Gospel Story Finder

After the ship landed in New York on June 6, Henry and Mary still had a long way to go. They travelled to Nebraska by boat and train, often riding in cattle cars. The bedding and equipment sent by their mother were not waiting for them in Nebraska, so on July 13 they set off in a Church wagon train with only the clothes on their backs.
To make matters worse, Henry lost his wooden clogs when he crossed the Platte River. Not wanting to wait for the rest of the wagon train to reach the river, Henry got up early and left by himself—something he knew he was not supposed to do. When he reached the river about noon, he was tired and fell asleep. When he woke up, he saw the last of the wagons pulling up on the other side of it.
He shouted, and William Henry Chipman, the captain of the company, told him to swim across the river. Taking off his heavy coat and wooden clogs so he could swim, Henry plunged into the water. When the current carried him downstream, Captain Chipman rode his horse into the water. Henry grabbed a stirrup and held on while the horse swam across.
He was safe, but he had to walk across the remaining plains barefoot. His feet became black, hard, and cracked from the journey; blood often oozed from the cracks. Sometimes at night Mary cried in sympathy as she pulled spines of prickly pear cactus from his feet.

Kellene Trentham, 14, was awarded an Outstanding Community Service award from the Chief of Police in Chubbuck, Idaho. Kellene has been the editor and publisher of a community newspaper that has been helping the police instruct citizens about crime prevention.
Kellene’s newspaper started as a get-acquainted effort in her subdivision. One of her neighbors was the Crime Prevention Officer from the police department. At that time, the police were attempting to organize a Neighborhood Watch program where neighbors learn to secure their homes and report unusual activities in their residential area. Kellene started including the information in her newspaper. Soon others were interested in receiving the paper, and local merchants began contributing articles on topics of interest or services. The paper, which is printed once a month, is now being delivered to 1,200 homes.
Kellene has expanded her activities to her local junior high school where, with the help of the police, she is organizing a youth crime prevention group.
Kellene is a member of the Seventh Ward, North Pocatello Idaho Stake.

Some time later, there was a knock on my door. I assumed they were Jehovah Witnesses so I told them I wasn’t interested and they started to walk away. For some reason I called them back and asked them who they were. They mentioned they were members of “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.” This captured my attention, and I invited them in. They left me a Book of Mormon which began a friendship with two ladies who were members of the local Relief Society.
A few months later, my husband was asked to work on Sundays so I had no way of getting to my local church. Around the same time, my children began to interact with other children in the neighbourhood, which led to me being invited to activities at their local church. On my first visit to my neighbour‘s church, they were showing a film of Joseph Smith‘s first vision. It was new to me, but when it came to the part he was bound, from my own experience years before, I knew this to be true.
As mentioned I wanted my children to know of Jesus as I knew of him, so I started to attend the Sunday services. I grew up in a Latin based church service where prayers and hymns were all in Latin, so this was the first time I had ever entered another church and heard hymns in English. I remember the first hymn I heard was “O my Father Thou That Dwellest.” It filled me with awe and is now my favourite hymn.
Thereafter, I was invited to the Relief Society and then my baptism came around. I think the whole stake came out to see this young Scottish girl being baptised in Utah. I have since held many positions in the church, such as Relief Society President, Primary President, Stake Primary President, and Sunday school teacher. Currently, I am in charge of Public Relations and Communications for the Greenock Branch.

After my baptism in 1994, I told my Heavenly Father that I desired to be useful to him and that I would serve in our branch as best as I could. In 1995, I was called to serve as the branch president.
Sometimes my tasks are hard, and there have been many challenges, especially during my first months of service. But when I kneel down and ask Heavenly Father for his help, he never denies me his support.
Michele Bartoli,Lecce Branch, Italy Catania Mission

