Gospel Story Finder

Within my first few days of arriving in the Dominican Republic, my companions brought me to visit a man by the name of Amado. During that visit, we talked about the plan of salvation and the opportunity he will have to see his wife again, who had passed away. The Spirit was strong during that conversation. His daughter and a few of his grandchildren were there, testifying of the joy they had felt through living the gospel. They testified of temples and the ability to be with our loved ones after this life, through the sacred ordinances of the temple.
During the following months, we returned to visit Amado weekly. We talked about the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ, and that this gospel has the power of God so that we can take the necessary steps and make promises that will help us return to live with God. We taught him about the priesthood, the power of God here on earth. We explained that God loves us so much, that He gave us another testament of His Son, Jesus Christ: The Book of Mormon. Little by little we taught him about the truths of Christ and His doctrine.
He questioned why we believe this Church is the only true Church on the earth. We invited him to come to church with us to experience it for himself. He enjoyed it but missed the comfort of his usual church. We invited him to pray and sincerely talk with God to ask Him which church is His. Amado prayed and received an answer in a way that he could not doubt that Jesus Christ had restored His Church on earth again. He continued attending church with us. We invited him to enter the waters of baptism and make a covenant with God through the proper authority. When we invited him to be baptized, he asked us if he would be able to see his wife again if he were to get baptized in a different church other than where the two were married. We testified of the perfect love of God and His plan that makes it possible for everyone that has passed on to be able to accept the gospel of Jesus Christ, and that being baptized is our responsibility. We have the opportunity to be baptized in the name of and for our ancestors, so that those people who no longer have their bodies can still enter into the kingdom of God.
Amado wanted this. He was baptized by his grandson, and it was a very special day. Everyone who attended the baptism felt the Holy Ghost testify that the step he took that day was correct and was ordained of God. In the following visits, Amado testified to us that he knows that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints is God’s church, and that he knew we were called by God to help him understand this. He had told many previous missionaries to go and preach to the people who didn’t know God, because he already knew God and didn’t need the missionaries. I learned even more that God places us where He needs us and that we can be instruments in His hands through our obedience and the love we have for Him and His children.

Lisa was relatively young at when she joined the Church. She attended meetings with her friends and their families. One day her class got up to sing a special musical number in sacrament meeting. No one had told her anything about it. She’d never heard the song before, and she sat in agonized silence as the rest of her class smiled and sang from the pulpit.

After church, she asked why she hadn’t been included. She was informed that since her parents were not members and she lived several blocks away, they didn’t think anyone would bring her to rehearsals, so they hadn’t invited her to participate. Lisa was devastated, and her parents weren’t very impressed with the lack of compassion that was shown either.

President Dickie says that Church members in Beira, which is about halfway up the coast of Mozambique, have made sacrifices to attend the temple. Last year, they began flying to the Durban South Africa Temple but before then, members would travel to the Johannesburg temple on bus trips that took 36–40 hours.
“We would leave early Monday morning and arrive in Johannesburg early Wednesday morning,” says President Dickie. “We would worship in the temple for two days, then depart again for Beira on Friday morning and arrive at home on Saturday night.”
Many members believe that this sacrifice helped to prepare them for a temple to be built in their area. “I was just thinking about all the efforts the members had made; those long hours on the road to reach Johannesburg temple,” says Brother Paulino. “Now the news that we will have it nearby gave us the sense that the Lord knows our efforts. He knows that we really need those temple blessings.”

