Gospel Story Finder

After Joseph Smith had completed translating the Book of Mormon, he still had to find a publisher. This was not easy. The complexity of this lengthy manuscript and the cost of printing and binding thousands of copies were intimidating. Joseph first approached E. B. Grandin, a Palmyra printer, who refused. He then sought another printer in Palmyra, who also turned him down. He traveled to Rochester, 25 miles (40 km) away, and approached the most prominent publisher in western New York, who also turned him down. Another Rochester publisher was willing, but circumstances made this alternative unacceptable.

Weeks had passed, and Joseph must have been bewildered at the opposition to accomplishing his divine mandate. The Lord did not make it easy, but He did make it possible. Joseph’s fifth attempt, a second approach to the Palmyra publisher Grandin, was successful.

“Amy,” Steve said breaking the awkward silence, “today when I was climbing, I couldn’t think about anything except those four sets of missionaries I went through during my conversion. Elder Snow gave up a baseball scholarship. Elder Decker postponed his education. Another missionary’s father had to work two jobs to support him. And then all I thought about was a postage stamp.”
Amy shook her head, pulling a weed from the soil and picking it apart. “You climbed Storm Mountain, fasting and everything, and all you could think about was a postage stamp?”
Steve’s voice was barely audible. Amy knew right away he was going to talk about his mother. “Once when I was six or seven years old and my dad was out of town, my mom needed a postage stamp to mail Uncle Robert’s birthday card. We lived in the country. The mailman would pick up the mail but couldn’t sell us stamps. Mom couldn’t wait until Dad got back home with the car or the card wouldn’t arrive at the right time.
“Mom sent me to Mrs. Harold’s down the lane. She was an old lady who kind of looked after Mom and me when Dad was on the road. Of course Mrs. Harold loaned me the stamp, and we mailed the card on time. But the next day Mom told me we were going to pack a picnic lunch and walk the two miles to the post office to buy a stamp to replace the one we borrowed from Mrs. Harold.”
Steve picked up a little rock and tossed it down the hillside. “I remember saying to her, ‘Why don’t we just bake her some cookies or just give her ten cents to cover the cost of the postage stamp?’
“And then I said, ‘We could wait until Dad gets home in a few days and drive to the post office. Why today? What’s a couple more days?’
“Mom put her arms around me. Then she said, ‘Because today is the day we owe for the postage stamp, not tomorrow or the next day.’”
Steve tightened his arm around Amy. “Uncle Robert got his card when he needed it, and the debt was paid when it was owed.”

He also met his wife-to-be, Jill Featherstone, at BYU. She was teaching the Gospel Doctrine class in her student ward. Invited by his brother, Elder Taylor visited her class and met her. A romance blossomed, and they were married on April 30, 1987, in the Salt Lake Temple. They are the parents of seven children.
Sister Taylor is the only daughter out of seven children of Elder Vaughn J. Featherstone, emeritus General Authority, and Sister Merlene Featherstone. “They were just really accepting and kind,” Elder Taylor said of his in-laws. “I felt immediately loved.”

On a windy Sunday morning the doors of our chicken shed blew open while we were at church. All nine of our chickens escaped. When we got home, we found three chickens in the garden and five in our yard. But we couldn’t find Ginger though we looked and looked. That night there was a terrible storm with wind, rain, and lightning. We were all worried that Ginger would not survive. All of us prayed that she would be safe.
The next morning a delivery man came to the front door with a package. When Mom opened the door, Ginger walked right into the house. I learned that if you need help, you can pray. Heavenly Father will answer your prayer, even if it is a small prayer for a pet chicken.Dallin P., age 9, Utah

