Gospel Story Finder

When I was in kindergarten, I had a friend who wasn’t like everybody else. She was mentally disabled, and the other kids made fun of her. I played with this girl, but some of the other kids were mean. Sometimes they even hit her.
One morning I was looking for her and couldn’t find her in the classroom, so I went outside. When I found her, she was eating grass. Some kids had told her it was salad and she should eat it. I was so mad I began to cry. I took the grass out of her mouth and made her feel better. We were good friends after that. Now she goes to a special school and I don’t see her anymore, but I will always remember her.

One of my favorite comic strips involved Lucy. As I remember it, Charlie Brown’s baseball team was in an important game—Lucy was playing right field, and a high fly ball was hit to her. The bases were loaded, and it was the last of the ninth inning. If Lucy caught the ball, her team would win. If Lucy dropped the ball, the other team would win.
As could happen only in a comic strip, the entire team surrounded Lucy as the ball came down. Lucy was thinking, “If I catch the ball, I will be the hero; if I don’t, I will be the goat.”
The ball came down, and as her teammates eagerly looked on, Lucy dropped the ball. Charlie Brown threw his glove to the ground in disgust. Lucy then looked at her teammates, put her hands on her hips, and said, “How do you expect me to catch the ball when I am worried about our country’s foreign policy?”
This was one of many fly balls Lucy dropped through the years, and she had a new excuse each time.2 While always humorous, Lucy’s excuses were rationalizations; they were untrue reasons for her failure to catch the ball.

I will mention just part of one such account. Two weeks ago I received a touching letter from a father of seven who wrote about his family and, in particular, his son Jason, who had become ill when 11 years of age. Over the next few years, Jason’s illness recurred several times. This father told of Jason’s positive attitude and sunny disposition, despite his health challenges. Jason received the Aaronic Priesthood at age 12 and “always willingly magnified his responsibilities with excellence, whether he felt well or not.” He received his Eagle Scout Award when he was 14 years old.
Last summer, not long after Jason’s 15th birthday, he was once again admitted to the hospital. On one of his visits to see Jason, his father found him with his eyes closed. Not knowing whether Jason was asleep or awake, he began talking softly to him. “Jason,” he said, “I know you have been through a lot in your short life and that your current condition is difficult. Even though you have a giant battle ahead, I don’t ever want you to lose your faith in Jesus Christ.” He said he was startled as Jason immediately opened his eyes and said, “Never!” in a clear, resolute voice. Jason then closed his eyes and said no more.
His father wrote: “In this simple declaration, Jason expressed one of the most powerful, pure testimonies of Jesus Christ that I have ever heard. … As his declaration of ‘Never!’ became imprinted on my soul that day, my heart filled with joy that my Heavenly Father had blessed me to be the father of such a tremendous and noble boy. … [It] was the last time I heard him declare his testimony of Christ.”
Although his family was expecting this to be just another routine hospitalization, Jason passed away less than two weeks later. An older brother and sister were serving missions at the time. Another brother, Kyle, had just received his mission call. In fact, the call had come earlier than expected, and on August 5, just a week before Jason’s passing, the family gathered in his hospital room so that Kyle’s mission call could be opened there and shared with the entire family.
In his letter to me, this father included a photograph of Jason in his hospital bed, with his big brother Kyle standing beside the bed, holding his mission call. This caption was written beneath the photograph: “Called to serve their missions together—on both sides of the veil.”
Jason’s brother and sister already serving missions sent beautiful, comforting letters home to be shared at Jason’s funeral. His sister, serving in the Argentina Buenos Aires West Mission, as part of her letter, wrote: “I know that Jesus Christ lives, and because He lives, all of us, including our beloved Jason, will live again too. … We can take comfort in the sure knowledge we have that we have been sealed together as an eternal family. … If we do our very best to obey and do better in this life, we will see [him again].” She continued: “[A] scripture that I have long loved now takes on new significance and importance at this time. … [From] Revelation chapter 21, verse 4: ‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’”

