Gospel Story Finder

Bishop Brown’s relationship with his family is one of respect and love, of understood meanings, and of honest and helpful criticism. Joanne, Bishop Brown’s oldest daughter, remembers that when she went to BYU there was a lesson given in her student ward about loving your parents, and the counsel was given to the new students at BYU to write their parents and tell them of their love for them. Joanne said, “In our home we didn’t say I love you, we just loved each other.” But Joanne followed instructions and wrote her father and mother telling them how much she really did love them. When Bishop Brown received that letter he called his daughter immediately. Joanne says she will always remember how touched and grateful her father was for her expression of love to him.

When I was 10 and living in Taiwan, my grandmother introduced the missionaries to our family. My dad was able to baptize me, my mom, and my brother. However, soon after we were sealed in the temple, the rest of my family stopped attending church.
So, naturally, the responsibility of family history work fell on my shoulders. But that task was never easy for me.
I tried to follow the invitations from our Church leaders to do this sacred work, but because of various setbacks, I stopped putting in much effort.
For one, my parents never liked the idea of doing temple work for the dead. They felt that we were making the decision for our ancestors to receive ordinances and that it was disrespectful to their agency.
I also had a hard time finding information about my ancestors. Most Chinese families keep a book of genealogy called a zupu that contains records that trace as far back as 2000 B.C. But my family’s zupu didn’t have the birth and death years of my male ancestors or any information at all about my female ancestors, so I couldn’t submit names to the temple or perform ordinances for my ancestors.
After these setbacks, I gave up on my family history efforts.
By the time I got to college, I hadn’t thought about family history for years. Then, during one semester, my stake encouraged us to set a goal to take a family name to the temple. Our stake leaders promised us that if we would pray before we started doing family history work, we would be led to the ancestors who wanted their ordinances done.
At first, I wasn’t really excited about this invitation. I had already tried and failed before.
However, as I prayed every day to have success in my family history work and for a desire to keep moving forward in my efforts, my heart was softened. And soon enough, I did start feeling a desire to begin again.
One night, I felt a strong prompting to open up my family tree on FamilySearch and research one particular line of ancestors. After unsuccessfully searching a few different names in a search engine, I found a web page for one of my ancestors.
Apparently, this ancestor was a prominent figure during the revolution in Taiwan, and all his information was recorded on this page, with sources attached. From there, I was able to find more information about his children and parents.
Through that random internet search, I was able to find and submit six names to the temple that day, and within a month I had submitted over 50 names.
It was incredible.

Anela (14), Chiyo (11), and Daniel (10) from the Philippines have a brother, Bien (12), who has cerebral palsy. They see him as a unique person with his own strengths. They wish others would get to know Bien the way they do.
“Where we live, there’s a steep hill that my siblings and I call a ‘mountain,’” Anela says. “We enjoy riding our bikes up the hill and racing back down. Bien has a hard time going up, so we help him. Sometimes people stare at him. It bothers me when that happens. But Bien doesn’t seem to mind. He smiles and waves at them as we pass by.
“I wish people would know when they see Bien that he’s friendly and enjoys being around other people. He’s shy at first, but he’s a lot of fun once he feels comfortable. He can’t do what able-bodied people can do, but he loves to learn. I’ve learned from Bien that we shouldn’t worry so much about what everyone else thinks about us, and we should treat everyone with kindness.”

Last night was Thursday and everyone was home (untypical), and everyone was busy (typical). Rinda, seventeen, had to write a paragraph for English using a wild list of vocabulary words, and she wanted some ideas. Dinny, twelve, was struggling with a report on Treasure Island to be given orally and wondered how to make it interesting. Shelley, fifteen, was sandwiching geometry theorems between preparations for a report in American Problems on movie ratings and pornography, and she wanted my views. Becky, nineteen, wanted to know a good book to read and asked what I thought about the issue of faculty tenure as reported in the college newspaper that day. Megan, eight, needed some poems to take for library day and asked where to find some information on planets.
On a night like that, I am especially glad for some resources provided by my past to bolster my pretty-tattered present.

