My Brother and the Resurrection
By Alison Palmer
Friend, Jan 2009, 4–5
(Based on a true story)
But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever; and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him (Moroni 7:47).
Marie looked out the car window as she and her Primary class drove to the nursing home. She hoped none of the girls noticed the tears that filled her eyes. When Sister Gibson had suggested the talent show for an activity day, it seemed like such a good idea. Every girl had gone to work planning the talent she would share. Marie had tried, but she hadn’t been able to come up with anything to do.
A couple of the girls were playing the piano. One girl was playing the violin, and one was singing. Another was reciting a poem she’d written, and Marie’s best friend, Shelley, was going to do a backflip. Andrea wasn’t performing, but she had made cookies for everybody to have after the show.
The more Marie thought about the talent show, the more she was convinced that she didn’t have any talents. She wasn’t even sure why she had come. Sister Gibson had tried to make her feel better, telling her that she hadn’t yet discovered a very special talent that Heavenly Father had given her. But that was hard for Marie to believe. She didn’t think she’d ever be good at anything.
The gathering room at the nursing home was quiet. There were old people everywhere, and that made Marie even more nervous. She didn’t know what to say to them or how to act. The other girls seemed to feel the same way too. They were huddled together, shyly looking around until Sister Gibson showed them where to sit.
Marie still felt bad as the program started. Then, just after the first piano solo, she heard someone coughing behind her. Marie turned around and saw a gray-haired woman whose body shook with each cough.
Marie stopped thinking about herself and started to worry about the woman. She quietly dug a hard candy out of her pocket and went to the woman. She put her hand on the woman’s shoulder and held out the small gift. When the wrinkled hand reached for it and the woman smiled at her, Marie felt happiness and peace.
Marie stayed by the woman for the rest of the program. She held her hand and sometimes told her about what was happening. It felt good to be doing something for someone else, and it kept her from feeling sorry for herself.
When it was time to leave, the woman hugged Marie and whispered, “Thank you for talking to me. You have a real talent for making people feel loved.” On the way back to the church, Marie was grateful to know that she did have a talent after all. When she served others, she felt Heavenly Father’s love, and she helped others feel His love too. That was a pretty special talent to have.
Joseph’s Journey
By Amy Weir
Friend, Jan 2009, 10–12
(Based on the life of Joseph Toronto)
Inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall prosper in the land (2 Nephi 1:20).
Joseph Toronto woke up in a panic and looked around the ship’s dark cabin. Pulling the scratchy wool blanket up to his chin, he realized that it was just a dream that had awakened him. He’d been dreaming about how the missionaries who had recently baptized him counseled him to go to Nauvoo. But Joseph loved being on the sea in the sunshine and salty air. Even though he couldn’t swim—none of the sailors could—he planned on spending his whole life out on the water.
Joseph went back to sleep, listening to the gentle creaking of his small ship and the other ships in the harbor as they rocked in the ocean.
The next time he awoke it was morning, and Joseph heard his fellow sailors already at work. Joseph felt troubled about the dream. Pushing the feeling away, he got up and prepared for a long day of trading and selling fruits and vegetables.
It was 1845, and Boston Harbor was one of the busiest trading ports in the world. Ships large and small from many countries sailed to this harbor to trade their products for American goods. Joseph was the captain of his ship, and he had sailed from his home country of Italy to do the same.
On deck, Joseph secured the cargo as his men brought up the anchor. They were going to sail across the harbor to meet with other traders, but a flash of lightning on the horizon made Joseph uneasy. Dark storm clouds were gathering in the sky. Still, Joseph and his crew headed out, sure that they could make it before the storm hit. But they were only halfway across the harbor when the wind started churning up the water. All the ships in the harbor were being tossed around like toys.
Rain poured down, and the rumble of thunder mixed with the sound of Joseph yelling orders to his men to secure the sails and get below. They quickly tied the sails to the tall mast so the fabric wouldn’t rip in the wind, then ran to the lower decks for safety.
Joseph glanced around the top deck to make sure all his men were below, then looked up to see another ship being thrown straight at them by the wind. He jumped toward the door to the lower decks, but the two ships collided and everything went overboard, including Joseph.
To be continued …
By Michelle Fransen
Friend, Jan 2009, 28–30
(Based on a true story)
Cease from anger (Psalm 37:8).
Cora was having a bad day. The dog jumped on her with muddy paws and got her favorite shirt dirty. She accidentally hit her head with a toy. Her sister wouldn’t play the game Cora wanted to play, and Cora got in trouble with Mom for arguing with her sister.
“I’m having a bad day!” Cora said as tears filled her eyes. “You are choosing to have a bad day,” Mom said.
“You can choose to have a good day instead.”
Cora felt mad. “No, I can’t!” she cried. “I’m having a bad day!”
Mom held Cora while she cried. “Have you tried praying?” she whispered into Cora’s ear. “Maybe you should ask Heavenly Father for help.”
“I don’t want to pray,” Cora said.
“Sometimes it’s hard to feel like praying, but that is when we need to pray most of all,” Mom said. “Let’s pray together. I’ll pray first, and then you can pray.” Mom folded her arms around Cora.
Cora did not want to listen to her mom’s prayer. Everything had gone wrong, and she wanted to be mad. She was mad at the dog, the toy, and her sister. She was even mad at Mom. But something inside Cora whispered, “It’s time to pray. You need to listen.”
Reluctantly, Cora bowed her head and closed her eyes. As Mom prayed, Cora felt her anger fading. In its place she began to feel peace and love.
But then she remembered what had happened to put her in such a bad mood. As she thought about her anger, the good feelings went away. Cora felt torn. She liked the sweet feeling of peace she had started to feel, but she was still mad and wanted to stay mad. Which should she choose?
Mom ended the prayer and said, “OK, now it’s your turn, Cora.”
Cora folded her arms and bowed her head. All the while, her anger fought to stay in her mind. She wondered about the good feelings she had felt during her mother’s prayer—were those from Heavenly Father? Could He really make her feel better? With those questions in her head, she began to pray. She told Heavenly Father that she was having a bad day and that she was mad. She told Him everything that had happened and asked if He would help her feel better.
At that moment, she knew what she needed to ask for. She told Heavenly Father that she did not want to be angry anymore and asked Him if He would take the angry feelings away.
As Cora prayed, she felt the peace and love return. This time she wanted those feelings to stay. She thought about the things that she had been angry about, and they didn’t seem to matter anymore. In fact, she couldn’t remember why she had gotten so angry in the first place. Cora finished her prayer and looked at Mom.
“Mommy, I feel better now! Heavenly Father answered my prayer!”
Cora’s mom hugged her tight. “Sweetie, I am so happy for you. And I know Heavenly Father is pleased with you for praying.”
“Heavenly Father must love us a lot if He wants to help us be happy,” Cora said.
“Yes, He does, Cora. He loves us very much.”
“Mommy, can I go now? I want to play with my sister again,” Cora said. She was ready to have a good day.
By Lana Krumwiede
Friend, Jan 2009, 38–40
(Based on a true story)
The Lord blessed the sabbath day, and hallowed it (Mosiah 13:19).
Ben rested his arm on the suitcase next to him in the car. Mom and Dad were driving him to Grandpa’s house. Ben was going to stay with his grandpa for one whole week. No brothers, no baby sister—just Ben and Grandpa.
Ben had talked to Grandpa about their week together. Grandpa said it was Ben’s week and they could do all of Ben’s favorite things. Ben looked out the window. Did he remember to pack everything? He had packed his lucky fishing hat, his sunglasses, and his favorite books.
“Now, remember,” Mom said from the front seat, “Grandpa isn’t a member of our church. He’s a good person and a good grandpa. But some things at his house will seem different to you.”
“Like what?” Ben knew his grandpa didn’t go to church. But he hadn’t thought about how that would be different.
“You might have to remind him that you don’t drink iced tea,” Dad said.
“OK,” Ben said.
“You won’t be able to go to church on Sunday, but you can keep the Sabbath day holy in other ways,” Mom said.
“I will,” Ben said.
When they arrived at Grandpa’s house, Grandpa was waiting for them on the porch. Ben was the first one out of the car. “Grandpa!”
“How’s my favorite seven-year-old?” Grandpa gave Ben a big hug. “Are you ready for your very own special week? You get to choose what we do together.”
“Can we go fishing?” Ben asked. “I brought my lucky fishing hat.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said.
“And can we go to the zoo?” Ben asked. “I brought my sunglasses.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said.
“And can we read together?” Ben asked. “I brought my favorite books.”
“Sure we can,” Grandpa said. “And I think we need a shopping trip so you can pick out a toy at the store.”
“Wow,” Ben said. “This is going to be a great week!”
On Friday, Grandpa and Ben went fishing.
On Saturday, Grandpa and Ben went to the zoo.
The next day, Grandpa made pancakes for breakfast. “Today is our shopping day,” Grandpa said.
“Yippee!” Ben exclaimed. “What kind of toy should I get?”
Then Ben remembered—it was Sunday. How could he explain to Grandpa about not shopping on Sunday?
After breakfast Ben said a prayer in his room. He asked Heavenly Father to help him explain to Grandpa about keeping the Sabbath day holy.
After the prayer Ben sat on his bed. Grandpa called to Ben, “Just let me put on my shoes, and we’ll be off.”
Ben took a deep breath and stood up. He found Grandpa tying his shoes.
“Grandpa, thank you for taking me fishing and to the zoo. But I think today we should take a rest.”
“What do you mean?” Grandpa asked. “I promised to take you shopping.”
“I know, but do you think we could go another day?”
“Are you OK? Are you sick?”
“No, Grandpa,” Ben said. “Today is Sunday. At my house we don’t go shopping on Sunday.”
Grandpa didn’t say anything.
“Can we stay home today?” Ben asked. “We can take a walk. We can read books.”
Grandpa smiled at Ben. “Sure we can,” he said. “It’s your very own week, so you get to choose.”
Ben gave Grandpa a big hug. “I knew this would be a great week,” Ben said.
By Diane Iverson
Friend, Jan 2009, 42–43
(Based on a true story)
Of all that thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto thee (Genesis 28:22).
Ali looked glumly at her tithing jar. Every time she earned money, she divided it into a jar for tithing, a jar for savings, and a jar for spending money. She had worked hard helping a neighbor stack firewood and pull weeds, but her older sister Carrie had tended the neighbors’ dog and worked picking raspberries for a whole week during the summer. Carrie had earned more money, and her tithing jar showed it.
Today the family would be attending tithing settlement and discussing whether or not they had each paid a full tithe that year. Before church, Ali watched Carrie pour her money into a tithing envelope and fill out the slip. Ali tried not to cry when she counted out her own tithing, but tears burned the corners of her eyes. She didn’t want the Lord to be disappointed in her for paying less. Maybe she could ask her parents for a little extra money to put in her tithing envelope.
Timidly, she crept into the den where Dad was reading.
Dad looked up and motioned for Ali to come and sit on his lap. “Tell me what’s on your mind,” he said.
Ali bravely held the tears back. “Daddy, is my tithing too small?” she asked in nearly a whisper. “I earned $22.50 this year, so I only have $2.25 in tithing to give the bishop today. Carrie has way more than I do. Will Jesus or the bishop be mad at me?”
Dad smiled and looked into her eyes. “Ali, tithing is one-tenth of what we earn. Carrie did a lot of different jobs over the summer. She worked hard for what she earned, don’t you think?”
