Gospel Story Finder

Trish Goodsell, of the Atwater Second Ward, Merced California Stake, is especially sensitive to the needs of the handicapped. She is handicapped herself, and this inspired her to plan a Laurel project that involved helping the teachers and Mia Maids in her stake put on a Halloween party and dance for the residents of a local facility for the mentally and physically disabled.
The youth provided games, a costume contest, a parade, and, of course, a dance that even those in wheelchairs loved. Each guest was escorted by one of the young people, so no one was left alone.

While I was serving as president of the West European Mission I had the opportunity of association with some of the servicemen stationed there. The president of the servicemen’s stake told me an interesting story.
He said that while he was executive secretary in the stake, the general of his army unit called him and told him he would like to have him serve as his assistant, which would require him to accompany the general wherever he went. Recognizing how this would affect his Church position and his responsibilities to his family, the brother told the general he would have to forego this assignment.
The general said, “Do you mean you would turn your back on this promotion because of your family and your Church?”
The brother said, “Yes, that is what I mean.”
The general said, “Well, then, forget it.” But he called back in a few days and said that he still wanted him for the job, that he would make the necessary adjustments for the man to carry out his responsibilities to the Church and to his family.
Another of the servicemen who had served a full-time mission told me he had baptized more converts during a year in the service than he had in two and one-half years on his mission in France. This is how we remember who we are and act accordingly.

A youth activity on a chilly night in January 2017 changed the Sorenson family forever. Terry and Jenilyn’s son Tanner was 14 years old. The combined activity was wrapping up. A leader was offering the last of the refreshments. Tanner, who was allergic to peanuts, grabbed a cookie and bit into it. He shouldn’t have. It was a peanut butter cookie.

“He was usually so careful,” Terry says.

Tanner managed to get home—his house was just down the street from their meetinghouse. But he lost consciousness quickly after. He stopped breathing. Paramedics and emergency room staff fought valiantly for him. But unfortunately their efforts were not successful.

Tanner passed away that night because of his food allergy.

Tanner’s family has felt many miracles, large and small, since losing their son. They hope increased awareness of food allergies is one of them.

“It’s not that these kids with allergies are irresponsible. It’s not that they aren’t paying attention. But they are kids,” says Tanner’s father, Terry. “It just takes one second of letting your guard down.”

Sometimes when I say my bedtime prayer, I usually feel pretty good about what I did for the day. I didn't break any commandments. I accomplished my goals for that day but I sometimes regret that I didn't show love as I should. I recalled that I said to my friend who was going through some hardship, "Call me if you need anything." That was not showing love to my friend. I should have said, "Come over to my house at noon today and I will make lunch for us and we can talk" or "Come over for dinner tonight" or "Would you like to go for a walk this evening?" Love manifests itself in actions. And in my case, I paid only lip service to my friend. With age I became a little wiser and now I just called up my friends and said, "I am bringing you dinner tonight." Then the rest of the day I just work around that commitment and when I delivered that dinner and spent time with my friend I began to understand how important it is to feed his sheep.

In fact, many LDS youth here look at music as a worthwhile way to employ their time. For example, Sara Williams, 16, her brother, Tyler, 18, and Rebecca Howell, 15, all members of the Byrd Springs Ward, are among 10 Latter-day Saints in the award-winning Virgil I. Grissom High School marching band.
“Through band, you learn to appreciate all kinds of music,” Sara says. “But band teaches you a lot of other things, too.”
“It teaches teamwork, especially marching band, because you can’t march a solo,” she says. “You gain good friends in the band, because you work so hard together.”
And yet, in some ways, Sara is familiar with the all-alone routine. It’s an experience born of standing up for her standards.
“Someone would say, ‘We want to watch this movie.’ And I’d say, ‘What’s it rated?’ At first they’d say, ‘Oh, come on.’ But now they know I will not watch an R-rated movie. And they know I don’t come out on Sundays and go places with them, because it’s the Sabbath. They respect me a lot for what I believe.”
And the respect is mutual. “The kids in the band all have pretty good standards, to where you’re not the only one who is saying, ‘No, I will not drink or smoke,’ or ‘No, I will not have sex before marriage.’ Like it says in For the Strength of Youth, they’re a good influence, so I enjoy hanging out with them.”

