Gospel Story Finder

Karissa Winterton’s great-great-grandfather William Winterton built her family’s farmhouse in the 1860s, but now it is no longer part of a farm. Grandma and Grandpa Winterton sold their dairy farm so that they could serve a full-time mission in Rochester, New York.

One Sunday the missionaries brought a family to church. They had a son my age, and my dad suggested that I go to church with him. They went to a different ward, so I stayed for three more hours to go to classes with him. And basically from then on, I went to two wards every Sunday.
I love church, so it’s pretty good to go for six hours. It’s easier when I can help someone else. When you don’t focus on yourself and you focus on someone else, it feels less tedious, more like service. Really focus on reaching out to the people around you. There are a lot of people who need your help who are never going to call out. And just being their friend can help them a lot. The more you reach out and serve others, the more you learn about yourself.
Benson O., 16, British Columbia, Canada.

“Whose bright idea was it to come down in this dungeon?” Amy asked.
Just moments before, the debaters had been trying to study together in the school library, preparing for the state tournament that afternoon. The distractions became unbearable, so at Darin’s suggestion, they had relocated to the basement, in a secluded room the librarian said was only used occasionally, for tutoring.
“Excuse me?” Darin questioned.
“She’s referring to your idea of coming down here,” Jodi said, looking up from her book.
“Do you have a better idea?” Darin snapped back. It was like that with the debate team. Sometimes it seemed they couldn’t have any kind of conversation without turning it into a discussion of pros and cons.
“Hey, we’re leaving soon anyway. At least now I can hear myself think,” Brent jumped to Darin’s defense.
“I don’t understand what the problem with the library was,” Matt added. The debate continued. First, about how ugly and cold the room was. Then about Social Security, the topic of the tournament. Then movies, then … They were the intellectually elite of the school, skilled at making arguments. Getting any of them to back down was next to impossible.
The classroom door slowly opened. A young man entered and observed them carefully. They seemed oblivious to his presence.
“Excuse me,” he finally said.
“Did you need something?” Jodi said. She acknowledged his presence but was too caught up in the group discussion to be bothered.
“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet my math tutor down here. The principal sent me.”
“We’ll be done in a minute,” Matt said without looking up.
The young man eyed the others, then found a seat on the opposite side of the room. He chuckled to himself as he listened to their arguments. He recognized Darin and Matt as two of the smartest students in the school. He was definitely out of his league.
The ground beneath his feet suddenly seemed to move. The arguing stopped. The lights flickered. Then things crashed around them. Amy screamed as a large beam dropped from the ceiling, forcing her to the ground. Her arms flailed out, grabbing empty air for some support.
“Get under something!” the young man yelled as he dove for the ground. A sharp pain took him by surprise as the corner of a desk crashed into his head. A pipe burst, showering the room with cold water. It was totally dark.
Almost as quickly as it had begun, the room stopped shaking. The teenagers sat petrified for a moment as the gushing water slowed to a trickle before stopping.
Everything was suddenly silent. Thick dust drifted in the cool air, making it hard to breathe. Finally someone spoke, “Is everyone all right?”
The voice was answered with a muffled groan, a couple of coughs, and someone crying.
“What happened?” another voice asked.
Jodi stood up, spilling ceiling tiles and other debris into the puddle below her. “I think we just had an earthquake.”
Amy whispered in quiet, scared gasps, “Help me!”
The young man heard her cry. “Where are you?”
“Please hurry!” came the weak reply.
He kneeled down and began searching. His heart jumped as his hand finally fell on her cold arm.
“Please help. It hurts so bad!”
“It’s okay. Everything is going to be all right!”
He found the heavy ceiling beam resting across Amy’s small frame. He tested its weight and lifted. Slowly it rose. Amy cried out.
“You’ve got to push yourself free!” he gasped.
He was answered by short gasps of pain and fear. The burning in his muscles was overwhelming, telling him he couldn’t hold the beam up much longer. Just then someone startled him.
“I can help.”
“Pull her out of the way,” he managed to gasp. “Be careful; she’s hurt!”
Amy let out another cry as she was pulled to safety.
“Amy, it’s Jodi. You’re going to be all right!”
The strength in his fingers gave out, and he let the wood crash to the floor.
Brent soon found his way to Amy’s side.
“Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere. It really hurts to breathe,” Amy said softly.
Darin found his way to the others.
“The door’s stuck,” he informed them. “It won’t budge.”
“Looks like we’ll have to wait until someone finds us,” Jodi sighed.
