Gospel Story Finder

Arietana’s home is near the equator, so the weather is hot every day of the year, and the ocean is very warm. The children spend much of their time in the water swimming, fishing, or just playing. Arietana likes fishing and digging in the sand for clams. “One day I caught enough fish for my family’s dinner,” he says. “My father was very surprised that I caught so many. When I want to go fishing, I find a small hermit crab for bait; then I drop my line from the bridge and wait for the fish to bite.”

One late night I was going home by bus. I was tired, but the bus driver was attentive and awake. Then I noticed how treacherous some of the roads were. There was no shoulder, just the opposite lane on one side and a huge cliff on the other. Any deviation from the road could cause either a serious accident with oncoming traffic or a tragic plummet off the cliff.
I noticed that the driver never went out of the highway lines—never once veering to the potential harm of either side. I started to think about how much our lives are like this situation.
My bus driver knew that diverting from his lane could have harmful outcomes, and because of that, he would not deviate from his path. Having a similar mindset about worldly temptations and distractions can help us to avoid situations that could put ourselves or others in spiritual jeopardy.

The Grossman family has a great love for missionary work. In September 1993, Gunar’s mother was walking home from shopping when a pair of missionaries said hello to her. After she stopped and talked with them, they asked if they could come to her home to share their message when her husband and children were there. She said yes!
After a few visits, the family knew that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was true. They also knew that the Church would help them to be a stronger, better, and happier family. On November 7, 1993, Mother, Father, Gunar, his older sister, Gerit, and his older brother, Gert, were baptized members of the Church. When three-year-old Germar turns eight, he will be baptized too.

I wanted to be alone, to think, to meditate. There was something wrong, but I couldn’t tell what. Finally I arrived at the subway station; then digging into my pocket, I pulled out a quarter. I rode up to Park Street Station; a hundred blank faces rode with me. I didn’t know where they came from or where they were going; they didn’t know where I came from or where I was going. We didn’t care. The subway pulled into the station, and everyone pushed and shoved his way off. Something still haunted me. All the way home I did not see a single person although the streets were full of people. I was too involved in thought.
At home I was greeted by warm feelings. I have never felt fear or emptiness there. I was more quiet than usual at dinner. I watched as my wonderful and beautiful parents ate; I could tell, just by their actions, that they loved life and, more importantly, the gospel. What was it that made them radiate?
The following day I was in another “thinking mood.” As I walked to Longfellow Park, I thought of that great writer and the inspiration and influence he brought to so many people. Why could he do this? I was then reminded of my questions of the night before. As I thought, I remembered a little button the missionaries wear on their coats as a missionary tool. They’re red and white buttons and say, “I Care.” That was it! That was why my parents, and the missionaries, and Longfellow radiated and inspired others so much. They cared about people. That had been my problem; I didn’t care about the people I didn’t know. I decided to try it their way—I would try to care about people I didn’t even know.

As the mission term for the Grant family came to a close, President Grant decided to try to get Fia into the United States. He booked passage for her as a nurse for his children and hoped that as he was prepared to support her for the rest of her life, there would be no trouble with the immigration authorities. When their ship landed in New York, the excitement of returning home was nearly forgotten in the concern the Grant family had over whether Fia would be able to remain with them. But things went much easier than they had hoped. The immigration officers asked no questions and made no examinations. Fia was in!
The Grant family arrived in Salt Lake shortly before Christmas 1906. Fia was a most welcome addition. Elder Grant even talked of adopting her legally. Perhaps because of her age this was never done, but she was no longer considered hired help; she was loved and treated as a family member.

It all started as an effort by the youth of the Grand Junction Colorado Stake to earn money to send to the Church refugee fund. Richard Lindsay, a talented singer, helped the youth organize a choir to produce and record a tape. The effort was a success, but the group didn’t stop there. The choir has continued to perform together and has increased in size to 18 performers.
The choir performs at stake functions and has expanded to include entertaining at community group gatherings. The choir is finding that its efforts are becoming an effective missionary tool.

