Gospel Story Finder

Not long ago, a young missionary stopped by my wife’s office at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, to make a special personal request. Since he knew that we were personally acquainted with his parents, he wondered if Sister Christensen would call his father and find out when his mother was going to have her surgery. He explained, “When my youngest sister was born, my mother almost died. All of us, including my five-year-old sister, fasted for her and she got well. Since that time, I worry when I think of operations. They make me nervous. I need to know when the surgery is going to be scheduled so that I can begin my fast.”
My wife willingly dialed his father’s telephone number and asked the elder if he would like to speak personally to him. He felt he should not because he knew it was against the policies and he thought it would make him homesick. When his father answered and learned that the call was from the Missionary Training Center, his first question was, “Is anything wrong?”
“No,” he was told, “not at all, but your son needs to know when the surgery on his mother is going to be so he can begin his fast.”
“Oh,” he said, “he’s going to be disappointed, because he can’t fast before the surgery; she already had it yesterday. It lasted for five hours and she is doing very, very well. We are so thrilled.”
The elder’s face brightened as he realized what was being communicated on the telephone.
“Tell my father I love him and send him a hug and a kiss. Tell him to give my mother a hug and a kiss from me and to all the family.”
After the telephone call ended and the details about the surgery were explained, this great young elder said, “Oh, I’m so thankful; I will fast anyway for gratitude!”
My wife, Barbara, wrote in her journal, “We shook hands and he left my office, and I sat down and cried!”

For 67 years, Marjorie Pay Hinckley kept pace with her husband, President Gordon B. Hinckley, as he traveled the world. On 6 April 2004, her mortal journey ended. Surrounded by family and loved ones, Sister Hinckley quietly passed from this world to the next due to causes incident to age. Born on 23 November 1911, she was 92.
As evidence of the countless lives she touched, thousands attended a public viewing, some of them standing in line outside on a blustery spring day for more than three hours. Thousands attended the funeral held in the Tabernacle on 10 April, and tens of thousands more watched on television and by satellite broadcast.
“She conversed with kings and queens. She loved little children,” President Thomas S. Monson, First Counselor in the First Presidency, said of Sister Hinckley’s ability to relate to people from all walks of life. “There was no flaw in her character. … Like the Master, Marjorie went about doing good.”
“She had such a good life,” said President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency. “All of us would benefit from following her faith, commitment, and devotion.”
During the funeral services, the Hinckleys’ five children—Kathleen, Richard, Virginia, Clark, and Jane—shared quotes from Sister Hinckley and gave expressions of gratitude to their mother. Clark Hinckley read a letter written by President Hinckley to his wife after nearly 60 years of marriage. “My darling, … I have known you for a long time … and it has turned out as I had hoped it would. … Now we have grown old together. … And when in some future day the hand of death gently touches one or the other of us, there will be tears, yes, but there will also be a quiet and certain assurance of reunion and eternal companionship.”
Sheri L. Dew, former member of the Relief Society general presidency and biographer of President Hinckley, said that while 12 million members together cannot take Sister Hinckley’s place, each would be praying that President Hinckley would have the strength to carry on. She said that each member would try a little harder in order to ease the prophet’s burden.

As a young Aaronic Priesthood boy, I received a firsthand confirmation of the remarkable testimony of the Three Witnesses concerning the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. My stake president was President Henry D. Moyle, and his father was James H. Moyle. In the summertime Brother James H. Moyle would visit his family, and he would worship with us in our little ward in the southeast of the Salt Lake Valley.
One Sunday, Brother James H. Moyle shared with us a singular [remarkable] experience. As a young man he went to the University of Michigan to study law. As he was finishing his studies, his father told him that David Whitmer, one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon, was still alive. The father suggested to his son that he stop on his way back to Salt Lake City to visit with David Whitmer face-to-face. Brother Moyle’s purpose was to ask him about his testimony concerning the golden plates and the Book of Mormon.
During that visit, Brother Moyle said to David Whitmer: “Sir, you are an old man, and I’m a young man. I have been studying about witnesses and testimonies. Please tell me the truth concerning your testimony as one of the witnesses of the Book of Mormon.” David Whitmer then told this young man: “Yes, I held the golden plates in my hands, and they were shown to us by an angel. My testimony concerning the Book of Mormon is true.” David Whitmer was out of the Church, but he never denied his testimony of the angel’s visitation, of handling the golden plates, or of the truthfulness of the Book of Mormon. Hearing with my own ears this remarkable experience directly from Brother Moyle’s lips had a powerful, confirming effect upon my growing testimony. Having heard it, I felt it was binding upon me.

