Gospel Story Finder

On Christmas Eve last year, my family went to church early. I asked my dad if I could play the piano before sacrament meeting started. I played every Christmas song I could. When I was done, everyone thanked me for the music I played. I felt good inside my heart throughout the whole meeting. I was happy to do service on Christmas Eve and make so many people happy.
Audrey W., age 10, New Mexico, USA

A few years ago, while sitting with our children at tithing settlement, our bishop invited our 10-year-old son to take a small picture of the Savior and decide where in our home to place it, where it would be a constant reminder of our family’s commitment to follow Him. After returning home, he placed the picture on the front door, where, our son said, “each of us would see it the most.” This has been a great blessing and constant reminder to all of us every day in a small but powerful way of our promises to follow Jesus Christ.

When I was an airline captain, I would sometimes fly my Boeing 747 from Germany to the West Coast of the United States. On those flights west, the daylight seemed to never end. We took off in Germany at 1:00 p.m., and 10 hours later we touched down in California—at 2:00 p.m. the same day! The sun never set on us.
The opposite happened when flying east. Sunset came more quickly than it normally would. Leaving at 1:00 p.m. meant that in just a few hours, we were engulfed in darkest night. Yet, because of our direction and speed, in a few more hours we found ourselves bathed in blazing and often blinding light.
Whether I traveled west or east, the sun never changed course. It held its position, steadfast in the heavens, providing warmth and light to the earth.
My access to that warmth and light depended on my location, direction, and speed.

5 April 2015, President Thomas S. Monson announced in General Conference that a temple would be built in Ivory Coast. Due to the difference in time, most of the members in Ivory Coast did not hear the announcement live, but heard mainly by word of mouth. Large groups gathered in meeting houses later to view the rebroadcast. They patiently waited to hear the “Ivory Coast” name. There was great emotion when they heard the announcement. Brother Mathieu Brou Baah, a family history consultant exclaimed to all around him, “We got our temple!” There was great joy seeing an answer to years of fervent prayers.

One day my piano teacher saw me talking to the Latter-day Saint missionaries. After my lesson was over, she offered me a drink of lemonade, and then she asked me how I knew the elders. I told her I was a Mormon.
She said that the elders had knocked on her door a while ago, but she hadn’t let them in. She asked if we believed in Jesus. I told her we did and recited the first Article of Faith. I also told her about Joseph Smith in the sacred grove and about how he became the first prophet of the Church.
She was really interested and asked me a lot of questions. Since that day we have talked about the Church at almost every piano lesson. When I told her about the Word of Wisdom, she said she thought it was a good rule and that it would keep our bodies healthy.
It makes me feel good to tell my piano teacher about the gospel. She is very nice and I hope someday she will become a member of the Church.

Many years ago in the country of Norway, a young widow with two small sons sent a pair of shoes to a shoemaker for repairs. When the mended shoes were returned, the mother was surprised to find a religious tract tucked into each shoe. Shortly thereafter, curious about the tracts, and with a parcel containing another pair of old shoes, she set forth for the half-hour walk to the shoemaker’s shop.
After concluding her business with the shoemaker, she hesitated briefly with her hand on the door latch, wanting, yet reluctant, to ask about the tracts. As she paused, the shoemaker said, “‘You may be surprised to hear me say that I can give you something of more value than soles for your child’s shoes.’
“‘What can you, a shoemaker, give me better than soles for my son’s shoes? You speak in riddles,’ she answered.”
The man “did not hesitate. ‘If you will but listen, I can teach you the Lord’s true plan of salvation for His children. I can teach you how to find happiness in this life, and to prepare for eternal joy in the life to come. I can tell you whence you came, why you are upon earth, and where you will go after death. I can teach you as you have never known it before, the love of God for His children on earth.’”
The words pierced the heart of Anna Widtsoe, whose husband, John Andersen Widtsoe, had died unexpectedly just a year before. Her oldest son, John Andreas, was six years old, and her second son, Osborne, was just two months of age. At the burial service the young widow “and her oldest son stood by the open grave while the cold words of the church funeral service were spoken, ‘Dust thou art, to dust returnest,’ with no promise of a future meeting in a happier place than man’s earth.”
Her life had since been lonely, and she was filled with many unanswered spiritual questions which her own religion had failed to satisfy. She asked the shoemaker a simple question: “‘Who are you?’” He answered: “‘I am a member of the Church of Christ—we are called Mormons. We have the truth of God.’”
As repaired shoes were returned there was always a new tract, and her curiosity finally caused her to attend a Mormon meeting. Anna Widtsoe was an intelligent woman. She “knew her Bible. Time upon time she [attempted] to vanquish the elders, only to meet defeat herself.” She insisted on debating and discussing the points of doctrine she questioned; and finally, unwillingly, yet prayerfully, she became convinced that she was in the presence of eternal truth.
“At length, on 1 April 1881, a little more than two years after she first heard of the Gospel, she was baptized into the Church. … Thin ice still lay over the edges of the fjord, which had to be broken to permit the [baptism]. The water was icy cold yet she declared to her dying day that never before in all her life had she felt warmer or more comfortable than when she came out of the baptismal waters of old Trondheim’s fjord. The fire within was kindled, never to be extinguished.”
This account is taken from a book titled In the Gospel Net (Salt Lake City: Improvement Era, 1942, pp. 47, 53–57), written by Elder John A. Widtsoe, Anna’s eldest son, who later became an Apostle and member of the Council of the Twelve in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

