Gospel Story Finder

“You win.”
I had just come out of the hotel’s elevator with my date. It was my high school senior prom—the day I had been looking forward to for months. The dinner and accompanying dance were held on the top floor of a local hotel in my hometown in upstate New York. Balloon arches and a long, red carpet led the way into the ballroom where the dance was being held.
“Excuse me?” I asked, looking around for the source of the voice. It was my science teacher, Mr. Keenan.
“You win,” he repeated.
Laughing, I asked him what it was I had won.
“You have the most beautiful dress I have ever seen,” he responded. “I want that dress for my daughters when they go to prom.”
“Oh, I’m sure he tells every girl that,” I thought, smiling.
Continuing, he said, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but not many of the dresses I’ve seen so far tonight cover very much.”
I was a little taken aback by his comment. It was obvious that my dress was modest, but I didn’t think that others would care. I thanked him and continued into the dance.
Later in the evening, my date and I went to the photographer for pictures. When it was our turn to pose, the photographer looked at me and said, “Wow, what a gorgeous dress.”
“I’m sure you tell every girl that her dress is gorgeous,” I said, voicing my earlier thoughts.
“Oh no,” his voice was serious. “I rarely tell a girl her dress is gorgeous.”
Rewind eight months to the previous fall. I knew my senior prom was going to be at the end of that school year, and in my excitement I started searching for a prom dress in September.
My friends and I spent several Saturdays shopping at local stores and trying on their selection of formal dresses. But in my hometown, finding a formal dress that went to at least the knees, wasn’t cut too low in the front or back, had sleeves, and was cute was like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
I could have rationalized wearing an immodest dress—it was just one night, only immodest dresses were available, and all of my friends would be wearing them. But I felt uncomfortable just trying them on, and I knew I would be uncomfortable the whole night of prom if I did wear one.
I started looking harder. I knew it would be difficult to find something in local stores, so I turned to the Internet. It took a bit of searching, but after a while, I found the dress of my dreams.
It was a little more expensive than the immodest dresses I had tried on, and I had to get a job to pay for it. But when I received it in the mail and tried it on, it fit perfectly and I felt comfortable. I knew I had made the right decision.
When I walked into prom that night, I never once felt uncomfortable. And I was grateful that I had chosen to stay modest. As my teacher said, I had won.

Mom also taught me to be mindful of others. On my first day of kindergarten, she took me to my class, pointed to the teacher, and said, “Look! You get to be in Mrs. Merrill’s class. Your brother Rick was in her class last year. She’s a very nice teacher.” This relieved some of my nervousness. Then Mom saw another little girl sobbing with her face buried in her arms. Mom whispered, “Go be her friend.” I did. When the girl stopped crying, I noticed that Mom had left. But I wasn’t nervous anymore.

It was not until the last session of the General Authority, Area Seventy and General Officers Leadership Training, during the April 2021 general conference, that I finally received the spiritual witness I had been seeking since my call. I will never forget that moment.
This session’s agenda was for all 15 apostles and prophets to bear their testimonies and witness of Jesus Christ. The solemnity and sacredness of this occasion is glorious. It was Elder Neil L. Andersen’s testimony that changed my perspective and gave me the reassurance that I was searching for.
Elder Andersen explained how he felt when he was called to The Quorum of The Twelve Apostles. He said when he first sat in the seat that Elder Ulisses Soares now occupies, he looked up the row at the other 11 Apostles and the First Presidency, and feelings of personal inadequacy overwhelmed him. When I heard Elder Andersen say that, I sat up straight in my chair because I knew that what he had just said—and what he was going to say next—was specifically for me.
When Elder Andersen shared that sacred experience, it became sacred to me also. It was the confirmation that I needed.
I know that Heavenly Father and His Son did not call me because of anything I had done to qualify for this role, but it was because They love me. They know I can change, and They know I can help Them in Their glorious work: to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of all Their children. (See Moses 1:39.)