Some years ago I served as a naval aviator aboard a large aircraft carrier, the USS Philippine Sea. The carrier was operating off the coast of Korea and would stay out at sea for about thirty days at a time.
Supplies were brought to us by other ships. These cargo vessels would pull up alongside our carrier and, while both ships were underway, would send food, mail, repair parts, and other supplies over to us by cables. Sometimes the containers broke open, and the contents would spill out onto the hangar deck of the aircraft carrier.
One day I walked past an area where fresh fruit was being unloaded. A carton of oranges had been slightly damaged, and a big beautiful orange fell out and rolled right across the deck to me. I picked it up and continued on my way down to the pilot’s ready room, where a number of my squadron mates were sitting around reading their mail that had just come aboard from the supply ship.
As I entered the room, all of my friends saw the orange. Fresh fruit was a very scarce item aboard ship, and I could tell that their mouths were watering for a taste of my fresh juicy orange. Pretending that I did not notice them, I peeled the orange, broke it in half, and then counted the sections. There were just enough orange sections to give each of them two, and so I divided the orange equally among my six friends, who expressed their gratitude.
A short time later someone came in the door and shouted, “Hey, a whole case of oranges has been dropped on the hangar deck, and oranges are all over the floor!” Out my friends ran.
Soon they returned, each proudly carrying an orange. They all peeled their oranges, and to my great surprise, each one gave me four sections in return for the two sections I had given him. I actually ended up with enough sections to make two whole oranges after they had all shared with me.
As I thanked them I had an opportunity to learn a very plain gospel principle.
I did not share my orange with the thought of receiving a reward. But it is never possible for us to do something nice or generous for someone else without being rewarded somehow for what we have done. The Bible tells us, “Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days” (Eccl. 11:1). Sometimes we do not have to wait “many days”—we are rewarded immediately.
The Lord said, “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me” (Matt. 25:40). The Lord loves all of us, and He delights to see His children showing love and kindness and tenderness to each other. “Oh, there’s One who smiles on high, when there’s love at home” (Hymn no. 169).

When Walnetta’s family migrated from Fiji to Devonport on Auckland’s North Shore a few years after the Second World War, her father, Oscar P. Broederlow, and his family, were the only known members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in that area. But the missionaries set to work and soon there were enough new converts to hold meetings in the Devonport Labour Hall, arranged by Walnetta’s mother, Hilda E. Lobendahn Broederlow.

His reaction to Sister Smith’s Relief Society call was an immediate vote of confidence. “President Kimball came to our home and said, ‘Barbara, I have come to call you to be the president of the Relief Society of the Church.’ And then he turned to me, and he said, ‘Douglas, would you sustain her in that call?’ At that moment I felt that the President of the Church was giving me a special call, a call to sustain my wife. And that was my call to service. I told President Kimball that Barbara had sustained me for the thirty-five years that I had been involved in Church service, and that it would be an honor for me to sustain her—which I have tried to do.”

Let me tell you of my struggles to learn the Law of Tithing. Growing up, I never thought much about tithing. I remember paying tithing, but how committed I was I can't remember. In 1958, I had graduated from High School and entered LDS Business College. I had enough money to pay my tuition for the first term and rent an apartment for two months. I needed to get a job or I'd have to drop out of school. I looked and looked for a job. I could not find one. Finally, after two months, I'm desperate. My money is running out. One afternoon, I come home from school and in my upstairs apartment I decide to kneel down and pour out my heart to Heavenly Father. It must have been a long prayer as my needs were great. During the prayer I make a promise, a covenant, "Father please help me, please help me to stay in school. Please help me get an education. Please help me find a job. And Father if you'll help me, I covenant, I promise that I'll pay a full and honest tithing for the rest of my life." It's a very emotional prayer. I'm praying with all my soul. The Lord hears my prayer. He makes a covenant with me. The next day I'm inspired to go to the Utah Genealogical Society and apply for a job. I interview. I get the job that day.
I am so grateful. I shed tears of gratitude. And all my life, I have kept that covenant.

