Gospel Story Finder

Sunday was Eli’s birthday. He was four years old.
In four more years, you will be baptized.
And four years after that, you will be a deacon and you will be able to pass the sacrament.
Later, Mom helped Eli change from his pajamas into his church clothes.
Do deacons wear superhero pants to church?
No. Deacons wear nice pants.
Do deacons wear superhero shirts to church?
No. Deacons wear white shirts and ties.
I want to wear a white shirt and nice pants. I want to dress like a deacon.
Mom helped Eli put on his nice pants, a white shirt, and a tie.
At church, Eli folded his arms as he watched the deacons pass the sacrament.
When a deacon brought Eli the sacrament, Eli took a piece of bread and then handed the tray to Mom.
Mom smiled at Eli. He was happy to help. He couldn’t wait until he could be a deacon.

Christy stood at the edge of the playground, looking at the slides and swing sets for someone to play with. A big group of kids shrieked as they chased each other around the field. Others swung from the monkey bars. A few girls giggled and whispered under a tree.
Christy wanted to run and swing and giggle too. But she felt too shy to walk up to a group of kids she didn’t know. So she kept standing there. Maybe someone would come ask her to play.
Christy’s family had just moved, and she didn’t really know anyone at her new school yet. As recess ticked by, no one came to play with her. It seemed like all the friends were taken.
How can I ever find a friend? she wondered.
The next day, Mrs. Godfrey asked a girl named Mia to sit with Christy at lunch. But Mia just talked to her friends who were sitting at the same table. Christy felt lonelier than ever. She wanted a real friend, someone who would play with her because they wanted to, not because they had to.
That night Christy prayed to Heavenly Father and asked Him to send her a real friend. Days went by. It seemed like her prayers weren’t working! She knew that Heavenly Father loved her, but it was hard not to worry.
Then one day at recess, Christy noticed a girl sitting on the ground alone. Her leg was bleeding, and it looked like she was crying.
Christy was nervous about talking to her, but she didn’t want her to cry alone. So she took a deep breath and walked over.
“Are you OK?”
“I hurt my knee,” the girl said, looking up and holding her leg.
“Do you want to go to the nurse?” Christy asked. “I’ll help you.”
Christy helped the girl get up and put an arm around her shoulder. Together they walked slowly to the nurse’s office.
Christy waited while they cleaned and bandaged the girl’s knee. Then they walked back to the playground.
“I’m Stacy,” the girl said. “What’s your name?”
“Christy.”
“Are you new?” Stacey asked.
Christy nodded.
“I’m new too,” Stacey said. “Want to jump rope with me?”
“Yeah!”
Soon the two girls were laughing and jumping rope together. Best of all, Christy had discovered the secret to finding a friend. It was just to be a friend. And Christy knew she could always do that!

Recall that cairns are placed close enough together that an observer standing near one can view the next. Due to a visual impairment I’ve had since birth, it isn’t possible for me to stand next to a cairn and see the next. Fortunately, I hike with my wife, who helps me along the way by giving me audible directions and warnings of potential pitfalls. This assistance is similar to the words of a prophet, which help individuals find and stay on the straight and narrow way.

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While in positions of leadership, we should be guiding, accompanying, and helping others. We should be teaching them what to do to remain on the path that leads back to their eternal goal. On our hiking trip I was unable to see the cairns that were intended to keep me on the path. Fortunately my wife understands what it means to be a leader; she guided me, walked beside me, and helped me find the way. With her help I was able to traverse the obscure path and reach our destination. By leading others in this fashion we become cairns on the path through mortality.

