Gospel Story Finder

Juan’s parents taught him as a child to follow standards that bless his life. These helped him grow and develop his talents. “Since I was little, I set goals in Primary and Young Men to learn instruments,” he explains. “I play the violin, flute, piano, and now the guitar. I like the guitar most of all.”

Juan also set personal fitness goals based on Fulfilling My Duty to God. Over the years he has studied tae kwon do, swimming, and gymnastics, and he was even on his school’s running team.

“I love to learn. That’s why I always took the challenge to learn a new instrument or sport, to learn something more,” he says.

These goals also supported a larger objective. “Everything I’ve done, all that I have studied, all the physical preparation, all the goals I’ve set—everything has been with the object of going on a mission,” he explains. “And going on a mission is just part of another goal: to be sealed in the temple and become a good husband.”

Some of the many shoes donated at Giving Machines go to needy children through Helen’s Hope Chest in Arizona, USA.
Other donations to the machines went to Helen’s Hope Chest in Mesa, Arizona. Helen’s Hope Chest exists to provide for the basic needs of children who are in foster or kinship care. Here’s what Kate Pompay, Executive Director of Helen’s Hope Chest, had to say about the support they received from the Giving Machines:
“When I received the first update from the #LightTheWorld campaign, I was floored. Over $27,000 had been raised in just a few weeks. I immediately thought of shoes—a lot of new shoes to give to children and teens in foster and kinship care.
“Fast forward a few months when Jill* and Mark* walked into Helen’s Hope Chest for their scheduled ‘shopping’ trip for their five-year-old granddaughter. When we asked how things were going, they looked at each other and pulled out court documents that gave them custody of their two grandsons. We didn’t hesitate to add the boys to the shopping trip to make sure they had what they needed without costing the grandparents any more.
“The funding from the Giving Machines ensures that Helen’s Hope Chest will not have to turn away kids in need.
“As for those shoes I envisioned? They have been walking away on the feet of hundreds of children every month.”

Our family has six children, who sometimes tease one another that they are the favourite child. Each has different reasons for being preferred. Our love for each of our children is pure and fulfilling and complete. We could not love any one of them any more than another—with each child’s birth came the most beautiful expansion of our love. I most relate to my Heavenly Father’s love for me through the love that I feel for my children.
As they each rehearse their claims to be the most loved child, you might have thought that our family had never had an untidy bedroom. The sense of blemishes in the relationship between parent and child is diminished with a focus on love.
At some point, perhaps because I can see that we are heading toward an inevitable family riot, I’ll say something like, “OK, you have worn me down, but I am not going to announce it; you know which one of you is my favourite.” My goal is that each one of the six feels victorious and all-out war is avoided—at least until next time!

My father had a unique experience when he was the age of a priest. There were no high schools where he lived, and he wanted an education. He received permission from his father to leave the farm and seek his education elsewhere, but he had to make it on his own. Arriving in Salt Lake City, he heard of an employment position being offered in the home of President Joseph F. Smith. He was hired to care for the prophet’s two cows. In our family home evenings we would want Dad to relate experiences about his early life of living in the home of the prophet. We would hear him make reports like this:
Sister Smith instructed my father in his duties, explaining that the cows “were aristocrats, and you must treat them well. You are to keep them so clean and train them so well that if I should ever at any time conclude to move them into the parlor, they would be clean enough to enter.” Dad said he understood milking but not laundering cows.
Before milking each morning and night, the cows were thoroughly washed and dried with hot water, soap, and towels prepared for that purpose. They were fed the best of hay and milked at exactly the same hour twice a day.
In addition to his duties with the Smith family and their “aristocratic” cows, my father was asked on occasion to do some housework. He would tell us stories like this: “One frosty morning I washed the steps leading to the official residence of the President of the Church. It nearly led to his downfall, for I let the water freeze before drying. Then I had to take boiling water and thaw the ice and take towels to dry the stones. The steps were nearly clean, but my classmates were passing on their way to school before the job was completed. It was a humbling experience.”
By telling these stories, I don’t want to leave you with the impression that my father was a male twin to Cinderella. The Smith family took this poor farm boy from Idaho into their home while he finished high school and attended the University of Utah. They included him in their family activities, around the dinner table, and at family prayer. My father shared with us his witness that the prophet Joseph F. Smith was truly a man of God: “When I kneeled with the prophet, in family prayer, and listened to his earnest supplications for the blessings of the Lord upon his family and their flocks and their herds, I realized that those same humiliating cows were the subject of his blessings, [and] my feet were brought solidly to earth. … Most great men I have known have been deflated by intimate contact. Not so with the prophet Joseph F. Smith. Every common everyday act added inches to his greatness. To me he was prophet even while washing his hands or untying his shoes.”
The lessons learned taught us a great appreciation and love for a prophet of God.

