Gospel Story Finder

When I turned 12 years old, I went on my first overnight campout with the Scouts. With eager hands I packed my hand-me-down camping gear and headed to the mountains with the troop. I ended up sleeping in a large tent with several other boys, including my older brother. Being the newest and youngest Scout, I felt somewhat intimidated by it all. It was nice to have my older brother with me. He was big and strong and older than most of the other Scouts.

As we all prepared for bed, I quietly climbed out of my sleeping bag and knelt down to say my nightly prayer. As I was praying, I could hear some of the other boys laughing at what I was doing. I was embarrassed and stopped.

My older brother came to my rescue. Responding to the teasing boys, he said in a loud voice, “If my little brother wants to pray, he’s going to pray. Anybody object?”

Not a word was said, and I went back to my prayer. I have often thought of this experience, and I’m thankful for my brother who taught me not to be ashamed to pray regardless of where we are.

Another memory from my boyhood was learning how to work. We had a big yard because my dad wanted to teach us how to work in it. So we all had assignments—mowing the lawn, weeding the vegetable and flower gardens, trimming the hedges, and so forth. My favorite job was working in our strawberry patch, because I’d eat the strawberries almost as fast as I picked them!
One job I had was mowing the lawn with our old push mower. My dad wouldn’t make me do it when I didn’t want to, but he would warn me, “It’s your job, and if you don’t do it today, the grass will only be longer tomorrow, and it’ll be harder to push the mower.” I remember procrastinating three or four days past the time when I should have mowed the lawn. Trying to push that mower through the long grass was really hard. I learned never to put off what you’re supposed to do, because it just gets harder the longer you wait. One of the happiest days of my youth was when my dad finally bought a power lawn mower!

I feel we can never compare the levels of people’s burdens. Each has his or her own set of problems, and it’s up to each person to learn the lessons from them. In the past year, my family has lost my mother and brother-in-law to cancer. Both were kind, good, righteous people who were strong in the Church. For the longest time I would not try to learn from this. Instead I could only ask God why. Then, with the help of a blessing from my bishop, I was able to learn the lesson I needed to learn. I was able to gain a greater love towards my brother and sisters. I finally realized how much my family means to me. I know that if we pray for help, our trials will become blessings and make our spirits even stronger.
Jenifer Jakoubek, 17Chehalis, Washington

An even more sobering account is that of my friend whose husband was one of the top ten medical students at Temple University. On the night before his graduation, he fell and severely fractured his skull. He was in a coma for six weeks. After recovering he had many hard decisions to make—like whether to continue his training for surgery, or if it would be better to become a dermatologist. He and his sweetheart carefully considered the extent of his injury and the demanding field he had chosen, and it was decided that there would be less strain, and probably greater success, if he changed his specialty. Another difficult decision was whether to marry. He asked himself if he would be well enough and capable of caring for a wife and children. After hours and hours of discussion and planning they finally determined that, perhaps if he had plenty of rest and good care, he could continue to heal, and he could assume the responsibilities of a husband and father. Other than the constant pain in his head, he led a somewhat normal life and had a good practice for thirteen years. Three children were born to him and his wife during that time, and then all their fears came to pass. The pain was so constant and so intense, and he became so forgetful, that upon the best medical advice he underwent surgery to remove the adhesions that filled his head. They were successfully removed, but he contracted meningitis with the accompanying high fever. He lost control of his bodily functions. His memory was irreparably damaged, and his wife could no longer give him the complete care he needed at home. He would have to be hospitalized for as long as he lived. Brokenheartedly, she faced the reality that this special chapter of their lives together had to be closed. A new one was opening. It was one of faith, love, devotion, and further adaption.

For 22 years this courageous woman has worked to support herself and their children, but during this time, through her determined effort, she has made their father a very special part of their lives. She has taken their family activities to his hospital room as often as possible although many times he couldn’t even remember that family had been there.

Many have said to the wife, “There isn’t a court in the land that wouldn’t give you a divorce.”

She smiles and says, “At another time and in another place we want to be together honoring the commitments we have made to each other. He won’t have the encumbrance of a broken body then, and we will be able to live abundantly and everlastingly together.”

