Gospel Story Finder

I wanted to thank you for an uplifting magazine! A while ago, I was in my creative writing class, and I had my New Era with me because I was using it for a devotional in seminary. We were supposed to be reading, and that’s all I had, so I started reading it. My teacher came over, and I thought she was going to get mad at me for reading a magazine, but she was really impressed because of the neat layout and how it was a magazine written especially for youth. Also, she was excited because there were a whole bunch of short stories, which is what we were studying at the time. Thanks. I love reading the New Era!Carina Shojinaga, Raleigh First Ward, Raleigh North Carolina Stake

President Ezra Taft Benson relates a special experience with prayer:

Rearing 11 vigorous children to honorable manhood and womanhood on a small farm is no easy accomplishment. Yet, as my father and mother devoted themselves to this task, they never seemed to have any fear of the future. The reason was their faith—their confidence that they could always go to the Lord and He would see them through.
“Remember that whatever you do or wherever you are, you are never alone,” was my father’s familiar counsel. “Our Heavenly Father is always near. You can reach out and receive His aid through prayer.”
All through my life the counsel to depend on prayer has been prized above any other advice I have ever received. It has become an integral part of me, an anchor, a constant source of strength.

Prayer came to my aid during a most terrifying experience of my early life. I was a missionary in (Sunderland) England. . . . My companion, William Harris, and I were standing back to back, facing a hostile crowd that was swelled by a rowdy element from the pubs, men who were always eager for excitement and not averse to violence.
What had started out to be a customary street meeting soon took on the proportions of an angry, unmanageable mob. Many false malicious rumors had been spread about our church activities.
The crowd started swaying. Someone in the rear called out, “What’s the excitement?” Several voices shouted, “It’s them bloody Mormons!” This touched off a clamorous demonstration: “Let’s get ’em under our feet!” “Throw ’em in the river!”
The mob surged forward and tried to force us to the ground so they might trample us.
In my anxiety, I silently prayed for the Lord’s guidance and protection. When it seemed that I could hold out no longer, a husky young stranger pushed through to my side and said in a strong, clear voice: “I believe every word you said tonight. I’m your friend.”
As he spoke, a little circle cleared around me. This, to me, was a direct answer to my fervent prayer. The next thing I knew, a sturdy English bobby was convoying us safely through the crowd and back to our lodgings. [Frederick W. Babbel, On Wings of Faith (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, Inc., 1972), pp. 85–86]

Using that great principle of prayer taught by his parents saved the life of President Benson and his companion.

When I was 17 years old, I lost most of my left arm in a car accident. This experience would forever change my life. Though there have been difficult days and trying moments, this refiner’s fire has given me an opportunity to witness the power of the Atonement in a unique way.
My life now is all about being a wife and a mother, two roles I love deeply. Before my children were born, I wondered about my adequacy to be a mother. How could I possibly change diapers, prepare dinner, or comfort my children with only one arm? Fifteen years later, I am in the middle of motherhood with five sweet children. I have adjusted well, and my children hardly notice that I am different from other mothers. My missing arm is no longer a hindrance but a symbol of love. It is a source of comfort for my children to hold when they cry or fall asleep at night. This attachment may be due to many things, but I see it as evidence of the Savior’s ability to create something good out of something tragic.
I cannot describe the sweetness I feel when that part of me can provide such comfort to my children. Motherhood has brought perspective to my physical limitation, and I have felt the Atonement already begin to heal me.
The daily demands of motherhood have sometimes been difficult. Tough times give me reason to reflect on the reality of the Resurrection and the Savior’s ability to heal me. Thus the faith-promoting examples of healing found in the scriptures have special meaning to me. One of my favorites is when the Savior visited the people in the Americas and healed their sick. I have imagined what it might have been like to be one of those healed by the Savior. The account begins with His loving invitation:
“Have ye any that are sick among you? Bring them hither. Have ye any that are lame, or blind, or halt, or maimed, … or that are afflicted in any manner? Bring them hither and I will heal them, for I have compassion upon you; my bowels are filled with mercy. …
“… I see that your faith is sufficient that I should heal you.
“… When he had thus spoken, all the multitude, with one accord, did go forth with their sick and their afflicted, and their lame, and with their blind, and their dumb, and with them that were afflicted in any manner; and he did heal them every one” (3 Nephi 17:7–9).
For me, this is one of the most touching events described in the scriptures. But my perspective has changed as I have embraced motherhood with one arm. I once thought I was one of the people who most looked forward to the Resurrection and the idea of being made whole. But now I am not in so much of a hurry. Increasingly, I feel the Atonement working in my life now. I have realized that the healing power need not begin only when the Resurrection occurs. The wholeness has already begun when, every night, one of my children tenderly holds what remains of my arm and slips into slumber. This realization has been just as meaningful to me as any miracle of physical healing. I have decided that, for now, I am as whole as I need to be.

