Gospel Story Finder

Mom was filling out a donation slip when David and Bresciana came inside for a drink of water.
“What are you doing?” Bresciana asked. “Are you paying your tithing?”
Mom smiled. “Not this time, honey. Today I am giving some money for the people who were hurt by the tsunami.” She explained to David and Bresciana that a big wave had hurt a lot of people. Many of them had lost their homes and did not have food, clean clothes, or water to drink.
“What will happen to the people who don’t have enough food?” David asked.
“The prophet asked the members of the Church to donate money to help,” Mom said. “If you want to help, you may. Your allowance for this month is on the counter.”
David and Bresciana ran to get their money—a dollar each—and gave it to Mom. They were excited to help the people. After Bresciana went outside to play, David sat down on the couch. He kept thinking about the children who didn’t have enough food or didn’t have a place to live anymore. It made him sad.
“I want to do more,” he thought. He went to his bedroom and opened his allowance box. There lay the money he had saved all year—$11. He grabbed the money and ran back into the kitchen. “Mom, I want to give this money to the people too.”
When Bresciana heard about what David had done, she decided to give the money she had saved too. Mom helped them fill out donation slips so they could give the money to the bishop at church the next day.
Later that day, David heard Mom on the phone telling Grandma about the money he and Bresciana had donated. When Mom got off the phone, David looked worried.
“David, what’s the matter?” she asked.
“I tried to do my best to help the people,” David said, “but I don’t think we can help all of them with our money. It’s not a lot.”
“Sometimes it’s more important how we give the money rather than how much we give,” Mom said. “Do you remember the story of the widow’s mite in the New Testament?”
David didn’t, so Mom told him the story. “When the people of Jesus’s time were donating money, many gave a lot of jewels and treasure. One woman was very poor. She only gave two small coins called mites. Jesus said that her sacrifice was worth more than the treasures because she had given all the money she had—just like you and Bresciana.”*
David felt better after that. On Sunday, he and Bresciana gave their donations to the bishop. The bishop shook their hands and thanked them. David was glad he and Bresciana could help.
After church, Mom told David and Bresciana some exciting news. “Grandma just called me. Yesterday I told her about you two wanting to help the people who were hurt by the tsunami. When she shared your story today with people at church, some of them decided to give more money than before. Your example helped more people than you thought it would.”
Bresciana had a big smile on her face. David felt happy too. “Mom,” he said, “our widow’s mite really did make a difference!”

“Okay, here are the trash bags,” the bishop said. “Let’s get to work.”
This year for our yearly stake service project we were cleaning up a middle school by our stake center. When we arrived at the school, we saw that the fairly small campus was covered in trash. The wind had blown piles of garbage along a chain link fence. The grass was yellow and dying in patches. Flowers and plants had been planted in an obvious effort to beautify the school, but they had not been maintained, and a field of weeds grew as high as my elbows. The paint in the bathrooms was peeling away from the walls, and spitballs covered the ceiling. I held my nose in disgust as I looked around.
I started picking up garbage along the fence. “This is gross,” I thought. “Why should I pick up someone else’s mess?” I turned to a girl who was working next to me and said, “I have never seen so much trash before. Yuck!”
After a few minutes of filling my trash bag, I thought, “It’s so hot out here. My back hurts, and my hands are getting dirty. I’m sure there are germs all over them! Maybe I can paint the bathroom instead. That would be easier, and I could get out of picking up trash.”
But there were enough volunteers painting already. I walked as slowly as I could back to the hot asphalt near the fence.
Then, as I looked around, I thought, “If this were my school I would be so happy to know that people were cleaning it. I wonder if the students will be surprised on Monday? I bet they’ve never seen this chain link fence completely free of trash.”
I began working harder, making sure I picked up every piece of garbage around the fence and all the trash stuck in the links. My dad mowed the field of elbow-high weeds, and I helped trim bushes and paint an exterior wall.
When we were finished, I looked back at the school and the clean area along the fence and thought, “These students will be so happy!” Then I thought of what I had accomplished and how I had changed. Alma was right: “By small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).

When I was a young mother with four children, my husband was serving as a bishop. It felt wonderful to be part of my idea of an ideal Latter-day Saint family. But my husband died of cancer, and I was left to raise my children alone. I had to return to school, finish a degree, and work. I had to reframe what I perceived an ideal Latter-day Saint family to be. I later married a man with six children, and we became a blended family with ten children. Once again I had to reframe what I thought an ideal LDS family was.

