Gospel Story Finder

He worked as a driver for a local cacao company in his hometown until civil war and unrest led him to move to Abidjan in 2004. There he encountered Latter-day Saint missionaries and learned about the restored gospel.
He was baptized on March 25, 2005, and his testimony has only continued to grow from there.
“Six months after my baptism, President [Gordon B.] Hinckley invited all the members around the world to read the Book of Mormon. Following President Hinckley’s invitation, my mind began to open, and the message of the Restoration became clearer for me to understand,” Bishop says.
But it was those missionaries’ initial love and interest in him as a person that first piqued his interest.
“My conversion did not begin with the [gospel] teachings. . . . I was only impressed by the missionaries; I loved their mark of attention towards me.”
And those missionaries probably had no idea how much that “mark of attention” would mean to Bishop. It became a huge focal point in his life and how he now shares the gospel with others.

A few weeks ago, just before 6:00 a.m., my wife and I boarded a taxi to begin the last lap of our trip to Salt Lake City from Australia. Our driver, who had been on duty since 3:00 a.m., was anxious to talk with us, his first passengers of the day. We learned his parents were born just outside of Mexico City. They moved to Chicago, where he was born, and then moved to New Mexico. Twenty years earlier our friend had come for a short visit to San Francisco and had never left. During our trip to the airport, this man related a few incidents from which some great truths were reemphasized.
One other important point was made by this unusual taxi operator. He told us that some of his unmarried friends who are also taxi drivers are often out of money. They come to him to borrow. He indicated that he is generally able to help them over tight money spots. When his companions asked how he is able to support his family on his salary when they can’t even keep themselves, he said, “I tell them I don’t waste money at the races or on liquor or tobacco. My wife fixes our meals at home, and we don’t have to pay for expensive restaurant food.” He smiled when he added, “We do our partying with our family.” This man’s objectives are family-oriented, and he has learned the folly of serving the gambling, drinking, and momentary expensive habits.

Our Father in Heaven wants us, as His children, to counsel with Him about what is important to us. If it matters to us, it matters to Him, because we matter to Him. Let me illustrate this with a story from my ­daughter-in-law Hana. She said:

While I was serving as a missionary in the United States, I was transferred to a new area in which wonderful members would feed us four to five times a week. For the first dinner I went to, the sweet sister surprised us with pizza! Excited for such a treat, I eagerly ate my dinner and thanked the sister. The next night you can imagine my surprise when a completely new family treated us, again, to pizza! I ate the pizza and thanked the family for their thoughtfulness. However, after this pattern had been repeated every night for two weeks, I was sick of pizza and started dreading dinner with members.

Finally, when it started to weigh me down, I dropped to my knees and told Heavenly Father that I was so grateful for the members’ service, but I could not eat any more pizza. I needed a break, and a meal of fresh vegetables would be wonderful.

That evening, after a long day of work, we arrived at a member’s home for dinner. The mother was visibly nervous as we sat down to eat. She explained that she was trying to cook healthier for her family, but if we did not like her dinner, she could order us a pizza. She then served us a scrumptious dinner of fresh vegetables!

In prayer I thanked Heavenly Father for the break from pizza and courageously asked if it was possible to have curry with rice for dinner. My heart started to giggle when we showed up for our next dinner appointment and we were served curry with rice!

This pattern continued for an entire week. Each morning I would pray specifically for what I wanted to eat, and that night the members would unknowingly serve us the exact meal I had asked for! Finally, after a week, I told Heavenly Father that He had won—I could not think of any dinner that He couldn’t deliver, and I was ready to return to pizza or to whatever the members served. After that prayer my heart felt light and unburdened, and I was grateful for such a mindful and loving Father in Heaven.

After a disastrous earthquake in Europe, I visited camps where those displaced by the earthquake lived. I met many families living in tents. They didn’t know who I was or that the Church would bring assistance. But as I met with them, the very first thing they did was put something to eat or drink in my hands with smiles on their faces.

These people had lost everything. I was there to serve them. But they found it in their hearts to serve. This brought me joy and reminded me that one of the best ways to know Jesus Christ in a deep and profound way is to serve Him by serving God’s children.

