Gospel Story Finder

I was a senior in high school the day I ran into Sam Stone,* a boy I hadn’t seen since junior high. I was going to run an errand as I started down the hall of my high school. With the sun coming through the double doors in front of me, I could only make out the silhouette of a boy coming towards me. As we got closer, he spoke, calling me by name, “I remember you. You kicked me in the stomach and were always mean to me.”
Sammy had moved into our small community sometime in the third or fourth grade. He was placed in a foster family and lived there until about the seventh or eighth grade, when he was sent to a new foster family. Sammy had been teased constantly, and I am embarrassed and ashamed to admit that I participated in his ridicule. I don’t remember ever kicking him, but I have a definite memory of being on the merry-go-round when he was trying to get on. We wouldn’t let him and began a cruel chant about him as we pumped the merry-go-round faster and faster. I still remember the look on his face.
Throughout the remainder of my senior year, I tried to be kind to Sam. I made it a point to speak to him whenever I saw him. Then graduation came, and we went our separate ways.
Now I am 33 years old, and I serve as the Primary president in my ward. The theme for sharing time one month was “Friends.” That Sunday we would be having stake visitors, and as I began to prepare for sharing time, I searched for something to involve the children and keep them interested so that we could maintain reverence.
My mind kept going to the memory of Sammy, how I was not a friend to him and how I could have made a difference in the way he was treated and didn’t. I thought about talking to the senior Primary on being a good friend and telling my story as a poor example. I prepared my talk but began to have second thoughts. I did not know if I could keep the interest of the children without a game or something to involve them and did not particularly want to try it for the first time when the stake visitors were there. Then there was the fact that I was ashamed and embarrassed of what I had done when I was the same age as these children and wondered if I should share this story with them.
By Thursday, I had decided not to tell the story and was looking through all my materials for another idea of something to present. By Friday, I had not found anything that felt right to me. I prayed for help and decided that when I went to dinner with my sister that evening, I would find out what she was doing for sharing time in her ward. My sister, who also served in a Primary presidency, is very creative, and I often get ideas from her. That night as we waited for our dinner to arrive, she excitedly told me her plans for sharing time in her ward. The idea was good, but it just didn’t feel right for me. Now I was really concerned. I slowly began to eat my dinner, my thoughts centered on what I could possibly do.
As I was eating, I thought I heard my name being called. It was very faint, and it was my maiden name. I looked around but didn’t see anyone, and no one at my table seemed to have heard it. I figured it was my imagination and went back to my meal and the conversation when I heard my name again, this time louder. This time my dinner companions heard it too. As I looked up, I saw a man step out from behind a divider. The man was Sammy Stone. “I wasn’t sure if that was you,” he said, “so I said your name softly first to make sure it was.”
I was dazed. Standing before me was Sam Stone. I had not seen him since high school some 15 years before, but the past week I had thought about him constantly. And now here he was. We chatted a minute as I introduced him to my husband and my other family members there with me. He invited me to meet his family in another part of the restaurant before we left. I felt strongly that Heavenly Father wanted me to tell this story in sharing time on Sunday.
At the conclusion of our meal, my husband and I went over to meet Sam’s family. Sam had overcome some great odds in his life. I was impressed with him and his family. Sadly for me, Sam introduced me to his family as someone he went to high school with. I would have been elated if he would have introduced me as “a friend from high school,” but at least he had spoken to me.
On Sunday I spoke about Sammy in Primary. The room was packed with the children, the stake visitors, and members of our bishopric. There was no problem with reverence. You could have heard a pin drop during any part of sharing time. I know that Heavenly Father loves each of His children, and I believe He wanted me to share this story to remind them to be kind to everyone. So, to those of you who are reading this story, I ask you the same question I asked that group of children, “What kind of friend will you be remembered as?”

