Gospel Story Finder

Grandma Emily’s room in the nursing home was brightly bannered with birthday wishes from Varena and her family. However, Grandma simply sat, staring aimlessly into space, her wrinkled skin and missing teeth showing her advanced age.
“I wasn’t even sure if Varena’s grandmother recognized her,” remembers Brian, a friend. “But the awkwardness I felt soon disappeared as I observed this angel of mercy in action.” Varena gave her grandmother a drink and brushed her tangled hair, all the while talking in loving tones about shared memories. She began to massage her grandmother’s shoulder, singing a lullaby she had learned from her as a child.
“This is Grandma Emily’s favorite part,” Varena said, “when I brush my hand gently across her forehead.” Within moments Varena’s grandmother began to beam with recognition. She tried to talk and express her love. “I remember thinking as I stood there,” Brian says, “that in a sense I was witnessing the gift of healing.”

The best part about the pageant is the spirit that surrounds it. Eighteen-year-old Janna Halcomb’s brother encouraged her to try out for the pageant with him just before he left on his mission to Hungary. “That year we were able to be angels together,” she says. “It was such an incredible experience. The Spirit on the temple grounds is so strong, and as we bore witness of the Savior and His life my testimony was strengthened.”

In this instance Elder Naylor and Elder Jensen greeted me warmly and immediately began sharing with me how the work was going. Early in our conversation Elder Naylor said, “President, the thing I really want to tell you about is this old man named Amos Singer. He has two very bright grandchildren who live with him. He asked us to teach them so they can join the Church and enjoy the blessings of Church membership.
“We were teaching them for the first time last Saturday, and the grandfather came in to listen to our lesson. We were talking about God, Jesus, the Holy Ghost, and prayer. After we were through he started telling us a few things that really amazed us. It was like all those stories I’ve heard about but never thought would happen to me. He told us he is 79 years old and had been trained to be a medicine man when he was very young (about 15). He was taught by his great-grandfather and has an incredible memory of very, very old Navajo beliefs. Most people don’t know the real old traditions.
“He talked to us about how he has studied the organization of many different religions. He says they are all different except the ‘Mormon Way.’ He told us the things we teach are the same things taught by the old Navajos, although the Navajo religion has changed lately. He talked about ‘eternal life’ and how the earth would be destroyed in the near future by fire and then be made new and would be a place of happiness and no troubles for the righteous. He said that when Christ comes again it will be in glory with angels singing all around him. His great-grandfather taught him the song the angels would be singing, and he even sang part of it for us. He said that as far as he knows there are only two people alive today that know that song. He told us of the legends of ‘ahix kee naa’aashii,’ the ‘two who walk together’ and how they would bring the gospel back to his people. He pointed at us and said, ‘You are what this is talking about! The two who walk together.’”
As Elder Naylor concluded telling me his story he was trying to blink back the tears.
“As you know,” I told them, “these things were all predicted in Book of Mormon prophecies. How does it feel to be out here fulfilling scripture?”
“Just think,” Elder Jensen responded, “what we would have missed if we hadn’t come on our missions.”

