Gospel Story Finder

Primary children of the Sarasota Ward, Sarasota Florida Stake, earned blocks to build the Nauvoo Temple by coming to Primary, bringing their scriptures, and learning the Articles of Faith. They learned that families are forever!

In 1840, when Charles was twenty-one years old, he heard two Mormon missionaries preaching the gospel. He knew that what they were teaching was true, and he asked to be baptized. Charles was the only member of his family to join the Church. Not long after his baptism, Charles also became a missionary and was the companion of the missionary who baptized him! Charles served his mission in England and North Wales until 1843.

Julio Cesar Merlos of the Arlington Texas Stake writes: “I remember when my brothers and sisters and I were growing up. We were new members of the Church, and our family didn’t have many financial resources, but we had faith in the gospel. My father set the example for us by his scripture reading. For him, family home evening was an opportunity to teach us what he himself was learning.
“One of my father’s family home evening lessons really made an impression on me. That was the time he taught us about agency. I remember the words my father spoke: ‘I want to give you a piece of advice to remember for the rest of your lives. When you are tempted to disobey the Word of Wisdom or the law of chastity or any other commandment of God, think about whom you are sinning against. Is it God, the Church, your parents, your family, or yourself? I want to tell you that the one you are sinning against the most is yourself.’
“As I grew up, tests came to me that were as serious as the ones my parents warned me about. I tried to remember the advice my father gave us that night. Twenty-five years after hearing my father’s counsel, it still fortifies me greatly and makes me stronger. Now my children are hearing the same advice from me.”

Growing up, Brother Olsen played the trombone—the only choir he participated in was the missionary training center choir and that was a spiritual experience to him which inspired his participation in the Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square.

Jessie’s story is told by her friend, Maria Russo, who serves as the communication director in the Adelaide Australia Firle Stake.
Jie Ren, or Jessie as she likes to be called, arrived in Adelaide in March 2020 to study a master’s degree in speech pathology at the Flinders University.
Little did Jessie know that she had arrived just when the World Health Organisation declared the coronavirus to be a pandemic and her first semester would be in lockdown.
Jessie felt completely alone, isolated and scared. She said that all she had in her life during that time and all she did was to be “home alone, study, eat, sleep and repeat.” She was relieved when in July 2020 she was able to attend university for the first time since arriving in Australia.
Jessie said that being in a new country, away from family and friends, not knowing anyone in Australia and having to do all her studies (in what she said is an intense program) online for the first semester, took its toll on her and by November 2021 she was physically and mentally drained to the point that she needed to seek medical help.
During this time (Nov. 21) Jessie saw an advertisement on Facebook inviting people to English classes. The classes were being held by missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Jessie had previous experience with the Church in Shanghai when she was invited by friends to attend meetings, which she did sometimes. When she saw this post on Facebook, she was super excited and wanted to attend not only to learn English but also to be able to interact with people and perhaps make some friends.
As she dialled the number given in the ad, she was worried and apprehensive that she wouldn’t be accepted. She thought that the Church was a “sacred organisation and only members could attend.” She wanted to know if it was possible that she would be “accepted by God because [she had] little knowledge of Him.”
When Jessie was told she was more than welcome to attend she was delighted—ecstatic would be a more appropriate word.
Jessie still remembers the first day she entered the Adelaide Branch for English classes. She said the missionaries made her feel so very welcome and for the first time in a very long time she said she felt that “everything seemed right again.” She said it was like she “saw the light guide [her] through the darkness and felt hope again.”
Jessie couldn’t find a way out of COVID-19 and that first English class made her feel like there was light at the end of the tunnel.
After many English classes and the missionaries and members making her feel “so loved and welcomed” Jessie felt like she had arrived home. She was baptized on the first day of January 2022. She says it was a perfect way to start a new year and a new life.
Following is a quote from Jessie’s talk at her baptism:
“It is a big relief to know that there is a plan for everything happening in my life, and that plan is in the hands of God. He teaches me that I do not need all the answers and that it is okay not to know everything. Having faith in Him and keeping His commandments, I will find my inner peace. I can be calm to face difficulties in my life and believe I will make it eventually.
“I am so grateful that I am able to know God and get to experience the love and care that He has for me. I am ready to continue this journey with Him and pray that He will draw me closer to Him and guide my steps.
“Today I’m so excited to be baptized and share with all of you that I love Jesus, and He is my Lord and Saviour.”

