Gospel Story Finder

by Lynn Radnedge
Having just landed a part in one of the London West End theatres’ newest and most lavish productions, “Bugsy Malone,” 15-year-old Amy Wilkins knows she is on the threshold of something really exciting. She was selected out of 10,000 who auditioned for one of the three parts. But she is emphatic about one thing: nothing is going to endanger her church life.
Declares talented Amy, a member of the Wandsworth Ward in the London England Wandsworth Stake, “If my participation in the play threatens my church activity, I’ll give it all up.”
She has enormous confidence in the faith that has kept her and her family of five brothers and sisters firmly rooted in gospel principles all of their lives.
Already she has refused to participate in certain forms of dancing at the world-famous Italia Conti Stage School in London, where she studies. “Surprisingly, my teacher didn’t mind,” said Amy, whose father Reg is a former bishop at the Wandsworth Ward and is an international photographer. “I told her my reasons, and she just accepted my decision.”
Amy is convinced that the path she is treading towards success in show business is the right one because she and her family discussed it at great length and prayed about it before she set out to audition for the stage two years ago. Two thousand young hopefuls auditioned for the school and only 20, including Amy, were accepted.
“Most of my friends are members, and those at school know I am a Mormon and know what I stand for,” she continued. “I hope it’s always going to stay this way, and I’ll certainly do my best to see that it does.”

Emily tried hard all summer. She didn’t dig up any more carrot seeds, even when the green tops popped up along the row. But she did weed the garden while she waited. And she swam and ran and played. She even learned to wait for other things—for ice cubes to freeze in the freezer, for her turn to ride on the back of a camel at the zoo, and for lots of other things. She even learned to wait to talk to Mom or Dad when they were busy.
While Emily waited, the plants grew in the garden. When it was time, she helped to pick pea pods and yellow beans, and tall green onions. At last it was time for the carrots.
Dad showed her how to loosen the dirt around the carrots and then how to hold the green tops and pull out the carrots one by one. Emily filled her basket with long, fat carrots. Then she ran to the house to show Mom. “Look how big they grew!”
“Yes, they did,” Mom said, “and so did you!”
“Did I get taller?” Emily asked.
“You grew taller and wiser.”
“Wiser?” Emily asked.
“Waiting made you wiser.”
“Waiting made me want to eat carrots,” Emily said, “so I’m going to eat one right now!”
“Wait until I wash one,” Mom said.
But Emily didn’t wait. She took a big carrot and washed it herself. “Now I will eat the best carrot I have ever eaten,” she said. And she did.

When I was a young boy growing up in South Africa, I was not a member of the Church. But I read the Bible and said my prayers often, like my parents had taught me to. Because of that, I always felt that the Lord was close to me. I especially liked reading stories about Jesus’s life. I tried to be honest, hardworking, trustworthy, and kind, like Jesus. That’s what the scriptures and Jesus’s example taught me.
revelation: messages or direction from Heavenly Father
From reading the Bible, I also learned what the Church was like when Jesus was alive. And it made me wonder why none of the churches I knew about looked like Jesus’s Church had. Why don’t they have prophets and apostles? I wondered. Why isn’t there revelation in our day?
One day when I was older, two missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints knocked on our door. “We have a message for you,” they said.
My mother, who was a very friendly person, said, “We’d like to hear it. Will you come back this evening?” When the missionaries came that evening, the room was full—my mother and father, my four siblings, and me. My parents had even invited our neighbors over to listen to the missionaries.
My family was amazed by what they taught. We were thrilled that Jesus’s Church had been restored. It was a church with prophets and apostles! Over time, the missionaries answered all the questions that I had from prayerfully reading the scriptures. Because my family and I were already familiar with the Bible, we were ready to hear the missionaries’ message. We were excited about the gospel. Our neighbors didn’t feel the same excitement.
What truly converted me to the gospel was the Book of Mormon. I read some verses from it. Then one day I decided to follow Moroni’s promise to “ask God … if these things are not true; and … he will manifest the truth of it unto you” (Moroni 10:4). So I said a prayer and started reading the very first verse in the Book of Mormon. When I read it, the Holy Ghost witnessed to me in a wonderful way that the Book of Mormon truly is the word of God.
You’re never too young to start reading the scriptures and praying every day. Doing those things will help you know what is true. It will give you faith and the courage to make right decisions.
God doesn’t expect us to rely on anyone else’s testimony of the gospel. He will tell us Himself that the gospel and the Book of Mormon are true. If we are sincere and pray with faith, He will answer our prayers to know the truth.

Olá! My name is Alice, and I try to SHINE MY LIGHT by SHOWING GRATITUDE!
I live in Brazil with my parents and sister and brother. My sister, Julia, and I play the piano for sacrament meeting in our ward.
One Sunday, a man named Brother Stahlke gave us a present. He said it was a gift to thank us for the music we played on Sundays. When we opened the box, we found a special kind of flute inside! I put the flute together and started playing. I was enchanted by the sound.
Soon I started playing hymns on the flute. I wanted to do something to thank Brother Stahlke for the gift. So I practiced the hymn “How Great the Wisdom and the Love” (Hymns, no. 195). I asked my dad to take me to Brother Stahlke’s house so I could show him that his gift helped me discover a new talent.
When I played for Brother Stahlke, he was very happy and emotional. He told me that he had a dream about this hymn the night before! I felt the love of God for him and for me.
When we show gratitude, the Lord blesses us with happy feelings from the Holy Ghost.