On a ski trip to a large resort, some friends and I decided to split up and check out the various runs. We planned to meet later for lunch and compare notes on the runs for the afternoon.
I rode several lifts and enjoyed different runs. It was a glorious day. A storm had just passed, and everything was fresh and white.
I traversed the mountain to a run which is used less frequently than others. It had a very long ski lift and there were few people in line. I was alone on my chair and I stretched my arms across the back of the chair to enjoy the sensations of the morning. The world seemed a very friendly place. The bright sun shone in a deep, blue sky. The trees were dark, almost black, and contrasted with the brilliant white of the snow. Now and then I passed over tracks made by a rabbit or some other small animal. The sun was pleasant on my face, and the cold, bracing air felt good in my lungs. I took long, deep breaths and involuntarily broke into a wide grin.
I was enjoying all that was around me and wished for someone to share it with. Then I thought of my Heavenly Father. It was through his plan that I’d come to this earth to enjoy these things. I thought of his love and concern for me and felt I should express my gratitude to him. I prayed aloud. I told Heavenly Father how good it was to have a physical body that I could exercise and sense the beauties of this world with. I told him how I felt about the colors around me, and the great feeling of the warm sun mixed with the cold air. I told him that I loved him and was happy that he loved me enough to give me these things.
I had been praying to express my happiness to my Heavenly Father, but I also realized that my prayer was an attempt to make him happy. I thought of my earthly parents and how they enjoy hearing about the fun, exciting things of my life. Wouldn’t it gladden my Father in Heaven to hear about my joy?
The rest of that day was very special. I spent much of it sharing with my Heavenly Father the things around me. The more I shared the more I appreciated. It was wonderful to know I had found another way to express my love for him.

This story happened in Zimbabwe.
The sun was shining, and Lynn ran outside to play. The other children in the village were playing kickball. They had made their own ball by crunching up papers and wrapping them tightly with plastic bags.
Lynn hurried to join them. But then something made her stop.
Sitting under a nearby tree was a girl named Awesome. Some other children pointed at her and laughed. But Awesome didn’t laugh. Instead, she covered her face with her hands. Big tears rolled down her cheeks.
Soon the others joined the kickball game and left Awesome alone.
Lynn looked at the children having fun. Then she looked at Awesome. She wanted to do what Jesus Christ would do.
“Are you OK?” Lynn asked. She smiled at Awesome.
Awesome wiped her tears and nodded.
Lynn picked up two small sticks and handed one to Awesome. “Want to draw with me?”
“Sure.” Awesome took the stick and drew a circle in the dirt.
“That looks like a sun,” said Lynn. “The sun always makes me happy.” The girls giggled as they drew more pictures. Lynn liked Awesome.
Then Lynn had an idea. “Would you like to come to church with me tomorrow? We’ll sing songs and learn about Jesus Christ. It’s really fun.”
“OK,” said Awesome. “Let me ask my mother.”
As Awesome ran to find her mother, Lynn felt a little nervous. She knew some people in their area had bad feelings about the Church.
But soon Awesome came running back. “My mother said yes!” She gave Lynn a big hug. “I told her you are my best friend ever!”
The next morning, Lynn and Awesome went to church. It was a long walk. Lynn taught Awesome some Primary songs as they walked.
On the way, they saw other children walking with their families to church. Some of them were the ones who had been mean to Awesome.
“Are they coming to church too?” asked Awesome nervously.
“Don’t worry,” Lynn said. “It will be OK.” Lynn said a little prayer in her heart that the others would be nice to her new friend.
When they walked into Primary, the other children smiled at Lynn. But when they saw Awesome, some of their smiles faded. They seemed a bit worried and nervous too.
Sister Moyo read a scripture. “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in Heaven.”* She looked up. “We can share our light by showing love to others. Can anyone share how you helped someone feel loved?”
No one spoke. Some of the children shuffled their feet under their chairs.
At last, one of the boys said, “Uh, Awesome, we were not very kind to you. We are sorry we made you cry. Can you forgive us?”
Lynn looked at Awesome. What would she say?
Awesome nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said. “I forgive you.”
Sister Moyo smiled. “That was brave and kind of both of you. I know you’ve made the Savior very happy.”
The next day, Lynn and Awesome sat under the tree and sang songs they learned in Primary. Soon the other children heard them singing and joined them. Music filled the air they all sang.
Lynn felt like sun was shining in her heart. She was grateful she had shared Jesus Christ’s love with her friend.
Awesome kept going to church with Lynn. Later, she was baptized!
Illustrations by Katie Rewse

