Gospel Story Finder

My wife, Kate, and I are both in the medical field. After our marriage, we looked at our circumstances and began to think of how to share our blessings with others. We both worked in the state hospital as a medical doctor and a laboratory scientist. We realized that it would not give us the full opportunity that we needed to share our love with others. After much consideration, we established our own hospital, Ensign Hospital, which has become a great avenue to show our love to others.

When Nathan and his family moved from a small town to a big city, he noticed that many things were different. For instance, he lived in an apartment building in the city. It was July, and he hadn’t met any other children yet. He’d probably have to wait and make new friends when school started in the fall. Everyone seemed too busy now.
In the small town where Nathan used to live, the flag was a special part of the Fourth of July celebration. His dad ran a flag up the pole in their front yard that morning and took it down that evening. Flags flew from tall poles, porches, and store fronts all up and down the street. There had always been a parade, too, and Nathan usually rode his bike in it. One year he had led the parade, marching and twirling his baton, instead.
But it seemed to him that everyone here in the big city was in a hurry. There were going to be fireworks in a nearby park that night, he knew, and there was a big Fourth of July parade downtown, but no one was doing anything in his neighborhood that he could see.
Nathan looked out the window and watched a city bus stop at the corner and people climb on and off at the same time. He watched the cars rushing by, people hurrying on their way to somewhere. No one seemed to care about the holiday.
As he twisted the stick that held a small flag between his fingers, he asked, “Dad, can one person and a dog be a parade?”
His dad looked thoughtful. “I suppose so.”
Patting his dog, Nathan thought a while and then laughed. “Come on, Scruffy, this is the Fourth of July, and we’re going to have a parade. Just the two of us.”
He asked his mom if she had any ribbon. She found some in her sewing box.
“Red, blue, and white—the perfect colors!” he declared. “Just what I need. Now, Scruffy, you hold still while I tie some streamers on your collar and put on your leash.”
Nathan found his baton, took hold of Scruffy’s leash, and went out the door. The dog looked at Nathan, woofed, then trotted beside him. “I won’t cross the street, Scruffy. That’s not safe in the big city. But we can still have a parade.”
Nathan marched boldly down the sidewalk, holding his flag and Scruffy’s leash in one hand and twirling his baton with the other. When they turned the corner, he looked in the drugstore window and saw lots of flags on display. A boy coming out of the drugstore bumped into him.
“Whoops! Sorry,” the boy said. He laughed when he saw Scruffy with his fancy streamers. “Where’d you get the flag and baton?”
“From the parade I was in last year. Have you ever been in a parade?”
“No.”
“Want to be in mine?”
“I sure do! Let’s go to my house so I can get my drum for it.”
Soon the boys were marching down the street. Nathan waved his flag and twirled his baton. The other boy tramped along behind, beating his drum, and Scruffy pranced along with his streamers fluttering in the breeze.
When they reached the corner, Nathan explained, “I’m not allowed to cross the street.”
They turned the corner. The boy did a rat-a-tat-tat on the drum.
“What’s your name?” Nathan asked.
“Simon. What’s yours?”
Nathan told him, then asked, “Who else can be in our parade?”
Simon said, “We’ll get Jenny—she lives here.” He ran up the steps, rang the bell, and waited. A girl opened the door. “We’re having a parade. If you want to be in it, bring your horn.”
“OK!”
Nathan, Simon, and Jenny marched—left, right, left, right. Nathan waved his flag and twirled his baton, Simon beat his drum, and Jenny blew her horn. Scruffy now led the way, tail held high.
Mr. Swartz, the grocer, stood in the door of his market. “Hey!” he shouted. “What’s all the racket?”
“We’re having a parade.”
“Come in a minute,” the grocer said. “I’ll make you hats.”
Scruffy waited outside while the children went with the grocer to the back of the store, where he made hats from folded white butcher paper. They marched out of the store, wearing their hats, and waved the flag, twirled the baton, beat the drum, and tooted the horn.
The people in the store clapped their hands and smiled.
When the children were on the sidewalk again, they noticed three girls and two boys coming toward them.
“Hey!” Simon called. “Do you want to join our parade?”
“What can we do?” one girl asked. “We don’t have drums or horns or even a flag.”
“You can whistle,” Nathan said.
“All right!” they cheered, and they joined the parade.
Scruffy barked as Nathan turned the corner. He looked back. “Wow!”
Most of the people from the market had joined the parade!
A man in a wheelchair did wheelies.
A young mother carried a baby who clapped its hands.
An older woman with a feather in her hat clapped too.
A man with a soda pop whistled.
A woman with two little girls skipped and waved flags.
A boy on a skateboard zipped back and forth.
“Look,” Nathan shouted, “they’ve all joined the parade! The big city isn’t too busy to have a parade after all. And now I have lots of new friends too!”

