Gospel Story Finder

Illustrations by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
What’s wrong, Sarah?
I’m not smart.
Who’s been teasing you?
It doesn’t matter, because it’s true—I’m not smart. I’m no good at math or English or anything else.
Heavenly Father, please help me know what to say.
Sarah, my dad read a scripture to my family last night. It says, “The glory of God is intelligence, or, in other words, light and truth.”*
So?
So you may not be the top student at math or English, but you’re full of light and truth. It shines from your face. Sarah Mercer, you are intelligent!
You’re a child of God, and His glory is in you.
If you say so.
I do say so.

I would like to read a little statement here that I published in the book I wrote. It is taken from a pamphlet entitled The Strength of the ‘Mormon’ Position (Orson F. Whitney, Independence, Mo.: Zion’s Printing and Publishing Co., 1917). The late Elder Orson F. Whitney of the Council of the Twelve Apostles related the following incident under the heading, “A Catholic Utterance”:
“Many years ago a learned man, a member of the Roman Catholic Church, came to Utah and spoke from the stand of the Salt Lake Tabernacle. I became well acquainted with him, and we conversed freely and frankly. A great scholar, with perhaps a dozen languages at his tongue’s end, he seemed to know all about theology, law, literature, science and philosophy. One day he said to me: ‘You Mormons are all ignoramuses. You don’t even know the strength of your own position. It is so strong that there is only one other tenable in the whole Christian world, and that is the position of the Catholic Church. The issue is between Catholicism and Mormonism. If we are right, you are wrong; if you are right, we are wrong; and that’s all there is to it. The Protestants haven’t a leg to stand on. For if we are wrong, they are wrong with us, since they were a part of us and went out from us; while if we are right, they are apostates whom we cut off long ago. If we have the apostolic succession from St. Peter, as we claim, there is no need of Joseph Smith and Mormonism; but if we have not that succession, then such a man as Joseph Smith was necessary, and Mormonism’s attitude is the only consistent one. It is either the perpetuation of the gospel from ancient times, or the restoration of the gospel in latter days.’” (A Marvelous Work and a Wonder, LeGrand Richards, Deseret Book Co., 1958, pp. 3–4.)

Several years ago, a student disclosed a problem to me that they felt should be addressed with their bishop. However, they said that they needed to get the problem resolved first before they met with him. This noble student was trying to take responsibility for their problem (which is admirable), but they got it backwards. Seeking help before the problem is fixed is much more noble and effective than hoping we can fix it on our own and not sharing our burden. I encourage you to test this principle by picking a problem you have and asking for help in solving it. See what happens.

When I got baptized, I started hearing a lot about the temple. Other members would always talk about how important it was to them. It was something that always brought peace to my heart and motivated me to move forward. I knew that I wanted to go there one day and experience the joy that they had felt.
Later, I chose to serve a mission and was called to the Australia Brisbane Mission. Entering the Hamilton New Zealand Temple for the first time was the best feeling ever. I will never forget that experience. The words I would use to describe how I felt are joy, peace, and happiness. I really felt Heavenly Father’s love for me, and the Spirit was strong. It motivated me to always stay strong throughout my mission and afterward.

Neighborhoods age over time. As a housing specialist for Salt Lake City’s Community Outreach program, Mary Allen knows that. And she knows that sometimes the aging isn’t kind.
But what Mary wanted to do right now was convince more than 250 young people from the East Millcreek North Stake that even when a neighborhood gets run down, it’s still home to the people who live there.
As she spoke, Mary, a member of the Liberty Stake Eighth Ward, raised her hands and stretched them out, as if to embrace the east central city streets surrounding the community center where the youth volunteers were gathered.
“This used to be one of the main parts of town,” she said. “Anything south of here was pasture. The old-timers—and I am one of them—remember this as the heart of the city.”
But people moved to the suburbs, private homes became apartments, and the combination of limited-income senior citizens and low-income renters left the area neglected.
“Landscaping isn’t critical when you’re struggling just to survive,” Mary explained.
“I grew up in the Church,” she continued. “I used to go on Saturday morning service projects, just like you. I used to wonder if it meant much to cut some weeds or help paint a house. But I can see it from the other side now. This is my neighborhood, and what you’re doing means a lot. It brings a spark of life to people who wonder if anybody cares.”
It was almost as though Mary were a coach, giving a pep talk before a big game. When she finished, a team rushed out the doors, determined to make a difference in a day. They fanned out over a one-block area, mowing lawns, planting sod, cleaning up debris, scraping old paint, slapping on new paint, and generally sprucing and tidying up.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time as a visitor at the Utah State Prison. Some of my best friends are there. I like to go there because every time I go, I learn something. I learn about personal pride. I learn something about performance. I learn something about people.
One day, when I was talking with the warden at the prison, I asked, “How many prisoners do you have here in the prison who might be classified as ‘impossible’?” I knew that the prison was overcrowded—over 800 prisoners in a facility large enough for only 600, and I knew also that there were a lot who were really problems. I remember one day being in the yard with some of them and seeing a tattoo across the chest of one man that said “A Born Loser,” and he was out to prove it. So I was impressed when the warden said that, of all the prisoners at the Utah State Prison, there was only one whom he would classify as being really impossible or incorrigible.
I asked him to tell me about the man. He said that that prisoner has to remain in his cell 23 hours and 40 minutes every day. He cannot be with anyone else. He isn’t insane; he’s just hardened. “We can’t give him any freedom,” the warden told me. “His meals are served in his cell through iron bars. He has toilet facilities and a bed, and that is where he stays all but about 20 minutes of the day, when he is taken out for a shower. The last time he was allowed to be with other prisoners he put a knife through another inmate. He would do this today if he were allowed any freedom.”
No personal pride. No worthy performance. No patience. The only thing he is accomplishing in his life is being number one—number one in impossibility, in incorrigibility.

