Gospel Story Finder

No one is perfect, but everyone should be striving for perfection. If we should stumble or fall as we travel life’s highway, let us apply the counsel given to us by Cliff Cushman, a member of the 1960 U.S. Olympic team. He won the silver medal in the 400-meter hurdles and was a top candidate for the gold medal in the 1964 Olympics; but in the American trials, he hit and tripped over a hurdle and was eliminated. Messages of sympathy poured in to him, and he replied with an open letter to the youth of his hometown, Grand Forks, North Dakota. He wrote:
“Over 15 years ago, I saw a star—first place in the Olympic Games. I literally started to run after it. In 1960 I came within three yards of grabbing it; this year I stumbled, fell and watched it recede four more years away. …
“In a split second all the many years of training, pain, sweat, blisters and agony of running were simply and irrevocably wiped out.
“But I tried! I would much rather fail knowing I had put forth an honest effort than never to have tried at all. …
“Certainly I was very disappointed in falling flat on my face. However, there is nothing I can do about it now but get up, pick the cinders from my wounds, and take one more step followed by one more and one more, until the steps turn into miles and miles into success.
“I know I may never make it. The odds are against me, but I have something in my favor—desire and faith. … At least I am going to try. How about you? … Unless your reach exceeds your grasp, how can you be sure what you can attain? …
“Let me tell you something about yourselves. … You are spending more money, enjoying more freedom, and driving more cars than ever before, yet many of you are very unhappy. Some of you have never known the satisfaction of doing your best in sports, the joy of excelling in class, the wonderful feeling of completing a job, any job, and looking back on it knowing that you have done your best. …
“I dare you to look up at the stars, not down at the mud, and set your sights on them that, up to now, you thought were unattainable. There is plenty of room at the top, but no room for anyone to sit down.
“Who knows? You may be surprised at what you can achieve with sincere effort. So get up, pick the cinders out of your wounds, and take one more step.
“I dare you!”
The last report I had on Cliff Cushman indicated that he was missing in action in the Vietnam war.

A week later, two missionaries knocked on the Cantos’s door. That evening they gave Nancy, Pedro, and their two older sons, Cesar and Fernando, the first discussion.

Before they left, the elders gave the family a Book of Mormon, after first marking for them the passages they had been discussing about Christ’s visit to America. They also felt inspired to underline the passages relating to Lehi’s dream about the tree of life—something they had never done before.

Later, as Nancy Cantos read the account of Lehi’s dream, she became excited. It was so similar to her own! She knew in her heart that this was the answer to their prayers.

Eagerly she read the passages to her husband and told him about her dream. He, too, believed this was their answer. “If we obey God’s commandments and hold to the iron rod, our baby will be healed,” he told his wife.

The Cantos could hardly wait for the next discussion.

Tui M., 12
When I perform, I don’t feel nervous. I feel a thrill. I’ve learned that even if I mess up, I can turn it into something beautiful. It’s almost like painting. When a painter makes a mistake, they might make it into something new. Sometimes I drop my fireknife, but I pick it back up and keep dancing.
Self-encouragement has helped me a lot with my fears. Instead of having thoughts like, “What if I mess up?” I try to have more thoughts like, “Well, what if I do good!”
It’s also become a routine for me to say a small prayer every time before a fireknife performance. Praying protects me and helps me have a good dance. When I pray, I feel confident that I’m going to do good.

I wasn’t one of the “in” crowd at my California high school, so my circle of friends was smaller than most. I was so shy that I kept to myself most of the time. Yes, I was, as the saying goes, “painfully shy.” Indeed, I was so shy it hurt.
One day as I sat down at my desk in U.S. history, another shy girl sat down behind me. We had spoken to each other prior to this, I’m sure, but I didn’t remember anything about her before then.
As she set her books on top of her desk, her notebook crashed onto the floor beside me. I turned to pick it up and noticed it said, “Seminary—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” on the cover. I reached down, retrieved the binder, and handed it to her as I timidly said, “Oh, you go to church on Saturday?”
Her face displayed confusion at the question. “No, why?”
I pointed to the notebook cover. “It says ‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’ Doesn’t that mean you go to church on the last day of the week?”
She smiled and giggled slightly. Then she took a deep breath and asked, “What do you know about the Mormon church?”
I answered quite honestly, “Not very much.”
She inhaled deeply again and queried, “Would you like to know more?”
“Yes, I would,” I replied without hesitation.
At that instant her lower jaw must have hit the floor. Her eyes sparkled and an air of relief swept over her like a whirlwind. Before long we had set a date for me to meet with the missionaries and receive the first discussion.
I know that notebook did not fall on the floor by accident. As silly as my first question must have sounded, it opened up a channel between one shy girl and another. I found out her name was Yvonne Anderson, and we became friends. Yvonne introduced me to the Church and set up an appointment for me to see the missionaries. And when I was baptized, Yvonne was there.
That day in U.S. history, an instant bond was formed. And because of one golden question, two shy girls made their own eternal history.

