Gospel Story Finder

Illustration by Brad Teare; The Lord Jesus Christ, by Del Parson © IRI
Emma tightened her grip on her backpack as she walked into her new classroom. It was the first day of school. She had her favorite dress on, and Mom had packed a special treat with lunch—animal crackers.
“Today is going to be great,” Emma thought to herself. “As long as—”
Emma stopped and stared across the classroom. There she was. Violet.
Last year, Violet had hogged the monkey bars every recess. She had called Emma names. She had even stolen Emma’s best friend!
Violet saw Emma and stuck out her tongue. Emma glared back, gripping her backpack even harder. Violet had been unfriendly all last year, and it seemed this year wouldn’t be any different.
“Welcome to a new year, class!” Miss Caldwell said from the front of the room. “Let’s assign seats.”
The desks were lined up in twos across the classroom. Miss Caldwell ran her finger down the roll; then she pointed at a pair of desks in the back. “Emma. You will sit back there.”
Emma sat down in one of the back desks. She hoped Liselle would sit next to her. Or Jaime. Or—
“Violet.”
Emma’s head jerked up. Did she hear that right?
Yes. Miss Caldwell was still pointing at the desk beside hers. “You will be Emma’s neighbor, Violet,” she said.
Violet trudged toward Emma with a frown. Emma put her head on her desk and stared at the wall. It was going to be a long year.
At math time, Miss Caldwell wrote some problems on the board for the class to solve. “You may work alone or with your neighbor,” she said.
Emma quickly hunched over her paper, pretending like she was busy. The problems were pretty easy. She was just trying to avoid Violet. She hadn’t looked at her once all morning.
Something poked her shoulder. It felt like a pencil. Emma ignored it.
Another poke. Violet was poking her! Emma kept working stubbornly.
Violet’s third poke was hard enough to hurt. Emma could feel herself boiling up inside. Was the whole year going to be like this? She thought about raising her hand to tell Miss Caldwell. Or maybe she’d just give Violet another glare.
Then Emma heard a sniffle. Was someone crying? The pencil poked her again. She looked over and saw Violet staring at her. Her pencil was in her hand, and there were tears in her eyes. Her paper was covered in eraser smudges.
Violet twisted the pencil in her hands. “Can you help me?” she asked quietly.
Emma looked at her for a minute, shocked. Violet wanted her to help? After how mean she had always been? Emma turned back to her own paper. Violet could work alone. She didn’t deserve Emma’s help, even if she was …
… her neighbor?
Emma silently faced forward. She could hear Violet crying softly next to her. The scriptures always said to love her neighbor—but Violet was different! Emma was only sitting next to her in class!
Emma went back to her own work. Then she stopped. Maybe Violet wasn’t different. Maybe when the scriptures said to love your neighbor, they meant everyone. Even the mean ones. Even if it was hard.
Emma sighed and slowly put her pencil down. She turned to Violet and tried her best to smile. “Can I help?” she asked.
Violet nodded, wiping her tears away with her hand.
Emma leaned over Violet’s paper and started helping with the first problem. She already had a warm feeling inside her. She wondered if Violet liked animal crackers.

