Gospel Story Finder

I just knew that we were going to have a baby brother. After all, there were already five boys in our family—James, Joseph, Ammon, Adam, and me, Alex—so we were ready for another baby brother.
Every night for weeks we talked about Benjamin David—that’s what we were going to call the new baby. At night the five of us would lie in bed and talk about little Benjy.
“Alex, do you suppose he’ll be able to go fishing with us this summer?” James asked.
“Well,” I answered, “I don’t know about this summer. He won’t even be able to walk by then.”
“Then I’ll bring him back a big crawdad,” Ammon insisted, sitting up in bed. “He’ll want to play with something.”
I laughed. “Maybe we’d better wait awhile before we bring him any crawdads.”
“Yeah, they might bite his toe or something,” Adam said and giggled as he hugged his green blanket.
“We’ll have to teach him to ride a bike,” Joseph suggested, “so he’ll be able to ride down to the park with us.”
“I’ll let him ride with me for a while,” I volunteered.
“And we’ll teach him to wrestle,” James added.
“Why, Benjy will be the best wrestler around,” I bragged. “And he’ll play football and baseball just like a pro.”
Sometimes Dad stayed in our room after tucking us into bed and telling us good night. He listened while we talked and bragged about little Benjamin David. Dad didn’t say much at first. Then one night, just a little while before Mom went to the hospital, he asked, “What are you going to do if you get a little sister?”
Our talking stopped. “Oh, we’re not going to have a sister,” Ammon said. “We’ve already decided that. There are going to be ten boys in our family. If you and Mom want some sisters after that, it’s OK with us, but we need to get the ten boys first.”
Dad thought for a moment. “Sometimes Heavenly Father sends a girl,” he said quietly.
“A girl!” Joseph said. “We can’t have a girl. A girl can’t wrestle and play football and fish and race and ride to the park with us on our bikes. Besides,” he grumbled, punching his pillow, “girls are sissies.”
“Yeah,” James agreed. “And we’ve already told everybody that we’re going to have a brother. We’ve already picked out his name.”
“But if you do get a little sister—”
“Dad,” James cut in, trying to be patient, “we’ve already decided on a brother. Besides, what would we tell our friends?”
“Your friends have sisters,” Dad said.
“Yeah,” I said, “but we don’t want to be like them. We’re the only family around that has five boys in a row.”
“And we don’t want to mess things up with a sister,” James added. “Our family’s just for boys.”
“Your mom’s a girl,” Dad pointed out.
“Oh, it’s all right for moms to be girls,” Joseph said. “We’re not saying that Mom can’t stick around.”
“Yeah,” I chimed in, “Mom’s super, even if she is a girl; but a family only needs one mom, so we only need one girl, and Mom’s it.”
The next week Grandma Cluff came to stay with us, so we knew it was almost time for Benjamin David to show up. We were getting so excited that we could hardly go to sleep at night. Adam had already started sleeping in my bed. He was getting too big for the crib anyway, and we wanted the crib ready for Benjy.
Then one morning when we got up, Mom and Dad were gone. Grandma was in the kitchen fixing breakfast. She smiled at us and announced, “Your dad took your mom to the hospital last night.”
“Benjy’s here!” Adam squealed.
Grandma smiled again and dropped another slice of bacon into the frying pan. “I hope so,” she said. “We’ll know as soon as your dad comes home.”
It wasn’t five minutes later that we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway and the car door close. All of us rushed to the door as Dad came in. He looked really sleepy, and he hadn’t shaved his whiskers, but he had a big smile on his face.
“Where’s Benjy?” Adam shouted, climbing into Dad’s arms. “I want to see Benjy.”
Dad laughed and gave him a squeeze.
“Where’s Mom?” Ammon pulled on Dad’s trousers until Dad lifted him up with Adam.
“How big is he?” Joseph asked.
“Does he look strong?” I wanted to know.
“Does he look like he’ll be a good wrestler?” James demanded.
Dad laughed again and walked into the kitchen, still carrying Adam and Ammon. He sat down at the table, and we all crowded around him so that we could hear all about Benjamin David.
“When can we see Benjy?” Joseph asked.
Dad looked around at us and held up a hand. “Hold on a minute,” he said, grinning. “Benjy didn’t come this time. Marni Nadine came instead,” Dad said proudly.
“Marni Nadine?” James asked, pushing away. “Why, we’ve never talked about any Marni Nadine.”
“And who wants to name a perfectly good baby brother Marni Nadine?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Joseph spoke up. “That’s a sissy name. Everybody would think he was a girl. Let’s just call him Benjamin anyway.”
“But you don’t have a baby brother,” Dad said. “You have a little sister.”
“A sister!” We stared at each other and then at Dad.
Dad gave a huge sigh. “Heavenly Father doesn’t always send what we expect, but whoever He sends is always very special. It doesn’t matter whether it’s a boy or a girl.”
“But why did He have to send a girl?” Ammon muttered, getting down from Dad’s lap. “Who’s going to play football with us?”
“And who’s going to go fishing with us?”
“And why have a girl right in the middle of ten boys?”
“Because,” Dad explained patiently, “a girl is what Heavenly Father wanted to send.” He thought for a minute. “This must be a very special baby girl. Not just everyone gets to have five big brothers.”
We didn’t say much after that. We ate our breakfast quietly while Dad and Grandma talked about Mom and Marni Nadine. I had never been more disappointed. All I could think of the rest of the day was that we had been cheated out of getting out baby brother.
The next morning, when Dad went to get Mom and Marni Nadine, we stayed home with Grandma. I tried to get the others to play football with me, but they just sat on the front steps and stared glumly down the street.
Adam was the first to see the car. He jumped up and rushed out to greet Mom and Dad. I guess he’d forgotten that Benjy wasn’t going to be in the car. Dad picked him up and carried him around to Mom’s side and opened the door. The rest of us crept around the car while Dad helped Mom out.
Mom smiled at each of us and hugged the bundle as she carried it into the house. Even though I was still disappointed that Benjamin David hadn’t come, I was curious to see what a baby sister would look like up close.
Mom sat down on the sofa, and we all pushed up close as she began peeling the covers back. Mom held up a little mouse of a girl with a round head and just a tiny bit of brown hair. Her eyes were shut tightly, her cheeks were soft and fat, and she was kind of red all over.
All of us just stared. Then Ammon went close and touched Marni on the cheek with his fingertips. He turned around and grinned. “She’s soft.” He touched her again. “Real soft.”
Mom looked at me. “Would you like to hold her, Alex?”
“I’ve never held a sister before,” I mumbled, backing away.
“Then I’ll hold her,” James volunteered.
“No, I’ll hold her,” I declared, pushing forward. “Just because I’ve never held a sister doesn’t mean that I don’t know how.”
I sat on the sofa next to Mom, and she laid Marni Nadine in my arms. My baby sister was so tiny and light that I hardly knew I was holding her. I was afraid to squeeze hard, because I didn’t want to break her.
“What do you think Alex?” Dad asked as Marni stretched and rubbed her fist against her cheeks. Her eyes cracked open a little, and then she closed them.
“She’s all right, I guess,” I mumbled. “She’s kind of cute—for a girl.”
“Girls are supposed to be cute,” Dad said.
“Then she’s not ‘kind of cute,’” James argued. “She’s the cutest sister in the whole world.”
“You’re right,” Joseph agreed. “If we’re going to have a sister, she’s not going to be just an ordinary sister. She’s going to be the cutest sister around.”
“Yeah, and besides,” I added, “there’s no reason why we can’t teach her to fish, ride a bike, and play football. Just because she’s a girl doesn’t mean that she has to sit around and do nothing. Our little sister will be able to do anything she wants, because we’ll help her. And remember what Dad said. Not just every sister gets to have five big brothers!”