Ali remembered Carrie coming home from picking raspberries, looking tired and a little sunburned. She also remembered Carrie taking care of the Hamiltons’ dog. Ali nodded.
“You also worked really hard for your money,” Dad said. “Those pieces of firewood that you stacked were heavy and hurt your hands. You were even more tired after you weeded the garden. Isn’t that right?”
Ali easily remembered how heavy her arms had felt carrying all those huge pieces of wood, and how her hands had stung when she washed them after pulling weeds. She had worked hard.
“Ali,” Dad said, “it doesn’t matter to the Lord how much money a person earns as long as he or she works honestly for the money. Then He asks us to give back to Him just one-tenth of what we earned. It doesn’t matter if we earned a lot or a little, as long as we give 10 percent to the bishop.”
“So the bishop will be happy with both me and Carrie even though we have different amounts of tithing?” Ali asked.
“That’s right,” Dad said. “And Heavenly Father and Jesus will be pleased too.”
Ali could hardly speak because she was so happy. It all made sense. As long as she obeyed the commandments, the Lord would be happy with her. Now she could give the bishop $2.25 and feel just right about it in her heart.
By Sarah Cutler
Friend, Jan 2009, 46–47
(Based on a true story)
Chris sighed. “Do I have to go to school today?”
Mom looked up from tying Alicia’s shoes. “What’s the matter, Chris? You love school.”
“I used to,” Chris said. He took his little sister’s hand and started the walk to school.
“Today we’re going to make applesauce!” Alicia said as they walked down the hill. She loved her first-grade class. She reminded Chris of how he used to feel about school. Before they moved, he ran to school every morning because he was so excited to do math, work in his writing group, and do science experiments with his friends. Sometimes he played four square with Michael and Ryan at recess. Other times he stayed inside with Janet and Caleb so they could help their teacher organize the class’s books.
But now his family had moved to a new state, and even though he still got to learn about math and writing and science, it just wasn’t the same. Chris didn’t have a single friend at school. He walked into his classroom by himself, stared at his desk while his teacher talked, and sat alone at lunch. At recess he wandered around looking for shiny rocks, but he didn’t really want to keep them.
He tried to smile and be a good example for Alicia as he dropped her off at her classroom, but he just didn’t feel very excited about another lonely day.
“How did school go, Chris?” Mom asked when he got home.
“It was OK, I guess. I don’t really have any friends, though.”
“Do you remember what we talked about in family home evening yesterday?” Mom asked.
Chris tried to remember. Alicia had planned a game of musical chairs, Mom had picked out Primary songs to sing, and Chris had helped Mom make the treat. Then he remembered the lesson. “Dad told us about praying for help,” he said.
“That’s right,” Mom said. “I know you’ve been reading your scriptures about how much God loves us. Heavenly Father wants you to be happy, so if you have a problem, you can ask Him for help.”
“Do you think I could pray to Him to help me find friends?”
“Let’s try it,” Mom said.
As Chris said his prayers, he felt like Heavenly Father was right there, listening to him. The next day, as Chris walked to school with Alicia, he still felt a little lonely, so he said a prayer in his mind: “Please help me to find some friends at school today.”
School started just like every other day: he walked into his classroom by himself, stared at his desk while his teacher talked, and sat alone at lunch. But during afternoon recess Carlos from Chris’s class ran up to him. “Hi, Chris! I’m having a birthday party on Friday night.” Carlos handed Chris an orange invitation.
Chris was excited to get home and tell Mom about his new friend. He burst in the front door, but before he could say anything, Mom said, “Chris, I just got a phone call from Jared’s mom in our ward. She invited you to Jared’s birthday party at the zoo on Saturday morning.”
Chris was amazed. He told Mom all about Carlos’s birthday party. When he was finished, Mom handed him a letter. “This came in the mail,” she said.
Chris looked at the blue envelope. He never got any mail except from Grandma. He tore it open and inside was an invitation that read: “Dear Chris, you’re invited to my birthday party on Saturday night.” It was from another classmate.
Chris looked up at Mom. “Three birthday parties in one weekend?”
Mom smiled. “Heavenly Father answered your prayer.”
“That’s right,” Chris said. “I’m going to go thank Him right now.”
By Marianne Dahl Johnson
Friend, Feb 2009, 4–6
(Based on a true story)
Gather together in one the children of God (John 11:52).
“Remember that activity day is after school today,” Mom said at breakfast. Clarissa sighed. “I know.” “What’s wrong?” Mom asked. “I thought you loved activity day.” “It’s all right,” Clarissa said. “Remember how excited you were to go when you turned eight?” Mom asked. “And you like Sister Cobian.”
“She’s great,” Clarissa said. “It’s just hard because Ashley and I are the only two who go. I like Ashley, and she is always nice to me. But she is almost 12, and I just turned 9. I don’t really know what to say to her. It’s not that fun.”
Mom put her arm around Clarissa. “I’m sorry it’s hard sometimes. We have a small Primary without a lot of girls, but I’m sure you’ll have a good time this afternoon.”
After school Clarissa walked the one block to the church where they held activity day. Sister Cobian and Ashley greeted her happily. After the opening prayer Sister Cobian said, “I asked the Primary president about girls who are on the Primary rolls but don’t come to activity day or Primary. I have this list of the girls and their phone numbers. I thought that if we called them before each activity day, they might come join us.”
“That’s a great idea!” Clarissa exclaimed. “It would be fun to have more girls here.”
Sister Cobian smiled. “I’m glad you like the idea, because I want to ask you to call the girls before our next activity day.”
“Me?” Clarissa gulped. She wasn’t sure about that. Sister Cobian handed her the list. She knew all the girls from school, and some of them came to church occasionally. But it might be scary to call and invite them.
“Will you do it?” Sister Cobian asked.
Clarissa looked at the list again. Some of these girls were her age. Activity day would be a lot more fun if they came too. “Sure,” she said.
Before the next activity day, Clarissa called the girls on the list. She left messages or talked to all of them. It wasn’t hard at all.
The next day at school, Olivia, one of the girls Clarissa had called, asked her if they could walk to activity day together. Clarissa was thrilled! After school Clarissa and Olivia walked to the church together. When they entered the Primary room, Sister Cobian gave them a big smile.
Before the next activity day, Clarissa called the girls again. Olivia was excited to come again. Chelsea said she would come too. The next afternoon Clarissa felt so happy as she walked to the meetinghouse with Olivia and Chelsea.
That night Clarissa told her mother how fun activity day was with more girls. “I just wish Madison could come,” Clarissa said. “She’s my best friend.”
“Well, why can’t she?” Mom asked.
“Mom, she’s not on the list. She’s not a member of the Church.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Mom said. “You’ll be doing missionary work when you invite her. You’re already being a missionary by encouraging Olivia and Chelsea.”
Clarissa thought about that. When she called the activity-day girls again, she called Madison too. Madison asked her mom if she could go, and her mom said yes. Clarissa couldn’t believe how easy it was. She wondered why she hadn’t invited Madison months ago!
At activity day that week, Sister Cobian made an exciting announcement. At their next activity day, they were going to have a special guest teach them how to decorate cakes. Clarissa and Madison smiled at each other. That sounded fun! As they left that afternoon, Madison said, “Thanks for inviting me. I want to come next time to decorate cakes.”
The very next day, Clarissa started talking to all of her friends at school about the cake-decorating activity. Madison helped. Many of their friends said they wanted to come.
“There might be 15 girls at our next activity day,” Clarissa told her mother.
“Fifteen!” Mom exclaimed. “Where did you find that many girls?”
“I’ve been inviting all the girls in my class,” Clarissa said.
“That’s wonderful!” Mom said. “But you better let Sister Cobian know so she will be prepared for that many.”
Clarissa called Sister Cobian to tell her how many girls to expect. On activity day the Primary room was crowded with girls chattering and laughing as they decorated cakes. Sister Cobian winked at Clarissa and gave her a big smile.
Afterward Clarissa helped Sister Cobian clean up. Her friend Emily came to say good-bye. “Thanks,” she said shyly to Sister Cobian. “Is it OK if I invite my older sister and my two cousins next time?”
Sister Cobian smiled. “That would be great, Emily,” she said.
Clarissa could hardly wait for the next activity day!
By Patsy Pehrson
Friend, Feb 2009, 10–11
(Based on a true story)
I will be with you; and in whatsoever place ye shall proclaim my name an effectual door shall be opened unto you, that they may receive my word (D&C 112:19).
It was dusk as Micah knelt beside his bed with his younger brother, Noah, to say their prayers. He was still thinking about their neighbor, an older man named Sam. Just then Mom appeared in the doorway.
“I’m glad you two are going to say your prayers,” she said, smiling at the two brothers. “I’m going to include Sam in my prayers tonight,” Micah said.
“I’m going to ask him to come to church with us on Sunday, and I want Heavenly Father’s help when I ask him.”
“Do you think he will come to church with us?” Noah asked. “Our Primary teacher told us that Heavenly Father will be pleased when we invite our neighbors to go to church.”
“I know that Heavenly Father will help you ask Sam,” Mom said.
The next morning Micah and Noah awoke early. They were excited to talk with Sam. Sam had lived next door to Micah and Noah’s family long before Micah and Noah were born. Micah knew Sam had been very lonely since his wife died.
The boys made their beds without being reminded and quickly ate their breakfast before heading out the door.
“Are you scared?” Noah asked Micah.
“No. I think Sam is going to say yes,” Micah replied. “Well, maybe I’m a little scared,” he added.
The two ran toward Sam’s house. Micah was sure that Noah was as nervous as he was. What if Sam said no? What if Sam wouldn’t want to be their friend anymore and stopped taking them and Dad fishing?
They walked in silence up to Sam’s front door. Just as they knocked at the door, someone walked around the side of the house. “Hello, boys!” he said, walking toward them. “What are you two up to today?” Even though a large straw hat hid his face, the boys knew from the voice that it was Sam. And they knew that he was smiling.
“We came to visit you,” Micah said.
“Yeah,” Noah said. He quickly added, “Micah has something to ask you.”
Micah’s heart pounded in his chest. He took a deep breath and blurted out, “Will you come to church with us tomorrow? You can ride with us—we have plenty of room—and you can sit with us at church.”
“Well, I see your family leaving for church every Sunday, and I haven’t been to a church in a long time,” Sam said. “I think that would be OK for me to go to church with you this Sunday.”
“Yea!” both boys exclaimed at the same time.
Noah said, “We leave at 9:30. We’ll pick you up then!”
As the boys ran home, Micah turned and called to Sam, who was still smiling. “See you tomorrow morning at 9:30!”
As they entered their house, Mom and Dad were waiting for them.
“What did Sam say?” Dad asked. “Is he going to church with us?”
Micah grinned. “Yes. We said we’d pick him up at 9:30.”
That night when they said their prayers, Noah and Micah remembered to thank Heavenly Father for helping them ask Sam to go to church with them.
“I feel really happy,” Micah said.
“I do too,” Noah said.
The two boys climbed into their beds, and Micah remembered something their bishop had said in sacrament meeting the week before: “Every member a missionary!”
By Jane McBride Choate
Friend, Feb 2009, 16–17
(Based on a true story)
Tara listened as her mother talked excitedly on the phone.
“That’s wonderful, Kevin,” Mom said. Kevin was Tara’s older brother. “We’re so happy for you!” Mom continued. She was crying and laughing at the same time.
Mom hung up the phone and turned to Tara. “Kevin and Chrissy got a call from their social worker. He said that Family Services has a baby girl for them.”
