Gospel Story Finder

Elder Juan Pablo Villar’s introduction to the Church came in Santiago, Chile, when his eldest brother, Ivan, announced to the family that he had been baptized without his parents’ approval and later said he planned to serve a mission. When asked why, Ivan shared his testimony and desire to serve.
“I didn’t understand all the meaning of that,” recalled Elder Villar, then age 17. “But at that moment, he put a seed in my heart.”
That seed was given a chance to grow when his brother referred him to the missionaries. During his first lesson, Elder Villar received his own testimony of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon.
“For myself, it was not necessary to kneel down and pray, because the moment they shared their testimony, I knew in my heart it was true,” he said. “When I knew that, everything else had to be true.”
Ivan, serving in a neighboring mission, received permission to baptize Elder Villar in 1988. Later, their mother and other brother, Claudio, also joined the Church.

In Dortmund, Germany, during the last area conference on this trip, we stayed in an older, beautiful hotel. The manager was an austere, tall, straight, gray-haired Prussian gentleman. He looked as if he could have been an officer in the army. On the second day after arriving at the hotel, the manager commented, speaking of President Kimball, “Every time that man walks through this lobby, I feel goose bumps all over me.” He felt the spirit that radiates from President Kimball. After making that remark he was introduced to the prophet. President Kimball spoke with him briefly and gave him a family home evening manual. Arrangements were made for him to receive the missionary discussions.
The hotel manager was vividly influenced by that very brief contact with the living prophet. On the day we left, we boarded a bus in front of the hotel and drove around the block, passing the hotel again because of the one-way streets. As we passed the hotel, this handsome, stately gentleman was standing outside on the sidewalk waving good-bye to President Kimball with his white handkerchief. It was significant that the hotel manager could feel the Spirit of the Lord just by watching our prophet walk through the hotel lobby. You know, President Kimball looks like any one of the rest of us. Some may not think that there is anything unusual about his appearance—but there is an unusual spirit that he carries with him.

I searched and searched for the perfect gift for Grandpa. Grandpa was dying of cancer, and this would probably be his last Christmas with us. I had been thinking for months on just the perfect thing to get for him. I wanted to give him something unique that would be just a small symbol of all the love and admiration that I had for him. But nothing that I saw seemed to be a worthy representation of that love.
Soon it was Christmas Eve and I still didn’t have a gift for Grandpa. I went shopping one last time, and once again I came home without a gift. I started thinking, if Grandpa had some money, what would he do with it? How would he want the money spent? The answer came to my mind quietly but positively: He would give the money to someone less fortunate than himself. So that’s how the money was used.
I got some paper and wrote about all the feelings I had for Grandpa, told him what I had done for him for Christmas, put the letter in an envelope with a Christmas card, and quickly gave it to him with a kiss. Before he could say anything, I wished him a Merry Christmas, and went back to my room.
A little while later, I went to get something for my mother and passed Grandpa’s room. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. He called me in, drew me close to him, and gave me one of those huge hugs that only grandpas can give. “That was the best gift you could have given me,” he said.
That was Grandpa’s last Christmas with us. It wasn’t until some time after his death that I slowly realized that Grandpa had given me one of the most precious gifts that I’ll ever receive. He had helped me understand that the best gift that one can give is a part of one’s self. Through example, Grandpa had awakened in me a desire to be like him and in so doing, had given me a better understanding of the glorious personage whom he was striving to be like.