Looking back, darkness to light, my life in the ghetto was difficult, and a person could make it harder by making wrong choices. There was little opportunity for progression. But I wanted something worth living for. When the opportunity came to leave the ghetto with part of my family, I decided this was my chance.
Many of the girls I grew up with never left the ghetto. I could not have made it without following the desires of my heart and trusting in my Father above to lead me. At times, while walking around Ricks College in Idaho, I realize all that I have been blessed with. I was blessed with the chance to leave the ghetto, be baptized a member of this church, gain an education, and fulfill a mission in Utah. I know Heavenly Father loves us all and is mindful of our circumstances no matter where we are. He desires above all things our happiness.

Last June I couldn’t bring myself to attend girls’ camp, but the reports I have received are beautiful. Shannon’s group of fourth-year girls performed “Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God” at the first night fireside and dedicated it to my daughter. Every night thereafter they used “our song” as the closing song at the campfire meeting. The new Beehives did not know Shannon, but they could feel the Spirit as the tears flowed and the notes were sung.

I hope you will let me be very personal for a minute because my family is my life's dream and my treasure. These are our seven children. Our four sons are all worthy priesthood holders and good fathers. The oldest was born while we were students and came to our home during the second day of final exams during Elder Henderson's junior year. Just after Elder Henderson's graduation, our twin boys were born, on February 14, Valentine’s Day. We had recently moved to our first job. Everything in our small home was borrowed, including the three cribs or baby beds. With three babies under one-year old, and diapers we had to wash, our lives seemed an endless round of feeding, diapers, washing clothes, and crying babies. We learned quickly to work together as a team. Elder Henderson would take his turn and get up with a crying baby late at night so I could rest. I would try to have dinner and look nice for him when he came home from work. We went on our knees a lot and prayed that the Lord would somehow give us the strength and money to keep going. We remembered the sacred covenants that we had made with each other and God in the temple, and He remembered us. We added three more girls and another son. We were happy and felt richly blessed to have such a special family.
All of our children have blessed us beyond measure. They brought precious grandchildren to us with great love and sacrifice. Raising a family is not easy. We have known times of happy family experiences together. But we have also known heartache and pain. At times, Elder Henderson and I have knelt together with heavy hearts and asked for help when we could not see the way. Heavenly Father has always heard our prayers and raised us up to be more than we could be, together, to realize the blessings of our temple covenants.

In February 2017, my sister, and best friend, Sharon Mabuku, passed away while I was in boarding school. My twin brother and I received a message from the vice principal that our parents wanted to meet us on the way home. Most of our classmates walked with us to the school gate. They knew of the sad news about the death of my sister though they never told us that they knew. Instead, they only put on smiling faces.
The journey back home was not one to remember. We stopped at a small town called Mvuma because of a funeral car that overtook, and stopped, in front of the car we boarded. Suddenly I saw my father coming out of that same car. He walked to the car we were in and paid the driver. In a few minutes, a bus came by, and my father, with a sad face and red eyes full of tears, asked if we could get onto the bus. Tears started to stream down our faces as we boarded the bus and sat down by my mother. She then told us, “Be like men my children, be strong. She is gone.”
I cried because I was not able to see my sister during the viewing. Questions started to flow into my mind: Does God really exist? If so, why did He not answer our prayers? Instead, God answered my sister’s prayer when she cried, “Father, take my soul, I’m in pain.”
After that cry, everyone who was in the room stopped praying and saw Sharon pass away.