I have felt this same kind of fear many times. I felt it when I knocked on the door of a sullen and resentful woman who didn’t want visiting teachers, but whose unhappy life cried out for the healing power of the gospel. I felt it with a neighbor who had had such a bad experience in his family life that the joy of the gospel was hidden from him. I felt it when a member of my own family suffered prolonged physical pain.
I began to have the same kinds of experiences with other people. The lady to whom I was assigned to be a visiting teacher became comfortable enough to go with me to church. My neighbor who had had a bad family life enjoyed being with me and my friends so much that he began resisting the negative influences of his family.
My efforts to love others as the Savior loved have not always been successful. I am not strong enough alone to withstand the pressures and frustrations of my own and others’ imperfections. We cannot bless others if we rely solely on our own strength, or even if we ask God to help us use our own strength. We must allow the love of Christ to fill our souls. Then we become instruments of a power stronger and higher than anything we can become on our own.
“Abide in me,” the Savior taught, “and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine, no more can ye, except ye abide in me.
“I am the vine, ye are the branches: he that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit; for without me ye can do nothing.” (John 15:4–5.)
When I read this passage, I like to imagine a branch being broken off of a grapevine. The branch quickly withers and dies. It is no more able to bear fruit, for it cannot live without the life-sustaining vine. In the same way, if we do not draw our life from Christ, even though we may not see anything happen immediately, we are dying spiritually as surely as the branch died physically. We are not able to bring forth the fruit of service, “for without me ye can do nothing.” But if we do abide in Christ and allow his life-giving love and strength to fill our souls, we have a great promise. Christ continued:
“If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done unto you.
“Herein is my Father glorified, that ye bear much fruit; so shall ye be my disciples.
“As the Father hath loved me, so have I loved you: continue ye in my love.
“If ye keep my commandments, ye shall abide in my love.” (John 15:7–10.)
I have found that if I come humbly and faithfully before God each morning and ask him to fill my soul with his love, I am blessed abundantly. I can care more for others, serve them with less fear of my inadequacy, and bless them in ways that would be impossible without his help. In a small way, I have learned to “abide in his love.”
The realization that the best way to help others is to love them unconditionally has brought new joy and energy to my efforts to serve. As I rely more completely upon the Savior for the love that can bless others, I feel more a part of his great work of salvation. And I rejoice in the goodness I now see more clearly in all of his children.

One Saturday, my family went on an all-day bike ride with the youth in our branch. My sister (8) and I (then 6) rode our own bikes the whole 17 miles (about 27 km). The ride was a lot of fun, but by the end, I was so tired that I didn’t know if I could make it to the end. With about a mile to go, my parents and I fell behind the group. It began to rain.
In a few minutes, the rain was pouring so hard that we couldn’t even see where we were going. Soaking wet and very cold, we stopped for shelter under a tree. We didn’t know if we should stay where we were or try to go on in the rain. My dad suggested that I ask Heavenly Father to help us. I prayed for Him to please stop the rain so that we could go on and meet up with the rest of the group safely and not get lost.
As soon as I finished my prayer, the rain stopped and the sun came out and began warming us up. We felt the Holy Ghost really strong just then, and I was very relieved and happy. We rode the last mile to our group in dry weather, then offered another prayer to thank Heavenly Father for sending us a miracle. I have a testimony that Heavenly Father answers our prayers.
Noah Siddoway, age 7Stevens Point, Wisconsin