Brothers and sisters, I rejoice with you in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I bring with me love from the resilient members in the Philippines and say, on their behalf, Mabuhay!
On this Easter morning, I testify of the living Christ, that He rose from the dead and that His love for us and for our Father in Heaven is pure and eternal. Today, I desire to focus on the love of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ for all, which is manifest through the Atonement of Jesus Christ. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son” (John 3:16).
When the prophet Nephi was asked by an angel about his knowledge of God, Nephi responded simply, “I know that he loveth his children” (see 1 Nephi 11:16–17).
A verse from the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ powerfully describes the Savior’s perfect love: “And the world, because of their iniquity, shall judge him to be a thing of naught; … they scourge him, … they smite him, … they spit upon him, and he suffereth it, because of his loving kindness and his long-suffering towards the children of men” (1 Nephi 19:9). The Savior’s universal love is the motivating force behind all that He does. We know that it is the same love our Father in Heaven has for us, because the Savior humbly taught that He and the Father “are one” (see John 10:30; 17:20–23).
How, then, do we reciprocate and show our gratitude for Their universal love? The Savior taught us with this simple, all-encompassing invitation: “If ye love me, keep my commandments” (John 14:15).
President Dallin H. Oaks taught, “God’s universal and perfect love is shown in all the blessings of His gospel plan, including the fact that His choicest blessings are reserved for those who obey His laws.”
I would like to share three specific ways our Heavenly Father manifests His love for us, His children.
Our most valuable relationships are with the Father and the Son and with our own families because our ties to them are eternal. The great plan of happiness is a wonderful manifestation of God’s love for us. With eyes riveted on God’s plan, we willingly choose to carve out soil and rocks within us that support selfish desires and replace them with foundations that build eternal relationships. In a sense, this can be called “spiritual excavation.” In performing our spiritual excavation, we must first seek after God and call upon Him (see Jeremiah 29:12–13).
Seeking after Him and calling upon Him will begin the process and provide space to build and strengthen our eternal relationships. It broadens our spiritual view and helps us focus on changing what we can control rather than on fears outside our control. Studying the life and ministry of our Savior, Jesus Christ, will enable us to view these other concerns with an eternal perspective.
Distractions can sometimes prevent us from experiencing God’s love in our family relationships and activities. A mother, feeling that gadgets were taking over her family relationships, came up with a solution. At the dinner table and at other family times, she just calls out, “Phones on the deck; let us have face time.” She says that this is the new norm for their family and that it strengthens their relationship as a family when they have real face time. They now enjoy quality Come, Follow Me discussions together as a family.
Our current world is deluged in a “war of words and tumult of opinions” (Joseph Smith—History 1:10). Paul reminds us that “there are … so many kinds of voices in the world” (1 Corinthians 14:10). Which of all the voices rise clearly and meaningfully above the fray? It is the voice of God’s prophets, seers, and revelators.
I remember vividly, after undergoing surgery in 2018 and upon returning to work, I was in the parking garage at Church headquarters. Suddenly, I heard the voice of President Russell M. Nelson calling, “Taniela, Taniela.” I ran toward him, and he asked how I was doing.
I said, “I am recovering very well, President Nelson.”
He gave me counsel and a hug. I truly felt the personal ministry of a prophet to the “one.”
President Nelson has traveled to many nations of the earth. In my mind, he is not just ministering to thousands, but he is ministering to thousands of “ones.” In doing so, he shares the love God has for all His children.