A few years ago my daughter and I, along with two other friends, were backpacking in the Teton Range. Looking for an adventure, we asked the ranger if there was a path that not very many people knew about. He told us about a trail-less hike that would take us through meadows, streams, boulder fields, then to a pristine lake, and eventually to our destination—The Wall. We were in! He gave us instructions on the basic directions and said, “Stay high on the mountain. Don’t go down in the willows because that is where the bears are; watch for the cairns that will show you the way.” Cairns are rocks stacked on top of each other to form an eco-friendly trail marker.
We began early the next morning. For a time we were down in the willows, which made me very nervous. Then we saw our first cairn up on the side of the hill, and we went to it. We hiked from cairn to cairn. At times it seemed we were lost because we would go so long without seeing another cairn, but then to our relief we would see one again and all was well. We reached a huge field of boulders and had to hoist each other and our packs to the top of each boulder. This was challenging, but by evening we reached the beautiful pristine lake. This is where we pitched our tents. We had exquisite views in every direction. The strenuous hike was worth it!
Early the next morning, however, I awoke to the sound of howling wind. A fog had descended on the lake, making it almost impossible to see in any direction. We packed our tents and sleeping bags and started out navigating around the lake, beginning our ascent to our destination, The Wall. I was never so happy as to arrive at The Wall—in fact, we all were! We went up to the huge granite wall and kissed it! We had arrived.

“Look, the baby is blind. It doesn’t have any eyes!” Incredulously the nurses crowded around to see the newborn infant just beginning to pink up after his journey into this world. Yes, it was true. The baby was blind. There were no eyes where blue eyes belonged. The mother, a beautiful nurse, and the father, a medical student, would have to be told. How would they react?

No, our Father doesn’t promise us immunity from trouble, and so it was with the mother and the blind baby. That child was accepted with love, cared for with kindness, and I was fortunate enough to be present in the fast meeting in which the child was blessed. Both parents stood and thanked God for his trust and confidence in them that they should be allowed to care for such a special child. Because the mother was a nurse and the father a medical student, they could perhaps provide better care for that little child of God. I have watched that couple grow. They are more empathetic, more concerned, more Christlike because of their response to a heartrending problem.

Sometimes making a difference is as easy as saying one sentence. A couple of years ago, before the beginning of the girls’ basketball season, Sue said, “Let’s say a prayer.” They followed her suggestion before that first game, and it became a habit. “I always said the prayer before every game. Sometimes I would say, ‘Doesn’t someone else want to offer the prayer today?’ And a couple of times someone else would. But most of the time, the team would all be standing around waiting for me, calling, ‘Sue, come and say the prayer.’”

“Did you say your prayer tonight?”
Every night, Jesse’s older brother Ben came into Jesse’s room and asked him that same question.
Jesse could put on his pajamas and brush his teeth without help. He was proud that he could get ready for bed all by himself. But every night he forgot to pray until Ben reminded him. It made Jesse so mad. How was he supposed to feel good about praying when his brother made it a chore?
“No,” Jesse grumbled. “I haven’t said it yet.”
“Remember, you’re supposed to pray every day so Heavenly Father knows you always remember Him,” Ben said.
“I know!” Jesse said.
“Ben must think he is so smart because he is two years older than me,” Jesse thought as he knelt beside his bed. “In two years I’ll remember my prayers every day too, and Ben won’t be able to bug me anymore.”
Jesse said a prayer and then scrambled back into bed. How could he remember to say his prayers? He was tired of Ben reminding him every night.
Then Jesse had an idea. What if he prayed for a reminder? He whispered a quick prayer: “Heavenly Father, please help me remember to say my prayers tomorrow night.”
Feeling much better, he turned over and fell asleep.
The next night, Jesse put on his pajamas and brushed his teeth like he always did. Then, as he climbed into bed, he suddenly remembered he hadn’t prayed yet. He leaped up and knelt next to his bed. He thanked Heavenly Father for reminding him to pray and asked Him to continue helping him every day.
Just as Jesse was getting back into bed, Ben came into his room.
“Did you say your prayers tonight?” Ben asked.
“Yes!” Jesse said with a smile. “Heavenly Father helped me remember!”
“Good job, little brother,” Ben said. “I knew you could do it.”
Jesse felt warm and happy. And he was excited to say his prayers the next day.