“It better be soon,” Brent said matter-of-factly. “We need to get Amy some help.”
They became quiet as they contemplated their situation. Amy broke the silence with her quiet voice, “What’s your name?”
The young man realized she was speaking to him.
“Reegan.”
“Thank you, Reegan,” her voice trailed off.
“No problem,” Reegan replied, “just try not to talk.” He found Amy’s hand. It was cold and weak but still managed to close around his own.
“Where’s Matt?” Darin asked, suddenly remembering they hadn’t accounted for everyone.
“Over here,” came a reply from across the room. “I’m trying to find my backpack. My flashlight’s in it.”
The group settled down in the dark, listening. The floor was wet and cold, and the dark, dirty air stuck to them.
“Do you think they’ll find us?” Jodi asked fearfully.
“Oh, sure. They’ll have us out of here in no time,” Brent responded, a little uncertainly.
“Hey, Reegan, way to pick the right time for tutoring!” Darin said.
“No kidding,” Reegan said. “If I had known it was going to be like this in here, I’d have stayed upstairs.”
“I found it!” Matt cried.
Suddenly a large circle of light appeared on Reegan’s head. He squinted. The light bobbed around the room. The ceiling tiles were now all about them on the floor, exposing old pipes, beams, and wires. Then with a clank the light disappeared.
“Oh no, I dropped it!” Matt said. He reached for the flashlight, found it, and pushed the button. Nothing happened. He pushed it again, and his spirits dropped.
“Way to go, klutz!” Brent grumbled.
“Hey, Houdini, why don’t you pull a flashlight out of your hat,” Matt shot right back.
The fireworks began. The room, no longer silent, echoed the irritation as the debaters took turns blaming each other for their predicament. Finally Reegan let out a piercing whistle. The room quieted immediately.
“Hey, you guys. I know we’re all scared, but I really don’t think anyone here caused the earthquake,” he said.
“Well, God sure picked a nice time to give us a jolt,” Jodi said smugly.
“Oh, please. Do we really need your religious mumbo-jumbo to explain why the ground started shaking?” Brent asked.
“You believe what you want; I’ll believe what I want,” Jodi answered.
“Show me some proof, and I’ll believe anything,” Darin said.
Reegan chuckled. His memory returned to a few nights before when he sat in the home of a young couple. He’d been with the missionaries on splits. In the home he remembered hearing the same statement about showing proof.
“What’s so funny?” Darin asked.
“Nothing. I was just thinking it would be tough to show you guys anything,” Reegan said.
Time seemed to stop in the empty darkness. The group sat impatient and anxious, each engrossed in thought. Reegan closed his eyes as he silently prayed for help.
“Someday when we’re out of here, you’ll have to show me your proof of God, Jodi,” Darin finally said.
“Maybe we won’t get out of here, and you’ll be able to see him yourself.”
“What do you think, Reegan? You a churchgoer?” Brent asked.
“Well, yeah,” Reegan said.
“What church do you go to?” Brent asked.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Hey, I’m a Mormon too,” Matt said excitedly. “But I haven’t been to church since I was little.”
“That’s too bad. It’s an all-right place to be.”
“I think anyplace would be better than here,” Darrin moaned. “So what exactly do Mormons believe?”
“You want the condensed version?”
“I don’t think we’re going anywhere soon.”
Reegan took a deep breath. Then he recited the Articles of Faith. The group sat in silence and let the statements sink in.
“You know, I don’t mean to be rude or arrogant,” Jodi said, “but I am one of the top students in the school. I’ve studied all kinds of religions, and science just doesn’t seem to support any of them. What does that tell you?”
“I think it’s wonderful that you’ve become so knowledgeable about things of this world,” Reegan answered. “But you’d be even wiser to keep in mind that maybe—just maybe—there’s some truth to what I’ve just told you.”
“Only an idiot would believe something just because someone tells them it’s true,” Darin said, building a defense. “We’re debaters. We’re skeptical by nature. We want cold, hard facts.”
“Let me ask you something then, Darin,” Reegan said. “Who taught you how to read?”
“My parents.”
“How do you know they taught you the right way?”
Darin laughed. “Because when I open a book and see all those letters, my mind can transform them into words. Where are you going with this?”
“Patience, Darin. When you were learning to read, you had to trust your parents as they taught you the alphabet. Also, when they taught you the sounds and uses of each letter and then taught you to recognize those letters and words in simple sentences, you had to believe them. How long was it before you could read without their help?”
“A while. So what?”
“There weren’t any cold, hard facts involved in learning to read. You learned because you initially trusted that your parents knew how and would teach you. Now look at the great advantages you have gained through reading; it’s opened many doors for you. My church’s beliefs are kind of like that. We don’t start out with a complete knowledge. We learn it and earn it. I can’t debate truth with you, and I can’t make you believe what I believe—nor should I be able to. What I can do, what we can all do, is share what we know with others. Take them by the hand for those first few steps and let them see for themselves if it’s right or wrong.”
