Gospel Story Finder

The Dragon Boat Festival is held May 5. This festival honors a great poet named Wat Yuen who lived more than a thousand years ago. He tried to persuade the king not to go to war, but the king at that time was very wicked and didn’t care whether the people were killed or mistreated. Wat Yuen was so sad about this that he jumped into a river and was drowned. All the people grieved over the death of this great man, and in his honor they still hold the Dragon Boat Festival.

Sister Simmons, my MTC companion, loved to sing. She had a beautiful voice. Sometimes at night while we were in our beds, with the lights off, she would sing a comforting lullaby, and we slept soundly.
After we left the MTC, I didn’t see her for several months. Then I was transferred into her area. Stake conference came around, and she sang an arrangement of “How Great Thou Art” (Hymns, no. 86). She sang for everyone, but it felt like she sang just for me.
As she sang, I realized how meaningful the words of the hymn are. She began to sing smoothly, beautifully, until verse three when she stopped with tears running down her cheeks. She had to just speak the words. She faltered and then started again strong, with passion and feeling. Beautifully, with tears in her eyes, she continued to verse four. “When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation”—she smiled, and I smiled. “And take me home”—she paused. Home, our true home. “What joy shall fill my heart! Then I shall bow in humble adoration and there proclaim, ‘My God, how great thou art!’” She finished strong and with power, smiling.
When she said “then sings my soul,” I felt my soul singing in tune with her words. That was being in tune with the Holy Ghost. That feeling was worship. That is why we have hymns. That is why we sing in church. That was my soul singing.

I now would like to share another experience. In January of 2019, my wife, Debbie, and I were invited into the office of President Nelson. He had positioned a chair close to us, and we sat almost knee to knee. After extending to us our current calling, President Nelson turned to Debbie and focused on her. He was kind, loving, gentle, and full of joy, like the perfect father or grandfather. He held Debbie’s hand and patted it, reassuring her that it would be OK and that our family would be blessed. It seemed to us at that moment that we were the most important people to him and that he had all the time in the world for us. We left his office that Friday afternoon feeling reassured, loved, and joyful.
On Monday we saw the news. During that same day that President Nelson had spent with us, one of his daughters had passed away from cancer. We were stunned. Our hearts were full as we mourned for him and his family. Our hearts were also full of gratitude for his Christlike attention to us while mourning for his daughter who was suffering.
As we pondered this experience, we asked ourselves, “How could he be so kind, loving, and even joyful at such a difficult time?” The answer is because he knows. He knows that Christ has been victorious. He knows he will be with his daughter again and will spend an eternity with her. Joy and eternal perspective come through being bound to the Savior by making and keeping covenants and through Christlike discipleship.

As a bishop, I worried about any members who were inactive, not attending, not serving. Such was my thought one day as I drove down the street where Ben and Emily lived. They were older—even in the twilight period of life. Aches and pains of advancing years caused them to withdraw from activity to the shelter of their home—isolated, detached, shut out from the mainstream of daily life and association.
That day I felt the unmistakable prompting to park my car and visit Ben and Emily, even though I was on my way to a meeting. It was a sunny weekday afternoon. I approached the door to their home and knocked. Emily answered. When she recognized me, her bishop, she exclaimed: “All day long I have waited for my phone to ring. It has been silent. I hoped that the postman would deliver a letter. He brought only bills. Bishop, how did you know today is my birthday?”
I answered, “God knows, Emily, for He loves you.”
In the quiet of their living room, I said to Ben and Emily: “I don’t know why I was directed here today, but our Heavenly Father knows. Let’s kneel in prayer and ask Him why.” This we did, and the answer came. Emily, who had a beautiful voice, was asked to sing in the choir—even to provide a solo for the forthcoming ward conference. Ben was asked to speak to the Aaronic Priesthood young men and recount a special experience in his life when his safety was assured by responding to the promptings of the Spirit.
She sang. He spoke. Hearts were gladdened by the return to activity of Ben and Emily. They rarely missed a sacrament meeting from that day to the time each was called home. The language of the Spirit had been spoken. It had been heard. It had been understood. Hearts were touched and lives saved.

