Gospel Story Finder

Saturday morning, when Dad said he had to cut Brother Ballard’s hay, I told him that I could take care of things at home. Ever since I had turned nine, I had been bragging that I was almost a man and could handle things on the farm about as well as Dad could. “I’ll be all right,” I insisted as Dad headed for the tractor. “Just let me look after the farm.”
“What about taking the cows and the General to the meadow?” Dad asked. “Can you do that all by yourself?”
I swallowed hard. The cows were no problem, but I’d forgotten all about ornery old General.
“I can help Jacob drive the General down the lane to the meadow,” Mom spoke up from the steps. She knew I was a little afraid of our big roan steer, and she’d always been the one to drive him to the meadow when Dad wasn’t around.
“I don’t need any help,” I insisted. “A man doesn’t need his mom herding the cows for him.”
“The General isn’t mean or anything,” Dad pointed out, “but he does have a mind of his own.”
I nodded. I knew all about the General. I was the one who had practically raised him. I’d fed him from a bottle and later taught him to drink out of a bucket. And when he got older, I brought him lots of grass and grain. What he liked best, though, was carrots, so I often got a handful of carrots from the cellar and let him eat out of my hand. He’d close his eyes and munch on those long, crisp carrots like they were orange candy bars.
When the General was still a calf, he even let me ride him. But then he grew to be almost a thousand pounds. …
I still liked him, but I liked him from a distance, and I always wanted a fence between him and me. Even so, I said, “I’ll be able to handle the General.”
Dad nodded. “I know you can do it. You’re a good worker.” He started the tractor, then called to me, “Now, remember, Jacob, after you take the cows to the meadow, make sure that you close the gate at the top of the lane. I don’t want those cows in the alfalfa. They’d bloat for sure from eating it, and we could lose every one of them.”
“I know,” I said.
I fed the calves their grain and hay. I carried slop to our three pigs, Dandy, Pandy, and Mandy. I gathered the eggs from the chicken coop and gave the chickens their grain. I scattered fresh straw in the shed so that the cows would have a soft bed that night. Then I opened the corral gate so that I could herd our seven milk cows and the General to the meadow.
About that time the General decided that he wanted a drink from the water trough, so every one of those old cows decided she wanted a drink too.
Those cows always did everything he did. I yelled at them and waved a stick and threatened to throw a rock at them, but they didn’t care. They just followed the General. I had to just wait until that stubborn old steer decided he wanted to go to the meadow.
He sniffed at every clump of grass, every fence post, and every rock between the corral and the lane. And what did the cows do? Why, they sniffed at every clump of grass, every fence post, and every rock too.
Since I couldn’t hurry those cows and the General along, I started day-dreaming. Then a big old green frog came jumping through the tall grass and landed right in front of me. Well, I never let a good frog get away, so before long I had it in my hands.
I was looking for something to put my frog in, when right there, sunning itself on a flat rock, was the biggest water snake I’d ever seen. I dropped the frog and grabbed the snake right behind its head. It wrapped itself around my arm and stuck its red forked tongue out at me, but I just smiled and headed back to the barn for a bucket to put it in. The General and the cows were starting down the lane toward the meadow, so I decided to look after my snake then and close the gate later.
I didn’t think I was gone very long. I did stop for a drink at the water trough and let my snake take a swim, and I checked on our cat and her four kittens. That just took a few minutes, though. But when I got back, that ornery old steer had decided that he didn’t want to go to the meadow after all. Partway down the lane he’d turned around and headed toward the alfalfa field, and the seven cows had followed.
When I saw the General out wandering, I dropped the bucket. My snake slithered out of it and off through the grass, but by then I was galloping for the gate.
I was too late. The General and the cows were through it and wandering along the ditch bank that led to the alfalfa field. Luckily he wasn’t in a big hurry. He’d sniff at fence posts, munch clumps of grass, and swish the flies from his back with his tail. I knew, though, that if he ever made it to the alfalfa field, he’d never leave. He’d stay until his belly was clear full; then he’d lie down and bloat. And those silly cows would eat and bloat right with him.