When I was a new mission president, I was excited to receive our first group of new missionaries. A few of our more experienced missionaries were preparing for a brief meeting with them. I noticed that they had arranged children’s chairs in a semicircle.
“What’s up with the little chairs?” I asked.
The missionaries, somewhat sheepishly, said, “For the new missionaries.”
I believe the way we see others significantly impacts their perception of who they are and what they can become. Our new missionaries sat on adult chairs that day.

Vitaly: During those three days, I realized I had found someone special. I was disappointed when the conference ended and Katya and I had to part. Luckily, though, there was a young single adult conference the next month. I immediately started looking forward to it.
That conference was as great as I had hoped. Katya and I spent a lot of time really getting to know each other. As the event ended, we exchanged phone numbers and went back to our respective cities.
During the following weeks we kept in touch mostly by phone calls and text messages. (I think in less than a month I learned to text on my cell phone faster than most people can type on a laptop!)
Katya lived in Yekaterinburg, which is 11 hours away by train from where I lived in Omsk, Siberia. Nevertheless, we both desperately wanted to see each other again. We started to make regular trips on the weekends. I would go to see her one weekend, and a few weeks later, she would come visit me. When I visited Katya, I stayed with mutual friends in her town, and when she visited me, she stayed with mutual friends who lived in my town. We often spent time with these friends from church during our visits.
Katya: Eleven hours may seem like a long commute, but for Russia, that’s really just a short walk! Because of the distance, our dates were not as frequent as we would have liked. We could get together only once every few weeks and spend two or three days together before one of us returned home. Often, it felt like we needed a lot more time than that, and parting was always difficult. But because we had to make such an effort to see each other, we appreciated every minute we spent together. As our relationship progressed, we began to look forward to a time when we would not have to say good-bye.