This is the life! I found myself thinking as I stood in left field in my baggy white uniform, enjoying the sunshine and the scent of freshly cut grass. Little League baseball fans filled the stands, where hot dogs and drinks were selling for a quarter.
“Think!”
I was quickly brought back into the game as my coach stepped out of the dugout and yelled to our team. Oh yeah. I’m in a baseball game. A good hitter from the opposing team was approaching the plate, and coach wanted us to be ready. We knew from last week’s baseball practice that Think! meant “Ask yourself, What would I do if the ball were hit to me?”
My 11-year-old brain went to work. Let’s see … no outs, a runner on second base. If the ball comes to me in the air, I’ll catch it, check the runner on second to see if he’ll tag up, and throw to the second baseman. If the ball is on the ground, the runner might advance, and I’ll probably throw to third.
Now I know exactly what to do. With my knees slightly bent and my eyes fixed on the batter, I was ready for anything. The pitcher wound up and threw one right over the plate. I heard a loud crack as wood met ball. A line drive was flying straight towards me! In a split second, my mental computer judged the ball’s speed and trajectory and determined it would land just a few yards from where I was standing.
If I hustle, I can catch it. As I began running, out of the corner of my eye I saw the runner take off for third base. What was he doing? Didn’t he think I could catch it on the fly? On my fourth stride, I raised my mitt and felt the ball smack my left hand. In one motion I took the ball out of my mitt and threw it as hard as I could to second base.
I did it! I got the runner out! Or did I? Unfortunately, our second baseman forgot to think. He wasn’t on his base! He was just standing there watching. The ball bounced on the dirt infield, but luckily he scooped up the ball and stepped on the bag just in time to get the runner, who forgot to tag up.
Coach leaped from the dugout and shouted loud enough for all the players and spectators to hear, “Nice job, Bytheway!” A big Boy Scout smile spread across my face as the cheering crowd recognized the little kid in left field who just made a double play. I owed it all to my coach. He reminded me to think.

Vitaly: In Russia, as in many places, it is the norm for people to live together before marrying. After I proposed to Katya, some of my friends asked me how I could possibly marry her without knowing beforehand if we were personally compatible. They reasoned, as many also did with Katya, that the only way to really know whether she was right for me was to live with her for an extended period of time.
I told them that there is no need to live with a person to get to know him or her. I also tried to explain to my friends in a way that they could understand that I had prayed and received an answer that I should marry Katya. Having prayed about my decision, I had no fears about married life. I was excited and felt like a whole new life was unfolding before me. No one ever opposed or criticized me for taking this stand. In fact, they supported me in my decision.
Katya: When Vitaly proposed, my parents tried to talk me out of getting married. They thought it was too soon for us to be engaged and that I needed to know Vitaly better than I did. My boss at work told me the same thing and added, “You need to live together before you make a choice like that.”
I’m sad that people feel that way about marriage and family. I don’t think they understand how happy couples can be when they are married and sealed in the temple. The great love and happiness Vitaly and I felt at our marriage were made even stronger by the knowledge that we are sealed for eternity.

