Gospel Story Finder

When I was 20, the missionaries baptized my girlfriend and her family. The missionaries taught me, too. After I read the Book of Mormon, I received a testimony and was baptized. When I was 23, my girlfriend, Walkyria, and I were married. Several years later, we traveled to the Los Angeles California Temple to be sealed together. We couldn’t afford to take our children with us, so they were sealed to us when the first temple in Brazil, the São Paulo temple, opened.

Many know Elder Clark G. Gilbert as president of BYU–Pathway Worldwide and as past president of Brigham Young University–Idaho. Many also know him for his innovative development of online higher education programs at both institutions.
Elder Clark credits meaningful Church service—helping young men in inner-city Boston, Massachusetts, USA—for preparing him to take educational opportunities to larger audiences. That service opportunity came as he was busy with graduate school and caring for a young family.
“Those young men didn’t always have a lot of support. They became a part of our lives, and we grew to love them,” he said. “I learned to listen to the Lord and knew He was in their lives. I could hear Him telling me what I needed to do for them.”
Elder Gilbert said the Lord taught him about the needs of other people. “It wasn’t just that He was preparing me for education, but He was showing me what He could do in the lives of people at a deep, personal level.”

Several years ago I picked up the desk pen in my office at BYU to sign a paper that had been prepared for my signature, something I did at least a dozen times each day. That document committed the University to a particular course of action we had decided to follow. All the staff work had been done, and all appeared to be in order. But as I went to sign the document, I was filled with such negative thoughts and forebodings that I put it to one side and asked for the entire matter to be reviewed again. It was, and within a few days additional facts came to light which showed that the proposed course of action would have caused the University serious problems in the future.

“When I was about your age,” he began,” “we lived in that old farmhouse near your grandpa’s home, the house they use as a storage shed now.
“Your grandpa had been angry with me because I wasn’t doing everything that I should have been. I got all the lectures about obedience and responsibility. I was scolded, coaxed, and threatened, but still I did only what I wanted. I figured that I was old enough to make my own decisions.
“One morning your grandpa told me to be home right after school because he needed me to help him and my brothers irrigate the fields. He said that if I didn’t help, I would lose all privileges.”
“You mean that Grandpa was going to ground you?” I asked.
“Something like that,” Dad answered thoughtfully. “Well,” he continued, “I tried. I really did. But one of my friends asked for some help with our math assignment. By the time I got home, Dad and my brothers were already down at the irrigation canal, starting to turn the water into the fields.
“That canal was about two miles down the old gravel highway. When we lived in the old house, that highway was the only way through town. Oil tankers used it to get from the refinery to the storage tanks on the other side of town.
“I didn’t want to walk two more miles after having just walked home from school, so I went to the barn to get a horse. Well, Dad and my brothers had taken all the horses except one—Brandy.
“Dad had always told me, ‘Brandy is too spirited to ride with a nose loop. If you ride her, use a bridle.’”
“What’s a nose loop?” I interrupted.
“A nose loop,” Dad explained,” is made by wrapping a rope around the horse’s nose, then using the ends of the rope as reins. It isn’t the best way to ride a horse, but it’s all right when you ride a gentle one and you’re careful not to hurt it.
“I looked all over the barn for a bridle,” Dad continued his story, “but I couldn’t find one. I decided that I would risk riding Brandy to the irrigation canal with a nose loop, then trade horses with one of my brothers.
“I caught Brandy, put on the nose loop, climbed the fence, and jumped onto the horse’s bare back.”
“Weren’t you afraid of riding Brandy that way, Dad?” I asked.
“I think I was more afraid of what Dad would do if I didn’t make it to the canal,” he answered, “so I headed down the highway.
“Everything went pretty well for the first mile. I held the rope tightly, pulling Brandy’s nose in toward her neck. That was a mistake, but I didn’t know it then.
“She started getting restless. Soon she was skipping and jumping around, and I knew that I was losing control of her. I was within a half mile of the canal, though, and thought that I could make it. Then one of those oil tankers came up the highway.”
“Did the truck hit you and the horse, Dad?” I broke in, forgetting to even wonder why Dad was telling me a story about Grandpa’s horse.
“No, Danny,” Dad replied. “The driver blew his air horns, which was probably the worst thing that he could have done.
“Brandy spun around and headed for home at a full gallop. I grabbed a handful of her mane and held on for dear life. I bounced on her back, only managing to stay on because of my death grip on that handful of mane. Brandy never slowed down.
“As we got closer to the house, I knew that I would never make it. Your grandpa had just put up a barbed wire fence on the road to the corral where Brandy was sure to turn.
“When we reached the road, she made the turn at a full gallop. All I can remember after that is that I came off her back and headed for the wire. But instead of hitting the wire, I hit a fifty-five gallon metal drum.”
“Were you hurt bad?” I asked.
“Yes, Danny,” Dad said. “I remember waking up in a hospital bed. I hurt all over, my arm was in a cast, and my head throbbed. Your grandma and grandpa were both there.
“Your grandpa came close to the bed and smiled. ‘I’m glad that you’re back with us,’ he said. ‘You had a pretty nasty fall.’ Then he handed me this hunk of horsehair.”
Dad handed me a picture frame that had been in his desk. It held a bunch of coarse brown hair.
“It was part of Brandy’s mane,” Dad continued, “the part that I had been holding onto. ‘You might want to keep this as a reminder,’ your grandpa said to me. ‘Maybe it will help you remember to never ride Brandy with a nose loop.’
“That’s all that he ever said about that day. I knew what he meant. If I had obeyed, I wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital.
“I’ve kept that hunk of hair ever since to remind me that there is always a reason for obedience.”

