Gospel Story Finder

Teaching English in Wuhan, China, was an amazing experience. I had always wanted to go somewhere and do something service oriented, and this was the perfect opportunity. I was part of a volunteer program organized by a college professor. I found that I loved teaching. Even more, I loved getting to know the students, the Chinese teachers, and the other volunteers. But one thing was tough for me.

We signed contracts as we joined the program stating that we couldn’t say anything about religion. If we did we would be sent home. I spent a lot of time thinking about that. I cared a lot about these people. They were my friends now, and they didn’t have the gospel. But I kept my promise.

When I returned to Brigham Young University, however, I found myself thinking that although I had given service, I still had more I wanted to give. I kept thinking how much I would like to teach people the gospel so they could know what I know. I spent a whole semester thinking about applying to serve a full-time mission. I have always wanted to serve, but I needed to know that’s what the Lord wanted me to do.

I received good advice from my brother and my two brothers-in-law, just by speaking with them about their own mission experiences that were so life-changing. And I talked with my dad, because not only is he my dad, but he’s also my home-ward bishop. No one ever made me feel pressured or pushed. They just encouraged me to listen to the Spirit and do what was right.

I fasted. I prayed. I searched my soul. And I listened to general conference. When I heard Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles give his address, “Now Is the Time to Serve a Mission!” it seemed that the Lord was speaking directly to me through him. (See Ensign, May 2006, 87.)

I made the decision to submit my application. I was excited, but I was also a little scared. I think much of the anxiety came from not knowing where I was going to go. My father called me several times up at school, giving me words of encouragement. I think my experience was bringing back memories of his mission, and he had a lot of neat experiences to share.

Even though I was at school, I asked for my call to be sent to my parents’ home in Tempe, Arizona. When the envelope arrived, my dad set up a conference call, so there was my family in Tempe, Tucson, and Mesa. We all sang the hymn “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go,” and I was definitely wondering where that would be. But as soon as my mom read I was going to Asunción, Paraguay, I felt an overwhelming peace and comfort. I haven’t had a moment’s worry since. I know that’s where the Lord wants me to go, 100 percent. And this time as I go to serve, I don’t have to worry—I can talk about the gospel with everyone I meet.

Even former enemies can become united in their discipleship of the Savior. In 2006, I attended the dedication of the Helsinki Finland Temple to honor my father and grandparents, who had been early converts to the Church in Finland. Finns, including my father, had dreamed of a temple in Finland for decades. At the time, the temple district would encompass Finland, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Belarus, and Russia.

At the dedication, I learned something surprising. The first day of general operation had been set aside for Russian members to perform temple ordinances. It is difficult to explain just how astonishing this was. Russia and Finland had fought many wars over the centuries. My father distrusted and disliked not only Russia but all Russians. He had expressed such feelings passionately, and his feelings were typical of Finnish enmity toward Russia. He had memorized epic poems that chronicled 19th-century warfare between Finns and Russians. His experiences during World War II, when Finland and Russia were again antagonists, did nothing to change his opinions.

A year before the dedication of the Helsinki Finland Temple, the temple committee, consisting exclusively of Finnish members, met to discuss plans for the dedication. During the meeting, someone observed that Russian Saints would be traveling several days to attend the dedication and might hope to receive their temple blessings before returning home. The committee chairman, Brother Sven Eklund, suggested that the Finns could wait a little longer, that Russians could be the first members to perform temple ordinances in the temple. All committee members agreed. Faithful Latter-day Saint Finns delayed their temple blessings to accommodate Russian Saints.

The Area President who was present at that temple committee meeting, Elder Dennis B. Neuenschwander, later wrote: “I have never been prouder of the Finns than I was at this moment. Finland’s difficult history with its eastern neighbor … and their excitement of finally having [a temple] constructed on their own soil were put aside. Permitting the Russians to enter the temple first [was] a statement of love and sacrifice.”

When I reported this kindness to my father, his heart melted and he wept, a very rare occurrence for that stoic Finn. From that time until his death three years later, he never expressed another negative sentiment about Russia. Inspired by the example of his fellow Finns, my father chose to place his discipleship of Jesus Christ above all other considerations. The Finns were no less Finnish; the Russians were no less Russian; neither group abandoned their culture, history, or experiences to banish enmity. They did not need to. Instead, they chose to make their discipleship of Jesus Christ their primary consideration.