I found a big stick and filled my pockets with rocks. Then I circled around in front of the General. I waved the stick over my head and stomped my feet. I tried to shout to get his attention, but my throat was so tight that all I could do was squeak.
Digging into my pocket, I pulled out a good throwing rock, reared back, and let it fly. It hit that old steer right on the nose. His head jerked up, and he shook his stubby horns and blew angrily through his wet nose.
I didn’t figure there was any need to get myself killed trying to keep those crazy cows out of the alfalfa. I dropped my stick, jumped the ditch, sprinted to the fence, flopped on my belly, and scrambled underneath the bottom strand of barbed wire.
When I finally opened my eyes, I expected to see the General on the other side of the fence, snorting and pawing. But he wasn’t anywhere around! He was still along the ditch bank, ambling closer and closer to the alfalfa field.
I thought of running to the house to ask Mom to help me, but after telling Dad that I was man enough to take care of things around the place, there was no way I could do that.
Then I thought about praying. Heavenly Father would help me out! I dropped right to my knees and asked Heavenly Father to get that stubborn steer straightened out and headed back to the meadow so that he and the cows wouldn’t bloat in the alfalfa field.
When I finished my prayer, I figured I’d just wait until Heavenly Father had a chance to get the job done. When I thought I’d waited long enough, I looked toward the meadow. There wasn’t a single cow in it. I looked up and down the lane. No cows. I looked along the ditch bank. And there they were, moseying along toward the alfalfa field behind that ornery steer.
I couldn’t believe it. Hadn’t Heavenly Father heard me? Wasn’t He going to help me out? Maybe I prayed for the wrong thing, I thought. I dropped to my knees again. This time I prayed that Dad would finish Brother Ballard’s hay and get home before the cows were bloated and dead.
It was a pretty long prayer. I wanted to make sure that I didn’t leave anything out. When I finished, I waited on my knees and counted to two hundred to give Heavenly Father plenty of time to get the message to Dad.
As I got to my feet, I listened for the growl of Dad’s tractor, but I couldn’t hear anything. And all I could see coming down the road was a truck. I waited and waited, but Dad didn’t come. And the General and the cows were almost to the alfalfa field.
Tears were running down my cheeks as I ran past the barn, looking for a place to hide so that I wouldn’t have to watch the General kill himself. There was only one place I could go—I dashed down the cellar steps.
Once more I knelt down. This time, though, I just prayed that Heavenly Father would help me to know what to do and to be brave enough to do it.
When I finished praying, I sat down on a sack of carrots to think. I pulled one of the carrots out of the sack and absent-mindedly wiped it off on my pants and started chewing on it. Then it came to me—I could turn the General around with carrots!
I hurriedly emptied the rocks from my pockets and stuffed carrots in their place. With my arms full of carrots, too, I raced up the cellar steps, past the barn, and over to the ditch. The General was still munching along the ditch bank a little way from the alfalfa, and the cows were munching right behind him.
I said one more quick prayer, then marched right up to the General and dropped the biggest, fattest, orangiest carrot under his nose. That old steer didn’t even look up at me. His big long pink tongue just wrapped around the carrot and popped it into his mouth. That carrot gone, he looked to me for another one. I held one out and started walking backward toward the gate in the distance. The General watched me slowly walk away. At first he didn’t move. Then he took a long look at the alfalfa field and a long look at me, and then he came.
My heart was thumping a hundred miles an hour, but I kept moving closer to the open gate and dropping a carrot every few steps or so. Like always, those silly cows stayed right behind the General.
I don’t know how long it took me to get to the lane, but by the time I got there, I was so worn out that I could hardly walk. As soon as the seventh cow went through the gate, I dropped the last two carrots and ran and closed it and even tied it with a piece of wire. Then I knelt right there and thanked Heavenly Father.
That night at suppertime, I didn’t brag about being the man of the house and taking care of everything. In fact, I just sat quietly and ate. When Dad asked me how things had gone that day, I mumbled something about getting along pretty well, then asked for another slice of bread to change the subject.