Imagine you are standing at the edge of a cliff and want to get to the other side of a deep canyon, where you have been told that great happiness awaits you. As you search for a way to cross, you find a pile of supplies that, if put together correctly, will build a bridge to cross the canyon.
If you don’t know how to build the bridge, the supplies will be useless and you will feel frustrated and hopeless. But if you get help from someone who has experience in building bridges, your knowledge and understanding can increase and together the task can be accomplished.

In December 1837 Joseph Smith cut off from the Church approximately 40 dissenters in a “high and mighty pruning.”5 This action brought persecution, hatred, and threats of bodily harm and death to Brigham, who had vigorously testified against the malcontents and defended the Prophet. His life in peril, Brigham fled Kirtland on 22 December. Shortly thereafter, Joseph and other faithful members left Kirtland as well.

During that winter, Mary Ann and her five children had to fend for themselves while apostates terrorized them, ransacking their home in the pretended belief that Brigham was hiding there. The tormentors “used ‘threats and vile language’ that undid [Mary Ann’s] emotions until her health became frail. This was, she later told her biographer, ‘undoubtedly the severest trial of my life.’”6

In February 1838, Mary Ann, now suffering from tuberculosis, gathered her children and what few possessions the mob had not taken and undertook the long, difficult journey from Kirtland, Ohio, to Richmond, Missouri, to rejoin her husband. “He was so … shocked at the change in her appearance that his first exclamation was, ‘You look as if you were almost in your grave.’”7

Brigham could now devote himself to nursing Mary Ann to good health. The Lord also knew of her desperate need for relief and care. On 17 April 1838, Joseph Smith received a revelation temporarily relieving Brigham from his heavy Church responsibilities, thus allowing him to care primarily for his family and ailing wife.8

A few months ago, I was kneeling in prayer with a young family in Albuquerque. I had a wonderful warm feeling as I opened my eyes and looked around that circle. It was as if I imagined families in homes throughout the world having that same experience. Hopefully, if the pattern of prayer is established in our homes, individual family members will help reproduce that pattern for others as my roommates did for me.

