Gospel Story Finder

There was once a great playwright named Henrik Ibsen. He wrote a play called Peer Gynt. Peer Gynt is the story of a young Scandinavian man who grows old on the stage. He lives his life by doing whatever he wants to do. Near the end of the play he’s being chased by a button molder who is going to melt his body down and make buttons out of it so he can be used over again for something worthwhile. He runs across the frozen ground, trying to get away from this man. As he does, some small tumbleweeds get under his feet. He starts to talk to them, and he says: “Get out of my way. Off with you. You block my path.” And then something very interesting happens. The weeds talk back to him and say: “We are thoughts. You should have thought us. Feet to run on you should have given us. We should have soared up like clangorous voices, and here we must roll along as weeds.”
He kicks them out of his way and keeps running. After a while he steps on some leaves. The leaves start to talk to him and say: “We are a watchword. You should have proclaimed us. Your dozing has riddled us. Worms have gnawed us in every crevice, and we have never been able to bear fruit.”
Then the wind blows in his face. It whispers to him and says: “We’re songs. You should have sung us. A thousand times over you have cowed us down and smothered us. Down in the heart’s pit we have lain and waited, but we were never called forth.”
Peer becomes angry over these accusations, and he says: “Poison you. Have I time for verse and stuff? I am running for my life.” Then he bumps into a tree. There are dewdrops dripping from the branches. They speak to him and say: “We are tears unshed forever. Ice spears sharp and wounding. We could have melted. Now our barb is in the bosom. The wound is closed over and our power to help is gone.” Peer doesn’t like that either, but he keeps on running. Finally, he trips over some straws and falls on his face. As he’s getting up the straws start to speak and they say: “We are deeds. You should have achieved us. Doubt the throttler has crippled and torn us. On the day of judgment, we’ll come aflock and tell the story, then woe to you.”
“We are thoughts. You should have thought us.” “We are words. You should have proclaimed us.” “We are songs. You should have sung us.” “We are tears. You should have shed us.” “We are deeds. You should have achieved us.” “And on the judgment day, woe to you.”

As the only Latter-day Saint student at my high school in Anglesey, North Wales, I knew that my peers found my religion a bit strange. But as time went by, most of them seemed to accept me and my religion.
By the time I was in my last couple of years at school, I noticed that some of my peers not only accepted but respected my lifestyle. This became even more evident during my advanced English classes.
Much of the literature we studied fueled discussions about religious and moral issues. One of the last books we read was Paradise Lost. It was my first exposure to John Milton’s work, and I was amazed by his insights. I was twice amazed, however, by the doubts and lack of scriptural knowledge my classmates showed. Often I found that I was the only student willing to venture an opinion in class. I bore testimony of the reality of the premortal existence, of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and of Their divine roles in our lives.
Our teacher, Mr. Brown, was rather a cynic, and he rarely let me have the last word. But I had no way of knowing how my ideas were being taken by the rest of the class, whose silence left me feeling a little lonely in my convictions.
Then one day Mr. Brown walked into our classroom wearing a glower that signaled he was having a bad day. He asked us to turn to Milton and opened the discussion with a question on yet another moral issue. I slowly raised my hand. Mr. Brown looked up, rolled his eyes, then sneered, “And what does our goody-goody Mormon girl have to say this time?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I couldn’t believe it. I felt tears coming as I lowered my head, bit my lip hard, and tried to gain some control over my emotions.
Suddenly all around me I heard chairs being scooted back and angry voices. I looked up. Several of the students were on their feet.
“Hey, you take that back,” yelled Andrew.
“That was unfair,” echoed David.
“You have no right to say that to her,” came another cry.
I started to tremble. I looked up at a couple of my classmates. Andrew leaned over and gave my shoulder a thump. I smiled gratefully, then turned to Mr. Brown. His face was alternating between beet red and sheet white. He raised his hand to try to bring order back to the room and said, “All right! All right! That’s enough!”
Gradually everyone sat down, and Mr. Brown turned to me. “Siân, my comment was out of line. I apologize.” My hands were shaking, but my heart sang with gratitude for my loyal classmates. Quietly I accepted his apology. The lesson continued, but I made no more comments that day.
As we exited the classroom, Mr. Brown pulled me aside and apologized once more. “I don’t know what came over me,” he said, “but I do want you to continue to comment in class. I think we’ve all learned a lot from you. Many of us wish we had the peace of mind you have.” He sounded unhappy, and my heart went out to him.
“If you really want to know what I know,” I suggested, “I’ll bring you a Book of Mormon tomorrow.”
Mr. Brown groaned. “Oh, brother. I guess I asked for that, didn’t I?”
“You most certainly did,” I agreed with a smile.