Julia’s step-sisters sat up front in the green station wagon with their father. Julia sat alone in the back.
The two sisters were much younger than Julia, noisy girls with straight brown hair, thicker than her own. And fair skin, no freckles.
“You want to guess what it is?” Elsie said over her shoulder, and Tina, the older sister, giggled. Julia ignored them. Elsie had asked the same question all morning. It was a game of suspense. During breakfast the girls had said they wanted to show Julia something. She wasn’t going to go but her mom said she had to. The whole thing was humiliating.
The car moved slowly through the warm air of the New Mexico morning. It pulled out of a suburb of white stucco homes and onto a highway that ran into the desert.
Julia’s step-father adjusted his rearview mirror. He wore a neatly ironed blue shirt that was open at the collar. “Cool enough back there?” he asked, smiling with a silly grin at Julia in the mirror. Julia didn’t break her grim expression. She nodded her head once.
“Fine,” he said. “Fine.”
The step-father was not an overly nervous man, but he was afraid to offend Julia when she was doing something with the girls. Julia took offense easily. She got mad when the girls came into her room or her parents didn’t let her do what she wanted. She got mad when her new father imposed curfews and rules around the house or when any of them asked her too many questions. She got mad a lot.
Once, she had overheard her mother on the phone to her aunt. “Julia’s 15,” her mother had said. “You remember that age. It’s just a stage.” And that made Julia even madder.
She wanted to tell her mother how wrong she was. This new family was her problem. The two step-sisters—Elsie was eight and Tina was ten. They were always trying to hang around her. Always getting into her stuff.
And the step-father. He had no right to control her life. She could take care of herself.
The car stopped by the edge of the desert. “It’s here, isn’t it?” their father asked, looking over at the girls.
“Yeah, close enough,” said Tina quickly. “Thanks.” She grabbed her bag close and pulled Elsie out of the car. Julia climbed out after them, bending her head down against a huge sun.
The dad rolled down his window. “Sure you don’t need me?” he asked. Tina shook her head and waved. “I’ll wait for you,” he called. But the girls were gone.
“How do you like them?” Elsie said. She turned to Julia who was looking down a hill, squinting. The bottom was barren, a dirty yellow expanse covered with specks of gray and blue. Further into the valley the larger forms of sagebrush and cactus were clear.
“Like what?” Julia snapped. They were wasting her time.
“You don’t see?” Tina said. The girls giggled and began to run down the hillside, lifting their feet with high strides. Julia watched the dust they kicked up and flinched. They were wearing white T-shirts. “You’d better follow us,” Tina called, halfway down. Julia followed.
Elsie reached the bottom and the tiny dark gray shapes parted in waves as she ran through. Near the base of the hill Julia stopped, frozen.
“Lizards!” she screamed, but she couldn’t move.
“Yes,” said Elsie, running with both arms raised amid hundreds of tiny, squirming reptiles. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Julia edged back up the embankment, placing each foot carefully, until she came to a rock high enough to stand on. She took a long look around.
The reptiles were clumped in groups over every part of the small valley, from the break of the embankment to the rise on the far side of a red stone bluff. The ground was always different, in a new arrangement. In the middle, the light figures of Elsie and Tina were dancing. Their voices high, birdlike, echoing across the valley. After a while they ran back to Julia.
“This has to be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Julia said, staring intently at the moving ground below. Her toes twitched in her shoes. “How could there be so many?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” said Elsie. She picked up a gray lizard tail. “These just fall off,” she added with amusement, holding it up for Julia’s approval. “You know, when you pick them up.”
“You two are so disgusting!” Julia snapped. “I’m going back to the car.” But she didn’t. The ground beneath her swarmed with life, and for some odd reason it was a thing of immense interest. The girls had already discovered that. Along with the fact that the multitude of lizards, sunning themselves in the warmth of the morning, were completely harmless.
Tina pushed her bag over her shoulder and stared up at Julia. “Why are you always so mad at us?” Tina asked. “And Dad and your mom?” Elsie stopped searching for tails.
Julia looked slowly away from the valley floor into Tina’s eyes. Tina had intelligent, green eyes. Julia hadn’t even noticed. “Well, why do you guys have to bug me?” she said, but she didn’t mean it. Tina had caught her off guard and she didn’t know what to say.
“We don’t mean to bug you,” Elsie said.
“I do, sometimes,” said Tina. “Sometimes I don’t think you treat any of us very fair so I try to bug you. We don’t do anything to you.”
The father came to the top of the hill and called down. He had heard a scream. Julia smiled and said she had seen a lizard and the girls laughed. Then he wiped his forehead and started down the hill.
“Why did you bring me here?” Julia asked.
Elsie and Tina looked at each other, their eyes sparkling. Elsie whispered, “This place must be magical.” Her father had made his way to Julia’s rock, but would go no further.
“But why would you bring me?” Julia asked. The girls didn’t know what to say. “Did you think I’d like it?”
Elsie nodded.
“You have to admit, this is—unusual,” said the girls’ father. “They just wanted you to see it. Include you in their secret.”
After a moment he left, walked up the hill, and for a while Julia didn’t say anything. She felt her conscience. They had lived as a family for four months and she had never stopped thinking of herself long enough to talk with Elsie or Tina, ask them about anything. Through all Julia’s anger they still wanted to accept her—love her. Their love wasn’t about being perfect, just about being together, that’s all.
Eventually she stepped down from the rock. “They don’t mind if you pick them up?” she asked, looking at the blue-bellies in Tina’s hand.
“Nah, I guess not. Just don’t grab them by their tails.”
Julia picked her way slowly down the hill and into the moving mass of reptiles. Tina and Elsie stood still, watching her. Julia thought of the girls; that they had brought her there because they wanted to be close, like real sisters. And for a time she played with them, among the lizards.
“I guess this is a magical place,” said Julia.
Elsie was scrambling about on the ground, rounding up lizards like a sheep dog. Julia and Tina laughed. Up the hill the world had ceased to exist. They were young. Friends. Sisters.