Sam S. and Sofi J., two high school students, created a new school club for the purpose of raising money for the Giving Machines. Their initial goal was to raise enough to do the “777 Challenge.” (When donors press 7 three times on the Giving Machines, they buy one of everything.) With the generous donations collected from students, Sam and Sofi were able to do the 777 Challenge twice.
Sofi said this experience taught her that there are many different ways to serve, and every small donation helps in some way.
“I did the fundraiser to extend the reach of the Giving Machines into my community and high school,” Sam said. “I also wanted to prove that teenagers can make a difference and light the world.”

After seeing the fine article in the November issue on exploring tips, we wanted other explorers to know that we just returned from a trip into Baja California. Four years ago, when Dr. C. R. Brown was called to be our post adviser from the high council, he asked us what we wanted to do. Everyone replied, “What difference does it make?” He said, “Try me.” We did. In the next four years we decided we wanted to go to Alaska, Guatemala, down the Baja trail, and to Europe. Well—after much work and planning, two years ago we went up the AI-Can Highway to Alaska and then down to the international Scout-Explorer Conference in Idaho. Last year we went to Guatemala, explored many ruins, and met some wonderful people. This year Brother Brown was released as our adviser, and in consultation with our new adviser, Frank Nelson, we decided to go down the Baja. Dune buggies and jeeps did the job. We cooked on the hot engines as we drove—venison steaks and fish fillets—by wrapping the meat in tinfoil and laying it on the engine for a couple of hours. As for going to Europe later this year, the request was made partly in jest, but our committee is considering it, and if sufficient funds can be raised, you can be sure that we’ll do it. We hope that other Explorer troops can take inspiration from what can be done if everyone starts to get excited.
Explorers of Post 440Covina (California) Second Ward

One rainy day, my beloved wife Elisa, our little daughter Beatriz, and I were in our car, merging onto a highway, when we saw a small and frail elderly woman walking on the side of the road. The heavy rain had soaked through her thin clothes. We were too fast to stop, but we just looked at one another and turned our car around as quickly as possible. When we came back to the woman, we stopped the car, and my sweet wife ran to help the poor woman while I called the police. We gave her a seat in our car, dried her off, and wrapped her in a warm blanket. We promised her protection and safety. We stayed with her until a police patrol arrived and, after making some inquiries, the officers took her into their care. They expressed their appreciation for what we had done for this good woman who had been walking with a sad face in a dangerous place.
When we continued our journey, we were grateful to the Lord for allowing us to be His hands and to share the care and kindness He bestows upon us daily with this lonely woman.

About a month after I joined the Church, I met my wife, Magareth, and one year later we got married. While we were dating, I told her that because I knew Joseph Smith was a prophet, I desired to build our family upon the words and teachings of the prophets. For example, President Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) was the prophet at that time, and he counseled Church members to stay out of debt. In close to 29 years of marriage, my wife and I have never paid one penny of interest. Never.