An interesting experiment in social psychology investigates how much the judgments of others influence the way we see things. A psychologist built a small machine containing a bright light which could be switched on in pinpoint bursts. When one views a small burst of light in a dark room, the light appears to move, even though the machine producing the light is stable and doesn’t move at all. This is called the autokinetic (self-movement) effect, and it plays an important role in this experiment.
During the first stage of the experiment one person, let’s call him Bill, is led into a dark room and instructed to judge how far the tiny pinpoints of light move each time he sees a burst of light. His judgment is one inch the first time, two inches the second time, and three inches the third time. After several trials he settles on three inches as his average judgment.
Bill is then excused from the room, and Susan is invited to be seated several feet from the light machine. She then voices her judgments each time she sees a burst of light. She begins with three inches, then two inches, and she finally begins to repeat estimates of about one inch.
After her judgments have been recorded, Bill is then invited back into the room with Susan, and both of them are instructed to voice their individual estimates of another series of light bursts. After the first burst Bill says, “three inches,” and Susan counters with “one inch.” On the next trial Susan says, “one and a half,” and Bill replies, “two and a half.” After several subsequent trials, they concur that the light moves two inches each time.
Few of us are ever invited into an experimental laboratory to share our opinions, but each day of our lives we are required to make important judgments in the laboratory of life. Sometimes we tend to forget some important eternal truths. For example, “the Spirit of Christ is given to every man, that he may know good from evil.” The Lord assured us that if we are responsive to his spirit, he will “show [us] the way to judge” (Moro. 7:16). The Savior also referred to himself as “the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life” (John 8:12). This light never moves, and if it appears to move from us, we are the ones who have moved.
Sometimes in everyday life, just as in the darkened laboratory, we lose our perspective as familiar landmarks vanish. We think the light has moved. One of the ways we move from the light of Christ is in engaging in the “Not As Bad As Game.” You know how it goes:
“I swear a lot, but I never take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“I don’t pay a full tithing, but at least I pay something.”
“I go to a few questionable movies, but never to an X-rated movie.”
“Necking isn’t as bad as petting.”
“Sure, I cheat on my income tax, but not as bad as other people.”
“I don’t consider it gossip when I’m only telling the truth.”
“If what I wear is a little extreme, it’s not as bad as what others at school wear.”
And so, in the words of our beloved friend Nephi, “thus the devil cheateth their souls, and leadeth them away carefully down to hell” (2 Ne. 28:21).
Although the light never moves, the more often we are in contact with that which is abnormal, degrading, and undesirable, the more normal and desirable it begins to appear. We become less sensitive to the promptings of the still, small voice. In that same great epistle which motivated the boy prophet Joseph to seek the Lord in prayer, the Apostle James shared some great insights into this process:
“Blessed is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life, which the Lord hath promised to them that love him.
“Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man:
“But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed.
“Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death. …
“Wherefore lay apart all filthiness and superfluity of naughtiness, and receive with meekness the engrafted word, which is able to save your souls” (James 1:12–15, 21).
Youth of the noble birthright, you have been lovingly commanded to “shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light” (1 Pet. 2:9).
Remember, the light never moves.

“As a young boy I was out on a farm … playing about … when I saw over the fence in the neighbor’s yard some broken-down buildings with the sheds caving in. … I imagined … that might be a castle I should explore, so I went over to the fence and started to climb through. Then I heard a voice as distinctly as you are hearing mine: ‘Harold, don’t go over there.’ I looked in every direction to see where the speaker was. I wondered if it was my father, but he couldn’t see me; he was way up at the other end of the field. There was no one in sight. I realized that someone was warning me of an unseen danger—whether there was a nest of rattlesnakes, or whether the rotting timbers would fall on me and crush me, I don’t know. But from that time on, I accepted without question … that there are processes not known to man by which we can hear voices from the unseen world, by which we can have brought to us visions of eternity” (Stories from the General Authorities, Mar. 1973, p. 12).

