Gospel Story Finder

1 In April 1832 Joseph Smith went to Jackson County a second time. A general council of the Church was called, and Joseph was sustained as President of the High Priesthood.
2 The Prophet received a revelation in which the Lord said that the Saints were to work hard and share all that they had with each other.
3 Goods of all kinds were to be taken to the Church storehouse to be distributed according to the bishop’s orders.
4 Four days later Joseph received another revelation: If widows, orphans, or any other members were needy, they were to be provided for through the Church storehouse.
5 The revelation also said that husbands are to love and care for their wives, and parents are to love and care for their children.
6 In May, Sidney Rigdon, Newel K. Whitney, and the Prophet Joseph started back to Kirtland, Ohio. Near New Albany, Indiana, the horses pulling their wagon became frightened and bolted.
7 Joseph jumped out of the wagon unhurt, but Bishop Whitney caught his foot in a wheel and broke his leg and foot in several places.
8 Sidney Rigdon went on to Kirtland, but the Prophet stayed with Bishop Whitney for four weeks while he recuperated.
9 One day during that time, Joseph Smith ate something poisonous. When Bishop Whitney gave him a blessing of health, the Prophet was instantly healed. Soon they, too, continued on to Kirtland.

The Hofmanns: Early First-Generation Members. In 1937 a German immigrant couple named Hofmann accepted the gospel and were baptized. Their son, Carlos Guillermo Hofmann, born a few months later, grew up as a Latter-day Saint. “We met in a small branch in those days,” he recalls. “I was raised with the beliefs of the Church. We always stayed on the pathway.”

Staying active in those days entailed meeting in homes and being the only Latter-day Saint in school, and then, as an adult, carrying heavy leadership responsibilities almost single-handedly.

After marrying, Carlos and his wife, Irma Scholz, made the needed sacrifices to raise their children in the Church. “I am grateful to my wife, who carried the responsibility while I was working and serving in Church callings,” Brother Hofmann says. “It seemed I was often away from the family, but the children never lacked. We were diligent in holding family home evening.” Today his children and grandchildren are strong and active in the Church.

Asking God for our daily bread, rather than our weekly, monthly, or yearly bread, is also a way to focus us on the smaller, more manageable bits of a problem. To deal with something very big, we may need to work at it in small, daily bites. Sometimes all we can handle is one day (or even just part of one day) at a time. Let me give you a nonscriptural example.

In the 1950s my mother survived radical cancer surgery, but difficult as that was, the surgery was followed by dozens of painful radiation treatments in what would now be considered rather primitive medical conditions. She recalls that her mother taught her something during that time that has helped her ever since: “I was so sick and weak, and I said to her one day, ‘Oh, Mother, I can’t stand having 16 more of those treatments.’ She said, ‘Can you go today?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Well, honey, that’s all you have to do today.’ It has helped me many times when I remember to take one day or one thing at a time.”

Dear brothers and sisters, I recently officiated in a temple sealing, following COVID-19 guidelines. With the bride and groom, both faithful returned missionaries, were their parents and all their siblings. This was not easy. The bride is the ninth of ten children. Her nine siblings sat in order, oldest to youngest, socially distanced of course.
The family had sought to be good neighbors wherever they lived. However, one community had been unwelcoming—because, the bride’s mother said, their family were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
The family did everything to make friends at school, contribute, and be accepted, but to no avail. The family prayed and prayed hearts would soften.
One night, the family felt their prayers were answered, though in a very unexpected way. Their house caught fire and burned to the ground. But something else happened. The fire softened their neighbors’ hearts.
Their neighbors and local school gathered clothes, shoes, and other necessities needed by the family, who had lost everything. Kindness opened understanding. It was not the way the family hoped or expected their prayers to be answered. However, they express gratitude for what they learned through hard experiences and unexpected answers to heartfelt prayers.

