Gospel Story Finder

It was a simple stick of chewing gum that ultimately brought Harriet Reich to the gospel and later to the love of her life, Dieter F. Uchtdorf. When Harriet was a four-year-old girl living in Frankfurt near the end of the war, a handsome American serviceman who passed her on the street kindly offered her a stick of chewing gum. She took it hesitantly and never forgot that friendly gesture or the pleasant look on the young man’s face. Roughly a decade later two LDS missionaries knocked on the Reichs’ door, which Harriet opened while her mother called out to forbid them entrance. Seeing the same kind look on the face of the missionaries, she remembered the compassionate serviceman of earlier years and pleaded, “Oh, please, Mother. Just for a moment.”

The missionaries left a copy of the Book of Mormon with certain passages marked for emphasis. That night, Harriet’s mother started to read. (Harriet’s father had died just eight months earlier.) Harriet recalls, “I couldn’t tell you exactly what my mother read, but I watched her face and noticed something remarkable happening to her countenance.” This little family had been living with the same terrible aftermath of the war that everyone else was living with. The newly widowed mother of two young girls was pale and depressed, unhappy and unclear about what their future could be. But as her mother read from the pages of the Book of Mormon, Harriet says, “I saw joy return to my mother’s life before my very eyes! I saw light come back into her eyes. I saw hope find a place in her soul.”

When the missionaries returned they asked, “Did you read the marked scriptures?”

“I read it all,” Sister Reich said. “Come in. I have questions I want you to answer.”

Harriet, her mother, and her sister were baptized four weeks later.

“Life changed for us that day,” Harriet Uchtdorf says. “Once again we laughed and ran and found happiness in our home. I owe it all to the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

My beloved wife, Ethel, and I enjoyed 37 years of a wonderfully happy marriage. At least that’s how I saw it. I hope she did too! Even her previous survival of cancer on two occasions and her significantly declining health over three years did not prepare me for what seemed an awful, sudden separation upon her death in 2021.
After her passing, the feelings of grief were intense and devastating. I was very fortunate. I had married an exceptional woman. We had many great shared memories. We had three daughters who lived nearby. I had a supportive Church community. One or two trusted friends were willing listeners, with whom I could share my innermost thoughts – though I felt awkward doing so. Even then, none of these, not even the sum of them, seemed to ease the immeasurable sorrow I felt.
Initially, the grief came in what seemed like never-ending torrents and, as time passed, later became waves (just as painful) that would crash onto me without warning. Bumping into someone, seeing a dress in a shop, hearing a piece of music, watching a grandchild that Ethel had never lived to see – all of these and more would bring on the tears. Nearly four years after Ethel’s departure, the frequency of intense grief has decreased, but the unpredictable onset of weeping for her continues with similar intensity. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Love does that to you.

But are we not to bring a certain proper reverence to prayer? And if we are not in that mode should we not repent and wait? Listen to Heber C. Kimball. He is praying with his family and in the midst of the prayer says, “Father, bless Brother so-and-so.” And then begins a loud laugh. I can imagine the heads of his children popping up and their eyes opening. After a slight pause he said, “Lord, it makes me laugh when I pray about some people,” and went on with his prayer (see Whitney, p. 427). I leave it to you: was that light-mindedness, or profound intimacy with the Lord who knows we have a funny bone? He gave it to us.

Abraham Kwaku Fokuo joined the Church in August 1985, when his oldest daughter, Alison, was 14 years old. He had traveled to Washington D.C. in the U.S., to do his master’s program. He had finished his masters and was working on a PHD in seminar at Wesley Seminary to become a Methodist minister. One day he was in his apartment filling out forms for a promised scholarship when he heard a knock at the door. He peeked through the hole and saw two young white men. He opened the door, and the two young men greeted him. He started being taught and then was baptized. Alison said, “Like Father Lehi, he realized that the fruits were desirable to taste, and he wanted his family members to enjoy the same, so he abandoned his studies and came back to Ghana”.