Recently, for Thanksgiving, I drove to my sister’s house, where the family was visiting for a few days. Opening the front door, I found Grandpa in the middle of the room, seated in a wheelchair, a yardstick on the floor beside him. He was wearing a yellow cardigan and a pair of brown pants like his old work pants, except these weren’t faded or stained. I instinctively looked for his cane but didn’t find it. When I bent down to hug him, I felt his bony shoulders and his whiskery face.
He asked me how my studies were, would I get straight A’s? Did I ever see my cousin who just got married? We were talking like that when my sister Kris came into the room from downstairs; Tony, her two-year-old son, trailed behind her. After a while she went into the kitchen to see about dinner while I played with Tony. Grandpa remained in the wheelchair, his hands in his lap, his head lolling forward in sleep. Finally I escaped for a few minutes to take my overnight bag downstairs. Above me I could hear Tony tumbling around on the floor, and I suddenly wanted him to know Grandpa by his walking sticks—the staff, the sceptor, the garden implement. Not Grandpa as a shrunken body in a wheelchair, who went only from the bed to the table to the bathroom.
In the kitchen I watched Kris slice vegetables, her fingers moving quickly. When I heard Tony’s laughter from the living room, quiet at first then louder, I went to the doorway to see what he was doing. Grandpa was in the middle of the room as I had left him, but instead of sleeping, he was leaning forward in his chair, his knobby hands wrapped around the wooden yardstick that had been on the floor. He kept the other end of the yardstick poised above Tony, who lay on his back a few feet away watching him.
When Grandpa lowered the yardstick toward Tony’s belly sticking out from his striped T shirt, Tony giggled and tossed his head; then, feeling the tickle of wood on his stomach, he rolled away, his shrill giggles filling the room. And I heard the deeper laughter of my grandfather. Looking into his gray eyes, I saw again the face I had known when I knelt next to the wooden giraffe.

As members of the Church enter the London Temple, immediately ahead of them is a reception desk. To the right of this desk, a painting shows a row of buildings in the distance with a bridge in the foreground. The stone bridge crosses the river Monnow and is the way into the little castle town of Skenfrith near Abergavenny.
The river is quite deep in places, and the right-hand side looking from the Bell Inn has steps leading down to the river.
This is the place where the first recorded convert baptism in South Wales, of James W. Palmer, took place on 13 April 1840. The baptism was performed by Wilford Woodruff, one of the Quorum of the Twelve, then serving as a missionary in the British Isles.
James W. Palmer kept a journal while serving as a missionary after his baptism. It includes the following entry in November 1840: “I preached at Skenfrith.” A later journal entry reads, “We now visited Skenfrith again… On Monday I baptised John Preece and William Williams in the river Monnow”.
Thus the story comes full circle, as the first convert to be baptised into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Skenfrith is subsequently instrumental in the conversion and baptism of further converts, there in the river Monnow.

I recently went with priesthood leaders to visit the homes of four women in Honduras. These sisters and their families were in need of priesthood keys and authority, priesthood ordinances and covenants, and priesthood power and blessings.
Our last visit was at the home of a sister whose husband recently died in a tragic accident. A recent convert to the Church, she had not understood that she could receive her own endowment and be sealed to her husband. When we taught her that these blessings could be available to her and her deceased husband, she was filled with hope. Knowing that through temple ordinances and covenants her family can be sealed together, she has faith and determination to face the trials ahead.
This widow’s son is preparing to receive the Aaronic Priesthood. His ordination will be a great blessing to her and her family. They will have a priesthood holder in their home.