Carly W. from Rexburg, Idaho, is a busy helper. At home Carly helps out by taking care of her family’s cats, dogs, and chickens. Because Carly is one of the best students in her class at school, she helps other children with math and reading. In Primary Carly’s singing helps other children to feel the Spirit.
Because Carly has done such a good job helping others, some of her friends decided to help her too.
Carly was born with a disease called spina bifida. This disease makes it hard for Carly to use all of her muscles. Doing things like walking on uneven ground and climbing up stairs can be hard for her. At school, Carly wasn’t able to play on the playground because the playground equipment was hard for her to use. There were other children who also couldn’t play on the playground equipment.
“Sometimes I felt bad and frustrated at recess because I couldn’t play on the playground,” Carly says.
One of Carly’s friends, Halli Jo, and Halli Jo’s mom decided to earn money to build a playground that Carly and all the other students at the school could use.
Halli Jo, her mom, and a lot of other people worked to earn money for the new playground. It took a lot of work, but they were able to earn enough money to build a new playground that all the students could play on.
“It was a lot of hard work,” Halli Jo says. “But it never made me sad to do the work—it just made me love Carly more.”
Carly is happy to be able to play on the playground with her friends. She says, “I like walking up the ramps and going down the slides. Me and my friends have fun together.”

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.

In your quest to define yourselves, do not get caught up in comparisons with role models or body types that may seem to be macho or chic but in reality are not becoming to you as sons and daughters of our loving Heavenly Father. One 17-year-old girl became so obsessed about her figure that she began to skip meals and ended up with an eating disorder. When it became apparent to her father, he insisted that she eat a substantial meal. This confrontation ultimately brought her to her senses, and she wrote:
“All my life I had done things for everyone else. The grades, the manners, the awards—everything for them, nothing for me. This eating thing, this losing weight had become mine. It represented me and my choices, and now my dad was trying to take that away from me, too!
“As I lay in bed that night crying and feeling fat, I knew I needed help. I knew I was hurting people I loved.
“After staying up all night, I came to the conclusion that it wasn’t my dad I hated. I hated ME! I realized that I wasn’t in control. For the first time in my life, I understood that this was my problem. I needed to take control of my life—not let the disease control it.
“Things didn’t change overnight. In fact, it was one long road to recovery. But slowly, with the help of friends and family, I began to heal. Now that I’m at my ideal weight, I have stopped weighing myself altogether. I no longer peruse fashion magazines, either—I may not be ‘in style,’ but I feel just right!”3

In January of 1999, an earthquake in the central mountain region of Colombia left the city of Armenia devastated. Many Church members lost their homes. They found shelter in the four undamaged chapels but urgently needed food and clothing.
The Relief Society and priesthood leaders swung into action, and donations from members throughout Colombia poured into a designated chapel in each city. Seven-year-old Neidi had come with her parents to the chapel in the city of Cali and watched as Bishop Villareal received donations from members.
“Bishop, how can I help the children in Armenia?”
“Neidi, your parents have already helped.”
She went to the other end of the chapel and observed that little clothing and no shoes for children were being packed. Neidi came back to the bishop with her shoes in her hand. “Now I know how I can help. Please give these shoes to another little girl in Armenia who has lost hers.” Her bare feet made no sound as she slipped away.

Michael Morgan, 14, and his mom, Cheri, also played the bagpipes at Nauvoo. They both learned how to play four years ago as a tribute to Michael’s grandfather, who was diagnosed with terminal cancer. “He really liked the bagpipes,” explains Michael. “So my mom thought, why not let him listen to them before he dies and not just have them played at his funeral.” After hearing the bagpiper play at his grandfather’s bedside, Michael and his mom decided to take lessons together. Now they are part of a bagpipe band that tours the country. “Developing a talent together as a family is great,” says Sister Morgan. “When you spend so much time together, you can’t help but communicate; you are close because you are together.” Michael agrees and adds, “It’s fun to be unique.”

