Gospel Story Finder

Another time the dynamic duo decided to play a little joke. In nearby Provo Canyon there is a 430-foot waterfall that plunges down a sheer cliff into the Provo River. A tram climbs on a cable to a small restaurant at the top, and there is no visible way up to the restaurant except by the tram, and even that’s a scary vertical trip. Nevertheless, the lady in charge one afternoon was startled by two young men tapping her on the shoulder.
“Can we have a ride down the tram,” one asked. Her mouth hung open. They had not come up on the tram.
“Can our dog ride down too?” the other asked. Her eyes dilated. There stood George, wagging his tail benevolently and panting. No dog had ever ridden up the tram. Before the confused lady could develop any serious emotional problems, they explained that they had come in by the “back door,” a hike of 20-plus miles over rough mountain terrain. They got a free ride down the tram, and George became the first and last canine passenger.

As a young missionary, I spent three Christmases in Tonga. Christmas there was the hottest, most humid season of the year, but the spirit of the holiday was the same.
People thought more about others and less about themselves. There was lots of music and singing, and the feeling of peace and good cheer seemed to permeate everything.
There was not a lot of physical gift giving, since there weren’t a lot of things to give. But people gave marvelous gifts of love, service, and kindness.
A few days before Christmas, a nine-year-old granddaughter, who had come to spend the holiday with her grandparents, developed a high fever. They spent all their time caring for her, but the fever seemed to get worse. They called for the missionaries to give her a blessing. We did, and felt prompted to tell her everything would be all right. Then we went on about our other activities.
The day before Christmas, I was visiting various families with a teacher from the local Church school. As we concluded our visits, I asked him where else we should go that Christmas Eve. He said, “I’ve heard ‘Ofa’s granddaughter is still doing poorly, and the grandfather is out of town. I’m sure ‘Ofa is very tired. Why don’t we volunteer to watch her granddaughter tonight and let ‘Ofa get some rest?”
I thought, What a great idea! Why don’t I think of things like that?
It was early evening when we arrived at ‘Ofa’s house. As we explained what we wanted to do, I saw gratitude in her eyes. ‘Ofa looked at us a long time and then said, “She is very ill. I have been up day and night the last three days. I’m not sure I can make it another night. Thank you. Thank you!”
She then explained she’d been using a cloth dipped in water and a woven fan to cool her granddaughter and give her some air. All the girl had done for the last two days was moan.
“I’m not sure if she will get well or not,” ‘Ofa said. “Maybe I should try to stay up and help.”
My companion said, “No, you go on and rest. We’ll fan her and cool her forehead and she’ll be all right. You go get some sleep.” ‘Ofa finally left. I imagine she was asleep the second she got to her room.
We immediately started waving the fan and cooling the girl’s forehead. She seemed in a bad way. Her breathing was strange, her fever high, her eyes closed, and her moans pathetic.
We devised a system where one would hold the wet cloth and the other fan the air through it to get some moist air moving around her mouth and head. It doesn’t sound like much work, but the anxiety of the situation, the sweltering evening, and the effort to get water, rinse the cloth, and constantly wave the fan, caused us both to soon tire. I appreciated what ‘Ofa had been through the last few days.
There was an old wind-up clock where we were. Around 11:00 P.M. we realized we were going to have to do something different to make it through the night. My companion again came up with an idea.
“Why don’t we take turns?” he said. “You sleep for an hour. Then I’ll wake you and you care for her for an hour while I sleep. Then you wake me, and so on. We’ll get through the night that way.”
“Fine,” I said. “Who should start?”
“I’ll start,” he replied. “You rest first.” At midnight he woke me and I fanned with one hand and sponged her forehead with the other until 1:00 A.M. Then I woke him. He did likewise and woke me at 2:00 A.M. I, again, woke him at 3:00 A.M. I knew I would be awakened for my next turn at 4:00 A.M. I was very tired, but felt we would make it through the night all right.
The next thing I remember is sunlight streaming into my eyes. I suddenly awakened, jumped up, and said, “My goodness! What time is it?”
“It’s six o’clock.”
“Six o’clock! Why didn’t you wake me at four?” I asked.
He smiled broadly, a smile that came from deep within and seemed to encompass his whole being as he said, “Oh, you looked so tired. I decided to let you sleep. That’s my present to you. Merry Christmas!”
I couldn’t say anything. Again I thought, Why don’t I think of things like that? My companion stayed up for me! I thought of the Savior coming to his sleeping disciples and asking, “Could ye not watch with me one hour?” (Matt 26:40). The Savior stayed up nearly all night performing one of the greatest works this world will ever know, while those close to him slept.
I felt a little ashamed, yet I also felt happy, as I could see the joy in my companion’s face. He hadn’t been able to give me anything else for Christmas. There was, literally, nothing material for him to give. But what he could give, he had given freely, just by letting me sleep.
I wonder how many of us, in our Christmas giving and our giving all year long, think of not just exchanging material possessions, but of giving of ourselves, fully and freely. True giving comes from the heart, not the wallet.
Sometime during those early morning hours, the girl’s semidelirious moaning ceased, her fever broke, and we could tell the crisis was over. She stirred and opened her eyes.
We waited until midmorning and then knocked on the door to wake up ‘Ofa. She responded quickly, possibly expecting the worst. As she came out on the porch, her granddaughter was there, sitting with us. We were all smiles as we said in unison, “Merry Christmas!”