The day we interviewed Talon Hobbs of Franklin, Idaho, it was easy to see why he loved his small family farm so much. The hill behind their fields glowed gold in the sun and was plastered against the dark green of the mountains. The sky was intense blue. The air was clean and crisp, with the drifting scents of fresh hay and distant animals. It was the kind of day that makes you want to stand still and enjoy where you are and what you are doing.
In fact, that is exactly the reason Talon gives for wanting to go into the family business. At 18, he has learned from his father how to do virtually every job on the farm. “My dad tells me what I need to get done, but I can choose what I do throughout the day. It’s really quiet. You’re not stressed. You get to have your quiet time. That’s what I really like about it.”
But it’s not easy work. There’s no such thing as procrastination when chores need to be done and animals cared for. “I figure you might as well get the worst job done first, then you get to do the easier ones. There is always something to do.”
And what about when it’s winter, when it’s 20º below with the snow blowing? Talon shrugs because he doesn’t really see that as the worst thing. “You just have to deal with it.” He goes on to explain how his parents will give their hired hands the day off on holidays such as Christmas. “We used to groan and moan about it when we were little, but now it’s our family tradition to be on the farm on Christmas Day doing the chores together.”
Ironically, the only way that Talon Hobbs will get to own part of the family farm and the outdoor life he craves is by getting more indoor learning. “I’ve always wanted to farm, even when I was little. I wanted to have some of my own animals, but Dad didn’t want me to get too tied down. He wanted to give us the opportunity to go to college. I plan to go into animal science. I’d like to take some plant science classes, and learn how to add to the farm and make it better. I’ll need to learn some small business management. I figure it’s better for me to take classes than struggle my whole life trying to figure it out.”
In the meantime Talon is getting ready for another kind of advanced education, his mission. Looking back, his mission preparation has been going on for years. He tells of meeting a girl just as they were starting high school and how he admired how she stood up for the gospel. He says, “I saw that she could be strong at that age, and her example made me realize that I also knew the Church is true. It made me think. Choosing to follow the Church may not always be the popular thing to do, but it’s always the best.”

My third experience is more recent. Three years ago, Gwen and I made the difficult decision to uproot our family from Eagle, Idaho, and move here to Provo. The initial promptings that we received were clear and strong, but we—along with all our neighbors and friends—continued to wonder why we would ever leave our seemingly perfect life in Idaho.

In this anxious condition, just a couple of months before our departure, I found myself up in the mountains prayerfully considering how we would successfully navigate such a profound disruption to our comfortable family life, especially for our daughters and our two young boys, Trenton and Henry. I was participating in a camp with the young women who were graduating seniors in our stake, and on the second day, I took an early-morning walk by myself along a road adjacent to the river. My oldest daughter, Olivia, had been asked to sing a song at our upcoming testimony meeting, and when we had walked along the river the night before, she had requested that I sing with her. She had selected the hymn “Jesus, Lover of My Soul”—a favorite hymn of my Grandpa Joel Sedgwick that Olivia and I had sung many times together.

As I proceeded down the road that morning, I practiced my part:
Jesus, lover of my soul,Let me to thy bosom fly,While the nearer waters roll,While the tempest still is high. . . .
Other refuge have I none;Hangs my helpless soul on thee. . . .All my trust on thee is stayed;All my help from thee I bring.Cover my defenseless headWith the shadow of thy wing.

As I sang, I felt some anxiety about the impending changes in our family life. The nearer waters were rolling by, and the tempest was still high in my mind. I had no refuge, and I needed somewhere to hang my helpless soul. I really needed the shadow of His wing.

At that moment of deep apprehension, I felt the presence of my grandpa. As I sang the words of his favorite hymn, I felt he was speaking directly to me—imploring me to be strong and assuring me that I was on the right path. As though he were there walking beside me, he said, “Richard, everything will be okay for you and your family. God has a work for you to do. You are going home: you will be living on the property that you took care of in your youth. You have worked every inch of it with me, and I will be there with you.”

I had not taken the time to contemplate that, during our first year in Provo, I would be living in the home that my grandpa had built and that he had hired me to care for when I was the age that my boys are now. I had worked for my grandpa for a few years because he had grown too old to mow, rototill, weed, clean, paint, garden, and so on. Hearkening back to my blissful childhood, I imagined myself in that place with him, and I was immediately comforted by his inspired words. Moreover, I felt remarkable peace knowing that our children would have the opportunity to connect more meaningfully with both my parents and Gwen’s parents—perhaps helping to care for them, learning from them, and, ultimately, believing on their words.

When the prophet Alma was troubled over those who had fallen into iniquity because “they did not believe the tradition of their fathers” (Mosiah 26:1), he inquired as to what he should do. The Lord’s response is instructive regarding the importance of believing on the words of others:
Blessed art thou, Alma, and blessed are they who were baptized in the waters of Mormon. Thou art blessed because of thy exceeding faith in the words alone of my servant Abinadi.
And blessed are they because of their exceeding faith in the words alone which thou hast spoken unto them. [Mosiah 26:15–16; emphasis added]
I was on the bank of the Payette River instead of the Waters of Mormon, but I was blessed that morning just the same. The heavens brought peace to my mind and comfort to my soul through the angelic ministering of my grandfather. The Lord reinforced what He would have me do in my life, and it was clear that He was directing me and my family for good. I believed “in the words alone” that my grandfather had spoken unto me, and the witness I received is that Jesus Christ is the lover of our souls.