It was almost Halloween. Every year the Master Monster Makers built a frightening monster for the Halloween party at the church. The boys were busy bringing monster parts to Billy’s backyard.
Billy had a big cardboard box that a washing machine had come in, and many smaller boxes. He also had some coat hangers for fastening the boxes together.
Tommy brought ropes and a worn-out tent that his brother had given to him.
Donald brought spray paints and a plastic bucket.
“We are the Master Monster Makers,” they said. “We make the best monsters!”
Billy’s little sister, Cathy, came outside. She had a toy megaphone in her hand. When she talked through it, her voice was very loud.
“Can I help?” she asked. “We could put my megaphone in your monster.”
“Sorry,” said Billy. “You are not one of the Master Monster Makers. You would only get in the way.”
Cathy shouted, “I would not!”
Billy shook his head. “No.”
Cathy put the megaphone to her mouth and shouted, “YOU ARE NOT VERY NICE!”
“Quiet, mega-mouth,” said Billy.
The Master Monster Makers laughed. Cathy turned and marched back inside. The boys started working.
Billy put the boxes together to make the monster’s body.
Tommy wrapped the tent around the boxes, then tied on ropes to make the arms move.
Donald painted the monster scary colors. He put the little bucket on top for a head.
The Master Monster Makers worked hard all morning. At last Billy put an awful Halloween mask on the monster’s head, and the three boys stood back and admired their work. The monster looked so real that they thought it might reach out and grab them.
“That’s the best monster we’ve ever made,” said Donald. The others agreed.
Cathy came out of the house with her megaphone. “Is anybody thirsty?” she asked. “I poured you some cold root beer in the kitchen.”
The Master Monster Makers were all thirsty. They hurried inside.
“That was nice of Cathy,” said Donald, sipping through a straw. “I thought she would still be mad.”
“Me, too,” said Tommy. “Maybe we should have let her help.”
“No,” said Billy. “She doesn’t know anything about making monsters.”
The three boys finished their drinks and went back outside. They wanted to thank Cathy for the root beer, but they didn’t see her anywhere. They were alone with the monster.
“It sure looks scary,” said Billy.
“Yes,” said Tommy. “Spooky.”
“Ooooohhhhh …”
“What was that?” asked Donald.
The monster’s arms came up a little.
“It—it moved!” Tommy croaked.
The monster’s arms went up high. It growled, “COME HERE, LITTLE BOYS. I AM VERY HUNGRY!”
“It’s almost like it’s alive!” yelped Billy.
“Neat!” Donald squawked.
“Who thought of that?” the Master Monster Makers asked each other.
Just then they heard the monster again. It giggled.
Giggled?
“Oh,” said Billy. “I know.” He marched right up to the monster and banged on its chest. “OK,” he said. “Come on out, Cathy.”
There was silence for a minute. Then Billy’s little sister poked her head out. “How did you know it was me?” she asked.
“Monsters don’t giggle,” said Billy.
Cathy climbed out of the monster with her megaphone. “Are you angry?” she asked.
Billy thought for a minute. “I guess not,” he said. “I didn’t think you could make our monster any scarier. But you did.”
“You sure did,” agreed Tommy and Donald.
The boys looked at each other. They all had the same idea at the same time.
“Cathy,” Billy asked, “would you be the monster’s voice at the Halloween party?”
“That would be fun!” Cathy exclaimed.
“We are the Master Monster Makers,” they all four shouted, “and we make the best monsters!”

While I served as mission president in Scotland from 1975 to 1978, the Church received considerable opposition and criticism. On one occasion, three ministers made derogatory public statements in a particular city. I wrote an open letter to the local newspaper announcing that we would be holding a public meeting in that city to dispel some of the misunderstandings which were being voiced around. It was a wonderful meeting. We first showed the fine Church film “Meet the Mormons,” and then I spoke to the large group concerning our beliefs and way of life. When we opened the meeting for questions, a number of people who were not members of the Church stood and said kind things about the Church and the Latter-day Saints they knew. Positive results ensued and the work moved forward.

Second, pay your tithing to rightfully claim the blessings promised those who do so. “Prove me now herewith, saith the Lord of Hosts, if I will not open you the windows of heaven, and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it.” After she lost her husband in the martyrdom at Nauvoo and made her way west with five fatherless children, Mary Fielding Smith continued in her poverty to pay tithing. When someone at the tithing office inappropriately suggested one day that she should not contribute a tenth of the only potatoes she had been able to raise that year, she cried out to the man, “William, you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Would you deny me a blessing? If I did not pay my tithing, I should expect the Lord to withhold His blessings from me. I pay my tithing, not only because it is a law of God, but because I expect a blessing by doing it. [I need a blessing.] By keeping this and other laws, I expect … to be able to provide for my family.”

I can’t list all the ways that blessings will come from obedience to this principle, but I testify many will come in spiritual ways that go well beyond economics. In my life, for example, I have seen God’s promise fulfilled that He would “rebuke the devourer for [my sake].” That blessing of protection against evil has been poured out upon me and on my loved ones beyond any capacity I have to adequately acknowledge. But I believe that divine safety has come, at least in part, because of our determination, individually and as a family, to pay tithing.

Karen Cromar’s Laurel class from the Holladay 14th Ward went together to fill sandbags as a service project. But for Karen, that was just the beginning of her volunteer service. Karen said, “Filling sandbags just seemed like a more worthwhile activity than going to a leader’s house for dinner or something. I guess I’m the type that likes to be involved. When I found out that we were needed, my friends and I went back several more nights after work to help fill sandbags. It’s hard work. We would go for half an hour working really hard then take a break before starting all over again.” The priests quorum in Karen’s ward was called out of Church meetings to help sandbag Big Cottonwood Creek, which was endangering hundreds of homes.

It was the type of crisis that didn’t go away in a few hours. The danger continued for weeks as the creek rose, but when the call went out for volunteers, young people responded in record numbers. But when they were asked individually how they felt about helping, the answer was nearly always the same, “It feels good to help where I’m really needed.”

Help was given freely to anyone who needed it. Ward organizations were used to make assignments, but those who were not members of the Church received the same care and consideration as their LDS neighbors.