Twelve-year-old Louisa Bishop gently rocked her baby sister, Emma, in the old, hand-carved rocker. Their mother lay in bed, her face almost as pale as the white pillows. A deadly illness called diphtheria had struck the children of the family, killing three of Louisa’s five siblings. Exhausted from overwork and grief, Louisa’s mother also became sick. Just when it seemed that happiness would never shine on their world again, little Emma had been born. Louisa, now recovered, lovingly cared for her baby sister so their mother could rest and get well. Emma adored her big sister in return.
As the years passed, Emma and Louisa became closer and closer friends. By the time Emma was 11 years old, Louisa had married, and her husband had left to serve a mission in England. Emma was delighted to go to Louisa’s cabin each day to help out.
One day Emma paused in her sweeping and watched quietly as Louisa emptied the butter out of her sparkling glass butter dish and into a jar. “I hope she isn’t doing what I’m afraid she’s doing,” Emma thought.
Louisa stepped to the washbasin and poured in some clean water from the pitcher. Then she carefully washed the butter dish and laid it on a dish towel to dry. Turning to Emma, she handed her the jar of butter. “Now, Emma dear, I need you to take this to the bishop and pay my tithing.”
Emma folded her arms and shook her head. “I won’t do it!” she exclaimed. “You need that butter more than the bishop does.”
Louisa’s mouth drew into a stern line, but her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Emma,” she softly scolded, “tithing is a law that must be kept. If I am willing to do a big thing like letting my husband serve a mission so far away, then surely I can do a small thing like giving up some butter.”
Emma wasn’t convinced. “But it’s a big thing when you have so little.”
“Don’t worry,” Louisa told her with a smile. “I have faith that the Lord will provide.”
Emma looked closely and saw that her sister’s eyes were glistening with tears. Louisa truly believed what she was saying! Emma took the jar of butter and walked out the door without another word, though she still had doubts.
When she returned to Louisa’s cabin, Emma stopped in the doorway and stared, her mouth wide open. The butter dish was back on the table, and inside was a pound of butter! Emma’s eyes asked the question her lips could not—where had the butter come from?
Louisa smiled. “I told you the Lord would provide,” she said. She took a clean dish from the cupboard and placed the butter in it. Then she stepped again to the washbasin and filled the bowl with clean water. She washed out the beautiful glass butter dish and lid. But instead of setting them on a dish towel to drip dry, she dried them and handed both to Emma.
“I want you to have these,” she said. “And whenever you look at them, I want you to remember that the Lord will always take care of us if we keep His commandments. Remember that, Emma. Tithing comes first.” Emma’s eyes misted with tears as she accepted the butter dish.
All her life Emma remembered the lesson she had learned. Each year as her family gathered on her birthday, she told the story again. After Emma’s death, the butter dish was passed down through the family. And everyone who saw the dish heard the story of how Emma learned to always pay her tithing.

Many years ago, President Harold B. Lee recounted to me an experience of a President Ballantyne who grew up in Star Valley, Wyoming. This is harsh country. The summers are short and fleeting, while the winters linger and chill. President Ballantyne told of a special Christmas season from his boyhood days. He said:
“Father had a large family; and sometimes after we had our harvest, there was not much left after expenses were paid. So Father would have to go away and hire out to some of the big ranchers for maybe a dollar a day. He earned little more than enough to take care of himself, with very little to send home to Mother and the children. Things began to get pretty skimpy for us.
“We had our family prayers around the table; and it was on one such night when Father was gone that we gathered and Mother poured out of a pitcher, into the glass of each one, milk divided among the children—but none for herself. And I, sensing that the milk in the pitcher was all that we had, pushed mine over to Mother and said, ‘Here, Mother. You drink mine.’
“‘No, Mother is not hungry tonight.’
“It worried me. We drank our milk and went to bed, but I could not sleep. I got up and tiptoed down the stairs, and there was Mother, in the middle of the floor, kneeling in prayer. She did not hear me as I came down in my bare feet, and I dropped to my knees and heard her say, ‘Heavenly Father, there is no food in our house. Please, Father, touch the heart of somebody so that my children will not be hungry in the morning.’
“When she finished her prayer, she looked around and saw that I had heard; and she said to me, somewhat embarrassed, ‘Now, you run along, son. Everything will be all right.’
“I went to bed, assured by Mother’s faith. The next morning, I was awakened by the sounds of pots and pans in the kitchen and the aroma of cooking food. I went down to the kitchen, and I said, ‘Mother, I thought you said there was no food.’
“All she said to me was, ‘Well, my boy, didn’t you think the Lord would answer my prayer?’ I received no further explanation than that.
“Years passed, and I went away to college. I got married, and I returned to see the old folks. Bishop Gardner, now reaching up to a ripe age, said to me, ‘My son, let me tell you of a Christmas experience that I had with your family. I had finished my chores, and we had had supper. I was sitting by the fireplace reading the newspaper. Suddenly, I heard a voice that said, “Sister Ballantyne doesn’t have any food in her house.” I thought it was my wife speaking and said, “What did you say, Mother?” She came in wiping her hands on her apron and said, “Did you call me, Father?”
“‘“No, I didn’t say anything to you, but I heard a voice which spoke to me.”
“‘“What did it say?” she asked.
“‘“It said that Sister Ballantyne didn’t have any food in her house.”
“‘“Well, then,” said Mother, “you had better put on your shoes and your coat and take some food to Sister Ballantyne.” In the dark of that winter’s night, I harnessed the team and placed in the wagon bed a sack of flour, a quarter section of beef, some bottled fruit, and loaves of newly baked bread. The weather was cold, but a warm glow filled my soul as your mother welcomed me and I presented her with the food. God had heard a mother’s prayer.’”