I had an experience recently which further illustrates these principles. A father who was very wealthy asked if I could talk to his family. His daughter had recently been through a divorce. I went to see her and her children. Her father could have provided for all of their needs and cares, but he said it was time for them to live more modestly and to help support themselves, to be more self-sufficient, to be able to stand on their own. This experience is similar to the Lord’s asking His Father, “Why hast thou forsaken me?” for the family’s reaction was, “Why would Father do this now when we need him the most?” But you see, he was preparing them that they might be strengthened by providing for their own needs, so that when they did gain their inheritance, they would be able to endure to the end and remain self-sufficient.

There are times that we, as parents, must be able to cut our own children loose in order that they may learn to make decisions for themselves and have the strength to stand on their own.

One day my friend got angry with me. She yelled and shouted at me. For two weeks I was angry with her. After the first week, she asked me if I wanted to walk with her. I said no. Then one day I prayed and asked Heavenly Father if He would help me not be angry. The next week my friend asked me if I would walk with her, but I still said no. The next time she asked me, I wasn’t angry, and we walked together from then on. Heavenly Father helped me forgive my friend. And that’s how I learned that self-control works, just like Elder Gibbons said in the Friend.

Lisa’s ‘Helping Hand’
Ward member Sister Lisa Howe and her husband, Wes, have been a regular driving force behind the Christmas-day meals provided at the Telford chapel for the homeless and vulnerable in the borough, working in conjunction with local businesses, who reduce the cost of the food and other goods they provided. Between 120-150 meals are provided every year. Before Christmas 2020 this has been a combination of sit-in and home-delivered meals. Bishop Pointer says, “We work in partnership with the local charity KiP@Maninplace, which identifies the homeless who require a delivered hot meal. We also work with the local council and other local organisations to identify lonely and vulnerable residents, and we extend an invitation to them for somewhere warm to sit, enjoy the company of others, and have a hot Christmas day meal.”
However, there is a twist to this Christmas tale—Sister Howes only has the proper use of one arm. In September and October 2020, as a gift for Lisa, her family raised funds to have a mechanical left arm fitted. Bishop Pointer says, “Lisa’s family want to help her get a bionic arm and ward members wanted to assist as Lisa has blessed so many lives within the ward (and beyond). Church members have contributed over £4,000 through a multitude of activities within their families, and circles of friends, including car boot sales. By the end of December 2020, the £15,000 target was met, and Lisa is already going through the process of getting that bionic arm.”

