Gospel Story Finder

I received a special gift last Christmas that brought with it many memories. My niece gave it to me. It had been among the things I had left in our old family home when I moved out after I was married. The gift was this little brown book I hold in my hand. It is a book that was given to LDS servicemen who entered the armed forces during World War II. I personally viewed the book as a gift from President Heber J. Grant and his counselors, J. Reuben Clark Jr. and David O. McKay.
In the front of the book, these three prophets of God wrote: “The incidents of the armed service do not permit our keeping in constant personal touch with you, either directly or by personal representation. Our next best course is to put in your hands such portions of modern revelation and of explanations of the principles of the Gospel as shall bring to you, wherever you may be, renewed hope and faith, as likewise comfort, consolation, and peace of spirit.”
Today we find ourselves in another war. This is not a war of armaments. It is a war of thoughts, words, and deeds. It is a war with sin, and more than ever we need to be reminded of the commandments. Secularism is becoming the norm, and many of its beliefs and practices are in direct conflict with those that were instituted by the Lord Himself for the benefit of His children.
In the little brown book, immediately after the letter from the First Presidency, there is a “Prefatory Note to Men in the Service,” titled “Obedience to Law Is Liberty.” The note draws a parallel between military law, which is “for the good of all who are in the service,” and divine law.
It states, “In the universe, too, where God is in command, there is law—universal, eternal … law—with certain blessings and immutable penalties.”
The final words of the note focus on obedience to God’s law: “If you wish to return to your loved ones with head erect, … if you would be a man and live abundantly—then observe God’s law. In so doing you can add to those priceless freedoms which you are struggling to preserve, another on which the others may well depend, freedom from sin; for truly ‘obedience to law is liberty.’”
Why did the phrase “obedience to law is liberty” ring so true to me at the time? Why does it ring true to all of us now?
Perhaps it is because we have a revealed knowledge of our premortal history. We recognize that when God the Eternal Father presented His plan to us at the beginning of time, Satan wanted to alter the plan. He said he would redeem all mankind. Not one soul would be lost, and Satan was confident he could deliver on his proposal. But there was an unacceptable cost—the destruction of man’s agency, which was and is a gift given by God (see Moses 4:1–3). About this gift, President Harold B. Lee said, “Next to life itself, free agency is God’s greatest gift to mankind.” Then it was no small thing for Satan to disregard man’s agency. In fact, it became the principal issue over which the War in Heaven was fought. Victory in the War in Heaven was a victory for man’s agency.
Satan, however, was not done. His backup plan—the plan he has been executing since the time of Adam and Eve—was to tempt men and women, essentially to prove we are undeserving of the God-given gift of agency. Satan has many reasons for doing what he does. Perhaps the most powerful is the motive of revenge, but he also wants to make men and women miserable like he is miserable. None of us should ever underestimate how driven Satan is to succeed. His role in God’s eternal plan creates “opposition in all things” (2 Nephi 2:11) and tests our agency. Each choice you and I make is a test of our agency—whether we choose to be obedient or disobedient to the commandments of God is actually a choice between “liberty and eternal life” and “captivity and death.”
This fundamental doctrine is clearly taught in 2 Nephi, the second chapter: “Wherefore, men are free according to the flesh; and all things are given them which are expedient unto man. And they are free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil; for he seeketh that all men might be miserable like unto himself” (2 Nephi 2:27).
In many respects, this world has always been at war. I believe that when the First Presidency sent me my little brown book, they were more concerned about a greater war than World War II. I also believe they hoped the book would be a shield of faith against Satan and his armies in this greater war—the war against sin—and serve as a reminder to me to live the commandments of God.
One way to measure ourselves and compare us to previous generations is by one of the oldest standards known to man—the Ten Commandments. For much of the civilized world, particularly the Judeo-Christian world, the Ten Commandments have been the most accepted and enduring delineation between good and evil.
In my judgment, four of the Ten Commandments are taken as seriously today as ever. As a culture, we disdain and condemn murder, stealing, and lying, and we still believe in the responsibility of children to their parents.
But as a larger society, we routinely dismiss the other six commandments:
If worldly priorities are any indication, we certainly have “other gods” we put before the true God.
We make idols of celebrities, of lifestyles, of wealth, and yes, sometimes of graven images or objects.