As I approached my 18th birthday and prepared to enter military service in World War II, I was recommended to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood. Mine was the task to telephone President Paul C. Child, my stake president, for an interview. He was one who loved and understood the holy scriptures. It was his intent that all others should similarly love and understand them. Since I knew from others of his rather detailed and searching interviews, our telephone conversation went something like this:
“Hello, President Child. This is Brother Monson. I have been asked by the bishop to visit with you relative to being ordained an elder.”
“Fine, Brother Monson. When can you see me?”
Knowing that his sacrament meeting was at six o’clock, and desiring minimum exposure of my scriptural knowledge to his review, I suggested, “How would five o’clock be?”
His response: “Oh, Brother Monson, that would not provide us sufficient time to peruse the scriptures. Could you please come at two o’clock, and bring with you your personally marked and referenced set of scriptures.”
Sunday finally arrived, and I visited President Child’s home on Indiana Avenue. I was greeted warmly, and then the interview began. He said, “Brother Monson, you hold the Aaronic Priesthood. Have you ever had angels minister to you?”
My reply was, “No, President Child.”
“Do you know,” said he, “that you are entitled to such?”
Again came my response, “No.”
Then he instructed, “Brother Monson, repeat from memory the 13th section of the Doctrine and Covenants.”
I began, “Upon you my fellow servants, in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels …
“Stop,” President Child directed. Then in a calm, kindly tone he counseled, “Brother Monson, never forget that as a holder of the Aaronic Priesthood you are entitled to the ministering of angels.”
It was almost as though an angel were in the room that day. I have never forgotten the interview. I yet feel the spirit of that solemn occasion. I revere the priesthood of Almighty God. I have witnessed its power. I have seen its strength. I have marveled at the miracles it has wrought.

