Gospel Story Finder

Once I sat in a temple sealing room where I saw a young man and young woman sealed for time and all eternity. I knew the young man, and I knew of the path he had traveled. It was a hard path, full of pain and heartache; but also of the Lord's tender mercies and His grace. I looked across the room at the young man's mother. I knew of the pain she had felt for her son, and I could see on her face pure joy as tears flowed down her cheeks. I knew also the path the young woman had walked. I knew of her goodness and her great faith that had sustained her in difficult hours.

As I watched this beautiful scene, there came into my mind a thought I knew was from the Holy Ghost. These are the words I felt: This is why He did it--this is why Jesus went into the Garden and hung on the cross. This is why He suffered crushing agony and gave His life. This is why Jesus descended below all things--so that this young man, so precious in His eyes, and this young woman, so choice, so beloved of Him, could be clean and worthy, healed and whole, sealed forever by His power as husband and wife in the new and everlasting covenant, heirs to all the promises and all the blessings a loving Heavenly Father could bestow.

Robin Gallagher has more silver and gold than a lot of the prospectors who hoped to hit it rich back in the big mining days of the 1840s. During three years of competition in various Special Olympics competitions in Ohio, she has collected four gold medals, three silver medals, one bronze medal, and 25 ribbons, as well as a few aching muscles and a lot of satisfaction.
Robin, a member of the East Liverpool Branch, Pennsylvania Pittsburgh Mission, took first place in the 50-yard dash in her age group at the Ohio State Joseph P. Kennedy Special Olympics in 1977. She was one of 14 students chosen to compete from Columbia County. During last summer’s competition at the Columbus State Special Olympics, she again took first place in the 50-yard dash, placed third in the long jump, and raced with a team that achieved second place in the 440-yard relay. In addition to Special Olympics, Robin also enjoys music, sewing, woodworking, and participating in the Young Women program.

“When I worked at the candy shop,” his older sister began, “I practically ate my paycheck each week in candy. I couldn’t help myself, it tasted so good. Finally after praying about it, I decided to set a candy quota for each day. If I stuck to my quota, I rewarded myself by taking the money I would have spent on candy and putting it toward a new pair of jeans. Some days I didn’t make it, but gradually I ate less candy. And I got the jeans!”

Winter was coming, and David Dickson had no idea how to keep his family warm.

David, his wife, and two daughters had just moved to the rural city of Fredonia, Arizona, USA, a high-desert landscape surrounded by majestic red cliffs, sagebrush, and evergreens.

The home the Dicksons had rented relied on a wood-burning stove as its primary heat source. David quickly learned that gathering firewood was a necessary skill because winters in Fredonia are full of snow and ice.

“I didn’t have any firewood or a chainsaw or even the knowledge of how to use one!” David says. “I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

Some ward members asked David if his family had enough wood to get through the winter. “It didn’t take them long to realize that I didn’t,” David says. “The elders quorum soon offered to help me gather wood. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I accepted their offer.”

David soon found out that this wood-gathering trip was typical of many well-planned, well-organized, and well-attended ward activities. One Saturday morning, David, the elders quorum, and other ward members headed into the mountains in a caravan of trucks and trailers.

“In a single afternoon, thanks to their tools and know-how, ward members provided my family with a woodpile that lasted us the better part of two winters,” David says. “Even more important, I was taught everything I needed to know about gathering wood on my own. By the time I left Fredonia, I knew how to handle a chainsaw, and I helped out on more ward wood-gathering activities than I can count.”