Although temple marriage is associated with eternal promises, a husband and wife need not wait for eternity to experience the blessings of celestial marriage. Many temporal blessings also come from preparing for and being married in the temple. About eight years ago, Lee Hing Chung of Hong Kong lost an arm in an industrial accident. As a result, he also lost his job and became sick and despondent. But today faith fills his heart as he contemplates being sealed in the temple with his wife, Kumviengkumpoonsup, and their children.

“Before we joined the Church,” he says, “I was primarily concerned with making money. Now I have different priorities. … I am so grateful that we are together and that we can be together forever. … The presence of the temple reminds me to be good, to be disciplined, to be worthy” (quoted in Kellene Ricks Adams, “A Dream Come True in Hong Kong,” Liahona, March 1997, 38).

This story happened in the USA.
Raina read the words on the flyer at her school again. Essay Contest: Win a free trip to New York City!
It was a contest for students in many schools in the area. Raina thought of herself in New York City, with towering skyscrapers around her and the Statue of Liberty nearby. She wanted to go!
“You should enter,” Sydney said. “You’re the best writer in our grade!”
Sydney’s words made Raina feel good. She didn’t know a lot about writing essays. But she wanted to try.
After school, Raina sat at her desk. Tap, tap, tap. She tapped her pencil on the paper as she thought about her ideas. Finally, she started writing.
It took a whole week for Raina to finish. But with some help from Mom, she finally felt ready to turn in her essay.
A few weeks passed. Raina was excited to see who won. Maybe soon she’d be heading to New York!
“Over one hundred students entered,” Mr. Wright said from the front of the classroom. “Thanks to all of you who wrote an essay.”
Raina’s heart thumped in excitement.
“Although none of our students won the contest, Raina was in the top five of all entries. Congratulations, Raina,” Mr. Wright said.
Raina smiled while her classmates clapped. But inside she was frowning. Being in the top five wasn’t as good as winning. Her dream of seeing New York was gone.
When Raina got home, she slumped into a chair in the kitchen by her parents. “I lost the contest,” she said. “That’s the last time I’ll ever try anything new again. I’ll only do what I know I’m good at.” She covered her head with her hands.
“I’m sorry you didn’t win. Mom and I are both so proud of you for trying,” Dad said. He sat down next to Raina. “Do you remember when I was out of work a couple of years ago?”
Raina nodded.
“I applied for lots of jobs and wasn’t hired for any of them,” Dad said. “I was feeling pretty discouraged.”
Raina lifted her head. “Really?”
Dad nodded. “But I didn’t give up. After a long time, I found a job that was perfect. But it wouldn’t have happened if I had stopped trying.”
Mom put a comforting hand on Raina’s back. “Do you know how many stories I send to different magazines?” she asked. “And how many are rejected? But I can’t give up if I want to see my work published. Writing is important to me, so I keep trying.”
Raina had always thought her parents were good at everything they did. She never knew that they had been turned down too.
She was still sad, but it did seem silly to never try anything new again. That wasn’t what Heavenly Father wanted for her. Raina decided she wouldn’t give up. She could try more things, even things she didn’t do well right away.
“I think I’ll enter the contest again next year,” Raina said. Losing the contest didn’t have to be the end of her dreams.
Raina went to her desk and picked up her pencil. Writing had been pretty fun. Tap, tap, tap. So what new thing could she write next?