Most of us have witnessed how living the gospel can change the lives of people in a positive way. As an example of this, I recall a family that we met while in the mission field. The missionaries described the Barnes family as being a wonderful family, but with no evidence at all of Church influence in their lives. The father was rough and crude, a beer-drinking toughie. His children were afraid of him. Their home was far from tidy, and their appearance the same. They had had a hard life. But as the missionaries met with them, a marvelous transformation began taking place. They were impressed with the life and teachings of the Savior and made an effort to apply his teachings in their lives. Their very appearance and outlook on life began to change.

Learning about unconditional love and not being judgmental gave them a new approach with an adult son who is an alcoholic. Their new attitude, along with professional help, seems to be making a real difference in his life.

Learning to respect themselves as sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father, they threw away their cigarettes, and they stopped drinking. They cleaned themselves up and their surroundings as well. And now there is a loving spirit in their home, where they read the scriptures regularly.

Sister Barnes writes: “As we read the scriptures, we found that Jesus gave the instruction to ‘be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee’ (Matt. 9:2), indicating that as we truly repent and forsake our sins, we may be optimistic about the future. He said, ‘Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me’ (John 14:1). And we do believe in him, and this belief has changed our lives. We now feel that we can say, as Paul did, ‘I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me’” (Philip. 4:13).

This was the testimony of this good woman regarding the change in her life and in her family. This change was not unlike changes that have occurred with others. After King Benjamin exhorted his people to live a good life, having hope in Christ, “They all cried with one voice, saying: Yea, we believe all the words which thou hast spoken unto us; and also, we know of their surety and truth, because of the Spirit of the Lord … , which has wrought a mighty change in us, or in our hearts, that we have no more disposition to do evil, but to do good continually” (Mosiah 5:2).

Bus drivers came and went on the school bus. Then, when Mr. Turner took over the job as the newest driver, people said, “He won’t last till Christmas! Those kids are the noisiest bunch in the world. They’re enough to drive any driver crazy!”
But this bus driver came and he stayed. The first day, when the noise got to the explosion point, he stopped the bus and stood facing the children, wearing a big smile. This really scared all the kids. No bus driver had ever smiled at them before.
“Watch it,” whispered one boy. “He’s going to take us hostage.”
“You’ve been watching too many news broadcasts,” commented another.
Suddenly there was a flash of lightning and then a roll of thunder. Huge raindrops were pelting the top of the bus. “Do any of you know ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’? I always sing that song when it rains,” said Mr. Turner. “The back three rows will lead off, the middle three rows will go second, and the rest of us up front will finish off the round. All right now, one time through. Row it!”
The kids were so startled by this strange turn of events that they were already sitting with their mouths open. It was just natural for them to let the words come out, and they began to sing.
Mr. Turner took his seat—still singing in a booming voice—and continued driving toward school in the midst of a happy, glorious sound.
Well, soon these kids found out that there were a lot of things that Mr. Turner always did. Besides singing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” when it rained, he always waited a bit longer at each stop if some girl had to make a mad, wet dash for the bus. He always sang “There’ll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight” on very cold days. He would sneak a hand warmer to children who had to walk the farthest to the bus stop or had holes in their mittens.
Mr. Turner was no doubt the biggest tease in all the world. When someone got on the bus, he’d say, “What are we having for lunch today? I appreciated that apple yesterday, for I was getting downright burned out from a steady diet of caviar sandwiches. Don’t you kids eat anything but caviar? Boy! I’d settle for a mustard-soaked sardine once in a while.”
No one had really given him an apple. And no one ever gave him their lunch, but it never stopped him from teasing. It kept them guessing and it kept them quiet, just wondering what he was going to say to the next one who got on. He begged for everything, from peeled turnips to frog legs. He accused them of being blackhearted scoundrels for not bringing him toasted croutons and bib lettuce. “Yuck!” he snarled. “One more of your egg salad sandwiches and I’ll turn in my driver’s license.”
When it came Christmastime, the children sang carols loud and long. And Mr. Turner would say, “Hold back a little. You’re getting too good. Let’s hear a rusty note or two. You have the whole countryside jealous already, and if you come out with just one more perfect pitch, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir will be on our backs. OK, let’s hear some Gravel Gerties now!” So everyone tried even harder to sing beautifully.
Right before Christmas, he demanded that they walk through “security” like at airports, so he could X-ray their lunch boxes for any hidden Christmas goodies. He placed a tall, round wastebasket just inside the front door and demanded that they empty all their goodies into it. No one did. They laughed and threw in gum wrappers instead.
Mr. Turner mocked, “Now you kids cut that out. I can only take so much laughter and then I break out in hives.”
The children stopped laughing long enough to whisper. But soon their whispers became so rapid, so intense, that their driver grumbled, “Cut that out! You sound like a bunch of bees when their hive has been mortared shut. I can’t stand secrets. It brings out the worst in me.” He didn’t scare anyone.
The last day before school closed for Christmas vacation, the kids got on the bus, put their noses in the air, and walked silently by him, even while he begged for strange foods, threatened them with wild punishments, and flashed his pretend X-ray machine at them.
When they came to the first stop on the trip home, the rider didn’t get off. He stopped short of the door and said, “All right, Mr. Turner, this is it. We’re a bunch of wild and woolly kids, and we’re not going to let it get out that you lasted as our bus driver until Christmas.”
All the other kids leaped from their seats and shouted agreement. The shouts were so loud that Mr. Turner grabbed some earmuffs from one of the boys and socked them onto his own ears. Then he demanded, “What’s this? You kids hijacking my bus?”
“Nope, Mr. Turner, we’re hijacking you. Turn around and don’t move and …
“HAVE A MERRY CHRISTMAS!” they all shouted.
Instantly two girls’ umbrellas went up and tinsel dropped from the ribs, making fascinating Christmas trees. Lunch boxes were opened and out came a marvelous array of Christmas cookies. Some were shaped like sardines, others like frog legs or mushrooms, and just about every other silly thing he had teased them for. When someone pounded on the front door of his bus, Mr. Turner was forced to open it. There stood some mothers with a thermos of hot chocolate, cups, and Christmas napkins. Then the singing of carols began.
“Stop the music! Stop the music!” I can’t have this sort of thing happen to my perfect record. I’ve never gotten a child home late this year, and now you’re throwing a blast that is shooting my record right through the roof.”
But everyone kept on singing, and Mr. Turner kept on stuffing cookies into his mouth, his shirt pockets, pants pockets, and a couple even into the tops of his snowboots.
Said one of the mothers, “A man that crazy just might last as our kids’ bus driver until June.”