Jody felt sad as he worked alone in the flower garden. He wished that Grandpa was here to help him. Hoeing weeds wasn’t much fun alone.
Mother came out the back door and crossed the yard to the garden. “Jody, I’m going to the nursing home this afternoon to see Grandpa,” she said. “Do you want to come along?”
Jody kicked at a clump of dirt with his toe. “I don’t know,” he said.
“If you don’t want to go, you can stay with Mrs. Knight while I’m gone.”
“I want to see Grandpa,” Jody said slowly, “but, Mother, he just doesn’t seem like Grandpa anymore.”
His mother smoothed back the damp wisps of hair on Jody’s forehead. “I know, Jody. When Grandpa had his stroke, it affected his brain so that it doesn’t work the same anymore, and he can’t do very much. But Grandpa is still Grandpa.”
Jody sighed. He wanted Grandpa to be the way he was before his stroke.
Mother smiled at him gravely. “It’s the way things are, Jody. When you were a tiny baby, all you did was sleep and cry. Someone fed you and dressed you then—the nurses do that for Grandpa now—but today you can run and sing and do things for yourself. You’re different from what you were, but you’re still Jody.”
Jody thought about that for a while. Finally he said, “I guess I’ll go see Grandpa with you.”
“Good! We’ll go right after lunch.”
Jody began hoeing weeds again. If Grandpa is still Grandpa, he thought, then he must miss his flower garden. Grandpa always spent a lot of time in his garden and looking through the seed catalogs for new flowers to plant.
His thoughts gave Jody an idea. He went to the small shed where the garden supplies were kept and hung up the hoe the way Grandpa had taught him so that no one could step on it and get hurt. Then he chose a clay flowerpot from a row of pots on the shelf.
Carrying the pot, he went back to the garden and looked at the bright clusters of flowers. The pansies were just beginning to bloom. Pansies were Grandpa’s favorite flower.
Jody chose the sturdiest pansy plant and dug around the roots carefully with a trowel. He lifted the plant gently, making sure that there was still plenty of soil around the roots, the way Grandpa had taught him. He put the plant into the pot, filled it with more soil, and watered it.
When Jody and his mother went into Grandpa’s room at the nursing home, Grandpa was sitting in a wheelchair. Before, when he’d been here, Grandpa had seemed like a stranger and Jody had held back, a little frightened. Now he went directly up to Grandpa, kissed him, and put the flowerpot on the bedside stand beside him. “I brought you a plant, Grandpa,” he said.
Grandpa looked at the plant, then at Jody—he was smiling. He could only smile with one side of his mouth, but it was a real smile.
Jody slid his hand into Grandpa’s and smiled back. Grandpa isn’t a stranger, he thought. He’s still Grandpa.

Ever since my baptism the Liahona (Spanish) has always been a source of inspiration for me. I was therefore angry when my father began to give the magazines to his friends at work. I wanted to keep them to use in the future.
My attitude changed completely when one day someone called at the door looking for my father. He said that my father had given him a few Liahonas and that he had talked to him about the gospel, but now my father no longer worked where he worked. This brother had read and reread the Liahonas and had pondered what they contained. Days later, when the missionaries knocked on his door, Heavenly Father had prepared him to recognize the truth and make covenants with the Lord. He immediately sought out my father to thank him for sharing the magazines.
Since that experience, I understand better that the Lord uses every means to bring the truth to those who are ready to serve Him.
Giesi Romeo Aquirre DávilaMexquital, Guatemala

A 14-year-old sister was all dressed up to go to a Young Women activity at a time in her life when she felt very unsure about herself. She was quietly and self-consciously inching her way toward the front door, hoping not to be noticed by all the young men in the living room who were visiting with her older brother Russell. She was given a life-changing boost when her older brother interrupted his conversation and said to her in front of all his friends, “My, Emily, you look pretty tonight!” A small thing? No. There are young women who claim that they would not have made it through those growing-up years without the encouragement and support of their older brothers.

During his fifteenth year Joseph F. Smith was ordained an elder, endowed, and sent to serve as a missionary in Hawaii. There he was to experience illness and discouragement far beyond that which is normal for a young man of his age. But with these experiences came an increased deepening of his soul and a broadening of his capacities as new spiritual insights were added in his life. One such experience was a dream, significantly centering in a family experience. This dream occurred during a time in his mission when he was greatly depressed. “I was … entirely friendless, except the friendship of a poor, benighted … people. I felt as if I was so debased in my condition of poverty, lack of intelligence and knowledge, just a boy, that I hardly dared look a … man in the face.”
The dream included many things, but central to the dream was the presentation of a male child to the Prophet Joseph Smith. In the dream he saw his father and his mother, and it was his mother who handed him the child. He carried the child to the Prophet Joseph, handed it to him, and then stepped back. Then Joseph Smith, Hyrum Smith, and Brigham Young—who was still alive at the time of the dream—formed a triangle around the babe, blessed it, and then the Prophet offered the baby again to Joseph F. When the young elder had presented the baby to the Prophet Joseph, he had thrust his hand up against the chest of the Prophet to test the reality of the presence of the Prophet. Upon returning for the baby, Joseph F. had determined to test again whether this were just a dream or a reality.
“I wanted to know what it meant. So I purposely thrust myself up against the Prophet. I felt the warmth of his stomach. He smiled at me as if he comprehended my purpose. He delivered the child to me and I returned it to my mother, laid it on her lap.
“When I awoke that morning I was a man, although only a boy. There was not anything in the world that I feared. … That vision, that manifestation and witness that I enjoyed at that time has made me what I am, if I am anything that is good, or clean, or upright before the Lord. That has helped me out of every trial and through every difficulty.”
It is rather evident from President Smith’s comments that his main interest in this experience lies in the fact that his testimony of the Prophet at that time was intensified and expanded, but one cannot help noticing one detail from that dream, a detail upon which President Smith does not comment, and that is the presentation of a male child to the Prophet Joseph Smith for a blessing. In light of the fact that two of President Smith’s sons were eventually to come into the Council of the Twelve, and one of these Joseph Fielding Smith, was later to become president of the Church to bear, as it were, the mantle of the prophet in succession from Joseph Smith, one might wonder if there was not also prophetic dimension to this dream that he received as a young missionary, “alone on a mat, away up in the mountains of Hawaii.”