When I was seven, a girl moved into my neighborhood, and we became friends. We both liked the same things, and we were a good influence on each other. We made good choices because our parents had taught us to choose wisely.
Once we got into sixth grade though, we made wrong choices in order to fit in with our friends who had lower standards. The next year, I decided that I needed to change friends so I could start making right choices again by living higher standards. The only problem was that my friend and I were still friends, and I didn’t want to stop hanging out with her.
Doing what I needed to do was hard. I had been told all my life to pick good friends and keep my standards high. But I did not have a testimony of why this was important, so I had to trust that it was correct. Over the summer and during eighth grade, we stopped hanging out as much and chose separate directions.
I saw the blessings of this decision later that year. My former friends decided to bring alcohol to school. They convinced some other girls to drink it, and they all got in trouble. I realized that one of those girls could have been me. If I had been with them, I don’t know if I would have had the strength to stand up for my beliefs.
When I think of the consequences I would have had to face, I feel overwhelmed. I could have struggled with addiction, been in trouble with the law, lost my parents’ trust, but most of all, I could have betrayed the trust Heavenly Father has in me.
I know that what the prophet says about living high standards is for our protection. Even though we may see it as inconvenient, it helps us spiritually, physically, mentally, and in other ways we don’t even realize.

I was baptized about two years ago in New Zealand. I had lived in the United States all of my life until I became an exchange student. I believe the Lord knew I would have difficulty accepting the gospel at home in Hutboro, Pennsylvania. There were too many influences that had swayed me far from the truth. Friends, family, and my own closed mind would have kept me from seeing the truth.
For two years I had wanted to become an exchange student. I was really happy when I was accepted and told I would be going to New Zealand for the summer.
In New Zealand I found I had to accept new customs, people, and life-styles. Because I had to accept new ideas, I also found I could change some of my old ones.
At first I noticed the missionaries riding around on bicycles and I asked people who they were. I was surprised; I had thought that Mormons lived only in Utah. I had no idea what the Latter-day Saint Church was about, so I started asking people; but I made the mistake of asking nonmembers. I got all sorts of crazy ideas from these people. My curiosity was compounded by the fact that the exchange student who had been in my area in New Zealand before me was a Mormon from Utah. People still talked about and admired her even though she had left a year before I came.
One day I was walking home from high school with four friends. Somehow I managed to stick my foot in my mouth by saying something negative about Mormons. To my surprise three of these four were members of the Church. Very briefly they told me something about their religion, and they really seemed sincere about their religious beliefs.
One of the girls, Paula, was in several of my classes. She was becoming my best friend, and I began to bombard her with questions about the Church. She invited me along to some Church activities that I really loved. My questions were becoming more and more complex. I tried to prove the religion wrong, but to do this I had to read the scriptures. As I read I began to realize that the things Paula was telling me made sense. I was also coming to know the Strother family. There were 14 of them, and they were a really great family and a good example of the Church. One day I asked Bishop Strother a question. He talked to me for about an hour. The things that he said really awakened some spiritual senses.
I started praying, studying the gospel, and having lessons from the missionaries. Slowly I began to recognize the truth. No longer could I drink, smoke, or break any of the commandments without feeling guilty. The missionaries were very important to me. They were Americans, yet I had to come to New Zealand to meet them. The Lord was also helping me. He answered my prayers. Something inside me would not let me forget the Church. My doubts about its truthfulness left me; I wanted to be a member. My happiness depended on it. Soon I wrote home and told my parents that I wanted to join the Church. They said it was my decision and that I could join.
I believe that if I had not been given the gift of the Holy Ghost while I was in New Zealand, I never would have made it. Without the Holy Ghost the challenge of an unfamiliar ward and association with my nonbelieving friends and family would have caused me to give up my faith when I returned home. The Holy Ghost has been with me as a constant reminder of truth, good, and evil.
When I arrived back in the U.S., I found that the ward I was to attend, the Jarrettown Pennsylvania Ward, was less than five miles away. At first I was somewhat uneasy, but soon I felt as if I had known the people in the ward for years. I found out that it does not matter where you are—the Lord’s true church is the same.
I do have a strong testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel. I believe in all that is taught us as members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. For me there is great happiness, pride, and joy in being a member. It has made a big difference in my life, and I thank my Eternal Father that I was able to accept the gospel.