Kimberly Seyboldt of Oregon, USA, tells the story of seeking inspiration and giving gifts to show love:
“When I find life is getting me down, I get up and make zucchini bread, usually about eight loaves. My special ingredient is the silent prayer I offer as I bake to know who needs those loaves of bread. I have been able to better know my surrounding neighbors as the warm zucchini bread has been my invite into their homes and lives.
“One warm summer day, I pulled up alongside a family selling pints of blackberries on the side of the road. I didn’t need more blackberries, but the young, thin boy at the stand was excited to see me, thinking I was his next customer. I bought some blackberries, but I also had a gift for him. I gave the boy two loaves of bread. He turned to his father for approval, then said, ‘Look, Dad, now we have something to eat today.’ I was filled with gratitude for this opportunity to show love in a simple way.”

As we stood in the beautiful temple baptistry, one of these guests asked an intriguing question. He said something like this: “In our tribal traditions, our ancestors are so important to us—how is it that you connect your families together through the generations?” It was a beautiful teaching moment as we then shared how in a gift of love and service, many faithful members of the Church perform vital ordinances, such as baptisms, on behalf of loved ones who have died. We then took him to the sealing room where we showed him the altar where families are united for the eternities and had him look into the mirrors which face one another—symbolic of the eternal links made between past and future generations.
This good man had many follow up questions and left the temple deeply affected by what he had seen and felt. He eagerly took a copy of the My Family booklet so he could collect names and stories of his own ancestors. With great sincerity he expressed gratitude for being in the temple and left with a new understanding of God’s plan for eternal families and the importance of sacred temples in that plan.

As you approach old age, you will face new challenges to self-mastery. Symptoms of the deteriorating body can be painful, even disabling. Deep aches of sadness are caused by the departing of loved ones. For some, these deepening trials come early in life. But when yours are thrust upon you, remember a concept expressed by my father some time after my mother had passed away. Your grandparents had been married for sixty-four years. When someone asked how he was doing, my father simply stated, “I’m lonely, but I’m not lonesome.” Do you know what he meant? Though he was now without his sweetheart, he was so busy assisting family and friends, he had replaced sorrow with service and had displaced self-pity with selfless love. He had found joy in following the timeless example of the Master.

A man I knew—one of the great men I have known—was in a bunch of roustabout boys. They were always where they should not be and never where they should be. Finally, a wise, resourceful leader got them into a Sunday School class. The teacher was this old man—just an ordinary, homely old man. More than that, he was a convert from Europe, and he did not speak English very well. They giggled, “Our teacher? Him?” These boys, I suppose, had the reputation of running any teacher out.
Then my friend said that something happened. The teacher started to speak, and they all began to listen. This friend said, “You could warm your hands by the fire of his faith.” That meant that in that older, worn-out body that did not seem to be able to erase an accent, there was a powerful spirit.
In the Resurrection the body—the dust of the earth, the carnal part of us—can be renewed and made powerful if it is to equal the spirit.
If you can understand how the Spirit operates, you will be all right. There is not enough evil put together—if it was all brought together as some kind of a dark, ugly laser beam and focused on you, it could not destroy you, unless somehow you consented to it.
In the course of your learning, “wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding” (Proverbs 4:7).
Make sure you learn the things that you are not taught overtly. If all you know is what you read or what you can hear, you will not know very much. Moments of reverence are so precious when you think and feel. That is why temples are so important. You can go to the temple and be out of the world.
The promise from the Lord is that when you receive the Holy Ghost, “he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you” (John 14:26).
You will be doing some things automatically, almost unwittingly. Without thinking, you will find you have been prompted and guided by the Holy Spirit. That is why this young elder, without knowing why, took a 20-mark note out of his wallet as he was trotting alongside the train and handed it to me as the train was pulling out. He saved us from great danger.
That is how you will do things and then later look back and know that you were guided. And also that is how you will be warned. You will be warned, “Don’t go there! Don’t do that!” You will be warned, “Don’t go with him! Don’t go with her! Don’t be with them!” And then, “Do be in this company!” You will be guided, and the Lord will watch over you.
I know that the gospel is true, that Jesus is the Christ, that He lives, that this is His Church. Find a place in the world where you can, without embarrassment, without any hesitancy, declare to yourself: first, that you accept the gospel of Jesus Christ and, second, that what you are is more important than what you do. What you do, if it is guided, will make you what you are and what you can be.