Our Young Women leaders decided that an overnight trip was just the thing to get us ready for camp. They chose the banks of the San Pedro River in southern Arizona, USA, to set up our practice camp.
After rolling out the sleeping bags, the other girls and I wanted to explore and get into the water. The leaders thought some discussions on safety and first aid should come first. So we all sat in a shady spot near the river for the lesson.
Paying attention wasn’t easy when we could see the river shining in the sun. The breeze was playing in the cottonwood trees as Sister Brown (names have been changed) talked. We had all heard the lesson before, and I just couldn’t understand why we needed it now. We knew all about putting pressure on a wound to stop the bleeding, but there she was telling us again.
Before they let us go, the leaders repeatedly told us not to go in the river without shoes. “You never know what’s in there, and you’ve got to protect your feet.”
As I got to the edge of the river, some of the other girls were already splashing in the water. The water was brown with mud. It was less than a foot deep all the way across, and I couldn’t believe that it was dangerous.
I decided to take off my shoes. I had brought only one pair, and I didn’t see the sense in getting them wet and having soggy shoes all day. My two best friends, Martha and Elizabeth, both reminded me of what the leaders had said. I took my shoes off anyway and explained my reasons. Martha took hers off too. Elizabeth was more hesitant. I waded out into the water and with a sarcastic tone said, “Keep them on if you want to.”
She sat down, took off her shoes, and ran into the water. After about five steps she stopped, turned pale, and calmly said, “Oh, no.” When she pulled her foot out of the water. I could see blood streaming out of a cut. She had stepped on a broken bottle.
The sight of blood made my brain go numb. Even though I had just been listening to a lesson on first aid, I had no idea what to do. I decided to run for help. Two others helped her out of the water.
I found Sister Brown and told her what had happened. She thought I was kidding. But when she saw Elizabeth sitting in the trail with blood gushing from her foot, she ran toward her shouting, “Put pressure on that cut!”
The lesson of 10 minutes before began to sink in. The girls, who had been standing around Elizabeth and watching her bleed, elevated her foot and put pressure on the wound.
Elizabeth was taken to the hospital, where she was told that she had almost cut her foot in half. It required numerous stitches and would take a long time to heal. The next time I saw her she was using crutches.
I never thought I could or would ever convince my best friend to do something that would hurt her that badly. I had never seen myself as a bad influence before.
Now I’m trying to be a better example to my friends, and I’m more willing to listen to my leaders. They know what they’re talking about.

It had been two years since my first visit to the temple, and I was looking forward to attending again with a group of young adults. My focus was to strengthen myself, make friends, and experience the privilege of performing sacred ordinances.
While in the temple baptistry, I was a bit lost in thought because of nerves. It was only my second time going to the temple, and I was afraid of doing something wrong as I performed ordinances. But then a member of the temple presidency, who was assisting with the baptisms, said to those of us waiting in line that if we could just lift the veil for a second, we could see how many people were in the spirit world waiting to be helped.
That thought pierced my heart, and suddenly I realized how important these ordinances were.
As I reflected on what he said, I remembered a technique that I had learned in a theater class where actors put themselves in the situation of the characters they play in order to portray them more effectively. I wondered if Heavenly Father could help me as I tried to put myself in the shoes of the people I was performing temple ordinances for.
How would I feel if, after decades or even centuries of waiting, I could finally receive the saving ordinances that I had so longed for?
As I tried to think more about those I was doing work for, the Holy Ghost helped me feel a sense of overwhelming joy. I couldn’t hold back my tears. I could sense the happiness of those I had just been baptized for. I felt a strong impression of how they had waited so long for their saving ordinances.
I had been anxious about going to the temple, but I realized that if I forgot about my own worries and feelings and instead focused on fully representing every person I was baptized for, I could feel their joy through the veil.
I was so grateful to be able to serve all day in the temple and help those who needed me to support them so that they could be ready to return to the presence of the Father. I better understood the revelation God gave to the Prophet Joseph Smith in the Kirtland Temple: “All who have died without a knowledge of this gospel, who would have received it if they had been permitted to tarry, shall be heirs of the celestial kingdom of God” (Doctrine and Covenants 137:7).
Before returning home from the temple, all the young adults gathered around to share their testimonies and experiences. The Holy Ghost touched everyone’s heart, and we knew that we were different than we had been when we first arrived at the temple because of our new focus on doing temple and family history work.

I am reminded of a story retold by President Howard W. Hunter:

“It told of the less-than-spectacular career of a quarterback on the football team of a small, rural high school. This young man managed to make the team, but it was clear he was not going to be all-state or all-American. Indeed, it didn’t look like he was going to be all-anything, except perhaps all battered and bruised. He was the fourth of the four quarterbacks.
By season’s end he had never been called into a game and had given up hope. During the final game of the year he pulled off his shoes, wrapped himself in a blanket, and settled down on the bench to watch his buddies play.
Midway through the game he heard the coach shout his name. He was startled and wondered if he had been mistaken. Then it came again, right from the coach’s lips, ‘Hey, you! Get in there and move the ball!’
What should he do? His first impulse was to lapse into a coma. His second was to pretend he didn’t hear. His third was to say, ‘Wait, coach. Wait while I put on my shoes.’ He did the only manly thing. Strapping on his helmet as he ran, he made straight for the huddle; his white-stockinged feet were conspicuous to the players on both teams, as well as to the spectators and the coach, who also must have been ready to lapse into a coma.
He called the play, but the shock of his first game was obviously a little disconcerting. By the time he took the snap from center he had forgotten the play he had called. His teammates moved to the right, but he gamely went left. There, alone against the world, he met the opposition head-on and was swallowed up in the snarl of the onrushing linemen.
He said later, ‘No one expected me to make a touchdown. Even running the wrong way was understandable. But there was no excuse for a quarterback without shoes.’”