We use the name of God in all kinds of profane ways, including our exclamations and our swearing.
We use the Sabbath day for our biggest games, our most serious recreation, our heaviest shopping, and virtually everything else but worship.
We treat sexual relations outside marriage as recreation and entertainment.
And coveting has become a far too common way of life. (See Exodus 20:3–17.)
Prophets from all dispensations have consistently warned against violations of two of the more serious commandments—the ones relating to murder and adultery. I see a common basis for these two critical commandments—the belief that life itself is the prerogative of God and that our physical bodies, the temples of mortal life, should be created within the bounds God has set. For man to substitute his own rules for the laws of God on either end of life is the height of presumption and the depth of sin.
The main effects of these depreciating attitudes about the sanctity of marriage are the consequences to families—the strength of families is deteriorating at an alarming rate. This deterioration is causing widespread damage to society. I see direct cause and effect. As we give up commitment and fidelity to our marriage partners, we remove the glue that holds our society together.
A useful way to think about the commandments is they are loving counsel from a wise, all-knowing Heavenly Father. His goal is our eternal happiness, and His commandments are the road map He has given us to return to Him, which is the only way we will be eternally happy. How significant are the home and the family to our eternal happiness? On page 141 of my little brown book, it states, “Indeed our heaven is little more than a projection of our homes into eternity.”
The doctrine of the family and the home was recently reiterated with great clarity and forcefulness in “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.” It declared the eternal nature of families and then explained the connection to temple worship. The proclamation also declared the law upon which the eternal happiness of families is predicated, namely, “The sacred powers of procreation are to be employed only between man and woman, lawfully wedded as husband and wife.”
God reveals to His prophets that there are moral absolutes. Sin will always be sin. Disobedience to the Lord’s commandments will always deprive us of His blessings. The world changes constantly and dramatically, but God, His commandments, and promised blessings do not change. They are immutable and unchanging. Men and women receive their agency as a gift from God, but their liberty and, in turn, their eternal happiness come from obedience to His laws. As Alma counseled his errant son Corianton, “Wickedness never was happiness” (Alma 41:10).
In this day of the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel, the Lord has again revealed to us the blessings promised us for being obedient to His commandments.
In Doctrine and Covenants 130 we read:
“There is a law, irrevocably decreed in heaven before the foundations of this world, upon which all blessings are predicated—
“And when we obtain any blessing from God, it is by obedience to that law upon which it is predicated” (D&C 130:20–21).
Surely there could not be any doctrine more strongly expressed in the scriptures than the Lord’s unchanging commandments and their connection to our happiness and well-being as individuals, as families, and as a society. There are moral absolutes. Disobedience to the Lord’s commandments will always deprive us of His blessings. These things do not change.
In a world where the moral compass of society is faltering, the restored gospel of Jesus Christ never wavers, nor should its stakes and wards, its families, or its individual members. We must not pick and choose which commandments we think are important to keep but acknowledge all of God’s commandments. We must stand firm and steadfast, having perfect confidence in the Lord’s consistency and perfect trust in His promises.
May we ever be a light on the hill, an example in keeping the commandments, which have never changed and will never change. Just as this small book encouraged LDS servicemen to stand morally firm in times of war, may we, in this latter-day war, be a beacon to all the earth and particularly to God’s children who are seeking the Lord’s blessings. Of this I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“When I was a teenager, Brother Jacob, my teacher, asked that I write down on a card what I had thought about during the sacrament. I took my card and began to write. First on the list was a basketball game we had won the night before. And then came a date after the game, and so went the list. Far removed and certainly not in bold letters was the name of Jesus Christ.
“Each Sunday the card was filled out. For a young Aaronic Priesthood holder, the sacrament and sacrament meeting took on a new, expanded, and spiritual meaning. I anxiously looked forward to Sundays and to the opportunity to partake of the sacrament, as understanding the Savior’s Atonement was changing me. Every Sunday to this day, as I partake of the sacrament, I can see my card and review my list. Always on my list now, first of all, is the Savior of mankind.”
Elder Don R. Clarke of the Seventy

