"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                              "The Ripple Effect"

       Have you ever thrown a pebble into a pond and watched what happens?  The movement caused by that one little pebble creates a tiny ripple, which then creates more ripples.  Soon the whole pond is transformed into a medley of tiny waves.  The once quiet, glass-like water now dances with motion. If a single pebble can make such a difference to a pond, how much difference can one person make in another person's life?  It's the small and smiple things--the tinypebbles of service--that cause the greatest ripples for good.

      It was the hottest month of the year, and there I sat in a tiny camp trailer with sweat dripping down my back.  The compressor could only be used for a couple of hours a day, and I had already used my quota.  I was miserable.  I lived in the trailer because it was part of my job.  As the large trucks came in and were loaded with dirt, I had to weigh them before they left.  It was a job and a place to live.  Nothing more. 

       The gun lay in my hand and I began fingering it.  I had gone through so much pain, sorrow, and continual downfall that I thought there was no hope for me.  I tried to come up with options but felt like I had none.  It had been a long three years since I had left my family, my friends, and the Church.  Suicide seemed my only way out.  Yes, I would go through with it this time.  Several times before I had planned to commit suicide, but had changed my mind at the last moment. This time, I thought I had nowhere else to turn.
      
          Looking out of the tiny window into the dark night, I could see the skyline of Las Vegas.  Sparkling lights looked like tiny stars in the distance. I reflected back to when I was a child and remembered how I loved looking at the stars.  Many times, as I looked heavenward, I felt peace because I knew Heavenly Father was there looking down on me.  My parents had taught me that I had a Father in Heaven who loved and cared about me.  Back then I was sure of a lot of things.  Now I didn't know what I believed.

          Absently-mindedly, I played an unlabeled tape from my tape collection.  As the music began, the words of the song jumped out at me:  "Will he answer me?  Does he really hear my prayers?"  I burst into tears, feeling the pain of my previous sins.  Immediately I took the tape out and tried chasing those feelings away by playing some of the hardest rock tapes I had.

           Later that night I still couldn't shake the painful feeling, so I went into my trailer and dropped to my knees.  I spent the entire evening in prayer.  I fervently asked, "Are you really there, or am I just talking to the ceiling?"  I wondered if God could really hear me and answer my prayers.  Somehow the thought brought comfort and peace.  I hadn't felt that in a long time.

       The next morning I decided I would go to church the following weekend. The closer Sunday got, the more nervous I became. The thought made me weak in the knees, but I got dressed and went anyway.  I knew where the chapel was and cautiously went inside, sitting as far back as I could.  No one seemed to notice me (or so I thought), and I sat there thinking this was a stupid idea.  Why had I even come?  There was nothing here for me.  I got up and started to walk out, intent on going home to end my life. 
     
        As I was leaving, a young man about my age introduced himself to me as Steve.  He said he was living with his aunt and uncle and working to earn money to go on a mission.  He was very friendly, but I did not feel at ease.  Steve excused himself for a moment and asked me to wait there.  Down the hall, I could see him talking to a dark-haired lady, and then he came back.  He asked if I would like to come over to their house that afternoon for dinner, and we could spend some time getting to know each other better.  I accepted and then quickly left.

      
 Back in my trailer, I saw the gun on the bed.  I decided to wait.  Perhaps this person and his invitation was by some small chance an answer to my prayer.  I put the gun away and waited.  Steve came to pick me up when he said he would, and together we went to his house.  His aunt and uncle were very friendly, and I felt welcome at once.  They had five children, and since I love kids, we had a good time.  I stayed the entire evening.
      
       I can't explain what it felt like to be loved again.  For three years I had turned my back on everything I had loved.  Everything in my life had gone wrong. But now, suddenly, I felt new life.  My Heavenly Father had answered my prayer in the form of a young man preparing to go on a mission, his aunt and uncle, and their family.  I was still loved.

            Steve and I became best friends.  I helped him study for his mission, and we spent many hours talking about the gospel.  We attended church regularly together, double-dated,  and had fun and crazy times together too.  I started reading the Book of Mormon and I met with the bishop.  One day he asked me if I wanted to go on a mission.  I was surprised that I could still go, and the thought of serving the Lord brought even more hope to me. 

          Soon it was time for Steve to move back home.  The Lord had placed him in my life just long enough to help me get back on my feet again in the Church.  Would he ever know how his Christlike love and service had touched me?  Could I ever thank him enough?

         After Steve left, I continued going over to his aunt and uncle's house for visits. I used their telephone to contact my parents and share with them the changes that had occurred in my life.  Since I didn't have a mailbox, they also let me receive my mail at their house.  A couple of months later there was a knock on my trailer door, and I opened it to see Steve's aunt and uncle with big smiles on their faces.  They  handed me a long, white envelope. The words in the upper left corner read, "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints." 

         Two years later I stood at the pulpit, a completely changed man, and talked about my mission. For the past twenty four months, I had spent my life in the service of my Father in Heaven.  Many lives had been touched while I served as a missionary in the England, Bristol Mission, including my own.  We taught the discussions to a woman named Trixie, and she joined the Church.  Trixie's friend, Colin, and also her daughters, Louise and Laura, were then baptized.  There were many other contacts who changed their lives and accepted the gospel. As I looked back on my mission, I thought about the little pebble and the ripple effect.  The Christlike love and service that Steve showed me had created a ripple in my life.  I was amazed at the difference that one person could make.

         Several years have gone by since that day.  It's Friday night and I have a date.  She is beautiful and sits rather close to me.  It is dark and romantic as we walk arm in arm up the flower-clad pathway leading to the Salt Lake Temple.  Before we approach the door, we embrace.  As I hold her in my arms, I say a silent prayer, thanking my Heavenly Father for this precious, eternal bride of mine.

                                                                       --John
                                                     "By Small & Simple Things"