I have seen some of that in practice lately. A woman whom I had not met before came to my home and recounted her heartbreak at a marriage ruined by deceit and cruelty. She grieved for her young adult children, who were confused and wounded. She had served as a ward Relief Society president three times and as a stake Relief Society president. That service had shown her both irrefutable evidence of God’s goodness and mercy, and some of the difficult and painful realities that many suffer; even so, she was surprised at how unprepared she felt to face her own tragedy. At last she said, “All I can do now is cling to my faith in God and pray that my love of Christ and for my children will help me survive.” For the present, her pain had clouded her ability to see her own courage and resolve. In the midst of such trouble, she was steadfast in Christ, and her intent was charity. I knew she and her children still had much to endure and to work through, but the words from Moroni echoed for us both that “whoso is found possessed of [charity] at the last day, it shall be well with [her” (Moro. 7:47). Through her excruciating experience of sifting for the true nature of love, she was literally offering what God requires of each of us, a broken heart and a contrite spirit. Her offering was also building in her strength and peace.

“Alex, it’s time to go to speech therapy,” Miss Jenkins said.
Alex ducked his head. Speech therapy was a special class he went to. He had trouble saying some words and sounds. So he had to practice them in speech class a few times a week. Every time he left his regular class, he felt so embarrassed!
He looked up at his teacher. “Could I skip it?” he whispered. “Just for today?”
Today, Mr. Timmons was coming to Alex’s class to talk about dinosaurs. Mr. Timmons worked at a museum with lots of cool dinosaur bones. He was even going to bring a bone that was thousands of years old! Alex didn’t want to miss out.
Miss Jenkins smiled. “You still need to go to your speech class. But you might get back in time for the last part of Mr. Timmons’s talk.”
Alex tried to smile back, but he couldn’t. He slowly walked to the speech therapy classroom. In class they practiced saying the same sound over and over. Learning about dinosaurs would have been more fun.
“I hate saying these stupid sounds,” he told his speech therapy teacher. “I feel like such a baby.”
“You’re not a baby at all,” she said. “We all need a little extra help sometimes. Did you know that I went to speech therapy when I was your age?”
That made Alex feel a little better. He worked hard for the rest of the class to practice his sounds.
When Alex got back to Miss Jenkins’s classroom, he saw his friend Courtney leaving.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Courtney looked down. “I’m having trouble with reading. I have to go to a special reading class.” Courtney looked embarrassed.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Alex said. “I just got back from my speech class. I spent the whole time making the same sound over and over.” He scrunched up his nose.
“You did?”
He nodded. “I’ve been going to speech therapy for the last two years.”
“How come I didn’t know?” she asked.
Alex shrugged. “I never told anyone. I was afraid they would make fun of me.”
“I would never make fun of you,” Courtney said. “I’m glad you made it back in time to see the dinosaur bone. It’s really cool!” She waved. “I’ve got to go. See you later.”
Soon Alex found out that he and Courtney weren’t the only ones who went to other classes. Tommy went to a class to help him learn better social skills. And Bekah worked with a special teacher to help her arm get stronger after she hurt it.
Now Alex didn’t feel so bad about his speech class. He wanted to help the other kids feel better too. He practiced reading with Courtney and talked to Tommy at lunch. Everyone needed a little extra help sometimes, and that was OK!
This story took place in the USA.

I’d like to begin by sharing a story that touches my heart.
One evening a man called his five sheep to come into the shelter for the night. His family watched with great interest as he simply called, “Come on,” and immediately all five heads lifted and turned in his direction. Four sheep broke into a run toward him. With loving-kindness he gently patted each of the four on the head. The sheep knew his voice and loved him.
But the fifth sheep didn’t come running. She was a large ewe that a few weeks earlier had been given away by her owner, who reported that she was wild, wayward, and always leading the other sheep astray. The new owner accepted the sheep and staked her in his own field for a few days so she would learn to stay put. He patiently taught her to love him and the other sheep until eventually she had only a short rope around her neck but was no longer staked down.
That evening as his family watched, the man approached the ewe, which stood at the edge of the field, and again he gently said, “Come on. You aren’t tied down anymore. You are free.” Then lovingly he reached out, placed his hand on her head, and walked back with her and the other sheep toward the shelter.