A true story from the USA.
Ethan’s face got warm as he stared at the picture on the computer. He didn’t mean to see it. It had popped up randomly while he was doing homework. This is pornography, he thought. He should close the computer and go tell his parents.
“Ethan! Time for dinner,” Dad said from the kitchen. Ethan closed the computer. His heart raced.
He didn’t want to tell his parents. Not yet.
The next day, Ethan did his homework on the laptop again. He usually did homework in the living room. But Mom and Dad were busy. Nobody would notice if he took the laptop into his bedroom.
He closed the door and sat on his bed. The pictures he saw yesterday kept coming to his mind. They made him curious. He finished his homework quickly so he could find more.
His curiosity grew the more he looked. It also made him feel excited.
Footsteps sounded down the hall. Ethan quickly closed the laptop and pushed it under a blanket. A moment later, someone knocked on his door.
“Come in,” Ethan said.
Dad opened the door and peeked inside. “How’s your homework?”
Ethan nodded. “Good. I’m done.”
Can Dad tell I’m lying? he wondered.
But Dad didn’t say anything about it.
The next day after school, Ethan went to his room with his laptop and started looking online again.
“Ethan!” Mom called down the hall. “Time for dinner.”
Ethan looked at the time. It had been hours since he started looking at pornography on the computer!
At dinner, Ethan sat with his family but just stared down at the food on his plate. That night before bed, he didn’t even want to pray. He felt too guilty.
Ethan felt bad every time he looked at the pictures. He wanted to stop. But he didn’t know how.
One day after dinner, before he could go to his room, Dad stopped him. “Ethan, do you want some ice cream? Mom took your brother and sister to their soccer games.”
Ethan loved ice cream! He set down the laptop. “Sure.”
While they got out bowls and ice cream, Dad asked about school and friends. Ethan ate delicious mint chocolate ice cream and laughed when Dad told a story about his own friends.
Dad was almost finished with his ice cream when he asked, “Ethan, have you ever seen pornography?”
Ethan’s face got really hot. “I don’t know.”
“It’s OK to tell me if you have,” Dad said. “You don’t have to be embarrassed or ashamed. It’s normal to be curious about it. We can talk about it anytime.”
Dad didn’t sound mad. Ethan felt brave enough to talk to him. He knew the Holy Ghost was helping him.
“OK.” Ethan took a deep breath. “It was an accident at first. But I was curious and didn’t want to stop. Now it’s a bad habit. And I feel bad inside, like I don’t think I can pray.”
Dad put his spoon down and gave Ethan a hug. “I love you. Heavenly Father loves you too. He knows that sometimes we make wrong choices. That’s why He sent Jesus Christ to help us. And that’s why He sent me and Mom to help you too.”
Dad looked into Ethan’s eyes. “And He always wants you to pray. No matter what.”
Ethan felt hope in his heart. “Will you help me say a prayer now?”
“Of course.”
Ethan and Dad bowed their heads and folded their arms. “Dear Heavenly Father,” Ethan said. “Please forgive me for looking at pornography. Please give me strength to stop. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
When the prayer finished, Dad gave him another hug. “I’ll always be here for you, OK?”
Ethan smiled. “OK.” For the first time in days, he felt good inside. He knew that his parents, Heavenly Father, and Jesus Christ would help him.

I realized that Todd was very unhappy that day. At first he didn’t even want to come out and play with me, and I’m his best friend! Then, after a little encouragement from his mother, he did come out.
“How about playing with the ball?” I asked hopefully. “We can try your new bat! I’ll even pitch to you first!”
“No, I don’t feel like it,” Todd said, pushing his hands in his pants pockets and kicking a stone off the sidewalk. “I don’t feel like doing anything!”
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “You’re always ready to play a game of ball, especially if I’m willing to pitch to you first. Are you sick?”
“I just don’t feel very well. My grandma died,” Todd answered, quickly brushing away a tear from his cheek.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess you miss her a lot.”
“Miss her! I’ll never see her again!”
“Yes, you will,” I said. “She just went to the spirit world.”
“The what?”
“The spirit world,” I repeated. “That’s where everyone goes when he dies.”
“Will I really see her again? And can I visit on weekends like I used to?”
“Not now—because you’re still alive. But after you die, you’ll go to the spirit world too.”
“Really?” Todd asked excitedly. “Will she make me my favorite chocolate cake?”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said. “But I do know that someday everyone will be resurrected.”
“What does that mean?” Todd asked.
“That means that your spirit and your body will get back together, and you will live again!”
“How do you know all this?” Todd asked, suddenly suspicious.
“My mother taught us that in family home evening last Monday.”
“So you didn’t make it all up?”
“No. It’s true!”
“Okay. I still miss her, but maybe I can play just one game with you.”
“Great! Let’s go!” I thought that I had convinced him and that everything would be all right, but that evening Todd came over to our house with his parents. They seemed really upset. I’m in trouble now, I thought, so I tried to hide.
“Patrick, come here,” my mother called.
“Patrick,” Todd’s mother began when I entered the room, “today you told Todd that he would see his grandmother again. Now, no matter what we say, he won’t listen to anything different. Todd’s grandmother is dead, and there is no way that we’ll see her again. We need you to tell Todd that.”
“I can’t,” I said softly. Todd looked at me, and I knew that I was in real trouble.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
She was really upset with me, but Mom saved me. “What he means,” my mom began as she stepped forward and placed her hands on my shoulders, “is that we believe that Todd will see his grandmother again. And so will all of you.”
“But, Lisa,” Todd’s mother pleaded with my mother, “how can you know this? What proof do you have?”
“I’ll show you.” She let go of my shoulders, got her Bible, and turned the pages until she stopped and read this passage aloud: “Thus saith the Lord God; Behold, O my people, I will open your graves, and cause you to come up out of your graves, and bring you into the land of Israel.
“And ye shall know that I am the Lord, when I have opened your graves, O my people, and brought you up out of your graves” (Ezek. 37:12–13).
“Lisa,” Todd’s dad asked my mother suspiciously, “is that a quote from your ‘Golden Bible?’”
“Oh, you mean the Book of Mormon. No, this is just a regular version of the Bible,” Mom replied.
“Well,” said Todd’s mom. “That’s the same Bible that we use. I wonder why we never saw that before.”
“We will all be resurrected as Jesus Christ was,” Mom explained. “That means that we will all live again, just as Patrick was telling Todd. In 1 Corinthians 15:21–22, it says, ‘For since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead.
“‘For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive.’” [1 Cor. 15:21–22]
They just stood there in silence for a moment, then Todd’s mom began quietly. “I guess I owe you an apology, Patrick. I never knew that was all in the Bible.”
“That’s all right,” I said.
“Does that mean … ?” began Todd, brightening again. “Does that mean that Patrick was right and that I will see Grandma again?”
“It seems so,” said Todd’s mom. “We’ll have to do some studying. We’ll probably be back to ask Patrick and his parents some more questions.”
“Great!” I said. “Anytime.”
Well, that’s how my day ended. Things turned out all right after all, and you know what? Todd’s family had the missionaries visit them the other night! They invited us over too. It was really great to see the missionaries teach my best friend the gospel. I hope that someday I can find the right scriptures quickly, as Mom and Dad and the missionaries do. Mom says that it just takes practice. So here it is—I’ve found my first scripture for you: “I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live” (John 11:25).