The room is charged with competitive energy. Dancers in sparkling dresses and sharp tuxedoes swirl and spin on an open dance floor under brightly colored lights. The Brigham Young University DanceSport Ballroom Competition is in full swing, and the music and tension mount as more and more competitors fill the floor.
Then suddenly the din of the crowd quiets, and the competitive edge of the atmosphere dissipates as a new group of couples takes the floor.
Who are they? Special Olympics athletes and their volunteer partners are competing in their first-ever ballroom dance event. The music begins, and the crowd, with supportive enthusiasm, erupts into cheers as the couples begin to gracefully waltz across the floor.
From the sidelines, college sophomore Allie Edgington watches as her goal to create a Special Olympics dance event unfolds. It was a dream that was sparked, in part, by her love for her sisters. And now it is a reality blessing many lives and helping Allie and others understand how Heavenly Father loves His children.
Support and encouragement are second nature among Allie and her siblings. Their trials bring them closer, and their triumphs take them all higher. Allie’s brother and twin sisters were all diagnosed with Fragile X Syndrome, a genetic condition resulting in mental impairment and autistic behaviors.
Allie, an avid dancer, is a dance education major and a member of BYU’s touring ballroom team. In 2008 she was named Miss Provo, going on to become the first runner-up to Miss Utah 2009. As the title holder, Allie needed a platform or specific cause to promote. She showed her support for her siblings by promoting Special Olympics. For the past seven years Allie’s brother, Tanner, has competed in Special Olympics, a program providing Olympic-style athletic events for disabled children and adults.
However, Allie noticed that her younger sisters, 17-year-old twins Courtney and Cassidy, were reluctant to participate. “Our brother has done well in Special Olympics, and he likes it a lot, but we’re just not so into it,” Courtney explains.
Wanting her sisters to succeed, Allie started looking for ideas. “I got to thinking that maybe there was some way to get them involved, some way to help them be comfortable enough to participate,” Allie says.
When a friend mentioned that the state of Indiana had held the first Special Olympics dance event, Allie knew she had found her solution. Combining her dance education major with her Special Olympics platform and her desire to help her sisters, Allie hatched a plan to create a Special Olympics ballroom dance event in Provo.
The waltz music finishes, and the Special Olympics couples spin out and take deep bows for the enthusiastic crowd. Then they exit the floor and file into a row of chairs on the sidelines or go backstage to wait for their next event, the cha-cha.
Backstage, Courtney sits with her sister Cassidy and cradles a pair of high-heeled ballroom shoes in her lap. They are scuffed and very flexible. “They’re comfortable because Allie wore them out,” Courtney explains, “and now I get to use them.”
While lively music blares from the speakers, Courtney quietly talks about her sister. “I want to be like Allie. She dances a lot, and I want to do a lot of dance at my school.” Cassidy chimes in, “I’ve learned a lot from just watching her.”
More than just learning steps and routines, these sisters know that they’ve learned a lot about life by dancing with their sister. “I can have fun, even though some things are still a little scary. I can be comfortable,” Courtney says. When asked about what advice she would give to other teens, she adds, “Just get involved and do things that you don’t usually do. Get out and have fun!”
Allie’s idea helped her sisters to get out and have fun and, in the end, it was also a great way for the other athletes and volunteers to try something new.
Out by the dance floor, Emily Chai, one of the volunteers, sits with Connor Morris, her cha-cha partner. Like other athletes and volunteers, they’ve become good friends while learning to dance together. “After practices we all would stay and get involved in an impromptu dance party. I think we all just loved the interaction,” Emily says.
Interaction was one of Allie’s biggest goals for the athletes. Over the course of a few months, she taught six weekly workshops where the athletes were matched with a volunteer partner and learned to dance. “I hoped that the experience would give the athletes a chance to interact with people they really look up to and admire,” Allie explains.
For Emily, these workshops were one of the best parts of the experience. “It has been fun to watch the participants get really excited. I think that excitement became the whole reason I wanted to do this.”
The other competitors soon take their final bow, and it’s time for the Special Olympics athletes to perform the cha-cha. While everyone lines up and gets ready to go back onto the floor, Keilani Stolk, another volunteer, excitedly describes the feeling of dancing with the Special Olympics athletes. “It’s not about how good you are; it’s about having fun and being friends.” In Special Olympics, there are no winners and losers, only athletes trying their best and having fun.
Richard, a past member of the BYU ballroom touring team, adds, “It is so rare to have an event where you just care how everyone else is doing. I just want everyone to have fun and to do well.”
Under the bright lights these special dancers spin, twirl, and cha-cha to a chorus of cheers and claps from the crowd. It is clear from the smiles on their faces and the enthusiasm they show in their dance that, for these dancers, having fun and supporting each other is the goal.
“The athletes just have the most wonderful spirit about them,” Allie says, watching from the sidelines as her students perform. “Instead of focusing on those things they can’t do, they come and have so much happiness in the things they can do.”
Looking back on her experience, Allie knows that she has been blessed. Beginning a Special Olympics ballroom event allowed her to help her sisters, helped her move forward on her own goals, and strengthened her understanding of God’s love. Watching her students take their final bow, Allie says, “The athletes’ love for life is such a testimony to me of the purity and goodness that can exist in the world. They give so freely of their own love to everyone. I know that Heavenly Father loves them.”