During a recent temple dedication, I was thrilled with the entire experience. I loved the open house, greeting many of the visitors who came to see the temple; the cultural celebration with the vibrancy and excitement of the youth; followed by the wonderful dedicatory sessions. The Spirit was sweet. Many people were blessed. And then the next morning, my wife and I entered the baptismal font to participate in baptisms for some of our own ancestors. As I raised my arm to begin the ordinance, I was nearly overcome by the power of the Spirit. I realized again that the real power of the temple is in the ordinances.

Megan, 18; Ethan, 19; and Romy, 17, also have something else in common: They all sing in their ward choir in Florida, USA. And recently the choir gave them an even greater opportunity to share their love for music by participating in an Interfaith Music Festival.
And one of the things all the faith groups have in common is music. The Interfaith Music Festival would be a great opportunity for believers to unite in praising God. The ward choir would be one of about half a dozen groups representing congregations throughout the city.
“There was a bell choir, a vocal duet, a large choir, a small choir, a flute-and-piano duet, and so forth,” Megan explains. “Every group was asked to do two numbers.”
Megan continues, “We wanted to make sure that what we sang would let people know that we believe in Jesus Christ and also that we believe in Heavenly Father. We wanted to create a feeling of worship.”
The choir decided on two numbers they had previously performed, “Great Things and Small Things,” by Steven Kapp Perry, and “Sacraments and Symbols,” by Janice Kapp Perry, Steven Kapp Perry, and Lynne Perry Christofferson.
“The first song is upbeat. It offers the assurance that through God, you can do anything, whether it’s relatively minor or very significant,” Ethan says. “The second song has a deep reverence. It’s almost like a chant, and it creates a real feeling of worship.”
As they prepared to sing, Ethan used a method he has used before. “I try to prioritize becoming immersed in the song,” he says. “I find that when I’m able to pay attention to the meaning of the song, I’m able to enjoy it better. Of course I make sure I can sing it properly, but I find that it’s easier for me to do that when I’m in tune with the message that it’s trying to convey. I like to put an emphasis on spiritual preparation.”
“We still had to sing in sacrament meeting and practice for other things, too,” Megan says. “But we knew the importance of the interfaith event, so we made sure the pieces were ready. We worked hard on them.”
For the second number, the 14-member choir shrunk down to a double quartet. “We would rehearse on Tuesdays, before Young Men and Young Women,” Megan says. “It made me think of the song for a whole week, for a whole month, really. I don’t usually do this, but I found the song on YouTube and kept playing it over and over. I wanted to improve. I wanted us to sing so well that we would touch other people.”
Ethan, Megan, and Romy agree that all the rehearsing had an added benefit. “When you repeat songs over and over,” Romy says, “the messages of the songs stay in your mind and in your heart.”
The choir performs at the Interfaith Music Festival.
That presence in their minds and hearts was clearly evident as the choir members sang. “Both songs were just beautiful,” Romy says. “The audience got real quiet and everyone felt the Spirit as those songs were being sung. We all felt united.”
“The first song has always been a happy song for me,” Megan says. “I feel like it had that impact on people at the festival. I had a fun time singing it and I hope they all enjoyed it as well. And the second song, the voices blended so well. I think everyone who listened to it felt a spirit of respect and awe for God.”
At the end of the evening, Megan continues, “We were able to talk with participants and audience members. I know people were asking our choir director about the songs we sang—’What kind of music was that?’ or ‘Where did you find that arrangement?’ We were able to interact with each other and talk about the music we all shared. I felt like I was able to understand them more through their songs, and that they understood us better because of ours. Music is like a window to your soul.”