Kevin and his wife, Chrissy, had not been able to have children. LDS Family Services was helping them to adopt a child.
Tara had special feelings about adoption. She had known since she was very young that she was adopted.
She never got tired of hearing the story of how she had come to her family.
Her parents had volunteered to become foster parents through the county’s social services department. Tara’s birth parents hadn’t been able to take care of her, and she had been placed in foster care. Her parents explained how police officers had brought Tara to them. Mom told her that she had been dressed in a diaper and a T-shirt and had been wrapped in a pink blanket. Tara now kept the blanket in a chest along with other special things.
“As soon as I held you in my arms, I knew that you were going to be an important part of our family,” her mother said when she told the story.
“Will Kevin and Chrissy take the baby to the temple?” Tara asked.
Her mother nodded. “After the adoption is final, Kevin and Chrissy will have her sealed to them, just like you were sealed to us.”
Eight years ago, when Tara was three years old, her parents had adopted her. Her whole family had gone to the Denver Colorado Temple for the sealing. The story always made Tara feel good.
“How does Heavenly Father know to send this baby to Kevin and Chrissy?” she asked.
“Heavenly Father cares about every one of His children and knows what is best for each of them.” Her mother sounded very sure of that.
“If I hadn’t come to this family, I might not be a member of the Church,” Tara said slowly. Belonging to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was a very important thing in her life.
“Heavenly Father also knew that you would be a big help to our family,” her mother added.
“How do I help you?” Tara asked.
Her mother smiled. “There are so many different ways that I can’t list them all.”
“Tell me one,” Tara said.
“You are kind and loving to others,” her mother said. “You’re a good example to the rest of us because you show that love all the time. That’s just one of your gifts.”
Tara reached up and hugged her mother. “I’m glad I came to this family.”
Her mother hugged Tara back. “I am too.”
Tara thought of something. “I’m going to be an aunt!”
“That’s right,” her mother said. “Aunt Tara.”
Tara grinned. “I like the sound of that.”
“Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs.”
By Amy Weir
Friend, Feb 2009, 28–30
(Based on the life of Joseph Toronto)
Why should I desire more than to perform the work to which I have been called? (Alma 29:6).
In Part 1, Joseph Toronto has recently been baptized, and the missionaries have counseled him to travel to Nauvoo. However, Joseph chooses to stay on his ship in Boston Harbor. When a fierce storm blows in and his ship collides with another, Joseph falls overboard.
Joseph kicked his legs and arms and tried to stay afloat in the stormy sea. But not knowing how to swim, he knew he probably wouldn’t last long. The rain made it impossible for him to see what had happened to his ship, and the waves kept pushing him deeper under the water. As he waved his arms around, hoping someone would see him, his hand hit something. It was a wooden barrel that must have gone overboard with him. He grabbed it and hung on, knowing that it was his only chance for survival.
After what seemed like several hours, the storm calmed, and Joseph saw his ship coming for him. After his men helped him on board, he went straight to his cabin. He changed into some dry clothes and lay on his bed in exhaustion, thinking about what had happened. He knew that finding the barrel had been a miracle.
Joseph remembered the Bible story of Jonah, the prophet who had run away from what God had commanded him to do. Jonah had tried to sail far away from the wicked people he was supposed to preach the gospel to, only to be thrown overboard and swallowed by a whale. The whale spat him out on a beach three days later. Jonah repented and went to teach the wicked people.
God saved Jonah from drowning because He had a job for Jonah to do. Did God save Joseph from drowning because Joseph had a job to do? Joseph thought of the missionaries who had wanted him to go to Nauvoo. He thought of how he had stayed in the harbor instead. Joseph asked Heavenly Father for forgiveness, then went on deck as the ship arrived at its destination on the other side of the harbor.
After a few days, Joseph found a buyer for his damaged ship. Along with his life savings, he had $2,600 in gold coins, which made him a very rich man. But Joseph wasn’t tempted to spend the coins on himself. Instead, he put the money in some small cans, tied them around his waist, and headed for Nauvoo.
It took three weeks of wagon rides and walking to get there. During the hot, rough journey Joseph looked forward to meeting other members of the Church. He imagined Nauvoo as a beautiful community with friendly people who would welcome and accept him.
But when he arrived in Nauvoo, the town was in disarray. The people were poor, and a half-built temple stood at one end of town with hardly anybody working on it. The people were certainly friendly, and they did accept him, but Joseph began to wonder why God wanted him in this broken-down town. He missed his ship and the open water—what was he supposed to do now?
To be continued …
By Cindy and Jeanne Fischer
Friend, Feb 2009, 38–40
(Based on a true story)
Thy friends do stand by thee, and they shall hail thee again with warm hearts and friendly hands (D&C 121:9).
I’m nine years old and in the third grade. I love gymnastics, and last January I had worked hard preparing for a gymnastics exhibition. But as I sat and shivered through the evening, I realized that I was too sick to perform any of my routines.
Then things just got worse.
When I got over the flu, I came down with a disease that made my joints swell up so much I couldn’t walk. Big purple bruises covered my legs. I couldn’t do any gymnastics. I couldn’t even go to school.
Every day Mom went to my school and collected all the work I missed from my teacher. I sat at home all day and worked on it. Sometimes writing made blood vessels in my hands burst into new bruises. I really tried hard not to complain. Mom tried to cheer me up by telling me I was getting good at sewing and reading and other “sitting still” kinds of things. I’m not the “sitting still” type, though, and week after week of not moving around was really tough.
My 14-year-old sister, Jeanne, has a New Era poster in her room of a baby chick trying to crack out of an egg. The words say, “Adversity can make you strong.” I wasn’t sure what adversity meant, but I was sure that I was having plenty of it. I felt just like that little chick that couldn’t crack out of the egg.
It took six weeks for me to get better. Finally I could go back to school and gymnastics. Although I had kept up with my schoolwork, I was out of shape and far behind everybody else in gymnastics.
I knew the first gymnastics competition of the season was in May, and I knew I would have to work really hard to get ready. I did work really hard and was able to compete.
The next big competition was the state meet. My best friend, Natalie, and I did really well at all of our qualifying meets over the summer. We did so well, in fact, that we both qualified in all areas (vault, floor exercise, bars, and beam) to go to the state meet. We were so happy we were practically walking on air!
Then the unthinkable happened. Two weeks before the state meet I broke my ankle. When the doctor told me I wouldn’t be able to compete, I burst into tears. I had worked so hard to make it to state. I felt sorry for myself, and I was miserable. Why did everything always happen to me? I felt like I had a big, sad hole right in the middle of me.
On the day of the state meet, Natalie and her mom came to pick up Jeanne. I knew Natalie was really sad that I couldn’t go, so I tried my best to hold back the tears as I waved good-bye. After they left, I sat on the couch and cried.
When Jeanne got home from the meet, she told me that Natalie had done well and had won two medals. I was happy for her, but I still felt that big, sad hole in my heart.
The next day there was a knock at the door. I grabbed my crutches and hobbled over to answer it. It was Natalie. She was carrying a present for me in a small gift bag.
I opened the bag and pulled something heavy out of the tissue paper. It was one of Natalie’s state medals that she had worked so hard for! On the back was engraved, “To my best friend, Maria.” She said she knew I would have won it if I had been there.
The big, sad hole inside me melted, and I gave Natalie a giant hug. Suddenly the state meet didn’t seem so important. Being friends with Natalie was what was important, and I knew I couldn’t ever have a better friend!
That night when I went to bed, I thanked Heavenly Father for Natalie and for teaching me that love and friendship are more important than winning.
By Sheila Kindred
Friend, Feb 2009, 46–47
(Based on a true story)
The Lord seeth not as a man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart (1 Samuel 16:7).
“Where are your new glasses, Adam?” Mother asked as Adam pulled on his backpack.
“I … uh … forgot where I put them,” Adam muttered.
“Here they are,” his older sister called out. “I found them under the sofa cushion.”
“I wonder how they got there?” Mother said. “Please be more careful where you put them next time. You don’t want them to get lost or broken.”
Actually, Adam would have been happy if his glasses got lost or broken. He knew how they got under the sofa cushion. He put them there.
Adam didn’t like wearing his new glasses. They fell off when he played soccer and were always smudged with his fingerprints. Worst of all, Adam was sure everyone at school thought he looked ridiculous in his glasses, like some four-eyed monster.
But Adam’s glasses did make it easier for him to see the blackboard. So when Adam got to school that day, he could clearly read what his teacher had written on the board: Valentine’s Day Party Tomorrow!
Adam frowned. Usually he looked forward to the Valentine’s Day party. He liked eating the cookies and playing the fun games. But this year he had mixed feelings about exchanging valentines.
After school Adam sat at the kitchen table with valentines spread in front of him. He looked at the list of his classmates and sighed.
“Need help addressing the envelopes?” Adam’s mother asked.
Adam shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll give any valentines this year.”
His mother sat down next to him. “Why not?”
“The other kids think I look dumb in my glasses, Mom.”
“Did they say that?” Mother asked.
“No. But they look at me funny. And Danielle stares at me. I thought she was my friend. I’m not giving a valentine to her or anyone else. Why should I? I probably won’t be getting any.”
“Well, Adam,” Mother said softly, “even with brand-new glasses, you can’t see clearly into the hearts of others. I think you might be misjudging your friends. But it’s your choice.”
In the end, Adam decided to give out the valentines since they had already been made. He made sure to write his name on a few envelopes so he would get at least some valentines.
The Valentine’s Day party was so much fun that Adam completely forgot about his worries until it was time to go home. On his way out the door, Adam grabbed his valentines bag and stuffed it into his backpack before anyone else could see how empty it was.
At home Adam dumped the bag out on his bed, and his jaw dropped. There was a valentine from every student in class, and two from Danielle.
“That’s quite a haul,” his mother said from the bedroom doorway. “Did you give all those to yourself?”
Adam laughed. “Only four are from me,” he said. “I guess the other kids still like me after all. Danielle even wrote that she thinks I have cool glasses.”
Adam was more careful with his glasses after that. He took good care of them and even got a special elastic band to hold them on when he played soccer. He was sure to wear his glasses every day because they not only helped him see better, they also helped him remember to look into the hearts of his friends.
By Amy S. Tate
Friend, Mar 2009, 4–5
(Based on a true story)
Remember … brotherly kindness (D&C 4:6).
It started out like any other day at school. Our teacher, Miss Blackstock, was writing on the chalkboard while I sat daydreaming at my desk. Then our principal walked in with a boy I had never seen before. The principal whispered something in Miss Blackstock’s ear, and everyone got quiet trying to listen.
The boy stood at the front of the classroom while the other kids stared at him. His faded plaid shirt hung loosely. There was a hole in the knee of his pants. With slumped shoulders, he dug his hands deep into his pockets and stared at the floor.
After the principal left, Miss Blackstock said, “Class, I would like you to meet Caleb Sanders. He recently moved here from Montana. That is quite a distance from here! Caleb, you may take the seat next to Luke.”
She pointed to the seat next to mine, and the class watched as Caleb nervously made his way down the aisle. As Miss Blackstock turned back to the chalkboard, whispers filled the room. Some of the kids were saying mean things about the way Caleb was dressed.
“Look at those weird boots,” someone said.
“He could hike up the Himalayas in those!” another boy chimed in.
I glanced over at Caleb, but he just sat there staring at his blank notebook page and clutching his pencil. I knew that he must have heard them because I saw him shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Then a couple of boys snickered so loudly that Miss Blackstock stopped writing.