When I was a junior in high school, I had a seminary teacher who changed the course of my life. He was able to look past my fashionably long hair and mildly rebellious attitude and somehow instill in me a desire to start reading the scriptures. Because of his influence, my life literally changed as I became converted and committed to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I was invited to participate on the seminary council the following year and, because I admired him so much, was looking forward to working closely with him.
Near the end of the summer, but before school began, the new seminary council gathered for our first meeting of the year. This teacher was fanatic about starting class on time and would often good naturedly embarrass any latecomers. When the entire council arrived on time and he did not, we could hardly wait to let him have it. After about a half an hour, there was still no sign of him. I called the seminary principal to see if we had misunderstood the date. The principal apologized for our inconvenience and then told us that this teacher would not be teaching again. I learned later that during the summer, he had been unfaithful to his wife and excommunicated from the Church.
You can imagine that this was very disturbing to me. I could not understand how this good man could have done such a thing.

One devotional that is of lasting memory to me was when I was a student at Brigham Young University in Provo. Ezra Taft Benson, then President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was speaking at the Marriott Center that day. I don't recall upon what topic he spoke, however, I do vividly remember the impression I felt that day; it was this, that no matter what transgressions we may have committed in the past, we could, from that moment on, resolve to choose the right and forsake sin each and every day of our lives. As a result of his talk, I was filled with much resolution and commitment. In fact, I thought I'd take President Benson's message one step further. I made a resolution that from that moment on, not only would I not sin anymore, I would not even make any mistakes! I was very serious about my commitment! So serious, in fact, that while concentrating on "no longer making any mistakes", I didn't realize that I had walked right into the women's restroom. I did not recognize the little lady figure on the door as a clue to where I was headed, nor did I recognize the pink paint on the wall. So intent was I on concentrating that I would never make a mistake again, that I had no intimation I was going into the women's restroom until standing face to face with a young co-ed who was brushing her beautiful, long hair in front of the mirror. All I can remember was getting out of the restroom as fast as I could. I will be forever grateful to that young co-ed for not screaming for campus security. I have rehearsed in my mind several times how shallow my excuse would have sounded to the security officer. "But officer, I was concentrating on never making a mistake, when I walked into the women's restroom and made a mistake." That resolution was obviously revised the very same day it was made.

In the first week of August I went to the Idaho Falls Temple to be sealed to my parents for time and eternity. While my parents went through a session before the sealing, I sat in the youth waiting room of the temple. This was a time for quiet reflection, and while I sat there, I read through the entire September 1978 issue of the New Era. This was very inspiring to me. I especially enjoyed the story “Religion, Rebellion, and Rebecca.” When I returned home from the temple, I dug out all the New Eras from the past year or so and began reading them. Since then the New Era has become an important part of my life, and I look forward to it each month. I was surprised to find that one of my best friends is also an avid reader of the New Era. We have been trying to get others to read this fine Church magazine.
Lonny NorthrupOntario, Oregon

In Act One by Moss Hart, the author tells of a particularly difficult experience he had one Christmas. His father was working several jobs, his mother had taken in renters, and still they were barely making it.

“Obviously Christmas was out of the question—we were barely staying alive. On Christmas Eve my father was very silent during the evening meal. Then he surprised and startled me by turning to me and saying, ‘Let’s take a walk.’ He had never suggested such a thing before, and moreover it was a very cold winter’s night. I was even more surprised when he said as we left the house, ‘Let’s go down to a Hundred Forty-ninth Street and Westchester Avenue.’ My heart leapt within me. That was the section where all the big stores were, where at Christmastime open pushcarts full of toys stood packed end-to-end for blocks at a stretch. On other Christmas Eves I had often gone there with my aunt, and from our tour of the carts she had gathered what I wanted the most. My father had known of this, of course, and I joyously concluded that this walk could mean only one thing—he was going to buy me a Christmas present.

“On the walk down I was beside myself with delight and an inner relief. It had been a bad year for me, that year of my aunt’s going, and I wanted a Christmas present terribly—not a present merely, but a symbol, a token of some sort. I needed some sign from my father or mother that they knew what I was going through and cared for me as much as my aunt and my grandfather did. I am sure they were giving me what mute signs they could, but I did not see them. The idea that my father had managed a Christmas present for me in spite of everything filled me with a sudden peace and lightness of heart I had not known in months.