Imagine in your mind May 1, 1890. A young man and a young lady in a little country town about 250 miles from the Logan Temple decided to be married. Highways—none. Fancy roads—none. Trails through the sagebrush and wagon trails—yes.
It probably would have taken six or seven days at least to make the journey. In May it rains in southern Idaho and in Utah. Imagine riding in a buggy with all of your clothes—taking something along, I guess for the horses, taking some food in little sacks of some kind. Fancy clothes, warm clothes—they had none. Sleeping bags—none. Coleman lanterns or cooking stoves—none. They would have had matches and had to find dry sagebrush to make a fire to cook their food.
Just imagine, just run it through your mind for a moment and think of the gratitude that I have and the blessings they brought into my life by traveling to a place to be married a long ways away. Inconvenience? That wouldn’t be a problem; they would do it. And think of what’s happened in the last few years with President Hinckley—the inspiration and direction he has had in the building of temples all over the world. And think of what people went through a few years ago.
Those blessings have come into my life from my parents and their parents and others who have affected my life—teachers and good people that I have been associated with.
When I was about 11 years old, a man came to our little town to teach at the Church academy. He played the violin a little, and we hadn’t had anyone there for a long time who had played the violin. My mother was impressed and picked up a little violin, I guess at some little rummage sale somewhere, and decided that I should learn to play the violin.
Even though I had never seen anyone play the violin in public, he came to our house and started giving me some little simple lessons on playing the violin. I was coming along fairly well by the time we graduated from the eighth grade in grammar school, and for the graduation exercises held in the high school I was asked to play a violin solo.
I’d carefully practiced the little number “Träumerei,” as I remember the name. My sister who was four years older than I and was then one of the popular girls in high school was my pianist. At the graduation exercises, Connie McMurray was the valedictorian. Girls are always smarter in school than boys. As she was giving the valedictory address, there was a little pedestal with a pitcher of water and a glass on it for the school board. The school board was on the stand, plus a little handful of us who were graduating from the eighth grade.
As Connie McMurray was giving her famous valedictory address, near the end of it we noticed the little doily under the pitcher of water on the pedestal was moving over a little bit towards the edge, and over it fell with the pitcher and glass of water! Connie McMurray fell in a dead faint.
In the scurrying around of cleaning the water off the stage and rearranging the chairs, they announced that we would now have the violin solo from David Haight. I walked over to the little old piano, and my sister came up from the audience. I took that little simple violin out of that wooden case as my sister sat down at the piano and sounded an A. I said, “Go ahead and play.”
She said, “David, you’d better tune it.”
I said, “No, no, I tuned it at our piano at home.” We had an old Kimball piano at home. You know, homes in those days—if you had a piano and books, that’s all you needed for the family. I had carefully tuned the strings by twisting those ebony pegs of that violin, but I didn’t know that all pianos weren’t the same. So as my sister said, “You’d better tune it,” I said, “No, no, it’s all tuned. I tuned it at home.”
So she went ahead and played the introduction, and then I came down on the first note. We were off about two notes.
As she slowed down, I said, “Keep playing,” because I couldn’t imagine anyone would take the time of a famous audience like I was playing to—you know, 100 people in that little high school auditorium. You wouldn’t hold up Carnegie Hall while you tuned your violin! That would be shop work. You would do that in the back room so that when you would start to play, why, you’d be all ready to play.
She slowed down. I said, “Keep playing.” We finished it, and she didn’t speak to me for days following that show.
I want to honor the little country town that I grew up in with my parents, where I was raised and where they were kind and good to me. I am thankful for the knowledge that I acquired from my loving parents.
I am grateful for my wife, Ruby, coming into my life, for our children, and then their children, and then their children, and the people who are part of my life today who influence my life. And I hope that I have some influence for good in their lives.
You remember the account of John the Baptist speaking to John the Beloved and to Andrew on the occasion when the Savior met them. And John the Baptist commented, “Behold the Lamb of God!” (John 1:36). And as the Savior met those young men—John the Baptist, John the Beloved, and Andrew—He said, “What seek ye?”
And in that conversation that’s reported, they said, “Where dwellest thou?” (John 1:38).
And the Savior said, “Come and see” (John 1:39).
They followed the Savior, and according to that brief account that we have, they stayed with Him until the 10th hour. They may have spent the evening together, but it is not known where He was staying or what accommodations He might have had.
John and Andrew were with the Savior for several hours. Just imagine being in His presence or being able to sit and look into His eyes or to hear Him explain who He was and why He had come to earth and to hear that inflection in His voice in describing what He would have told those young men. They would have shaken His hand. They would have felt of that precious, wonderful personality as they listened to Him.
And following that encounter, the account says that Andrew went to find his brother Simon because he had to share it with someone. As we meet in a great conference like this and talk about the gospel and talk about our responsibility and the opportunity we have, just imagine if that had happened to any of us, to have been in that divine, precious personality’s presence and to have listened to Him and to have shaken His hand and to have looked into His eyes and to have heard what He would say.
When Andrew found his brother Simon, he said to him, “We have found the [Messiah]” (John 1:41). He probably said: “We’ve been in His presence. We’ve felt of His personality. We know that what He is telling us is true.” Yes, Andrew had to share it with someone.
That is what we do in sharing what we know and what we understand. And I’m grateful for that knowledge I have that God lives, that He is our Father, and for the understanding that I have of our Heavenly Father and of His Son, Jesus the Christ, our Savior and the Redeemer of all of mankind.
I had a letter only a few days ago from a man in Edinburgh, Scotland. His name is George Stewart. He’ll be surprised at my mentioning this, but he wanted to thank me because when he was 15 years old (some 40 years ago), I was presiding over the mission in Scotland. He wanted to thank me for the missionaries’ coming to their home in Thornliebank, one of the areas of Glasgow. He had joined the Church along with his mother.
He said that as he developed a testimony of the Book of Mormon, as he started reading it and as he kept reading it, he couldn’t put it down because he knew it was true. He kept reading and reading and developing a testimony of the gospel as a young man. He told how he used to come over to the mission home and how we were kind to him and we would spend time with the young people because they were getting into Mutual, which we were starting in the branches.
Then he told of the blessings that had come into his life as a young man, that he had met his sweetheart in that little branch—his wife—and that they were married and that they had four children: a son who had finished a mission in the Washington D.C. Mission, a son who served in the England Leeds Mission, a daughter who was married in the temple, and one who is waiting for the return of a missionary. He voiced gratitude for all of the blessings that had come into his life and the lives of his sons who have been on missions and his daughters.
During the past 40 years, he has served as a bishop four times in four different units, and his wife has served as a Relief Society president on three occasions. He is currently serving as a counselor in the Edinburgh stake presidency. He said, “And I’m going to be retiring very shortly from the company I’m with. I’ve done very well, and we plan to go out on a mission together.”
Then he said these words to me: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.” Let me say that again: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.”
And he says the gospel came into his life, to his wife, to all of his children, and to their children. The grandchildren are active in the Church, and he and his wife now have a great desire to go out into the world when they retire from their profession.
When you think of the majesty and the impact and the spiritual direction of this work out in the world and that this work is meant to reach the people of the world, it is thrilling just to contemplate what lies before us.
There was a Brother and Sister Andrus from Walnut Creek, California, who had served four missions, and then they were called to go to Zimbabwe and assigned to the district in Bulawayo in Zimbabwe. This was their fifth mission.
As they told of the marvelous things that they were able to do in reactivating people, she told a story of how there was a little portable electronic organ in the chapel and how she started showing some of the boys and girls in Bulawayo how to play the organ. There was also a little piano keyboard in another room, and she would have a class where the organ was and another one where this little keyboard was. She would teach these children to play the organ after school. They said they started a temple preparation class in the reactivation process, and before they left they were able to put 28 people on the bus to go from Bulawayo all the way to Johannesburg to the temple, 650 miles away—two days and one night. They said, “We’ve talked about how we are in our late 70s now—these two old people wandering around in Africa having the greatest period of our lives, the greatest excitement we could have.”
Think of Dr. Alan Barker, who had retired from the Salt Lake Clinic, a wonderful cardiologist here in Salt Lake, who, together with his wife, accepted a mission call to the Philippines. While there, they accomplished a marvelous work in helping correct a serious disease problem. He was there long enough to help find a solution to the problem and obtain the needed medical equipment and medication.
These are examples of the marvelous service being given by senior missionary couples in various parts of the world.
I leave you my love, my witness, my testimony that God lives, that this work is true. You can’t find the word retirement in the Bible. I don’t think you can find the word in the Bible Dictionary. Isn’t it interesting to think what can happen in our lives today and what possibilities lie ahead for us if we believe and understand and have a commitment and a dedication to live the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ and to bless the lives of people?
May you be so blessed. May you have a burning feeling in your heart. May you feel as I do on this day that this work is true and that it is meant for us to help bring about the eternal plan of salvation and exaltation. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