Finding and following Jesus Christ sometimes takes us through difficult waters. Tamton’s journey to Christ has been like that. “I was serving as a deacon in the Protestant church when the missionaries first came to Abaiang from Tarawa,” he says. “Their coming was strongly opposed, and they had difficulty getting land on which to build a bata [traditional grass house]. I felt sorry for them and invited them to stay with me. They taught me the gospel, and I felt what they were teaching was true. So I was baptized.”
That was in 1984. Tamton and Taake were among the first on Abaiang to join the Church. Amid suspicion and persecution, they immediately began helping the missionaries find others to teach.
Tamton and Taake feel they have been richly blessed by the Lord. Several years ago, Tamton wanted to build a large fish trap to support his family. But to build one, he needed to take thousands of rocks out into the ocean. The task seemed impossible. He had only a small canoe and just his sons to help.
“I prayed hard about the problem,” he says. “The next day I saw a float [a tangle of debris] beached on my land. In the float were some large pieces of styrofoam. With them, I built a raft, and with the raft, my sons and I built our fish trap. In fact, we built two.” The traps have been valuable family assets. When the traps catch more fish than the family can use, they sell the extra.
As their faith in Jesus Christ sustains Tamton and his family in times of need, it also comforts them in times of sorrow. Several years ago one of their sons died while fishing for octopus. He was only 22, but he suffered a heart attack alone out in the ocean.
Tamton’s eyes get moist as he speaks of his son. “The news broke our hearts,” he says. But then his eyes brighten. “We want him sealed to us.” When Tune was their district president, he taught Tamton and Taake about the priesthood and its power to seal families together forever in the temple. They are eager to go.
But with few resources, they have yet to see a temple let alone visit one. Still, Tamton and Taake are trying to find a way. Tune says that if they die before they go to the temple, he will make sure their work is done for them. He encourages them to fill out the necessary family records. Perhaps their children will be able to do the temple work they cannot.
With the meal and the singing and the stories over, Tune and Moretekai take their leave of Tamton and Taake. They have others on the island to visit.
The Saints in Kiribati have great respect for the priesthood, and wherever Tune goes on Abaiang, he is received with gladness. It soon becomes apparent it wasn’t whim that brought him to Abaiang. He was drawn to the island by prayer—reeled in like one of his tuna. He thought he was just visiting, perhaps finding an excuse to go fishing. But the real reason he came was to give Aritaake Moutu a priesthood blessing.
“Ever since I joined the Church, I’ve depended on priesthood blessings,” Sister Moutu says. “I had a problem with one of my legs before I joined the Church. Now whenever it gives me trouble, I ask for a blessing, and I’m always healed. This morning I was praying for someone to come and give me a blessing because my husband is not on the island to give me one.” She smiles at Tune. “That’s why you came.”
“It’s always like that,” Tune says. “She lives on this isolated island in the middle of nowhere. She and her family have their challenges. There are few jobs; most people live off what they can grow and get from the sea. There are no doctors or nurses on Abaiang. The Saints here depend a lot on the Lord. And the Lord takes care of them.”
“Yes, we have our challenges,” Sister Moutu says, “even after joining the Church. But we don’t notice them as much now.”
When the missionaries first contacted her family, Aritaake would run away—or chase the missionaries away. “Our minister told us there would be false prophets, and we thought that was them,” she remembers. “But one time an elder by the name of Jones came to visit us. When I turned him away, he stood outside the house and prayed for us. While he was praying, I felt something in my heart change. I asked the missionaries to forgive me and teach my family.
“One thing the elders did changed me completely. They asked me to pray. When I said my prayer, I became a different person. I started liking the Church, and it was no problem believing the Church’s teachings.”
What impressed her most in all the missionaries taught? “The Spirit they brought. And the teachings about the family—how we can be happy as a family and remain together forever.”
It is time to return to Tarawa. Tune knows he needs to get back before the tide pulls too much water out of Tarawa’s lagoon, leaving parts of it too shallow for his outboard motor. But before he and Moretekai leave, Tune gives Aritaake the priesthood blessing she prayed for.

My mind was filled with so many ideas as I listened to the Spirit. For example, while staying in the patron house, I felt very helpless because my children and I were hungry. I didn’t know where to buy food. It was a different country, with different people and a different language. I prayed to Heavenly Father for a friend to help me. I heard to a voice say “Go to the temple Kajal” so I went to the temple to attend a second session. After the session, I was changing my clothes when suddenly a senior missionary named Sister Edward asked, “Sister Mahana, how are you? What are you doing about food?” I cried because I was so hungry and I said, “Please help me. Just give me bread because we have no flour and no rice. There are six children with us and all the food is finished.” She gave me a warm hug and said, “Don’t worry. I will go to the market with you after the temple. You are my children so if you have any problem, you talk with me.” I was so happy and suddenly I felt like this country was my country. I thought, “I am not alone here.” Even though all the people there were Chinese, they were also my family. I really enjoyed the last two or three days in the temple and patron housing.

Before my call to serve as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, I read many times in the Doctrine and Covenants about the council appointed to oversee and disburse sacred tithing funds. The Council on the Disposition of the Tithes was established by revelation and consists of the First Presidency, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, and the Presiding Bishopric (see D&C 120). As I prepared in December of 2004 to attend my first meeting of this council, I eagerly anticipated a most remarkable learning opportunity.
I still remember the things I experienced and felt in that council. I gained a greater appreciation and reverence for the Lord’s laws of finance for individuals, for families, and for His Church. The basic financial program of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints—for both income and disbursement—is defined in sections 119 and 120 of the Doctrine and Covenants. Two statements found in these revelations provide the foundation for the fiscal affairs of the Church.
In that first council meeting I was impressed by the simplicity of the principles that guided our deliberations and decisions. In the financial operations of the Church, two basic and fixed principles are observed. First, the Church lives within its means and does not spend more than it receives. Second, a portion of the annual income is set aside as a reserve for contingencies and unanticipated needs. For decades the Church has taught its membership the principle of setting aside additional food, fuel, and money to take care of emergencies that might arise. The Church as an institution simply follows the same principles that are taught repeatedly to the members.
As the meeting progressed, I found myself wishing that all members of the Church could observe the simplicity, the clarity, the orderliness, the charity, and the power of the Lord’s own way (see D&C 104:16) for conducting the temporal affairs of His Church. I have now participated in the Council on the Disposition of the Tithes for many years. My gratitude and reverence for the Lord’s pattern has grown each year, and the lessons learned have become even more profound.
I know from firsthand experience that the Council on the Disposition of the Tithes is vigilant in caring for the widow’s mite. I express appreciation to President Thomas S. Monson and his counselors for their effective leadership in discharging this holy stewardship. And I acknowledge the voice (see D&C 120:1) and hand of the Lord that sustain His ordained servants in fulfilling the duty to represent Him.