For example, we once tried to take a family picture after church. This can be complicated with two little children, but I really love to capture these moments and then look back at how much my kids have grown.
While we were trying to get the kids settled down for the photo, I had to take a moment to talk to my two-year-old son, Alvin, who was crying because he wanted me to carry him. I bent down, wiped away his tears, and then begged him to stand up so I could show off our outfits (which I had strategically matched that morning). My three-year-old daughter, Avril, was also asking my husband to hold her because she didn’t want to stand either. They really didn’t want to be taking pictures.
The photography session was unsuccessful—so we gave up. But when I got home, I found something better. My brother (who was taking the photos) captured the moment when all the chaos was happening. Both my husband and I were comforting our children in the photo. It didn’t really show off our outfits, but it was such a tender—and real—moment. I loved it.
When I shared the photo on social media, I captioned it “The reality of a family photo.” I never imagined that so many people would relate to it, but it made me realize that things don’t always need to look perfect. It’s OK to just go with the flow and be real. But it also taught me a larger lesson—that when we believe someone is perfect, we just haven’t seen all the details.

Smile. This small action can help those who are overwhelmed or burdened. During the priesthood session of this past April general conference, I was seated on the stand as one of the five newly called General Authorities. We were sitting where the sisters of the auxiliary presidencies are now seated. I was feeling very nervous and overwhelmed with my new call.

When we were singing the intermediate hymn, I felt a strong impression that someone was watching me. I thought to myself: “There are more than 20,000 people in this building, and most of them are facing this way. Of course someone is watching you.”

While I continued singing, I again felt the strong impression that someone was watching me. I looked over to the row where the Twelve Apostles were sitting and saw that President Russell M. Nelson was turned all the way around in his seat, looking at where we were seated. I caught his eye, and he gave me a big smile. That smile brought peace to my overwhelmed heart.

After His Resurrection, Jesus Christ visited His other sheep. He called and ordained twelve disciples, and with that authority, they ministered to the people. The Lord Jesus Christ Himself stood among them. The Lord asked them to kneel and pray. I am not sure if the newly called and ordained twelve disciples were overwhelmed with their calling, but the scripture says, “It came to pass that Jesus blessed them as they did pray unto him; and his countenance did smile upon them, and the light of his countenance did shine upon them.” During the last general conference, a smile lightened my burdens in an immediate and extraordinary way.

Thomas B. Marsh, once one of the Twelve, left the Church. His spiritual slide to apostasy started because his wife and another woman had quarreled over a little cream! After an absence from the Church of nearly nineteen years, he came back. To a congregation of Saints, he then said:
“If there are any among this people who should ever apostatize and do as I have done, prepare your backs for a good whipping, if you are such as the Lord loves. But if you will take my advice, you will stand by the authorities.” (In Journal of Discourses, 5:206; see also Gordon B. Hinckley, in Conference Report, Apr. 1984, pp. 109–12; or Ensign, May 1984, pp. 81–83.)