Our daughter, Kathryn, is serving as the Primary president in her ward in Salt Lake City. My wife and I attended her ward last Sunday to observe the Primary sacrament meeting presentation, “I’ll Follow Him in Faith.” I was thrilled to hear the children recite scriptures and stories coupled with songs focused on faith in Christ.

After the meeting, I asked her about her calling. She said that initially the calling weighed her down. Much time was spent going over problems. Then the presidency decided to emphasize love, faith, and prayer. Suddenly spiritual impressions came to mind about a particular child or family. Friction was replaced with love. She tells me that as they acted upon promptings from the Spirit, Primary reflected a reverence and peace, and real gospel learning was taking place.

A 13-year-old Eagle Scout from Sunnymead, California, designed the community flag and seal as part of his Eagle requirements. Adam Harral submitted the two designs to the Moreno Valley Chamber of Commerce, and after they were accepted, he cut out and put the flag together. When it was completed, he took it with him to the National Boy Scout Jamboree in Pennsylvania where it was posted with the flags from various cities throughout the nation. Upon his return home, Adam carried the flag in the Moreno Valley parade for its official presentation to the community. He was later given a plaque from the Sunnymead Chamber of Commerce in recognition of his community service.

Both Emily and Amanda chose to not attend parties, even though they wanted to go to them. Emily decided to not go to her friend’s house when she learned that her friend’s parents were not going to be there. Amanda decided to not go to a swimming party when she learned that it would be on a Sunday. Neither girl knew that her sister had turned down an invitation, but both were trying to follow the Savior’s commandments. Emily wanted to honor her parents’ rules and choose the right; Amanda was sad to miss the party, but she knew that her decision “would make Jesus happy.” Both felt good about their decisions.

Derek saw paw prints in the snow. What animal made them? Derek followed the paw prints down the sidewalk. He looked around and saw Mrs. Lawson walking slowly across the ice. Derek held her hand and helped her into her house. The paw prints kept going, and Derek followed them. He spotted Mr. Russell shoveling snow. Derek stopped to help him shovel. Then Derek saw more paw prints! He followed them and peeked into Mr. Russell’s backyard. There was Cloudy, Mr. Russell’s cat! Derek likes following things. Most of all, he likes following the example of Jesus by helping others.

Dear Reed,
Guess who came to see us—the Brooks family! They were on vacation. They went to the temple and were sealed as a family. Bobby told us about when you baptized and confirmed him. He said that when you blessed him, you said that someday he would be sealed to his family in the temple, and now that’s come true.
We all went out to dinner together. Elder Watts came with us. He’s been home from his mission for almost a year. He said that you were a great companion and a hard worker.
The Brooks family went to church with us too. We sat between them and Sam’s family. Bobby went to our Valiant class with Sam and me. After the lesson, we played blackboard baseball, and Sam and Bobby and I won! If Sam or I didn’t know the answer, Bobby did. He’s learned a lot about the gospel.