Isaac could tell that his Primary class was almost over because he could hear people moving around outside the door. Sure enough, his teacher asked someone to say the prayer.
As soon as he said, “Amen,” Isaac stood up and hurried to the door. He liked his Primary class, but he was always eager to see his mom and dad and little brother, Luke. Before he could get the door opened, however, his teacher said, “Isaac, would you come here for a minute, please?”
“Sure,” Isaac answered as Sister Nelson called a few more kids over to her chair. Sister Nelson held out some little pieces of paper to him and the others. “Will you please give a talk in opening exercises next week?” she asked him.
“Oh, OK.” Isaac was five now, so he could see that his name was written on the paper with a lot of other words. He didn’t try to read them—he was sure they just said stuff about his talk. He had said yes because he always tried to do what his teacher wanted him to do, but he was scared to talk to the whole Primary. He knew that even the youngest children took turns giving talks, scriptures, and prayers, but he couldn’t remember doing any of those before.
He thought about the talks other children had given. Sometimes when a really little child got up, he or she ended up being too scared to say anything and his or her mom or dad had to give the talk! Sometimes children read stories for talks, but Isaac couldn’t read that well yet. Some of the other talks were so hard to understand that he forgot to even listen. He couldn’t imagine what kind of a talk he could give when he was only five!
“Oh, well,” he said to himself, “maybe she’ll forget she asked me.” He stood in the doorway and soon saw his mom and Luke coming toward him from the nursery room. “Hi, Mom!” he said, giving her a big hug.
“What’s this?” Mom asked, taking the paper out of his hand. “Wow! You get to give a talk next week.”
Isaac tried to smile, and he nodded his head a little. Maybe Mom would forget too, he hoped.
On the way home, Mom told Dad about Isaac’s talk. “How exciting!” Dad said. “We’ll be sure to come hear you, Isaac. Do you want Mom or me to help you give your talk?”
Somebody could help him with his talk? He suddenly felt a lot better about it. “Mom, I guess,” he said.
“OK,” Mom answered. “We’ll start working on it soon.”
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday went by, and Isaac forgot all about the talk. But on Wednesday, Mom said, “Isaac, let’s get your Primary talk ready!”
“Oh, no!” he said to himself. “She remembered.” He walked slowly over to where Mom sat holding a pen and notebook. His stomach felt funny. “I don’t really want to give a talk, Mom. I don’t know how, and I’m scared.”
“It will be all right. Let’s just talk about it for a minute.” Mom put her arm around his shoulders. “Your talk is supposed to be about faith in Jesus Christ. What do you think faith is?”
Isaac remembered his Primary teacher talking about faith, and Mom and Dad talking about it in family home evening. But he was pretty sure he didn’t know enough about it to give a whole talk. “Is it like praying and keeping the commandments?” he asked, his forehead wrinkled with worry.
Mom wrote something in the notebook. “Sure,” she said. “Why do we pray and keep the commandments?”
“Because Jesus and Heavenly Father want us to.” That was an easy question.
Mom wrote something else down. “What happens to your faith when you pray and keep the commandments?”
“It grows.” He remembered his teacher saying that choosing the right helps your faith grow.
“How do you feel when it grows, Isaac? How do you feel when you pray and keep the commandments?”
“Happy!” Isaac wished it was as easy to give a talk about faith as it was to talk with his mom about it.
“Just a few more questions,” Mom said. “Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” When he nodded, Mom asked, “Why?”
“Because the scriptures say He lives.” Isaac had a nice feeling inside when he talked about Jesus. He could feel Jesus loving him. He smiled and leaned against his mom while she wrote.
Suddenly Mom surprised him by saying, “OK! You’ve finished writing your talk! Now let’s practice giving it.”
On Sunday morning, Isaac stepped carefully to the front of the Primary room. He unfolded the paper his mom had written on when she asked him questions. His answers were his talk! He had practiced giving it to Dad a few times. Now Mom moved to his side and began whispering the questions he had answered before. Isaac gave his talk in his very own words:
“Faith in Jesus Christ means praying and keeping the commandments. We pray and keep the commandments because Heavenly Father and Jesus want us to. When we do, our faith grows. I feel happy when I pray and keep the commandments, and my faith grows. I believe in Jesus Christ because the scriptures say He lives. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
He saw Dad smile at him from the back of the room, and everyone was quiet—they had been listening! When he walked past his teacher, he saw that she was happy. He felt really good inside. He had given a talk that was really his, and he was sure that Jesus was happy about it too!