“I’m going to get rich,” Tom told his mother on Saturday morning. “All the money I have in the world is the quarter Uncle Fred gave me. A quarter isn’t enough to buy the green bike in Thompson’s department store window. So I’m going to get rich.”
“How are you going to do that?” his mother asked. “There aren’t many ways a boy your age can earn money.”
“I’ll find things to do,” Tom assured her. “Mrs. Davis’s yard is a mess. I’m sure she’ll pay me to clean it up. Don’t worry. There are lots of ways I can earn money.” He smiled. “I’ll make at least five dollars, just today! In a few weeks I’ll be rich enough to buy the bike.”
Tom whistled as he pulled his wagon down the sidewalk. He was still whistling when he rang Mrs. Davis’s doorbell.
“I’m going to earn money for a bike,” he told Mrs. Davis. “Will you hire me to clean your yard?”
Mrs. Davis looked surprised. Then she looked sort of embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Tom,” she said. “I would certainly like to have this dirty yard tidied up, and I can’t do it myself. But my pension isn’t enough for me to pay to have it done.”
Tom looked at the branches and paper scraps cluttering the yard. Then he looked at Mrs. Davis. Even though she was old and could barely stoop to pick up things, she kept the inside of her house clean. Tom was sure that she hated having a messy yard. “Look,” he said. “Your yard is small, and it’s early. I can easily clean it before I start getting rich.”
“Why, thank you, Tom!” said Mrs. Davis. “Come in when you’re finished. I’m baking cinnamon cookies today.”
Tom smiled. Mrs. Davis’s cookies were worth waiting an hour to start getting rich!
The sun was inching higher into the sky when Tom carried the last branch to the trash pile. If he hadn’t been so hungry, he would have skipped eating the cookies and gone right on to getting rich.
He’d barely left Mrs. Davis’s house with the extra bag of cookies she’d insisted he take home, when he heard someone call, “Young man! Could you help me?”
Looking around, Tom saw Mr. Gunther waving at him. “I need help carrying some boxes to the basement,” the old man said. “I have to store some of my junk down there, or there won’t be room upstairs for me.”
He cackled at his own joke, and Tom smiled. Mr. Gunther lived on a pension too.
I won’t get rich here either, Tom decided.
“Come on,” the old man urged. He walked toward his house, not even waiting for Tom to agree to help.
Tom sighed, then followed Mr. Gunther inside. His mom wouldn’t be happy with him if he refused to help a neighbor. Besides, Mr. Gunther was pretty nice. Last summer he’d showed Tom how to make neat little boats from plain old tree leaves.
An hour later Tom looked at the clock in Mr. Gunther’s kitchen. It was ten-thirty, and he still had only a quarter!
“Wait,” Mr. Gunther said as Tom started for the door. He looked embarrassed, like Mrs. Davis had, and Tom knew that he was going to apologize for not having money.
“I don’t want anything for helping,” Tom said quickly, feeling embarrassed too.
Mr. Gunther looked relieved. “Checks just don’t reach far enough nowadays,” he mumbled. Then he took a small box from the table. “I found these when I was cleaning. Do you have a stamp collection?” He opened the box, and Tom stared at a stack of old envelopes. The one on top had a big stamp with an airplane from World War II on it.
“Wow!” Tom said. “I don’t have any stamps this old!”
Mr. Gunther looked pleased. “Here, then,” he said. “And if you’re trying to make money, Mrs. Jackson seldom moves her car from her garage. She’s sure to need some errands done.”
“Thanks a lot!” Tom said as he left. Helping Mrs. Jackson was a good idea. Once she’d given him a whole dollar just for getting a loaf of bread from the store!
Mrs. Jackson was pleased to see Tom and sent him to the store. But after he’d paid for her bread and milk, there was only a dime and four pennies change.
“I’m so sorry, Tom,” she said after she had dug through three old purses to see if she could find more money. “I guess fourteen cents is all I can pay today. I haven’t been to the bank lately to get any cash.”
Tom gulped. Then he remembered the dollar she’d paid him last time, and he knew that he’d already been paid for today too.
“That’s OK,” he said. “Fourteen cents is plenty. Thank you, Mrs. Jackson.”
“Thank you!” she said. Then she smiled. “You’re a nice boy, Tom. It’s good to have helping neighbors.”
Her words made Tom feel so good that he was almost home before he realized that the morning was gone and that he was only fourteen cents closer to being rich enough to buy the green bike.
Still, he thought as he parked his wagon, Mrs. Davis’s cookies will make a great dessert. And he was eager to get Mr. Gunther’s old stamps soaked off the envelopes and into his album. As for Mrs. Jackson … well, she had given him some money, and she was a good friend.
“Hurry, Tom. Lunch is ready,” his mother called. When he went into the kitchen, she asked, “Well, are you rich yet?”
Tom grinned and replied, “Yep—I sure am.”

I have been blessed to have a mother who has spent her life preparing to meet God. She understands the principles of creating, learning, and serving in this life. Her motto has been “Welcome the task that makes you go beyond yourself, and you will grow.” Let me tell you a few highlights from her adventure-filled life. In her youth she lived in the wild Uinta Mountains, where her father worked. She learned to cut tall trees, fish, and camp in the outdoors. During the winter she attended school in the city, played on a basketball team, and learned to play the trumpet. She went to the university and became a nurse. After she was married, she went on a mission with her husband to Brazil, where she learned to speak Portuguese. She has traveled to many countries and has taught the gospel to thousands. She studies the scriptures daily, has written several family history books, works in the temple, keeps track of 62 grandchildren, and can cook 600 doughnuts in one morning!
My mother has stayed in the Savior’s path with unshaken faith in Him (see 2 Nephi 31:19) all the days of her life. She wakes up every day looking forward to new adventures. For her, life is so interesting, and she still has so much to learn.