Shortly after returning from the Mexico City Mission, I received an invitation to accompany Elder Boyd K. Packer to Mexico to make a survey of the Church Educational System there. We arrived on Thursday and were involved in almost continuous meetings through Friday and Saturday; then Elder Packer presided over a stake conference. By Sunday evening, we were all very tired. Elder Packer returned home, and I remained to conduct a meeting on Monday with the supervisors of the Seminaries and Institutes of Religion.

Monday morning I checked out of the hotel and took a taxi to the mission office. I was in the back seat going through some papers when I happened to look at the taxi driver. My first thought was, “I’m busy. I’m tired. And besides, he probably is not interested in the gospel anyway.” But my rationalizing did not satisfy me, especially when I thought of my previous experience with President Kimball and remembered the lady on the bus between Mexico City and Cuernavaca. Finally, I leaned forward and asked him, “Señor, siempre ha vivido aqui en Mexico?” (“Sir, have you always lived here in Mexico City?”) “No,” he replied, “I am from Oaxaca.”

“Do you like living here in Mexico City better than in Oaxaca?”

“No, I liked living in Oaxaca better than here, but you see I’m the father of eight children. My oldest son is studying here at the Polytechnical Institute to become an engineer. He will graduate this year. My second son is also studying to become an engineer, and he will graduate next year. Our oldest daughter is studying to become a profesionista” (accountant).

I could see that he was very proud of his children. Then he turned to me and asked, “What are you doing here in Mexico City?”

“I’m here on a special assignment from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Have you ever heard of that church?”

He wrinkled his forehead and said, “Is that some kind of Catholic Church?”

“No,” I replied, “it is really quite different. In our faith we believe that when Jesus was on earth he organized his church just as he wanted it to be, but over the years a falling away, or apostasy, occurred. Then the time came in our era when the Lord decided it was right to reveal himself to living prophets again, and to restore his church to the earth.”

That simple explanation took only about forty seconds. I leaned back in the seat, feeling content that at least I had “opened my mouth.”

The next thing I knew he slowed down, looked over his shoulder, and said, “Would you be willing to come to my home and teach my family more about that?”

“I would be delighted,” I replied, “but my plane leaves at 2:00 P.M. this afternoon. If you have three minutes when we get where we are going, I will introduce you to a friend, and I am sure that we can make arrangements for someone to come to your home and tell you and your family more about this.”

“Well,” he said, “I’m buying my taxi; I can do with my time what I want to, so I’ll come with you.”

By the time we arrived at the mission office I had had an opportunity to tell him about our missionary program and how it operates. We parked the car and went into the mission office, and I introduced Herman Velasquez to President Eran Call, who graciously received him.

Just as they were making the arrangements, President Call looked out the office window and said with surprise, “Well, those two elders coming up the sidewalk right now are the two that work in your part of the city!” I had the privilege of seeing Mr. Herman Velasquez meet the elders who would be coming to his home the following Sunday to teach his family more about the gospel.

Some weeks later I received a letter from President Call, who wrote: “I thought you would be interested in knowing what has happened to that taxi driver you brought to the mission home the other day. The missionaries are meeting with him and his family, with his brother and his family, and his brother-in-law and his family, and last Sunday eleven people attended church services from among those families. The exciting thing is that the two most interested are those sons that are studying to be engineers.”

Six months later, I returned to Mexico City to attend a Young Adult conference. I heard that even though the taxi driver had not yet joined the Church, the oldest son who was studying engineering had been baptized and ordained a priest; his brother, the younger son who was studying engineering, had been baptized and ordained a teacher. Someday I would like to know what has happened since; surely much more has occurred.