“I have lived in Nauvoo all my life. I remember as a little boy visiting the temple site and helping my dad plant the flowers and water them to make the grounds beautiful. We used to play on the slopes where the temple once stood. My dad would tell us how sacred the grounds were because of the sacrifices the Saints made for the temple to be built, and then they had to leave before they could fully use it for a long period. I am excited to see the temple here. I feel like the people who lived here with Joseph Smith are watching us and hoping we appreciate it and don’t take it for granted.”–Nathan Nelson, 17

“I need to tell you something, Mom,” Melissa said, looking at the floor. She took a deep breath and started to cry.
“My teacher is really mad because someone wrote on the bathroom wall,” Melissa said. “I know I shouldn’t have done it, but someone else started writing and I thought it was funny, so I did too. I feel so bad inside. What can I do?”
Mom gave Melissa a hug and pointed to a picture on the shelf. It was taken on the day Melissa was baptized. “Do remember what Uncle Brett talked about at your baptism?”
Sniffling, Melissa nodded. “That the Holy Ghost can help us know what is right and wrong,” she said. “He said if I did something wrong I would get a bad feeling. Is this what he was talking about?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “What else did he say?”
Melissa thought for a moment. “When we mess up we can repent by asking for forgiveness and fixing what we did wrong,” she said. “And promising to never do it again.”
As Melissa said those words, she knew what she needed to do.
Before the school bell rang the next morning, Melissa was at her teacher’s desk.
“Mrs. O’Dell, I wrote on the bathroom wall,” Melissa said, her heart pounding. “I’m really sorry, and I will clean it up.”
Mrs. O’Dell looked at Melissa for a moment. “You’ll have to stay after school to clean it,” she said. “And you need to tell your mother what you have done.”
“I know, I already told her. I promise to never do anything like this again,” Melissa said.
Melissa smiled as she walked to her desk. The bad feeling she had yesterday was gone.