Desiree carefully glued her picture in the book. Using her best first-grade handwriting, she wrote, “I love you, Teacher. Happy Valentine’s Day. Love, Desiree.” She smiled at how even the letters looked.
“I’ve finished, Mom,” Desiree called. “Do you want to see it?”
Desiree’s mother lifted baby Micah from his high chair and came to the table where Desiree was working.
“How do you like it?” Desiree asked. Her smile showed the gap where her two front teeth would soon grow in.
Mom ran her fingers over the words as she silently read them. She looked at Desiree. “Well, you’ve done a nice job, but …” She looked at the book Desiree had glued her picture in—the Book of Mormon.
Desiree became worried that she might have done something wrong. “Mom, you told me that my teacher isn’t a member of our church. The prophet said we’re supposed to tell people about the Church and give them the Book of Mormon, right?”
Mom sighed. “That’s right.”
“I’ve tried to show her how happy we are,” Desiree continued. “Now I want to give her a Book of Mormon. I love her. I want her to join our church.”
“I guess I’m just afraid that your teacher won’t like it,” Mom said. “I know you love your teacher and I think you’re very brave to do this for her.”
Desiree smiled. “Is it OK, then?”
“Yes. Let’s remember in our prayers to ask the Lord to bless her with a desire to learn more about the gospel,” Mom said.
“She’ll like it,” Desiree assured Mom.
On Valentine’s Day, Desiree took the Book of Mormon to school for her teacher. The teacher got valentine gifts all day long. She got chocolate hearts, flowers, pens, and cards. Desiree began to worry. Maybe she shouldn’t give the Book of Mormon to her teacher. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe her teacher wouldn’t like it.
When the bell rang for the children to get ready to go home, Desiree took the Book of Mormon out of her backpack. She walked to her teacher’s desk and gently placed the book in front of her.
“Here’s my valentine for you,” she said softly.
Her teacher put down her pencil and asked, “Well, what can this be?” She picked up the book and read, “The Book of Mormon.” She looked at Desiree with questioning eyes. “You want to give this to me for a valentine?”
Desiree opened the book to her picture and note.
The teacher read the note and smiled. “Thank you, Desiree. I love you too.”
“What did your teacher say about your valentine?” Mom asked when Desiree came home.
“She said thank you, and she loves me,” Desiree told her. “She wasn’t mad at all.”
Mom nodded. “Well, I guess we’ll know for sure when I go to see her next week.”
“Are you still afraid, Mom?” Desiree asked. “It’s OK.”
Mom smiled. “You have strong faith.”
The next week, Desiree, her mother, and baby Micah went to school for parent-teacher conferences. When they got there, Desiree waited on the playground where her mother could see her, and played with some of the other children. Desiree wondered what her teacher and mother would talk about.
After what seemed like a long time, Mom and baby Micah came outside and Desiree ran to meet them. “What did my teacher tell you about me?” she asked.
“Your teacher sure thinks a lot of you,” Mom said. “She told me your valentine was one of the best she’s ever received.”
“Really?” Desiree beamed. “That’s because I gave it with my heart.”
Mother looked intently at Desiree. “That’s almost exactly what your teacher said.”
Desiree smiled. “Maybe she will read it and want to be baptized.”
“You know, Desiree,” Mom said, “she might not join our church right away. But maybe someday she’ll be ready to turn the pages past your picture and start reading.”
“I hope so,” Desiree said.
“Whatever happens, I know the Lord will bless you for obeying the prophet and sharing the gospel.”
“I’ve already been blessed,” Desiree replied. “I’m not afraid to tell people the Church is true.”
Mom squeezed Desiree’s hand and smiled. “I hope you never will be.”

There comes a time in all of our lives when we question the existence of our testimony. For me it came when I discovered that though within my mind I knew the Church to be true, within my heart there had been no such witness, or so I supposed.

I wanted my own special witness. I prayed and fasted, fasted and prayed. Finally one day, as I sat in sacrament meeting, my heart began to tremble and my eyes began to water. This is something that often happens to me in testimony and sacrament meetings. I realized then that this was my witness that the gospel is true. I knew that I had always known the Church to be true.