Adriana bounced the ball to Selene. Boing! Selene caught the ball and bounced the ball back. Thud! Adriana didn’t catch the ball. Selene called Adriana a mean name. Adriana looked sad. “Please don’t say that,” Adriana said. “It hurts my feelings.” Adriana bounced the ball to Selene. “I’m sorry I called you a mean name,” Selene said. Selene bounced the ball back to Adriana. “I’m glad we can play ball together!” Selene said.

Such was the situation of Hollis and Gwen Kersey, who sold their home, bought a little farm, fixed up the house to be warm and comfortable, cleared the land, and planted a garden. “We settled down to be retired,” they said.

They were Baptists and had no thought of changing religions this late in life. But missionaries and a neighbor family touched their lives, and they were baptized. On their fortieth wedding anniversary they were sealed in the Atlanta Temple. They were soon called as stake missionaries and later called to serve a full-time mission.

As they arrived at the Missionary Training Center, the Kerseys remarked:
“We gave away the chickens, turkeys, rabbits, took the pony and two dogs … [to our] son, … emptied the freezers and gave away the cats, … boarded up the windows, nailed up the sheds, had everything turned off, went and kissed our ten grandchildren good-bye, and here we are!”

What a marvelous attitude!

While on business in Rochester, New York, USA, I decided to make the short drive to Church history sites in Palmyra, about 25 miles (40 km) away. I especially wanted to see the Sacred Grove.
At the time, I struggled with frustrations at both work and home, and I longed for a sacred experience of my own that would confirm to me in some majestic way that Heavenly Father was mindful of me.
This was years before the Hill Cumorah Visitors’ Center and the Palmyra New York Temple were built. I parked near the Smith family home, got out of the car, and followed the signs to the Sacred Grove. With a prayer in my heart, I walked along the path through the trees. I pondered as I walked, and I even knelt to pray. I felt calm, but I saw no pillar of light and felt no overwhelming emotion. My worries and concerns still weighed on my mind.
Somewhat disappointed, I made my way to the reconstructed log home where the Smith family had lived. I imagined them working, reading scriptures, and praying there. I visited the upstairs room and the kitchen, with its brick fireplace, wooden table and chairs, plank floors, and simple furnishings. I was struck by the thought that it was in a home like this that a 14-year-old boy lived when, full of questions, he determined to go and ask of God.
As I stood in the doorway, ready to leave, I looked toward the Sacred Grove. I knew that Joseph Smith had gone into the nearby woods, prayed, and saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. Suddenly, compassion for Joseph washed over me. It was as if I was feeling what Joseph had felt before he prayed. I lacked wisdom, but I knew that I could ask of God and receive answers (see James 1:4–5). I remembered how I had prayed with faith as a teenager and felt peace and reassurance. I felt that same hope and love fill my heart. It was as if I was 14 again.
I bowed my head and offered a silent prayer of gratitude. I had received my answer. Heavenly Father was aware of me. And if I continued to trust Him, He would continue to respond.

Doesn’t he realize he’s making us late for an appointment with the best family I’ve ever taught? my mind screamed as I turned my bike around. I was a missionary in the Taiwan Taipei Mission, and my new companion, Elder Loo, was lagging behind as usual.
I found him talking to a woman who was angrily holding a thick stick in one hand and clenching the arm of a small, whimpering boy with the other. I listened as Elder Loo tried to talk her out of beating the boy. She left without the stick.
When we finally arrived at our destination, my companion taught the family about “the first and great commandment,” to love the Lord. “And the second is like unto it,” he read, “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt. 22:38–39).
I flinched. Although I had taught this discussion many times, it was as if I were hearing the scripture for the first time. I would have helped that little boy if we hadn’t been late, I rationalized. But I couldn’t convince myself.
Following a beautiful discussion on sacrifice and service, we made our way to our next appointment. But before we got far, I realized I was again alone. Elder Loo was helping a drunken man who had wrecked his motorcycle.
As we peddled slowly through the crowded market, my companion stopped again. I watched as he knelt by a crying child who appeared to be lost. The child’s eyes were red and puffy, and his face was streaked with tears. We didn’t leave until Elder Loo had assurances from people who said they would locate the boy’s parents.
I followed in silence, my mind racing. Why hadn’t I noticed the crying child? Or the motorcyclist? Why did he see things I missed?
Then it dawned on me. He saw opportunities to serve because he looked for them. He didn’t trail behind because he was just enjoying the scenery; he was looking for people in need.
I wondered what I would see if I really looked.
The next morning I didn’t race ahead of my companion. We rode side by side, looking, listening, and ready to serve.
Since then, whenever I think no one needs my help, I slow down and take another look. It’s amazing what I see.