Recently, the words of President Nelson have been a source of strength and inspiration to the people of the Philippines. As with every country in the world, during 2020 the Philippines was severely affected by the COVID-19 pandemic, as well as a volcanic eruption, earthquakes, strong typhoons, and devastating floods.
But like a pillar of light shining through dark clouds of fear, loneliness, and despair came the words of the prophet. They included the call for worldwide fasting and prayer and counsel to move forward despite the pandemic. He invited us to make our homes personal sanctuaries of faith. He called upon Latter-day Saints everywhere to respect all of God’s children and to let God prevail in our lives.
Likewise stirring were President Nelson’s recent video testimony about the power of gratitude and his concluding prayer, which resonated across the Philippines. In the province of Leyte, the video was played during an interfaith event, and it was also mentioned as part of a priest’s homily. The Philippines, along with the entire world, are so blessed to feel God’s love through the words of His chosen prophet.
Sometimes God manifests His love by chastening us. It is a way of reminding us that He loves us and that He knows who we are. His promised blessing of peace is open to all those who courageously walk the covenant path and are willing to receive correction.
When we recognize the chastening and are willing recipients, it becomes a spiritual surgery. Who likes surgery, by the way? But to those who need it and are willing to receive it, it can be lifesaving. The Lord chastens whom He loves. The scriptures tell us so (see Hebrews 12:5–11; Helaman 12:3; Doctrine and Covenants 1:27; 95:1). That chastening, or spiritual surgery, will bring about needed change in our lives. We will realize, brothers and sisters, that it refines and purifies our inner vessels.
Joseph Smith, the Prophet of the Restoration, was chastened. After Joseph lost the 116 pages of the Book of Mormon manuscript, the Lord both corrected and showed love by saying: “You should not have feared man more than God. … You should have been faithful. … Behold, thou art Joseph, and thou wast chosen. … Remember, God is merciful; therefore, repent” (Doctrine and Covenants 3:7–10).
In 2016, while serving a mission in Little Rock, Arkansas, I asked Brother Cava to deliver a package to my older sister, who lived on an island in Fiji. His response was not something that I had anticipated. “President Wakolo,” he groaned, “your sister passed away and was buried 10 days ago.” I had self-pity and even felt a little upset that my family did not even bother to let me know.
The next day, while my wife was teaching missionaries, this thought penetrated my soul: “Taniela, all these experiences are for your own good and development. You have been teaching and sharing your testimony about the Atonement of Jesus Christ; now live accordingly.” I was reminded that “happy is the man whom God correct[s]: therefore [we should] despise not … the chastening of the Almighty” (Job 5:17). It was a spiritual surgery for me, and the outcome was immediate.
Just as I was contemplating the experience, I was called upon to give my concluding thoughts to the discussion. Among other things, I shared the lessons that I had just been taught: one, I had just been chastened by the Holy Ghost, and I loved it because I was the only one who heard it; two, because of the Savior’s sacrifice and ransom, I will no longer refer to my challenges as trials and tribulations but as my learning experiences; and three, because of His perfect and sinless life, I will no longer refer to my shortcomings and lack of abilities as weaknesses but rather as my development opportunities. This experience helped me know that God chastens us because He loves us.
I conclude. Our Eternal Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, show Their love by making it possible for us to have eternal relationships with Them and our family members, by calling modern-day prophets to teach and minister to us, and by chastening us to help us learn and grow. “God be thanked for the matchless gift of His divine Son,” our resurrected Lord, even the living Christ. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