“This one’s for Valerie,” I said with a grin, and held up the tiniest valentine in the whole package. It was just one small heart with “Have a heart—Be my valentine,” printed across it.
Mom looked at the valentine and asked, “Who’s Valerie?”
I scooted my chair a little closer to the kitchen table and wrote Valerie’s name on the back of the tiny card. “Oh, she’s a new girl in the class,” I mumbled. “At least, she was new a month ago.”
Mom took the valentine from me and looked at it again. “Why does Valerie get this one?”
I heaved a big sigh. “Mom, she’ll be lucky to get any valentines. I bet I’m the only kid in the whole class who gives her one.”
I reached for the valentine, but Mom held it back. “So if this is going to be her only valentine,” Mom asked, still holding the tiny heart, “why give her this one?”
“Well, after I picked out the cards for my friends and the rest of my class, that was the only one left.”
For a long time Mom didn’t say anything. She just looked down at the small valentine, with her lips pressed together. Finally she asked, “Don’t the kids like Valerie?”
I squirmed a little in my chair. “I didn’t say that they didn’t like her,” I answered. “I just said that nobody would be giving her a valentine. And they won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, Mom,” I moaned. “They just won’t. Valerie’s kind of different. Some kids just are.”
“Different? How?”
“Well,” I mumbled, “she doesn’t ever say anything. Even when Miss Willis talks to her, she just whispers or nods her head. And she’s not very cute. She always wears the same sweater, and most of the time her hair isn’t even combed. Bobby Richards says she has fleas.” Mom glared at me, so I added quickly, “But he’s just joking. She really doesn’t. She eats her lunch alone, and she—”
“So after everyone treats her like that,” Mom cut in, “you’re going to give her your very worst valentine?”
“Well, what’s wrong with that. Like I said, she’ll be lucky to get any.”
“Jared,” Mom sighed, “is that what Sister Hansen teaches you in Primary?”
“Aw, Mom, this is for school, not Primary,” I pointed out, trying to sound like I believed it. But I got a funny twitching inside, and I knew that Valerie’s valentine had a lot to do with Primary.
“Jared, if what you learn in Primary doesn’t help you in school, then what good is Primary? And what about everything that your dad and I have been trying to teach you all these years?”
I stared down at my hands and shrugged my shoulders.
For a long time we just sat there. Then Mom spoke quietly, “Have you wondered what it would be like to go to a new school and not have any friends? All the time you’d be thinking that there wasn’t a person in the whole world who liked you. And then on Valentine Day, when everyone else is expecting to get lots of valentines, you only get the tiny ones that nobody wanted to give to their friends. How would you like to be Valerie?”
“All right,” I mumbled, reaching for one of the nicer valentines in the package, “I was going to give this one to Brad, but I guess I can give it to Valerie if you want me to.”
Mom shook her head. “Don’t do it for me, Jared. Do it for Valerie.”
“All right,” I growled, “I’ll do it for Valerie.” I reached for a pencil so that I could write Valerie’s name on it.
“Wait,” Mom said suddenly. “Let’s give Valerie a special valentine.”
“This is a special valentine!” I protested, holding up the one I’d planned to give to Brad. “It’s the best one I have!”
“But there will be others like it. Let’s give her one that is the very best of all, one that will make her smile for the rest of the day.”
Before I could say another word, Mom headed for the cupboard and began pulling down flour and sugar and salt and other stuff.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“We are going to make a valentine for Valerie.”
“What do we need all that for?”
“This isn’t going to be just an ordinary valentine.”
At first all I did was watch, but soon my hands were covered with flour and sugar, and Mom and I were having a great time.
Mom and I mixed up a whole glob of dough. Then we rolled it out on the table and shaped it into a giant heart. Mom popped it into the oven, and I began getting out ingredients for the frosting. Then, when the giant heart came from the oven and was cool enough, we set to work, decorating it with white, red, and pink frosting and some jelly beans. We gave the heart a face, and across the face in fat red letters we wrote, “Have a heart” and “Be my very special valentine.”
When we were finished, I licked my lips and grinned. “Let’s eat it now,” I said.
“Don’t you dare!” Mom threatened, shaking her finger at me and trying hard not to laugh.
“But it’s too good to just give away—to anybody!” I exclaimed.
“It’s too good to keep!”
“But, Mom, I can’t give this to Valerie,” I objected. “What will everybody think? They’ll say that she’s my girlfriend.” I could feel my cheeks burning. “Even if I do want to be nice to her, I sure don’t want everybody saying that she’s my girlfriend.”
Mom thought for a minute. “Don’t tell anyone. When no one is looking, you can slip it into her envelope. She’ll know that someone in the class gave it to her. Just knowing that she has a friend, even if she doesn’t know who it is, will make all the difference in the world. And I can promise you that tomorrow Valerie will be the happiest girl in your whole class.”
The next morning, with Valerie’s valentine tucked in my backpack, I headed for school. All morning I kept the valentine hidden in my desk, waiting for a chance to slip the giant cookie into Valerie’s valentine envelope. But I never had a chance. Someone was always around.
Just when I’d given up hope, the lunch bell rang and everyone rushed to the cafeteria. I was alone! Snatching the valentine from inside my desk, I sneaked to the back of the room and slipped it into Valerie’s envelope. It barely fit. There were a few other valentines there, but they were just little ones like the one that I had planned to give her before Mom had talked to me. I was glad that Valerie would have at least one good valentine.
It wasn’t until the middle of the afternoon that Miss Willis let us start our valentine party. We played games and had cookies and punch before Miss Willis went to the back wall and took down each of the valentine envelopes and called us up one at a time to get them. Valerie’s was the second to the last. When Miss Willis took it down, she exclaimed, “Valerie surely has some heavy valentines in her envelope!”
Valerie shuffled shyly to the back of the room and took her envelope from Miss Willis. As soon as she felt how heavy it was, a smile tickled the corners of her lips. Everybody watched Valerie as she returned to her seat and sat down. At first she just left the envelope unopened in front of her. Then Martin Turner shouted, “Come on, Valerie, let’s see what’s inside.”
Valerie’s face turned red, and she ducked her head. She carefully opened the envelope and peeked inside. Then she slowly pulled out the giant valentine cookie that I had wrapped in red tissue paper. Everyone in the whole class was quiet and stared at the mysterious package. As Valerie pulled away the paper, her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.
“How beautiful!” Miss Willis exclaimed. “Who’s it from?”
Valerie searched for a name, but there wasn’t one. Finally she shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s a secret valentine.” Miss Willis smiled. “That’s the very best kind.”
Valerie nodded and smiled. Then suddenly she said, “Thank you, whoever you are. It’s the best valentine in the whole world!” She was absolutely glowing!
After school I ran all the way home. “She loved it!” I shouted as I charged through the front door and raced for the kitchen, where Mom was peeling potatoes. “Everybody loved it. They all said that it was the very best valentine they’d ever seen.”
Mom smiled. “And did she find out who gave it to her?”
I shook my head. “She never guessed, so she she thought we were all her friends. And shared it with the whole class. And she talked, Mom! And after school I saw her walking home with Amy and Sylvia and Tara. It was like magic.”
“And was she the happiest girl in the class?”
“The very happiest!” I grinned.
“And who was the happiest boy?” she teased.
I grinned. “Me, of course.” And I was.

