Gospel Story Finder

Lucy also exercised faith and liberally drew upon the power of God to heal her from physical affliction. While living in Kirtland, Ohio, she made a concerted effort to study the Bible, Book of Mormon, and Doctrine and Covenants. Then, an accident occurred in her home, where she fell down the stairs face first and severely bruised her head. Her eyes became inflamed until she went blind. The ensuing distress Lucy endured for days was indescribable. Turning to priesthood power when medical remedies had failed, Lucy called upon elders to administer to her. Instead of asking for the restoration of her sight, Lucy asked for something better. She requested that the elders ask God to not only heal her eyes but ensure she would never have to use glasses again. After the elders administered to her and removed their hands from her head, Lucy read a passage in the Book of Mormon and never wore glasses again.7

One young woman found that being humble helped her in her relationship with her brother.
“As I was sitting there listening to President Hinckley, I was sitting by my mom and by my brother, who was preparing for a mission at the time. I heard President Hinckley tell the youth to be humble.
“We have never had a great relationship, my brother and me. We never got along because we let things get in the way—friends, age, school, and our actions. We never cared; we thought we were better than each other. We literally went days without talking or saying something nice to each other. So, after I heard President Hinckley, I made a promise that I would always bite my tongue, say nice things to him, and do nice things for him. For the next little while I did everything I could for him. Then it rubbed off, and he was nice to me; and now we are the closest ever.”

“Go away! Go away!” Little Wolf shouted, looking back and racing over the carpet of pine needles as fast as his legs would carry him.
But the small bear cub kept making lonely little grunts as it followed him. The cub had lost its mother and was willing to accept anyone as a substitute—even a frightened Indian boy!
Little Wolf had been picking berries for his mother when he peeked through the bushes and saw the small bear standing awkwardly on its hind legs, stretching to nibble off the juicy berries that hung in clusters all along the branches.
The boy had stood quietly, grinning with delight as he watched the clumsiness of the small grizzly. He would have liked to pet him, but Little Wolf’s father, Chief Otoe, had taught him that it was very dangerous to bother the young of any wild animal.
There was nothing sweet and cuddly about a mother grizzly, especially if she felt one of her cubs was in danger. Certain that the cub’s mother would not be far away, Little Wolf had begun to slip backwards through the brush, away from the little bear. But he wasn’t able to glide silently through the forest as the braves could, and suddenly a small dry twig cracked like a whip under his moccasin.
The cub had seen the boy and eagerly loped toward him. All Little Wolf could think of was the cub’s mother. “Go away! Go back to your mother!” he kept shouting, as he ran toward his village.
Looking backward over his shoulder, the boy failed to see a big log lying in his path. He tripped over it and sailed through the air, then fell face down in the pine needles.
“My mother has always said they should have named me Clumsy Wolf,” Little Wolf grunted. “And she is right.” Sitting up, he tried to straighten the broken feather in his headband, which had flown off when he fell.
The cub caught up with the frightened boy. It pounced on him and pawed playfully at Little Wolf’s drawn-up knees; then it began to lap at his bare chest and nuzzle his chin. What would the braves think if they saw the Chief’s son being kissed by a bear!
Climbing over the logs, Little Wolf threw some sticks at the cub and limped into a clearing that surrounded a small cluster of tepees on the bank of a clear and sparkling brook.
No one laughed at the sight of the dusty, tired boy jogging into the village with a grizzly close behind. They were all afraid that an enraged bear might be close behind the pair. The mothers hurried small children inside the tepees. Several of the braves put arrows in their bows and stood waiting.
“I should have run the other way—away from the village,” Little Wolf panted. Now he had put everyone in danger! He always seemed to do everything wrong. Would he ever learn to be a real brave? Suddenly he snatched up the cub and, ignoring his mother’s cries, raced back into the forest as fast as he could go. If I can find the mother bear, he thought, I can return her cub. Then our village will be safe!
“Being little has some advantages,” he mumbled, beginning to tire. The little bear was heavy and kept turning its head to lap at Little Wolf’s chin, as if they were playing a game! The boy slowed and began to walk carefully when he approached the berry patch. Putting the cub down, he shoved it toward a branch hanging heavy with purple fruit. He sighed with relief as the little bear gave a grunt of pleasure and began eating. Now Little Wolf could sneak off.
A loud, sniffling grunt from the other side of the bushes made Little Wolf stiffen in sudden panic. Luckily he was close to a tall tree. There were no low branches he could leap to and grab, but climbing trees was one thing Little Wolf did well. Wrapping his arms and legs around the slender trunk, he shinnied his way up and into the thick foliage just as the mother bear appeared, accompanied by another cub.
Circling the cub, she sniffed suspiciously. Her eyes told her this was her cub, but her nose warned her that something was wrong. The cub smelled of man.
Breathlessly Little Wolf watched, his heart hammering in his throat. If the bear caught his scent and climbed the slender tree, it would snap under her weight, or bend until his hiding place hit the ground. Then he would have to leap out and run. He had seen bears run, and he knew that he would have little chance of making it to safety. Despite their lumbering walk, bears could run like the wind!
His father had taught him that the only way to escape a running bear was to go downhill. Because of their short front legs, they had to go slowly or they would become overbalanced and roll down the hill.
The little cub kept trying to approach his mother, but her fierce grunts kept him back. Bewildered, he stood quietly staring at her as she circled him warily, sniffling the ground. “Oh, no!” Little Wolf gasped as she came directly to his tree. Standing on her hind legs, she began to throw her massive head from side to side as she made angry sounds.
Little Wolf felt sick as he clung to the swaying branches and stared down at the huge teeth waiting for him. Seeing that she couldn’t dislodge him, the bear began slashing at the tree trunk with her claws. Tree bark flew in all directions as she tore at it. The boy knew that when the bear saw she could not knock the tree over, she would begin to climb.
Little Wolf had never heard a more welcome sound than the drumming of a tom-tom and the shouts of men who were running through the forest toward his hiding place. The shouting braves were led by his father, Chief Otoe. They had come to rescue him!
Concern for her cubs overruled the grizzly’s rage. Turning, she lumbered off, leading them away from the shouts.
“You were willing to sacrifice yourself for the tribe,” Chief Otoe said to his small son as they walked back toward the village. “It was a very brave thing to do, Gray Wolf.”
Little Wolf glowed with pride. His father had called him Gray Wolf, not Little Wolf. It was his first big step toward manhood!