The influence of your mother will bless you throughout life, especially when you serve as a missionary. Long years ago, Elder Frank Croft was serving in the state of Alabama. While preaching to the people, he was forcefully abducted by a vicious gang, to be whipped and lashed across his bare back. Elder Croft was ordered to remove his coat and shirt before he was tied to a tree. As he did so, a letter he had recently received from his mother fell to the ground. The vile leader of the gang picked up the letter. Elder Croft closed his eyes and uttered a silent prayer. The attacker read the letter from Elder Croft’s mother. From a copy of that letter, I quote:
“My beloved son, … remember the words of the Savior when He said, … ‘Blessed are ye when men shall revile you and persecute you and say all manner of evil against you falsely for my name’s sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad for you will have your reward in Heaven for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.’ Also remember the Savior upon the cross suffering from the sins of the world when He had uttered these immortal words, ‘Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ Surely, my boy, they who are mistreating you … know not what they do or they would not do it. Sometime, somewhere, they will understand and then they will regret their action and they will honor you for the glorious work you are doing. So be patient, my son, love those who mistreat you and say all manner of evil against you and the Lord will bless you and magnify you. … Remember also, my son, that day and night, your mother is praying for you.”
Elder Croft watched the hateful man as he studied the letter. He would read a line or two, then sit and ponder. He arose to approach his captive. The man said: “Feller, you must have a wonderful mother. You see, I once had one, too.” Then, addressing the mob, he said: “Men, after reading this Mormon’s mother’s letter, I just can’t go ahead with the job. Maybe we had better let him go.” Elder Croft was released without harm.

It was just an old board Kristen and I had found—maybe ten feet long and just wide enough to sit on. The desert sun had already started to turn the board gray, but even faded it was the perfect addition to our makeshift playground. In fact, other than a lot of sand and a few Tonka trucks, it was the only thing in our playground. Laid across a big rock sticking up in the backyard, that old board became a teeter-totter, kind of like the one at the park by Grandma’s house. Of course, our teeter-totter didn’t go as high as the one at the park. But it was ours.
One day we were teetering and tottering when a couple of men came to visit. I didn’t know what they wanted, but they talked to Mom in the kitchen for a while. Kristen, who was a year older than I was, said they were from church—the new one we had just started going to. One of them was young, and the other had white hair and a white beard. He was the oldest man I’d ever seen. As they were leaving, the old man walked over to us and watched as we went up and down on the teeter-totter.
“That’s a nice looking board you have there,” he said. “Would you mind if I took it with me for a while? I could sure use a board like that.”
We both looked at Mom, who was standing by the kitchen door. She told us to give the man the board. So Kristen and I got off our teeter-totter, and the man put the board in his truck. They said good-bye and drove away.
“Mom, what were those men doing here?” I grumbled.
“They’re our home teachers; the church we went to on Sunday sent them to make sure we’re okay.”
“I’m okay, but I was better when I had my teeter-totter.”
Mom ran her fingers through my hair. “I know, honey. It’s almost dinnertime. Go inside and wash up.”
Most kids would have probably put up a fuss when someone took their favorite toy, but we knew if Mom said it, we should do it.
That night, Mom said the old man’s name was Brother Andelin. My four-year-old mouth had to work to get his name right. Mom said Brother Andelin lived on the other side of town, but would come and visit again.
A few days later, I was on the porch when Brother Andelin’s truck came rattling up the drive.
“Hello, Bobby. Would you like to see what I built out of that board you gave me?” he said, getting out of his truck.
I ran behind him to the back of his truck where he pulled out the board, now painted green with a seat and handle at each end. In the middle on the other side were some steel rings. Also in the truck was a big, wooden, pyramid-shaped box, painted the same color as the board.
“Is your sister here?” Brother Andelin asked. “Run and get her while I set this up in the yard.”
I ran into the kitchen and down the hall. “Kristen,” I yelled, gasping for air. “Brother Andelin brought our board. But he, he—come see.”
Mom followed as Kristen and I ran outside. Brother Andelin had fastened the board on top of the box.
“It’s a real teeter-totter,” Kristen whispered to me. “Is it for us?”
“I don’t know. Ask him.”
“You ask him.”
“Brother Andelin,” I said, stepping closer, “is this for us? For keeps?”
“It’s your board, isn’t it?” he said. “Besides, what am I gonna do with a seesaw? My kids have all grown up.”
Kristen and I climbed on the new teeter-totter. It wasn’t like before. When we went up, we went off the ground way up in the air. Brother Andelin laughed as we played, his teeth smiling from behind his long, white beard.