Several years ago Elder Christensen set a date of January 31. Early January came, and despite having initiated conversations with dozens and dozens of people and inviting several of them to meet the missionaries, he failed to find anyone who was interested. He was scheduled to travel to Honolulu, Hawaii, for an academic conference on January 20, and the way his schedule looked, it seemed clear that he had to meet the person he could introduce to the missionaries on his flight to or from Hawaii. There was no other time. He pleaded in daily prayer that God would cause a person to sit next to him on the plane who would accept his invitation.
After all that effort, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw his seatmate—a man named Vinnie who was wearing a loud Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to his sternum, sporting three gold chains on his hairy chest. Vinnie explained that he worked 11 months every year to save enough to escape to Hawaii for a month in winter to chase women. Clayton was so disappointed. He had tried and prayed so hard to find someone—and instead he got stuck next to a man who didn’t seem to have a religious bone in his body. Discouraged, Clayton turned to some reading.
When the flight attendant brought lunch, Clayton put his reading down and made small talk with his seatmate. Vinnie asked Clayton if he had been to Hawaii before, and Clayton responded that he had attended a language training school in Laie en route to a mission he had served for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Korea. Surprisingly, Vinnie put his fork down and said, “So you’re a Mormon? The funniest thing has happened to me over the past year. I’ve never had any interest in religion, but I’ve had this growing curiosity to know more about Mormons. I don’t know why. Could you tell me a little about your church?”
For the next three hours, enveloped by a wonderful spirit, they discussed the gospel of Jesus Christ, article of faith by article of faith. Several times on the remainder of the flight, Vinnie interrupted to say thanks for telling him about the Church. As the plane landed, Clayton told Vinnie there were missionaries in his hometown and asked if they could visit him when he returned. Vinnie asked if there were missionaries in Honolulu. Clayton received this golden answer to his prayers by using a “Mormon” phrase to open the door to a conversation and by suspending his judgment of what might be in Vinnie’s heart.

As Margaret pointed out in her introduction today, when I first started teaching, I had the good fortune to be in a department where excellence in teaching was the standard. With the help of colleagues, I devised a plan by which I could learn from them by sitting in on their classes, being part of a teaching group, and having them periodically sit in on my classes. To those efforts, I added my own diligent preparation and follow up. While the investment required in those early years was substantial, it made all the difference in my rate of progress and my acceptance by both students and faculty. Once again, I learned that the Lord is true to His promise – the harvest was great because of the investment and preparations that had been made.

Growing up, living the gospel felt simple. I trusted my parents and leaders, and they guided me and helped me make good choices.
But as I’ve reached young adulthood, I’ve learned that we can often face difficulties and challenges in life that will test our faith.
When my grandmother passed away unexpectedly, my family and I faced one of these difficult times. It made me stop and question, “If God is good, why would He take someone good from our lives?”
My grandma was our pillar. She was kind, caring, and charitable—a mother to everyone. She welcomed everyone into our home. Neighborhood kids who played in the street in front of our house would eat dinner with us because she had a plate of food for everyone.
So when she died, I struggled with my faith.
Amid all my grief, even though I wasn’t looking to find answers in the gospel or in God, I still prayed every day. At first, my prayers were monotonous. I asked for the same things. I was grateful for the same things.
But as time passed, there was one question in my heart that I finally asked Heavenly Father:
“How can I find peace?”
A friend was the answer to that sincere prayer.
Thanks to him, I started attending church again. He invited me to come with him, and I agreed to go, just because he was my friend. I wasn’t interested in participating.
But little by little, just because I was there, the gospel messages began to enter my heart. I saw that Heavenly Father has a plan for us. President Russell M. Nelson taught:
“Eternal perspective provides peace ‘which passeth all understanding.’ (Philippians 4:7.) …
“Life does not begin with birth, nor does it end with death.”
Though I still mourn for my grandma, the gospel of Jesus Christ provides me with peace and the reassurance that we will one day be reunited.
I also learned that it takes constant and daily effort to remember my baptismal covenant and listen to the guiding voice of the Spirit. I began to treasure the gift of the Holy Ghost in my life. I know He is always with me, through every difficulty I face.
I’m so grateful for a friend who noticed I was pulling away from the gospel and reached out to support me. As I continued attending church, institute, and other young adult activities, I grew closer with more young adults in my area who were all seeking to love one another and live the gospel of Jesus Christ.
President Nelson also taught:
“Latter-day Saints, as with other followers of Jesus Christ, are always looking for ways to help, to lift, and to love others. They who are willing to be called the Lord’s people ‘are willing to bear one another’s burdens, … to mourn with those that mourn; … and [to] comfort those that stand in need of comfort’ [Mosiah 18:8–9].
“They truly seek to live the first and second great commandments. When we love God with all our hearts, He turns our hearts to the well-being of others in a beautiful, virtuous cycle.”
Helping me bear my burdens was exactly what my fellow disciples in my ward did for me and what they continue to do for one another. I sincerely love those in my ward! We get together often, we support each other, and we minister to one another. When someone needs a job, we help each other look for opportunities. When new people visit our Sunday meetings, we welcome them and try to make them feel included.
Good friends have helped me grow strong in the gospel, and together, we are strong against the trials and temptations of life.
And just as good friends supported me when I needed it most, I now have the opportunity to be that friend to others. At times when I’ve noticed people I love are struggling or have been distancing themselves from the Church, I do what I can to keep supporting and inviting them—to remind them that the Lord loves them and is waiting for them to return to the covenant path.
I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without my wonderful friends and ward members who helped me have the courage to stay faithful when I was feeling so much grief.