I learned patience as I sat beside the elderly and infirm, listening to them talk of their challenges. With tears streaming down her face, one dear sister in her 80s told me how she no longer felt like knitting or crocheting. Every part of her body hurt, and the days and nights were long and sad.
A year later I sat by her hospital bed, holding her withered hand and stroking her thin arm. As she labored for every breath, I pleaded with Heavenly Father to release her from her terrible suffering if that was his will. Many sisters in the ward had helped her feel loved as cancer ravaged her body; we all longed for her to be at peace.
Forty-eight hours later, she breathed her last breath, and we all wept together. We could envision her joy as she entered into a new life of freedom from earthly cares.
As I sat with her that last night, I knew that even in her terrible physical condition, there was still purpose in her life—not only for her personally but also for us. How could we learn to give of our time and love if there were no needy souls?

“You want us to do what?” they asked. “For how long? Why?”
When she heard those questions, McKenzie McNaughton knew this project might be a challenge.
At the beginning of the school year, McKenzie, a senior and member of the student council at Washington Township High School in Deptford, New Jersey, hatched an idea. She wanted the entire senior class to spend one school day providing service in the community. Nothing too elaborate. Just a few hours sprucing up the place.
“I started thinking about what I wanted to give back to the school and what we could do,” she says. “I thought this would be a good way.”
And that’s how Washington Township’s Senior Service Day began.
Things got a little tricky when she presented the idea to her fellow students, however.
“In September, when I told the student body of my idea at the beginning of an assembly, they were excited,” McKenzie says. “But then what I was saying started to sink in. Before the assembly was over, a lot of guys were saying, ‘You’re not going to get us all to go and clean a park. We’re not going to do this.’
“And I’m still in the EFY, youth-conference mode,” McKenzie adds. “I’m thinking, ‘We’re going to get to clean together, guys. We get to rake. And we’re doing it for free!’ I had to finally realize that maybe everybody wouldn’t be as excited just to spend a day working.”
Those few negative responses didn’t diminish McKenzie’s enthusiasm for the project, though. It was now McKenzie’s job to get those naysaying students into, as she says, “the mode.”
Nine months later, and a week before they all graduated, approximately 500 of the senior class’s 600 students shuffled out of the school holding rakes and shovels to board buses headed for nearby parks and schools.
If there is one thing McKenzie knows, it’s service projects. If you’re a Latter-day Saint, they kind of come with the territory. Since McKenzie turned 12 and joined Young Women, she’s helped paint a preschool building, and she’s gone on her ward’s annual Christmas caroling excursions to local hospitals. “We also regularly visit nursing homes, and we’ve given Easter baskets to the Ronald McDonald House,” she says. And McKenzie isn’t even including her Young Women Value Experiences which consisted of—among other things—acquiring donated fleece and using it to make toys and pillows she then donated to the local women’s shelter.
Senior Service Day was a little different from those activities in one big way. This was McKenzie’s idea, and she had to make it happen. There was no Laurel adviser to coordinate everything. So to accomplish her goal, McKenzie had to inspire a bunch of students not experienced in service projects to pitch in. “I think my high school is full of good kids. This will work,” she said confidently the day before the event.
“When I do service, it makes me more grateful for what I have. It’s a ton of work, but I think you learn how to work. It’s so fun. You really like to work,” she adds.
McKenzie was also only one of two Church members in her senior class. She knew she was perceived as being different by her classmates. And coming up with the idea of Senior Service Day didn’t necessarily change their opinions. “Because I don’t go to the parties on Fridays, other kids will ask me what I like to do. Then they become curious. Once I went on a picnic with a couple of kids who I kind of knew but wasn’t really good friends with. We were just talking about stuff, and we ended up talking for an hour-and-a-half about the Church.” Serving others was one of the topics that day. Senior Service Day would give McKenzie the opportunity to practice what she preached.
Still, there was the little issue of instilling excitement in the other students about—ahem—the prospect of raking. There was also a lot of planning necessary to make the whole thing happen. “I didn’t realize how much work had to be put into it,” she says.
With the help of teachers and counselors who offered their help, and after postponing the day twice, June 1 finally came and everything was in order. McKenzie made sure of it, checking off each item one by one:
X The school district had furnished the buses to transport the students.
X Bus drivers volunteered their time.
X The township had approved the work in several different parks.
X The elementary and middle schools’ principals were enthusiastic about the service the students would provide.
X A local pizza restaurant had donated pizzas for the party afterward, and grocery stores had provided soda pop.
“I think it’s going to be great,” she said, the day before Senior Service Day would actually happen. Pizzas and cases of soda as enticements certainly couldn’t hurt.
Even with all the planning, the next morning McKenzie drove from place to place to make sure everything was coordinated and going according to plan. She found students who had descended on the sites, and she thought back to that first assembly. “I think they kind of didn’t get what we were trying to do in the very beginning. But after they thought about it, they realized it could be fun,” she says.
At one school, several girls hemmed the bottom of the frayed stage curtain. Outside, another group was picking up litter along a fence line. At a middle school, kids were spading and weeding a garden while others were—yes!—raking the courtyard lawn.
And later that morning at The Birches Elementary School sat McKenzie. She was reading to the second-graders who had crowded around a wooden rocking chair. Eleven years earlier, McKenzie had been in this classroom. Her teacher from back then was still teaching. As McKenzie looked at the new batch of seven- and eight-year-olds, she fondly remembered her days in the school.
The kids were attentive, listening as McKenzie read from a children’s book.
“It was so much fun being back in that classroom,” she says afterward. “This has gone so well.”
A few hours later, the students were back at the high school sitting around listening to music, eating pizza, and smiling about what they had accomplished.
“You want us to do what? For how long? Why?”
They now had their answers.
McKenzie no longer lives in New Jersey. She’s now a student at BYU in Provo, Utah. Senior Service Day is long since over.
“I’m glad we did it. I think it was a success,” she says.
Which just proves what can happen when everybody gets in the “EFY, youth-conference mode.”

I had often wondered if the long hours I spent struggling to get my children to be reverent in church would ever be worth it. It did not take much for David, my seven-year-old, to get four-year-old Jeff and one-year-old Wade giggling, whispering, or fighting. Although each week I came with a new idea for helping my sons to be more reverent, I usually went home from church tired and discouraged. Many times I became angry and had to take one of the children out of the chapel so that others would not be disturbed.
But I was concerned about my approach to the problem. Did my continual disciplining make them feel unacceptable to our Heavenly Father? I decided that the next fast Sunday I would make my sons’ problem with reverence the object of my thoughts and prayer.
That Sunday, five minutes hadn’t passed before I felt that I should take David out of the chapel. But because I had been fasting and praying about this problem, I offered a quick prayer instead. “Father,” I asked, “he needs correction, but I want to do it in the right way. What should I do?”
The impression I felt was, “Be patient. Help him settle down as best you can.”
I tried to obey that impression and was able to keep things more under control than before. Then, toward the end of the meeting, I watched as David stood to bear his testimony.
At that moment I realized that, if I had acted on my first feelings, he probably would not have felt the Spirit which prompted him to bear his testimony.
That experience was given to me by our Heavenly Father to show me that, in raising my children, if I follow the Spirit I can help them to grow in the gospel and help them develop their own testimonies.
I have remembered that experience whenever I have been tempted to speak out with criticism or to doubt my children’s actions. It has tempered the punishments I have meted out and has helped me to remember love in times of anger.