Recently I was privileged to meet a modern-day pioneer, a beloved daughter of God and recent convert to the Church in Chile. She is a single mother with two young sons. Through the power of the Atonement, she has been enabled to put her past behind her and is now earnestly striving to become a true disciple of Jesus Christ. As I think of her, a principle taught by Elder David A. Bednar comes to mind: “It is one thing to know that Jesus Christ came to earth to die for us—that is fundamental and foundational to the doctrine of Christ. But we also need to appreciate that the Lord desires, through His Atonement and by the power of the Holy Ghost, to live in us—not only to direct us but also to empower us.”13

As this Chilean sister and I discussed how to stay on the path leading to eternal life, she enthusiastically assured me that she was determined to continue on the path. She had been off the path most of her life, and she declared that there was nothing “out there” off the path that she wanted to have back in her life again. The enabling power of the Atonement is living inside of her. It is being written in her heart.

Elder Woodhouse and I were called to serve in the Dominican Republic as humanitarian missionaries from April 2019–2021. It was a dream come true for me and a complete surprise. There are no coincidences, and as Elder Gavarret reminded us during an interview, God is in the details.
My mother was born of Puerto Rican parents working in the sugar industry in La Romana, Dominican Republic in 1913. Both of her parents died in 1916 within months of one another when she was almost three years old. Puerto Rican neighbors raised her until she married and moved to Puerto Rico with her little family in 1930. My mother never found any paperwork on the birth or death of her parents or where they were buried. I felt this was my chance to do some digging and find what my mother could not find.
One Sunday we decided to visit a ward in La Romana. It happened to be Mother’s Day. I shared my story with the sisters in Relief Society with hopes that someone could help. A kind sister who happened to work in the civil registry of the town said she would research the archives for me. A few weeks later she said she could not find anything. An official registry was not kept, by law, until the 1930s. Some records were destroyed by floods or fire or just stored under poor conditions causing them to deteriorate. I gave her my sisters’ names and birth dates and the towns in which they were born. No records found. I was devastated. What do I do now?
With nowhere to turn I immersed myself in FamilySearch. I had found documentation on my grandmother in Puerto Rico before she left to La Romana in a census. I found a ship manifest that listed my grandmother traveling with a newborn (my mother) to Puerto Rico twice. The last time was within the year she had passed. I now knew the town she was from, my mother’s real birthday and who they visited. This was a real treasure. My mother was an orphan with no real information, and now I had a place to start.
Although I had not found what I was looking for, we took the time to visit all the places my mother talked about. I was able to get a feel for what life must have been like in the early days of the twentieth century living in a sugar cane industry town. This gave me renewed faith in continuing my search for more information.
As I continued to search further back through my grandparents’ lines, I found many wonderful treasures. I found that my family line in Puerto Rico dates to early explorers in the Caribbean. Some had served as governors in the Dominican Republic. Some were sea captains, farmers, and businessmen. Some were maids, seamstresses, and some of nobility. I was able to do the temple work for many there in the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple where we volunteered as ordinance workers once a week. I was beginning to feel a closeness to my ancestors that I thought I would never experience. My excitement and joy in the work I was doing carried me through times of disappointments. I knew that if I kept looking, I would be able to find many more, and I did.
My time in the Dominican Republic was cut short because of the pandemic, but not before finding my family and learning more about my rich Caribbean roots. The tapestry of my family lines is rich with stories of courage and faith. At one time, I thought I would not be able to complete my four generations with temple work, at least not in this life. But now I have gone well beyond four generations. Elder and Sister Soares said in the last RootsTech that one purpose of temple work was to unite the past with the present and the future. I have felt this each time as my grandchildren enter the temple to do the work for these sweet people I never knew existed. I can honestly say I now know them and love them. They are my family.

Youth in the Roswell Georgia Stake wanted to have a fancy stake dance, too. So they proposed the idea to their leaders, but were disappointed to find that there wasn’t a free day on the stake calendar or any money in the stake budget. Still, they knew there must be a way to have a fun activity that wouldn’t compromise their standards.
So instead of giving up, the youth and their leaders put their heads together. They decided that, even if they couldn’t have a stake event, there was no reason they couldn’t throw a Church-standards dance on their own at one of the church buildings in the stake. They were careful to invite all the youth in the stake so no one was left out. They also left the door open for youth to bring nonmember friends if they were willing to agree to keep Church standards of dress and behavior. With the help of their parents and using several of the techniques listed in this article, they had great success.
“I have never had so much fun,” says Lindsay Menden, a Laurel. “It was a great chance for us to have fun and keep our standards.”