With this prospect before us, consider the following story. A young man, full of ambition and energy, enrolled in a fine university. At the time, he was a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. His goal was lofty—he wanted to become a doctor. His aim was ambitious—he wanted to be rich. He wanted to play football, so he sought out the coaches and eventually made the team. Now he could have the recognition and bragging rights unique in the world of university sports. Such were the notions in his head.
But he had given little thought to something that would ultimately dismantle his lofty and vain ambitions—he had failed to lay up in store. He had overlooked the importance of adequate preparation, the requirements of regular attendance and disciplined study, and the college chemistry class. The consequence was swift and merciless. It took less than 90 days. It happened this way:
The day he found his 5-foot 8-inch, 170-pound body on the line of scrimmage opposite a mammoth lineman from the varsity squad, he knew he was in the wrong sport.
Unaccustomed to rigorous study, his eyes and mind refused to function after a brief time in the books.
The capstone of defeat was the final chemistry exam. Suffice it to say that his random answers to multiple-choice questions did not even approximate the law of averages. He failed miserably.
Hard work, a mission that awakened in him a correct vision of life’s purposes, and unrelenting preparation eventually overcame the consequence of this brief period of foolishness. Even today, however, I still have nightmares about that chemistry class.

I remember when I was young, there was an older boy who was physically and mentally disabled. He had a speech impediment and walked with difficulty. The boys used to make fun of him. They teased and taunted him until sometimes he would cry.

I can still hear his voice: “You’re not kind to me,” he said. And still they would ridicule him, push him, and make jokes about him.

One day I could bear it no longer. Although I was only seven years old, the Lord gave me the courage to stand up to my friends.

“Don’t touch him,” I said to them. “Stop teasing him. Be kind. He is a child of God!”

My friends stepped back and turned away.

I wondered at the time if my boldness would jeopardize my relationship with them. But the opposite happened. From that day onward, my friends and I became closer. They showed increased compassion for the boy. They became better human beings. To my knowledge, they never taunted him again.