Let’s turn to the life of Mary Fielding Smith, wife of Hyrum Smith. This was her first marriage and his second. She came into a family where five children were left without a mother when the first wife died. By June 1839 Mary and Hyrum had been married for eighteen months. During that short period they had been driven from two homes, Hyrum had been imprisoned for six months, Mary had been bedridden for four months with a pregnancy, and now, without financial resources, they were struggling to establish another home. Listen to this excerpt written at the time by Mary to her brother Joseph Fielding:
It is now little more than a month since the Lord, in his marvelous power, returned my dear husband, with the rest of the brethren, to their families, in tolerable health. We are now living in Commerce, on the bank of the great Mississippi river. The situation is very pleasant; you would be much pleased to see it. How long we may be permitted to enjoy it I know not; but the Lord knows what is best for us. I feel but little concern about where I am, if I can keep my mind staid upon God; for, you know in this there is perfect peace.[Don Cecil Corbett, Mary Fielding Smith, Daughter of Britain; Portrait of Courage (Salt Lake City, UT: Deseret Book Co., 1966), p. 99]

“This sure is a grumpy neighborhood,” said Jennie as she came in the front door.
“What’s the matter now?” asked Mother.
“Well, every time I ride past Mrs. Langston’s house on my bike, she calls out, ‘Better oil your wheels—that squeak is awfully noisy!’ And Mr. Pratt says, ‘Watch out for my grass as you turn the corner!’
“I say hello to the neighbors and most of them look at me with surprise, like they don’t know I have a voice. Mother, do we have to stay here?” Jennie asked. “If we moved somewhere else, maybe things would be different.”
“You’re really upset aren’t you, Jennie? Why not take the opportunity to be a missionary in our neighborhood?” Mother suggested, putting an arm around her unhappy daughter.
Jennie sounded a little doubtful as she answered, “How could I do that?”
“You think about it, Jennie, and I will too,” Mother said on her way to the kitchen to fix supper. “I’m sure the two of us can come up with some ideas to make our neighborhood a friendlier place.”
Jennie was about to plop down on the couch when a loud knock sounded at the front door. But when she opened it nobody was there. However, someone had left a brown paper bag tied with a colorful ribbon on the doorstep. As Jennie picked up the bag, she could feel something warm inside. And the smell that came from the bag was heavenly. Inside was a small loaf of bread and a card that read, “To Jennie from your secret friend.”
Jennie carried the little loaf into the kitchen.
“What a wonderful smell!” Mother exclaimed.
“Yes, it’s a gift from my secret friend,” answered Jennie. “In our Merrie Miss class we decided to do something to make us feel closer to each other. We put all of our names in a box and then each of us drew one out. We’re supposed to do nice things for our secret friends without letting anyone know about it.”
“I hope your secret pal comes often,” said her brother Frank. “How about a piece of bread with butter and honey on it right now?”
Mother had a slice, too, and as the three of them sat around the kitchen table enjoying the freshly baked bread, Frank asked, “Hey Jennie, why don’t you learn to make bread like this?”
“I already know how, Frank. Our Primary class made small loaves as favors for our A Miss and Her Mom Party,” replied Jennie.
“Good!” said Frank. “Then you can bake some for us, and why not some for all of our grumpy neighbors.”
“That’s it!” said Jennie excitedly. “I could be a secret friend to each family in the neighborhood and I can begin by baking each one a small loaf of bread. Would that be all right, Mom?”
Mother was excited too. “Instead of signing the note ‘secret friend’” she suggested, “we could sign it, ‘a good neighbor.’ And then we could do other things later on.”
“That’s neat,” Frank said with an appreciative grin. “Nobody will know who to thank, so they’ll just be nice to everybody.”
“Could you use your saber saw to cut some small breadboards out of that scrap lumber in the garage?” Jennie asked.
“Sure,” said Frank. And they all laughed together when he added, “Cast your bread upon the waters. Who knows—someday it may come back a sandwich.”

Starting in his early teen years, Colby’s alarm clock would ring each morning at 4:00 a.m., telling him to get up so he could be on the boat by 5:00. You see, Colby is a third-generation lobsterman from Maine, USA. He needed to be out on the waters with his dad by 5:00 a.m. so they could get in a successful lobster fishing day.
Colby had to put in a lot of time and hard work to gain his own lobster license. He spent 200 days and 1,000 hours training on the water over the course of a few years. He had to learn about handling lobster boats and navigation, and he also studied the safety regulations and rules of the industry.
He says, “I was six years old when my dad took me fishing for the first time. Even at that age, I was given the job of ‘banding’ the lobsters, or putting heavy rubber bands around the lobsters’ claws.”
When Colby turned 14, his dad hired him as a sternman, and at 15, Colby bought his own fishing boat. He also got an education about small engine mechanics and carpentry to prepare him to be a part of the lobstering business.
Being a lobsterman has been a fun and educational part of Colby’s life. It taught him to manage his own boat and be responsible for the decisions that he makes on and off the water. “Lobster fishing is hard physical work and can be dangerous,” he says.
The safety rules that his dad taught him protect him physically, just like the Lord’s commandments protect him spiritually. If they work hard and are safe throughout lobstering season, their family gets together to have a “big lobster feed” each summer to commemorate the family legacy of lobstering.