Last summer when I was away from home going to school in Manchester, England, I had to ride the bus into town every day. Then I had to walk several blocks through the worst part of the city in order to get to my college. I remember that the most corrupt street of all was right next to my bus stop. The walls of the street shops were covered with obscenities, pornographic posters, rude writing, and vulgar swear words. There were several bars, where loud, questionable music could be heard every time the doors opened.
People inside called out crude things to me as I walked. The first time I went into town to attend school, I got off the bus and walked right down this street. About halfway down, I was so sick, offended, and afraid, that I didn’t think I could make it the rest of the way. I did, with my eyes shut as much as possible, but I decided at that moment that I would never walk down that street again.
Being far away from our home and family, I had plenty of things to worry about and more temptations than I could ever list. I certainly didn’t need to add this street to my worries. So, everyday when I got off the bus to go to school, I would walk an entire block out of my way to avoid that street. Sometimes on rainy mornings when I was late to an eight o’clock class I would want to forget what I had resolved and take the shorter route. But I knew I would feel sick inside if I let myself be exposed to unclean things.
Crossing that street to take the long way around every morning just became a habit. After a while, I didn’t even think of why I was doing it. Then one afternoon a friend of mine, Bob, offered to show me a new music store close to my bus stop. As we left the college together, I automatically crossed the street.
“What are you doing?” Bob asked.
Without thinking, I answered, “I can’t walk on that street.”
“Why not?” he laughed.
Suddenly I heard myself telling the whole story. I was far from home and didn’t want to return to my family with a lot of bad thoughts in my mind that didn’t belong there. I was uncomfortable on that street.
Bob was several years older than I and knew more of the ways of the world. I fully expected him to laugh again, and I felt foolish for even telling him about my feelings.
Waiting for his laughter, I looked up to find a very subdued expression on his face. After a few minutes of silence (very uncomfortable ones for me), he told me he wished he’d had a commitment like mine when he first came to school. “I wish I had crossed a few streets, Vivian,” he said. “I’m ashamed to go home and see my family. I can’t look Mom in the face after some of the things I’ve seen and done.” We stood in silence for a few more minutes, but it was a comfortable one now. Then he took my arm, and we crossed the street together. We found our music store in no time at all, and had a chance for a wonderful conversation because of the route we took. He is now a friend I will always treasure.
I didn’t have to preach a sermon on moral and mental cleanliness. All I did was cross a street when there was something I wasn’t supposed to be exposed to on the other side. He didn’t sneer or criticize or think I was odd. By doing what I knew to be right, I actually earned Bob’s respect and friendship.

Camping is not my thing.
Which is why everyone who knew me was surprised when I, along with a good friend, signed up for a weekend camping trip to Colorado, USA, with a bunch of strangers for no reason other than that I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and feel a little more adventurous.
It was about 3 a.m. the first night when it started pouring rain. I stared up at the paper-thin walls of my tent, mentally begging them to keep me dry and sincerely regretting my decision to come. I spent the rest of the trip enjoying the views but mostly trying not to embarrass myself; I was less outdoorsy than most of the people I was traveling with, and I worried constantly that I would look incompetent.
On the final night of the trip, my friend and I ventured outside to try to enjoy the nature that we’d traveled so far to see. As we stood outside our tent, my friend surprised me with her astronomy knowledge, pointing out Taurus, the Pleiades, and Cassiopeia, tracing her finger along the sky as she told me stories about the clusters of stars. It was a beautiful, peaceful moment.
The longer we stood there, heads tipped back, the more I forgot about my own discomfort. Looking up at the vast, starry sky was humbling. For probably the first time during that trip, I was able to fully appreciate something beautiful instead of worrying about myself and getting caught up in my own silly pride.
I felt the difference between these two feelings on that camping trip. For the majority of the trip, I was self-absorbed, worried about how I looked and smelled and how comfortable I was. But there was a brief moment, during that evening under the stars, when I was able to look outside myself and realize that there is so much more to living in this miraculously beautiful world than what I was experiencing.
That night, I learned to look up when I wanted to stop thinking about myself, and that’s proven to be a pretty effective antidote to pride. As the famed Christian writer C. S. Lewis explained: “In God you come up against something which is in every respect immeasurably superior to yourself. … As long as you are proud you cannot know God. A proud man is always looking down on things and people: and, of course, as long as you are looking down, you cannot see something that is above you.”3
That trip didn’t change my mind about camping—it’s still not my thing. But I’m grateful that I learned an important lesson about “walk[ing] humbly” (Doctrine and Covenants 11:12) that night, because it taught me something that I not only needed on that trip but will need for the rest of my life. It’s normal to struggle with pride—it’s an inherent part of our mortal experience. But acknowledging it in ourselves and working to overcome it by seeking humility can bring us closer to Christ and help us live happier lives.

“The missionary work of the Church is a panorama of more than a century of service and privations and hardships and sacrifices. The closer one is to the program, the more completely one can understand and appreciate it. When my grandfather Heber C. Kimball left for his mission, he and Brigham Young left their families destitute and ill and they themselves needed help to get into the carriage which took them from their homes. As they started off they raised themselves … and waved back to their weeping wives and children. Thousands of people came into the Church as a result of those missions, and tens of thousands have been benefited indirectly and are now enjoying the blessings of the gospel because of those sacrifices. To one who did not understand, such devotion and sacrifice on the part of those men would have been considered foolhardy and silly. But to the Young and Kimball families it was a mark of great faith. And to the thousands who will, through the eternities, call the names of those missionaries blessed, the privations and sacrifice were not wasted.”—President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985), The Teachings of Spencer W. Kimball, ed. Edward L. Kimball (1982), 253.