Learning how to grieve and then go on with your life can build strength. When you can acknowledge and work through painful feelings, you develop emotional, spiritual, and psychological skills that can help you in other areas of your life. Your capacity for empathy can grow through a personal acquaintance with grief.

During a spelling test I looked at someone’s paper and saw that I had spelled the word tease wrong. I changed my answer. During lunch that day my mom took me to my violin lesson. I felt bad about cheating, and even though I was scared to tell my mom about it, I did. She said I needed to tell the teacher what had happened. When we got back to school my mother asked if I needed her to come with me to tell my teacher. I told her no. I was scared for the rest of the school day. I kept walking up to my teacher to tell her and then going back to my desk because I was too scared. Finally at the end of the day I told my teacher what happened. She marked the answer wrong but then gave me a hug and told me, “Thank you for being honest.” I’m glad I told my teacher even though it was very hard. I felt much better afterward. I will never cheat on a test again. I will always try to be honest in everything I do.

When I started having babies, I struggled hard being a working mother. Our financial situation at the time did not allow me to be a stay-at-home mom. I was angry and upset. I wondered why I couldn’t be like the other moms. I felt an overwhelming guilt that I was choosing money and career over raising my children. It didn’t help that the church encouraged women to stay home and rear their children. I mentally and emotionally struggled leaving my children each day, feeling like I was letting them down and that people would think that I was a bad mother for going to work. There were many times when I told my husband, “I’m going to quit and just be a mom!” He never discouraged me and always left it up to me, which I resented even more. I wanted someone to tell me what to do, but no one would. I turned to my patriarchal blessing for help and was upset that when I read it, it did not give me the answers that I wanted - on the contrary it told me that this was something I could do it. I became jealous of those who could stay home and I felt inferior as a mother. I would see pictures of people on social media at the beach, doing craft projects and so much more cool, fun stuff. While my time with my children was spent forcing them to do their homework, making them chores and putting them to bed. I became more concerned with what others thought of me and what I thought about myself, than what the Lord thought of me. Granted, I tried all I could to get out of working, but it never panned out that way.

I kept telling myself ok, “If this happens, I’m going to quit and stay home,” or “Once this happens then I’m out.” Those things never happened; the Lord always met my ultimatums with an answer of His own. The Lord had and has a different plan for me. He has answered my pleas at every step, maybe not the way that I want Him to, but He does. He provides ways in which I can still be a mother and have a career. It has not been easy and I continue to struggle with not being able to be there for every second of my keiki’s childhood. But I have come to realize that we are all not intended to live the same life, and that we all have different responsibilities to fulfill; comparing ourselves to others does not help. Our success and failure should not be based on what others think, but on what the Lord thinks. If you give your all in all that you do, the Lord will bless you for your efforts.

As a side note, I mentioned that I must have read my patriarchal blessing like a million times over the years and I swear it specifically said that I could work, go to school, and be a mother. Now as I have come to accept my role as a working mother, when I read my patriarchal blessing it doesn’t exactly say that, it says something different. As our situation changes, the Lord continues to bless your efforts and continues to send us assistance depending on our circumstances.

Dean Ieremia’s dream of developing his skills “to be playing with the boys on TV” came true recently. On 30 April he played his debut game in Australia’s rugby league, with top-rated Melbourne Storm.
A member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, he says, “I made a promise to God that if I could improve my ability to play, I would keep the commandments. I set some standards and my faith motivated me to keep them. I put in the hard work and God gave me the opportunity.”
Ieremia continues, “One of the reasons why I choose to play for Melbourne is because the club puts family first, and family is important to me.”
He thanks his parents for their unfailing support through many challenges and trials. He says he was surprised and delighted to see the large group of family and friends at the game, holding a huge poster of him.
The hometown local played solid defense in his debut. He represented Victoria from the under 14’s through to the under 20’s and played for the Storm’s junior and feeder teams before getting a late call up to the NRL side in round eight.