Eighteen years ago, my wife and I received a phone call from President James E. Faust, then Second Counselor in the First Presidency. He called us to serve as mission president and companion in Portugal. He told us that we had only six weeks before we started the mission. Although we felt unprepared and inadequate, we accepted the call. Our most important concern at the time was to obtain the visas required to serve in that country because, according to past experience, we knew the process took six to eight months to complete.
President Faust then asked if we had faith that the Lord would perform a miracle and that we would be able to solve the visa problem faster. Our answer was a big yes, and we started making the arrangements immediately. We prepared the documents required for the visas, took our three young children, and went to the consulate as fast as we could. A very nice lady met with us there. In reviewing our papers and getting acquainted with what we were going to do in Portugal, she turned to us and asked, “Are you really going to help the people of my country?” We firmly answered yes and explained that we would represent Jesus Christ and testify of Him and His divine mission in the world. We returned there four weeks later, received our visas, and landed in the mission field within the six weeks, as a prophet of the Lord had asked us to do.

Razafindravaonasolo’s father was called as the branch president. One day he met with me and encouraged me to prepare for a mission. I didn’t think I could serve, but he reassured me that I could. I accepted the call to serve in the Madagascar Antananarivo Mission. I am married now and I have two kids. I am grateful for my family, and I have had more experiences than I can share that have helped me know that this Church is true.
After joining the Church, Rakotomalala (right) served in the Madagascar Antananarivo Mission, and Razafindravaonasolo (left) served in the Democratic Republic of the Congo Kinshasa Mission.

A few days before he finished his doctoral program and returned to Korea in September of 1951, Brother Kim attended the Hill Cumorah Pageant with Brother and sister Wood. On Sunday, they attended a special testimony meeting for local missionaries in the Sacred Grove. After the meeting, Brother Kim met Church President David O. McKay, who was also attending the meeting. “As we walked from the grove,” Brother Wood said, “Brother Kim cradled his right hand in his left and, with his cheeks still moist, he kept repeating, ‘I have shaken the hand of the Prophet of God.’”

This cookie made of phyllo dough and pistachio nuts is a thank-you. It was made by the Kadado family who, for decades, owned three bakeries in Damascus, Syria. When war came, a blockade stopped food and supplies from reaching their part of the city. The Kadados began to starve. At the height of this desperate situation, Latter-day Saint Charities and some very courageous staff at Rahma Worldwide began serving a daily hot meal, along with milk for the little children. After a difficult time, the family began their life—as well as their bakery—once again in a new country.

