Gospel Story Finder

The LeGault family joined the Church after they were tracted out by missionaries ten years ago. Although Nathalie was only eight years old when the missionaries came, she searched to find out for herself if the Church was true. “When I was nine years old, I knew it was true,” she says. “My relatives said the girls were joining the Church because their parents had joined. But I said no, I know it’s true. It was my decision to join. I always tell young people you have to have your own testimony, not just the testimony of your friends or family.”

Another new missionary was so shy and bashful he could not look at me without blushing. I discovered he had been reared on a pig farm and was much more comfortable with pigs than with people. It was very difficult for him to talk to anyone, yet he had a burning desire to be a great missionary. Later, when we attended zone conference in the zone to which he was assigned, the missionary stood to bear his testimony: “President, I have discovered that becoming a missionary is like playing football.” He told of his leaving the farm to attend high school. As he registered for school, he noticed the football team practicing and decided he would like to play, but he didn’t have any football shoes or the money to buy any. Then he remembered that his cousin had been a football star at the school. He visited his cousin, asking whether he could borrow his shoes. His cousin gave him the shoes but warned, “Don’t you disgrace them.”

Our missionary got on the team. In the first game of the season, he found himself opposite a great, big, mean opponent. He took one look at that fearsome opponent, gulped, and said to himself, “‘I can’t knock him down! But my cousin could—and I’m wearing my cousin’s shoes.’ So I went ahead and knocked him down, and kept on knocking him down all through the game.”

What kind of a missionary do you think he became?

Rachel ran through the living room and rushed up the stairs to her bedroom. She and her best friend, Becca, were going to the park to try out Becca’s new rollerblades.
As Rachel was pulling her own rollerblades out from under her bed, Mom came into the room. “I’m going over to Sister Heaton’s for a few hours, and I need you to stay with David.”
“But Becca and I are going to the park right now!”
“I’m sorry to ruin your plans, Rachel, but Sister Heaton still isn’t feeling well after her operation, and I promised to help take care of her today. David will be up from his nap in about a half hour, and then you two can play for a while until Dad gets home.”
“But I don’t want to play with David—I want to go to the park!”
“I know you do, but today you need to stay home and take care of your little brother. You can go to the park tomorrow. I’m sorry, but Sister Heaton needs me, and I need you to help me.”
As Rachel watched Mom going down the street, she was so angry that she almost cried. Why did she have to take care of David? It wasn’t fair that she had to give up a trip to the park just so her mom could take care of somebody.
She called Becca to tell her the bad news, and as she hung up the phone, the doorbell rang. It was Aunt Pearl, her mom’s younger sister.
“Hi, Aunt Pearl. Mom’s not here.”
“That’s OK—I can’t stay. I just came to return your mom’s sewing machine. Mine is fixed now, so I don’t need hers anymore. And I thought that maybe I’d spend a few minutes with my favorite niece!”
Rachel gave her a weak smile and tried to seem happy, but Aunt Pearl noticed Rachel wasn’t really feeling happy.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I was going to go to the park with Becca, but Mom told me I had to stay and take care of David so she could help a woman in our ward.”
“That’s too bad. If it were any other day but today, I’d stay so you could be with your friend. But I have a doctor’s appointment, and I can’t reschedule it.”
“I guess I’ll be OK. It’s just that I really wanted to go to the park today.”
“You know, there might be something I could do.”
“What?”
“Sit down with me, and I’ll tell you a story.”
Rachel wasn’t sure a story would fix things—a story couldn’t baby-sit for her. But Aunt Pearl usually knew what she was talking about, so Rachel followed her to the couch.
“When your great-great-grandmother Emily Burk left Nauvoo to come west, she had an old hen she wanted to bring with her. It had been doing something rather unusual—sitting on a nest of duck eggs—and Emily just couldn’t leave her behind. So she set up a box in the wagon for the nest. Soon the ducklings hatched, and every night when the wagon train stopped, Emily filled a washtub with water and let the little ducks swim. Everyone in camp came to watch them.
“You see, Rachel, part of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is helping others. There’s even a scripture in the Book of Mormon that tells us how important it is to ‘bear one another’s burdens’ [Mosiah 18:8]. Heavenly Father wants us to take care of those who can’t take care of themselves.”
“You mean, just like Emily took care of the chicken and like the chicken took care of the ducks?”
“And just like the Lord took care of the pioneers and how He still takes care of all of us. He wants us to be happy, so He watches over us.”
“Why doesn’t He take care of Sister Heaton instead of having Mom do it?”
“That’s how He is taking care of Sister Heaton—through your mother. Most of the time Heavenly Father answers our prayers through someone else.”
“So Mom is Heavenly Father’s answer to Sister Heaton’s prayers?”
“Probably. Your mother is helping Sister Heaton rest and get her mind off her troubles, sort of like those ducklings helped the tired pioneers find a little bit of enjoyment at the end of their long days.”
“But why do I have to baby-sit?”
“So your mom can help Sister Heaton. The ducks wouldn’t have been able to bring some enjoyment to the pioneers if the chicken hadn’t cared for them. Your mom wouldn’t be able to help Sister Heaton if she did not know you would take good care of your brother while she’s gone.”
“So, in a way, I’m helping Sister Heaton too?”
“In a very big way.”
“Then I guess I don’t feel so bad about waiting until tomorrow to go skating.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
As Aunt Pearl left, Rachel heard David waking up. On her way upstairs to get him, she thought more about what Aunt Pearl had said. Rachel was still a bit disappointed to miss out on the trip to the park, but it helped to know that taking care of David helped Heavenly Father take care of Sister Heaton.