Evie walked into the noisy gym and pulled her kneepads up over her knees. She was excited for volleyball camp, but also really nervous. She’d never been alone at a camp like this before! She hoped she would make friends soon.
She looked around at the dozens of girls talking excitedly to each other. I wish I was more like Libby, she thought. Libby was her sister. She could talk to anyone and become good friends.
But Evie was more … quiet. At school, she usually liked to read her book instead of talking before class. She didn’t mind working by herself on school projects. And when it was her birthday, she invited just a few friends to go skating instead of having a big party.
The coach blew her whistle, and Evie jogged over to join the others for warm-ups. Evie felt a little awkward, but she tried to talk to a few of the girls.
After hours of serving, passing, and playing get-to-know-you games, it was finally time for lunch. Evie brought her food to a round table and sat next to some other players. Everyone was talking loudly and singing in funny voices. Evie munched quietly on her carrot sticks.
One of the older girls at the table noticed Evie being quiet. “Hey!” She put her hand on Evie’s shoulder and shook it playfully. “Be yourself! Just be crazy!”
Evie felt embarrassed. But what if I am being myself? she thought. What if I don’t want to “be crazy”? Maybe there was something wrong with her. Everyone seemed to like the girls who were loud.
At the end of the day, Evie was glad to see Mom’s car pull up. “How was it?” Mom asked.
“Fun,” Evie said as she climbed into her seat. And it had been fun … sort of.
Evie sighed. Tomorrow would be another day of camp, surrounded by people she didn’t know. She would have to be brave all over again.
Mom seemed to read her mind. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “It’s not easy going to a camp where you don’t know anyone.”
Evie looked out the window. “I just wish I wasn’t so quiet.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being quiet,” Mom said. “It will get easier as you get to know more people. But you don’t have to change your personality. Being you is OK.”
Evie thought about that for the rest of the drive home.
The next day, Evie was brave and talked to a few more people. She tried to think less about what others were thinking about her. Instead, she focused on playing her best and having fun. She worked hard on the drills and said kind things to the other players. She still felt like she was quieter than most of the others, but she started to feel more confident making new friends.
On the last day of camp, everyone sat on the gym floor while the coach announced awards for each girl. Tasha got the award for the most improved serve. Mia got the award for most team spirit.
“And to Evie,” the coach said, “the Quiet Leader Award.” Evie’s eyes widened as she stood up to get her certificate. Everyone clapped.
“Sometimes we think leadership means being loud and telling people what to do,” said the coach. “But a good leader sets an example for others to follow. Thanks for working hard, Evie. Your actions speak louder than your words.”
Evie smiled as she walked back to her seat. Mom was right! Being quiet was OK. It was more than OK, actually.

In various parts of the world, obtaining a computer and Internet access presents a challenge for some who are eager to index. This is the situation leaders in the Mexico City Zarahemla Stake faced when they decided to get the youth involved in indexing. Because not all of the youth had computers in their homes, stake leaders decided to reserve a local school’s computer labs after hours for them to use.
The youth then worked to index Mexican census records from 1930. “As the youth reviewed the documents,” says Bishop Darío Zapata Vivas, “they imagined people moving from house to house collecting all this information without knowing that someday their efforts would assist the Lord’s work of bringing ‘to pass the immortality and eternal life of man’” (Moses 1:39).
Through the creative efforts of the stake leaders to obtain the needed technology, the youth and other members of the stake were able to index over 300,000 records within one month.

The Campbells didn’t have as far to travel as many volunteers. Their home is in Gowanda, New York, about a two-and-a-half-hour drive away. They arrived on a Friday. The next morning began with breakfast and a devotional. Then casting (choosing people for parts in the pageant) started.
There are ten major scenes in the pageant. Each scene has a director. Each director chose the people for their scene and what part each person would play. Brittany and Tishna’s little brother Montgomery (5) was given the part of Jesus Christ as a young child. Their mother and other brother, Christian (2), were assigned to the scene where Christ visits the Americas. Their father didn’t have an acting part. He’s served as a pageant choreographer (someone who plans out everyone’s movements on stage) for ten years.
The girls’ favorite scene to be in is the “Voyage to Ancient America.” When Tishna and Brittany went to the tryout, there were more children than parts. Three years earlier, Brittany had played a child on Nephi’s ship in the voyage scene. She’d had fun being tossed into the air on a blanket by other actors. She decided that it was someone else’s turn this year and tried out for another scene.
When the tryouts were over and the parts had all been assigned, the directors started blocking the scenes. Brittany and Tishna learned where to stand, what to do during the scene, and how to get on and off the stage. The speaking parts, music, and sound effects for the pageant were all prerecorded, but the actors had to learn to move and react in time with the tape. The first practices were held on the big lawn in front of the stage. Later, rehearsals were held on stage.
Tishna was cast as one of Lemuel’s daughters in the voyage scene. Wondering if and when she’ll get splashed by the water during the scene added excitement. Usually she did get wet. After the scene was over, she had to be especially careful to hang up her costume neatly so that it would dry before the next performance.
“The boat scene is the most fun,” Tishna said, “because you get to run and play during the scene.” The tricky part of her scene was opening the floor hatches so that Nephi’s ship could be raised onto the stage. “It can be hard to do it quickly enough,” she added.
Rehearsing wasn’t always easy. Brittany was cast in the “Burning of the Prophet Abinadi” scene. She played a page in King Noah’s court. It was an important part because she was responsible for handing fans to all of King Noah’s courtiers as they came onstage. But once she herself was onstage, she didn’t have much to do but stand beside King Noah’s throne. Rehearsals lasted up to three hours and sometimes were hot and boring, but she still wouldn’t trade being in the pageant for any other vacation.
Although they weren’t in it, Tishna and Brittany’s favorite part of the pageant was the harvest dance. “That’s when the Book of Mormon people were righteous and they prospered,” Tishna said. “It’s a happy scene—very colorful, and everyone is dancing.”
When Tishna and Brittany weren’t practicing their scenes, they met in small groups they were assigned to. They had leaders who prepared lessons, stories, and activities for them.
“I like working on our journals,” Brittany said. “We write things down, and the leaders give us stickers and stamps we can use to decorate the pages.”
One year each child drew a picture on a quilt block. The group leader sewed the blocks into a quilt. The child who picked up the most garbage from the grounds during the pageant would win the quilt. Brittany won it.
Tishna’s favorite group activity was stamping designs on fabric.
Montgomery liked making a little garden, and one day his group went out and looked at the trees and leaves through magnifying glasses.
Everyone involved with the pageant attended three 35-to-45-minute devotionals each day. Sitting quietly through the devotionals was the hardest part of the pageant for Montgomery and Christian, but Tishna and Brittany enjoyed them. On performance days, the actors didn’t have to arrive at the grounds until noon. The Campbells used this time to sleep a little longer, get pizza or ice cream together, or visit some of the Church historical sites in the area.
With all the work and practices, why do the Campbells keep coming? “I have been to the Hill Comorah Pageant every year since I was three years old,” Brother Campbell said. “It’s a family tradition.”
“At the pageant, people are so nice to you,” Brittany said. “You make a lot of friends here. When we get home, we run to the mailbox each day, looking for letters from our new friends.”
“Everyone plays with my little brothers, and there’s no fighting here,” Tishna added. “It’s exciting because it’s for the Church, and it helps you understand the Book of Mormon. It’s our favorite vacation in the whole world.”

