Gospel Story Finder

One day, Matilde’s mom told her the ward wanted to gather toys. The toys were for children who had to leave their own country quickly. Matilde’s mom asked if she had any soft toys to share with them. The toys would help them feel less scared on their journey.
At first Matilde didn’t want to share her toys. But then she thought about how happy the children would feel to get a toy. She thought about how Jesus Christ helped others. So the next day, she helped pick out some stuffed animals to share. She was happy in her heart because she could help the children feel better. She loves to follow Jesus!

When my son, Joshua, was about two years old, he developed a keen interest in clocks. If we passed a clock in the house, he wanted to stop and look at it. He especially liked to put his ear up close to the clock and listen to the ticking sound it made. He went through a phase where we couldn’t pass by a clock without stopping to listen to it tick.
I realized some interesting things from that simple activity. First, the clock ticked all the time, not just when we paid attention to it. Second, even though we knew the clock made a sound, we had to get close to it and be very quiet and still in order to hear the soft ticking.
Now whenever I hear soft ticking sounds from a clock, I can’t help but remember the simple lesson my son taught me about being still to hear the quiet promptings of the Spirit.

Elder H. Burke Peterson, then of the Presiding Bishopric, related the experience of a group of teenagers who were picnicking in the desert outside Phoenix, Arizona. One of the girls was bitten by a rattlesnake. Instead of immediately seeking medical attention, the group pursued the snake and sought revenge by killing it with rocks. Unfortunately, during the precious minutes that the group wasted in exacting revenge, the poison had time to move from the surface of the girl’s skin into the tissues of her foot and leg; her leg later had to be amputated below the knee.
“It was a senseless sacrifice, this price of revenge. … The poison of revenge, or of unforgiving thoughts or attitudes, unless removed, will destroy the soul in which it is harbored,” said Bishop Peterson.

Lance loved a lot of things about being five years old. He loved being old enough to help with the lambs on the farm. He loved giving his first talk in Primary. And he loved looking out for his three-year-old brother, Gabe.
Gabe wanted to be big like Lance. When Grandma asked Lance to pick beans in the garden, Gabe got a basket and went along. When Lance swept out the chicken coop, Gabe found a broom and helped. When Lance started humming a song, Gabe hummed along too.
One Sunday Gabe looked really excited as he came out of Primary.
“Guess what?” he asked Lance. “I’m supposed to give a talk, just like you did!”
During the week, Gabe practiced telling a story about Jesus blessing the little children. Lance watched his brother hold up the pictures at just the right moment. When Gabe forgot some of the words, Lance helped him out. On Sunday morning, Lance said a special prayer with Gabe that his talk would go well.
Finally the time came for Gabe to give his talk.
“He looks scared,” Lance thought as he watched Gabe walk to the podium and step in front of the microphone. Gabe’s eyes opened wider as he saw all the children there. Suddenly it seemed like he was frozen. Not a word came out of his mouth.
“Poor Gabe!” Lance thought. He watched nervously from the second row until he couldn’t sit there any longer. He stood up and walked to the microphone, placing his arm around Gabe’s shoulders.
“It’s all right, Gabe. You can do it. Remember the words?” Lance whispered. After another second of silence, Lance took a deep breath. He knew that his brother needed his help.
“Today I’d like to share the story of Jesus blessing the children,” Lance began. He had heard the talk so many times during the week that he knew every word. As he spoke, he kept looking over at Gabe. Little by little, Gabe relaxed. When Lance got to the last sentence, Gabe leaned toward the microphone.
“Jesus loves all of us,” Gabe whispered. “In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Lance looked down at Gabe and smiled. Gabe smiled back. He had given his first talk—with some help from his older brother.

I will conclude by discussing another important question members and leaders of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints are asked by others: “Why do you send missionaries to preach to other Christians?” Sometimes this is asked with curiosity and sometimes with resentment.

My most memorable experience with that question occurred some years ago in what we then called the Eastern Bloc. After many years of Communist hostility to religion, these countries were suddenly and miraculously given a measure of religious freedom. When that door opened, many Christian faiths sent missionaries. As part of our preparation to do so, the First Presidency sent members of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles to meet with government and church leaders in these countries. Our assignment was to introduce ourselves and to explain what our missionaries would be doing.