We talked long into the night. “Should we or shouldn’t we?” The bishop had announced in priesthood meeting that they needed a full-time custodian for the stake center. My husband Ace had inquired about it after the meeting and had been told to talk it over with his wife and then meet with the three bishops the next evening.
Would he like such a job? It was a large church house that served three wards and a stake. With all the activities, there would be plenty of work. I would undoubtedly help, dusting the organ and piano and washing a few windows. Since we lived close by, he could come home for lunch and also reduce transportation expenses. There would be no more long hours working in the sun, rain, wind, and snow that his present job with a plumbing supply company demanded, and no more need to work a second job at night as a warehouse custodian. But at age fifty-nine it’s hard for a man to change jobs. Suppose the new job didn’t turn out well?
Monday the big decision was made. We would take it! Ace gave his employer notice that he was quitting Sunday; we went to church and for the first time really looked at the building. There was a lot to do.
The first task we undertook was to clean the stairways on each end of the hall. One was four feet wide, the other six feet wide, each with seventeen steps. It had been some time since they had been cleaned and they were a dull gray, covered with black marks from shoes, spills, etc. For two hours we worked with suds, cleanser, and steel wool. How pleased we were, though, to discover they were a light, cream-colored vinyl with dark streaks that resembled marble.
Ace found there was always something that had to be repaired or replaced. He changed all the locks on the outside doors and replaced the latches on the rest room doors and cultural hall doors. He fixed the showers in the girls dressing room and this does not mean “bolted them shut” but “bolt (anchor) them to the floor” the lockers (which were in the middle of the floor for some unknown reason) back into place. He mended several broken classroom tables that had been stacked in the furnace room.
We hadn’t been working long when construction was started on a new stake president’s office and high council room in a cemented area that had been used as a patio. The laborers worked just a short time each day, drilling and crushing cement and creating dust that permeated the building. We would just get the building cleaned when they would start working again. The ward members didn’t understand the situation, so there was a lot of criticism. This went on for about three months.
One day we were told they were going to have a youth conference in the Junior Sunday School room. The leaders asked if it could be fixed up a little special, so we really went to work. We washed all the windows and woodwork, scrubbed and polished the floor, and even sent the curtains out to be cleaned. Everything just sparkled. After the meeting was over I asked Ace if they were pleased. He said, “Well, one of the counselors in the bishopric asked if we couldn’t be a little more careful about dusting the chairs.” They had needed extra chairs for the large crowd, so someone had brought them from the construction area! We had a good laugh, realizing for the first time that it was not the things we did that were noticed but the things we didn’t do.
It took some time to get all the plastered walls throughout the building washed. We started with the rest rooms, then did the foyers and halls, the Relief Society room, the high council room, and the classrooms. We painted all the heat convectors, door frames, stair railings, entrances, and various other places. The carpets in the foyers and the Relief Society room were worn and soiled with several orange punch stains that were impossible to remove. Ace asked the bishops if someone could be hired to shampoo the carpets but was told not to bother since they planned on replacing them right away. After waiting a few weeks, Ace rented a shampooer and cleaned the carpets himself. This made an immense improvement. Little by little the building began to shape up.
After two years of custodial work, another ward was added to our building, making a total of four. On Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday we had Relief Society, with the officers arriving as early as 8:30 A.M. The Relief Society room, foyer, kitchen, south steps, nursery, and rest rooms had to be ready. While Relief Society was in session, we cleaned the rest of the classrooms, the chapel and the cultural hall.
Then at 3:00 the Primary officers began to arrive. The relief society room, nurseries, kitchen and rest rooms had to be checked and cleaned if needed. When Primary was over we picked up, swept, straightened chairs, and cleaned backboards to get ready for activity night. This went for about a year; then two wards moved out of the building. It seemed like we were on vacation!
One beautiful morning a salesman sold us a can of chemical cleaner to be used on stainless steel sinks, drinking fountains, and other types of metal. I decided to try it out on the brass light switch plates, which were covered with film and grime. After polishing a half dozen with good results, I went into the boys rest room where there was a larger plate with three switches on it. I wiped it off with the chemical, and was reaching for my damp sponge, when I heard a crackling sound. I turned to see flames shooting out of the plate clear to the ceiling! I raced down the hall shrieking. “Fire! Fire! I’ve set the church on fire!” Ace came bounding down the hall into the rest room. The fire was out and it was pitch dark. The switch box had completely burned out. I learned that chemicals and electricity don’t mix.
Last summer we began our two-week vacation on a Monday morning. Ace insisted on coming home both of the following Saturdays in order to clean the building before Sunday. I was feeling rebellious at having to come back before our vacation was over. As I cleaned, I said to myself, “This is absolutely stupid. Nobody cares whether this place is clean or not. If they did care they wouldn’t throw trash around. Nobody will even notice that the work was done.”
All at once I felt as if someone was there with me. It seemed as though someone spoke to me and said, “I care. It is my house and I care! Suppose we had visitors tomorrow and the house was dirty? What would investigators think? I would be embarrassed.” I was really shaken. It was such a strong impression. Never again have I begrudged the time I have spent cleaning His house.
During our first few months as custodians we were either ignored by the members or treated with what we felt was condescending sweetness. Gradually as we became acquainted, their attitudes began to change. Ace was always there, ready to set up tables or help in any way. He made friends with the children and young adults, letting them in the building to play basketball or volleyball whenever he was there. They reciprocated by trying not to track up the foyers, especially on Saturday when he had it all cleaned for Sunday.
After the first year or so people began treating us more warmly. Some of the Primary teachers and classes brought us goodies and baskets of fruit for Christmas. One year a group of boys made a nativity scene for us out of cardboard and molded sugar. They also brought a wreath made of pine cones and nuts. Another Primary made a lovely poster with all their names on it telling us how they loved us and appreciated the way we kept the building clean.
The Relief Societies invited Ace to eat lunch on work day. Once we were even invited by the stake presidency to have dinner with them and the high council while they entertained the visiting General Authority at conference time.
We retired last spring after six years of keeping house for the Lord. We have worked hard; we have laughed; we have cried. We have made hundreds of friends and hope we have made no enemies.
The tears and troubles have been many, but just the same, this has been a wonderful experience in our lives!