In 1984, at the age of 15, Elder Cordón and his older brother left their home to attend school in another city where they could study technology. Living on their own, Valeri recalled his mother teaching him to always serve, so once they were established in their new home, he went straight to the bishop and asked for a calling. Since he was very young, Elder Cordon served in several callings, as a member of Aaronic Priesthood quorum presidencies, Sunday School president, auxiliary secretary to the bishopric, then at age 19, he was called to serve a mission in El Salvador.

While attending school in Guatemala and studying computer science, the textbooks were all in English, and by the time they were translated to Spanish, the information was obsolete. Realizing that learning English would be a critical skill, he figured out a way to move to Texas to attend the University of North Texas for six months, with a focus on learning English. He returned to Guatemala, received his computer science degree, and later, in part because of his newly acquired English skills, was hired by a British pharmaceutical company located in Costa Rica.

President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) left a lasting impression on Elder Cordón during one of the videos that aired between sessions of conference, in which the prophet simply said, “Improve your education”. As a result, he took every opportunity to follow this counsel.

When the opportunity arose to enter an MBA program at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, he commented to the area president about the educational opportunity , saying, “This is going to help my career” to which the president replied, “No, this will help the Church.”

Now Elder Cordón feels strongly about sharing his testimony to always be prepared, look for opportunities to improve yourself, and the Lord will bless you for those efforts.

A similar desire existed in the hearts of those moving to Puerto Francisco de Orellana. In early January 2009, Marco Villavicencio—now the branch president—and his wife, Claudia Ramirez, were considering a job opportunity that would require relocating to Puerto Francisco de Orellana from their home in Machala, on the other side of Ecuador.
“My first question,” says President Villavicencio, “was ‘Is the Church there?’ My wife and I talked it over with our family, and we prayed to know if we should move. As soon as the offer came, we learned that the Church was being established in Puerto Francisco de Orellana. We moved here in February 2009, and the branch was formed the following September.”

My mother fought cancer for nearly 10 years. Treatments and surgeries and finally confinement to her bed were some of her trials.
I remember my father saying as he watched her take her last breath, “A little girl has gone home to rest.”
One of the speakers at her funeral was President Spencer W. Kimball. Among the tributes he paid, I remember one that went something like this: “Some of you may have thought that Mildred suffered so long and so much because of something she had done wrong that required the trials.” He then said, “No, it was that God just wanted her to be polished a little more.” I remember at the time thinking, “If a woman that good needed that much polishing, what is ahead for me?”

Mylea Moua’s cousins make fun of her for going to church. Some of her close family members discourage her church attendance. Her friends at school wonder why she would ever want to be a Latter-day Saint.
Mylea’s challenges are not unique in the Twin Cities Second (Hmong) Branch of the Anoka Minnesota Stake. Many of the youth have less-active parents and nonmember family members who mock their religion. It would be easy for Mylea, a Mia Maid, to just quit coming to church. “A lot of Hmong people ask ‘How can the Church help you?’ They reject it,” she says. “I don’t really care what people think, because how I feel makes me happy. But I feel bad for them because they don’t have the gospel.”
Unlike many of the older Hmong generation in Minnesota, Mylea and the other youth feel it’s possible to be both Hmong and LDS. “I do the best I can and try to be a good example,” she says.

When floodwaters slammed into Calgary, Alberta, Canada, in June, spring rains and mountain runoff forced over 100,000 people out of their homes.
The flood left behind a massive mess—along with a massive need for volunteers. Church members of all ages from wards and stakes in the Calgary area responded immediately. “There was rubble everywhere,” says Brigham S., a deacon who volunteered.
Some youth knocked down drywall, carried away ruined furniture, or raked up mud and debris. Other youth, such as Brigham’s group, made and delivered sack lunches to workers, volunteers, and families returning to their homes.
Brigham remembers one particular family pumping muddy water out of their house. He and the youth volunteering with him asked this family if they wanted some lunches. “They were so happy!” Brigham says. “They gave us hugs.”