“Our next thrilling adventure was one pleasant afternoon as we were slowly traveling along. Suddenly, all the wagons in our company were flying in every direction with lightning speed over the plains. I don’t think the fastest horses could have kept up with our cows. Father sat in the front of the wagon, talking to and whipping his staid, old oxen to keep them going right along. He was afraid the cows might get mixed up with other teams that were running, or might turn around and tip the wagon over with us all in it. We went over hump and bump. Sometimes we would be thrown up so that our heads hit the top of the wagon bows, then we would alight anywhere it happened inside the wagon. Nobody can appreciate the situation without the experience. Again death was staring me in the face and again I covered my head. If I had to be killed I didn’t want to see the process. Mother soon snatched the covering off my head, and when we came to a stop she gave me a thorough lecture to always look out and watch for the best chance for escape.
“Well, after the cattle had run as long as they could they stopped. There were several accidents, and a woman was killed. She was knocked down and trampled to death. She left a family of children. How we all dreaded stampedes—there is something dreadful in a lot of panic-stricken cattle. Even human beings are not responsible when fright overcomes reason.”

“I don’t want to go to Grandma’s cabin,” Jacob cried.
“Jacob,” Mom said gently, “I know going there will be hard, but we want to do this for Grandma. We’ve always celebrated your birthday at the cabin.”
“But that was before … before … Grandpa died.”
“I know,” Mom said. “We’re all sad about losing Grandpa, so we need to help each other. We’ll get through this together, OK?”
“OK,” he said softly.
Jacob had always looked forward to being at the cabin together. He and Grandpa had been fishing buddies. But now Grandpa was gone.
“There’s Grandma and Big Red!” Mom said the next day as they pulled into the cabin’s driveway. Dad and Mom hopped out of the car to hug and kiss Grandma. Big Red barked and wagged his tail.
Jacob took his time getting out of the car. With dragging feet, he slowly approached Grandma.
“Oh, I’m so glad you came,” Grandma said, hugging him.
“I love you, Grandma,” Jacob said softly.
When Jacob walked inside the cabin, he saw a fire crackling in the fireplace. The table was set, and colorful balloons and streamers were everywhere. A big banner over the fireplace read, “Happy Birthday, Jacob!”
Jacob tried to look happy, but memories of Grandpa were everywhere. It just hurt so much that he wasn’t here. Jacob bit his lip to keep the tears back.
After dinner Grandma brought in Jacob’s birthday cake with 11 twinkling candles. “Make a wish and blow out the candles,” she said.
Jacob felt a stab of sadness remembering how Grandpa always put one trick candle on his cake. He blew hard. All the candles went out. Then one sputtered and lit up again. Everyone laughed.
“I couldn’t let your birthday pass without playing Grandpa’s silly little trick on you,” Grandma said.
After cake, Grandma gave Jacob a birthday card. “Grandpa wanted me to give this to you.”
Jacob noticed her tears. He took the card. “Could I open it by myself outside?” he asked quietly.
“That would be just fine,” Grandma said.
When Jacob came back inside, his eyes were red, but he smiled and said, “Grandpa said I could have his fishing rod and his good reel.”
“Yes, I know.” Grandma took the rod off the pole rack and handed it to Jacob. “Grandpa found a new lake last summer. He asked me to take you there for your birthday.”