When I was in the fourth grade, I had a variety show to sing in. Some of the girls were singing a bad song. I didn’t like it. When I got home, I told my mom about it. She talked to my dad, and my dad told my principal. The girls had to sing a better song. The program turned out good because I wasn’t afraid to speak out about a bad song. I know that Jesus Christ was happy.
Hydee Rushton, age 10Sun River Valley Ward

Ray Dunham, who was not LDS when he arrived at the academy, found himself looking for Latter-day Saints. “I’m from Oklahoma City, and in high school I had some LDS friends. I figured if I could find other Mormons they’d be a good influence on me.”
He met Keyan Riley from Salem, Utah, verified that he was LDS, and “I thought to myself, I found one of you!” They became roommates, Ray eventually joined the Church, and both he and Keyan resigned, served missions, reapplied, and were permitted to return to the academy.
Ray, who had come to the academy with a twin brother, “had to reassure my parents that the academy wants returned missionaries because they’re good people. Once my parents realized I wasn’t giving up, just serving a mission with the hope of getting back in, they felt more at ease.”

Recently my husband and I had dinner with some friends. The conversation turned to religion, and one friend, a less-active member of the Church, began telling me why the Church was not true.
In the course of his explanation, he became adamant, hostile, and angry. The entire time I sat and listened. At first I felt like crying, but then I became angry and wanted to tell him off. The still, small voice, however, told me to be quiet.
Our friend didn’t finish his tirade until we had finished our dinner and paid the bill. Then he paused, as if waiting for my rebuttal. I sat there for a moment in silent prayer. Then, in a soft voice, I calmly said, “Do you know what I like best about going to church on Sunday? The sacrament. It allows me the opportunity to quietly bow my head and pray to Heavenly Father. I tell Him all the ways in which I could have done things differently during the past week, and I seek for ways to improve.”
Then I added, “I think of all the people I tried to be a blessing to during the past week, and I ask Heavenly Father to help me find more people to bless during the coming week. I am thankful that I have time during the sacrament each week to do this and to become the best I can be.”
Our friend looked at me and said nothing. We left the restaurant and walked to the car. I then asked him if he remembered all of the self-help books I had on my bookshelf at home. He did. I told him that since I had joined the Church, I had never read another self-help book. I said the only book I get my answers from anymore is the Book of Mormon.
A few days later he called to apologize.

At the age of 19, I was conscripted into the military for a period of two years. I was sent away to the Army Gymnasium in Heidelberg (formerly Transvaal) for the first year of national service and to Natal Command (formerly Natal) for the second year. During this time, I had very little exposure to the Church. As a result, I became less active. Towards the end of my military service, faithful home teachers—Brother Basil Smith and his companion—came into the army barracks one afternoon to minister to me. Once again, my spirit resonated with what they said and I was so surprised that they would make this effort to visit me, I responded positively to their invitation to come back to Church.

Shortly afterward, a wise bishop, Sheridan Jakins, called me to serve a mission, which I accepted. This call and opportunity to serve as a full-time missionary had a profound effect on my life for the good.