When I first became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, I had the opportunity to accompany President N. Eldon Tanner, a counselor to President David O. McKay, to a stake conference in Alberta, Canada. During the meeting, the stake president read the names of four brethren who had qualified to be ordained elders. These were men whom President Tanner knew, for at one time he had lived in that area. But President Tanner knew and remembered them as they once were and did not know that they had turned their lives around and had fully qualified to become elders.
The stake president read the name of the first man and asked him to stand. President Tanner whispered to me, “Look at him. I never thought he would make it.” The stake president read the name of the second man, and he stood. President Tanner nudged me again and reported his astonishment. And so it was with all four of the brethren.
After the meeting, President Tanner and I had the opportunity to congratulate these four brethren. They had demonstrated that men can change.

Illustration by Brad Teare
“Twinkle, twinkle …” Caleb’s fingers slowly moved over the piano keys as he searched for the next note. He’d only been taking lessons for a few weeks, and playing the piano was harder than it looked. This one, he thought as he pressed a white key. Wrong! He frowned and hunched over the piano as he tried again. Oh, this one, he thought, pressing another key. Right!
“That song is challenging,” said Mrs. Lee, his piano teacher, when he finished playing. “But it sounds better than it did last week! I can tell you’ve been practicing really hard. I think you deserve a trip to the treasure chest.”
The treasure chest! Caleb’s eyes turned to the big golden box in the corner of the room. It glittered with sparkly jewels and was filled with granola bars, pads of yellow paper, stickers, candy, and other fun prizes. This would be Caleb’s first trip to the treasure chest.
As Mrs. Lee started to teach her next student, Caleb searched through the treasure chest. Should he take the pad of paper, the dog stickers, or the orange gum? Then he saw it—a neon green folder. It was his favorite color, and he could use it to carry his drawings. He reached for it.
But then he saw the fruit snacks. They were strawberry, his favorite flavor. That would be a great prize too.
The folder or the fruit snacks? Caleb knew his mom would be there soon to pick him up, but he still couldn’t decide what to pick. The folder would be perfect for his drawings, but he could almost taste the fruit snacks. His hand hovered between the two prizes as he tried to make up his mind.
Then Caleb had another thought. Maybe he could take both. Mrs. Lee had so many prizes in the chest that she would never notice. It wouldn’t even be stealing, really—next time Mrs. Lee sent him to the treasure chest, he just wouldn’t take anything. That would be OK, wouldn’t it?
Caleb looked at Mrs. Lee. She was busy helping her student with his scales. Quietly Caleb slipped the fruit snacks and the folder into his bag and crept out of the room.
But Caleb didn’t feel very good. When he left Mrs. Lee’s piano room, he felt a small knot in his stomach. By the time he reached her front door, he felt like he had swallowed a bowling ball. He looked at his prizes, hoping that would help, but seeing them only made him feel worse.
Usually Caleb said a prayer when he felt bad, but he knew Heavenly Father couldn’t make him feel good about a bad choice. And taking both prizes, he knew, was a bad choice.
He looked at the prizes again. His question wasn’t Folder or fruit snacks? anymore. It was Choose the right or choose the wrong? Caleb knew what he had to do.
Honk! That must be Mom. He opened the door and waved. “Just a minute!” he called. He took out the green folder and started back to Mrs. Lee’s piano room. Apologizing wouldn’t be easy, and he still wanted the green folder, but already he felt more peaceful. Honesty turned out to be the best prize of all.