The next morning Jacob and Grandma loaded their fishing gear in the car. As soon as Big Red saw they were ready to leave, he took one leap and landed in the seat next to Jacob. Grandma’s laughter and happy memories of Grandpa lightened Jacob’s heart as they drove to the lake.
“Hang on,” Grandma said as the car bounced over the road. “We’ll have to hike now,” she said, stopping the car.
After they’d walked for a while, Grandma stopped and pointed ahead. “There’s the lake. You can see it just through those trees.” She sat down under a big tree with a book. “I’ll stay here and watch. Big Red will go with you, but call out if you need anything.”
Jacob was glad Grandma was letting him go to the shore alone. It made him feel closer to Grandpa.
Two hours later Jacob came trudging back to Grandma with Big Red romping beside him.
“Any luck?” Grandma called.
Jacob frowned and shook his head. But then he pulled his hand out from behind his back. “Ta da!” He held up his line with five beautiful trout dangling from it.
“Native cutthroats!” Grandma said. Those were Grandpa’s favorite trout. “We’ll fry them up for dinner.”
“Grandma, it was great down there,” Jacob said as he sat down beside her. “Next time will you come with me? Maybe we could be fishing buddies.”
“I’d like that,” Grandma said.
Jacob wrapped his arms around Big Red. “I felt like Grandpa was with me.” Tears slowly trickled down his face. “I cried really hard, but then I felt like I could talk to him.” He looked at Grandma, and she was crying too.
“I didn’t want to come here for my birthday because of Grandpa, but now I’m glad I did.”
Grandma stared up at the trees. “I felt that way too. I cried a lot the first day I was up here.” Grandma put her arm around him. “It’s all right to be sad. Even though we know Grandpa is in a good place, we miss him, don’t we?”
Jacob nodded. They sat quietly for a long time, thinking about Grandpa and enjoying the mountains he had loved.
“Let’s go, shall we?” Grandma finally said. “We’ve got to get ready for our fish fry tonight.”
Jacob reached down to help Grandma up. Big Red raced ahead of them to the car. “This is the happiest but saddest birthday I’ve ever had. Does that make sense?”
“That makes perfectly good sense to me.”
“I’m thankful that Heavenly Father gave me such a good grandpa,” Jacob said.
“Oh, yes. I am too.”
“And you know what? I’m thankful He gave me a wonderful grandma like you.”
We all grieve (or react to death) in different ways.
There’s no one way to feel. You might feel angry or lonely or numb. You might not cry or even feel sad right away.
It might take a long time to not feel so sad. Even after grief fades, it can still come back.
It’s OK to have fun or laugh or feel happy. It doesn’t mean you don’t love the person who died.
Even if you trust Heavenly Father and know you’ll see your loved ones again, you can still be sad when they die.
It’s OK to talk about and remember the person who died, even if it makes you feel sad.
When Lazarus died, Jesus knew He would bring Lazarus back to life. But Jesus still wept (see John 11:32–36). Jesus cares when we are sad. Because of His Atonement, He understands our grief (see Alma 7:11–12).
Write a letter of things you wish you could say to the person who died.
Make a memory box of keepsakes or photos.
Talk to someone else who loved the person.
Draw a picture of the person or of your family now.
If you know someone who is grieving, show you love them, even if you don’t know what to say. Spend time with them, let them talk if they want, and help them in little ways.