In his sophomore year Wilbanks tried out for the high school basketball team and made it. On the first day of practice his coach had him play one-on-one while the team observed. When he missed an easy shot, he became angry and stomped and whined. The coach walked over to him and said, “You pull a stunt like that again and you’ll never play for my team.” For the next three years he never lost control again. Years later, as he reflected back on this incident, he realized that the coach had taught him a life-changing principle that day: anger can be controlled (see “The New Obscenity,” 24).

Parable of the bicycle
Stephen E. Robinson, has written a wonderful parable, “You Are Priceless - The Parable of the Bicycle”, which I want to share with you.

“Daddy, I need to talk to you,” the little girl said. Seeing her earnest expression, the father set his newspaper aside and looked into his daughter’s eyes.

“All my friends have bikes,” the little girl explained. “Can I get a bike? I could ride it to school and lock it with a lock. I could go to my friend’s house all by myself and you wouldn’t even have to drive me.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement at the thought.

“Well,” he said, “that is an interesting idea. But having a bike is a big responsibility, you know. And bikes cost quite a lot of money.”

The little girl smiled confidently. “I’m going to pay for it myself,” she declared. ”I’m going to save up all my money and not spend even one penny. If I save and save, don’t you think I’ll have enough for a bike someday.”

Her father sat for a few moments without answering. He knew that his little girl had no idea what a bicycle would really cost. There was no way her small allowance would be enough, even if she did extra jobs around the house to add to it.

But she was so excited, so earnest – so priceless – that his heart melted. He took her into his arms and hugged her tightly. “A goal is a good thing to have,” he said. “Why don’t you try it, and let’s see what happens.”

A few days went by, and the father found his little girl sweeping the porch. The following week he noticed her working alongside her mother in the garden, pulling weeds and planting flowers. And once or twice, as the little girl went into her bedroom, he heard the clink of coins being dropped into a glass jar.

After a while, the little girl came to her father and said, “Daddy, I’ve been working and saving up all my money for a long time. Can we get my bike now?” She shook the coins in the bottom of the jar.

The father looked at the little collection of coins, and then he looked into the pleading eyes of the little girl he loved so much. “Let’s go and see what we can find out,” he suggested.

The bicycle shop had a little bell that made a tinkling noise when they walked into the store. They hadn’t looked around very long when suddenly the little girl froze. There it was! The most beautiful bicycle she could ever have imagined! She ran to it, stroking its shiny chrome and running her fingers through the colorful streamers that flowed from its handle grips. Never could there be a more perfect bike than this one. She clapped her hands with the pure delight of it.

Then she reached for the price tag.

The next moment, the sunshine in the little girl’s eyes melted into tears. “Oh, Daddy,” she wept, “I’ll never have enough. Never.” She threw herself into his arms.