For a second profile, I turn from Mexico to a missionary at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, desperately struggling to become proficient in the German language, that he might be an effective missionary to the people of southern Germany. Each day as he opened his German grammar text, he noticed with interest and curiosity that the front cover displayed the picture of a most quaint and ancient house in Rothenburg, Germany. Beneath the picture, the location was given. In his heart that young man determined, “I’ll visit that house and teach the truth to whoever lives within it.” This he did. The result was the conversion and baptism of Sister Helma Hahn. She devoted much of her time speaking to tourists who came from all over the world to see her house. She delighted in telling them of the blessings that the gospel of Jesus Christ had brought to her. Her house was perhaps one of the most frequently photographed houses in the entire world. No visitor left without hearing in simple yet earnest words her testimony of praise and gratitude. That missionary who brought to Sister Hahn the gospel remembered the sacred charge: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matt. 28:19).

Aldershot Muslim community receive help from a local church for prayer services venue
With little time to find an alternative, at the end of September a local Muslim community were left with nowhere to worship. Chairman of Aldershot Football Club Shahid Azeem who worships at the mosque asked his friend, local councillor David Clifford, for help in finding a temporary alternative venue for worship.
David Clifford, who is also a member of the River Wey Ward in Staines Stake, called his bishop, Dan Grant to ask if the Muslim community could use their chapel until they found another place to worship. Bishop Grant was happy to help and said “We have been blessed to have a building which we are more than willing to share with our local community when we can safely do so. It makes me happy to think our Muslim brothers and sisters may use the building to worship and pray as do we.”
Shahid was thrilled and impressed that the Church would be so generous, the only stipulation being that a priesthood holder would allow access to the chapel and ensure that everything was kept tidy.
The leader of the Muslim community, Liaqat Hussain, commented that the simplicity of the chapel and lack of religious symbols suits their worship services perfectly. He also said “We are so grateful to Bishop Daniel and Cllr David Clifford for bending over backwards to accommodate us and make us most welcome. This is a great way to demonstrate the multi-faith groups working together in harmony.”
The whole process happened relatively quickly. Shaihid asked David for help on 29 September and the first prayer meeting was able to be held on 9 October, just over a week later. The Muslim community will continue to use the chapel until they find another place to worship. What a wonderful example of a community working together to find a solution to a problem!

Remember that Heavenly Father answers our prayers in the way that is best for us. It may not be the answer that we want, but it is always the right answer. I remember my Primary graduation. Back then, we wore bandalos (felt bands worn around the neck and that emblems and awards were attached to), and my Primary teacher told me that I needed to wear mine. I couldn’t find it! My mother told me to pray about it, so I knelt and asked Heavenly Father for help. I soon received my answer. The Spirit told me to look underneath my dresser drawer. When I reached up under it, I found my bandalo caught on a sliver of wood. I never would have looked there if I hadn’t prayed for help. We need to always remember that if we ask, we shall receive (see Matt. 7:7–8). If we ask Heavenly Father for guidance, the Spirit will whisper to us what we should do.

Photograph of Concepción, Chile, from Getty Images
When I read in the Book of Mormon about how Nephi always supported his visionary father, I concluded that most youth in the Church were probably like Nephi. But when my family decided that we needed to move to the desert, I felt more like Laman and Lemuel. I didn’t want to leave my home.
Like Nephi and his brothers, I was “born of goodly parents” (1 Nephi 1:1). Both joined the Church when they were teenagers, and my mother waited for my father while he served a mission. They were active, hardworking members of the Church.
When I was in high school, the economy slowed down in our region of Concepción, Chile. Jobs dried up, and my father began having trouble finding work. Finally, he began looking for a job out of town.
His job search took him north to the city of Calama, in Chile’s mining region. He is a construction engineer, and he found a good job there. But he was alone and far away. We saw him only when he could afford the 32-hour bus ride home.
After a few years of seeing my father only two or three times a year, my mother felt that it was time to make a change. My parents concluded that the rest of our family needed to move north.
My younger brother had no problem moving. And my older sister, who was in college, set a good example for me.
“I’ll sacrifice my studies,” she said. “We need to be with our father.”
Everyone supported the decision to move except for me. I wanted to be with my father too, but I resisted making changes and personal sacrifices. I had my friends, I knew my surroundings, I enjoyed my lifestyle, and I wanted to go to college in Concepción. I did everything I could do to convince my mother that we shouldn’t go.
Finally, she said, “Son, your father is alone. He wants us with him. I wish you understood, but you’re too focused on yourself.” Then she reassured me, “We will have opportunities there.”
In my heart, I knew she was right—even though my head wasn’t convinced. I didn’t have a strong testimony at the time, but I decided to pray about whether I should go with my family. A clear answer came to me: “You need to leave this place.” I was sad, but I told my parents I would go.
Concepción is a green place with lots of trees. It receives 50 inches (127 cm) of rain per year. Antofagasta, the city near Calama we were moving to, receives only 0.1 inch (0.25 cm) per year.
The most shocking thing for me about the move was the actual trip. As we made our way north by bus, watching the transition from green to brown was agonizing. I wondered, “Where are the trees? Where are the cows in the countryside?” All I saw was dirt, rocks, and hills.
Obviously, northern Chile is a desert, so what else could I expect? I was reminded of how Laman and Lemuel felt when Lehi’s family left the land of their inheritance and headed into the wilderness.
I had a lot of fears when we arrived in Antofagasta. What would happen if I didn’t make any friends? What would happen if I couldn’t get used to the area? What would happen if my hopes for the future didn’t come true?
In the end, I shouldn’t have worried. My mother was right about the opportunities awaiting us—especially the spiritual opportunities.
Before our move, the gospel wasn’t a priority for me. The Lord was in the background. But in Antofagasta, people came into my life who helped me see the beauty of the gospel. I received help from special priesthood leaders. I made friends who remain a treasure to me. My spiritual life changed completely.
Sergio visits with friends at institute.
I’m grateful I listened to my mother. I’m grateful the Lord answered my prayer. I’m grateful I had the courage to move north with my family.
Here in the desert is where I made the changes that helped me become who I am today. Here is where I committed to embrace the gospel, serve a mission, marry in the temple, and dedicate my life to the Lord. Here is where I determined that I no longer wanted to be like Laman and Lemuel.
For my family and me, the wilderness turned out to be our promised land.