Can you imagine a 25-hour-long meeting that was actually a good experience? Young men and women in the Madison Third Ward, Madison Wisconsin Stake, can. They met together on a holiday weekend—all day Friday and Saturday—to read the entire Book of Mormon.
They met at a leader’s home and read from 9:00 in the morning until 9:00 at night, stopping only long enough to say the blessing over dinner. After that, the young men camped out there, and the young women spent the night at a neighbor’s house. They reconvened the next morning for a similar schedule.
But there was no excited cheer when the last verse was read: “I bid unto all, farewell … until … I am brought forth triumphant through the air, to meet you before the pleasing bar of the great Jehovah, the Eternal Judge of both quick and dead. Amen” (Moro. 10:34). The evening ended with a very solemn and united “Amen.”

At age 16 Soon Joo Park was baptized in Seoul, Korea. When she was 21, she knew, after much prayer, that her Father in Heaven wanted her to serve a full-time mission. She discussed it with her bishop, was interviewed by him, and began making preparations. But her nonmember parents were unhappy with her decision. Her father was particularly distressed. When she received a call to serve in the Salt Lake Temple Square Mission, she put her faith in the Lord and boarded a plane for the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah.
While on the plane, Sister Park wrote a letter to her father. She told him where she would be for the next 18 months and tried to explain how important it was for her to serve a mission. A short time later, she received a letter from her father saying that he loved her and understood her desire to serve.
Temple Square brought Soon Joo Park and her father together. Tourists from all over the world also come together on Temple Square in Salt Lake City, Utah, to learn about the Savior and his Church. More than 5 million people visit Temple Square each year, and some 200 missionaries greet and guide them through their visits.
What makes this mission unique is that no full-time elders serve in it. Several missionary couples serve on Temple Square in a Church-service capacity, so there are some senior elders on the Square. But they do not serve full time. All the full-time missionaries are sisters.
Within the relatively small area of their mission’s few city blocks—which include the Salt Lake Temple, the Tabernacle, the Assembly Hall, two visitors’ centers, several pioneer monuments, and the Joseph Smith Memorial Building—these sisters are helping to fulfill the prophecy that “every man shall hear the fulness of the gospel in his own tongue, and in his own language” (D&C 90:11).
Because visitors from so many nations come to Temple Square, the missionaries serving there speak on a daily basis the greatest number of languages of any mission in the world—making it perhaps the most international mission in the Church. Of the more than 3,000 motor coach bus tours that visited last year, more than half brought non-English speaking visitors. At any given time, as many as 30 different languages may be spoken on the Square.
Sister Najet Rahou of Nice, France, was excited when she received her call to Temple Square because she knew it would allow her to use the five languages she speaks—French, Spanish, English, Hindi, and Afrikaans. During the summer months, when the number of visitors is the highest, she speaks several of these languages daily.
Sister Mireille Van Tonder of Bordeaux, France, also speaks five languages—Afrikaans, French, Dutch, English, and German. She recently spoke with a young woman visiting from South Africa. Sister Van Tonder, who was born in South Africa, was able to tell the visitor about the Church in her native language. The young woman was surprised and excited to learn that the Church was in her own country and that she could be taught by missionaries when she returned home.
Many visitors the missionaries speak with are like this young woman from South Africa—they return home and are taught by others. This kind of proselyting is another reason the Salt Lake Temple Square Mission is so unusual. Temple Square missionaries teach visitors of the divinity of Jesus Christ and about the history of the Church primarily through tours and presentations; they do not give the standard missionary discussions or see converts baptized. They send the names of those interested in knowing more about the Church to the missions where the people live.
“Other missions find, teach, baptize, and fellowship. We only find, but we are very successful finders,” says Robert Charles Witt, former president of the Temple Square Mission.
Sister Cheri Reid of American Samoa explains the sisters’ role: “We are instruments in the Lord’s hands, and we share our testimonies a lot. We help people recognize the role the Lord plays in their lives to strengthen and uplift them.”
Sister Erika Lecaros of Lima, Peru, says of serving on Temple Square: “It’s one of the hardest missions because you give so much of yourself—yet you don’t get to see the results. You give the people all you can and share the Spirit and bear your testimony, but you rarely find out what happens to them.”
Because their responsibilities at Temple Square are so unique, each Temple Square missionary spends four months of her 18-month mission serving in another mission in the United States. This gives her an opportunity to give the standard missionary discussions and work with members of the Church.