Do not be ashamed to admit you do not know the Church is true. We all must be converted to the gospel spiritually, no matter how many generations our families have been in the Church.
Tony S. RollsWestmead, Australia

Brethren, let me share with you a description of priesthood service pertaining to this work, as described by a priesthood leader. He wrote: “On Saturday afternoon our Aaronic Priesthood young men and their leaders assembled at the temple to perform the baptismal work for the fallen soldiers. What a marvelous sight it was to see these young Aaronic Priesthood brethren being baptized by their own priesthood leaders. In almost every case, when the young brother had finished his 14 or 15 names, he would turn and embrace his leader and shed a few tears of joy. What an example of true priesthood love and service! I had the experience of being a witness at the font and gained firsthand knowledge of this and, in a few cases, the undeniable witness of the Spirit that those young soldiers who had died had accepted the baptisms that were being performed in their behalf by our Aaronic Priesthood brethren.
“We wrote down the name of each soldier who was baptized that glorious day so that the young men could have a brief history of the soldiers for whom they were baptized. I have no doubt that this experience will have a lifelong effect for good for all those who participated.”

A girl I will call Liz is an example of what I am talking about. She was a student in a math class with a girl I will call Lindsay, who noticed that there was just something about Liz that “glowed,” as she put it. Lindsay admitted that she really didn’t think Liz knew her, but she still made her feel good. She really stood up for what she believed, and she always made others feel good and included. For several weeks Lindsay observed Liz. Then one day, Liz didn’t show up at school. Then another and then another passed. Lindsay finally learned that Liz was very ill with life-threatening meningitis.
She came home from school and just sat at the table crying. It wasn’t like she and Liz were close friends, but she said to her mom that they just had to do something to help her. Lindsay suggested that perhaps their whole family could fast and pray for Liz. What a shock it was for the mother to hear that coming from one of her own children, because fasting and prayer had not been mentioned in their home for years. When Lindsay and her mom talked with the rest of the family about it that night at supper, there was some resistance, but Lindsay pleaded with them and finally they all agreed to fast and pray for Liz, a stranger. The most wonderful thing happened. It wasn’t long before Liz returned to school appearing healthy and happy as ever. But even more important than this, the experience brought the most remarkable spirit of hope into Lindsay’s home. Because of it, some serious changes have taken place in their family. They are now having family prayer together, something that had not happened for years.
Liz’s goodness glowed, and it was catching. Liz, if you are here tonight, I would just like to say, “Thank you! By your goodness you have blessed at least one whole family whom you probably do not even know. And who knows how many others have been guided as you held high your torch.”

In the spring of 1975 my family and I were living among beautiful green farmland in the Rheinland-Pfalz area of West Germany. Driving home from church one rainy Sunday, we stopped to have a look at an automobile that had rolled onto its side in the wet roadbed at the edge of a forest. Inside the forest it was already dark because of the thick canopy created by the trees and the oncoming night.
After looking at the wrecked vehicle, we returned to our car and discovered it was stuck in the mud. I couldn’t back up, but I could drive forward—into the forest. We had previously driven through the forest and found that many forest roads were interconnected and would eventually lead back out, so I decided to move forward into the blackness.
I quickly realized that I had made the wrong decision. The narrow, wet road was filled with deep ruts of mud and kept leading farther and farther into the dark forest. I tried to keep up speed, fearing that if we stopped, we would become mired. I saw a high spot just ahead that looked firm enough to sustain the weight of the car. My plan was to get the car out of the mud to give myself time to think. The car lunged up and out of the mud.
I turned off the car and climbed out. With the headlights off, I couldn’t see a thing. I turned the headlights back on, grabbed our flashlight, and after looking the car over, decided that my best bet was to back into the forest and then make a mad dash out the way we came.
I backed as far into the forest as possible, revved the engine a little, lunged back onto the road, and sank deep into the mud. Now we were really in trouble. Outside the car it was total darkness and silence. Inside the car my wife and I sat with three terrified children.
I asked my wife for any ideas. After a moment she said, “Maybe we should pray.” The children calmed down almost immediately. I offered a humble but desperate prayer for help. As I prayed, a thought came clearly into my mind: “Put on the tire chains.”
Standing in 10 inches (25 cm) of mud in her Sunday dress, my sweet wife held the flashlight while I cleaned the rear tires with my bare hands and put the chains on. With faith and confidence, we prayed again and started the engine. Slowly we drove through the mud and eventually back onto the pavement.
In the excitement of being freed from the mud and the darkness, I almost forgot who had helped us out of the forest. Our five-year-old daughter reminded me when she said, “Daddy, Heavenly Father really does answer prayers, doesn’t He?”