Ten-year-old John Taylor took a basket of food to Mr. Allee West, an old family friend, who lived three miles from the Taylor home in Milnthorpe, England.
Mr. West: Johnny, it’s good to see you again.
John: Here. My mother sent you these.
John enjoyed visiting with Mr. West, but when dark clouds started to come, he realized he needed to leave.
John: Mr. West, it’s getting dark. I need to be getting home.
Mr. West: Johnny, let me walk you home.
John: This is my first trip here by myself, and my mother won’t let me come alone again if you do.
John started down the hill toward home. Soon thick fog started rolling in.
John: This lamp won’t light.
The fog thickened and closed in around him. Soon he came to a big iron fence, and he heard a dog growling. He was lost.
John: The path ends here! What’s that noise?
He was very scared. He remembered something his mother had taught him.
John: Mother said that I can pray anywhere at any time.
As he prayed, his fear left him.
Mr. West: Johnny! Johnny!
Mr. West had decided to follow young John to make sure he arrived home safely.
Mr. West: Johnny, I’ve come to take you home.
John: God did answer my prayer!
John Taylor later became the third President of the Church. He never forgot the answer to prayer he received as a young boy, and he prayed diligently all his life.

In a western city a young man had been preparing for 18 years to go on a mission. He was excited, his parents were excited, his girlfriend was also, and he was ready.
One evening at the city swimming pool, he and some friends were diving from the highboard. The second he hit the water, he knew his approach angle had not been good. He was in trouble. His head pierced the water and struck the bottom of the pool with a sickening thud. He was immediately knocked unconscious. He was brought carefully to the poolside and then rushed to the hospital. After weeks of medical attention, he was finally told that he would be paralyzed for the rest of his life from his neck down. He couldn’t move a finger or a toe, an arm or a leg. He would now lie in bed forever. His body would become a useless thing, and unless something unusual happened, so would his spirit.
A wise bishop recognized the problem. After talking with the boy’s parents and the doctor, the bishop gave him an assignment. It was unbelievable, unreal, impossible! The assignment: would he please write a letter each month to every missionary and serviceman from their ward? Was the bishop just not thinking or was he inspired? How could the boy write with no hands or fingers to assist? Some had learned to use their toes in such an emergency, but he couldn’t move his. Having faith in their bishop, the boy and his parents started to work on the assignment. It took days, weeks, and months of effort and discouragement. In time, it began to happen.
By putting a pencil between his teeth and moving his head, he learned to make a mark, then a word, next a sentence, and finally a page. He wrote and wrote.
For over 20 years he has been writing beautiful letters. He has inspired thousands. The side benefit is that his own spirit, simply stated, is magnificent. Is it worth the effort to follow our leaders’ counsel no matter how hard or how difficult? He thinks so. So do I.

On my first visit to the fabled village of Sauniatu in Samoa, so loved by President McKay, my wife and I met with a large gathering of small children. At the end of our messages to these shy, beautiful youngsters, I suggested to the native Samoan teacher that we go ahead with the closing exercises. As he announced the final hymn, I suddenly felt compelled to greet personally each of the 247 children. But the time was too short for such a privilege, so I ignored the impression. Before the benediction, however, I again felt this strong impression to shake the hand of each child. I told the teacher that I wanted to shake the hand of each child. He displayed a broad Samoan smile before relaying my intentions in Samoan to the children. They all beamed when they heard his translation.
The teacher then told me the special reason for their joy. He said, “When we learned that President McKay had assigned a member of the Quorum of the Twelve to visit us in faraway Samoa, I told the children that if each one would earnestly and sincerely pray and exert faith like in the Bible accounts of old, the Apostle would visit our tiny village at Sauniatu, and through their faith, he would be impressed to greet each child with a personal handclasp.” Tears flowed as each of those precious boys and girls walked by and whispered softly to us a sweet talofa lava (hello). The gift of faith had been evidenced.