I was privileged to have a small role in a marvelous example of this kind of love. When I was serving as President of the Pacific Islands Area, I received a call from President R. Wayne Shute. As a young man, he served a mission in Samoa. Later, he returned to Samoa as a mission president.8 When he telephoned me, he was the Apia Samoa Temple president. One of his young missionaries, when he was mission president, was Elder O. Vincent Haleck, who is now the Area President in the Pacific. President Shute had great love and respect for Vince and the entire Haleck family. Most of the family were members of the Church, but Vince’s father, Otto Haleck, the patriarch of the family (of German and Samoan descent), was not a member. President Shute knew I was attending a stake conference and other meetings in American Samoa, and he asked me if I would consider staying in Otto Haleck’s residence with the view of sharing the gospel with him.
My wife, Mary, and I stayed with Otto and his wife, Dorothy, in their beautiful home. At breakfast I shared a gospel message and invited Otto to meet with the missionaries. He was kind, but firm, in refusing my invitation. He said he was pleased that many members of his family were Latter-day Saints. But he forcefully indicated that some of his Samoan mother’s ancestors had been early Christian ministers in Samoa, and he felt a great allegiance to their traditional Christian faith.9 Nevertheless, we left as good friends.
Later, when President Gordon B. Hinckley was preparing to dedicate the Suva Fiji Temple, he had his personal secretary, Brother Don H. Staheli,10 call me in New Zealand to make arrangements. President Hinckley wanted to fly from Fiji to American Samoa to meet the Saints. A certain hotel used in a previous visit was suggested. I asked if I could make different arrangements. Brother Staheli said, “You are the Area President; that would be fine.”
I immediately called President Shute and told him that perhaps we had a second chance at spiritually blessing our friend Otto Haleck. This time the missionary would be President Gordon B. Hinckley. I asked if he thought it would be appropriate for the Halecks to host all of us in President Hinckley’s travel group.11 President and Sister Hinckley, their daughter Jane, and Elder and Sister Jeffrey R. Holland were also part of the travel group. President Shute, working with the family, made all the arrangements.12
When we arrived from Fiji after the temple dedication, we were warmly greeted.13 We spoke that evening to thousands of Samoan members and then proceeded to the Haleck family compound. When we gathered for breakfast the next morning, President Hinckley and Otto Haleck had already become good friends. It was interesting to me that they were having much the same conversation I had had with Otto more than a year earlier. When Otto expressed his admiration for our Church but reaffirmed his commitment to his existing church, President Hinckley put his hand on Otto’s shoulder and said, “Otto, that’s not good enough; you ought to be a member of the Church. This is the Lord’s Church.” You figuratively could see the resistive armor fall away from Otto with an openness to what President Hinckley said.
This was the beginning of additional missionary teaching and a spiritual humility that allowed Otto Haleck to be baptized and confirmed a little over a year later. One year after that, the Haleck family was sealed as an eternal family in the temple.14
What touched my heart throughout this incredible experience was the overwhelming ministering love exhibited by President Wayne Shute for his former missionary, Elder Vince Haleck, and his desire to see the entire Haleck family united as an eternal family.15

Two months after our wedding I was called as ward Relief Society president. Later I became ward Young Women president. After seven years of marriage I was still filling executive Church positions.
So often in the Church it is the other way around with the husband well known and holding the time-consuming positions. Without complaint, my husband drove the old car so I could drive the more dependable new one; he stayed home evenings when necessary while I made stake visits and conducted leadership meetings; he sat in the audience while I spoke in conferences; he willingly paid for extra supplies for Church activities; and he would listen to any problem or idea or concern I had.
What does my husband do to show he loves me? He sustains me in the callings I receive. I know I couldn’t fill them without him or his love. I hope I support him as well in his present and future callings.

Being asked to deliver a message to millions of people in the April 2020 general conference introduced me to a whole new level of feeling overwhelmed. But I felt comforted knowing that the Lord would help me.
As I prepared my message, I was thinking about how to receive revelation. This helped me appreciate the dedication of those who speak in general conference.
When conference arrived, I felt anxious, but meeting Elder Gerrit W. Gong and the other General Authorities helped me feel peace. I then met President Russell M. Nelson. He spoke to me as if we had known each other our whole lives. I felt the pure love of Christ as I talked with the prophet.
Laudy K.
When I found out I was going to be a part of a Face to Face event, the thing that excited me most was the opportunity to work with an Apostle.
I was nervous before the broadcast because I needed to say some things in Portuguese. I said to Elder Soares, “I’m worried my American accent is going to come through.” He replied with a smile and a wink, saying, “Max, accents are charming!”
I felt the Spirit so strongly when I heard him witness that the Savior lives and loves all of us individually.
Max A.
When I was 12, my father became a mission president in Chile. While there, he worked closely with Elder Holland. One day I said, “Dad, Elder Holland is in my math book.”
“Yesterday it took Jeff Holland 1 hour to get to work. This morning, Jeff drove to the train station for 20 minutes, waited for the train for 7 minutes, rode the train for 12 minutes, and then walked for 15 minutes to get to work. How long did it take Jeff to get to work this morning?”
As a joke, my parents sent a picture of the math problem to Elder Holland with a note: “Elder Holland, could you please help Whit with her math homework?”
Elder Holland wrote back with a letter.
“Dear Whitney—I was pleased you discovered my day job. I regularly submit math problems for textbooks and sometimes I just don’t know whose name to use. I think I will use yours next. (‘If Whitney Wilcox has 5 boyfriends in Provo and gains 1 a day for 14 days in Chile, how many of them will be baptized, go on missions, and want to marry her?’) Thanks for being here! I am immensely proud of you! Jeff Holland.”
Obviously Elder Holland was joking about writing math problems (and having multiple boyfriends!). But his kind note made me feel like I was important.
When Elder Holland taught the members in Chile to read the Book of Mormon every day, I started reading on my own, as a 12-year-old. That’s when I really started to develop my testimony.
Whitney L.
In 2021, my parents were called as mission leaders over the France Lyon Mission. In 2022, Elder Soares came to visit. In his talk to the missionaries, he mentioned that his luggage got lost on one of his flights.
This was kind of a wake-up call for me. It’s easy to see apostles and prophets on our screens and think that life is easy for them. But our leaders don’t ask to do this—they are called to do it. They choose to follow the Lord, and that means leaving behind their plans for the future.
Elder Soares taught me what it means to be a disciple of Christ. Even though he was busy and had his own struggles, he tried to talk to as many members as possible. I realized that the General Authorities are people like you and me who have chosen Christ and work to show His love.
Lydie L.
If you haven’t met an Apostle, that’s OK! Most of us haven’t. You can gain a testimony that they are called of God by listening to, following, and praying about their teachings.
I met Church leaders when I hosted a Face to Face event, but that wasn’t when I gained a testimony that they are called of God.
When I hear their words, practice what they teach, and see myself change into a more Christlike person, that’s when I feel God confirming to me that they are special witnesses of Christ.
Aaron K.
I always look forward to general conference. I remember feeling so happy when my friends and I made a list of the things the prophet said and reminded each other to do those things. One was to go to the temple, and my friends and I went together. It was really fun, and I felt so much peace. Doing what the prophet asked helped me realize how much Jesus Christ loves me.
Leticia F.
Whether you meet an Apostle or not, you can know the truth: Apostles testify of truth and want nothing but the best for you. As you follow them, the Holy Ghost will let you know that they are called of God.