Soon after he was ordained a deacon, his father took him to his first stake priesthood meeting. To open the meeting, the men sang a wonderful song about the Prophet Joseph Smith: “Praise to the Man” (Hymns, no. 27). Of that experience, President Hinckley said: “Something happened within me as I heard those men of faith sing. It touched my heart. … I felt a great moving power, both emotional and spiritual. I had never had it previously in terms of any Church experience. There came into my heart a conviction that the man of whom they sang was really a prophet of God. I knew then, by the power of the Holy Ghost, that Joseph Smith was indeed a prophet of God.” That feeling never left him, and throughout his life, Gordon B. Hinckley has borne a powerful testimony of our first latter-day prophet, Joseph Smith.

Despite my mother’s dedicated efforts during family home evenings, I was always more interested in video games than in spiritual things. The idea of serving a mission seemed distant and unappealing to me.
But everything changed one quiet night when I was 15. I was alone in the living room, playing a game on my cell phone. My mother and sister were in another room. Suddenly, a surprising noise caught my attention: the scriptures had inexplicably fallen from the shelf and landed in the middle of the room.
At first I thought my mother had thrown the book to get me off my cell phone, but then I realized she wouldn’t do that. And there was no breeze or anything that could explain how the scriptures fell.
Curious, I put down my phone and picked up the scriptures, opening them at random. The words I read were like a call straight to my heart:
“Now behold, a marvelous work is about to come forth among the children of men.
“Therefore, O ye that embark in the service of God, see that ye serve him with all your heart, might, mind and strength, that ye may stand blameless before God at the last day.
“Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work” (Doctrine and Covenants 4:1–3).
I had never read these verses before. The words touched something deep within me.
I ran to tell my mother about what had happened and showed her the passage I had read. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said she believed this was a reminder from Heavenly Father that I had been called by a prophet to prepare myself to serve a mission.
From that moment on, I began to see life and my purpose in it with new eyes. Even though I still loved video games, I realized that something had fundamentally changed within me. My cell phone often sat on the couch as I pondered the words of Jesus Christ that had touched my soul.
Now I’m serving as a missionary, sharing the good news of the gospel. I’m glad my spiritual journey began when the scriptures fell into my life one silent night, leading to a divine call that I could not ignore.

Some years ago, following a stake conference, I felt impressed to pay a visit to a priesthood brother who had fallen away from the Church. We found him working in his garden. I approached him and said, “Dear brother, the Lord Jesus Christ has sent me to see you. I am Elder Hammond, one of His servants.”
We exchanged a Latin abrazo and entered into his lovely little home. He called for his wife and three children to join us. Two handsome young men and a beautiful girl sat beside their father and mother. I asked the children what they would like, more than anything else in the world, right now. The oldest son spoke: “If only all of us could go back to church as a family, we would be so happy—so grateful.” We told them how much they were needed by the Savior and how He loved them. We bore our testimonies to them and then knelt in prayer. The father prayed. The mother wept. They are now back in full fellowship. The children are proud of their father, and they are happy.