My sister and I shared a room. People would ask me if it was hard, but I would tell them I loved it. Of course, we had arguments. We would sometimes go a few hours without talking to each other over some silly disagreement, but we still loved each other.
There came a time when Laura was struggling. She was having problems with friends and was struggling to keep up with her schoolwork. I didn’t realize just how unhappy she was until she confided in me and asked me for advice. I suggested that she should get a priesthood blessing. She agreed.
We asked a member of our ward to give my sister a priesthood blessing. I sat on the couch while Laura sat on a stool in the middle of the room. The words that were spoken were powerful. I’ll never forget when the person giving the blessing said that the Lord would always be there for my sister and that He had already sent angels to her. Then the blessing said that one of these angels was me, her sister.
I am so thankful for Laura. She’s been an angel for me just as I’ve tried to be an angel for her, and I know that when we’re there for each other, we’re helping the Lord in His work.

In 1975, while waiting for approval of the Book of Mormon translation, she began translating the Doctrine and Covenants. The other members of the translating committee discontinued translating for various reasons, so Sri was the mainstay of the scripture translation effort. Though she went to her job during the day, she felt driven to translate when she returned home. Often she worked late into the night, completing a rough translation of as many verses as she could in order to have them ready for the daily meeting of the translation committee. Once she went with other Church members to help with a cleaning project. After several hours of hard work, others suggested she go home to rest. Sri said that she was already resting because if she went home she would feel compelled to translate and could not sleep. The translation of the Doctrine and Covenants was completed in 1979.

On October 22, some of the rescuers pushed on to help the other handcart companies, while William H. Kimball, with the remaining wagons, started back to Salt Lake City in charge of the Willie company.
Those too weak to pull their handcarts placed their possessions in the wagons and walked beside them. Those unable to walk rode in the wagons. When they arrived at Rocky Ridge, another terrible snowstorm fell upon them. As they struggled up the side of the ridge, they had to wrap themselves in blankets and quilts to keep from freezing to death. About 40 of the company had already perished.3
The weather was so cold that many of the Saints suffered frostbite on their hands, feet, and faces while crossing the ridge. One woman was blinded by the frost.
We can imagine the Moultons, with their brood of eight children, pulling and pushing their two carts as they struggled through the deep snow. One cart was drawn by Thomas and his wife with its precious cargo?Lottie, Lizzie, and baby Charles?with little James Heber stumbling and being dragged along by the rope around his waist. The other cart was drawn and pushed by Sarah Elizabeth and the other three children. A kind, elderly woman, seeing little James Heber’s struggle, grasped his hand as he trailed behind the handcart. This kindly act saved his right hand, but his left hand, exposed to the subzero weather, froze. When they reached Salt Lake City, several of his fingers on that hand were amputated.