President Lee also took time to teach. A lesson I will recount is rather tender. On one occasion our oldest son had a tumor in his leg, and we were naturally very worried, as were the doctors. Our son was in the hospital to have surgery, which could possibly lead to the amputation of his leg. Brother Lee had been my stake president as a boy, so I asked him if he would join me in giving a blessing to our son. He consented, and as we met at the hospital one evening after work, he stopped me before we went up the stairway and said, “Tom, there is nowhere in the world I would rather be, and there is nothing that I would rather be doing than standing by your side in giving a priesthood blessing to your son.” The operation was successful; the tumor was benign. I shall ever be indebted to Harold B. Lee for being where the Lord needed him to be at a particular time.

Easter was going to be different this year. There would be no Easter dinner at Grandma’s, no Easter baskets, and no dyed eggs. My parents were going on a cruise to the Caribbean. My brother was staying in Arizona, and my sister was at BYU. I was going to visit friends in Minnesota. I hadn’t seen them since we moved to Illinois six months before.
“This spring break is going to be great,” I thought. I hadn’t made many friends at my new home, so I was ready for some fun, even though I was still disappointed that I wouldn’t have a traditional Easter with my family.
On Easter Sunday I lazily flopped out of bed to get ready for church. It didn’t seem much different from every other Sunday until sacrament meeting. As I sat listening to the testimonies, I noticed the family sitting in front of me was one I used to babysit for. The kids were always fun to watch, and it was good to see them again.
Simeon, their young son, got up to bear his testimony. When he spoke, I could hear his voice shaking from fear, but he still went on. He bore testimony that Easter was not about eggs and candy, but it was about how Jesus Christ gave His life for us. He expressed his love and gratitude for the Savior and His sacrifice for us.
As the tears welled up in my eyes, pangs of guilt tore at my heart. I had forgotten what Easter is all about!
I didn’t get a chance to thank Simeon for his testimony, but as I drove back to my friend’s house, I continued to think about his words. “How many others learned this lesson today?” I thought.
I pulled off to the side of the road and prayed in gratitude for the Savior. I asked forgiveness for my shortsightedness. As I started driving again, I knew I would never forget what a little child taught me about Easter.