Maybe you have felt similar as your efforts at sharing the gospel have seemed to come to naught. Ross Pooley of the Bridlington Ward felt so as he came to the end of his two-year mission to Scotland. Speaking to his Mission President he said, “I was very emotional and expressed my love for my mission, but also some feeling of regret in failing to baptise during my two years of service.”

Fast forward forty years and the picture looks very different. Thinking about a family he taught while on his mission, but who never committed to baptism, he decided to look them up. Deeply religious and long-time investigators of the Church, they started to attend Latter-day Saint meetings in 1999 while living in Independence, Missouri and twenty years later were baptised.
While serving in Dundee, Ross and his companion reactivated a young man and his mother. “I didn’t realise the impact until ten years after my mission when I met him at a reunion of all British missionaries. He had served a mission in America and baptised twenty-four people, was married with children and working at the Church offices in Frankfurt.”
Another great man that Ross worked with sadly stopped attending church many years later and was excommunicated. “On trying to keep up with people from those days, I found out from members that he had returned and through communication with him, I was able to be with him in the Preston Temple on the day his endowment was restored for him.”
Shortly after returning from his mission Ross went to work for a packaging and printing company in West London. During break times the men would meet in a smoke-filled room to play darts. Ross chose to stay at his workstation and read the Book of Mormon. One of the female packers asked him why he didn’t join the others and Ross took the opportunity to tell her about the word of wisdom and shared gospel principles with her. Not long after that conversation he changed jobs.
A couple of years later, while serving as a bishop, he received information about a new family moving into his ward. He felt he knew the name and to his delight found it to be that of the lady with whom he’d had the gospel discussion. Along with her husband and son she had joined the Church not long after her breaktime discussion with Ross.
Years later in York, whilst serving as a home teacher with his son, they were assigned to a less active family who would not let them into their home. On birthdays and at Christmas they would leave gifts and cards hoping for an opportunity to teach in their home. One day, as they went out to visit others, they felt prompted to try once more. As they knocked on the door, their son informed them that the family were all at the hospital where their daughter was giving birth. Quickly buying flowers and a card they headed to the hospital to offer any support or help they could give the family. Because of this they were able to minister to the family who gradually returned to activity.
Ross said, “As I reflect on the many experiences I have had in sharing the gospel, I wonder what effect it has had on those people. There may be in our lives hearts that have been changed without us even knowing. Each of us is placed with opportunities to further His plan. There is no accident as to where we live and who we meet. We are all involved in Heavenly Father’s plan and should take every opportunity to share the gospel at all times and in all places. He will make the changes in the lives of His children at the best time for their progress, whether it be in this life or in the spirit world.”
Samuel Smith felt he had been a failure, but the one Book of Mormon he managed to give away made its way into the hands of Brigham Young, who passed it to Heber C Kimball. We too can see amazing results if we but try.