Seventy-five miles of backpacking beauty in the high Cascades and not a worry in the world! The immediate future seemed to hold nothing but blue skies and bluebirds for our Scout troop.
We were counting on an unforgettable experience, and we got it. With only a half hour of trail behind us, we were hit with a downpour that soon turned the steep trail into a slippery tightrope. For six days it rained, and for six days we slogged and slipped along that trail, and the experience kept getting more unforgettable with every step.
It was especially memorable for: The boy who slipped into a swift river and was being dragged by the current to a probable death when his head lodged between two tree branches just long enough for us to save him. The boy who slipped and slashed his forearm badly. The two of us who twisted our knees. The two boys who sprained their ankles. The boy who suffered second-degree burns when boiling water was spilled on him. The two boys who developed bad colds. The boy who contracted a serious case of diarrhea. The three boys who developed hypothermia—a dangerous lowering of the body temperature—especially one of them who came very near death as a result.
We started out expecting blue-birds—and maybe a few bruises and blisters if we were unlucky. When the bluebirds flew away and the brickbats started flying, we were very grateful that we had some first aid supplies and knew how to use them. If that boy with hypothermia had died, the hike would now be unforgettable in a way I don’t like to think about.
That hike in the high Cascades was the most accident-laden trip I had suffered through in my ten years of backpacking. It was the exception rather than the rule, and yet every year groups face much worse first aid challenges in the out-of-doors. I don’t want to scare off any would-be campers, but I want to emphasize that we must prepare for the worst case and not the best. I am constantly running into youth groups in the wilderness who aren’t even prepared to fix a blister—let alone deal with a serious accident. Such groups are simply courting tragedy.

Fourteen-year-old Trevor Hoffman of the Carrolton Second Ward, Lewisville Texas Stake, has already been wrestling for ten years. Recently, he won the Texas Amateur Wrestling Association Championship, in the 15-and-under, 85-pound division.
Last year Trevor had a perfect 21–0 record. He credits much of his success to family support. He’s also got several Montana State wrestling and judo championships under his belt, which he earned before moving to Texas. His goal is to qualify for the 1996 and 2000 Olympics.
Trevor doesn’t live his life on the mat, though—he spends some time hitting the books and has made his school’s high honor roll. He’s also active in his ward.

After one of our lengthy temple meetings, when I had been a member of the Twelve for only a short time, President Kimball took hold of my arm and said, “Will you wait just a few minutes? I want to talk to you.” Of course I waited. When we were alone he said, “I don’t want the First Presidency or the other members of the Twelve to know, but I don’t feel very good today. Will you please give me a blessing?”
This thought came to my mind immediately: “Here am I, the least and last to be ordained, and he is asking me to give him a blessing.”
I was very nervous; I do not remember all that I said, but I shall never forget how pleased I was that he thought enough of me to ask for my assistance. He was asking the newest member to give him a blessing when he could have asked any of the First Presidency or other Apostles.
Why do I love this great man? In his hour of need he was exhibiting love for and confidence in me. He has learned the art of making people feel good about themselves. By his actions we know he loves us. “But whosoever will be great among you, let him be your minister; and whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant.” (Matt. 20:26–27.)

Blindness can’t stop 12-year-old Rhett Jones from doing just about anything else his fellow deacons do. On Sundays you’ll find him in the Riverdale Second Ward, Ogden Utah Riverdale Stake, passing the sacrament and collecting fast offerings with the rest of his quorum.
In the summer you’ll find him at Scout camp, where he earned seven merit badges last year. His target shooting was incredible. He was able to hit a tin can target 23 of 25 times by having a leader ring a bell in the area of the target, then shooting toward the sound.
Rhett realizes it is especially important to set an example for his younger brother Josh, who is also blind.