“Mom, Jimmy took my crayons again and broke one.” Janie bolted into the kitchen, where Mom was loading the dishwasher, and angrily stamped her foot. “I wish I didn’t have a little brother!”
“Now, honey, I know you’re upset. But is that the way to talk? I’m sure that Jimmy didn’t mean to break your crayon.”
“But I told him to leave my things alone, and he took them, anyway. I already warned him, Mom. Now I’m going to break one of his toys!”
Janie’s mom pulled out a chair for her daughter. “Let’s talk about this first. What do you think the Savior would do?”
Last week in Primary, Janie had learned that Jesus Christ told people to forgive one another and to be kind to those who hurt you. She sat down and folded her arms defiantly. “Well, He said to forgive someone who does something mean to you. I already did that. I forgave Jimmy for getting into my stuff and told him to keep out of my room forever. He didn’t Mom. He’s wrecking all my stuff, and now he has to learn a lesson.”
“Let’s get out the scriptures and see exactly what Jesus said about forgiveness.” Mom left the kitchen a moment and returned with a Bible. She thumbed through the pages, then handed the Bible to Janie, indicating a verse highlighted in yellow. “Here it is.”
Quietly Janie read the scripture, then said aloud, “It says to forgive seventy times seven. That’s way too many times. It isn’t fair at all.” Janie handed the Bible back to her mom.
“Wouldn’t you want the Savior to forgive you more than once? Think about it.” Mom put the Bible down. “Maybe you could try teaching Jimmy how to take care of things. Jesus Christ said to do good to those who offend you—even your enemies.”
Slowly Janie stood. OK, she thought. I’ll forgive him seventy times seven. But then he’s really going to get it! She went to her bedroom and sat down at her desk. On a piece of scratch paper, she multiplied seventy times seven. “Four hundred and ninety times!” she exclaimed, dismayed. She opened a notebook and wrote “Number of times I’ve forgiven Jimmy” on the top of the first page. Underneath, she made two slashes. “That’s two,” she said aloud. “Only four hundred and eighty-eight to go.”
Later that evening she found Jimmy looking at one of her favorite books. He wasn’t being very careful and had ripped a page while turning it. Angry, Janie grabbed the book and glared at him. Jimmy scuttled backward, fear in his eyes. “Don’t hit me, Janie,” he pleaded.
Remembering her resolve to forgive Jimmy, she gritted her teeth and said, “I’m not going to hit you, even though you took my book without asking.” Then, remembering she was supposed to do something nice, she added, “Do you want me to read it to you?”
Jimmy was astonished, but he smiled happily. “Oh, yes!”
After reading the book to Jimmy, Janie didn’t feel so angry. In fact, she decided to read it to him again because he seemed to enjoy it so much. Before she went to bed that night, she got out the notebook and made another slash. “That’s three,” she said.
The next day Jimmy was an even bigger pest than usual. But instead of acting in anger, Janie always did something nice for her brother and tried to teach him the right way to do things. When she got out her notebook that night before bed, she made eight more slashes. “That’s eleven,” she sighed. “Only four hundred and seventy-nine to go.”
“Jimmy! Get off my bike!” Janie shrieked the next morning. Jimmy was so startled that he toppled over onto the driveway. He was just learning how to ride a two-wheeler and wasn’t very good yet.
“You’re supposed to be riding my old bike,” Janie said, helping him up. “Why are you using my new birthday bike?”
“I can’t go very fast on that old squeaky bike,” Jimmy whined. “Please don’t be mad at me. I was trying not to hurt it.”
Janie sighed and dusted her brother off. “Well, my new bike won’t do you much good. It’s so big that you can’t reach the pedals if you sit on the seat. Let’s see if Dad can oil the other one.”
The old bike was soon oiled, and Janie and Jimmy rode together around the neighborhood.
After dinner, Janie told Jimmy, “I’m drawing a picture for Grandma. Do you want to draw one with me?” Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. I might as well ask him, Janie thought. He’d just get into my crayons, anyway.
It was Friday night, so Janie was allowed to stay up later. Her friend Kacey came over, and they played with dolls for a while. Then they decided to play a board game. Jimmy asked if he could play with them. Before Janie could answer, Mom said, “It’s time for bed, Jimmy.”
“Aw, Mom,” Jimmy complained. “It isn’t fair. I want to play too.” Frustrated, he jumped to his feet, accidentally knocking the game over.
“Jimmy,” Mom told him, “you need to apologize to your sister.”
“It’s OK, Mom,” Janie said. “He didn’t mean to.” Turning to Jimmy, she asked, “How about if Kacey and I read you a story before you go to bed?”
Happily Jimmy agreed. He listened to the story, then hugged his sister, waved good night to Kacey, and went to bed without a fuss.
Saturday was cleaning day. While organizing her desk, Janie picked up her notebook and stared at it thoughtfully. Finally she opened it and ripped out a page.
Later, as Mom picked up the trash from the bedrooms, the word Jimmy caught her eye. Curious, she took the paper from the wastepaper basket and smoothed it out. “Number of times I’ve forgiven Jimmy,” it said. A couple dozen slashes were underneath.
Just then, Janie walked into the room and saw Mom looking at the wrinkled page. Smiling sheepishly at her mother, she said, “I guess I don’t need that anymore. It’s funny, but Jimmy doesn’t seem as annoying as he used to.”