Another question often asked is, When death from war occurs, what of the promised blessings of the patriarch upon that person’s head? Why are his blessings not permitted to be realized? I think now of a distraught father and mother who had just received that ominous and tersely worded telegram from the government, informing them of the death of their son. They came seeking an interview to see if some light and understanding could be given to ease their aching hearts and to bolster their faith. Just home from a mission for the Church, he’d been inducted into military service. Before leaving, he had received a patriarchal blessing in which he was promised that he would have a posterity of sons and daughters. Had the patriarch’s words been inspired? Why did this promise fail? asked the parents, since to their knowledge their son had lived worthy of every blessing promised to the faithful.
Akin to this is another incident of a sister who had filled a mission and had contracted tuberculosis. Shortly after she returned home, she passed away. I was asked to speak at her funeral service. She had received a patriarchal blessing in which she had been promised that she would be a mother in Israel. The family said that certainly no one had lived a more saintly life than had she. I spoke of this, as it troubled me. The patriarch of the stake spoke at the funeral also. He said, “When a patriarch pronounces an inspired blessing, such a blessing encompasses the whole of life, not just this phase we call mortality.”
“If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable,” said the apostle Paul. If we fail to understand this great truth, we will be miserable in time of need, and then sometimes our faith may be challenged. But if we have a faith that looks beyond the grave and trusts in divine providence to bring all things in their proper perspective in due time, then we have hope, and our fears are calmed.
“… faith is not to have a perfect knowledge of things,” declared the prophet Alma; “therefore if ye have faith ye hope for things which are not seen, which are true.” (Alma 32:21.) Life does not end with mortal death. Through temple ordinances which bind on earth and in heaven, every promised blessing predicated upon faithfulness will be realized.

“Margaret and Neil, take this wheat to the gristmill on City Creek, please,” Mother said.
Neil smiled happily. He was only four years old, but he liked to help Mother as much as he could. He proudly took the small bag of wheat kernels in his arms.
“I’ll carry it,” Margaret announced, snatching the bag from Neil’s arms. “You’re too little. You might drop it, and you know we can’t afford to lose any of it!”
That was certainly true! When the Gardner family had arrived in the Salt Lake Valley on October 3, 1847, they had rejoiced that they had reached this sanctuary for the Saints. But that didn’t mean that everything was perfect. Now it was winter, and Neil was often hungry. Each family received a little wheat given out by weight. They ate sego and thistle roots. Once in a while hunters brought meat to the settlers.
When they got to the gristmill, Neil watched carefully as the wheat was ground. When a handful of kernels spilled on the floor while it was being ground, he and Margaret sprang to gather it up. Margaret wrapped it in her handkerchief. That evening they would parch it on the top of the stove at home. No food could be wasted.
After that cold, hungry winter, spring finally came, and Neil’s family moved to Mill Creek, a few miles from Salt Lake City. They planted a small crop of wheat. When the grain came up, it looked so strong and good. How wonderful it would be to have plenty of flour next winter! But then the crickets came.
Crickets were everywhere. There seemed to be no end to them. They were big and black and ate everything in their paths. Everyone worked in the fields, trying to kill the insects. But it seemed useless. There were just so many crickets.
Finally a day of fasting and prayer was planned. Father and the other men went to Salt Lake to pray for help from Heavenly Father.
While Father was gone, Neil, Mother, and Margaret went into the fields again to fight the crickets. Neil was tired, and the thought of another hungry winter made him want to cry. As they worked, it suddenly became darker. Neil looked up and saw thousands of gulls in the sky. Mother threw up her hands in despair. “What the crickets won’t take, those birds will!” she exclaimed.
Mother sat down and cried. Neil cried too. He didn’t know what would become of his family.
Too tired to fight the bird invaders, Neil and his mother and sister watched the seagulls.
“Mother, look!” Neil shouted. “The gulls aren’t eating our wheat. They are eating the crickets!”
“I believe you are right!” Mother said.
Mother, Margaret, and Neil held hands and danced in a circle. They hugged and laughed. The gulls were saving their wheat!
Suddenly, Mother stopped dancing and dropped to her knees. “Come, children,” she said. “These gulls were sent by Heavenly Father to save His children. Let us give thanks to Him.”
The three of them prayed right there in the wheat field. Neil never forgot the miracle of the gulls.