I have a dear friend who, in the early years of his marriage, was convinced he and his family needed a four-wheel-drive pickup truck. His wife was sure that he did not need but merely wanted the new vehicle. A playful conversation between this husband and wife initiated their consideration of the advantages and disadvantages of such a purchase.
“Sweetheart, we need a four-wheel-drive truck.”
She asked, “Why do you think we need a new truck?”
He answered her question with what he believed was the perfect response: “What if we needed milk for our children in a terrible storm, and the only way I could get to the grocery store was in a pickup?”
His wife replied with a smile, “If we buy a new truck, we will not have money for milk—so why worry about getting to the store in an emergency!”
Over time they continued to counsel together and ultimately decided to acquire the truck. Shortly after taking possession of the new vehicle, my friend wanted to demonstrate the utility of the truck and validate his reasons for wanting to purchase it. So he decided he would cut and haul a supply of firewood for their home. It was in the autumn of the year, and snow already had fallen in the mountains where he intended to find wood. As he drove up the mountainside, the snow gradually became deeper and deeper. My friend recognized the slick road conditions presented a risk, but with great confidence in the new truck, he kept going.
Sadly, my friend went too far along the snowy road. As he steered the truck off of the road at the place he had determined to cut wood, he got stuck. All four of the wheels on the new truck spun in the snow. He readily recognized that he did not know what to do to extricate himself from this dangerous situation. He was embarrassed and worried.
My friend decided, “Well, I will not just sit here.” He climbed out of the vehicle and started cutting wood. He completely filled the back of the truck with the heavy load. And then my friend determined he would try driving out of the snow one more time. As he put the pickup into gear and applied power, he started to inch forward. Slowly the truck moved out of the snow and back onto the road. He finally was free to go home, a happy and humbled man.
I pray for the assistance of the Holy Ghost as I emphasize vital lessons that can be learned from this story about my friend, the truck, and the wood. It was the load. It was the load of wood that provided the traction necessary for him to get out of the snow, to get back on the road, and to move forward. It was the load that enabled him to return to his family and his home.
For my friend, the load of wood provided life-saving traction. The empty truck could not move through the snow, even equipped with four-wheel drive. A heavy load was necessary to produce traction.
It was the load. It was the load that provided the traction that enabled my friend to get unstuck, to get back on the road, to press forward, and to return to his family.

Nell of Branford Hall It is 1664. Nell’s parents see how intelligent she is and allow her to learn from books and her father’s microscope, a new invention then. When the plague comes, though she understands (from looking through the microscope) how even dead fleas can transmit the deadly disease, she doesn’t want to understand why she can’t save her best friend from it. A story of courage by an entire village.