Lance looked around the Scout camp at the beautiful scenery—jagged mountains, green forest, and the still surface of the lake. His view was interrupted as Cooper, a new member of his Scout troop, walked by lugging his gear. Cooper hadn’t said a word during the drive up to the camp. Lance thought Cooper seemed secretive. Did he have something to hide?
“Maybe it’s just because he’s new to the troop and doesn’t really know anyone yet,” Lance thought.
But he couldn’t help wondering if Cooper could be trusted. Earlier, Cooper had taken another Scout’s pocketknife. The knife’s owner, Cameron, stopped him. “Hey, that’s my knife,” he said.
Cooper looked down. “I have one just like it,” he said. “I thought it fell out of my bag.”
“Why don’t you check your bag?” Cameron suggested.
Lance thought Cooper pretended to look surprised when he found his own knife in his bag. “Oh, sorry,” Cooper said. He handed Cameron’s knife back to him and walked off.
Even though Lance could hardly wait until the next morning to start earning more merit badges, he was also excited about the large cave they were going to sleep in. In the light of the flickering campfire, Lance lay in his sleeping bag admiring the badges he had already earned. He had badges for Environmental Science, Archery, Climbing, Leatherworks, Swimming, and Rowing. While at Scout camp, he planned on earning badges for Fishing, Canoeing, and—
Out of the corner of his eye, Lance noticed someone watching him. It was Cooper. He was lying apart from the others in the dimness of the cave, eyeing Lance’s badges. Lance folded his merit badge sash and put it next to his backpack. Then he turned his back on Cooper and went to sleep.
The next morning, Lance’s Environmental Science and Archery badges were missing! He wished he had zipped his sash inside his bag. Then he remembered how Cooper had been looking at the badges the night before. Lance looked around, but Cooper was nowhere to be seen.
Lance’s heart beat quickly as he searched through Cooper’s backpack. The badges weren’t there. “He probably hid them in a less-obvious place,” Lance thought.
The more Lance thought about it, the angrier he got. He had gone on Scouting activities with the other boys, and nothing like this had happened before. Lance knew Cooper had taken his hard-earned badges.
Outside the cave, Lance saw the Scout leader, Brother Maxwell. Lance approached him and asked him where Cooper was.
“He just went through those trees to take pictures of the sunrise,” Brother Maxwell said. “Can I help you with something?”
Lance explained what had happened. “Cooper has been acting suspicious ever since we got here. First he took Cameron’s pocketknife, but Cameron got it back. Now he’s taken two of my badges. I know it was him because of the way he was staring at them last night. He’s so quiet, like someone who has something to hide.”
Brother Maxwell laid a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “We can’t accuse anyone without proof, Lance. Maybe he’s shy because he’s new to the group. And maybe he was staring at your badges because he’s looking forward to earning some of his own. Let’s go take a look in the cave and see what we can find.”
“I already did, Brother Maxwell,” Lance said. “I looked everywhere, including in Cooper’s stuff. He’s probably taking that walk so he can hide the badges until we’re ready to leave.” Lance suddenly saw Cooper step out of the trees, carrying a camera. “There he is,” he said. “Let’s go ask him.”
“Not yet, Lance,” Brother Maxwell said. “First we’re going to have a look in that cave.”
Inside the cave, Brother Maxwell examined Lance’s sash and studied the area around Lance’s backpack and sleeping bag. “Well,” he finally said, “you’re right about there having been a cave bandit here last night, Lance. But I think you’re wrong about who it was.”
“What do you mean?” Lance asked.
“Judging from the tiny paw prints in the dirt, those merit badges were probably chewed off your sash by a pack rat.”
Lance’s mouth dropped open. “A pack rat?”
Brother Maxwell nodded. “They like to collect objects such as watches, buttons, or, in this case, merit badges.”
“But I’ve got to find those badges!”
The Scout leader smiled. “If we can find the rat’s nest, we’ll most likely find your missing badges.”
After breakfast, everyone searched the area. Before long the bandit’s nest and Lance’s badges were found.
Lance apologized to Brother Maxwell. “I was wrong to accuse Cooper, and to judge him. It must be hard to be the new kid in the group.”
When Lance went back to the cave, Cooper was inside. Once again, he eyed the badges as Lance tucked them inside his bag.
Lance straightened up and turned to Cooper. “I’m going to try to earn my Canoeing badge today. Want to come?”
Cooper looked at the ground, but there was a shy smile on his face. “Sure. I’d like to try too,” he said.
Lance grinned as he and Cooper ran out of the cave into the bright summer afternoon.

When April’s family moved to a farm, there was lots to love about their new home. There were ponds to swim in and meadows to explore. And there was always something that needed to be done! The whole family—Mom, Dad, and eight kids—learned to milk cows, pick corn, and fill jars with homemade applesauce.
For April, the hardest part of the move was making new friends. None of her siblings went to her school, and most of her classmates had grown up together. It was tough to fit in, especially when some classmates made fun of her hand-me-down clothes and worn-out backpack.
And worst of all, April didn’t have a bike.
Almost everyone had a bike. After school, they’d hold races and play bike tag. Meanwhile, April was stuck walking home—usually alone.
One day while April was on her way home, David and Maria from school pulled up next to her, their bike wheels glinting in the sunshine.
“You should ask for a bike for Christmas,” David said. Before April could say anything, Maria started teasing.
“Her family can’t afford bikes, not even one.”
“That’s not true!” April said. “My parents could buy us all bikes if they wanted!”
Maria and David just laughed and rode away.
From then on, April wanted a bike more than anything. Christmas was a few weeks away. Was there any chance she might get one under the tree? She started asking for a bike every chance she got.
The big day finally arrived—Christmas morning! April was the first to run to the tree. She saw games, clothes, and a few school supplies … and zero bikes.
But then Dad said something that made her heart pound.
“Hey, I think I saw something on the porch.”
“I did too!” Mom said. “Kids, why don’t you see what’s out there?”
April and her siblings ran outside to look. And there, right on the porch, was a row of bikes! April could tell they weren’t new, but that didn’t matter. They were bikes!
Pam squealed in delight as she grabbed the red one with her name on the tag. Billy rolled the orange one down the steps. Then April got a good look at hers.
It was big. It was black. And it had the widest tires she’d ever seen. April felt her stomach drop. She tried to smile but felt a little sick.
It looks like a monster, she thought. What will the other kids say?
On the first school day after Christmas break, April pedaled slowly. She hoped the bell would ring before she got to school so she could hide the Bike Monster while no one was watching.
But everyone was still outside, talking about the holidays. And it wasn’t long before someone spotted the Bike Monster.
“Is that made of old tractor parts?”
“It’s from the junkyard!”
“Maybe if your folks didn’t have so many kids, they could get you something nice for once.”
April tried to ignore the mean comments, but those last words stuck in her mind. Would I be happier with a new bike instead of all my brothers and sisters?That evening April was watching her older brothers playing in the living room. She picked up her littlest sister and squeezed her with a giant hug. Would I trade her for a shiny new bike? April thought. No way!
Suddenly the Bike Monster didn’t seem like such a big deal after all. And it didn’t even really seem like such a monster. It was a gift from parents who loved her, and that made it the best bike in the world.
As the school year went on, April discovered that her bike was the very best—at least for racing and riding in the snow. Everyone wanted to try the big, wide tires. And April would let them. But the Bike Monster was hers, after all, and she loved it!