Little brothers can be such a bother, Erin thought as she knelt to pick up her scattered postcard collection. She knew how much her little brother, Evan, loved to look at all the beautiful postcards. She didn’t mind showing them to him, but she didn’t like it one bit when he went into her room and helped himself.
“What do I need a little brother for, anyway?” she said aloud as she gathered the postcards. If only she could lock him out of her room forever!
Her scowl softened as she caught sight of her most treasured postcard. She picked it up and looked at the picture of the Seattle Temple, remembering the day she got to go inside.
It was only last December, on a cool, sunny day, that she had gone there with her mother and father, Evan, and both sets of grandparents. In the temple nursery, she had helped Evan change into the white suit that one grandma had made for him. Then she put on the outfit the other grandma had sewn for her—a beautiful white eyelet dress that she would wear again six months later at her baptism.
When Erin and Evan were ready, a kindly woman with hair as white as Erin’s dress took them to an elevator and then up to a beautiful sealing room that seemed like heaven to Erin. She was very happy to see her mother and father and grandparents there. She knew that Evan didn’t understand what was happening—he was only three years old—but she was almost eight and knew that they were there to have him sealed to them at last.
Before Evan was born, she had prayed constantly for a brother. On the day he was given to them, she had gone home from the adoption center and thanked Heavenly Father for sending her a baby brother.
As she finished gathering her postcards, she suddenly realized that she didn’t feel angry anymore. Just then her mother called her into the kitchen. “I need you to do me a big favor,” her mother said. “I made these hot muffins, and I thought that it would be nice to take some to Sister Taber. She’s home from the hospital after having knee surgery, and I know that she’d enjoy them. Would you like to take Evan for a walk over to her house?”
“Sure!” Sister Taber had been her favorite Primary teacher. She wished she could go alone, because her little brother always slowed her down, but she knew how much he loved to go for walks.
“Please try to hurry, dear,” Mom said. “Dad will be home soon, and dinner is almost ready. Do you want me to draw a map for you?”
“No thanks,” Erin replied with confidence. “I’m sure I can find it just fine.” She took the basket of warm muffins in one hand and her brother’s hand in the other. As soon as they reached the sidewalk, Evan wanted to stop and look at some leaves, but Erin gently tugged on his arm to urge him forward. “This is going to take forever with him along,” she mumbled to herself.
They reached the first corner and carefully crossed the street. Then Evan saw some bright yellow dandelions growing in the corner of a yard. “Look at the pretty yellow flowers!” he said, heading toward them.
“I’m sorry,” Erin said, “but we don’t have time to stop and pick dandelions. Mom told us to hurry, remember?” She grabbed Evan’s hand again, and kept walking. When they reached the next corner, they turned right. Erin was sure she’d recognize Sister Taber’s house when she saw it.
As they passed the next house, Erin felt Evan stop. He jumped up and down, yelling, “That’s just like ours!”
Erin looked where he was pointing and saw a red, white, and blue basketball backboard identical to the one Dad had put on their own garage. She and Mom loved to watch Evan and Dad play basketball. Evan always made everyone laugh.
But this wasn’t the time to be distracted. “Come on now, Evan,” Erin said impatiently, taking his hand and starting back down the sidewalk.
They crossed the street and headed for the cul-de-sac where Sister Taber lived. They were almost there when Evan began tugging at Erin’s arm and shouting, “Quack, quack, quack, quack!”
She turned around and saw him standing next to a mailbox with a painted duck on it. “Evan Michael, please come with me!” Erin scolded. “We can’t stop and look at everything!” I wish I hadn’t had to bring him along, she thought.
As they entered the cul-de-sac, Erin felt a little unsure about which house belonged to Sister Taber. She looked at each one carefully, then recognized the flower bed in front of one of the houses. This is it, she thought. This is where we had our last Primary achievement activity. She and Evan went up to the door and she let him ring the doorbell.
Sister Taber’s daughter answered the door. She thanked Erin and Evan for the muffins and told her that her mother would really appreciate them.
Erin felt good inside. Then, as she and Evan headed home, she realized that she wasn’t sure how to get there. They stood at the corner leading out of the cul-de-sac while Erin looked left and right, trying to decide which way to go. She began to feel a little panicky until she remembered something her mother had told her many times: “If you ever feel lonely or afraid, tell Heavenly Father your troubles. He always hears your prayers and will help you.”
Erin quickly and quietly asked Heavenly Father to help them find their way home again. Once more she looked up and down the street. Suddenly she spotted the duck mailbox that Evan had stopped to see. Holding her brother’s hand tightly, she left the cul-de-sac. After they crossed the street, she saw the red, white, and blue basketball backboard. We turn left at the next corner, she said to herself.
When they turned the corner, Erin saw the dandelions that Evan had wanted to pick. She realized that rather than feeling angry with him, she was grateful that he had noticed all the things that were helping them find their way back.
When they reached home, she took him inside and told her mother what had happened. Then she bent down, gave her little brother a big hug, and whispered in his ear, “Would you like to come and look at my postcard collection?”