Meagon Doering knows how to get the job done. This 16-year-old Laurel from Rock Island, Tennessee, has organized fundraising efforts for the Hospital Hospitality House in Nashville, raising a total of $2,400. Meagon and her family were grateful to find the HHH when Meagon’s dad, Michael, was hospitalized for nearly three months 90 miles from their house. The house provided a very inexpensive place to stay so that the family could be near Meagon’s dad for long periods of time without having to make the long drive from home. Meagon says this project was her way of saying thanks.

Ivanna: I don’t think of the commandments as restrictive or hard. Instead, I see the blessings that come from them, especially the Word of Wisdom. In Ukraine, a lot of teenagers drink alcohol. I work at a horse stable, and when coworkers offer me alcohol, I tell them I don’t drink. This hasn’t made them think any less of me. I stood my ground and didn’t fall into temptation. I know I am not alone. Heavenly Father supports me whenever I have troubles.

Alia twisted the new CTR ring on her finger. At church today her Primary teacher had given everyone in the class a CTR ring. Alia loved the shiny green shield. She took her ring off to show Mom.
“What does ‘choose the right’ mean?” Mom asked.
“It means you do what Heavenly Father wants you to do,” Alia said.
Mom nodded. “You choose the right in lots of ways. Like when you’re kind to your brother and sister, or when you help Dad and me at home.”
Alia smiled and traced the letters on the ring.
She kept a close eye on her ring while she stacked blocks with Ethan and Grace. She liked the way the letters shone. She was careful with it during dinner. She didn’t want it to fall into the mashed potatoes! When she helped clear the table, she kept her fist clenched so the ring wouldn’t slip off.
Mom and Dad were washing dishes when Alia remembered to ask, “Why wasn’t Mikayla at church today?”
Mikayla was Alia’s newest friend. They’d met at church a few months ago, and Mikayla and her mom were planning to be baptized soon.
“I don’t know,” Dad said. “Maybe you could visit her tonight.”
“Could we take her some cookies?”
“Good idea,” Mom said. “After Ethan and Grace are in bed, we can take some of the cookies we made yesterday.”
As they got in the car later, Alia said, “I think I should give my CTR ring to Mikayla.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well, I guess we could just give her the cookies, but …”
Has the Holy Ghost ever prompted you to do something hard?
“I know you love your ring, so you decide. Listen to the Holy Ghost,” Mom said. “Then follow that prompting!”
“But how do I know if it’s the Holy Ghost?”
“You’ll feel peaceful and happy inside. Why don’t we pray about it? If you feel good, then you know that’s the Holy Ghost.”
“OK. But if I give her my ring, can I get another one?”
“Yes, but it might take a while to come in the mail.”
After the prayer, they drove to Mikayla’s house.
“I’ll give them the cookies,” Mom said as they walked to the door. “I won’t say anything about the ring—that’s up to you. Just tug on my sleeve if you decide to do it.”
Alia twisted the ring around and around on her finger. She thought hard about what she should do.
Mom rang the doorbell. Mikayla’s mom answered and invited them in.
“We missed you at church today,” Mom said. “We wanted to let you know we were thinking about you.”
“Thank you. These cookies look great. Mikayla, come say hi.”
They talked for a few minutes. Mom was saying goodbye when Alia tugged on her sleeve. Mom looked down and smiled at Alia.
“Looks like there’s one more thing.”
Alia slid her ring off and handed it to Mikalya.
“Alia wanted to give you this,” Mom said. “We prayed about it before we came. She wants you to have it.”
Mikayla put the ring on her finger. “Thank you!”
Alia grinned. “It means ‘choose the right’!”
As Alia and her mom walked back to the car, Mom said, “Well, how do you feel?”
“A little sad that I don’t have the ring anymore, but glad I listened to the Holy Ghost.”
“I’m proud of you. And now you know what the Holy Ghost feels like!”
Alia smiled. “Can we get lots of CTR rings? In case the Holy Ghost tells me to give more away?”
Mom hugged her. “Good idea,” she said.