I remember other Mexican Saints who, because floods had destroyed their crops, were fearful that they would not be able to attend the conference but who, after fasting and prayer, sold some of their belongings and pooled their money for transportation. For many there was no money left for food, but it did not matter. They decided they could fast for the three or four days of the conference. As you would expect, other loving Saints filled their plates as the Lord had filled their souls.

Five years ago, I started a journey towards finishing my post-graduate studies in agriculture, specialising in plant breeding. I was offered a bursary from a prominent research institute in South Africa. Despite the challenge of raising a family, I embraced this dream. From a young age I have always been drawn to outdoor activities that had to do with touching soil and planting greens. Growing up in Mozambique, I used to love working with my grandmother on her small plot on the outskirts of Beira where she planted, amongst other things, sweet potato and rice. I cherish those memories and hold them very close to my heart.
When I embarked on the journey to become a plant breeder, I was on track to finish my studies and graduate in the winter of 2020. I had endless dreams of how perfect life was going to be. Looking at the demand for such scarce skills in the industry in previous years, I was really excited for the new possibilities that were unfolding before me. I had been a freelance language and media consultant for most of my working career. I was looking forward to finally being able to work in research and applying the skills that I had been acquiring in my studies.
With the rapid spread of the COVID-19 pandemic in South Africa, it became clear that although I had submitted my thesis at the end of 2019, I was not going to make it for the winter graduation as I had hoped. The most important thing for me was not the graduation ceremony, but to be able to complete the degree and to get a good job. I knew that it would take time to find the kind of job that I was looking for—I sent out one job application, then two—and eventually there were so many sent that I lost count.
This experience taught me some valuable lessons: some of our plans in life do not unfold exactly how we wish them to. Here, a year later, I am still searching for that dream job. This is not just for me, but my immediate family and society in general also have high expectations for someone with an academic degree like mine.
Upon meeting a friend, she asked how things were going in my life and if I had been able to find a job. I replied that I had not yet found one. We talked about several things. As I drove home, I was reflecting upon my lifestyle and my state of mind during the pandemic. I then realized how the hands of the Lord had blessed me. When thinking back I was able to pick up on the many skills that I had gained and the amount of time I had been able to spend with my family. There were simply too many small miracles to count. I had been able to afford my basic needs. I took my budget before COVID-19 and readjusted it. With more time on my hands, I was drawn to my passion of working the land. I planted a vegetable garden, the kids and I learned how to mow the lawn and to trim trees—the list is endless. Today our vegetable garden feeds us most of our greens, such as spinach, lettuce and rocket. We find meaningful time to play and work as a family. We enjoy going on short night walks in our neighbourhood.
As I reflect upon my experiences in the past nine months—despite not having the things that I dreamed of—I have been generally content. I see more good around me than bad. I have gained a deeper understanding of trusting in the Lord’s timing. He knows what is best and has better plans for me and for my family. As I count my blessings, I have come to realise that the Lord is in control of many aspects of my life. He knows me individually and I matter to Him. He cares for our righteous desires. He wants us to trust Him and to be happy. I have come to know that with all my heart.

Although we planted the seed, we were totally dependent upon the Lord for the harvest. A young man whose wife was a member of this Church consented to listen to the discussions. He received the first few with great delight. Then, suddenly, before our next appointment, the world got to him and he sent word for us not to come again.

We prayed and felt that we should go back, but not just then. We continued to ask the Lord for direction, and three weeks later we felt the Spirit’s confirmation that we should go to him on the following Wednesday. We prayed to know the right time, and again felt the influence of the Spirit. We knew Wednesday morning wasn’t the right time. In the afternoon we prayed again, and the answer came with urgency, “NOW.”

We immediately left our apartment, but on the way I stopped at a store to drop off a roll of film. As I put that roll on the counter a feeling of force enveloped me and the Spirit seemed almost offended as the word was repeated in my mind, “NOW!” I felt propelled out of that store and into our car. Three minutes later we were at the door of our friend. He had been reading the Book of Mormon and was thinking about us. As we talked, he became willing to listen to the discussions again.