Students at the Vernal, Utah, seminaries had a chance to get up close and personal with the Uintah Tabernacle. Youth from the seminaries scrubbed, polished, and shined the tabernacle from top to bottom, preparing the building for visits from the public. The building is now closed, undergoing renovation to become a temple.

“For the more than 200 youth that attended the cleanup, it will be an experience they will never forget,” says one of their teachers, Brother Durrant. The building has not been used for church meetings since 1984, so this was the first time many of the participants had seen the inside of the building.

For Kip Twitchell, a book of remembrance and a journal are a natural part of his life. In fact, for a group of seminary students attending Bonneville High School in Ogden, Utah, the whole concept of family histories has become an exciting project that they think about and work on often.
It all started when the seminary students invited a guest speaker to address an assembly of the seminary classes at Bonneville High School. While chauffeuring their speaker to and from the meeting, they began relating stories about their ancestors. The students became interested in doing something about their family histories when their guest challenged them to consider how the experiences of their ancestors have affected them individually. They reread copies of family histories, interviewed members of their families, sorted through and identified old photographs, and updated their own journals. They found that learning about their families helped them understand their own talents and attitudes.

We all have concerns and needs that we can feel alone in. He cares about our concerns no matter how great or small. I have felt the need for His help when worrying about seemingly small things like the ever-present friend I call “house repairs.” Without a spouse to consult with, I can worry alone about the right contractor, fair costs, taking time away from work to be home, and being a good steward over my finances and home. It was a triumph the other day to get my garage door fixed! The Lord heard my concern. And though small in the grand scheme of things, He answered my prayer. How? Through a kind neighbor, the help of the Spirit, and a video on YouTube, I was blessed to know what to do to fix the door.

8. Bishop Kofi Sosu and His Father: Forgiveness of Father and Son, by Emmalee Glauser Powell
After his mission, Kofi wanted to return home, but his father had disowned him. He felt impressed to go anyway. When he arrived, his father saw him and said, “Stop.” So he stopped.
“Who are you?” asked his father.
“I am your son.”
“My son?”
“Yes, your son, Kofi.” At this he saw tears running down his father’s face. His father stood up and embraced him.
“Oh, my son, my son. I am so sorry. I know you did the right thing. I have accepted you as my son.”