My sister and I had long hair. Brushing out the tangles every morning took too long, so we decided to have our hair cut. My mom had heard of girls who cut their hair and gave it to a group that makes hairpieces and wigs for children who have lost their hair because of illness. We had to cut off at least 10? (25 cm) of our hair, but, with Mom’s permission, we decided to do it. We were happy to help someone else by sharing a part of ourselves.
Amber and Emily Killpack, ages 8 and 6Firth, Idaho

Serving a mission in Indonesia in 1976, I was once again in a place where the Book of Mormon had not yet been translated into the language of the people who were joining the Church. I remember how our mission president, Hendrik Gout, took my companion and me to the city of Bandung, north of Jakarta, to visit the man who was translating this sacred book. We all prayed that it would be completed soon—especially Church members who were eager to have the privilege of finally reading the Book of Mormon.
I was there when that translation of the Book of Mormon was published and distributed. I think there may have been feelings as sweet and deep as those which were evident in 1830, when the first Book of Mormon was published. This thrilling event was a blessing of extraordinary magnitude. My two native Indonesian companions slept holding their copies of the Book of Mormon.

President N. Eldon Tanner related the following experience: “A young man came to me and said, ‘I made an agreement with a man that requires me to make certain payments each year. I am in arrears, and I can’t make those payments, for if I do, it is going to cause me to lose my home. What shall I do?’
“I looked at him and said, ‘Keep your agreement.’
“‘Even if it costs me my home?’
“I said, ‘I am not talking about your home. I am talking about your agreement; and I think your wife would rather have a husband who would keep his word, meet his obligations, keep his pledges or his covenants, and have to rent a home than to have a home with a husband who will not keep his covenants and his pledges’” (in Conference Report, Oct. 1966, 99).