Johan and Lisa Koch of Copenhagen could tell them about the long-term rewards of setting the right priorities. The Kochs joined the Church as a young married couple in 1968 and reared their seven children in the Church. In 2004 when they served as guides during the open house for the Copenhagen temple, a man who had gone to school with one of their sons came on a tour. “I had to come,” the man explained, “because I know Christian, and I know what it would mean to him.”
The Kochs first went to the temple in Switzerland many years ago, and they set an example for their family by serving as temple workers when that meant an eight-hour trip to Stockholm. They kept a picture of the temple on a wall in their home. They used every resource to help their children grow strong in the gospel, including family prayer, home evening, and home-study seminary.
After years of having to travel outside their country, “to have a temple so close is a special blessing,” Sister Koch says. Her husband, who was released as president of the Copenhagen stake in 2001, sees the coming of the temple as a sign of growing maturity among members. But the Kochs are also impressed by its effect on those who are not members. When they talked of sealing during the open house tours, Brother Koch says, “you could tell which couples had a good marriage by the way they looked at each other. They would ask, ‘Could we do that?’”

A mother of a son with special needs says: “When we moved to a new ward, I called the bishop to see if there was a class for Adam. I called back several times, but no one ever contacted me. My visiting teachers and home teachers began to ask why we weren’t attending. Again we asked if someone could help us with our problem. But as time went on and no one responded, we began to drift away from the Church. My husband and I were divorced, and I began to go to another church because they had a class each Sunday for special children. Anyone of any faith was welcome.”

Fortunately, this good woman later met and married a man who was contacted by the missionaries and joined the Church. The family moved to a new area where the leaders responded to the needs of the son, and the whole family has now been sealed in the temple.

Amy and Becca lay wide awake in their beds. Amy counted stars out the window as they appeared one by one in the sky.
Becca sat up. “Amy,” she said, “I can’t sleep.”
“I know,” Amy said. “Me neither.”
“We forgot to say family prayer again tonight,” Becca whispered.
“I know,” Amy said. “Mommy forgot to tell us to brush our teeth too. I guess taking care of baby Eric makes Mommy forget things.”
“Yeah,” Becca agreed. “And Daddy is out of town, so he can’t remind us.”
“I have an idea,” Amy said. “Let’s look out for things that Mommy might forget.”
“OK,” Becca said. “Let’s call ourselves the Lookout Girls.”
“That’s a great name,” Amy said. “The Lookout Girls will start tomorrow!”
The next day the girls woke up early.
Amy jumped out of bed. “Don’t forget we need to make our beds before breakfast,” she said.
“OK,” Becca said.
The girls finished just in time to hear Mommy calling them to breakfast.
“Don’t forget, Becca. We need to wash our hands before we eat,” Amy said.
Amy and Becca washed up and started down the hallway. Amy noticed Becca’s skates on the floor.
“Don’t forget to pick up your skates before someone trips on them,” Amy reminded.
Becca picked up her skates and marched back to her room. “Amy sure is being bossy,” she mumbled.
After breakfast, Amy said, “Don’t forget to take your dishes to the sink, Becca.”
“OK,” Becca said, frowning.
“What’s the matter?” Amy asked. “I’m just trying to help you remember.”
“I know,” Becca said. “But you won’t let me remember anything!”
“I know you remember things,” Amy said. “I just think of them first. But don’t worry. You’ll get a turn.”
When it was time to go to the store, Amy and Becca climbed into the car and buckled their seat belts. Mommy buckled Eric into his car seat.
“Don’t forget to buckle your seat belt, Mommy,” Amy said.
Becca stared out the window.
When Mommy pulled into a parking spot, Amy jumped out of the car and started walking toward the store.
Becca called out, “Wait, Amy. Don’t forget to hold my hand and watch for cars.”
“Oops, I forgot,” Amy said, taking her sister’s hand. “Thanks, Becca. I’m glad you remembered.”
At bedtime, Becca said, “Don’t forget, Mommy. We need to say our family prayer.”
“And we need to brush our teeth,” Amy said.
“You girls haven’t let me forget a thing today,” Mommy said. “You sure have been helpful.”
The girls smiled at each other. “We did a good job,” Becca whispered.
“Yeah,” Amy said, putting her arm around her younger sister. “The Lookout Girls are a good team!”

