Gospel Story Finder

“Oh, Mom,” Melissa moaned, “I already have enough friends!”
“But, Melissa, it’s just two weekends a month,” Mom pleaded, “and Vernika is new in the Church and so lonely. Her dad died in a car accident just last September—you remember the day that the fog hung so low and thick that it never lifted. And her little brother is so sick that her mom needs to spend every minute with him. If they could afford a nurse, it might be different.”
Melissa nodded. Of course she felt sorry for Vernika, but it didn’t change the fact that she already had enough friends. “Why can’t Vernika’s grandparents take her to church?”
Mom smiled, “Darling, Vernika’s grandparents aren’t members. Besides, they live too far away. This way Vernika can walk home with you after school on Friday and go to the Merrie Miss activities Saturday mornings and to sacrament meeting and Primary on Sundays.”
Just then there was a crash in the living room, and two-year-old Justin squealed in delight. The twins, Johnny and Jase, toppled over each other as they raced up the stairs, each claiming that he had nothing to do with whatever just happened. Melissa moaned again.
“Anyway,” Mom sighed as she hurried out of the room, “with this house full of boys, it will be nice to have another girl around.”
Friday came, and Melissa tried to keep her distance while Vernika smiled and skipped rocks with the twins all the way home from school. Well, at least Johnny and Jase will have a good weekend, Melissa thought.
Then came the moment Melissa was dreading. She would have to share her beautiful room, the only spot in all the world of her very own, with someone who wasn’t even her friend. When she opened the door, Vernika’s whole face lit up. It was as sunny as the yellow room. “I’ve never seen a room this pretty before,” Vernika gasped. “You must feel like a princess beneath such a beautiful flowered quilt!”
“Well, I guess we’ll both be princesses tonight,” Melissa replied coolly, “because you’ll be sleeping in here with me.”
“Oh. Then I shall rename you the ‘Princess of the Yellow Quilt’ and pretend that I’m a princess from a faraway land who has come to visit. I’ll tell you about my deeds of sorrow and high adventure, while you tell me about Jase, Johnny, and Justin, your three little jesters.”
In spite of herself, Melissa giggled and entered into an evening of bright imagination. As they said their prayers that night, Melissa overheard Vernika thank Heavenly Father for helping her find a friend at last. Maybe Vernika isn’t so bad, after all, Melissa thought.
Two months passed. It was a cold, windy Friday, and nothing was going right. The Merrie Miss activity had been canceled, and Vernika had to stay home to help with her sick baby brother. To top it off, Johnny, Jase, and Justin were pestier than ever and had just barged noisily into her room.
“Can’t you read? It says ‘No boys allowed!’” Melissa yelled as she picked up a sign that had fallen on the floor and tacked it up again on her bedroom door.
“We just wanted to borrow your crayons,” Johnny complained as he walked out of the room as slowly as was humanly possible.
Melissa thought about how the boys never seemed so terrible when Vernika was there. Melissa smiled, remembering the stories from the Book of Mormon storybook that Vernika had told the boys two weeks ago. The boys had been wide-eyed and pin-dropping quiet as Vernika had ended each story, then folded her arms and declared, “And the best thing is that it’s true!”
That night, while Melissa was sleeping, she vaguely heard the telephone ring and then the truck pull out of the driveway. A couple hours later, Melissa awoke to the sound of muffled sobs. There was Vernika rocking back and forth on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks!
“I’m sorry I woke you,” Vernika quavered. “Your daddy brought me here after they took my brother to the hospital. He can hardly breathe. Oh, Melissa, what if Henry dies, like Daddy did?” Vernika sobbed.
Melissa couldn’t find words as she thought about her own little brothers. They did get on her nerves, but how upset she would be if anything really bad ever happened to them. She wrapped her beloved, yellow quilt around Vernika’s shoulders and held her hand. They sat quietly for a long time as Vernika’s tears slowly subsided.
“Let’s say a prayer,” Melissa finally whispered, adding, “I’ll offer it.” She prayed as she had never prayed before, asking Heavenly Father to help Henry get better. She prayed for Vernika to remember that Heavenly Father and Jesus loved her and were close by. After the prayer, Melissa noticed that Vernika had stopped crying. Silently the girls curled up under the yellow quilt as a still sleepiness closed their eyes.
The next morning the rain came down in icy sheets as the temperature dropped. Then the phone lines went dead, and the electric power went out. Everyone looked like Eskimos as they wore their winter coats around the house, trying to keep warm. Daddy told Vernika that he and the bishop had given her baby brother a blessing last night. “Try not to worry,” he said as he lit a fire in the fireplace. “The hospital has an emergency generator for electricity.”
That evening he brought all the sleeping bags into the living room. With no heater, everyone would sleep around the fireplace—just like the pioneers. Johnny, Jase, and Justin let out shouts of glee. Then Daddy took out his Book of Mormon and read 3 Nephi 17 [3 Ne. 17], which told about Jesus healing the Nephites and blessing the children. It also told of Jesus’ weeping out of love for the people. Melissa saw tears on Vernika’s cheeks once again—but this time they weren’t frightened, panic-filled tears. They were the kind of tears Melissa had seen in people’s eyes during fast and testimony meeting.
Morning came, and Daddy woke everyone up. “I have something to show you,” he said as he took Melissa and Vernika down the hallway and opened the front door. Sunlight splashed in, and the girls gasped in wonder. They had never seen the world after an ice storm before. Every tiny branch of the great oak tree and every solitary needle on each evergreen was coated in its own case of smooth, shimmering ice. The day glistened as though everything in it was made of diamonds!
“Oh! It’s like magic!” exclaimed Vernika.
“Yes,” Daddy said. “It’s strange how sometimes the most terrible weather yields the greatest beauty. And, Vernika,” Daddy added, grinning, “your mom called and said that Henry is breathing easily and is out of danger.”
Vernika shouted with joy and danced out onto the porch and all around it.
“Vernika, I’m going to rename you the ‘Dancing Princess of the Diamond Morning,’” Melissa declared, beaming.