Recently, a box of cookies arrived at the Church offices with the following message: “For more than two months, we managed to get food from the Rahma–Latter-day Saint [Charities] kitchen. Without it we would [have] starve[d] to death. Please accept this … sample from my shop as a small token of thanks. I ask God the Almighty to bless you … in everything you do.”

A cookie of gratitude and remembrance. It is meant for you. To all who prayed after watching a story on the news, to all who volunteered when it was not convenient or who kindly donated money to the humanitarian fund trusting it would do some good, thank you.

Not long after my call as a General Authority, I received a letter from an amazing, inspiring young woman. She told a powerful story of love, commitment, and missionary success. I’m fortunate to have contributed in small part to that success.

The letter is from Kendra Beesley Campbell, who was only 15 when the events described began. Let me share a portion of her letter with you:

“I don’t think you will remember me. I am from Columbus, Georgia, and when you were the mission president of the Georgia Atlanta Mission I had a brother leaving for a mission. Because I was at the peak age of peer pressure, my brother was concerned that while he was on his mission preaching the gospel to ’strangers,’ his sister (me) might choose to go the way of the world and lose sight of the purpose of our being here on this earth.

“Well, to assure my brother that I would be a ‘good girl’ while he was away, I made a deal with him that I would ‘go on a mission’ at the same time. Of course mine would only be part-time, but still it would be my ‘mission.’ So I told him that I would baptize one person for every five he baptized, since he would be full-time and I would be part-time. I felt good about this agreement.

“Then I spoke to you. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but you convinced me that I should turn the challenge around—I should baptize five to his one. And for some reason, I accepted your challenge, not knowing what the Lord had in store for me!”

Then Kendra noted that shortly after her brother arrived in the mission field, he and his companion baptized a family of four. That meant she now needed to baptize 20! Kendra said, “I began to work right away. I had the missionaries over every Thursday evening. But I fell short of my goal. Only 11 people were baptized. But at least two of them have served missions, and I can’t count the number of lives that have been touched by the Spirit.”

Eleven people! And two have served missions! And Kendra was only 15 at the time she began “her mission.”

I tracked her down. I found that she had moved to California.

She said my suggestion of turning the one-to-five baptism arrangement around caused her some fear at first, but she began taking the measures necessary to accomplish her revised goal.

Kendra’s missionary vigor helped 11 people join Christ’s true church and acquainted many others with its teachings. And Kendra herself grew tremendously while on her “mission.” She says it was the happiest time of her life because she cared so much about other people.

At the close of one of her letters to me, Kendra expressed joy that her “mission” really hasn’t ever ended. I sustain her in that thought. Though our callings in life may seem to change occasionally, their purposes remain the same—to help each other return to our Father’s presence.

My family moved into the New Brunswick Ward when I was a teenager. Sister Daines took notice of me and often expressed her confidence in my abilities and potential, which inspired me to reach high—higher than I would have without her encouragement. Once, because of a thoughtful and timely warning from her, I avoided a situation that would surely have led to regret. Although she is no longer here, Anna Daines’s influence continues to be felt and reflected in the lives of her descendants and countless others, myself included.

Once I had a measuring tape that didn’t work. I decided to fix it. I began to remove the side cover plate to find what was wrong. In a few moments, I knew I was in trouble. Suddenly, the whole mechanism exploded in my hands. There were tape and spring flying in all directions. My efforts to put it all back together were frustrating and often painful. Irritated, I just about threw the whole thing away. Then I thought, “Someone designed this tape. If I can discover the principles that make it function, I can fix it.” With greater patience, I began to examine the mainspring and found that if coiled in a certain way, instead of resisting and complaining, it easily responded. Soon the spring was coiled, carefully placed in its housing, the tape joined, the cover replaced, and it worked perfectly.

So it is with you. When, through violation of God’s laws, you cease to function properly, force and compulsion will not restore you. You must search out the Designer’s plan. As you follow it, you will become more pliable. You can be “repaired” more easily, and you will function well again under His divine influence.