Two years ago, Sister Nelson and I visited Samoa, Tonga, Fiji, and Tahiti. Each of those island nations had experienced heavy rains for days. Members had fasted and prayed that their outdoor meetings would be protected from the rain.

In Samoa, Fiji, and Tahiti, just as the meetings began, the rain stopped. But in Tonga, the rain did not stop. Yet 13,000 faithful Saints came hours early to get a seat, waited patiently through a steady downpour, and then sat through a very wet two-hour meeting.

We saw vibrant faith at work among each of those islanders—faith sufficient to stop the rain and faith to persevere when the rain did not stop.

Caleb grabbed his shovel. It was time to work in the garden!
He helped Mom carry the tools. There was a little rake. And there was a shovel for Mom too. They were ready to start working.
Mom and Caleb walked to the garden. Oh no! It was full of weeds! There were short, spiky weeds. And there were tall, wispy weeds. So many weeds!
But Caleb knew what to do. He got right to work. Caleb dug under the weeds. Then Mom pulled the weeds out of the dirt. They made a great team! Soon they had a giant pile of weeds.
It was time for a break. Caleb took a big drink of water.
“What are we going to do when the weeds are gone?” Caleb asked.
Mom brushed some dirt off her hands. “Once the weeds are gone, we can plant seeds. Like tomatoes and beans and—”
“And corn?” Caleb asked. He loved corn.
“And corn,” Mom said. “We can’t forget that!”
Caleb stood up. “OK. Let’s get back to work.” He picked up his shovel. He needed to make room for corn plants.
Caleb dug and dug. It was hard work. But Caleb was a hard worker. He could do hard things. Together, he and Mom made another pile of weeds. Then another. Then another. So many weeds!
Finally Caleb and Mom had pulled out all the weeds. Caleb flopped down on the grass. He was so tired! Mom flopped down next to him.
“You are such a hard worker,” Mom said. “Those weeds would have taken me all day. You made it fast and fun.”
Caleb smiled big. He was a hard worker. “It’s good when we work together.”

“A long time ago in a distant land lived a family of three sisters.
“The first sister was sad. Everything from her nose to her chin and from her skin to her toes seemed not quite good enough to her. ……
“The second sister was mad. …
“She was never first at anything, and this she could not endure. Life was not supposed to be this way! …
“Then there was the third sister. Unlike her sad and mad sisters, she was—well, glad. And it wasn’t because she was smarter or more beautiful or more capable than her sisters. …
“This sister loved to sing. She didn’t have great pitch, and people laughed about it, but that didn’t stop her. …“… If you are like most of us, you may have recognized part of yourself in one, two, or perhaps all three of these sisters. Let us take a closer look at each one.
“The first sister saw herself as a victim. …
“The second sister was angry at the world. Like her sad sister, she felt that the problems in her life were all caused by someone else. … And she lashed out. …
“The third sister represents the authentic disciple of Jesus Christ. She did something that can be extremely hard to do: she trusted God even in the face of ridicule and hardship. … She lived joyfully not because her circumstances were joyful but because she was joyful. …”

One who received and welcomed the gift of peace was Joseph Millett, an early missionary to the Maritime Provinces of Canada, who learned, while there and in his later experiences in life, of the need to rely on heavenly help. An experience which he recalled in his journal is a beautiful illustration of simple yet profound faith:

“One of my children came in, said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks were out of bread. Had none that day. I put … our flour in [a] sack to send up to Brother Hall’s. Just then Brother Hall came in. Says I, ‘Brother Hall, how are you [fixed] for flour.’ ‘Brother Millett, we have none.’ ‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided [it] and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you were out.’ Brother Hall began to cry. Said he had tried others. Could not get any. Went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett. ‘Well, Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back if the Lord sent you for it. You don’t owe me for it.’ You can’t tell how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew that there was such a person as Joseph Millett.”

Prayer brought the gift of peace to Newton Hall and to Joseph Millett.