Not all of Kevin’s helpful plans turn out quite so well. Once, he made a birthday cake with two packages of cake mix. The cake overflowed its pan and cooked in a pile on the bottom of the oven. What a mess! Kevin and his family still chuckle over that mistake. “I haven’t made a cake since,” he admits. But he does volunteer to cook other things for the family—especially hot dogs and ravioli—and he feeds Belle twice a week.

Mama Wong and Annie
Photograph courtesy of the author
After I was baptized in June 2002, I shared my faith with my mother. Though Mama Wong often attended church with me, she did not want to learn more.
At last, 10 years later, Mama Wong chose to be baptized. I was thrilled. Sadly, a few years later, she stopped strengthening her testimony and made excuses for not attending church.
I urged her to come to church, but that only caused contention. Eventually, I quit pushing her so that I wouldn’t harm our relationship.
During the October 2019 general conference, President Russell M. Nelson invited Church members to “design [our] own plan” to strengthen our testimony of the Restoration.1 As I thought about his invitation, I felt strongly that I should do something to make things better between Mama Wong and me.
For my New Year’s resolution, I committed myself to read the Book of Mormon with Mama Wong. Whenever she said her eyes hurt, I said, “You can just listen.” When she said she needed to do the dishes, I followed her to the kitchen and kept reading out loud.
It turns out that Mama Wong listened closely and remembered what I read. Over time, she chose to read on her own. Later she told me that an ordinary man could not have written the Book of Mormon. She had no doubt that the book is the word of God. For me, seeing her go from being uninterested to wanting to read and bear testimony of the Book of Mormon is a miracle.
After Mama Wong was baptized, I worried that she had joined the Church just for me. But now she has a testimony of her own. For years I tried to “fix” her, but all she needed was the simple, powerful word of God.
I’m thankful for a living prophet who always gives us timely guidance. If we act upon what he teaches, great blessings will follow. This experience showed me how much the Lord wants to bless us. All I did was read a few chapters to my mother from the Book of Mormon. Then the Lord took over!

Fabian is also helping with an elder’s quorum project. There is a sister in their branch whose husband died five years ago. Later she joined the Church. Her family disowned her and refused to help her and her two daughters. The branch is building them a home. Fabian helps work on the house with the elders. Sometimes the full-time missionaries and the young people in the branch also help. Fabian shovels sand to make cement, and under the direction of the elders, he helps with the building and cleaning up. He is happy when he is helping others.

One mother told the following experience that helps to explain this idea. She said, “Sometimes while we are eating, one of my children will get my attention and signal to me while his mouth is full of food. Grunting and waving, he will try to motion for me to do something for him. I know perfectly well that what he wants is for me to pour him a glass of milk, but I will wait until he uses words to ask me before I will do it. It’s not that I can’t understand what he wants but that I feel it is important for him to learn how to communicate well.”

“He always says ‘I love you’ at least ten times during the evening whenever the family gets together—his family always comes first,” said a granddaughter of this great man. “He helps us set a goal and then buys us a book about it. When the goal is reached, he buys us another book. Grandpa promised my brother John that if he attended all his priesthood, MIA, and Sunday School meetings for seven years, he would pay for his mission. John worked hard to reach that goal. He sacrificed vacations when there would not be an opportunity to attend all of his meetings. John reached his goal, was called to serve a mission in France, and Grandpa happily paid for his mission.”

• After my baptism and confirmation, my mother drew me aside and asked, “What do you feel?” I described as best I could the warm feeling of peace, comfort, and happiness I had. Mother explained that what I was feeling was the gift I had just received, the gift of the Holy Ghost. She told me that if I lived worthy of it, I would have that gift with me continually. That was a teaching moment that has lived with me all my life.