One day, shortly before I was baptized, I was at my grandmother’s house when she went to the basement to get something. She tripped and fell and couldn’t get up. She called to me, but I was watching TV and didn’t hear her. After about 10 minutes, I heard my name quietly, “Tom!” I went to look for her and found her lying on the floor. I was not strong enough to help her up, so I ran to a neighbor’s house. She came and helped Grandmother up.
Grandmother told me, “Tom, that was the Holy Ghost that you heard. I was too far away for you to hear me.”
I know it was the Holy Ghost who whispered to me. Now I am baptized, and I am glad to have the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Tom R., age 8, Germany

When I was five years old, my mother bought me a pet turtle. One day I was outside playing with my turtle, watching it slowly crawl through the tall blades of grass. Suddenly a loud noise distracted me, and I looked away. When I looked back my turtle was gone!
I searched and searched, but I couldn’t find the turtle. Then I remembered that my mother had taught me that Heavenly Father answers our prayers. I knelt on the lawn and asked Heavenly Father to help me find my turtle.
I finished my prayer, opened my eyes, and looked down. I expected to see my turtle. But it wasn’t there. And no matter where I looked or how much I prayed, I never did find my turtle.
I told my mom what happened and asked if I could have a new turtle. She said yes, but when she went back to the pet store, they had no more turtles. She found out that all the turtles at the store, including mine, had been infected with a disease that could have made me and my family members very sick.
Now, many years later, I can see that it was a great blessing that I didn’t find my turtle. I know now that Heavenly Father answers all our prayers. He knows what is best for us. Sometimes the answer is, “Yes.” Sometimes the answer is, “No.” Often the answer is, “No, because I have something better for you. Just be patient.”

What does my church believe?” Andrea stammered.
“Yeah.” Jane urged. “You have to believe something—maybe something different.”
“Well, um … we believe in God and … and …”
“I guessed that much. Most churches believe in God,” said Jane. “But what does your church believe that makes you different from other churches?”
Andrea could feel a hot blush rise in her face. What can I say? she wondered.
Just then Jane’s mother called, “Andrea, your mother just telephoned. She would like you to come home right away.”
“Oh, I forgot! I promised to take care of my brother! Sorry, Jane—I have to run. See you tomorrow.”
As she thanked Jane’s mother and hurried toward home, Jane’s questions kept popping into her mind, and she felt ashamed that she didn’t know what to say. I’ve been a member all my life. I should know what the Church believes.
After school the next day, Andrea slipped out of her chair and through the door. If I hurry, Jane won’t catch up to me and ask me again, she thought. But she wasn’t fast enough.
“Andrea, wait for me,” Jane yelled down the hall to her. “I just need to get my library book.”
As they started toward home, Andrea kept her head down and stared at the sidewalk as if expecting it to jump up at her. She could only manage to nod or shake her head whenever Jane said something. Finally Jane bent down and looked up at her friend’s face. “Are you OK?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking. Anyway, here’s your house. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. You’re still planning to come over to make cookies, aren’t you?”
“Of course, I can hardly wait to try your recipe!”
Andrea hardly heard Jane’s reply. What do Latter-day Saints believe? she asked herself, continuing down the street. From her parents and in Primary, she had learned about temples, prophets, the Book of Mormon, the celestial kingdom, Jesus, Heavenly Father, and lots more. But how could she explain all that to Jane? It had taken her her whole life to learn these things.
That night, as she and her father did dishes, she asked, “Dad, what does our Church believe?”
“Well, Andrea, we believe a lot of things. For starters, we believe in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. We believe that families can be together forever. We believe in Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon.”
“But that’s not all, is it?”
“No, of course not. I guess that if we went into detail, we could write several books about what we believe. Why do you ask?”
“Yesterday Jane asked me what our church believes, and I didn’t know what to say. I’m 10 years old. I’ve been baptized, and I still don’t know what to say.” Andrea’s voice choked up, and tears started to pool in the corners of her eyes.
Dad put down the dishcloth, sat at the kitchen table, and gestured for her to sit next to him. “Andrea, you know what we believe. You’ve just forgotten that you do. Remember when you were preparing to be baptized? What did you do?”
“Well, I read the Book of Mormon, and I tried to repent of my sins, and I memorized the Articles of Faith.”
“Right. And what do the Articles of Faith tell us?”
A smile spread slowly across Andrea’s face. “They tell us what we believe! I do know!”
“Sure you do. The Articles of Faith can be really valuable tools in helping us and other people understand what we believe.”
When Andrea and Dad had finished the dishes, they sat and opened their scriptures to the Pearl of Great Price. On the last two pages, they found the Articles of Faith and read them one by one. Or rather, Dad read while Andrea recited them from memory. She was happy that she had been reviewing them for her Gospel in Action award and could remember them all.
Below the 13th article, Andrea saw the name Joseph Smith. “When did Joseph Smith write these?” she asked.
“Well, a man named John Wentworth, who was the editor of an Illinois newspaper, wanted to know how the Church was started and what members believed. Joseph Smith told him in a letter, which became known as the “Wentworth Letter.” The principles mentioned in that letter later became the Articles of Faith. They don’t go into a lot of detail about all the things that we believe, but they list many basic truths of the gospel.”
“I’m glad that we have the Articles of Faith! Now I know what I can say to Jane. I’ll tell her tomorrow. Thanks, Dad.”
The next day, Andrea was eager for Jane to arrive. Before her friend had even hung up her coat, the words were tumbling from Andrea’s mouth. “Remember what you asked me the other day—about what my Church believes?”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. We didn’t get very far, did we?”
“I can tell you now.” Andrea began reciting the Articles of Faith.
“Wow! You really know a lot about what you believe. I think that’s great. How did you know all that?”
“I’ve been learning at home and at church all my life, but”—she grinned at her friend—“I had a little help from a newspaper man.” Then she told Jane about the Wentworth Letter and about how Joseph Smith’s reply had become the Articles of Faith.
“I can’t believe you memorized them all,” Jane said. “That’s a lot to remember!”
“It’s not that hard when it’s what you believe.”
Jane sat quietly for a minute. “Andrea, could you tell me more about what you believe? I don’t really understand everything you said, but I’d like to.”
“Sure. Let’s get started with cookies, and I’ll tell you about the first article of faith.” Andrea spent most of the cookie-making time explaining some of the Articles of Faith. Then, while they munched on the hot, chocolate cookies, she explained more. When Jane left for home, Andrea offered, “If you want to know more, you can come to church with me sometime.”
“Oh, I’d like that. I’ll ask my mom and let you know.”
That night, Andrea told her father all about her experience with Jane.
“Andrea, the Prophet Joseph Smith would be happy that what he wrote to John Wentworth helped you to share the gospel. Remember to thank the Lord tonight for him and the great work he did.”
And Andrea did just that.