These events seemed quite unimportant to us then. Even today few attach any significance to them. I, like others, just acknowledged them as part of my adviser’s experience and merely shared them with my family. I realized how important they are, however, when my wife and I later attended the American Fork High School graduation ceremonies. They were held in the community tabernacle, and an estimated 1,200 people attended.
During the program Scott Squires, an articulate senior class president, began to address the audience. He described the graduating class as a group who dreamed important dreams and cared about important things. As an example of their character he described the events of the tournament game in which Scott participated, telling that members of the graduating class were those who cared unselfishly. He was not from our ward and was a witness because his ward’s team was to play a later game. He obviously was impressed because he retold the story weeks after it happened. Unwittingly he made Scott’s gift available to more people because of his telling. Now, many others were to be uplifted.
I tried to gauge the reaction of the audience to this story, but found I could not get a clear indication of what they thought. Afterwards, though, standing on the lawn talking with friends, more than once I heard comments about “that nice story.” Scott’s gifts to us were carried beyond our quorum and ward to our community. As I rode home that night, I reviewed all that has happened this last year and knew how great his gifts have been.

Amy and her family lived in an old log house at the foot of a pine tree covered mountain. She used to have to stand on a chair to look out the window, but now Amy stood on the floor and pressed her nose against the windowpane, watching the snowflakes float down.
“Mom! Mom!” she called. “Mother Goose is shaking her feather pillows again. Look at the snow coming down!” Amy danced happily around the room. “May I go outside?” Amy asked her mother. “I want to play in the snow.”
Amy’s mother looked outside at the snow-covered slope. Turning, she smiled at Amy and said, “Yes, but be careful. The snow looks soft and snuggly, but it covers hard rocks and holes.”
Giving her mother a quick little hug, Amy ran to the closet and put on her coat, stocking cap, mittens, and boots. Then she grinned at her mother and bounded out the door. There was a half-foot of snow on the ground. Amy laughed as she fell backward into the snow and moved her arms up and down and her legs back and forth to make a snow angel.
Quickly jumping up, Amy ran to the woodshed. I wish we had a sled, Amy thought as she opened the door. Maybe there’s something in here that I can use. Looking around, she saw an old deer hide stretched over a box. Maybe that will make a good sled, she thought, grabbing at the corner of the hide and dragging it up the hill. But the hide didn’t slide well at all, so Amy dragged it back to the woodshed. This time she found a large piece of cardboard.
After carrying the cardboard up the slope and checking for rocks and holes, Amy sat down on the cardboard and slid down the hill. “Whee! That was fun!” she shouted when she reached the bottom. But it wasn’t long until the cardboard was too soggy and ragged to slide.
Amy was soon back in the woodshed to find something else. She searched in all the corners and behind the woodpile. Just as she was about to give up, she spotted a big metal dishpan hanging on the wall. “Oh!” Amy squealed happily at her discovery. “I bet that would make a wonderful sled!”
Picking up a broom, Amy knocked the dishpan off the wall. She grabbed the pan, stepped outside, and ran back up the slope.
SWISH! Round and round Amy went down the hill, sitting in the dishpan. Tumbling out at the bottom into the soft, deepening snow, she lay there, breathless and dizzy.
“What’s the matter?” a voice asked.
Turning over, Amy looked up into the face of her older brother Roy. “Just the greatest ride ever,” Amy replied. “You should take a ride. It goes round and round!”
“You want me to ride in a dishpan?” Roy asked. “I’m too big. How do you steer it anyway?”
“You don’t steer it,” Amy said excitedly. “You just ride in it! C’mon, I’ll give you a push.”
Not wanting to be outdone by his little sister, Roy walked up the hill with her. With a push from Amy, he was off.
“Yippee!” Roy shouted as round and round and down and down he went.
At the bottom Roy tumbled out and rolled over in the snow. Amy ran down to meet him. “I told you, didn’t I? Wasn’t it fun?” she asked.
“That’s really terrific,” Roy told her with a big grin.
Mom and Dad came running up. “What happened?” Mother gasped. “We heard someone hollering.”
Roy, getting up and looking at Amy, said, “Only the greatest ride ever. Amy found a ‘sled’ that really goes.”
“Let me show you,” said Amy as she grabbed the dishpan and ran up the hill. Mom and Dad watched Amy push off and come hurtling toward them. Faster and faster she came down the hill until she tumbled out at the bottom.
Laughing with excitement, Amy and Roy and Mother watched Dad reach down, pick up the dishpan, and run up the hill. He scrunched down in the dishpan and, before you knew it, was flying down the slope, shouting with glee.
At the bottom of the hill Dad handed the dishpan to Mom and said, “Now it’s your turn.” Taking the dishpan, Mom ran up the slope for her ride in Amy’s sled!