After church was over, it seemed like everybody in the ward wanted to hang around and talk. The adults, in particular, kept coming up and congratulating Kitty. But all she wanted was to get away as fast as she could.
Without waiting for her mother, she slipped out the back door of the chapel and took the roundabout way home, so she wouldn’t run into any members walking in her direction.
She tried to get upstairs to her room without having her father hear, but just as she put her foot on the first step, he came out of the little room with the Sunday newspaper in his hand. Her mom called the room the “den,” but Kitty and her dad called it his “hideaway,” pretending he would hide out from home teachers and the bishopric and other Church members. Actually, Kitty had thought more than once that he was pretty good about all the people who came and went on Church business, and he was super-great to the missionaries. All the more reason she had to get away from him now before she exploded.
“Hey, Kitten!” he called. “How did things go? Your mother told me you were made Queen Bee or something today.”
“Oh, daddy! It was Beehive class president, not ‘Queen Bee’! Can’t you ever get anything right! Besides, I don’t want to hear any more about it!”
In her room, she flounced on her bed and let the hot tears come. But not more than a dozen had fallen when she heard a familiar voice on the front porch.
“Key? Hey, Ke-ey! Ke-ey!”
She went to her window, and sure enough, there was Tami, pushing herself in the porch swing and yelling for her.
“Tami, I can’t play now. Do you understand? Not now.” But her cousin continued to swing and smile and call, her large hands holding firmly to the arms of the swing, her stocky legs driving the swing back and forth. Exasperated, Kitty stamped downstairs and flung open the front door.
“Tami, I can’t play now. Go home. Go on home, and leave me alone, won’t you? Won’t anybody leave me alone?” The tears coming fast now, Kitty ran down the porch steps and into the yard. Turning, through the blur she saw Tami’s puzzled face. She ought to go back, but all she wanted was to get away. Then she saw her father come out onto the porch and put his arm around Tami, talking softly to her and patting her on the shoulder as he led her down the front walk and headed her home. Kitty turned and ran for the barn.
It was a barn in looks, at least from the outside. From the inside, it was clearly not a barn, and never had been. Her mother had a large studio on one end, with wonderful skylights, and along the west wall was a little gallery of paintings she was not ready to part with yet. Her dad had a neat workshop, smelling of cedar shavings and varnish. And best of all, Kitty had the Loft. She always thought of it like that, with a capital L: the Loft. Her Loft. Nobody ever had a better private place, a place to play house when she was little, or to read marvelous books like A Wrinkle in Time, which she read in a single day once, not even coming down for lunch, and her mom let her. A place to write in her journal and share secrets with her best friend. A place to be far away from everybody else and at the same time, at home.
Today, though, her Loft didn’t seem to welcome her. She looked over at the old desk her dad had refinished for her. There was her journal, neglected for who knew how long.
And there was that old copy of Don Quixote that she had made a solemn vow she would one day read—in Spanish. Ha! She walked up to one wall and squinted at a framed photograph. Four very skinny, grinny little girls, wet hair straggling down their necks, stood beside a swimming pool, all four holding a small trophy. Under the photo, written in ink were the words The Tadpoles’ First Victory.
Double ha!
Somebody had come into the barn, making a lot of noise by way of announcing his presence. Then Kitty heard the noise of a broom handle knocking politely on the door of the Loft. Her dad wouldn’t even put a foot on the Loft ladder without an invitation.
“Kitten, can I come up?”
“Dad, I can’t! I can’t talk to you about this. I’m … I’m sorry. Wish I could.” And she did, too. She had always been able to explain things to him, just as Jenny was able to talk about anything to their mother. But this was something she couldn’t—
His voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Listen, Kitten? You listening up there?” He waited for an answer.
“Well, of course!”
“Well, now, I don’t want to be a Mr. Buttinski or anything. Just tell me one thing.” He paused.
“What?”
“Well, is this … you know … women’s business?”
Kitty couldn’t help but giggle a little.
“Well? Is it?”
“No, daddy, it’s not women’s business.”
“Then we can talk about it. May I please come up?”
“We can’t talk about it. You don’t understand!”
“So make me understand. May I please come up?”
She knew he would stand there politely asking until the moon rose if she didn’t respond, so she jerked the Loft door open and said, “All right! But I don’t know what good it will do.” She went over to the daybed and sat down.
“Neither do I, Kitten.” He sat down in the old rickety rocker, folded his hands over his stomach, and sighed.
Nobody said anything for a while. One of the best things about Kitty and her dad was their silences. She figured they had the best silences any two people ever had, and she’d made up her mind years ago that she’d only marry a man with whom she could have those special silences.
Finally he spoke.
“It’s about church, isn’t it?”
She hesitated. “Well, not exact—”
“It’s about church, isn’t it?”
“YES!”
“And you don’t want to tell me because you don’t want to say anything bad about your church to your heretical old man, right?”
“Daddy, nobody thinks you’re a heretic. I’ve told—”
“Right?” He looked straight at her.
“Yes.” He rocked some more and smiled a little.
“Kitty, I’ve been married to your mother for 16 years. I’ve been your father for 13, and Jenny’s for 11. Your Uncle Ken and I have been as close as brothers, and he’s been a bishop twice. Don’t you think I know what fine things your church does for people? And don’t you think I also know that since people aren’t perfect, there will always be problems?”
There was another silence, not such a comfortable one this time, because Kitty knew it was up to her to break it.
“I just can’t do it all!” Her voice was louder than she meant it to be. “Dad, listen to this. I’m 13, and I’m supposed to get good grades, and practice my cello so I can be in orchestra, and stay on the swim team, and spend time with Tami and help her get ready for the Special Olympics plus work in the garden, ’cause we’re all supposed to have gardens, and keep up my journal, ’cause we’re all supposed to have journals—and I love all of it, don’t get me wrong—and we’ve been told to learn foreign languages so I’ve started Spanish this year, and I’m supposed to go to all my meetings and help needy people and support all the ward activities and stay close to my family—and now they make me Beehive class president, which will mean more meetings—
“Oh, daddy, I want to do it all! I really do. It all makes sense, and I know it’s all right. But 13’s too young to be booked solid for life. Because it’s just going to get worse. High school will just mean more work, plus a social life, if my body ever catches up with the rest of me and I look like something besides a tadpole at 16. Then there’s college and work and marriage and a family—dad, I don’t see any end to it till I’m an old, old woman sitting in that rocker between temple sessions!” Kitty flopped onto the pillow.