Image from Getty Images
Christmas wasn’t Christmas. Although I tried to be merry with carols playing in the background, I pulled out the storage bins with a heavy heart. The snowman cookie jar only reminded me that there was no one to bake with. The Santa figurine seemed to say that there was little reason to hang stockings, and the peppermint-striped wrapping paper reminded me that morning wouldn’t bring the voices of excited children.
This year our youngest had left for college, and our house felt lonely and quiet. I chose only the non-Santa type decorations and placed everything else back in their boxes.
With my husband out of town, I decorated the tree alone. My daughter-in-law posted pictures online of my grandchildren hanging ornaments on their tree, and my heart yearned for yesterday. I wondered how time had slipped by so quickly. How had my children grow so fast? Lost in my thoughts, I looked down at the light bulb in my hand. It was a single red bulb.
I examined the color, a deep red. Crimson. I looked around at the simplicity of what was left of the decorations: a few nativities, a manger built from popsicle sticks, and a decoration that spelled out NOEL in gold letters. My eyes were wet. The bulb was red—red like the atoning blood of the Savior.
I thought about how I had always equated decorations, cookie cutouts, and children’s glee on Christmas morning with what made me happy at Christmastime. Then I thought about my children and their eternal families. I thought about all the joy I had in my family and the joy they had in their own. I pondered how the babe lying in the manger made that possible. A sweetness of warmth sprung in my heart as I contemplated the gift of the Savior—not just for me but for all mankind.
“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people” (Luke 2:10; emphasis added).
As I continued decorating the tree, I meditated on the humble birth and life of Jesus Christ. He came to mend the broken, build the downtrodden, comfort the lonely, bring peace in imperfection, and give compassion for suffering. He was born and died that we might live with Him in our Father’s kingdom once more. He came that man might know true happiness. My heart swelled and I found joy in Christ because Christ is Christmas.

Illustration by Clayton Thompson
I still remember that cold, crisp Sunday night in December. Our mom had just made her delicious potato soup with steaming vegetables for me and my brothers to take to a few of our neighbors. When she handed me a warm bowl of soup, she said, “This one goes to Ben’s house.”
I knew of Ben, but I’d never really seen or talked to him before. So I wasn’t very excited about dropping this soup off to him. As I walked over, I noticed the run-down home with leaves everywhere, and I decided I didn’t want to stay and try to get to know this stranger. I left the soup on the porch, rang the doorbell, and hurried away. But just before I crossed the street, I hid behind a bush and watched as a tall, delicate, older man opened his door and picked up the soup. But rather than rushing inside, he stood there for a moment and looked around to see who’d left it. As I watched him, he seemed very humble, with his knitted old sweater, simple black sweatpants, and worn-out shoes. Soon, I walked home, but I couldn’t get the picture of Ben on his porch out of my head.
As I sat down for dinner, my parents asked my older brother how the neighbor he dropped off the soup to was doing, then she asked my younger brother, and then she asked me. I paused hesitantly before saying, “Well, he’s doing fine, I think.”
My mom asked, “What did he say to you?”
I stared at the plate in front of me and mumbled, “I didn’t really talk to him. I just dropped it off and hurried back home.”
At this point my parents seemed less than happy about what I’d done—or perhaps what I had not done—so I asked them what they wanted me to do differently. In a loving way, they explained that the soup was not just something to give to the neighbors but an opportunity to get to know and spend time with others, which would’ve been far more significant than just a simple bowl of soup.
Later that week, I watched Ben’s home as I went out to get the mail. I noticed he hadn’t shoveled his driveway after it had recently snowed, and I ran home to ask my brothers for help. We got our shovels and hurried across the street to the home. The more I shoveled, the more I realized this man must be all alone here in this large and empty home. We finished shoveling, and Ben came out, smiled, and motioned for us to come inside. As we entered, we were surprised to see the house was beautiful, filled with pictures of his kids, grandkids, and even great-grandkids.
As we sat down, he handed each of us a piece of candy and thanked us one by one, telling us how happy he was to have company. Later he even mentioned the bowl of soup. “The soup was delicious, but I don’t know who dropped it off. I wanted to thank them and return the bowl.”
I smiled and said, “It’s my mom’s soup, but I dropped it off.”
He brightened and replied, “Thank you so much. It was so warm and delicious.” At that moment, I felt real love for this man.
He then pointed to a picture of his wife and explained that he’d lost her a few years ago. But at that moment, he seemed so happy.
My family and I still bring soup to Ben, mow his lawn, and shovel his driveway. We also now visit him and invite him to family events, like our sports games and dinners. He’s never failed to express his appreciation with a simple “Thank you!” and a piece of candy for each of us. I’m grateful for the lesson I learned that December day and for the symbolism of the soup. Anyone can give food, clothing, and money, but giving of your time and yourself is truly one of the most valuable of all gifts.

If you’re from “Big D” you inevitably do things in a big way. And the Scouts from the Dallas, Dallas North, and Ft. Worth Texas stakes are no exceptions.
For their LDS Regional Camporee, 131 boys and 32 leaders from 21 wards and branches filled two days competing in compass courses, fire building, trailing, knot tying, lashing, and physical fitness tests. They were also evaluated on camping expertise and campsite excellence.
The traditional Court of Honor was preceded by a not-so-traditional banquet—a chicken dinner Texas-style. The “dinner” arrived—a clucking, pecking, feathery bird—and the Scouts took over from there. Each Scout also received a specially designed regional camporee patch that featured a Bicentennial theme.
Fourteen Explorers, called by their stake presidents as staff specialists, directed the camporee. The Explorers, most of them Eagle Scouts, worked 18 hours a day and inspired just-a-little-harder work on skills from younger Scouts.
The comments of boys and leaders ran from “fantastic” to “the best thing that’s ever happened to our ward program!” The spectrum of opinions wasn’t very wide, but the smiles on the faces were. One Scout expressed what everyone seemed to be thinking: “This was neat! When are we going to do it again?”