Melissa gave the opening prayer at family home evening. After she said amen, Daddy thanked her and said, “We each agreed to bring a reminder of something we want to thank Heavenly Father for. Melissa, would you like to go first?”
She shook her head firmly, swinging her hair back and forth. “Not this time, Daddy. I have the most thankful thank-you of all, and I want to save it till last.”
Daddy nodded. “Very well then, since baby Billy is too young to take part, I guess it’s Mommy’s turn.”
Mommy lifted a picture that had been facedown on her lap. “Who can tell me what this is?”
Melissa raised her hand. “It looks like a big blue-and-white marble.”
“It does,” Mommy agreed. “But it’s really a picture of the earth that was taken from space. All the trees and flowers and other beautiful things we see around us are part of the earth, and I feel very grateful for such a wonderful place to live.”
“Thank you,” Daddy said. “So do I.” He picked up a chalkboard. A frowny face was drawn on it. “Even though I love Heavenly Father, I still make mistakes, and that makes me sad.” With an eraser Daddy wiped away the frowny face and drew a smiley face. “I’m grateful for repentance because it lets me change my actions and be happy again.”
Mommy reached over and squeezed his hand. “So am I.” She turned to Melissa. “And now let’s hear your thank-you. I’m sure it is a good one!”
With a huge smile, Melissa picked up a copy of the Liahona and slowly opened it to reveal a picture. “I’m thankful for Jesus,” she said.
Mommy hugged Melissa. “Jesus Christ helped create our beautiful world, and his Atonement makes repentance possible.”
“You were right,” Daddy said. “You do have the most thankful thank-you of all.”

For instance, not many years ago, when our oldest son was a senior in high school, I noticed him one morning in the vicinity of my clothes closet. At breakfast I noted that I had seen him examining my wardrobe and gently inquired whether I really owned something that he would consider worthy of wearing. To my chagrin, but not necessarily to my surprise, he said, “Relax, Dad, we’re having nerd day at school tomorrow!”
I sincerely hope my prayers will be answered today so there will be no gaps between what I feel and say and what you feel and understand.

In conclusion, I would like to share a tender story a close friend recounted to me recently.

It is about his son who was discouraged and miserable just after arriving in a foreign mission. No matter how the parents and others pleaded with the young missionary, he said he couldn't take it and wanted to come home. In a reception during a training session with some general authorities, the distraught father just mentioned in passing to President Hinckley about his son's struggle. The parents continued to plead with the son to stay, but his early return home seemed imminent.

The following week an envelope from the First Presidency's office arrived at the parents" home. Inside was a copy of a letter that had been sent to their son. The letter had been hand-typed from a typewriter and very tenderly addressed to the discouraged Elder. It was a several-page letter, full of encouragement and the writer's own missionary experiences about faith and sticking to it. The letter was warm, loving, thoughtful, personal, and signed, "Sincerely, your brother, President Gordon B. Hinckley."

It is little wonder that shortly thereafter, the Elder wrote to his parents and said he was staying. This Elder not only stayed, but flourished and became a mighty power for good among the people of his mission.

Think of it! President Hinckley, in spite of his age, is such a public figure, revered for his extensive speeches, books, and his general leadership in the Church. Yet, he conducts a private, silent ministry as well to bless others individually. Can you imagine how that single unselfish act of a Prophet will be treasured not only in this young man's life but also in his posterity?

Alice’s mom is a doctor, and her father trains people in first aid. Alice and her family started a youth volunteer team to help people in their area.
First, her parents trained more than 100 teenagers and their parents in first aid. Alice helped too. Next the team gathered more than 3,000 items of clothing for people in need. They also gathered lots of shoes.
The local police were very impressed with their work. They gave the team a table at the market to help them do more good work.
“We believe in God,” Alice says. “So we serve everyone!”