The rodeo chute burst open and a raging, bucking bronco leaped high into the air. A cowboy sat on the horse in perfect form, the rhythm of each move matched to the twisting and turning of the wild animal.
But then the crowd rose to its feet and gasped as the massive animal came crashing down on its side, all of its weight crushing the left foot of its rider.
Zane Davis picked himself up and hobbled over to the chute. When he got his boot off, the foot began to swell. The crushed bones eliminated his chances to continue in the competition, but that didn’t keep Zane down.
Less than a month later he was back in the saddle, working his way to the title as top college rodeo rider in the United States.
Now Zane is serving a mission in Brazil and teaching the gospel to people in Portuguese. And he says, “I wouldn’t trade this mission experience for anything—even a national professional rodeo championship.”
It was in June of 1990 that Zane Davis secured the award as the national collegiate all-around cowboy of the year in the College National Finals Rodeo in Bozeman, Montana. Although only a freshman at the College of Southern Idaho, Zane didn’t get to the number-one spot by simply riding a few wild horses and winning a few competitions. Zane’s training started before he could walk, when his father, Shawn Davis (a three-time National Finals Rodeo saddle bronc world champion), took him along to rodeos across North America.
At the age of three, Zane insisted that he be allowed to ride in the rodeo against the eight- to twelve-year-old cowboys. But since he was too young to compete, he was only allowed to demonstrate his riding skill. Undaunted, he put on his hat, boots, rope, and spurs and climbed aboard a rather angry calf. Zane says that the next thing he knew he was on the ground. Apparently, he had ridden the calf almost to the time limit before falling off.
He entered his next rodeo when he was only five, and this time a pony bucked him off. But he still walked away with third-place honors. Hundreds of rodeos later, Zane had earned an impressive array of saddles, belt buckles, trophies, and cash prizes. The success came as a result of hard work.
Each day at his parents’ ranch in Idaho, Zane exercised by doing eighty sit-ups, twenty pull-ups, and four hundred push-ups. In addition, his riding included roping ten to twenty calves and practicing once a week for each riding event. Also, before each rodeo, Zane asked his father for a father’s blessing. Zane says, “I feel that these blessings kept me from getting injured on many occasions; and when I was injured, I recovered remarkably fast.”
Zane adds that obeying the Word of Wisdom has been a great blessing in his life. “Other cowboys who drink and take drugs may be good for a very short time, but they never last long,” he says.
Another reason Zane has done so well is that he has learned to face challenges. At one rodeo, he had to ride a bull that had thrown off all the college-age riders who had tried to ride it. But Zane, only thirteen years old, got on the bull and rode him in three out of five attempts. “I don’t remember ever being really frightened at a rodeo,” said Zane. “A little fear is always good for you, but too much fear is not good. If you have a little fear, you plan better. If you have too much fear, you may get out of control.”
One of the hardest decisions Zane ever had to face was whether or not to go on a mission. Colleges all over the United States were recruiting him. Although he had always planned on a mission, the final decision was really hard. “But I decided I had to go on a mission to try to pay the Lord back for some of the many blessings I have received,” he said.
Zane wrote home from his mission and said, “I’ve learned many things. I’ve changed a lot. I thought riding three times at each rodeo all summer long was tough, but it wasn’t anything as tough as serving a mission; nevertheless, it has been good for me.”
In his life, Zane has ridden a thousand wild horses and roped a thousand calves. Rodeo became easy to him. But perhaps the best thing about the sport was the chance to be with his father—who was always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.
Zane’s mission in Brazil was not easy. He underwent the shock of learning a new language and living in a different culture. But Zane improved daily. And on his mission he learned firsthand that his Father in Heaven is always there, watching him, helping him stay safe.

Imagine this scenario: Your friend hasn’t been herself lately. Usually she’s upbeat and fun, but now she doesn’t want to do things that she used to have fun doing. You were surprised when she decided to stay home rather than go to a dance last Saturday. Every time you see her now she seems sad, withdrawn, and irritable. And this has been going on for a while.
As you think about it, you realize your friend was always a good student, but last week she didn’t turn in her history paper for the third time in a row. It’s like she’s lost her motivation. She says she feels tired all the time but can’t fall asleep at night and mentions how she always feels sad but doesn’t know why. She’s been this way for a while, and you’re worried she might be depressed.

One Sunday evening the family’s home teachers visited. The family was struggling through unemployment at the time, and that night she had only a half cup of rice, a little bit of oil to cook it in, and two small tomatoes. But appreciative of these faithful home teachers, she asked them if they would like to stay for dinner.
“My daughter asked how I could do that,” Sister Daggi recalls. She told her daughter to set the table. Then she went into the kitchen and prayed, “Lord, Thou fed 5,000. I’m asking only for seven.”
“That rice fed seven people,” she testifies.