Elder Russell M. Nelson and I called on the leader of the Orthodox Church in one of these countries. Here was a man who had helped keep the light of Christianity burning through the dark decades of Communist repression. I noted in my journal that he was a warm and gracious man who impressed me as a servant of the Lord. I mention this so that you will not think there was any spirit of arrogance or contention in our conversation of nearly an hour. Our visit was pleasant and cordial, filled with the goodwill that should always characterize conversations between men and women who love the Lord and seek to serve Him, each according to his or her own understanding.

Our host told us about the activities of his church during the period of Communist repression. He described the various difficulties his church and its work were experiencing as they emerged from that period and sought to regain their former position in the life of the country and the hearts of the people. We introduced ourselves and our fundamental beliefs. We explained that we would soon be sending missionaries into his country and told him how they would perform their labors.

He asked, “Will your missionaries preach only to unbelievers, or will they also try to preach to believers?” We replied that our message was for everyone, believers as well as unbelievers. We gave two reasons for this answer—one a matter of principle and the other a matter of practicality. We told him that we preached to believers as well as unbelievers because our message, the restored gospel, makes an important addition to the knowledge, happiness, and peace of all mankind. As a matter of practicality, we preach to believers as well as unbelievers because we cannot tell the difference. I remember asking this distinguished leader, “When you stand before a congregation and look into the faces of the people, can you tell the difference between those who are real believers and those who are not?” He smiled wryly, and I sensed an admission that he had understood the point.

Through missionaries and members, the message of the restored gospel is going to all the world. To non-Christians, we witness of Christ and share the truths and ordinances of His restored gospel. To Christians we do the same. Even if a Christian has been “saved” in the familiar single sense discussed earlier, we teach that there remains more to be learned and more to be experienced. As President Hinckley recently said: “[We are] not argumentative. We do not debate. We, in effect, simply say to others, ‘Bring all the good that you have and let us see if we can add to it’” (“The BYU Experience,” BYU devotional address, 4 Nov. 1997).

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints offers all of the children of God the opportunity to learn the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ as restored in these latter days. We offer everyone the privilege of receiving all of the ordinances of salvation and exaltation.

We invite all to hear this message, and we invite all who receive the confirming witness of the Spirit to heed it. These things are true, I testify in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I spent my childhood in Dalton, Georgia. It was during my high school years that my family, with the exception of myself, was introduced to two fine Mormon missionaries and subsequently baptized members of the Church. During that time I spent most of my leisure hours shooting pool.
In my senior year of high school I signed up for the marines, and while my classmates were attending graduation exercises, I was in an airplane headed for boot camp at Parris Island, South Carolina. Three months later, I was back home on leave and my parents invited me to attend church.
I had always been a scrappy person, but after graduating from marine corps boot camp, I felt as though I could lick the world and probably would have tried with little hesitation. I accepted my parents’ invitation to attend church services and immediately began preparing my uniform so that I might present an impeccable appearance.
I rose at 0600 that morning to check my uniform to make sure it was in immaculate condition. Sure enough, my brass was so shiny you couldn’t look at it directly, and when you growled at my leather, it was so brilliantly shined, your reflection growled back at you. My swagger would have made John Wayne turn green as we neared the church entrance. I was prepared to lick anyone who met my gaze with anything less than the fear of death. I opened the door and stood aside, letting my mom pass through, and then the rest of the family. I sidestepped through the door so that my shoulders wouldn’t rip the wood from the sides of the door frame. As I corrected my body position to its original stance and faced the occupants of the room, I felt as though I had been slapped in the face.
I was flabbergasted as I stared into a sea of genuinely smiling faces. Everyone present had a light in his eye that I had previously seen in only a few individuals. There was a spirit of happiness and contentment present that was hard for me to comprehend. I think it would have been impossible to provoke one of these fine people into a fist fight.
I never regained my composure after making my way through the tidal wave of handshakes and back pats that met me. I sat meekly through the entire service—like a lamb among wolves, or perhaps the reverse.
Back on duty I took up my usual way of life. Once in a while I thought of the LDS Church back home, especially when letters came from my family as there were always a few lines about their Church activities.
Two years dragged by and my tour in Vietnam drew close. I stopped drinking and smoking and found myself wishing I could wash off my tattoo.
By some stroke of luck, I was selected to be attached to the Department of State for what was to be a year in Nicosia, Cyprus, and a year and a half in Jerusalem, Israel.
I’m sure that gnawing feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you leave home is a feeling you never get used to. It’s worse when you are single, in the service, or on a mission and aren’t sure what to expect. For some reason I was unusually homesick as I waited for my orders. My imagination made my plight seem worse. As I lay on my bunk I envisioned myself as the last of the good guys, alone without a friend in the world, sworn to uphold justice and virtue, a knight in shining armor, the champion of damsels in distress, and a slayer of dragons. Yet there was nothing foreseeable in my future but the “devil and the deep blue sea.”
At the height of my misery a glimmer of hope and truth shone through. Stored in my “gourd” for two and a half years were memories of smiles, love, virtue, warmth, and a strong moral environment. I remembered that the Mormon members possessed all those personal qualities that characterized the knights of old: personal dignity, self-reliance, initiative, and loyalty to their own. I kicked myself mentally as I thought, “You should have joined that outfit before you even thought of going into the marines.”
The next Sunday I looked up the address of the nearest LDS chapel and told the cabbie to take the fastest route. Out of the cab, I raced down the sidewalk and jumped into the foyer. Standing there was a small group of distinguished looking gentlemen. I made a beeline for them and zeroed in on the gentleman with silver-gray hair and piercing eyes. Trying to stop within three feet of him, but having slid to within six inches, I counted three silver fillings as his mouth flew open. I suppose he thought the ward was about to be invaded by the entire marine corps.
I tried to be tactful but had built my momentum to a fever pitch. Standing within six inches of his nose, I caught him by the arm and shrieked, “Sign me up, coach; I don’t smoke!”
I know that God lives and that Jesus is the Christ. How thankful I am for the fine example of the members of the Church for it was that example which brought me into the only true church on the earth.