Almost as soon as the caravan stopped at the end of the forest road, the doors popped open and Scouts, dads, and a lot of backpacking equipment and fluorescent-orange life jackets came tumbling out of the cars and trucks. In no time at all the Scouts were lined up, drawing their allotment of food to carry, and stuffing it into their packs. Everyone seemed to know his duty and how to perform it. The few dads who were along to help were impressed with the organization. In fact, the only person not surprised by all this super efficiency performed by 12- and 13-year-old boys was their Scoutmaster, Nob Wimmer.
For Brother Wimmer this trip with the American Fork Utah 14th Ward Scouts was only one of hundreds of Scouting outings he has participated in during his 25 years of Scouting experience.
When asked how he got 12- and 13-year-old boys to perform much beyond their years, he commented on his philosophy:
“The age of the boys isn’t that critical. With cooperation you’d be surprised what even young boys can accomplish. There are three elements that do seem to make for a great trip. First, you need to plan well in advance. Second, a trip needs to require effort from everyone. Preferably the work starts a long time before the trip. If it does, the people involved get more excited about the actual event, they learn more, and they improve their teamwork. Then when we have taken care of all the variables that we can control, the third element of a great trip often comes into play. This is the element of surprise—the unexpected or the unusual happening that really makes the event stay alive in people’s minds long after the trip is over.”
To the 35 Scouts and adults who went, the trip was a success. They had been planning for months; each of them knew his duties and how to carry them out. They had also been working very hard to get ready. They learned how to handle canoes. They conditioned themselves to their backpacks, and many of the Scouts invested extra hours in learning to tie fishing flies. They worked one evening a week with Brother Wimmer learning how to do it, and then they tied quantities of flies in anticipation of the trip. In addition, every meal of the five-day camp was carefully planned in advance. Then, a few days before the trip, the food was bought and repacked so it would be easier to carry. They used off-the-shelf grocery items rather than the more expensive dehydrated backpacking foods. They even made their own oven-dried jerky to save on weight and expense.
Once the gear was out of the vehicles and strapped on backs, everyone started up the trail together. The few miles to the lake seemed more like a dozen since each person not only had to carry his own personal gear but also had to take a turn helping to carry one of the canoes.
At the lake, supplies and Scouts were ferried across the water to a lovely campsite. Scouts built simple, plastic-covered shelters under the pines, and had camp completely set up and organized in time to take in an evening’s fishing.
It was easy to get to sleep that first night. David Miller, however, woke up in the middle of the night with a creepy feeling that he wasn’t alone in his bag.
“I thought I felt something in my bag. I lay still for a while, and pretty soon whatever it was began running down my back. I grabbed it between the folds of my sleeping bag, got out of the bag, and woke my father. He helped me brush it out. It was a little squirrel, and it seemed as glad to be out of the bag as I was.”
The next morning Bishop Bean found fresh moose tracks around his sleeping bag, and there were deer tracks all through camp. After that everyone kept watch for the abundant wildlife in the area. Every morning and evening they were able to watch moose saunter down to the lake for a drink and a swim.
“The wildlife provided the unusual and the unexpected on this trip,” said Brother Wimmer. “Each day most of the boys got to see deer and moose in their natural setting. The animals didn’t even seem frightened of us. We didn’t bother them, and they seemed content to let us share their lake for a few days.”
Everyone caught some fish, and even one boy who had been cool on the trip in the first place had a terrific time. He told the leaders when they were planning the trip, “I don’t want to go up in the woods somewhere and play cowboys and Indians.”
““He sure got interested when the fish started biting,” said Bishop Bean. Like the rest of the boys, he had set goals he wanted to accomplish on this trip. Each boy became more proficient at some skill, and they were all better trained to operate as a group than ever before.”
During lunch one day one of the adults was swatting at some of the huge horseflies that seemed to be everywhere. “These horseflies are terrible,” he said.
Brother Wimmer piped up, “Don’t say that! Nothing up here is terrible!”
“Okay, I’ll just say the horseflies are mildly aggravating.”
“Fine,” said Brother Wimmer with a smile, and then let silence complete the sermon. It was a sermon that was relived time and again as the boys later shared the memories of this experience at troop meetings and a special ward banquet in their honor.