For more than twenty years, Sister Cécile Pelous, a member of the Cergy-Pontoise Branch, Paris France Stake, has worked for the finest fashion houses in Paris—Dior, Cardin, and Ricci. She designs and makes dresses for the wealthiest women in the world.
But since 1986, this graceful, dynamic women has used her glamorous career as a means to do quite a different work. She spends three months every year serving the destitute of India. Working in the impoverished suburbs of Calcutta and in the orphanages of Bengal, she dedicates all of her savings, along with donations from French friends, to the relief of poor children—with the assistance of local people of goodwill.
Cécile discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1974 when she was visiting the United States on a tour. Her group happened to stop at Temple Square and attend a performance by the Tabernacle Choir. “It was an intense emotional experience,” she says. Later, she told her fellow travelers that listening to the Choir was the part of the tour that she liked best.
Months later, missionaries knocked on her door back in France. Cécile was not interested until one of them said he was from Salt Lake City. Remembering her experience there, Cécile asked the missionary if he represented “the church with the choir.” When he said yes, she let them in and listened to their message. She was baptized a few months later—in 1975.
Eleven years later, in July 1986, Cécile took her first trip to India. “I went to Calcutta during vacation, with the idea of helping my neighbor,” she says. “I took with me my first-aid certificate, my goodwill, and my suitcases packed with medicines.” She had read about and had heard lectures describing conditions in India. “I knew there was plenty to do,” she says.
The work she found to do was mostly among the elderly, babies, and handicapped children of Calcutta. “I found opportunities to get busy and stretch myself. Dirty clothes and sheets had to be boiled and washed, meals prepared, patients fed in night shelters and almshouses, and medical care given,” she says. “The dying had to be washed, and warmth and affection had to be given them to help them leave this world. There were babies to change and feed who were so weak that you would wish you could force your own health into their bodies.” She worked first with Mother Theresa’s Sisters of Mercy and then with other groups.
“I am not a heroine,” Cécile says. “My experience in India is one of love and friendship.”
During that first trip to India, Cécile also discovered a home for one hundred elderly people, most of them bedridden. “There were only two Catholic missionaries to cater to the needs of all, and one of them had been sick for three days. When another volunteer and I arrived, we immediately rolled up our sleeves and went to work,” she says. “Sister Thérésina, one of the missionaries, kissed me and said, ‘The Lord has sent you!’ and I believed her.”

Karina’s smile faded. She began to sweat—and not because it was unusually hot that week. She looked around for help. But in spite of the crowd at the open house, no one seemed to notice her alone with the reporter and all her questions.
Until that moment, 17-year-old Karina had enjoyed volunteering at the Kyiv Ukraine Temple open house. Now, with the newspaper reporter waiting expectantly, her tongue seemed stuck.
Karina was afraid that because of past mistakes she was trying to overcome, God wouldn’t help her.
Growing up in the Church, Karina had dreamed of a temple marriage. But like many teens, she craved acceptance.
She wanted to be beautiful and popular like her older sister. She dreamed of standing out and being admired, but she was afraid of sticking out and being ridiculed. Wanting to follow in her father’s footsteps at the police academy only increased the pressure. Out of 2,000 students, there were only 70 women. She both enjoyed the attention and dreaded it.
In her desire to fit in, she made some poor choices. “The pull of the world was strong,” Karina says. “People around me drank and smoked. They pushed and I gave in. I enjoyed being part of a group that felt so carefree.”
She knew what she was doing was wrong, but she wasn’t thinking about where her choices would lead as she followed the crowd away from God (see Matthew 7:13–14).
One day a young man she liked said he respected her church’s beliefs.
Ashamed that she wasn’t living those beliefs better, Karina finally stopped to consider the path she was on (see Haggai 1:5–7). She realized that her decisions were leading her away from God, the companionship of the Holy Ghost, and her dream of an eternal family.
The only way to change her direction was to change the decisions she was making each day.1 But she wondered if she was already too far down the wrong path. Was it too late to change?
Karina decided to begin changing by praying and reading the scriptures daily. She started writing in her journal, which helped her recognize Heavenly Father’s help each day. She changed the topic if conversations turned bad.
Her most difficult decision was to choose no friends for a time rather than choosing friends with a negative influence. She began looking for friends with higher standards.
Over the months that followed, the adversary threw doubt and fear in her face at every decision. Sometimes she wondered if the effort to follow the Savior was worth it. Who she wanted to be seemed out of reach.
But as she watched how her parents and others with strong testimonies lived, she learned that there is something more powerful than doubt and fear—she learned that because of repentance, there is hope.
“I saw it was possible to live the right way,” she says. “We aren’t condemned by our mistakes. Heavenly Father has given us the chance to repent and change direction.”
Turning away from her old choices and trying to follow the Savior each day have taught her that Heavenly Father is patient. “He has given me one chance after another to change and become a better person,” she says. “He has helped me through difficult times.”
Karina squared her shoulders and turned back to the reporter. Her smile brightened. Heavenly Father had done so much for her already that she knew He would help her now.
After the reporter finished asking questions, Karina smiled and waved. The reporter smiled back and walked away. Karina couldn’t remember much of what she said, but she would remember for a long time how she felt, knowing Heavenly Father is always within reach of those who choose to follow Him.