When Claire (name has been changed) was six years old, her parents divorced. In the years that followed, she witnessed many failed marriages as well as family members struggling with addiction, inactivity in the Church, and depression. Saddened and confused, Claire lost her confidence in family.
“I told myself that marriage was not for me,” she says. “But I was just hiding my fear that my future would be the same as what I had experienced.”
In addition to feeling distressed about her family situation, Claire felt alone. One day as a teenager, she fell to her knees in desperation and prayed, pleading to know if Heavenly Father was there. “When I ceased crying and speaking, I was overwhelmed with a burning feeling that was peaceful, strong, and so direct,” she says. “I knew Heavenly Father was there and would always love me and help me through my trials.”
The answer Claire received sparked a desire to increase her testimony and trust in God and His commandments regarding the family. She not only continued to pray but also read her scriptures, attended seminary, and kept the commandments.
Now Claire is married, and she is learning to face her challenges with faith. “I don’t worry whether it will be impossible to raise a strong family because my husband and I have decided to always nurture our testimonies, include our Heavenly Father and our Savior in our lives, and remember the undeniable truth of the gospel.”
For Claire, building trust in God began with a simple, sincere prayer. But what else can we do to build trust in Heavenly Father? Young adults from all over the world—each dealing with trials—share their experiences on how they have developed trust in the Lord and have learned to rely on His will, His way, and His timing.

At home again, though I tried to keep active with a private study course and extensive reading, I found myself slipping into a major personal crisis. I had tried to go to church that summer, but I found it an ordeal. I was terribly self-conscious. I felt I was being stared at, and I became defensive about the smallest things. It was humiliating to have to be helped to take the sacrament. My reactions to people became paranoiac, and I invited feelings of worthlessness and guilt to enter my heart. I began to lose contact with the Church, preferring to stay in my little room in the back of the house. Here I withdrew into a world of isolation and depression. For five months I gnawed away at myself and demolished whatever strength I had acquired. The word cripple now applied to me both mentally and physically.
I neglected to pray as I should have, and I doubted the Lord’s forgiveness. I was not totally bitter, but in vain I tried to retain a spirit of hope. I know now that it was because of my ignorance of the sacrifice of Christ that I fell into this attitude.
Autumn passed into winter, and as the room became darker, so did my soul. I descended further and further into frustration and the feeling that I was as worthless a soul as had ever come into the world.
Then one night my mother came in and said that I had a visitor. The man who entered the room was tall and very self-confident—totally the opposite of my character. He introduced himself as Brother Howes from the local seminary. He had moved to town only recently, but he spoke about things as if we had known each other for some time. Though I didn’t know it then, this man would be one of the principal reasons for my returning to the gospel.
I expected that he would visit once or twice and that would be the extent of it, but these suspicions turned out to be false. Each week he came with the scriptures and began to nourish the spiritual side of me, which needed so much to be fed. With his help I began slowly to ascend once again to a point where some form of courage and hope became dimly visible. As time went by, I got interested enough to read the Bible and the Book of Mormon on my own; and through prayer I came to realize, for the first time, that I had something solid to cling to: the truth.

Julie was sad. Grandma was in the hospital, and Mother had gone to visit her.
“What’s wrong, Julie?” Angie, her older sister, asked.
“Is Grandma going to get better?” Julie wondered.
“I don’t know,” Angie replied.
“Why aren’t you upset? Don’t you love Grandma?” Julie asked.
“Of course I love her,” Angie said. “But even if she dies, we can be together forever.”
“I thought being together forever meant none of us would ever die,” Julie said.
Angie smiled. “Being together forever means we can be together as a family in Heavenly Father’s kingdom.”
Julie sighed. “I don’t understand.”
“Next month Mark and I are going to be married,” Angie explained. “Do you know where?”
“In the temple,” Julie answered. “You’ve been planning it for months.”
“Actually, I’ve planned on being married in the temple for as long as I can remember,” Angie explained. “In the temple we will be sealed together as an eternal family unit. Because Grandma and Grandpa were sealed in the temple and Mom and Dad were sealed in the temple, we are all sealed together as a family even after this life.”
“And that’s all there is to it?” Julie asked.
“We also have to try to live as an eternal family now. We need to live the gospel, love one another, and help each other.”
“I’m glad you are my sister forever,” Julie said.
“So am I,” Angie responded.