“We hurried on, our heads bent against the wind, to the cluster of lights ahead that was 149th Street and Westchester Avenue, and those lights seemed to me the brightest lights I had ever seen. Tugging at my father’s coat, I started down the line of pushcarts. There were all kinds of things that I wanted, but since nothing had been said by my father about buying a present, I would merely pause before a pushcart to say, with as much control as I could muster, ‘Look at that chemistry set!’ or, ‘There’s a stamp album!’ or, ‘Look at the printing press!’ Each time my father would pause and ask the pushcart man the price. Then without a word we would move on to the next pushcart. Once or twice he would pick up a toy of some kind and look at it and then at me, as if to suggest this might be something I might like, but I was ten years old and a good deal beyond just a toy; my heart was set on a chemistry set or a printing press. There they were on every pushcart we stopped at, but the price was always the same and soon I looked up and saw we were nearing the end of the line. Only two or three more pushcarts remained. My father looked up, too, and I heard him jingle some coins in his pocket. In a flash I knew it all. He’d gotten together about seventy-five cents to buy me a Christmas present, and he hadn’t dared say so in case there was nothing to be had for so small a sum.

“As I looked up at him I saw a look of despair and disappointment in his eyes that brought me closer to him than I had ever been in my life. I wanted to throw my arms around him and say, ‘It doesn’t matter … I understand … this is better than a chemistry set or a printing press … I love you.’ But instead we stood shivering beside each other for a moment—then turned away from the last two pushcarts and started silently back home. I don’t know why the words remained choked up within me. I didn’t even take his hand on the way home nor did he take mine. We were not on that basis. Nor did I ever tell him how close to him I felt that night—that for a little while the concrete wall between father and son had crumbled away and I knew that we were two lonely people struggling to reach each other.

“I came close to telling him many years later, but again the moment passed.” (From ACT ONE, by Moss Hart. Copyright 1959 by Catherine Carlisle Hart and Joseph M. Hyman, Trustees. Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc.)

Nearly 30 years ago I drove to Utah for the first time. I had been living a very unchristian life but wanted to change. I just didn’t know how.
The evening of my second day in Utah, I stopped at a motel in a small town in southern Utah. As the lady in the office gave me a room key, I asked if she was a Latter-day Saint. She pleasantly replied, “Yes, I am.” Beaming, she added, “Have you read our wonderful book, the Book of Mormon?” Both startled and enticed, I told her I had not.
“There’s a copy in your room,” she continued. “There is nothing exciting for you here in town, so you might as well get acquainted with this wonderful book.”
I thanked her and took my luggage to my room. Once there I saw a maroon paperback titled the Book of Mormon on the nightstand.
I casually opened the book near the center and read a few verses, but my mind went blank. I did not understand anything. Disappointed, I put down the book and left my room, feeling empty. I drove around until I found a bar—a dark, ugly place. I went inside and instantly felt miserable, lonely, and hopeless. I stood there for a few minutes and then turned around and strode out, determined to never again waste a moment of my life in any bar.
Invigorated, I returned to my motel room and picked up the Book of Mormon. I knelt before the Lord, whom I knew little about, and pleaded with Him to have mercy on me. I asked Him to forgive me for the mess I had made of my life and to help me to understand what I read in the Book of Mormon, to know if Joseph Smith was a true prophet, and to know if the Mormon Church was for me.
I opened the book reverently and read the first verse I saw: “I glory in plainness; I glory in truth; I glory in my Jesus, for he hath redeemed my soul from hell” (2 Nephi 33:6). My heart burned and my tears fell. The words stood out with a wonderful light of hope—a light of Jesus Christ beckoning me to come unto Him.
Weeping, I again knelt in prayer, begging the Lord to lead on. Then I opened the book again and began reading the first chapter of 1 Nephi. I was filled with awe at the unmatched power, purity, and truth of the words and testimony of Nephi. I read until 2:00 the next morning, the Lord opening my understanding as I read.
Six months later I was baptized a member of this wonderful, true Church. I know the Lord blessed me to find and read the Book of Mormon—the book that established my faith and testimony in Jesus Christ.