Writing of the traumatic experience of seeing her murdered sons, Joseph and Hyrum, Lucy Mack Smith bore fervent and powerful witness of Joseph’s prophetic mission.
After the [bodies of Joseph and Hyrum] were washed and dressed in their burial clothes, we were allowed to see them. I had for a long time braced every nerve, roused every energy of my soul and called upon God to strengthen me, but when I entered the room … , it was too much; I sank back, crying to the Lord in the agony of my soul, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken this family!” A voice replied, “I have taken them to myself, that they might have rest.” …
As I looked upon their peaceful, smiling countenances, I seemed almost to hear them say, “Mother, weep not for us, we have overcome the world by love; we carried to them the gospel, that their souls might be saved; they slew us for our testimony, and thus placed us beyond their power; their ascendancy is for a moment, ours is an eternal triumph.” …
This much I will say, that the testimony which I have given is true, and will stand forever; and the same will be my testimony in the day of God Almighty, when I shall meet them, concerning whom I have testified, before angels, and the spirits of the just made perfect, before archangels and seraphims, cherubims and gods; where the brief authority of the unjust man will shrink to nothingness before him who is the Lord of lords, and God of gods; and where the righteousness of the just shall exalt them in the scale, wherein God weigheth the hearts of men.

In January of 2007 I was home during Christmas break, and I was lonely. Then on the first Tuesday of the year, one of my friends from school who is not a Latter-day Saint called me and invited me to go to a botanical garden near our home in Arcadia, California. We were there for most of the day amongst beautiful flowers and trees with ponds, geese, and peacocks. After a while we got tired and decided to sit underneath a huge weeping willow to rest.
It was a sunny day, but you could hardly see daylight underneath the tree except for one small pillar of light that shone on the two of us. That place was so peaceful, and it reminded me of something.
“Do you know what this reminds me of?” I said. “This reminds me of Joseph Smith, when he went to the grove to pray about which religion was true.” She knew I was a member of the Church, so she sort of laughed. “No, I’m dead serious,” I continued. “There’s this sort of beauty to this place that fills me with a spirit of peace.”
We sat there in silence for about a minute or so. The whole time she had this look like she was debating whether or not to say something. Finally she asked, “How do you know? I mean, how do you know what you believe is true?”
This kind of caught me off guard, because she had asked me before what I believed but not how I knew it was true. I explained that I knew because I had prayed to know for myself. I had wanted to know if what I had studied and believed was true. So I had gone before the Lord with an open heart and mind and asked. Then I had been overcome by this feeling of happiness, as if no evil in the world could ever touch me. And all of those things that stress me out in life didn’t matter because the Lord was with me.
Before I knew it, she was in tears. She then said, “You don’t know how badly I want to believe in something, but everything I’ve ever believed in just disappointed me. How can I believe in something that isn’t tangible?”
At first I honestly didn’t know how to answer her. We let the question hang there for a moment as I thought of what to say.
“Faith,” I then said, “is so hard to develop and so easy to lose. Faith can only strengthen us, but we must have an open heart and mind to acquire it. It may be far-fetched, but I have never gone wrong with faith, and I know that’s how it’ll always be.”
With that, we just sat in silence, enjoying the peaceful feeling of the Spirit.