A few days before our wedding, Dan said, “I may not always know what is right, but I promise that if I do know, I will do it.” Then, early on the morning of our wedding day, he wrote a letter and mailed it to our apartment. It said, in part, “I have just finished talking to my Heavenly Father and have promised this—to try to never speak an unkind or harsh word to you. I will try; eventually I will succeed. Please be patient with me and encourage me.”
I loved his curly hair and the way he could swing a bat, but it would be his righteousness and his kindness that would make my love for him grow.

At the end of eighth grade, I was having a really hard time. It seemed like nothing was going my way.
I never saw my mom. She worked a night shift and took care of my aunt who was dying of cancer. My dad had died a year earlier. I felt very lost and alone, like I had no friends or family to comfort me. At school I was quiet and didn’t open up much. I quit hanging out with my friends. At the time, I didn’t think I was acting that differently. I tried to be myself and be as happy as I could. Now I look back and realize I was feeling down and falling even further.
A friend who I had just started hanging out with had a very strong testimony. She was in one of my classes, and one day, out of nowhere, she handed me a letter. In it, she described her hardships and expressed her testimony, which was one of the strongest testimonies I had ever read.
At the end of the letter there was the scripture, John 14:18: “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”
I felt as though God was telling me through my friend that I was not alone, even though I felt as though I had no friends or family. Now I know I will never be alone because I can go to my Heavenly Father through prayer. He will always be there.

Perhaps we should all take heed as we listen to our children pray. I remember well Elder Monson’s story yesterday. When our daughter, Christine, was still very young she was always invited to take her turn praying in the family circle. We as a family always prayed that we might be a healthy family. Some of her words came with difficulty. She couldn’t say “healthy,” and it always came out, “Bless us, Heavenly Father, to be a wealthy family.” That sounded good to me—we just let her go on like that—but Heavenly Father knew what she meant, and wealth has eluded us.

Many people in the scriptures who went to the desert were humbled. When I moved to the United Arab Emirates, I thought my ward would be the same as my old one. The Church was the same, but my ward was different.
There were many people from other countries. The nearest temple was a long flight away. I’ve been humbled by this ward, from the sisters who stay late to clean the church to the brothers who check up on everyone. So I guess you could say I was humbled in the desert too.
Brooklyn R., 13, Abu Dhabi, UAE

Amanda had many friends who watched video movies after school. Some of the videos had scenes that Amanda wasn’t sure Heavenly Father and her parents would like, and she wondered if she should watch them.
___Being with her friends was fun. The videos weren’t that bad, and she would be a part of the group. If she didn’t watch the videos, she might not have anything at all to do after school.
___Amanda chose to watch the videos with her friends.
___She prayed to know if her decision was right. Amanda felt uncomfortable about her decision to watch the videos.