I now look back with immense gratitude and love to:
Sister Lucy Carr—for taking that step of sharing the gospel in a normal and natural way with my sister Carol, which led to my baptism and conversion.
Brother Basil Smith and his companion—for ministering as faithful home teachers and inviting me to come back to church.
Bishop Sheridan Jakins—for extending a call and helping me prepare for full-time missionary service.
These acts of love and service by fellow members of my country—sharing their love for the gospel of Jesus Christ—has affected me and my family immeasurably. We have come to love this gospel with all our hearts, and to appreciate its goodness, light and truth. I think of the blessing it has been to have the programs of the Church to help my wife, Mandy, and me to raise a righteous family unto the Lord. In this troubled world with the dangers that our children face, we need all the help we can get.
Through the teachings of the gospel, I have come to know who I am as an eternal son of our Heavenly Father. This has given me confidence and purpose in life. I recognize the feeling described by Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf, when he said, “We are surrounded by such an astonishing wealth of light and truth that I wonder if we truly appreciate what we have.”1
These faithful members, through their small acts of love and service have brought me true happiness. “Our Heavenly Father places loving individuals on important crossroads to help us so that we are not left alone to grope in the dark. These men and women help by example and with patience and love.”2 This has been my experience.
I must admit that this joy and happiness did not come directly after joining the Church. In fact, I felt a lack of it at first, but when I look back on my life, I realise, as a new convert, my faith and testimony were weak. I had one foot in the world and the other foot in the gospel. Only when I had planted both feet firmly on the covenant path, did I start to experience the joy of the gospel. For me, this happened when I started to prepare for missionary service.
It is up to us to respond positively to these acts of love and service and allow them to bless our lives. More importantly, we need to participate in these acts of love and service, or good works as mentioned by King Benjamin: “Therefore, I would that ye should be steadfast and immovable, always abounding in good works, that Christ, the Lord God Omnipotent, may seal you his, that you may be brought to heaven, that ye may have everlasting salvation and eternal life, through the wisdom, and power, and justice, and mercy of him who created all things, in heaven and in earth, who is God above all.”3

In February 2022, Sister Basilisa Nadreke Lotawa was asked by the Sigatoka Branch President (a lay church leader) to serve as a temple and family history specialist. Basilisa’s job was to urge her congregation to lift their spiritual eyes to the light of the temple and to prepare themselves for temple worship. She also had to learn how to do genealogical research then teach her fellow Saints how to identify their deceased ancestors in order to participate by proxy, temple ordinances on their behalf.
Basilisa, a young mother of three, shook her head and laughed. “I knew nothing about doing family history—nothing . . . and I’m too young to do it.” Still, wanting to serve the Lord, she sought the help of an experienced genealogist and was soon able to assist her branch members. With a new conviction and passion for family history, Basilisa expressed: “I am so blessed and honoured to participate in this glorious work. It has been marvelous, tremendous! I have seen miracles and wonders. The Lord provided a way for me to do the work and to help my branch.”
With young children in tow, Basilisa spent many hours at the computer in her chapel helping others to extend the branches of their family trees. She invited them—adults and youth—to find five deceased family members who needed proxy baptisms. Branch members caught her enthusiasm and found two hundred ancestors!
As for Basilisa, there is no doubt that her love for the temple and family history work—even at this busy stage of her life, will continue to bless her. She said: “I feel the same joy doing this [work] that I felt when I served my mission.” She and her branch now keep their eyes fixed firmly on the holy temple.

“What is this yucky stuff?”
My little brother’s honest question reflected what our turned-up noses asked when Mom put the lima bean and corn dish on the table.
“Succotash,” Mom replied. “The Pilgrims survived on it. They got the recipe from local Indians but decided to leave out the dog meat. So did I. We also have corn bread and pumpkin pie. Want some?”
So this is what Sylvester the Cat means when he says “Sufferin’ succotash,” I thought. It makes a lot more sense to me now. Poking my fork into the concoction I wondered why Mom had suddenly gone pioneer with the food storage.
It didn’t take long to find out. Dad announced that he had lost his job, and we would be living on our food storage for a while. I envisioned weeks of whole wheat porridge, fried rice, and bean or lentil soup.
Our next family home evening was kind of scary when Dad and Mom went over our expenses and explained that all cash and savings would have to go for the house payment and utilities. Tears came to my kindergarten brother’s eyes when it was announced that no extra things could be purchased. He looked down at his shoes and whispered, “I guess I can’t get a book club book, huh?”
I didn’t dare ask if I would have to miss the prom and the band trip. I was afraid of the answer, so I just looked at my shoes too.
The only fun part of the evening was planning that month’s menus. It was comforting to see lots of home-canned fruits and vegetables on Mom’s storage list. Green beans, peaches, pear sauce, and apple sauce made me take a grateful look back at our family’s bumpy road to self-sufficiency.
All this was good training for dealing with my dad’s unemployment. Our help in tending the garden, in canning, and in eating what Mom cooked all helped get us through. I was even able to go to the prom and to go on our band trip to Lake Okiboji.