Lincoln lived with his family in Santiago, Chile, until his mother died when he was 10. Afterward, he lived with his aunt and uncle. When Lincoln was 18, Elder Barton and Elder Bentley came to his aunt and uncle’s home. Lincoln’s aunt and grandmother immediately accepted the gospel, but Lincoln avoided the missionaries. One Sunday morning, his normally gentle grandmother came to his room, ripped the quilt off his bed, and told him he was going to church with them. Shocked by his grandmother’s unusual behavior and out of respect for her, he got up and went to church. That day he felt something new and powerful within his soul that changed his life. He soon became one of the Church’s first converts in Chile.

Dear Reed,
It was awesome to get my very own letter from you. I’ll keep writing to you, if you’ll keep writing to me. But I still miss you very, very much! Nobody else calls me Buddy, but you can because I will always be your buddy.
Last night was our second grade Spring Sing. Everyone was there but you. Even Grandpa Richards was there, and your girlfriend Kelly. She says that she misses you very much, but I know that she doesn’t miss you as much as I do.
After the Sing we went to get ice-cream cones, and we talked about you. Mom and Dad said that you seem grown-up now. Natalie and Rachel said that they’re proud to be the sisters of a missionary. Scooter didn’t say anything because he’s too young.
I ate two scoops on my cone, one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of your favorite, pralines-and-cream. I did it for you.
I still have something I need to tell you, but I’m still afraid to tell you.
Love,Buddy

When young Gordon had a bout of whooping cough, his doctor suggested that he spend time in the country to recover, so his father purchased a 30-acre fruit farm in Millcreek, on the southeast side of Salt Lake City. The farm did more than help the boy regain his health—it helped him and his brothers learn to work. Each Saturday during the spring and fall, his father took them to the farm. The family lived there during the summer months and in town during the school year.

President Hinckley’s sense of humor gives him a light touch in many settings. For example, while chairing a budget session held early one afternoon in which Church Educational System managers were presenting their budget needs for the coming year, feelings became intense. Another General Authority turned to President Hinckley and asked, “What do you think?” President Hinckley, who had been listening with his chin resting on the palms of his hands, replied: “I think I am never again going to have stuffed pork chops for lunch.” Everyone laughed, and the tension was diffused.