This story took place in the USA.
Nina grinned as she finished taping the sign to her lemonade stand. “Lemonade! 25 cents,” it read. She stacked the plastic cups next to the pitcher of lemonade.
It was a hot summer day. Nina hoped lots of her neighbors would want a nice, cool drink.
Mr. Burleigh walked by pulling his toddler in a wagon. “I’ll have some.” He put a coin in Nina’s jar. Nina poured him a cup of lemonade.
Next Nina’s friends Bethany and Livvy rode by on their bikes. They stopped and bought some lemonade too. “Thanks!” Bethany said.
Nina shook her jar, jingling the coins inside. She’d already earned a little money!
Then Nina’s favorite neighbor came outside to take out the trash. “Hi, Nina,” Máté said. “I’d love some lemonade.”
Máté and his wife, Tanya, had helped Nina’s family a lot. After Nina’s dad died, Máté helped them with projects around the house. One time he fixed their leaky hose. He trimmed the tall trees in their backyard. And he helped fix Mom’s car when the battery stopped working.
“Here you go.” Nina handed him a cup.
Máté started to put a coin in her jar, but Nina stopped him.
“You don’t have to pay!” she said. “This lemonade is a thank-you for all you’ve done to help us.”
“But the sign says 25 cents!” Máté said. “And this lemonade tastes too good to not pay for it.”
Nina pulled the jar away and laughed. “Nope. It’s free for you!”
The next day, when Nina went outside to get the mail, she stopped. A silver coin was shining in the sun on the porch step. She looked over at Máté’s house. He must have put the quarter there! He was still trying to pay for his lemonade.
Nina smiled. Máté isn’t the only one who can be sneaky, she thought. She ran next door and put the quarter on Máté’s doormat.
The day after that, Nina went outside to ride her scooter. And there was Máté’s quarter, sitting next to the flowerpot by the front door.
Nina rode her scooter to Máté’s house again. This time she put the quarter on a rock by the porch.
Weeks passed. The quarter went back and forth. Each day Nina found the coin on their porch in a new spot. And every day, she hid it in a new place on Máté’s porch.
Then one day, Nina went outside to find a surprise. It was the quarter—made into a pretty necklace. She held it up and smiled. The sun hit the coin and made it shine.
Next door Máté was working in his wood shop.
“Thank you!” Nina yelled over the sound of the saw.
Máté looked up. Nina held up the necklace.
“Tanya helped me make it,” Máté said. “It’s a gift from both of us for being so kind.”
“I guess you win.” Nina laughed and put on the necklace. “I love it so much I’m going to keep it forever.”
She was grateful to have such kind, caring neighbors.
Follow the paths to see where the coin was hidden next!
Illustrations by Mitch Miller

I think back with fond memories to my childhood in Scotland, when we would often celebrate Easter by going for a picnic with my family. We went up the Sidlaw Hills and, once settled, we would begin the egg ritual. My granny would have spent considerable time boiling eggs the night before, with different concoctions to make them different colours. The eggs would all have various expressions drawn on them, and wool would sometimes be stuck on for hair. I probably had some chocolate eggs as well, but I can’t really remember them–what you hold in your memory is the love and effort that goes into something, rather than how good it tastes. I knew that I was loved by these people who found it impossible to tell me in any other way but this.