It took Ann and Walter Huish a long time and a lot of determination to make it to the Salt Lake Valley. Their pioneer journey started in England, where the missionaries taught and baptized them. But Walter and Ann wanted to live close to other members of the Church. They decided to leave their home in England and sail across the ocean to America. Their voyage took 50 days!
Next they had to take a boat up the Mississippi River. They stopped in St. Louis, where Walter worked hard to earn money for the trek to the Salt Lake Valley. He worked for many years so they could have money to make the trip. Finally they were able to travel the final 1,300 miles (2,090 km) across the plains. At last their trek was over!

For five weeks in May and June of 1861, their ship, the Monarch of the Sea, sailed across the Atlantic. When it finally docked in New York harbor, little boats took the Latter-day Saint immigrants ashore. They all stayed overnight in a giant hall called Castle Gardens.
That night while the children tried to sleep on the floor of the building, Alma Elizabeth’s brother August discovered some sacks of brown sugar right next to him. One had a small hole in it and was spilling its contents. Alma Elizabeth and August had tasted no sugar or candy during the ocean voyage. So August found a spoon. Soon they had had a grand feast. But by morning they were sick!
Alma Elizabeth, with her family and the other Saints, took a long train trip to Iowa. There they joined wagon trains going to Utah. She walked the entire way, except when she got into a wagon to cross a deep river.
Alma Elizabeth’s father had trouble walking. In Sweden he had been a concert violinist and an orchestra director. Then rheumatism crippled him. Slowly he learned to use his hands and feet again, but it was difficult and painful. Elizabeth’s father was unable to keep up with the wagon train, and he insisted that his family go on ahead, promising to catch up with them.
Her father struggled on until he spotted a light. It was a camp of soldiers on their way to the Civil War. One soldier spoke Swedish. When they learned that Alma Elizabeth’s father was a musician, they found a violin and he played it for them. In the morning they took him on horseback and caught up with the wagon train.
When Alma Elizabeth’s family reached Utah they settled in Mount Pleasant. As a pioneer she worked hard. She learned how to card and spin wool, weave carpets, milk cows, knit and crochet, make gloves out of buckskin, weave hats out of braided straw, stack hay, and bundle wheat.
One time she collected wheat left in the fields after the harvest and sold it for $10. With some of the money, she bought ten yards of calico for her first party dress.
The day Alma Elizabeth turned eight years old she saw some elders baptizing people in a nearby creek. Her folks did not know about the baptismal service, so she ran home to tell them. With their permission she, too, was baptized in the creek. Afterward she walked to the meetinghouse to be confirmed. But after the confirmation, she felt very tired and fell sound asleep on a seldom-used church bench where people could not see her. When the meeting ended everyone went home. Alma Elizabeth’s family became concerned about her long absence, and they sent her big sister Helen to search for her. She found Alma Elizabeth still asleep in the now empty meetinghouse.
On a hot July day when Alma Elizabeth was ten years old, she went to a ward meeting. The people felt very discouraged because their crops needed rain. President Brigham Young came to the meeting, and she listened carefully when he rose to his feet and spoke. He promised the people that if they would listen to his words, the Lord would open the heavens and send the rains.
The words hardly left the prophet’s lips when Alma Elizabeth noticed the gathering clouds. Soon they filled the sky, and rain poured down in torrents. On that day she received a great testimony of the gospel that she remembered all her life.