A few years ago my father had a serious operation and spent several weeks in the hospital. This was during the winter months. My sons and I had made several trips down to my parents’ home to keep the snow cleared from the driveway and walk, but one day while I was working and my sons were in school, we had a very heavy snowfall. My mother was trying to clear the walks when a young university student came by, laid his books down, gently took the shovel from her, and cleared all the walks and driveway. As my mother thanked him he said, “That’s all right. I am away from home going to school. Maybe someone else’s son will be there to help my mother.”
As my mother told me how this young man had helped her, I remembered the words from my childhood: “God bless you, my son. I pray that some young man will be there to help your mother.”
And he was.

Another story of priesthood service was told a month ago in a ward sacrament meeting. Again, I was there. In this case, the seasoned Melchizedek Priesthood holder didn’t know as he spoke that he was describing exactly what the Lord desires to happen with strengthened priesthood quorums. Here is the gist of his account:

He and a home teaching companion were assigned to serve seven families. Almost all of them did not want visits. When the home teachers went to their apartments, they refused to answer the door. When they telephoned, they did not get an answer. When they left a message, the call was not returned. This senior companion finally resorted to a letter-writing ministry. He even began to use bright yellow envelopes in the hope of getting a response.

One of the seven families was a less-active single sister who had emigrated from Europe. She had two young children.

After many attempts to contact her, he received a text message. She abruptly informed him that she was too busy to meet with home teachers. She had two jobs and was in the military as well. Her primary job was that of a police officer, and her career goal was to become a detective and then return to her native country and continue her work there.

The home teacher never was able to visit with her in her home. He periodically texted her. Every month he sent a handwritten letter, supplemented with holiday cards for each child.

He received no response. But she knew who her home teachers were, how to contact them, and that they would persist in their priesthood service.

Then one day he received an urgent text from her. She desperately needed help. She did not know who the bishop was, but she did know her home teachers.

In a few days, she had to leave the state for a monthlong military training exercise. She could not take her children with her. Her mother, who was going to care for her children, had just flown to Europe to care for her husband, who had a medical emergency.

This less-active single sister had enough money to buy a ticket to Europe for her youngest child but not for her 12-year-old son, Eric.2 She asked her home teacher if he could find a good LDS family to take Eric into their home for the next 30 days!

The home teacher texted back that he would do his best. He then contacted his priesthood leaders. The bishop, who was the presiding high priest, gave him approval to approach members of the ward council, including the Relief Society president.

The Relief Society president quickly found four good LDS families, with children about Eric’s age, who would take him into their homes for a week at a time. Over the next month, these families fed Eric, found room for him in their already crowded apartments or small homes, took him on their previously planned summer family activities, brought him to church, included him in their family home evenings, and on and on.

The families with boys Eric’s age included him in their deacons quorum meetings and activities. During this 30-day period, Eric was in church every Sunday for the first time in his life.

After his mother came home from her training, Eric continued to attend church, usually with one of these four volunteer LDS families or others who had befriended him, including his mother’s visiting teachers. In time, he was ordained a deacon and began passing the sacrament regularly.

Now let us look into Eric’s future. We will not be surprised if he becomes a leader in the Church in his mother’s home country when his family returns there—all because of Saints who worked together in unity, under the direction of a bishop, to serve out of charity in their hearts and with the power of the Holy Ghost.