Sharee Jones of Richfield, Utah, was receiving initiatory ordinances in the temple on behalf of her deceased sister. She had a spiritual impression that her sister, who had disabilities and died of heart failure at age 17, was not encumbered in the spirit world and would be resurrected with a perfect body. While participating in this temple ordinance, Sharee realized that because of the Savior’s Resurrection, her sister’s body would no longer have restrictions when she was resurrected.
As we participate in temple ordinances, the Holy Ghost can reveal gospel truths in important and sometimes personal ways. Sharee’s experience illustrates one way the Lord’s power can be manifested in the temple, in part fulfilling His words in the Doctrine and Covenants. After the dedication of the Kirtland Temple in 1836, the Lord appeared to the Prophet Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery and told them, “I have accepted this house, and my name shall be here; and I will manifest myself to my people in mercy in this house” (Doctrine and Covenants 110:7; emphasis added).

Merrell: I was 15 when I received my patriarchal blessing, and it said that music would enable me to unlock doors that would otherwise remain closed, and that I would have a great influence on the world through music. Within a few years things began to happen to me that made its meaning more clear. I was called on a full-time mission to Norway and played in a musical group for eight months while there. I’ve been back from Norway 11 years now, and members from there still tell me of youth who are going on missions because they were influenced by our group and of members who went out and did missionary work after listening to us. While I was in the group, I missed the opportunity to do direct proselyting and had to remind myself that you can do missionary work in other ways. Now I can see more clearly the fruits of those labors.

Spiritual strength frequently comes through selfless service. An actual experience involving young women, their teacher, and a widow illustrates this truth.
As the Christmas season approached, a teacher of Laurels arranged a visit to bring joy to the heart of a lonely widow, Jane. The girls busied themselves preparing delicious cookies, special refreshments—even a Christmas tree with ornaments to be placed thereon. They did not forget a beautiful corsage which they knew would brighten the soul of the special woman they planned to visit.
With their parcels tucked tightly under each arm, the girls and their teacher made their way up the never-ending flights of stairs which led to Jane’s apartment. There was an interminable delay as Jane’s aged feet made their way to the door. As she opened it, she greeted each of the beautiful young ladies and made them welcome in her humble apartment. Their smiles reflected the goodness of their hearts as they erected the Christmas tree and placed upon it the decorations they had so carefully carried. Then the packaged gifts were placed beneath its outstretched branches. I was there. I had never seen a more beautiful tree, for no tree had ever before been decorated with such love, such Christlike care and concern. The teacher slipped into the kitchen; and, aided by three of her girls, the refreshments were prepared and a feast enjoyed.
Then the dear widow gathered her guests around her to share with them her life’s precious memories. She told how, as a young girl in far-off Scotland, she had heard the missionaries, embraced the truth which they taught—even suffered the gibes and comments which adherence to a then-unpopular faith inevitably provoked. She told them how the entire Sabbath day was taken just to travel and to attend the meetings of her newfound faith. Instinctively, the girls compared the ease with which they made their way each Sunday to their chapel.
When Jane told them of the voyage to America, described the storm-tossed Atlantic and the warm feeling which came to the heart when the Statue of Liberty was first glimpsed, I noted that the girls were visibly touched. Tears brimmed in their eyes and pledges were made within their hearts—pledges to do that which is correct, to be honorable, to live true to the faith, and to abide by their standards.
As the evening came to an end, there were kisses and embraces; and then each young lady filed silently from the doorway and made her way down the staircases to the street outside. They left behind a mother filled with the goodness of the world, with love rekindled, with faith again inspired. I’m certain this was one of the happiest days of her life. That night the corsage was carefully and tenderly placed in safekeeping. It had become a symbol of all that is good and clean and wholesome.
Outside the snow was falling, and the girls could hear the crunch of their own footsteps on the snow-covered pavement. Words didn’t come easily, and then one Laurel girl asked, “Why is it I feel better than I’ve ever felt before?” Others nodded the same curiosity. I answered them, “Remember the words of the Master: ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these … , ye have done it unto me.’” (Matt. 25:40.) The words from the hymn “O Little Town of Bethlehem” seemed fitting. They were repeated:
How silently, how silently
The wondrous gift is giv’n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav’n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
(Hymns, 1985, no. 208.)
The dear Christ had indeed entered in—entered a humble home, entered a widow’s heart, and entered, forever to remain, in the soul of each girl. The lighthouse of the Lord had shown the way.