Anna’s heart sank as she walked into the room and saw the Christmas tree. The water heater in their house had burst, and water was all over the floor. Dad was still trying to clean up the mess. The few presents under the tree were completely soaked.
Anna and her little brothers grabbed some towels and tried to dry the presents. But it didn’t really work. They were a soggy mess.
Anna’s family was going through a hard time. Her dad didn’t have a job right now. Her mom was going to have a baby soon, and she felt sick a lot. And now they wouldn’t have any presents for Christmas.
That night as Anna got ready for bed, she could hear Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.
“What are we going to do?” Mom asked. It sounded like she was crying. “We don’t have enough money for the house payment, and now we don’t even have presents for the kids.” Anna had an empty, twisty feeling in her stomach.
“We’ll figure something out,” Dad said.
Anna walked into the kitchen. Mom reached out and gave her a big hug. With her arms around Mom’s tummy, Anna felt the baby move. She smiled. “We have a new baby coming. You always say that a baby is a miracle.”
Mom smiled back. “That’s right. We have a lot to be grateful for.”
“We have each other,” Dad said. He kissed the top of Anna’s head. “It’ll be OK.”
On the way to her room, Anna heard her brothers crying. She sat down on David’s bed.
“Everyone is so sad,” David said quietly.
“And we won’t have any presents,” Robbie said, sniffling.
“It’ll be OK,” Anna said again. “You’ll see.”
Before she got into bed, Anna knelt and asked Heavenly Father what she could do for her family. She didn’t have any money to buy presents, but she still had a warm, comforting feeling in her heart.
The next morning, she stayed in bed thinking for a few minutes before getting ready for school. Then an idea came to her! That afternoon she hurried home and did her chores and homework. Then she found some paper and string and a few markers and stickers she had gotten for her birthday. She took them all to her room and closed the door.
Anna almost laughed when she thought about how surprised her family would be. First she folded the paper and tied it together with string to make four booklets. She chose a star sticker to put on Mom’s booklet and a planet for Dad’s. She put a dog for David’s booklet and a rocket for Robbie’s.
Then Anna started drawing. For Mom she drew a picture of herself sweeping the floor. She drew a picture of herself cooking dinner with Dad, one of her playing soccer with David, and one of her reading a book to Robbie. It took her several days to fill each booklet with pictures.
Finally it was Christmas Eve, and Anna carefully placed her booklets under the tree.
The next morning, she gave each person in her family a booklet. “I like these pictures,” David said. “I like playing soccer.”
“They’re not just pictures,” Anna said with a sparkle in her eyes. “They’re coupons! The pictures all show things I’ll do for you.”
“This is the nicest gift you could have given us,” Mom said as she looked through her booklet. Anna was thankful that Heavenly Father helped her think of making Christmas coupons. A new baby was coming, and with Heavenly Father’s help, everything really would be OK.

The happiness those gifts and acts of kindness brought my family made me think that someone I knew could probably use some extra happiness. A few years later, when Christmas rolled around again, I decided to repeat the project myself. I chose to help a mentally handicapped girl at my junior high. She had red hair that hung to her shoulders, and she seemed to smile all the time.
Unfortunately, she never received friendliness in return from the kids at school. They would criticize her while she was standing just two feet away because they thought she couldn’t understand their sarcasm. I knew she was hurt by this though, because she would run home alone after school to avoid the other junior high students.
I figured she needed a boost, so I planned to smuggle small gifts like a gingerbread sleigh, hairpins, and personalized stationery to her with notes about how special I thought she was. Unfortunately, as soon as I began my project, I was bombarded with homework, special projects, piano recitals, and Christmas preparations. Sometimes I had to stay up until 2:00 A.M. getting everything done and then get up at 5:45 A.M. for seminary. But I decided this project was worth the extra work it required of me.
I spent long hours gathering and preparing her gifts. I took her quotes and riddles along with the presents and sneaked over to her house late at night delivering my surprises. When it was all over, I was exhausted from the effort on top of all my other responsibilities, but I was happy because I knew it was worth all my extra work. The sacrifice had truly been enjoyable.
Words can’t really describe the calm and clear feeling I had knowing that I had done what we have all been asked to do. I finally understood the note from our secret friend about the best holiday season, thanks to us. I felt like I had repaid the secret friend that helped my family by doing my part to carry on the tradition of service.
These feelings would have been enough reward, but I was given even more. After I finished my project, I saw the little red-headed girl running toward me down the hall. She was carrying a homemade doll I had given her on top of all her books. She showed it to me proudly and said, “It’s from my secret sister. I need you to help me find out who she is.” It was a wonderful feeling to know that although she would never find out who gave her those presents, my service changed her Christmas like the service given me had changed mine.