Joshua Wright walked out onto the playground during recess on his first day of first grade. He saw his friends running toward the jungle gym and swings. Then he saw some of the new kindergarten students standing alone against the school wall. A few of the older students were teasing them.
“Kindergarten babies!” someone chanted.
“You’d better watch out,” another boy said. “Stay away from the swings and the tricky bars. Only the big kids get to play on them.”
Joshua remembered how he had felt last year on his first day of kindergarten. Some of the older students had teased him, and sometimes he didn’t like going out to recess.
Joshua’s mom and dad had always taught him to look out for others who needed friends. They had taught him the story of the Good Samaritan and told him that Jesus wanted all members of His Church to be Good Samaritans. Joshua decided that he would find a way to be a Good Samaritan to the new kindergarten students.
A few days later Joshua came up with a plan. He asked his teacher if the first-grade students could be paired with kindergarten students as special buddies. He thought that if the kindergarten children each had a special first-grade friend, the big kids would be less likely to tease them. Joshua’s teacher took his plan to the first-grade students. They were eager to help. Soon each kindergarten student felt special and protected by his or her first-grade buddy.
Joshua watched as first graders offered to play with younger students and included them in their games. The new buddies even asked the other children not to tease or pick on the kindergarten students.
After a few weeks, nearly all the teasing stopped. Parents and teachers noticed that many of the older students were making extra efforts to be kind to the kindergarteners.
This year as Joshua prepares to be baptized, he feels happy that he listened to the Spirit. When the school community council met, they voted to continue Joshua’s buddy program. As last year’s kindergarten students returned to school as first graders, they were excited to be new first-grade buddies to a new class of kindergarten students. They learned from Joshua’s program that one buddy really can make a difference.

One night during this time, I was awakened from a deep sleep by a voice which came into my mind. As I listened to what was being said, I realized that my great-great-grandfather was speaking to me. I lay there for a moment, listening and thinking. My great-great-grandfather was telling me to have his family sealed to him. He had lived in the United States in the mid-1800s. Due to the American Civil War and the economic conditions prior to the war, my great-great-grandfather George Wilkie had been away from his beloved wife and four sons a great deal. Eventually he died while serving his country in the Civil War.
I had read copies of letters George Wilkie had written home to his family and letters his family had sent to him during his many absences. I had also read his journals. These letters and journals reflected the love family members had for one another, as well as their desires to be reunited.
My ancestors were not Latter-day Saints and did not have the blessings of the gospel. Now, in the middle of the night, here was my great-great-grandfather Wilkie saying to me, “Terry Lynn, please have my family sealed to me. I want to be with them through eternity. Please have our temple work done! You are now away from your husband—imagine that for eternity. It is awful! I want to be sealed to my wife.” Then, as suddenly as it had come, the voice was gone. At first, I thought I must be imagining things, and I lay there and thought about my great-great-grandparents. I decided I should do their genealogy and would start the work when I had the time. Then I began to fall asleep again. I was startled when the voice returned and said much the same thing, only this time urging me to have the work done soon. I decided to do something about it the next day. Apparently, however, my grandfather knew I would probably be distracted the next day, because he spoke to me yet a third time, and told me to do something NOW!
I could not quite believe what was happening, but in the middle of the night I got up and began working on genealogy. I sorted through miscellaneous papers and records and found the information I needed to begin. I then wrote letters requesting birth, marriage, and death certificates. When I had done all that I could do at that time, I finally went back to bed.
I worked on genealogy a lot during the six months my husband was gone. Eventually, I was able to go to the temple with my cousin and have my great-great grandparents sealed. I can testify that I felt their presence there in the temple and knew that, at last, they could be truly happy and together eternally.
Throughout the next four years my husband was required to be away from home much of the time. I was often comforted and strengthened reading the journals of my great-great-grandparents. Knowing that they had experienced similar situations somehow helped me to put my life in the proper perspective. I felt very close to them, and even though I had never met them, I felt I knew them. The example my great-great-grandparents unknowingly set for me has been, and continues to be, an inspiration.