The idea for what turned out to be a two-year mission began on a spring day in 1997 when Ryan and his dad, Todd, were returning home after mowing church lawns around Parowan, Utah, his hometown. When their truck broke down, Ryan suggested they ride a lawn mower back to town. During the ride Ryan said, “Dad, why don’t we ride this lawn mower all the way to Salt Lake and mow the state capitol lawn?”
His dad replied, “Why don’t you ride it all the way to Washington, D.C., and mow the White House lawn!” Ryan began dreaming about his name appearing in the Guiness Book of World Records for the longest lawn mower ride in history.
But something was missing. Ryan and his family felt they needed a greater purpose for such an undertaking.
Shortly after, while Ryan’s father was getting his truck repaired, his mechanic, a neighbor, confided that their three-month-old daughter, Whitnie, had a rare disease requiring a liver transplant. The cost would be enormous, and the Penders had limited insurance and funds.
Ryan’s heart went out to the Penders. He wanted to help, but what could he do? Perhaps his goal to mow the White House lawn could work together with a fundraising project for Whitnie! Why not hand out cards to the people he met along the way asking for donations to be sent to a special fund? People could pledge money for each mile he drove.
The Tripp family members all wanted to help, and wheels were set in motion. They charted a course from Parowan to Washington, D.C.; they obtained local police permission for Ryan to drive the lawn mower along state and city roadways, and a large lawn mower manufacturer generously donated a machine. Ryan’s mom, Diane, his two sisters, Tiffany and Chantel, and his brother, Robbie, agreed to temporarily take over the lawn-mowing business.
On August 15, 1997, Ryan began his 3,116-mile cross-country lawn mower drive, with Grandpa and Grandma Meidlinger leading the procession by car and his dad following Ryan in their truck.
Sound like fun? Picture yourself driving a lawn mower at 10 mph, 10 to 12 hours a day, for 42 days through blistering heat, rain, and wind. For the first few weeks, Ryan had lots of fun. He signaled his dad on their walkie-talkies, waved to passing cars, listened to music on his CD player, looked at the scenery, and made all kinds of noises as he drove along.
Then he ran into a problem. One day he was particularly tired from their early morning starts and dozed off listening to his music. He awoke to the blasting horn of his father’s truck behind him, just as his lawn mower was careening off the side of the road. His CD days were over.
After that, the hours became long, and it seemed the cornfield-lined roads would never end. “Sometimes I got a little antsy and wanted to get off my lawn mower and go do things a normal boy would, especially when it rained. It got kind of hard to just sit there and drive along the road,” he recalls. The trek became a challenge to Ryan.
However, each challenge brings its own reward, and Ryan’s was time for serious thinking. He thought about his plans for the future; he thought about the importance of never giving up, of keeping promises and commitments; and he thought about how nice it was to have his dad so close. Reaching his father on his walkie-talkie at any time reminded him of talking to another Father: “It was kind of a lesson to me about how close my Heavenly Father is and how I can reach Him through prayer whenever I need something,” Ryan says.
Thinking about his own supportive family, Ryan’s thoughts often turned to little Whitnie. He understood her family’s love for her and knew he must do whatever was needed to help.
Ryan began to see a much greater purpose in this trip. Breaking records took a distant second to helping Whitnie. And as he thought about her, and others he learned about along the way, Ryan’s prayers took on new meaning. “My dad and I would pray every morning before we started and again when we got back to the hotel,” he says. They prayed for safety, for Whitnie, and for all the people needing transplants.
Finally, Ryan’s quest ended at the U.S. Capitol. Senator Orrin Hatch of Utah, other government officials, press members, and TV viewers watched as he mowed the Capitol Hill lawn. The trip was successful—Ryan broke the record and, more importantly, raised $15,000 for little Whitnie, who received her transplant that same year.