I can remember a Sunday School teacher telling me once that I wasn’t very spiritual. Looking back, I think she was probably concerned because I had trouble sitting quietly through a whole lesson. At the time, I didn’t know what she meant. But it didn’t sound like a compliment, so I went home and thought about it. I figured that maybe spirituality meant being quiet, especially on Sundays. I wanted to be spiritual, but I needed to know what it meant.
Since that time, I have continued my search to understand spirituality and make it more a part of my character. One day I read Elder Bruce R. McConkie’s statement that “no other talent exceeds spirituality.” (The Mortal Messiah, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1982, p. 234.) This idea, that spirituality is a talent, put my search in perspective. There’s probably nothing magical about achieving spirituality. More likely, we develop it much as we develop other talents—through hard work, difficult decisions, critical choices, enduring through hard times, trying again, not giving up.
Foremost in my mind, spirituality implies doing. That makes it difficult for me because I’d much rather sit in a comfortable place and think about it, or discuss it, or read a book about it. But spirituality is God’s asking—his inviting—and our responding—our doing. It’s getting on with it without waiting around for more details.
How is action an integral part of spirituality? We do things because we want to demonstrate to our Heavenly Father that we really mean what we say. That we meant it when we made baptismal covenants with him. (See Mosiah 18:8–11.) That we mean it when we have the privilege of entering a holy temple and making other covenants. That we mean it when, in our quietest, most private moments with him, we ask for his help and make additional promises.
One evening when my parents weren’t home, I answered the telephone. It was one of my younger sisters, crying hard. “Come and get me,” she pleaded. She was calling from a party at a friend’s house where her friends had started swearing. Unknown to any of her family, she had promised Heavenly Father that she would never swear. Spirituality means honoring our promises to Heavenly Father.
Another concept that rings true for me was taught by Bishop J. Richard Clarke, formerly second counselor in the Presiding Bishopric: “It has always been the disposition of the true disciples of Christ, as they reached higher degrees of spirituality, to look after the needy.” (General Conference, April 1978.)
Who are the needy? If we speak of temporal needs, we can identify the poor quite easily. I have seen many in Africa, Asia, and other places who might be identified as “poor.” There are many who are hungry and have no food. They are thirsty and have no water. They are sick and have no medicine.
One day as I watched some women squatting by the river to wash their clothes, I pictured myself putting my clothes into a washing machine. And I wondered what I did with all the extra time I have. In a refugee camp in Thailand, I once visited with a couple as their children played nearby. One little girl knocked over a small plastic bag of rice. With great care, the parents picked up every single grain of rice and put them all back in the bag. I thought about how much food I have wasted in my life. I will never forget the moment in Indonesia when I realized that I was spending more money in a month than some people made in an entire year.
Spirituality is opposed to worldliness, and it is opposed to selfishness. To be worldly is to be concerned with the affairs, pressures, and “things” of this world to the exclusion of more important matters.
When we are worldly, we may actually be contributing to inequality in the world. Spirituality is a conscious moving away from self-indulgence. It is a consciousness that God created the earth with “enough and to spare” (see D&C 104:13–18) and that I have enough and have much to spare—to share.
When we as a people endeavor to find more to share, we reach toward a lofty goal, a society where there are no poor. “And the Lord called his people ZION, because they were of one heart and one mind, and dwelt in righteousness; and there was no poor among them.” (Moses 7:18.)
But there are so many ways to be needy. There are many who mourn and find no comfort. They are lonely and find no love. Some feel unneeded and find no opportunities to share with others. Anyone who has an unmet need is needy. We are all needy! And those who have something they can share are rich. We are all rich! All of us can share something that may lift a burden or help in some silent struggle.
A friend of mine was very sick at one time. She was home alone when someone knocked at her door. She didn’t feel like getting up, but the knocking continued. Then she realized that it might be her visiting teachers. She knew they had set a goal for 100 percent; it was near the end of the month, and they hadn’t come yet.
When she saw that it was indeed her visiting teachers, she began to feel hopeful. She had a lot of undone work around her apartment. Perhaps, she thought, they might see how sick she was and offer to help. When they saw her and asked if she was all right, her hopes increased. “I’ve been so sick,” she said. “Well,” they replied, “we’ll just give you a quick lesson so you can get back to bed.”
They gave her the lesson, left, and got “credit” for their visit. My friend went back to bed and wept. She thought of times when she, too, had missed opportunities to serve because she was not as sensitive as she could have been.
How often we continue doing good out of a sense of duty, rather than reaching for a level where we do out of love. I have often wondered what would happen if we approached our visiting and home teaching with the primary goal of helping people meet their needs. I suspect that 100 percent might just happen anyway, without giving it much thought.
Spirituality is responding to our God-given ability to know right from wrong—and choosing right without delay. This means we cannot go day after day with the same excuses, the same putting off. I have always thought it’s a wonderful thing that we lose our peace of mind when we do wrong. Let us pray that we will never cause the Holy Ghost to cease striving with us. Imagine that inside each of us is a little device with many sharp points. When we do wrong, it starts to spin, and its sharp edges cause pain. When we stop doing or thinking wrong things, it stops spinning and we feel better. But if we continue doing what we know we should not, the sharp edges wear down and we no longer feel or notice the pain so much. To delay change, once we know it is needed, is to lose a measure of spirituality.
The story goes that someone once asked the great Italian artist Michaelangelo how he could transform ordinary rock into his marvelous statues. Reportedly, the artist replied that he just chiseled until everything that wasn’t the statue wasn’t there. To be spiritual means to have a sense of who we truly are and then to be that person.
Eventually, spirituality becomes such an integral part of our being that we can follow our heart’s true desires without doing anything wrong. Nephi, the son of Helaman, reached that point where there was no conflict between what he wanted and what was right. The Lord promised him, “I will bless thee forever; and I will make thee mighty in word and in deed, in faith and in works; yea, even that all things shall be done unto thee according to thy word, for thou shalt not ask that which is contrary to my will. (Hel. 10:5; italics added.)
This kind of spirituality requires that we consciously move away from all that is unkind, unholy, impure, or unchristian. It requires that we let go of anger and revenge. And it yields a peace of heart and soul. It makes us able to find good things to do without constantly being asked, pushed, or reminded.
As I observe people who seem to have developed a deep spirituality, I notice several qualities they have in common. One is the ability to communicate in a meaningful, personal way with God, to enjoy meditating and pondering. Another is a cheerfulness, an optimism, a buoyancy of spirit. Those who are spiritual also seem to be grateful—not just for obvious blessings, but for the often unnoticed joys of life. They seem genuinely happy when others succeed or receive praise. They obey with a feeling of enlightenment and sense of progression, rather than out of duty or fear or in hopes of some honor. And they seem as much concerned with being—with the state of their souls—as they are with doing.
Perhaps the trait I enjoy most in those who seem to have reached higher levels of spirituality is that they show kind, tender, active concern for others. They don’t seem to need much credit for genuine Christian service. And they seem to be able to help others without creating dependency or a feeling of indebtedness. They have a way of exalting those they help. (See D&C 104:15–16.)
They say, “Here we are, Lord. Send us!” Send us anywhere in the world where we might be of service. Send us next door with some warm bread. Send us to listen to a weary, struggling neighbor. Send us to visit a lonely friend. Send us into the next room to lift a heavy heart. Help us be in tune so that we can respond to all the big and little promptings that come. Help us go beyond “Just call if you need me” to anticipating and helping before there is desperation and helplessness.
The price God asks of each of us is the same: everything. The reward is also the same: a growing feeling of confidence and peace. I will always remember a tall Nigerian who stood in a testimony meeting and said with emotion, “I am convinced that I am a son of God!” I also like to think how Enos must have felt when he knew he was forgiven of his sins and his faith in Christ was rewarded: “Wherefore my soul did rest.” (Enos 1:17.)
May we lift and love and nourish and smile. May we visit and share and sing and serve until joy fills our souls to overflowing. Then we, with Enos, may look forward to meeting God, for we will “see his face with pleasure.” (Enos 1:27.)