In the spring of 1991 the First Presidency requested the Asia Area Presidency— consisting of Elders Merlin R. Lybbert, W. Eugene Hansen, and Monte J. Brough —to discreetly begin a search for a temple site in Hong Kong. They found several small and, in their view, inadequate sites with extremely high price tags. President Gordon B. Hinckley visited those sites in April of that year and encouraged the Area Presidency to keep looking.
Late in 1991 two more sites were identified. One was part of a government development project near an ocean bay known locally as Junk Bay (a “junk” is a Chinese boat). The other potential site was located in Fanling. Neither the Fanling nor the Junk Bay site was easily accessible or convenient to the people who would use the temple, so the search continued.
Unfortunately, time was running short. If Hong Kong was going to have a temple, it would best be built by July 1, 1997.
A little world history might be important here to understand the urgency of completing the temple in Hong Kong by July 1997. In 1898 Hong Kong became a British colony with the signing of a 99-year lease, expiring June 30, 1997. In December 1984, British and Chinese authorities signed a declaration confirming that the British government would hand over Hong Kong to the People’s Republic of China on July 1, 1997.
In June 1992 the Area Presidency was reorganized, with Elders Monte J. Brough, John K. Carmack, and Kwok Yuen Tai as members of the presidency.
In July President Hinckley called the Area Presidency twice to discuss the Fanling and Junk Bay sites. President Hinckley also indicated that he and Ted Simmons, managing director of the Church Physical Facilities Department, would come to Hong Kong on July 25 to choose the site for the temple.
When President Hinckley and Brother Simmons arrived, Elders Brough and Carmack took them to half a dozen potential sites, starting at Kom Tong Hall, where the area office was located. (Elder Tai was away from Hong Kong on a trip at the time.) After looking at all the sites, President Hinckley, Brother Simmons, and Elders Brough and Carmack met with four stake presidents in the Hong Kong region. President Hinckley discussed his feelings about the various sites and probed the stake presidents’ feelings. He found them supportive of any decision he would make.
The group was exhausted from the rigorous day of prayerfully reviewing the various properties. President Hinckley retired to his hotel room and requested that Elders Brough and Carmack come back the next morning to further discuss the matter. It was apparent that the Area Presidency had yet to find a solution President Hinckley could accept.
At about 6:45 a.m., President Hinckley called Elder Brough and requested that he and Elder Carmack come to his hotel room at 8:00 a.m. Brother Simmons joined them there at the appointed time, and President Hinckley then shared, on a sheet of white paper, a detailed drawing. During the night, he had envisioned a building of about eight floors above ground, with the temple on the top floors and other functions housed on the lower floors. It included replacement facilities for the Kowloon Tong chapel and the Hong Kong mission home and office, since the new building would require that these existing buildings on side-by-side lots be demolished. This concept of multiple use, President Hinckley explained, would depart from tradition in that all other temples in the Church at that time were stand-alone buildings.
President Hinckley asked Elders Brough and Carmack to express their feelings. They each responded that the concept of a multi-story, multi-use building had not even been considered previously, but they had a strong conviction that President Hinckley had received inspiration—even revelation—about what the Lord intended.
After briefly reviewing the other options, President Hinckley asked the brethren to join in prayer. He asked if it would be all right if he offered the prayer. He then discussed the whole matter with the Lord. He talked of the need for a temple in China to bless the people in that area of the world. The prayer was powerful and compelling, evidencing his love for all the people of Asia.
Those present then returned to the Kowloon Tong site, walking the area. They crossed the street to check the neighborhood and view the site from all aspects, checking particularly the access to it from the underground railway systems. Then Elders Brough and Carmack returned President Hinckley and Brother Simmons to the Kai Tak International Airport.
After returning to Salt Lake City, President Hinckley presented his sketch to the Temple Department, asking that the architects turn the concept into building plans as soon as possible. Seeing an opportunity to expand the functions of the building, the department’s architects created a plan for a larger building—nearly twice the size of President Hinckley’s initial concept. To build this building, they would need a variance to the height limitations and other restrictions imposed on buildings in the area.
When the plans were completed, permission was sought to build this expanded facility, but after many months of negotiations with Hong Kong officials, the proposed building was rejected.
At the April 1993 general conference, President Hinckley invited Brother Simmons and Elders Brough, Carmack, and Tai to his office. He asked why the approval process was going so slowly and what might be done to obtain a building permit. After referring to President Hinckley’s earlier experience in Hong Kong and testifying of the feelings the Area Presidency had on that occasion, the Area Presidency unanimously recommended that the Church return to the original concept described by President Hinckley in Hong Kong.
Once the plans were redone to reflect the original concept in President Hinckley’s sketch, the necessary approvals were quickly obtained. Within days, various British, Hong Kong, and Chinese officials issued permits for the temple’s construction.
On May 26 and 27, 1996, President Gordon B. Hinckley dedicated the Hong Kong China Temple. In the dedicatory prayer, he prayed:
“Thy Church in this area now comes to full maturity with the dedication of this sacred temple. We pray that this harvest of souls may continue, that in the future as in the present, Thy people may be free and secure in their worship and that none shall hinder the service of missionaries called to this area. We pray that Thy work may grow and prosper in the great Chinese realm, and may those who govern be ever receptive to those called and sent as messengers of revealed truth.”