Last year while Elder David S. Baxter and I were driving to a stake conference, we stopped at a restaurant. Later when returning to our car, we were approached by a woman who called out to us. We were startled by her appearance. Her grooming (or lack of it) was what I might politely call “extreme.” She asked if we were elders in the Church. We said yes. Almost unrestrained, she told the story of her tragic life, swamped in sin. Now, only 28 years old, she was miserable. She felt worthless, with nothing to live for. As she spoke, the sweetness of her soul began to emerge. Pleading tearfully, she asked if there was any hope for her, any way up and out of her hopelessness.
“Yes,” we responded, “there is hope. Hope is linked to repentance. You can change. You can ‘come unto Christ, and be perfected in him.’” We urged her not to procrastinate. She sobbed humbly and thanked us sincerely.
As Elder Baxter and I continued our journey, we pondered that experience. We recalled the counsel given to a hopeless soul by Aaron, who said, “If thou wilt repent of all thy sins, and will bow down before God, and call on his name in faith, … then shalt thou receive the hope which thou desirest.”

I had always thought of emergency preparedness in terms of taking care of my family and myself. But I learned to view preparation differently one Sunday morning in southern Florida in 1992. Hurricane Andrew, one of the most destructive and costly hurricanes to hit the United States, disrupted a beautiful summer in Miami, Florida.
I was temporarily living alone in a beach apartment, attending a three-month orientation program for my job. When the hurricane warning came and I learned we would need to evacuate our apartment complex by noon, an associate reserved hotel rooms in an inland region for our co-workers and me. I boarded my windows and stored my personal belongings.
In anticipation of a weeklong visit from my wife and children, I had previously purchased enough food and water for my family of six. I was comforted knowing I had a safe place to go and enough food to take with me to last several weeks.
As I prepared to leave at 10:30 a.m., I felt good—all was in order. I knelt in prayer, thanking Heavenly Father for my blessings and asking for His help during the coming storm. As I ended my prayer, the Spirit prompted me to say, “If there is anyone in need of help, please help me find him or her.”
Within a few minutes, a widow in her 80s knocked at my door. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have the wrong room. I’m looking for a friend.”
She looked frazzled. When I asked if I could help, she became distraught and said she didn’t know what to do or where to go. I asked her where she lived, and together we walked to her apartment, assessed her situation, and went over her options.
I told her that my company might have space in one of our hotel rooms, and I invited her to stay with our group. She sighed in relief. We quickly packed and secured her apartment and belongings, and I arranged for an associate to drive her car to the hotel.
As I prepared to leave, two more widows asked for assistance. I helped them calm down so they could think clearly and figure out where to find refuge. When I picked up luggage from one of my work associates, another elderly widow asked for help. We placed her fragile items in safe areas and helped her prepare to leave.
In the meantime, other co-workers invited two college students who had been living on an island to stay with our group at the inland hotel. The only food they had was a handful of snacks and a quart (.95 L) of mineral water. Fortunately, I had plenty to share, not only with them but with everyone else as well.
What a blessing it was to be prepared and guided by the Lord. This allowed me to provide a calming influence during a time of alarm and to spend almost all my time helping others without worrying about myself. I gained a new level of appreciation for the counsel from our priesthood leaders to be prepared.

Inspired by the theme “We all do better when we stick together,” the Young Men and Young Women of the Pleasant Hill First Ward (Walnut Creek California Stake) launched enthusiastically into a two-pronged spring service project. Day one was spent renovating the recently purchased meetinghouse of the Sea Ranch Branch in Guala, California. Early one Thursday morning during spring vacation, the 29 youths and seven leaders joined the branch members in work crews that cleared the backyard of weeds, prepared the flower beds and garden area, painted the interior of the building, mowed the lawn, dug postholes for a fence, and cleared a large picnic area under the giant redwoods. That evening the branch members served a barbecue dinner to all the laborers, after which the youth presented a musical variety show.
The next day, phase two began when the Pleasant Hill youth drove to the nearby Pomo Indian Reservation to clear a large field of brambles and brush. Afterwards the volunteers prepared a pit barbecue for the Lamanites and presented a portion of the previous evening’s program.
After the two days were completed, the youths agreed that the time spent serving their brothers and sisters had been well spent. The general feelings of all were expressed by one of the youths who said, “I didn’t know you could have so much fun while working so hard.”