A week ago our daughter's best friend was baptized. We have known Sheila since she and Rachel were on the cross country team in middle school. It has been exciting to see her embrace the gospel and make the decision to become a member of the church.
I think she decided she wanted to be married in the temple almost before she decided she wanted to be a member. She saw the examples of great families among her many Latter Day Saint friends, and knew she wanted her future family to have the same blessings. She is a young woman who is wise beyond her years.
After Sheila was baptized she received a gift that will be her greatest help in achieving her goal to have a temple marriage. That gift was the privilege to have the Holy Ghost as her constant companion.

I had been excited to turn 12 so that I could go to the stake firesides. But when I was old enough, I never wanted to go. My parents told me that I would know the right thing to do. That made me feel like a jerk because I did know what I should do; I just didn’t want to do it. But I finally decided to go to a fireside, and am I glad I did. On that night, I learned the Church is true.
The speaker told many stories that made everyone laugh and cry. Then he asked his daughter to sing. She had a beautiful voice. But at the end of the program, he showed pictures of the Savior and talked about how he did many kind things. I was so touched by the Spirit that my doubts completely left me.

My grandparents’ dog was sick, and they took her to the vet. They found out she had cancer, so they put the dog to sleep. It made me really sad. Then I saw that the Friend had come. I opened it and saw at the bottom of the page Matt and Mandy saying, “Feeling sad? Go to page 24 for the ‘Feelings First-Aid Kit’” (Sept. 2018). I turned to it, and it really helped me. Thanks for making it!
Keilani B., age 9, Utah, USA

I remember how the shrill scream of a siren gave me goose bumps whenever an ambulance went rushing by. Oh, how I wanted to be at the wheel of that machine, rushing to the aid of sick and injured people! As I grew older, my dream became a reality. I took first-aid classes, human science classes, and, finally, an emergency medical technician training course.
I was just out of high school when I got my first job as an ambulance attendant for a private ambulance, and I progressed rapidly in my knowledge of emergency treatments. I learned many things about life that most people never learn until much older. I was also exposed to many trials and temptations that I’d never faced before.
I worked in a non-Mormon atmosphere. It was the type of atmosphere that my Church leaders always had warned me about, but at the time, I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about it. My work began conflicting with my church attendance. I started asking myself questions and often wondered about my future. I could see myself progressing into higher fields of medicine, and it seemed that nothing stood in my way. Then, on my 19th birthday, I made my way to California and applied to a hospital paramedic program. I was accepted and could enter in the fall semester. I knew then that was exactly what I wanted to do.
Suddenly it dawned on me—what about a mission? Oh, sure, I had always told my friends and family that I would go. I had even told my employer I was planning on a mission. But all of that seemed unimportant now. All I could see was personal satisfaction, and I didn’t care what kind of spiritual development I’d surely miss. The voice of the prophet still echoed in my mind, “Every young man is to fulfill a mission.” But the thought always came back, “In two years’ time, look how far you could be as a paramedic!”
I didn’t know what to do. I knew deep down in my heart that a mission was the right thing, but I was swayed by selfishness. The decision to go or not to go was constantly on my mind. I thought about it from the time I got up in the morning until the time I went to bed at night. Because we worked 24-hour shifts, I had lots of time to think.
One night right after I had gone to bed, I was awakened by the ring of the telephone. The highway patrol was calling for an ambulance to respond to an accident on the freeway, and soon I was at the scene. A small car had run into the back of a semitrailer loaded with wooden fence posts. The badly mangled car had two occupants—a young couple who had recently been married. The husband, who was driving, had been killed instantly. His wife was critically injured. We worked desperately to save the slowly fading life of that beautiful 19-year-old woman. I thought to myself, How could something so terrible happen to this fine couple and totally destroy their future plans and happiness?
We rushed her to the hospital, where a team of highly trained doctors and nurses were waiting. Soon a helicopter arrived to transport her to a hospital in Salt Lake City, where she could receive special treatment for a severe head injury.
After I calmed down from the shock of the accident, I talked to the highway patrolman who would be responsible for notifying the next of kin. I’ll never forget the solemn look on his face and the glaze of tears in his eyes as he drove away. I thought to myself, What a horrible assignment! What if it were my parents being notified? Then another thought came to my mind: What will be the look on my face when I give an accounting to the Savior of the time I spent here in mortality?
The night air was chilled with a late frost. As I gazed up into the night, I noticed how clear and calm the sky looked. Tears ran freely down my cheeks, and I found myself pleading with the Lord for that young woman’s life. At that moment, when my heart actually seemed to swell painfully with love and compassion, I finally began to understand. Doctors and nurses and paramedics were wonderful, but they could treat only the body. They couldn’t heal the deeper wounds, the ones that would keep us from going home to our Father. Only one Physician could do that, and I was denying myself the chance to be his helper. I made a decision. I would do all I could to further the work of the Master Healer. I would serve a mission.
The days came and went. Finally, one month after the accident, I learned my prayers had been answered. The young woman was released from the hospital, completely recovered. How I thanked our Eternal Father for that answer! Now it was time to keep my commitment to serve a mission.
As I prayed and prepared myself, the Spirit confirmed that I was to serve my Heavenly Father as a missionary. I’ll never forget the calm, sweet feeling that came as our stake patriarch pronounced a patriarchal blessing upon me. And I’ll never forget that same feeling as I opened the letter from a prophet of God calling me to serve in the Pennsylvania Harrisburg Mission. Even as I served in Pennsylvania, as a representative of Jesus Christ, I had that special, calm feeling, knowing that I had made the right choice.
Before I left for the mission field, I thought there was no feeling in the world like knowing someone was walking again because of your help. But I was wrong. There is no greater feeling in the world than knowing you helped someone in their search for true joy and happiness found only in the gospel of Jesus Christ.