During this time I researched the effects of anoxia on the brain. I searched the rehabilitation research literature trying to find the therapy we needed to help Josh. I was surprised to learn that there was very little practical information regarding rehabilitation following anoxic brain injury. Further, the existing literature stated that the outcomes following anoxic brain injury were bad—dismal, to be exact. I thought that maybe I needed to look at the basic science literature on anoxia. There were scientific articles that discussed the possible mechanisms of anoxic brain injury and a few articles that provided information about anoxia and associated cognitive, neurological, behavioral, and motor morbidities—with which I was already well acquainted. None of the articles provided information regarding how to best help Joshua. I was frustrated and tired and felt I had reached a dead end.
A typical daily schedule for me involved getting myself up and ready, feeding and dressing my two-year-old, then feeding and dressing Joshua so we could drive to Primary Children’s Medical Center for physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy. We would spend four to six long hours at the hospital every day and then come home to start dinner, do laundry, clean the house, and do our “therapy homework”—yes, more therapy.
One day I was home at noon eating lunch, and I turned on the TV. I have no idea why I was home that day. There on one of the channels was Jane Russell, an actress from the 1940s and 1950s—but I knew her from the TV commercials that she did for the Cross Your Heart bra, and, frankly, that did not inspire much respect or confidence. Jane Russell was on a TV talk show talking about the adoption agency she had founded: the World Adoption International Fund, which helps find homes for children. In the program Jane Russell stated something to the effect that “if God wants you to do something, sometimes He rubs your nose in it.” I knew at that moment that I needed to return to school and earn a doctorate degree so I could study the effects of the lack of oxygen on the brain. This was a startling thought, since I had no idea where to begin.
A friend suggested I talk to a professor at the University of Utah. I called and made an appointment. The professor and I had a long conversation about my interests in graduate school. He encouraged me to apply to the doctoral program in psychology. This was madness. We had no time, little money, and mounting medical bills, and I had the equivalent of a full-time job taking care of Joshua and taking him to therapy every day. Scott and I discussed it, thought it over, and prayed about it, and the feeling remained that I should attend graduate school.
I applied to the PhD program. I was not accepted. I was very depressed by this news. I knew this was what I was supposed to do. When I asked why I was not accepted to the program, I was told I had no psychology background and they had no basis on which to judge whether or not I could succeed in the graduate program. It was true. These were facts—I was a nurse.
When I visited again with the faculty member, he suggested that over the next year I take some undergraduate psychology courses and a graduate course and then reapply to the doctoral program. I followed his advice, did well in my course work, reapplied, and was admitted to the psychology doctoral program the following fall. This was the beginning of a long journey, and along the way I have learned many important lessons.
I completed my doctorate degree and continued to study the cognitive, psychological, and quality-of-life outcomes following anoxia and other medical disorders in order to improve outcomes for individuals and their families.

The youth of the Brea Second Ward, Fullerton California Stake, had an unusual opportunity. They helped a member of their ward celebrate her 99th birthday! Because Sister Polly Hall is unable to leave her nursing home to attend church, two priests from the ward visit her every Sunday to administer the sacrament.
Through their service, the priests have become friends with Sister Hall, and decided they would give her a birthday party.
Sister Hall was pleased to be the guest of honor at the party, which included games, dancing, music, and presents.
“I just love the youth of the Church,” says Sister Hall. “My testimony is strengthened each week when the boys come to visit me with the sacrament.”

To the west of our home was our garden plot. Part of the garden was in potatoes. One day my father said to my sister and me, “There are more potatoes than we can use. If you would like to sell some, you may do so.” My sister Alice and I dug some up and hauled them down to a hotel and sold them. When we showed the money to our father, he asked what we were going to do with it. We said we would divide it before buying some things we wanted. Then he questioned, “What about your tithing?” He said, “The Lord has been good to us. We planted and cultivated and harvested, but the earth is the Lord’s. He sent the moisture and the sunshine. One-tenth we always give back to the Lord for his part.” My father made no requirement; he merely explained it so convincingly that we felt it an honor and privilege to pay tithing.

While serving as president of the Canada Toronto Mission, I assisted several of my missionaries in teaching a prominent businessman. After our lesson, I invited him to pray and ask Heavenly Father if our message is true.
“I don’t know how to pray,” he said.
I told him that all he needed to do was kneel and simply ask Heavenly Father to confirm the truth to him.
“You can do that!” I encouraged him.
We knelt together and the man began his prayer. When he finished, he said, “What’s happening? I’ve never felt anything like this before.”
“That is the way Heavenly Father answers prayers,” I said. “You have asked, and He has answered.”

Sixteen-year-old Dieke Mphuti of Welkom, South Africa, lost her parents years ago, leaving her to care for three younger siblings on her own. It was always daunting for her to find enough food, but COVID supply shortages and quarantines made it almost impossible. They were often hungry, scraping by only with the generosity of neighbors.
On a sunny day in August 2020, Dieke was surprised by a knock at her door. She opened it to find two strangers—one a Church representative from the area office in Johannesburg and the other an official from South Africa’s Department of Social Development.
The two organizations had teamed up to bring food to at-risk households. Relief washed over Dieke as she glimpsed the pile of cornmeal and other food staples, purchased with Church humanitarian funds. These would help her to sustain her family for several weeks until a government aid package could begin to take effect for her.
Dieke’s story is one of thousands of such experiences taking place across the world during the COVID pandemic thanks to your consecrated contributions.