“The better job you do, the bigger job they give you the next time, hum?” said her father.
Kitty muffled something through the pillow.
“And the hurrieder you go, the behinder you get?”
The pillow grunted again.
“And even though you want to do everything just right, you never seem to do anything quite the way you want it?”
Kitty turned her head and stared at her father.
Kitty’s father had said more than once that he was like Henry David Thoreau: he needed a “wide margin” to his life. He worked very hard at his job and at taking care of their house and yard. But beyond that he was not, as he said, a “joiner.” He was not involved in the hundred and one things she and her mother and Jenny were. So how did he know?
They sat for a long time, saying nothing. Finally, Kitty said, “Mom?”
“Of course. That’s why you really ought to ask her how to solve this problem. She could—”
“Oh but dad, that’s just IT! She does everything! Everybody’s always telling me what a marvel she is. ‘How does your mother do it? How does your mother do it?’” Kitty’s voice mimicked her questioners. “I can never begin to be as organized and as capable as she is. I don’t even want to try! They ask me all the time, but I don’t know. I don’t know how she does it!”
“Have you ever asked her?”
“Oh, she’d just say, ‘Do your best,’ or ‘Make a schedule’ or something. It’s easy for her.”
“If it’s easy for her, how do you think I know about all the thoughts that are in your mind, all those things I told you just a minute ago?”
“Well, tell me, then. Tell me how to do it.” Kitty sat up on the bed and folded her arms across her chest. “Mom does it all. Tell me how to do it all.”
“She does it all, hum? She does, hum?” Suddenly her dad jumped out of the rocker, clattered down the ladder from the Loft, and was heard rummaging around in the storage room between his workshop and the studio.
“Daddy? Daddy, what are you doing? What’s going on?”
“Just a minute. Know it’s here someplace …” came the muffled answer. More rummaging and opening and closing of trunk lids. Then he was bounding up the ladder again, with something in his hand.
“Come here, over by the light.” Kitty joined him by the window. “Do you remember this?”
He held out to her a piece of white cloth. When she took it in her hand, she saw it was a dress, a tiny frothy dress, all white, with many tucks and flounces; and across the yoke in front were red and blue marching figures. It was beautiful, and somehow, she knew it had been hers.
“You looked like an angel,” her father said softly. “Your hair was blonde then, and you were all dolled up in this dress and little white shoes and white socks with—I’m almost certain—red and blue stripes matching the whatsit on the dress. It was a Primary thing, Easter, I think, and you stood right in the front row and sang every song without missing a word—three years old and you didn’t miss a word—and me sitting on the back row blubbering when you sang that one about ‘I Am a Child of God.’ I was embarrassed like the dickens until I noticed that both of the men beside me were sniffing and honking too. Oh, your mother was so proud of you, and that dress! I guess she took a whole roll of film of you in that dress. Still has ’em someplace.”
Kitty looked more closely at the dress. Tiny stitches, many of them handmade.
“Mother made this?” Her father nodded. “But she doesn’t sew.”
“She doesn’t now. Obviously, she couldn’t do it all. She loved sewing for you, Kitten. And for herself, and Jenny, and the house. But finally she said it took too much time from other things.” He took the dress from her and began folding it very carefully.
“But she didn’t give up painting.”
“Of course not. Didn’t give up breathing, either. Your mom’s like—well—like a well that people come to, to be refreshed. But she has to be filled herself, or she’ll have nothing to give. Her painting is one place she gets renewed. Those scriptures of yours are another place too. And have you ever heard your mother make an appointment for Saturday night?”
Kitty thought a long minute, then shook her head.
“Nope, because that’s our time, hers and mine. We go out, to a movie, or to dinner, or for a drive, or a walk, or sometimes she drags me to an art gallery and sometimes I drag her to a hockey game. But it’s strictly our time.”
“You think it’s okay for me to have some ‘me’ time, even though I’m not married?”
“Absolutely. You ought to be able to take off, oh, say after noon on Saturday, and not answer to anybody. Lie up here and watch the dust motes dance in the sunlight. Take your bike out in the rain. Spend the whole long afternoon getting acquainted with just what it feels like to be 13, so’s you’ll never forget. To kind of help you along with that, I hereby relieve you of your Saturday garden chores.”
“I guess mom gave up a lot of stuff besides sewing, didn’t she? I just never thought about it before.” Kitty looked again at the red and blue figures marching across the white dress.
“Sure. But she kept a lot, too. That’s what I’ve been saying. She never considered giving up painting, and you mustn’t ever consider giving up your music.”
How did he know, Kitty wondered. How did he know that of swimming and chorus and reading and all the other things, her cello was the one set apart, different, in its own special world?
“Look, Kitten, all your life you’ll be called on to do things because you have the brains and the talents and the unselfishness to do them. But you’ll have to use some of those brains to figure out how to give to others and still have something left for yourself. Now take Tami, for instance. You’ve been great with her. You’ve done things for her that her own parents didn’t seem able to do. But she takes a lot of your time. Still, she is your cousin, and she does need someone to love her and work with her, so she can be every bit as much as she possibly can be, whatever that is. Now what does that brain say about a solution to that?”
Kitty got up and walked over to the window. Down the street, she could see Tami’s house. She imagined Tami helping her mother set the table, and remembered how proud she’d been when, after hours of Kitty’s help, she’d managed to do it perfectly by herself. She didn’t want to desert Tami.
“Jenny!” she suddenly said. “Jenny’s old enough now, and she’s good with Tami. In fact, it would be good for her to get her nose out of that TV and start working with Tami. I could coach her in the things she’d need to know—”
“Sure you could,” her dad said. “She’s ready for that job now, just like you’re ready to take on a different leadership job.”
“The Beehive class?”
“Yep. That’s a totally different challenge—a whole bunch of girls your own age, instead of one retarded cousin. But you’ll handle it. Kitty, I really think you ought to talk with your mom. She can tell you a dozen hints about juggling these things. But never think it’s easy. It’s not, not for her, not for you. Some things you give up, some you keep, some you compromise. And sometimes you move from one thing to another because you’ve learned what you needed to learn, or given what was most important for you to give, like with Tami.”
Suddenly, from the house, Kitty heard her mom’s voice.
“Carlyle? Kitty? Where are you two? Dinner’s ready!”
“Come on, Kitten. Let’s not keep her waiting.”
“Sure thing, dad. And then after dinner, I’ve got to have a long talk with that woman. Oh, but wait—” She ran over to the window seat and picked up the neatly folded little white dress.
“I think I’ll just hang on to this for a while,” and she clambered down the stairs after her father, whistling softly “I Am a Child of God.”