For example, Sister Tiziana Vacirca, from the Novara Branch, Italy Milan Mission, spent four months serving in the New York New York South Mission. Although New York is very different from Utah, Sister Vacirca says she saw so many people there from all over the world that it reminded her of Temple Square.
There is a lot of behind-the-scenes work at Temple Square to keep the mission organized and running smoothly. Fortunately, the mission office is on the Square, so the missionaries are able to work with and see their mission president on a daily basis.
The sisters’ daily schedules are planned out carefully to accommodate different preparation days, shifts, languages, training, and tours. There are more than 150 specific duties for which missionaries are trained and to which they are assigned at various times. Some of these duties include greeting visitors as they enter and exit Temple Square, conducting the various tours offered to visitors, answering questions at information desks, helping visitors using the FamilySearch® Center to look for family history information, and assisting those wishing to see Legacy, a Church-produced film portraying pioneer courage.
Temple Square missionaries also donate several hours each week in additional service. They volunteer at Welfare Square in Salt Lake City, where they sort used clothing for worldwide distribution to the needy, assist patrons in the bishops’ storehouse, teach English as a second language to any wishing to learn, and work in the cannery or dairy.
This experience proved useful for Sister Ilona Machinic of Vilnius, Lithuania, who met a Russian man on Temple Square. Able to speak to him in his native language, she discovered that he needed assistance and was able to call upon the resources of Welfare Square to help him. He gratefully went on his way, promising to repay the kindness of the Church somehow.
Like all missionaries, Temple Square missionaries have one day every week as a preparation day. Their mission is also like all others in that they have district meetings, zone conferences, and transfers. Transfers may include a change in apartments, zones, companions, preparation days, or shifts.
Since all the full-time missionaries in the mission are sisters, all the leaders and trainers are sisters. Another unique aspect of the mission is that the sisters don’t spend all their time working in tandem with their companions. While they do serve together on the Square as companions, they are often given individual assignments.
There is an ongoing spiritual excitement on Temple Square due to a variety of uplifting activities, such as general conference, Tabernacle Choir rehearsals and performances, and concerts in the Assembly Hall. The sisters are also able to attend sessions at the Salt Lake Temple twice a month on their preparation days.
Sister Tupou Naeata of Tonga explains that even with that excitement, there are challenges: “The Temple Square Mission is not as difficult physically as it is spiritually. There is such a great responsibility to be an example and to smile all the time and to always have the Spirit. It is amazing how God works through us.”
For example, Sister Lai Chong Wong of Hong Kong was conducting a tour for seven Cantonese visitors. Two of the visitors were asking a lot of tough questions and making negative comments to others on the tour; this type of experience is not uncommon, because people often come to Temple Square with preconceived ideas about the Church. However, the Spirit was so strong that Sister Wong was able to answer all of their questions and help the other visitors feel the Spirit.
What seems common to all the missionaries on Temple Square is their love for the Lord and their love for one another. The great unifying force on Temple Square is the Lord’s Spirit. It does not matter that the missionaries come from many different cultures. It does not matter that they speak different languages. During the time they serve together on Temple Square, they truly are of one heart.
“Even though my time on Temple Square will end, I will always wear my name tag in my heart, and my mission will continue through my life,” says Sister Lecaros, voicing the thoughts of missionaries serving throughout the world.

When I was eight, my orthodontist informed me that I needed to get six teeth pulled to continue the process of getting braces. I was scared. No medication, in my mind, could cover the pain of getting my teeth pulled. My family prayed for me. Surprisingly, with anesthesia and medicine, all I felt was a slight jerk, and the teeth were out. I love the power of prayer. Prayer combats fear and doubt. It upholds faith. Prayer helps all the time, and especially during hard and difficult trials.

At 6:00 A.M. on Thursday, August 11, 1976, Bobby Elkington, Bishop Brian W. Hunt of the Temple View Third Ward (Temple View New Zealand Stake), and Bardia Taiapa met in the Temple View chapel. There they turned over the $30.00 earned by the early morning seminary class of the Temple View New Zealand Stake for their brothers and sisters on the Gilbert Islands. The money was raised on two successive Saturdays when the class members made doughnuts and sold them at stake leadership meeting and around the Temple View community. It’s a very enthusiastic seminary class that will get up at 5:00 A.M. and earlier to go to class, raise $30.00 for a struggling seminary group, and then raise another $16.00 for their own activities.
Many of the youth have 100 percent attendance records.