On an evening in November 1999, when our family home evening was finished and we were going to bed, my mother said, “Don’t forget that next Sunday is fast Sunday, OK?”
I asked her if we were going to fast as a family for a specific purpose.
“I don’t know yet,” she replied.
Suddenly, I felt impressed to fast and pray to prepare to receive my patriarchal blessing.
At 10:00 P.M. I had not been able to go to sleep, so I went to my parents’ room. I felt there was something I had to do that night. My mother told me to read for a while and she would turn out my light later. I went back to my room, picked up a school textbook, and started to read. I found some information I needed for a school assignment that was due the next day, information I had not found in my other books.
When I finished the assignment, it was about 11:00 P.M. I placed the book and the assignment on the desk and went to bed. But even though my body and mind were tired, my spirit was uneasy. I lifted my head a little and noticed that the very wrinkled first page of a First Presidency Message was sticking out from a pile of books. I retrieved the November 1995 A Liahona (Portuguese) and started reading “Serving the Lord and Resisting the Devil” by President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency. The last section of the message was entitled “Fasting and Prayer.”
After finishing the article, I promised myself I would pray and fast about my patriarchal blessing. Then I placed the magazine on the desk and again tried to sleep—but to no avail. So I picked up A Liahona again and turned the page. “My Miracle” was the title of the very next article. I was touched when I realized this article was a young woman’s experience of receiving her patriarchal blessing. She said it is necessary to pray and fast in order to prepare ourselves spiritually for a patriarchal blessing.
I had spoken to my bishop before about receiving my blessing, and he felt I should wait. After I read the young woman’s message, I understood the reason for his reply. I had not fasted or even prayed about this matter. After finishing the article, I knelt and prayed fervently to my Heavenly Father. For the first time in my life, I felt the presence of the Holy Ghost. After this prayer, I put the magazine away and was able to sleep.
I prayed and waited anxiously all week. On Sunday I fasted, and I went to see the bishop. After hearing about my experience, he said, “I think you’re ready for your patriarchal blessing.” It made me very happy to know that the Lord wanted me to learn about fasting and prayer—and to prepare spiritually for my blessing.
I know the Lord loves us. He gives us patriarchal blessings to guide us.

For example, I honor those special souls who face challenges of parenthood with unwavering faith in their Maker. To a family dear to Sister Nelson and me, a son was recently born. This child was afflicted with multiple anomalies affecting virtually every system of his little body. Two operations were required in his first week of life. More will be necessary. When I spoke with the child’s parents, they did not ask, “Why did this happen to us?” Instead, they declared: “We know that this child is meant for us. God has entrusted this special baby to us. We will love him and care for him to the best of our ability.” Thank the Lord for such parents!

Obviously, The Ranch isn’t your typical ranch. Sister Lou Cille Hamnett, who runs the place with her husband Von and her son Scott, tells about the dream she and her first husband, the late Neil Carlisle, shared when they purchased the property. Over the years, ward groups from the surrounding states clamored for the opportunity to have activities at the site.

“When you walk around here and the sandhill cranes are flying overhead and the Canadian geese are flying and the ducks are out there on the lake and it’s quiet, well, there’s no place like it,” Sister Hamnett said. “People are living such a rat race that they don’t stop to smell the roses, they don’t stop to feel, really, the reverence of the soil and the clean air. I think that’s what you get up here. There is a special spirit here.”

Because of that special spirit, even after Brother Carlisle passed away in 1985, Sister Hamnett wanted to keep The Ranch going. But she had her doubts about whether it could be maintained.

Then Bishop Blake Wride and the youth of the 19th Ward came to the rescue.

“They knew what a large responsibility the upkeep and improvement of The Ranch would be for me. So he got all of his kids together and suggested coming up for a service project. I thought, ‘Well, why not?’ But I thought I would probably be baby-sitting them. Instead, this group has just been marvelous. Neil always said that giving to others was the most important thing. I knew we were giving by having these church groups come up here, but now someone’s giving in return.”