“It’s dark in here,” whispered Tracy, reaching for her sister’s hand.
“Your eyes will adjust,” answered Alice in her most cheerful, grown-up voice. “Sister Knight’s room is down there. Come on.”
“This place smells funny. I wish Mom was with us.”
Alice had been wishing the same thing. Everything about the nursing home seemed to press against her skin. She wanted to run down the dark corridor, through the heavy glass doors, and into the bright sunlight.
“Think about Honeysuckle,” Alice suggested. “She’s the most adorable kitten in the world, and she was a gift from Sister Knight. Now she needs something from us.”
“What?” Tracy asked her big sister.
“I guess we’ll find out. Listen, Tracy, I’m nervous too. Eleven-year-olds don’t know everything.”
“Are you here to see Mrs. Knight?” a nurse asked as she came toward the girls. When Alice nodded solemnly, the nurse boomed, “Good—you’ll be better for her than anything the doctor could order!”
Before Alice realized what had happened, the nurse had ushered them into the room and they were standing beside Sister Knight’s bed.
“Alice and Tracy.” Sister Knight spoke very softly, but her smile was as radiant as ever.
Alice told Sister Knight about the Primary quarterly activity that they had attended the previous week. After telling about all the booths and contests, she gave a happy sigh and said, “It was a really fun carnival.” Then there was an awkward silence. Should we leave? she wondered.
Suddenly Tracy said, “Want to hear the song I learned at school?” She began singing, “‘I’ve been working on the railroad …’”
Uh-oh, thought Alice. Maybe we’re not allowed to make this much noise. But Sister Knight loved it! Her eyes sparkled, and she began nodding in time with the tune. So Alice and Tracy sang more school songs, then some from Primary. Sister Knight even tried to sing along with them. By the third Primary song, she was smiling with her eyes closed. She was sound asleep.
“We’ll come back Friday,” Alice said softly to Tracy as they tiptoed from the room. She didn’t think that the hall was so gloomy now, and she noticed that Tracy wasn’t holding her hand anymore. “I’m going to tell Mom what a terrific idea you had about singing,” said Alice.
“Tattletale!” Tracy said, laughing.
“Will you come back with me Friday?”
“Sure. Sister Knight is still fun, even if she is in bed.”
Alice set up a schedule. Every Tuesday and Friday she and Tracy biked to the nursing home.
Alice took snapshots of Honeysuckle. She showed them to Sister Knight and told her about the kitten’s silly antics.
Tracy made her a dandelion chain, and she planted a bean in a paper cup. When she placed it on Sister Knight’s window-sill, she said, “I thought that maybe you’d like to have a tree in your room.”
Then slowly the visits started to change. Sister Knight seemed to be shrinking. Her body seemed to disappear beneath her bedclothes. There were days when Alice wondered if she even recognized them. It spooked Alice when Sister Knight sometimes looked right at her without seeming to see her.
One thing didn’t change: They always sang. Singing had broken the ice during their first visit, and singing was a part of each visit thereafter.
When summer ended, things got harder. “I don’t know how I can keep going to the nursing home with all my schoolwork,” Alice said. Tracy nodded, and Alice knew that deep down they both were beginning to dread the visits. They weren’t fun anymore, and Sister Knight recognized them less and less, although she always relaxed and looked peaceful when they sang.
In mid-October, Alice had an important science project due. She wanted to skip the visit to Mrs. Knight so that she could go to the library and find reference books on fossils. She was picking up her things to leave for the library when Honeysuckle rubbed against her leg. Alice reached down and scratched the top of the kitten’s head. It jumped onto her lap and purred contentedly. “OK, Honeysuckle,” Alice said. “We’ll go to the nursing home one more time.”
When Alice and Tracy walked into Sister Knight’s room, Alice thought, Oh no! She’s not here. Then her eyes adjusted to the dim light, and she saw the tiny woman huddled in the middle of the white hospital bed. Her thin hair stuck out in a strange, wild way. Her mouth was open, and she was moaning softly. The nurse entered the room, and put her arms around the girls. “Mrs. Knight is very weak and has been asleep for three days,” she explained, then left quietly.
Maybe she’s dying, Alice thought sadly. She tiptoed toward the bed, and, on an impulse, began to hum. Tracy joined in. Soon they were standing close by Sister Knight’s bed, singing:
“‘I am a child of God, And he has sent me here, Has given me an earthly home With parents kind and dear. Lead me, guide me, walk beside me, Help me find the way. Teach me all that I must do To live with him someday.’”
As they sang, Alice looked at their old friend, wanting, but afraid, to smooth her hair and kiss her cheek. Suddenly a flicker of a smile crossed Sister Knight’s lips.
“The hymn!” Tracy whispered. “I think that she heard our hymn!”
Alice’s heart filled with joy. We may not know for sure if Sister Knight hears us, thought Alice, but we can sing, anyway. It was the one gift that they could give her. “I’ll be back next Friday, Sister Knight,” she whispered.
“Me, too,” Tracy called back softly as they left the room.

I am only 11 years old, but for the past few years I’ve received a lot of opposition for my decision not to watch PG-13 movies. Several friends, and even some of their moms, have tried to convince me that a particular movie would be OK for me to watch because they had seen it and thought it was good. Once I chose not to attend a birthday party because they were going to see a PG-13 movie. At another party, out of 20 girls ages nine to twelve, only one other girl and I didn’t want to watch a PG-13 movie.
In My Gospel Standards it says, “I will only read and watch things that are pleasing to Heavenly Father.” There are reasons why a movie is rated PG-13. So even though I’ve been laughed at and made fun of, I feel good knowing that I am choosing to do what I feel Jesus would want me to do.