As a student, you probably have or will learn about William Shakespeare in school. But what if, instead, Shakespeare was a student who learned at your school? For David Arnold, this was a reality. He went to King Edward VI School in England, where Shakespeare is said to have attended.
This school was appealing to David because it has a good reputation. Getting in is also really competitive, and David didn’t know if he would be accepted when he applied at age 11.
But getting into the school taught David something about himself: “I’m better than I thought I was,” he says. “It made me realize that I can do it.”

“Savannah, have you thought about helping build the battery-powered car?” Mr. Murdock asked. “You could compete in the engineering fair.”
Savannah looked at her science teacher. She never thought she was very good at science, but maybe it would be fun to join the team building the car.
“Do you think I’d be good at it?” Savannah asked.
Mr. Murdock smiled. “Well, I can tell that you are sharp and have a unique way of looking at things,” he said. “That’s just what the team needs! Why don’t you come to the team meeting today?”
Savannah promised to think about it.
During lunch Savannah told her friends about Mr. Murdock’s suggestion.
“Do you really want to do that?” Amber asked. “It sounds pretty boring.”
“I don’t know,” Savannah said. “My grandpa’s an engineer, and I think it’s interesting.”
“It’ll just be more schoolwork for you to do,” Tess said.
Amber nodded. “Totally. Hey, why don’t you come downtown with us after school? My mom’s driving us.”
“No thanks,” Savannah said. “The team meeting is after school, and I want to go.”
Savannah knew her friends didn’t understand why she would pick building a car over shopping, but she wanted to try it.
After school Savannah went to Mr. Murdock’s classroom. During the team meeting, Savannah got more and more excited. Designing and building a car sounded really cool!
But as Savannah walked home, she remembered what Amber had said. What if it was boring? What if she got too busy with the car to see her friends? What if they stopped liking her?
“I really want to join the team,” Savannah told Mom that night. “But Amber and Tess think it will be boring.”
“Well, why do you want to join?” Mom asked.
Savannah thought for a minute. “I want to know how things work,” she said. “And maybe I want to be an engineer like Grandpa.”
“Those sound like good reasons to me,” Mom said.
They sounded like good reasons to Savannah too. Still, she worried about her friends.
“There will be lots of times when your friends say one thing but you think another,” Mom said. “It’s important to base your choices on what you feel is right.”
That night Savannah thought a lot. She asked Heavenly Father for help making her choice. Eventually she decided what she would do. She felt peaceful and excited.
The next day Savannah talked to Mr. Murdock. “I’ve decided to join the team,” she said.
“You’ll spend a lot of time here after school,” he said.
“I know. I’m looking forward to it.”
For the next month, the team met twice a week. Savannah volunteered to come up with a design for the car. After hours of drawing and throwing away ideas, she finally had one for the team to build. She loved working on this project! Even when she wasn’t working on it, she was still thinking about the car and how they could improve it.
The day of the fair, the car was ready. Savannah hadn’t been able to spend as much time with Amber and Tess, and it had been scary to try something new, but she was glad she had joined the team. Maybe it wasn’t the popular choice, but for Savannah, it was the right one. She imagined Jesus smiling at her. He hadn’t always made popular choices either, but they were always the right ones.
After testing more than 50 entries, the judges awarded Savannah’s team second place!
She couldn’t wait for next year’s fair. She already had a few ideas.