Elizabeth loved going to Primary every week. She loved singing Church songs and feeling the peaceful spirit there. She loved all her friends in Primary. But then her Primary class changed.
A new boy named Joseph moved in, and he seemed different from the other kids. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, and he didn’t seem to know when to talk and when to be quiet. He never raised his hand.
When Elizabeth talked to her mom about the new boy, her mom said that Joseph came from a “hard situation.” Elizabeth wasn’t really sure what that meant, but she noticed that Joseph’s family didn’t come to church with him.
A few weeks after Joseph started coming to Primary, the trouble started.
“Everyone sit down so we can begin class,” Sister Johnson said. All the kids started to take their seats, but when Joseph sat down, everyone moved away from him.
From then on, if Joseph sat on one side of the room, everyone hurried and moved to other side. It was like a game of musical chairs, where everyone tried to move as far away from Joseph as possible. Elizabeth had been taught to be kind, but even she began to play the musical chairs game. Sister Johnson told everyone to stay in their seats, but it was obvious—no one wanted to sit by Joseph.
Then one week at church, Joseph wasn’t there. Then another week, and another week passed, and Joseph still didn’t come.
Elizabeth wondered about Joseph and why he wasn’t coming to church anymore. She thought that maybe it was because of his “hard situation.” Or maybe he had moved away. But she just couldn’t get rid of an icky feeling that she had done something wrong. The more she thought, the more Elizabeth realized that their musical chairs game had been mean and wrong and that maybe it was the reason Joseph stopped coming to church.
One night after family prayer, Elizabeth gave her mom a hug and started to cry.
“Mom, I think I did something wrong. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”
Elizabeth told her mom about how no one in her Primary class wanted to sit next to Joseph. She told her how they had all laughed and tried to get the farthest seat away from him and how she felt bad for being mean to him. Elizabeth and her mom talked about repentance and what she could do to feel better and make things right.
Mom said, “Joseph is a child of God. It doesn’t matter if he looks and acts different; Heavenly Father loves him. We should always treat others like they are valuable, because they truly are.”
Elizabeth promised herself that she would never treat anyone like that again. Even if it meant being less popular, she would treat everyone like a child of God.
One Sunday, Joseph finally returned to Primary. When the other kids started to giggle and race to find a seat away from Joseph, Elizabeth chose the seat right next to him.
“Hey, Joseph! What’s up?” she asked with a warm smile.
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story.
For Elizabeth, the musical chairs game was over. Joseph would always have someone to sit by now.

Weather, distance, and school schedules prevent many Thai members from attending church, so the Ubon Ward decided to set a date and encourage as many people as possible to attend.
A lot of members here in Thailand have difficulty coming to church because of school meetings, bad weather (most of our members travel by motorbike), and distance. The members in my ward, the Ubon Ward, face all of these challenges and more, which makes attending church difficult.
One Sunday, I was wondering how we could help the members recognize the blessings of exercising the faith to worship together more often. The idea came to me, “What if we picked a Sunday to focus on getting every member to church that day?” If we were able to get everyone to come on the same day, it would allow members to really see and feel the strength of the ward.
Other leaders and members in the ward liked the idea and became involved in planning for it. We decided on a date, June 17, 2018—the Sunday closest to the anniversary of when the Ubon Thailand Stake was founded—and started sending messages about it through social media. We named the event “Let’s Come to Church on the Same Sunday! 200 Sacrament Meeting Attendance—Ubon Ward Can Do It.”
Practically the whole ward was involved in encouraging each other to come. Everybody kept sending messages persuading others to join the event. Members also invited returning members and friends who weren’t members. And so many people said yes!
We realized that this was more than just a fun event to see how many people could come. We wanted it to be an especially spiritual experience to help motivate members to make attending sacrament meeting a priority. So in the months leading up to the event, the bishopric encouraged people to avoid any activities that might minimize the importance of the sacrament or the worship of the Lord.
We even made bookmarks to help people remember the event and the Spirit that we knew would be there because of everyone’s efforts to attend. The bookmark had the name of the event and also a scripture: “I have said, Ye are gods; and all of you are children of the most High” (Psalm 82:6). We chose this scripture because we wanted everyone to realize that they are children of God and have the potential to be like Him.
Members planned for a long time to all be able to attend on the set day. Finally, the day came. But so did obstacles. It rained heavily the evening before and continued raining all through the night. Another obstacle for some members was that an important school meeting was happening at the same time as church.
We asked everybody to pray for these obstacles to be removed or overcome. At about 7:00 a.m. Sunday morning, the rain stopped. And when we arrived at church, we found those families who needed to go to the school meeting. When we asked them about their other meeting, they said, “We have to come to sacrament meeting first.” It was a great testimony to me of the importance of the Lord’s sacrament.
Members brought a lot of friends and neighbors to the meeting. One sister in the ward brought eight friends who had never been to church before! As more and more people arrived, we needed to open the overflow room. The count of the sacrament attendance was 215 people! All through the meeting, I could feel that the Holy Ghost was with us and that God helped us to be successful in this endeavor.
After this amazing Sunday, the number of people who regularly attend sacrament meeting increased. This included three Melchizedek Priesthood holders who began attending church regularly with their families. One family even had two of their children baptized and confirmed the following month.