James carefully straightened his tie as he rode to the stake center. Today was his little sister Angie’s baptism, and he knew he needed to look as nice as he could. He looked over at Angie. She was sitting very quietly, looking out the window. He wondered if she was scared or excited.
James remembered his own baptism day. He had been so excited to finally step into the font. He remembered how warm the water felt, and especially how warm he felt inside. He was happy for Angie.
But he was also a little bit jealous.
Wouldn’t it be nice if people could be baptized more than once? What if he could ask his father to let him put on some white clothes too, go down into the water, and be washed clean?
James thought about the promises he had made when he was baptized. He knew that he hadn’t been as good as he had planned to be. Sometimes he was mean to Angie. He had told a few lies. Last week he even took his friend’s Frisbee without asking and hadn’t returned it yet.
James began to feel sad. If only he could get baptized again so that he could start over! He would do better this time; he knew it.
At the stake center, James sat next to his mother and watched his father help Angie into the water. She looked happy. James remembered that feeling. Maybe if he told his father about the things he had done wrong, he could get baptized again. But he didn’t dare ask.
After Angie’s baptism, the whole family had dinner together. Angie was beaming. Grandma and Grandpa were there too, looking proud of Angie. James thought about how sad they would feel if they knew the things he had done since his own baptism. He didn’t feel very hungry.
“What’s wrong, James?” Dad asked, putting his hand on James’s shoulder. His face was full of love. Would he understand and let James get baptized again? Or would he be disappointed in his son?
James leaned over so no one else could hear him. “Dad, can I get baptized again?”
Dad looked closely at James. “Well, that’s not exactly how things work, James. Is something bothering you?”
“Well, it’s just that sometimes I want a chance to start over again.”
“Ah, I see. Are you remembering your own baptism day?”
“Yes.”
“I understand that. Sometimes I wish I could get baptized again. But you see, James, I don’t have to.”
“Why? Because you haven’t done anything wrong?” James asked.
Dad smiled. “Like you, I wanted to keep all the commandments when I was baptized. But I have done many things wrong since then. Just yesterday I lost my patience when you didn’t do your chores right away, remember?”
“Yes.”
“I really wanted to erase my mistake as if it had never happened.”
“So you wanted to get baptized again?” James asked.
“Well, I did want to be clean again,” Dad said. “But I knew that there was another way to get clean again besides getting baptized. I could repent.”
“Is that all?” James asked. “I mean, is repenting the same as getting baptized again?”
“Yes, but there is another part too. Being baptized when you’re eight is something that you do to show obedience and make a covenant to keep the commandments. After that, when you sin, you need to repent and show you really mean to do better.”
James smiled. “You mean by taking the sacrament?”
Dad nodded. “When you take the sacrament you are showing Jesus that you have repented of the things you did wrong that week. And then, as you eat the bread and drink the water, you become clean, and you are ready to start over.”
James remembered the words of the sacrament prayer. Each week he promised to take Jesus Christ’s name upon him—just like when he was baptized. “So I am clean if I repent and then take the sacrament?” he asked.
“That’s exactly right,” Dad said.
“Wow.” James was quiet for a minute. Tomorrow was Sunday. He could take the sacrament then! But he had some work to do first. He wondered if Mom would let him take the Frisbee over to his friend Mark’s house after they got home.
“Dad?”
“Yes, Son?”
“I’m sorry for not doing my chores yesterday. Will you forgive me?”
Dad smiled and hugged James. “Of course I will.”

It can be easy to feel like we’re not good enough. I felt that recently when I was invited to sing with the Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square during general conference.
My patriarchal blessing says that I should develop my talents, especially those involving music. I really took that to heart on my mission and decided to develop my voice.
When I got home from my mission, I chose to pursue a career in music. I went to a nearby university and got a degree in music. I later started a job as a music teacher, which I am still doing today.
When I found out that the Church was offering to bring singers from around the world to join the Tabernacle Choir and sing for general conference, I decided to audition. However, after the audition was over, all I could think was, “That was so bad. There’s no way I’m getting in after that. I’m definitely not going to be a part of the choir.”
A few weeks later, I got an email response. Again, I told myself I would not be invited to join the choir, based on how badly I’d botched the audition. However, I was stunned to learn that the email was not in fact a rejection letter—it was an invitation.
I was dumbfounded. It was an immense honor to receive this invitation.
Being able to sing with the choir was a highlight of my life. I learned a lot, met many incredible people, and felt the Spirit speak to me strongly as I performed.
When I think about everything that led me to that moment, I’m amazed. I felt the Savior’s love and direction when I felt prompted to get my patriarchal blessing, and I continue to feel it. There were certainly moments in between getting my patriarchal blessing and now when I wondered to myself, “What am I even doing?” I struggled to trust the timing of the Lord and to feel like I was good enough for whatever lay ahead.
During one of those times, a friend gave me this advice:
“When you’re not feeling good enough, there are really only two options.
“Option one: You tell yourself you can do it. You say, I’m going to be great, and it’s going to go well. But in that moment, you’re not letting Christ in. You’re convincing yourself that you can do it alone. But you’re never going to be able to do it alone.
“Hence option two: It is Christ who helps you through all things. It is Christ whose strength helps you live and stand and do. Especially in our brokenness. Because it’s in the brokenness that we turn to Christ and He in turn lifts you and carries you.”
“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,” said Paul to the Philippians (Philippians 4:13). This verse reminds me of what my friend taught me that day and helps me keep in mind my dependence on Christ and His Atonement.
Oftentimes when we face things that are scary or stressful, we shut down. We procrastinate. But that’s not how Christ would have us be. He would rather we act and do, trusting in Him, than not do anything at all.
I’ve come to realize—in times when it’s hard and times when it’s easy—that I’m OK. I’m OK because Jesus Christ knows me at my very worst, and as I rely on Him, He helps me become my very best. And I’ve also learned that once we’ve accepted that within ourselves, then it becomes our priority to love other people in their brokenness so they can experience Christ and become their best.
President Emily Belle Freeman, Young Women General President, taught: “Like Enoch, we must remember that the One who was bruised and broken for us will allow mortality to do its work in us, but He doesn’t ask us to face those challenges alone. No matter the heaviness of our story or the current course of our path, He will invite us to walk with Him.”
If you’re not feeling good enough, remember that the Savior loves you in your brokenness. He and Heavenly Father know what you’re capable of and what you can become. They will support you and lift you up and help you become your very best.