All day Bonifacio Diaz had been planning to hurry home from school, change into his old clothes, and head straight for the outdoor basketball court at Stevens School. If I’m early, I’ll have a chance to play. Then I’ll be warmed up for tryouts tonight, Bonifacio thought. I hope I’m hot tonight. If I’m not, the coach won’t notice me—not with all those tall guys there.
Bonifacio met his sister Maria on the steps between the third and fourth floors of their apartment house. She turned and called after him, “Mrs. Alvarez came home from the hospital today. She wants to see you right away.”
“But I have to practice. Why can’t you go?”
“I’m baby-sitting. Besides, she needs you. You’re her errand boy.”
Minutes later he knocked on the door marked A-1 and called out, “It’s Bono.”
Mrs. Alvarez’s voice sounded shaky. “Come in, Bono. The door’s open.”
When he saw how pale and weak his elderly friend was, Bono winced. “Hi! Maria said you wanted to see me.”
“I need some medicine from the drugstore,” she told him. “Would you get it for me?”
“Do you need it right now?” he asked.
She nodded. “The doctor told me to start taking the medicine as soon as possible,” she said, handing him the prescription and a five-dollar bill.
Bono ran all the way to the drugstore and back.
“Gracias (thank you), Bono,” Mrs. Alvarez said, holding out a dollar. “Now would you mind going to the grocery store to buy some crackers, a loaf of bread, and a quart of milk?”
Bono frowned. He felt a little frustrated but he took the money and ran to the nearest store. Maybe I’ll still get a chance to play, he thought on the way back to the apartment. When he had climbed the stairs again, he plopped down the leftover change and the groceries on the kitchen table. As he went out the door Mrs. Alvarez called, “Bono, I’m sorry, but I forgot to have you pick up the walker at the firehouse on First Avenue. If I can learn to use it, I might be able to walk again.”
Bono couldn’t believe the old woman would expect him to go on another errand. But she seemed so helpless and alone that he couldn’t refuse. Twenty minutes later he was back with the walker.
“You’re a good boy, Bono,” Mrs. Alvarez said. “Thank you so very much. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
When Bono reached the school yard five minutes later, a full court game was in play. And once a game started, no one had a chance to play until it was finished. Bono walked home muttering to himself, “Now I’ll have to go to the tryouts cold.”
Tryouts for City Center’s basketball team were scheduled for six thirty, but Bono and several of his neighborhood friends were there by five thirty. He looked at the other players and saw that he was shorter than anyone else there—just two inches over five feet.
During tryouts, Bono hit four out of ten foul shots and three out of ten set shots. Although his shooting was off, his play showed the smoothness of hours of practice on the school yard court. He stole the ball twice, never let anyone take it away, and put the ball into play. He went up under the boards but could not get any rebounds.
The coach took Bono out of the scrimmage, and he sat on the bench watching every play. There were twenty-three boys trying out for the team and he noticed that everyone tried hard to score. Those tall guys are lucky, Bono thought. I’d give anything to be tall.
The coach blew the whistle and sent Joe McMasters, one of the tallest boys, to the bench. Bono moved over to make room for him.
“Do you think I shoot too much?” Joe asked.
Bono shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen you play before tonight.”
“I thought I could make those outside shots,” Joe explained. “Did it look like I took a shot every time I got my hands on the ball?”
“Well,” Bono replied, “you didn’t pass off much and you did take some wild shots.”
“I know but everyone expects me to score a lot because I’m tall. And they depend on me to get all the rebounds. If I don’t produce every game, they don’t want me on the team,” Joe said.
“You can’t play great every game,” Bono encouraged. “Everybody has a bad day once in awhile. Nobody’s hot all the time.”
“But they expect me to be high scorer every game. If I’m not, they give me funny looks as if I’ve been goofing off. I try my best but sometimes the breaks are against me.”
“That happens to everybody,” Bono said, “even to professionals. You just have to stay in there and keep trying.”
“That’s what they say, but they’re really hoping I quit. And that’s what I did.”
Bono looked puzzled.
“Last year it was the Bulldogs and the year before that it was the Giants,” Joe continued. “I didn’t belong with them anyhow. I hardly knew the players on my own team. They were glad when we quit.”
“When who quit?” Bono asked.
Joe gestured to two boys on the court. “Mel and Gene and me.”
“I thought you guys had played together before,” Bono said. “What made you try out for this team?”
Joe shrugged. “We heard about it at school and decided to give it a try. But if people think I’m goofing off when I’m really playing my best, then I’ll quit this team too.”
Bono sat there thinking, I never realized it before. What this team needs more than anything else is self-confidence. I’m worried because I’m too short. And Joe’s worried that he won’t be high scorer or snag all the rebounds. Everybody thinks he has to score double numbers to be valuable to the team.
For the first time Bono saw that the team needed someone to give the players confidence and the feeling of playing as a team. Maybe it needed him after all. “Help me to know what to do and to be fair always,” he silently prayed.
During the remainder of the tryout session, Bono played better than he had ever played before. Afterward, the coach announced the names of those who had made the team. Then he said, “Even though Bonifacio Diaz is shorter than anyone else, we need him. He’s a team player and a playmaker.”
Bono couldn’t stop smiling as he made the rounds congratulating the players and telling them he was glad they’d be playing together. When he reached home, he told his family the good news.
“That’s great, Bono,” Maria said, adding, “Mrs. Alvarez wants to see you tomorrow after school.”
“Okay but remind me in case I forget,” Bono said. Then he thought to himself, Everybody has problems … Mrs. Alvarez, Joe, and me. We all need help sometimes. I thought being short was the worst thing in the world. I always wanted to be over six feet tall. But now I’m just going to try to be the best playmaker I can.

The young women of the Seatac Ward in Seattle, Washington, set a goal last year for each young woman and leader to share two copies of the Book of Mormon. To help create opportunities to do this, each Sunday in opening exercises there was a new Book of Mormon question for the coming week. Questions like “What did you do on Sunday?” or “How did you spend your summer vacation?” could be used to start a discussion with a nonmember friend. The discussion might lead to a gospel discussion and open the way to give that person a Book of Mormon.
As a result of their goal, miracles happened and the young women were able to place 21 copies of the Book of Mormon. In addition, there were many other missionary opportunities and chances to share their testimonies of the gospel. Each time one of the girls handed out another book, a sticker was added to the young women’s torch display and the successful giver shared the experience with the rest of her class.

Many years ago, I was the bishop of a new ward in Potomac, Maryland. We had to meet in a school, so one of our first goals as a ward was to build a meetinghouse. Back then, each ward in the Church had to help pay for its meetinghouse, and we sent letters to all the adults in our ward, asking if they would make a donation. As a bishopric, we then decided that the entire ward should be involved, so we also sent letters to the children and teenagers.
The following Sunday, I sat on the stand in Junior Sunday School, which was the meeting children used to attend while their parents were in regular Sunday School. As the music played and the children walked in, one little boy, Jimmy Theurer, came up to me on the stand and placed a nickel in my hand. Our meetinghouse got its start with the contribution of that one little boy.
This experience helped me realize that it’s important for children to be a part of what we do in the Church. They can do many good things for the Church, and they can help and encourage their parents to do good things as well.