Curt Dennis and his wife, Sharon, had moved into their home exactly one month before mud filled the basement and covered their yard. Discouraged by the sheer effort it would take to clean up, Curt was trying to decide where to start when he saw a most unusual sight. “It was fantastic. It was Sunday, and I was standing by my house when I saw a hundred people with shovels over their shoulders walking down the street. The last twenty or so peeled off and came over and started digging the mud out from around my home. They were the members of the wards around here. It was incredibly backbreaking work lugging mud out of here in wheelbarrows, but with two crews working all day, they accomplished more than I could have with the tractor I was planning on renting.”

The Dennises appreciated the help they received. “We are getting to know a lot of people really fast. We are so appreciative of the people just pitching in. There is no substitute for a lot of help.”

Curt has found that the experience has changed his mind on a lot of things. “I think the thing that felt best was people coming up and wanting to help. It wasn’t like they felt they had to; they really felt good about it. The fact that they were there helped us know that things would be all right.”

The floodwaters subsided. Left behind, besides the muck and mud, are the stories of young people really pitching in and helping where they were needed. There were few individual heroes. But there were those like the blind boy who came every day for a week with his brother to fill sandbags. There was the Mia Maid class who rescued rosebushes from the flow of mud that covered a yard. And the young men who stood in icy cold water stacking sandbags to protect the home of an elderly couple.

This response didn’t happen just in the Salt Lake Valley. It went on throughout Utah where the danger of flooding was a daily concern for weeks. The youth were there to help in Vernal, in Spanish Fork, in Fillmore, in Ogden, wherever there was danger.

It seemed that when they were needed, thousands of young people came through with the energy of youth and the humility of those who truly know how to serve.

As the date of our divorce hearing drew near, my husband sent me a 16-page letter evaluating our marriage. Despite priesthood counsel to the contrary, I began to believe my husband’s assertions that the problems in our marriage were my fault—that I was even the cause of his infidelity.
Torn with doubts, I turned to the scriptures. There I found hope and understanding in the Savior’s words. I reflected on how His words had already blessed and lifted me. I wrote in my journal: “The tides of self-pity, self-reproach, and self-destruction rage against my shore. And at my shore the Savior is ever there, building—shoring up—protecting against the onslaught—telling me I have value—telling me to believe in myself. His is the voice I prefer to hear, the voice I must heed.”
I was blessed with opportunities to rebuild belief in myself. Priesthood counsel and blessings offered me divine comfort. Through the Savior’s great love, strength and courage returned.

Sometimes it’s difficult for Jenna to have a brother with special needs, but she has learned to be loving and compassionate from helping him. One time their grandparents gave them a few dollars to buy a toy at a gift shop. When they came back, Zack had a toy and Jenna didn’t. “Jenna had given Zack her money so he could have the toy that he wanted,” her mom says. “She always does little things like that without expecting to be rewarded for it.”

My first contact with the Church came when I was fifteen years old and living with my older brother. One Sunday evening I was listening to my portable radio when I heard the beautiful strains of a choir singing the chorus from Tannhäuser, by Richard Wagner. It was a song I had learned in my junior high school choir, but the quality of this performance was vastly different. I wondered what choir could be singing it. When I heard that it was the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, the word Mormon stuck in my head. I later learned that the announcer for that radio broadcast was Elder Richard L. Evans of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
During the summer, I did odd jobs to earn money. That summer I was working as a service station attendant. A man who worked there was a member of the Church, and he invited me to attend MIA (Mutual). At first I hesitated, but he was persistent, and I finally gave in. The warmth and friendliness of the members and missionaries impressed me, but again the music influenced me most. Their hymns sounded different from any I had ever heard.
When I first started reading the Book of Mormon, it seemed strange to me. The only name in the book that was familiar to me was the name of one of Nephi’s brothers—Sam! But there was a force that drew me to the Book of Mormon. I felt that if I were to become a member of the Church, my life would become much more meaningful.
When I told my older brother that I would like to be baptized, he said, “That would be fine. But if you become a member, you must be a lifetime member. You must commit yourself and be loyal.” I was baptized when I was sixteen.
After high school, I was in the military, and I had the opportunity to have an interview with Elder Harold B. Lee, who was then an Apostle and who later became President of the Church. It was a very precious time for me. For an hour he counseled me to go on a mission, to go to the House of the Lord, and to sustain the leaders of the Church. This same advice applies to every member of the Church.
I never forgot Elder Lee’s advice. I came to Salt Lake City, Utah, on furlough and went to the Salt Lake Temple. After I left the military and went to college, I saved money for a mission. During my mission, I was able to open the Okinawa area, where my father was from, for missionary work. Later, serving as president of the Tokyo Temple, I had the wonderful blessing of seeing many of the Japanese Saints receive their temple endowments. Seeing the joy in the faces of those being sealed was a great blessing.
Boys and girls, prepare yourselves to go to the house of the Lord. Going to the temple will be the greatest thing you can accomplish in your mortal life. In the temple, you can feel the Lord’s presence and know that He is there. You can kneel at the altar and make sacred covenants. The Lord will always keep His part of these covenants. When you keep your part of them, you will receive the greatest gifts, eternal life and exaltation.
You can begin now to prepare yourself spiritually, mentally, and physically by keeping the commandments, by being clean in mind and body, and by being faithful and loyal to our Heavenly Father. If you will do these things, you will be led toward the sacred covenants of the temple. Then you will have peace and be happy, no matter what trials and tribulations you meet.
You can also learn to search your family history so that your ancestors can have the same temple blessings. We will meet them some day and know them as our relatives. All the people of the world will some day have the same privilege. The Lord has many wonderful blessings awaiting us if we just take advantage of them.