Many miracles paved the way for Raymond Knight’s journey to the house of the Lord.
The first was his baptism in Alice Springs on 1 July 2017, at age 74. Elder Joel Barfuss, of the Australia Adelaide Mission recalls, “We were walking to an appointment and saw Ray walking down another road, so we decided to turn down the road just to talk to him. . . . He came to Church that Sunday and the rest was history.”
The second miracle came through family history. In the years after his baptism, senior missionary couples, Elder and Sister Clark, and later, Elder and Sister Gamble helped Ray to discover his family history.
Elder Scott Gamble helped Ray identify his father through the BillionGraves cemetery index.
“Ray is legendary with the young missionaries in Alice Springs,” says Sister Diane Gamble. “They all know and love him. He loves to share life stories about how his grandmother taught him to knit when he was nine years old, how his daughter in the Philippines asked him to bring her a kangaroo, and about how he knitted a jumper for Johnny Cash, the famous western singer.”
The third miracle involved a series of events that allowed Ray to travel 1,532.8 kilometers to attend the temple for the first time.
Cancer required the removal of Ray’s stomach, but while recovering from massive surgery, the Gambles taught him temple preparation lessons, which he continued after leaving the hospital.
Branch President Schwalger granted permission for the missionaries to resume Ray’s lessons over the phone and at his home. The Gambles used skeins of yarn and other props to review principles like the plan of salvation.
Ray eventually received his temple recommend, and with aid from the General Temple Patron Assistance Fund he prepared to receive his endowment.
Two weeks before his scheduled temple date, the Gambles received a call from Ray. Sister Gamble recalls, “He was in the hospital and told us he just wanted to die. We found him in the emergency department having a vial of potassium administered intravenously, which is apparently quite painful. Elder Gamble gave him a blessing, which helped him tolerate the procedure.”
Once Ray was cleared for travel, the long-awaited moment finally arrived. Ray and the missionary couple set out on 30 January 2024, and the group walked into the temple the following day.
At 81 years old now, Ray was able to participate in proxy baptisms and confirmations for his male ancestors. Then he used his Melchizedek Priesthood authority, for the first time, to perform proxy confirmations on Sister Gamble for his female ancestors. “I was moved to tears when Ray placed his hands on my head,” says Sister Gamble.
The fourth miracle was found in the power of prayer.
Ray wasn’t feeling well on the day Elder Gamble picked him up for his own endowment. His medication was making him dizzy and weak in the knees. They had to stop and rest several times between the hotel room and the car.
After a fervent prayer for Ray’s health and ability to proceed with his journey, Ray got out of the car and walked into the temple to receive his endowment. He had no further issues that day.
With additional support from senior missionary couples, the Felts and the Carrs, and President and Sister Kuhn from the mission presidency, Ray was able to perform proxy endowments for his ancestors. Elder Gamble described evidence of the Spirit in the celestial room later, where he saw tears rolling down Ray’s cheeks. “This is the first time I’ve felt a closeness to the Lord in such a profound way,” Ray explained. “I am in wonderment of His rich blessings.”
His ability to participate in all the planned sessions of his temple trip depended on how Ray felt, but on the days he didn’t attend, Sister Gamble says, everyone at the temple asked where Ray was. “It was like they were inquiring about a long-lost friend.”
Some days, Ray relied on the power of prayer to keep going. “On Saturday morning, [he] was feeling sick again,” Sister Gamble reports. “We said a prayer with Ray in the car and again he perked up almost immediately and was able to move forward with sealings.”
Referencing President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to think celestial, the sealer said, “doing sealings is just about as close to thinking celestial as one can get in this life.”
Ray was sealed first to his parents, and then his mother was sealed to the grandparents who raised him. In total, 96 family ordinances were performed throughout the week. The group had many tender mercies and felt very close to the Spirit.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how idyllic it was for me to be introduced to the temple for the first time,” Ray said. “It was a joy unimaginable. I’m so looking forward to many more such visits… If only the same joy could be felt in absolutely every other location throughout the world and every single person could focus on the exquisite experience and peace of our Heavenly Father’s presence, there could not be any room for the hurt and devastating destruction that we learn about so constantly in our world.”