Michael Tompkins takes his Scout training seriously and was recently able to put it to good use. A Star Scout who has earned the swimming skill award and first aid skill award, Michael heard cries for help from a group of friends he had just left wading in a flooded river. The water current had caught his friend Danny Smith, who could not make his way back to the riverbank. Michael threw off his hat and jacket and jumped in, pulling his friend to safety. He is currently a member of the Cleveland Ward, Conroe Texas Stake and is working to become an Eagle Scout.

One of the sweetest Christmases President Ezra Taft Benson remembered occurred in 1923, when he returned home on Christmas Eve to the family farm in Whitney, Idaho, USA, after a two-and-a-half-year mission to England. This joyful reunion with his parents and 10 brothers and sisters was also filled with enthusiasm and excitement for Christmas. As a special treat, his parents allowed him to stay up to help with Christmas preparations after the other children were in bed. As he worked alongside his parents, he quietly shared his missionary experiences. He couldn’t hold back the tears during this “choice evening” in his childhood home.3

My fingers clenched the steering wheel as I stared anxiously at the red light. When it finally changed to green, I sped forward only to wait at another seemingly endless stoplight. I was still 10 minutes away from the lesson with the sister missionaries that was supposed to have started 5 minutes ago. If I had been a wiser mother, I would have predicted the 15-minute tantrum my almost-three-year-old daughter erupted into as we headed out the door, but I hadn’t. Yes, the world would go on if I was late, but since I was trying to do something good, didn’t I deserve at least some of the traffic lights to work in my favor? As I waited impatiently at yet another stoplight, I could feel my frustration tightening into anger. “I’m trying to do something good; trying my best! Where is the help I need?”
Eight months after my fourth miscarriage and just several weeks after my stressful drive to meet the sister missionaries, I was peacefully waiting at a stoplight on my way home when my answers came. As I watched the cars stopped next to me and the cars making their way down the road ahead of me, I caught an eternal perspective of my life. I suddenly realized that all that mattered in my journey was that I stay on the path that would take me back to my heavenly home. How many “stoplights” I waited at would have no effect on my destination. How I responded to them would.
I began to cherish every stoplight in my life, both metaphorical and literal. Instead of wasted time, each became an opportunity to acquire patience and to gain perspective that comes only through waiting. Just as every red traffic light is paired with a green light in a different direction, I found that every stoplight in my life opened an avenue for growth, just not necessarily in the way I had been planning to grow right then. Instead of dwelling on the disappointments, I began to delight in the opportunity for progress that every unexpected turn of events provided.

However, as a young teenager, I began to question whether I would be allowed to serve a mission. World War II had kept my father from serving as a missionary, which he badly wanted to do. In my case, the Vietnam War was raging; only two young men from each ward in the United States were given exemptions from military duty to serve missions. The rest had to rely on high lottery numbers to allow them to serve missions. Though my lottery was a few years away, I still worried about this, wondering if I would actually be able to fulfill my childhood dream.
About this time, I attended a stake conference in which Elder Thomas S. Monson was the visiting General Authority. After one session, my mother and I went to meet him. I shook his hand and we talked. I don’t remember any of the conversation except for one sentence. He looked right into my eyes and said, “You will be going on a mission.” I never worried after that; all my doubts were removed.

Speaking personally, this reality has helped impel me at different times either to repentance or to avoid sin altogether. On one occasion in connection with a home sale, there was an error in the documentation, and I found myself in a position where I was legally entitled to get more money from the buyer. My real estate agent asked if I wanted to keep the money, a significant amount, since it was my right to do so. I thought about facing the Lord, the personification of justice, and trying to explain that I had a legal right to take advantage of the buyer and his mistake. I couldn't see myself being very convincing, especially since I would probably be asking for mercy for myself at the same time. And I knew I could not live with myself if I were so dishonorable as to keep the money. I replied to the agent that we would stick with the deal as we all understood it originally. It is worth a great deal more to me than any sum of money to know that I have nothing to repent of in that transaction and that I have nothing to answer for regarding it when I appear before the Great Judge.