While most of their southern California peers were getting suntans at the beach, the youth of the Glendora California Stake spent their spring break getting rough hands, aching muscles, and sore feet from serving at a center for the homeless in the heart of Los Angeles.
And they wouldn’t trade the experience for any other. “Serving at the center was the greatest thing we could have ever done for a youth conference,” said Heath Hamilton, seventeen.
At first, some of the youth were skeptical. Chris Walker, a priest, said, “Lots of people thought that it couldn’t be a youth conference without going on an outing to the mountains or some place like that. Those who went to the center discovered that this is what the gospel is all about—helping someone else, not yourself. It really impressed upon me the statement in Mosiah 2:17 where it says ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.’”
Jeremy Baird, a teacher, said, “I thought this youth conference wasn’t going to be very good, but it was a great learning experience. At the center for the homeless, I talked to a man who had been successful in business, but now had no home and had lost his family as a result of drugs. It taught me that what I had thought about all the people who are homeless is not true.”
Some people were a little concerned about going to the center, which is located in a less desirable part of the city. Caroline James, a Mia Maid, said, “When we first got to the center, we were scared to get out of the car. After we were there, though, it was a good experience talking to the people about the Church.”
Two three-hour shifts of twelve young people each went to the Los Angeles center for the homeless daily, where they served a noon meal and an evening meal to nearly six hundred homeless people. They also sorted clothes and helped prepare for the Easter meals.
In addition, the youth filled more than 150 Easter baskets with toothbrushes, toothpaste, soap, and other personal hygiene items. Collection boxes had been placed in each ward building and in several community locations to receive the donated items. Some candy and cuddly toy animals were included for the children, and the baskets were distributed Sunday afternoon.
On Sunday, the youth committee and leaders traveled the twenty-five miles from their homes to downtown Los Angeles, in two shifts, so no one would have to miss any Church meetings. Tables were set up next to the center, where breakfast was served in the early morning and a traditional Easter dinner was served in the afternoon. Nearly 2,500 meals were served on each shift.
When most of the serving was complete, the youth were invited to sing. “As I Have Loved You” and “I Am a Child of God” brought tears to everyone involved.
“All the homeless there at the center were reaching out for something in addition to the food we were serving. I know it is the gospel they need,” said Harleigh Williams, seventeen.
After serving the Sunday meal, many of the youth sat around talking to the homeless. Jeff Fuller discussed Bible principles with one man. “This was definitely one of the best experiences of my life,” he said. “They are all children of God. They gave me great advice on staying away from things by telling me how they got there.”
Of course, the youth conference did include the traditional activities like breakfast prepared by the bishops, workshops, games, and a dance. But at the fireside ending the conference, the main topic of the testimonies was the service project and how it had affected the young people’s lives.
“I know that you who had a negative attitude going down there definitely changed your attitude about the needy. It was by far the most rewarding youth conference I have ever participated in,” said Lisa Summerhays, seventeen, youth co-chair of the conference.
Justin Beck, the other youth co-chair said, “I know the people at the center have problems, but we still need to appreciate them because Heavenly Father loves each of them.”
Becky Patterson, seventeen, agreed. “One thing I have learned this week is that everybody is equally important. It doesn’t matter who or where you are; Heavenly Father loves you.”
“The most important thing,” said Sister Arnetus Raymond, second counselor in the stake Young Women presidency, “is that we learned that to develop love and unity, we have to serve. Service is the key. Our youth learned firsthand the meaning of serving ‘one of the least of these.’”

Recently, an Indian family from Bolivia arrived at the Lima temple. They were very poor and had made considerable sacrifice to come. The father was a district president. The mother wore the typical native felt hat and colorful native clothing. They brought their five little boys—the oldest was twelve—to be sealed to them. The boys had been well prepared to come to the temple and were aware of its significance. The older boys explained to me that they were preparing for the day they could go on a mission for the Church.
After a very spiritual temple sealing ceremony, the father gathered his family around him in front of the mirrors of the sealing room and made this profound statement, “I’m one of the richest men in the world. Look at my treasures!” Indeed, he is wealthy in the things that really count!

Several years ago, my husband and I qualified to run the Boston Marathon. The night before the marathon, in an effort to visualize what it would be like to complete the race, we went to downtown Boston about a mile from the finish line. There in the quiet of the evening we laced up our running shoes and ran that last mile to the finish. As we crossed the line we held our hands victoriously high in the air and pretended that we had won the race! We imagined thousands of observers in the stands cheering for us. The next day we ran the race. Twenty-six point two miles (41.3 km) is a challenging distance. There are hills that are called “Heartbreak” for a very good reason. The entire time I was running those hills, I kept in mind that finish line and what it had felt like the night before to cross the line victorious. That vision of the finish line helped me to finish that marathon in a pelting, cold New England storm.