Beneath a clear night sky, the procession makes its way through the ancient, torch-lit streets of the city. The people are all carrying lamps and going joyously to a wedding feast to be held in a tiny inn.
Well, not really.
The whole beautiful scene actually consists of cardboard cutouts, Styrofoam, stage lamps, and many talented actors. You can’t always believe what you see in the movies.
Though the setting might be fake, Emilee Susannie Barber is for real. Emilee is playing the part of a wise virgin in the parable of the ten virgins for a Church Education System video. The message of the parable is for real too, and like the wise virgins of the parable, Emilee is trying to ensure she has enough oil for her lamp.
When she was first cast in the role, Emilee thought it was ironic because, she says, “I’m kind of a procrastinator.” She says she puts off her schoolwork and has a hard time studying the scriptures sometimes. But playing the part of someone who is prepared to meet the Lord reminded Emilee to keep Christ as the focus of her life. Besides her role as a wise virgin, Emilee has acted in numerous plays and televisions shows, including the television series Touched by an Angel. No matter what part she plays, Emilee says she tries to always have the Spirit with her.
Though Emilee finds it hard to keep going sometimes, she says, “Every day is a continual process because each day is a new day to grow closer to God.” She is collecting oil for her lamp by going to church every week and praying continually for the Holy Ghost to be with her. She hopes she will be ready for the time when the bridegroom comes.
To be prepared to meet the Savior when He comes is what Emilee is striving for. “That’s just an overwhelming thought. Just that moment would be so overwhelming,” she says. Emilee hopes those who watch the video will understand what the parable is trying to tell them: We all need to prepare to meet Christ now. Before all her performances, Emilee prays that she will be able to do her best and that the other performers will also. She prays too that the audiences she performs for will feel the Spirit and learn from her performance.
Though she feels she is unprepared in some aspects of her life, such as keeping a positive attitude about her trials, Emilee is trying to align her actions with her testimony of the gospel. She couldn’t imagine anything more awful than realizing that she would be locked out of the presence of her Savior because of her lack of preparation. But she also could not imagine anything more wonderful than being ready for Christ’s Second Coming. Emilee says one scripture sums up her attitude toward who she wants to be:
And at that day, when I shall come in my glory, shall the parable be fulfilled which I spake concerning the ten virgins.
For they that are wise and have received the truth, and have taken the Holy Spirit for their guide, and have not been deceived—verily I say unto you, they shall not be hewn down and cast into the fire, but shall abide the day (D&C 45:56–57).
Emilee wants to take the Holy Spirit for her guide. She says the Holy Spirit “pulls her out of her seat” to bear her testimony sometimes. Her testimony—Emilee says that’s her extra oil. That’s what keeps her lamp burning even in the darkest night. Her testimony grows strongest when she remembers with gratitude her relationship with the Savior. When she thinks of her friends who don’t have the gospel and don’t know that Christ is their Savior, she is even more grateful that Christ is a part of her life. She acknowledges that without Christ she would be nothing.
Besides all she learned from playing the part of a wise virgin, Emilee had lots of fun acting in an ancient setting. “It’s just really neat, because I usually don’t have the opportunity to play a historical figure in the Church.” She also says it was a learning experience to play someone whom everyone has heard of. She also learned more about the kinds of people she enjoys working with. It was a new experience for Emilee to work with a crew of Latter-day Saints, and she enjoyed opening the day’s work with a prayer and feeling like she was with her family.
What was the main reason Emilee enjoyed her part so much? She says, “I think this story has one of the greatest messages that you could show or tell someone.” We all need to be like the wise virgins and be ready for when the Lord comes again, because we will forever regret being foolish and unprepared.