While we do not know for certain what effect the sharing of the magazines and our testimonies had on those individuals or teams, we do know that through competing at college nationals over several years we were able to inspire one young woman who had also felt something from our performances. She was not a member of the Church at that time, but she wanted to come to BYU because of what she had seen the Cougarettes do at competition.

She applied for and was accepted to BYU. That led to her investigation of the Church and her baptism shortly thereafter. She then auditioned for and became a member of the BYU Cougarettes 2013 national championship team—during the year the team won in both jazz and hip-hop for the very first time.

I am so grateful to a loving Heavenly Father who provided a way for us to share a message and our light through our talents.

At the family history library near his home, Josh Taylor was looking at microfilm of a census for Stephenson County in Illinois. He was looking for information about his great-great-great-great grandfather, George A. Stiles. It was seemingly needle-in-the-haystack time.
“It’s a fairly big county, and I wasn’t looking forward to looking through the entire thing,” admits 12-year-old Josh. “But I had prayed about it, and immediately page 261 came to my mind.” And there it was: information about his relative.
“Whenever a page number pops into my mind, I can tell if it’s going to have something in it or not because I feel this excitement. It’s hard to explain,” he says.
What isn’t difficult to explain is how Josh feels about family history.
“Genealogy is addicting,” the Rexburg, Idaho, resident says. After school and on weekends, you’ll find the sixth grader working as a family history assistant at the Upper Snake River Valley Family History Center at Ricks College. Because he’s so young, some folks find it hard to believe he knows so much. After all, family history is a bit perplexing. That is, until they ask him a question and discover he really does know what he’s talking about.
“Once I’ve helped them, they will sometimes come in and ask, ‘Does Josh know something about that?’” he says. Even one of his trainers, Elder Melvin Dickerson of Rexburg, a former full-time family history missionary, was a bit skeptical at first. “We don’t run a baby-sitting service,” he said more than once.
But Elder Dickerson quickly changed his mind when he discovered Josh was serious about the work. “He learned very fast,” he says. “He just gobbled everything up. He was incredible, and still is.”
While the use of computers is sometimes a stumbling block to some researchers, Josh is adept. Dickerson adds, “He is still a young child in some ways, but when it comes to family history, he knows how to do it and how to run the computers.”
Josh describes genealogy as a puzzle. “I have names and I find dates. I have children and I find parents,” he says. “It’s like pieces of a puzzle, and when you complete it, you shellac it and put it on the wall. When quizzed on his own genealogy, he can recall the names of family members back at least 12 generations.
Each day after school, Josh returns home from school and does his homework. Then he showers and changes into a dress shirt and tie for his two hours of work at the library.
“I feel it’s important to get dressed up. I am kind of a missionary,” he adds. “Going there each day is about what I expected it to be except for the spiritual things that I have gained. That’s been totally unexpected.”
Josh’s interest was sparked in early 1996 when many of his fellow fifth-grade classmates were attending a school-sponsored ski school. Instead of skiing, the 10-year-old signed up for an alternative minicourse on genealogy offered by the school. Josh’s mother, Judy Taylor, initially was concerned that two hours of genealogy each week would be too long for her young son. But he soon was hooked and found himself wanting to stay longer and longer at the local family history center.
While his parents, who teach music at Ricks College, were touring with the college orchestra a few months later, Josh stayed with his grandparents for a few days in Logan, Utah. His grandparents, who were serving as family history missionaries, took him to the family history center, where he learned more about the computer programs used by genealogists. Later that year, Josh read in his ward newsletter that Church leaders were looking for more local family history missionaries.
“That caught my attention, and I thought it would be fun,” he says. Josh then prayed about what to do, finding his answer that night while reading his scriptures.
“Right then I knew it was my answer, so I went to see my bishop,” he says. Bishop Kendell Nielsen of the Rexburg 15th Ward says he was a bit surprised, but encouraged the boy to pursue his desire. Josh soon was asked to work at the family history center located at the Rexburg North Stake Center. He has now switched to the family history center at the college, where he serves as an assistant for about seven hours each week. His parents say they have seen signs of maturity because of their son’s work.
“It’s made him a better student,” Sister Taylor says. And it’s dramatically helped his spelling. Before he’s allowed to go off to the center, he’s told his schoolwork must be done. “So it gets done pretty quickly,” Josh’s mom adds.
Josh was recently honored by his school as Student of the Month in English, a subject in which he had struggled previously. His father, David Taylor, adds, “We’ve noticed a dramatic improvement in his social skills.”
Josh tells of a time when a woman was trying to find her long lost brother. When she found the man’s name listed in the Social Security death index, the woman broke down and cried. She didn’t realize he was dead. “You don’t know what to say,” Josh says. “I let my grandma take over.”
When he’s not helping others, he works on his own family line. Recently, he found an ancestor for whom the family had been searching for years. At that point, one of his relatives remarked, “He really does know what he’s doing, doesn’t he?”
Josh’s interest has spurred other family members to work on genealogy too. His mother, who in the past didn’t have the time, suddenly finds herself at the center more often. And his other set of grandparents also have begun researching their family line.
His grandmother Martha Taylor of North Logan, Utah, says their common interest in family history has tied the family together. “I find it’s been a real bonding thing between us,” she says. “It’s given us so much to talk about and to build a relationship around.
“He knows computers much better than I do,” Sister Taylor adds. “On the other hand, I slow him down and tell him to do it thoroughly.”
Blaine Bake, director of the family history center at Ricks, says, “I wish I were in his shoes. He’s at the beginning of his life, and I’m at the winding-down stages, and there are going to be so many technological changes. Now that he’s 12, he’s looking forward to doing the temple work for some of the ancestors he has researched.”
But family history isn’t Josh’s only interest. He plays percussion in the school band and has acted in several theater productions at Ricks College. Last year he also placed first in his division in the Idaho State History Fair.
As for the miniclass in genealogy where his interest all started two years ago? This past winter he taught the class.