Her father cradled her head on his shoulder and gently stroked her hair, letting her cry.

When the little girl finally settled down, her father wiped her tears away and said, “How about this? How much money do you have?”

“Sixty-one cents,” she answered in a forlorn voice.

“Then I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Let’s try a different arrangement. You give me everything you’ve got – the whole sixty-one cents – and a hug and a kiss, and this bike is yours. I’ll make up the difference.”

Hope came back into the little girl’s eyes. “Really, Daddy?” she asked.

“Really, honey.”

“Oh, Daddy!” she said once again, but the words were happy ones now, and the little girl hurried to fill her part of the bargain with several hugs and kisses just to be sure.

The deal was completed, and the Most Perfect Bike Ever was purchased, and the father walked beside his little girl as she wheeled it proudly to the car. In his pockets jingled the sixty-one cents, and in his heart glowed his love for his daughter and the joy he felt in knowing how hard she had worked to reach her goal. When it came down to it, the sixty-one cents – and the hugs and kisses – were exactly enough.

But the story doesn’t end there. . . .

The truth is, there’s something we all want, and we want it more than any child ever wanted any bicycle. We want the kingdom of God. We want to go home to our Father in Heaven worthy and clean.
At some point in that spiritual voyage, we recognize the full price of admission into that kingdom, and we also realize we cannot pay it. We’ll never have enough - - never. The tremendous price of perfect performance is hopelessly beyond our means.
And so we despair.
Only then can we fully appreciate the One who comes to save. For Him, each soul is priceless. When we finally feel the pain of our own shortcomings, the Savior, Jesus Christ, steps in and lovingly says, “Let’s try a different arrangement. How much do you have? You give me exactly that much (the whole sixty-one cents) and do all you can do, and I will provide the rest for now. You give me all you’ve got, and a hug and a kiss (signifying the love that cements this covenant), and the kingdom is yours. Perfection will still be our ultimate goal, but until you can achieve it on your own, I’ll let you use mine. What do you say?”
To all who want to serve God and keep his commandments, who hunger and thirst after righteousness, we declare, this is the “good news” of the gospel. Christ is the answer. He is the bridge from here to there. He is our hope when we feel cut off and alone. He is our Savior.”[20]

I have a friend, Mossi White, who as an infant was one of the unwitting heroes of World War II. Mossi’s parents, and I guess Mossi herself, were part of the underground in Norway, and she acted as an unwitting secret courier carrying secret papers hidden in her diapers, where German soldiers were unlikely to look, for obvious reasons. Think of the fears her parents had to overcome. Had they developed what Christ meant when He asked us to develop a childlike nature? Is it possible that, in their childlike nature, Mossi’s parents couldn’t be frightened enough to accept that wrong was right or that there was nothing they could do to stop the evil of the Third Reich? Mossi’s father was later captured by the Gestapo and sent to a concentration camp in Poland, which he ultimately survived. Mossi’s parents saw evil, and they did what a beautiful child would do: they tried to make it all better.

Perhaps because she was raised by such parents Mossi has become a woman of great strength and courage today. She is a cancer survivor who served for years as president of the Provo School Board and as president of the American Association of School Boards, traveling and speaking extensively nationally and internationally, seeking only to bless the lives of children.