Just about every day, you can find Stella and her family visiting the landlady in their apartment building. They aren’t related to her, but Stella and her brother call her “Grandma Cecilia.”
Stella says, “She is 83 years old, and she doesn’t have any children of her own.” Stella and her family noticed she needed help and decided to “adopt” her.
Stella always lends a helping hand by sweeping and mopping Grandma Cecilia’s floor. Having a clean home is an important way to stay healthy. So Stella is doing something that really helps Grandma Cecilia. “Jesus Christ served others,” says Stella, “so that inspired me to serve her. I know that Jesus Christ and His Father are happy when I serve.”
Stella followed Jesus by helping her neighbor. Turn the page to read a story about how Jesus helped others.

The sweet reward of adversity is illustrated in this story. As a young woman of eighteen, a pretty model found her dreams shattered by an automobile accident that confined her to a wheelchair with partially paralyzed legs. Because of the accident she learned to play the piano. Because of the accident she learned to develop a sense of humor and to find that there’s a funny viewpoint to almost every subject. In time her legs regained their strength and she became an actress, gifted with a sense of humor that made her one of the outstanding comediennes of our time. You’ve heard her on the radio. You’ve seen her in motion pictures and particularly on television. You know that Lucille Ball was not stopped by adversity. On the contrary, it was the plus sign that made the difference.

Sister Jensen was facing some difficult problems. She had prayed for help and for peace of mind, but the answers seemed slow in coming. One particularly frustrating day, she cried out in prayer, “O God, why hast thou turned away from me when I need thy help?”
“Then to my mind,” she recalls, “came the still, small voice. It seemed to say, ‘When have I forsaken you? Was I not there when … ?’ Suddenly I remembered the many, many times in my life when I had received the Lord’s help and when I had felt of his great love for me. It was I who had not remembered him.”

I would like to finish by sharing an experience that I had here last December. I came down at Christmas time and spoke to a small group of students; and sometime during my talk I made this comment: “The Lord forgives us in a millionth of a millisecond.” I had talked of repentance, but only for a moment. Afterward a young man came up and said, “I don’t believe I’m forgiven; I don’t think what you said is right, Elder Pinnock.”

I replied. “Well, perhaps I made a mistake—the Savior forgives us instantly. It doesn’t even take him a millionth of a millisecond.”

The young man faded away, and I went out and got into the automobile and drove home. Several days later the telephone rang and he reintroduced himself. “I’m the young man that questioned whether I had been forgiven or not.”

I said, “You were forgiven, if . . .” and we reviewed the steps. “Oh yes,” he said. “I’ve talked to my bishop. I have not reverted to those things I did before.” “Then you are forgiven,” I told him.

But the telephone rang once again. This time I said, “Listen, dummy, you are forgiven.” But oh, how he wanted that feeling, and what a struggle he was having to obtain it!