Finally, I’ll always remember a man I met when I was driving a delivery van through downtown Seattle. I was earning money for my mission. I met a wide variety of people, but Larry was the most interesting by far. I had just run some boxes into a store and was hustling back to my van when he came up alongside and extended his hand.
“Hi, my name is Larry. Will you be my friend?”
“You bet,” I agreed with a smile. It was plain that Larry was mentally disabled. I’m sure some thought it was funny he would walk up to a total stranger asking for friendship. But I believe Larry was only innocently asking out loud the same question so many ask silently, Will you be my friend? If we would all just say, “Sure,” wouldn’t it be cool? Cool-aid.
We all know how it feels to be thirsty, so thirsty we can hardly stand it. I’m convinced that’s how many in the world feel right now, thirsty for attention, approval, acceptance, and love. We can do something about it! By giving cool-aid—the coolest aid of real selfless service—to those around us, we can quench the thirst that our brothers and sisters have and leave joy that will last longer than the purple mustaches on my upper lip ever did.

I recall as a young man when I first heard our text quoted from the Doctrine and Covenants, I went to my own mother and exclaimed, “Well, Mom, how does it feel to have all my sins on your head?” Then she taught me the lesson of that passage. She said, “Ah, Paul, you forgot to read carefully what the Lord said. He said that the sin be upon the head of parents if they do not teach their children the principles of the gospel. And you’ve been taught!”

And I had been taught! Thank the Lord for parents who realize their responsibility to instill in their children the principles of the gospel and who follow the counsel of the Lord’s prophets. Parents in the Church today have been counseled to regularly, consistently, and inspiringly hold family home evenings and to take advantage of other great teaching moments to so acquaint their children.

After sacrament meeting, Jake followed his mother out of the chapel. “Oh no,” she said. “I forgot my scriptures.” Struggling to hold his squirming sister, she turned to Jake. “Would you please get them for me?”
Jake went back into the chapel. Everywhere he looked, papers littered the floor and the benches. “What a mess!” he muttered, picking up the book and hurrying to his mother.
In Primary, he forgot all about the litter until Sharing Time, when Sister Ranzenberger talked about feeling reverence for the Savior. “Love for the Savior includes respect for Him and His house,” she said.
Jake knew that the litter in the chapel showed a lack of respect for Jesus Christ. As he walked to class, he thought about what he could do to help. An idea came into his mind that made him smile. “Brother Vargas,” he said as the class sat down. “I’d like to call a special Blazer Patrol meeting for just a few minutes after class. Is that all right with you?”
Brother Vargas looked at him curiously. “Sure—you’re the Patrol Leader. I guess I can stay a few minutes.”
“Good,” Jake said. “We’ll meet in the chapel.”
After the lesson, the boys eagerly walked down the hall to the chapel. Bud shoved Jeff, knocking him into a picture of the Savior. Tim bounced a small rubber ball off the ceiling, and John ran his hand along the wall.
Inside the chapel, the boys formed a circle around Jake.
“What’s up?” Bud asked, casually dropping a gum wrapper on the floor.
Jake motioned with his hand as he said, “Look around you.” The patrol noisily looked around.
“It’s the chapel,” Tim said. “So what?”
“Look again. Really look.”
The boys quieted down and looked around the room.
“It’s kind of messy,” Bud said softly, stepping on his gum wrapper to hide it.
“That’s right,” Jake said. “So the Blazer Cobra Patrol is going to take five minutes now to pick it all up. Then it’ll be neat when the First Ward comes in.”
Tim headed for the door. “My mom’s waiting for me. I have to go.”
Jeff grabbed his arm. “She’s talking to Sister Williams, and you know how long that takes.”
The boys set to work picking up paper and straightening books. With Brother Vargas’s help, the job was finished in a few minutes. Afterward they stood in the back of the chapel, looking it over.
“It looks a lot cleaner,” John said.
“It looks good,” Jake agreed. “So good that I think we ought to do it every week.”
Brother Vargas smiled at him. “I think that sounds like a great idea—and though I need to clear this with the bishop, I’m sure that he’ll be delighted.”
Tim groaned. Some of the other boys rolled their eyes, but no one said anything. As they walked out the chapel doors, Jeff noticed the picture of the Savior and straightened it.
For the next few weeks, the Cobra Patrol tidied the chapel after class. One Sunday as they worked, Tod Tapu from the First Ward walked in. “What’s this?” he sneered. “The mighty Cobra Patrol picking up paper?” He laughed. “Maybe we ought to call you the Paper Patrol.”
“You’re just sore because we won all the awards at Blazer Camp,” Jake answered.
“Sure—keep thinking that. But you won’t catch our Wolf Patrol picking up paper.”
Brother Vargas picked up a tissue lying at Tod’s feet. “That’s too bad. I’ve seen the chapel after your ward’s finished, and it could use some picking up too.”
After Tod left, Tim muttered, “Paper Patrol! It’ll be all over the stake. Everybody’s going to call us the Paper Patrol.”
Jake started laughing. “What’s wrong with that? Let’s be the Paper Patrol. This is our chance to make a difference.”
As word of the Paper Patrol spread through the ward, something unusual began to happen. Children and adults started picking up paper as they left the chapel for their classes. Each Sunday there was less and less clutter for the boys to pick up. The halls and classrooms were cleaner too. Even the reverence in the chapel seemed better.
People stopped them in the halls to thank them. “Good job, Blazers,” Sister Ranzenberger said, beaming at them. “You’ve made a difference to the whole ward.”
One Sunday the bishop came in and gave them a hand straightening up. “Everybody needs to do his part in showing respect for our church buildings,” he said as they worked. “If everyone followed your example, the whole ward would be more reverent.”
Two weeks later, Jake had an interview with the bishop after church. When he arrived at the building, the First Ward was just leaving. He decided to see if the chapel was as messy as Brother Vargas had said. He opened the door and peeked in, then quickly shut it. Inside, Tod Tapu and the Wolf Patrol were picking up paper.
He stood in front of the closed doors for a moment, just smiling. Looks like there’s a Paper Patrol Two in the stake! he thought.