I was baptized when I was 16 and living in New York City. At first I felt like I was spending a lot of time navigating between my newfound faith, with its covenant relationship with God, and my relationships with friends.

I was worried about not having friends at school I could connect with. But my friends were used to doing things that I came to realize were harmful to my spirit and were not in keeping with taking upon myself the name of Jesus Christ. I knew that Jesus Christ wanted me to make better choices.

What I didn’t know was whether the Savior understood how conflicted I was feeling. Each day got more difficult as I was invited to do things that I knew weren’t good. I sometimes justified them as harmless, but I knew I was compromising things I shouldn’t.

I needed to know that the Savior understood how lonely and guilty I felt when I would even consider lowering gospel standards so that I could feel a sense of belonging with my friends. I felt like I was drowning. I needed rescuing. I needed Jesus Christ.

I felt like I was drowning. I needed rescuing. I needed Jesus Christ.

My relationship with Jesus Christ deepened when I found out for myself why I needed Him. It was when I started moving from only knowing that I should live the gospel to understanding why I wanted to live the gospel and asking for help to do it. I simply got on my knees and poured out my heart to God, with hope that He cared about me and my problem, that the plan of salvation was designed to help me, that even my happiness was part of the plan.

I talked to Heavenly Father about how guilty I was feeling, how I didn’t know what to do to keep both my standards and my friends. I told Him I was feeling unhappy and could really use His help.

It was on my knees that I started to experience peace. This peaceful feeling helped me understand that the Savior did know how I was feeling and that He does care—quite a lot, actually.

When I got off my knees, the Spirit helped me discern some things and inspired me to do other things. First, I remembered that one of my friends was Muslim and was never asked to compromise her standards because we respected her faith and understood there were certain things she wouldn’t do. I felt inspired to share my new faith with my friends so that they too could understand more about me and why my new standards were important to me.

I started out small. I told one friend how I had been struggling. She was kind and respectful. She helped me as I talked with my other friends. Not everyone understood, but over time, I saw that they made plans that I could participate in that did not violate my promises to God.

I know that we could all use more strength to resist the constant influence of the world. Keeping covenants helps with that, and Jesus Christ is at the center of our covenants. This is what I found out for myself—why I need Jesus Christ.

Getting home to God is not something I can do by myself. And there are lots of daily small steps and everyday experiences that I—and all of us—will make on that journey home. But how blessed we are as covenant makers and covenant keepers that God “will never tire in His efforts to help us” till we get there.

A year after I was baptized, I received my mission call and entered the Missionary Training Center in Manila, Philippines. It was there that I made some treasured friends. The first was my companion, Sister Loh, a convert from Singapore. Since I couldn’t speak her language and she didn’t know any Filipino dialects, our only option was to communicate in English.
The 16 days I spent in the MTC were the most spiritual of my life. Although we were far from our families, we still felt loved thanks to a special person—Sister Luda Lee Cottrell, the wife of the MTC president. She was always smiling and happy. She gave us comfort and love and taught me about charity in words and in deed.
On our last night in the MTC, Sister Loh and I wanted to give something to Sister Cottrell as a remembrance and to thank her for all the love she gave us. We didn’t have anything nice to give, so my companion suggested that we sing a song for Sister Cottrell. I immediately agreed. Because we were new in the Church, neither of us was familiar with most of the hymns. We chose to sing “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).
We found Sister Cottrell in her office. We told her of our simple present, and she gladly and patiently listened to us. While Sister Loh and I were singing, a memorable spiritual experience happened. I realized that we were three people of three different races, cultures, and languages. My companion and I were singing in English so that our beloved Sister Cottrell could understand what we were singing.
At that moment I forgot all our differences. The Spirit was telling me that what we are on earth doesn’t really matter, because the three of us are literally daughters of Heavenly Father. The Spirit taught me why and what brought the three of us there. It is the gospel of Jesus Christ. It is the gospel that brought Sister Loh and me to the MTC. It is the gospel that made Sister Cottrell such a wonderful, loving person. It is the gospel that gave the three of us the knowledge that we are all children of God.