Kris Fisher is well known in Toronto, Ontario, as a world-class swimmer. But talk to Kris, and before you hear about flip turns and his time in the backstroke, you’ll likely hear about his brother, Tom.
Kris says, “Tom told me this,” or, “It’s like Tom always says.” He often quotes what his brother has said about life or swimming. But don’t misunderstand—Kris isn’t a parrot, and he doesn’t live in his brother’s shadow. Tom is, however, a powerful influence on Kris, a powerful influence for good.
Kris had started into some rough water. He was 16 years old and quickly becoming an internationally recognized swimmer. He ranked 50th in the world for his age group. He swam on the Canadian national youth team that competed in Sweden. He received a grant to help with the costs of swimming. Maybe those waters don’t sound too rough, but his success fueled his ego until it began to crowd out his dependence on serious swim practices, family support, and ultimately Heavenly Father.
“I got cocky,” Kris recalls, sitting on the steps of the Gorgas Library at the University of Alabama, where he now attends school. “I was getting swallowed up in pride instead of being humble and remembering what got me where I was.” His confidence led him to relax in his swimming practices and meets, and, even more dangerous, in his spiritual pursuits.
“The Church had become more of a once-a-week, just-on-Sunday thing,” Kris says. “I was going to church with my parents, but as soon as I left, it was like I stepped out of the Church world and stepped back into the regular world. The Church would just sort of slip out of my mind for the rest of the week.”
During this time, Tom was serving his mission in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Kris and Tom are the only children in their family and had both been competitive swimmers. They spent a lot of time together growing up, whether they were heading off at 5:00 A.M. for swim practice or just watching one of their favorite sci-fi television shows together. But with Tom leaving for college and then a mission, Kris, four years younger than Tom, got used to being alone.
Kris’s I-don’t-need-anyone’s-help attitude, however, began to take its toll. His swimming fell to a low, causing him to miss out on making other national teams or receiving additional grants. And the more frustrated he became with his performance in the pool, the more frustrated he became outside the pool. Arguments with his parents became part of the regular routine as they tried to counsel him; and the Church, though still a part of his Sundays, had become something he thought he would get serious about when he was older.
Through the letters Tom wrote home, Kris sees, looking back, that Tom understood what was at the root of Kris’s swimming frustrations. Tom wrote Kris letters about how he could improve—not his strokes or his time, but his testimony. He gave him advice about scripture study, prayer, and service. He also encouraged Kris to follow their parents’ counsel. Though both Tom and Kris understood the commitment needed to be a world-class swimmer, Tom had come to realize the more important commitment needed to be a valiant son of God—something Kris was still figuring out.
“It’s like the way Michelangelo described making a statue,” says Kris. “He said that the statue was already there [in the piece of stone] and he just cleared away the extra pieces. It was like that with Tom. He knew what was underneath my surface; he just helped clear away some of the rough edges.”
The rough edges didn’t chip off with the first pound of the chisel, though. Kris tried with half-hearted effort to implement some of Tom’s written advice, but he never really got into a daily routine of scripture study and prayer. So when Tom came home from his mission, Kris didn’t react very well to Tom’s missionary zeal.
For the first few weeks after Tom’s return, Kris didn’t want to hear Tom’s advice. “Tom had changed so much by being around the gospel 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I would just stand back when he tried to help me,” Kris recalls, grinning at his own stubbornness. Tom tried to get Kris to study daily and join in family prayer. He used analogies comparing swimming to the scriptures. He reminded Kris that he needed to put on the “whole armor of God.”
Kris remembers clearly when understanding finally clicked into place. “It always put me on the defensive [when he would talk to me about living the gospel] and I would think, ‘You’re used to all that. I’m not used to it. I haven’t been like that for a while.’ And then it just hit me. ‘I haven’t been like that for a while.’ Maybe there’s a reason things haven’t been going so well.”
Kris continues, “I was struggling and wasn’t going where I wanted to go. Then I finally realized that all Tom was doing was trying to help me, and I do need help from other people. There are other people out there who want to see me do well—my family and Heavenly Father want to see me achieve what I can achieve with their help. I changed my attitude—I’m not invincible. And when I made the gospel more of an everyday thing, all of a sudden it wasn’t just something I believed; it’s something I do and live.
“Tom helped me see that I wasn’t doing things in the gospel. I wasn’t training my spirit, and your spirit shrinks just like your body does if you don’t exercise it.”
Now that Kris has become converted through the help of his brother, he is continually strengthening those around him and helping them swim a smoother course—in and out of the pool. It is not uncommon to overhear Kris chatting about the gospel with his nonmember teammates on the University of Alabama swim team as they travel to meets. And he isn’t afraid to tell fellow students how they can make their lives better by living gospel principles.
“People can change a lot,” says Kris. “They can turn around and find out that all hope is not lost.”
Kris is no stranger to challenges, and he knows that others around him face the same things. But because of Tom’s help, he now knows that faith in Christ can calm even the stormiest seas.