“Let’s just say for argument’s sake that there is a God and that this gospel you describe is true. Then why doesn’t everybody know it?” Brent asked. “It doesn’t seem fair that only a few people should be privileged.”
“You guys know what foods are good for you and which aren’t,” Reegan said. “You probably even know what size portions of certain things to eat to help you remain healthy, right? But do you suppose there are people in this world who are so hungry that they’ll eat anything, even if it’s not good for them?”
The group agreed.
“Well, that doesn’t make the knowledge of nutrition that you have untrue. But it does give you the opportunity to share it. It’s the same with the gospel. People are hungry for truth, so hungry they just want to be fed. Unfortunately there are others who take advantage of that hunger and use it for their own gain.”
“That’s kind of a cool concept,” Brent said.
“Hey, I’m completely serious when I tell you it’s just what I know,” Reegan answered. “I don’t want to debate or argue about it. If there’s one thing that can’t be argued, it’s the truth.”
“Come on, guys,” Darin said. “You’re not buying this, are you?”
No one responded.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to offend anybody,” Reegan apologized.
“You didn’t,” Amy added quietly. “We’re used to opposing points of view.”
Darin sighed his disgust in the darkness. Just then Reegan felt a cold hand on his arm.
“Will you please pray for us?” Amy asked weakly.
Suddenly fear sprang into Reegan’s heart. They were all so much smarter than he was. How could he pray in front of them? But quickly the hesitation vanished. Of course he would pray.
“Is that okay with everybody?” he asked.
The response was affirmative, even from Darin. “It can’t hurt, I guess,” he said.
Reegan took a deep breath then began. He gave thanks to Heavenly Father for their safety. He asked for comfort and strength, that Amy might be all right until help arrived, and that she would recover quickly and fully. He then asked that they be found. He also asked that they each might learn to put their faith in God and recognize his hand in all good things. When he finished, Reegan felt the presence of the Holy Ghost. He hoped the others did too.
As the hours continued to pass, the gloom and hopelessness began to settle back in. What was happening on the outside remained a mystery. Stomachs growled from hunger. Parched lips burned for water. The musty air was turning stale. Amy’s labored breathing continued as each person slowly dozed off.
Then they heard a horrendous crash beyond the door. In an instant they were sitting up wide-eyed as could be. What sounded like a muffled chain saw ripped through the air. A thin sliver of light appeared under the doorway. Those who were able jumped to their feet. They pounded on the large steel door, hoping that someone on the other side would hear them.
The chain saw stopped. Then, after some tugging, the door swung open. They all squinted as bright light entered the room.
“He’s here!” a voice called out. There was a brief pause before the same voice called out in confusion. “And there are more!”
They were rescued.
A couple of weeks later Reegan opened the mailbox. The large goose egg on his forehead had all but disappeared, erasing the only evidence of the excitement of the weeks past. As he walked back toward his house, he opened an envelope addressed to him. He pulled out a large thank-you card and began reading.
“Hey, Reegan, thank you so much for saving my life. The doctor said that with my punctured lung it was a miracle I lasted as long as I did. If it hadn’t been for your faith, I wouldn’t be here today. Love, Amy.”
Another note read, “Reegan, you showed me your religion by your example, and what an impression it has made. Thank you for what you taught me that I wouldn’t have learned otherwise. Matt.”
He continued reading. “Hey, Reegan, I just wanted to thank you. I hear the principal suddenly remembered she sent you down to the basement. Had she forgotten, we’d probably still be there. At any rate, we were the ones who needed tutoring that day. I’ve learned that love and compassion are more important than man’s knowledge. Thanks, Brent.”
Jodi had also scribbled a short message. “It’s amazing how my outlook on life has changed since our adventure. I think it really helped to get my world ‘shaken’ up. Love, Jodi.”
The final words were from Darin. “Hey, Reegan. I have to admit your example has taught me that, believe it or not, I don’t know everything. I’m beginning to see that there are things in life we just can’t learn about in school. I’m going to try to listen better. It’s nice to know a person like you. Oh, one more thing. Can I really debate with the two missionaries you’re bringing over?”
Reegan smiled to himself as he returned the card to the envelope. He envisioned himself on Darin’s porch with the elders.
“No, Darin. There’s no debate. But you can talk and listen all you want.”