Jared watched the sun drop lower and lower, until it was just at the treetops. It was the first day of Christmas vacation. “Some vacation!” he muttered. He’d been alone all day with nothing to do. Oh, he’d gone for a walk, but all he’d found were scruffy storefronts and a few little kids with shabby coats playing in piles of dirty snow.
Since his dad had left them, Jared’s life had changed a lot. There wasn’t enough money to live in the house he’d grown up in, and they’d had to move to a big city so his mom could find a job.
His new home was in an old apartment building. From his point of view, everything was awful. They went to church in an old warehouse, with only about thirty other people. Their whole Primary had fifteen kids, and most of them were little. How could you have any fun being a Cub Scout all by yourself? His hometown had been small, but at least it had had a real ward.
School wasn’t any better. The building was as run-down as his apartment. The kids were loud and rough and made a point of avoiding him. He hadn’t found a friend yet, although he’d really tried to be friendly. And he was the only Church member in the whole school.
He leaned his head against the cold window glass, watching for his mom’s little green car, hoping that she’d come soon with something warm and good for dinner. She was always so late and so tired from work that they usually ended up eating canned soup and sandwiches. He’d help her clean up, then they’d read scriptures and have prayer together. He always felt better after that, when he went to bed. Mom was always tired these days, but it was a physical sort of tiredness. In spite of it, she had a kind of peace about her that gave him peace, too.
The trouble was, when he left for school in the mornings, that peace usually slipped away and he felt that there just was nothing to look forward to here. And now, Christmas. Jared hadn’t talked about it, but he was pretty sure that there wouldn’t be one for them. How could they afford anything? Mom had had to spend any extra money on uniforms for work and on tuition for the computer course she was taking two nights a week so that she could get a better job. Jared had decided to keep quiet about Christmas.
When two headlights blazed across the window, Jared threw his arm up to shield his eyes. The lights went out. He heard his mother’s hurried footsteps, then her key in the lock.
“Hi, honey,” she said, reaching to give him a hug. “How was your day? Did you have some fun?”
“Sure, Mom,” he murmured, turning his head so that she wouldn’t see his frown.
“Well, I brought us home a treat!” She was carrying a plastic grocery bag with a box bulging in it. Jared felt a spark of interest.
“What’s in the box?” he asked as she set it on the little table.
“Dessert. It was even free. My boss said I could take the doughnuts we didn’t sell. Since this is Christmas Eve, we can’t sell them even as day-old stock when we open again on Saturday. I just brought a couple for each of us since we’ll be having holiday treats tomorrow. So set the table now, and we’ll get tonight’s feast going.”
Wow! Jared thought, his mouth curling into a sarcastic scowl. Stale doughnuts—yippee! But he didn’t say anything as he set the table. Soup bowls, of course. And the plates for the sandwiches would do for the doughnuts, too. Then they wouldn’t have to wash more dishes.
Mom seemed full of energy tonight, for a change, chatting away about her day. It only made Jared’s dark mood darker. As they finished eating, more headlights swept across the ceiling, and then there was a knock at the door.
“Sister Holdrup, hi.”
There stood Brother Eldridge, their home teacher. What does he want? Jared wondered.
“Some of us are going to sing Christmas carols at a homeless shelter. We need extra voices. Can you join us?”
“That sounds like fun,” Mom said. “Come on, Jared, let’s go. We can wash the dishes later.”
“No,” Jared said. “I don’t want to.” That’s all I need, he thought—singing stupid Christmas carols at a stupid homeless shelter.
“But, Jared—”
“No!” Jared shouted. “I’m not going!” He ran into his room and slammed the door.
As he threw himself down on the bed, he heard his mother apologizing to Brother Eldridge for his behavior.
“It’s OK,” Brother Eldridge told her. “If you change your mind, here’s the address. We’ll be singing in about an hour.”
Jared covered his ears. Can’t she see how awful everything is? Can’t she see that there’s nothing to be happy about, especially Christmas?
There was a soft knock on the door. Jared ignored it.
“Jared, may I come in? I want to talk to you.”
He relented a little, hearing the sorrow in her voice. “OK,” he said, but he put his arm across his eyes.
“Jared, I know things aren’t easy for you. I know how you must miss your friends.”
And the park. And having someplace to ride my bike. And Cub Scout day camp. And … and even Dad. Especially Dad. Then the hot anger came up again, and tears began seeping from his eyes. “Why did Dad have to leave us, Mom? What did I do to make him leave?” Choking sobs stopped Jared’s questions.
Tears flowed from his mother’s eyes, too, as she gathered him into her arms. “I don’t know exactly why he left, Jared, but I do know this: It had nothing to do with you—not who you are or anything you did. He left because of things inside him. He thought he could solve his problems by leaving.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“I don’t know. But I think that when you are very unhappy, like Dad was, it makes it harder when you choose to look for happiness by running away. I think it’s better if you face your troubles and solve them. One thing I’ve learned from moving here is that you have to decide to be happy where you are, no matter what. Then nothing can make you unhappy, because you’re happy from the inside out.”
Jared was still for a long time, while his mom held him tight and rocked him. Then he said, “How do you get happy like that, Mom?”
“Jared, a few nights ago we read something that Mormon wrote to Moroni about what to do when things were awfully bad. Do you remember what he said?”
Jared shook his head. “But I want to know. I really need some help right now, Mom, because everything’s just awful!” He got up and got his Book of Mormon from the shelf.
“It’s in Moroni, chapter 9, verse 25. Can you find it?”
“Here.” He began to read: “‘My son, be faithful in Christ; and may not the things which I have written grieve thee, to weigh thee down unto death; but may Christ lift thee up. …’”
“Do you understand any of that, Jared?”
“A little. Things must have been pretty awful if Mormon was worried that Moroni would feel so bad that he’d die.”
Mom nodded. “What about you, Jared?”
“I’ve thought about running away.”
“I’m glad that you didn’t. But I don’t want you to go on feeling awful. Mormon didn’t want Moroni to suffer, either. What did he tell his son to do?”
“To be faithful in Christ. But what does that mean, exactly?”
“What do you think?”
“Pray every morning and night?” Jared guessed. Mom nodded. “And read the scriptures every day?”
Mom nodded again. “Those are two of the most important things. But Mormon tells Moroni something else. See, here, where he says ‘may Christ lift thee up’? How can Jesus do that for you?”
“I don’t know. Joseph didn’t leave Jesus’ mom, so how can He help me?”
“Well, He understands how you feel, and what to do about it. Alma explains that in Alma, chapter 7, verse 11: ‘And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.’ Jesus Christ took on Himself pains of every kind, Jared—your kind of pains, too.”
“Why did He do that?”
“Let’s read the next verse: ‘And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.’ Do you know what infirmities are?”
“At Cub Scout camp, there was an infirmary. That’s where you went if you got hurt or sick. Is it like that?”
“Yes, it is. And what does it say Jesus can do when we are hurt or sick?”
“It says He knows how to succor us according to our infirmities. Is that sort of to be like a doctor to us?”
“Even better than a doctor. Because He has suffered every pain and every bad thing and has overcome them all, He knows how to comfort us, heal us, and show us how to be happy, no matter what.”
“Then He knows how to help me.” Jared sat up straight. “Mom, Dad didn’t understand this about Jesus, did he? If he had, he wouldn’t have left. He could have stayed and found out how to get happy again.”
“I don’t know, Jared. Maybe so. I just don’t know.”
“I’m sorry for Dad, but maybe we can ask Heavenly Father to help him learn. Can we do that, Mom? Right now?”
“Yes, Jared. That is a very good thing to do, for all of us.”
They knelt beside Jared’s bed, and Jared prayed like he had never prayed before, asking that he and his mom could feel Jesus Christ helping them with their problems, and that his dad could learn how to be happy, too.
“Mom,” Jared asked as they got up, “is it too late to go sing with Brother Eldridge?”
Mom looked at her watch. “No, we have half an hour before they sing.”
“Do we have time to go to your bakery and get all the leftover doughnuts? Are there very many? I bet those people at the shelter don’t get good doughnuts very often.” Excitement was beginning to trickle through him.
His excitement grew as they filled boxes and loaded the car. The singing was beautiful, and Jared felt better than he had since before Dad left.
Brother Eldridge had his arm across Jared’s shoulders as they walked out of the shelter. “Say, Jared,” he said. “I go ice fishing every year between Christmas and New Year’s. Could I talk you into coming with me?”
“Wow!” This time Jared meant it sincerely. “Thanks! I’d really like that.”
On the way home, Jared was quiet.
“Are you OK?” Mom asked.
Jared nodded. “I’m better than OK, Mom. I think Christ has lifted me up and has ‘succored my infirmities.’ I’m happy!”