He blames it on a short attention span, but it’s more likely the spirit of missionary service that doesn’t allow Brandon Fields to sit still. He’s always wanted to go on a mission, but just wanting to go wasn’t enough. He needed to prepare. When he was 16, the constant urgings of full-time missionaries and a talk he had to give on missionary service in sacrament meeting prompted this Seattle, Washington, priest to do some thinking.
Brandon thought, You know, I should probably start praying for missionary experiences, because that’s what I’m going to be doing for two years, so why not start now? He hasn’t sat still since. And his prayers for missionary experiences have definitely been answered. Between visiting the less-active families in his ward, going team teaching with the missionaries, attending school, and working, it’s a wonder this first assistant to the bishop even has time to breathe. He says he’s able to fit it all in because he just never stops moving.
Brandon’s momentum started to build when he and his best friend, Steve Wells, started to go teaching with the missionaries in their area. “We volunteered a couple of times, and it turned out we were the only priests who could go. So it was us for five months.” Now that he’s only six months away from his mission, Brandon is still helping the missionaries, but he does get a break every once in a while, since there are now a few more priests to help out. Steve is now on a full-time mission in the Philippines.
The gospel is like a favorite recipe, Brandon says, because you want to share it with everyone. “I share it because it makes me happy. And why wouldn’t you want to share what makes you happy?” His enthusiasm is contagious, says Marti Grisham, Young Men president of the Federal Way Washington Stake. “He’s got a real missionary attitude about him.”
But missionary work can sometimes be discouraging, and Brandon says he knows that. Team teaching with the missionaries helps him to overcome, or at least grow accustomed to, occasional setbacks. “It’s showing me how they get disappointed—like appointments not showing up. Just seeing that will help me be able to cope like the full-time missionaries do.” He’s learned to laugh, even when people slam doors in his face. “I’m usually pretty calm and just let stuff go.”
Though his attitude during hard times may be calm, his outlook on missionary work is pure excitement. Brandon has taught discussions with the missionaries a few times and is working hard to memorize as many discussions as he can before he goes into the Missionary Training Center. His study habits need some work, he says, but he hopes to improve with time and practice. “It makes you feel the Spirit and strengthens your testimony when you teach,” he says.
One of Brandon’s best experiences teaching the gospel happened when he was teaching with a full-time missionary. They were teaching a woman who was addicted to drugs and who was reluctant to live the lifestyle of Church members. One night she would not let Brandon and the missionary into her home to teach her, even though she had listened to discussions before and been receptive to their message. They wouldn’t give up on her; so they stood outside her house and sang hymns. Finally, she came out to listen to them. She was baptized a short time later. “I loved seeing the change she made and seeing her baptized,” Brandon says.
“We come to know Christ by following Him,” Brandon says as he teaches a part of the first new-member discussion to Armand Nicholas, 22, who has just joined the Church. Brandon had previously taught Armand the fifth missionary discussion. Brandon flips to scripture after scripture about Christ as if he were in a seminary scripture chase. “He knows his scriptures,” says Elder Mithona Seng, one of the missionaries with whom Brandon works.
After teaching Armand, Brandon and the missionaries visit a young man who had seen a documentary about the Prophet Joseph Smith and wanted to know more about the Church. Brandon helped the missionaries teach the first discussion with the aid of some study cards he had made.
You might think all this future missionary does is race from house to house sharing the gospel. But he also finds time to earn money for his mission, working as a floor supervisor at a movie theater. When movies arrive at the theater, the film is on a few small reels. Brandon “builds up” or combines the smaller reels into one big reel and adds the movie previews. Normally, he might have to watch many R-rated movies as part of his job, but, he says, “I build up the movies, and you’re supposed to watch them. But the people I work with know I don’t, so someone else comes and does it.” And when he puts on his uniform at work, the mantle of member missionary remains firmly in place. He still tries to tell the people he works with about the gospel and has given copies of the Book of Mormon to some of them.
Although he has to get outside his comfort zone, he says trying to be a good example comes more easily when you don’t worry about what others think of you. “Yes, a mission is hard, but it’s fun, because the missionaries have fun. … Just try teaching with them and pray about it. It’s not like Heavenly Father’s going to say no, because we’re supposed to go.” Brandon says he’ll keep sharing his favorite recipe—for happiness that is—the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“A most significant evidence of our conversion and of how we feel about the gospel in our own lives is our willingness to share it with others and to help missionaries find someone to teach. The likelihood of lasting conversion greatly increases when a nonmember has a friend or a relative who radiates the joy of being a member of the Church. The influence of members of the Church is very powerful. I believe that’s why President Hinckley asked us to see that everyone has a friend” (Ensign, Nov. 2000, 75–76).—Elder M. Russell Ballard of the Quorum of the Twelve