For her entire life, my wife, Melinda, has tried with all her heart to be a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ. Yet, beginning in her youth, she felt unworthy of Heavenly Father’s love and blessings because she misunderstood His nature. Fortunately, Melinda continued to keep the commandments in spite of the sadness she felt. A few years ago, she had a series of experiences that helped her better understand God’s nature, including His love for His children and His gratitude for our even-imperfect efforts to do His work.
She explains how this has influenced her: “I now feel sure that the Father’s plan works, that He is personally invested in our success, and that He provides us with the lessons and experiences we need to return to His presence. I see myself and others more as God sees us. I am able to parent, teach, and serve with more love and less fear. I feel peace and confidence rather than anxiety and insecurity. Instead of feeling judged, I feel supported. My faith is more certain. I feel my Father’s love more often and more deeply.”1

I was a little curious when my mission president announced we were going to have a white Christmas. In Chile, December is the hottest time of year. President Wilcox explained that some families of missionaries in our mission had donated enough money that every missionary companionship could give a set of white temple clothes to a worthy, but needy, member for Christmas.
My companion and I immediately thought of the same person. This brother came from a tough background. He had made some big changes to be able to be baptized and later receive his own endowment. He remained faithful and active even when most of his family had not.
The day we visited him and entered his humble home we could feel hopelessness and despair. A recent death in the family, along with the usual economic problems that filled their lives, had left the home void of the Christmas spirit. We had brought the temple clothes with us but didn’t want to give them to him in front of the rest of his family. I silently prayed for a chance to give him our gift in private. Almost instantly the family began to disperse, leaving us alone.
I said, “Hermano, we have a special gift for you.”
He said, “Elders, you are kind, but I do not need charity.”
I explained how some families of missionaries had donated funds so that we could give him his own set of temple clothing. My companion held out the package. The brother didn’t say a word. His breathing became a little louder, and tears began to fall from his eyes.
After a while he lifted his head and said, “How can anyone tell me the Church is not true? I’ve been saving a little money for quite a while so I could buy my own temple clothes. When I finally had enough, my cousin told me he was going to the temple, and he is even poorer than I am. I decided he needed temple clothing more than I did, so I recently gave him a set. Now here are you two missionaries giving me the very gift I just sacrificed to give to my cousin. How can anyone tell me the Church is not true?”
He stood and gave my companion and me heartfelt hugs. What an amazing feeling. I think we floated home that evening. We also floated off our seats the following Sunday when this brother came to church with five of his inactive family members.
December 25 was a hot summer day in Chile, but we had a white Christmas I will never forget.
Treagan White served in the Chile Santiago East Mission; he is a member of the Dillingham Alaska Branch, Anchorage Alaska Bush District.

1 Let’s turn left on the next street.
2 Now let’s turn right.
3 Wait! I have a bad feeling about that street.
4 What kind of a bad feeling?
I—I don’t know. … Maybe the kind Sister Simon was telling us about—you know—about promptings by the Holy Ghost. I just know that I don’t want to go down there.
5 The next day
You know that street we didn’t go down yesterday?
Yeah, what about it?
There was a robbery there about the time we would’ve gone past!
6 Oh, no! I wonder …
Yeah, me too.