“I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”*
Thank you, David. That promise isn’t just for prophets with dramatic, dangerous missions. It’s for every one of us and for every single commandment.
Later that week at school …
Dave, you lucky dog—you get to write my history report for me. Have it ready Friday morning.
I won’t do it, Spike.
Here are five good reasons why you will!
Spike, some people think you’re stupid just because you’re big. Maybe you’ve even started believing it yourself. But I know better.
You do?
I know that you can do the report yourself and do it well. But if you could use some help, I’m your man. My place at six?
OK, but this had better work.
Wow, talk about dramatic and dangerous! But you went and did, just like Nephi!
Not unless Nephi was so scared that he swallowed his jawbreaker!

I breathed hard as my math teacher talked about our upcoming activity.
“I know most of you young people listen to rap,” he said. “It’s not very good music, and it’s often hard to leave it alone.”
He wanted to show us how bad it was by having the class count the seconds to the first swear word of each song. He explained that after we collected the data we were going to put it into graphs.
“Now, I expect you all to be mature about this,” he lectured. “But if anyone’s uncomfortable or you know your parents wouldn’t approve, you can take your book and go into the hall.”
I gripped my chair. I knew I couldn’t stay here—but I was afraid to move. No one else seemed to be thinking the same thing I was. “I’ll be the only one if I leave,” I told myself.
I rationalized that maybe it would be okay if my teacher stopped the song after the first swear word. I was so petrified to stand up that I lost my chance to leave. The first song came on, and I felt my heart sink as the Spirit disappeared from the room.
The song ended, and its data was written on the board. Before I could think, another song blared curse words through the speakers. I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew that this kind of music drove away the Spirit, and that Heavenly Father didn’t want me listening to it. I picked up my book and asked the teacher if I could leave. As I walked out of the room, the Spirit returned, and I knew I had done the right thing.

For more than twenty years, Sister Cécile Pelous, a member of the Cergy-Pontoise Branch, Paris France Stake, has worked for the finest fashion houses in Paris—Dior, Cardin, and Ricci. She designs and makes dresses for the wealthiest women in the world.
But since 1986, this graceful, dynamic women has used her glamorous career as a means to do quite a different work. She spends three months every year serving the destitute of India. Working in the impoverished suburbs of Calcutta and in the orphanages of Bengal, she dedicates all of her savings, along with donations from French friends, to the relief of poor children—with the assistance of local people of goodwill.
Cécile discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1974 when she was visiting the United States on a tour. Her group happened to stop at Temple Square and attend a performance by the Tabernacle Choir. “It was an intense emotional experience,” she says. Later, she told her fellow travelers that listening to the Choir was the part of the tour that she liked best.
Months later, missionaries knocked on her door back in France. Cécile was not interested until one of them said he was from Salt Lake City. Remembering her experience there, Cécile asked the missionary if he represented “the church with the choir.” When he said yes, she let them in and listened to their message. She was baptized a few months later—in 1975.
Eleven years later, in July 1986, Cécile took her first trip to India. “I went to Calcutta during vacation, with the idea of helping my neighbor,” she says. “I took with me my first-aid certificate, my goodwill, and my suitcases packed with medicines.” She had read about and had heard lectures describing conditions in India. “I knew there was plenty to do,” she says.
The work she found to do was mostly among the elderly, babies, and handicapped children of Calcutta. “I found opportunities to get busy and stretch myself. Dirty clothes and sheets had to be boiled and washed, meals prepared, patients fed in night shelters and almshouses, and medical care given,” she says. “The dying had to be washed, and warmth and affection had to be given them to help them leave this world. There were babies to change and feed who were so weak that you would wish you could force your own health into their bodies.” She worked first with Mother Theresa’s Sisters of Mercy and then with other groups.
“I am not a heroine,” Cécile says. “My experience in India is one of love and friendship.”
During that first trip to India, Cécile also discovered a home for one hundred elderly people, most of them bedridden. “There were only two Catholic missionaries to cater to the needs of all, and one of them had been sick for three days. When another volunteer and I arrived, we immediately rolled up our sleeves and went to work,” she says. “Sister Thérésina, one of the missionaries, kissed me and said, ‘The Lord has sent you!’ and I believed her.”