Although as disciples of Christ we may know we are right, there are times when insisting or demanding that others recognize our correctness would simply cause unneeded offense. And even worse, it could become a stumbling block in someone else’s spiritual progression.

A wonderful example of this meekness and unwillingness to become a stumbling block is found in this experience of President James E. Faust (1920–2007), a former counselor in the First Presidency. “His son, Marcus, talked … about going with him to the Washington, D.C., temple to participate in a temple [endowment] session. When President Faust presented his recommend for admission—a special one used by general authorities—the temple worker didn’t recognize him or the recommend and denied him access. ‘Rather than embarrassing the man by telling him who he was, Dad politely excused himself and we all left.’”7

Province of Quebec—
You’ll see it on every license plate in the province. You’ll see it on coats of arms “Je me souviens.” It means “I remember.”
And this is a place where there is much to remember. The Province of Quebec is where France and Britain once battled for control of North America. It is the home of vast wildernesses and nomadic Native American tribes, where wise use of plentiful resources is still a challenge. It is the home of some of the oldest settlements on the continent, of walled fortresses and cobblestone streets now surrounded by business districts and skyscrapers.
And it is a place where young Latter-day Saints are acutely aware of many things they must remember, not just to maintain their sense of history or identity, but to live more fully the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Léa Dussault, for example, has a checklist she follows. “I work on it every day,” says the 15-year-old from St. Polycarpe, a tiny town on the Quebec-Ontario border near Hawkesbury. “I read the scriptures for 30 minutes, do at least half an hour of seminary, work with Personal Progress, and read my patriarchal blessing. I pray a lot, too. It gives me more confidence. At bedtime, I make sure all my spiritual goals for the day have been met. Otherwise, I won’t feel good when I go to sleep.”
Léa has a personal motto: “I choose to be one with Christ today.” She’s doing her best to live up to that statement.
“You must remember the blessings you can have by being faithful,” says Marc-André Côté, 15, of Chicoutimi. “You should always keep that goal in mind. When Joseph Smith was discouraged once, the Lord reminded him to remember what he had been promised if he would remain faithful. [See D&C 6:13.] By thinking of the celestial kingdom and exaltation, you can find strength to overcome the struggles in your life.”
Marc should know. For four years he was away from the Church, but about two years ago he kept “asking myself what I was doing with my life. I was searching for something, and I remembered what I had felt in the Church. I felt the Spirit saying to me, ‘Go!’ and so I decided to try it just one time. I had imagined it would be difficult to come back, but it was easy. It was even better than I remembered. I read a lot and studied a lot and really gained a testimony that this is the true church, organized the way the Savior wants it to be.”
Julia Awashish, a 17-year-old Native American from Quebec City, agrees with Marc. “We need to always remember the covenants we made at baptism,” she says. “The promises we have made to our Heavenly Father are the things that make us strong as members of the Church. It’s been six years since I joined the Church. I’m glad my mother and I joined, because it helps me so much when I have a problem to deal with, and it helps me to remember to be happy, because the gospel is a message of joy.”
Julia says that when she and her mother returned to visit relatives in their village of Obedjiwan, which is far to the north of Quebec, at first “there was a lot of gossip about us being Latter-day Saints. But now everyone has seen by our example that we are friendly, normal people, so they accept us just fine.”
Vetséra Lapierre, 14, also from Quebec City, says she will always remember her first trip to the Toronto Temple to do baptisms for the dead. “I was so happy just to be with so many young members of the Church, the joy of it filled my eyes with tears of gratitude,” she explains. “It was something I had dreamed of for years, and now my dream was coming true. When we walked in the doors of the house of the Lord, I immediately felt a perfect peace, a spiritual strength that grew and grew as we did the baptisms. That feeling has stayed with me ever since. Now when I face a temptation, I remember how I felt in the temple. I always want to feel that peace, and I want to return to the temple again and again.”
Alexandra Gilbert felt a similar reassurance when she met President Gordon B. Hinckley at the dedication of the temple. The 14-year-old from the city of Alma says, “He wasn’t the President of the Church at the time, but now he is. He was going up the steps to go into the temple, and he paused and shook my hand and we chatted for just a moment. He’s very likable. I didn’t understand a lot, because he only spoke English to me. But I had a wonderful feeling about him. I’ll always remember meeting him, and I’ll remember that we have a living prophet.”