I really like “Elevator Prayers” (Aug. 2012). This last year I had to take a standardized test in science. It was the first time I had taken this test because only fifth graders take it. I said a prayer in my mind while I was in the hallway. I wanted to be able to remember the things I had been taught. After the test I got a really good score. Heavenly Father helped me feel calm and sure of myself. I know that Heavenly Father hears and answers my prayers no matter where I am.

As I walked into my routine doctor appointment, I was filled with excitement and hope. By ultrasound I had already seen my tiny baby’s heartbeat, but now, several weeks later, the tiny one inside me would be even bigger. Having experienced the miracle of pregnancy three times already, I never ceased to be amazed.
Ten minutes later I was crying alone in my car—the image of a still baby with no heartbeat forever imprinted in my mind.
During the days that followed, I was in a dazed stupor. I felt empty and alone. My husband had to go back to work, and our three children ran around the house as I half-heartedly fed them and tried to keep the house clean. But I was not really there. When I came home from running errands, the first thing I would do was check to see if I had any missed calls. None. I would check my email every hour. Nothing. I started wondering if my friends and neighbors cared about me. Were they even my friends at all? I didn’t notice how Satan was working on me.
I was sharing my feelings with my husband one night, and he immediately saw what was happening. He shared 1 Nephi 21:15–16 with me:
“I [will] not forget thee, O house of Israel.
“Behold, I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands; thy walls are continually before me.”
I had learned about and studied the Atonement before. I thought I knew what it was. But I had failed to appropriately apply it to my life. Jesus had already suffered all of my sorrows. He knew exactly how I felt.
“His most exemplary act, the Atonement, required Jesus to descend ‘below all things’ (D&C 88:6) and suffer ‘the pains of all men’ (2 Nephi 9:21). Thus we understand the Atonement has broader purpose than providing a means to overcome sin. This greatest of all earthly accomplishments gives the Savior the power to fulfill this promise: ‘If ye will turn to the Lord with full purpose of heart, … he will … deliver you’ (Mosiah 7:33).”1
What better friend could I have during this tragic time than one who could surely sympathize with me? I realized I needed my Savior to help me overcome my sorrow. As I turned to the Lord, I immediately saw His love for me. I felt calm and peaceful, and I felt that Jesus understood me as I had never thought possible. He is exactly the kind of friend I was longing for in those days after my miscarriage—the kind of friend I needed most.
I know I can always turn to my Savior, not only when I need to repent of my sins but also when I need a shoulder to cry on. He is always there. When we are searching for someone to understand our pains and sorrows, let us not forget our truest friend, Jesus Christ.

Sister Juanita Kenner, Kevin’s mother, said that in spite of widespread shortages, the Polish people were happy and cheerful. “Their spirits are buoyant although they live on very little,” she said. “They have a great love for their country, and they have strong religious ties, which are probably the real strength of their country.” She also was impressed with the Poles’ reverence for the Sabbath—all shops are closed from Saturday evening until Monday.
Sister Kenner and Kevin were “hungry” for LDS Church meetings while in Poland but observed the Sabbath by reading and studying the scriptures together. Kevin received permission to prepare and administer the sacrament for himself and his mother. They were grateful when Kevin’s father, H. Park Kenner (who is also their bishop), was able to join them for the final piano competition.

Seminary students in the Capitol Ward, Annandale Virginia Stake, had the memorable experience of assisting at the prededication activities of the new Washington Temple. Their duties were varied. Some of the young people were ushers, elevator operators, parking attendants, and errand runners. Many helped tourists in wheelchairs.
It was a special, spiritual feeling to help in the house of the Lord, and it was a thrill to hear the comments of the visitors as they viewed the magnificent temple.

Some years ago, when our oldest grandson, Jose, was four, he was playing with my wife. While they were laughing and having a good time together, our grandson asked her, “Grandma, do you love me?”
She answered him, “Yes, Jose, I do love you.”
Then he asked her another question: “How do you know that you love me?”
She explained to him her feelings and also told him all she had done and was willing to do for him.
Later my wife asked Jose the same questions, including this penetrating inquiry: “How do you know that you love me?”
With an innocent but sincere response, he said, “I love you because I feel it inside my heart.” Jose’s loving behavior to his grandmother that day and always demonstrates that love is a combination of actions as well as deep feelings.