I started skateboarding in the seventh grade with a group of my friends. Skateboarding was huge at my school in California. Most of the guys and some girls I knew skated on a regular basis.
I was a street skater. I didn’t like going to skate parks because of the people there. I was honestly scared of the kinds of people who showed up at the skate parks.
As my friends and I continued on our “skating careers,” we became fairly good. We were able to receive sponsorships from local skate shops, which meant we got free skateboards, shirts, pants, etc. It was awesome and a really fun sport to pursue.
But, as with anything else, there were temptations.
As we gained more confidence in our skills, my friends and I started traveling to different skate spots and parks, and we started meeting many new, different kinds of people. Unfortunately, the skaters we met all had one thing in common: smoking. Every skater smoked, it seemed. My freshman year, my friends gave in to the temptation and began smoking. Still, I didn’t think much of it, because I’d decided I would never do that.
As time went on, my relationship with my friends grew weaker. We didn’t have the same interests anymore. They used drugs or alcohol every weekend. I could see them throwing away their lives. I couldn’t believe how bad it had become.
One Saturday morning, one of them asked me, “How did you stay away from it, man? Why can’t I be like you? You have something special in your life.” It was then that I realized it was because I’d always held myself to the Church standards.
I owe my ability to resist smoking and the other temptations to the little things. Even as my life got very busy with school, family, Church, dating, sports, and friends, I stuck to the plain and simple things. I read my scriptures, said my prayers, went to Mutual, and went to church. I know that if I hadn’t given myself the spiritual nourishment I needed every day, then I may have given in to temptation.
I know we must do the little things in the gospel. They will give us the strength we need to stay strong and avoid temptation.

In Basingstoke, Rebecca Barnsley used social media to promote her ward’s harvest appeal event. On the day, they had a drop-off area at their chapel with the missionaries handing out flyers at the chapel gates. Several members of the local community turned up to donate food. Rebecca said, “It was a huge success and we delivered two carloads of food to the Basingstoke Food Bank.” One of those donating said, “I have a friend who has used the foodbank, they are so important, and I wanted to give and be kind. It’s so important to be kind.”

I was puffing as I ran my third lap around the track, but I was determined to finish at least a mile. My friend Jennifer had pulled ahead of me as usual, nearly half a lap ahead and still gaining. It didn’t bother me that she was faster. I admired her for it. I admired her for a lot of things.
We had been friends since fifth grade, and I remember how she struggled with math so much that she had to get extra help. Now she was on the honor roll. Athletics came more easily to her, but she had to work hard at those, too. That’s why we were running the track together. She needed the athletic conditioning; I needed the exercise.
It was hard not to like Jennifer with her outgoing personality that made her cheerful and friendly. She seemed to have it all and do it all. Her life was an endless round of activities, all of them wholesome and productive.
I was busy too. I always had more to do than time to do it in. In fact, I had to schedule very carefully in order to fit it all in. I wondered about Jennifer’s schedule—which was busier than mine—and wondered how she did all that she did.
That was about when I noticed the younger red-haired girl standing by the track watching us. I knew her. She was a handicapped student at our small school. I said a polite hello as I ran by her, but I couldn’t afford to slow my pace to say much more. She watched as I rounded the track.
Jennifer seemed to be behind me now, even though I knew she was already a lap ahead of me and about to lap me again soon. She would be finished before me and on to the other important activities she had planned, I was sure.
I looked ahead to the next turn and then looked back to see where Jennifer was. She had slowed to a snail’s pace, and hanging on to her hand and running beside her was the red-haired girl I had passed. The busiest girl in the school had time to help someone else, and I didn’t. I thought about the Savior as I watched the two of them running together.
I was the only onlooker. Only the Lord and I would ever know about that small kindness. Jennifer didn’t do it for recognition; it was just the way she was. That day she became my hero, not because of all the great things she was noted for doing, but because of that simple act of kindness when no one was around but me.
That was quite a while ago, and Jennifer is now taking time out from her busy life to serve a mission in the Philippines. I often wonder whose hand she is holding now.

Several years ago, a young man named James traveled internationally with a group of athletes. He was listening to a conversation that another athlete, Tom, was having about a beautiful young woman whom he was interested in—you. Most people considered Tom to be a very good-looking and well-accomplished athlete.
Tom admitted his disappointment that you had such high standards. In order for him to date you, you asked that Tom seriously consider the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Tom said the standards of sexual purity were more than he had expected. James was deeply impressed that there was a Church with young people who were so serious about their religion and standards, and he asked for the name of the Church.
On returning to the United States, James decided to go to a Church meeting and see what inspired such dedication. He surprised the missionaries by showing up at church one Sunday. Soon afterward, after receiving the missionary lessons, James was baptized. Years later, I met James at a single-adult activity, and we were eventually married for time and all eternity in the temple.
I often think of you. It may have been uncomfortable for you to hold up high standards to a good-looking athlete, but I’m grateful you did. There is no way you could know how your dedication to high moral standards changed our lives. We just celebrated our 16th anniversary. I wish I could meet you. I would like to show you our lovely children and our happy home.
I hope you understand that even when you simply live your standards, you can have a profound effect on the lives of others. Being morally clean is a path to more than just personal happiness.