“I see that everyone is eager to talk to Caleb, so let’s have him come up here and tell us a little bit about himself,” she said.
The class got quiet and stared at Caleb. I felt sorry for him. The boy who sat behind him kicked the back of Caleb’s chair and jeered, “Go ahead, mountain boy.”
Caleb slowly made his way to the front of the class. His hair partly covered his eyes, and his boots scuffed the floor when he walked. The kids around me snickered again. I knew that Miss Blackstock was trying to help, but I was afraid this would only make things worse.
One boy raised his hand and asked, “Where did you live in Montana, under a rock?”
The class burst into laughter.
The girl on the front row asked, “Does everyone in Montana dress like you?”
I felt my face getting hot as anger welled up inside me. If someone didn’t stop this, I knew Caleb would remain an outcast for the rest of the school year. But if I stuck up for him, the kids might laugh at me too.
Then I remembered what my stepmom told me when I tried out for the soccer team. She told me about David in the Old Testament. David was the youngest of all his brothers, but the Lord chose him to be king. It didn’t matter what he looked like. Sometimes people judge others by their appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.
I knew Caleb needed help, so I raised my hand. Miss Blackstock called on me. Caleb didn’t look up. He probably expected me to make fun of him too.
“I’ve heard that there are some cool parks in Montana with great hiking trails. What are they like?” I asked.
The class got quiet. I felt my face turning red again, but Caleb smiled. I could see that he was relieved to answer a kind question. In a quiet voice he started to speak.
He told us that his family had lived on a large ranch in Montana, and he had even owned a horse. He told about his favorite trail in Glacier National Park and how he had encountered a real live bear. As he told more and more about his home, the other kids began asking questions about the bear, the hiking, and the rock climbing.
After school I wasn’t sure if anyone would sit by me on the bus. I held my backpack close and stared out the bus window. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Caleb.
“Can I sit here?” he asked shyly.
“Sure!” I said, moving over to make room.
I never would have guessed how that day would turn out. I am glad I had the courage to be nice to Caleb. Now he has many friends—and I’m proud to be one of them.
By Lena Harper
Friend, Mar 2009, 6–7
(Based on a true story)
Let your hearts be comforted; for all things shall work together for good to them that walk uprightly (D&C 100:15).
Ashley pulled her stuffed-animal elephant to her chest and closed her eyes. She pictured the notes of her song, “The Elephant and the Flea,” just as they were on her music. She took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and smiled. Her turn was next, and she was sure she would remember the music she had so carefully memorized.
This was her first piano recital, and Ashley was nervous. The small room was packed with people, and she hardly knew any of them. But her mom was there, and her piano teacher, Miss Stewart, sat smiling at the front of the room near the piano. The students had been asked to dress to represent their songs, so Ashley carried a stuffed-animal elephant with a flea on its nose.
A little boy finished his song and stood up. He bowed while everyone clapped loudly. He did well. He didn’t forget any notes in his song.
Ashley swallowed. What if she messed up? Would they still clap for her? What would her mom and her piano teacher think?
Mom reached over and put her hand on Ashley’s back. “It’s your turn,” she whispered. Then she saw the nervous look on Ashley’s face and added, “You’ll do fine.”
Ashley stood up and started to picture the notes in her head one last time. Then she walked slowly to the front of the room.
After announcing her name and the title of her song, she placed the elephant on the edge of the bench, sat down next to it, and stared at the piano keys. She knew she could remember the notes. She had practiced so hard; she had to remember. She started playing. Her fingers danced across the keys as she made it through the first part of the song perfectly. Then she got to the second part. This part had always been tricky. Ashley tried to play the right notes, but her fingers and her brain forgot what came next.
Everyone watched her sit silently at the piano. How could this be happening? Miss Stewart searched through a pile of music and pulled out Ashley’s piece. She stood up and began walking toward Ashley. How embarrassing if she had to use the actual written music when she was supposed to have it memorized! Just before Miss Stewart could put the music on the piano, Ashley started playing again. Instead of starting where she had stopped, she skipped the middle part and began to play the short ending, which she remembered.
Embarrassed, Ashley finished the song and hurried back to her seat. She didn’t bow, and she didn’t look at anyone. The audience clapped, but Ashley was sure it wasn’t as loud or as long as it had been for the little boy before her.
“It’s OK,” her mom said. She put her arm around Ashley and kissed the top of her head. “You did so well.”
But Ashley knew she hadn’t done well at all.
When the recital was over, Ashley walked quickly toward the door. She couldn’t stand the embarrassment. A lady stepped in front of the door, stopping her from escaping.
“You did so well up there. I just love that you can play the piano at such a young age,” she said.
A man joined in. “I really liked your song,” he said.
More people walked by and smiled or patted Ashley on the back. Then Miss Stewart put her arm around Ashley’s shoulder. “You did a wonderful job,” she said. She smiled, then moved on to talk to some other piano students.
Ashley felt much better on the ride home. She had messed up, but that didn’t matter so much anymore. Everyone seemed to understand. Ashley had tried her best, and that was enough.
By Marci Cole
Friend, Mar 2009, 18–21
(Based on a true story)
Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy (Exodus 20:8).
Thomas woke up one sunny morning to the sounds of his big brothers, Jonathan and Matthew, talking quietly. He smiled as he realized it was Sunday. Thomas loved Sundays. He loved looking handsome in his Sunday clothes. He loved singing Primary songs. And he especially loved his Primary teacher, Sister Brandon. He couldn’t wait to go to church!
Then Thomas frowned. He remembered that church didn’t start until after lunch. Sunday mornings seemed to drag on forever. What could he do until it was time to get ready for church?
After breakfast, Mom came into Thomas’s room. “Thomas, hurry and put away your toys,” she said, smiling. “We’re going to do something new that I think you will like.”
Thomas quickly picked up his toys and went into the living room, where his brothers and sisters were waiting. “Today we’re going to do Sunday stations,” Mom announced.
Thomas had never heard of Sunday stations before. He hoped he would like them.
“One station will be at the table,” Mom explained. “Two will be on the couches, and one will be at the computer. You will have 10 minutes at each station.”
Now Thomas was really curious. Usually he wasn’t allowed to use the computer on Sundays. Mom gave a few more instructions and then let each child go to a different station.
Thomas headed straight for the computer, but his sister Katrina had beat him to it. So Thomas sat down at the table instead. There he saw the Faith in God and Duty to God booklets that belonged to his sisters and brothers. “What can I do here?” he asked Mom. “I’m not old enough to have a Faith in God book.”
Mom pointed to a sheet of paper and a box of markers. “You don’t have a Faith in God book yet, but you do have faith, and you can make a goal to help it get stronger,” she said.
“How?” Thomas asked.
“Well, just think of something you can do this week to follow Jesus,” Mom suggested. “Then write your goal on this paper so you can remember it.” Mom patted Thomas on the back and set the kitchen timer for 10 minutes.
Thomas thought hard about how he could follow Jesus. He watched Mom helping his brothers and sisters with their stations. “I know,” he thought. “Mom is like Jesus because she is nice.” He smiled as he carefully wrote the words I will be nice on his paper.
Mom came over and gave Thomas a hug. Then she showed him where his sister Miriam had glued her picture inside the cover of her booklet. Mom drew a square on his paper, and Thomas drew a picture of himself in his Sunday clothes and colored it with markers. He was admiring his picture when the timer went off.
The next station was the computer. Mom explained that Thomas could send an e-mail to someone he loved. He decided to send a message to his cousin Moroni, who had been sick. “Hi, Moroni,” he wrote. “How are you? I hope you are feeling better.”
Just then the timer went off. “Time sure goes by fast when I’m doing stations,” Thomas thought. Then he typed his name, clicked on “send,” and hurried to the couch.
At the next station, Thomas found a phone. “I know what this is for,” he thought. Mom helped him dial Grandpa’s phone number. Thomas was surprised to learn that Grandpa didn’t know about Sunday stations. Usually, Thomas was the one who had a question, and Grandpa had the answer. So Thomas explained about Sunday stations. He and Grandpa had a great time talking. When he heard the timer, Thomas said, “I love you, Grandpa!” and handed the phone to Mom.
The reading station on the couch was Thomas’s last station. Mom listened to Thomas read the story of Captain Moroni and the title of liberty. Then they had just enough time for Mom to read a letter in the Friend.
When the timer went off for the last time, everyone stood up and stretched. “Let’s pick up and make lunch now,” Mom said. Wow! It was lunchtime already. Then it would be time to get dressed for church.
As Thomas gathered the magazines and scripture storybooks from the couch, he had a happy feeling inside. “Mom,” he asked, “can we do Sunday stations again next week?” He could tell by Mom’s smile that they would.
By Heidi Pope
Friend, Mar 2009, 28–30
(Based on a true story)
If ye are prepared ye shall not fear (D&C 38:30).
Cassidy sat on the living room floor examining all the items in her emergency backpack—granola bars, hard candy, canned tuna and crackers, a coloring book and crayons, a flashlight with batteries, a small travel game, a whistle, an emergency blanket, paper and a pencil, and other small things.
“Mom, is today an emergency day?” five-year-old Cassidy called out. “I want to use my backpack!” Cassidy and her family had gotten the emergency backpacks for Christmas from an aunt and uncle.
“No, not today,” Mom answered. “I know there are a lot of neat things you would like to use out of your backpack, but if we have an emergency you’ll be glad you’ve kept them all together.” Mom stood at the doorway. “Come on, let’s put all the backpacks on the top shelf in the hall closet. Then we’ll know where to find them in an emergency.”
Cassidy began putting things back inside her backpack. “I want to have an emergency so I can use my stuff,” she said.
Mom sat down on the floor to help Cassidy put the items back. “Do you remember hearing about the people whose homes were destroyed by a big wave called a tsunami?”
“Yes,” Cassidy answered, looking concerned.
“That was an emergency,” Mom explained as she zipped up Cassidy’s backpack. “It’s a situation that happens quickly when people are not expecting it.”
“Emergencies are bad things, aren’t they?” Cassidy asked.
“They can be very serious,” Mom replied. “But when bad things happen it can give us comfort to have something prepared—something we can grab quickly if we need to.”
“Like our backpacks?” Cassidy asked eagerly.
“Exactly,” Mom said. “You don’t need to wish for an emergency though. Let’s plan an emergency day drill. We’ll pretend there is an emergency and that we can only use the snacks and things we have in our backpacks. When we are done, we can replace the things we’ve used and plan another emergency day drill to keep us on our toes.”
“Yes!” Cassidy shouted. “That sounds fun!”
“The Lord promises us that if we are prepared we shall not fear,” Mom said.
“We should tell the rest of the family about our idea,” Cassidy said.
“Good idea. We’ll talk about it tonight at family home evening,” Mom said.
That evening just before dinner, Cassidy was reading a book in the living room. Her brother and sisters were finishing their homework in the basement. The lights flickered a few times, and then the electricity went out. The winter sky was already dark, and for a few moments it was impossible to see anything.
“Mom!” Cassidy yelled.
Mom answered from the kitchen in a calm voice, “It’s OK. Just stay where you are. I’ll come get you.”
Cassidy blinked her eyes several times to adjust to the darkness. Then her mother reached out and took her hand.
“There you are!” Mom said. “Now we need some light.”
“There’s a flashlight in my emergency backpack!” Cassidy said excitedly.
They walked carefully through the dark house toward the hall closet.
“Who turned out the lights?” Cassidy’s older brother, Adison, shouted.
“It’s dark down here!” her sister Olivia called.
