly unshakable.

Last week I broke my arm. My neighbor who is a nurse told us that we needed to make a splint for my arm to protect it on the way to the hospital. She asked me if we had a few magazines we could use. My mom ran and got four Friend magazines, and my neighbor used them to make a splint by tying them around my arm with yarn. We had to wait a very long time in the hospital, so I was able to read my Friend magazines. I read a lot of stories, and one of them was about a boy in the hospital. I was comforted by the stories and the priesthood blessing I was given. I felt at peace. I love the Friend.Macey I., age 7, Minnesota

I roped one of my older brothers into going with me so I wouldn’t have to sit alone. I don’t remember the meeting at all. I just remember thinking, “Everybody must be looking at me and saying, ‘Look, Gretchen is at church. I wonder why.’ ” I was so uncomfortable by the end of the meeting that I planned a quick escape as soon as the closing prayer ended.
That’s when something happened that changed my life forever. Four girls I remembered from Primary ran up and surrounded me. They were so happy to see me at church, and I felt their sincerity. They asked if I would come back later that night to a youth fireside. I agreed and then left for home.
I talked my brother into going with me again. At the fireside, a man stood to speak and said he felt impressed not to give his prepared talk but to share his testimony and then let us do the same. All of a sudden, my whole being felt on fire. I don’t know how long it took me to get up, but I stood and bore my testimony that now I knew why I had been feeling unhappy and lost. It was the gospel that was missing in my life. I knew I needed to make some changes.
Now, almost 30 years later, I am still grateful to those young women who didn’t let me escape the chapel that day. I later met and married a returned missionary in the Idaho Falls Temple. We have four children, three of whom have married in the temple. Our oldest son served a mission, and our last is now planning to go on his. I have served in the Young Women program of the Church. Each time I teach a lesson on service, I share my life-changing experience in hopes that the same will be done for others as was done for me.
I believe my simple prayer was answered on that mountaintop. Heavenly Father does hear and answer our prayers. And my prayer was answered because four girls chose the right. They put their arms around a lost soul and invited her back. There are Gretchens out there who need to be brought back. You never know whose life can and will be changed forever if you will just reach out and be a loving, caring friend.

I have had many such teachers since. One was a prophet of the Lord, Spencer W. Kimball. I was visiting from England for general conference and asked if I could see him. I was told that he was in his office and no one was with him. I knocked on the door and his familiar voice said “Come in.” I started to open the door, but before it was fully open, he was there already. I felt a sense of urgency and real caring. He took me by the arm, showed me round his office, then sat me down across the desk. “How is the work going in England?” he inquired. I gave a brief report, but he knew already; he was teaching me the principle of stewardship and accountability. Then he reached up to his bookshelves, took down a book, and handed it to me. “Have you read this?” he asked. He smiled, took a pen, opened the book and wrote a message, and then gave it to me. I shall always treasure that copy of The Life Story of Heber C. Kimball, the first missionary to England.

“On the other hand, think of some of our elders coming from the country or the reservation to a larger city for the first time. These new experiences are fun and challenging. Do you remember Elder Descheenie?”
“Sure, I remember him. He was a Navajo elder, dark eyes, black curly hair, and a wide smile that made you wonder what he had been up to. He was a good elder.”
“That’s him all right, and he was a good elder. Let me share this story from a letter I received from him: ‘Did I ever tell you about my first and second day at the MTC? Well, I was the only Navajo speaker that went to the MTC that first day. On my first day there I did all right in finding my apartment and classes, but my second day I got up late and came to find out that everybody had gone to their classes already that morning, so I took a shower and decided to go to class, too, but couldn’t find my class. I walked in every hall and every building but still couldn’t find my classroom, so I just gave up and decided to go back to my apartment and stay there until my companion came back.
“‘So I was headed to my apartment, but I couldn’t even find my own apartment either, so I decided to try the building that was next to me there. I still couldn’t find my own room, so I started toward the rest room when I saw many girls headed into the building that I was in, and I thought to myself, I couldn’t be in the girls building could I? The girls were still headed this way, and I thought to myself again, I must be! I ran out of there flying, and I was so lost I didn’t know what to do so I walked over to the bookstore and there I found my companion. Was I ever glad to see him again!
“‘I told him what had happened to me, and he was about to die laughing at me. Anyway those were the good old days. We had some baptisms last Saturday, and we’ve got some more coming up too. I was going to write you a long letter, but I’m running out of news so I’m going to close here and do some more work. Have a nice day, and thanks for everything, and we’ll see you soon. …
“‘Elder D.’