Sophie loved to sing. She sang at school, at her friends’ houses, and at home. Her favorite place to sing was at church.
“Mom,” Sophie asked one day, “I want to learn to sing better. Do you think I could take lessons?”
“That sounds like a fun idea,” Mom said. “Let me see what I can find.”
Singing wasn’t always easy for Sophie. She was deaf and couldn’t hear most sounds on her own. She had a special little device behind her ears to help her hear. Things sounded a little different to her than they did to other people. But Sophie still loved to sing.
“Good news, Sophie!” Mom said a few days later. “I found a class you can join. It’s a choir with other children who are learning to sing together. The teacher said you could start tomorrow!”
Sophie did a little dance. She was so excited!
But that night, she started to get nervous.
“Are you excited for your class tomorrow?” her big sister Kayla asked.
Sophie nodded. “Yes. But I’m also a little scared. I wish I didn’t have to go by myself.”
“You can do it!” Kayla said. “But would it help if I came with you? We can learn to sing together.”
Sophie hugged Kayla. “That would be awesome.”
The next morning, Sophie and Kayla got up early to go to their singing class. Nervous thoughts ran through Sophie’s head as she climbed into the car. What if she couldn’t understand the teacher? What if she didn’t make friends? What if people stared at her?
Mom pulled the car into the parking lot and turned around to look at Sophie. Sophie slid down low in her seat.
“I’m not sure I want to go anymore,” she said.
“What happened?” Mom asked. “You were so excited before.”
Sophie didn’t say anything. She just looked down at the ground and kicked her feet back and forth.
Mom smiled. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But if you get nervous, you can pray to Heavenly Father, and He will help you! Plus Kayla will be there too.”
Kayla held Sophie’s hand. “We’ve got this!” she said.
Sophie gulped. Her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, but she climbed out of the car anyway. She held tight onto Kayla’s hand as they walked into the classroom.
For the first few days of class, Sophie always sat by Kayla. Then one day Sophie noticed a girl who always sat by herself. Maybe she was scared too. Sophie went and sat next to her.
“Hi!” Sophie said. “Can I sit here?” The girl nodded. Soon they were laughing and singing together. Sophie was glad she had been brave enough to make a new friend.
Singing with the group was so much fun! Sophie loved learning the notes and tapping her foot to the beat of the music. She was even able to teach some of the other kids how to say the words in sign language.
One day the teacher had an exciting announcement. Everyone in the class would get to sing three solo parts in a special program. At home, Kayla and Sophie worked hard to practice their solos. Soon Sophie could sing her first two solo parts. But the last one was really hard! She couldn’t hear all the notes. How would she be able to sing it by herself in front of so many people?
Sophie remembered what Mom said about praying to Heavenly Father for help. She got down on her knees. “Heavenly Father, this last song is very hard for me. Could you help me find a way to sing it and not be so nervous?”
At her next singing class, Sophie’s teacher came up to her. “I know you’re nervous about your third solo. Would you like to sing that one with Kayla? It could bea sister solo!”
Sophie smiled. She felt warm and happy. She knew Heavenly Father was answering her prayer.
At the performance, Sophie sang her first two solos with confidence. When it was time for her third solo, she jumped up and grabbed Kayla’s hand. They walked up to the stage and sang the sister solo loud and proud. Sophie didn’t feel nervous or scared at all! Heavenly Father had answered her prayer in a way she didn’t expect, but she was so thankful that He always heard her.

I kind of think of prayer as the cream of the gospel but since I am working on my wellness challenge and I am trying to make healthy choices I am going to compare it to non-fat milk for this story. For those that are lactose intolerant you can substitute soy or almond milk for your own analogy. I came back from the gym one morning ready to make and eat my oatmeal. I was looking forward to eating this as I hungry from my workout and I had cut up bananas and walnuts to put on top. In trying to hurry to get ready for work I grabbed it and started walking upstairs to finish getting ready. As I took a bite I thought, something is missing. I took another bite and thought this is bland. It was then that I discovered in my hurry I had completely forgotten the milk. I was surprised at what a difference it made. Now you can substitute any cereal you normally eat like Fruit Loops or Captain Crunch but you can understand that you need milk with your cereal. Or maybe you might like to compare it to eating an Oreo and not having milk to dunk it in. So I say to you “Don’t forget the milk” meaning don’t forget to pray. The gospel is so much more flavorful and delightful with your spiritual milk or prayer each day.

The July evening was perfect for a hayride, and young and old climbed aboard for a tour of the farm. All was pleasant and peaceful as we jogged along munching goodies.

Suddenly, gunshots pierced the air and over the hill rode a gang of desperadoes who circled the wagon and rounded up the wallets. But Uncle Beech’s wallet was empty! That made the outlaws angry, so they threw him over a horse and carried him off over the hill. Adults laughed at the sight, but Uncle Gen’s grandkids called out: “Call the sheriff! Call the posse! Deputize the clan.” But just then, over the crest of the hill rode Uncle Beech, the captured gunmen walking in front of his pointed pistol with their hands skyward. The wallets were retrieved, and the desperadoes set free after they promised to repent.