Years ago I took a young man to meet President Kimball. He said he had given up hope, that he didn’t believe there was a God anymore because his mother had passed away with cancer. He loved his mother, and he said to the president, “If there really was a God, he never would have let my mother suffer and die as she did.”

Then President Kimball, in that wonderful sweet way of his, put his hands on the shoulders of my nineteen-year-old friend and said, “My boy, your mother is all right. Sit down, and let’s talk about you.”

Then he taught him in a beautiful way. One of the things he taught that I shall never forget ties to this matter of strengthening your anchor chain. He said, “My boy, I’ve had a lot of health challenges. I had cancer of the throat. I’ve had my body opened from here to here with open-heart surgery in my mid-seventies. I’ve had all kinds of challenges healthwise.” Then he looked at my friend and at me and said, “And through my suffering I have come to know God.”

Once Joseph discovered that sharing his vision only turned his neighbors against him, he kept it mostly to himself, content with the knowledge God had given him.18 Later, after he moved away from New York, he tried to record his sacred experience in the woods. He described his yearning for forgiveness and the Savior’s warning to a world in need of repentance. He wrote the words out himself, in halting language, trying earnestly to capture the majesty of the moment.

In the years that followed, he recounted the vision more publicly, drawing on scribes who could help him better express what defied all description. He told of his desire to find the true church and described God the Father appearing first to introduce the Son. He wrote less about his own search for forgiveness and more about the Savior’s universal message of truth and the need for a restoration of the gospel.19

With each effort to record his experience, Joseph testified that the Lord had heard and answered his prayer. As a young man, he learned that the Savior’s church was no longer on the earth. But the Lord had promised to reveal more about His gospel in due time. So Joseph resolved to trust in God, stay true to the commandment he had received in the woods, and wait patiently for further direction.20