One Saturday afternoon I decided to study the Sunday School lesson for the next day’s class. It was on miracles. “If ever we needed a miracle, it is now,” I thought. My mother was a widow, and our family was going through a difficult time financially.
Ever since my sisters and I were little girls, we had devoted ourselves to the art of horsehair weaving. We would wash the horsehair, color it with dyes, and then weave it hair by hair into shapes such as butterflies, mice, and copihues (the national flower of Chile). It is very fine work and unique to our country. All winter long we would weave, and in the summer we would sell our work at art fairs.
The national economy was depressed that year and greatly affected our business. In the past a major source of our income had been an art fair in Temuco, a tourist town in southern Chile. But that year we had not been invited. We had even called the fair’s organizers, but they refused to give us a booth. We worried about how this loss of income would affect us.
But as I studied the Sunday School lesson that afternoon, my attitude changed completely. First I read Mormon 9:19: “[God] ceaseth not to be God, and is a God of miracles.” This promise lifted my spirits. Then as I read verse 21, I felt even better: “I say unto you that whoso believeth in Christ, doubting nothing, whatsoever he shall ask the Father in the name of Christ it shall be granted him.”
I thought about the miracle my family needed, and I decided to travel the four hours to Temuco to plead our case.
When I arrived at the office of culture, I was discouraged to see many other people there to make the same request and to learn that all these people had been told no. Still I felt the Lord was with me.
When my turn came to speak to the man in charge, he bluntly told me there was only a remote possibility we could have a booth but that a final decision could not be made yet. I explained that a booth would mean bread for my mother during the winter months, but I felt as if I were talking to a wall. Then without thinking, I told him I believed in miracles and left his office.
I called my husband and asked him to fast with me. My mind constantly reverted to the words of the Sunday School lesson: “[God] is a God of miracles.” I needed a miracle—now.
I waited for six hours at the office of culture, feeling greater anguish with each passing minute. Finally I saw craftspeople arriving from every corner of Chile and also from other countries. The fair was starting. With a lump in my throat, I prayed, “Thy will be done.” Suddenly a feeling of peace overcame me, and I decided to talk one more time to the man in charge.
When I entered his office, I could see his attitude had changed. He courteously told me I could have a booth. Once again I told him I believed in miracles.
We made the money we needed at the fair, and I learned for myself that God continues to work miracles today. My faith grows each day because of all He gives me.