When I was about 11 years old, a man came to our little town to teach at the Church academy. He played the violin a little, and we hadn’t had anyone there for a long time who had played the violin. My mother was impressed and picked up a little violin, I guess at some little rummage sale somewhere, and decided that I should learn to play the violin.
Even though I had never seen anyone play the violin in public, he came to our house and started giving me some little simple lessons on playing the violin. I was coming along fairly well by the time we graduated from the eighth grade in grammar school, and for the graduation exercises held in the high school I was asked to play a violin solo.
I’d carefully practiced the little number “Träumerei,” as I remember the name. My sister who was four years older than I and was then one of the popular girls in high school was my pianist. At the graduation exercises, Connie McMurray was the valedictorian. Girls are always smarter in school than boys. As she was giving the valedictory address, there was a little pedestal with a pitcher of water and a glass on it for the school board. The school board was on the stand, plus a little handful of us who were graduating from the eighth grade.
As Connie McMurray was giving her famous valedictory address, near the end of it we noticed the little doily under the pitcher of water on the pedestal was moving over a little bit towards the edge, and over it fell with the pitcher and glass of water! Connie McMurray fell in a dead faint.
In the scurrying around of cleaning the water off the stage and rearranging the chairs, they announced that we would now have the violin solo from David Haight. I walked over to the little old piano, and my sister came up from the audience. I took that little simple violin out of that wooden case as my sister sat down at the piano and sounded an A. I said, “Go ahead and play.”
She said, “David, you’d better tune it.”
I said, “No, no, I tuned it at our piano at home.” We had an old Kimball piano at home. You know, homes in those days—if you had a piano and books, that’s all you needed for the family. I had carefully tuned the strings by twisting those ebony pegs of that violin, but I didn’t know that all pianos weren’t the same. So as my sister said, “You’d better tune it,” I said, “No, no, it’s all tuned. I tuned it at home.”
So she went ahead and played the introduction, and then I came down on the first note. We were off about two notes.
As she slowed down, I said, “Keep playing,” because I couldn’t imagine anyone would take the time of a famous audience like I was playing to—you know, 100 people in that little high school auditorium. You wouldn’t hold up Carnegie Hall while you tuned your violin! That would be shop work. You would do that in the back room so that when you would start to play, why, you’d be all ready to play.
She slowed down. I said, “Keep playing.” We finished it, and she didn’t speak to me for days following that show.

To illustrate, may I share with you an experience which took place several years ago when Sister Monson had been hospitalized because of a fall. She asked me to go to the supermarket and purchase a few items. This was something I had not done before. I had a shopping list which included potatoes. I promptly found a grocery cart and placed a number of potatoes in it. I knew nothing of the plastic bags in which produce is normally placed. As I moved the cart along, the potatoes fell out and onto the floor, exiting through two rather small openings in the back of the cart. A dutiful clerk hurried to my aid and called out, “Let me help you!” I tried to explain to her that my cart was defective. It was only then that I was told that all the carts had those two holes in the back and that they were meant for the legs of children.

Next the clerk took my list and helped me find each item. Then she said, “You are Bishop Monson, aren’t you?”

I answered that many years earlier I had been a bishop. She continued: “At that time I lived on Gale Street in your ward and was not a member of the Church. You made certain the girls who were members contacted me each week and took me with them to Mutual and other activities. They were fine young women whose friendship and kindness touched my heart. I want to let you know that the fellowshipping you arranged for me led to my being baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. What a blessing this has been in my life,” she said.

Sighing, I let the pen slip idly from my fingers as my head collapsed onto the desk in front of me. “I can’t do this any more,” I groaned.
I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 8:45 P.M. I had wanted to be in bed by 9:30. Looking back at the math exercises I had been working on, my eyes filled with tears. I was so tired. My head was pounding, and my whole body was aching, but sleep seemed unlikely tonight. The math would take me at least another hour to finish; then I had to learn my lines for tomorrow’s drama rehearsal. My English assignment was due in two days, and I hadn’t started it yet. On top of that, my piano lesson was the next day, and Mrs. Doolan was bound to be unimpressed with the limited practice I’d managed to fit in this week.
“Tammy?” The small voice roused me from my thoughts, and I turned, exasperated, towards the door.
“Ben,” I whined at my brother, “why aren’t you asleep yet?”
The six-year-old scurried happily across the room and onto my lap. “I’m not tired,” he answered simply.
Smiling, I put my arms around him and gave him a hug. It was impossible to stay angry with him for long.
“Read me a story, Tammy,” he pleaded.
“Ben,” I began, “I’d really like to, but I just can’t tonight.” I launched into a detailed account of the pressures I was under. Noting his disappointment, my excuses trailed off, and I began to feel guilty. My eyes fell on the scriptures, where they lay on the bedroom floor.
There’s another thing I have to do tonight, I thought, feeling discouraged.
Suddenly I had an idea. I’d shoot both birds with one stone! Putting Ben down on the floor, I reached for the Book of Mormon.
“You like scripture stories don’t you, Ben?” I asked. Nodding happily he settled down to listen. The seminary reading assignment was Third Nephi chapter 17, and I turned to the page quickly and began to read: “Behold, now it came to pass that when Jesus had spoken these words he looked round about again on the multitude, and …”
“Tammy, what’s a multitude?” Ben interrupted.
“It’s just a large group of people,” I answered hastily and then continued: “and he said unto them: Behold my time is at hand.”
“Tammy, what does that mean?” I groaned inwardly. This was going to take a lot longer than I had planned on.
I read on for about half an hour, in which time I had read about one page. Ben wanted to know and understand everything I was reading. Jesus directing the Nephites? Jesus healing the sick? Language that couldn’t be written? Everything fascinated him. But not me. I was simply anxious to get through the chapter, send him back to bed, and return to my mountain of homework.
“And when he had said these words,” I continued, “he wept, and the multitude bare record of it, and he took their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the Father for them.
“And when he had done this he wept again;
“And he spake unto the multitude, and said unto them: Behold your little ones.
“And as they looked to behold they cast their eyes towards heaven, and they saw the heavens open, and they saw angels descending out of heaven as it were in the midst of fire; and they came down and encircled those little ones about, and they were encircled about with fire; and the angels did minister unto them.”
Pausing for a breath, I suddenly realized that I had just read four verses without being interrupted once!
Puzzled I looked down at Ben and was surprised to see that there were tears streaming down his small face. My eyes met his as I searched for an explanation.
“Tammy,” he said softly, “I wish I could have been there.”
Suddenly I felt my eyes stinging with tears, and I was filled with shame. “So do I, Ben,” I whispered.
My homework, drama rehearsal, and piano practice paled in significance as I realized that it was my attitude towards spiritual matters that needed attention. I reached for the sweet little brother who had reminded me of what was really important and vowed to be better.