Mrs. Chen looks like she could use some help.
Let’s carry her grocery bags!
You have a lot of vegetables in here!
I’m making vegetable soup tonight. Maybe I could make some for your family too.
Sounds tasty!
Thanks!
Matt and Mandy keep helping Mrs. Chen each week. She shares fun stories from her childhood.
Once when I was your age, I got stuck in a tree!
My dad got a ladder to help me down.
Matt and Mandy share stories too. Helping others leads to friendship!

One day at church, I was sitting quietly on a bench, listening to the music, and I started to get a warm feeling inside. The warm feeling was the Holy Ghost. I knew it was the Holy Ghost because I could hear the still, small voice telling me that I was setting a good example for the little children. I have felt the Holy Ghost at church on other days, too, usually when I am being reverent, sitting calmly, and listening. I like to feel the Holy Ghost, and I am eager to be baptized so that I can have the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Joshua Morgan, age 6West Lafayette, Indiana

One day while seven-year-old Ramsey was playing with his friend, two missionaries knocked on the door and were invited in to talk to his friend’s family. Ramsey was so excited about what the two elders said that he asked them to come over to his house and talk to his parents too.
Ramsey’s family were also impressed with the message of the missionaries and invited them back again and again to teach them more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Soon Ramsey’s parents and his two older brothers were baptized members of the Church. The next year Ramsey had his happiest birthday. He was old enough to be baptized too! (Ohio-West Virginia Mission)

Elisa (4) and LaRece (5) spend a lot of time with their father, who flies supplies into the native villages. They take turns going with him and helping him load and unload the plane. Planes are the only way to get to many parts of Alaska, and the people who live in the remote areas are happy to see the supply planes come in. LaRece and Elisa get to meet lots of people in many places, and they share their sunny smiles and their love of the gospel wherever they go. They are starting their missionary work early!