I know two men who started out in life in very much the same way. Both were born to active LDS parents who lived in the same community. They belonged to the same ward, they had the same teachers, the same bishop, the same friends, and they even went to the same school.
Today those men are as different as they can be, not only in their vocational pursuits, but in their philosophies of life and their degree of spirituality. They are both successful professional men and financially secure, but there the similarity ends. One of them holds a responsible position in the Church, and has a family of sons and daughters who have honored their parents and who themselves have lived in accordance with the teachings of the gospel, striving to be a credit to their noble parents, and to their Church and community.
The other man gradually drifted away from the Church, married a nonmember, and became the father of children, at least two of whom were a constant source of worry and concern because of influences in their lives which caused them to be in what seemed a never-ending series of law violations—driving too fast, driving when drunk, drug abuse, etc.
We see these contrasting lifestyles all around us, and it is not my intent to judge or to say who is responsible for such behavior. However, when the second man came to me for advice in his desperation, it caused me to reflect and to wonder about those influences which draw men away from their faith and beliefs. I pondered over the circumstances which brought each of these two men to his present station in life, and was reminded of Paul’s warning to the elders of the Church in Ephesus as he declared:
“Take heed therefore unto yourselves, and to all the flock, over the which the Holy Ghost hath made you overseers, to feed the church of God, which he hath purchased with his own blood.
“For I know this, that after my departing shall grievous wolves enter in among you, not sparing the flock.
“Also of your own selves shall men arise, speaking perverse things, to draw away disciples after them.” (Acts 20:28–30.)
Later, after expressing thanks to God for the love, faithfulness, and hope of the Colossians as they accepted the gospel of Jesus Christ, Paul warned them as follows:
“Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of man, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.” (Col. 2:8.)
Why are some men deceived by the philosophies of men while others are able to accept the gospel and various teachings through faith? Some are like Thomas who was not with the Twelve when Jesus appeared to them following his resurrection. You will remember that Thomas said:
“Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and thrust my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
Eight days later, when Jesus appeared again and Thomas was with the others, Jesus said:
“Reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands; and reach hither thy hand, and thrust it into my side: and be not faithless, but believing.”
And then upon the acknowledgement by Thomas, the Savior said:
“Thomas, because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.” (John 20:25, 27, 29.)
Sometimes I think we feel there is more disputation and uncertainty and anti-Christ sentiment in the world today than ever before. Perhaps this is true if we consider the increase in world population, but there have always been dissidents and persecutors and false prophets who would lead the people astray and destroy the divine plan of God the Father.
These are the words of President Joseph F. Smith in the October conference of 1909:
“There never was a time, perhaps, when there were more false prophets than there are today, when there were more visionary men or more false Christs than there are today. We get letters from them, and commands and threats from them, and admonitions and warnings and revelations from them, nearly every day. … There is no one that can get up some foolish idea, or start out proposing to organize a church of some kind, no matter what the inconsistency of his claims may be, but what he will find some one to follow him, somebody as foolish as he is, and who knows as little.
To the faithful Latter-day Saint is given the right to know the truth, as God knows it; and no power beneath the celestial kingdom can lead him astray, darken his understanding, becloud his mind or dim his faith or his knowledge of the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ. It can’t be done, for the light of God shines brighter than the illumination of falsehood and error, therefore, those who possess the light of Christ, the spirit of revelation and the knowledge of God, rise above all these vagaries in the world; they know of this doctrine, that it is of God and not of man.” (Conference Report, October 1909, pp. 8–9.)
We are so fortunate to understand the purpose of Christ’s mission, to have the gospel, to be led by a prophet of God, and to be encouraged by the testimonies of the General Authorities and others who bear witness of the truthfulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. We are encouraged to study and to gain a knowledge for ourselves that this work is true, and each individual can have this testimony through study and prayer.