“Grannie Smith’s coming for supper tonight,” Mom said as Carrie scurried around, getting everything ready for the meeting of the Super Scooper News staff.
“Oh no!” Carrie moaned. “Everybody’s coming over!”
“That’s fine,” Mom said. “Go ahead with your newspaper meeting. I’m sure that Grannie won’t mind.”
“No! Not now. Maybe I’ll call the others to tell them to come some other time,” Carrie said. Then she remembered that last week Shauna hadn’t been able to come, and the week before, Adam couldn’t make it. It had been several weeks since they’d printed their newspaper, and now everybody had plenty of news for another issue.
“It’s up to you,” Mom said. “It’s been ten days since we’ve had Grannie over, and she must be feeling pretty lonely.”
Carrie stomped into the living room to watch TV. Why can’t Grannie be like other grandmothers? she wondered. Adam’s grandma was always baking cookies and giving them to the kids in the neighborhood. One of Shauna’s grandmothers was a writer who published lots of books about all the places she’d traveled. Shauna had an autographed copy of each book that she had written. Carrie’s other grandmother had moved to Arizona, far from the cold prairie winters.
But Grannie Smith was different and something of a problem. Most of the time she stayed in a nursing home, but whenever she came over for dinner, all she did was embarrass Carrie. Sometimes she’d ask Dad what his name was, and she’d call Carrie “Penelope.” Aunt Penelope was Grannie’s sister, but she had died a long time ago. Sometimes Grannie spilled her food, and one time she had even started eating her mashed potatoes with her fingers! When that happened, even Mom had looked as if she were about to cry, though they all realized that Grannie couldn’t help it. She did things like that, the doctors had explained, because she has Alzheimer’s disease.
Carrie heard the doorbell ring and went to open the door.
“Hi, Carrie!” It was Adam, one of the newspaper’s best reporters. “Boy, do I have news! Let’s get it typed up.”
“Great!” Carrie went over to her corner of the living room and sat down at an old beat-up desk. She rolled a sheet of paper into her rickety typewriter. Some of the machine’s letters didn’t print right, and Mom kept saying that she was surprised that the typewriter hadn’t broken down long ago.
Soon Shauna came in, and the three of them sat on the floor, trying to decide which news items to put on the front page.
“Come on in and sit down, Mother.”
Carrie cringed at the sound of Dad’s voice. She wished that she could pretend that she hadn’t heard, but she knew that she had to go give a kiss to the wobbly little lady with the cane and white hair. “Hi, Grannie,” she said.
Grannie stroked a wrinkled hand over Carrie’s hair. “You’re growing like a weed, lass,” she said with a smile. “Run along and play with your friends now; they’ll be waiting for you.”
Carrie gave a sigh of relief and went back to her desk. Maybe, just this once, Grannie won’t do anything awful.
Shauna’s eyes were wide. “How old is she, Carrie?” she whispered.
“Eighty-one,” Carrie said quickly. “Now, about the front page, …”
They decided to use three pieces: Mrs. Currie’s fall off her stepladder, Bryan Wilson’s plans to become a hockey pro, and the mysterious footprints in the dirt around the Adam’s family’s garbage can.
As they worked, Carrie could hear Grannie talking. At first she thought that Grannie was talking to her father, but when she looked around, Dad was in the easy chair, reading the newspaper.
“Look at the clowns!” Grannie was saying. “Oh my—see how many elephants there are!”
Nervously Carrie looked at her friends. Their heads were bent over the dummy sheet that they were putting together. Maybe Grannie’s watching TV. Carrie glanced over at the television set, but the screen was blank. Grannie was staring out the front window.
Elephants on McDonald Street? That’s impossible! Grannie’s seeing things again. Carrie felt her face getting red. Why did Mom have to invite Grannie for the same night that Shauna and Adam were coming?
“Oh! There’s the lion tamer!”
Adam looked up and began to stare.
Carrie quickly turned back to her typewriter and said, “Super Scooper News,” loudly as she picked out the letters.
“Bonnie, come here. I have some treats for you and your friends.”
Carrie’s face got redder. Bonnie was her mother’s name, but she was sure that Grannie was speaking to her. “Just a minute, Grannie,” she said.
But Grannie had sounded so pleased with herself that Carrie couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings. She went over to Grannie’s chair, where the old woman pulled some lint-covered cough drops out of her dress pocket. “Here. And when these are gone, I have some more.”
Carrie nodded and took them.
“What’d you get?” There was an expectant look on Shauna’s face.
“Oh, nothing—just some cough drops.” Carrie tried stuffing them into her jeans pocket, but Adam stopped her.
“Can I have one?”
“Well …”
But it was too late. Adam reached and took one. It had not only lint on it but a clinging hair as well.
“Yuck!” Shauna started giggling.
“She can’t help it!” Carrie whispered, embarrassed. “She just doesn’t know any better.”
“Some people get senile,” Adam said sympathetically. “Boy, I hope I never do.”
It sounded as though Grannie were busy watching her invisible circus parade again. Tears burned in Carrie’s eyes as she turned back to the typewriter once more. “What’s the best title for this one—‘Mrs. Currie Breaks Leg in Kitchen Fall’?”
“So you’re using that typewriter again, Penelope.”
Oh no! Grannie was coming over! Carrie wished that she could tell her grandmother to leave her alone. She poked at the r extra hard, and her finger went between the keys, jamming the r and t keys together.
Now Grannie was looking over her shoulder. “I used to be a real good typist in my day,” she said. “I could type eighty words a minute—clean copy, without a single error.”
Carrie’s head lifted. She had to admit that that sounded fast. “We’re doing our newspaper, Grannie,” she said.
“Oh yes!” Grannie beamed. “Our newspaper, Penelope! I’d almost forgotten. Be sure to tell about how Mrs. Schneider’s cat chased off those huge dogs.”
Shauna looked uncomfortable. Adam looked restless. Carrie’s finger hurt, and the letters were still jammed. “I need to type now,” she finally said in a low voice. Maybe Grannie would take the hint and go back to her chair.
Grannie reached out and unjammed the keys. “Careful, Penelope.”
“I’m Carrie,” Carrie said loudly. Shauna began to giggle.
The old woman sighed and shook her head. “Carrie. Yes, Carrie. Sometimes I get so mixed up these days.”
Does she ever! said the look in Shauna’s eyes. Adam looked puzzled. And Grannie looked very sad.
Carrie took a deep breath. Does Grannie feel bad about the way she is? It must be terrible to be so forgetful and not be able to do anything about it. “Want to help, Grannie?” she asked. “You could type, and we’ll dictate the copy to you.”
Grannie’s smile was like sunlight coming through clouds. “Why, yes, Penelope! You just tell me what to type, and I’ll be extra careful to get it right.”
Carrie held her breath. Shauna was holding her breath too. Grannie sat down at the typewriter. Adam began reading in a loud, steady voice: “‘Mrs. Currie Breaks Leg in Kitchen Fall.’”
Nervously Carrie looked over her grandmother’s shoulder. The words were typed just as Adam had read them.
Maybe Grannie was a little strange and sometimes got all mixed up, but she really was a special person. Besides, the Super Scooper News staff didn’t need cookies or autographs right now—they needed their newspaper typed. And from the look of it, Grannie was going to give them the neatest copy they’d ever had!