A mission had always been a goal of mine, ever since being in Primary and singing “I Hope They Call Me on a Mission”.
Unfortunately, being diagnosed with a brain tumour at the age of 16 shattered that dream. I started to suffer with depression and anxiety while still struggling with the day-to-day issues from my illness.
In 2017, I had begun to prepare to serve in the Birmingham England mission office. I was to spend a few days a week working in the office, and the remainder of the week resting at home. A few weeks before this was due to start, while having a routine check-up, I was told my tumour had grown and that I would need radiotherapy. I felt the world was telling me that the goal I had, of serving a mission, was never going to happen.
Fast forward to December 2020, my physical and mental health weren’t great, and I was struggling to just wake up and get out of bed most days. I remember fasting and asking for help. I was impressed with the idea to work on my physical health. I had hidden away at home for a long time. I decided to mix walking with fundraising for the charities who had helped me since my diagnosis. I ran a yearlong fundraiser while doing virtual-walking challenges, with the goal of climbing Mount Snowdon at the end of the year. The year went great! My physical health improved massively, as did my mental health. I climbed Snowdon in August, four months before I had planned.
In 2021, the service-mission programme started in the UK. This led me to look at serving again. I am now two months into my service mission—it is the best decision I have ever made. I was set apart at the same time as my younger brother, Elder Joseph Peedle, who is serving in Helsinki, Finland. It was amazing to be set apart on the same day! During my preparation for starting my mission, I learnt a lot about being patient and how things are done in the Lord’s timing.
My service mission has saved me. It has given me purpose and focus. I felt lost for a long time and this mission ‘found’ me. I love the gospel and I love our Saviour and our Heavenly Father. Trust in the Lord, everything will work out!
Read more about Elder Peedle’s work as a service missionary in the next article, “Historic Times Lichfield Stake Service Missionaries”.

An example from Victor Hugo’s novel Les Misérables, though fictional, has always touched and inspired me. Near the beginning of the story, Bishop Bienvenu gives food and overnight shelter to the homeless Jean Valjean, who has just been released from 19 years in prison for having stolen a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving children. Hardened and embittered, Valjean rewards Bishop Bienvenu’s kindness by stealing his silver goods. Later detained by suspicious gendarmes, Valjean falsely claims the silver was a gift to him. When the gendarmes drag him back to the bishop’s house, to Valjean’s great surprise, Bishop Bienvenu confirms his story and for good effect says, “‘But! I gave you the candlesticks also, which are silver like the rest, and would bring two hundred francs. Why did you not take them along with your plates?’ …
“The bishop approached him, and said, in a low voice:
“‘Forget not, never forget that you have promised me to use this silver to become an honest man.’
“Jean Valjean, who had no recollection of this promise, stood confounded. The bishop … continued, solemnly:
“‘Jean Valjean, my brother: you belong no longer to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you. I withdraw it from dark thoughts and from the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God!’”
Jean Valjean indeed became a new man, an honest man and a benefactor to many. Throughout his life he kept the two silver candlesticks to remind him that his life had been redeemed for God.6

by Casey Null
Sharon Dangl, 16, of Huntington Beach, California, has always been interested in police work. One day her mother walked into the local police station to report a stolen wallet and walked out with an application for the Police Explorers, which she promptly gave to Sharon.
After passing the rigorous requirements and an oral review, Sharon attended the Police Academy at Camp Pendleton, California. She was trained to search for clues and has assisted police teams working on major crimes in her area. She feels that her experience with the Police Explorers has helped her consider what kind of career she would like to pursue in the future.
Sharon is a member of the Huntington Beach Sixth Ward, Huntington Beach California North Stake.

Children, you are a force for good in this world. You have a great impact on your parents and all the adults around you. Your expressions of love and your approach to life often make us think of the Savior’s teaching that we need to become as little children. When our five children were young, it was often a struggle to get all seven of us together for family home evening. Then one day, our ten-year-old daughter said, “Dad, rather than giving the lesson first, why don’t we play a game first?” And she was right! That change was what our family needed to eagerly gather together.