But the members of the choir are not the only people who think of Mary Jack as their Mary. Her love for children flowed through the pages of The Children’s Friend for nearly sixty years too. When she was still a girl in her teens, she left her home in Oakley, Idaho, to go to Salt Lake to find work. Since her father was president of the Cassia Stake there and had centered his family’s life in the Church, it was natural that Mary would seek work in one of the offices at Church headquarters.
The Primary Association needed secretarial help, and Mary was hired. It soon became apparent to Sister Louie B. Felt, General Primary President, that her quiet and modest little secretary could do far more than type. And so in 1920 Mary was called to be general secretary and a member of the Primary General Board where she served for twenty years.
Of even more importance to boys and girls, Sister May Anderson, who was then editor of The Children’s Friend and a counselor in the General Primary Presidency, discovered that Mary could write in a way that touched the hearts of children. Because there was a need for someone just like her to help prepare stories, poems, and articles for The Children’s Friend, the after-midnight organ player became associated with that magazine. She was a managing editor of the magazine late in 1970 when the First Presidency decided to ask all the auxiliaries to discontinue their magazines and transfer the publishing responsibility to the First Presidency of the Church.
Mary, who for so many years had been the “heart” of The Children’s Friend, was persuaded to stay with the new Friend staff, retiring in 1971. During those fifty-eight years that she blessed the boys and girls of the Church with her contributions to their magazine, she wrote under nine different names, her favorite being Mary Rose. One of her poems found in a 1930 issue is entitled “Clouds,” and shows Mary’s playful and imaginative nature:
The clouds are like a flock of sheep
Upon a summer day;
I see the big white woolly ones,
And little lambs at play.
I wonder what they graze upon,
And just how far they roam;
I wonder where the shepherd is
And how he’ll get them home.
Gradually Sister Anderson turned more and more of The Children’s Friend work over to Mary. “Finally,” Mary said, “I was doing it all myself—every speck—the layout, the pasteup. All of it. I did it!” And while she was doing all the mechanics of preparing material for a magazine, she was also writing to the contributors, sending them copies of the Book of Mormon, and giving money from her own small salary when anyone said they needed help.
Over the years “Our Mary” worked with and for every General Primary president since Sister Felt, with the exception of Sister Naomi Shumway.
“They’ve all been wonderful,” Mary declares. “People have to be different, but they’re all wonderful.”

Some of the information about the Church, no matter how convincing, is just not true. In 1985, I remember a colleague walking into my business office in Florida. He had a Time magazine article entitled “Challenging Mormonism’s Roots.” It spoke of a recently discovered letter, supposedly written by Martin Harris, that conflicted with Joseph Smith’s account of finding the Book of Mormon plates.

My colleague asked if this new information would destroy the Mormon Church. The article quoted a man who said he was leaving the Church over the document. Later, others reportedly left the Church. I’m sure it was a trial of their faith.

A few months later, experts discovered (and the forger confessed) that the letter was a complete fraud. I remember really hoping that those who had left the Church because of this deception would find their way back.

Illustration by Petur Antonsson
I had noticed the commercial beehives before—several times, in fact. They stood out like white sentinels in a clearing off the road just outside the small town where we lived in central California, USA.
But it wasn’t until my brother, several friends, and I rode by on our bikes one Saturday that we decided to take a closer look. Honey sounded especially good that morning. But how could we “borrow” a little without getting stung?
I don’t remember who came up with the idea, but we all agreed it was a good one. One of us simply had to tuck his pants inside his socks and cover his upper body, including his hands, arms, neck, and head. Then he could approach the hives without worrying about getting stung and grab what is called a “honeycomb frame.”
It was a sweet plan. What could go wrong?
We drew lots, and as with Lehi’s sons, the lot fell to the eldest—my brother, Mark. We knew we’d picked the right boy for the job when he grabbed his leather bicycle bag, cut two small eyeholes in it, and put it over his head. The rest of us pulled off our T-shirts and layered his arms and neck for protection. When we took off our shoes and gave him our socks for his hands, he was ready for battle.
Captain Moroni would have been proud—had we not been about to use our makeshift armor to take something that wasn’t ours.
My friends and I stood what we thought was a safe distance from the hives as Mark ran up to them. He quickly grabbed a honeycomb frame from one of the beehive boxes. Then he shook it, dropped it to the ground, and hightailed it back to us. The bees were not amused, but they soon settled down.
So far, so good.
Now all Mark had to do was run back, pick up the honeycomb frame, shake it free of bees, and sprint back with it.
All went according to plan until Mark started running toward us. Turned out he had company. The bees were coming too—and they were madder than hornets!
During the next few exciting minutes, I gained valuable knowledge.
I learned that honeybees fly fast—at least, faster than barefoot boys running on rocks and stickers.
I learned that honeybees are brave—they die after they sting you. As my shirtless friends and I tried to run away, about two dozen bees sacrificed themselves on our ears, necks, backs, and arms.
I learned that when we make a choice, we also choose the consequences of that choice. As President James E. Faust (1920–2007), Second Counselor in the First Presidency, said: “When you pick up a stick you pick up both ends.”1
After the honeybees had finished teaching my friends and me these painful lessons, the surviving bees retreated to their hives. We boys—smarting, swollen, and wiser—trudged back to my brother, who had enjoyed the spectacle without getting stung and who was now enjoying the honey.
By then I had lost my appetite—for honey and for “borrowing,” which I knew in my heart was just another word for stealing. My body wasn’t the only thing that was stung. So was my conscience.
I can honestly say, however, that the lessons I learned that day from the bees and their honey have stuck with me.