When I was about to receive my mission call, I had an experience with my dad that really impressed upon my heart and mind the importance of worthy hands.
I had the opportunity to accompany my dad to the house of a man we home-taught. This good brother had asked for a blessing. I was not yet a Melchizedek Priesthood holder, so I watched and listened as my dad placed his hands upon the brother’s head and spoke the words that the Spirit put into his mouth. I felt the Spirit strongly during the blessing.
Afterwards my thoughts lingered on my dad’s hands. Those rough, tough farmer hands had been kept clean by their owner. Because of that, they were able to be an instrument in the Lord’s hands to bestow the blessings and power of heaven upon one of many whom my dad cared for. I viewed the sacred power of those hands with awe and thought: “Wow. I want to have hands like those.” I knew that soon I could, but I would need to keep them clean throughout my life to do any good.
My dad has always used his hands for good. He has kept them ever worthy to hold the priesthood of God.

One of Joseph Millett’s unforgettable early memories was of the day he and some young companions were herding cows along the Carthage Road. Several members of the mob from Carthage dashed by in a carriage and yelled out, “Dig a grave for Joe Smith for he is dead,” and young Joseph ran the six miles to Nauvoo with the news. His family was driven from Nauvoo with the Saints, and they lived for a time in Iowa, helping others move on until they themselves went to Salt Lake in 1850 and settled, under Brigham Young’s direction, in Manti.

I will always be grateful to a woman in Kenya, Africa, who taught me about willingness to work to obtain water. I met her at a celebration following the installation of a well in her community. With gratitude she told me that the new well would cut her daily nine-mile (14 km) trip to get water to a one-mile (1.6 km) trip. She was overjoyed at the opportunities that would now be hers.
I couldn’t help but think how I would feel if I had to walk a mile to get water. I was impressed that she put everything—from housework to gardening—aside while she made her journey to fetch water. She knew she couldn’t complete the other tasks without that water. I thought about how heavy her burden was. Carrying water takes strength and endurance. Yet, for the sake of her family, she was willing to walk nine miles every day to get it.
I wonder if we who get clean water from taps in our homes sometimes expect to come unto Christ with the same ease as turning a knob to get a glass of water. Or are we willing to put aside other tasks, even important ones, to seek to know Jesus Christ and His Father?
I know that the well of living water the Savior offers us never runs dry and is pure and life sustaining. When we come to Him with an empty cup, He will fill it, often beyond our capacity to receive. He is truly living water, a manifestation of the love of God.
The living water is the gospel of Jesus Christ.
“The fountain of living waters … [is] a representation of the love of God” (1 Nephi 11:25).
Living water can bring us “everlasting life” (John 4:14; D&C 63:23).

I had an experience as a high counselor where I was asked to help set apart new leaders in a high priest group. It was one of those moments where it was too late to consult a book for the proper words and process. I had been present at many setting aparts but had never done it myself. I was nervous as I listened carefully to the stake president set apart the group leader. Now it was my turn to set apart one of the counselors. Very nervous, with halting and a few stumbles, I made it through the blessing.

What I didn't expect to discover was a lesson in priesthood leadership, but I did. I learned it through the actions of the good stake president. Throughout the blessing, the stake president stood next to me as I did my best. I was worried that the stake president would be unhappy with my current skill level. However, he remained calm, didn't jump in and correct, and didn't seem nervous. He didn't expect me to be perfect. His calmness and action let me know that my best was good enough.

His inferred confidence provided an opportunity to grow.