“We’ll get a light for you!” Cassidy said as she held tightly to Mom’s hand.
When they reached the closet, Mom pulled down Cassidy’s backpack and got out the flashlight. “That’s better,” Mom said. She quickly pulled down everyone’s backpack, and Cassidy got out the flashlights so that everyone would have their own light.
Dad came in through the door to the garage. “Boy, it sure was dark out there. It took me a while to find the door,” he said. “Were you scared?” he asked Cassidy.
“Yes, but I knew where my flashlight was, so that made me feel better,” she answered.
Looking out the window, they saw that the electricity was out all over the neighborhood, and a thick fog had rolled in.
The family gathered in the living room with their emergency backpacks and everyone chatted excitedly. Dad searched his backpack for his emergency radio and began to listen for a weather report. After a few minutes he announced, “Well, it doesn’t appear to be a winter storm. Hopefully, the power will be back on by morning. Your mom and I have decided that we will use this opportunity to have an emergency drill. You each can use only the things you have in your backpacks. Use them wisely, just in case the power is out for longer than we expect. Now that we are all here, we will start family home evening with a prayer of thanks that we were prepared for this minor emergency.”
Cassidy pulled a granola bar out of her backpack. She leaned over to Mom and said, “It turned out to be an emergency day after all.”
By Amy Weir
Friend, Mar 2009, 38–40
(Based on the life of Joseph Toronto)
In Parts 1 and 2, Joseph Toronto has recently been baptized, and the missionaries have counseled him to travel to Nauvoo. However, Joseph chooses to stay on his ship. He falls overboard during a fierce storm but is miraculously saved. Joseph realizes that God must have a job for him to do. He sells his ship and sets out for Nauvoo with $2,600. He looks forward to being in beautiful Nauvoo with other Saints, but becomes discouraged when he finds the city poor and in disarray.
Joseph sat with a heavy heart, confused as to why he had been led to Nauvoo. His thoughts were soon interrupted by some passing townspeople talking about a meeting that everyone was invited to. A man named Brigham Young was to be the speaker.
Joseph stood up and asked a young woman about this meeting. She explained that the leader of the Church, Brigham Young, wanted to speak to everyone in town at the town hall. She pointed down the street to a large building.
The town hall was muggy from the afternoon heat and the large number of people packed into it. Joseph found a place near the back and sat down. A man stood at the pulpit and began to speak. Joseph knew this must be Brigham Young, for his burning heart told him that he was listening to a man of God.
Brigham Young began by thanking the people for coming. He then told them that he knew of their hardships and lack of money. But he said they must pay their tithing regularly so the temple could be finished, and that the temple should be their most important priority. He also told them that more food for the workers and more money for the building materials were desperately needed.
Joseph still had most of the $2,600 in the cans he had strapped around his waist—he had only spent a small amount to get to Nauvoo. As Brigham Young spoke of the need for money, the cans seemed to get heavier and heavier. But as the prophet spoke of the importance of the temple, Joseph’s heart became lighter and lighter. He knew why he had been guided to Nauvoo.
After the meeting, Joseph went straight to Brigham Young’s office and introduced himself. He told President Young about the missionaries, about the storm that almost drowned him, and about God leading him to Nauvoo.
Brigham Young then watched as Joseph unstrapped the belt from around his waist and rolled the gold-filled cans across the table. “I want to give myself and all I have to the kingdom of God,” Joseph said.
When Brigham Young opened the cans and saw what was inside, he was touched by Joseph’s sacrifice. The money would be enough to finish the temple. Brigham laid his hands on Joseph’s head and gave him a blessing. In the blessing he promised that Joseph and all his posterity would always have the things they needed if they remained faithful.
The temple was completed, and Joseph Toronto became part of Brigham Young’s family, later traveling with them to the Salt Lake Valley.
By Sarah Cutler
Friend, Mar 2009, 46
(Based on a true story)
He shall build the temple of the Lord (Zechariah 6:12).
Chris shuffled his feet a little to hear the brush, brush sound they made in the blue paper booties covering his shoes. He was standing in line with his family, waiting to go into the San Diego California Temple for the open house.
Dad bent down and put a hand on Chris’s shoulder. “Temple open houses are very special,” he said. “I remember when I went to the Provo Utah Temple open house. I had watched the workers building it from just an empty field up to a finished temple. When we were inside, I knew it was Heavenly Father’s house. I was a little bit older than you are, but you’ll remember this your whole life, just like I did.”
Mom turned toward them. “That’s right. I remember when I went to the Seattle Washington Temple open house a long time ago. That’s why we drove all the way here. Getting to tour a temple before it’s dedicated is a very special opportunity.”
Chris thought about their long drive through the desert to get to San Diego. There had been nothing interesting to look at out the windows, and his little sister cried most of the way. Even his older sister got a little bit tired of all the driving. But since they had come so far, he knew it was important.
Chris folded his arms and walked as quietly as he could in his blue paper shoes through the temple tour. He couldn’t remember ever being somewhere so beautiful. The carpet was white. The windows were tall. The pictures on the walls were beautiful. It felt more reverent than any place he had been before.
As they walked up the stairs, Chris held tightly to the handrail. He was smiling brightly.
Mom whispered to him, “How do you feel?”
Chris looked up at her and Dad. “I feel like I’m holding the iron rod.”
The San Diego California Temple was dedicated in April 1993.
My Brother and the Resurrection
By Laurie Walker
Friend, Apr 2009, 4–5
(Based on a true story)
Did Jesus really live again after he had died? Oh yes! And so shall I! (Children’s Songbook, 64).
Michelle stood up in front of the entire Primary, not sure if she was ready to do this. In Primary during the month of April, they were talking about Jesus Christ’s Atonement. Michelle had been excited when it was her class’s turn to give the talk and say the prayer in opening exercises. She had asked if she could give the talk, knowing just what she would talk about.
But now she wasn’t so sure. Her stomach was feeling funny, and her mouth was dry. Then she saw her mom and dad in the back of the room and remembered the prayer they had together that morning. Now she didn’t feel quite so scared anymore.
Michelle took a deep breath and held up a picture of a tiny baby. “This is my brother. His name is David Alan, and he would have been three years old this year. But when he was born, he couldn’t breathe very well. He stayed alive in the hospital long enough to have a blessing, and then he died. I never got to see my brother, and sometimes I’m really sad about that.”
Then Michelle held up a picture of Jesus. “But because of the Atonement and Resurrection, I don’t have to be sad all the time. When Jesus died and came back to life, He made it possible for my little brother to one day have a perfect body. That will happen when Jesus comes back to earth and people are resurrected. I can hardly wait, because then I will see my little brother again.”
Michelle held up her brother’s picture again. “I know sometimes people have to die. My family still gets sad sometimes when we think of David Alan. But we know that Jesus suffered for our sins, died for us, and was resurrected so that we can be resurrected too.
“I’m glad I’ll be able to see my little brother and that he will be healthy. I’m also glad that Heavenly Father and Jesus loved us enough to make the Atonement happen so we can see the people we love again. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Michelle stepped down from the podium. When she went to the back of the room, she gave her mom and dad a big hug.
“You did a wonderful job,” Mom whispered.
“We love you so much,” Dad said.
Michelle felt happy after her talk because Heavenly Father put a good feeling in her heart. She knew He loved her too.
By Lena M. Harper
Friend, Apr 2009, 14–16
(Based on a true story)
Seek learning, even by study and also by faith (D&C 88:118).
Russell carefully packed his two pencils and his notebook in his schoolbag. He combed his hair and checked to make sure his clothes looked nice. After giving his mom a hug good-bye, he ran to the bus stop. He felt like he would burst if the bus didn’t come soon. He was excited to start school for the first time.
Every year, Russell had watched his older brothers and sisters walk to the bus stop, where they got on the bus for school. He wanted to ride the bus with them. Even more, he wanted to learn the things they did. He wanted to learn more about dinosaurs. He wanted to know how trains worked. He wanted to learn to read. He just knew he was going to like school.
Russell’s teacher, Mrs. Wilson, smiled when he walked into the classroom. She showed Russell where his desk was. She also showed him where to hang his schoolbag.
“Maybe we’ll learn about dinosaurs first,” Russell thought.
“Welcome to school,” Mrs. Wilson said. “We’re going to introduce ourselves and tell something about ourselves.”
Russell frowned. “Well, we should get to know everyone,” he thought. “Maybe we’ll learn about dinosaurs afterward.”
When it was Russell’s turn to introduce himself, he said, “I’m Russell. I am excited to learn everything—especially about trains and dinosaurs.”
“That’s great, Russell,” Mrs. Wilson said. Russell smiled. He was sure they’d be learning about trains and dinosaurs soon.
But they didn’t. They ate a snack and played with blocks shaped like circles, triangles, and squares.
“Mrs. Wilson, when are we going to learn about dinosaurs and trains?” Russell asked.
“Not right now, Russell,” she said. “Now it’s time to read a story.”
“Is it about dinosaurs?”
“No, Russell.”
After the story they learned about the alphabet. Then it was time to go home.
Russell was mad.
He frowned out the window on the bus. He ran home from the bus stop and stormed through the front door. He ran into his room and buried his head in a blanket.
Mom came in and put her hand on Russell’s head. “How was your first day?” she asked.
“Terrible. I’m never going to learn anything, and I’m not going back. All we did today was play with blocks and read stories.”
“Well, Russell, it’s just your first day,” Mom said.
Russell sat up and looked at Mom. “I want to learn about dinosaurs and trains and reading—now.”
Mom sat next to Russell on the bed. “You can’t learn everything at once. Learning takes time. And the more you learn now, the more you’ll be able to learn later.”
“What do you mean?” Russell asked.
“Well, you need to learn the alphabet before you can learn to read. And you need to learn to read before you can read about the things you’re interested in,” she said.
Russell thought about it. Maybe there were other things to learn about than only dinosaurs and trains. “Well, I guess I’ll try school again tomorrow,” he said.
Mom smiled at him.
“But, Mom, do you think we could get a book from the library about dinosaurs?”
“I definitely think we can do that.”
Broken Trust
By Marnie Spencer
Friend, Apr 2009, 26–28
(Based on a true story)
We believe in being honest (Articles of Faith 1:13).
Melinda left her house holding the key Mrs. Roberts had given her. “I’m off to work,” she said. She liked the way that sounded. “Not every 11-year-old has a job,” she thought.
She walked to the Robertses’ house and opened their mailbox. The Roberts family would be gone until Thursday, and they had hired Melinda to get their mail and do other chores at their house every day.
Melinda went into their house, put the mail on the kitchen table, and filled the cat’s food dish. Then she went into the family room to water the plants. It felt strange to be in her neighbors’ house alone.
In a corner of the room she saw a shelf filled with glass figurines. Each one was a little girl in a fancy dress. She picked one up and looked at it carefully. On the bottom it said, “Michelle.” Melinda wondered if each of the figurines had a name. She picked up another and turned it over. It was named Rebecca.
Melinda picked up another glass girl, one in a pretty yellow dress. As she turned it over, it slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. Melinda gasped and knelt down quickly to pick it up. Its head and one of the legs had broken off.
“Oh no,” she thought. “What am I going to do? Mrs. Roberts is going to be so mad at me!”
She put the head back on the figurine and was surprised to see that she could hardly tell it was broken. When she put the leg back, she found that the little girl could still stand up.
“If I put it back just right, Mrs. Roberts won’t even know it’s broken,” she thought. “If she picks it up or bumps the shelf, it will fall apart, but she’ll think she broke it herself. No one will know it was me.”