Danny’s favorite birthday present was his red fire fighter’s hat. It had a light and siren on the front. The light flashed, and the siren rang loud and long. It was the perfect hat for any emergency.
One day Danny went next door to play with his friend Joe. Danny wore his new hat.
“Come on, Joe,” Danny said when Joe answered the door. “There’s a fire in the supermarket, and we have to rescue the people in there!” Danny turned the switch on his hat. The light flashed bright red. “Whirreee … ,” shrieked the siren.
“Here I come, Danny!” yelled Joe as he jumped down the steps two at a time.
They ran to the big tree in Joe’s front yard. Danny reached up and shouted, “Here’s the first victim!”
“Let me help,” said Joe.
After the boys rescued everyone in the supermarket, they sat down to rest.
“That was some fire!” said Danny.
“A real hot one,” said Joe. “Now it’s my turn to wear the hat.”
“No,” said Danny. “I’ll wear it. You pretend.”
“That’s not fair. You have to take turns.”
“It’s my hat, and I say no,” said Danny.
“Then play by yourself,” said Joe. And he turned to go home.
On his way home Danny rang his siren and flashed his light. He put out two fires and saved everyone just in time. But he wanted someone to play with. I’ll get Matt, he thought.
Danny found his little brother upstairs in his room. “Hey, Matt,” Danny said, “come and play fire squad with me. The barn at Green Valley is on fire. We have to get the horses out fast! Hurry!”
“I’m coming, Danny. I’m coming!”
Danny turned the switch on his hat. Matt followed him out the door. They fought the fire and smoke in the hall and down the stairs.
“Over here, Matt. Bring the hose!”
“I have it, Danny!” said Matt.
“Good work, Matt. I’ll go into the barn and lead the horses out.”
Danny ducked behind the sofa. “Here they are—all safe!” he cried as he crawled back out.
“My turn,” said Matt, pulling at the shiny red hat on Danny’s head.
“It’s not for little kids,” said Danny. “It’s my hat, and I say no.” He jerked the hat away from Matt, who ran back upstairs, crying.
Danny put out a fire in the kitchen and one in the backyard. But he wanted someone to play with again.
He went down the street to Sara and Susie’s house. Two friends are even better, he thought. He found them outside, playing ball.
“Want to play with me and my fire fighter’s hat?” asked Danny.
“Sure,” said Sara. “What’s the game?”
“There’s an oil spill on the lake. It’s dangerous. We have to put out the fire and save the crew on the tanker. You two go around this way. I’ll go over there.”
“Let’s hurry!” said Susie.
Danny switched on his hat. Flash! “Whirreee …” it wailed.
“Be careful!” called Sara.
They raced to where the oil spill burned and hosed it down. Sara spotted a sailor in the water. She signaled to Danny.
“Got him!” yelled Danny as he made the rescue.
“OK, now we want a turn wearing the hat,” said Sara, reaching for it.
“That will take too long,” said Danny. “I’ll keep the hat. You can be my crew.”
“That’s not right,” said Susie.
“We want turns, too,” said Sara.
“It’s my hat, and I say no,” said Danny.
“Then you can have all the turns you want without us,” said Susie. They left Danny alone on the sidewalk.
Danny went back home. He flashed his light and sounded his siren along the way. But it wasn’t much fun anymore.
His mom was on the porch when he got home. “Did your friends like your hat?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Danny. “But they all wanted a turn wearing it.”
“Of course they did. Sharing’s the very best part,” she said.
“Well, it’s my hat, and I said no.”
“You’ll have plenty of turns that way,” said Danny’s mom. “But you may have to play by yourself.”
Danny sat on the porch. He heard his friends playing and went to take a look. He could see Sara, Susie, and Joe down the block, playing keep away. Danny ran down the street to join them. “Can I play?” he asked. “I’ll be in the middle with Susie.”
They stopped their game and looked at Danny. They all saw the new red fire fighter’s hat on his head.
“It’s my ball,” said Sara. “And I say no.” She threw the ball over Susie, who leaped to try to reach it. Joe caught it and threw it back quickly, before Susie could tag him.
Danny turned to go home again. He didn’t put out any fires or rescue anybody along the way. When he got there, Matt was in the backyard by the sandbox, crying. “What’s the matter, Matt?” asked Danny.
“I saw a snake,” cried Matt. “I’m scared of snakes.”
“Hey, Matt. Don’t be scared. It’s probably just a garter snake. It won’t hurt you.”
“What if it comes back?” asked Matt.
Danny reached up to his head and took off his new hat. “Wear my hat, Matt,” he said. “If the snake comes back, turn on the siren. When I hear it, I’ll come chase the snake away.”
“You mean it, Danny? Can I really wear it?” asked Matt, managing a small smile.
“Really,” said Danny. “It’s my hat, and I say so.”