Like all good parents, my own parents desired a bright future for their children. My father was not a member, and because of unusual circumstances that existed at that time, my parents determined that my brothers and sisters and I should leave our island home of American Samoa, in the South Pacific, and travel to the United States in order to go to school.
The decision to be separated from us was a difficult one for my parents, especially my mother. They knew that there would be unknown challenges as we were put into new surroundings. However, with faith and determination, they pressed forward with their plan.
Because of her Latter-day Saint upbringing, my mother was familiar with the principles of fasting and prayer, and both of my parents felt that they needed the blessings of heaven to help their children. In that spirit they began to set aside a day every week to fast and pray for us. Their vision was to prepare their children for a bright future. They acted on this vision as they exercised their faith by seeking the Lord’s blessings. Through fasting and prayer, they received the assurance, comfort, and peace that all would be well.
I know that as we gain a vision of ourselves as the Savior sees us and as we act on that vision, our lives will be blessed in unexpected ways. Because of the vision of my parents, not only was my life blessed by educational experiences, but I was placed in circumstances where I found and embraced the gospel. More important, I learned the significance of good and faithful parents. Simply put, my life was changed forever.
Just as vision led my parents to fast and pray for their children’s welfare and as the early Apostles’ vision led them to follow the Savior, that same vision is available to inspire and help us to act. Brothers and sisters, we are a people with a history of vision and the faith and courage to do. Look at where we have come and the blessings we have received! Believe that He can bless you with vision in your life and the courage to act.

“I had a friend who began to encourage me to disregard my standards, and for a while I listened. I finally decided that enough was enough and I wasn’t going to let her influence me anymore. I prayed for strength and guidance, and because I was again living the way I know I should, I received the guidance I asked for. I eventually stopped hanging out with her, and in the months that have passed, my testimony has grown so much. Who you are friends with definitely makes a difference in your ability to live the way the gospel teaches.”

Margaret K., 17, Utah, USA

I received a party invitation. The party was to be on a Sunday. I knew that going to a party on Sunday would not be keeping the Sabbath Day holy. I told my friend that I couldn’t go to his party because I go to church on Sundays and I try to keep the Sabbath Day holy. When I told my mom what I had said, she was very happy that I was trying to be like Jesus by choosing the right. She told me that I am a very good example to my little sisters, Malah (3) and Zilke (1).