My husband, Larry, and I enjoy eating out at a delicious Mexican restaurant called “Mi Ranchito.” We like it so much that I keep the number stored in my smartphone.
One afternoon, we decided to order takeout. I picked up my phone and casually said, “Hey, Siri! Call Mi Ranchito.”
Siri’s chic British voice responded immediately: “OK, Lisa! From now on, I will call you ‘Ranchito.’”
Larry and I burst into laughter. It was funny. Without missing a beat, Siri changed my name to Ranchito. From that moment on, my smartphone, my husband, my children, my grandchildren, and anyone else to whom Larry related the story began to call me Ranchito. No matter what I did, Siri refused to call me Lisa again.
At first the situation was entertaining. Soon it became annoying. And as I worked to restore my true name, it became alarming. I imagined the possibility of receiving texts, emails, and snail mail addressed to “Ranchito.” I imagined pollsters soliciting polling information from Ranchito over my phone and politicians inviting Ranchito to vote for them in the next election.
“Over a very short time,” I thought, “Lisa could drop out of existence, and Ranchito could take over my social identity.”
How frightening! Siri, who doesn’t know me, doesn’t care about me, and isn’t even a real person, had effortlessly stolen my name. As I tried to figure out how to restore it, I couldn’t help but think how, if I’m not mindful, I could let technology steal away my identity, reputation, and sense of self.
I also realized how technology’s many distractions can often lead us to forget our divine identities as children of God.
Thankfully, I was able to get Siri to change my name from Ranchito back to Lisa. But this experience taught me that my most important identity is that of disciple of Jesus Christ and child of God. So I will always choose to allow a prophet of God and the Holy Ghost, rather than Siri, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram, Pinterest, or any other internet influence, to shape my identity and guide me along the covenant path to Jesus Christ!

Often our opportunities to show our love come unexpectedly. An example of such an opportunity appeared in a newspaper article in October 1981. So impressed was I with the love and compassion related therein that I have kept the clipping in my files for over 30 years.

The article indicates that an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage, Alaska, to Seattle, Washington—a flight carrying 150 passengers—was diverted to a remote Alaskan town in order to transport a gravely injured child. The two-year-old boy had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home. The town was 450 miles (725 km) south of Anchorage and was certainly not on the flight path. However, medics at the scene had sent out a frantic request for help, and so the flight was diverted to pick up the child and take him to Seattle so that he could be treated in a hospital.

When the flight touched down near the remote town, medics informed the pilot that the boy was bleeding so badly he could not survive the flight to Seattle. A decision was made to fly another 200 miles (320 km) out of the way to Juneau, Alaska, the nearest city with a hospital.

After transporting the boy to Juneau, the flight headed for Seattle, now hours behind schedule. Not one passenger complained, even though most of them would miss appointments and connecting flights. In fact, as the minutes and hours ticked by, they took up a collection, raising a considerable sum for the boy and his family.

As the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot announced that he had received word by radio that the boy was going to be all right.

My friends, there have been moments in my life when I too have felt unimportant, alone, discouraged, and unseen. I have felt as if I did not belong. I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints when I was 19 years old. One year later, I accepted the call to serve as a full-time missionary, but there was much I had not yet learned about Church history.

Early in my missionary service, I learned that there was a period when those of Black African descent were not allowed to enjoy all of the blessings of worshipping in the house of the Lord. Learning this for the first time brought feelings of anger, confusion, doubt, and fear. These feelings were so intense that my ability to recognize the Holy Ghost was lost for a season.

Fortunately, I had a wonderful missionary companion, Kevin Vick, who ministered to me with love, patience, and kindness. Each night as he witnessed my feelings of doubt and uncertainty, he would simply say to the younger Elder Johnson, “I love you.” After about two weeks, I allowed myself to feel of Kevin’s love. I gained the courage to pray to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus Christ. As I prayed, I was drawn to section 6 of the Doctrine and Covenants, verses 21–23, which states:

“Behold, I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God. … I am the light which shineth in darkness. …

“… Cast your mind upon the night that you cried unto me in your heart, that you might know concerning the truth of these things.

“Did I not speak peace to your mind concerning the matter? What greater witness can you have than from God?”

As I read, I remembered. I remembered the day that I had fasted and prayed to know that the Book of Mormon is the word of God and that Joseph Smith is the Prophet of the Restoration. I remembered covenants made in the house of the Lord that connect me to Jesus Christ in such a personal and intimate way. I felt of the Savior’s love, His mercy, and His assurance that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is His kingdom upon the earth and is necessary to prepare us for His Second Coming. Because I remembered, I again was able to recognize the Holy Ghost and to understand more fully that Jesus is the Christ and I am His disciple.