As a very little boy, Tam Hoi Hoon loved to climb. He would climb streetlamps and even palm trees with his bare hands! His favorite class in preschool was gymnastics. At the time, the Tam family lived in Hawaii, where Brother Tam was studying at the university.
When his family moved back to Hong Kong, Hoi Hoon joined the Hong Kong Amateur Gymnastic Association. After joining the team, he won the 2001 Hong Kong Gymnastics Competition. Now age 10 and a member of the Aberdeen Ward, Hong Kong Island Stake, Hoi Hoon is setting an example through his gymnastics and his beliefs.
While gymnastics is fun for Hoi Hoon, it is also hard work. On Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays, his parents take him by train an hour and a half to practices, then an hour and a half home. The practices are two or three hours long. Learning a new gymnastic move takes Hoi Hoon a month or two because he has to practice the move more than 500 times before it is perfect! But Hoi Hoon likes the children he works out with, and he loves to perform. Hearing an audience clapping and shouting makes him happy.

Aaron traipsed along the hot, dusty road, pulling his wagon. The only sounds were the rattle of wheels over the lumpy ground and the clinking of coins in his pocket.
“Two dollars and 75 cents,” he thought. “Mrs. Murphy gave me much more than it costs to buy her a bag of flour and a sack of potatoes.”
Needing a rest, he sat in the shade of a wild olive tree on a stack of old fence posts in an empty field. He reached for his small canteen, emptied the last few drops of water into his mouth, and tossed the empty container back into the wagon.
A lizard crawled onto the end of one of the fence posts and stared at him. “It’s hot enough to turn even you belly up in the sun, you know that?” he told the reptile. “I guess that’s why you’re under this tree, like me.”
He pulled the coins from his pocket and eyed them. “Mrs. Murphy said this would be enough to buy what she needs,” he said, “which probably means she doesn’t expect anything back. Of course, she can hardly see enough to know a penny from a dime.”
Aaron squinted at the huge field of tall, dead weeds and twisted olive trees, their leaves almost glowing in the heat. “I’m sure Mrs. Murphy wouldn’t mind if I bought a tall glass of lemonade at the soda fountain. There will be enough money left over. Besides,” he reasoned, “I’ve earned it. It’s a half-mile between her place and town. She’s our neighbor, and I’m helping see to her needs, like Mom and Dad asked. But I have needs, too, like lemonade on a hot summer day. Since my canteen is empty, what choice do I have?”
He stood, and the lizard stiffened. “Even you lizards get thirsty. But all you have to do is find a fat, juicy spider. It doesn’t cost you a penny. But we humans have to pay for a drink when our canteens are empty. It’s just the way of things.”
Aaron stepped back onto the road but stopped short. Through the waves of heat, he saw something that looked like a bad dream—a large dog in the road, barking at him! He hurried off through the field. The dog didn’t chase him, but Aaron soon found himself up against another problem: his socks and pants were covered with foxtails.
When he reached the store, he sat on the curb and pulled the spiky weeds from his clothes. His father had once told him how foxtails are similar to bad habits: “Foxtails dig in and stick to whatever touches them, just as bad choices do. Once they become embedded, they are twice as hard to remove. It’s best to avoid them in the first place by staying on the better path.”
After Aaron cleaned off his clothes, he bought Mrs. Murphy’s food, loaded the flour and potatoes in his wagon, and headed down the street toward the soda fountain for a tall glass of cold lemonade. But his father’s words about wrong choices kept whispering to him.
Aaron stopped in front of the soda fountain and looked at the change in his hand. Then he looked again at the soda fountain. Then back at the leftover money. Then at the dirt road baked by the summer sun.
A half-hour later, Aaron pulled his wagon to a stop in front of Mrs. Murphy’s place. He was even more thirsty than before, having decided not to spend any of Mrs. Murphy’s change. He knew she would never have known the difference, nor perhaps even cared. But he would have known, and Heavenly Father would have known, too. Foxtails were enough of a problem in his socks. He didn’t like the idea of having to remove bad habits as well. That would be much more difficult. If he stayed away from making bad choices, he wouldn’t have to worry about creating bad habits.
He climbed Mrs. Murphy’s steps, carrying the sacks of flour and potatoes. Not only did he feel good as he handed her the change, but Mrs. Murphy gave him something else as well: the biggest and best glass of cold lemonade he had ever tasted.