The doctor at the base near Taejon, Korea, looked up at me and smiled. I had been congratulating him and his colleagues on their brilliant management of a carbon monoxide poisoning incident. As Chief of Professional Services for the Surgeon of the U.S. Army and for the United Nations Forces, I had been so impressed by this young doctor’s actions that I came down personally to review the case with him.
In his tent we chatted about the incidence of such poisoning among soldiers. Korean homes are heated with a soft coal, called yantan, which is pressed into large bricks and burned in a stove beneath one corner of the house. Smoke and fumes are ducted through the clay and tile floor to a chimney on the opposite side of the structure, warming the building and its occupants. If a leak develops, carbon monoxide is released into the house.
Often U.S. soldiers would leave their base of assignment, go into a nearby village, get drunk, and fall asleep near a yantan stove. Occasionally they suffered carbon monoxide poisoning and were returned to the base unconscious. In the course of treatment, it was customary to check the alcohol level in their blood.
I asked the doctor what this soldier’s blood-alcohol level had been, and his answer was both startling and satisfying.
“Oh, I didn’t get a blood-alcohol reading on Private Christian,” he said. “He’s a Mormon.”
I played along.
“What’s that got to do with it?” I asked. “This fellow went into town and was found unconscious. How do you know his unconsciousness wasn’t caused by alcoholic intoxication?”
The doctor replied, “Because this is Christian. He never does anything that is not proper and exemplary.”
The doctor explained that nearly everyone on the base knew that Private Christian was a returned missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He had served his mission in Korea, spoke the language, and during his off-duty hours he often went to the village to visit with the people. He had taught some of them about his church, and they had joined. They lived in a small hamlet next to the base but had gone with Christian to religious services in Taejon.
The private had returned home with them Sunday evening and was invited to spend the night. Because he was the honored guest, he was given the place closest to the smoldering yantan. But it was a cold night, and all the openings in the building had been closed. A crack in the floor had not been noticed. As the American soldier slept, he had been overcome by the gases.
With utmost pride I informed my medical colleague that I, too, was Mormon. I marveled that he could have known this young private so well. He replied that he didn’t know many soldiers closely but that Christian’s life was so distinct that it set him apart from all the other men on the base.
I have never had the opportunity to meet Brother Christian and can only speculate about the total amount of good he did in an environment that normally draws out the base instincts of men. But I will never forget the impression he made on the doctor who treated him and the example he set for me. He had made proper decisions about many things in life years before being plunged into the challenges of military life, and he had not allowed environment to deter his power to do good. The other soldiers knew him for what he was—uncompromising. I am sure that many of them carry his example in their memories, even as I do, and I’m grateful to him for letting his light shine.

The service and interdependence among members in the Galápagos Islands that have created such unity led to rich blessings in 2007. That year David and Jeanneth Palacios escorted five branch families, nearly 25 people in all, to the Guayaquil Ecuador Temple.
“To see those families sealed, I felt as though we had been transported to the heavens,” says Jeanneth. “We felt the presence of the Lord so profoundly. All five of those families are very active today.”