Tyler watched as some of his Primary friends went to the front of the chapel. It was fast and testimony meeting. Every month, his friends shared their testimonies in front of the whole ward. Even little Sunbeams and CTR five-year-olds did it. Tyler squirmed in his seat. He wanted to share his testimony, too, but he was afraid that everyone would make fun of him.
Tyler had been in speech therapy since he was four years old. At first, he had worked on sounds that he’d never been able to make. Slowly he became really good at them. But now that Tyler was seven, he had a different speech problem. It seemed that when he talked, no one listened. He wanted everyone to hear what he had to say, so he kept starting over. His speech teacher called it “stuttering.” Some of the older kids on the school bus called him “stupid.” Tyler knew that he could not talk as well as the other kids his age. He also knew that he wasn’t stupid. Still, being called names hurt his feelings.
“Why don’t you say your testimony?” Tyler’s little sister, Michelle, asked loudly as he sat hunched over on the bench with his family.
Tyler knew that his face was turning red. “Don’t worry about me,” he hissed at her.
Mom leaned over and whispered to Michelle, “Tyler will share his testimony when he’s ready.”
After church, Tyler found his mother studying her Primary lesson at the kitchen table. He had waited until he could talk to her alone. “I can’t say my testimony because I stutter,” he blurted out to her.
She looked up from her lesson manual and smiled at him. “Everyone has challenges in their lives to work on. This one is just for you.”
Tyler looked down. Tiny tears were starting to form in the corners of his eyes. “But, Mom, no one else stutters.”
His mother was very quiet. Tyler looked up at her and thought he saw tears in her eyes, too. Finally she said, “No one else in our family stutters, but even some grown men have speech problems. Even some of the Lord’s prophets were afraid to share their testimonies because of their speech problems. We don’t know what we would call their problem today; the scriptures describe it as being ‘slow of speech.’”*
“Grown men? Even prophets had trouble talking?”
His mother smiled at Tyler’s excitement and nodded. “In the scriptures, there are two prophets that I can think of who were worried about sharing the gospel because of their speech. They both learned to follow the counsel of the Lord and overcame their fear of speaking. They did great things for the Lord.”
Tyler’s eyes twinkled with joy. “Who were they?”
“Well, one of them was Moses.”
“Moses!” Tyler exclaimed. “He was a great prophet. He led the children of Israel to the promised land. But I thought his brother, Aaron, did all the talking.”
“Very good,” Mom said. “I can tell that you were listening in family home evening. That’s right—Aaron did talk at first. But Moses gradually overcame his fear and did a lot of the talking himself.”
“I didn’t know that,” Tyler said. “Who was the other prophet?”
“You might not have heard of him,” Mom told him. “His name was Enoch. He lived before Noah and the flood.”
“No, I haven’t heard of him. What did he do?”
“He taught his people the gospel.”
“What’s so special about that?” Tyler wanted to know. “All the prophets do that.”
Mom nodded. “Yes, but with Enoch, the difference was that his people listened.”
“To a prophet who couldn’t talk very well?”
“Absolutely. They listened to him so well that their city of Zion was translated, or taken up to heaven to be with Heavenly Father. The scriptures say that they were so righteous that the Lord couldn’t keep them from His presence, and He took them to Himself.”
“The people really didn’t laugh at Enoch, did they?”
Mom closed her manual and folded her arms on top of it. “Tyler, when people listen with the Spirit of the Lord, they listen to what you say, not how you say it.”
Tyler traced the pattern on the tablecloth with his finger as he thought about what Mom had said.
“You know, Tyler,” she continued, “there are General Authorities today who come from different parts of the world. Often they don’t speak English as well as they would like to when they speak at general conference. But every time I listen to them, I have a warm feeling inside. I know that what they’re saying is true.”
“I bet some people would make fun of them, too.” Tyler frowned.
Mom nodded. “I think you’re right. Some people probably do. But if they do, they’re only hurting themselves. They’re missing out on a wonderful spiritual experience.”
Tyler was quiet as this new thought went through his mind. “Thanks, Mom. That helps a lot.”
When the next fast and testimony meeting came, Tyler was ready. He didn’t care if some of the other children laughed. He was going to bear his testimony. He had wanted to do it for a long time, and now he wasn’t going to let other people’s rudeness stop him.
To his surprise, no one laughed. No one even snickered or pointed. Tyler spoke to the whole ward about what was in his heart, what he had felt the Spirit testify was true. It wasn’t a long testimony like adults sometimes give, but it was his testimony.
When Tyler returned to his seat, Mom leaned over. “That was one of the most beautiful testimonies I’ve ever heard. Thanks, Tyler.”
The warm feeling inside of Tyler grew. He knew that it was the Spirit of the Lord making him feel good. All he could think of to answer his mom was, “Thank you, too, Mom.”