If you’re from “Big D” you inevitably do things in a big way. And the Scouts from the Dallas, Dallas North, and Ft. Worth Texas stakes are no exceptions.
For their LDS Regional Camporee, 131 boys and 32 leaders from 21 wards and branches filled two days competing in compass courses, fire building, trailing, knot tying, lashing, and physical fitness tests. They were also evaluated on camping expertise and campsite excellence.
The traditional Court of Honor was preceded by a not-so-traditional banquet—a chicken dinner Texas-style. The “dinner” arrived—a clucking, pecking, feathery bird—and the Scouts took over from there. Each Scout also received a specially designed regional camporee patch that featured a Bicentennial theme.
Fourteen Explorers, called by their stake presidents as staff specialists, directed the camporee. The Explorers, most of them Eagle Scouts, worked 18 hours a day and inspired just-a-little-harder work on skills from younger Scouts.
The comments of boys and leaders ran from “fantastic” to “the best thing that’s ever happened to our ward program!” The spectrum of opinions wasn’t very wide, but the smiles on the faces were. One Scout expressed what everyone seemed to be thinking: “This was neat! When are we going to do it again?”

In one ward a Relief Society president seemed to understand these responsibilities. In a regular weekly ward welfare services committee meeting she reported that an elderly widow was having trouble coping with life after the recent loss of her husband. Her health was waning, her legs were causing her problems and limiting her ability to move about and care for herself. She was understandably very lonely and also worried about her neglected garden. Considerable concern was expressed about her poor diet. The ward Relief Society president explained that compassionate service assignments had been made to the visiting teachers and to other sisters in the ward to help her plan and prepare three balanced meals each day and to organize and do such needed housework as the sister would permit. The home teachers agreed to ask her if she would like them to give her a special blessing. They also said they would keep up her garden and look for other ways to be helpful.
After several weeks, as a result of the blessing and the loving help, she gained courage and a desire to be self-sustaining.
This story illustrates how the ward welfare services committee can work together to meet the needs of ward members.

I had an experience when I was 13 that I will never forget. I was hanging out with some friends in my room when one friend asked me about my brothers. So I took them over to my 17-year-old brother Matt’s room, right next to mine. He was not home at the time.
Matt was so cool. I showed them all of his things: his cool shoe collection, the things he had made by hand, and all of the pictures on his mirror of his high school friends. My friends were impressed.
Then, something horrible happened. I heard a crunching sound under my foot, so I lifted it up and saw a small pouch. Immediately, my heart sank. Right away I knew that inside this pouch was one of my brother’s most prized possessions, an expensive pair of sunglasses.
I panicked. I put the pouch under a pair of jeans on the floor, and we quickly left the room. The rest of the day was a nightmare. I tried to forget about it, but I knew he would find out. All I could do was wait.
The next morning I stayed in bed, still haunted with anxiety. I knew I could not outwit fate. Then it happened. He had found the broken sunglasses, and he was furious. I could hear him downstairs in the family room talking to my other brothers, demanding that the perpetrator confess his crime.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew he wouldn’t stop until someone confessed. So I grabbed all the money I had earned from my newspaper route and slowly walked down the stairs. This was one of the longest walks I have ever taken.
Finally, I came up to my brother. Matt slowly turned to me, and I handed him the wad of cash. “I did it,” I said. No one said a word. I just turned around, walked up the stairs, and got back in bed.
I felt awful for what I had done. I did not know what my brother was going to do. I felt helpless. I didn’t expect Matt to forgive me, but I hoped he would. Then, I heard his voice say my name.
“David, I know you didn’t mean it,” Matt said. He placed the money I gave him on my nightstand. “You earned this money, and I can’t accept it.”
Filled with emotion, I said, “I’m sorry, Matt!” He replied with the most sincere words I have ever heard: “I forgive you.”
We both wept. This was the first time in my young life that I understood how it felt to be truly forgiven. It may be the most powerful human experience one can have, and I praise those who have the courage to give forgiveness.