The first few years of our marriage seemed nearly perfect. After my husband and I were sealed in the México City México Temple, we both graduated from the university and our first daughter was born. My husband had a good job and was called as bishop in our ward. Then we were able to move to Jalisco, a part of México where my grandparents had lived. We had always dreamed of rearing our children in a peaceful place, and Jalisco met the desires of our hearts. Our way of life, however, would soon change dramatically.
In Jalisco, our second daughter was born. Unfortunately, I suffered severe complications after her birth. We were able to meet the expenses from our savings, but then, two weeks later, my husband lost his job. With no income, we had to move from our house. Credit card bills, car payments, and rent were strangling us.
Eventually, my husband began to work nights as a taxi driver. Frequently his expenses exceeded his income, but his work did bring a little food to the table. Then the car broke down, and even that little source of income ended. We sold or pawned many of our possessions. At the same time, México underwent a serious currency devaluation, which added greatly to our financial distress.
My husband was emotionally and physically exhausted, so I got a job as a teacher in a bilingual elementary school. The work was hard, the salary small, and I had to leave my little ones in the care of a Church member. To save money, we moved to a cheaper place in a poorer section of town.
As I struggled to go to work, care for the family, keep up the house, and participate at church, I became very depressed. One terrible night I was so distressed I had to be hospitalized. After giving me a sedative, the doctor said, “You’re drowning yourself in your problems. That’s for cowards, and I don’t think that is what you are. Think about it.”
Her words resounded in my mind, and I closed my eyes, searching for something to give me courage. I reviewed my life. Yes, all our material possessions are gone, I told myself, but I am still alive, and I have a wonderful husband and two precious daughters. I remembered I had not been born to accumulate goods or to live in tranquillity. I had come to serve my family and others and to build the kingdom of God.
When I returned home, I prayed as never before. I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to strengthen me. I spoke with my bishop, and he told me, “The Lord will remove from your path that which is hurting you.” The following day I learned that I had been fired from my job without any explanation. That same day I learned I had been granted a scholarship to further my education. Being able to spend time teaching my little ones did a great deal to heal my spirit.

“It’s time for our friendly visitor!” Sister Palmer said.
Elijah could hardly stay in his seat. He was so excited.
“Who will it be?” whispered Lily Kate.
“I don’t know,” Elijah whispered back.
Sometimes a special visitor came to Primary. It was always someone different, but the visitor usually talked about a story from the Friend magazine. That’s why Sister Palmer called him a friendly visitor.
One time the visitor was dressed up like a farmer and read a story about a boy who took a watermelon without asking.
Elijah stared at the door, waiting. All of a sudden, a tall man with a black helmet and a vest came through the Primary door.
“It’s a pilot!” whispered Brinkley.
“That’s my dad!” said Lily Kate.
Brother Owen was a helicopter pilot. He asked Lily Kate to come to the front of the room and pretend to fly a helicopter with him. Lily Kate put on a helmet and safety gear, and she and her dad started to fly. They listened to the control tower on the radio so they would know which way to go and where to land. It was so much fun pretending to fly through the clouds!
Then Brother Owen looked at Elijah.
“I have time for one more flight,” he said. “Do you want to try?”
Elijah nodded. He jumped up from his seat and ran to the front of the room.
Brother Owen helped Elijah put on his gear and flight gloves. They got ready for takeoff. But this time Brother Owen said they didn’t need to listen to the control tower. He said the weather was beautiful and they knew how to fly.
Elijah held out his hands like he was steering the helicopter. It was great! They made noises like they were flying through the air. Zoom!
“Oh no!” said Brother Owen. “A tree! Look out!”
Elijah tried to fly away from the tree, but it was too late. Brother Owen shook their chairs as they pretended to crash to the ground.
“I guess we made a mistake, huh?” asked Brother Owen.
Elijah nodded.
“I guess we should have listened to the control tower,” Brother Owen said. He turned to the other kids. “Do you know why it’s important to listen to the tower?”
“So we can have a good flight and not crash into things,” said Lily Kate.
“You’re right,” said Brother Owen. “The control tower has a computer that can see everything. The control tower tells the pilots if they are going the right way. They also make sure there’s no danger ahead.”
“Like really tall trees,” Elijah said.
“Exactly!” said Brother Owen. “And guess who is like a control tower for us? He helps us choose the right and teaches us important things in general conference.”
“The prophet!” one of the kids called out.
“That’s right! Like a control tower, President Monson can see the big picture.” Brother Owen held up a picture of President Monson from the Friend magazine. “He gets revelation from our Heavenly Father to help us stay on the right path. He warns us if there are dangers ahead. When we listen to our prophet, we can be safe and happy, just like the pilots who listen to their control tower.”
Brother Owen gave the kids a salute.
“Time to fly home,” he said. Then he disappeared through the Primary doors just as fast as he had come in.
Elijah liked all of the special friendly visitors. But this had been his favorite one of all.