But if a person asks the question in a different way, he can find what I believe is the answer. When I think back on my Sundays in high school, college, and graduate school, I cherish the memory of those when I enjoyed the Lord’s Spirit while carrying out my stewardship or visiting someone in need or reading the scriptures. The others I either regret or have forgotten. They were the Sundays when I did things that were (like studying) not wrong in themselves but were things that kept me from partaking of the special Spirit of that day. Instead of asking, “Are studying and recreation wrong on Sunday?” it is more helpful to ask, “Will studying and recreation keep me from a full measure of the Sabbath’s blessings?” The answer to the second question is that anything that interferes with these blessings is unworthy of the Sabbath.

One such decision is whether or not to go on a mission. While I was growing up I had a desire to serve a mission. But when it finally came time to send in the papers, I was hesitant. The decision became filled with pressures. I didn’t know whether to leave after my freshman year, after my sophomore year, or after I had completed my college education. I fought with a multitude of inward thoughts and feelings. I also wondered if I had enough knowledge to go out there and give what was so precious to me to somebody else. I talked to a lot of people, and most of them willingly shared their opinions with me. Some said that I should go immediately, others said later, and some said I shouldn’t go at all. I wonder, if I had asked you, should I go now or later or not at all, what would you have told me?
Perhaps you would have been like one of our great priesthood leaders. I went to him, and we talked about my situation. He listened with patience and concern. After I expressed my feelings about being able to play basketball when I returned, he said, with words that sank deep into me, “Devin, if you serve a mission and serve faithfully, when you return you will be a better basketball player than you are now.”
I had great confidence in that man, and I felt that he was moved by the Spirit to say what he did. I felt he was talking to me personally and not to all athletes who serve missions, because each case is different. He could advise me, my parents could advise me, my friends could advise me, but they couldn’t serve for me. I was the one who was going, and no one else could make my decision. I had to make that myself.

Ninety-six years later a tall, well-built, rather handsome, youngish but balding man walked into a cafeteria on the BYU campus and sat down at a table where two freshmen boys were discussing the vicissitudes of college life over their roast beef dinner and green punch. He began asking them questions about their feelings, their likes, their dislikes, and their hang-ups regarding their university experience.
Finally one of the young men asked him, “Do you teach around here or something?”
“Yes, I work here,” the man replied.
“What do you do?”
“I’m president.”
“President of what?”
And so Dallin H. Oaks, president of Brigham Young University, introduced himself to these students. “I’m glad to meet you,” the young man with the questions responded. “I come to assemblies, but you’re so far away I can’t see your face.”

Today there is a sister of yours in Australia. Her name is not Esther, but she, too, influenced a man to become great. This couple is doing much good in Australia. After an extended courtship, the fellow thought the time was right to propose marriage. In response to his proposal, his girl friend said, “If you marry me, it will have to be in the temple.” He, a nonmember, said, “What is a temple?” He found out, and months later they were married in the temple. Today this woman of influence stands at his side as the wife of one of our very successful stake presidents.
Her actions, like Esther’s, are helping many Latter-day Saints in the “land down under” to be saved and find their way back to their Father in Heaven because she, too, courageously used her power as a woman to influence for good.

The Chupaca Branch has a group of members who make up the Ahuac Group. It is about thirty kilometers (nineteen miles) outside the city of Huancayo, Peru. The house used as a meetinghouse is built on a hill, as you can see. The pioneers in this picture are Relief Society sisters Ercilia Leon de la Torre and Florentina de Arroyo. They are on their way to the Ahuac house/chapel in order to fulfill their calling as visiting teachers. Thanks in part to these sisters, the Ahuac Group today has many members and will soon be a branch and someday a prospering ward.
Illustrated by Daniela Charise Cairampoma Capcha

Dear Reed,
I know that I just wrote to you yesterday, but I have to write to you again today. If you were home, we could talk about it, but you’re not here.
Last night Melissa came to our house. She brought chocolate chip cookies that she made. She gave me a big hug and said that I look just like a little Reed, like somebody took you and let some of the air out. She’s pretty! Anyway, she says that she misses you very much.
Tell me, Reed, does Melissa know about Kelly? Does Kelly know about Melissa? What am I supposed to do with all your girlfriends? What if they both come over at the same time?
I told Melissa that she should send some chocolate chip cookies to you. I can’t tell you what she said because she wants it to be a surprise. If I can figure out a way to do it, I’ll send you some pralines-and-cream ice cream too.
Maybe next time I’ll tell you my secret problem.
Love,Buddy
(To be continued)

When I was eleven I set a goal to read the Book of Mormon all the way through. I set out the date of when I finished and how many pages I would read a day. Although some days I didn’t focus on what I was reading as much as when I was going to finish, I completed my goal and read the entire Book of Mormon. I loved the feeling I felt when I read it. I read the Book of Mormon again and again without missing a single day. Now I am about to enter the Mia Maids and have read the Book of Mormon five times and am reading it again. I know because I read each day that my testimony has grown so much from that. I know that from reading each day we will be blessed so much for taking a few minutes each day and reading. I know that the Book of Mormon is true and that Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father live and love each one of us.
Rachel R.