“I’ll get it!” Nathan raced to answer the doorbell. He was tired of unpacking boxes. Moving is hard work, he thought. And making new friends was going to be even harder.
No one was at the door, but there was a book on the porch. Inside it was a bookmark with a map and a note. It said: “Please take me home.”
“Who is it?” Dad called from the kitchen.
Nathan brought the book into the house. “It’s just this book,” he said. “Maybe it’s a joke.”
“It’s a library book, and it’s due today,” said Mom, looking inside the cover.
“I guess I could take it back,” Nathan said, “if it’s not too far.”
“This map shows a library just a few blocks from here,” said Dad. “Why don’t you go ahead and return the book while we unpack the kitchen things.”
Nathan grabbed his bike and headed for the library. On the way, he saw some neighborhood kids. They whispered and laughed as they watched him pass.
He remembered all his friends in his old neighborhood and at his old school. They didn’t whisper and laugh at him. I don’t think I’m going to like this place, he thought.
Inside the library, Nathan walked up to a counter near the door. “Does this book belong here?” he asked.
The woman behind the counter smiled and took the book. “Are you new here?” she asked.
“Yes,” Nathan said. “We just moved to Maple Street.”
“My grandson, Robert, often goes to Maple Street to play with Kim Lee. Do you know them?” asked the woman.
“No,” Nathan said sadly, “I haven’t met anyone yet, except you.”
“Would you do something for me?” asked the woman. “Would you please take these cards to the post office? It’s on the corner up the street.”
Nathan took the cards and rode his bike to the post office.
“I’ll bet you’re the new kid whose family just moved to Maple Street,” said the man at the post office. “We postal workers know who moves in and out. Have you met my niece Marta? She lives near you?”
Nathan shook his head, feeling lonelier than ever.
The man wrote something on a piece of paper. “Would you do something for me, Nathan? Would you please stop by the bakery and leave this note on your way home? If you go one block over and back toward your house, you’ll go right past it. It’s across the street from the school.”
Nathan took the note and rode his bike to the bakery. He stopped and looked at the empty school playground. He wanted to try the slide, but he remembered that he had promised to deliver the note to the bakery.
A teenage girl took the note. “Are you new here?” she asked.
“Yes.” Nathan sighed. “We just moved to Maple Street.”
“Really?” The girls’ eyes opened wide. “Would you do something for me?”
Nathan just nodded.
Minutes later, Nathan was carefully pushing his bike down the block with one hand while he used his other hand to balance a cake box on the bike’s seat. He was delivering it to a house across the street from his new home.
When he got to Maple Street, the children Nathan had seen before were gone. The street was quiet. He carried the box to the door with the right address and rang the bell.
The door flew open. “Surprise!” shouted many voices. All the neighborhood kids were there. Nathan’s parents and some other adults were there too. There were balloons and streamers.
“Hi,” said a boy. “I’m Kim Lee. This is my house.”
Kim Lee and Nathan put the box on the table and opened it. It was a cake with flowers around the sides, and on the top it said, “Nathan, welcome to your new home.”