I believe if we respond to our responsibilities, our rights will take care of themselves—for male or female. As I was supporting my husband through his studies for his degree at Yale University, our neighbor who was doing his residency in psychiatry commented one day that I was showing overt signs of weariness. Jeff was then not only a busy student trying to complete a four-year degree in three years but was in a stake presidency and, to help earn some extra money, taught two Institute classes at Yale and one at Amherst College, necessitating a 145 kilometers drive each way once a week. I was at home with two small babies trying to stretch the meager budget of young married students. I was also serving eagerly in the Church as a young Relief Society president. This particular neighbor, out of concern and intended helpfulness, said, “Pat, why don’t you demand your rights and forget about all this?” At that time I knew through prayer that my rights, whatever they were, had to be put in the perspective of my obligation to pursue long-range goals. I certainly never thought Jeff’s degree was only for his future. And he never thought the children belonged only to me. We were in all of this together and we didn’t waste any energy shouting about rights. That time was intense and difficult, but it lasted only three years. As a direct consequence of my supportive role then, I now have time, means, and wonderful opportunities to pursue many of my interests and talents in addition to being a wife and mother. Furthermore, I know—and love knowing—that my ultimate role and mission will always include the particular joys of providing loving and wise support to others as they fulfill their own assignments.

Editor’s Note: The following account was shared by LeRoi C. Snow, the son of President Lorenzo Snow. Brother Snow tells how, at age 85, his father was concerned he would be asked to succeed President Wilford Woodruff, who was ailing, as President of the Church. Following President Woodruff’s death on September 2, 1898, President Snow knelt at an altar in the Salt Lake Temple and pleaded with the Lord for guidance.
After finishing his prayer, [my father] expected a reply, some special manifestation from the Lord. So he waited—and waited—and waited. There was no reply, no voice, no visitation, no manifestation. He left the altar and the room in great disappointment. Passing through the celestial room and out into the large corridor, a glorious manifestation was given President Snow which I relate in the words of his granddaughter, Allie Young Pond. …
“One evening while I was visiting Grandpa Snow in his room in the Salt Lake Temple, I remained until the door keepers had gone and the night watchmen had not yet come in, so grandpa said he would take me to the main front entrance and let me out that way. … After we left his room and while we were still in the large corridor leading into the celestial room, I was walking several steps ahead of Grandpa when he stopped me and said: ‘Wait a moment, Allie, I want to tell you something. It was right here that the Lord Jesus Christ appeared to me at the time of the death of President Woodruff. He instructed me to go right ahead and reorganize the First Presidency of the Church at once and not wait as had been done after the death of the previous presidents, and that I was to succeed President Woodruff.’
“Then Grandpa came a step nearer and held out his left hand and said: ‘He stood right here, about three feet above the floor. It looked as though He stood on a plate of solid gold.’
“Grandpa told what a glorious personage the Savior is and described His hands, feet, countenance, and beautiful white robes, all of which were of such a glory of whiteness and brightness that he could hardly gaze upon Him.
“Then he came another step nearer and put his right hand on my head and said: ‘Now, Granddaughter, I want you to remember that this is the testimony of your grandfather, that he told you with his own lips that he actually saw the Savior, here in the temple, and talked with Him face to face.’”