More than 2,500 Mexican Latter-day Saints gathered on 25 June 1989 for the creation of the Tecalco Mexico Stake, about thirty miles south of Mexico City. It was the one-hundredth stake organized in that country. Among the members of the new stake was Fidencia García de Rojas—at age 106 the oldest Church member in Mexico. The Church in Mexico had passed yet another historic milestone during the eighty-eight years that Fidencia had been a member.
When Sister Fidencia died a month and a half later, President Felipe Hernández Luis of the Tecalco stake commented that those attending the funeral were part of another historic moment—the death of a Mexican pioneer.
Sister Fidencia began attending Latter-day Saint church meetings sometime between 1889 and 1901. During that period, the Church had closed the Mexican Mission. As a result, Church leaders in Mexico had little direction from Church headquarters, and many units deviated from standard doctrines and practices. During this time, Sister Fidencia and her family—not yet members of the Church—attended the Tecalco Branch.
When President Ammon M. Tenney came to Tecalco in 1901 to reestablish the branch after the mission reopened, the leader of the branch, Julian Rojas, was initially unwilling to relinquish control. Brother Rojas finally relented, and President Tenney rebaptized him and seventy-five others on August 18. One month later, President Tenney baptized Fidencia, her parents, and her grandparents. From that day on, Sister Fidencia dedicated her life to serving the Lord.
She recalled that after the Tecalco Branch was again in contact with Church headquarters, people began joining the Church. The first full-time missionaries soon arrived, and Fidencia’s parents built an extra room onto their house for the missionaries to live in. As membership grew, Sister Fidencia was among the group of members and missionaries who worked hard to buy a building lot for a Latter-day Saint chapel. She also helped missionaries in nearby Ozumba with their room, clothes, and food, and she worked at the Mexican mission home.
During her time at the mission home, the American missionaries taught Sister Fidencia to sing hymns in Spanish and English. She later joined the legendary Tecalco Choir and sang with the choir until just a few years before her death.
In 1910, Mexico entered a civil war that lasted, off and on, through the 1930s. In August 1913, American missionaries had to leave the country, and Mexican leaders were once again left to themselves. But the Church was well established by then, and the civil war did not seriously impede Mexican Saints from administering the Church. They did so for more than four years.
Sister Fidencia witnessed an even greater disruption of the Church in Mexico in 1936, when a large body of members known as the Third Convention broke away from the main body of Mexican Saints.
By 1942, however, Arwell L. Pierce, newly called president of the Mexican Mission, had begun working to resolve misunderstandings. And in 1946, President George Albert Smith, eighth President of the Church, presided over a reunification conference in Mexico City. During the conference, more than twelve hundred Third Conventionists returned to the Church. Sister Fidencia attended the conference and visited with President Smith in her home. Hers was the first home President Smith visited when the traveled to Tecalco.
Other milestones for the Church in Mexico began to occur more rapidly as Sister Fidencia grew older. Together with family and other Church members, she made several trips to the Arizona Temple over the years to do temple work for herself and her family. In 1972 she attended the Mexico City area conference. And in 1983 she attended the dedication of the Mexico City Temple. During these years she remained dedicated to her family, to missionary work, and to her Church callings, two of which were particularly important to her.
As a Primary teacher, Sister Fidencia loved to teach children the gospel through stories, especially Old Testament stories. She gave her students a love of the scriptures, which she read daily. And she often recited from memory facts and stories from the lives of all of the latter-day prophets. She taught many of her own grandchildren in that calling.
As a visiting teacher, Sister Fidencia completed forty consecutive years of 100-percent visiting teaching. In February 1978, she received commendation for this accomplishment from Relief Society and mission leaders, who expressed appreciation for her service and compassion.
Sister Fidencia’s posterity remembers her for an even greater accomplishment: bringing five generations of their family into the Church. She and her first husband, Aniceto Rojas, the son of Julian Rojas of the early Tecalco Branch, had six children, two of whom survived to have children and grandchildren of their own. She and her second husband, Manuel Rosas, had three children.
Sister Fidencia survived both of her husbands and lived to see many grandchildren and great-grandchildren serve missions. Many of her descendants have served and continue to serve faithfully as leaders among the Mexican Saints.
To her family, the most precious gift Grandmother Fidencia left was the gospel of Jesus Christ. For her fellow Saints, Sister Fidencia’s many years of humble service left a legacy that spanned almost an entire century—a century during which Church members in Mexico struggled, overcame, and finally flourished.

The militia took many Latter-day Saint prisoners to Independence, then to a jail in Richmond. Later, Joseph and a few other men were moved to a jail in Liberty.
The guards treated the prisoners badly. One night the guards at the Richmond jail told each other about the terrible deeds they had done to the Latter-day Saints. Joseph stood up and rebuked them.
Silence! In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you and command you to be still.
I will not live another minute and hear such language.
The guards apologized. They were quiet for the rest of the night.

When I was 10 years old, I was baptized with my parents, brothers, and sisters. I’m so happy to have grown up having regular family home evening. Family home evening was the heart of our family.
I have now been a member of the Church for more than 45 years. With my own five children, the tradition continues. Monday nights are reserved for the family.
On the last Monday of the month, we have a longer activity we call our “outdoor” family home evening. We go to a movie, to visit the sick, to play in the park, to see Lola and Lolo (our grandparents), and so on.
The most unforgettable outdoor experience we have is when we serve street children. We cannot express the joy and happiness we feel in helping those in such need. We try, in our little way, to make those children happy and to let them know that somebody cares for them and knows we are all children of God.
Tita Mabunga Obial, Philippines