“The Lord has called you to serve as president of our Primary,” the branch president told me. It had been only a year since I had left the Laurel class and only two years since I had been baptized into the Church. I was incredulous.
“I don’t have the patience required to teach children,” I told him.
“Do you believe your calling came from God?” he asked. “When He calls us, He qualifies us.”1
His words filled me with confidence, and immediately I knew that the Lord must need me in Primary. I had no idea how to fulfill my new calling, but I knew He would guide me.
I desired to do the best job I could, but a few months later my mother was diagnosed with cancer. In addition, I was studying systems engineering. I found it difficult to meet all of my responsibilities at home, at the university, and in Primary. My spirits began to flag, and one Sunday at church everything came to a head, and the tears began to flow.
A fellow ward member noticed and gave me some wonderful advice: “Judith, the best way to get through trials is to lose yourself in the gospel and in service to others,” he said. “By doing so, you will see how the Lord will ease your burdens.”
As I followed his encouraging advice, my attitude changed, my faith was strengthened, and I was filled with a determination to serve the Lord. My trials continued, but I dedicated myself to my calling and looked forward to seeing the children each Sunday. They taught me something every week as they showed me their testimonies through their actions. As the months passed, I saw how the Lord was molding my character and how I was developing gifts and talents I didn’t know I had.
The following year I left Barranquilla, Colombia, to go to Bogotá for a month with my mother because she needed chemotherapy. During that time I prayed constantly and felt close to the Lord. I decided to change my university major, and through inspiration, I learned that the Lord wanted me to devote my life to teaching children. When I returned to school, I began working on a degree in special education.
I knew that Heavenly Father had given me my calling in Primary to prepare me. As I served, I discovered my true vocation, and as I lived the gospel and lost myself in service, I felt that I was in the Lord’s arms.
The testimony I gained while serving in the Primary presidency and later in a stake Primary presidency has sustained me as a member of the Church. I have learned how to teach with love, to see with the eyes of a child, and to seek the Lord for guidance and inspiration.
Each day when I teach at a bilingual school in my city, I think about the efforts, challenges, and blessings of those years. The children who were in Primary back then are now teenagers, but their eyes still shine with love for the Savior and His gospel.
I know that when the Lord calls us, He teaches and trains us and places leaders in our path to help us live this beautiful gospel of Jesus Christ.

A few years ago, I was going through a difficult time and was weighed down with the challenges I was facing. About that time, my wife and I were reading the General Conference issue of the Ensign and read President Eyring’s talk where he spoke on gratitude and encouraged members to keep a thankful journal. He counseled us to write in the journal each day the blessings that had come into our lives for that day, so we could look back on them and see the Lord’s hand in our lives. I started by making a list of the blessings in my life. My blessings included my wife, our children and their spouses, our grandchildren, my parents and my wife’s parents, my brothers and sisters and their families, my wonderful friends – these were easy to include. Then I recognized the way the Holy Ghost had inspired me about how to help a person I was working with, I was grateful to have a calling in the Church to serve others, I was grateful that I lived close to a temple and could go there often. I was thankful for the fresh clean air to breath, my health, four seasons (winter, spring, summer and fall), our garden with fresh fruits and vegetables, a warm home, prophets on the earth, the Savior, and His Atonement. My “Thankful List” list kept growing. My problem was the things I’d just mentioned were common things, but I wasn’t seeing them! Once I focused on my many, many blessings, life became much easier for me! The problems that weighed me down didn’t go away, but those problems seemed much smaller, and I was able to see things from a different perspective – a perspective founded on gratitude. My whole attitude on life changed. I came to know just how near our Father in Heaven really is and just how much He desired to bless me and my family.