A true story from Singapore.
“It’s time for our art lesson!” Madam Nadirah said. She carried a big box to the front of the classroom. The box had bottles of paint and paintbrushes sticking out of it.
Adam smiled. He loved art time! They always worked in groups on their projects. Maybe this time he would get to be with one of his friends.
Madam Nadirah pointed at the first table. “Group one is Enzo, Ivan, Mei Ling, and Adam.”
Adam stood and moved to sit at the table. He didn’t know anyone in his group. But he was good at making friends. Maybe they would become new friends!
Once everyone found their group, Madam Nadirah started to pass out supplies. “Your challenge is to use these items to make art,” she said.
She put three cups on each table. Adam leaned forward to look inside their cups. One cup had nutshells in it, another had wooden sticks, and the last one had colorful beads.
Adam frowned. He didn’t know what to make with these things.
“You only have time to make one project,” Madam Nadirah said. “So work together to decide what you are going to make.”
Loud chatter filled the room as the groups started planning their projects.
“What should we make?” Adam asked his group.
Mei Ling pointed at the sticks. “Definitely a tree. The sticks can be the trunk and branches, and the nutshells can be the leaves.”
“What would we use the beads for?” Enzo asked.
“Some of the beads are green,” Adam said. “Maybe we can use them for leaves.”
Ivan shook his head. “No, we should make a house. The nutshells are for the roof. The sticks are for the walls, and the beads are for the windows.” He grabbed some shells and sticks to show them.
Mei Ling snatched the last cup away before Ivan could get the beads. “But I want to make a tree!”
“Well, I want to make a house!” Ivan tried to grab the cup back from Mei Ling.
Adam looked at his new friends. He didn’t want them to fight. But they were only allowed to make one project. They couldn’t make a tree and a house.
Then Adam had an idea. Maybe there was a way they could do both. “What if we make a house in a tree?”
Mei Ling and Ivan stopped fighting over the cup of beads and looked at Adam.
“Like a treehouse?” Mei Ling asked.
“Yeah!”
Mei Ling set the cup back down on the table. “OK.”
Ivan nodded. “Let’s do it!”
Adam got paper and glue from the art box. Enzo picked out paint colors. Then they started making their treehouse. At first, Mei Ling and Ivan only worked on the parts they wanted. But soon they were all working together and laughing when paint got on their fingers.
Slowly their sticks, shells, and beads turned into a tall, colorful treehouse. Adam added a nutshell to the roof.
“I didn’t know making a treehouse would be so fun,” Ivan said. He glued another bead to the tree.
“Yeah, this was a great idea!” Mei Ling said.
Adam smiled. It was fun to work together. He hoped he could work with his new friends again for the next art lesson!

It’s been years since that happened, and Jess now has a husband and children of her own. She still has unanswered questions and struggles every day with the consequences of her brother’s death. But over the years, she has found some peace. And she’s seen firsthand how the teachings of the gospel and love from other people help in healing.

Over time, peace can come. “I would love to say that the ache in your heart goes away, but it doesn’t,” Jess says. “But Jesus Christ’s Atonement has healed me in ways I never thought possible.” Reading scriptures, praying, and attending church help her see the light at the end of the tunnel. Through those small things, she’s received revelation for other ways that she can find help, such as meeting with a professional counselor. Now she takes things “a minute at a time” and tries to fill her day with gratitude and service.

“I have a strong testimony that our Heavenly Father loves every single one of His children.”

President N. Eldon Tanner related the following experience:
“A young man came to me not long ago and said, ‘I made an agreement with a man that requires me to make certain payments each year. I am in arrears, and I can’t make those payments, for if I do, it is going to cause me to lose my home. What shall I do?’
“I looked at him and said, ‘Keep your agreement.’
“‘Even if it costs me my home?’
“I said, ‘I am not talking about your home. I am talking about your agreement; and I think your wife would rather have a husband who would keep his word, meet his obligations, keep his pledges or his covenants, and have to rent a home than to have a home with a husband who will not keep his covenants and his pledges.’”