There’s nothing like learning from the best. That’s what 16-year-old Cassandra Johnson of Laie, Hawaii, decided when she left her home island for Houston, Texas, where the promising gymnast could study with world-renowned coach Bela Karolyi.
Cassandra lives with Church members in Texas and comes home to Hawaii for Christmas and spring break. It’s not easy, but her family is proud that she’s able to do so much missionary work among her teammates—she’s already given out 16 copies of the Book of Mormon. She’s also active in seminary and won first place in the scripture bowl.
Cassandra keeps a tough schedule. She attends seminary at 6:00 A.M., practices gymnastics from 7:00–8:30 A.M., goes to school from 9:30 to 2:30, studies, then goes back to the gym from 5:00–9:00 P.M. She would eventually like to become a gymnastics coach.

When I was a senior in high school I was excited to be called to serve as a member of the Amarillo Texas Stake’s youth conference committee. Most of the planning for the conference was left up to an enthusiastic group of about a dozen young people. Our committee met a few Sundays a month for almost a year at our stake center, an hour’s drive from my home. We also dedicated several hours in between meetings to researching ideas and praying for inspiration. I could see that serving on the committee was bringing me closer to the Lord. Although I had to travel an hour each way to the meetings, I felt good about what I was doing.
Generally, I enjoyed having uninterrupted quiet time to myself in my car on those Sunday afternoons to ponder the items we had discussed at our meeting or just to think. However, as the seasons changed and the hours of daylight shortened, I found that more of my drive home was in the dark. Even though I had had my driver’s license for about a year, something about driving on the highway alone at night made me uneasy.
One night was particularly distressing. Although the roads were relatively straight and safe, I was paralyzed by fear. I managed to go only half the speed of the other cars on the highway. My knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. I poured every ounce of my consciousness into focusing on the road ahead of me and, after a few miles, was nearly exhausted by the effort. I realized that by driving so slowly I was only prolonging my terror, but try as I might, I could not make myself go any faster.
Keeping my eyes open and my hands on the wheel, I said a fervent prayer aloud, asking that I might be comforted. I thanked the Lord for the opportunity that I had to serve Him while I was on that committee and asked that He would grant me the ability to fulfill my calling—which included traveling to and from my meetings.
Immediately after I finished my prayer, a scripture I had studied in seminary came to my mind. I had heard the words a hundred times: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
Simple as it may seem, those words were an answer to my prayer. Immediately I felt the comfort of the Holy Ghost reassuring me that as long as I did the things the Lord expected of me, I would be taken care of. I also knew that if I was obedient to the laws of the land by wearing my seatbelt and not speeding, I would be doing all I could to allow for Heavenly Father’s protection.
Relief swept over me following my appeal to the Lord. I am grateful that my seminary teacher encouraged me to learn the scripture mastery scriptures. That night I learned firsthand what a blessing familiarity with the scriptures can be.

My brother Andrew and I heard about an opportunity to serve in a local home for the elderly, so we signed up and started visiting Keith. He was suffering from cancer, but he was the most optimistic and happy person I’d ever met. He smiled and his words shone brightly as he spoke of Heavenly Father’s love for all His children.
Even though he knew he’d never recover from his illness, Keith spent all his time listening, sharing, and expressing love for others, even as he was dying. Keith made Andrew and me feel like we could achieve our potential because of what Jesus Christ did for us. We realized that Keith showed his love for the gospel by expressing his love for others.
One day when we went to visit Keith at the home, we were told he had passed away that morning. As we held back tears, we reflected on this man who always looked forward to meeting new people and sharing his testimony of the Savior. We realized that we weren’t the ones serving him but that Keith was serving us by showing us how to live a Christlike life, even as he was dying.
Chris D., California, USA

John Taylor had great understanding and love of people. Once, while he was serving as President of the Quorum of the Twelve, two old and faithful brethren approached him about a bitter quarrel between them. They had resolved to abide by whatever decision President Taylor might render. So they called on him and asked if he would listen to their story.