A former student, I'll call Amy, found it hard to live up to her own worth. She wrote in one of her papers, "I really loved this guy and I saw no problem with our relationship. There were problems though . . . I rationalized by saying, 'I'm not going to marry him--It's OK. And besides, I'll be a good influence. "I finally could not stand living a lie. I was not being true to myself. (And notice) I was not acting like the person that I knew I was inside." (She wasn't lifting him up. He was pulling her down!) She wisely concluded, "I needed to make a change in my life." And finally she did make a change. She had been letting the illusion of love overpower who she really was. When that muddied water cleared, she could see that "Remaining true to yourself and your beliefs is the best joy you can find."

It was a blessing for us to see the faithfulness of the African Saints and the blessings they received as they paid their tithing. Let me tell you about a good friend of ours. Her name is Ester. Her husband died just prior to our arrival in Ghana. She is a young mother trying to raise three small children. She is fortunate in that she has a job, but making ends meet is a challenge, especially when her children's school fees are due. One Saturday night she went home from work with her weekly paycheck. As she looked at it she realized she had enough to pay her rent and the school fees. What was left was exactly what she needed to pay tithing. That left nothing to buy food for the coming week.

She had a testimony of tithing and believed the Lord would bless her to be able to find food for her family and so she put her tithing into an envelope and gave it to the bishop the next day at church. She and her children walked several miles home from church because there was no money for transportation. She said she prayed all the way home and all afternoon that the children would not be hungry because there was no food for them in their home. They went to bed and awoke in the morning hungry but not complaining; they too had faith that the Lord would provide. The children went to school and Ester went to work.

As she arrived a man she did not know approached her. He got on his knees and asked her forgiveness. When she told him she had nothing to forgive, he arose and told her this story. Her husband had lent him some money a few weeks before his death and when he heard that he had died he felt he was debt free and did not need to repay the loan. He said, "I hadn't given it another thought until yesterday afternoon when I thought of you. I couldn't get you off my mind and I knew I had to repay the money your husband lent to me." He handed her an envelope containing the exact amount of money she had paid for tithing, enough to buy food for her family for the week. What a testimony of tithing! Ester and her children continue to be active members of the Church and enjoy the blessings that come as they faithfully pay their tithing.

Not too long ago I attended a missionary fireside in Idaho, after which I was introduced to a beautiful eighteen-year-old young woman who was fighting a battle with cancer. I was told that for the third time her cancer had come out of remission, and I was asked if it would be possible for me to give her a blessing. The family were converts to the Church, and her father said, “Brother Ballard, we are aware that our daughter is in the hands of Heavenly Father, and we’re not asking you to do anything that would be contrary to His mind and will. We just want to feel that we’ve done everything we possibly can to appeal to Him for her life.”

Of course I understood. Any parent would understand that feeling. We went into a private room where I was able to visit with this extraordinary young woman for a few minutes. I wish I could communicate to you the sweet and wonderful spirit that I felt from her. This beautiful young woman looked into my eyes and with powerful simplicity said, “Brother Ballard, I’m not afraid to die. I would like to live. There are things that I would still like to accomplish in this life. But I know that Jesus is my Savior and my Redeemer, and during these past few years He has become my best friend. I trust Him, and I trust you as His representative. Whatever He wants for me, I’m prepared.”

We gave her a blessing, during which we pled with God for a miracle, but at her request left the matter with Heavenly Father. My wife Barbara was with me, and as we returned to our car we looked at each other with tears in our eyes as we said to one another, “Oh, thank heavens for the gospel. Thank heavens for a plan that makes it possible for an eighteen-year-old girl to know what it means to come unto Christ. What ever happens, she is going to be fine.” She died on June 23, 1995, with the peace of the Lord accompanying her and her family.

When we first married, we were content in London. But when our eldest child reached school age, we faced a challenge. In the local school, English was the first language for only a small minority of children. Teachers had to focus heavily on teaching English to pupils from twenty-seven different nationalities. This inevitably affected the education of native English speakers. Around that time Paul was released as bishop. We felt it was a natural moment to consider moving.
We prayed about it, asking, ‘Where do you want us to go, dear Lord?’ That prayer became the pattern for all our future decisions. We have always found ourselves in small Church units—places where there was much work to do and few to do it.
We did not set out with Cornwall in mind. We simply wanted a rural setting for our children. Paul applied for several jobs. Cornwall County Council offered him an interview, then the job. We spent eighteen happy years there, blessed despite many callings, cramped meeting rooms and the extra pressures of tourist season. Eventually we felt prompted to move again—this time to Alnwick, the most northerly branch of the Church in England.