Everything in the green velvet bag with the gold drawstring was good for something. That’s what Willie told his older brother, Roger, when he asked why Willie carried it with him everywhere.
“But that stuff is just junk!” Roger protested. “It’s a stupid-looking bag, anyway!”
Willie just shrugged and kept on looking for things to put into it. He decided to call it his “good for something” bag.
Willie emptied his bag onto the kitchen table one morning and carefully examined the blue shoelace he’d found on the school playground. Only one plastic tip was missing.
Then there was the lopsided tennis ball, a stick, and a brown lunch sack. He put each item back into the green velvet bag that he’d found on top of Mr. Ison’s garbage can. The bag was actually the first “good for something” thing he’d found. After Mr. Ison had given him permission to keep it, Willie had set out to find just the right things to put into it—you just never knew when something would be needed!
Now he was searching for more things to put into his “good-for-something” green velvet bag with the gold drawstring. He was quite pleased when he found some wire tangled around a bush by the pond at the park. After untangling the wire, he took the stick from his bag and wrapped the wire around it. Then he put the stick back into his green velvet bag. It was later that afternoon, on the way to the store, that he found a use for the wire.
“Willie?” his mother had called to him from the kitchen. “Will you please go to the store and get some light blue thread for me? I’m right in the middle of mending Daddy’s shirt, and I’ve run out.”
“Sure, Mom.” Willie whistled as he skipped to the store, the green velvet bag in his hand.
“Oh, Willie, can you help me for a minute?” Mrs. Jones called from her yard. “My clothesline broke, and my clean clothes are all over the grass!”
Willie hurried over. “I have just the thing to fix your clothesline, Mrs. Jones!” He reached into his bag and pulled out the wire he’d found that morning.
“This ought to hold it up.” Willie carefully unwound the wire from the stick and tied it to the broken clothesline, then to the post. “There!”
“Willie, that’s wonderful! You’re such a clever boy!”
“It’s my ‘good for something’ bag that did the trick,” Willie explained.
“Well, thank you, Willie. And thanks to your ‘good for something’ bag.”
After he put the stick back in the bag, Willie started on down the sidewalk.
Two blocks later, Willie saw little Joey sitting on the curb in front of his house. As Willie got closer, he could see that Joey looked very unhappy. “What’s wrong?” Willie asked as he went up the walk.
“I’m trying to tie my shoes. I’ve practiced and practiced, and I just can’t get it right. And then my shoelace broke. Now I can’t even tie it at all—see.” Joey showed Willie the broken shoelace. “It’s too short.”
“Well, Joey,” Willie said as he put his bag down on the sidewalk, “I have just the thing for you in my ‘good for something’ bag.”
Joey watched Willie search in the green velvet bag and pull out the blue shoelace with only one end missing. Joey’s eyes brightened as Willie put the blue lace on Joey’s shoe.
“Watch, Joey. I’ll show you how to tie it.”
Joey watched intently as Willie demonstrated how to tie the lace.
“Now you try it,” Willie said.
Joey carefully held the blue shoelace just as Willie had showed him, and tied it according to Willie’s instructions. When he finished, he had a perfect bow.
“I did it! Wow! Thanks, Willie!”
Willie patted his bag. “You never know when you’ll need one of my special things from the ‘good for something’ bag,” he said as he waved good-bye.
Willie turned the corner and hurried on to the store. Just as he opened the door, Mrs. Johnson and her four-year-old twins, Mary and Kerry, came out.
“Now, Kerry, please stop that!” Mrs. Johnson was saying. “And, Mary, you can hold your treat in a minute.” Mrs. Johnson was trying to balance two full bags of groceries and keep track of her squabbling children.
“But I want to hold the treat!” Kerry wailed.
“No! I want to!” Mary wailed back.
“Hi, Mrs. Johnson,” Willie said brightly. “Need some help?”
“Oh, yes, Willie, please,” Mrs. Johnson said desperately. Willie took a hand of each girl and followed Mrs. Johnson to her car. A relieved Mrs. Johnson set down the groceries.
“I want to hold it now!” Mary yelled again.
“It’s still my turn!” Kerry yelled back. A small sack containing cookies from the bakery was in danger of being torn apart by the quarreling girls. Suddenly Willie had an idea.
“Wait a minute! Just hold the sack still,” he told them.
The girls stopped their tug-of-war and watched Willie reach in his “good for something” bag.
“What’s in there?” Kerry asked.
“You’ll see.” Willie smiled at her. Pulling his hand out of the green velvet bag, he showed the girls the brown lunch sack. “This will make things easier.” He took the treat bag from Kerry, put one of the cookies from it into the brown lunch sack, then handed a sack to each girl. Both smiled happily.
“Thank you, Willie,” Mrs. Johnson said gratefully. “That was a good idea!”
“Well, you never know when something will come in handy from my ‘good for something’ bag.”
Hurrying into the store, Willie quickly found the thread and paid for it. When he was almost home, he heard a familiar sound.
“Here, Sam!” Willie called to his barking dog. “Here, boy!” Sam bounded across the lawn and jumped up on Willie, his tail wagging furiously.
“Hold on, boy. I have a surprise for you.” Willie set his nearly empty green velvet bag down, reached in, and grasped the lopsided tennis ball and the stick.
“Here, boy!” Willie said, showing Sam the ball. “Go get it!” Willie threw the ball across the lawn. Sam immediately bounded away and trotted back with it.
“Good boy!” Willie patted his pet’s head. “Now try this!” He threw the stick across the lawn. Sam ran after it, picked it up, and ran with it back to Willie.
“Good ol’ Sam!” Willie said, petting the dog before he went into the house. He found his mother and gave her the thread.
“Thank you, Willie. I’m glad you could help me. Did you find any more treasures on the way to the store?”
“Nope—but I got rid of a few!” He told his mother what he’d done with the wire, the blue shoelace with only one plastic tip missing, the brown lunch sack, the lopsided tennis ball, and the stick.
“That really is a ‘good for something’ bag!” Willie’s mother exclaimed.
“I’m going to look for more ‘good for something’ things to put in my ‘good for something’ bag,” Willie told her.
“Well”—she handed Willie an empty thread spool, then winked at him—“will you drop this into the garbage on your way out?”
“I have a better idea, Mom,” Willie said happily as he put the spool into his green velvet bag with the gold drawstring. “You just never know when it might be good for something!”