Early in my life, my parents struggled in their marriage, and it affected our family. When my mother’s friend became aware of this, she said to my mother, “How about you come and learn about my church?” My mother said that she and my father were not ready for that. Her friend said, “Then why don’t you let me take your children with me?” I was five at the time. My sister was eight.
This good friend took me and my sister to church for several years. I remember experiencing the joy of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. As my testimony grew, I wished and prayed for my parents to eventually learn about the gospel. When my sister decided to be baptized, my parents felt that they needed to find out a little bit about the Church.
As my parents began to learn about the truthfulness of the gospel, I saw a change of heart in them. They were humbled, and they came to embrace the gospel. A year after they joined the Church, I turned eight and my father baptized me. Heavenly Father had heard and answered my prayers.
Three years later, the Mexico City Mexico Temple was dedicated. I had the chance to go there with my family. We knelt at a beautiful altar to be sealed together forever, and we rejoiced in the promises and hope that Jesus Christ and His gospel bring. Years later, my wife and I were sealed in the same house of the Lord.

One day I showed Peter to my friend who played the part of Jesus in the pageant. His name was Brother DeLaMare, and all the kids in the pageant loved him. I showed him the frog Peter Whitmer, and he really liked him.

When Brother DeLaMare was dressed in his costume and beard, he looked just like I think Jesus would. Sometimes when he was acting his part, I saw tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. He was a real good “pretend Jesus,” and he was my friend. I was in the scene with him where Nephi sees the vision of Christ blessing and teaching the people. My friend Lynne and I were two of the little children that he blessed. After we knelt down and he touched our heads, he blessed a sick child who was brought to him on a stretcher.

Someday I will meet the real Jesus. He won’t be dressed in a costume. I don’t know what He’ll be wearing, but I know that when I look into His eyes and see His kind face I will remember Him and He will remember me. This makes me happy!

Like Viktor, Kira Gulko learned of Heavenly Father’s love for each of His children when she learned about the Church. But the decision to be baptized didn’t come easily to Kira. At first when her parents decided to join the Church, Kira remembers, “I questioned their sanity.” Fortunately, instead of criticizing or rebelling, she decided to find out for herself if their new religion was true.
“We weren’t practicing Jews,” explains Kira, “but we were of Jewish origin. In our family, talking about Jesus Christ was forbidden. But when perestroika began, allowing greater freedom to look at new ideas, my parents started to explore different religions and philosophies. My mother was president of the international friendship club at the school where she teaches English. She found a letter from a teacher in Riverton, Utah, who was looking for pen pals. My mother’s class responded, and in return they got a big box of maybe 100 letters. Many of the students mentioned they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints; my mother didn’t know what that was.
“Then we were passing by the bridge near our house, and we saw a notice inviting people to attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! My parents decided to go, first so Mom could answer her students’ questions, but also because they were looking for another religion themselves.
“That was in October 1991. After that, the missionaries started coming to our apartment. Soon my parents understood that Jesus Christ is their Savior. They also loved the doctrine of eternal families. We have a wonderful family, and that was an important principle to us. They also went to a baptism and felt the Spirit. In December they decided to be baptized themselves.
“I listened to all of the discussions, but I couldn’t understand why my parents decided to join the Church. I was afraid they were crazy, that something had happened to their minds. But as I read the Book of Mormon, my testimony of its truthfulness grew stronger and stronger. The key to my conversion was that I came to realize I am truly loved by my Heavenly Father. I could feel this big love that’s around me and see it in my parents and in the members of the Church. That’s why I was baptized in February 1992. I knew it was right.”
Since then, Kira has helped bring her friend Lena into the Church and has watched three of her four grandparents embrace the gospel. She has seen her mother help with the translation of the Book of Mormon into Ukrainian and has witnessed her father serve as a district president. And Kira has served as a Relief Society president, contributing her own time and talents to the growth of the Church.

Seven is Christie Kight’s favorite number these days. She recently took second place in the National Junior Olympics for the heptathlon, in which athletes compete in seven track-and-field events. Christie, a Laurel in the Auburn Washington Stake, says that after all her practice and hard work, the most important thing she did was pray to do her best.
And her best is exactly what she did, setting personal records in high jump, javelin, and shot put.