by Glenn Latham
This is a true story about a Wonderful Pest.
We have six children, four lovely daughters and two fine sons. All of our children have progressed nicely through the programs of the Church, including the Scouting program for the boys.
Unfortunately, we parents never caught Scouting fever, so neither did the boys. Consequently, our oldest son graduated from the Aaronic Priesthood program having attained the rank of Life Scout, falling several merit badges short of the coveted rank of Eagle (coveted by his parents, that is).
Like older brother, like younger brother, number two son saw Scouting primarily as an avenue for fun, with some resentment reserved for “all the clunky requirements.” And true to form, his parents were only a mild irritant to him to “get with it”; hence, the weeks and months toward the end of eligibility flew past with little hope of an Eagle landing. “After all,” we reasoned, “how influential can we hope to be when, after making several very attractive offers to encourage our son, he replies, somewhat disdainfully, ‘I don’t even want to be an Eagle Scout.’”
Enter our Wonderful Pest.
At the height (or depth) of our son’s lethargy and our resignation, Jeff Sessions, our Wonderful Pest, moved into our ward, the Third Ward, North Logan Utah Stake. He is an unassuming, determined, soft-spoken young fellow, married, the father of four precious children, and a graduate student at Utah State University. His talents were soon recognized, and before long he was called to be the priests quorum adviser—and to him that meant Scouting.
Our Wonderful Pest is one of those goal-oriented, management-by-objective types. For the priests quorum the goal was clear—100 percent Eagle Scouts (much to the dismay and discomfort of the quorum members).
With goal in hand, W. P. wasted no time. The strategy was simple: divide and conquer. None of this “let’s all get an Eagle together” stuff. He went after each boy individually. Then the phone began to ring, every day and twice on Sunday, at least. It went like this:
Ring, ring.
“Allen, it’s for you. It’s Jeff.”
(Mutter, mutter) “That pest. I’ll get it down here. Hi, Jeff. At your place? Now! Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes. (Grumble, grumble) I’m going to Jeff’s. I’ll be back in a while.”
Not infrequently, W. P. was found at our front door following up on an assignment, just checking, or picking up our son to take him to some merit badge activity with, of course, a stop on the way home to get some pizza, doughnuts, a root beer, or whatever. In which event it was “grumble, grumble; munch, munch.” Allen always returned with a smile on his face, and he always returned one step closer to another merit badge. And so it went:
Ring, ring
Knock, knock
Grumble, grumble
Munch, munch
Merit badge, merit badge
Recently through the front door bounded our 17-year-old bundle of young male energy. “Guess what, Dad?” he proudly exclaimed with animated enthusiasm. “You’re looking at an Eagle Scout! And to think that only a few months ago, I didn’t even want to be an Eagle Scout. It’s all because of that pest, Jeff.”
“Yep,” I replied, “our Wonderful Pest.”
This scenario was duplicated in the homes of ten other priests resulting in the accomplishment of Jeff’s goal, all members of the priests quorum receiving the Eagle Award.