Sister Larsen and I were assigned earlier this year to visit two stakes in Europe. The conferences were on successive weekends. Midweek one of our daughters and her husband, who were in Europe on business of their own at that time, arranged their schedules so that they could join us for a day in one of the beautiful cities of Europe. During the course of the day, we visited a lovely shopping center that featured the beautiful porcelain ware for which that city is well known. The work is exquisitely beautiful and very expensive.
As my daughter and I were standing side by side admiring some of the porcelain figurines that were placed on the shelves of this store, and older lady stepped up to our side, apparently attracted by one of the beautiful figurines on a shelf above us. Wanting to inspect it more closely, she reached up and took it in her hands to bring it down closer to her. It slipped from her fingers to the marble floor and broke into many pieces.
The sound of breaking attracted the attention of everyone in the shop. Instinctively, I stepped away. Just as instinctively, my daughter did the opposite thing. She quickly stepped to the side of this elderly lady, put her arm around her, whispered some consoling words in her ear, and then stooped to begin to pick up the pieces of the porcelain object. I felt a little chagrined for myself, but a deep sense of pride and love for my daughter. In my mind and by commitment, I knew what I should have done, but instinctively, I did not. By instinct, she did what the Savior would have done.

Seven-year-old Jamie loved her mother dearly. The family had known for nearly a year that their wife and mother was dying of cancer. The father and seven children fasted and prayed; they pled with the Lord to heal her. Everything possible was done for their mother, yet at the end of three painfully difficult months, she passed from this life.
In the first hours following her death, the father brought the grieving family together. After prayer, the children went to their own rooms to prepare for bed. Jamie, who had spent many hours with her mother and was devoted to her, knelt at her own bedside. “Heavenly Father,” she prayed through her tears, “we thank thee for the great mom you gave us. We thank thee for helping us try to make her well. Help us to be good so we can live with her again.” Without a hint of bitterness, this little seven-year-old girl continued for several minutes in a sweet attitude of peaceful prayer, reflecting her understanding and acceptance of her mother’s death.
Jamie was a child at peace. How did she come to that peace? She had been prepared by parents with spiritual understanding. Such preparation brings peace.

Elder Palmer stepped out of his hotel room and into the dimly lit hallway.
“Out of the way, young man.”
Elder Palmer turned toward the voice. “Pardon me.”
The man barely glanced at him from under the brim of his top hat as he bristled by.
Elder Palmer wanted to say, “I’m a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I have an important message for you.” But he didn’t. Instead, he shoved his hands in his overcoat pockets and trudged on toward the stairway. That man wouldn’t have believed his words anyway. Why should he? Why would anyone believe a teacher who had never even read the scriptures?
At the top of the stairs, Elder Palmer pulled a small reading primer from one pocket and his Bible from the other. “Just as soon as I learn how to read,” he whispered, “nothing is going to stop me from preaching the gospel.”
“It’s a disgrace for the Mormon Church to send an ignorant man to try to convert the good people of Michigan!”
Elder Palmer froze. He recognized the voice that boomed from the parlor below. It was the preacher he’d visited with last night.
“I know he’s rough-looking,” said a female voice, “but that doesn’t mean he’s ignorant.”
“I’ll prove to you I’m right. When he comes down this morning, I’ll ask him some questions about the Bible.”
Elder Palmer backed away from the stairs. The preacher was right. He was ignorant. Somehow, he had to get away! He raced down the opposite hall, looking for another stairway, but there wasn’t one. He was trapped.
With nowhere else to turn, he rushed back to his room and closed the door. If only he’d been able to go to school when he was a boy! He had spent most of his childhood blind. And even though he had eventually—miraculously—received his sight, he had only received enough to get around, not enough to read. It wasn’t until he was a grown man that he had been blessed with enough sight to read, but by then it was too late to go to school.
“I need help, Heavenly Father,” he whispered.
Suddenly he remembered a cold winter evening not long after he’d received his sight. He and his father had been trapped in a mountain snowstorm. They could not see the road. Their oxen were frightened and did not know the way home.
“Son,” his father had said, “we have done all we can to find our way. Now we must ask the Lord for help.”
They then knelt in the snow and prayed. Afterward, they steered the oxen in the direction they thought was right, and the animals, without hesitation, led them home.
This memory reminded him of the power of prayer. He dropped to his knees. “Heavenly Father, Thou hast called me to do Thy work. I have done all that I can, but I need Thy help.” When he finished, he went directly to the parlor.
The preacher waved to Elder Palmer. “Ah, Mr. Palmer, come in. These people—” the preacher motioned to several men and women—“have been discussing the Bible with me. Would you, as a minister, be so kind as to explain this passage?” He then read from his Bible.
Elder Palmer listened closely to the verses. When he was a boy, his mother had helped him memorize many scriptures, but he didn’t recognize these.
“Well?”
Elder Palmer looked hard at the preacher, and as he did so, the familiar voice of the Holy Ghost filled his mind. “It is interesting that you should ask me this,” he said, “as I have a scripture I would like you to explain to me.”
The preacher laughed. “Go ahead.”
“‘And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue, and people.’”
“Oh, Mr. Palmer, that is not in our Bible. It must be in your Mormon Bible.”
“You will find it in Revelation 14:6.”
The preacher flipped to the book of Revelation. His face turned bright red. “Well, well. I have never seen that before. I will have to look it up in my Bible commentary.”
“That is the position I am in with your passage. Perhaps when we meet again we can explain to each other.”
The preacher nodded curtly, then turned back to the women who were seated on the circular sofa. One of them stood. “Mr. Palmer?”
“Yes?”
“You seem to have a good understanding of the scriptures. Can you please explain this verse to me?”
“I have a question, too.” It was the man he had bumped into earlier.
Elder Palmer smiled. He still felt a bit nervous, but he now realized that in many ways he was prepared to serve the Lord, and much of that preparation had come when he was a boy.
“I’d be happy to help each of you,” he said, “but I have one request. As you read from your Bible, please read slowly, and I will follow along in mine. That way, the Lord will help us both to understand.”