But Robert’s memory lived on when the Special Olympics became a great thing for a group of LDS teenagers on the East Coast—Lee included.
Last summer, leaders of the New Haven and Hartford Stakes in Connecticut, and the Providence Rhode Island Stake, were planning to combine three youth conferences into one.
“The stakes were up for youth conference ideas, and they asked kids what they felt like doing,” recalls Lee, 15, a teacher in the New Haven Stake’s Newtown Ward. “We talked about doing community service; you know, gardening and stuff like that. But none of the ideas were even close to this.”
“This” was the more than 400 Latter-day Saint youth from the three stakes volunteering their services—ranging from cheerleading to working in concession stands—to the 7,000-plus athletes who gathered from 136 countries for the Special Olympics World Games held in and around New Haven. The youth conference theme was “Ye Are the Light of the World.” And they were.
“We really felt that we are like a candle and we can pass that light on to each other through caring and service to these athletes. You really can do that by just being a great example,” says Lee, who couldn’t have asked for a better scenario. The Special Olympics World Games were in his home state, and if there’s one thing Lee knows, it’s the Special Olympics.
Counting all the time he spent with Robert when his brother was competing, and then in 1994 when Lee was a Special Olympics volunteer for Connecticut’s state games, he understood what volunteering at the World Games involved. And he was able to watch other youth his age learn how much fun they could have through helping and serving the special-needs athletes during the three-day youth conference.
“I’m just really happy to see that all the kids here are really into this. They went up to the athletes and gave them hugs, gave them a high-five or whatever they needed,” says Lee.
Ben Johansen, a priest in the Trumbull (Connecticut) First Ward, agrees. “We had a lot of fun. We wanted to be here serving, and everything has been totally focused on serving. These athletes do the best with the abilities they’ve been given. I’ve learned that the winners in this life are the ones who do the most with what they have, not who crosses the finish line first.”
At the track-and-field venue during the week-long competition, the LDS youth gathered near where the athletes entered the track, and took time to shake hands, give pats on the back, and offer general encouragement. The athletes’ smiles got even bigger when they were asked for their autographs.
“They’re just so happy when you smile or say congratulations to them. As soon as you start talking to them, they’re just so cheerful and talkative,” says Stephanie Perry.
That attitude rubbed off on the LDS youth too.
“At other youth conferences I’ve been to, we do service and then one of our leaders gets a letter of thanks and half the people who worked on the project don’t even realize what we did was appreciated. It’s so much better being interactive,” says Merilee Hales, who moved to Florida a couple of weeks after the Olympics ended. “You could see the excitement these kids had when we would shake their hands and give high-fives.”
Says Ben Stratford of the Trumbull First Ward, “The best thing about it was the time we spent with the Special Olympians and the example they provided for me.”
On a brutally hot day in New Haven, many of the youth gathered in the Yale Bowl, Yale University’s football stadium, with brooms in hand. Their job was to sweep up debris in preparation for the Games’ closing ceremonies. While he swept piles of garbage into bags, Lee stopped to consider what they had been doing during their three days of service.
“Sweeping is just manual work. After you’re done sweeping, the Yale Bowl is not going to remember you sweeping it,” he says. “But these athletes will remember you. They’ll remember us. That’s what really means a lot to me. And I will remember them.”
It wasn’t that Lee was ungrateful having to spend part of his youth conference cleaning up after others. It was just that he enjoyed interacting with the athletes more. When Lee was with the Special Olympians he saw real joy and happiness, especially when the athletes would smile at him.
And as Lee smiled back, he couldn’t help but think of Robert.

“It was a stake play, but it was a missionary play as well,” said Simon Noble, 17, of the Holywood Road Ward, explaining why youth in the Belfast Northern Ireland Stake were so excited to be involved in their stake production. “It was all about the plan of salvation, and we invited non-LDS friends to come and enjoy a night of theatre and learn about what we believe,” he said.
“My own testimony was strengthened, too,” said Paul Curran, 15, of the Bangor Ward. “We kept rehearsing the lines, and as we did, I kept thinking about how much it means to know the truth.”
Ruby May Silcock, 18, also of the Bangor Ward, said the play helped her learn about teamwork. “We all had to cooperate and work together,” she said. “It took a lot of people skills.”
Saints and friends alike enjoyed the music, the acting, the jokes, and the message.

“Water for life” reads a large sign fastened to the side of Sataua Primary School on the Samoan island of Savai’i.
Those are words many Pacific Islanders understand all too well as they’re often faced with the reality of little to no fresh water for drinking, cooking, or bathing.
They are also words Elder Brian and Sister Lori Bott understand all too well. As a senior missionary couple serving in Samoa, they frequently encounter families, schools, and entire villages that struggle to find and have enough clean water.
With the Botts’ help, that all recently changed for a school and several villages on Savai’i.
It was there that the Vaisigano Second District, the Samoan Ministry of Health, and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came together to provide two 10,000-litre water tanks for Sataua Primary School, and an additional 206 2,000-litre water tanks for homes in the surrounding villages of Fagasa, Sataua, and Papa Sataua.
That means approximately 900 villagers and 1,000 students now have a reliable source of clean water.
“For a school, the ability to capture and store this water is the difference between staying open and closing down,” said Elder Bott.
“Water is part of it, but anything to do with the health or education of the Samoan people and to let them know of God’s love for them—that’s what we’re about,” said Sister Bott.
As humanitarian missionaries, that’s their objective every day and especially each time they take the one-hour ferry ride from the island of Upolu to Savai’i.
Sometimes that love means classroom desks so students can sit and have a surface to write on or shelves to make library books more accessible. At other times it means having floor tiles installed to make school rooms more sanitary and easier to clean.
This time it was the Botts joining with school and village leaders to cut a violet ribbon wrapped around 20,000 litres of water.
“We know how important it is to have clean water, and we feel so blessed to be just a small, small, little part of the Church’s efforts to bring water—to bring blessings to the people of Samoa,” said Elder Bott.