Aaron traipsed along the hot, dusty road, pulling his wagon. The only sounds were the rattle of wheels over the lumpy ground and the clinking of coins in his pocket.
“Two dollars and 75 cents,” he thought. “Mrs. Murphy gave me much more than it costs to buy her a bag of flour and a sack of potatoes.”
Needing a rest, he sat in the shade of a wild olive tree on a stack of old fence posts in an empty field. He reached for his small canteen, emptied the last few drops of water into his mouth, and tossed the empty container back into the wagon.
A lizard crawled onto the end of one of the fence posts and stared at him. “It’s hot enough to turn even you belly up in the sun, you know that?” he told the reptile. “I guess that’s why you’re under this tree, like me.”
He pulled the coins from his pocket and eyed them. “Mrs. Murphy said this would be enough to buy what she needs,” he said, “which probably means she doesn’t expect anything back. Of course, she can hardly see enough to know a penny from a dime.”
Aaron squinted at the huge field of tall, dead weeds and twisted olive trees, their leaves almost glowing in the heat. “I’m sure Mrs. Murphy wouldn’t mind if I bought a tall glass of lemonade at the soda fountain. There will be enough money left over. Besides,” he reasoned, “I’ve earned it. It’s a half-mile between her place and town. She’s our neighbor, and I’m helping see to her needs, like Mom and Dad asked. But I have needs, too, like lemonade on a hot summer day. Since my canteen is empty, what choice do I have?”
He stood, and the lizard stiffened. “Even you lizards get thirsty. But all you have to do is find a fat, juicy spider. It doesn’t cost you a penny. But we humans have to pay for a drink when our canteens are empty. It’s just the way of things.”
Aaron stepped back onto the road but stopped short. Through the waves of heat, he saw something that looked like a bad dream—a large dog in the road, barking at him! He hurried off through the field. The dog didn’t chase him, but Aaron soon found himself up against another problem: his socks and pants were covered with foxtails.
When he reached the store, he sat on the curb and pulled the spiky weeds from his clothes. His father had once told him how foxtails are similar to bad habits: “Foxtails dig in and stick to whatever touches them, just as bad choices do. Once they become embedded, they are twice as hard to remove. It’s best to avoid them in the first place by staying on the better path.”
After Aaron cleaned off his clothes, he bought Mrs. Murphy’s food, loaded the flour and potatoes in his wagon, and headed down the street toward the soda fountain for a tall glass of cold lemonade. But his father’s words about wrong choices kept whispering to him.
Aaron stopped in front of the soda fountain and looked at the change in his hand. Then he looked again at the soda fountain. Then back at the leftover money. Then at the dirt road baked by the summer sun.
A half-hour later, Aaron pulled his wagon to a stop in front of Mrs. Murphy’s place. He was even more thirsty than before, having decided not to spend any of Mrs. Murphy’s change. He knew she would never have known the difference, nor perhaps even cared. But he would have known, and Heavenly Father would have known, too. Foxtails were enough of a problem in his socks. He didn’t like the idea of having to remove bad habits as well. That would be much more difficult. If he stayed away from making bad choices, he wouldn’t have to worry about creating bad habits.
He climbed Mrs. Murphy’s steps, carrying the sacks of flour and potatoes. Not only did he feel good as he handed her the change, but Mrs. Murphy gave him something else as well: the biggest and best glass of cold lemonade he had ever tasted.

A spirit of determination to do the right thing can come in earliest boyhood. At the cemetery, following a lovely funeral I attended, there stood near the open grave a small lad. His face was one of innocence, and his shining eyes showed the promise of a bright future. I said to him, “You, my boy, are going to make a great missionary. How old are you?”
He answered, “Ten.”
“In nine years we’re going to be looking for you to serve a mission,” I countered.
His response was immediate and told me something about him. He said, “Brother Monson, you won’t have to look for me ’cause I’ll be looking for you.” Young men, some lessons in life are learned from your parents, while others you learn in school or in church. There are, however, certain moments when you know our Heavenly Father is doing the teaching and you are His student. Let me share with you tonight such a lesson, effectively taught and everlastingly learned. The lesson pertains to swimming but goes far beyond that skill.
I learned to swim in the swift-running currents of the Provo River in beautiful Provo Canyon. The “old swimming hole” was in a deep portion of the river, formed by a large rock which had fallen into the river, I assume, when the workmen constructing the railroad were blasting through the canyon. The pool was dangerous, what with its depth of sixteen feet, its current, which moved swiftly against the large rock, and the sucking action of the whirlpools below the rock. It was not a place for a novice or the inexperienced swimmer.
One warm summer afternoon when I was about twelve or thirteen, I took a large, inflated inner tube from a tractor tire, slung it over my shoulder, and walked barefoot up the railroad track which followed the course of the river. I entered the water about a mile above the swimming hole, sat comfortably in the tube, and enjoyed a leisurely float down the river. The river held no fear for me, for I knew its secrets.
That day the Greek-speaking people in Utah held a reunion at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon, as they did every year. Native food, games, and dances were the order of the day. But some left the party to try swimming in the river. When they arrived at the swimming hole, it was deserted, for afternoon shadows were beginning to envelop it.
As my inflated tube bobbed up and down, I was about to enter the swiftest portion of the river just at the head of the swimming hole when I heard frantic cries, “Save her! Save her!” A young lady swimmer, accustomed to the still waters of a gymnasium swimming pool, had fallen from the rock into the treacherous whirlpools. None of the party could swim to save her. Suddenly I appeared on the potentially tragic scene. I saw the top of her head disappearing under the water for the third time, there to descend to a watery grave. I stretched forth my hand, grasped her hair, and lifted her over the side of the tube and into my arms. At the pool’s lower end, the water was slower as I paddled the tube, with my precious cargo, to her waiting relatives and friends. They threw their arms around the water-soaked girl and kissed her, crying, “Thank God! Thank God you are safe!” Then they hugged and kissed me. I was embarrassed and quickly returned to the tube and continued my float down to the Vivian Park bridge. The water was frigid, but I was not cold, for I was filled with a warm feeling. I realized that I had participated in the saving of a life. Heavenly Father had heard the cries, “Save her! Save her,” and permitted me, a deacon, to float by at precisely the time I was needed. That day I learned that the sweetest feeling in mortality is to realize that God, our Heavenly Father, knows each one of us and generously permits us to see and to share His divine power to save.