Christmas used to be the best time of the year. Tasha’s grandma would take her shopping for a new dress. And Dad read “The Night before Christmas” to her every Christmas Eve.
But two years ago, Grandma had died. And then the next year, Dad died, and Tasha and Mom moved to a smaller house. Now there was no fireplace to hang stockings, and reading Dad’s Christmas poem was too sad.
One night about two weeks before Christmas, the doorbell rang. When Tasha opened the door, there was a mug full of candy canes with a little note signed, “Secret Santa.” Tasha’s face lit up. She loved candy canes!
“Who do you think it’s from?” she asked, peeling open one of the wrappers.
“I don’t know,” said Mom. She smiled and pulled out a candy cane. “But what a nice surprise!”
The next night, their Secret Santa left hot cocoa mix. The night after that it was a box of cute soaps. Every night, Tasha was excited to see what showed up next. And every night she got more and more curious. Who was dropping off the gifts?
Tonight there was a plate of cookies with reindeer faces. They had chocolate-chip eyes and antlers made from melted caramel. “They’re so cute,” Tasha said. “I wish we knew who was bringing these so we could say thank you.”
Mom got out some milk to go with their cookies. “It seems like whoever’s doing it wants to stay anonymous.”
“What’s a … anonymous?” Tasha asked.
“It means they don’t want other people to know who they are. Maybe the best thing we can do to thank them is to pass their kindness on to other people.”
Tasha was quiet as she ate her cookie. What kind things could she do? She didn’t have money to buy cute little gifts. And even if she did, Mom didn’t have time to take her to the store.
Tasha sighed. “I want to do something nice, but I don’t know what to do. And I don’t have a lot of money.”
“Being kind doesn’t take money,” Mom said. “All it takes is thinking about others. Smiling at a friend who looks sad, sitting at lunch with someone who’s alone, saying ‘thank you’—those are nice and free.”
Tasha nodded slowly. She could do that.
On Monday morning at school, her teacher was wearing a new sweater.
“Mrs. Hennessy,” Tasha said, “that’s a really pretty red sweater.”
Mrs. Hennessy looked happy. “Thank you!”
For the rest of the day, Mrs. Hennessy seemed to be smiling a lot.
That afternoon after school, Tasha volunteered to walk her neighbor’s dog.
“Thank you, Tasha,” Mrs. Oliver said. “My hip was hurting so much that I wondered how I was going to take Penny for her walk. You’re an answer to prayer.”
“You’re welcome,” Tasha said. She was glad she’d come to help.
After dinner she helped Mom fold laundry and clean the kitchen. Tomorrow she was going to surprise Mom and vacuum!
That night their Secret Santa struck again, this time leaving a bag of chocolate candies.
“Mom,” Tasha said, “can I take some of these to school to share? I think that would make my class really happy.”
Mom took a chocolate and handed the bag to Tasha. “Of course!”
Tasha grinned. She would always miss Dad and Grandma, but she was glad she had discovered this Christmas secret: helping others made her happy!

I think of the bishop of my boyhood. He was there when I was given a name and a blessing by my good father. He it was who interviewed me and found me worthy of baptism into the Lord’s church. He it was who interviewed me and found me worthy to be ordained a deacon. He called me to my first Church responsibility as a member of the presidency of the deacons quorum. He it was who presided over the quorum of priests to which I once belonged. He it was who recommended me to the stake president as worthy to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood. He it was who recommended me to the President of the Church as one worthy to serve as a missionary. He it was who welcomed me home and who signed my recommend as one worthy to be married in the house of the Lord.

“Guess what!” Ben shouted as he burst into the kitchen. “I get to go on the fifth-grade field trip to Chicago. It’s going to be three days. We get to stay in a hotel and ride the train and everything!”
Alex trudged in behind his big brother and dropped his books on the counter. He wanted to be happy for Ben. He really did. But Alex and Ben had never been apart. Not even for one night.
Every day they rode the bus to and from school together. They played football together. They went to church together. Ben wasn’t just Alex’s big brother; he was also his best friend.
Alex had a jittery feeling in his stomach. How would he get along without his brother for three whole days and nights?
“Can I call Dad at work to tell him about the field trip?” Ben asked.
Mom nodded. “Go ahead. He’ll be excited for you.”
After Ben ran to get the phone, Mom saw Alex’s sad face. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Why does Ben have to go away?” Alex grumbled. “Why can’t his class just stay at school?”
“Are you worried about missing him?” Mom asked.
Alex nodded. “What am I going to do without him?”
“It will be pretty tough to have Ben gone,” Mom said and ruffled Alex’s hair. “But Dad and I will be here. We’re not so bad, are we?” She made a funny face, and Alex smiled, just a little.
“Not so bad,” he agreed.
But the next morning, Alex felt nervous again.
“When Ben leaves I’ll have to go to school on my own,” Alex said. “He hasn’t even left, and I already miss him!”
“You know, I bet Ben feels the same. What if you did something special for his trip?” Mom asked.
“I guess …” Alex thought about what he could do for Ben. That night he decided to pray about it.
“Heavenly Father, Ben is going away on a school trip. He’ll probably miss me too. I want to do something special to help him not be lonely.” Alex kept thinking, and soon he had a great idea. He would make a going-away bag for Ben. Ben was going to love it!
Over the next week, Alex did extra chores to earn money to buy a few little surprises to put in the bag. He put in a fun comic book, Ben’s favorite candy bars, a picture of Jesus, and a little stuffed dog that looked like their own dog, Whiskers. Finally Alex wrote a letter to Ben telling him how much he loved him.
The morning of the trip, everyone got up early. Dad gave Ben a father’s blessing. Then the family knelt and had a prayer. They asked Heavenly Father to help Ben be safe on his trip.
After the prayer Alex gave the going-away bag to Ben. “This is for you. You can’t open it until you’re on the bus.”
Ben hugged Alex. “Thanks! This is the best surprise ever.”
When Ben left, Alex wasn’t so sad anymore. He was excited thinking about Ben opening up his special bag. They would have lots to tell each other when Ben got back.