Today, as we travel throughout the world, we see that many seeds have fallen into good ground. We meet wonderful, stalwart members of the Church who are faithful and dedicated. Some of us who have sown seeds as missionaries may have felt that those seeds fell on hard ground. It is not always possible to know the consequences of one single contact. For years William R. Wagstaff, who served in the North Central States Mission from 1928 to 1930, felt disappointed he had not baptized more people. In the summer of 1929 he and his companion visited a farm family about 180 miles west of Winnipeg.
“Brother Wagstaff remembered giving a copy of the Book of Mormon to the mother and discussing the gospel with her during numerous visits through that and the following summer.
“He recalled that during each visit ‘she’d take off her apron and we’d sit down and discuss the gospel. She’d read and have lots of questions.’
“But at the close of his mission, she still had not been baptized, and he lost touch with her.”
Brother Wagstaff went home, married, and raised a family. Then in October 1969 he and his wife attended his missionary reunion. “A lady approached him and asked, ‘Aren’t you Elder Wagstaff?’
“… She introduced herself as the woman he had taught on the farm outside Winnipeg. In her hand was a worn copy of the Book of Mormon—the one he had given her 40 years earlier.
“‘She showed me the book,’ he related. ‘I turned over the front and there was my name and address.’
“She then told Brother Wagstaff about 60 members of her family were members of the Church, including a branch president.”

“Andy, don’t forget your umbrella.”

“Aw, Mom, it’s not going to rain,” Andy said. “I’ll look silly carrying an umbrella to school when the sun is shining.” But he took the umbrella and headed up the street.

“Why can’t this be the kind of umbrella that folds up small,” he grumbled as he neared the end of his block. “It’s too big to hide under my jacket!”

“Hi, Andy. Are you afraid it’s going to rain?” a group of fourth-graders greeted him as he entered the school playground.

“The weatherman said it would,” Andy defended himself.

“Oh, sure—but this kind of rain is called sunshine,” Kenny teased him with a big grin. The other children laughed.

At recess, the sky was still sunny, and Andy was glad when no one mentioned the umbrella. However, after lunch Kenny appeared on the playground with the umbrella in hand! He held it out to Andy. “I thought that you might want this,” he said. “There’s a cloud in the sky now!” Kenny broke out in a fit of laughter. Other classmates joined in.

Andy was angry, and he bit his lip to keep from saying anything.

But Kenny wouldn’t leave it alone. He jumped up onto the steps of the school building. “Come on, everybody—see the one and only Andy and his famous umbrella,” he shouted. “Step right up. The show’s about to begin!”

Andy felt his face turn red as a large group of children turned and stared at him. “What’s so famous about it?” they asked.

Suddenly Andy remembered what Mom always said: “Try to make the best of things. Don’t let anyone or anything get you down.”

OK, he told himself. I’ll go along with them! He stood up and made a sweeping bow toward his audience. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began. “This may look like a common, ordinary umbrella, but it happens to be very special. Watch—I’ll show you.”

Andy held the closed umbrella by the handle, and with head held high, he strutted around the center of the circle made by the children. “It’s a fancy walking cane,” he explained. “Only very important people use them.”

Then he held the handle close to his face and pointed the tip end toward the sky. “Now it’s a telescope,” he announced. “I see Jupiter and Mars and all the stars, even in the daylight.”

“On guard!” he yelled as he bent his knees in a fencer’s stance. With his other arm held high, he slashed through the air with his “sword.”

The children began to clap. “More! More!” they called out.

With big dramatic motions, Andy opened the umbrella and held it over his head. He stepped along carefully as he pretended to be a circus tightrope walker.

As he neared one of his classmates, he closed the umbrella quickly and poked the pointed end through a piece of paper on the ground. “You see,” he said, “it’s also a good trash picker-upper.”

His classmates were laughing with him now, not at him. “That’s great, Andy,” they said. “What else can you do with it?”

Andy grabbed the middle of the closed umbrella and began to whistle “Yankee Doodle” while he strutted around like a drum major waving a baton. When he stopped, he twirled it around and around in his hand.

Finally, he opened it and placed it handle up on the ground and said, “It’s a TV satellite dish!” Then he turned it over and crawled underneath it. “It makes a good tent or fort too.”