Tate lay awake in the darkness, blinking back tears. He had prayed for help, but it seemed like a heavy black cloud hung over him, shutting out the Spirit.
“What if I never forget that awful TV show?” he worried.
A few days ago, he had finished his homework early and flipped on the TV. But he hadn’t expected to see something like that on the screen. Tate was so shocked that he forgot to turn off the television as quickly as he should have.
It was an accident. He hadn’t meant to watch a scene like that, but now he couldn’t forget it. Sometimes it popped into his head in the middle of school, at the dinner table—even during church. At times like that, he was glad Mom and Dad couldn’t read his mind. Tate’s parents had taught him not to look at pictures of people without clothes on. He knew that they also expected him to avoid violent TV shows, movies, and video games.
“Now I know why,” Tate mumbled to himself.
Tate got out of bed and onto his knees again. What could he do?
“Heavenly Father,” Tate whispered. “Please help me stop thinking about what I saw.” He wiped away the tears that had been forming in his eyes and listened. His heart beat faster. He thought he felt the Holy Ghost prompting him, but it wasn’t the answer he wanted.
He needed to tell his parents.
“Why?” Tate wondered. He would feel like a baby going into his parents’ room in the middle of the night. And to tell them? He felt embarrassed and sick all over again.
Then a clear thought came into his mind: Heavenly Father wanted him to be happy. Heavenly Father wanted him to feel the Spirit again, to think about good things, and to be honest with his family. He especially wanted Tate to become a worthy Aaronic Priesthood holder when he turned 12 in a few months. Tate realized that if he held on to what he had seen and kept it a secret, he would stay unhappy about it.
Tate knew he needed help—and the Holy Ghost had just told him where to find it.
Tate looked at the digital clock’s glowing numbers beside his bed. It was nearly 1:00 in the morning. He stood up and headed into the dark hallway toward his parents’ room. Swallowing nervously, he tapped on their door.
“Mom? Dad?”
“Tate, is that you?” came Mom’s sleepy voice.
“Is something wrong?” Dad asked.
“Yeah,” Tate said. “Can we talk? And can I maybe get a blessing?”
Dad clicked on his bedside lamp and invited Tate inside. For the first time in days, Tate felt warmth, hope, and light.

A few years ago I felt a strong desire to reread all the standard works; at that time I did not realize that God was preparing me for something yet to come. I began with the Doctrine and Covenants and learned new insights that I had not considered before. I can truly say that I came to better understand the idea of feasting on the words of Christ: every day I was thrilled to read more, and reading rekindled my testimony of the Savior and of the Prophet Joseph Smith.

Shortly after starting to study the Doctrine and Covenants, I was called to teach a youth Sunday School class, and, to my surprise, which of the standard works were they studying that year? Yes, the Doctrine and Covenants. I knew that it was not by coincidence that I had felt the inclination to read the Doctrine and Covenants at that particular moment. If we allow Him to, God directs our lives and prepares us for what is yet to come.

Nothing prepared me for the day when my wife of 10 years said she wanted to leave the Church and our marriage. True, each of us had lacked maturity, kindness, forgiveness, and love, but I wanted to keep trying to improve our marriage. She, however, did not.
I felt that I was honoring my covenants, studying the scriptures enthusiastically, and serving dutifully in my ward bishopric. But after my wife left, I became so bewildered, angry, and confused that I would wake up in the middle of the night in agony. Tears flowed, and I would do the only thing I could do—pray for hours.
I felt like the driver of a car who was driving safely but was then suddenly struck by another car careening out of control. Wasn’t my obedience supposed to shield me from calamity?
I wondered if ward members thought I was a fraud. I was a ward leader whose family was contrary to the image of a model family. How could I face ward members when my life felt broken? Because I felt inadequate, I concluded that I should ask to be released from my calling.
“If you struggle with feelings of inadequacy, you shouldn’t,” my bishop said. “We are all human and make mistakes.”
Five difficult years later, I noticed I had changed. I was more loving and forgiving. My soul was calmer. I saw my weaknesses as opportunities to be refined by the Holy Ghost (see Ether 12:27).
In time, I met a wonderful woman with two children from a previous marriage. She became my wife in 2020. I’ve been happy ever since. My nightly tears of anguish now flow as tears of gratitude. The Lord is pouring out so many blessings.