In his biography on Ralph Waldo Emerson, Van Wyck Brooks relates that Emerson was invited to speak at the commemoration of the 300th anniversary of the great poet Shakespeare’s birth. After proper introduction Emerson presented himself at the pulpit and then sat down. He had forgotten his notes. He preferred to say nothing rather than words not well measured. For some, it was Emerson in one of his most eloquent hours.4

Mika always looked forward to dance class. She loved listening to the music. She loved practicing her butterfly skip and getting it just right. And she especially loved it when the whole class moved together. When they did that, it was like the dancers were all the same. It felt like she wasn’t the only one with Down syndrome.
Today they were learning a new dance step. Mika watched her teacher leap into the air. She watched the other girls try. Some figured it out right away. Mika tried over and over, but she just couldn’t get it right.
“Will you help me, Teacher?” Mika asked.
The girl next to her looked at Mika. Then she leaned over to her friend. “Why does she talk like that?” she whispered. Both girls turned and looked at Mika.
When Mika got home, Mom was kneading dough in the kitchen. She had flour on her cheek. Usually that would make Mika laugh. But today she just dropped her bag to the floor and sank into a chair at the table.
“How was dance?” Mom asked.
“Terrible,” Mika said. “I asked for help, and a girl said I talk funny. Then she stared at me.” Mika looked down. “I don’t want to go to dance anymore.”
“Oh, Mika! I’m so sorry,” Mom said. “Dad and I love watching you dance. We’re so proud of how hard you work!”
Mika felt tears starting to come. “I don’t like the Down syndrome in me. I wish it wasn’t so hard for me to learn new things. I even have to practice talking!”
Dad sat down by Mika and put his arm around her. “Mika, we love you so much. We wouldn’t change one thing about you.”
But Mika just shook her head and buried her face in her arms. “I don’t want to be different. I want my Down syndrome to be taken out of me!”
Mom and Dad were quiet for a few moments.
“I have an idea,” Mom said. Mika peeked out over her arms. “Why don’t you pray and ask Heavenly Father how He feels about you?”
Mika thought about that. She liked saying prayers. Slowly, she nodded. “Can you write down the question so I’ll remember what to ask?”
Mom wrote the question down. Then Mika took the paper and went to her room to pray.
A few minutes later, when she came into the kitchen, Mika’s face was lit up like a light bulb. “Heavenly Father answered!” she said.
“What did He say?” Mom asked.
“He said, ‘Mika, I love you just the way you are,’” she said. “And He said it with a LOUD voice!”
The next week at dance, Mika didn’t worry about what the other girls thought about her. Instead, she noticed another girl, Sara, who looked sad. Sara was having a hard time learning some of the new steps too.
When Mika got home, she decided to write a note to Sara. She drew lots of hearts. Mom helped her with the spelling.
“Dear Sara,” Mika wrote. “You’re a great dancer. I want to be your friend. I am happy you are in my dance class.”
Mika couldn’t wait to give Sara the note. She wanted Sara to feel happy and loved at dance too.