The Bobcats’ soccer team was holding tryouts for new players and Jim’s dream had always been to play on that team. They were the city champs.
He ran all the way to the soccer field, but slowed down when he spotted the Bobcats’ black and bright yellow striped shirts. There they are, he reveled silently. All over the field, kicking, dribbling, and heading their soccer balls.
A small dark-haired boy was dribbling his ball along the edge of the sideline toward Jim. He ran like a whippet, keeping the ball close to his feet. When he saw Jim, he stopped and smiled. “Hi! Trying out today?” he asked.
Jim nodded.
“What position do you play?”
“Right or left wing.”
“Me too.”
The boy turned and started up the field. A No. 3 was printed on the back of his shirt. He darted and swerved, making quick turns as he dribbled among the other players. Jim watched him for a few moments. No. 3 is good and very fast, he decided.
Walking over to the coach, who was wearing a black sweat suit with the word Bobcats in yellow letters across the back, Jim took some deep breaths and tried to relax. His stomach felt kind of funny.
The coach was surrounded by boys in different colored shirts and shorts. He turned and, seeing Jim, smiled at him.
Jim swallowed. “My name is Jim—Jim Simpson,” he said.
“Ah! Yes, Jim! Your coach called and talked to me about you. So you want to play for the Bobcats?”
Jim nodded.
The coach smiled and pulled out a whistle from his pocket. He blew it once. All the Bobcats ran toward him.
“Ok, boys, let’s have a practice game. All of you not in uniform take off your shirts—the Skins against the Bobcats. You new boys, listen as I call your name and position.”
Jim finally heard his name. “Jim Simpson, right halfback.”
Right halfback! He had been playing wing for five years. It was his special spot. Jim decided not to say anything. All the boys ran out onto the field and took their positions. The coach blew his whistle and the game began.
The ball was kicked right by Jim. He hesitated momentarily and missed it. He glanced at the coach, but he wasn’t watching. The Bobcats’ No. 3 had control of the ball and was pressing hard down the field. Jim ran toward him and reached out to kick the ball away, but No. 3 had quickly turned and headed toward the sideline. Jim was right behind him. No. 3 stopped and tapped the ball up into the air with his foot. Jim ran around the player and reached for the ball, but No. 2 had already started dribbling away toward the penalty area. Jim raced after him. He saw No. 3 chip the ball to the waiting Bobcat center forward who was right in front of the net. The center forward jumped up and headed the ball down to the right of the goalie’s outstretched arms. It shot past the goalie and bounced off the back of the net.
As the Bobcats ran back toward the center of the field, No. 3 called to the Bobcat center, “All right!” “Good work, boys!” the coach congratulated them.
Jim looked down at his cleats and frowned. The Bobcats were a tough team, but maybe he could slow down their No. 3 by trying to keep him away from the ball. For the rest of the half, Jim stuck close to No. 3 and kept after him, never letting up. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead.
Once No. 3 turned and said, “What are you, my shadow?”
Jim grinned and raced after him to the other end of the field.
But a few seconds later, his smile faded as he watched the Bobcats score again. No. 3 had assisted on the goal by swerving the ball around three Skin defenders to a waiting teammate, who turned and shot the ball under the crossbar. The score was now 2–0.
The game continued with the Bobcats easily passing the ball from one to another. The Skins chased after them, never getting control of the ball for very long. Twice the Bobcats shot at the goal and missed. Then late in the second half, the Bobcat sweeper sent the ball halfway down the field toward No. 3, who lightly turned the ball with his foot and started to work his way to the sideline. Jim ran beside him, trying to get the ball, but No. 3 was always a step ahead. Suddenly No. 3 stopped and tapped the ball up into the air with his foot. Jim muttered, “Just like last time.”
But this time Jim didn’t run to the side. As the ball started down toward the ground, he reached with his foot under No. 3’s right leg and backheeled it. He had a happy grin on his face as he turned and quickly moved the ball back down the field toward the Bobcats’ goalie. He dribbled around the Bobcat halfback and passed to the Skins’ center halfback, who streaked up the middle of the field. Jim kept up with him. He looked over his shoulder and saw No. 3 close behind him. Then Jim poured it on. With a burst of speed, he pulled ahead and turned toward his teammate, who passed the ball to him. He heard the Bobcat fullback, who was all by himself in front of the goalie, yell, “Help!”
Jim tore down the field toward them. The goalie crouched between the goalposts. Jim knew he had to fake the fullback out, and he knew how to do it. As the fullback tried to get the ball, Jim leaned his body to the left. The fullback leaned in the same direction. So did the goalie. With his right foot, Jim shot the ball past the fullback to an opening right between the goalpost and the goalie. The goalie dove down on the ball, but it slid out and Jim was right there. Stepping over the goalie’s arm, his left foot reached out and smacked the ball into the net. The score was now 2–1! A second later the coach blew his whistle. “Game’s over!” he called.
Raising his arms above his head, Jim leaped up into the air. He had worked hard for his goal.
No. 3 walked over to him. “Say, shadow, that was a good goal.”
“Thanks.”
“Jim!” the coach called across the field. “Stick around, I want to talk to you.”
No. 3 touched Jim’s arm. “Hope you made the team.”
Jim shook his head wearily. “I made a goal, but I don’t think I played good enough for the Bobcats.”
Sighing, he sat down on the grass. He watched No. 3 run down the field toward the water fountain. It looked like the Bobcats had a terrific wing. I’m just not fast enough, Jim concluded. Even if the coach asked me to be on the team, I’d probably spend all my time standing around on the sidelines. I’d probably never get a chance to play because their other wing is good too.
“That was some goal!”
Jim looked up as the coach sat down next to him.
“You have good balance—leaning one way and shooting with the other foot.”
“I saw it done on TV, and I’ve been practicing.”
“Sounds like you’re pretty serious about soccer.”
Jim smiled, “It’s my favorite sport. I’d like to learn how to play it better.”
“I’ve been watching you play, Jim. I came to quite a few of your games. You know it isn’t often that someone takes the ball away from Tony—he’s No. 3. He’s a fast wing, and you control the ball well. You’d make a good halfback. I think you two would make a great combination. How’d you like to come to the team’s regular practice next Tuesday?”
Jim could hardly believe what he heard. His eyes sparkled as he nodded his head. “I’d like that, coach. I’d really like to be a Bobcat.”
“Good, because that’s just what you are!”