I was a missionary sent to France in 1949. Missionary work then was much different from missionary work now. There was no Missionary Training Center, so when I arrived in Paris, I had had no language training at all. There wasn’t a set of lessons to teach investigators. Different missionaries used different methods to teach the gospel.
I had been in Paris for just a few weeks when my companion received word that his mother was dying of cancer. Since his scheduled release date was only weeks away, the mission president allowed him to return home early to see his mother. If that had happened today, another elder would have been transferred to my area to be my companion. But in those days I was left to work by myself until transfers for the entire mission were made.
Before he left, my companion and I had scheduled a few lessons. I knew that I would have to take care of those appointments. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know the language, and there were no prepared discussions. I was nervous and frightened.
I began to read the Book of Mormon and to pray as hard as I could. I would pray, and then I would read, then I would pray again and read some more. This went on for several days.
Finally it was time to go to my first appointment—the Alvarez family. They were a lovely couple whom we had just begun teaching. When I went, I didn’t know what I was going to say. I had a testimony of the gospel and the restoration, but I did not know the language.
But when I went to see this family, the Lord took over. For two hours I taught them. I’m sure that it wasn’t in beautiful French, but I was able to communicate with them how I felt about the gospel. They understood the message and were touched by the Spirit.
That night when I returned to my apartment, I knew that there really was a Father in Heaven and that He had called me on a mission. I knew that Heavenly Father had watched over and helped me—had loosed my tongue—and that He watches over all His missionaries. It was the first spiritual testimony that I had received in my life of the truthfulness of this work. One of the greatest blessings that ever happened to me was serving a mission.