In October 1935, Elder Stephen L. Richards, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, addressed the general conference as follows:
“I believe that as high an order of intelligence is required to understand and interpret the things of the spirit as is required to comprehend the truths of science and other secular matters. I believe that accomplishments and achievements in the field of religion are just as worthy and commendable and great as are accomplishments in the field of science, in the domain of business and commerce, and in all other worldly affairs.
“I also believe that a great many people in this world do not believe this thing. I am convinced that the people of the world have so deprecated, in their own estimation, the real place and value of the spiritual life and of religious activity that they have been weaned away from allegiance to religious institutions, spiritual concepts, and this great world that is out beyond the so-called natural world. To me it is the greatest misfortune that can overtake the human family, and I believe that the youth of our Church, unfortunately, are not free from the influence of this worldly philosophy that has so engulfed the minds and thinking of men.”
He expressed great concern for the youth of the land who were being subjected to worldly philosophies which deny the existence of the spiritual world, and stated:
Their education has contributed greatly to this situation, not purposely perhaps, but nevertheless truly, for I have but little doubt that there are to be found many young men and women who have lost faith and departed from the old practices and the old traditions, because those things have not only been omitted but they have been purposely ignored and of times deprecated by the educational systems and influences under whose tutelage the youth have come. …
“I believe that as I appeal to the teachers of the country to encourage their students to keep open minds on all these questions that affect the faith of their fathers, I not only speak the sentiment of our own Church but likewise the sentiment of all good religious people who seek to bring to the youth of their churches the spirit, the theology and the traditions which they foster.
“It is such an easy thing to discourage faith in this world of material things in this world of science, where we have laid so much emphasis on all the scientific processes and developments that have been so much in evidence the last few decades. It is so easy to say a word to undermine faith. I wish that those who have within their power the formation of the views of youth, the cultivation of their character, I do wish that they would be careful.
“As a tax-payer and a supporter of the public school system, which I admire, which I regard as one of the greatest factors for the civilization of the race, which I have always regarded as being an essential constituent of a democracy and on which my children are dependent for education, I have always entertained the view that there is no right on the part of those to whom that education is entrusted to in any way say one single word or promote one thought that will tear down the faith of my children and lead them from the philosophy of faith.
“Our youth are especially susceptible to influences that lead them away from faith because, in my opinion they do not always have an adequate and proper understanding of the Gospel of Christ. Sometimes I fear they seem to feel so much concerned about the injunctions and the inhibitions and the proscriptions, that they fail to appreciate the positive, beautiful, life-giving, joyful message of the Gospel of Jesus. …
“I wish that it were possible for us to teach our youth that all the enduring satisfactions they may ever hope for, all the real joys and pleasures of life, are to be had in pursuance of and not in opposition to Gospel principles.” (Conference Report, October 1935, pp. 94–96.)
There is no happiness or peace of mind except through obedience to the commandments of God. There is no salvation or eternal life except through acceptance of the gospel and living according to its teachings. There are no problems facing the nations of the world or individuals for which answers cannot be found in the gospel of Jesus Christ. He came to earth for that purpose—to give us a plan of life and salvation through which we could enjoy happiness and eternal life.
May I remind us of Paul’s message to the Ephesians:
“There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling;
“One Lord, one faith, one baptism,
“One God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all. …
“And he gave some, apostles; and some, prophets; and some, evangelists; and some, pastors and teachers;
“For the perfecting of the saints, for the work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ:
“Till we all come in the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the son of God, unto a perfect man, unto the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ:
“That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craziness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive;
“But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ.” (Eph. 4:4–6, 11–15.)