Robert-Emmanuel Duchesne, 13, lives in the little town of St. Monique, about 45 minutes from Alma on Lac St.-Jean. “Even though we go to a small branch, we do the same things others do in the Church. We have youth activities. We go to our meetings every Sunday. Sometimes when there’s something they want to do together, my friends will say something, but they know my Sundays are taken for church.” He made a promise to keep the Sabbath holy, and he remembers the promise.
He also remembers a commitment that he would magnify his calling. “There are only two Aaronic Priesthood holders in the branch of Alma, and that’s not a lot. But we do our best to serve, and I remind myself all the time that there are many young children in our branch, who will grow up in the Church and who will make the branch grow. The younger kids need us to prepare the way, to work hard and be good examples.”
There’s a similar commitment to the Aaronic Priesthood in Rimouski, a town in the eastern part of the province nearing the mouth of the St. Lawrence.
“We’ve started gathering fast offerings from door to door at all the members’ homes,” explains Hugo Lêvesque, 16. “We have to do some of them by car, because about 50 per cent of the branch members live in other small towns in the area. But our branch president said that during the time of Joseph Smith the Aaronic Priesthood went door-to-door gathering fast offerings, so why shouldn’t we? It helps us to remember our responsibilities.”
“I read scriptures with my family every morning,” says Olivia Montminy, 17, who lives in Scott and attends church in Lévis. “Then during the day I’ll think of things I read in the scriptures, or of the hymns we sing as a family, and have them in my mind all day.”
She’s not alone. The youth of Montreal’s Lemoyne Ward study scriptures regularly, and each of them has a favorite passage. For Ariane Caron, 15, it’s where Nephi talks about writing what is pleasing to God, not to the world (see 1 Ne. 6:5). “I read that with my mother when I was young, and I felt such a great spirit that I had to stop and read it again. That really showed me that the scriptures are something that comes from God. That was the beginning of my personal testimony.”
For Olivier Carter, 15, it’s the story of the stripling warriors in Alma 53. “They remembered what their mothers taught them,” he says, “and they were totally loyal in keeping the commandments.”
And for Esther Caron, 17, it’s Philippians 4:13 [Philip. 4:13], “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” It’s a scripture she recalls frequently, repeating it over and over when she needs a reminder to have faith.
The LDS youth of Quebec know there are many things they should remember each day. Keep talking, and you’ll hear about the need to set a good example, to live the Word of Wisdom, to stay morally clean, to be kind to family members, and to share the gospel. But in all they say and in all they do, they strive to keep a covenant they renew through the sacrament each week—to always remember Him.
One of the best ways to make friends is to invite them over, right? That’s what the Montreal Ward of the Montreal Mount Royal Quebec Stake did. Their new chapel created so much interest in the surrounding neighborhood of La Salle that ward leaders decided to open it up for tours.
And when they did, the youth of this English-speaking ward played a major role. The Latter-day Saint teens were ushers, served refreshments, directed parking, and greeted guests at the door.
“It was a good experience because it gave other people in the community an opportunity to know more about us, what we believe, and what we do,” explains Melissa Poirier, 15. More than 300 non–Latter-day Saints toured the building.
When asked why his family had come to see the building, one man responded, “We watched you last year having a beautiful groundbreaking service. We saw the beautiful building going up. And now we want to see it from the inside. We are so excited!”
A woman who said “I have my own religion, but I was just interested in the building,” spent hours asking questions, and when she finally left she said, “I didn’t know you believed in Christ. I am so impressed.”
The new building did bring a minor protest. “There were two men standing outside in the rain for six hours, handing out anti-LDS literature,” Melissa’s twin brother Shawn says. “We felt sorry for them, so we fixed two plates of cookies and took them out. They seemed grateful for the food.”
In addition to the open house, the ward also sponsored a dinner for the mayor of La Salle, for the mayor’s council, the contractor, the designers, architects, and other people involved in the construction.
“The dinner was quite fast paced, so we were on our toes most of the time,” Shawn says. “But we received many compliments. I think that was a good sign of community interest and acceptance.”