Si’s independence was greatly increased by the electronic control unit which the Alberta Rehabilitation Council installed for him in 1978. By touching the control lever with his lower lip, he can turn on or off everything that is connected to the system. He can even call a nurse with it. Now he has a modified personal computer that can be merged with the unit and allows him, for the first time in ten years, to write his own messages. “This opens up lots of things that have been closed to me,” he says. “I can use it to work on my education. Then I’ll write a book about my life. Also, after more training, maybe I’ll compose some music.”

It’s Saturday morning, Shannon McNally is wide awake, and she’s still snoring. Listening to her and egging her on is Shannon’s younger sister, Landis. It looks strange, really. But it’s not. It’s what Landis likes. So Shannon indulges her mentally retarded sister.

“She likes for me to snore for her,” Shannon says with a shrug. Shannon doesn’t know why Landis likes that, or why she likes her big sis to play “The Wedding March” on the piano. “That’s just one of Landis’s things too.”

Shannon, 15, and Landis, 12, share a bedroom in their Union Bridge, Maryland, home. And despite Landis’s disability, the two sisters are just that. “We’re like regular sisters who have special things between them,” Shannon continues. That would explain the snoring and “The Wedding March.”

It would also explain why Shannon is such a big help to her mother when it comes to dealing with Landis. “Right now, Landis throws a lot of tantrums, she pulls hair, she spits, and she scratches. She’s also speech-disabled,” says the girls’ mom, Anjela McNally. “Shannon probably understands [Landis] a tad better than I do. I’ll say, ‘Shannon, what’s Landis trying to say?’ Shannon knows her sister very well and can usually tell me.”

That doesn’t mean it’s always easy for Shannon, a Mia Maid in the Westminster Ward of the Frederick Maryland Stake. When Landis gets upset, she’ll begin, as Shannon describes it, “trashing the house.” Once Shannon was heating up some leftover pizza, when Landis decided she wanted pudding instead. When Shannon told her she’d have to eat the pizza, Landis began throwing her food around the kitchen and knocking things off the counter.

“I get frustrated a lot over the things she does. I don’t mean to get mad but sometimes I do. Then I feel bad because I know she doesn’t quite understand why I’m yelling at her,” says Shannon. It’s at moments like these that Shannon will give Landis a hug, or sit with her in a chair, look at a magazine, and just rock back and forth. “It helps my anger to go away.”

“What is so incredible about Shannon is she’s able to not let what Landis does get her down too much. She has a great sense of humor about it,” says Sister McNally, a single parent who also has two sons, K. C. and Lucas, still at home. “Shannon is always willing to help, and she’s very kind to Landis. And Landis turns to Shannon for help as much as me or maybe even sometimes a little bit more than me.

“Shannon is a good role model for Landis,” Sister McNally continues. “But I think she’s more of a hero for Landis. Shannon has always been really pleasant and easygoing. I call her ‘my cheerful giver.’”

Even with all the help she provides her mother, Shannon still finds time for seminary, and school activities, which include her participation in color guard, a precision performing group that twirls flags. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, days Sister McNally is at school, Shannon is there to help Landis get off the bus. She also helps Landis get dressed, and will occasionally help with her bath.

There are moments when Shannon stops and considers her sister’s plight. She’ll think about times when Landis cries and doesn’t stop, and how hard it is to see her sister sad and not be able to find out what’s wrong. There are other times when Shannon will think about the gospel, and specifically about the Resurrection. “Landis has been this way for as long as I can remember. It’s hard for me to imagine her being perfect, her being able to speak,” Shannon explains. “I can’t really imagine her that way, but I know she will be someday.”

Sister McNally says, “I try to teach Shannon that she won’t always be recognized here for the help she’s given Landis, or for the way she’s been kind to Landis and helped make Landis’s life easier. But I also teach her that someday Landis will be able to come up to her and talk, and that this is not a permanent condition. As a family, we have had to do a lot of soul searching and a lot of studying of the purpose of life.”

For now, Shannon will continue caring for Landis. Like the nights when Shannon wakes up and makes sure her sister has blankets on her, or when she takes Landis outside to ride her bike. Those are the times when Landis will smile and so will Shannon. And one thing will be readily apparent. They’re sisters, and they love each other very much.