Sarah headed to the back of the room, where some of the popular girls in her class were waiting for her. As she passed Kathy, who was trying to finish her homework before class started, Kathy looked up and said, “Good morning, Sarah.”
Mr. Jones gave homework every night, and if it wasn’t handed in first thing, you had to stay in for both recesses.
“I see your ‘bosom buddy’ is trying to finish her homework—like always,” Roxanne sneered.
“She’s not my ‘bosom buddy,’ Roxanne. You know that.” Sarah felt the eyes of the other girls laughing at her.
The girls giggled as Roxanne went on, “Did you notice what she was wearing today? I wonder where she found that horrible sweater. It looks like a sweater my mom wore in high school.”
“Yeah, it looks like a two-for-one special from the Bargain Barn,” Rachel added.
“And we all know, ‘Two is better than one.’” Roxanne mimicked Crazy Barney from the Bargain Barn commercial. The other girls laughed.
Sarah felt bad for Kathy, but she wished Kathy would quit picking her out to talk to. It was embarrassing in front of these girls.
After school, Mom said, “Sarah, I talked to Sister Simpson today, and she was concerned. Her children don’t have any friends at school. Even the Latter-day Saint students aren’t nice to them. I’m sure that’s why the family hasn’t been to church. Her daughter is in your grade. Could you be her friend and invite her to Primary?”
“Sure, Mom, but there’s nobody named Simpson in my class. She must be in the other fifth-grade class.” Sarah got out some graham crackers.
“No, I’m sure she’s in your class, because her mother said she was having a hard time keeping up with all the homework that Mr. Jones assigns. They had to move a few months after their baptism because Brother Simpson lost his job. He’s working now, but they’ve had a difficult time making ends meet. Let’s see—I wrote her name down. … Here it is—Kathy Burns. Her last name is different from her mother’s. Do you know Kathy?”
The graham crackers suddenly stuck to the sides of Sarah’s mouth. It would be Kathy! What’ll the other girls say? They already tease me because I don’t make fun of her when they do. Now Mom wants me to be her friend. Sarah knew that Roxanne would have a field day with that. Roxanne would have two targets. And, of course, “two is better than one.”
“Sarah, are you all right? You look sick.”
“Yeah, uh, I’m all right, Mom.”
“Well, do you know Kathy Burns?”
“Yes, I know her. But I didn’t know she was a member of the Church. She doesn’t really have any friends. She’s kind of … different.”
Mom looked into her eyes, “Sarah, we’re all different in some ways, but we’re also very much alike. We all need to know of Heavenly Father’s love for us, and we all need friends.”
“I guess so.” Sarah felt a tug-of-war going on inside her as she tried to avoid Mom’s gaze.
That night, Sarah didn’t sleep well. When Dad called her at six-thirty the next morning for scripture study, she groaned. “I think I’m sick, Dad. Can I sleep a little longer?”
Well, it was kind of true—she felt sick at heart.
“Come on downstairs with us, and I bet you’ll feel better after scriptures,” Dad called back.
Sarah rested her head against the couch, not really paying much attention as Mom started reading the sixth chapter of Moroni. But as she began verse three, something made Sarah listen closely:
“‘And none were received unto baptism save they took upon them the name of Christ, having a determination to serve him to the end.
“‘And after they had been received unto baptism, and were wrought upon and cleansed by the power of the Holy Ghost, they were numbered among the people of the church of Christ; and their names were taken, that they might be remembered and nourished by the good word of God, to keep them in the right way …’”
Sarah remembered two years ago when she was baptized, how determined she had felt to always do what Jesus would want her to do. She wondered if Kathy’s family felt like they were really “numbered among the people of the church.”
She looked at the picture on the wall of the Savior. She’d seen it many times and loved it. This morning, however, as she gazed at it, she seemed to feel the love Jesus had for her—and for Kathy. She felt warm inside, and some of His words came into her mind: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.”*
Sarah felt a peace come over her, and she knew what she must do. She no longer cared what the in-group at school would say. She would follow Christ with a “determination to serve him to the end.”
As Sarah walked into her classroom, she gazed around the room, looking for Kathy.
“Over here, Sarah,” Rachel called.
“Just a minute,” Sarah called back, still looking for Kathy.
“Are you looking for Santa Claus?” Roxanne laughed. “Come here, silly!”
“I’m looking for Kathy,” Sarah told them matter-of-factly. “Have any of you seen her?”
Roxanne asked the group, mockingly, “Did she say she was looking for Kathy?”
“Yes,” Sarah said, looking each of them in the eye. “I have an invitation for her to the Primary party at our church.”
“Kathy belongs to your church?” Rachel piped up.
“Yes. I just found out yesterday, and I want her to know about the party we’re having next week. Oh, there she is now. I’ll talk to you all later.”
After class began, Mr. Jones asked to talk to Sarah at break. Sarah worried. She had finished her homework, but she had been kind of distracted last night. …
“Sarah, you’re a good student,” Mr. Jones told her, “and I wondered if you’d help me. Kathy and Vickie both need a little extra help understanding fractions. Would you work with them during math time? It shouldn’t take long for them to catch up with the rest of the class, and I don’t think it would put you behind. I think that Kathy likes you—I noticed the two of you talking this morning. What do you think?”
Sarah smiled. “I’d like to help. Kathy likes me fine, but I don’t know about Vickie. She never talks to me. I don’t mind helping her, too, though.”
“Thank you, Sarah, and don’t worry about Vickie. I’m sure you’ll get along well together.”
Sarah and Kathy talked quietly together as they worked on the math assignment. Vickie didn’t say much, but about halfway through math time, she began to get the hang of simplifying fractions and she started to smile. Soon the three girls were whispering and laughing quietly as they worked on the problems together. Sarah had never enjoyed math class as much as she had today.
Sarah could hardly wait as she ran in the door. “Mom! Mom! Guess what?”
“I’m upstairs,” Mom called.
Sarah took the steps two at a time. “You won’t believe it, Mom! I made friends with Kathy—and with another girl, Vickie. I’m helping them during math, and it’s really fun! It’s a lot more fun than working by myself all the time. They’re both really nice, and we ate together at lunchtime. Two new friends in one day—isn’t it great? Two is better than one, right, Mom?”
“Right, Sarah. When it comes to good things, like friendship, two is better than one.”