New Era
Express your love for your family by doing what they appreciate.
Show your love in ways that “speak” to your family members: a note, service, a hug, time spent with them, and so on.
The more you show your love, out of love, the better your relationships will be.
True story: Two 14-year-old friends, Scott and Mark, left Scott’s house. They hopped on their bikes and started rolling down the driveway. Scott’s little sister opened the front door and called to her brother, “I love you.” Scott stopped and called back, “I love you too. See you later.”
With practice, it had become easy for Scott to tell his family he loved them. Other teens find it hard to express their love. Fortunately for them, there are plenty of ways to say “I love you” without even speaking a word.
Say It So They Can See It
One of the best ways to share your love is to do something your family member appreciates. Maybe your mom would appreciate it if you vacuumed the carpets. Maybe it would mean a lot to your dad if you helped him clean the yard. Or maybe your younger brother would love it if you played soccer with him.
Get to know—by asking or noticing—how your family members would like to receive your expressions of love. Some people like to see that they are loved. If so, maybe a gift or act of service—things they can see—would convey your love. Some people like to hear that they are loved. If so, give them a sincere compliment, tell them you love them, or remember to speak to them in a kind tone of voice. Others like to feel that they are loved. For them a hug might be best.
The idea is to show your love in a way that’s meaningful to your family members.
Say It out of Love
Even though you feel embarrassed to tell your family you love them, do it anyway—because you love them. That effort will show how much you truly care. Plus, the more you tell your family you love them, with or without words, the easier it will become and the more love you will feel for them.
Another true story: Ashley had been at college and away from home for a month. As she sat in her dorm room, feeling lonely, her roommate brought in the mail and tossed Ashley a package. In it was a hand-written note and Ashley’s favorite candy bar. The note, from Ashley’s younger sister, said, “I hope you will enjoy your present. This is a short letter, but I miss you. Love, Maria.” (See Ashley Eggers, “Love, Anonymous,” New Era, Feb. 2001, 26.)
That gift helped Ashley realize that even though she was far from home, her family loved and remembered her. It made Ashley’s day because her sister wasn’t embarrassed to express her love.
Your most important friendships should be with your own brothers and sisters and with your father and mother. Love your family. Be loyal to them. Have a genuine concern for your brothers and sisters.”—President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994), “To the Youth of the Noble Birthright,” Ensign, May 1986, 43.
Readers
Sometimes just a simple “I love you” will do the job. I’ve found it’s easiest said by writing a note to a family member and leaving it somewhere they will find it. As I’ve done that I’ve noticed any tension or friction is eased, and the Spirit dwells stronger in our home.Heather Vawdrey, 17, Marysville First Ward, Marysville Washington Stake
Telling someone you love them doesn’t mean you have to say it. By caring and doing kind things for them, you can show your love. After a while, you’ll feel more comfortable speaking it instead of just showing you care.Natalie Thomas, 14, Rochester First Ward, Rochester Minnesota Stake
It was very difficult for me to tell my family I love them, even though they would say it to me. I decided I needed to fix this problem by showing them through my actions that I love them, and the words would follow. The more you serve someone, the easier it is to express your feelings and love to them.Elder Doug Atkinson, 19, Washington Everett Mission
You can show your family how much you love them by appreciating them or by doing service for them. Jesus gave service to everyone. They could feel His love through His actions. Your family knows that you love them and can tell by what you do for them and by the small hugs you give them.Rachael Guinn, 15, Del Mar Park Ward, Aurora Colorado Stake
As a new member and the only member of the Church in my family, I’m trying to tell my parents I love them, but I’m having a hard time. Now that I am a full-time missionary, the only way to tell them that I love them is by writing a letter with my testimony, saying how much I love them, thanking them with all my heart, and telling them how grateful I am to our Heavenly Father for giving me my parents.Elder Angelito C. Ong, 21, California Carlsbad Mission
You don’t have to say “I love you” to show someone that you love them. Show your family that you care for them. Help them and be kind to them. You can leave a small note on your parents’ bedside, saying simply, “I love you” and sign it. They will know that you mean it.Tamanna Kalra, 15, Goa Branch, India Bangalore Mission
You could say “I love you” every day, or before you go to bed you could hug or kiss them. If someone is having a bad day at work or school, you could leave a note on their bed. You could help your brothers and sisters with their homework or chores. You could listen to their problems. If you need more suggestions, ask your Young Men or Young Women leaders.Britanie Ames, 14, Benson Ward, St David Arizona Stake
I find it hard to express my love vocally, especially to family members. However, I love my family very much, and I express it through my actions, for example, by listening to and obeying my parents’ counsel. Small things—like praising my mother for her fine cooking or expressing appreciation when my sisters make something beautiful—are my ways of telling my family I love them. Actions speak louder than words, although loving words don’t hurt either!Keshia Lai, 17, Woodlands Ward, Singapore Singapore Stake
I have a hard time telling my four brothers I love them. So when I want my brothers to know I love them, I will usually show it, instead of saying it. I will make their beds for them, play a game with them, or stand up for them when they need it. We also have a mailbox in the house that we put notes or surprises in, telling how we love each other. I love my family a lot.Kyle Niebergall, 13, Roosevelt Eighth Ward, Roosevelt Utah West Stake

In October 1879, a group of 237 Latter-day Saints from several small southwestern Utah settlements was called to blaze a new route and colonize what is today known as San Juan County in southeastern Utah. The journey was to have taken six weeks but instead took nearly six months. Their struggles and heroics are well documented, particularly their seemingly impossible task of crossing the Colorado River at a place called Hole-in-the-Rock. Those who have visited this place marvel that wagons and teams could have been lowered through this narrow crack in the red-rock canyon walls to reach the Colorado River far below. Once the Colorado was crossed, however, many other severe tests awaited them on the trail to San Juan County. Tired and worn out, early in April 1880 they faced their final obstacle, Comb Ridge. The Comb is a ridge of solid sandstone forming a steep wall nearly 1,000 feet high.
One hundred and twenty years later, our family climbed Comb Ridge on a bright spring day. The ridge is steep and treacherous. It was difficult to imagine that wagons, teams, men, women, and children could make such an ascent. But beneath our feet were the scars from the wagon wheels, left as evidence of their struggles so long ago. How did they feel after enduring so much? Were they bitter after the many months of toil and privation? Did they criticize their leaders for sending them on such an arduous journey, asking them to give up so much? Our questions were answered as we reached the top of Comb Ridge. There inscribed in the red sandstone so long ago were the words, “We thank Thee, O God.”