Illustrations by Bradley H. Clark
On January 12, 2010, Heavenly Father showed me His power after a four-story concrete building collapsed around and on me following a terrible earthquake that devastated Haiti.
While I was crying out under the weight of the rubble, a peaceful voice spoke to me: “Jimy, why don’t you pray instead of shout?”
I couldn’t stop shouting, however, because I was afraid I was going to die within a few minutes. The voice, which sounded like a good friend motivated by a great desire to help, spoke to me again: “Jimy, you must pray.”
The pain in my legs was becoming unbearable, and I was running out of oxygen in the darkness that surrounded me. The voice came one more time: “Jimy, you must pray.”
At that moment I stopped resisting. In a feeble voice I said: “Heavenly Father, Thou knowest my strength, and Thou knowest how long I can bear this pain. I ask Thee, please take this pain from me. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Immediately after uttering this simple prayer, I fell asleep. I don’t remember what happened after that, but when I awoke from a profound sleep, the pain was gone. A short while later, rescuers found me as they searched for victims among the ruins of my office building.
Afterward I learned that of the five employees on the second floor of the Port-au-Prince building where I worked, I was the only one who came out of the debris alive. Because of my injuries, I lost one of my legs and spent several months in the hospital. But I know that the Holy Ghost prompted me to pray and that Heavenly Father answered that prayer.
I can testify that Heavenly Father answers our prayers in His own way and according to His own desires—wherever we are and whenever we pray.

When I was in high school, one of my best friends came up to me and said, “If you continue to be friends with Joanne, I won’t be your friend any more.” I was so surprised, but my decision was simple. I would continue my friendship with each girl. If Jackie shunned me because of my friendship with Joanne, it would be her decision. That never happened. Twenty years later, Joanne is the friend who still writes and sends Christmas cards and pictures of her family. I am so glad I didn’t accept Jackie’s challenge and lose a lifelong friend.
Vicki Nelson, 36Independence, Missouri

The gospel has helped him in other ways, too. One is that since he joined the Church, Richard has been able to overcome a speech impediment. Before receiving the Holy Ghost, “I could not say a word in public,” Richard says. After his confirmation, he was able to bless the sacrament, give talks in church, and take roles in two road shows. “Like it says in Ether 12:27—my weakness became a strength,” he says.

I would like to share a few personal experiences from our lives as we have felt and seen and personally witnessed the unmistakable power and love of our living Father in Heaven.
We have known many great and noble spirits here in this special place. Our faith and testimonies have been forever strengthened by what we have witnessed in the lives of so many faithful servants of our Father. In my work in medicine, I have felt on countless occasions His healing power step in where my professional knowledge and skill had reached their limit. I have witnessed miraculous healings. Some who had crossed the veil came back and told me of their experiences being on both sides. I have seen the hand of our Father reach out to His children and felt His thoughts and words flow through my mind and my mouth to express His love for them. I have felt impressions come to my mind to look for something or think of something that I would not have otherwise done without His influence and His love for each individual. I have also seen many times when healing did not occur and witnessed the pain and heartache of loss. It is often difficult to understand or explain when it seems that prayers are not being answered in the way that we want. These are truly the times when our “hearts” are tested and tried. Do we really trust Him and put ourselves in His hands and say, “Thy will be done.” We had some dear friends who lost a young son in a flash flood while he was on his first overnight camp with the Boy Scouts. He and our son were walking together and both were swept into the flood waters together. How do you explain why one is taken to the other side of the veil, and the other one, our son, remains here? It is in these times, however, that we feel His comforting reassurance that eternity truly is our “rock and our salvation”, that the promises given by The Lord in D&C 121-122 are literally true, and that He understands.