This story happened in Taiwan.
“Are you ready?” Terry’s older sister, Hailey, popped her head into his room. “It’s time to go practice for the Christmas play.”
Oh yeah! Terry and Hailey were in a special play for their ward Christmas party.
“Almost ready!” Terry pulled on his jacket and walked to the front door. “Who else will be there?”
“Mia and Jake. And some kids from Jake’s school,” Mom said. “The other kids don’t go to our church, but they’re excited to help.”
Terry froze. He didn’t realize there would be kids he didn’t know at the practice. There was no way he would be brave enough to say his lines in front of them.
“I don’t want to go anymore,” Terry said.
“Why not?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know the other kids,” Terry said. He always got nervous talking to new people.
“But you can make new friends. And I’ll be there with you,” Hailey said.
Terry shook his head. “Maybe next time. Can we practice my lines at home for now?”
Mom nodded. “OK. But if you want to be in the play, you’ll need to practice with the other kids soon.”
Terry liked practicing at home. It was easy! But he knew he needed to practice with the other kids too.
At family prayer a few nights later, Terry had an idea.
“Can we pray that I’ll have courage to join the practice?” Terry said. “Maybe Heavenly Father can help me.”
“Of course,” Dad said. “Good idea.”
They all closed their eyes and folded their arms.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Dad prayed, “please help Terry to have the courage to go to play practice.”
On the day of the next practice, Terry walked into the church with Mom and Hailey. His heart was beating fast, but he wanted to try. He felt ready. Heavenly Father and Jesus must be helping me! he thought.
“Terry! We’re so glad to see you,” Sister Tee said.
Terry smiled and nodded. Lots of other kids were already talking and laughing. He saw Jake and Mia. But he didn’t know the others.
Sister Tee told the kids where to sit and when to speak while they practiced. Terry was still nervous to sit by kids he didn’t know, but he tried to remember Dad’s prayer. It helped him feel better.
They practiced the songs and their lines over and over. The kids sitting by Terry were fun. They made him laugh a lot!
A few days later, it was time to for the play. The church was decorated with lots of Christmas trees, lights, and ribbons. Everyone wore red and green.
Terry hardly felt nervous anymore. He liked being with the other kids, even the ones he didn’t know before!
During the play, Terry felt good. And when it was his turn to speak, he said his lines loud and clear.
After the play, Terry found his family.
“Great job!” Dad said.
Mom smiled. “You looked like you had a lot of fun.”
“I did! I’m glad I was brave enough to do it,” Terry said.
Terry couldn’t have done it without Mom, Dad, Hailey, and Heavenly Father. Praying for help and being brave was totally worth it!

Andrew turned back and climbed into the airplane’s small cabin. Although his father had taken some of the food on the sled, there was still a lot of canned goods left—much more than he would need. As he ate, Andrew thought of taking some food to the Eskimos, but he decided against it. If his father were delayed for some reason, the boy would need the food for himself.
Near the river the Eskimo boy chopped two holes through the ice. After fishing for several hours Ootah finally caught three small fish. He offered one to Andrew. “For your supper,” he said.
“Thank you, but I have food in the cabin of the plane,” Andrew reminded him.
Andrew felt terribly lonely when he returned to the plane and fixed something to eat. Before eating he prayed for his father’s safety and quick return. And as he prayed he remembered that his father had taught him to treat others as he would like to be treated. Guiltily he thought of the kindness of the Eskimo who had offered to share his fish even though they were all short of food.
Andrew flung open the cabin door and shouted for Ootah. When he came running, Andrew began throwing cans of food down to him.
On the sixth day an airplane mechanic flew in with Andrew’s father. While the mechanic repaired the plane, Andrew said good-bye to his Eskimo friends. He and Ootah solemnly promised to keep in touch with each other.
As the plane soared above the igloos, Andrew felt something pushing against his leg. He reached down and with a rush of joy picked up the little brown and white Husky puppy Ootah and his grandfather had left in the plane for Andrew to take home.

I made my first covenant on November 13, 1977. I don’t remember much about my baptism, but I do remember Elder Pistone helping me into the water and Elder Morasco confirming me while my hair was still wet. I also remember the joy I felt as new ward friends gave hugs and kisses in the Argentine way and the strong desire I felt to be a faithful daughter of Heavenly Father.
Young Sister Spannaus (middle) with her parents (left), her sister Silvina (far right), and Elder Morasco.
Later I realized that the joy I felt came from the gift of the Holy Ghost. I learned that as I faithfully kept my covenants with God, the Spirit would be with me. The Holy Ghost is just one of the powerful blessings that come from a covenant relationship with God and Jesus Christ.