This counsel from the prophet helped one young man make an important decision.
“The month before this talk came out I was struggling with the decision of getting a tattoo,” he wrote. “I knew that it wasn’t a choice thing to do, but I still wavered in the thought of it being a sin. When the talk came out I knew there would be a wise purpose behind not getting a tattoo. I am so thankful the Lord would care enough about my friends and me that He would send a prophet to give us this message. Because of that talk I now enjoy having a body with no markings, and I have no regrets.”

Dear Reed,
Our den wanted to do a kind deed for the Morales family, so we invited our friends and neighbors to help us. It wasn’t a ward-sponsored project. We collected blankets and winter clothes, and some people gave us money. Dad put the money in the bank and has enclosed a check. We sent a big box of stuff today, but you should get this letter first.
It was a lot of work, but we all feel great.
Love,Buddy
Querido (Dear) Buddy May,
Your muy amable (very kind) brother gave us una caja grande (a big box) of warm clothes and blankets. He also gave us money for to buy food and medicina (medicine). He explained that you and your Scout friends and neighbors sent all these wonderful things.
My family is muy agradecida (very grateful) for todo (everything). And now that I am sano otra vez (healthy again), I can find another job.
Espero que (I hope that) you can understand my letter. I do not always have the English words I want. God bless you and your friends.
Sinceramente (Sincerely),Jorge Morales

By the end of May 1829, the same kind of persecution Joseph had experienced in Manchester began occurring in Harmony, and Joseph realized he would need to move again to complete the translation. Along with his wife, Emma, and his scribe, Oliver Cowdery, Joseph was taken into the household of some acquaintances: Peter and Mary Whitmer of Fayette Township, New York.

Mary Whitmer was shown the plates by a heavenly messenger. As far as we know, she never committed her experience to writing. But Mary shared her experience with her children and grandchildren, who later shared it with others. Her grandson John C. Whitmer related, “I have heard my grandmother (Mary M. Whitmer) say on several occasions that she was shown the plates of the Book of Mormon by an holy angel.”15

Mary Whitmer was shown the plates by a heavenly messenger.

Mary Whitmer and Moroni, by Robert Pack

Her son David said that “she was met out near the yard by [an] old man.” Grandson John said this man was “carrying something on his back that looked like a knapsack” and that “at first she was a little afraid of him.” However, “when he spoke to her in a kind, friendly tone and began to explain to her the nature of the work which was going on in her house, she was filled with unexpressible joy and satisfaction.”

John provided further detail on the wonderful witness of the sacred record that Mary received at that time: “He then untied his knapsack and showed her a bundle of plates. … This strange person turned the leaves of the book of plates over, leaf after leaf, and also showed her the engravings upon them; the personage then suddenly vanished with the plates, and where he went, she could not tell.”

John stated: “I knew my grandmother to be a good, noble and truthful woman, and I have not the least doubt of her statement in regard to seeing the plates being strictly true. She was a strong believer in the Book of Mormon until the day of her death.”16

Mary’s son David would become one of the Three Witnesses, who were shown the plates by an angel when the translation was complete. Moreover, Mary’s other sons would be among the Eight Witnesses to whom Joseph Smith showed the plates, who got to heft and handle the plates uncovered and to turn the plates and observe their ancient engravings.17