One story I like to share is when many years back, a missionary serving in the Honolulu Hawaii Mission, called us to see if he could come meet my parents. He shared that his mother was once the girlfriend of one of my Dad’s coaches in Canada. She often came to practices and games and would see my father’s interactions with my younger brother and me.
She knew we were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and admired our family relationship and how my father had different standards from other players. Later in her life, missionaries happened to knock on her door and she remembered what she saw and felt with our family and she welcomed the missionaries in her home. Obviously, she joined the church and raised her sons to serve the Lord.

Someone has said it this way: “Thee lift me, and I’ll lift thee, and we’ll ascend together.” What does that mean? I can remember an experience in my life that illustrates this idea. I was at Harvard Business School. I was stretched to my capacity. In the first year of that institution, the teachers take away every bit of self-confidence you have, no matter what your background is before you get there, so that you learn what it’s like to have to achieve more than you’ve ever done in your life before. The program is designed to teach you how to think under pressure. They try to duplicate real life.

At an important point in my schooling, a mission president, John E. Carr, asked me to be an elders quorum president. It is the only time in my life that I ever questioned an assignment. I went home to talk to my wife. For every woman here and every man here the question will come in life, “When is the time to serve? When is the right time?” The only answer I can give you is, “When you are asked.” So I went home and said to my wife, “There is a chance of failing in my schooling if I become an elders quorum president.” She said to me the words which have helped for many years: “Bob, I would rather have an active priesthood holder than a man who holds a master’s degree from Harvard.” But as she put her arms around me, she said, “We’ll do them both.” That is eternal partnership.

“Thee lift me, and I’ll lift thee, and we’ll ascend together”—that’s the message.