Just then the bell rang. The children filed back into the classroom.

About fifteen minutes before school ended, the rain began. The light sprinkling had turned into a heavy drizzle by the time Andy got outside. He opened his umbrella and smiled to himself. Mom was right, as usual, he thought.

He passed the cars that were lined up in front of the building. Up ahead Andy saw Kenny with his shoulders hunched forward and his head down. Knowing that Kenny’s mom was still working and would not be there to give him a ride home, Andy hurried to catch up with his classmate. “I forgot to show you the most important thing this umbrella can do,” he told Kenny.

Andy held the umbrella so that it covered both their heads. “It’s really good for keeping a friend from getting wet too.”

Kenny stood up straight and smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Andy,” he said.

Eight-year-old Maggie stretched forward to better talk to her parents in the front seat of the car. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Mom, do I have to go to Aunt Alice’s house?”
Maggie’s parents had been planning this temple trip for weeks. They had arranged for Maggie to stay with her great-aunt, who lived in the same town as the temple. Aunt Alice was quite old and lived alone.
Mom turned in her seat to ask, “Don’t you want to go to Aunt Alice’s house? She’s very kind and will take good care of you.”
“I know. It’s just that, well, what if there’s nothing to do? Sitting around all day could get really boring. Maybe I should have stayed home and spent the night at Anna’s house.” Anna was Maggie’s best friend.
Mother looked deeply into Maggie’s worried eyes. “It’s true, we could have left you at Anna’s house, but Dad and I wanted this to be a special trip for the whole family. We have been preparing Grandma and Grandpa McCallister’s records for a long time so that we could do their temple work. You never knew Grandma, but you’re like her in many ways. We thought this trip would be a good chance for you to feel close to her.”
Grandma McCallister had passed away when Maggie was only a baby, and Grandpa had died just last summer. Maggie knew that Mom was anxious to have their temple work done so that they could be a part of her family forever. Maggie slumped back in her seat. She knew that this day was important. She just wasn’t sure about spending it with Aunt Alice.
When they stopped in front of a small brick home several hours later, butterflies fluttered around in Maggie’s stomach.
“Grab your bag, sweetie—this is it,” Mom said.
Maggie picked up her backpack and slowly climbed out of the car. Her legs were stiff from the long trip, and she dragged them reluctantly up the front walk.
“Come on, honey. Dad and I have to get going.” Mom stopped at the front door and put her arms around Maggie’s drooping shoulders. “Don’t worry. Everything is going to be just fine. You might even enjoy yourself.” Mom smiled.
It was comforting to see the familiar twinkle in Mom’s eyes. Maggie perked up and smiled back.
Just then the front door opened, and the familiar aroma of chocolate chip cookies met Maggie’s nose.
“Well, look who’s here!” Aunt Alice exclaimed. “Maggie Magpie! I haven’t seen you since you were a baby!”
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Maggie Magpie?”
“Oh, that’s what we used to call your grandma when she was a girl. Her name is Margaret, too, you know.”
Maggie barely heard her mother’s good-bye as she stepped into the house with Aunt Alice.
“Come and have some cookies while we get reacquainted, Maggie Magpie.”
Maggie looked around as she walked through the front room toward the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks when her eyes came to rest on a tall display cabinet full of fancy porcelain dolls. “Wow! Do you collect dolls?”
“Sure do. Do you like dolls?”
“I do! I have a collection, too. Well, it’s not as big or fancy as yours, but I really like dolls.”
“You know, your Grandma McCallister liked dolls, too. In fact, I may have something of hers that you can take home with you.”
Maggie followed Aunt Alice into the kitchen, wondering what she might have for her. Aunt Alice poured Maggie a glass of milk and set out some cookies. “Help yourself, honey. I’ll be right back.” She climbed a creaky flight of narrow wooden stairs to the attic. A few minutes later, she returned with an old shoe box.
“Just before your grandma died, she gave me this box. She asked me to keep it for you until you were old enough to take care of what’s inside.” A smile filled Aunt Alice’s face. “I think you’re old enough now. Want to see?”
Maggie nodded eagerly.
Aunt Alice took off several rubber bands, then carefully lifted the cardboard lid. Very gently she peeled back layers of faded tissue paper. Maggie leaned forward to see what lay inside. Beneath the folds of paper lay the most beautiful doll Maggie had ever seen. The eyes blinked open in the pale porcelain face as Aunt Alice lifted the doll out of the box. “Do you want to hold it?”
Maggie could barely breathe as she carefully took the doll into her arms and rocked it tenderly.
“Your grandma called her Bessie, or sometimes Miss Bess. She has the same beautiful dark red hair that you have and that your grandmother had.”
As Maggie gently smoothed the pale blue dress and white lace pinafore and patted the shining curly hair, she imagined another little redheaded girl holding this very doll a long time ago. She felt a new love for Grandma and began to believe that maybe she knew her a little bit after all.
An unexpected tear slid down Maggie’s cheek as she looked into Aunt Alice’s beaming face. “Thank you, Aunt Alice. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”
“I know you will, Maggie Magpie,” Aunt Alice said. “You’re a lot like your grandma, you know.”
Maggie smiled lovingly at Grandma’s doll. She was glad that she was a lot like Grandma. And she was grateful that her parents were at the temple doing Grandma and Grandpa’s temple work. She wanted them all to be a family forever.