Beep! Beep! Beep! Trevan woke up and turned off his alarm clock. Eight days until my baptism, he thought. That meant his interview with the bishop would be soon. But what if I’m not ready?
That night the missionaries came over for dinner. Taco night was Trevan’s favorite, but it was always more fun with the missionaries. They could even play a game of scripture charades after dinner—as long as Trevan and his sister listened to the lesson first.
“Tonight we have a message about baptism,” Sister Carlisle said.
Trevan jumped in his seat. “I’m getting baptized next week!”
“That’s great!” Sister Carlisle gave him a high five. “Are you excited?”
“I guess so, but I’m kind of worried about talking to the bishop,” Trevan said. “What if I don’t know the answers?”
“It’s OK to be nervous,” Sister Kemp said. “But I bet you know more than you think. Why do you think it’s important to be baptized?”
Trevan wasn’t sure. “To be obedient?”
“Right!” said Sister Kemp. She held up a picture of Jesus. “Baptism is so important that Jesus was baptized, even though He never sinned. When we’re baptized, we make covenants, or promises, with Heavenly Father.”
“Do you know what promises you’ll be making?” asked Sister Carlisle.
“I think so!” said Trevan. “We learned this at home evening last week, right Mom?”
Mom nodded. “We can remember our covenants by remembering the word ‘take.’ Can you remember what the letters stand for?”
Trevan looked at his sister Cassidy for help. “T stands for taking His name upon us,” she said. “A, always remembering Him.”
“I know the next one!” said Trevan. “K is for keeping the commandments.”
“You got it,” said Mom. “And E is for enduring to the end.”
“That means following Jesus my whole life. And repenting when I make mistakes,” Trevan said.
“Awesome!” said Sister Carlisle. “And when we keep those promises, do you know what Heavenly Father promises to give us in return?”
“Uh, blessings?” Trevan asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “Heavenly Father promises to forgive us when we repent. He also promises that the Holy Ghost will guide us.”
Trevan nodded. It was starting to make more sense.
Sister Carlisle pulled out a notebook. “If you’re nervous about the questions the bishop will ask you, we can go over them together.” She turned a few pages and read the first question. “Do you have faith in and a testimony of the Savior Jesus Christ?”
“Yeah,” said Trevan. He relaxed as Sister Carlisle read the other questions. “Those are easy,” he said when she finished.
“They are,” Sister Carlisle said. “But it’s still important for the bishop to ask them. He wants to make sure you feel ready to make covenants with Heavenly Father.”
At the end of the lesson, Sister Kemp shared her testimony. “I know Heavenly Father loves us because He hears and answers our prayers.”
“I know that too!” said Trevan. “This morning I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me know if I’m ready to be baptized.”
“And how do you feel now?” Sister Kemp asked.
“I don’t feel so worried anymore,” Trevan said. “I feel ready!”

The storehouse began in early 1932, when then-stake president (later 11th President of the Church) Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) and his counselors met with bishops in the Pioneer Stake. “It was decided after a good discussion that they better do something and do it quickly,” Elder Rudd said. “It was decided that they would build a storehouse and learn how to fill it.”
Stake leaders obtained the free use of a building on Pierpont Avenue and volunteers got the facility ready. Members of the Pioneer Stake fasted on the day of the official opening and brought their contributions to the storehouse.
“It was an interesting thing that by the time it was finished, there was enough food and other items contributed to fill the storehouse,” wrote Elder Rudd in a report about the storehouse. “Also, there was a spirit throughout the stake like there had never been before—just plain brotherly love.”

While I served as a bishop, I watched a young man in my ward progress as a deacon, teacher, and priest. He then prepared to serve a mission. He was shy and quiet, and he came from a family that wasn’t very active in the gospel.
The Sunday he was going to speak before leaving on his mission, I asked if his talk was prepared.
“Yes,” he said. He opened a manila folder and showed me his talk.
“That’s wonderful,” I said. “But I want to do an experiment. Will you speak from your heart instead?”
“You want me to do what?” he said.
“I trust you,” I said. “Just speak from your heart. I know you will do great things in this meeting. I’ll be right next to you if you need me.”
He gave me his talk. I’ll never forget how nervous he was as the other speakers spoke before him. But when it came time for him to speak, he got up and gave a powerful message. The whole congregation was captured by this shy boy who had become a spokesman for the Lord.
The real miracle came after the meeting. Three of his friends who had previously told me they weren’t going to serve missions came up to me with tear-filled eyes. Each of them said, “I want to go on a mission.” This young man’s testimony convinced them that they needed to serve. All three of them served successful missions. This young man is now a father and is still engaged in the gospel of Jesus Christ. He has also helped bring many members of his family back into the Church.