Let me illustrate with an experience shared by President Henry B. Eyring about his father, Henry Eyring.

To appreciate this story, you have to realize that it occurred when [my father] was nearly eighty and had bone cancer. He had bone cancer so badly in his hips that he could hardly move. . . .

Dad was the senior high councilor in his stake with the responsibility for the welfare farm. An assignment was given to weed a field of onions, so Dad assigned himself to go work on the farm.

Dad never told me how hard it was, but . . . [one man who was there] said that the pain was so great that Dad was pulling himself along on his stomach with his elbows. . . . The pain was too great for him to kneel. Everyone who has talked to me [about that day] has remarked how Dad smiled and laughed and talked happily with them as they worked in that field of onions.

Now, this is the joke Dad told me on himself afterward. He said he was there at the end of the day. After all the work was finished and the onions were all weeded, someone asked him, “Henry, good heavens! You didn’t pull those weeds, did you? Those weeds were sprayed two days ago, and they were going to die anyway.”

Dad just roared [with laughter]. He thought that was the funniest thing. He thought it was a great joke on himself. He had worked through the day in the wrong weeds. They had been sprayed and would have died anyway.

When Dad told me this story, I knew how tough it was. So I said to him, “Dad, how could you make a joke out of that? How could you take it so pleasantly?”

He said something to me that I will never forget, and I hope you won’t. He said, “Hal, I wasn’t there for the weeds.”

[President Eyring concluded:] Now, you’ll be in an onion patch much of your life. So will I. . . .

But you didn’t come for the weeds.

During my professional career, I helped the heirs of a noble couple settle their estate. The estate was not large, but it was the fruit of many years of hard work and sacrifice. Their children were all decent, God-fearing people who had been taught to live the saving principles of the Savior. But when it came to dividing up the property, a dispute developed about who should get what. Even though there was nothing of great value to fight about, feelings of selfishness and greed caused a rift among some of the family members that never healed and continued into the next generation. How tragic that the legacy offered by these wonderful parents turned out to be so destructive of family unity and love among their children. I learned from this that selfishness and greed bring bitterness and contention; on the other hand sacrifice and giving bring peace and contentment.

I would like to see a new word in the English language dictionary: “Enjoyring”. I define this as “Enduring with joy”, a result of remaining on the covenant path. Let me tell you why:
On Christmas Day 2019, we had a large group of family and friends at our home for Christmas celebrations. It was a wonderful day with joy and peace in our associations with each other. After lunch, the children acted out the Nativity, dressing up as Joseph, Mary, and all the Nativity characters.
Later, we all sat around the pool enjoying and watching fun activities. Suddenly disaster struck. Our daughter Joslyn, who was born severely handicapped with cerebral palsy, suddenly started to have an epileptic seizure. I ran to her aid, knowing from experience that there was nothing we could do but wait for it to pass. We knew that the longer the seizure lasted, the more life threatening it would be. As we supported her, I could see that she was having great difficulty breathing, and that her lips were turning blue. I remember feeling desperate, thinking to myself that we had never seen her this bad before and realised she needed to be taken to the hospital immediately.
My wife, Mandy, and I left our guests and rushed off. In the car, Joslyn’s seizure subsided, and she was able to breathe a little better, but then she had a second severe episode. While Mandy drove, I sat in the back of the car with her so I was able to give her a priesthood blessing. When we arrived at the hospital, Joslyn was in a serious condition. She was quickly admitted into the intensive care unit for medical attention.
We returned home later that Christmas night, Mandy and I both feeling physically and mentally drained. In the car ride home, we talked about how we had just abandoned our Christmas guests, but we knew they completely understood the emergency. We knew that they had all returned to their own homes, and we concluded that we would spend the rest of that night cleaning our home. But when we arrived, we were very humbled and so grateful to find our home spotlessly clean, with dishes washed and put away, floors mopped, furniture and toys put in place—everything looking perfect.
We felt such gratitude for the thoughtfulness of our family and friends as they rallied together and cleaned up. Our spirits lifted, being the beneficiaries of such kindness after a stressful experience. That night we truly felt ministered to.
Joslyn spent the next week in intensive care, she had received a priesthood blessing, she recovered, and we felt at peace.