Photographs by Kaui Wihongi
“Son, don’t do this,” his parents said. “You’re throwing your life away.”
Those aren’t the words most missionaries expect to hear—right at the airport—just as they are leaving to report to the missionary training center (MTC).
Elder Morris, from New Zealand, knows how much his parents love him. They’ve been there for him through thick and thin. They cheered him on in his rugby matches. They applauded his decision to attend law school. They raised him with love and with hope that he’d have a bright life ahead of him.
Their pleading words came from a place of love. To them, the idea of their precious son serving a two-year mission for his new faith seemed not only confusing, but also a threat to the goals he’d worked so hard to achieve.
You see, Elder Morris was a gifted athlete on his way to becoming a professional rugby player. In his schooling, things were just taking off in his legal career.
Oh, and he was thinking about getting married!
Elder Morris already had this conversation with them many times before. He responded in the only way he knew how. “I told them I loved them. I embraced them. And I shared my testimony that I knew this was what I needed to do.”
Then he bid them farewell and hopped on the airplane for the MTC in Provo, Utah, USA, to prepare for his mission to the Philippines.
At which point COVID-19 showed up and turned the world upside down.
COVID-19 had already been making headlines throughout the globe for weeks before Elder Morris showed up at the MTC. In fact, his group would be the last batch of missionaries to report to the MTC for another 16 months. Groups after him were told to stay home and wait for further instructions.
To say that things were uncertain at the MTC would be an understatement. “Many people were worried about what was going to happen,” Elder Morris says. “For me, I felt calm. I still didn’t know how things would unfold. I only knew that they would work out for the best.”
When the news came that Elder Morris would be reassigned to his home country of New Zealand, his reaction might not be what you’d expect.
He was more excited than ever!
“I realize that many missionaries hope to serve in a faraway place,” Elder Morris says. “For me, though, I always thought it would be a privilege to teach my own people in my own country. I wanted to share the gospel with New Zealand.”
“I always thought it would be a privilege to teach my own people in my own country.”
Little did he know how this would change his life—and the life of a woman who is very important to him.
Elder Morris’s grandmother (his nan) was dealing with some serious health challenges. “She was so unwell that she said she reached a point where she was ready to die. She didn’t feel she had anything left to live for.”
Before his mission, Elder Morris had a chance to start teaching the gospel to his nan. But now, he was a full-time missionary assigned to the very area where his nan lived.
“I love my nan very much,” Elder Morris says. “And I’ve seen the gospel absolutely transform her.”
His nan chose to be baptized and become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She’s the first member of Elder Morris’s direct family (besides himself) to join the Church.
Her life, Elder Morris says, is very different now. “When my nan found the gospel, she realized why she was still alive. Now she wants to live! Every morning she wakes up at 4 a.m. or 5 a.m. and sings hymns. She prays and reads her scriptures every single day. She does it because the gospel has blessed her with purpose.”
Time and time again, Elder Morris has seen the light that the gospel brings into the lives of those he teaches. He’s had the chance to teach other friends and family members. He’s seen firsthand how they improve. “The gospel of Jesus Christ gives us purpose,” Elder Morris says. “I feel so sorry for those who don’t have the gospel in their lives. They don’t know their true identity.”
On a related note, even his parents have begun to notice the changes in Elder Morris’s nan. They can now see that the gospel has blessed her life in many ways.
Elder Morris with his nan (grandmother).
Elder Morris has no doubts whatsoever that serving a mission was the right choice. He also knew at the start of his mission, when COVID-19 began to rage throughout the world, that God would still guide His work. “The work of man will be frustrated, but God’s work never will be,” he says.
Every time he has an opportunity to do so, he encourages youth to live worthy to serve a mission. For Elder Morris, no other decision would have had a greater impact on his future—especially his eternal future. “The biggest advice I would give to youth is to prepare to serve a mission. It will change your life.”
He recognizes that choosing to serve may come with sacrifice. But then again, he knows a thing or two about sacrifice, and the blessings that come from it.
Witnesses of Jesus Christ
Elder Morris: The gospel is simple, and the gospel is true. Jesus Christ is our Savior. He and our Heavenly Father are mindful of us. I testify that the Book of Mormon is amazing. It helps us to come closer to Jesus Christ and to learn the fulness of His gospel. The Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ through the Prophet Joseph Smith had to happen. Without it, we would still be lost today.
Elder Fotuaika (Elder Morris’s companion): I’ve seen in my life that, without the Lord, I’m nothing. With the Lord, I’ve seen myself grow to the best person that I could ever become. When we try to do the small and simple things like praying and reading the scriptures, God magnifies who we are. I have a testimony that God loves us.

A few months ago a young couple decided to cancel their health insurance. They felt they just could not afford it. The high cost of graduate school, in a time of rampant inflation, led them to disregard the counsel of the Brethren. Then came a baby—premature, with serious complications resulting in incredibly expensive care. Heartsick and frightened, they turned first to their families, who responded with substantial help. That not being nearly enough, they then turned to their bishop, who, from the fast offerings, supplied additional help. They would have been almost self-sustaining had they retained their insurance.