Brethren, in many, many areas it is time we take stock of ourselves and do what the Lord wants us to do. A man said to me the other day, not long ago, “This Church just demands too much of us.”

I said, “Brother, this Church demands nothing of you. It just offers you a better way of life.” He said, “But it is awfully hard.” I said, “Let’s see if it is. Let’s go and get a cigar and have a good smoke. Let’s go and hold up a bank and see what happens. Let us go and join a group tonight as they go out on a big drunk.” He said, “President Tanner, don’t be ridiculous.” I said, “All right, I won’t if you won’t.” Then I said, “Just name one commandment that you think you shouldn’t keep, or you would advise your son not to keep.” He could not.

Regarding our tithing, surely, brethren, we should be prepared to pay one-tenth of what the Lord has given us, especially when we realize that it could be taken away from us overnight with fire or hurricane, or any other thing that might take it away from us.

When I was presiding over the Edmonton Branch a man came to me and said, “I can’t pay a full tithing this year. I have had to do some building, some remodeling, and so on.” I told him that the Lord had said that he would pour out blessings that we would hardly be able to contain. He said, “I still can’t do it.” Right after the first of the year that man spent several days in the hospital with a high doctor bill, and he paid it. I am not suggesting that he was there because he didn’t pay a full tithing, but I am suggesting that the evidence is there that he could have paid a full tithing.

How would you like the Lord to figure out his blessings on the same basis that you do when you are figuring out your tithing? If you were in deep trouble, had physical or mental illness, or your family were suffering and causing you much concern, would you want him to say, “Well now, just how much can I keep from giving him? How close can I figure this blessing?”

Brethren, let us be obedient to the commandments of God. Let us prove faithful, let us be an example to the world, a light unto the world. Appreciate the priesthood which we have and the calling that is ours. We have been given the great privilege of holding the priesthood and the responsibility of taking the gospel to the world. We can do it by our actions as well as by precept, which is much more effective. Only as we live and keep the commandments of God, being obedient in all things can we fully enjoy life here and eternal life in the world to come, and be able to influence the world for good, and help build the kingdom of God here upon the earth.

May we do this, as members of the Church of Jesus Christ, which we are, and follow the prophet of God who has been chosen and through whom the Lord speaks, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

When our twin daughters were small, we decided to take them to the public pool and teach them how to swim. I remember starting with Rebekah. As I went down into the water with her, I was thinking, “I’m going to teach Becky how to swim.” But in her mind was the thought, “My dad is going to drown me. I’m going to die!” The water was only three-and-a-half feet deep, but Becky was only three feet tall. She was so frightened that she began to scream and cry and kick and scratch. She was unteachable.

Finally, I threw my arms around her and held her and said, “Becky, I’ve got you. I’m your dad. I love you. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. Now relax.” Bless her heart, she trusted me. She relaxed, and then I put my arms under her and said, “Okay, now kick your legs.” And she began to learn how to swim.

Cleaning up after a hurricane sounded like it might be fun. That’s what the Boy Scouts of Troop 304 in the Athens Georgia First and Second wards thought when they heard about the hurricane hitting the coast of their neighboring state, South Carolina.
Jacob Keith decided to take on the assistance effort as an Eagle project. At first Jacob was a little hesitant. He said, “I’m not much for calling people I don’t know, but I got used to it after a while. I was surprised how helpful people were. When I called the Scouts, I didn’t think they would want to spend their whole weekend in South Carolina working. But they said yes.”
The group ended up unloading semitrailers into a warehouse. When the boxes were light, they made a game out of it. When the goods were heavy, like the load of doors they had to unload, they just buckled down and got the job done.
The most impressive thing was that the project was planned and carried out completely by the Scouts themselves. Scoutmaster Scott Johnson said, “The relief team thought I was one of the boys. They spoke on the phone to Jacob, so they went to him to make decisions and organize the effort.”
The troop spent two weekends helping distribute relief goods.