As President Uchtdorf spoke, my mind drifted to a time I met an unassuming member of the Church who was willing to lift wherever he was standing.
In 1985, I was stationed as a U.S. Army officer in a small town in Germany. I had served a mission in Germany 10 years previously. Upon arriving in 1983 as a soldier with my wife, Debra, and two young daughters, we began attending a serviceman’s branch of about 100 members strong. After two years, we decided to immerse ourselves fully into the German culture and began attending the small Bad Kreuznach Branch, which had about 12 members.
About the second week after we began attending, we noticed a new man there. He was in his mid-40s, and we learned that he was the high councilor assigned to our branch. He wasn’t there to conduct stake business, just to visit. We spoke for some time after church, and when we said goodbye, I figured we would next see him again in perhaps six months.
The next week, the high councilor was there again. I learned he lived about an hour away from our small town. During the remainder of his calling as a high councilor, he came to our branch two or three times a month. He was friendly, low-keyed, and encouraging. He always spoke with each member of the branch. And, with a branch that small, he was often asked to speak from the pulpit. Impressed with his dedication, in my mind I nicknamed him “the Faithful High Councilor.”
One Sunday he came to the branch services in the morning and then returned at 6:00 p.m. to attend a baptism. In between, he had gone to another branch. I have to admit that the thought actually crossed my mind, “What did he do to upset the stake president? Why else would he have been assigned to the smallest and most remote branch in the stake?” Maybe he wasn’t really the intelligent, humble, and likeable man I thought him to be. Maybe he didn’t like his home ward and used this assignment to get away. I couldn’t figure it out, so I just accepted it.
Several weeks after this baptism, I returned home after midnight on a Sunday morning. I had been training near the border between East and West Germany, and it had taken me three and a half hours to get home. I was exhausted when I walked in the door. My wife, Debra, was still up. She told me that “the Faithful High Councilor” had called. He wanted to meet with me. I asked, “Before or after church?” Church started at 10:00 a.m. I was hoping it was after church so I could sleep until 8:30.
“Before,” she said.
“9:30?”
“No. He has to go somewhere else on stake business. He wants you to meet him at his office in Frankfurt. He said to go to Gate 5.”
“What time?” I asked.
“Six,” she responded.
Now I was upset. It was already 12:30 a.m. In order to make the appointment at 6:00, I would have to get up at 4:30. That meant less than four hours of sleep. What was I going to do? I didn’t even have a phone number to call him the next morning to tell him I wouldn’t be meeting him. I dropped my clothes next to the bed and lay down without setting the alarm clock. As I lay there, these thoughts went through my mind:
If I didn’t meet “the Faithful High Councilor,” what would happen? If I didn’t show up at his office, I was sure he would make productive use of his time. The next time I spoke to him and explained why I hadn’t met him, he would respond, “Of course you made the right decision. I would never have asked you to come if I had known you were getting home so late. We can take care of that business now.” And besides, I wasn’t really a member of the branch. Sure, our records were there and we attended every week, but we were foreigners, spoke some pretty atrocious German, and would be moving in five or six months.
My conscience was almost clear. A few more minutes and I could drift off to sleep. Then I remembered the nickname I had given him and all the times “the Faithful High Councilor” had come to the branch since we had been attending. He came to that baptism late on a Sunday night. He came to a branch activity in the middle of the week. He always spoke to all the members and encouraged and inspired them. He never seemed judgmental or indifferent. He was respectful of the branch president and of his efforts. If he was disappointed in being assigned to this little branch, he certainly never showed it.
I got up and walked over to the dresser where my alarm clock sat. I set the alarm for 4:30 a.m. In deciding to meet “the Faithful High Councilor,” I was not concerned about what he would say or think if I did not. After all, I would probably never see or hear of him again after we moved. I decided to get up in less than four hours and drive 50 miles (80 km) to his office because I truly respected him for what he was, “the Faithful High Councilor.” I decided to follow his example.
I pulled my car up to Gate 5 at 6:00 a.m. that Sunday morning to be greeted by a security guard with a machine gun. He eyed my American Armed Forces license plate. He may have wondered if I was lost. Had “the Faithful High Councilor” decided not to show up? Not more than two minutes later, though, his car pulled up next to mine. He said, “Good morning, Don. Let’s go into my office.” The guard opened the gate and let us pass.
After some small talk and showing me around his office building, he came to the point of the meeting. He said he was calling me to serve as the councilor to the branch president. Not the first or second counselor—the only counselor. Before my arrival, there had been only two priesthood holders in the branch, and they had traded off every few years between being branch president and elders quorum president.
I accepted the call and served until I left three months later to attend a two-month training in the United States.
My memories of that time in my life faded as I leaned forward in my seat and refocused my attention on President Uchtdorf’s voice coming over the speaker system. I was truly impressed by the implications of his message. Unlike other times when I’ve wondered about the correlation between a speaker’s words and the speaker’s personal actions (in business, in the military, and, yes, even some talks I have heard in church), I had no doubt about President Uchtdorf‘s message. It wasn’t just the fact that President Uchtdorf’s accent reminded me of Germany and my experience with “the Faithful High Councilor.” It was the fact that President Uchtdorf was “the Faithful High Councilor.” The industrial complex we met at that early Sunday morning was the Frankfurt International Airport, where he was Chief Pilot for Lufthansa German Airlines.

As a young man I had the opportunity to serve in the British Mission, which was a seminal, defining event in my life. The influence of a valiant mission president is one of the great miracles of the restored gospel. A few weeks ago I received a birthday card at Church headquarters from a woman I helped teach in Gloucester, England, many years ago. I had lost contact with her. She informed me that she and her husband are both very active members and have 6 children and 20 grandchildren, all born in the covenant. It may be the best birthday card I have ever received.

Not long ago, as a full-time career person, working and traveling across the country, I was not always where I could say a formal blessing on the food I might eat during the day (one example: breakfast in Chicago, lunch in Boston, and supper in Little Rock, Arkansas), so I always blessed the food of that day in my morning prayer.