Melinda had a sick feeling as she walked home. She wondered if she should tell Mrs. Roberts about breaking the figurine. “But she trusted me,” Melinda thought. “She’ll never trust me again if she knows I broke something in her house.”
Melinda went to the Robertses’ each morning for the next two days. She was careful not to go near the shelf where the figurines were. She didn’t even want to look at them.
On Thursday afternoon, the Robertses’ car was back in their driveway. Melinda walked over to return their key. Mrs. Roberts thanked her for doing such a good job and gave her an envelope with money inside. Melinda could hardly speak. She felt awful. “It’s just a little glass girl,” she thought. “It’s not a big deal. And they’ll never know I did it.”
That night after dinner, Melinda’s father opened the Book of Mormon for family scripture study. They were reading about Helaman’s stripling soldiers.
Melinda and her brothers listened as Dad read Alma 53:20: “And they were all young men, and they were exceedingly valiant for courage, and also for strength and activity; but behold, this was not all—they were men who were true at all times in whatsoever thing they were entrusted.”
“They were super brave,” Nathan said.
“And strong,” Tyler added.
“They were strong and brave enough to fight,” Mom agreed. “That’s what the first part of the scripture says. But in the next part, it says something more about them—that they used their courage to be true. They stood up for what was right.”
Melinda looked at her Book of Mormon and read the words again. She had been entrusted with something, and she had not been true.
A little while later, Melinda stood at the Robertses’ door. Mrs. Roberts looked surprised to see her. “Hello,” she said. “Did you forget something?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I need to tell you something.” She took a deep breath. “I broke one of your little glass girls. I put it back so you couldn’t tell it was broken. I’m sorry I broke it, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it before. I was just scared, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come in and show me what you broke?” Mrs. Roberts said.
Melinda followed her neighbor into the family room and pointed out the girl in the yellow dress. When Mrs. Roberts picked it up, its head and leg fell off. “I would never have known it was broken if I hadn’t picked it up,” she said. “Well, it can be glued. I broke another one once, and I glued it.” She picked up another figurine and showed Melinda. “You can hardly tell, can you?”
Melinda shook her head. She hadn’t noticed the crack in the other one. “I really am sorry,” she said.
“It’s OK. I’m glad you came back to tell me the truth. That took a lot of courage. You know, we’ll be going out of town again next month. Would you like to help out at our house then too?”
Melinda looked up. “Do you trust me? Even after I broke something?”
“You’ve shown that you are very trustworthy. You told the truth when you didn’t have to. I’ll be glad to have you work for us again.”
“I won’t touch the figurines. I promise.”
“That’s fine. Thank you, Melinda, for coming over tonight.”
The heavy feeling Melinda had felt for days was gone. She felt as light as a feather as she skipped home.
Grumbling Peter
By Julianne Donaldson
Friend, Apr 2009, 36–38
(Based on a true story)
Fear not, little children, for you are mine, and I have overcome the world, and you are of them that my Father hath given me (D&C 50:41).
It was Easter morning, and Peter was grumbling.
He had looked everywhere, but he couldn’t find his favorite black church socks. Instead, he put on the only socks he could find—white ones with holes in the toes—and walked into the kitchen.
“Mom, can you pour me some cereal?” Peter asked as he plopped into his chair.
His mother and his stepfather, Jack, were dressing his two baby brothers, who were screaming so loudly it hurt Peter’s ears.
“Peter, can you do it yourself, please?” his mom answered. “I’m really busy.”
Peter understood that he needed to do his part to help at home. He knew Mom couldn’t do as much for him as she did before the babies were born. Sometimes it seemed to Peter as if nobody noticed what he was doing, but he tried to choose the right anyway.
As Peter poured the milk, he spilled some on his shirt and pants. He grumbled as he grabbed a towel and tried to wipe himself off.
Peter hadn’t always been grumbly. His grumbling started around the time his parents divorced and Dad moved to another state. After Mom married Jack, Peter got twin baby brothers who seemed to take up all of Mom’s time. It seemed Mom and Jack were always feeding the babies, dressing them, or getting them ready for bed.
Sometimes Peter felt sad and alone. Even though he was eight years old, he still wished someone would help him do things like thread his belt through all the loops of his pants or comb his hair the right way. Sometimes at night, when he heard Mom singing a lullaby to his little brothers, he wished she would sing to him too. Peter wished things could go back to the way they used to be. This is why he grumbled.
As his family walked to church, Peter kicked at the rocks on the sidewalk. He followed Mom and Jack, who were carrying the babies. In sacrament meeting, Peter didn’t feel like listening to the talks. He drew pictures in his notebook instead.
Later, Peter was talking to his friend Thomas in Primary class when his teacher said something that made him stop.
“Jesus knows and loves all of us,” Sister Jones said.
Peter didn’t believe her. “He doesn’t know me!” he said.
Sister Jones turned to Peter. She said softly, “Peter, Jesus knows everything about you. He knows you have two baby brothers that you help take care of. He knows you are having a hard time and feeling lonely. And He knows that you help your mom and dad because you want to do what’s right.”
Peter hadn’t thought anybody knew all those things about him, especially the part about being lonely but still trying to choose the right. But as he listened to Sister Jones’s words and saw her kind smile, a warm feeling pushed out the lonely, grumbling feelings inside him.
“Peter, if you are feeling happy, then you are feeling the Holy Ghost,” Sister Jones said. “He is telling you that what you are hearing is true—Jesus does know and love you.”
Peter knew he was feeling the Holy Ghost. It made him feel happy to know that Jesus really did know him and love him.
After Primary, Peter walked home from church with his family like he always did. Mom and Jack carried the babies while Peter walked behind. But now he understood that he never really walked alone—Jesus knew everything about him and loved him.
A Day to Remember
By Jane McBride Choate
Friend, May 2009, 4–6
(Based on a true story)
And now when I am baptized, I’ll follow his example—be baptized by immersion through sacred priesthood pow’r (Children’s Songbook, 102).
Peter walked into the Primary room and sat down with his class. But he wasn’t thinking about Primary. Peter had just turned eight, and he was thinking about how excited he was for next Saturday, when he was going to be baptized.
Sister Spencer stood up to conduct sharing time. “We’re fortunate to have Brother Lancaster of the bishopric with us today,” she said.
Peter liked Brother Lancaster. He always had a smile for the children in the ward.
“Sister Spencer asked me to tell you about my baptism,” Brother Lancaster said. “I was baptized on a very cold day in March. It was so cold that some of the pipes in the stake center had frozen and burst. The whole basement of the stake center was flooded with six inches of icy water. Unfortunately, that is where the baptismal font was.”
Peter’s friend Jeremy raised his hand. “How did they get the water out so you could be baptized?” he asked.
“Well, it took a lot of men to drain the water,” Brother Lancaster said. “And they couldn’t do it before the baptism.”
“So was your baptism canceled?” Jeremy asked.
“No,” Brother Lancaster answered. “I waded through the water to get to the baptismal font. The water in the font was so cold that I was sure I was turning blue. My father was shivering as he said the words of the baptism prayer. As cold as I was, though, I wouldn’t trade a minute of that experience. Do you know why?”
The children shook their heads.
Peter leaned forward in his seat. He was eager to hear why Brother Lancaster didn’t mind the freezing cold water.
“Because it made me think of the pioneers. They sometimes had to be baptized in frozen rivers and streams where the men had to break apart the ice. It also reminded me of the sacrifices many people make to become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Brother Lancaster wiped some tears from his eyes. “My baptism was 43 years ago, but I still remember every detail. It was one of the most important days of my life.”
Peter wondered what his baptism would be like. Would he still be able to remember it when he was as old as Brother Lancaster?
When Saturday came, Peter looked at the baptismal font, filled with clean, warm water. He wouldn’t have to wade through icy water like Brother Lancaster or be baptized in a frozen stream like the pioneers.
Peter looked at all the special people who had come to watch him be baptized. The bishop and Brother Lancaster were there, along with his family’s home teachers, his Primary teacher, and the Primary presidency.
Peter held on tight to Dad’s hand as he stepped into the baptismal font. He felt the warm water on his feet and legs. Then Peter’s father baptized him a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. When he came up out of the water, Peter felt his heart could almost burst with happiness.
After he had changed into dry clothes, Peter walked back to the room where his family and friends were waiting. When Brother Lancaster reached out to shake his hand, Peter smiled and said, “I’ll remember this day for the rest of my life.”
A Walk with Grandma
By Madeline Juran
Friend, May 2009, 14–16
(Based on a true story)
Did you ever have to take care of a grown-up? I’ve done it many times. Every Saturday my sister and I take turns going to my grandmother’s house. Grandma has dementia, which means she forgets a lot. Because her condition has been getting worse, she can’t be left alone. A few years ago, she was taking me to the store. Now I take her. But I don’t mind. I love Grandma, and we still have a lot of fun together.
Today was my turn to be with Grandma. She shuffled into the living room. “How do I look?” she asked. “You didn’t have to help me get dressed today.”
Grandma’s red jacket didn’t really match her bright pink blouse and brown pants, but I was happy she had been able to dress herself. “You always look good to me, Grandma.”
Grandma smiled. “So, where are we walking today?”
“The shoe store. Mom said you need new walking shoes.”
“Oh,” she said. “Can we go to the doughnut store too?”
“Sure,” I said, smiling. Going to the doughnut store was the one thing Grandma never forgot to do.
Half an hour later, Grandma sat patiently as the shoe salesman helped her try on her new shoes. When the salesman went to find a different size, Grandma whispered, “You know, Noreen, I think these shoes are ugly.”
“You’ve never complained about them before, Grandma.”
“Well, they’re not as pretty as those,” she insisted, pointing to a pair of high-heeled shoes on display.
“We are supposed to buy walking shoes,” I reminded her. “You can’t wear high heels to go walking.”
Grandma lowered her eyebrows and scrunched her nose, but she didn’t say anything else.
When the salesman returned, Grandma tried on the shoes, stood up, and walked around. “Ah,” she sighed. “My feet feel wonderful in these shoes.”
“So you like them?” I asked.
“Of course,” she said. “Don’t I always like these shoes?”
Sometimes Grandma contradicts herself. But it doesn’t upset me. I know she can’t help it.
After the salesman boxed up the new shoes, he walked to the cash register. I opened my wallet to find the money Mom had given me. “I’ll go pay now, Grandma. I’ll be right back,” I said.
The salesman was very busy, and I had to wait several minutes before I could pay. When I walked back to Grandma’s seat, she was gone. Her old shoes were still lying on the floor. I quickly scanned the store, but I couldn’t see her. I started feeling very nervous. “Has anyone seen my grandmother?” I yelled.
“A woman with a red jacket walked out the door a few minutes ago,” someone said.
I darted out the door. I hoped I’d find Grandma looking at the pretty shoes in the store window, but she wasn’t there. Just then I saw Grandma walking toward me.
“Grandma!” I cried. “Why didn’t you wait for me? I was so worried!”
“I’m sorry, Noreen. You know, I did the silliest thing! Please don’t be angry, dear.”
“I’m not angry,” I said. “I was just scared.” I sat down on a nearby bench.
Grandma looked off in the distance. “After I got outside, I realized I didn’t have any shoes on,” she explained.
“I’m just glad I found you,” I said.
We went back inside for her shoes. As we walked home, I noticed Grandma’s shoulders were slumped and her head was down. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Everything! I hate all this forgetting business,” she said. “But I just can’t help it.”