He said, “Brethren, before I hear your case, I would like very much to sing one of the songs of Zion for you.” A very talented and moving singer, President Taylor then sang a hymn to the men. When he finished, he said that whenever he heard one of the hymns of Zion, he wanted to listen to one more. So the two brethren consented to hearing a second hymn. After the second one, President Taylor quipped that he had heard there was luck in odd numbers, so with their consent he sang still another hymn. Afterwards, he said with a smile, “Now brethren, I do not want to wear you out, but if you will forgive me, and listen to one more hymn, I promise to stop singing, and will hear your case.” By the time he had finished his fourth hymn, the two brethren were in tears; they stood, shook hands, and asked President Taylor to excuse them for taking his time. They left without even telling him what they had quarreled about. His singing had reconciled their feelings toward one another. (See Improvement Era, September 1940, page 522.)

On another occasion, a difficulty developed among members of a branch. “When we had assembled,” President Taylor later recorded, “I opened the meeting with prayer, and then called upon a number of those present to pray; they did so, and the Spirit of God rested upon us. I could perceive that a good feeling existed in the hearts of those who had come to present their grievances, and I told them to bring forward their case. But they said they had not anything to bring forward. The feelings and spirit they had been in possession of had left them, the Spirit of God had obliterated these feelings out of their hearts, and they knew it was right for them to forgive one another.” (In Journal of Discourses, 21:366–67.)

One bishop reported to his stake president that he did not have enough active members to provide lunch for the missionaries every day. The wise stake president suggested that the bishop invite less-active members of the ward to participate. Much to the surprise of the bishop, many of the less-active members were pleased to have the missionaries come to their homes for a noon meal. In fact, many of these less-active members were anxious to share with the missionaries the stories of their conversions. More often than not, they would get out photographs of the missionaries who baptized them. This simple idea is bringing many unexpected blessings to the Church.
As the members share their food with the missionaries, the missionaries bring into homes the special spirit that only they carry, blessing both the members and the missionaries. Many less-active members are returning to full fellowship, and many more members are becoming involved in missionary work because of this simple expression of love and service. How often, brothers and sisters, we can solve seemingly large problems through relatively simple means!

Blake closed the Book of Mormon. I did it, he said to himself. He jumped up and ran to the kitchen, slipping a little in his church socks.
“I did it!” Blake announced. “I finished reading the whole Book of Mormon.”
“You finally finished!” Dad said.
Mom pulled him in for a hug. “That’s amazing! Well done.”
“Wow,” Blake’s brother, Austin, said through a mouthful of pancake. “Was it hard?”
Blake thought about that. It had taken him a year and eight months to read the Book of Mormon. “Yeah, it was pretty hard,” he said. “But I’m glad I read it. Sometimes it seemed like I’d never finish, but I kept reading.”
“What was your favorite part?” Mom asked.
“I really liked when Jesus visited the Nephites,” he said. “The best thing is that now I know it’s true. I felt good when I prayed about it.”
Mom smiled, and Dad gave him a hug. They finished eating and got ready for church.
Today was stake conference. Many of the speakers talked about how important it is to read the Book of Mormon every day. Blake was glad he’d already done that.
At the end of the meeting, the stake president gave his talk. “I want to give you a challenge today. I ask everyone to read the Book of Mormon by the end of the year,” he said.
Does he mean me too? Blake wondered.
“Whether you have never read the Book of Mormon or you have read it many times, you will always find blessings from studying it daily,” President Miller said.
On the drive home, Blake was very quiet. His family was talking about the challenge. But Blake wasn’t excited at all. The happiness he’d felt this morning was gone. He didn’t want to start all over. He’d just finished! When they got home, Blake shuffled to his room and flopped onto his bed. He closed his eyes.
When Blake woke up from his nap, the first thing he saw was his Book of Mormon. It was on his nightstand right where he’d left it this morning.
He picked it up and opened to the title page. “The Book of Mormon, an account written by the hand of Mormon … ,” Blake read aloud. He felt a warm, peaceful feeling. He finished reading the page. Then he knelt down and prayed. “Heavenly Father, please help me read the Book of Mormon again.” He started to feel excited about reading it.
Blake walked to the living room. “I’m going to read the Book of Mormon again,” he told his family.
“Good for you,” Dad said. “Mom and I are going to take the challenge too.”
“Will you help me read it?” Austin asked.
“Sure.” Blake said. “We can do it together!”