The branches of the prairie scrub oak scratched and banged together in a sharp wind that howled about the tableland. Above the rustling tangles, the buttes rose bleak and silent beneath the gnarled sky.
Jon-Bob, his collar lifted against the weather, walked aimlessly. He was so deep in thought that he hardly heard the thunder that roared overhead like a stampede in heaven. He paused by an ancient deadfall, the woody carcass barely visible above a large clump of tall, waving grass. He sat heavily on a log, the weight of gray uncertainty pressing down on him like the leaden sky upon the land.
Jon-Bob’s five-year-old sister, Charity, lay close to death in the family’s small dugout built in the face of a low red hill a few hundred yards behind him. Doc Sorenson had done all he could to hold together Charity’s broken body. All that was left for him to do was to offer quiet solace to the girl’s mother, pat her hand, and head back across the huge flatness in his coal-box buggy.
Jon-Bob’s mother had assisted the doctor during the long night. His father, with the help of Brother Jobias Thatcher, whom Jon-Bob had ridden six miles across the flats to fetch, had administered to the unconscious girl.
Jon-Bob picked at the log with his finger and sighed despairingly. A sudden fit of wind rolled across the red earth like a dark memory, and it was yesterday again. He saw his sister sitting barefoot in the yard, playing with her raggedy doll. Suddenly jagged bolts of lightning burned down, and thunder boomed like a hundred cannons. The corral gate was torn asunder as a half-dozen fear-prodded steers burst crazily into the yard behind Charity. Jon-Bob, seated on the porch, had only enough time to scream before the longhorns trampled the small girl underfoot.
Back in the present, Jon-Bob heard someone crying. He stood and looked back toward the dugout. His mother was stumbling blindly out onto the little buckled porch. After a moment his father appeared and put his arm around Jon-Bob’s mother and held her close.
“No!” Jon-Bob gasped in a stunned whisper. “Charity’s not dead. She can’t be!”
Jon-Bob’s sister was buried next to her grandfather in a small circle of cottonwoods a few hundred yards from the house.
A few days later Jon-Bob stepped out into the broad red silence again, this time to try to walk out some of his pain.
An elderly Indian woman by the name of Two Moons Dancing watched him cross below the cottonwoods as she carried a side of smoke-house meat toward the dugout. She studied him for a moment, then set the meat inside and followed after him.
Two Moons Dancing had been taken in by Jon-Bob’s parents some years before, when her own family died in a raging prairie fire. She had been seriously burned herself, but the boy’s father and mother had nursed her back to health. Shortly thereafter she had discovered an additional bond with this pioneer family: They, too, were Mormons. Her father, Standing Bear, had been taught by two young missionaries, and his testimony had inspired her to enter the waters of baptism.
Jon-Bob stooped to lay some yellow wildflowers at the foot of his sister’s tombstone, below an epitaph that read:
HERE LIES A CHILD OF GOD. MAY SHE REST WITH QUEENS.
A sunbaked, weathered hand rested softly on Jon-Bob’s shoulder. He quickly brushed aside some tears and looked up at the kindly face behind him. “Will you share your thoughts with this old woman?”
Jon-Bob silently probed the dark eyes bright with understanding and concern, then nodded. He and Two Moons Dancing wandered slowly through the sunlit sage. “Why did Charity have to die?” Jon-Bob finally got out. “Why not someone who was mean or bad, or someone older?”
“Who gets chosen and when, Jon-Bob, is a mystery. Only the Great One knows for sure.” Two Moons Dancing thought quietly on the matter, then continued, “It would have been fairer if it had been me.”
“No, Two Moons Dancing!” Jon-Bob blurted out with ardent sincerity.
The Indian woman nodded. “I am seventy-one years old, and I have had a full, happy life. I have learned and seen much—too much, maybe, for just one life.”
“You’re not going to die,” Jon-Bob said.
“Yes. Yes, I am,” returned Two Moons Dancing. “And in time so are you—and everyone else you love and care about. And it’s going to hurt each time someone does.”
Jon-Bob’s eyes welled up. “It hurts so bad, Two Moons Dancing!”
The old woman took the eleven-year-old boy’s arm and turned him around; then she rested her hands on his small shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Of course it does, Jon-Bob. And that is not wrong or bad. It is good. It is oftentimes an ache that keeps love alive, just as a cold rain gives life to the desert flower. Think about it, small one.”
They started to walk again. “Life. Death. Life beyond death. It is all one grand eternal round, all a part of the Great Spirit’s glorious plan. The sun comes up, the sun goes down, and we must gather our memories in between, as the flowers of the field, and remember with warmth the life that was. And is. And always will be, for things eternal never die.”
Jon-Bob felt some relief, but he still wrestled with doubts. “You’re talking about time, aren’t you?”
“In a way, perhaps.”
“Well, I’m not too happy about time. It takes things away.”
“Can it not also bring them back together again?” the old woman suggested.
Jon-Bob scratched his head. “I guess maybe you’re right.”
“The time will come when you and your little sister will be together again, touching souls.” She wrapped her arm around Jon-Bob as they walked on together through the bright morning.

Years ago a friend of mine went to a large university to study under the ranking authority in the field of counseling and guidance. This professor quickly took an interest in this personable, intelligent young Latter-day Saint. He attracted attention as he moved through the course work required for a doctor’s degree.
He chose the Latter-day Saint bishop as the subject for his dissertation. All went well until he described the ordination of a bishop, the power of discernment, and the right of a bishop to spiritual guidance.
His doctoral committee felt that such references had no place in a scholarly paper, and they insisted that he take them out. He thought he might at least say that Latter-day Saints believe the bishop has spiritual insight. But the committee denied him even this, for they would be quite embarrassed to have this spiritual ingredient included in a scholarly dissertation.
He was told that with some little accommodation—specifically, leaving out all the references to revelation—his dissertation would be published and his reputation established.
He did the best he could. His dissertation did not contain enough about the Spirit to satisfy him and too much to be fully accepted by his worldly professors. But he received his degree.
I asked this friend what was the most important thing he had learned in his study of bishops. He answered, “I learned that the mantle is far, far greater than the intellect, that the priesthood is the guiding power.”