Several years ago I heard Elder Gerald N. Lund of the Quorum of the Seventy describe a magazine article about a school that taught people how to rock climb. The article discussed the concept of belaying—the fail-safe system that protects climbers. One climber gets into a safe position, fastens the rope securely in a fixed position, then calls to his companion, “You’re on belay”—meaning, “I’ve got you.” The director of the school, Alan Czenkusch, described his experience with belaying to the author of the article:

Belaying has brought Czenkusch his best and worst moments in climbing. Czenkusch once fell from a high precipice, yanking out three mechanical supports and pulling his belayer off a ledge. He was stopped, upside down, 10 feet from the ground when his spread-eagled belayer arrested the fall with the strength of his outstretched arms.

“Don saved my life,” says Czenkusch. “How do you respond to a guy like that? Give him a used climbing rope for a Christmas present? No, you remember him. You always remember him.” [In Eric G. Anderson, “The Vertical Wilderness,” Private Practice, November 1979, 21]

And bishops, it is important that we help them to understand and appreciate what the priesthood means. When I was a bishop I had six boys in my ward old enough to be ordained elders. I could only recommend five of them, because one of them wasn’t ready. We had talked about it several times, and he had said to me, “I am not worthy.” He felt very bad about it, but he didn’t expect to be recommended to the stake president. His uncle came to me and said, “You are surely not going to hold that boy back with his five friends going forward.” He pled with me to let him go. He said, “You will be driving him out of the Church if you don’t.”

I explained to this man, “The priesthood is the most important thing that we can give this boy. We are not handing the priesthood out on a silver platter. This boy and I understand each other, and he is not ready to be ordained an elder.” And he wasn’t recommended.

A few years later I was attending a general conference right here on this Temple Square, and a young man came up to me and said, “President Tanner, you wouldn’t remember me. I am the boy whom you didn’t recommend to be ordained an elder.” As he put his hand out, he said, “I want to thank you for it. I am a bishop now in California. If you had recommended me when I wasn’t worthy, I possibly never would have appreciated what the priesthood is and what is expected of one, and surely I would never have been a bishop as I am today.”

In our family, we have been immeasurably blessed as two decades ago, a young 16-year-old learned that she was expecting a child. She and the baby’s father were not married, and they could see no way forward together. The young woman believed the life she was carrying was precious. She gave birth to a baby girl and allowed a righteous family to adopt her as their own. For Bryce and Jolinne, she was an answer to their prayers. They named her Emily and taught her to trust in her Heavenly Father and in His Son, Jesus Christ.
Emily grew up. How grateful we are that Emily and our grandson, Christian, fell in love and were married in the house of the Lord. Emily and Christian now have their own little girl.
Emily recently wrote: “Throughout these last nine months of pregnancy, I had time to reflect on the events [of] my own birth. I thought of my birth mother, who was just 16 years old. As I experienced the aches and changes that pregnancy brings, I couldn’t help but imagine how difficult it would have been at the young age of 16. … The tears flow even now as I think of my birth mother, who knew she couldn’t give me the life [she desired for me and unselfishly placed] me for adoption. I can’t fathom what she might have gone through in those nine months—being watched with judging eyes as her body changed, the teen experiences she missed, knowing that at the end of this labor of motherly love, she would place her child into the arms of another. I am so thankful for her selfless choice, that she did not choose to use her agency in a way that would take away my own.” Emily concludes, “I’m so thankful for Heavenly Father’s divine plan, for my incredible parents who [loved and cared for] me, and for temples where we can be sealed to our families for eternity.”