Walking home from school in the autumn rain, I sloshed through every puddle. Little rivulets of cold water drizzled down my head and plopped to the hood of my blue jacket. I usually forgot to tie the hood over my head, so it just hung over my shoulders, catching raindrops.
“Hi, Mrs. Carver,” I called as I neared the small yellow house down the street from ours.
“Darcy, just look at you—you’re soaking wet!”
Mrs. Carver closed the mailbox and peered at me from under her plaid umbrella. Juggling the umbrella and a little stack of envelopes with one hand, she reached for my arm with the other. “Come on in and get dried off.”
I followed her as she shuffled up the concrete walk to her front door. When she opened it, a fragrant warmth met my face. She smiled. “I just baked some gingerbread. Would you like a piece?”
As I nodded eagerly and stepped inside, she reminded me to wipe my feet. Then she hung my dripping jacket on the back of a kitchen chair.
“Land’s sake, girl,” she said, passing me a hunk of warm gingerbread, “I hope you didn’t catch cold out there in that freezing rain.”
“Not me. I like rain. This is the best time of the year. Next week is Thanksgiving, you know. Wow—this gingerbread sure is good!”
“I’m glad you like it, Darcy. I used to make goodies for my son when he was your age.”
Adjusting her glasses, Mrs. Carver thumbed through the little pile of envelopes. I glanced up between bites of gingerbread, wondering if she’d found anything interesting in her mailbox.
“I’m waiting to hear from my son,” she told me. “He’s coming home for Thanksgiving.” A hopeful smile creased her face.
“We’re going to my grandma’s house,” I said, wiping my hands on a paper napkin. “My cousins will be there, too—I can’t wait! Well, thanks for the gingerbread. I’d better get home.”
I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door. Mrs. Carver sat still in her kitchen and watched me go out into the rain.
“When are we leaving for Grandma’s house?” I asked Mom a few days later. I hadn’t seen my cousins since last summer. My favorite cousin, Trevor, was in the fourth grade too.
“Very early Thanksgiving morning. It’s a long drive.”
“What if there’s a lot of snow in the mountains?” Amy wanted to know. My younger sister didn’t like long car trips, especially in the winter.
“Dad will just stop and put chains on the tires—no problem,” I assured her.
Curling up in the window seat in the family room, I watched dozens of raindrops drip from a branch of a cedar tree. They splattered on the yellow and brown leaves that layered the ground. A squirrel skittered across the branch and up the tree to the roof of our house.
I wonder what he’s doing for Thanksgiving. I grinned at the thought of a squirrel family gathered around a Thanksgiving feast. Then I daydreamed about Grandma’s cheery smile and Trevor’s dumb jokes. Just four more days until we’d sit down to a big turkey dinner at Grandma’s house! Mashed potatoes with her good gravy, pumpkin pie . … My mouth began to water.
Every day after school, I passed Mrs. Carver with her plaid umbrella, checking her mail. I could tell by the look on her face that there was still no letter from her son.
The day before Thanksgiving, she called to me. I liked her smile. In a lot of ways, she reminded me of my grandma.
“Hi, Mrs. Carver,” I said, wiping a strand of wet hair from my forehead.
“Oh, Darcy, why do you think that jacket of yours has a hood? It’s supposed to keep your head dry.”
She bent down, holding her umbrella over both of us. “Come on in. A letter came from my son.”
I followed Mrs. Carver up the walk to her door. She stepped a little faster than usual, even though she was trying to keep the umbrella over my head. Inside her warm kitchen, she handed me a yellow towel and a freshly-baked chocolate chip cookie. “Here,” she said. “Dry that wet hair. Then you can eat that cookie. Chocolate chip was always my son’s favorite.”
I rubbed the dampness out of my hair and sat at the table to eat my cookie. Mrs. Carver opened an envelope and pulled out a single sheet of white paper. As she read the letter, her smile faded. “He’s not coming! My son’s not coming home for Thanksgiving, after all.”
Mrs. Carver seemed so surprised and hurt that I didn’t know what to say. I just watched her take off her glasses and wipe her eyes. Then she turned and gazed out the window. “When is it ever going to stop raining?”
“Uh, maybe your son is just too busy,” I suggested.
“Yes,” Mrs. Carver said, almost in a whisper. “He’s too busy.”
I had the feeling she wanted to be alone, so I muttered a thanks for the cookie and crept quietly out of the house.
On the way home, the gray, swollen sky seemed to close in around me. Whipping down the street, a sudden wind picked up some damp leaves and slapped them against my shoulder.
“Don’t forget to wipe your feet, Darcy,” I heard Mom say as I took off my jacket in the hallway. She was sitting on the couch in the family room, thumbing through a magazine without looking at the pages. Amy was slumped next to her. It seemed like a long time before anyone said anything. That was pretty unusual at home. Finally Mom set down the magazine and turned to me with her serious look.
“Darcy, we can’t go to Grandma’s for Thanksgiving. There’s a blizzard raging in the mountains. Your dad says it’s too dangerous to drive through the pass when the weather’s this bad.”
I just stared at her. No Thanksgiving at Grandma’s! I crawled up on the window seat and tried to keep from crying. Some Thanksgiving we’d have with no cousins and no Grandma! Even though I figured my sister was just trying to cheer me up, it bothered me when she came over, chattering on about some silly thing. Then she scolded me for getting home late from school. “I’ve been home for ages. What took you so long?”
“I stopped to see Mrs. Carver.”
“Oh?” Mom asked. “How is she?”
I sat quietly for a long time, thinking. “Mrs. Carver is going to be all alone for Thanksgiving. …”
Mom came over and put her hands on my shoulders. “Not if I know my Darcy, she won’t. Don’t forget to put your hood up when you go to invite her.”
Picking up her notepad and a pencil, Mom started making plans for Thanksgiving at our house. I looked out into the backyard. It had finally stopped raining.