Photographs by Soubanh Phanthay
On that August morning in 2015, I felt particularity lethargic after getting off of a bus I had been in for 10 hours coming from Ontario, Canada, to a wilderness in Maine, USA. But I did feel some exuberance as I glanced toward the handcarts lined up in rows.
My friends and I stuck together as we knew we would soon be split into our “families” and companies. I love my friends, yet I was excited to meet new people from all over the eastern region of North America. Each of the youth was given a coloured* or patterned bandanna connecting them with a corresponding colour beside their handcart.
When it was my turn, they assigned me to my family and gave me a deep red bandanna. I ran to search for the handcart with the same bandanna. As I ran I noticed the shining sun and how stunning the weather was and felt absolute glee.
I met my Ma and Pa, three brothers, and two sisters and listened to the leaders’ opening remarks. The theme of the trek was “Go Bring Them In,” in reference to people who went and rescued companies who needed aid back in the pioneer days. I must admit that at that time I didn’t really understand why this theme was chosen or how it related to us. A prayer was said asking that we would continue to have good weather, and we were finally off!
We worked as a team and learned quickly that communication was vital. Those in the front must warn the others of rocks or holes. To distract us from the deathly heat of the sun, the three of us in the back began singing Disney songs quite loudly. We all bonded quickly and laughed a lot. Things were off to a good start.
Going into the second half of the day, our water bottles were being emptied fast. The August heat and humidity were not our friends. Still, we remained cheerful.
One of my brothers, Ian, who is tall, looked ahead and pointed out rainclouds. We all inwardly begged for rain because we were so hot and sweaty. A rain shower was sounding great right about then. Soon the captain of our company called for our rain ponchos to be put on. As the clouds drew nearer, they seemed to get darker and darker. The first raindrop came down as hard and fast as a bullet, warning us of what was to come.
Ten minutes later we were engulfed in a horrific storm. Heavy wind and rain made the pathway slick under my feet. My skirt soon became weighted with water. I jumped as a boom of thunder seemed to shake my bones! For two hours the weather never lightened one bit. Lightning flashed. Trees swayed in the wind. Everyone became covered with mud. The leaders started thinking that we wouldn’t be able to camp outside that night.
After reaching the field where we were meant to camp, I was exhausted. But it soon dawned on me that I wasn’t scared, and the other youth didn’t seem to be either.
The fire department had been called to evacuate us in buses. I felt strength and comfort that everything was going to be OK. One fireman said, “I’ve never seen a group of young people behave this way in this type of crisis—ever. It’s miraculous!”
The people of the nearest town in Maine came to our rescue. They let us stay in an empty university dorm building and offered up their own washers and dryers for our clothes! It felt incredible to get into new warm clothes and get grub into my stomach. That night the food was the best I had ever tasted. The people of the town just kept offering their services.
A town official met with one of our leaders and said in slight disbelief: “Ten years ago over 100 emergency blankets were donated to our town. The weird thing is, they were donated by your church!”
Humility overcame all of us! The theme for our trek was “Go Bring Them In.” Yet we were the ones who had been brought in. We had been rescued.
We headed out the next day as the sun finally came out. Paths had been flooded from the first day, and the rest of the trek was hard. But we all treated each other with kindness, because we had learned that kindness should never be overlooked. We would never forget that.
I’m sure everyone says this, but my experience was special. It was an amazing growing experience for me, and my testimony was strengthened. The blankets showed us that when we serve, the service can come right back to us. This gospel is true. The pioneers sacrificed so much for us. I know my Saviour died for me, and I wish to serve and continue to try to love as He did.

“Grandpa puts cotton on his face and pretends he’s Santa at Christmastime. On Christmas morning we’d all stay upstairs until Grandma and Grandpa came to our house; then we’d all go in to see the tree together.”

I saw another woman once whose little girl had been violated. “I will never forgive the culprit so long as I live,” she repeated every time it came into her mind. Vicious and ugly was the act. Anyone would be shocked and disturbed at such a crime, but to be unwilling to forgive is not Christlike. The foul deed was done and could not be undone. The culprit had been disciplined. In her bitterness the woman shriveled and shrank into a miserable person. (See The Miracle of Forgiveness, p. 294.)

Of the 400 participants, SION was among the 200 who advanced to the second round, but their performance was scheduled for the same day as a multi-stake youth conference, which involved half of the 35 choir members. The choir decided to go to the second round, so they hired a bus and, following their performance, traveled eight hours to the youth conference.