One of the trials that our family endured was when my oldest brother got sick and, after a while, died. It was really hard for us at first, but our family was able to overcome that trial. Because our family was sealed in the temple, we know that we will be with my brother again and with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ when the right time comes.
I know that this trial was one of the ways the Lord prepared us for other trials—to help us become stronger. Everyone has trials to endure, and our Heavenly Father knows we can overcome them. So we shouldn’t lose hope.
Carmila R., age 18, Southern Tagalog, Philippines

I got an invitation to one of my friend’s birthday parties, and I couldn’t go because it was on Sunday. I made a choice to not go to the party, and instead of going to the party to go to church. One of the Ten Commandments is to keep the Sabbath day holy. I want to show Heavenly Father I love Him by obeying His commandments. It was hard to miss the party, but I feel good because I know I made the right choice.

When we reach this milestone in our spiritual progression, some wonderful blessings and consequences will follow. Most importantly, we will experience the joy and peace of conscience that come as a result of worthiness. The earliest memory I have of the relationship between keeping God’s standards and experiencing happiness is associated with my own baptism. I recall the anticipation I felt as I awaited my eighth birthday and how sincerely I tried to exercise faith in Christ and repent of any wrongdoing. When the memorable day came, the ordinances themselves were most impressive. I vividly remember the warm water enveloping me and the equally warm spiritual feeling I later had as I was confirmed and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. The joyous feeling of being clean and close to God meant so much to me that I vowed I would never sin again. Unfortunately, my youthful good intentions failed a few days later when I responded in frustration to my older brother’s teasing by uttering what my parents had warned me was a “naughty” word. Much to my dismay, my ever-vigilant mother overheard me and came dashing out of the house with fire in her eyes! She marched me down a path to our dairy barn where my father kept a basin of water and a bar of soap. Pushing my head toward the basin, she began vigorously scrubbing my mouth out with soap, all the while impressing upon me her desire that I “never use such words again!”
Although it has been more than 50 years since that humiliating moment, I still remember perfectly the deep sadness I felt because I had offended my brother, my mother, and, most serious of all, my Heavenly Father. I learned then a lesson that the First Presidency has taught and which has been reconfirmed many times in my life: We cannot do wrong and feel right (see For the Strength of Youth, 4).