“He doesn’t remember me,” Jeremy sobbed, burying his face in a pillow. “How could Grandpa forget me?”
Mom sat down beside him. “Remember the doctor told us that because of Grandpa’s illness his memories will come and go. Later, he may not remember much at all.”
Jeremy sniffed. “I just didn’t think he’d forget me.”
“He hasn’t forgotten you in his heart,” Mom said. “This life is a short time. Our family will be together for eternity, and then Grandpa will remember everything.”
Jeremy went to his room and tried to read a book, but he couldn’t concentrate. All he could think about was how to help Grandpa. Suddenly, a picture on his desk caught his eye—a picture of him and Grandpa on a fishing trip. “That was the most exciting thing we ever did together,” he thought. Then it hit him. “Pictures,” he murmured. “Of course!”
Grabbing the picture, he raced downstairs, skidded around the corner, and headed to Grandpa’s room. He knocked quietly just in case Grandpa was sleeping.
“Yes?” Grandpa called out.
“It’s me, Jeremy. May I come in?”
“Sure.”
With the photo in his hand, Jeremy stepped through the door. “Remember this, Grandpa?”
Grandpa adjusted his glasses. “You bet I do! That’s my favorite fishing spot. I’ve been going there since I was a boy.”
Jeremy fought back the tears. Grandpa remembered the fishing spot, but not him.
“You took me fishing there,” Jeremy said. “We fished all day. I got my nose sunburned and you fell in the stream trying to net my fish! Then we made a fire and cooked the fish for dinner. Remember, Grandpa?”
“Well, I can’t recall,” Grandpa admitted. “Let’s have another look. Hmm, is that my old truck? I bought that when my son was about your age. The boy in this picture looks a lot like my son.”
“The boy in the picture is me, Jeremy—your grandson. Your son is my dad, and we look a lot alike.”
“Oh, now I remember,” Grandpa said, looking hard at Jeremy. “We went there for your birthday, didn’t we? We had a great time, as I recall. Say,” Grandpa said slowly, “didn’t we lie on the ground at night and count stars?”
“Yes!” Jeremy squealed. “We counted as far as I could. You said that no matter how old I got, I’d never be able to number all the stars that Jesus scattered in the heavens. You said stars were to help boys like me learn how to count.”
“Maybe so. That was a great fishing trip. We should do it again sometime.” Grandpa’s head began nodding and Jeremy knew he needed a nap, so he patted him on the hand and quietly slipped through the door.
“Mom!” Jeremy yelled as he burst into the kitchen. “He remembered!”
“Who?” Mom questioned.
“Grandpa. He remembered me and the fishing trip we took. He actually remembered counting stars! I even forgot that. And now I know how to help him remember lots of things.”
Running back to his room, he pulled a shoebox from the closet and dumped the contents on his bed. All afternoon Jeremy worked. He cut. He pasted. He wrote. Finally he was finished. He took his project to Grandpa’s room.
“I made a book for us, Grandpa. I want us to remember all the great things our family has done together, so I got all my photos and I put them in this notebook. It’s like our own family picture book!”
“Family picture book?” Grandpa asked, opening to the first page. “Well, well!” he murmured. “This is my son, James, and his wife. James is my oldest son, you know.” Squinting his eyes and holding the book close, Grandpa murmured, “The writing under the picture says ‘James, Carolyn, and Jeremy.’”
“I know, Grandpa. They are my parents. See the baby James is holding? That’s me, Jeremy. This picture was taken the day I was born. And look at this one, Grandpa,” Jeremy said, turning the page. “That’s you holding me. I was eating the cake Mom made for my first birthday.”
“My, my,” Grandpa said. “It’s all over both of us!”
“See this one, Grandpa? That’s all of us at the lake one summer. We camped for a whole week.”
Page after page of pictures told the story of the family’s life together. Grandpa remembered some, and Jeremy described the others. When Jeremy got up to leave, Grandpa took his arm.
“Come back soon, Jeremy. I’d love to see that book again.”
Jeremy looked down at Grandpa and saw tears in his eyes. “I’ll be back later, Grandpa. I’ll show you some more. I love you and I’m so glad you’re my grandpa.” He bent down and gave Grandpa a hug.
“I love you too, Jeremy. You’re the best grandson in the whole family!” he said with the old twinkle in his eyes.
“Grandpa! I’m the only grandson in the whole family!”
“Yup. And you’re the only one I ever counted stars with!”