Glistening in the garage
A dream of months
Come true.
Son, bursting with pride,
Soon to be one
Of the big kids.
“It’s easy!”
They claim
As he shakily mounts
His two-wheeled stallion.
Wobbling, in spite of feet
Still planted
On cement.
Easing first one
Then two
Up, to stiff pedals.
A moment
Of flight
Gliding ecstatically
Faster! Faster!
Crash! Skid.
Elbows smart, knees sting,
Eyes fill
with melted pride.
The stallion is led, limping
To its stall.
He’ll grow up …
Tomorrow.

As a very young child Trent was too shy to talk to anyone eye-to-eye. First-grade testing showed that he had a learning disability, so since then he has attended special education classes at Meadowbrook School, where fifth and sixth graders become tutors and buddies of the special education students. Tutors drill them one-on-one in speaking, reading, spelling, and math. Buddies play with them on the playground and take them to lunch.

Trent’s self-esteem zoomed sky-high when the older students at his school asked him to play on their soccer team. He could excel in something! But another, greater achievement awaited him.

“Come on, Sam,” Jeremy said as he played kick the can with his friends along the old dusty roadbed. “Nobody will know but us.”
Lagging behind, I thought about the conversation Jeremy and I had had that morning. He’d told me about his plan to steal watermelons from Brother Vargas. I knew stealing was wrong, but I figured if I did what he wanted me to, we would be friends. So when he had finished talking, I had swatted him on the back and told a lie. “I know all about stealing. It’s easy. I’ve done it before.”
“You have!” he’d exclaimed, looking surprised. “Wait until I tell the other guys.” After he told everyone in the group, they looked at me with renewed interest. I liked that, but now I was in a terrible situation. I didn’t want to steal anything, especially Brother Vargas’s prize watermelons.
Brother Vargas was as old as my grandpa, but he had been my only friend when we first moved to Fawn Creek. He knew I was lonely and needed a friend. And I knew that the money from his melon field made up a big part of the income he and Sister Vargas lived on for a whole year.
“Hurry up, Sam,” one of the kids in the group called over his shoulder. “Brother Vargas will be back soon to pick up another load of melons. If we don’t get to his field before he does, we’ll have to wait another day.”
Oh, well, I thought, walking faster, I need friends my own age. Jeremy’s in my Primary class and my Scout troop, and all the guys like him. If we become friends, I’ll have a lot of guys to hang around with. Besides, Mom thinks he’s a good friend. So did I—until now.
When I caught up to Jeremy, he began making plans. “Clint, you be the lookout. If anyone comes, whistle real loud. Brett, you take Sam and head for the nearest row of melons. Jeff and I will be right behind you. Remember, we won’t have much time, so don’t be too choosy. Just get the biggest ones you can carry.”
“Yeah,” Clint agreed licking his lips. “We already know how good they taste.”
“What if we get caught?” I asked.
“Getting nervous?” Brett questioned.
“Not me,” I lied for the second time in half an hour. “You’re right; we’d better hurry.”
The real reason I wanted to hurry had nothing to do with taking melons. The truth was, I didn’t want to see the way Brother Vargas would look at me if he caught me robbing him. We were friends, and true friends take care of each other. I was starting to feel awful.
“Don’t worry, Sam,” Jeremy said. “No one will find out.”
How did I get into this situation? I wondered. I needed someone to blame. So I blamed Mom. It’s her fault we moved after Dad died.
“Yeah, sure,” I muttered under my breath. “And look at what you’re doing.” I knew why Mom had sold the house. She didn’t want to go to work and leave me home alone. She’d loved that old house, and I knew she didn’t want to move away from her friends any more than I did.
“Sam, you’re dragging your feet again,” Jeremy said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, as I sent a rock flying across the road with the side of my foot.
When we finally reached Brother Vargas’s melon field, I knew I had made the worst decision of my life. But I didn’t know how to get out of it. Then the words to a song we were learning in Primary popped into my head. I began to sing softly:
“‘Choose the right when a choice is placed before you. In the right the Holy Spirit guides; And its light is forever shining o’er you, When in the right your heart confides.’”
When I got to the chorus, all the boys began to sing with me. When we finished it, I knew I had to say something. “We can’t do this!” I declared looking first at the guys and then at the melon field. “This just isn’t right.”
“But you said you’ve stolen things before,” Jeremy said accusingly.
“That was a lie,” I admitted. “I’ve never stolen anything in my whole life, and I don’t want to start now.”
“Neither do I,” Clint said, walking over to stand next to me.
Surprised I turned to Clint. “I thought you had stolen before. You even said that you knew how good Brother Vargas’s melons were.”
“We lied, too,” Brett admitted. “Brother Vargas gives my family watermelons from his field every year.”
“Yeah, and boy are they good!” Jeff said, almost drooling. “He gives melons to anyone who wants them.”
“Then why were we going to steal them?” I asked, almost shouting.
“We thought it would be fun,” Clint said as he dug the point of his tennis shoe into the loose dirt.
“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed, as his voice became a whisper. “But it sure doesn’t seem like fun now.”
When Brother Vargas drove up, we were sitting in the shade of the big metal shed still talking about his watermelons.
“Hi, boys,” he called. “It’s good to see you. I could sure use your help putting another load of melons on the truck.”
Feeling a little guilty, we asked him how we should do it so we wouldn’t damage the melons. Two hours later, after the truck was loaded, he offered us jobs for the rest of the summer. Then he asked, “Will each of you take a watermelon home to your families?”
“Yes! My family is going to love this!” Brett said excitedly. “Just yesterday Dad said his mouth was watering for a taste of Brother Vargas’s melons.”
“Mine, too,” Clint said with a big grin.
After Jeff, Clint, and Brett headed for home, only Jeremy and I were left.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I guess I just got carried away.”
“I’m sorry, too, Jeremy. I’m glad we finally made the right decision.”
Jeremy’s whole face lit up. “So am I! Now we can eat watermelon without feeling bad—and we have jobs too! It doesn’t get much better than that!”