President Holland
This business with my father-in-law is real. I had a real challenge. It took me a while to win him over, but I knew I was home free in one of the most difficult moments of all. It was, in fact, at the very hour I had come in my best LDS fashion to ask for her hand. He just went to pieces. He ranted and raved and charged around and said she was too young and why did I think I’d be able to marry her and on and on and on and finally said, “Do you think I want her tied to an idiot for the rest of her life?”
I said, “No; that’s the reason I’ve come to ask for her hand.”

Earlier this year I was on assignment visiting a stake in the western United States. It was a normal Sunday, a normal meeting, with normal members of the Church. I watched as people entered the chapel and reverently moved to available seats. Last-second, whispered conversations echoed throughout the hall. Mothers and fathers tried—sometimes in vain—to quiet energetic children. Normal.

But then, before the meeting began, words inspired of the Spirit came into my mind.
These members had not come just to fulfill a duty or listen to speakers.
They had come for a deeper and far more significant reason.
They had come to worship.

As the meeting progressed, I observed various members in the congregation. They had an almost heavenly expression, an attitude of reverence and peace. Something about them warmed my heart. The experience they were having that Sunday was something quite extraordinary.
They were worshipping.
They were experiencing heaven.
I could see it in their countenances.
And I rejoiced and worshipped with them. And as I did so, the Spirit spoke to my heart. And on that day, I learned something about myself, about God, and about the role of true worship in our lives.

When I reflect back on what began as a normal Sunday morning, in that normal meetinghouse, in that normal stake, even today I am moved by that extraordinary spiritual experience that will forever bless my life.
I learned that even if we are exceptional managers of our time, callings, and assignments—even if we check all the boxes on our list of the “perfect” individual, family, or leader—if we fail to worship our merciful Deliverer, heavenly King, and glorious God, we are missing much of the joy and peace of the gospel.

For me, I was surprised that these questions came after I had served my mission! I had known the truth with such conviction that I wanted to go preach it to others for a year and a half—and now I was doubting all that I had known and taught. What a waste it would have been if none of it were true. So was it true, all that I had taught? Or had I just wanted it to be true? After seeing friends leave the Church and while facing my own struggle of faith, I wondered if I had deceived myself.
During this time, I didn’t stop going to church or obeying the commandments because I had big questions. Instead, because I had questions, I tried to follow President Russell M. Nelson’s counsel to “increase [my] spiritual capacity to receive revelation.”1
I knew that “nothing opens the heavens quite like the combination of increased purity, exact obedience, earnest seeking, daily feasting on the words of Christ in the Book of Mormon, and regular time committed to temple and family history work.”2 I felt it was crucial to stay close to God. After all, He was the only one who would have answers to my questions.
One day while I was reading Saints: The Story of the Church of Jesus Christ in the Latter Days, I came across a remarkable story about a woman of the early Restoration. Eunice Franklin seemed to have my same questions and worries.
Although at times I have wondered, wandered, and wavered, I’ve learned and relearned for myself that this is Christ’s Church. Although Joseph Smith may have been an imperfect man, I know he was an inspired prophet of God who sacrificed everything and did his complete best. I also know that the Book of Mormon is a true ancient record and holy scripture preserved just for us in our day. Heavenly Father continues to confirm these truths to me every day. And I’m glad He confirmed these truths to Eunice Franklin too.