Now my wife and I are in the service of the Lord and have been assigned to labor in the islands of the Philippines, Micronesia, and Guam. We are only one month old in our service and our lives have been completely turned around. We went from winter to summer in just twelve hours, and from New Zealand lamb to a delightful fish called lapu lapu. We met a typically slender, dark-haired Filipino stake president who quietly responded, “I am the same age as you, Elder Martin.”
Soon after our arrival in the Philippines, we left for our first stake conference some one hundred kilometers north. Along the way, we saw the evidence of poverty among so many of those lovely people. This also was a new experience, and our hearts were heavy as we drove. We checked in at a small hotel in a distant town and soon discovered that it lacked many of the facilities we considered normal and were used to. Then suddenly, as we entered the immaculate chapel grounds, our spirits lifted. We were greeted by sunny, smiling faces and outstretched hands, spotless dresses and shirts of dazzling white. We were not strangers or foreigners, but fellowcitizens with these Saints and of the household of God. Soon to follow was my most unforgettable Philippine experience thus far.
As we moved along the line exchanging handshakes and greetings, one slight young woman shyly extended her arm. As I took it, I realized that she had no hand on it or on her other arm. We exchanged smiles and moved along.
I next encountered this young sister after she and her husband were invited to speak as a young couple married within the last eighteen months in the Manila Temple. When she arose to speak, I noticed that in addition to being born without hands, this young woman had an artificial leg. As first she and then her husband spoke, there unfolded a most remarkable story about their lives.
The stake president was her father. Despite what to others may have been a handicap, but what to her must have been only a difficulty, this young sister had completed a full-term proselyting mission. She described in beautiful terms her feelings about going to the Manila Temple to be married. Hers was a talk of such maturity in gospel understanding and humility that it would have been difficult to equal anywhere in the Church. Then her husband stood and told of how he had written to his girlfriend after being in the mission field two months and later toward the end, of how he wanted to marry her in the Manila Temple when he returned home. There were no second thoughts, no change of heart when far removed, but instead, a growing understanding of the meaning and blessing of temple marriage for them both.
As they proudly showed us their baby after conference, and when we considered the splendid achievements of this young husband and wife, we recalled the Savior’s words, “Blessed are they that hear the word of God, and keep it” (Luke 11:28).
Since then, we have been to different places in the Philippines. Everywhere we meet missionary couples, a number of whom are older than ourselves. The Johnsons, a couple from Fremont, California, labor in distant Vigan. They have been in the Church only a handful of years since their baptism. In Vigan, the carabao, or water buffalo, and motor tricycles are almost the only mode of transport. The Johnsons have a beautiful attitude.
Whenever I meet and talk with missionary couples, I am filled with love and respect for their humility and desire to help the Filipino Saints. They regard their missions as one of the great opportunities to serve the Master in their lives. They always ask, “How many grandchildren have you?” Our response of eight is quickly overshadowed with “We have sixteen,” or “twenty-three,” or maybe “twenty-seven,” and almost always with “And there are two we haven’t seen yet.” They miss their family and grandchildren, but don’t complain. Instead, they look forward to that great homecoming reunion. Meanwhile, they are given all the love they can absorb from devoted Filipino Saints.
Like us, all these missionary couples are finding new purpose and fulfillment in their lives. Section 4 of the Doctrine and Covenants is taking on new meaning.
“Therefore, if ye have desires to serve God ye are called to the work;
“For behold the field is white already to harvest; and lo, he that thrusteth in his sickle with his might, the same layeth up in store that he perisheth not, but bringeth salvation to his soul” (vs. 3–4).
I pray that couples whose families are grown may indeed listen to and obey the Spirit that prompts the call to prepare and serve the Lord in the mission field. I know that this is the Lord’s church, that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and that President Benson is God’s prophet on earth today. I am grateful to be a member of the Church and for all the blessings it has brought into my life and the lives of my family. In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I stood next to my father in a hospital room. My mother, his wife of 41 years, lay on the bed. We had watched her for hours. We began to see the lines of pain disappear from her face. The fingers of her hands, which had been clenched into fists, relaxed. Her arms came to rest at her sides.

The pains of decades of cancer were ending. I saw on her face a look of peace. She took a few short breaths, then a gasp, and then lay still. We stood there waiting to see if another breath would come.

Finally, Dad said quietly, “A little girl has gone home.”

He shed no tears. That was because the Holy Ghost had long before given him a clear picture of who she was, where she came from, what she had become, and where she was going. The Spirit had testified to him many times of a loving Heavenly Father, of a Savior who had broken the power of death, and of the reality of the temple sealing he shared with his wife and family.

The Spirit had long before assured him that her goodness and faith had qualified her for the return to a heavenly home where she would be remembered as a wonderful child of promise and be welcomed home with honor.

For my dad, that was more than a hope. The Holy Ghost had made it a reality for him.