At another nursing home on First South, we might interrupt, as I did a few years ago, a professional football game. There, before the TV, were seated two widows. They were warmly and beautifully dressed, absorbed in the game. I asked, “Who’s winning?” They responded, “We don’t even know who’s playing, but at least it’s company.” I sat between those two angels and explained the game of football. I enjoyed the best contest I can remember. I may have missed a meeting, but I harvested a memory.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. Sister Andrus opened the classroom window to let in the fresh spring air. On a soft breeze came the smell of lilacs and the song of robins.
After Sarah gave the opening prayer, Sister Andrus announced, “Today we are going on a treasure hunt.”
There were gasps of joy from everyone. “Please can we go outside?” Ashley asked, looking longingly at the blue sky through the window.
“Yes, indeed,” Sister Andrus said with a smile. “How could we stay indoors on a day like today!”
“What is the treasure?” Tony wanted to know.
“Actually, there are many treasures—treasures from Heavenly Father,” Sister Andrus told the class. “They will be somewhere outside. I want each of you to search carefully until you think you’ve found one. Then we’ll come back inside and share our discoveries. But remember,” she cautioned, “this is not a time to run and be noisy. You will need to look quickly and quietly. You have only five to ten minutes to find a treasure. Let’s go.”
With shining eyes, the children hushed each other as they tiptoed after the teacher down the hallway, through the heavy glass door, and into the bright sunshine.
Once outside, all the children scattered and began to search under rocks and behind bushes for treasures. All, that is, except Joey, who stretched out on the grass, put one hand behind his head, and smiled as he watched the clouds floating by.
Soon Sister Andrus called the children to line up. Back they went through the glass door, down the hallway, and into their classroom.
As soon as they entered the classroom, everyone wanted to talk at once. Sister Andrus had to quiet the excited children. “I’m sure you’re all eager to share your discoveries with us, but we must take turns so that everyone can be heard. Aaron, why don’t you go first? What treasure did you find?”
Aaron dug deep into his pocket and pulled out a large rock, which he put on the table with a thump. “I found it by the parking lot,” he said. “It has glitter in it.”
The teacher held it up in the light. “It’s beautiful, Aaron. It sparkles like a jewel. You have good eyes to have found this treasure.”
Aaron smiled shyly.
Next was Jenny’s turn. She opened her hand to reveal a clump of grass. “Smell it,” she urged everyone as she held it under each one’s nose.
“Oh, I just love the smell of fresh-cut grass,” said Sister Andrus, sniffing. Jenny nodded. “I like to walk on it barefoot.”
“Soft, green grass is a treasure,” their teacher said.
“Sister Andrus, I found something that smells good, too,” said Ashley, “but I didn’t think I should pick them—the pretty purple flowers on the tree in the corner.”
“Lilacs!” Sister Andrus clapped her hands together. “You were right not to pick them, Ashley. But they and all flowers truly are a treasure.”
Tony raised his hand. “But flowers can’t walk,” he pointed out. “I found a bug outside. It landed on my nose. I just watched it till it flew away.”
“I’m glad you were careful not to hurt it, Tony,” the teacher praised him.
“But, Teacher, isn’t a bug a greater treasure than a rock or grass or a flower?” Tony asked.
“And isn’t a bird a greater treasure than a bug?” Chad piped up. “That’s the treasure I found. A bird can fly and sing, and it eats bugs.”
“Teacher! Teacher!” Sarah was jumping up and down waving her hand. “I think Heavenly Father’s greatest treasure is the sun. Without sunlight there wouldn’t be any plants or animals.”
“That’s true, Sarah. The sun is a necessary treasure,” Sister Andrus said. “Who would’ve guessed there were so many treasures right outside our classroom?” She turned to Joey. “You’ve been very quiet, Joey. Did you find a treasure when you went outside today?”
He shrugged. “I guess I was too busy enjoying everything outside to look for just one treasure.”
Sister Andrus patted him on the knee. “That’s fine, Joey. Class,” she announced, “I think that in a way, Joey not only found many treasures, but he also knew what to do with them.”
“He did?” the other children said.
“Yes, he did,” Sister Andrus repeated. “Who created all these miracles we’ve talked about today?”
“I know.” Jenny raised her hand. “Jesus did.”
“That’s right—Jesus did under Heavenly Father’s direction. And why did he create all these wonderful things?”
“For us?” Tony guessed.
“For you, Tony, and for me, and for all of us to take care of—and appreciate. That’s what Joey was doing—appreciating them.
“And,” she went on, “while it’s important to appreciate these—and all the treasures Jesus has given us—it’s even more important to know that as his children, if we learn about the treasures he gives to us, and about him, and obey his commandments, we can become like him. We can someday become Creators, too, and have eternal life, which is the greatest of all his treasures to us.”

“My earliest recollection of my mother is of her teaching me to pray. She always made sure I got to church on time, and she started me off in life with good habits. I remember a precious teaching moment between the two of us. A neighbor lady had passed away. She had been a very dear friend of mine, even though I was but a little boy. I could not understand why Heavenly Father had taken my friend away. I was peering out through the curtains as the mortician placed her body in his big car. My mother took me on her knee and talked to me about the Resurrection and life eternal, things I needed to know right then. Even though I was only five years old, the message really got through because it was a teaching moment that satisfied my need.