I went to see my bishop for a temple recommend interview with no special expectations. Temple recommend interviews are generally all the same. I was excited to have a chance to do baptisms in the Arizona Temple, and this was simply a mandatory part. I sat quietly in the bishop’s office and answered everything he asked. I could tell by his silence when I had answered the last question and looked up to watch him fill out my recommend.
After handing me my temple recommend, the bishop looked at me intently with a smile on his face and said, “Lynn, will you bear your testimony for me?” I was completely taken aback. No one had ever asked me to do that before, and I hadn’t volunteered in about six years. I didn’t like giving my testimony. The only things I knew to say were those words I had been taught in Primary. I took a breath. I began to say aloud all the things that I knew and believed. My words were simple and Primary-like, but as I said them I knew they were true and that was all that mattered. It felt so good.
As I finished and looked at the bishop’s smiling face, I smiled too. I realized how silly I had been not to bear my testimony. I had been missing out on the simple pleasure that bearing a testimony brings because I felt I didn’t have anything important to say and was fearful of what the congregation would think. When I left the bishop’s office, the calm that I had received from bearing my testimony was still with me. I remembered how strongly I had felt the truthfulness of the words as I said them. The experience had actually strengthened my beliefs. I had gone to see the bishop for a temple recommend, but I had left with much more than that.

Recently, my brother, Isaac, and I were riding our school bus. Our bus driver often listened to bad music. One day, there was a really bad song on, so Isaac and I said to the bus driver, “Please turn off the music. We don’t like that sort of music.” He would not listen to us. We asked him to turn off the bad music many times. The other kids on the bus said they didn’t like that kind of music either. We went home and told our mom about it. She talked to the principal, and the principal told the bus driver to not play that music. Now we don’t have to listen to bad music on the bus.

As I finished washing the dishes, I glanced out the window and saw my eight-year-old brother dangling a long pole in the swimming pool. His tangled brown hair hung in his eyes, and his clothes were splashed with water. He always managed to avoid helping with the chores, and today was no different. I watched as he carefully steadied the pole in the water, lifted it, and tapped it on the concrete deck.
“What’s he doing?” I wondered. I decided to go outside and see what time-wasting activity had kept him from helping me.
“What are you doing, Ben?” I asked as I walked over to where he stood.
“Saving bees,” he replied. I could now see that each time he steadied the pole, it was beneath a bee. He then lifted the bee out of the water and placed it on the warm concrete to let the bee dry its wings and fly away.
“But some of them won’t hold on,” he continued. “I try to save them, but they just keep trying to swim and won’t grab the pole.”
“Great,” I thought. “One less bee to sting me.” I began walking back toward the house, determined to waste no more of my time.
Then Ben spoke again. “It’s like Jesus,” he said.
I stopped and walked back to my little brother. “What do you mean?” I asked, confused by that comparison.
“I try to save the bees from drowning, but they have to choose to grab the pole. I can’t force them,” he explained. “And that’s like Jesus and us. He wants to save us, but we have to choose to follow Him and accept the Atonement. He can’t force us.” And with that simple analogy, Ben went back to saving the bees.
As I thought about what he said, I realized how much I was like one of the drowning bees. When I faced a struggle in my life, I was prone to battle it out alone, convinced I was strong enough to make it. Trusting the Savior enough to stop “treading water” was difficult. But as I watched Ben patiently pull each bee out of the water, I began to understand how willing the Savior is to help me.
I gave Ben a hug and returned to the house, letting him continue his work. And I promised myself the next time I saw a pole coming toward me, I would have the faith to grab on tight and let the Savior lift me up.