An Understanding Friend

By Ann S. Bushman

Mark felt a tightness inside as he sat in his class chair. This was the third school that he had attended in the past few years. And although the first day in a new school was always the hardest, something far worse was bothering him: Grandpa was dead. And nobody in his family could explain to Mark what really happens to someone when he dies.

He noticed the girl across the aisle staring at him. What is she looking at? he thought. He felt like making a face at her, but instead he got out his new note book and the worn, mechanical pencil Grandpa had given him.

“I want you to have this, Mark,” Grandpa had said. “It has been with me for many years. I used it to write my best ideas and thoughts in my journal. I’ve had some wonderful adventures while going idea hunting, and I believe you’re ready now to start your own search.”

Oh, Grandpa, Mark had thought, you’re not finished with adventures! And how can I search alone? Don’t leave me, Grandpa. But Mark hadn’t said anything except “Thank you” in a very quiet voice.

But Grandpa’s adventures did stop. One winter afternoon Mark had stood aching and helpless beside a silent grave. Even Grandpa’s pencil in his pocket gave him no comfort.

Mark got through his first day at school by avoiding everyone. After school he walked home alone. Two blocks from his house, someone came up behind him. The girl who had stared at him in class fell into step beside him.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Sarah. You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets and hunching his shoulders.

“I live on the corner, down from your house,” she said. “It’s nice to have someone my age on our street. I’m glad that you moved here.” Mark was reluctant at first, but Sarah asked him to do something nearly every day after school. Their favorite pastime was exploring in the forest behind her house. They talked a lot. And their friendship grew.

“Let’s have a picnic,” Sarah suggested one afternoon. “I know a place along the creek where there’s a deep pool full of fish. Do you fish, Mark?”

“I used to,” said Mark, suddenly serious. He hadn’t taken out his fishing pole since Grandpa had become too weak to go with him.

They met early Saturday morning and walked to a nearby pool. “It’s really beautiful here,” Mark said. He almost felt happy.

They baited their hooks and cast into the water.

Very soon Mark’s fishing pole bent double. He stood firmly on his feet and began reeling in a large, speckled trout.

“That’s the biggest one I’ve ever seen!” Sarah cried. As Mark reeled it in, she added, “He must be awfully old to be so big. I bet he’s a grandpa.”

Mark went cold inside. He looked down at the fish. A grandpa. And he was about to send him to his death. He reached down, unhooked the frantic fish, and threw it back into the water.

“Why’d you do that?” asked Sarah.

“I couldn’t let him die. He’s a grandpa.” His eyes filled with tears in spite of his efforts to prevent them.

“Oh, Mark,” said Sarah. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s my Grandpa,” choked Mark. “He died last winter. I miss him so much. I don’t understand why he had to leave me. I don’t know where he went or if I’ll ever see him again.”

Sarah reached out and took Mark’s hand. “You will see him again, Mark,” she told him. “I know why he died, and I know where he is.”

Mark looked up at her, startled. “Where?” he whispered. “Where is he?”

“His body is dead,” Sarah explained, “but his spirit lives in the spirit world.” She smiled at Mark. “Did your grandpa believe in Jesus?”

“Yes,” he said. “He did. I don’t know much about Jesus, but Grandpa told me one time that some of his best ideas came from the Bible. Grandpa liked good ideas.”

“Here’s one of Jesus’ teachings,” Sarah said. “‘I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live:

“‘And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.’” (John 11:25–26.)

“So, you see,” Sarah went on, “only your grandpa’s body died. His spirit is still alive. Someday, because of Jesus, his spirit will come back into his body, and he will be alive again. That’s why Jesus said that He was the resurrection and the life.”

“You really believe that, don’t you?”

“I really do,” Sarah told him.

“Why?” Mark asked.

“Because my dad died two years ago. At first I thought that I would never be happy again. I missed him so much! I still do, but I’m not sad anymore. My dad believed in Jesus, and so do I. Mom had us memorize that scripture so that we could be comforted.”

“Sarah, will you help me learn that scripture, too?” he asked.

“Sure,” said Sarah. “I wrote it in my journal on the day that we buried my dad.”

“Grandpa wrote in a journal. He gave me his pencil to write in my own journal, but I haven’t started one yet. Maybe I’ll do it today. Do you have any more good scriptures that I could write down?”

“Lots,” Sarah told him. “In fact, I can give you a whole book of them when we get home. You can use your pencil to underline them right in the book because there will be too many to copy.”

“What book is that?” asked Mark.

“The Book of Mormon,” said Sarah.

Mark looked at her beaming smile and felt a warmth creep into his heart.

“The Book of Mormon,” he repeated. He’d never heard of it before. But if the Book of Mormon helped make Sarah happy, he thought, maybe it can do the same for me.

Illustrated by Matt Kesler