You may be wondering how to do this.
Prophets of God have taught us this is done through four simple activities, referred to as divinely appointed responsibilities: first, living the gospel of Jesus Christ; second, caring for those in need; third, inviting all to receive the gospel; and fourth, uniting families for eternity. Remarkably, each can be done in the most normal and natural ways.
I promise you this will be a decade never to be forgotten for you if you embrace these four divinely appointed responsibilities. Let’s consider what this might entail.
First, live the gospel of Jesus Christ. Study the words of the prophets, and learn to love your Father in Heaven. Incline your hearts to Him, and strive to walk in His way. Be lifted by the “covenant confidence” that Elder Ulisses Soares has described. This confidence comes from making covenants to follow Jesus Christ, knowing that the Savior will in turn strengthen and support you.
Let your friends see the joy you feel in living the gospel, and you will be the best gospel message they ever receive.
Second, reach out in compassion to care for those in need. Your generation is unusually mindful of the less fortunate. Whenever disaster strikes and Church members rush to help clear away debris and comfort the afflicted, it seems the majority wearing “Helping Hands” T-shirts are teenagers and twentysomethings. It is in your nature “to bear one another’s burdens” and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort.” By doing this we “fulfil the law of Christ.”
Evan, a young Primary-age boy, decided to spend his summer vacation from school gathering supplies for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to donate to his local food bank. He found the project on the JustServe website. Young Evan enlisted his entire school class to help collect over 700 jars of jelly! Let the people you serve know that your concern for them is rooted in your love of God and your desire to treat your neighbor as yourself.
Third, invite all to receive the gospel. This year we opened 36 new missions worldwide to accommodate all who desire to serve full-time missions. In an era when many youth are opting out of formal religious activity altogether, this is remarkable and speaks to the magnificent nature of your testimonies. Whether serving full-time or not, please realize your immense capacity to influence your peers as you love, share, and invite them to explore the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Fourth, unite families for eternity. As I visit temples around the world, I marvel at the standing-room-only crowds of youth waiting at the baptistry and the increased numbers of young adults serving as ordinance workers. Recently a group of over 600 youth from Scotland and Ireland traveled to the Preston England Temple, performing over 4,000 ordinances, many of which were for their personal deceased ancestors! I urge you to become engaged in family history, spend time in the temple, and carefully prepare yourself to be the kind of man or woman ready to marry an equally worthy companion in the temple. Develop a pattern in your life now to make the temple a regular part of your lives.

About four hours after arriving at the ward building, the three boys are in Melbourne, a central Florida city that Hurricane Jeanne hit hard. They’re part of a huge group of Latter-day Saints who arrived in the city to provide hurricane relief. As they’re getting their assignments from a local bishop who is steering the volunteer effort, they look around at the destruction. Trees are down, roof shingles are scattered, and debris is everywhere. The job looks overwhelming, especially after hearing that the young men’s assignment is to work on houses at a trailer park.
“It’s interesting to see what the hurricane has done,” says Jake. “We didn’t have much damage in Jacksonville. But to see these houses that had been blown apart, I realize that, wow, this was where somebody lived.”
As they begin to haul siding and insulation to the curb, they notice an older man standing amid the rubble that had been a portion of his house before it collapsed. “Just get rid of everything,” the man says. “None of it is worth saving.” The boys introduce themselves, and the man, named Leo, looks around. “You’re saying this isn’t going to cost me anything? Now who are you again?”
Well, since he asked, they’re Aaronic Priesthood holders, giving up a weekend to help people in need.
“The biggest thing I’ve learned is that there is always somebody worse off than you are,” says Travis. “It is sad to see what the hurricane did. I’m glad I can help.”
About a half-hour after they had arrived at Leo’s house, everything is cleared from what used to be the south side of his home. All the wet carpeting has been torn up, and the ruined furniture is piled on the curb. “I can’t believe it,” Leo says. “I didn’t know what to do. I could have never done all this, and you guys did in 30 minutes what would have taken me weeks.”
“That was a highlight,” says Austin as he walks away after shaking Leo’s hand. “He was so appreciative of what we did.”
“We didn’t need to get credit. But it was fun to meet Leo and see the look on his face and see how what we were doing was affecting him,” says Jake. “Maybe we left him with good feelings about the Church.”

Harvey went to the University of Chicago in 1908 and, under the direction of Robert Milliken, earned a PhD in 1911 by measuring the charge on an electron. Harvey returned to BYU to teach physics but received an offer to become a researcher in New York City at Western Electric, which was the premier physics lab in the country. This lab became the main research lab for AT&T. After several years of persistence from Western Electric, Harvey asked BYU president George H. Brimhall for permission to go to Western Electric. BYU was struggling for prestigious faculty, and President Brimhall told Harvey not to go. However, soon after that Church president Joseph F. Smith attended a board meeting at BYU, and Harvey asked President Smith the same question. After listening to Harvey’s story President Smith sat quietly in a thoughtful mood for a few minutes and then said:

Yes, I want you to go and take this position, but promise this, that you will keep your testimony strong and keep up your Church activities. If you do so you can do more good for the Church in New York City than you could do here at the BYU at the present time and you will be successful in your work. We need more Mormon boys to go out into the world of business and scientific research to represent our ideal of living.

Harvey took his small family to New York City in 1916 and stayed there until he retired. He served first as president of the Manhattan Branch for ten years and then in the district presidency, stake presidency, and high council for thirty-five years. He was an emissary for the Church in the scientific world. He went around the world giving lectures about science and religion.

In 1901, he was called to open and preside over a mission in Japan, and he was given one year to prepare and put his affairs in order prior to his departure. At that time, Heber was still recovering from financial difficulties. After the meeting in which he was given the assignment, a fellow Apostle told him that the President of the Church would never have given him the assignment if he had known of his difficult financial situation. Elder Grant agreed. And at that moment, he put himself completely in the hands of the Lord. Every morning, he prayed: “Please help me today to do something to help me get out of debt.” Within the year’s time, all of his creditors had been paid. He was not only completely out of debt, but also had sufficient means to sustain himself in the mission field.

Many years ago, I moved to a new ward. That week I attended a Relief Society activity and got there early and sat at one of the tables. The sisters kept arriving, but no one sat by me. I was feeling lonely and decided to leave.
Just then, a woman sat down and struck up a lovely conversation. I thought, “I have nothing in common with this woman.” Donna had many children and was older than me. But I thought, “I am so grateful she was friendly to me!”
Here I was—active in the Church and feeling lonely at a Church activity. And there she was—willing to sit by an unknown person. Donna and I are friends to this day. She taught me a lesson that has been seared in my heart ever since: We all need to be ministered to.