Later that week, Tim had to do another hard thing. He was learning how to ride a bike. He had to practice and practice. He even fell off the bike.
“Do you want to keep trying?” Dad asked.
Tim thought about the hike. That was hard too. But he did it.
“Yes!” said Tim. “I can do hard things!”
Tim got back on his bike. He wanted to try again!

This story happened in Indonesia.
Ernesto put another shirt in his bag. He looked around the room. What else did he need to take? He saw his Book of Mormon on a table. He couldn’t forget that!
It was summer break. Ernesto’s family was going to visit Grandma and Grandpa. He was so excited to see his grandparents.
When Ernesto and his family arrived, Grandpa gave him a big hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”
“We’ve missed you!” Grandma smiled and hugged Ernesto too.
“I’ve been waiting and waiting for today. We love visiting,” Ernesto said.
“Let’s go inside,” said Grandpa. “Grandma is going to make all your favorite foods.”
Ernesto walked into the house with Grandma and Grandpa. He was so excited to spend time with them.
The next morning, Ernesto woke up to the smell of rice cooking. He found Mom and Grandma busy in the kitchen. He kissed them both on the cheek. Then he ran out to the yard.
Dad and Grandpa were sitting and talking outside, drinking from cups.
“Good morning. Would you like some tea?” Grandpa held out his cup to Ernesto.
Ernesto looked at the cup of tea and then at Grandpa. He wanted to share what he had learned in Primary. “No, thank you, Grandpa,” he said. “I learned at my church that tea, coffee, and tobacco are not good for our bodies. I want to follow what Jesus wants me to do.”
Dad smiled. “Our family obeys the Word of Wisdom, but Grandpa believes differently, and that’s OK.”
“Thank you for sharing what you believe,” Grandpa said to Ernesto. “You are a good boy. You can have some hot water like your dad.” Grandpa poured Ernesto a cup of water from the kettle.
Ernesto took a sip. He felt happy inside for choosing the right.
At lunch, Ernesto got to eat his favorite foods. Grandma made nasi goreng, a dish with rice, eggs, meat, and vegetables. It was so delicious. And Ernesto liked talking to Grandma and Grandpa while they ate.
In the afternoon, the family played hide-and-seek together. Even Grandpa and Grandma played!
“I see you behind that tree, Ernesto!” Dad called, racing toward him. Ernesto laughed as he tried to get away. Playing with his family was fun.
That night, everyone sat around Grandpa as he told some stories. When Grandpa finished, Ernesto remembered that they had not read scriptures.
Ernesto jumped up. “I’ll be right back.”
He ran and got his Book of Mormon. When he came back, he asked, “Can we read?”
“I’m glad you remembered.” Mom took the book from Ernesto and turned to her favorite verse. She read it aloud. Then they all kneeled down.
“Would you like to pray with us?” Ernesto asked his grandparents.
“Yes, that would be nice,” Grandma said. She kneeled next to Grandpa.
Dad said the prayer. He thanked Heavenly Father that they got to spend time as a family.
After the prayer, Grandpa gave Ernesto a hug. “It’s good that your family prays,” he said. “I’m glad you want to be close to God. It will help your family stay strong.”
Ernesto felt warm and peaceful inside. He loved sharing his beliefs—something he loved—with Grandma and Grandpa—people he loved.
Illustrations by Melissa Manwill Kashiwagi