During this season, the hearts of those who are confined reach out and yearn for a Christmas visit. One Christmas while visiting a care center, I sat and talked with five elderly ladies, the oldest of whom was 101. She was blind, yet she recognized my voice.

“Bishop, you are a little late this year!” she said. “I thought you would never come.”

We had a wonderful time together. One patient, however, looked longingly out the window and repeated over and over, “I know my boy will come to see me today.” I wondered if he would, for there had been other Christmas seasons when he had never called.

There is yet time this year to extend the helping hand, the loving heart, and the willing spirit—in other words, to follow the example set by our Savior and to serve as He would have us serve. As we serve Him, we will not forfeit our opportunity, as did the innkeeper of old,7 to make time for Him in our lives and room for Him in our hearts.

The news was heartbreaking. Doctors informed the family that their father had cancer and would live only a few more months at best. Medical science could do no more.
One of the grief-stricken sons was a nuclear engineer, an expert on what man can do through the miracles of technology. But in this situation, technology was helpless.
In a spirit of fasting and prayer, Richard Scott and his four brothers gathered in a circle and gave their father a priesthood blessing in which he was promised a full recovery. The blessing was fulfilled.

Stringy orange chunks went skittering across the road. Nothing was left of the carefully-carved pumpkin face except a lonely candle stuck in the pulpy mess near my feet.
“C’mon, throw yours,” Mike said, wiping his hands on his pants.
“Do it!” Jeff urged.
Kevin pushed my shoulder. “Hurry up! Smash it, and let’s get out of here.”
My friends stood in a circle around me. The pumpkin felt smooth and cold in my hands. It was heavy, even though the stringy insides had been pulled out and holes carved for a silly face. I remembered how long it had taken me to clean and carve my own pumpkin at home, scooping out the slippery seeds and carefully slicing out sections for its eyes, nose, and mouth.
But this pumpkin wasn’t mine. I had grabbed it off a porch tonight after trick-or-treating, then waited impatiently for house lights to blink off one by one. It wasn’t my idea to smash the pumpkins, but my friends said it was great fun. They had each swiped one too.
“Everyone does it,” Mike had said. “It’s a Halloween tradition. Nobody can see you—it’s too dark out. Just hold the pumpkin up as high as you can and smash it on the road.”
“It doesn’t hurt anyone,” Kevin added. “It’s just an old pumpkin. It’ll be rotten soon anyway.”
They were right. It was great fun. My pumpkin-smashing sent chunks flying farther than anyone else’s. I laughed out loud when some gooey pieces splatted on Jeff’s pant legs. Jeff pushed me backward into some pumpkin mess on the road. Mike grabbed a pumpkin chunk and plopped it on top of Jeff’s costume wig. Soon pumpkin pieces were flying everywhere.
A porch light switched on suddenly, and a man’s voice growled from the lit doorway. “Hey you boys! What’s going on out there?”
A small figure in pajamas, clutching a teddy bear, stood by the man’s side. “Daddy, where’s my pumpkin?” asked a tiny voice. “Did the boys break my pumpkin?”
We raced through neighborhood yards until we were safely out of sight, finally crouching behind shrubs to see if anyone was following us. “Watch out! Over there!” But it was only a tree shadow stretching its long black body over the ground toward us. The wind moaned and sighed. Clawlike branches scratched unearthly noises against rooftops. I gulped deep breaths of cold night air and tried to steady my trembling legs. This was scary—but exciting too!
We listened for police sirens or neighbors yelling for us to come out. A dog howled faintly in the distance. An airplane droned in the dark overhead. But there were no footsteps, no searching flashlights, no angry voices. We were safe. We laughed, patting each other on the back. This had been easy!
But something followed me as I walked home. Something invisible wrapped its long, icy fingers around my head and invaded my ears. It was sneakier and more chilling than any make-believe Halloween ghost.
It was a tiny voice crying over a pumpkin—the one I had smashed.
The voice chased me all the way back to my house. I quietly climbed the front steps and sat down in the dark shadows. My own pumpkin scowled at me from the porch railing as if it knew that I had smashed one of its relatives. For fun. Because “everyone did it.”
The front door opened, and Dad poked his head outside, whistling for our dog. “Hey, kiddo, did you have a good time trick-or-treating? Did you get any candy for your old dad?”
I handed him my bag full of treats. “Here. Take what you want. I’m not hungry.”
Dad sat down beside me. He pulled a sucker out of the bag, unwrapped it, and pointed it at my pumpkin on the railing. “You know, Son, in a way you’re a little bit like that pumpkin over there.”
“Sure, Dad,” I said. “I have an empty space where my brains should be.”
Dad rolled the sucker over his tongue. “There’s nothing wrong with your brain—when you use it,” he said, picking at some pumpkin goo still clinging to my pants. “I meant that there’s a ‘candle’ inside you, too—a bright spark that lights up your face and makes you who you are. It’s a pure, clear, beautiful light that’s inside every person. Maybe it shines a little less when they do something they’re ashamed of, but it never goes out completely.” He gently turned my face toward his. “Your light looks a little dim tonight.”
“It’s a wonder it didn’t go out like a smashed pumpkin,” I said. “A broken pumpkin just lying in the road, waiting for a car to run over it. A pumpkin that didn’t even belong to me.”
I stood up and walked over to the railing. My hands circled the perfectly-decorated pumpkin that had taken me a whole hour to clean and carve. I picked it up and started down the front steps.
“Where are you going?” Dad asked.
I turned to face him. “A little voice is calling me,” I choked out.
Dad studied his sucker. “A voice?”
“Of a little boy in pajamas.”
Dad smiled. “Follow that voice,” he said. “Your light is getting brighter every second.”

My freshman year at Brigham Young University was lonely, and as the time passed, it did not get any better. My roommate was very popular, especially with the girls, and that just made things worse. One night, I had had enough. I needed to find out if anyone cared. So I left and went to a place where I knew I could find out. I went to a little spot just above the Provo Temple. It was sunset and the lights of the temple and the city were just beginning to come on. I found myself deep in prayer. I fervently asked my Father in Heaven to let me know that he cared, that he loved me, and that I was his son. The answer I received is one that I will never forget. His Spirit touched mine and let me know that he loved me. He encircled me about in his arms of love, and touched me with his spiritual hands.

I recently noticed my tendency to use electronics during church and youth activities. It had become a habit. Anytime I saw my phone, I immediately had to grab it and check to see if I had any new notifications or text messages. The solution? Hiding my phone from myself. Whether it was in a bag, under a chair, or even with a friend—if I couldn’t see my phone, I wouldn’t be tempted to use it.
Taryn M., age 15, Florida, USA