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels, bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold …
I knew the song well. At twelve years old, I knew all the familiar Christmas carols. But I wasn’t impressed. I preferred our own Navaho chants, although of course they meant entirely different things.
While I was willing to put up with all the nonsense about Christmas—the carols, the gifts, the parties, even the Christmas tree I was now looking for—I couldn’t see any angels. I couldn’t hear any “glorious song,” nor any “harps of gold.” What I was hearing was the monotonous clip-clop of my horses’ hooves on the mountain trail. And what I was seeing were ominous clouds looming in the east, the direction in which I was headed.
It was my mom’s doing, of course. “Billy, your sisters want a Christmas tree,” she’d said. “We can’t afford to buy one in town this year, so I want you to go up in the hills on our land and find a nice pine and bring it home.” When I’d let a disgusted look spread over my face, she’d pleaded, “Please, Red Eagle.”
White Feather, my mom, didn’t call me by my Indian name often, so I knew that she was serious.
Now here I was, riding my pony, Jubilee, and leading Old Buck, our packhorse, who would carry the tree home. But my heart wasn’t in it. Why did my silly sisters have to have a Christmas tree?
We were out of school for the holidays, and that part of Christmas I liked. On the other hand, it would take a full day out of my vacation to ride to where I could cut a tree, then return home with it. I could have gotten in a lot of basketball practice in that time. So it wasn’t any glorious song I was hearing.
I’d started out early this morning, and by noon I’d reached the edge of the timber where I hoped to find a just-right tree for the family celebration. Only I didn’t intend to participate. I couldn’t see anything to get excited about. I did, however, remember the third verse* of the carol that kept running through my mind.
O ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow,
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
O rest beside the weary road,
And hear the angels sing!
I could relate to that “crushing load” bit, all right. Lately that’s all my life seemed to hold—study, work, work, study. And the “climbing way with painful steps” figured in, too—I could feel Jubilee’s muscles strain as we scrambled higher up the timbered mountainside.
But I couldn’t sense any “glad” or “golden hours,” not out here in the middle of nowhere. And I couldn’t very well “rest beside the weary road” until I’d at least cut a tree, loaded it on Buck, and begun the lonesome journey home. I sure didn’t hear angels singing yet, either.
I did want to get a proper tree, so I tethered the horses and sat down to eat the lunch Mom had packed for me. That way, I could look around and spot the best-shaped Christmas tree—not too large, not too small, just one that looked like it was meant for our family.
I guess I was tireder than I thought, for I dozed off. Maybe it was “angel voices” that brought me sharply awake. Or maybe it was only Jubilee and Buck, shuffling to turn their backs to the cold wind that suddenly whistled through the pines. It was getting dark, even though it was only midday. I shuddered. Then the carol’s second verse popped into my head.
Still thru the cloven skies they come
With peaceful wings unfurled,
And still their heav’nly music floats
O’er all the weary world. …
Angles again! If they were there, they certainly weren’t making their presence known now. Not, that is, unless they’d turned into the massive, wet snowflakes that were floating over my own “weary world.” I’d have to cut my tree and head toward home fast.
I’d already picked out one I liked, but since the air was churning with soft, white, wet feathers, I had to stop and figure exactly where I’d seen it. I led the horses to the spot, sawed the tree off at its base, and tied it onto Buck’s packsaddle. By then, there was no way to find the trail we’d followed up the mountainside. There was only that vast white wall of nothingness closing in on us. It was cold, too—a chill that penetrated right through my sheepskin jacket.
I remembered seeing a fallen evergreen not far from the Christmas tree I’d chosen. Its horizontal trunk would offer more protection than the upright pines around me, so I led the horses to it and again tethered them where they could stand with their backs to the wind. Then I hunkered down beside the lifeless log to wait out the storm.
How long it took, I’m not sure. But even though it was cold and the wet gathered in great blotches on the horses’ backs, on my sheltering tree trunk, and even on me, I knew that we would survive. By the time it stopped snowing, my watch showed 4:15, and it was now getting naturally dark.
“We’d better start home,” I told the horses, and I began to lead them to where I thought I’d find the trail down the mountainside. I’d ride later. I didn’t want to chance Jubilee slipping and falling on me.
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hov’ring wing,
And ever o’er its babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.
As we started down the beautiful snow-covered mountainside, I was filled with peace. I could almost imagine the angels watching over us, could almost hear them singing. At home, Mom would be worried, but I’d been trained to take care of myself, so I knew that she wouldn’t panic when I failed to show up on time.
It wasn’t long till a sliver of dim light began to peep over the rim of the tree-lined mountain behind me, and I realized that the moon, almost full, was coming up. It would light my way home, glistening on the snow as we plodded along. And now, instead of the humdrum clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the trial, the rhythm of their subdued tracking through the snow did, indeed, somehow remind me of angels singing.
“Peace on earth, good will to men
From heav’n’s all gracious King.”
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.
My sisters would have their Christmas tree. Maybe Christmas had a place in the world, after all. If the world could lie “in solemn stillness … to hear the angels sing,” then I would help them with their song. Jubilee and Buck never even flicked an ear when I started singing: “It came upon the midnight clear, …”