In line with the Africa West Area vision for 2024, the Port Harcourt/Uyo communication council jointly organized a training program on 25 February 2024 in the just completed Port Harcourt Choba Stake center. The purpose of the meeting was to train members to keep the facility clean and conducive for worship and for the positive portrayal of the Church.
In his opening remark, Chukwu Sacho Nwobuisi, stake president, expressed gratitude for the meetinghouse and implored all to do their best to maintain the facility. He reminded all that cleanliness is next to godliness and that God does not dwell in an unclean place and that keeping the meetinghouse clean should be the responsibility of all.
In his training, the facility manager, Brother Enyiesor Otikor, thanked the stake members for being found worthy to have a Church building and requested their steadfastness in doing all that is required of them to keep and maintain it for the purpose for which it is built. He warned that members shouldn’t litter, touch the walls, leave the lights on when leaving the facility, and should always stack the chairs after use, clean the floor, and maintain the grounds.
A video training presentation was shown highlighting the care and maintenance of a meetinghouse. In her remarks, Sister Winifred Pratt Wonodi, the Port Harcourt/Uyo communication council director, pointed out that it is part of the Africa West Area vision for 2024 that “leaders and members, including youth, have a responsibility to help keep each building clean and in good condition.”
She said, “therefore let’s heed the call to serve the Lord by serving ourselves.”
Members were happy to have the building and promised to do their best to keep the building and environment clean. To make the occasion memorable, a baptismal service was held and the first baptism in the meetinghouse was recorded. The first Primary activity was also held.