In school we earn a “100% ticket” when we get 100 percent on our morning schoolwork. The tickets go into a treasure chest. At the end of the month you get a treat if one of your tickets is drawn from the chest. One day I found a 100% ticket on the floor. I gave it to the teacher, and she asked me to try to find the owner. I asked around the class, but nobody claimed it. The teacher said I could have the ticket because I did the right thing by bringing it to her instead of putting it in the chest when I hadn’t earned it. I felt good inside for doing the right thing.

I would like to tell you a story. It's a personal story. It helps explain God's perspective in a way that has been personally compelling to me. And like many lessons we learn in this life, it seems that sometimes it's the most painful lessons that clarify for us the most important lessons we must learn. After I retired from business last year, Sister Willes and I moved to Provo. We expected to teach at the Brigham Young University - Provo Campus. Three weeks after we got there we received this [mission] call, so we knew we weren't going to be teaching too long. A few weeks after that, our second daughter who lives in Utah gave birth to a critically ill little girl. She was unable to move. She was attached to more pieces of medical equipment to sustain her life than I thought even existed.

This little girl's mother and father asked me on two different occasions if I would give her a blessing, which I was grateful to do. And I found myself in those blessings saying something I had never said before. And that was, that after the doctors and nurses had done all that they could do, the Lord would heal her, completely. You can image my surprise and yes, even some confusion, when I would give those blessings and feel so comfortable about them, to then see as the days and weeks went on that she got worse instead of better.

I could not understand. I thought perhaps I had misunderstood the Spirit, that because of my own desire that this sweet granddaughter of ours live and be whole and happy, perhaps I had misunderstood the Spirit. Therefore out of concern, yes even a quiet desperation, I called President Hinckley - the only time I have ever done this. By this time this little girl was in a hospital in Salt Lake City, not far from where he lives. I asked him if there was any way possible that he could come and bless this little girl? With the kindness that you might imagine only the prophet would have, he said, "Of course," and we arranged a time to meet.

You can imagine how thrilled we were as the prophet of the Lord laid his hands, in this case fingers, on her small head, and gave her virtually the identical blessing that I had given her twice before, promising her that after the doctors and nurses had done all that they could do that she would be touched. . .by the finger of God, and healed totally and completely.

You might therefore understand my surprise and concern when shortly thereafter she died. I didn't understand, until, as I was preparing to speak at her funeral, the Spirit led me to the 55th chapter of Isaiah, where the Lord says,

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts. Neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts higher than your thoughts."

And then I understood that God has an eternal perspective. He is not bound by the narrow earthly perspective that we so often look from, and make decisions from. And given His heavenly perspective, every blessing that this young girl had been promised had in fact come true.

After the doctors had done all that they could do, a little girl who was never to move in this life, was now able to move freely and happily. A little girl that would have had a very limited earthly life, now had an unlimited eternal life. A little girl who would have faced severe tests all of her earthly life, had now passed the one and only test required of her and was now happily and gloriously back with her Father in Heaven. Oh yes, she had been touched. . .and healed. . .totally and completely, as only God can.

I learnt from this experience to rejoice in His eternal perspective. If we are to understand how God answers prayers it is not sufficient to look from our earthly perspective. We must also look from His eternal perspective if we are to understand how and why He does what He does.