Nathalie also served a mission. She was originally called to serve in Nigeria. A delay in receiving a visa for Nigeria stretched throughout her mission so she was reassigned to her home country. This would prove providential, for it was while serving in a Kinshasa ward that she came to know Thierry’s parents. During Nathalie mission, Thierry’s mother told her returned missionary son about Sister Nathalie Sinda. “There is a sister missionary in our ward, and she is just amazing, if one day you could get married to that sister missionary, you would be the happiest man.”

One day, months after that conversation with his mother, a friend of Terry’s took him to visit some mutual friends. Nathalie Sinda was at that home. She came out to see the visitors. She had been home from her mission for one day. Terry was surprised to meet the woman his mother had raved about. Remembering his mother’s suggestion, he asked her out on a date. One year later, they were married. Thierry’s mother was right, Nathalie is amazing.

DRC is the second poorest country in the world. In 2002, the average income per person for a year was less than $100 (US Dollars). On November 29, 2002, they were married in a civil ceremony. Their love was abundant, money was not. After being married, the newlyweds went to their ward building where a member had made donuts and juice and invited friends to fete the young couple. Nearly two years later, on November 19, 2004, they were sealed for time and all eternity in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple.

Shortly after President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, was called as a General Authority, he went to Elder Harold B. Lee (1899–1973) for counsel. President Packer recalled:
“He listened very carefully to my problem and suggested that I see President David O. McKay [1873–1970]. President McKay counseled me as to the direction I should go. I was very willing to be obedient but saw no way possible for me to do as he counseled me to do.
“I returned to Elder Lee and told him that I saw no way to move in the direction I was counseled to go. He said, ‘The trouble with you is you want to see the end from the beginning.’ I replied that I would like to see at least a step or two ahead. Then came the lesson of a lifetime: ‘You must learn to walk to the edge of the light, and then a few steps into the darkness; then the light will appear and show the way before you.’”2

The greatest challenge came in 1983, when we moved. We lived outside of a city, and I commuted an hour each way to work. This meant that I had to leave home every morning before the children woke up.
We solved the problem by switching our scripture reading to evenings, just before bedtime. Reading then required much more discipline. Busy schedules, homework, television, and even Church activities competed for our time. But after a few weeks the routine was established, and we continued on our way.

Later in my youth, my brother and I slept in an unheated bedroom in the winter. People thought that was good for you. Before falling into a warm bed, we knelt to say our prayers. There were expressions of simple gratitude. They concluded in the name of Jesus. The distinctive title of Christ was not used very much when we prayed in those days.

I recall jumping into my bed after I had said amen, pulling the covers up around my neck, and thinking of what I had just done in speaking to my Father in Heaven in the name of His Son. I did not have great knowledge of the gospel. But there was some kind of lingering peace and security in communing with the heavens in and through the Lord Jesus.