Ann was always in a hurry. Wherever she went, she ran. But Ann didn’t always watch where she was going. Sometimes she tripped and bumped into things.
“Look out!” said her big sister.
“Look out!” said her big brother.
“Look out!” said her mother and father.
One day Ann ran to the kitchen. “The apples are ripe on our apple tree!” she shouted.
“Yes,” said Mother. “I was just thinking about making an apple pie.”
“I can help,” said Ann. “I can pick some apples.”
“Good,” said Mother.
Ann ran to the door.
“Don’t forget this,” said Mother, handing her a bucket.
Ann raced into the yard, climbed the tree, and hung her bucket on a branch. Just picking the big red apples made her mouth water.
“Here they are, Mom,” said Ann, rushing into the house. “I’ll wash them for you too.”
“Thank you, dear,” Mother said. “That would really help.”
Mother made one big pie for the family and one little pie for Grandma.
“I’ll take Grandma her pie,” said Ann after the pies were baked and cooled.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Mother replied. “But please, Ann, walk slowly and watch where you’re going.”
Ann was so excited that she could hardly wait to surprise her grandmother. She started walking slowly, but soon she was running up the street and around the corner. Faster and faster Ann ran, until—squish—down she went and down went the pie.
The pie was a mess and so was Ann! She had pie on her face and pie in her hair. Worst of all, there was pie all over the ground.
Ann tried to scoop up the pie and put it back into the pan, but it didn’t look like pie anymore. It looked awful!
Maybe Mom can fix it, she thought, starting back toward home. This time she walked slowly, very carefully holding what was left of the poor, squashed pie.
“Oops!” cried her big sister when she saw Ann coming down the street.
“Oops!” shouted her big brother as Ann came up the sidewalk.
“Oops, indeed!” said Mother. The pie went into the garbage, and Ann went into the bathtub.
When Ann was all cleaned up, she ran to the kitchen and stared at the big pie that was left. She was really sorry that she had ruined Grandma’s surprise pie. “Mom, could I give Grandma my piece of pie?” she asked.
Mother smiled and said, “That’s very thoughtful, dear.” She cut an extra large piece of pie, put it on a plate, covered it with foil, and handed it to Ann, saying, “Now, Ann, you must learn that there is a time to walk and a time to run.”
“This is a time to walk—I’ll remember,” Ann promised.
Up the street and around the corner she walked. “Surprise!” called Ann when Grandma opened the door. “Surprise, surprise!”
“Mmmm, that looks good,” Grandma said as she took off the cover and put the piece of pie on the table.
Ann told Grandma the sad story about her little pie. “There was pie in my hair and pie on my nose and pie on the ground and pie on my clothes.”
Grandma laughed. “Goodness, you just made a rhyme. Now, this is such a large piece of pie, maybe you can help me eat it.”
Ann smiled. “I’d like that.”
They each had a glass of milk and half of the large piece of pie. It was delicious.
When Ann was ready to leave, Grandma told her, “Be sure to tell your mother that I loved the surprise.”
“Thank you, Grandma, for sharing your pie with me,” said Ann.
“Everything is better when we share,” Grandma said.
Ann hugged Grandma and said, “It really is, Grandma.”

One cold day years ago, two missionaries spent hours contacting people on the streets of Nagano, Japan. They talked to a few people, made even fewer teaching appointments, and saw all those appointments fall through.
At the end of this tough day, the missionaries met a young man, only 15 years old, who was interested in learning about the Church.
That young man was me.
I met one of the missionaries that day on my way home from school. He taught me about the First Vision and testified that it was true. I did not understand everything at the time, but I wanted to learn more.
Two weeks later, the missionaries invited me to a Christmas party at the church. When I arrived, everyone was so friendly! They greeted me with smiles and handshakes and called me Brother Wada. I wondered how they knew my name and why they called me brother. Come to find out, the missionaries told everyone I was coming. I felt very welcomed and needed.
When everyone started singing Christmas hymns, they asked me to join them. As we sang “Joy to the World” (Hymns, no. 201)—a new hymn for me—the members of the Nagano Branch made me feel like I belonged. They soon became my good friends.

Hula Car
For my 17th birthday, my band of brothers decided to take me out to dinner and a movie. The only problem was that we didn’t have a vehicle and our repeated attempts to procure one ended with rejection after rejection. So, we waited until one of our friend’s parents went to bed and we put the car in neutral and pushed it to the highway. We started it up and we were on our way.
This particular car, we affectionately called the Hula Car, because when you drove it, it swayed from side-to-side. However, the faster you went, the less sway you felt. So, we drove it fast. On this particular night, we ran into a little problem and our evening in Waikiki was cut short. This was a good thing because Church started at 8 o’clock in the morning. So, we drove home . . . fast!
We arrived at the house with a few hours to spare before Church. We put the car in neutral and pushed it up the road and into the garage. A few hours later, my friend’s dad knocked on the bedroom door to let us know that it was time to get ready to go to Church.
We got dressed and piled into the car. We drove about a hundred feet, when the back of the car dropped to the right. We looked outside the backdoor window and the car tire rolled by and into the ditch. When we retrieved the tire, my friend’s father said, “Wow, there was only one lug nut on the tire.”
Would it have been easier for us to listen to our parents? At that stage in our educational lives, I would have to say no. So, the Lord sent us to the back of the “line upon line, upon line, upon line. . . until we learned.”
Did we understand the potential consequences of our choice to take the Hula car? At that stage in our educational lives, we were invincible. We thought about it but nothing happened, so we weren’t worried about it. Once again, the Lord sent us to the back of the proverbial “line upon line, upon line, upon line. . . until we learned that he was preserving us.