It occurred when this most treasured, little son was nearly three years old. One day, suddenly and without warning, he stopped breathing and fell to the floor, apparently lifeless. My husband was not home, and I called my ten-year-old daughter, Nancy, to get help as I carried him to the bedroom. As I worked to revive him, I literally, cried out unto the Lord. I begged him to spare our only son. I promised that I would dedicate myself to training him up to be an instrument in the hands of God if he would be spared. The police arrived with their emergency equipment. I continued in fervent, vocal prayer to the Lord, petitioning him to restore our little boy. The doctor arrived. Just as a stimulant was to be injected directly into his heart as a final emergency measure, he cried. My prayers had been answered, but I was to receive further testimony of this in a most unexpected way.
The next morning, our son climbed on his daddy’s knee. “I was sitting on the lap of Jesus,” he said. Then he went on, “He looked into my eyes. I was so happy. I wanted to stay there with him, but he told me I had to go back home to you.” Even now, twenty-four years later, our son remembers vividly the reciprocal love he experienced during his brief “step out of time.” He is vigorous and well, living with his lovely wife and a little son of his own as he continues to serve the Lord.

When I was a college freshman, I found myself flustered and frustrated as I tried to get through my first semester. It was very difficult to fit everything into my busy schedule, which included a full load of classes, a very time-consuming Church calling, and the everyday adjustments of living on my own for the first time. As December arrived, I became overwhelmed with everything. With the pressure of finals and a lack of time and money, I didn’t feel the Christmas spirit at all.
I went home a week before Christmas, wondering what to do for gifts. I had been assigned to buy a present for my younger sister Rachel and didn’t know what to get her, until my friend showed me a very plain little stuffed bear her mother had made for her and the touching poem she’d written to go along with it.
On Christmas Eve, I found myself working frantically to finish a bear. My mom came to my room, sat down with me, and helped me get it done for Christmas morning.
As Rachel tore the paper from the package and peered inside, a huge smile spread across her face. There were tears in everyone’s eyes as the family realized what a special gift it was. In its seams, and in the poem attached, was the real meaning of Christmas. There was love in that simple bear.
—Lisa McKinstryRexburg, Idaho

Moses’s son Lewis stepped into those boots, although he was not a left-footer. He played for the East Ardsley High School team and later played soccer, rugby, and cricket for the West Riding Auto Company. In 1940 he was called into the army. Serving in the Duke of Wellington Regiment, he rose to the rank of master sergeant in the infantry. He fought in France and Germany and along the way played on army soccer teams. He won’t talk much now about the fighting, but he speaks with relish about the soccer. He rose from his company team to the division team and then to the regiment team, the top of the heap. After the war his team toured Germany playing other army teams. They beat the Grenadier Guards in Dusseldorf Stadium in the semifinals of the army-wide championship and finally lost to the Royal Engineers in overtime in the championship match. Most of England’s finest young soccer players were in the military, so Lewis, an amateur, held his own with the elite of professional soccer until being demobbed (discharged) in 1946.

“When I was young, I felt a lot like you do right now. I wanted to do something really important in my life.
“My pa, your great-grandfather, died when I was about your age. This old Bible was his. It wasn’t until after he was gone that I opened it and for the first time noticed certain scriptures he’d underlined. One in particular made me do some hard thinking. I thought you might like to read it.”
He handed the old Bible to me. It was opened to the second chapter of Luke. I recognized it immediately as the Christmas story. In the light from the fire I could see that the pages were yellowed and wrinkled from years of use. My eyes went to the underlined verses, and I read: “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. …”
As I read on, the familiar words began to take on new meaning. At last I closed the book and carefully handed it back to my grandpa.
He fingered it lovingly. “My pa was a sheepman, and his pa before him,” he said. “I’m proud to have followed in their footsteps.”
Grandpa rose then and left me. I sat alone for a long time, gazing up at the sky. Those were the same stars that had shone that night so long ago, along with that one very special star.
The rest of that summer passed swiftly, and before I knew it, I was back in school. My friends teased me a lot about being a sheepherder, but I didn’t let it bother me. I knew something they’d probably never know.
Not long before Christmas Grandpa had another heart attack, and a few days later he died. I was devastated. Never again would I be able to go with him to the summer sheep camp.
Christmas morning at our house was quieter than usual because we were all thinking about Grandpa. I, for one, knew I’d never forget him. As we gathered around the tree, Dad handed me a package. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but I wasn’t in the mood for presents. I think he could tell, because he urged me to open it.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was the old Bible. Inside was a brief note from Grandpa. “I thought you might like this,” was all it said. So simple, and so like him.
As I stared at it, I had the feeling that Grandpa was there, watching me, waiting for my reaction. I smiled and pressed the Bible close to me. There were other presents waiting under the tree for me, but I knew none of them would top Grandpa’s Bible.