The summer I was 15, a new family with teenage daughters moved into the ward. While my family was considered “goody-goody,” this family, though they were active, was definitely not goody-goody. The teenage girls always seemed to be having fun, and I felt awkward and left out when I was around them. But when it was time for girls’ camp that summer, I, of all people, was assigned to their cabin. I was determined to prove that I was not as goody-two-shoes as I seemed.
The campground where we had girls’ camp was used by other groups throughout the summer. On the rafters of the cabins, some of them had written their names and the year they were at camp. We were on the top bunks, reading some of the names, when one of the girls said, “We should put our names up there too.”
“Sure!” I agreed.
“No way you would do that,” said the other girl.
“Sure, I would,” I said. I decided that one more name wouldn’t really be noticeable. I also noted that the other girls thought it would be something on the edge—a thing they might do, but not something a straight arrow like me would do.
We pulled out some markers and began. The other girls wrote their names in small letters and with little flourish. I, however, wrote my name, the date, and “Girls’ Camp” in 5-inch-high flowing script with a decorative flower finish. The other girls were impressed, and we went to bed. I thought no more of it.
Others did, however. During cabin inspections, our decorations were discovered, and we were given bleach, water, and sandpaper to try to repair the damage we had done. I couldn’t erase my ink, which had penetrated the rough wood beams. After the fruitless scrubbing, the other girls were dismissed, and I got a lecture.
I heard how my actions would hurt the Church’s reputation. I heard how disappointed the leaders were that I would do something like that. “We wouldn’t expect it of you,” I heard over and over. And every evening, my name glared at me from the rafter overhead, shaming me in brilliant blue.
I was allowed to stay at camp and eventually stopped hearing about my transgression. But I heard more once I got home. The camp staff had called my parents.
My mom didn’t get angry, but her disappointment was deep. She asked why I did it. I explained how I felt left out and how I wanted to do something to show I could walk on the edge.
After talking to my mom I realized that I had done to my family and to myself the same thing I had done to the Church. By plastering my name where it shouldn’t have been in an act of vandalism, I had demeaned my parents’ good name.
I also realized that when I pursue popularity at the expense of respect, I am in danger of dishonoring the name of Christ or giving others the impression that I don’t belong to His family.
Since this experience I have often thought what a blessing it will be if, at the end of this life, we can give a good report to our Savior when He asks what we have done with His name. None of us will want to admit that we sold our good name for social acceptance or that we gave it up for a questionable video, for a girlfriend or boyfriend, for a bottle of beer, or for the laughter of friends. I know we will want to say that we have preserved our name by standing for truth and righteousness at all times—when it’s easy and fun and even when it’s not.
What’s in a name? As I realized that summer at girls’ camp, it can be quite a lot. When I think of my name blaring bright blue to future generations of campers, I remember the blessing and responsibility of carrying a good name, both for my mortal family and for the Church and family of Christ.

A young woman I know was a little frustrated with friends questioning her standards: “Why can’t you date before 16?” “Why don’t you drink?” When she prayed about how to handle this situation, this idea came to her mind: “I’m going to put a For the Strength of Youth booklet in my jeans pocket. When people question me about, for example, dating, I’ll give them the book and tell them to read the section on dating.”

It turned out to be a great idea! In three months she gave out 52 copies of For the Strength of Youth. And three new friends started attending church with her.

This young woman was bold in a friendly way and didn’t apologize for her standards. When youth live standards clearly and without apology, others will respect them and look to their example.Mary N. Cook, second counselor in the Young Women general presidency.

“At the end of the 1980s, … life was good [for me and my family], and everything seemed to be as it should be—until one day an old friend came to visit us.
“At the conclusion of his visit, he made a comment and asked a question that unsettled my convictions. He said, ‘Carlos, everything seems to be going well for you, your family, your career, and your service in the Church, but—’ and then came the question, ‘if you continue to live as you are living, will the blessings promised in your patriarchal blessing be fulfilled?’
“I had never thought about my patriarchal blessing in this way. I read it from time to time but never with the intent of looking toward the blessings promised in the future and evaluating how I was living in the present.
“After his visit, I turned my attention to my patriarchal blessing, wondering, ‘If we continue to live as we are living, will the promised blessings be fulfilled?’ After some pondering, I had the feeling that some changes were necessary.”

That one sentence, “It was worse than I ever anticipated,” contains an agony of heartbreak. What it meant was that her mother forbade her to reenter her childhood home. Her husband told her she must choose between her family and her faith; weeping in anguish, she refused to deny her testimony, and he abandoned her and her four little girls. Elizabeth found work in a woolen mill, laboring with the baby in a basket by the loom, and managing to support them all. Seeing her undefeated, William returned and took all four children to London. Under the law, there was nothing she could do to stop him or reclaim them.