The little girl’s black hair was as shiny as patent leather, and her bright ebony eyes seemed to hardly ever blink. She was always so busy examining something, turning it upside down or inside out, that blinking seemed a waste of time.
Lynette Wood was her name, but she preferred being called Ettenyl. People laughed and nodded tolerantly at one another. And her mother humored her when she remembered to, which wasn’t very often. “What’s that you said your name was?” she would ask. Why couldn’t they remember? Lynette wondered, then decided that there was nothing to be done except to answer to both names. Once in a while even Lynette forgot, especially when she was involved with turning something inside out.
“Lynette! Lynette! I’ve called you to supper five times! If I have to call again, I’m going to give your share to the dog!” her mother threatened.
“You didn’t call me by my name,” Ettenyl muttered, but she hurried inside, anyway.
The little girl was usually happy. Her mother let her take clocks apart, and she laughed when Ettenyl made sand buckets into hats. When she built towers that tottered on one small block with six across the top, her father said that she was smart. Every time she turned around to look, the shapes of things changed. If she walked backward and watched, the trees changed colors and got smaller.
When the leaves grew scarlet and her mother said, “Lynette, it’s time for you to go to school,” Ettenyl was excited and a little scared.
Her teacher, Miss Morris, had beautiful, flowing, golden hair. It fell across her eyes, and great blue circles peered through like discs on a magic screen. Ettenyl was so enchanted that she forgot to answer a question that the teacher had asked her. The teacher frowned and pushed away the golden curtain. Her voice slashed at the little girl. Ettenyl’s stomach tightened up and tried to run away inside her body. She caught her stomach and sat very still with her hands pressed against it.
The next day Ettenyl was determined to do better. She labored hard over the paper, printing her name. Try as she might, she could not get the pencil to make the lovely round circles. Finally she got all the letters copied. She was the last one to finish, but her last letter was the best circle that she had ever made.
“That’s very good, Lynette,” her teacher said, “but this last letter isn’t quite right. Your last name is Wood.” The teacher pointed to Ettenyl’s “perfect” little circle and said, “You have written Woob.” She corrected it with a big, red mark.
Ettenyl’s stomach revolted. She sat still and tight.
The teacher held out a pencil and said, “Please write the d correctly at the end of your name.”
Ettenyl couldn’t move; her hands were stiff from holding her stomach.
“Lynette, please take the pencil.”
She took the pencil and drew a straight line.
“Good. Now put the circle on it.”
Ettenyl bit her lip, and she managed to draw a squarish circle.
“No, Lynette. That’s a b. Your name ends with a d, like this.” The teacher demonstrated.
Ettenyl spent the rest of the week trying to do it right. But each time that she tried, Miss Morris looked so disappointed that Ettenyl started to cry, and the children teased her about it on the playground.
The following week Miss Morris asked Ettenyl’s mother to come to school for a conference after classes were over.
“Don’t look like that, Lynette,” her mother said. “I’m just going to talk with her. Lots of parents visit with their children’s teachers at school.”
Ettenyl went home and waited and waited. Just when she thought that she couldn’t stand it any longer, she noticed the rocket plane that she had made the day before. She had tossed it into the air to make it fly, and now it leaned at a rakish angle against the table leg. Suddenly she had an idea. If she removed the tips of the wings, turned the body on end, and stuck the wings on the bottom, it would be a robot. She was so engrossed with her project that she didn’t notice when her mother came home.
Every night after that, Ettenyl’s mother helped her read and write. Sometimes it took so long that her mother bit her lip angrily. Ettenyl’s stomach hurt, and she hated going to school. The letters floated like the noodles in her alphabet soup. She burst into tears.
“Lynette! Stop crying! You can’t do anything if you cry!” Her mother was cross. Ettenyl cried louder. “Why are you crying?”
“I can’t read. I’m stupid!” she blubbered soggily.
“Oh, Lynette, you’re not stupid. Reading is very hard work,” her mother comforted her.
“You’re mad at me.”
“I’m impatient. Being patient is hard work for me just like reading is hard work for you.”
Ettenyl had an idea. “If you have to help me read, then I can help you to be patient,” she offered.
“That’s a good idea!” her mother agreed.
They worked and worked and worked, and finally Ettenyl put the letters in the right order, even though she knew that there were other ways to see them. After reading, Ettenyl turned her toys inside out. She learned to make one toy into a helicopter, a boat, and even a funny-looking person.
“That’s wonderful!” her mother laughed. “What is it?”
“It’s a ‘twistup.’ I can twist it all up—see?”
As Ettenyl grew up, she invented more twistups, and she became a famous toy maker by turning things inside out and upside down for happy children. Grown-up Ettenyl called herself Lynette and almost forgot her old name. Eventually she married and had a fine son, Kevin, who had shiny black hair and bright eyes that almost never blinked. She read him stories and turned him upside down until he squealed with delight. One day she took Kevin river-rafting. They loved bouncing and swirling in the rushing water, but no matter how she tried, they always went through the biggest rapids backward.
“I can’t see where we’re going,” Kevin complained.
“That’s the way Ettenyl would do it,” his mother answered.
“Who?” he asked.
She just smiled mysteriously and said, “Wasn’t it fun that way? Hold on tight!”
They laughed together as they swooshed backward through another wall of foamy water.