A loud, whirring noise broke into the game Debbie and her little sister, Becca, were playing with their dolls. The sound was coming from the backyard. Debbie and Becca looked wide-eyed at each other and left the dolls, clothes, and furniture made from shoe boxes to run outside.
When they came to the backyard, they stopped and stared at the curious sight. Daddy was there with a strange machine the size of a lawn mower. It was ripping up the beautiful green grass of the backyard and leaving only ugly brown dirt behind.
“What is he doing?” Becca asked. Debbie didn’t answer. She could only shake her head and run to the kitchen to find Mommy.
Mommy had just finished peeling potatoes and was cleaning the peelings out of the kitchen sink. When Debbie stood beside her quietly sobbing, she stopped and asked, “What on earth is the matter? Are you hurt?”
Debbie swallowed her sobs and pointed to the backyard. “Why is Daddy ruining the grass?”
Mommy sighed with relief. “Oh, is that what’s bothering you?” She placed her hands on Debbie’s shoulders. “Honey, the prophet said that we need to plant a garden. He told us at the last general conference. So Daddy borrowed that tiller, and we’re going to obey the prophet and plant a garden.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know why the prophet wants us to. I guess he wants everyone to be self-sufficient.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means to be able to take care of ourselves. If we’re hungry, we can feed ourselves.”
Debbie sighed loudly as she went to the counter and sat on a stool. “Can’t we just go to the store?”
“No, we need to learn to follow the prophet—like the Saints that came across the plains. When they did what the prophet told them, they were blessed and they were able to bless others, too.”
Debbie looked at her mother but didn’t say anything. She knew that Daddy and Mommy had made up their minds.
Their backyard would no longer be a wonderful place to play. Now over half of it would be a big brown spot with garden plants, weeds, and bugs. She slid off the stool and went to her bedroom.
“Don’t worry, Debbie,” Mommy called after her. “I’m sure that we’ll have lots of blessings for following the prophet, too.”
In her room, Debbie just sat on her bed. Her dolls didn’t even look fun to play with anymore. Everything was ruined. She would never have fun at home again.
“Daddy says we’re going to plant carrots and corn, and I get to help with the weeding,” Becca chirped happily when she came into the bedroom.
Debbie frowned at her.
“It’s going to be a lot of fun,” Becca told her. “Daddy says there’s nothing better for growing bodies than fresh vegetables from the garden. He said he always had plenty of them when he was a little boy.”
“I’ll bet it’s the worst stuff we’ve ever eaten.” Debbie got off the bed and began putting away her dolls.
Becca quietly watched her for a minute, then asked, “Don’t you want to play anymore?”
“I never want to play anything again!” Debbie stuffed the last doll into a box and pushed it under the bed. She lay down and buried her face under her pillow, hoping anything Becca had to say wouldn’t come through the soft down.
“I’ll bet one day you’ll be glad we have a garden.”
Debbie pretended that she hadn’t heard and held as still as if she were sound asleep. She hoped that Becca wasn’t right. She hoped that she would always hate the garden and what it had done to the beautiful grass.
But as the weeks went by, Debbie began to change her mind. Tiny carrot plants with feathery leaves were beginning to grow in a straight row, and beside them grew beans with dark green leaves shaped like hearts. She had to admit to herself that she did like to see the plants grow bigger and bigger. It was even fun to pull the weeds and pretend that they were terrible beasts trying to steal all the water and food from the tender little plants.
Daddy showed her how to carefully water each row with the hose turned low so that the ground could soak up plenty of moisture and not be washed away.
Once, while she was supposed to be weeding, she pulled a pea pod from the vine and carefully opened it. Tiny round peas were inside. She tasted one. It was the best-tasting pea she had ever had.
“I saw that!” Becca ran up behind her.
Debbie whirled around. Seeing that she was caught, she held out the pod for her sister to try a pea.
Becca tasted one, and her eyes lit up. “Wow! Those are good!”
Debbie nodded. “I never thought peas could taste good enough to eat,” she admitted.
“So are you glad we have a garden?”
Debbie looked down and smiled. “I guess so.”
Several weeks later, Debbie learned to be really grateful for the garden. Daddy’s company had some trouble, and many of its employees lost their jobs. Daddy was one of them. He didn’t know how long it would be before he could find another job.
“It sure is a good thing we planted that garden,” Mommy remarked at the dinner table one evening. “Without it, we wouldn’t have any food to bottle and save for winter.”
“You mean we would be hungry?” Debbie asked in surprise.
“No.” Her mother shook her head. “We would just not be eating as well. Thanks to the garden, we haven’t had to buy as much food, and I’ve been saving some money. Now that we’re not sure when we’ll be getting any more, it’s a good thing we saved extra.”
“We have more food and extra money, all because of the garden,” Daddy explained. “This is a testimony to me that the Lord certainly does bless us when we follow the counsel He gives us through His prophet.”
“Yes,” Mommy added, “I knew He would bless us—I just didn’t think it would be this soon.”
Debbie quietly nibbled at an ear of corn. She was glad that her parents had decided to follow the prophet. She knew that if they hadn’t, their family wouldn’t have been blessed with the things they needed. She went to bed that night with a full stomach and a happy heart, knowing that the Lord had watched over her family and He was blessing them because they listened to the prophet.