We loved our association with the splendid elders and sisters of our mission. We were touched when an elder who was being transferred from our district said, “I looked up my new district to see if there was a missionary couple there. I hoped there would be, but there isn’t.” He was genuinely disappointed.

We are thankful for President Kimball’s message and the impact it had on us. A mission for couples? Certainly! What is it like? It is filled with wonderful surprises.

Photographs by Soubanh Phanthay
On that August morning in 2015, I felt particularity lethargic after getting off of a bus I had been in for 10 hours coming from Ontario, Canada, to a wilderness in Maine, USA. But I did feel some exuberance as I glanced toward the handcarts lined up in rows.
My friends and I stuck together as we knew we would soon be split into our “families” and companies. I love my friends, yet I was excited to meet new people from all over the eastern region of North America. Each of the youth was given a coloured* or patterned bandanna connecting them with a corresponding colour beside their handcart.
When it was my turn, they assigned me to my family and gave me a deep red bandanna. I ran to search for the handcart with the same bandanna. As I ran I noticed the shining sun and how stunning the weather was and felt absolute glee.
I met my Ma and Pa, three brothers, and two sisters and listened to the leaders’ opening remarks. The theme of the trek was “Go Bring Them In,” in reference to people who went and rescued companies who needed aid back in the pioneer days. I must admit that at that time I didn’t really understand why this theme was chosen or how it related to us. A prayer was said asking that we would continue to have good weather, and we were finally off!
We worked as a team and learned quickly that communication was vital. Those in the front must warn the others of rocks or holes. To distract us from the deathly heat of the sun, the three of us in the back began singing Disney songs quite loudly. We all bonded quickly and laughed a lot. Things were off to a good start.
Going into the second half of the day, our water bottles were being emptied fast. The August heat and humidity were not our friends. Still, we remained cheerful.
One of my brothers, Ian, who is tall, looked ahead and pointed out rainclouds. We all inwardly begged for rain because we were so hot and sweaty. A rain shower was sounding great right about then. Soon the captain of our company called for our rain ponchos to be put on. As the clouds drew nearer, they seemed to get darker and darker. The first raindrop came down as hard and fast as a bullet, warning us of what was to come.
Ten minutes later we were engulfed in a horrific storm. Heavy wind and rain made the pathway slick under my feet. My skirt soon became weighted with water. I jumped as a boom of thunder seemed to shake my bones! For two hours the weather never lightened one bit. Lightning flashed. Trees swayed in the wind. Everyone became covered with mud. The leaders started thinking that we wouldn’t be able to camp outside that night.
After reaching the field where we were meant to camp, I was exhausted. But it soon dawned on me that I wasn’t scared, and the other youth didn’t seem to be either.
The fire department had been called to evacuate us in buses. I felt strength and comfort that everything was going to be OK. One fireman said, “I’ve never seen a group of young people behave this way in this type of crisis—ever. It’s miraculous!”
The people of the nearest town in Maine came to our rescue. They let us stay in an empty university dorm building and offered up their own washers and dryers for our clothes! It felt incredible to get into new warm clothes and get grub into my stomach. That night the food was the best I had ever tasted. The people of the town just kept offering their services.
A town official met with one of our leaders and said in slight disbelief: “Ten years ago over 100 emergency blankets were donated to our town. The weird thing is, they were donated by your church!”
Humility overcame all of us! The theme for our trek was “Go Bring Them In.” Yet we were the ones who had been brought in. We had been rescued.
We headed out the next day as the sun finally came out. Paths had been flooded from the first day, and the rest of the trek was hard. But we all treated each other with kindness, because we had learned that kindness should never be overlooked. We would never forget that.
I’m sure everyone says this, but my experience was special. It was an amazing growing experience for me, and my testimony was strengthened. The blankets showed us that when we serve, the service can come right back to us. This gospel is true. The pioneers sacrificed so much for us. I know my Saviour died for me, and I wish to serve and continue to try to love as He did.

One of the projects that the students at Mount Si really had to work hard to complete was the painting of the school halls. It was a huge job, but Sue and other student government officers decided it could be done. They needed more than 200 students to come and help with each step of the project—preparing the walls, applying an undercoat of paint, then the main coat of paint, and finally, the colored trim.