One Saturday during my mission to Guatemala, my companion and I decided to visit Benita. She and her husband, Isaías, were faithful members of the Church. Isaías was continually in search of ways to bring in enough money to support his family. To supplement his efforts, Benita raised chickens to sell them and their eggs.
When we arrived we could tell that Benita was upset. She explained that, after her husband had gone to work in a distant village, her chickens had all become sick, and one had already died. She knew they could not get by without these chickens. She felt frustrated and helpless.
Trying to console her, we sang some hymns and shared our testimonies. We offered to say a prayer with her. When we said this, her face lit up. She asked me to pray and petition Heavenly Father to bless her chickens. I was caught off guard—I had never thought of chickens as subjects for prayer. But then I thought of Amulek’s admonition to “cry unto [God] … over all your flocks” (Alma 34:20). I realized that Benita’s chickens were her flock.
I gave the prayer, telling Heavenly Father that Benita’s husband was gone, that one of her chickens had died, that the rest were sick, and that she didn’t know what to do. I told Heavenly Father that her heart ached and asked Him to please bless her chickens. Benita thanked us for visiting, and we left.
The next day at church, Benita told us of her chickens’ recovery. Each time I think of Benita, I think of God’s love for us and His desire to bless us—if we will just ask.

“We’re going to America!” Eleven-year-old Henry was excited. His parents had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints before he was born. His family loved the gospel, but not everyone in England felt the same way. Some of their neighbors wouldn’t speak to them, and some people at school were mean to Henry and his siblings because of their faith. But in America they could go to Utah and be with other members of the Church.
Henry looked at his parents, and his smile faded. They didn’t look excited. “Aren’t you happy to be going to America?” he asked.
“It costs a lot of money to get there,” his father said. “It will take a long time to save enough for all six of us to go, and we don’t want everyone to have to wait that long. So we have decided to go to America one at a time. And Henry, we want you to go first.”
“All by myself?” Henry asked.
His father nodded. “You will take a boat across the ocean, from England to New York City,” he said. “Then you can go by train to Salt Lake. Once you get to Utah, you will stay with our cousins the Lowes. In the meantime, we will stay here and save our money so we can join you soon.”
Henry’s stomach dropped. Going to America was something he’d dreamed about, but he didn’t want to go without his family. “I don’t know, Papa,” he said. “I’m not sure I can go all by myself.”
“We have faith in you,” Papa said. “You are brave and smart, and Heavenly Father will protect you.”
Henry thought hard about it. Even though some people had been mean to his family, he liked his life in England. He had friends, and he had his family. He liked going to school, singing in the church choir, and playing with his brothers and sisters in the countryside. He knew these things would change if he went to America.
What if I don’t like it there? he wondered.
Then he looked at his parents. He knew they wanted him to be happy, and he knew they would come to Utah as soon as they could.
“Do you think you can do it?” Mama asked.
Henry took a deep breath. “I can do it.”
She gave him a hug. “We’re very proud of you.”
A few weeks later, Henry and his family woke up early and walked to the dock. Everything Henry owned was packed in a wooden trunk his father had made for him. They had painted his name on the front, along with the words Salt Lake City.
The dock was crowded, and Henry walked close to his family. How will I find my way around in America when I’m all alone? he wondered.
Finally they reached the S.S. Nevada, the ship that would carry him to America. Henry swallowed hard as he looked up at it. It was the biggest boat he’d ever seen!
Henry hugged his family goodbye, then boarded the Nevada. He stood at the railing and waved to his family until he could no longer see them. He said a prayer in his heart that Heavenly Father would protect them. Someday they would all be together again in Utah.
I can do this, he told himself. God will watch over me, and everything will be all right once I get to Utah.
To be continued …