My mom has made big changes too. A year ago she made a commitment to become temple worthy. She quit smoking and drinking and started paying tithing. I can’t say all our financial problems have been solved, but the bills have always been paid. My mom and I have become great friends, and now she’s my seminary teacher too. She went to the temple last summer. Last year she developed a life-threatening illness, and she’s had a long, slow recovery. It was scary and hard on us both, but the elders gave her a blessing, and we pulled through it together.
The changes that have come over me, my mother, and my brother didn’t come easily. But they have definitely been worth it. My mom still cries sometimes, but now it’s because she’s so happy. And I’m happy too.

I was born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah, and was the oldest of my parents’ three children. My father was drafted into the military during World War II. As a six-year-old, I remember praying with my mother that the war would end and that Dad would come home. Because he had three children, he was one of the first to be discharged when the war was over. There were so many men being discharged at the same time that he couldn’t even get a telephone line to let us know that he was coming home. He just showed up at our door. I think that that was the first time I felt a real answer to prayer. I had complete confidence in the power of prayer from that point forward.

One sister, shortly after moving to a new ward, suffered a devastating illness that left her nearly bedridden for almost two years. She describes how the sisters of her new ward, working through the Relief Society organization, blessed her life:
“A loving and sensitive Relief Society president visited often, and other sisters checked on me every day of the week. I forged bonds of friendship with each one as we shared feelings of the heart, discussed current affairs, laughed at the small indignities of illness, and generally enjoyed each other’s company. One sister quietly did my laundry, freshened my dogs’ food and water, and brought her grandchildren to visit. Another … made delicious custard for me when I could eat no other food. …
“I rarely was able to attend church during my illness, but I still felt right at home in the ward family” (JoAnn Jolley, Ensign, September 1994, 51–52).