May 12. At school today some children were being mean to Billy. They were calling him names and saying unkind things. Especially Cory and Timmy. It’s because Billy is, well, different. Mom says he’s “mentally challenged.” He has a harder time learning than most children his age. But he can still go to the same school as everyone else. The teachers just help him a little more.
Anyway, I remembered what Dad had taught in family home evening, so I sat with Billy at lunch today and shared my sandwich with him. His sandwich and potato chips were soaked. Cory and Timmy had filled his lunch box full of water, then laughed and said, “We’re doing you a favor, Billy. We know you have a hard time doing things. Your lunch should go down real easy—you won’t have to chew it at all!”
May 20. Billy asked me if I wanted to go with him on his paper route after school. The other guys wanted me to play ball. So did I, but something inside me said that going with Billy was more important.
We rode our bikes. I helped carry some of the papers in a sack. Afterward, Billy bought me a soda pop. Then we went across the street and lay on the grass in the park. After a while he asked me why I wanted to be his friend, why I liked to do stuff with him. I didn’t know what to say. Finally I told him, “I guess I just like you, that’s all.”
He looked sad. “Is it because you feel sorry for me because I’m … different? Some people make fun of me because I can’t do things like other people. And some are nice because they feel sorry for me.”
I told him that I get mad when other people treat him unkindly and that at first maybe that was why I wanted to be nice. “But after a while, I started liking you because you’re you,” I said. “I like how you sound when you laugh. It makes me feel happy inside. And I like how you treat other living things. Even little things. Like the pollywogs in the creek behind the school last week. You felt bad because the sun was drying up the little ponds of water, so you put the tadpoles in that applesauce jar and moved them farther up the creek where it was deeper. Most people aren’t that kind,” I told him. “You remind me of Jesus.” His eyes got full of tears, and he didn’t say anything. He just tapped me on the arm with his fist and kept looking the other way.
June 7. Billy’s mother called me and asked if I wanted to come over and have dinner with them tonight. Billy was too shy to ask, she said, and wanted her to ask me. (Mom and Dad said it would be fine.) She also said that Billy can’t stop talking about me, that the past few weeks he’s been happier than she can ever remember. “He thinks the world of you,” she said, and she thanked me for being so good to him.
I could tell that she was crying, because her voice started breaking up. I told her that it was easy to like Billy because he was so good. I didn’t tell her, but I had been starting to feel happier inside myself than I had in a long time, and I was already happy. Dad says, “When we open our hearts to others, like Jesus did, we feel a whole different kind of joy.”
June 18. Today Billy and I saved a wild bird. A big kid named Donny, who lives close to Billy’s place, caught it and was going to hurt it. We started yelling at him, and it made him jump and the bird got away. He pushed us down, but we felt so good on the inside that it made what he did to us on the outside kind of not matter.
July 11. Our family got back this morning from a three-day trip to Buck’s Lake. I called Billy to see if we could get together, maybe go to a Saturday matinee or hike in the hills or something. His mother said he could not play … because he’d died two days ago. She began to cry, and Billy’s father got on the phone. He told me that Billy had seen a neighbor’s puppy in the street, and when he ran out to carry it to where it would be safe, he’d been hit by a car. It wasn’t the driver’s fault, Billy’s dad said. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. It just happened. I asked Dad if he could give me a blessing of comfort. I guess I’m having a hard time dealing with it.
July 12. I didn’t go to Billy’s funeral today. I just couldn’t. His parents said that they understood. I know that after we die, we will see our loved ones again, and, I believe, our close friends, too. But right now I miss him so bad! We were like brothers. I guess we are brothers. Spirit brothers. And blood brothers. I know we’re spirit brothers because we are all Heavenly Father’s children. And I know we’re blood brothers because we sat under the old fig tree in the field one day and made a pact.
Maybe we can play together in the next life. There might be creeks with tadpoles, but in heaven I’m sure there will always be enough water. Maybe a fence to sit on. And clouds to watch go by.
I know Billy’s happy where he is because he was always more of heaven than of earth. But right now I miss him so much! I will never forget him. Not ever. My mom says I will always have the memories, and so, in a sense, he will always be with me. Memories are eternal, she says, like our spirits. I guess I will always hear his laughter, then. I like that.
July 14. Billy’s parents came over today. They told me how much they appreciated what I did for him. They said that I had made the last part of his life happy and meaningful. “You were a gift from God to him,” they said. I couldn’t say anything back because it’s hard to cry and talk at the same time.
After a while, I told them that Billy was a gift from God to me. That he taught me by the way he lived the things Jesus teaches us. About loving. And caring. And showing kindness to all living things.
July 25. I checked on the tadpoles in the creek today. That’s what Billy would have done. They are doing fine. And so am I.

Choosing the right is not always easy, but a comforting spirit will accompany the decision. Emily Naegle of Woods Cross, Utah, felt the peace of the Spirit when she decided to obey the commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy.

“A few months ago I had to make one of the hardest decisions of my life,” writes Emily. “I am an athlete, and for the past three years I have been involved in volleyball year-round. The only downside to this is that it required me to play on Sundays. I knew that playing on the Sabbath was wrong, but I wanted to be successful in volleyball too.

“When tryouts rolled around again this year I decided not to play. It was the hardest week, and I had to pray continually to reaffirm that I had made the right decision. I wanted to play so badly, but I wanted to follow the prophet even more. When I went to the fireside, I was still shaky about my decision. But when I left the Conference Center, a warm feeling of peace and comfort surrounded me, and I knew I had done the right thing.”