The assistant principal, said, “I walked into the first meeting, and I knew right then that they were going to succeed because Sue was organized and ready to begin. In a notebook she had inspirational sayings and a list of what needed to be done and a schedule for each step. And she had invited all the right people to the meeting. She had invited some students that she saw as leaders. She had invited someone from the school’s maintenance staff. She got me there. She understands organizational skills.”

The big painting project was successful, but not before Sue managed some last-minute crises. The first day of the four-day project was bright and sunny. For that time of year, a sunny day was rare. “Suddenly I panicked,” said Sue. “Who would want to come paint the school on a nice day like that?”

But people did show up—in time for the second crisis. After the walls were prepared for painting, it was time to apply the undercoat of paint. Just as more than one hundred students were ready to start painting, the school custodian rushed up to Sue and showed her the label on one of the cans. The flammable undercoat was supposed to be used only in well ventilated areas. They opened every window and door, turned off the electricity to avoid sparks, and covered all the electrical outlets. In the meantime, Sue had retreated to ask for some additional help. “I found an empty room, and got down on my knees.” Everything went smoothly. The danger was avoided. And the group had a great time. It was hard work but really a lot of fun too.

After giving the school halls a new coat of pale gray paint with maroon trim, the students under Sue’s leadership took new pride in their school. Now, if anyone even thinks about defacing or vandalizing the walls, they are warned by other students, “Don’t do it. I painted this wall, and nobody is going to write on it.”

Imagine waking up to the smell of smoke, the sound of screams and gunshots, the sights of looting and beating. Imagine racially inspired violence so dangerous that schools close and curfews are imposed for days.
This tragic scenario might seem like something you’d see in a movie—the kind your parents and leaders would probably recommend you avoid—but during late April and early May this year LDS youth in the Los Angeles area actually lived it. They saw the rioting. They knew people who looted. They watched familiar buildings burn to the ground.
Yet even while the ashes were still smoldering, the Young Women of the Los Angeles area were busy putting the finishing touches on a long-planned multistake conference that would unite nearly 500 LDS young women of various ethnic backgrounds and affirm that the gospel offers peace to everyone.
The six-hour conference featured an address from Young Women General President Janette Hales. Her message focused on how the fundamentals of personal religious behavior, things like reading the scriptures, praying, and keeping the commandments, can get you through life’s trials and keep you close to Heavenly Father, no matter what is going on in the world around you.
The conference also included 15 workshops covering subjects like dating, preparing for a mission, self-defense, sign language, and baby-sitting. It was just what the doctor ordered for the girls after the tragedy of the weeks before. But the memories for some of the young women were still vivid.
“We went to the store before they burned it to get some food,” said Virginia Smith of the Inglewood Stake. “It was crowded. All of a sudden people were screaming and running to the back. Someone said there were people there with guns. So my mom said to get on the floor, ’cuz if they shoot, they’re not going to shoot down there. Then someone said they went out. The next chance we got, we headed for the door, got in our car, and left.”
Lisa Fu, of the Santa Monica Stake, was also affected. “I could see the looting in the morning when I went out. I have some friends who actually did it—just for their own benefit—because everyone else was doing it. We said to those kids who were taking groceries, ‘You just stole! Don’t you know what you did?’ And they said, ‘Yes, but we don’t know if there’s going to be a store tomorrow to buy food, so we have to get what we can now.’
“And sometimes I’d get really scared to walk by certain people because of the Korean incident. (A 15-year-old black girl was shot in a dispute with a Korean store owner.) Because they don’t know if I’m Japanese or Korean or what.”

About a year after the death of our baby, we moved and I was assigned to minister to a young couple with two children. The older daughter had contracted an infection while in the womb and was born with a severe mental disability. Although she was nine years old at the time, she was like an infant developmentally. It was a struggle for the young family, who had limited means.
One day I received a phone call telling me she had died during the night. No member of the bishopric was available to visit just then, so I was asked to visit until they could get there. I arrived as her body was being removed, and I had a chance to talk with the father. The wife’s ministering sister arrived and did an amazing job comforting the family and taking care of the home.
I went with the father to the funeral home to make the arrangements. I suppose I was able to render some service because of my prior experiences. I don’t consider myself a great ministering brother, but I was glad I wasn’t a stranger in that home.