“You’re doing all right,” I said. “Everybody forgets now and then.”
“Not like this! Forgetting my shoes, forgetting this, forgetting that!”
“You could be doing much worse, you know. For instance, what do you always put on first, your blouse or your jacket?”
Grandma glanced at me with her bright eyes twinkling. “You’re being silly.”
“No, I’m not! Can you imagine if you put your blouse on top of your jacket?”
“Then I’d really be in bad shape, I guess,” Grandma said as she gave my arm a playful nudge.
“Would you like to go for a walk in the park today?” I asked.
“Sure, but can we go to the doughnut store too?”
“Of course.” I held her hand to cross the street. “Don’t we always?”
Like I said, I don’t mind taking care of Grandma. Sometimes it can get a little interesting. But most of the time, we just enjoy each other’s company.
Special Words
By Darlene Young
Friend, May 2009, 26–27
(Based on a true story)
Follow me, and listen to the counsel which I shall give unto you (D&C 100:2).
Sam was tired of sitting. He tugged on his mom’s sleeve. “How long is stake conference?” he whispered.
His mom leaned toward him. “Two hours, Sam. Look at the clock. When both hands are on the 12, it will be done. Now, let’s listen to the speakers.”
Sam fidgeted. He crossed his left leg over his right. He crossed his right leg over his left. He pulled out the hymnbook and flipped a few pages. He was in first grade, and he could read many of the words.
He put the hymnbook back. This meeting was going to last forever.
Now that he was old enough to read and write, Mom and Dad said he didn’t need treats or toys in church meetings. Before the meeting started, they gave him a notebook and a pen. They said he could draw pictures, as long as he would sit still and try to listen.
Sam tried to listen. He really did. But the speakers were grown-ups, and they mostly talked about grown-up things. It was hard to pay attention to what they said. Sam opened his notebook and began to draw. After a while, he asked Mom again when the meeting would be over. She said there was still a whole hour left! He had already drawn a robot, a space monster, a dinosaur, and his family. He was tired of drawing.
Sam sighed loudly. Mom put her finger on her lips and frowned. He kicked the bench in front of him. Dad put his hand on Sam’s shoulder and frowned. Sam crossed his left leg over his right leg. He crossed his right leg over his left leg.
Just then, he heard the speaker say “Jesus Christ.” Sam knew how to spell that. He opened his notebook and wrote Jesus Christ.
“I wonder if the speaker will say that again,” Sam thought. He listened. Sure enough, the speaker did, and Sam wrote it down. He wondered how many times the speaker would say “Jesus Christ.” He decided to count. The speaker said His name six more times. Sam wrote down each one.
When the next speaker stood up, Sam listened for “Jesus” again. But this speaker talked more about the Holy Ghost. Sam tried to spell Holy Ghost, but it was a little tricky. He thought maybe he hadn’t gotten it quite right, but it was fun to try. He listened to see if the speaker would say any other special words.
When the speaker sat down, Sam looked at his notebook. He had written Jesus Christ, Holy Ghost, Heavenly Father, and comfort. He had also written pray, listen, and obey. He had a whole page of special words.
Looking at the page made Sam feel good inside. He didn’t need toys or treats after all. All he needed were his notebook and pen—and his ears to listen for special words.
The May Queen
By Alison L. Randall
Friend, May 2009, 30–32
(Based on a true story)
And thou shalt do that which is right and good in the sight of the Lord (Deuteronomy 6:18).
Hetty stepped over the milk bottles near the front door and began the long walk to school. She breathed in the cool spring air and smiled. In just one week it would be May Day, and Hetty couldn’t wait. There would be parades, festivals, and fairs all over England.
May Day had always been one of Hetty’s favorite holidays, but this year it would be even better. This year she was 11, and the May Queen would be chosen from her school class.
As Hetty skipped along the cobblestones, she tried to imagine who it would be. Maybe Sara. She was pretty, and would look nice holding the gold ribbon in the maypole dance. Alice would too. She wore nice clothes, and the May Queen always had a new dress. The May Queen also needed to be a good student.
Hetty paused. She was smart. Was it possible she might be chosen?
Hetty looked at her reflection in a shop window. Her plain dress blended with the gray cobblestones behind her. She’d never had a new dress before, only ones her sister had outgrown. Hetty tried to picture herself leading the parade in a hand-me-down. No, she couldn’t be the May Queen.
At mid-morning the headmaster entered her classroom. “It’s time to announce the May Queen,” he said. “But first, the attendants.”
Hetty held her breath while the headmaster read four names. Sara and Alice were among them.
“And the May Queen is … Hetty Neal!”
Sara and Alice glared at Hetty, and she knew what they were thinking. She didn’t fit the picture of a May Queen. No one knew that more than Hetty.
After school Hetty knocked on the headmaster’s door. “Are you sure?” she asked him.
“Yes,” he said.
“But I can’t buy a new dress.”
“That’s not important. Just wear your best.”
Hetty didn’t feel any better.
When she got home, she went straight to the garden. Flowers often made her feel better, but only a few green shoots poked through the earth.
Hetty’s mother opened the back door. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Hetty said. “Well, yes. I’m the May Queen.”
“That’s wonderful!” Mother exclaimed.
Hetty nodded. It was wonderful. But terrible at the same time.
“Your dad will be proud,” Mother said. “I’ll send him a telegram at work.” Hetty’s father was away working in the southern part of the country.
Mother noticed Hetty’s expression. “What’s bothering you?” she asked.
It’s just …” Hetty hesitated. “I won’t have a new dress.”
Mother looked worried. “Do you need one?” she asked.
Hetty couldn’t lie. “No,” she said.
Mother smiled. “There’s nothing to worry about then. You’ll do fine.”
Sara and Alice didn’t seem to agree. They both looked away when Hetty walked into class the next day, and Hetty found a note in her desk that said, “You’ll ruin everything.”
After school, Hetty went to the garden when she got home. If only she had flowers. Even her plain gray dress would look nice with a bouquet. But though the green shoots were growing taller, she knew the buds wouldn’t open in time.
Mother came to the door. “I’ve heard from your dad,” she said. “He’ll try to make it home for the holiday.”
Hetty smiled at the good news. Then she had a thought. “Are the flowers blooming where he is?”
“I would think so,” Mother said.
“Could he bring some home?”
The rest of the week crawled by. Sara and Alice ignored Hetty. But the day before the celebration, Sara walked up to Hetty and whispered two words: “Stay home.”
After school, Hetty fled to the garden. Still no flowers, and no sign of her father, either. Should she stay home? Should she let someone who looked more like a May Queen take her place?
Later that evening, Hetty heard heavy steps on the porch, and then the door swung open. There stood Father with a large box in his arms.
“How’s my May Queen?” he asked.
Hetty ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Then she peered into the box. It was brimming with flowers, all kinds and colors, even more than she had hoped for.
“Will these do?” Father asked.
“Oh, yes!” Hetty pictured herself at the head of the parade, decorated with blossoms from head to toe. Alice and Sara would be amazed.
Then Hetty had another idea.
The next morning she was up early, but she was still late for school. When she walked in the classroom, her instructor looked relieved. “Hetty, we were beginning to worry,” she said.
“I’m sorry to be late,” Hetty said. “I was making these.”
From out of her box she took a circlet of flowers and placed it on her instructor’s head. Out came more circles, one for each girl in the class, and small bouquets for her attendants. As they took their bouquets, Sara and Alice looked surprised.
“Why, Hetty, what a queenly thing to do,” her instructor said.
At the bottom of the box was one more flower circle for her own head. As she led the parade, Hetty didn’t feel plain or poor. She felt like a queen.
Let It Go
By Mara Sundwall
Friend, Jun 2009, 4–6
(Based on a true story)
I, the Lord, will forgive whom I will forgive, but of you it is required to forgive all men (D&C 64:10).
Emily burst through the front door in tears. She dropped her bag on the floor and ran to her room. Mom followed her and knocked on the bedroom door. “Em, can I come in?” she asked.
Emily answered with a quiet “yes,” and Mom opened the door.
“Is everything OK, honey?” Mom asked.
“Nothing is OK!” Emily said. “You won’t believe what happened today. Jenny handed out her birthday party invitations after school, and I was the only girl in our class who wasn’t invited. I feel horrible. I am so mad at Jenny.”
“I can imagine how that would feel,” Mom said. “What do you think you should do?”
“I’m never speaking to her again. Not in a million years,” Emily sobbed.
Mom put her arms around Emily and stroked her hair. “Do you think that is the best thing to do?” she asked.
“I don’t care,” Emily moaned. “Jenny is so mean.”
The next morning at breakfast, Emily slumped into her seat at the table. She pushed her food around the plate with her fork.
“Emily, Mom told me you didn’t get an invitation to Jenny’s party. Is that what’s bothering you?” Dad asked.
“You wouldn’t understand,” Emily said.
“Try me,” Dad said.
“It’s just that my feelings are hurt. It’s embarrassing to be left out.”
“I do understand, Em,” Dad said. “But remember that we can feel better when we forgive others. Jesus forgave everyone who offended Him. Try to forgive, and then let it go. It’s what Jesus would want you to do.”
Emily walked to school with her friend Lucy. Lucy talked about Jenny’s upcoming party all the way to school. Emily listened quietly, too embarrassed to tell her friend that she hadn’t been invited. At recess, all of the girls in Emily’s class huddled together and talked excitedly about the party. Emily wandered away from the group and sat by herself on the swings. She glared at everyone. She felt very alone.
During gym class, Emily’s friend Gina, who usually picked her first when choosing teams, chose Jenny first instead. Emily was the last to be picked. She could hardly hold back the tears, and her stomach began to hurt. She asked the teacher if she could be excused from class to go to the nurse’s office.
Later, as Emily waited for her mother to pick her up from school, she thought about what her father had said about forgiveness, and about how Jesus had forgiven everyone who had hurt or offended Him. But Emily couldn’t do that. She couldn’t forgive Jenny for making her feel this way.
Emily and Mom rode home in silence. When Mom pulled into the garage, Emily jumped out of the car and ran to her room. She stared out the window until Mom called her for dinner.
At dinner, Emily’s brother Jack talked eagerly about his day at preschool. Emily’s dad told a funny story he heard at work. Emily sat in silence, staring down at her plate. After dinner, Mom announced, “We’ll be having family home evening now.”
“But, Mom, it’s Thursday. We had family home evening on Monday,” Emily said.
“It’s an emergency session to help you with what’s been bothering you,” Mom said, smiling.
The family gathered in the living room. They sang “Help Me, Dear Father,” * and Jack said the opening prayer. Then Mom left the room and returned with four helium-filled balloons. Each balloon was attached to a colorful ribbon. Mom handed a balloon and a marker to each member of the family.
“Tonight we’re going to learn about letting go of hurt feelings,” Mom said. “I want each of you to write on your balloon things that others have done that hurt your feelings. Write down anything that is keeping you from feeling love for someone.”
After thinking for a minute, Dad began writing. Mom helped Jack write on his balloon, and then began working on her own.
Emily wrote things that were easy for her to forgive: Jack jumping on her bed, Gina losing her favorite pen. Then Emily paused. There was one thing that seemed too hard to forgive. Could she really forgive Jenny and still be her friend? Emily thought about the words of the song they had just sung: “Help me, dear Father, to freely forgive, all who may seem unkind to me.”
Emily sat quietly for a moment. Then she slowly wrote on her balloon, “Jenny didn’t invite me to her party.”