The invitation to attend came about through a communication, the letterhead bearing the imprint of the royal crown and the heading “Honor Semper—SOVEREIGN ORDER OF CYPRUS.” With the approval of the author I quote the letter:
(Received September 1, 1971)
My dear Mr. Benson:
Given the task [by the king] of inviting world religious leaders to the 2500th anniversary of Cyrus the Great, in Iran—I should like to have a Mormon leader included.
Having been with you in Innsbruck, Austria, and of course knowing your distinction, I write to ask if you would be with us or, if not, could you help us to get proper Mormon representation.
The time is short, as the dates are Oct. 10 to 17. Transportation and hospitality is paid. This is the greatest celebration in the history of Iran—royalty, heads of State, diplomats will be present.
Kindly give thought to the above and let me know soon. Thank you for your courtesy and with continued high regards,
Baron Frary von Blomberg
President
World Fellowship of Religions
The Innsbruck, Austria, meeting referred to in the Baron’s letter occurred in this manner. In 1964, just before the opening of the Winter Olympics, we were touring the Austrian Mission of the Church. On the tour were President Peter Locher, his wife, and Sister Benson. And on that tour we were to dedicate a lovely chapel, just finished, in Innsbruck. Some six hundred people crowded the building designed to serve a growing branch of two hundred. Invited and present were the mayor of Innsbruck, the national senator of the area, and, with the mayor, Baron von Blomberg. The new chapel was located on a new street, unpaved except in front of our property. In his most fitting talk the mayor explained that while they “didn’t quite have enough time to get the entire street paved, we were able to complete the street and sidewalk paving in front of your property in time for this dedication.”
It was a lovely, spirited service of gratitude and rejoicing for the restored gospel. As the baron said, when he confirmed the letter of invitation by long-distance telephone, “I remember well the spirit of that occasion and how deeply I was impressed by the messages given.” Yes, my brothers and sisters, the Spirit is very real. You cannot fool the Spirit. Some people try, only to learn of their own folly.
And so that is the genesis of the invitation. The office of the First Presidency, after seeing the letter of invitation and knowing that I would be in Europe at the time—and with all expenses paid—advised me to attend this unusual celebration.

The noise was so loud it woke Christina Foster up—a roaring like a midnight train rumbling through the town. She cowered in her sleeping bag, afraid that the window near her would shatter from the violent vibration.
Christina, 16, of the Monck’s Corner Ward, Charleston South Carolina Stake, was living through the nightmare of Hurricane Hugo. Her family was camping out in the stake center, along with other ward members warned by civil authorities to evacuate their homes.
After a few minutes, Christina got up and joined her parents and sisters as they tried to see what was happening outside. It was the darkest, blackest night she could remember.
“All we could hear were things moving around, and the snap, snap, snap of trees falling,” said Christina. “I was more scared than I should have been. But everyone at the church was calm, so I felt safe.”

Years ago, in my childhood home, my parents decided to recarpet the house. The night before the new carpet arrived, my mom asked my brothers to remove furniture and rip out the old carpet in the bedrooms, so that the new carpet could be installed the next morning. Emily, who was 7, was asleep on her bed.
While she soundly slept, my brothers removed all the other furniture from her room and everything from the walls and the closet—then even the carpet. Then they had an idea—an awful idea; they decided, as big brothers around the world sometimes do, to prank their little sister.
They then removed everything from the walls and the closet.
The room was completely bare except for the bed.
Then they wrote a note and tacked it to the wall:
“Emily, we moved. We’ll write in a few days and tell you where we are. Love, your family.” Well, the next morning Emily did not show up for breakfast as usual. My mom sent one of my brothers to get her. Emily was not in her bed, but my brother did hear the sound of crying coming from inside of the closet. There was Emily, curled up and crying her little heart out.
Emily reflected on this experience later:
I wondered, why would they just leave me?
I felt so alone and unloved.
Was I really that unimportant?
In my 7-year-old mind I thought, “No one likes me, not even my own family.” I was crushed. But what would have happened if I just opened the door? What would I have heard? What would I have smelled? I would have known I was not alone.
I would have known I really was loved. The thought never even crossed my mind to do something about my situation. I just gave up and stayed in my closet crying. And yet if I had simply opened the door...

Every December since I can remember my family has bought a nativity set, and every year we give it away. As a family we decide who we will give it to. Usually we choose someone in our ward or neighborhood who does not have family in the area, or someone who may feel lonely over the Christmas season.
Twelve days before Christmas we begin delivering our gifts. Each night we secretly deliver one piece of the nativity set with a poem attached, starting with the camel. On Christmas Eve, we deliver the baby Jesus. We do not run and hide when we deliver this last gift as we do with the others. Instead we deliver this last piece with some goodies in person.
The best Christmas gift I get every year is seeing the happiness of the people when we give them the baby Jesus—the piece to complete their set. I always get a wonderful feeling inside when I deliver the nativity set with my family. I know the Lord is pleased with what I am doing.
My brother is on a mission right now, and last Christmas we sent him a nativity set so he could carry on the tradition even while he was serving. I really enjoy this family tradition. It is something that I plan to continue when I get married. I thank my parents for starting this tradition that helps us focus on the Savior and His birth.