Left to right: Caeli (sister), Cameron (dad), Crystal (mom), Cara, Cohen (brother)
My mom has been sick since I was four. At first, no one knew what it was, but we had family and friends praying and fasting for our family to figure it out. After many years of surgeries and tests, we found out she had Chiari malformation, blood cancer, and several other illnesses that there isn’t a cure for.
Watching my mom be so sick, I began to be upset with God. I knew He had the power to heal her, so I couldn’t understand why He didn’t. I thought all the prayers, fundraisers, and fasting had gone to waste.
But as I watched the October 2021 general conference with my family, I heard Elder Brent H. Nielson of the Seventy say, “The Savior’s healing power [is] not just His ability to heal our bodies but, perhaps even more important, His ability to heal our hearts.” When the resurrected Savior invited the people in the Book of Mormon to be healed, He “was not referring to a physical healing but rather a spiritual healing of their souls” (Liahona, Nov. 2021, 57).
These words helped me realize that God wasn’t ignoring me. I just wasn’t seeing how He was healing my mom in a more important way than taking away her illnesses.
My mom still hasn’t been cured, but Heavenly Father has been there for her in her lowest points. He helps her when she truly is feeling the worst she ever has in her life. Now when I reflect on this experience, I know that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ know exactly what I am feeling and going through.
Cara C., 13, Rhode Island, USA
Likes to hang out with friends and invite them over to play games.

Brother Khanakam served in the Thailand Bangkok Mission, where he had “many good experiences.” One of these experiences involved his mother and his sister. They were visiting in Bangkok, and Brother Khanakam invited them to a fireside where Elder Jacob de Jager of the Seventy was speaking.
“I was asked to be his interpreter. I knelt with him and prayed for my family. In his talk, Elder de Jager made some complimentary comments about my family. I looked at my mother, and she was crying. Even my sister, who had been so opposed to my joining the Church that she almost shot me, was crying, too. After the fireside my mother said if there was anything she could do to support me on my mission I was to let her know. I know that she was touched that day by the Spirit.
“My relationship with my family is good now. They love me, and they love my wife and children. My mother lives in a house close to us.”