Having confidence in the presence of God is a powerful blessing and relates directly to the second part of the pattern pray always. Prayer is an opportunity for us to enter the presence of the Lord. The Hymn Sweet Hour of Prayer expresses the thought beautifully. " Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer that calls me from a world of care and bids me at my fathers throne, make all my wants and whishes known" The Lord asks us not only to pray but to pray always. I would like to relate two experiences that taught me somewhat of the meaning of pray always. In 1991 I was playing on a ward softball team that was participating in the local city league in Manhattan, Kansas. Before each game we would gather as a team to have a prayer. At one particular game for some reason we forgot to pray before the game. I was playing second base and in the second inning when we were in the field the first baseman said to me Hey we didn't have a prayer before the game. I responded, yes you are right. But silently I clearly remember thinking. "Ah so what, nothing ever happens at these games". Two innings later we were in the field again. The first batter up hit a hard low line drive directly at me. I could tell by the flight of the ball that it was going to hit about 5 feet in front of me. It was going to be a one hopper, one of the easiest infield plays. Now, I am a fairly coordinated person, and I have played a fair amount of infield. To this day I do not know how I missed the ball but I missed it. It hit me right in the mouth and knocked me to my knees. My very first thought was, I sure hope I still have my teeth. After checking my teeth my second thought was, I guess we should have had that prayer. My lip was split from the bottom of my nose all the way down. It took two hours in the emergency room and 15 to 20 stitches to patch me up. You can draw your own conclusions but I believe that I was taught a lesson that day. Regular prayer makes a difference. Even those prayers we say routinely such as at the beginning of activities or sporting events or meetings. God is paying attention and we should pray always with the understanding and faith that He is paying attention. Answers to our regular daily prayers are not often immediate but we should continue to pray regularly with the faith that the Lord will bless us. Whenever we pray we are approaching the throne of God and our attitude should be one of reverence and faith. Remember the brother of Jared. In Ether 2:14 we read "It came to pass at the end of four years the Lord came again unto the Brother of Jared, and stood in a cloud and talked with him and for the space of three hours did the Lord talk with the Brother of Jared and chastened him because he remembered not to call upon the name of the Lord." These are not lessons I have applied perfectly in my life but they are lessons I will always remember because I a reminded of them every time I shave.

The second experience happened some years earlier. We were living in Salt Lake City, our oldest daughter Lisle was 2 and Sandee was pregnant with our second daughter Monica. And I was about to lose my job. Within a few short weeks we would have no income and no health insurance. About this time a large well established company in Massachusetts began recruiting me for the position of customer service representative. They were very positive about my chances. The entire family would fly to the east coast on a Friday and spend the week-end in looking for a place to live. On Monday I would visit with representatives of the company and we would finalize the deal. Surely this was a blessing waiting to happen. On the day before the trip Sandee asked have you prayed about this. I said no, it seemed fairly obvious to me that the Lord was going to bless us with a job on the East coast. She said, I think you should pray. As usual Sandee's counsel was wise. I agreed and sought out a quiet place to pray. I knelt down and no sooner did I begin to ask the question than the Spirit whispered to me, as clearly as it ever has, they will offer you the job but you should not take it. I would like to be able to report that I immediately stood up and announced to Sandee that the Lord had counseled that I not take the job. We were going to have to find something else. What actually happened is I thought "there must be some mistake. This can't be right. We had better go to Massachusetts and check this out", So off to Massachusetts we went. The entire week-end was one long stupor of thought. On Monday morning I sat down with the Vice President. We had talked for no more than a minute when he said "you don't want this job" and I said you're right I don't. At that point I felt like a burden was lifted. Later, sitting in our rental car in the company parking lot, Sandee and I discussed our situation. We did not know how the Lord would bless us, but he did. The way was made possible for me to go back to school and study librarianship. One of the lessons that I learned from that experience does not specifically fit with what I have been discussing but I will share it anyway. That is you can have no greater blessing in life than an eternal companion who loves the Lord and is full of faith and has an obedient heart. Sandee is all of that and I am greatly blessed because of it. What may seem like the most obvious path to choose is not always the right path. We should seek the counsel of the Lord through prayer and he will lead us in the direction which is best for us. And when the Spirit whispers to us we should be believing.

Katie, a Primary-age girl, taught us as we saw her influence on her family. She attended Primary and was drawn to the teachings of the gospel. With growing faith and testimony, Katie left a note on her parents’ pillow. She wrote that the gospel truths had found a “home in her heart.” She shared her longing to be close to her Heavenly Father, to be obedient to His commandments, and to have their family sealed in the temple. The simple testimony of their sweet daughter touched her parents’ hearts in a powerful way. Katie and her family did receive sacred temple ordinances that bound their family together forever. Katie’s believing heart and example of faith helped bring eternal blessings to her family. Could her sincere testimony and desire to follow the Lord’s plan lead us to see more clearly what really matters most?