“Hey cuz, you still shootin’ for that celestial kingdom you told me about?” my cousin asked.
Her unexpected question took me off guard. I stammered for a moment, trying to figure out what she was talking about. Then I remembered. Last summer, during our visit to California, my cousin and I had been talking late at night, as was our habit, when the subject of the Church had come up. My cousin is a nonmember and knows very little about our church, so when she asked me to tell her about it, I gladly agreed. I told her what I could: the Joseph Smith story, our beliefs, my dreams, and my fears—including my goal of reaching the celestial kingdom. I bore my testimony to her, and told her I knew the gospel was true. I told her how I wanted to live forever with at chosen mate, and to have my family with me. She listened carefully and asked me a lot of questions which I answered as best I could. We went to sleep that night, her wondering and me feeling pretty pleased with myself.
Now seven months later, I was amazed that she remembered what I had told her.
“Well?” She was looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer.
I swallowed hard and stared out my window at the falling snow, watching each individual snowflake merge with millions of others. If only life were that simple.
“Am I still reaching for it?” I asked myself. I thought back over the last few months and knew I hadn’t been trying very hard. I had just broken up with my boyfriend, my grades weren’t as high as they should have been, my best friend wasn’t my best friend anymore, family relationships were strained, and most important of all, I was gradually pulling away from the Church. As I sat there, I took a new look at my life and realized how empty it had been. I turned and looked at my cousin and said quietly but firmly, with my eyes full of tears, “Yes, I am.”
Oh how thankful I am to have a Father in Heaven who loves me enough to remind me of my goals. With his help I can reach the celestial kingdom. And when I doubt myself, I just remember those three words, “Yes, I am,” and I know that my Father in Heaven is with me.

by Devin Durrant
The letter said, “Devin, you ought to start a journal. The prophet has counseled us to do it. I have been writing regularly in one and it has helped me a great deal. My journal is something that I will treasure forever.”
That was the essence of the only part I remember from a letter that my older brother Matt wrote to me in October of 1976. At that time he was serving a mission in Tokyo, Japan. I loved my brother. He was everything that I wanted to be. I thought, if he writes in a journal and thinks it’s a good thing, then I’m going to do the same.
I turned 16 years old shortly after I received his letter advising me to record the events of my life. For my birthday that year my parents gave me a $50.00 gift certificate. The following day I went to the store and spent five dollars of that gift certificate to buy my first journal.
On November 1, 1976, I made my first entry, and since then every day of my life has been recorded.

Two years ago we decided to have a reunion and honor Bruford Reynolds and other youth leaders who led us in Richards Ward between 1940 and 1950. The chapel was completely filled with men, former boys who had lived in the ward. We had raised money to buy some very nice gifts, which were presented to them, and using an opaque projector, we showed pictures of the boys and some of the activities during those years. We made a real fuss over Bruford Reynolds and the other great men.
Then we called for a response. Bruford Reynolds stood up, and with great tears dimming his eyes he said, “I think this is the greatest day of my life.” As I thought about that statement, I looked out across that group of deacons/Scouts grown tall. It included three men who had been stake presidents, two men who had been mission presidents, several men in stake presidencies, thirty-three men who had been bishops or counselors, and one who is a General Authority. Then I thought, maybe this is what life is all about, to be able to look back and see the young men you had influenced grow up and become leaders in the kingdom.