Let me illustrate with one last story. In the summer of 1842, the British Government produced a report on the appalling conditions for the children of very young ages who were working in the English coal mines of the Industrial Revolution. The report is an extremely weighty one, running to hundreds of pages. It includes interviews with many of the children who suffered unbelievable conditions as they worked in almost total darkness to help eke out a living for their families.

I want to read you an extract in the report, the testimony of one boy who began working in the mines at the age of 8. This is what he said in 1841 when he was questioned about his work. The language is in places obsolete and the occupational terms unfamiliar, but you’ll get the gist of it.

“I became a door keeper on the barrow-way four years ago. I got up at four o’clock, took breakfast, walked to the pit by half past four; began work at five. I had no candles allowed at all, except my father gave me any; he gave me four, which burnt about five hours, and I sat in darkness the rest of the time….I used to sleep; I could not keep my eyes open. The overman used to bray us with the yard wand; he used to leave the marks; I used to be afraid. The putters sometimes thumped me for being asleep….We loose at five and come home. I got my dinner, washed; I took off all my clothes, and then went to bed about eight. I did not go out to play; the more we play, the more we sleep in the pit.”

That testimony was given by 12-year-old John Otterson. The father he refers to and who gave him four candles each day, was my 3rd great grandfather, Nicholas Otterson. Not surprisingly, that 12 year old boy didn’t want the life of a miner. Instead, he joined the Royal Navy where he served on a man of war – not in itself an easy life either, by the way. His wife died young, but he remarried and moved to the great English naval port of Portsmouth. He was 81 when he died - from a fall down the stairs of his home. And everything I have just told you came from the Internet.