Elisa walked into Primary and sat by her friend Armando.
“Welcome!” Sister Russo said. “Let’s start with a song.”
Elisa sang with her class. “Faith is like a little seed: if planted, it will grow” (Children’s Songbook, 96).
Sister Russo passed out paper and crayons. “Think about what we sang,” she said. “When you plant your seed of faith, it grows into a testimony. Now draw what your testimony would look like if it were a plant.”
Elisa stared at her blank paper. She didn’t know what to draw. She peeked at the plant Armando was drawing. It had a straight stem with lots of leaves. It looked like the basil growing on her apartment balcony. Maybe that was what a testimony was supposed to look like! She used her crayon to draw one like his.
“Please open your scriptures to Alma 32,” Sister Russo said.
They read about planting a seed in your heart and feeling it grow. Elisa looked at her drawing and frowned. Did she have a testimony? What did that even mean? She wanted to ask, but she felt too shy.
When class ended, Elisa didn’t get up right away.
“Is everything OK?” Sister Russo asked.
Elisa glanced down at her drawing again. “I’m not sure I have a testimony. I don’t really know what that means.”
Sister Russo gave Elisa a kind smile. “That’s OK. Do you remember what faith is?”
Elisa nodded. “Believing in something we can’t see?”
“That’s right!” Sister Russo said. “What are some things you believe in?”
That was an easy question. “I believe in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. I believe They love me.”
Sister Russo smiled. “You just shared your testimony! A testimony is what you have faith in.”
Elisa thought about it. “So I already have a testimony?”
“Yes!” Sister Russo held up her scriptures. “And remember what we read today? You nourish the seed by doing things like coming to church. Then your testimony will grow stronger.”
Elisa felt like she understood. “So that’s why we drew our testimonies as plants?”
“Exactly. Because plants grow little by little,” Sister Russo said. “Testimonies are the same way. They usually don’t come all at once. They grow a little at a time.”
Elisa felt better about her drawing. When she got home, she wrote “My Testimony Plant” above her picture. She hung it up by her bed. She knew her testimony was already growing. And she wanted to keep following Jesus so it could grow even bigger!

After that devastating wildfire, I was contacted by local firefighters, who said they had received a box in the mail. It was from a 10-year-old boy in Chicago, Illinois. He had sent his favorite toy to be given to a boy in our community who had lost his home in the fires. He included a note saying he had watched our city burn and wanted to do something to help.
I’ve often thought of that child. What made a young boy across the country want to actually do something? And that little action blessed the lives of many along the path to getting that toy to the boy in our community who had lost all his toys.
It was the simple question, “What can I do about this?” and he did it!

In my own lifetime I have been a witness to the miracle of the restored gospel. When I was a young girl my family moved to São Paulo, Brazil, where my father had been called to preside over the Brazilian Mission. It was an exciting time for me and a great place to grow up. A favorite game for my brothers and me was to dress up and pretend to be missionaries. We spent hours scribbling our own missionary pamphlets and “preaching” and “transferring” all over the yard. For five years the nightly conversations around our dinner table centered on missionary work, and I listened intently to stories of faith told by missionaries. Even at that age I knew I was part of a great work.
There were only about 3,000 members of the Church in Brazil when we arrived there. I remember being in a very small Primary with a few other children, singing the same five songs every week, as those were the only ones translated into Portuguese. Two of my favorite songs were “A Luz Divina,” or “The Light Divine” (Hymns, no. 305), and something about a bunny in the middle of the woods (see “The Little Rabbit,” Children’s Friend, June 1955, 257).
In many ways our experience was similar to the early pioneers. We had no hymnbooks or pictures or lesson manuals sent from the headquarters of the Church. Everything that was needed to teach the gospel in Portuguese was written and printed in our mission home. All of us, even the children, were pressed into service to help assemble mission newsletters and lessons. No one shipped the Church to us. The prophet did not send us stake presidents or bishops. He did not send Relief Society presidents or youth programs. The Church in Brazil was made from the same material that the pioneers started with. The material to build the Church was in the people.
During our years in Brazil, we saw great growth come to the Church. Thousands became Latter-day Saints. Soon the mission was divided, districts and branches were organized, and new chapels were built. The new members were enthusiastic, and they grew in faith and became more experienced in the manner of the gospel.