In 1932, Lauri Lehtinen of Finland was favored to win the 5,000-meter run. An American named Hill challenged Lehtinen on the home stretch, bringing the crowd to its feet. As Hill moved to pass, Lehtinen swerved into his path. Hill tried to pass on the other side, and Lehtinen blocked his path again and forced the American to break stride. Hill barely missed catching Lehtinen at the wire.
The fans booed so long and loud that officials held up naming the winner for more than an hour. But since there was nothing illegal about the blocking, they declared the Finn the winner.
As Lehtinen mounted the victory stand’s top step, an enormous chorus of boos erupted. When the olive wreath was placed on his head, Lehtinen removed it, stepped down, and placed the wreath on Hill’s head.

Some have thought it important to give a gift to the Savior at Christmastime. President Kimball relates one such gift he received that was earmarked for the Savior. I’d like to quote somewhat from his remarks.
“In one of the stakes of Zion lives a family who also believes in a birthday for Jesus. … They gave me a crisp fifty dollar bill [and] said, ‘Today is the Lord’s birthday. We always give gifts to our family members on their birthdays. We should like to give a gift to the Saviour. Will you please place this money where it will please the Redeemer most?’
“Two days later, Sister Kimball and I were on our way to Europe for a six-month’s tour of all the missions. As we made hasty and extensive preparations, we kept thinking about the birthday gift entrusted to us, and then the thought came to us that perhaps in Europe we would find the most appreciative recipient.
“For months we toured the missions, held meetings with the missionaries and Saints, and met many wonderful folks. There were numerous opportunities to present the gift, for the majority of the Saints over there could use extra funds. But we waited. Toward the end of the mission tour, we met a little woman in Germany. She was a widow; or was she? For she had been alone with her family of children for ten years. Whether her husband was deceased or not, she did not know. A victim of World War II, he had disappeared and no word had ever come from him. It was said that he was behind the Iron Curtain. The little folks who were but children when he was taken away were now near grown, and the son was a full-time missionary among his German people.
“It was nearing the time of the temple dedication at Bern, Switzerland. I said to this good woman, ‘Are you going to the temple dedication?’ I saw the disappointment in her eyes as she said how she would like to go, but how impossible it was because of lack of finances. ‘Here is the place for the gift’ was the thought which rooted itself in my mind. I quietly checked with the mission president as to her worthiness and the appropriateness of her going to the temple; and then I gave to him half of the gift, which he assured me would pay the actual bus transportation to Bern and return.
“A few weeks later we were in southern France. … We were one hour late for our meeting at Nice. It was a hot night. The building was filled to capacity. A woman sat at the piano, entertaining this large crowd until our arrival. For one hour she had played. I was embarrassed for our delay and so grateful to her for what she had done to hold the group and entertain them that I inquired concerning her. Her husband, a professor, had died not long ago and the widow was making a meager living through her musical talents. She was a rather recent convert. Her mission president and the elder assured me that she was worthy and deserving so I left with her mission president to be given to her the other half of the Saviour’s gift.
“We completed our mission tours … and finally returned to Bern for the dedication service of the Swiss Temple. The prophet of the Lord, President David O. McKay, was present with three of the apostles. After the glorious dedication meetings were over, the regular temple services were conducted in the various languages. As I assisted the French Saints in their session, I was conscious of the little musician; and she literally beamed as she was enjoying the Saviour’s birthday gift. She had used it to pay for her transportation to the temple. Her eyes shone with a new luster; her step was lighter; she radiated joy and peace as she came through the temple with new light, new hope. And I whispered to myself, ‘Thank the Lord for good folks who remember the Redeemer on his birthday.’”4