What were fifty pioneer children, handcarts, covered wagons, rag dolls, pets, and stick horses doing on the streets of St. George, Utah, in mid-April? Although they didn’t look out-of-place in front of the historic Brigham Young Winter Home that day, something very eventful was taking place. It was the shooting of photographs for the July 1993 Friend cover. Preparations started months in advance. City officials were contacted for permission to block off the busy street, a local sign company donated and set-up traffic signs, props were built or borrowed, and costumes were made, especially lots of pioneer bonnets. When the big day came, the weather was beautiful, the trees already leafy and green. The Primary children, from a number of St. George wards, were cheered on by dozens of wonderful moms. Thanks to a local merchant’s donation, a snack break was provided, and that was all the kids needed to make it through the three-hour session with the photographer and the Friend designer. All the children who participated were happy to have taken part in this exciting day!

Harold B. Lee tells the experience of praying very hard for a material blessing he needed badly. He states that one day while he was praying for this blessing, he remembered that he had recently received some income that he had not yet tithed. It was as if, he said, the accusing voice of the Lord was saying: You want a blessing from me but you have not been obedient to the laws upon which such blessings are based. (“Faith,” address delivered at Brigham Young University, 28 Jun 1955, tape in Historical Department Archives.)
He said that he went and paid the tithing on that income, and then he again sought that particular blessing of the Lord.

The girls in the ward agree that just because a conversion process doesn’t happen immediately, you shouldn’t give up. Crystal Wangler, 14, went to church with friends for the first time when she was five, but her parents wouldn’t let her be baptized until she was 14. “It was hard to wait,” she said. “The rest of the family weren’t attending any church, and Mom and Dad love to go away on weekends, so I had a hard time getting to activities and church meetings. But my friend Denise’s family always gave me a ride when I needed one. They’ve been a good influence on me. They call me all the time and invite me. I wouldn’t be able to come to most of the activities without them.”

Denise Freiley is Karen’s little sister, and their family is particularly missionary minded. Their home is open for anyone to take missionary discussions, and the missionaries know they can count on the Freileys to fellowship their investigators.

“Since you’re friends with us now, you can’t be friends with anyone else,” Jada told me.
“OK,” I said. I couldn’t believe I was friends with the popular girls! I was so lucky! This year was going to be so cool. I could hardly wait to see what popular kids did to be, well, popular.
After school my old friend Aaliyah met me. “Hey, La-Neisha, are you ready?” she asked. We lived on the same street, and normally we walked home together.
I looked around me. I didn’t want Jada to see me talking to Aaliyah.
“No, I don’t want to walk home with you,” I said. Aaliyah looked confused and sad as I turned and walked home alone, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to risk losing my new, popular friends.
That Sunday in Primary, I looked for a place to sit. Aaliyah waved at me. There was an empty seat by her, but I didn’t sit there. Even at church I couldn’t risk sitting by someone who wasn’t popular, I decided. Besides, who needed friends at church? Having the right friends at school was more important.
The next few days, Aaliyah kept asking me to walk home with her, and I kept saying no. Why won’t she leave me alone? I thought. Can’t she see I’m not her friend anymore? I was hanging out with my new friends a lot. Being popular was fun! I tried not to notice Aaliyah at school or church. I told myself she had other friends, so I didn’t have to talk to her.
One night the phone rang. Mom answered it and frowned as she listened.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll talk to her. Thanks for calling.” Mom hung up the phone.
“La-Neisha,” Mom said to me. “That was Aaliyah’s mom. She says you won’t walk home with Aaliyah or even talk to her. Aaliyah is really sad. She doesn’t understand why you keep ignoring her.”
My stomach got tight. I tried to come up with something to say, but I didn’t think Mom would understand how important my new friends were to me.
“I just don’t want to be friends with her anymore,” I said. But I felt guilty. I knew that wasn’t true. I thought of how mean I had been to Aaliyah lately. We used to be good friends. I knew in my heart that the way I was treating Aaliyah was wrong.
On Sunday, Sister Hong gave a lesson on repentance. She said, “If you do something wrong, you need to ask the person you have hurt for forgiveness.” I kept thinking about those words. I knew what I needed to do. I didn’t care what Jada, or any of my popular friends, thought. I was going to talk to Aaliyah and say sorry.
After church I saw Aaliyah. My stomach knotted, but I knew I should ask her for forgiveness. I needed to be kind at school and church—and everywhere in between. I swallowed hard and took a deep breath.
“Hi, Aaliyah,” I said. “Can I talk to you?”
Aaliyah’s face lit up. “Of course.”
The knot in my stomach came undone. Aaliyah didn’t have to forgive me, but I still wanted to ask. Maybe we could start walking home together again. And we could be new, old friends.