As I observed two of our lovely grown daughters that night an incident from the past came to mind that forms the burden of my brief message today. I still think of it with a tendency to tears. Another little girl had joined our family and was of course much loved. Occasionally I had called her older sister “Princess,” but had thought about that, and, since the second young lady was equally deserving of royal treatment, had concluded that it would be well for her to share the title, if it were used at all.
So one day I called to her, “Come on, Princess. Let’s go to the store for mother.” She seemed not to hear. “Honey,” her mother said, “daddy is calling you.”
“Oh,” she answered, with a quiet sadness that hurt my heart, “he doesn’t mean me.”
In memory I can still see the resignation on her innocent child face and hear it in her voice, when she thought that her father didn’t mean her.
My child at first did not understand that my invitation was meant for her. She thought it was for someone else. “He didn’t mean me.” If any within the sound of my voice today need assurance that God’s call to repentance and his invitation to mercy and forgiveness and love is for them, I bear you that solemn witness, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

My friends and I were really into video games. The games we played were not driving games or sports games. We spent most of our time playing violent games that tried to show us what war was really like. My mother had been trying to get me to stop playing them, but the games were fun, and I thought she just did not understand the amazing things that the computer could do. I never realized that my behavior had changed until President Gordon B. Hinckley gave us the six Bs (see “A Prophet’s Counsel and Prayer for Youth,” New Era, Jan. 2001, 4).
I started to notice that after playing those violent games, I could not be nice to people. One time, after playing a game, a friend asked me if he could get something out of the refrigerator. I responded to him very rudely. I thought I was joking, but he didn’t. I felt horrible for being mean to him and making one of my best friends feel bad. I never wanted to hurt anyone after that.
I could not “be smart” or “be humble,” as the prophet has told us. These games distracted me from studying. I spent all of my free time playing these games so I could be better than everyone else. Playing these games built up a lot of pride in me, and I could not control myself from making fun of the people I had beaten. After a few weeks of feeling horrible after playing games like these and feeling horrible about the things they influenced me to do, I resolved to never play a violent game ever again. It didn’t matter if the game was just a little violent or a lot; I would never play a game with violence in it.
I have tried this for a while now, and I see blessings for doing so all around me. Giving up these games has allowed me to do so much more. I went from having no job to having a full-time job, from starting to lose friends to making more. I can spend more time on school and my studies. I have even started to write a short story that I enjoy.
I have found that listening to your parents and the prophet can save you a lot of heartache. The simple phrases “be humble” and “be smart” have made me a new person. I believe that as I continue to stay away from violent games, I will be blessed.

Sister Yaeko Seki experienced part of this precious promise. She writes:
“My family and I were spending a day at the Japan Alps National Park . … I was pregnant with our fourth child and was feeling rather tired, so I lay down under the trees. … I began thinking about our financial problems. My heart became overwhelmed, and I burst into tears. ‘Lord, we are full-tithe payers. We have sacrificed so much. When will the windows of heaven open unto us and our burdens be lightened?’
“I prayed with all my heart. Then I turned to watch my husband and children playing and laughing together. … Suddenly, the Spirit testified to me that my blessings were abundant and that my family was the greatest blessing Heavenly Father could give me.”

“Happy birthday, Heber!” exclaimed his mother as she handed him the most beautiful coat he had ever seen. He hugged it close and his eyes were bright with happiness. He knew how difficult it had been for his mother to make it, and he could hardly wait to go out in the cold and feel its warmth around him.
One day as Heber was hurrying on an errand, he saw a boy in a thin sweater shivering with cold. As he hurried by, the boy looked at Heber’s coat with such longing that, almost before he knew what he was doing, Heber stopped, took off his new coat, and gave it to the boy.
When Heber’s mother saw her son wearing his old coat instead of the new one, she asked what he had done with his lovely new overcoat.
“Oh, Mother,” Heber J. Grant explained, “I saw a boy who needed it lots worse than I, so I gave it to him.”

In middle school, my friends told me many times that I was weird for not saying bad words. They made fun of me for it. I was starting to think that maybe they were right and that I was supposed to use those words because everyone else used them.
I wanted to be different from my friends, but I was scared that I would be alone. On Sunday, one of the speakers in sacrament meeting spoke about choosing the right no matter what. A phrase of his talk caught my attention: “Sometimes we may feel alone when we do the right things. But you’re never alone, because God is always with you.” That answered my question, and I decided that I wasn’t going to use bad language.
The next day one of my friends was using bad language. I told him that he could talk that way if he wanted to, but not in front of me. After that, he stopped using bad words when I was around. Some other kids told me that what I did was brave, and I realized that I wasn’t the only one who was uncomfortable with his language. What the speaker said was true—I wasn’t alone!
I’ve decided that if I don’t like the language someone is using, I will say something. I know that it can be hard to do what is right, but the blessings we receive from making good choices are powerful.
Tony F., Chihuahua, Mexico