Davey’s kindergarten class was going to have an Easter egg hunt, and he could hardly wait. He had talked to his two little brothers about the exciting event and had solemnly promised them that he would not eat any of the Easter eggs he found but would bring them home to share.
That morning, Davey stood by his mother, waiting for the school bus. It was hard to stay still enough to carefully hold the two boiled eggs he was taking to color that day. There would be lots of fun on this last day of school before the Easter holiday.
Finally the large yellow bus rounded the corner and stopped to pick him up. He waved and smiled at his brothers, who were watching out the window of their home across the street.
His little brothers’ faces were in the window again when the large yellow bus delivered him home at the end of the school day. Davey was usually the first child off the bus at this stop. But not today. When he finally climbed off, Mom knew that something was wrong. She hurried out to meet him on the front walk. She knelt and looked into his drooping eyes. He fell into Mom’s arms and sobbed.
“I’m so sorry … let my little brothers down,” he choked out. “I didn’t mean to … saved everything … didn’t eat even one.”
Mom held him close for a long time and then, when his body stopped trembling, led him inside. She and Davey and his little brothers all huddled together for a big family hug.
“Let’s start again, Davey,” Mom said reassuringly. “Tell us about what happened from the beginning.”
Davey arrived at school with his precious boiled eggs unbroken. When the time came, he colored them sky blue to match his eyes. When they were dry, he placed his eggs in his basket. After his teacher read an Easter story, everyone in his class ran outside for recess. When they came back in, the teacher told them that candy eggs were hidden in their classroom. All the children scrambled to look for the candy eggs. Davey was a good finder, and he helped other children find some. He found a yellow marshmallow bunny too. After the egg hunt, many of the children ate a lot of their candy eggs during the party, but Davey saved every one, just as he had promised his little brothers.
His class was late boarding the school buses after school, and his usual seat behind the driver was already taken. Davey walked down the long aisle until he found a seat near the back. He sat down, carefully cradling his basket of treasures on his lap.
When the bus pulled out, some big boys behind him began to tease him. He could hear them whispering about him. Then they tweaked his hair, ears, and neck. He used one hand to protect his candy; with the other, he tried to bat their hands away. With all the noise and confusion on the bus, the driver didn’t hear Davey’s small protests as the teasing increased.
Then his candy eggs began to disappear as he turned his head this way and that, trying to get away from all the hands that were pinching and tickling him. The worst teaser was the boy who lived across the street. Davey had thought that he was a friend, but today he had become an enemy.
By the time the bus came to Davey’s stop, his marshmallow bunny and all the candy eggs were gone, and both of his sky-blue eggs, so carefully carried and colored, were cracked and smashed.
Mom, Davey, and his brothers all looked at Davey’s little Easter basket. It was a sorry sight.
“Well, Davey,” Mom asked, “what shall we do to let these boys know that you forgive them?”
Davey’s mouth dropped open, and his eyes got wide. “Forgive them?”
“What is Easter about, Davey?” Mom gently asked. “Is it about colored eggs and candy, or is it about forgiving others for the pain they cause?”
Davey was surprised. He had thought that Mom would march right across the street and tell the big boy’s mother exactly how mean her son had been. “Why should I be the one to forgive them first when I didn’t do anything wrong?” Davey asked.
“The Savior didn’t do anything wrong, either. But He forgave those who killed Him. He taught us to forgive everyone because that is what will bring us the greatest peace,” Mom said. “How do you feel inside right now?”
Davey’s face was still very red and tear-streaked. Couldn’t Mom guess how he felt? “I feel mad and sad and …”
“And do you like feeling that way?”
“No.”
“Jesus taught us that when people do bad things to us, the only way we can really feel better is to forgive them, even do something good for them.”
“But stealing is wrong,” Davey protested. “You and Dad have always taught us that when we take something that isn’t ours, we should give it back and say we’re sorry. That’s what those boys should do!”
“Davey, we can’t choose what they will do. We can only choose what we will do. We can do what Jesus did, or we can choose not to.”
“But Jesus never rode the bus and got His eggs stolen. The scriptures don’t say anything about that.”
“The scriptures say to forgive others as you would want to be forgiven,” Mom pointed out patiently. “The lessons that the scriptures teach are true, Davey, not just stories. They really work. Shall we try them out?”
After Davey thought about it, he decided to follow his mother’s suggestion. Maybe then she would find out that the scriptures weren’t talking about someone who stole your brothers’ candy.
Mom and the boys decided to stir up a big batch of cookies as a forgiveness offering. Before Davey knew it, he and Mom were walking across the street to deliver the cookies. Davey could see the neighbor boy through the living room window. He looked anxious when he saw both Davey and his mother coming up his walk. When he hesitantly answered the door, Davey gave him the large plate of cookies and wished him a happy Easter. Nothing was said about the trouble on the bus. The boy had a relieved but puzzled look on his face. As he closed the door, Davey and Mom waved good-bye and started back home.
It was then that Davey noticed a new feeling inside his chest. He had been mad and sad. Now, however, his chest wasn’t tight with anger, it was calm and peaceful. When they arrived home and were eating warm cookies with milk, Davey asked Mom how it could be that he felt so different so quickly.
“Because,” Mom said, “no matter what is broken in your life—your heart or anything else—following Jesus Christ is the best way to fix things. At Easter we celebrate not only that He died for us, but also how He lived. He taught us how to live and be happy, and if we do what He taught, we’ll be happy and have the Holy Ghost to comfort us. Living the gospel works.”
Davey thought about that for a long time—and he decided that the scriptures did teach about stolen Easter eggs, after all.