Ellie bit her thumbnail nervously. Miss Fitz was going down the rows of desks and asking each student a question, one by one.
“Who is your hero?” Miss Fitz asked Jeremy.
Jeremy didn’t waste a moment answering. “My dad!” he said proudly.
Miss Fitz smiled. “And yours, Sarah?”
Her answer came just as quickly. “Abraham Lincoln.”
Ellie felt her heart thumping as Miss Fitz continued down the row of students. They had been talking about heroes all day, and now everyone was supposed to say who their hero was—in front of the entire class!
Amber and Justin said their moms were their heroes. Walter said his was his grandfather. A few other students said theirs were presidents or other famous leaders.
Only a few students were left before Miss Fitz would reach Ellie. She had to think of a hero—and fast.
Ellie looked down at her shoes, embarrassed. Coming up with a hero wasn’t the real problem. She already knew who her hero was. It was Jesus Christ. He had healed the sick, raised the dead, and paid the price for everyone’s sins. He was the greatest hero who ever lived! She was just too afraid to say it.
Ellie bit her thumbnail again at the thought of telling the whole class that Jesus Christ was her hero. What if Jeremy laughed at her? What if Sarah and Amber whispered about her at recess?
Of course she knew Jesus Christ was her hero. But that didn’t mean everyone else had to know too.
Miss Fitz stopped right in front of Ellie’s desk and smiled. “And who is your hero, Ellie?”
Ellie glanced from the row of students beside her up to Miss Fitz. “Abraham Lincoln,” she whispered.
Miss Fitz beamed. “Good!” she said as she walked to the next student in the row.
As soon as she was gone, Ellie’s shoulders dropped in relief. Thank goodness that was over. The last thing she needed was for everyone in class to know that her hero was—
“Jesus Christ,” a voice said.
Ellie’s eyes widened as she slowly looked over. There—only a little farther down the row—sat a small boy. He was skinny and shy, and he always sat at the back of the classroom. Ellie didn’t even know his name. She couldn’t remember him ever saying a single word—until now.
A few students turned to stare at the boy, but he didn’t notice them. He just looked up at Miss Fitz and spoke again. “My hero is Jesus Christ.”
Miss Fitz smiled brightly and continued down the row. But Ellie looked at the boy in amazement. She had been afraid to tell everyone about her hero, but he hadn’t. He didn’t even go to her church! But he knew how important it was to stand as an example of Jesus Christ, even when it was hard.
Ellie smiled at the boy. She wouldn’t be afraid to say who her hero was anymore. After all, she had two of them now.

“I was a young boy during the depression. Our home was situated not far from the railroad tracks where the vagrants would ‘ride the rails.’ The men came in twos or threes to our back door for something to eat. I can never remember my mother turning those men away hungry. She would fix them a sandwich, give them a glass of milk, and send them on their way with a word of cheer, having a feeling in her heart that she had done some good.
“I was fortunate when I was a boy to have an outstanding Sunday School teacher. When she talked about the apostle Paul, we could almost hear him preaching. She made every character in the scriptures come alive. She was an unusually kind woman and let us boys know that she expected us to be gentlemen.
“In our class we had collected some money to use for a big party. One Sunday morning our teacher came to class and told us that one of our classmates would be absent—his mother had passed away. We were all very unhappy. The subject of the lesson that morning was that it is better to give than to receive. After she had presented the lesson, she talked about the hard times ahead for the absent boy’s family. ‘How would you students like to follow the Lord’s teachings?” she asked. ‘How would you feel about taking our party fund and giving it to this boy’s family as an expression of love?”
“The decision was unanimous. I remember that I was the treasurer of the class, and the teacher said to the boy’s father, ‘Brother Devenport, the class would like to make an expression of their feelings.’ Then she called on me to make an expression, and afterward I handed our party fund to him. I think that was one of the first times I saw a grown man weep. This simple act of kindness welded our class together. We learned through our own experience that it truly is more blessed to give than to receive.
“I would encourage the youth of the world to seek out opportunities to help other people, to do good to all, and to share what they have with others. It is the pathway to happiness. As we willingly share, we’ll strengthen our testimonies. But if we attempt to keep all good things to ourselves, we’ll lose everything.”

Elder Patricio M. Giuffra was four years old when his father died of cancer. As a child, he grew up questioning God and wondering why life was so unfair.
“My father was a good husband, father, and provider,” Elder Giuffra recalled thinking. “Why did he have to die?”
Answers and understanding came about a decade later when Patricio and his mother met the full-time missionaries and accepted the gospel.
The plan of salvation gave him hope because it helped him understand his family’s loss. “My father prepared the way for us to join the Church,” he said.
From the time he was baptized, the gospel of Jesus Christ has anchored Elder Giuffra’s life. “The Church has been my life,” he said. “I feel like I’ve always belonged to the Church.”