Five-year-old Cammie liked to color. When her brother Ryan was sick in the hospital, she drew a picture of a smiling nurse for him. The doctor hung it next to Ryan’s crib. “Ryan will feel better knowing you are thinking about him,” Mommy said.
Sometimes Cammie’s friends asked her to draw pictures for them. “Please draw a princess that looks like me,” Rachel said. So Cammie did.
Cammie even liked to color rocks. Grandma often came to see rows of Cammie’s colorful pebbles laid neatly on the porch. “Can I buy a few?” Grandma asked. She handed Cammie two coins, then picked up a big striped rock and a pebble with blue polka dots.
Cammie was glad that her artwork made others happy, but she wanted to make Heavenly Father happy too. One Sunday after church, she decided to draw a picture just for Him. First she drew her family. She colored green grass and flowers below their feet. Then she drew clouds and a big shining sun. Above the clouds, she drew smiling angels looking down on earth. She knew Heavenly Father was in heaven watching her too. Sighing happily, she put away the crayons.
Now what? Whenever she drew a picture for Mommy and Daddy, they hung it on the fridge or put it in a scrapbook. Cammie wondered how she could give her special picture to Heavenly Father.
That night before bed, she placed the drawing on the middle of her tidy bedroom floor. Then she said a prayer. “Heavenly Father, I made this picture just for you.”
The next morning, Cammie hopped out of bed, hoping the drawing would be gone. But there it lay, right where she had left it. She frowned, tears tickling the corners of her eyes. “Maybe Heavenly Father doesn’t like my picture,” she worried.
All day Cammie wondered. If Heavenly Father didn’t want a picture, how could she show Him that she was thinking about Him? Cammie thought and thought.
That night, she said her prayers again. She thanked Heavenly Father for a beautiful day and for her family and the fun things she did. She asked Him to watch over her as she slept, and she told Him she loved Him. Then she crawled into bed.
As she lay there, her blankets seemed to grow warmer. They grew warmer and heavier until Cammie realized the feeling wasn’t from her blankets at all—it was inside her heart.
“I can pray to show Heavenly Father I’m thinking of Him!” she realized.
And this warm feeling from the Holy Ghost was her answer—Heavenly Father was thinking of her too.

Another friend, a girl in his ward stopped by after school to read to him. Although they had not been particularly close before his accident, now she was willing to give her time to help him. He often felt ashamed because he knew that if their roles had been reversed, he would not have been there with her.
What if she had been burned and was in the hospital? This horrible thought kept rushing through my mind. Would I be found at her bedside? I don’t think I was a bad young man. I had a job to earn money for my car and my clothes. What made me cry inside was that I knew 1 wouldn’t have been there with her. And yet such great personal service she was giving to me! I could never tell her what I felt inside, so I made this one great commitment: Along with being the most enthusiastic patient in that hospital, I would try to pay her back. When I got out of the hospital, when I could walk, when I could see, when I could do things, I would try to pay her back through service to other people.
When I got out of the hospital and tried to find people who had problems and tried to help them, I got away from my own problems and stopped dwelling on myself and wallowing in self-pity. I started learning that great lesson—what is on the inside really is most important. Beauty comes from within.

Hard work and faithful, diligent service has always been a part of Elder and Sister Mutombo’s life together. Heartache and adversity have been as well. Four of the Mutombo’s first six children died while infants. The youngest died at one week old, the oldest died of sudden infant death, at 9 months old. In the face of the heartbreak of losing four children, Thierry and Nathalie’s faith in God and love for each other was undeterred. Today, they have six living children, Jason, Blessing, Ariel, Marvel, Harvest, and Ruby. Ruby, their tenth child and third daughter, was born while the Mutombos led the Maryland Baltimore mission. Despite the challenges they have faced, they are happy, cheerful, faithful people.