Molly held five tickets in her hand as she walked to school. Every Monday, Mom gave her tickets to buy milk at lunch. But lately Molly had lost her tickets before lunchtime. Today Molly was determined to not lose her tickets. When she got to school, she carefully put the tickets in her pocket before playing on the slide.
When the bell rang, Miss Martin came outside. The children began to give her their milk tickets for the week. Molly put her hand in her pocket, but the tickets were gone! Molly’s heart sank. She knew Mom would be disappointed.
Molly panicked as she moved closer to Miss Martin. She decided to make up a story so she wouldn’t get in trouble. She said to her teacher, “A boy took my tickets.”
Miss Martin looked surprised. “Which boy, Molly?” she asked.
Molly’s eyes searched the playground and found an older boy kicking a ball. She pointed at him. “That boy! He took my milk tickets.”
Miss Martin told Molly to go to the classroom while she talked to the boy. Molly felt awful. She hadn’t meant to get the boy in trouble.
All Molly could do all morning was worry. But she knew if she told the truth, she would be in trouble for lying.
As Molly was going to recess, the principal stopped her and asked her to come to his office.
“Oh no!” she thought. “He knows I lied, and I’m going to be in trouble!”
But the principal talked to her nicely and asked her to tell him what happened that morning. Molly said the boy had taken her milk tickets.
“Are you sure that is what happened, Molly?” the principal asked.
She nodded. The principal told her she could go to recess.
As Molly left the office, she saw the boy sitting in the hall. He looked like he had been crying. Molly knew how much trouble she was causing, but she was too scared to tell the truth.
After school Molly walked home slowly, feeling worse with every step. When she got home, Mom said, “Molly, the principal called.”
Molly couldn’t stand it anymore. She started to cry, and she told Mom the whole story.
“Molly, this is a very bad thing you’ve done. Do you understand that?” Mom said.
“Yes.” Molly really did understand.
“What do you think you should do?” Mom asked.
Molly knew she had to tell the truth. But what if the principal got angry? What if Miss Martin didn’t like her anymore? Molly didn’t know if she had enough courage. But then she thought about the boy she had gotten in trouble, and she knew she had to be brave.
“I want to go back to school,” she told Mom.
Mom held Molly’s hand as they walked back to school. The principal listened carefully.
“Molly, I am disappointed in you,” he said. “But I am glad you decided to tell me the truth. I know it wasn’t easy.”
While they were walking home together, Mom said, “Molly, I am proud of you for telling the truth. But what else do you think you need to do to make this right?”
“I need to apologize to that boy,” Molly said.
“Right,” Mom said. “I can drive you over to his house tonight.”
Molly’s heart got a little lighter. “Mom, do you think we should make him some cookies too?”
Mom hugged her. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

My wife and I were having a serious discussion recently in which we were counting our many blessings. We named a host of things that have come to us, because of the Church, because of our family, because of the glorious restoration of eternal truth that has taken place in this day; and then she climaxed the discussion by asking this question: “What’s the greatest blessing that has ever come into your life?”
Without a moment’s hesitation I said, “The greatest blessing that has ever come to me was on the thirteenth day of October in 1937 at 11:20 A.M. when I was privileged to kneel in the Salt Lake Temple at the Lord’s altar and receive you as an eternal companion.”
She said, “Well, you passed that test.”

I was asked once to give a presentation in our ward's Relief Society on raising children. We went through this exercise and I asked them which column represents the way they try to raise their children. As you might guess, the answer was a resounding A. They stated each word and gave reason for their response. "Of course we want our homes and families to be 'comfortable'--why on earth would we want an uneasy, racked, or scathing home or family?" "'Permanent'? We want our furniture in the same place when our children come home as it was when they left for school. We don't want to confuse them!" "'Safe'? That is just plain right and good. Who wouldn't want their children safe?" "'Sterile'? Are you kidding? We clean our homes daily!" "'Static'--Hey we have cable; we don't get static. "'Control'--You bet we want control. How else are you to raise children?"
Well, they almost convinced me they were right. If you can't tell, I was there and I am here to shed some favorable light on column B. When these ladies asked me, "Isn't that what you want for your children?" I got ready to duck in case purses or scripture cases came flying at me. I really struggled. But then a miracle happened in my life. One of the sisters, one I would have never guessed would asked the following question, after very tentatively raising her hand asked, "What kind of life did Jesus live? Was he comfortable? Was he ever in a permanent place? Isn't there a scripture about the birds having nests to rest in, but the Son of Man hath no place to rest His head. Was he safe?" He certainly wasn't sterile. His life did not appear to be overly routine. Really, the only descriptor we could argue with was that of control. He was in control, but those who were against Him certainly had a different idea.
So why is it we tend to choose the "A" style of life and not the "B"? Why do we try to make our lives so different from Christ's life? Think about that, will you? What is your reason?

Case 4. Three plump young ladies had barely begun their attack on a table laden with yummy junk food when suddenly the feast vanished right before their eyes. Nearby three guardian angels looked suspiciously smug.
After the opening prayer, the projectionist hit the switch, and the evening was awash in cheers, laughter, and even a few friendly groans. Poor Cindy Ella, outcast because of her curly hair, did get to the governor’s ball (thanks to her fairy godperson) and fell in love with the governor’s curly headed son. A new banana eating record was set. The three junk food junkies did lose weight. The missionaries did keep tracting. Fun triumphed again. All seven wards had come up with their own idea of what the silver screen is all about, and all were pretty proud of what they had done.