The sky was a crisp blue the morning I planned to fly out. After weeks of hard work, I had finally earned enough money to take a trip and visit one of my friends in another state. I was a little nervous. This would be my very first flight alone, so I tried to plan the trip down to every last detail, just so I could be sure I wouldn’t forget anything.
I fidgeted excitedly in the passenger seat as my mom drove me to the airport. When she asked when my departure time was, I read it to her off my travel itinerary. Then I took a closer look. The time I had boxed and starred as my departure was actually the arrival time at my destination. My heart sank, and I felt sick. My plane wasn’t getting ready to take off, it was already hundreds of miles away getting ready to land, and I wasn’t on it!
Dejected, I told my mom to just turn around and take me home, but she insisted on taking me to the airport, hoping that I might be able to catch a flight on standby.
I wasn’t very hopeful when I approached the ticket desk agent and explained my dilemma. To my surprise, the woman offered me a space on the next flight out, free of transfer charges. I was overjoyed. There was little I could have done to fix my predicament, but with the help and kindness of others, I was able to continue on my journey. I later found that the blessings didn’t end there.
As I was walking to my gate, I received a phone call from the temp agency I worked for. They offered me the best job opportunity I had received all summer. I happily accepted.
I didn’t think much of the call’s connection to my missed flight until months later when I was actually sitting at the job. It hit me then that the only way I could have possibly accepted the job was by missing my flight. In the past I had learned that calls from this temp agency were one-shot deals. If you answered the phone, the job was yours. If you didn’t answer, the agency would move on. If I had caught my flight that summer morning, I would have been in the air and out of reach when the call came. The job opportunity would have been lost. In the end my seemingly disastrous oversight blessed the rest of my summer.
I know that often, by reflecting on trials we’ve had in the past, we come to see how the Lord is blessing and shaping us, helping us to have the experiences that we need. I’m so grateful that I have been able to see such clear evidence of the Lord blessing and directing my life. If we are patient in our trials, we may ultimately see how they work for our good.

Since my baptism 12 years ago, my life has changed significantly. For this reason my husband and I decided to share the divine light we have received with many different people. We started to invite the missionaries and some neighbors to our home for family home evening.
We made little invitation cards for our neighbors. Many people began attending who were interested in finding out what a family home evening was. Some were more interested than others, but most liked the activities and refreshments. One of the families we invited was even baptized!
As I have shared my happiness about belonging to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints through family home evening, my faith has also grown.