When I was a senior in high school I was excited to be called to serve as a member of the Amarillo Texas Stake’s youth conference committee. Most of the planning for the conference was left up to an enthusiastic group of about a dozen young people. Our committee met a few Sundays a month for almost a year at our stake center, an hour’s drive from my home. We also dedicated several hours in between meetings to researching ideas and praying for inspiration. I could see that serving on the committee was bringing me closer to the Lord. Although I had to travel an hour each way to the meetings, I felt good about what I was doing.
Generally, I enjoyed having uninterrupted quiet time to myself in my car on those Sunday afternoons to ponder the items we had discussed at our meeting or just to think. However, as the seasons changed and the hours of daylight shortened, I found that more of my drive home was in the dark. Even though I had had my driver’s license for about a year, something about driving on the highway alone at night made me uneasy.
One night was particularly distressing. Although the roads were relatively straight and safe, I was paralyzed by fear. I managed to go only half the speed of the other cars on the highway. My knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel. I poured every ounce of my consciousness into focusing on the road ahead of me and, after a few miles, was nearly exhausted by the effort. I realized that by driving so slowly I was only prolonging my terror, but try as I might, I could not make myself go any faster.
Keeping my eyes open and my hands on the wheel, I said a fervent prayer aloud, asking that I might be comforted. I thanked the Lord for the opportunity that I had to serve Him while I was on that committee and asked that He would grant me the ability to fulfill my calling—which included traveling to and from my meetings.
Immediately after I finished my prayer, a scripture I had studied in seminary came to my mind. I had heard the words a hundred times: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise” (D&C 82:10).
Simple as it may seem, those words were an answer to my prayer. Immediately I felt the comfort of the Holy Ghost reassuring me that as long as I did the things the Lord expected of me, I would be taken care of. I also knew that if I was obedient to the laws of the land by wearing my seatbelt and not speeding, I would be doing all I could to allow for Heavenly Father’s protection.
Relief swept over me following my appeal to the Lord. I am grateful that my seminary teacher encouraged me to learn the scripture mastery scriptures. That night I learned firsthand what a blessing familiarity with the scriptures can be.

It was a normal Sunday, just like any other, and my family and I went to church. Sacrament meeting started, and as I sat there my mind wandered. It felt so good to be there with my family, and I had a really warm feeling of comfort. The sacrament hymn that day was “I Stand All Amazed.”
I began singing:
I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.
I tremble to know that for me he was crucified,
That for me, a sinner, he suffered, he bled and died.
(Hymns, no. 193)
When we came to the chorus, I started crying. My lips trembled, and the tears ran down my face.
Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me enough to die for me!
Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me.
I couldn’t even finish the hymn; I just put my head down as silent sobs shook my body.
And then, all of a sudden, I felt something I had never felt before. It was complete happiness and gratitude for my Savior. I looked at the sacrament table and realized how wonderful the sacrament really is.
It had become real to me. Jesus died for me! He suffered for my sins in the Garden of Gethsemane. He suffered for every one of us. He suffered so much pain that he bled from every pore, and he did it willingly. Through all of his suffering, his heart was filled with love for us, and even for those who wronged him. What a great and perfect example.
He did all of this because he loves me, and he knows me. Before then, I wasn’t really sure if the Savior loved me or knew me. But all at once I knew.
Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me, enough to die for me!
Oh it is wonderful, wonderful to me.

The Young Women of the Orem Aspen Fifth Ward, Orem Utah Aspen Stake, chose to forego their traditional Christmas party and donate the money earned at a bake sale to the general missionary fund. In conjunction with this activity, each girl wrote her testimony and placed it in a Book of Mormon to be used for distribution in the mission field. The girls felt this was an especially worthwhile project and enjoyed participating.

There are some family crises that can become laughable lessons. My aunt and uncle, both fond of practical jokes played on themselves and others, lived on a ranch without running water. One cold, rainy evening, my uncle came in drenched to see his wife sitting comfortably by the fireplace. She said, “Dear, since you’re already wet and cold, will you bring in a bucket of water?” He went out and returned with the water, dumped it on her, and said “Now you’re wet and cold. Could you go get the water?” They laughed as they retold the story, and the incident became a family joke. So now when we really shouldn’t ask a favor, or when we realize we are imposing, we start the request with, “Since you’re already wet and cold … ,” and the job usually gets done with a smile.