In the wintertime John and his dad and his brothers ice fish. Each winter they push the ice house out onto a frozen lake a few miles from John’s home. The ice house has a stove inside to keep them warm during blizzards and thirty-degree-below-zero (-34° C) temperatures. John says that the fish bite best at night and during blizzards. The ice house has three holes cut through the floor along two walls that are lined up with holes augered in the two-foot-thick (61-cm) ice. John likes to put his face down close to the holes and watch the fish swimming.

I especially loved the peaceful feeling when I stepped inside the Sacred Grove. It is truly a place where God and Jesus Christ have been. The peace there is much like the peace that a temple or Church building brings. It is truly the Spirit.
In the Sacred Grove we split into small groups and went off with our leaders. They taught us about the First Vision, and we each found a quiet spot to pray. I felt a real peace when I prayed. I felt reconfirmation that the Church is true.

Illustration by Mark Robison
Allie could see the word clearly in her mind—portion. Easy. Just a few more words to go, and she’d be the school spelling-bee champion for sure.
P-O-R …
Allie and her parents had come from another country and had to learn a new language. Her parents encouraged her to do her best in school. Allie didn’t want to disappoint them.
But she knew she’d do well. She loved words. That’s how she had learned English so quickly. She even translated for her parents a lot. Winning the spelling bee was another way to show them she was doing her best.
Broccoli, exaggerate, mischievous, separate.
She spelled all those words correctly. Now it was just Allie and two other students on stage.
“P-O-R-I-T-I-O-N, portion,” Allie finished. She opened her eyes and smiled at the judge.
The judge frowned. “I’m so sorry, Allie. The correct spelling is P-O-R-T-I-O-N.”
Allie gasped. What had she done? She’d added an extra i! Her face flushed and her heart pounded. How could she have missed such an easy word? She couldn’t believe this was happening after all her hard work.
Coming down from the stage, Allie could barely see the stairs as tears welled up in her eyes. She just wanted to be invisible. How would she face everyone?
“May I go home?” she asked her teacher. “I’m not feeling very well.”
“Of course, Allie,“ Mrs. Bauer said.
Allie grabbed her books and ran straight home.
Soon Mom tapped on her bedroom door. “Are you OK, Alexandra? How was the spelling bee?”
Allie sniffled. “I missed a word, Mom, a dumb, easy word,” she answered, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“OK,” she heard her mother say, but Allie imagined how disappointed Mom probably felt.
Lying on her bed, Allie thought about how bad she felt. It wasn’t so much about misspelling an easy word, although that was really hard. But she felt she had failed her parents and herself.
The next day was Saturday. Mom made Allie her favorite breakfast to cheer her up. But Allie stayed in her room most of the day. Her best friend, Lindsay, called to see if she wanted to play, but all Allie could do was lie on her bed and think over and over about that awful moment at the spelling bee.
Finally Sunday came, and Allie wondered if she should even go to church. When Allie had first moved in, Lindsay had invited her to come to church with her family. Allie’s parents weren’t members of the Church, but they agreed to let her go. When Allie turned eight, her parents had even let her be baptized!
Allie was still sad today, but she still wanted to go to church. When Lindsay came to the door, Allie kissed her parents goodbye and headed outside.
Allie’s heart began to feel lighter as she walked into the chapel. What was that feeling?
When it was time for Primary, Allie and Lindsay were talking happily as they sat down. Then Allie heard a familiar song. She’d sung the words many times before, but she’d never really thought about what they were saying until now.
I am a child of God, and He has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home with parents kind and dear.
Suddenly it seemed like these words were just for her. They were a gift from Heavenly Father. They reminded her that her parents wanted her to do her best because they loved her. Her Heavenly Parents loved her too. And she felt the Spirit telling her that as long as she was trying to do her best, that was good enough.
These are the best words ever! Allie thought.

This would be a fine place to end Kim and Neil’s story, but there’s more. The Kereszti’s son, Zsolt, was the only Latter-day Saint single adult in Hungary, so Dr. Davis invited him to come to Salt Lake City and live with his family for a while. Since Zsolt had medical training, he could help Dr. Davis in his research.
So now the Davis’s missionary efforts resulted in a new big brother for the family. What’s it like to suddenly have a friend from Hungary move in?
“I remember the first day he came,” says Kim. “We couldn’t even pronounce his name. But since then, we’ve become really close. I go to early-morning seminary, and he takes me. He’s come to our school and spoken, he’s cooked Hungarian dinners for us, he’s taught us a little of the Hungarian language, and we’ve done a lot of other special things together.”
“I was kind of shy at first,” says Neil, who was the oldest son in the house when Zsolt arrived. “We’d go out and play racquetball and Ping-Pong, and we all got used to each other. Considering he came from a family where he was the only child, he’s very patient with us.”
As for Zsolt, he was delighted to be accepted straight into the heart of a strong Latter-day Saint family. He’s fascinated by their unity, by family prayer, scripture study, and family home evening, and he’s amazed at their support of each other. The Davises are a musical family and play their various instruments together often. They’re also an athletic family and always attend each other’s games and sports activities.
“I’ve learned that I tremendously enjoy a big family,” Zsolt says. “It’s very educational for me to watch and learn how they handle everything. They set goals and motivate each other. I would like to have a family like this someday.”