Then to my immense surprise and shock, after only a year of sitting on the Council, I was elected its chair (Julie had by now been called to important work elsewhere). I was consumed for a short time with many doubts and worries that I would sink amidst all the many things I needed to do, and how could I possibly balance my life? However, in the middle of my anxiety, I found myself reading an Ensign article which touched me, this section in particular:
“In the midst of your personal and diverse needs, to balance life’s pursuits and challenges with your spirituality, you will come to realise that balance is achievable. The Lord does not require you to do something you cannot accomplish …
“As daunting as keeping this balance may seem, I promise that one of the greatest miracles of your mortal existence will be your ability to find balance between your spirituality and other important life roles. This can take place in a way that will allow you not just to maintain your spirituality and life’s important roles at status quo, but also to grow and develop in both of these important areas.”2
Remarkably, it has proved true, and most of the time I manage to keep all the balls in the air. Curiously, ever since being chair, due to COVID-19, the Council has never met in person and yet I would say that we are much closer than ever, as we have met more often using Zoom to try and deal with the needs of people, organising service, encouraging members to take the vaccine, supporting each other’s activities, and so on. And now I am blessed with two able interfaith specialists, one from each stake.

Two friends were talking. The one was outlining her concerns about graduate school and her upcoming finals. She was also worried about her boyfriend and getting married before she graduated. She wondered if she could find work after she did get her degree. Her father wasn’t very well, and she was worried about getting together enough money to go visit him. She was feeling some stress in her roommate situation, too, and wondered about trying to find another place to live. The friend listened carefully and then asked, “Which of these problems can you really do anything about right now and which are just recreational anxiety?”

When school bus number 882 finally turned onto the dirt road, I was never happier to see our house.
I was still upset from the argument that had exploded between me and my friends three days ago. Or should I say ex-friends? Now I thought of them as bullheaded and cliquey.
When the bus stopped, I marched down the stairs determined not to speak to Connie and Vicki again.
That night I tossed and turned as contention filled my dreams.
By morning I had a headache. I also woke up late. As a result, I ran around the house trying to get ready for school. I finally grabbed my books and slammed the front door without saying good-bye to my mom and little brothers and sisters as I raced to the bus stop.
I walked quickly down the aisle, finding a seat away from Connie and Vicki. I could feel their eyes watching me, but I sat close to the window and pretended not to see them. I reached for my history book to read my assignment. I was surprised when I opened Pathways to Perfection by Elder Thomas S. Monson. I must have inadvertently grabbed the book as I raced out of the house. It was as if it fell open to what I needed to read most: the chapter titled “Love As Jesus Loves.” The words seemed to be directed at me as I read scriptures from Matthew 22:36–39:
“Master, which is the great commandment in the law?
“Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.
“This is the first and great commandment.”
Then these words penetrated my heart:
“And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” [Matt. 22:36–39]
Those verses took on new meaning for me. Tears filled my eyes as I felt my Heavenly Father’s love for me. And I realized that it wasn’t Connie and Vicki who needed to change. It was me!
That morning on the bus I made a commitment to serve and love the Lord through loving those around me.

When the pumpkins and corn had been harvested, Governor Bradford declared, “We will hold a harvest feast of thanksgiving so we might all rejoice together!”
The colony bustled in preparation. An invitation was sent to the friendly Indians. Chief Massasoit and ninety braves came, bearing five deer to be barbecued. Hunters returned from the forest laden with wild turkeys, geese, and ducks. The women busied themselves with baking, while the children tended the roasts on the spits over open fires. Long tables were spread outdoors, and everyone sat down together. Besides the game from the forest, the table was spread with fish, clams and other shellfish, succulent eels, journeycake, corn bread with nuts, succotash, pumpkin stewed in maple sap, dried berries, plums, grapes, leeks, watercress, and various other herbs.
The celebration lasted three days. Elder Brewster gave a prayer of thanksgiving, and Captain Standish staged a military review. There were games of chance—the Pilgrims competing with flintlocks, the Indians with bows and arrows. There were songs and expressions of worship and praise. After the celebration, the Indians returned to the woods and the Pilgrims to their duties of enlarging the colony and making it snug for winter.
Contentedly, Ellen watched the dancing lights cast by the flickering fire upon the cabin walls. A steady wind whistled outside in the starlit darkness. Sighing softly, Ellen said, “The celebration is over now, but thanksgiving goes on and on. I’m thankful that I’m a Pilgrim and live in America and that Sarah and Roger came so we can all be together.”
Her father patted her hand. “The Lord is good. America is good. She is our sweet land of promise.”