That trust gave her strength when Brigham departed for a mission to Great Britain in 1839 just 10 days after Mary Ann gave birth to their daughter Alice. For the 20 months that followed, Mary Ann and their six children struggled with illness and poverty. They survived primarily on corn bread, milk, and a few garden vegetables.4 Mary Ann managed to find a little work to support her family. “It has been so difficult to obtain work,” she lamented. “But I am thankful for a comfortable Shelter from the Storm.” This attitude of thanksgiving even amid trying circumstances helped sustain Mary Ann while her husband was half a world away. “I will thank my Heavenly Father for all the blessings I receive and pray the Lord to continue his mercies with us.”5 Giving thanks and trusting in the Lord was a lesson she learned while Brigham was gone. It “is a great thing,” she wrote to Brigham, to “trust in the Lord.”6
While Brigham spread the gospel message on many missions away from home, Mary Ann furthered the work of the Lord at home, raising her children, running the household alone, and caring for her neighbors. Though it was challenging, she maintained her trust that Brigham was where he was supposed to be. “I well know the Lord has called you to go far away to proclaim his everlasting gospel,” she told him. So she relied on the Lord’s “assisting grace” and did not “feel to repine” at her situation.7
Instead, she rejoiced in Brigham’s efforts: “I am glad to hear the work of the Lord is prospering in England; it gives me much joy.”8 Like Alma in the Book of Mormon, she found a fuller joy in the successful work of others—a work to which she contributed (see Alma 29:14).

My name is Chrislaine Da Silva Brasil. I’m 12 years old. I live in a town called Itacoatiara in northern Brazil. (Yes, my family and my country share the same name.) Itacoatiara is on the Amazon River, just below the equator. It’s very hot and humid here in the summer, and it rains heavily in the winter.
The Amazon River is very important to people in my town. Some men make a living catching and selling the many different kinds of fish in the river. My mom cooks great fish dinners that we eat with rice, beans, and salads. We have a lot of fresh fruit to eat as well.
The river is also like a highway. People travel on it in boats of all sizes. My family planned to take a special boat ride on the river in December 1993. With other members of the Church, we were going south all the way to the temple in São Paulo. Mom and Dad were going for their own temple work and to be sealed together in marriage for time and eternity. Then, they, my younger sister, Joyce, and I were going to be sealed together as an eternal family.
We started planning for the trip many months ahead. It costs a lot of money to travel to the temple. We saved by not buying many of the things we like, even our favorite soda pop.
As the time came closer to leave, we became very excited.
And then I had to make a big decision!
I was in grade school and would soon graduate. But first I had to take final exams for the year—and when the dates for the exams were announced, they were for the same time that we were to go to the temple.
Mom told my teacher that I would be absent for ten days because our family was going to São Paulo. The teacher said that if I left school then, I would not be able to take the exams and graduate. I wanted to graduate, but I also wanted to go to the temple.
That night before dinner we had a family council. Mom explained what had happened and then said, “Chris, you need to make a decision. Either we stay while you take the exams and graduate, or we all go to the temple.”
I prayed to Heavenly Father to help me make the right choice. Tears ran down my cheeks as I said, “Let’s go to the temple.” At that moment I felt the warmth of the Spirit, and I knew that things would work out.
And they did!
For some reason, the final exams were held earlier than expected, and I was able to take them and graduate before we left on our trip.
We were on a boat for three days, then traveled by bus for another three days. We had meals on the boat and at special bus stops along the way. In São Paulo, we stayed at the Missionary Training Center, where we cooked our own meals. We spent a few days in São Paulo going to the temple and visiting the city, then made the long journey back home.
This wonderful experience helped me understand that Heavenly Father answers prayers when we try to do what is right. I’m grateful that I was able to graduate. But I’m even more grateful that we can be a family together forever.

Stephen: My wife, Kay, started having memory lapses over time, and I started noticing that she was often asking the same questions and repeating sentences. After things progressively got worse, we visited many doctors who gave many different diagnoses because she was young. She was eventually diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. I was her primary caregiver until she eventually passed away from complications of the disease. Later on, Lily and I met and got married. Lily also shared similar experiences in caring for her mother, who struggles with dementia.

A Church leader once toured a facility that housed a huge hydraulic crushing machine that could reduce old cars into small cubes of metal. For a demonstration, the guide asked the man to remove his watch. The operator then placed it in the machine and adjusted the controls, and the top blade came crashing down, stopping just a millimeter above the watch. Next the sides slammed together, but once again they stopped just short of the crystal. Then the operator removed the watch and returned it unscratched.
Much pleased with the demonstration, this good man turned to those with him and said, “We have just witnessed the greatest demonstration of meekness I have ever seen. Meekness is great power under complete control.”