Of all the New Eras I’ve read, I was never so happy to see one as I was last week. Here we were, sitting in our flat, my companion sick with German measles, both of us feeling like “dead fish” missionaries, when we received our first New Eras since the 19-week-old mail strike here in the Emerald Isle. And boy did they cheer us up! Especially the article “Your Life Has a Purpose.” We really felt guilty about complaining. Cheerio!
Elders Egan and ElliottIreland Dublin Mission

I wish to express my deepest heartfelt thanks to the New Era, the members of my ward, and my best friend, Shirley Beo, for showing me the way to Heavenly Father.
I live in Myrtle Creek, Oregon, and met Shirley in the seventh grade. Neither of us really fit in at school. She had just moved to Oregon from England, and I was a social outcast. My life up to then had been rough, but Shirley seemed to turn me around. It wasn’t until five years later that I asked Shirley to pick me up for church.
I must tell you how shocked I was to feel Heavenly Father’s Spirit so strong. The members of the Myrtle Creek Ward accepted me as one of their family, and I have never met a bishop as terrific as the bishop of our ward, David Antis, Sr. Two months later my parents, both of whom are nonmembers, allowed me to be baptized. My life was turned around from then on.
I am now assistant to the president in our priests quorum, and the oldest and one of the most active youth in our ward. I play Church basketball and volleyball and am in top form for school. Last quarter I pulled my first 4.00 report card.
I wish to thank all the people who have helped me, and also the New Era for all the encouraging articles.
Robert RussellMyrtle Creek, Oregon