For example, I honor those special souls who face challenges of parenthood with unwavering faith in their Maker. To a family dear to Sister Nelson and me, a son was recently born. This child was afflicted with multiple anomalies affecting virtually every system of his little body. Two operations were required in his first week of life. More will be necessary. When I spoke with the child’s parents, they did not ask, “Why did this happen to us?” Instead, they declared: “We know that this child is meant for us. God has entrusted this special baby to us. We will love him and care for him to the best of our ability.” Thank the Lord for such parents!

How do you connect with strangers who have preconceived ideas about you and your beliefs? Especially when some of those ideas aren’t the nicest, or even true? Tyler, 16, asked herself that same question.

After moving from Utah, USA—a place with a higher population of members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—to Oklahoma, USA, she realized that making friends who saw her as different from them was going to take some time and effort.

“People weren’t very nice at first,” Tyler explains. “They’d be nice to my face, but then they’d turn around and talk about me. ‘The new girl is Mormon, and she doesn’t drink coffee,’ or ‘She’s too nice; it’s got to be fake.’”

In those early days, all Tyler knew how to do was to keep being kind and to continue living by her beliefs. Little by little, as others got to know her, that started to make all the difference.

“I met some good friends on the volleyball team, which helped me make friends throughout the summer. Once I made more friends and got to show people who I was, people started having my back. People started to know me and that I was actually just kind.”

As folks got to know her a little better for who she really is, they started asking sincere questions about her beliefs.

“I had an hour-long class where everyone turned to me and asked questions about my beliefs,” Tyler says. “They were just curious because they think our teachings are so different.”

But Tyler didn’t let the spotlight fluster her. “I just answered them honestly. You know—I answered them to the best of my ability.”

Some of her conversations looked something like this:

“You’re not a Christian.”

“No, I am a Christian. I believe in Jesus Christ.”

“Well, you have a different book. What is that book? What is it about?”

“It’s another testament of Jesus Christ, of when He came to the Americas.”

“What? Christ came to the Americas?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, do you read the Bible? You definitely don’t read the Bible.”

“I do! I read the King James Version.”

“Oh, really? Me too!”

Since most of her new friends and classmates were also Christian, Tyler found beliefs they had in common and built up from there. “The main common ground is that we all believe in Jesus Christ. We all strive to be like Christ and to be His disciples,” she says.

Not only do Tyler and her friends bond over their belief in the Savior, but they help each other to be the best they can. “We all try to be better people, which is just being Christlike. We help each other out.” Her new friends now even defend Tyler and embrace her religious differences! She does the same for them.

The Three Princes In this beautifully illustrated tale from the Middle East, a wise and lovely princess told her three suitors that she would marry the one who brought her the thing of greatest wonder. One uses his gift, a crystal ball, to learn that she is dying. The second uses his gift, a flying carpet, to take the suitors to her in time for the third to use his gift, an orange with special powers, to heal her. The gifts were of equal value in saving her life, but she could only marry one of the suitors. … Eric A. Kimmel8–12 years