One fine morning I was strolling on a country road encompassed by every kind of greenery that filled my soul with well-being of the highest degree. I was full of expectancy of the best when I beheld, nearby a slaughter house, two apparently hungry dogs engaged in a bloody fight over what I later discovered to be a meatless piece of bone. I wondered why they had to quarrel over a worthless portion of animal skeleton. I was amazed especially when I saw the slaughter house which undoubtedly was the source of such a bone. It should not have offered any difficulty for one of them to look and find another piece of bone with abounding flesh from the slaughter house.
One consoling thought that struck me immediately while watching with fun these two unintelligent animals was that they were not human. Without any faculty of intellect, they could not exercise self-control nor feel any compunction or shame for my presence.
Thenceforth, I continued to walk leisurely, convinced that only dogs would act they way I had just witnessed. I was certainly saddened, in spite of my surroundings, when at a distance before me I saw two men locked in physical combat. I intervened, and they stopped at a point when one of them pulled a long knife. My presence was properly timed to prevent the certain death of the other who was apparently without any defensive weapon except his hands. I inquired what was wrong, and they began accusing each other. As a lawyer, I advised them that whoever won the fight is not a winner in the true sense because not only would he be deprived of peace of mind but that the authorities would see to it that he went to jail to pay for his crime.
The cause of it all, I finally found out, was that one owed the other the measly sum of $10.00 which he could not pay at the moment but promised to do so in an uncertain future. The latter, obviously drunk, became fed up with promises and so decided to settle it his way on the assumption it would solve his problem. Naturally, I remarked that it is the duty of the courts to collect debts otherwise impossible of recovery and that to take somebody’s life is too high a price for such an insignificant amount.
I left these two men shaking hands in renewed friendship, as I volunteered to pay the debt in behalf of the debtor.
The course taken by these two men was surely less forgivable than that of the dogs. Dogs are not expected to exercise self-control. But many of us act like dogs if we don’t.
Just what is this elusive word “self-control”? Webster defines it as “restraint exercised over one’s own impulses, emotions, or desires”. These three: impulses, emotions, and desires must be put in subjection by anyone human if he is to anticipate peace and harmony in his life, if he is to acquire the sterling embodiments of perfection and godship in the eternities.
Such is the law: both immutable and demanding but a law nevertheless. It may be obeyed or broken to the benefit or prejudice of anyone who does.
Latter-day Saints, above all other members of any community, have been regarded here and abroad, in the past and in the present, as a strange people because they have overcome a number of things which non-members engage in freely or with license. We do not touch anyone of those things embraced in the Word of Wisdom; we pay our tithes with the money that non-members otherwise spend in the passing pleasures of the day or night; we avoid any participation in anything worldly that violates the standards of things of beauty and of good report; or we depart from unwholesome companionship or association of anybody or anything that would give the appearance of evil.
To be sure, all these require extreme self-control, which when pursued faithfully ripen into self-mastery which President Spencer W. Kimball in his “Miracle of Forgiveness” says is a continuous program. It is always associated with obedience to law and order. Our Lord Jesus the Christ became the author of eternal salvation because he was made perfect through continued obedience by the things which he suffered throughout his earthly ministry.
In the Book of Doctrines of the Hindus, this one appears:
“That man alone is wise
Who keeps the mastery of himself! If one
Ponders on objects of the sense, there springs
Attraction; from attraction grows desire.
Desire flames to fierce passion, passion breeds
Recklessness; then the memory—all betrayed—
Lets noble purpose go, and saps the mind,
Till purpose, mind, and man are all undone.”
If recklessness saps the mind and the memory forgets the noble purpose of our creation, and when such a purpose, mind and man are all undone, what is left of him? Need we ask? Certainly, the dog in him, the animal in him! And when one day he quarrels with a dog over a worthless piece of human bone, we will not be surprised.
The Chinese philosopher Confucious once said that “Who contains himself goes seldom wrong”. This is logical because the simple implication is that this man is obedient to law and, therefore, commits no wrong. But the Greek philosopher Epectitus also declared that “No man is free who is not master of himself.” This again is plain because he who does not control his impulses, emotions and desires permits himself to be their slave by following them at every turn. A slave, as we know, is one without freedom but does the bidding of his master to satisfy the latter’s every whim which usually leads to destruction and death.
Self-control, whether we like it or not, is an all-embracing and paramount consideration in the life of every Christian. For the ultimate reward for obedience through self-control, and ultimately self-mastery, is kingship over cities, dominions and principalities. No one, absolutely no one, can qualify in the eternal realms to be a king exercising control over others unless he has completely mastered himself. That is why unless we now practice self-control, we cannot hope to be worthy of the reward so high and forbidding yet not a necessarily unreachable, impossible dream. Jesus Christ did it. He said we can do it. So, it can be done.
The great author John Milton once wrote in his “Paradise Regained”:
“Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules
Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king—
Which every wise and virtuous man attains;And who attains not, ill aspires to rule
Cities of man, headstrong multitudes,
Subject himself to anarchy within,
Or lawless passion in him, which he serves.
But to guide nations in the way of truth
By saving doctrine, and error lead
To know, and by knowing worship God aright,
Is yet more kingly. This attracts the soul,
Governs the inner man, the nobler part.”
President Spencer W. Kimball, echoing the sentiments of an unknown author, also said:
“The height of a man’s success is gauged by his self-mastery; the depth of his failure by his self-abandonment. There is no other limitation in either direction and this law is the expression of eternal justice. He who cannot establish a dominion over himself will have no dominion over others; he who masters himself shall be king.