Shortly after my daughter, the first of our three children, was born, my wife and I purchased a piano. We hoped she would have musical talent like her grandfather—a fine composer and pianist. I particularly liked to imagine her playing the piano at church, accompanying the congregation. This would please our Father in Heaven, I thought. And the gift of music would bless our family.
Several years passed, with the piano serving no purpose other than decorating our living room. One day my father-in-law offered to teach me to read music. At some point in the future, he said, I might even be able to play a few simple pieces. I considered the very idea a joke—and not a very good one. I had never even considered that I might have musical talent. Nevertheless, he began to work with me. Unfortunately, I found the study of music unpleasant and even painful, and I quit studying about six months later. In time, I forgot what little I had learned.
In 1983 our daughter turned eight, and my wife and I felt she was old enough to begin music lessons. Unfortunately, she did not enjoy the lessons any more than I had. Since we had already paid for a month of lessons, I decided to take the remaining lessons myself. I was surprised to find that I enjoyed the lessons, and after they ended, I continued to practice on my own. My progress was slow, but by the time the Christmas season came around, I could almost play six different hymns.
When the bishop visited us during the Christmas holidays, I played “Away in a Manger” (Hymns, number 206) and asked him to sing along. We had to start over several times because I made so many mistakes, but eventually we finished the carol. The bishop encouraged me to keep practicing and to learn a sacrament hymn. I began to practice very faithfully, and to my surprise, I found that practicing was no longer drudgery. I had a goal for myself—to be able to play at church.
On one occasion while I was practicing I distinctly heard a voice singing the melody of the hymn I was playing. A wave of emotion swept over me, and I felt that my Father in Heaven was pleased with my efforts.
Several months passed, and I continued to practice devotedly. One Sunday I went to church early to practice. The room was quite dark and I couldn’t see well, but I sensed that someone was watching me. Soon the bishop stepped forward. He told me he had been listening, and he felt I was ready to play for Church meetings. I played the piano for the Madrid Second Ward that very day. A few days later, I was officially set apart as the ward pianist.
By this time practicing was exciting, and I was surprised at how quickly I was able to learn the hymns. I worked hard, but I realized that my efforts were being magnified by the Holy Ghost. My Heavenly Father had prepared me little by little for this calling and was now helping me fulfill it.
Today, playing the piano continues to be a great joy. I play for priesthood meetings in the Madrid Third Branch, where I am the branch president. My daughter also eventually resumed her music studies and has served as branch pianist. She is now married and lives in Madrid, Spain.
Often as I play I think of the Lord’s words: “My soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12). I am grateful that my Heavenly Father prepared me with a desire and blessed me with the ability to play the hymns of the Church. They are truly a prayer unto him.

When Jesse Gneiting’s older brother James received the Eagle award in Scouting, Jess promised himself that someday he, too, would become an Eagle Scout. He earned the Star award at the age of 13 (right on schedule) and began his Eagle Scout service project—earning money to purchase an American flag for his hometown community of Lewisville, Idaho. The fund-raising part of the project consisted of collecting aluminum cans around Lewisville and out on the desert where his family farmed. Jess’s plans were continuing well and his advancement to Eagle seemed only months away. But then an unexpected obstacle appeared.
After returning from a leadership training program for Scouts of the Teton Peaks Council, Jess noticed a lump on his leg just below the knee. A preliminary examination didn’t show anything wrong, but when the lump didn’t recede and it became painful for Jess to walk, his parents took him back to the doctor.
“I may have rheumatic fever,” Jess told his mother as he left the doctor’s office. “I’m to go to the hospital tomorrow for tests.”
Soon after, Sister Gneiting took Jess to the Idaho Falls hospital were X-rays were taken and he was told he had cancer. He and his parents were advised to leave immediately for the University Hospital in Salt Lake City. Tests there revealed that surgery was necessary, and during the operation, Jess’s leg was amputated above the knee.
Five days after the operation he came home and began chemotherapy and other treatments. At times the medication made him so sick he wouldn’t recover for a week. Afterwards, however, he would return to school where he was student-body vice-president and editor of the yearbook. He also began wrestling, the only sport in which he could participate.
By Christmas, the treatments had drained Jess’s body of all energy. But he began to feel better after chemotherapy had ended, and he earned the Life Scout award.
The National Boy Scout Jamboree in Pennsylvania was held the following spring, and Jess was able to attend, even though his monthly checkup in April revealed lung cancer. Upon his return, it was discovered the tumors in his lungs had doubled in size and another operation was imperative. Afterwards, Jess’s activities were severely curtailed and he was able to complete only two six-week terms the entire school year. Though he longed to return to school and participate in the activities, he was unable to do so.
Yet more than anything, Jess wanted to become an Eagle Scout, and during this time he began in earnest to accomplish that goal. To fill his days and keep his mind occupied, he worked on merit badges. His mother helped him by calling or taking papers to members of the Scout committee. His younger brother, Tom, and members of his troop, finished gathering the aluminum cans needed to complete his Eagle project.
Finally all of Jess’s application forms were in and approval was up to the board of review. On the second Sunday in May they came to the Gneiting home and interviewed Jess. His papers were sent immediately to the National Council in the East where approval generally takes from two weeks to a month. But Jess didn’t have that much time—each day he was getting weaker, and breathing had become so labored that he couldn’t live without an oxygen supply. The Scout office in Idaho Falls called headquarters to push Jess’s papers through, and as soon as they received approval, the court of honor was scheduled.
In May Jess received the Eagle award. Almost everyone in Lewisville attended the ceremony, including every Scout leader in the district. Jess’s brother James made the presentation. Jess himself presented the flag to Bishop R. LaVon Walker of the Lewisville First Ward, Rigby Idaho Stake, to be used by the small community.
On June 15, the Gneiting family went fishing at a nearby lake. That evening, for the first time since he had become ill, Jess let his father carry him into the house, and before he went to sleep, Jess told his parents, “I won’t make it through tomorrow.” At one the next afternoon, he died.
But nothing, not even cancer, had kept him from accomplishing his life’s goal—to become an Eagle Scout—a privilege he enjoyed for almost three weeks. (Written by Joyce Lindstrom)