“Quick! His back is turned!” Paisley said, looking at the sales clerk. Ann swiftly reached up and grabbed the small stuffed giraffe from the shelf. The giraffe would look so cool with the rest of her animals. She almost had a complete set.
“Got it,” Ann whispered as she stuffed the soft object into her jacket pocket. “Let’s go.”
The two girls strolled past the clerk, out of the toy store, and into the mall to meet Paisley’s mother. Ann had a funny feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t help looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching. She kept one hand in her pocket, curled around the animal.
“You know,” Paisley said, holding up a small stuffed kangaroo, “we wouldn’t have to steal these if they didn’t cost so much money!”
When Ann got home, she ran upstairs to her room. She was excited to put the giraffe with her other animals. She took the miniature animals lovingly off the shelf—the horse was the first one she had bought, then the camel. She had been able to buy the dog, elephant, lion, and bear with money she earned from her summer job of weeding the garden.
Her mother opened the bedroom door. “Ann, the bishop called. He would like to interview you next week for your baptism.”
Ann’s face went white. She knew that after she was baptized, she would be accountable for her actions and would have to repent of her sins. Would Heavenly Father forgive her for stealing the giraffe?
Mom noticed the nervous look on Ann’s face. “Oh, honey, don’t be scared. Your dad and I will be there with you. The bishop just needs to make sure that you want to be baptized.”
“I know, Mom,” Ann replied. She was glad that Mom didn’t know about the giraffe.
“Can you play today?” Paisley asked Ann as the two girls walked to school the next morning.
“I … uh … I don’t know,” Ann said. “I tried playing with my animals last night, but it wasn’t any fun. Do you think it might be because I stole the giraffe?”
“Maybe.” Paisley looked down at the sidewalk. “I couldn’t play with my kangaroo, either. We shouldn’t have taken those animals yesterday.”
Ann was quiet all morning. She tried to concentrate on the math lesson, but it was hard because she was trying to block out the awful way she felt inside. She was relieved when the recess bell rang.
“I don’t feel like swinging today,” Ann said to Paisley as she walked out the door, bundling her coat around her.
“Could your mom take us back to the mall after school?” Paisley asked. “Then we could return the animals. I don’t want to play with my kangaroo anymore. I would feel better if I took it back.”
“Me, too. I’ll ask my mom when I get home,” Ann said.
That afternoon, Ann took a deep breath as she opened the door of her house. Tears filled her eyes as she thought how disappointed her mom and dad would be. She walked into the kitchen.
“Hi, honey. How was your day?” Mom said.
“OK.” Ann looked down at her feet. “Mom, I have to tell you something. When I went to the mall with Paisley, we took some stuffed animals from the toy store without paying for them.” Mom listened as Ann told her how sorry she was.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Ann. You know that stealing is wrong. What do you think you should do now?”
“Paisley and I want to take the animals back. Could you drive us to the toy store?”
“Of course.” Mom hugged her. “I’m glad you’ve decided to do the right thing.”
Mom and Ann picked up Paisley at her house and drove to the mall. Then Mom walked with them to the toy store.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you?” Mom asked.
“No, Mom,” Ann answered firmly. “We need to do this by ourselves.”
The girls walked quickly into the store and up to the counter. Placing the animals on the counter, they explained to the clerk that they had taken the stuffed animals without paying for them, and that they were very sorry.
The clerk glared at them. “I’ll have to report this to the owner,” he said. “I’m not sure what he’ll do.” The girls gave the clerk their names and telephone numbers and left the store.
“I’ll never steal another thing as long as I live,” Ann declared as she and Paisley rode home in the car.
“Me neither,” Paisley said. “And even if the owner is mad and won’t forgive us, at least Heavenly Father will.”
The following week Ann had her interview with the bishop. She explained to him what she had done and how she had tried to make it right—and how she had promised Heavenly Father that she would never steal anything again. She and the bishop talked about repentance, and how Ann had completed the steps.
The bishop said, “When you steal something, you can never fully enjoy it because you got it dishonestly. I’m glad you learned from your mistake, Ann. You are truly ready to be baptized now.”

Hospitality is one of the fundamental principles of Islam. In social or business contacts, an Arab will express sincere concern for his guests and expect them to share his proffered coffee or tea. This courtesy has allowed me to explain the Word of Wisdom to Arab men—from the king of Saudi Arabia in his palace to camel herdsmen around their camp fires. They accept my belief without offense because it is similar to their health code, which requires abstinence from pork and alcohol. Strict Muslims also do not smoke.
Once, at the request of my employer, I accompanied him on a visit to the ruler of another Muslim country. We were part of a small group of sheikhs and government officials. We dined at the palace and were flown to the ruler’s private retreat. During one of the meals, several of the Muslims ordered wine. When I declined, someone joked about my becoming a Muslim, so I explained that I don’t drink because of my religious beliefs. Their consciences pricked, two of the men urged me to join with them. His Highness, the crown prince of Bahrain—my employer at the time—silenced them, and, turning to me, said, “Joe, don’t ever change.” I have always been thankful for my employer’s appreciation of my faith.