When I was a young boy, as I read the Book of Mormon, I often wondered why Laman and Lemuel did not believe the truths that were given to them, even when an angel of the Lord appeared and spoke to them directly. Why couldn’t Laman and Lemuel be more humble and obedient to the teachings of their father, Lehi, and their younger brother Nephi?
I found one of the answers to this question in 1 Nephi, which states that Nephi was “grieved because of the hardness of their hearts.” Nephi asked his older brothers, “How is it that ye are so hard in your hearts, and so blind in your minds?”
What does it mean to have a hardness of heart?
The Korean translation of “hardness” in the Book of Mormon is ?? (Wan-Aak: ??). This phrase uses the Chinese character “Wan” (?), meaning “stubborn,” and “Aak” (?), meaning “wicked.” When we harden our hearts, we are blinded, and good things cannot come into our hearts or our minds. We become stubborn and begin to place more focus on worldly desires, closing our hearts to the things of God. We choose to focus solely on our own thoughts while not accepting the opinions and guidance of others. We choose to not open our hearts to the things of God but instead to the influence of the things of the world and the adversary. When our hearts are hardened, we resist the influence of the Holy Ghost. We are “slow to remember the Lord,” and over time we become “past feeling” His words.
Alma taught the people in Ammonihah that some “would reject the Spirit of God on account of the hardness of their hearts.” He also taught that “they that will harden their hearts, to them is given the lesser portion of the word until they know nothing concerning his mysteries.” Eventually, the Spirit withdraws, and the Lord “will take away [His] word” from those who have hardened their hearts just like Laman and Lemuel. Because Laman and Lemuel continually hardened their hearts, resisted the feelings of the Holy Ghost, and chose not to accept the words and teachings of their father and Nephi, they ultimately rejected eternal truths from God.
In contrast to Laman and Lemuel, Nephi continually humbled himself, seeking guidance from the Spirit of the Lord. In return, the Lord softened Nephi’s heart. Nephi shares that he “did cry unto the Lord; and behold he did visit me, and did soften my heart that I did believe all the words which had been spoken by my father.” The Lord helped Nephi to accept, understand, and believe all the mysteries of God and His words. Nephi was able to have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost.
What can we do to not harden our hearts?
First, we can practice daily repentance.
Our Savior taught, “Whoso repenteth and cometh unto me as a little child, him will I receive.” Our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, taught:
“Repenting is the key to progress. Pure faith keeps us moving forward on the covenant path.
“Please do not fear or delay repenting. Satan delights in your misery. … Start today to experience the joy of putting off the natural man. The Savior loves us always but especially when we repent.”
As we experience the joy of softening our hearts and coming to the Lord, we become “as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”
Second, we can practice humility.
Daily repentance will bring humility to our hearts. We want to become humble before the Lord, like a little child who obeys their father. We will then always have the Holy Spirit with us, and our hearts will soften.
My wife, Sue, and I have known a wonderful couple for the last four years. When we initially met them, the husband was a new member of the Church, and his wife was meeting with the missionaries to study the gospel. Many missionaries met with her to help her come unto Christ. We felt that she had a vibrant testimony of the gospel and knew that the Church was true. She felt the Spirit often during our visits and actively participated in all the meetings. She loved to interact with the wonderful members of the ward. However, she found it difficult to commit herself to enter the waters of baptism. One day she was reading Moroni 7:43–44, which reads:
“And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope, save he shall be meek, and lowly of heart.
“If so, [your] faith and hope is vain, for none is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart.”
After reading these verses, she realized what she needed to do. She thought that she had understood the meaning of being meek and humble. However, her understanding was not sufficient enough to have faith and hope to obey the commandments of God. She had to let go of her stubbornness and her own wisdom. She started to humble herself through sincere repentance. She began to understand humility in the perspective of God’s eyes. She relied on Heavenly Father and prayed to soften her own heart. Through these prayers, she felt the Spirit witness to her that Heavenly Father wanted her to be baptized.
Both husband and wife shared that the more they became humble, the more they could understand the words of God, and their hearts were softened to follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Third, we can trust and rely on our Savior.
Nephi was a great example of allowing his heart to be softened by trusting in the Lord. He taught, “I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh.” Similarly, in a revelation given to the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Lord said, “Put your trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good—yea, to do justly, to walk humbly.” When we put our trust in the Lord and rely on Him, He will soften our hearts, and we will be supported in our trials, troubles, and afflictions.
If we sincerely repent, humble ourselves, and trust and rely on the Lord, our hearts will be softened. He will then pour out His Spirit and show us the mysteries of heaven. We will believe all the words that He has taught, and our understanding will deepen.
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, was the ultimate example of meekness. In 2 Nephi 31:7, we read, “But notwithstanding he being holy, he showeth unto the children of men that, according to the flesh he humbleth himself before the Father, and witnesseth unto the Father that he would be obedient unto him in keeping his commandments.” Even though He was holy and perfect, He humbled Himself before the Father and was obedient to Him by being baptized.
At the end of His mortal life, Jesus Christ submitted His own will to His Father by partaking of the bitter cup. This suffering caused Him “to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit.” The Savior asked that He “might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink.” “Nevertheless,” He said, “glory be to the Father, and [He] partook and finished [His] preparations unto the children of men.”
Brothers and sisters, we’ve been given moral agency. We can choose to harden our hearts, or we can choose to soften our hearts. In our daily lives, we can choose to do the things that invite the Lord’s Spirit to come into and dwell in our hearts. I know that in these choices, there is peace and joy.
Let us follow the example of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who followed the will of the Father. As we do so, the Lord has promised us, “For, behold, I will gather them as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if they will not harden their hearts.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

A year after Carlos joined the Church, he and María decided their house was too small for their growing family. So Carlos designed and built a new, larger home. It is beautiful and spacious—with lots of room for children and friends. Nathalia is practicing the piano in the living room. Verónica is doing homework at the dining room table. Marcelo is outside playing with Alfie, their cocker spaniel. And Sandra and Andrea are giving their dolls a party. Guests are treated like family here. A barbecue, a covered patio, a trampoline, and a swimming pool are out back. The garden is full of vegetables, pineapples, and sugar cane. And the trees are heavy with fruit: bananas, oranges, guavas, avocados, and mangos.

Carlos dedicated their home when it was finished. “A spirit of love and happiness reigns here,” he says. “We’re trying to comply with what the Lord wants. And all these things have been added to us, just as the scriptures say.

“These are really unimaginable blessings,” he says. He shudders when he realizes how close he came to losing—or giving up—everything. “I have no time for my social clubs now. Instead, we have our family gatherings. And I give most of my time to the Lord. While I’m driving, I’m thinking about the members of the stake and their problems. There’s lots to do. I wasted forty years of my life. Now I need to give Him my time.”

“Carlos is the best member of the Church I know,” says Sister Roig. “He magnifies his callings, he loves the gospel, and he’s the greatest defender I know of Jesus Christ and Joseph Smith.”

Church members worldwide are striving to live Christlike lives. One is a quiet, elderly sister named Dolly Ndholovu. Dolly joined the Church in Soweto, South Africa, in 1984 and has served faithfully in callings ever since. She has also opened her home to dozens of orphans, rearing many with her own children.

When her son graduated from college, Dolly had a garage built at the side of her home for his car. But the garage ended up serving a different purpose. During the 1980s, Soweto had no chapel, and people found it difficult to travel to Johannesburg for baptisms. So, with approval from priesthood leaders, Dolly and her son built a font in the garage. Many members of the branch were baptized there.

Today, Dolly serves as a temple worker in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. Her daily expressions of faith and love have blessed the lives of many—and have allowed the Lord to bless her as well.