We have sitting behind me here today, President Kimball. He is a great example of one whose body is renewed through keeping these covenants. I don’t know how many of you know of his condition when they found that he had cancer of the throat and they had to remove most of his vocal organs, and it was impossible for him to speak.
I remember attending a general conference when I was president of the stake up in Canada and meeting President Kimball with two or three others. He said, (whispering) “Hello, I can’t speak to you.” In other words, “Hello, President Tanner, I can’t speak to you.” He could not speak at all so that you could hear him any more than just a bare whisper. They didn’t know whether he’d ever be able to speak again, but he was blessed by the priesthood, and he was able to speak. Then later on, just a few years ago, they found that he had what they thought to be further cancerous growth in his organs, and they wanted to operate. But he called the priesthood to pray over him, to bless him, anoint him, and to administer to him. Now notice that it was the priesthood whom he called. It wasn’t because it was President Lee and Eldon Tanner; it was because of the priesthood we held. He was given a blessing, and it wasn’t necessary for him to have that operation.
Then later on he had a heart condition, and I think President Kimball won’t object to me telling just a little of the details. He was so seriously ill that he felt that something had to be done. Dr. Russell Nelson (noted Utah heart surgeon) was his doctor. He told him that his chances were about fifty-fifty. But if he didn’t have the operation, he couldn’t expect to live many months, but if he did, there was greater hope. We discussed it in President Lee’s office for some time. Finally, President Kimball said, “I think I should be operated on.” I said, “President Kimball, you’ve made the right decision, I’m sure.”
Then he asked to be administered to by President Lee and myself. We administered to him and Dr. Nelson said, “To be operating on the President of the Council of the Twelve, an apostle of God, is a great, great responsibility, the greatest I’ve ever had.” And he said, “President Kimball is going to have a double operation.” At that time he was the only one in history I believe who had undergone, or was going to undergo, a double heart operation at that age. And Doctor Nelson said, “I’d like to have a blessing by the priesthood that I might be guided and directed and do the things that will help to save his life.”
Now, brethren, does the priesthood mean anything to you? It doesn’t mean anything to you unless you live worthy of it. So whether you are a boy twelve years of age, or whether you are seventy years of age, wherever you are, live worthy of the priesthood. Honor that priesthood. Thank the Lord that you are a bearer of the priesthood, and pray night and morning, every day, with a determination that you will do those things which the Lord would have you do. And I want to assure you that you will be happier, you will be more successful, you will be more loved and respected, and the Lord will be pleased with you if you do that which he has asked you to do.
Let us do those things which will make us happy and successful and will prepare ourselves to go back into his presence, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

A new girl joined our school class in the middle of the year. She looked and spoke differently than the other students. She had moved around a lot and had a hard time making friends. She had sad things happening in her family and came to school crying on some days. I knew I wanted to try to help this girl, but I wasn’t exactly sure what I should do because she did not always like to talk with other children. I prayed about what I should do and could feel the Holy Ghost whisper that I should just try to be her friend.
I helped her with her school-work, and told her that our Heavenly Father gave her special talents for her to use and share with others. I invited her to play with me and other students at recess. A few months later, she said I was the first friend she ever had.
She had to move again, and I felt really sad. I asked the school secretary to send a letter to her at her new address. In the letter, I told my friend I would miss her and that she would always be my friend. I drew pictures of us playing together and reminded her of some of her talents. I told her she should be brave and try to make a new friend because she could help someone else. I prayed that she would find a friend in her new school and that the other children would be nice to her.
I know that Heavenly Father loves all of His children, and I am thankful that He helps us to help each of them.

“I was in a new culture full of new vocabulary and traditions. I felt like an outsider in most conversations and questioned my worth.”