In Holland where I filled two missions, our missionaries had converted many of the members of a certain church there. And they loved their minister but realized that he didn’t have the full truth, so they pleaded with him to attend a Mormon meeting. At the close of the meeting the missionaries met him at the door, and he denounced Joseph Smith as a false prophet, a deceiver, and everything vile he could think of, and then he went home and went to bed.
He said he retired, but he could not sleep. He rolled and tossed until the early hours of the morning, and then he got up and walked the streets until he thought the Mormon elders would be up. Then he went and asked for a copy of the Book of Mormon; he read it and joined the Church. I have personally filled many missionary appointments with him and preached in many meetings, and to hear that former minister stand up and testify with all his heart that he knows that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God and that the gospel has been restored, fills one’s soul with joy.

Martin was also involved in that first program. “Everyone decided on what area they wanted to work, sound or camera. I thought the whole thing was a great idea. I had always wondered how they actually did television productions, and here we were doing it too.”
Martin chose to do the sound mixing. His interest has been stimulated, and he finds that knowing a little has added to his appreciation of professional sound mixers. “I went to a concert, and I was really interested in the complicated sound mixing. It was amazing because I knew just how good it was.”

The sports page of the newspaper in Cottonwood, Arizona, often contained the name of Robin Connally, a senior from Mingus Union High School. Robin was consistently mentioned as high scorer or outstanding player for her basketball team. She led the group to the state AA championship.
Besides her athletic abilities, Robin is an excellent student and was selected as “Queen of the Court” at a school activity. She and her family are members of the Cottonwood Second Ward, Camp Verde Arizona Stake.

Youth just like you have already started seeing the blessings of striving to become more like Jesus Christ in their everyday lives. Danika and Natasha R., 15, from Ohio, USA, are twin sisters who decided to do just that. Their dad is from Thailand, and because they sometimes visit family there, Danika and Natasha decided they wanted to learn more about Thai food and language.

Danika made a goal to learn to cook some Thai soup recipes. She shopped for the ingredients and practiced new cooking techniques with her dad. Natasha wanted to learn to communicate with her family in Thailand, so she set a goal to learn one new Thai word each day. She used a website to aid her language study and practiced pronouncing words with her dad.

As Danika and Natasha worked on their goals, they wanted to share what they learned with the other young women in their ward. Their leaders helped them organize an activity to learn more about Thailand. At the activity, Danika cooked soup for everyone while Natasha taught them some Thai words.

The sisters also included their friend Grace in the activity. Grace had a personal goal to get better at public speaking, so she gave a presentation on how to use chopsticks so they could eat their soup!

By practicing their goals and working with their leaders and other young women, Danika and Natasha were able to plan a fun night to enjoy with their friends.

Danika and Natasha share that they have received many blessings from striving to learn more about their heritage and celebrating it with their family and other young women. Their experience didn’t come without challenges. Natasha explains, “I was in school while I was learning Thai, so it was sometimes hard to find time to do it.” Danika adds, “At the activity, I had a little bit of trouble making the soup on my own since my dad wasn’t there.” But the sisters both agree that in the end, it was worth it.