We provide for our children as we teach them how to work. Let me tell you about my grandson Jacob. He did not want to go to school. His mother had tried so many things. Finally she sat him down and said, “Daddy’s job is to go to work and earn money. My job is to stay home and take care of you and your brothers and sister. And your job, Jacob, is to go to school.” When Jacob understood the principle, he accepted it and went to school.

When I was baptized, I was already too old for Primary. Even so, I attended it for two years. I did hold the priesthood, but the branch was small and the Primary teachers were so good that I went there. I loved it and was grateful that the teachers didn’t tell me that I couldn’t attend because I was too old. I remember three outstanding teachers. Olga Ramos, Lida del Bosque, and Irma Torres were their names. All three cared a great deal about us children. They diligently taught us and had activities for us. They were young adults then. Now they are married women with grandchildren. I am very grateful to them because it was through their teaching that I learned the gospel.

When President Lee called me to be a stake president about sixteen years ago, I remember on the way home he said, “President Stone, I want you to prepare now for the day when you will be released.” And I assured him that I was ready any time the Brethren wanted to release me. But you know this time when he called me the other day, he didn’t say a word about that. Later he told me the appointment was for life.
I feel humble, grateful, and assure you and the Brethren of my willingness to serve, to devote my time, energy, and means for the upbuilding of the kingdom.
The Savior on one occasion, realizing the many temptations that we are faced with in this life, made this statement: “… seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:33.) We have tried to live by that rule in our family. My sons, who have both been mission presidents, used to quote that to me when I was talking to them about their future.
Now, I want you all to remember the program of prospective elders, and I am going to tell you why. I was a prospective elder when I met my wife in Blackfoot, Idaho; and after I had courted her for some time and decided (and let her know) that she was the girl of my dreams, she let me know in no uncertain terms that I had to “shape up.” A temple marriage was the only marriage she was interested in.
After shaping up, I was ordained an elder and secured a temple recommend. We were sealed for time and eternity in the Salt Lake Temple April 23, 1924. I am very grateful for my eternal companion and for my family, including fourteen grandchildren. It was my wife’s birthday yesterday, the day that I was sustained as a General Authority.
I would like to testify to you that the greatest happiness that has come into our lives has been when we have been living the gospel and serving the Master, and I have to tell you just a little story.
A few years ago, roughly twenty-five, I was starting a new business. I was having difficulty in getting it into black figures. I don’t like to operate in the red, and I went to my Heavenly Father on bended knees and made a covenant with him that if he would bless me with inspiration and guidance to make that business successful, I would serve him and I would be liberal with my time and means for the upbuilding of the kingdom.
The Lord did bless us abundantly, and I now pledge to President Lee, President Tanner, President Romney, and all these Brethren that I shall put forth my best efforts to fulfill this new assignment. I love the Lord, and I want to serve him.
On the day I was put in as stake president, President Lee quoted this scripture. It has always stuck in my mind, and I would like to quote it to you because it is one of my favorites:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” (Prov. 3:5–6.)
I pray I may always do this, in the name of Jesus Christ.
Amen.