Jenelle heard her best friend, Michelle, invite their friend Rebecca to her birthday party on Sunday. It was going to be a swimming party.
Michelle had already invited Jenelle, and Jenelle had not given her an answer yet. But she knew she wouldn’t be going to the party.
Michelle and Jenelle had been friends since they were six years old. But after Jenelle’s family had become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints nine months ago, things had changed between them. Becoming a Church member hadn’t changed what Jenelle felt for her friend, but Michelle was having a hard time understanding why Jenelle was different than before.
After school, Jenelle trudged home more discouraged than ever. Everyone else Michelle had invited to her party would be there. Mom will know what I can do, Jenelle thought. I always feel better after talking things over with her.
At home, she told her mother the whole story. “What am I going to do?” she asked.
Mom put her arm around Jenelle’s shoulders. “You have to decide what’s more important to you—going to your friend’s party or obeying the commandments,” she said.
Jenelle sighed. She knew what she should do. That didn’t make it any easier, though. She didn’t want to hurt her friend’s feelings, and she wanted to go to the party. But she couldn’t break one of the commandments, especially after hearing the prophet speak in general conference about the importance of keeping the Sabbath day holy.
She knew what she had to do. After school the next day, she hurried home and wrapped the present she had made for Michelle. Then she walked to her friend’s house.
“I made you something special for your birthday,” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t come to your birthday party. It’s because it’s on Sunday.”
Michelle unwrapped the present and held it up. “A birdhouse!” she said. “This is great! You made this yourself?”
Jenelle nodded. “At Primary achievement day.” She told Michelle about Primary and the achievement days for girls her age.
“What’s the big deal about going swimming on Sunday?” Michelle asked after thanking Jenelle for the gift. “We’ll be going in the afternoon, after your church is over.”
“The prophet said we need to keep the Sabbath day holy,” Jenelle explained.
“What does that mean?” Michelle asked.
“It means we don’t shop on Sunday or go swimming or to ball games—stuff like that.”
“What do you do?” Michelle wondered.
“We go to church, spend time with our families, listen to music, read the scriptures.” Jenelle smiled, remembering last Sunday. “Sometimes we take a nap.”
Michelle frowned. “Who is this prophet? Why do you have to do what he says?”
“He’s the President of the Church,” Jenelle explained.
“So he’s like the boss?”
Jenelle smiled again. She’d never heard the prophet described as a boss, but she supposed it made sense to people who weren’t members of the Church.
“What makes the prophet so special?” Michelle asked.
“He teaches us things Heavenly Father wants us to know.”
“You mean he talks with God?”
“Yes,” Jenelle answered firmly. She knew a lot of people didn’t understand that.
“Who is he?” Michelle asked.
“Our prophet’s name is President Gordon B. Hinckley.”
“Do you have to do everything he says?”
“We don’t have to. We choose to,” Jenelle said, hoping Michelle understood.
“Can you come to my birthday party next year if it isn’t on Sunday?” Michelle asked.
Jenelle hugged her friend. “I’m already counting the days till then!”