Grandma was coming today! It was hard for Heidi to wait, because she had a surprise to show Grandma. Finally a blue car turned into the driveway.
“Grandma!” Heidi yelled. “Grandma, I have a surprise for you. Guess what it is!”
Grandma measured the top of Heidi’s curly head against her own arm. “I bet I already know your surprise—you’re getting taller.”
“Oh, Grandma, that’s no surprise. Guess again.”
“Is it something new growing in the garden?” Grandma asked, swinging Heidi’s hand as they walked past the marigolds beside the front walk.
“Nope,” Heidi told her. “Guess again.”
“Well,” Grandma said as they climbed the front steps, “the front door is painted bright red. It used to be white. Is that your surprise?”
“No, that’s not it, either,” Heidi said. “Guess again.”
“Mmmmm. I smell something good. Did you make some special cookies for me? Is that the surprise?”
“No—my surprise is better than cookies!” Heidi grinned. “Guess again, Grandma.”
“Well,” Grandma said as they climbed the stairs to Heidi’s room, “your surprise wasn’t the inches that you’ve grown. And it wasn’t something new in the garden or the bright red door or the good smelling cookies. I give up. What can your surprise be?”
“Look in the basket in my closet, Grandma,” Heidi said, jumping up and down with excitement.
“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Grandma. “Muffin has three new kittens! They are darling, Heidi. What a wonderful surprise.”
“That’s not all, Grandma,” Heidi told her. “The best part is that you get to keep one!”

2. It isn’t always easy to get seven children to work in harmony around the home but when their dad can work with them the children just love it and “work” turns into “fun.” Part of this comes because he’s always telling them about the chores he had as a boy and how important it is to like to work.
As a family we plant a garden each spring. We all get involved in preparing the ground, planting the seeds, watering, hoeing, and pulling weeds. Then in the summer and fall each child experiences some part of harvesting the results—pulling radishes, picking berries or corn, digging potatoes, etc.
Neil is very alert for teaching opportunities and compares aspects of gardening to preparing for missions, life after death, the importance of getting proper care and training, destroying the enemy (weeds). Many lessons are taught from the simple things we do each day.

Brigham Henry Roberts (pictured at age 27)
Have you ever missed your bus? When Brigham Henry Roberts was nine, he and his friend missed their wagon train! They spent a little too much time picking berries, and the company took off without them. The boys made a mad dash for the disappearing wagon train, but stopped short when they saw three Native Americans on horses directly in their path. As the terrified boys inched forward, the three men just watched them without moving or smiling.

The pressure must have been a little much for Brigham. Suddenly, with a wild yell, he flung his berry-filled cap and ran wildly past them.

“They say [Native Americans] never laugh, but I learned differently,” he later said. “As the race for the train continued, I saw they were bending double over their horses with their screams of laughter.”3

My sisters and I asked our parents to have a family home evening about emergency preparedness. First we tried out our two-story ladder, and we got to leave the house out the upstairs window. It was a little scary, but it was fun. We talked about what to do if there really was a fire. Then my parents pretended that someone was at the door, telling us we had to evacuate and we only had 10 minutes and may not be able to go home for a few days! We ran around, trying to find our shoes and coats. My parents put our 72-hour kits and some other items in the van.
We drove around and pretended we were going to a safe place. A few minutes later we were home again. We brought our gear into the living room to see what we had. My parents realized we forgot a few things—sleeping stuff, Dad’s wallet, and extra food. We talked about things we learned and what we should do better next time. Mom made a list.
Four days later some parts of the city were flooding. During the night we were evacuated! My parents again tossed everything into the van—including the things we forgot during our practice in family home evening. We were the first to leave our neighborhood.
We drove to the church and spent the night there. It was fun! We all had sleeping bags and air mattresses and snacks and toys. My little sisters were very sad the next day when we went back home. They wanted to sleep at the church again. We were grateful my sisters and I we were inspired to have a family home evening about preparedness and that my parents listened. I’m glad we were prepared; it made the experience fun and not at all scary.