When Scott woke up in his grandfather’s den, he recognized the creaking noise even before he opened his eyes: Grandpa Max was hoisting his flag up the wooden flagpole in the front yard.
Today was the Fourth of July, but that wasn’t the reason that Grandpa Max was putting up the flag. He had hoisted “the old Stars and Stripes,” as he called it, to the top of that pole 365 days a year for as long as Scott could remember.
Two minutes later Grandpa was standing at the bottom of the stairs, hollering the familiar words, “Hey, buddy boy, get yourself down here. You’re on spud-peeling detail in five minutes.”
Scott groaned and rolled over. In a few hours about thirty-five relatives would spill onto the front yard for the big picnic that Grandpa Max hosted every year. This was Scott’s year to be cohost. His older cousin Jeff, who had held that title the year before, had told Scott that “cohost” translated into “free help,” and Scott believed it. His body ached from hours of washing windows, mowing the lawn, and carrying tables yesterday. And Grandpa evidently had much more in store for this morning.
“Well, it’s about time!” Grandpa Max grinned at Scott while sliding three slices of golden french toast onto a plate and passing the maple syrup to his grandson.
“I heard you out there with the flag, Grandpa,” Scott said between bites. “I guess it’s just another day for you.”
“Ooooh no, no, buddy boy. I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t ever say that.”
“Well, you do put the flag up every day. Why is that, Grandpa?”
Grandpa Max didn’t answer immediately. Instead he stood up and grabbed a ten-pound bag of potatoes off the counter. “Tell you what, Scott. You peel these; I’ll quarter ’em. You listen; I’ll explain.”
Scott shoveled in the rest of his breakfast and silently picked up the vegetable peeler. He knew that tone of voice, and it meant “Listen up.”
“First,” Grandpa began, “you have to imagine the place that I call ‘the old country,’ the place where I was born. My village wasn’t a town as you know it, but a small cluster of cottages and shops built along seldom-traveled dirt roads. Everywhere there were poor, shabbily dressed people. Why, they would’ve thought that I was a king if they could have seen me dressed like this.” And he snapped the strap of his bib overalls for emphasis.
“And speaking of kings, the leader of the old country taxed and imprisoned the people unfairly, sometimes forcing them to join his private army. Because of this, many people began to talk against him. They gathered at secret meetings where they talked of ways to overthrow him. The ruler knew that they hated him, so periodically he sent his soldiers throughout the country to show his strength and to question the people, hoping to discover his enemies.
“In my village every family, no matter how poor, had a flag because a flag was considered protection against the soldiers. If a house had a flag hanging from it, it was not as likely to be searched.
“I have a picture in my mind,” Grandpa Max continued, “of my last day in the old country. I was only four years old, but it was a day that I will never forget. My parents had been packing all night, loading our wagon with all our possessions. We were going to make our escape early in the morning.
“The next morning, of all days, the king’s soldiers rode into town to make one of their searches. Our closest neighbor came to warn us.
“Mother had us take off our traveling clothes and put on our everyday work clothes so that we wouldn’t look suspicious. Father pulled the wagon around to the back of the house and hid it in the trees. “Suddenly Mother remembered the flag. Nearly everything inside our small home had been packed into the wagon, and though we searched frantically, we couldn’t find the flag.
“I remember that that’s when I began to cry. Far down the road I could see all our neighbors’ houses draped with the hated flags. Hurriedly my father dumped a bundle of linens on the ground. Rummaging through it, he found the flag. He raced around to the front of the house and hung it up. That picture of my father hanging the flag is my last memory of the old country.”
Grandpa Max smiled at Scott. “A few months later I was living a very different life. My family had come to America, to New York City. We lived in an apartment building with more apartment buildings on both sides of us. On the bottom floor of most of the buildings were shops of all kinds. The street outside was always a busy place, filled with peddlers selling their wares, children playing noisily, and people doing their marketing. Women leaned out their windows and carried on loud conversations with each other.
“One hot, sticky morning I woke up to an unusual quiet. I knew that it was not the weekend, but the street was nearly empty. I heard no peddlers’ cries, no shouting or bargaining as on every other morning. The only sounds were those of a few children playing.
“As usual, I hurried through breakfast, anxious to go downstairs and join my friends. But when I bolted out the front door of our apartment building, I immediately stiffened, and my heart started to pound violently. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t open my mouth. I wanted to run back inside, but my feet wouldn’t move.
“Attached to every shop front, hanging from dozens of windows, stuck into window boxes, and tacked onto mailboxes were hundreds of flags. I stood trembling with fear, waiting for the soldiers to appear and search our homes.
“Laughing and chattering, several children asked me to join in a game, and I numbly followed along. Soon men and women joined the children outside. They sat on the steps of their apartment buildings, talking and joking. Aren’t any of the men going to work? I kept asking myself. Why is everyone so happy? I thought that perhaps they were all just pretending, trying to keep each other cheerful.
“All day long I felt as if I were in a nightmare. By afternoon I was too miserable to even join my friends in their games. I just sat on the curb and watched and waited. At suppertime the men set up long tables on the sidewalk, and the women covered them with tablecloths and began bringing platters and bowls of food to be shared by everyone. I couldn’t eat anything at all.
“Just before dark, Mother took me up to bed. While she was tucking me in, she told me that she was going back outside and that I could call her if I needed anything. I started to cry.
“‘No,’ I yelled, ‘you can’t leave me here alone!’ All day I had tried to be brave, but finally I just broke down and sobbed.
“My father raced up the stairs. ‘I heard you crying clear downstairs. Why are you sad after this wonderful day?’ he asked.
“‘How can you say it’s a wonderful day,’ I cried. ‘How can you pretend, when the soldiers will be here any minute?’
“‘Soldiers?’ he asked. ‘What soldiers?’
“‘The soldiers everybody put their flags up for,’ I sobbed. ‘They’ll be here soon, and we don’t even have a flag!’
“‘Oh, my poor frightened boy,’ my father said softly. He sat me on his lap. ‘First of all,’ he explained, ‘there are no soldiers coming to search our home today or any other day.’
“I stopped crying and looked up at him. Then he told me the story of America’s birthday and explained that all the flags were for the celebration.
“I went back outside with my parents and watched the fireworks to end the big birthday party and thought and thought about what my father had told me, trying to understand it all.
“I did understand one thing, though. My father said, ‘Someday we will be able to buy a flag, and I will be very proud to fly that flag. In fact, I will be so proud that when I am an American citizen, I will want to fly it every single day. And I hope you will, too, Max.’”
The potatoes were all peeled, quartered, and ready to boil, and Scott was still listening intently to his grandfather. “How come you never told me that story before, Grandpa?”
“Well, buddy boy, you never asked me before.”
“I think you should tell everyone today at the picnic, Grandpa,” I told him.
“Maybe I will, buddy boy. Maybe I will.”