Aron C., age 10, Colombia
I help my father clean our house, and I receive money every month for helping. Instead of spending all my money, I set aside 10 percent for tithing and give it to the bishop. I feel good after I pay my tithing because I know the money goes to take care of the chapel and to buy books and many other things. I know that Jesus Christ gave us everything, and when we pay tithing, we give back to Him. I feel happy when I pay my tithing.

Growing up, I was always inclined to perfectionism. So when I received my patriarchal blessing, one admonition in particular seemed natural: to complete the tasks I was given “to the best of [my] ability, to perfection.” Only later would I start to realize how little I understood perfection—or the role of grace.
In 1998 I returned home early from a mission due to health problems. I felt a tremendous amount of guilt because I felt I had not completed my mission “to perfection.” Added to this sense of failure was uncertainty about my illness. So far, doctors had been unable to diagnose it.
In spite of my health challenges, I knew I needed to move forward, so I enrolled in a university to continue my education. After only two quarters, however, I returned home again, in pain, for urgent surgery. It was at this point that doctors discovered I had an autoimmune disease.
While I was recovering from surgery, I began working part-time at the chocolate store where I had been employed as a teenager. Even though I was doing what I could, I didn’t feel that I was pursuing anything worthwhile, much less completing it “to perfection.” I began to compare myself to others, especially to my friends who were completing their college degrees, serving missions, or starting families. I felt left behind.
Then I met Stephanie. She came into the candy store one day wearing a black scarf around her head. As I pointed out to her my favorite chocolate, I felt impressed to inquire about her situation. She smiled, removed her scarf, and, pointing to her bald head, told me she was going through chemotherapy. That exchange was the start of a special and candid friendship.
Stephanie came by the store regularly to enjoy a treat and talk about life. I learned that she was a member of the Church and that she had struggled spiritually as well as physically. She told me about some rebellious choices she had made and about her efforts to repent. She was working toward being sealed to her husband in the temple.
One day I shared some of my own challenges. I confided in her how discouraged I was by my circumstances. “I am scooping the same ice cream I scooped in high school,” I explained. “I didn’t complete my mission or college, and I don’t know what to do now.”
Stephanie responded, “Why do you have to finish the race of life in a set time? Why not just run the race?”
For the first time, I realized that the efforts I was making were my best, and my best was enough. The Savior loved me, and His grace, through His Atonement, was sufficient for me, for my deficiencies. Although I felt I had been looking to Him all along, until Stephanie shared her insight with me, I had somehow missed an important lesson about His role in my life.
Ether 12:27 says, “My grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.” As I have been able to humble myself and have faith in the Lord, I have seen over and over again that He does indeed make weak things become strong. My increased testimony of this truth has helped me face my challenges with greater faith and hope.
A few months after that conversation, I left my hometown to start a new job and lost contact with my friend. One day my mom called to tell me that she had seen Stephanie’s obituary in the newspaper. I came home to attend her funeral and learned she had been sealed to her husband just three weeks before her death.
My heart sighed with gratitude for having had Stephanie in my life and for what she taught me about running a perfect race. I don’t always need to sprint. Occasionally, it will be all I can do to simply face the finish line. Doing our best to move forward—no matter what speed “our best” is—is OK. Our efforts can be made perfect because the Lord’s grace is sufficient for us all (see Moroni 10:32).

Six priests from Long Beach Seventh Ward, California, representing over 80 percent of their quorum, received their Duty to God awards and became licensed scuba divers during last year. Scott Taylor, Steve Burt, Lee Johnson, Jim Daniels, Jeff Burt, and Daril Johnson received training and experience through their Explorer post that enabled them to pass the requirements for scuba divers’ licenses. As a result they have been bringing home lobsters, crab, and other delicacies from the southern California coast.

Young Harold learned what it meant to listen to the voice of the Lord from an experience he had with his father. “I think maybe I was around ten or eleven years of age … , trying to spend the day busying myself until my father was ready to go home. Over the fence from our place were some tumbledown sheds that would attract a curious boy, and I was adventurous. I started to climb through the fence, and I heard a voice … calling me by name and saying, ‘Don’t go over there!’ I turned to look at my father to see if he were talking to me, but he was way up at the other end of the field. There was no person in sight. I realized then, as a child, that there were persons beyond my sight, for I had definitely heard a voice. Since then, when I hear or read stories of the Prophet Joseph Smith, I too have known what it means to hear a voice.”
This experience with the watch-care of the Holy Spirit impressed Harold that safe passage to Heavenly Father’s kingdom depends on our willingness to hear and obey that voice. “I have learned something of what the Spirit has taught,” he later reflected, “and I know now that … security can come to Israel only when they keep the commandments, when they live so that they can enjoy the companionship, the direction, the comfort, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit of the Lord.”