I became friends with Kerstin when I was 14 years old. We went to the same school. I had known who she was for a long time, but I had not known her personally before because she was 12.
We got to know each other better when we both tried out for the school play. We soon became good friends, even though there was a two-year age difference. It wasn’t long before we met together in the afternoons to go on walks and talk. One spring afternoon, on one of our walks, she asked something that would change her life forever.
Kerstin wondered why my brother and I didn’t participate in the school’s religion class like most of the students in Austria. I told her about the gospel of Jesus Christ and about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Then I bore my testimony and invited her to come to a youth activity. Later I gave her a copy of the Book of Mormon and the Liahona.
Since then Kerstin has participated in every Church activity and attends Church meetings every Sunday. She has even attended youth conference. Whenever we can, we walk to a little river that is close by to read our scriptures and work on Young Women Personal Progress.
Unfortunately, Kerstin cannot be baptized until she is 18. Her parents don’t want to cause any arguments with her extended family members. Despite this obstacle, Kerstin has already managed to get her mother to attend church.
Kerstin also works with the missionaries. She speaks about the Church with everyone she meets and has helped get her father excited about the family history program, even though he has no interest in religion.
Kerstin is an example to me of how easy it is to speak with others about the gospel and how our Father in Heaven prepares people to hear His word. We need only open our mouths and have faith. The rest will take care of itself.

“Choose your friends wisely, for you will tend to be like them.” I had seen this little sign a million times and never thought anything of it. It was only one of many strategically placed thoughts and quotes that dotted the walls of our home. This one happened to be in the best location of all—right above the kitchen table.
When friends came over, we naturally congregated in the kitchen. Dates, late night movies, and quick lunches almost all involved the kitchen. Mom knew this and planned her attack accordingly. Years later I realized what a direct hit Mom had scored.
I was blessed with a lot of friends who are also members of the Church. We went to church and school together, and most of us went on missions at about the same time. However, there was one who was not exactly like the rest of us. His parents were divorced, and he was shuffled between their homes and the homes of friends. As a result, I think he always felt a little isolated and alone. He wore his hair long and always had at least one earring. Regardless, we loved him, and he was one of us.
During high school we witnessed him change; it was great. A short time after his 19th birthday he submitted his mission papers and received a call. A couple of months later we really understood the significance of this event.
The realization came on a cold, crisp Sunday in January. My friends and I had gathered to hear this young man speak in sacrament meeting. I had been invited to perform a musical number, so I sat on the stand. As I gazed over the crowd, I saw all of our friends, as well as my family; it was a wonderful sight. As my friend ventured to the pulpit, his eyes were a little red.
His talk opened with a question: “Do any of you know why I am here? Well, it is really very simple. I am here because of the many meals eaten at a friend’s table, a table with a sign above it that reads, ‘Choose your friends wisely, for you will tend to be like them.’ I want my friends to know that without their influence and love I wouldn’t be here today.”
As I looked down into the crowd, I saw my mother with tearful eyes and a smile.
From that day on, I have also thought about the effects my friends have had on my life. I don’t know if I would have served a mission without their example. I don’t know what kind of a person I would be today if it hadn’t been for the strength and love I received from such wonderful people. For that, I will be forever grateful, both to them and to my Heavenly Father.
I know that no one has forgotten the message shared from that pulpit. I also know that that sign, to this day, still hangs above our kitchen table.

I’m Carolyn Neave of Brisbane. As one of my Laurel projects, I decided to get very involved in missionary work. My friend Elizabeth Smith and I set up dates with the sister missionaries and went tracting with them.
The first day was hot, but spiritually uplifting. Working with these wonderful servants of the Lord I learned not only what it means to be a missionary, but also how to cope when a member of your own family goes on a mission.
My big brother Sean left for his mission to Adelaide in November, and by being close to the missionaries in our ward, I was able to know that my brother is in good hands—the Lord’s. Although I miss not having him around, I know he’s doing what’s right, and he knows I love him.
I also learned that missionary work doesn’t bless you only if you bring souls unto Christ, but it blesses you for trying.

A favorite scripture that keeps David strong in the face of adversity is Doctrine and Covenants 82:10 [D&C 82:10]: “I, the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise.” David says, “I know that when I apply this in my life, everything else will fall into place.”

An area in which he has put the Lord first is in Sunday matches. Though football tournaments are often scheduled on Sundays, David decided at the age of 11 that he wouldn’t play on the Sabbath. His coach and manager respected him for this decision and worked around it with him. David relates how the Lord blessed him for his obedience. “In England, matches are often postponed because of bad weather. At the end of one season, all the Sunday matches that had been deferred were played midweek instead. I was able to play in all six games—and scored thirty-two goals.” This earned him the title of top scorer for the season and a reputation as “the boy who never plays on a Sunday.”