I received a letter from one who counts herself fortunate, and indeed fortunate she is. She writes:
“Although I have been raising our four boys as a single parent, … I am not alone. I have a wonderful ‘ward family’ that has rallied around us. …
“My Relief Society president has been there for me through my greatest hardships, encouraging my spiritual growth, personal prayer, and temple attendance.
“Our bishop has been generous in providing needed food and clothing and has helped send two of the boys to camp. He has had interviews with all of us and given each of us blessings and needed encouragement. He has helped me to budget and do what I can to help my family.
“Our home teachers have come regularly and even gave the boys blessings as they started the new school year.
“Our stake president and his counselors have checked in on us on a regular basis by taking time to visit with us at church, on the phone, or visiting our home.
“This Church is true, and my boys and I are living proof that God loves us and that a ‘ward family’ can make all the difference.
“Our priesthood leaders have been instrumental in keeping the boys active in church and in the Scouting program. [One] is an Eagle Scout and is receiving his fourth palm this week. [Another] is an Eagle with three palms. And [a third] has just turned in his Eagle papers this week. The youngest is a Webelos and loves Cub Scouts.
“We are always met with loving hearts and warm handshakes. The Christlike attitude of the stake and our ward has helped us through trials we never imagined possible.
“Life has been hard, … but we put on the whole armor of God as we kneel in family prayer … , asking for help and guidance and sharing thanks for the blessings we have received. I pray daily for the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost to guide me as I raise these boys to be missionaries and encourage them to be true to the gospel and the priesthood they hold.
“I am proud to say I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know this Church is true. I sustain my Church leaders. We are doing well, and I thank everyone for their love, and prayers, and acceptance.”
What a great letter that is! How much it says about the way this Church functions and should function throughout the world. I hope that every woman who finds herself in the kind of circumstances in which this woman lives is similarly blessed with an understanding and helpful bishop, with a Relief Society president who knows how to assist her, with home teachers who know where their duty lies and how to fulfill it, and with a host of ward members who are helpful without being intrusive.
I have never met the woman whose letter I have read. Notwithstanding the cheerful attitude she conveys, I am sure there has been much of struggle and loneliness and, at times, fear. I notice that she works to provide for her needs and the needs of her boys, who are in their teens. I assume her income is inadequate, because she indicates that the bishop has helped them with food and clothing.
Some years ago President Benson delivered a message to the women of the Church. He encouraged them to leave their employment and give their individual time to their children. I sustain the position which he took.
Nevertheless, I recognize, as he recognized, that there are some women (it has become very many, in fact) who have to work to provide for the needs of their families. To you I say, do the very best you can. I hope that if you are employed full-time you are doing it to ensure that basic needs are met and not simply to indulge a taste for an elaborate home, fancy cars, and other luxuries. The greatest job that any mother will ever do will be in nurturing, teaching, lifting, encouraging, and rearing her children in righteousness and truth. None other can adequately take her place.
It is well-nigh impossible to be a full-time homemaker and a full-time employee. I know how some of you struggle with decisions concerning this matter. I repeat, do the very best you can. You know your circumstances, and I know that you are deeply concerned for the welfare of your children. Each of you has a bishop who will counsel with you and assist you. If you feel you need to speak with an understanding woman, do not hesitate to get in touch with your Relief Society president.
To the mothers of this Church, every mother who is here today, I want to say that as the years pass, you will become increasingly grateful for that which you did in molding the lives of your children in the direction of righteousness and goodness, integrity and faith. That is most likely to happen if you can spend adequate time with them.
For you who are single parents, I say that many hands stand ready to help you. The Lord is not unmindful of you. Neither is His Church.
May He bless you, my beloved sisters who find yourselves in the situation of single parenthood. May you have health, strength, vitality to carry the heavy burden that is yours. May you have loving friends and associates to bear you up in your times of trial. You know the power of prayer as perhaps few others do. Many of you spend much time on your knees speaking with your Father in Heaven, with tears running down your cheeks. Please know that we also pray for you.
With all that you have to do, you are also asked to serve in the Church. Your bishop will not ask you to do anything that is beyond your capacity. And as you so serve, a new dimension will be added to your life. You will find new and stimulating associations. You will find friendship and sociality. You will grow in knowledge and understanding and wisdom and in your capacity to do. You will become a better mother because of the service you give in the work of the Lord.