An army of protesting Brigham Young University students recently invaded the sleepy little town of Santaquin, Utah. Many called it “their day of violent protest.” They violently protested against those who riot—and they actively demonstrated that students can change things within the system and at the same time make the world a much better place for others.
About one thousand students, divided into well-organized work details, shoveled, hoed, scraped, painted, pruned, and picked up as block by block they transformed Santaquin.
Before October 10, Santaquin, to many, was dying. Established in pioneer times as a small farming community and manpower pool to help defend against Indians in neighboring areas, it hasn’t grown much since. Its population today is about one thousand—many too old, too young, or too infirm to help much with the town’s problems. The younger inhabitants have a habit of leaving for steady jobs or more urban opportunities in their lives. Those who have stayed have become increasingly frustrated with their efforts to maintain and improve the town.
Before October 10, many of the students interviewed weren’t sure that constructive voluntary action was really possible. Many had served before on other less successful projects and were dubious about whether a project could be so meticulously planned that it would be of substantial value.
“I guess I first tossed this out to a political science class when we were talking about voluntary action one day,” said Dr. Doyle Buckwalter, assistant professor of political science at Brigham Young University, the man credited with sparking this idea among the students. “I told them that Santaquin has a fine spirit, and that all it needed was a little manpower, organization, and material help. They grabbed the ball and have been running with it ever since. One student body officer even made it a part of his campaign platform.”
At the end of the day, Santaquin had several acres of new park, complete with sprinkling system, fifteen picnic tables, and a fireplace and barbecue pit; new tennis courts; and dozens of shiny new street address markers. Many old homes were sanded down and painted; and old, dilapidated barns and other buildings were torn down and hauled away. Vacant lots, some on the town’s main street, were cleaned, and flower bulbs were planted in what had been widows’ weed patches.
“What a paradox!” said Chris Mould, a U.S. Housing and Urban Development executive who was representing Secretary George Romney at the Santaquin Day operation. “You know, the classic example of voluntary help in the United States has always been barn raising. This is the reverse—people volunteering to tear down old barns. It’s great! I’d much rather be here than back in Washington.”
At the end of the day, Cam Caldwell, BYU vice-president of student relations, summed up the day’s activities: “We can see that voluntary effort really pays off. We tapped a little student power, and now the community is improved and we have seen success. This kind of program has great potential. Already we have seen what it has done to motivate other people in the community to make contributions on their own. We hope this kind of program will catch on at other universities. We challenge them and urge them to try to save our communities—to protect and help them so that they will be better places to live.”
University Personnel
“I was in St. Louis yesterday for a convention of college presidents. Two of us left early; I came here to see you rebuild Santaquin, and the other president went to see what was left of his ROTC building. This is the kind of voluntary militancy that all students throughout the country should be engaged in.”
—President Ernest L. Wilkinson
“The old and infirm become totally frustrated when trying to accomplish a task like this.”
—Dr. Doyle Buckwalter
Students
“This is one of the most exhilarating things I’ve ever done. I’m totally ecstatic! Just think what the consequences would be if we established a national precedent today. I mean, if every college or school did this, just once a year, can you imagine what would happen?”
“I think it is great. I have been involved in projects like this before, but never this well organized. This is really meaningful.”
“I’ve seen activity on this scale in the Bay area—but then, the riots weren’t exactly approved.”
“I volunteered for painting, but somehow I ended up on the demolition bus … so that’s why I am the only girl helping to tear down this old barn. But it’s kind of nice!”
“It feels good for a change. In school you don’t really get the chance to get out and actually work with your hands.”
“To help someone else helps me inside. In a way, it’s almost selfish.”
“People who say that people don’t care for each other just haven’t tried this.”
“It’s good to think of someone else for a change, because in school one gets a little self-centered, worrying about his own problems.”
“I love it. This morning I pulled weeds and now I am painting.”
“As a physical therapy major, I’d say this is the best kind of therapy.”
“As a physics major, I am studying the force vectors of digging this ditch. Seriously, this is great! I think it is out-of-sight that so many people will come out and do something to improve their environment, rather than just sit around and complain.”
“To me, it’s a kind of peaceful protest.”
“I think it’s a good way to show that things really can be done through the system. You know, a lot of people have lost the vision of how to work through the system.”
“You get a great feeling of brotherhood by all working hard together.”
“This is a great chance to really practice a little of the charity that the Savior talked about; the chance really doesn’t come often enough.”
“It’s neat—no protests, just action.”
“I wish it would catch on around the world, but that means that people would have to think about others before themselves.”
“It’s good exercise, after nothing harder than making your bed. It really feels great.”
Townspeople
“This will unite the people of Santaquin more than anything we have ever had.”
“It sure changed my image of youth today.”
“I’ve tried to paint my house myself, but my leg has been so bad. I painted for two years and only got the front porch done.”
“I think it is something for these young people to get out and mix with us.”
“It’s really different from what you see in the news about college kids.”
“It’s wonderful, boy; just beautiful.”
“Few people, even those who live here, will recognize how much was done this day.”
“These kids are doing a swell job. It just has to change people’s ideas about kids nowadays.”
“It is sad that the other kind of activity is getting so much publicity.”
“Man, they sure made a difference in my neighbor’s lot. I’d better hurry home before they tear my whole house down!”

One day when Tommy was about eight years old, he and his grandfather were sitting on the front-porch swing. An elderly man from England lived on the same street. His name was Robert Dicks, but most of the neighbors just called him “Old Bob.” He was widowed and poor.
Old Bob came over and sat down on the porch swing with Tommy and his grandfather. He said that the small adobe house where he lived was going to be torn down. He had no family, no money, and nowhere to go.
Tommy wondered how his grandfather would respond to the sad story. His grandfather reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather change purse. He took out a key and put it in Old Bob’s hand. “Mr. Dicks,” he said kindly, “you can move your things into that empty house of mine next door. It won’t cost you a cent, and you can stay there as long as you like. And remember, nobody is ever going to put you out again.” Tears filled Old Bob’s eyes.