From one of our associates who is deeply involved in helping people we learn of what happens when the Church steps in to help.
About twelve years ago Roger walked through the side door at Welfare Square. It took him at least fifteen minutes to tell the supervisors who he was and where he came from. Although he was a young man of eighteen years, he had great difficulty expressing himself. Part of his young life had been spent in an institution in a neighboring state. Now at the age of eighteen he was on his own.
This young man lived for some time alone in the mountains. Finally, he got a ride into Salt Lake City. He could neither read nor write, and speech was nearly impossible.
The brethren at Welfare Square found Roger a place to stay. Soon he had a bishop, and he gradually became active in the Church. Fellow workers at Welfare Square helped him to learn to speak so that he could communicate. He still has great difficulty, but his friends and associates can, with a little patience, converse with him reasonably well. He worked in several different jobs at the storehouse, and today he is an active elder in the Church. Roger now has a job in a large commercial enterprise and at the present time is totally self-sufficient.

Young people desiring to serve missions often face many challenges. This was the case for six missionaries who were not able to attain visas and travel to one of the numerous missionary training centers found in the Americas.
Four of them, Thierry Birocher, Rosylove Charles, Jennyfer Augustin, and Landy Dorce had been living in Santo Domingo and were called to serve in the Dominican Republic. The other two, Rosebelle Fanfan and Marie Jacques were living in Port-au-prince, Haiti and had received their calls to Boston, Massachusetts but were reassigned to the Dominican Republic due to visa complications.
With six missionaries not able to travel to an MTC and prepare properly for their missions, the Caribbean Area Presidency was led to resolve this problem by creating a temporary, mini-missionary training center located in the Caribbean Area offices. The three sister missionaries living in the Dominican Republic moved out of their homes and into the temple patron housing, located next to the Santo Domingo Temple.
Elder Birocher moved in with the office elders of the Santo Domingo East Mission, and Sisters Fanfan and Jacques left their homes in Haiti and participated in the mini-MTC from the Haiti, Port-au-Prince mission offices.
Although housed in various Church offices in Santo Domingo and Port-au-Prince, the six missionaries received their training virtually from the Mexico City Missionary Training Center through two amazing instructors, Gregory Jeaboin and Josue Derival.
On weekends, each missionary was assigned to a companionship of full-time missionaries to live and work with. This experience gave them real-life missionary opportunities and grew their enthusiasm for the work that they would soon be doing.

I am grateful to a young man who shared with me the following experience. He and another Aaronic Priesthood holder were assigned to administer the sacrament to a man who was homebound and very sick. They arrived at his home not realizing that recent medical treatments prevented him from eating any food—even a piece of the sacrament bread. After blessing the bread, the young man presented the sacrament to the frail man. He took a piece of the blessed bread, waited a moment, and then held it against his lips. The young man said when he saw this faithful brother express his reverence for the sacrament, he felt as though he were watching him kiss the feet of the Savior. He could tell that he loved Him.