I don’t know how many times people had told us to make friends, but one day in Miss Cocks’s third grade class, that was exactly what Aubrey, Shanae, and I did. We actually “made” a friend.
At first our friend didn’t have a lot of personality. She was a little bit flat and colorless because we made her out of sheets of white drawing paper that we taped together and cut out into the rough shape of a girl. Then we drew a face on her, propped her up in a chair, and slid her up to the desk.
Shanae, Aubrey, and I didn’t actually need a friend. We just needed a body, someone or something to take up space so that Miss Cocks wouldn’t assign another someone to sit with us.
All of the desks in the classroom were arranged in groups of four. There was an odd number of students in the room. Two groups had only three students, and Aubrey, Shanae, and I felt lucky to end up together with no one sitting in the fourth desk.
We really didn’t want anybody else joining us. So when Shanae took a note to the office for Miss Cocks and saw a new student, she hurried back to class with the awful news.
“Brittany,” she whispered to me, “there’s a new boy in the office, and I think he’s coming to our room. What if we get stuck with him?”
“A boy will ruin everything,” I muttered.
That’s when Shanae, Aubrey, and I decided to make our friend. We had to work fast, but we had her propped in the empty chair when Mr. Yost, the principal, escorted Jesse to our classroom.
Miss Cocks’s gaze settled first on our group. We all giggled. “Our group is full,” I announced. “We made a friend during art, and she’s sitting right there—see?”
“I didn’t know that you girls could make a friend so quickly,” Miss Cocks said, trying to hold back her own smile. She was sort of used to Aubrey and me, because she was the Primary president in our ward. She shrugged. “I guess Jesse will get to sit by Melissa in the other group.”
After Jesse was properly introduced to the class, Shanae, Aubrey, and I fixed up our friend, carefully using our scissors to give her a better shape. We got out our crayons and colored her face and glued on yellow construction-paper hair. We also painted a dress and shoes on her.
Later, when Miss Cocks started our social studies lesson, she turned to us. “Oh, by the way, Brittany, you girls haven’t had a chance to introduce your friend to the class. After all, she’s new, too.”
She caught all three of us by surprise. At first we just sat there. Then I got an idea. My favorite cousin’s name was Kerstin, so I took a deep breath, stood up, and pointed at our homemade friend. “Class,” I explained, “this is our new friend, Kerstin.”
“Where did she live before she came here?” Miss Cocks wanted to know.
I cleared my throat. “Oh, she lived in a big, dark forest. In fact, I think she was a tree.” I grinned.
Shanae stood up next to me and added, “And we hope all of you will be especially nice to her. She’s not used to being around so many people.”
“She doesn’t talk very much,” Aubrey joined in. “She’s very shy, so if you’d like to tell her something, you’ll have to talk to one of us.”
Most of the guys in the class rolled their eyes and the girls mostly snickered. Miss Cocks raised her eyebrows but only said, “Kerstin, I’m glad that you were able to get out of the big, dark forest. It’s nice to have you in our class. And,” she added solemnly, “I hope some of your quietness will rub off onto your three friends.”
That’s how Kerstin came to be our friend. We might have forgotten all about her, wadded her up, and thrown her into the trash at the end of the day. But as Miss Cocks was passing out our social studies crossword puzzle, she skipped Kerstin. Shanae raised her hand and pointed out, “You didn’t give Kerstin one.” She covered her mouth to hide a grin.
“Does Kerstin know how to do crossword puzzles?” Miss Cocks asked. “Coming from the big, dark forest, she probably doesn’t even know what the states are, and a person has to know the states in order to do this crossword puzzle.”
“Kerstin is a little slow,” Aubrey spoke up.
“But we’ll help her,” I volunteered. “That’s what friends are for.”
Miss Cocks considered a moment, then set a crossword puzzle in front of Kerstin. “Kerstin,” she said slowly, “if you have any questions, just ask one of your three very silly friends.”
Shanae, Aubrey, and I hurried through our own puzzles. As we worked together on Kerstin’s, we carefully explained to her what we were doing and why. The rest of the kids in the class shook their heads and muttered under their breaths.
When it was time for recess, I raised my hand.
“Is it all right if Kerstin stays in during recess? She has a bad cold.”
“That’s why she’s so pale,” Aubrey joined in.
“Besides,” Shanae added, “she doesn’t have a coat.”
“Then I think Kerstin had better stay in,” Miss Cocks agreed. “She can keep me company.”
When we returned from recess, Miss Cocks announced, “Only one person had a hundred percent on the crossword puzzle. Our new student Kerstin got every one of them correct.”