Tyler loved having visitors. His family had signed up to help feed the missionaries, and tonight they were coming to dinner. Mom had promised that he could sit next to them.
At the table, Tyler felt shy and didn’t know what to say. He wanted to be a missionary someday, so he listened and watched carefully. He wanted to remember how missionaries act. He looked at their shiny shoes, white shirts, and straight ties. Then he noticed something on their shirt pockets. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to Elder Snow’s pocket.
“My name tag,” Elder Snow replied, holding it up a little.
“‘Elder Snow,’” Tyler read. “‘The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.’ Do all the missionaries have name tags?”
“I think so,” the other missionary, Elder Millburn, replied. “We want everyone to know that we are missionaries for the Church.”
“I always make sure to put my name tag on,” Elder Snow added. “I want everybody to know that I believe in Jesus Christ.”
After the missionaries left, Tyler told Mom, “I’m going to make a name tag. I want to wear one so that people will know that I believe in Jesus Christ.”
Tyler cut a rectangle out of paper and carefully printed his name on it. Below his name, he wrote, “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” He taped a folded paper to the back of it to insert in his pocket to hold the name tag on. He went to the mirror to see how it looked.
First thing in the morning he thought about his name tag. Hurriedly he got dressed and put it on.
When Mom went grocery shopping, Tyler went too. He walked around, hoping that everyone saw his name tag. While they were going back to the car, it started to rain. He pushed the cart quickly and helped Mom load the car before they both got very wet. “Such a good helper!” she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
At home he helped carry in the groceries. When he leaned over, he noticed that his name tag was torn and sagging. And rain had smeared the words. I need a better name tag, he told himself.
That afternoon, he cut a rectangle out of a plastic lid. He wrote his and the Church’s name on it with a marker so that the words wouldn’t wash away. He taped another piece of plastic to the back and stuck it in his pocket. He had a name tag again. Showing it to Dad, he said, “Just like the missionaries, I like to wear my name tag.”
Tyler went to show his big sister. She was studying at her desk and didn’t seem very happy.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, forgetting about the name tag.
“I have too much homework,” she moaned, “and it’s my turn to do the dishes.” She started writing again.
Tyler watched for a minute. “I’ll do the dishes.”
His sister looked surprised.
“My homework is all done,” he said. “I have time to do them.”
She gave him a hug and exclaimed, “You’re a great brother!”
Tyler did the dishes, but his shirt got wet and dirty. Pulling it off, he threw it in the laundry.
Getting dressed the next morning, he remembered his name tag and ran to the laundry room. His mother had already washed the shirt. She was putting it in the dryer. “Wait!” he yelled, pulling the shirt out of the pile. The name tag fell to the floor, twisted and warped. Tyler couldn’t make it lie flat. He threw it away. I’ll have to make something better, he told himself.
In the garage, Tyler searched for a thin wood scrap. Finding one just the right size, he went in the house to paint it. With a pointed brush he printed the letters. He made two holes in the wood with a hammer and nail, and put a piece of twine through them so that he could wear the name tag around his neck. When he took his shirt off, this name tag would stay put and wouldn’t get ruined. Tyler showed it to Mom and Dad. “Clever,” they told him.
Tyler wanted to show it to his best friend, Jason. He went outside and looked to see if Jason was in his yard next door. From the other direction, a boy on a tricycle whizzed by, laughing. His dog ran along beside him, barking in fun. It was little Jimmy from down the block.
Jimmy’s mother ran after him, calling frantically, “Stop! You’ve gone too far!” But Jimmy didn’t hear her, so Tyler raced to catch up with him. Grabbing the tricycle, Tyler gently pulled it to a stop and turned it around. He led Jimmy and his dog back to his mother.
“Thank you for stopping him,” she said. “He might have ridden into the street and been hurt. You’re a good neighbor!”
Tyler waved good-bye and headed back to find Jason. He reached for his name tag and stopped suddenly. It was gone! It must have fallen off while I was running, he realized. Searching, he finally found it, but the twine was broken and the name tag lay in pieces. It had been run over by the tricycle. Tyler walked home and laid the pieces on the table. “Jimmy ran over my name tag,” he told his mother, angrily. Then, with a big sigh, he said, “But I guess he didn’t mean to.”
A few minutes later, Tyler heard his father come home and ran out to tell him about the name tag.
“You know,” his father said, “not all missionaries wear name tags. When I was a missionary, we didn’t have name tags.”
Tyler was surprised. “How did people know you believed in Jesus Christ?”
“We told them,” Dad said. “And we tried to show them by the way we acted.”
That evening Tyler and his parents went to the stake center because one of his friends was getting baptized. During the meeting, a speaker talked about Jesus Christ. “If we try to live as He did,” the man said, “then people will know that we believe in Him.”
Tyler thought about that as they went home. Remembering what Dad had said, too, he suddenly knew what he could do.
“Mom! Dad!” he said excitedly. “There is a name tag I can wear that won’t get ruined or lost—an invisible one! If I try my hardest to live like Jesus Christ did, it’s like telling people I believe in Him. It’s like wearing an invisible name tag!”
Dad smiled. “You’re right, son.”
Mom hugged Tyler. “I’ve already seen your invisible name tag.”
“You have?” Tyler asked, looking down at his shirt.
“Yes, it’s been there,” replied his mother. “Each time you’ve been helpful and kind—like when you washed the dishes for your sister, and when you helped little Jimmy—your name tag was there.”
Tyler looked down again. He didn’t see the invisible name tag, but his mother had seen it. He hoped other people would see it, too, because he wanted everyone to know that he believed in Jesus Christ.

Soon my 12th birthday came. I was ordained a deacon. Around this time, my family moved to Madison, Wisconsin, USA. I missed my friends but wanted to make new ones. Madison was much bigger than Manti. My new school was large. There weren’t many members of the Church. One day some popular kids invited me to a party. But the party was on the same night as a Church activity. I had learned from my experience in Primary that good things happen when I am faithful in attending my Church meetings. So I thanked them for inviting me and explained why I couldn’t come.
I am glad I went to the Church activity. The next day, everyone at school was talking about the party. Some kids had been drinking alcohol, they had damaged some furniture, and everyone who went got in a lot of trouble! I was so grateful that I had been where I needed to be.