“Hey, look at this.” Jack pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “I found it in a magazine this morning.” He unfolded it and held it out to Taran.
But Taran could see right off it wasn’t something he wanted to look at. He turned away and said, “I don’t want to look at that.”
Jack shrugged and put the paper back in his pocket. “Baby.”
Taran didn’t really care.
When Taran got home, he helped Mom make flatbread for dinner. He dragged a chair over to the counter, and Mom tied his apron.
“Mom,” he said, “when I was at Ian’s house, his friend tried to show me a picture of a person without clothes. I turned away and walked away.”
Mom set down the bowl of dough and gave Taran a hug. “That was a really good choice. Thank you for telling me about it.”
“In family night that’s what you said to do,” Taran said as he patted his hands with flour and lifted the dough onto the counter.
“I’m glad you remembered. Is that the first time someone’s shown you a bad picture?”
Taran nodded.
“Well, I’m really glad you told me. You know you can ask me about anything or tell me anything, right? Even if you made a bad choice, I’d still want to know so I could help. I wouldn’t be mad.” She dabbed a bit of flour onto his nose.
Taran smiled and wrinkled his floury nose. “Yup. I know.”
After dinner that night, Dad said, “Today someone tried to show Taran a bad picture, the kind we’ve talked about in family night.”
Reena’s hand shot up in the air. “I remember talking about that!” Dhara wasn’t old enough to remember much, but she nodded too.
“So what did you do?” Sonia asked Taran.
“I didn’t look at it, and I walked away,” said Taran.
Mom nodded. “We’re really happy Taran made such a good choice. And we’re so proud of him for letting me know what happened.”
Dad reached across the table to give Taran a high five. “Way to go, bud.” Reena and Dhara clapped, and Sonia gave Taran a big smile.
“So to celebrate we have a special treat!” said Dad. That made everybody cheer.
Mom got up to pull the ice cream out of the freezer, and Taran and Sonia ran over to grab bowls and spoons.
“OK, bud,” said Dad, pointing the ice cream scoop at Taran. “Which flavor do you want?”
As they all dug into their ice cream, Mom said, “Dad and I just want you kids to remember that if you’re worried or have questions, you can always come and talk to us, no matter what. It makes us happy.”
“And gets us ice cream?” Sonia asked as she held up a spoonful of chocolate.
Mom laughed. “Sometimes. But mostly it just makes us happy. And that is enough.”
Taran nodded as he finished his last bite. Telling Mom had made him happy too.

A vivid example of the position of members of the Church in relation to the world was portrayed to us one evening in our sacrament meeting, now many years ago, when a man named Brother Smith came to speak. He told us of his experience in working to rehabilitate men in the state penitentiary. A mother had asked him to reach out to her boy who was in prison.

In approaching the young man, Brother Smith was rudely rebuffed: “Leave me alone,” was the tone. However, Brother Smith noticed a rather crude painting in the prison one day and on inquiry learned that this young man had drawn it. This inspired a new approach:

“Did you paint that picture?”

“Yes, I did it.”

“I was impressed with it. I wonder if you would paint something for me.”

“I don’t know. What picture do you want?”

“I have never seen it,” said Brother Smith. “I have only read about it.”

“Where is it?” inquired the young man.

“It is here in this book,” responded Brother Smith. “The Book of Mormon, 1 Nephi, chapter 8. Will you read it and see if you can see the picture?”

Later Brother Smith inquired if the young man had read it.

“Yes, I read it,” he said.

“Did you see the picture?”

“Yes, I saw it.”

“Will you paint it for me?”

“I don’t know if I will or not.”

Brother Smith then obtained the necessary materials for painting a picture and presented them to the young man, who for the first time responded with warmth and appreciation to be able to use good equipment, and he painted the picture. Brother Smith brought it with him to our sacrament meeting, and so I have seen it. It is, of course, the picture of Lehi’s dream.

Now, will you try to see the picture in your own imagination? All you who have read 1 Nephi, chapter 8, will recall the scene. If you have not read it, I wish you would do so and get the feeling and the vision of this picture.

The description is as follows: First, Lehi wandering through a dreary waste, then coming to a spacious field; the tree with the most desirable fruit to be happy, the love of God; Lehi’s desire to share the fruit with his family; the rebellion of two of his sons; the pressing forward of many people to receive the fruit; the mists of darkness, which arose to obscure the path; the river of water along the path, which could mean destruction; the rod of iron, which represented security in staying on the path; the huge building across the river filled with scoffing people; the susceptibility of those who had followed the path to succumb to the scorn and pride of those of the world; and the wandering away of those who had partaken of the fruit of the tree of life into forbidden paths of destruction.

I know of no more graphic description of the condition of those who call themselves Latter-day Saints in relation to the influences of the world than this great vision. This story is reality. It is a great prophesy. It is a vivid warning.

Let me complete the story of the young man in prison. Brother Smith pointed to an angel the young man had painted hovering over the chasm of filthy water and asked him: “Where did you get that angel? I don’t remember any angel when I read about the picture.”

The young man replied: “I know. I put it there. It is my angel. As I painted the picture, I began to realize that God had placed an influence in my way which could bring me to safety and redeem me from the course I have been pursuing.”

This experience, of course, was the beginning of his recovery.