“If she got a hundred,” I protested, “the rest of us had to get a hundred, too.”
Miss Cocks shook her head. “Well, you missed 7-Across, Shanae missed 17-Down, and Aubrey missed 22-Across.” Miss Cocks smiled at Kerstin. “Maybe tomorrow you can help your friends a little with their work. They seem to need it.”
The next day Kerstin was still sitting patiently in her chair, just as we had left her.
During language arts, when Miss Cocks was explaining the difference between singular and plural nouns, Kerstin answered a question and Reggie Burke muttered loudly, “Kerstin’s got to be the ugliest, dumbest looking girl I’ve ever seen.”
“Don’t you ever talk about our friend that way,” Shanae fiercely burst out. “She can’t help the way she is. Maybe if you had grown up in the middle of some trees, you’d look just like she does.”
Aubrey and I nodded and glared at Reggie. Miss Cocks smiled and added, “That’s right, Reggie, we don’t want anyone in our class speaking unkindly about anyone else.”
He sank down in his seat. “It’s only a dumb paper doll.”
After that, a few more boys tried to make fun of Kerstin, but we stood up for her. We even redid her face so that she’d be prettier. We changed her clothes and said nice things to her. When Bobby Rice pointed out how skinny she was, we decided that from then on, we’d take her to lunch with us. We made her a paper jacket and took her out for recess. We even picked out an imaginary birthday for her that was a week away and posted it on Miss Cocks’s “birthday board.”
The day of Kerstin’s birthday, when Mr. Yost announced students’ birthdays over the intercom, he said, “And we have a new student in Miss Cocks’s class who is having a birthday today. Happy birthday, Kerstin!”
Kerstin was one of the most wonderful things that happened to us in third grade. Each day we thought up something new to do with her, and Miss Cocks and the rest of the class played along with us. Kerstin even won the math game. She was voted the best-behaved student in class. Hers was the best art project.
It seemed as though Kerstin had always been with us. So it was a shock one Monday morning to discover that Kerstin was no longer at her desk.
Miss Cocks motioned for us to follow her outside the classroom. “Kerstin moved away,” Miss Cocks said softly. She held up her hands and shook her head when we started to protest. “It happened rather suddenly.”
“You mean we can’t have her in class anymore?” Shanae asked sadly. “We’ll try not to be so silly.”
Miss Cocks shook her head. “It isn’t that. Kerstin wanted me to tell you all how much she appreciated your special kindness these last few weeks.” She looked at Aubrey and me. “Do you remember in Sharing Time yesterday how I talked about treating others the way Jesus Christ would want us to treat them?”
Aubrey and I nodded.
“Well, I thought of you three girls and Kerstin when I was saying those things. I think that you’ve learned that lesson well.”
Miss Cocks was quiet for a moment. “Kerstin wanted to ask a special favor of you three. I think it’s the same favor Jesus would ask if He were here. There’s another girl coming today. She’s a bit shy. She isn’t from a big, dark forest—she’s very real. Unfortunately she doesn’t live with her mother and dad. She lives in a foster home. Life hasn’t been easy for her. More than anything, she needs a safe, kind, loving place to go to school. Kerstin thought that this was the very best place in the world, and she was sure that no one could find three better friends than Shanae, Aubrey, and Brittany. Of course, I agreed.”
For a long time we were all quiet, truly missing Kerstin, but happy about making a new, real friend. It felt good to look forward to new people, rather than try to avoid them.
Aubrey asked, “What’s her name?”
“Brandy. And if you treat her the way you treated Kerstin, she will think that this is the most wonderful place in the world.”
“I guess we’d better get her desk ready. When will she be here?”
“I think that Mr. Yost will be bringing her in a few minutes.”
“If I were a new student,” Aubrey said, “I don’t think I’d want the principal to escort me to class. I’d want my three new best friends to go to the office and get me.”
Miss Cocks smiled. “I think you’re right. I think that Brandy would want that very much.”
That is how Shanae, Aubrey, and I made our second friend in third grade. And as we brought Brandy to our room, helped her with her assignments, took her to lunch, and protected her from the boys’ teasing, I sometimes thought of the One who is a very special Friend of us all.

The war over, Alexandria planned to return to her parents. But she became ill, spent two weeks in a hospital, and missed her train. That was a blessing, she now realizes; returning Russians faced great struggles, and living conditions were much better in Germany than in Russia. While living in a displaced-persons camp in 1945, Alexandria met a handsome American soldier on a blind date. After months of courtship, they were married, and two years later Sergeant Ronnie Graybeal brought his young bride to the United States.