When everyone had finished, Mom said, “Now let’s say a prayer in our hearts asking Heavenly Father to help us forgive the people who have hurt our feelings. Let’s also ask Him to forgive us for things we have done that hurt others.”
As Emily finished her prayer, a feeling of warmth washed over her.
Emily smiled as they all let go of their balloons. The balloons drifted upward and bounced gently against the ceiling. Emily laughed and joked with her family as they shared a dessert and cleaned up together.
That night, as Emily climbed into bed, Mom and Dad sat down next to her. She smiled up at her parents.
“It looks like you’re feeling better,” Dad said.
“I feel good,” Emily said. “I’m still sad that I won’t be at the party with all of my friends, but I’m not angry at Jenny anymore. I know that Heavenly Father loves her just like He loves me, even though we both sometimes do things that hurt others. I think forgiveness is Heavenly Father’s way of helping us learn to love each other the way He loves us.”
A Prayer for Muffie
By Pam Bostwick
Friend, Jun 2009, 10–12
(Based on a true story)
Worlds so great and sparrows small; God is watching over all ( Children’s Songbook, 229).
Eric sat down on the couch next to his mom and wondered why she looked sad.
“We need to talk,” Mom said.
“Let me guess. It’s something about the move, right?” Eric asked. It seemed to Eric like almost everything had to do with the move.
“Well, yes,” Mom said. “It’s about Muffie.”
“What about Muffie?” Worry crept into Eric’s voice.
Mom sighed. “We can’t have pets in the new apartment.”
“But she’s my dog!” Eric patted Muffie’s head as she lay beside him. “She goes with me wherever I go.”
“I’m sorry, Eric. We can’t take her with us, but …”
Eric didn’t hear any more. He ran to his room and flung himself on the bed as Muffie followed. Eric buried his face in the quilt Grandma had made him. He didn’t want Muffie to see him cry. Muffie whined softly and wiggled her small honey-colored body next to Eric. She did that whenever he was confused or upset.
Eric thought about the first day Muffie wandered into his yard. She had bounded up to him, her stub of a tail wagging like she knew him. He and his mom tried to find the dog’s owner, but they couldn’t. Mom let Eric keep Muffie. Now, everything seemed so unfair. Eric wondered why this was happening.
Eric didn’t sleep well that night. In the morning, Mom asked, “Would you like to talk about it?”
Eric swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m too sad.”
“I don’t blame you for being sad or even angry.” Mom put her arm around him. “When I was little, my dog Pancho ran away. I never knew if he found a good home. It’s different with Muffie. We’ll find her a place to live.”
“Muffie’s home is with me,” Eric said. “Why can’t we get a place where we can keep her?”
“I can’t find an apartment that will allow pets,” Mom said. “Besides, Muffie wouldn’t be happy in a crowded place where she can’t run around.”
“If I were Muffie, I wouldn’t like that either,” he admitted. “But I’ll miss her.”
Mom spoke gently. “I have an idea. When you pray tonight, ask Heavenly Father to help you feel better and to help us find a good home for Muffie. After all, He loves Muffie too.”
After his prayer that evening, Eric was filled with warmth and peace. He felt that Heavenly Father would help take care of Muffie.
Mom put an ad in the paper, but days passed and no one called. In the meantime, Eric spent every spare moment with Muffie.
The move was only a week away, and Muffie still didn’t have a new home. Eric prayed harder than ever. He hoped that Heavenly Father would not forget about Muffie.
The day before the movers came, Mom said, “I don’t know what else to do except take Muffie to the animal shelter.”
Eric’s stomach tightened.
“Don’t worry,” Mom said. “Someone will adopt her, and she’ll find a good place to live.”
Eric wasn’t listening. He couldn’t understand why—after so many prayers—he still had to take Muffie to the animal shelter.
The next morning, Mom and Eric rode in silence to the shelter. When they arrived, Eric slowly tugged Muffie on her leash toward the shelter. Muffie jerked back as Eric tried to move her through the door.
“Come on, girl. It’ll be OK,” Eric said, but he wasn’t convinced.
While Eric’s mom signed papers, Muffie squirmed and barked. Afterward, Eric knelt and held Muffie close to him, then ran out of the room. He couldn’t bear to say good-bye. It was bad enough hearing her yelps.
Eric threw himself into the car. As they drove away, Mom offered comfort, but Eric remained quiet. He felt numb inside. “Why is this happening?” he wondered.
Suddenly, he noticed the toy dog bone still in his pocket. It was the good-luck bone he had wanted to give Muffie.
“We have to go back, Mom. I forgot to give Muffie the bone.”
At the shelter, Mom waited in the car while Eric went inside. A worker was trying to put tags on Muffie’s collar. Her barks of protest changed to a yip of glee when she saw Eric. She jumped into his arms. Eric wished he could stop the tightness in his throat.
Behind him, the door opened, and a little boy and a woman walked in. The boy pointed at Muffie and said, “Look, Mom, it’s Fluff!”
“After all this time? I don’t know, Tommy,” his mom said.
Eric watched with big eyes. Tommy edged forward. “Fluff. Here, girl,” he coaxed.
Muffie hesitated only a moment before she leapt toward Tommy. Eric stared at his own empty arms, then looked at his dog and Tommy together. It reminded Eric of his own first meeting with Muffie.
“Wait, Tommy.” His mother turned to Eric. “Is she yours?”
“Well, she, I …” Eric stammered.
“She can’t be yours. I lost my Fluff months ago, and now she’s back.” Tommy patted Muffie, and she nuzzled his cheek.
“Could she really be Tommy’s lost dog?” Eric asked himself. Eric was still sad, but the look in Tommy’s eyes made it not hurt so much anymore to let Muffie go. “Bye, girl,” he whispered.
When Eric told his mom what had happened, she hugged him tightly. “It’s all right, Mom,” Eric said. “Muffie is OK because Heavenly Father really does love her too.”
Caught!
By Stacey Transtrum
Friend, Jun 2009, 30–32
(Based on a true story)
Jake had waited all autumn, winter, and spring for the opening day of fishing season. Fishing was his favorite sport, and he was ready to go. His pole stood by the door, loaded with all the line his reel could hold. He had tied on a brand-new red-and-white lure with a three-pronged hook. He was going to catch the biggest cutthroat trout ever in the creek by his house.
But now—of all times—Mom said he had chores to do.
“Jake, if you want to go fishing, you need to clean your room first,” Mom said.
Jake hung his head, stomped to his room, and threw himself onto his bed.
“I just don’t get what the big deal is about having a clean bedroom,” Jake muttered. “I know where my things are. If I put them back in a drawer, I’ll just have to go to all the trouble of digging them out again. And what’s the sense of making a bed if I’m going to climb back into it again in a few hours anyway?”
Jake picked up two wrinkled shirts off the floor and threw them in his closet. Then he hurriedly pulled the bedspread up over his pillow. Cleaning his bedroom didn’t seem as important as not being late for the opening day of fishing season.
Jake listened for clues about where Mom was in the house. If she was in the kitchen, she might stop him to make sure he had done a good job cleaning. But if she went to the laundry room, he could make a quick getaway. After several long minutes, the washing machine buzzer finally summoned Mom to the laundry room.
Jake rushed for the door, grabbing his fishing pole on the way out. He paused for a moment to close the door as quietly as possible, then ran across the field. He hid in the thick willows that lined the creek. He had escaped without being caught. Maybe Mom wouldn’t even notice his room wasn’t really clean.
Taking a deep breath, Jake whipped the tip of his pole back behind his shoulder and flung it forward, allowing the line to spin off his reel. He listened to the soft splash of the lure as it entered the gentle ripples of the fresh, cold water in his favorite fishing hole. It was just as fun as he remembered. Soon he had no thoughts of his bedroom, Mom, or anything else.
Jake reeled in the line, watching his lure dance across the rocks at the bottom of the creek. He repeated the process several times. Suddenly, he felt the line catch on something, followed by a sharp sting on his shoulder. Two of the prongs on his hook had gone through his shirt and snagged the back of his shoulder.
“Oh no!” Jake thought. “Mom will have to help me get the hook out. What will she say? I’m supposed to still be cleaning my room.”
As Jake headed back to the house, he prepared himself for Mom’s lecture, but it never came.
“Hmm, Jake, it looks like you’ve been caught,” Mom said when she saw the hook.
He knew what she meant. He was not only caught by the fishhook, but he had been caught disobeying. “I know, Mom,” Jake said. “I’m sorry I didn’t obey you.”
Mom took Jake to the doctor. Jake whimpered a bit as the doctor removed the hook, but was quiet during the ride home. He knew what he needed to do. When they got home, Jake went upstairs and cleaned his bedroom.
The next day, Jake did all his chores before asking Mom if he could fish. From now on, the only thing getting caught would be a big cutthroat trout.
The Best Summer Day
By Kelly J. Hunsaker
Friend, Jun 2009, 38–39
(Based on a true story)
See that ye love one another (D&C 88:123).
“Mom, can I go play?” Kayla asked. “My morning chores are done.”
“Yes, you may,” Mom replied. “Thank you for doing everything so quickly.”
Kayla had been looking forward to summer break. She enjoyed the freedom summer brought. She loved the warm breezes, trying to catch butterflies, and skipping stones in the pond. So far this summer had been perfect, except for one problem.
“Wait for me!” Kayla’s younger sister, Brooke, cried.
Kayla grew frustrated as she waited for Brooke to catch up. “Pretty soon summer will be over, and I’ll have spent the whole time waiting for my sister,” she thought.
Kayla waited while Brooke tied her shoes. She waited while Brooke looked for her butterfly net. And she waited a long time for Brooke to catch a butterfly before they could go inside for lunch.
Things were the same after lunch. Kayla had just learned to ride her bike without training wheels. She loved pedaling hard, then coasting as far as she could. Brooke wanted to ride her tricycle too, but she couldn’t ride nearly as fast. Kayla didn’t feel like waiting anymore.
“Wait for me,” Brooke said as Kayla rode past.
“Zip!” went Kayla on her bicycle. She zipped and whooshed up and down the sidewalk while Brooke tried her hardest to keep up.
After a while, Kayla noticed how quiet it was. She listened nervously. She couldn’t hear Brooke, and she hadn’t seen her for a while. Worried, Kayla looked around the yard. Then she noticed Brooke sitting onthe lawn, frowning.
“I’m trying, but I can’t keep up with you. I give up,” Brooke said as she put her head down and began to cry.
Kayla sat down next to her. She felt terrible. “I’m sorry I left you behind,” she said. “Will you forgive me?”
Brooke looked up but didn’t answer.
“We can ride together,” Kayla said, smiling. “But only if you’ll wait for me.”
Brooke got on her tricycle and Kayla pushed her to the top of the sidewalk. “Now wait here while I get my bike.” Kayla ran down to her bike and quickly rode it back up. Then they coasted down together. Kayla set her bike down and began pushing Brooke back up the sidewalk again. She glanced at her sister, who sat smiling like a princess. Kayla’s frustration was gone. Instead, she felt warm and happy.
They rode together until they were so tired they flopped down in the long green grass. They stayed there and listened to the crickets until Mom called them inside.
Mom had been watching Kayla from the kitchen window. “That was a very unselfish thing you did today, Kayla,” she said, kissing her on the head. “Thank you for taking such good care of your sister. I think you treated her like Jesus would want you to.”
“This has been my best summer day,” Brooke said.
Kayla loved the way she felt inside. “Mine too,” she said.
© 2008. All rights reserved. |