Many examples coming into the Relief Society general offices are showing that this is happening. Gail McHardy, Relief Society president in the Houston Branch, St. Robert Missouri Stake, made coming up with ideas a matter of prayer with her counselors. “The Spirit was certainly there to help us,” she said during a telephone conversation.

Then, with the support of the branch president, she presented the ideas to the sisters in the ward. She was surprised when the most popular activity was a class in American Sign Language. Another sister in the branch had taken sign language courses and agreed to teach the classes.

“The branch president has agreed to let them sign with the choir soon,” Sister McHardy said. She added that one sister had recently returned to Church activity and by participating in the class “she felt much more a part of Relief Society.”

Brother Berlin told the story of a brother who had joined the Church in St. Petersburg, Russia, many years ago and felt prompted to return home to Armenia to build up the kingdom. He did so, and a year later Brother Berlin arrived to begin the scripture translation work.
The man had helped in the translation of the Book of Mormon, published in 2000, and after his English skills increased, he became the translator of the Doctrine and Covenants and Pearl of Great Price in the full triple combination.

When my oldest son, Eric, was a senior in high school, he wanted to give his family gifts for Christmas. He had little income, so he decided on a gift of the heart.
For each family member Eric made a list of the 10 things he would miss most about him or her while he was at college and on his mission. His lists were rolled up like scrolls and tied with ribbon.
At Christmas we opened our gifts with great enthusiasm and curiosity. My list included things like “Watching her try to use the computer” and “Her hugs.” It must have taken him a long time to think of 10 things for each of us. I cried, his brothers laughed, and his only sister cherished her list. It still hangs on the door of her room today, three years later.
Now as Eric serves a mission in Guatemala, we wanted to send him something different for his last Christmas before returning home. Each of us wrote our own version of the present he gave us three years ago. We titled them “Ten Things I Have Missed Most about Eric While He’s Been on His Mission.”
For some of us it was easy. Eric’s brothers had a hard time but finally finished. It was a great project for family home evening, and we all laughed and cried as we thought of our 10 things. What a great family tradition we’ve started and hope to continue as our other children leave for college and missions.
I will never forget this gift from a busy son who thought to make a gift that would make a difference. We are grateful we were able to receive this from him.

Two years later, she met Simon, also a student. A week after they met, he proposed marriage to her. At first, Rostya was hesitant. “I told him that I wanted to have a career and that I was not interested in marriage or children. But he persisted.” They were married eighteen months later. Both graduated the same year, Simon in civil engineering and Rostya in Eastern European studies. Simon’s first job was in Scotland.

After high school Gary was offered scholarships in all three sports. He was probably best in basketball, but baseball was his first love, and he intended to make it his career. So friends and teachers were surprised when Gary went off to Diablo Junior College to play football. He did it partly out of friendship. A former high school coach had called three days before DJC’s first game and said, “Hey, Gary, how about coming over to play for Diablo? All three of my quarterbacks are injured, and I’ve got nobody to start.”
Gary had gone, but he had time for only three practices before the game. “We had some good breaks,” he recalls, “and we ‘creamed’ the other team.”
In spite of this brilliant beginning, Gary was repeatedly ambushed by injuries and was able to play in less than half the games during his two years at Diablo.