Danny’s favorite birthday present was his red fire fighter’s hat. It had a light and siren on the front. The light flashed, and the siren rang loud and long. It was the perfect hat for any emergency.
One day Danny went next door to play with his friend Joe. Danny wore his new hat.
“Come on, Joe,” Danny said when Joe answered the door. “There’s a fire in the supermarket, and we have to rescue the people in there!” Danny turned the switch on his hat. The light flashed bright red. “Whirreee … ,” shrieked the siren.
“Here I come, Danny!” yelled Joe as he jumped down the steps two at a time.
They ran to the big tree in Joe’s front yard. Danny reached up and shouted, “Here’s the first victim!”
“Let me help,” said Joe.
After the boys rescued everyone in the supermarket, they sat down to rest.
“That was some fire!” said Danny.
“A real hot one,” said Joe. “Now it’s my turn to wear the hat.”
“No,” said Danny. “I’ll wear it. You pretend.”
“That’s not fair. You have to take turns.”
“It’s my hat, and I say no,” said Danny.
“Then play by yourself,” said Joe. And he turned to go home.
On his way home Danny rang his siren and flashed his light. He put out two fires and saved everyone just in time. But he wanted someone to play with. I’ll get Matt, he thought.
Danny found his little brother upstairs in his room. “Hey, Matt,” Danny said, “come and play fire squad with me. The barn at Green Valley is on fire. We have to get the horses out fast! Hurry!”
“I’m coming, Danny. I’m coming!”
Danny turned the switch on his hat. Matt followed him out the door. They fought the fire and smoke in the hall and down the stairs.
“Over here, Matt. Bring the hose!”
“I have it, Danny!” said Matt.
“Good work, Matt. I’ll go into the barn and lead the horses out.”
Danny ducked behind the sofa. “Here they are—all safe!” he cried as he crawled back out.
“My turn,” said Matt, pulling at the shiny red hat on Danny’s head.
“It’s not for little kids,” said Danny. “It’s my hat, and I say no.” He jerked the hat away from Matt, who ran back upstairs, crying.
Danny put out a fire in the kitchen and one in the backyard. But he wanted someone to play with again.
He went down the street to Sara and Susie’s house. Two friends are even better, he thought. He found them outside, playing ball.
“Want to play with me and my fire fighter’s hat?” asked Danny.
“Sure,” said Sara. “What’s the game?”
“There’s an oil spill on the lake. It’s dangerous. We have to put out the fire and save the crew on the tanker. You two go around this way. I’ll go over there.”
“Let’s hurry!” said Susie.
Danny switched on his hat. Flash! “Whirreee …” it wailed.
“Be careful!” called Sara.
They raced to where the oil spill burned and hosed it down. Sara spotted a sailor in the water. She signaled to Danny.
“Got him!” yelled Danny as he made the rescue.
“OK, now we want a turn wearing the hat,” said Sara, reaching for it.
“That will take too long,” said Danny. “I’ll keep the hat. You can be my crew.”
“That’s not right,” said Susie.
“We want turns, too,” said Sara.
“It’s my hat, and I say no,” said Danny.
“Then you can have all the turns you want without us,” said Susie. They left Danny alone on the sidewalk.
Danny went back home. He flashed his light and sounded his siren along the way. But it wasn’t much fun anymore.
His mom was on the porch when he got home. “Did your friends like your hat?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Danny. “But they all wanted a turn wearing it.”
“Of course they did. Sharing’s the very best part,” she said.
“Well, it’s my hat, and I said no.”
“You’ll have plenty of turns that way,” said Danny’s mom. “But you may have to play by yourself.”
Danny sat on the porch. He heard his friends playing and went to take a look. He could see Sara, Susie, and Joe down the block, playing keep away. Danny ran down the street to join them. “Can I play?” he asked. “I’ll be in the middle with Susie.”
They stopped their game and looked at Danny. They all saw the new red fire fighter’s hat on his head.
“It’s my ball,” said Sara. “And I say no.” She threw the ball over Susie, who leaped to try to reach it. Joe caught it and threw it back quickly, before Susie could tag him.
Danny turned to go home again. He didn’t put out any fires or rescue anybody along the way. When he got there, Matt was in the backyard by the sandbox, crying. “What’s the matter, Matt?” asked Danny.
“I saw a snake,” cried Matt. “I’m scared of snakes.”
“Hey, Matt. Don’t be scared. It’s probably just a garter snake. It won’t hurt you.”
“What if it comes back?” asked Matt.
Danny reached up to his head and took off his new hat. “Wear my hat, Matt,” he said. “If the snake comes back, turn on the siren. When I hear it, I’ll come chase the snake away.”
“You mean it, Danny? Can I really wear it?” asked Matt, managing a small smile.
“Really,” said Danny. “It’s my hat, and I say so.”

Yolanda said, “I have been baptized a very short time. I came home from school one day and found two missionaries waiting for me. At first I was unwilling to listen to them, but finally I took a seat and listened, and I began to hear with faith the things they were saying. I was amazed that anyone could be so sure of anything as they were of their message. I began to feel that my life was changing. I was happier than before. One day I amazed myself by going to the chapel when I could have gone out with my friends. I had never given up a chance to go out with my friends in order to go to a church. I felt at home in the chapel. I felt happy. At the end of the week I told the missionaries that I would be baptized. The day of my baptism was marvelous. I will never forget it. I felt that this was the true church and that I was doing right in being baptized.”