The significance of the sacrament was impressed upon that young man in an unforgettable way that day. You will have sacred experiences, just as this young man did.

President Benson’s own expressions indicate this love for temples. He reflected:
“I remember so well, as a little boy, coming in from the field and approaching the old farm house. … I could hear my mother singing, ‘Have I Done Any Good in the World Today?’ … I can still see her in my mind’s eye bending over the ironing board … with beads of perspiration on her forehead.” She was ironing long strips of white cloth, with newspapers on the floor to keep them clean. “When I asked her what she was doing, she said, ‘These are temple robes, my son. Your father and I are going to the temple at Logan.’
“Then she put the old flatiron on the stove, drew a chair close to mine, and told me about temple work—how important it is to be able to go to the temple and participate in the sacred ordinances performed there. She also expressed her fervent hope that some day her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren would have the opportunity to enjoy those priceless blessings.” He continued, “I am happy to say that her fondest hopes in large measure have been realized.”

As President Cowley’s traveling companion in the mission field, I received instructions from him to keep my briefcase packed with a couple of changes of clothing. He said, “When I say ‘We’re going,’ you grab your bag, start the car, and don’t ask any questions.”

When that would happen, I would grab my bag and go to the car. Being a young, eager missionary, I often wondered where we were going; but I didn’t ask.

Once, after we had driven a few kilometers, he asked, “Would you like to know where we’re going?”

I said, “Yes.”

Then he said, “So would I! I’m not sure just where we’re going, but we’ll keep going; and when the Lord tells us to turn, we’ll turn, and we’ll end up where He wants us to be.”

Late last year, I decided to talk to my stake president about something I had kept inside for a long time. Even though I’ve had a picture of the temple on my nightstand for over 10 years and have always had a temple recommend, I had never actually gone inside. A quiet fear had kept me from taking that step.
What made it even harder was that I had been deeply involved in the success of many temple-related events in Haiti, including the laying of the cornerstone at the dedication of the Port-au-Prince Haiti Temple as a member of the Haiti Communication Council and helped promote the temple in many ways. Yet still I couldn’t bring myself to go inside.
I told my stake president that it wasn’t a lack of faith but a fear I couldn’t overcome. Having grown up in the Church, I’ve always tried to be a faithful disciple of Christ. But the thought of actually entering the temple overwhelmed me. Maybe it was the sacredness of the place or the feeling that I wasn’t ready or worthy, even though I wanted to go.
He listened kindly and encouraged me to pray for help to overcome that fear. I took his advice seriously. As the new year began, I knelt in prayer and felt it was finally time to move forward. I no longer wanted to miss out on the blessings of the temple because of my doubts. I told the stake president I was ready to go, and he responded with words I’ll never forget: “May the Light of Christ illuminate your progress as you walk the covenant path and help you overcome your fear.” Those words gave me strength and peace.
I made plans to go to the temple with my mother on January 3, 2025—a day I will never forget. I was nervous but excited. Just before we left, I received a surprise phone call: a long-awaited prayer of mine had finally been answered. After several rejections, I was told that a request I had lost hope on had been approved. It felt like a direct message from heaven, a sign that God had been listening all along.
With a joyful heart, I entered the temple for the first time. The temple president and his wife welcomed me warmly, fully aware of the significance of this moment for me. Their kindness helped calm my remaining fears, and I felt a deep peace.
During the temple session, every word touched my soul. I felt a clarity and joy I had never experienced before. I knew I was in a holy place of revelation and blessings. Afterward, the temple president walked me to the door. That simple act made me feel loved and supported.
That day changed me. I overcame a fear that had weighed on me for years. I felt God’s love and guidance more clearly than ever before.
But the blessings didn’t stop there. When I returned home, I received a second confirmation—another answer to the same prayer but through a different person. It was as if the Lord wanted me to be absolutely sure that He had heard me. Receiving two answers to the same prayer was a powerful witness of His love and mercy.
As I reflected on everything, the words of President Russell M. Nelson came to mind: “It is significant that the Savior chose to appear to the people at the temple. It is His house. It is filled with His power. … I promise that increased time in the temple will bless your life in ways nothing else can.”
Now I know the temple truly is a refuge—a sacred place where I will continue to return for light, direction, and peace.