by Kim R. Burningham
When the teenagers of the Bountiful 29th Ward speak of their grandparents, the listener could get confused. True, they might be referring to their mother’s parents or their father’s parents, but they might also be talking about their “adopted” grandparents.
The bishopric youth committee of the ward decided to embark on what has turned out to be an exciting service project. Near the ward are two care centers where a large number of aging patients reside. Some of the patients have no family, or if they do, the family lives some distance away from the care center and is unable to visit often. It was decided that if every young person in the ward were to adopt one of the patients as a “grandparent,” the young people could provide some much-needed companionship for the lonely patients.
Youth in the ward try to visit their “grandparents” at least once a week. Sometimes they play chess with them or read to them. Often they just talk. The grandparents love to reminisce, and they are happy for the new friends. When Kim Bailey and Julie Bradford were visiting with Billy, a semiretarded patient at the care center, he looked up at them and said simply, “Do you mind if I like you?” Julie and Kim found that it was easy to be friends.
Members of the Beehive class and several of the other girls have quilted lap blankets for their grandparents. Shelley Moss took the quilt to her grandmother for a Christmas present. “When she received it we all cried, and it made the whole adopt-a-grandparent program worthwhile. Now every time I go to Della, my quilt is folded nicely on the edge of the bed.”
Kathleen Kirkham, president of the Mia Maid class, explained that “many of our class members are at the point where they don’t have to go to visit their grandparents, but they want to go.”
Tuevo Jones, a priest, said that “although it may seem a bit of a bother, I always walk out of the care center with a better feeling than when I went in.”

by Jeanne McInelly
The silent dignity of the Arkansas House of Representatives was pierced with shouts of “Contact! Contact!” A hundred Arkansas seminary students were clamoring for points in the final scripture chase contest of the year.
“Hold it down! Quiet, quiet! Let’s remember where we are,” cautioned the teacher. “Are you ready? Here’s the clue for scripture number seven.”
It all began the month before in seminary officers meeting where plans were being laid for the next Super Saturday.
“Hey, our lesson is on good government next month.”
“Wow, let’s all go to Washington!”
“No, we’ve got roadshow practice that morning.”
“Well, how about having our lesson at the state capitol building at Little Rock?”
“You’ve got to be important to get in there.”
“Well, so who’s more important than LDS seminary students from all over the state—in our Sunday best?”
“It’s worth trying for. At least after we ask they’ll know there are Mormons in Arkansas.”
Within a week officials were approached, permission was received, and the secretary of state had agreed to speak to the group. Bright picture postcards of the capitol building arrived at all 12 seminary classes around the state announcing the news.
“We’ve got the state capitol building for the next month’s Super Saturday! Be sure to dress up. Now we’re the VIPs.”
The morning of the activity, prior to the lesson, the seminary officers met in a plush committee room complete with microphones at each desk and swivel executive chairs.
“Such class! We ought to meet here every month.”
“So this is what my license plate fee pays for!”
For the lesson students climbed the white marble stairs leading to the assembly room where a seminary fife and drum corps brought in the flag. The Arkansas secretary of state, Kelly Bryant, was a special guest speaker. Some visitors touring the building paused to admire the group and to ask, “Are these kids some special committee for the governor?”
As part of the lesson students impersonating prominent Book of Mormon characters gave campaign speeches in an effort to win votes from the group and gain imaginary seats on the Zarahemla City Council. As this was in progress, one of the state representatives, returning with his wife for some papers, paused to listen and chuckle at King Noah as he confused his interrogators with evasive answers and political double talk. “He sounds like one of us at a press conference,” laughed the representative.
After the lesson students were treated to a tour of the governor’s conference room. Their enthusiasm and good deportment won them a rare peek at the chambers of the state supreme court. “Nobody gets to see these rooms except on court day, but for you I’ll make an exception,” said their guide.
Picnic lunches under the sweet Magnolia trees on the capitol grounds rounded out the impressive day. Between crunches of potato chips, conversations were overheard:
“You know, one of our seminary group just might be a state legislator here someday.”
“Yeah, that kid who played King Noah seemed like he had potential.”

On an afternoon a few months ago, Susan and I inventoried our food storage and emergency supplies. At the time, COVID-19 was spreading rapidly, and a series of earthquakes had jolted our home in Utah. We have worked since the earliest days of our marriage to follow prophetic counsel about preparing for unforeseen challenges, so “examining” our state of readiness in the midst of the virus and earthquakes seemed like a good and timely thing to do. We wanted to find out our grades on these unannounced tests.
We learned a great deal. In many areas, our preparatory work was just right. In some other areas, however, improvement was necessary because we had not recognized and addressed particular needs in timely ways.
We also laughed a lot. We discovered, for example, items in a remote closet that had been in our food storage for decades. Frankly, we were afraid to open and inspect some of the containers for fear of unleashing another global pandemic! But you should be happy to know that we properly disposed of the hazardous materials and that health risk to the world was eliminated.