I still remember my first cross-country skiing trip with my family. My parents, siblings, and I piled the ski equipment into our station wagon and traveled to a local mountain where we would spend the day. When we arrived at the site, I realized that in the hustle of packing I had left one of my skis at home. Worse yet, I’d forgotten my ski poles altogether.
Going home to retrieve the forgotten equipment was simply not feasible. My father, ever pragmatic, told me I’d just have to do my best. Fortunately, my older sister took pity on me and lent me one of her poles.
Having never been skiing, I didn’t think that having only one ski would be a big deal. I was more excited than disappointed—after all, I was finally old enough to participate in my family’s favorite shared activity!
One by one, my siblings put on their gear and headed toward a meadow with a small hill that was fun to ski down. But I couldn’t move an inch! The foot without a ski sank deep into the snow. The foot with the ski was also stuck because the snow clung to the old-fashioned wooden ski, making it extra heavy.
Why wasn’t this coming more easily? The harder I tried, the more stuck I became and the more frustrated I grew. My struggle became more devastating as I saw my father and brothers in the distance. They had reached the meadow and appeared to be having a great time climbing up and skiing down the hill.
Dad came back a few times to check on me, always offering some encouraging words. “Keep going! You’re getting it.” But I wasn’t getting it. In fact, the end of that day came before I ever made it to the meadow. My first ski trip was a huge disappointment.

“Josh, what’s the matter? You’ve been muttering to yourself ever since you sat down for breakfast. It’s the first day of summer vacation. You should be jumping for joy.”
I sighed. “Money, Mom. I need a job to earn money.”
She laughed. “How much? Fifty cents?”
“No. Lots. Fifty dollars would be nice.”
“That’s a lot. I can’t give you that much.”
“That’s OK—I want to earn it. It’s really important.”
“But why, honey? What for?”
“Mrs. Emery said that if the class can earn enough money, we can help Jenny Wong. She has to go to Boston for eye tests and a special pair of glasses. They cost a lot, and Jenny really needs them.”
“That’s a super idea, Josh. But what do you think you might do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been trying to think of something all week. The whole project’s a secret. We want to surprise Jenny and her mother. Mrs. Wong’s been saving money for a year, Mrs. Emery told us, but still needs a lot more.”
“Is Jenny the girl you read aloud to sometimes?”
“Yes. We take turns. Her mother told the school nurse about these special glasses, and the nurse told Mrs. Emery. The class voted to make it our summer project.”
I went out and sat on the front steps to think. Across the street, Mr. Zelinsky was cutting his lawn. Back and forth he went, changing his lawn from a sea of dandelions to a smooth green carpet.
“These pesky weeds look like gold pieces from there, don’t they, Josh?” he called across to me. “My wife loves them. I hate them, but I’m teaching this bunch a lesson. The only trouble is that they’ll be right back up.”
Gold pieces, I thought idly. Up and down the street every lawn but ours shown brightly with “gold pieces.” My dad digs them out with a forked tool. “It’s the only way to beat a dandelion,” he tells my mother. “It’s tough on my back—but worth it.”
POW! The idea hit me. I scrambled to my feet and raced to my room, fished a big piece of cardboard from under my bed, grabbed a black marker, and began lettering like mad. In minutes it was done:
LION HUNTER WANTS WORK!
No lawn too big or too small
2¢ per lion dug
Call DIGGER JOSH, 555-3996
Now for a test. I carried my poster across the street and showed it to Mr. Zelinsky. “Will people hire me?” I asked. “I can do a good job.”
“Will they!” he snorted. “And I’m first. Josh, you’re hired right now. I want every pesky dandelion in this front lawn dug. Just tell me how many when you’re done.”
That was my start. Later that afternoon I finished—score: 187 dandelions, $3.74, an aching back, and joy in my heart! Zillions of dandelions to dig! All summer to work! I’d get all the other kids to go into business in their neighborhoods.
After a bit of R&R—rest and refreshments—I started out with my sign. By suppertime I’d helped seven classmates make their own signs and begin getting people lined up. Tomorrow I’ll tackle the biggest lawn on our street. It’s good for at least six dollars—if my back holds out.
Bed sure felt good when I tumbled in tonight. I know I’ll dream about dandelions, dollars, and eye glasses. Jenny’ll get her glasses for sure. How can a classful of lion hunters miss?