Maria, a 16-year-old from Brazil, was struggling one Christmas after losing a second beloved grandparent. A few years ago it had been her grandfather on her mother’s side, and now she had lost her other grandfather.
“I remember Christmas always being a magical and incredible experience,” Maria says. “I remember singing hymns with my family, waking up in the night to see my Christmas present, performing the play of the birth of Christ in elementary school, and many other things that marked my childhood.”
“Focusing on Jesus Christ … gives me a certainty that these feelings of sadness and longing won’t last forever.”
Maria always enjoyed time with family. But now, with her second grandfather’s passing away, some of the gladness was stolen from her at Christmastime. Her path through the grief, like David’s, involved focusing on Christ.
“Focusing on Jesus Christ, especially at Christmastime, gives me a certainty that these feelings of sadness and longing won’t last forever,” Maria says. “I know that God is with me always. Over time I have felt this hole inside me being filled with the Savior’s love.”
Maria still has one grandparent living—her grandmother on her mother’s side. “I’m enjoying all the time I have with my grandmother,” she says. “Even if my other grandparents and relatives are no longer with me, I know I will see them again one day. We have an eternity together ahead of us.”

Years ago, when I was a young father, I went downstairs one day to our oldest son’s bedroom. He was very upset and had been crying. I was there to try to comfort him and find out what was wrong. As he and I talked, he confessed that he had told a fib to his mother. He said, “Dad, it’s so hard to be righteous.” This caused me to turn my head and smile, because he was young, but then he continued to say, “Dad, life is like climbing over a wall, isn’t it?” For a moment I was completely stunned. How could he have such insight?
We continued to talk, but the rest of the conversation is a blur. I hope my part of that conversation included teaching him how the Savior made it possible for him to repent of the fib he had told his mother and any other mistakes he had made. I also hope I taught him how very important it is to listen to and follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost each day of his life.

The magazine left behind by an American serviceman in his shop was a little worn-out, but the young Filipino still found it inviting to read.
As if by design and not by pure chance, his fingers flipped the pages to an article about a prophet who died a hundre years before. In 1946, during the early days of the Republic of the Philippines, any story about as modern-day prophet would sound preposterous, but not for this young Pampango who became oblivious to the passing of time as he became deeply engrossed with the article on Joseph Smith and the Mormons who were, to him, a strange and unknown people.
The story he read lingered in his mind and there were searching questions he wanted to ask. There was the compelling need to know more about Joseph Smith and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He had to find out, but there was no way to do it. … and nobody to turn to for enlightenment.
Then, one Saturday afternoon, he noticed an American captain from Clark Air Force Base who appeared to be completely different from the others during off-duty hours in matters of pleasure and other mundane activity.
The thought raced in David’s mind that the captain could be a Mormon, and he debated with himself on whether to ask him or not. How embarrassing it would be if the captain was not a Mormon and be offended by his impertinence. But an unseen force seemed to direct David to him, and he slowly approached the captain with faltering steps.
“Sir, may I ask you a question?” David shyly asked. The officer nodded. “Are you a Mormon?” he continued.
The officer’s lips broadened to a wide smile, and David almost shrank with shame with the thought that he had asked a silly question.
But the chance meeting and the unikely question proved to be the turning point in David’s life. The captain was a Mormon!
A strong bond of friendship was immediately struck between them—and, not long thereafter, David became a convert to the Church.

1. Stop playing with my china doll. You’ll break her!
Don’t be such a worry-wimp. My T. Rex is hungry and needs a snack.
3. I told you to stop! Suzie was my best doll, and I’ll never forgive you!
Good! I don’t want to be forgiven by a mean sister.
5. Being mad is just making me sadder, so I guess I will forgive you.
I’m sorry I broke your doll, Mandy. I’ll save my allowance and buy you a new one.
6. You’re not really a mean sister.
I know.

October 9, 1846—Sugar CreekA miracle in camp today. We have been living on parched and boiled corn, and drinking muddy river water. Many are ill and all are hungry, but today, flocks of quail suddenly flew into camp, falling on wagons and tables. My brothers were able to catch many in their hands! We had a feast. God has not forgotten us. Our rescuers taught us a new song written by Brother Clayton. The song reflects well how I feel today: “All is well!”