Amy Faragher, shown with her husband, Nathan, and their children

Amy Faragher knew the Church was true the moment she stepped through the church door. “I could not deny the witness I had received from the Holy Ghost,” she says, “so I chose to be baptized.”

About a year after joining the Church as a 19-year-old, she received a calling to serve in Relief Society. A year later she was called to serve as Relief Society president of her young single adult ward. “Those experiences really enriched my life,” she says. “I was all in.”

Serving in this calling as a relatively new member of the Church had its challenges. “I was in a new culture full of new vocabulary and traditions,” she says. “I felt like an outsider in most conversations and questioned my worth as a member.”

Despite the difficulties, Church members received her with warmth and open arms, like one sister who asked to be her friend. “Such associations softened the challenge of learning a new life,” Sister Faragher says. “I felt part of a community. Ward members didn’t judge me for not understanding Church culture or doctrine.”

Five years after joining the Church, she got married. She and her husband lived in various wards over the years. One in particular was accepting of her convert experience, even inviting her to share her story as a member of a panel at a ward activity.

In other wards she attended, Amy was eager to participate but didn’t feel included. She began to doubt her place in the Church. “At times, the loneliness was unbearable,” she remembers. “I continued to attend sacrament meeting and fill my calling in the nursery but suffered from a high level of anxiety.”

When her efforts to seek support from her ward during a challenging time didn’t bear fruit, she sought counsel from her stake president. As she spoke with him on one occasion, she divulged the ache of her heart. He responded quickly and asked to hear more. They talked at length and committed to meet regularly. “The stake president was genuinely interested and listened to all I had to say,” she recalls. “He was the first to ask the hard question about what was going on.”

Her counseling with the stake president and receiving other professional counseling helped her feel Heavenly Father’s love, an important step in her healing. “Everything changed for me. I’m finding my place,” she says. “I’ve learned I don’t need to be ashamed of being a convert.”

“It’s important for leaders to acknowledge and care for new members,” she suggests. “Ask the hard questions and learn how they are really doing. A calling or responsibility suited to the new member’s capacity is also important to the confidence of a new member. It’s not a burden to serve, as some leaders believe.”

Amy recently earned a master’s degree in clinical mental health counseling, and she conducts stake workshops on mental health and assists with the Church’s addiction recovery program.

Grant was only six weeks old when his father, H. Grant Heaton, was called to preside over the Southern Far East Mission. Unlike most children in the United States, Grant spoke his first words in Chinese. His little sister, Lisa Lee, who was born a year and a half after the family moved to Hong Kong, also learned Chinese first.
The mission home was filled with happiness until March 1958, when Grant was three years old. One day his neck became stiff, and there was pain in his chest. Soon he could not walk on his legs. President and Sister Heaton asked the missionaries to fast and pray for their son, but still his condition grew worse.
Grant’s father gave him a special blessing before taking him to the hospital. After tests, the illness was diagnosed as paralytic polio. The doctors said Grant would soon need an iron lung to help him breathe. Polio is not common among the Chinese, however, and the only iron lung in the country was being used by a British sailor.
By the end of a week in the hospital, Grant was completely paralyzed. Only his eyes moved, and the little body that had seemed healthy just a week before was quickly wasting away.
One morning Sister Heaton was with Grant. It was so hard for him to breathe that she thought surely he would soon return to our Heavenly Father. Two men came to the hospital that morning. They represented the Chinese Saints who had held a special fast and a prayer meeting the day before.
Both men had been members of the Church less than a year and neither held the priesthood, but they wanted to help. They asked permission to pray for Grant. Sister Heaton readily agreed and bowed her head to join them. She felt the faith of these humble Chinese men as they knelt beside Grant’s bed and prayed that this little boy’s health might be restored.
As they rose to their feet and left the room, Grant’s mother followed them down the hall. She thanked them and then went to the refrigerator where special food for Grant was stored.
Just as she opened the door, a familiar little voice called from down the hall and she turned around quickly to see Grant coming toward her.
“Look, Mommy,” he exclaimed with a happy smile. “I can walk!”
The doctors were amazed, but when the polio symptoms did not return, they let Grant go home. President and Sister Heaton and the missionaries gratefully acknowledged the power of the Lord and the faith of the Chinese Saints in behalf of their son.
Grant is now eighteen and lives with his family in Salt Lake City, Utah. He doesn’t remember his illness in China. His strong legs that helped him make the football team and wrestle for his high school don’t remember either!