Danika says, “I like that I got to spend time with my dad, and it helped me feel closer to my family.” She also explains, “Making and keeping my personal goals helped me come closer to Jesus Christ by giving me a clear path to helping myself and others. Instead of mindlessly milling around like some nights, I had a set standard to follow and keep to, and that gave me more time to think about Christ.”

Natasha says making and keeping her goal “really got me to think deeply about what I needed and wanted to do to become closer to Christ.” She also notes that although she has shifted her focus to a new goal, she was inspired to keep learning Thai: “My original goal was to learn Thai so I can speak to my family in Thailand, so I want to keep learning Thai so I can talk to them.”

Danika and Natasha’s balanced approach to their personal development helped them learn more about their dad’s culture, have fun with friends, and come closer to their family and the Savior—and that’s what Children and Youth is all about.

At the beginning of every semester at school, we get a free set of products containing a notebook, an agenda, and a random sample product. One year I lined up to get my set and realized that the sample I got was particularly useful for me.
At the end of the day, I saw that they were still giving samples of the same product. It would be easy to get in line again and get a second set, and I decided to do it. After all, they were free, and I needed that product.
I made a quick stop at the restroom, where I saw a cell phone that some girl had left by accident. It was one of the latest models, and I had just lost my own phone a week before. But I didn’t even consider keeping it. “That’s stealing,” I said to myself.
Then, on my way to get my second set of free stuff, I realized that would be as dishonest as keeping the phone because I would have to lie and say I hadn’t gotten one before.
I was thankful for this small experience that taught me a big lesson. I turned the phone in and went home with only one notebook, one agenda, and one sample product—but with a nice feeling for being true in all things, no matter how small.

The decision was not an easy one for him to make. At the time he was baptized, black South Africans referred to the Church as “Isonto Labe Lungu,” meaning, “Church of the Whites”—not a flattering label at all—but reflected impressions that many held about the Church during the difficult apartheid years in South Africa. Rumors, false stories, and the social issues stemming from racial tension in the country all weighed heavily on Sipho as he considered the bishop’s invitation to serve.

But exercising great faith, and without fully knowing the impact his decision would have to himself and to many others, Sipho accepted a call in October 1984 to serve in the London England Mission—making him the first black South African to serve as a full-time missionary.

I had recently turned 14, and my mom told me with a smile, “Joseph Smith was 14 when he had the First Vision.” I knew this, but that simple sentence strengthened my testimony of Joseph Smith. I know that he was a true prophet called of God and that he translated the Book of Mormon and restored the gospel.

One day when President Cowley and I were traveling, we arrived at the home of Brother Stewart Meha, a great and wonderful Maori man. He presided over his large family as a true father and leader. President Cowley and Brother Meha spent all afternoon sitting on the porch and talking about the Church and other interesting things.

When it came time for the evening meal, Brother Meha stood on his front porch and, in the Maori language, shouted out to all of his large family, “Haere Mai Ki te Kai.” Then he said, “Haere Mai Ki Te Karakia.” These phrases meant, “Come on home for supper, Come on home for prayer.”

Soon family members came from every direction. We all assembled in his home in the big front room. The room had very little furniture in it, and everybody gathered in a large circle. Brother Meha was at the head of the circle, President Cowley was on his left, and I was next to President Cowley. On Brother Meha’s right was a little child about eight years of age. All around the rest of the circle were the other children, with some adults in between.

Brother Meha said to the little boy on his right, “You start.” I bowed my head in anticipation of the little boy’s prayer. Instead of praying, he quoted a scripture, after first reciting the chapter and verse. Then the young person next to him recited a scripture with the reference. After about four scriptures had been given, I realized that we were going around the circle, with each person quoting a different passage of scripture. One youngster started to quote one that had already been used, and he was quickly corrected.

Eventually it was my turn and then President Cowley’s. Then Brother Meha prayed.

My friend struggled because he worried about what others think of him, and he lost his self-respect. What helped him the most was remembering that God, his friends, and his family were all there to love and support him.
Matthew V., age 16, Missouri, USA

The children have learned in the process of growing up what their parents expect. One young man said: “I remember when one of my friends asked if I’d like to go to a movie with him on a Sunday afternoon. I said no, and he wanted to know why—was that one of our rules? he asked. I thought about it and suddenly realized that it was one of our rules, but it had never been stated in those words. It’s just one of the things that our family would never do.”