My number-one requirement for a great Saturday is sleeping in. Number two is spending some time playing video games. Then there’s hanging out with my younger brother, Nathan. A Saturday cannot be great unless we get to play intergalactic heroes together.
But last Saturday I had to get up early for a church service activity. We met at the local food bank at 8:00 a.m. to fill bags with food for senior citizens. Nathan couldn’t even come with us because he was too young.
I didn’t see any way that Saturday was going to turn out well.
Mom could tell I wasn’t happy, so she reminded me that when we serve other people, we also serve the Lord.
“All right,” I thought. “Heroes serve others. I’ll try to have a good attitude.”
As we walked into the big warehouse, I saw rows and rows of empty pallets. We had to fill brown paper bags with food and put them on the pallets.
“Put 20 bags on each pallet,” a man told us. “Fill every pallet.”
I was stunned. There had to be at least 80 pallets in the warehouse. That meant we had to fill more than 1,600 bags of groceries. This was going to take forever!
We started filling bags with food. I carried a case of applesauce from the back of the warehouse to the area where the pallets were. Then I put two cans of applesauce in each bag. When my case was empty, I went to get another case.
Then we moved on to beans, canned chicken, and mushroom soup.
Suddenly I noticed how tired I was. I went to get a drink and then sat down. We had been working for more than an hour, but we were only about halfway done.
Mom noticed me sitting down.
“Ryan, are you OK?”
“I want to go home,” I said. “I’m really tired.”
Mom nodded. “You’ve been working really hard, but we need to finish what we came to do,” she said.
I looked down but didn’t say anything.
“Most of the older people who will eat this food only get a small amount of money each month,” Mom explained. “When that runs out, they have to wait until the next month to buy more food. What you’re doing will help them have enough to eat.”
A warm feeling started to fill my body. I was doing something important. I was helping other people who were mothers or fathers or grandparents or friends. All of them were Heavenly Father’s children.
Mom gave me a hug. “Why don’t you rest for a minute and see how you feel?” I bowed my head and said a prayer. I asked Heavenly Father for the strength to be able to finish the job.
When I stood up, I knew that I could work some more. I added dried prunes to the bags. Luckily the prunes weren’t very heavy.
When we were finished I stood back and saw hundreds of bags ready to go to people who needed them. I thought about my old requirements for a great Saturday. I hadn’t slept in or played any video games, but I felt good about what I helped accomplish.
In a few months, Nathan will be old enough to help at the food bank. Maybe we can come back as a family. Then Nathan and I can pretend that we’re heroes who have to bag food to save the day. That will be another great Saturday, just like this one!

My best friend moved, and I knew that when school started in the fall, I would be without her. I rode my bike to the school and checked the class listing posted in the window. There would be girls I knew in my class, but not one I could really call a close friend. There was one girl, though, Katie,* who I really wanted to be friends with. We both played the violin, we had been together on the student council, we were in the same math group, and our dads had even worked at the same office long before we ever met.
On the first day of school, I was asked to be a “buddy” to Amanda,* one of the severely learning-disabled students in my class. This assignment required me to play with her at recess, take her to lunch, and generally be with her at all times to help meet her needs.
I was assigned to help Amanda for a whole week! I felt anxious about the precious time slipping away as the other girls formed into groups and began new friendships. I felt angry and resentful of Amanda because I didn’t have time to make friends with Katie. I worried that I wouldn’t ever fit in if I didn’t hurry and get into a group.
Then I remembered what I had been taught about Amanda’s sacred nature. When my mom was a teenager, she had worked with challenged children, too, and she taught me that they are precious in the eyes of the Lord. I remembered that Amanda’s spirit was innocent and pure. She had already been promised a place in the celestial kingdom, and if I live worthily, I could count on having an eternal friendship with her there.
I talked with my parents and was promised that if I loved Amanda and served her with a cheerful heart, I would be happy. They said that if I followed the Savior’s example and showed her love and kindness, a greater happiness would fill my heart than having ten friends would!
I chose to stay with Amanda, and I learned to really love her. She makes me so happy when she smiles and says my name! I can tell that she loves me too.
I know that I was blessed for making the right choice to serve Amanda. Not only do I have her for a friend, but I have become friends with Katie as well!

Mary Goble Pay kept a journal over a hundred years ago while she was crossing the plains in a handcart company with her family. Only because she wrote in her journal do we know of that difficult journey from a young person’s point of view: “There were four companies on the plains. We did not know what would become of us. One night a man came to our camp and told us there would be plenty of flour in the morning, for Brother Young had sent men and teams to help us. There was rejoicing that night. We sang songs, some danced and some cried. His name was Ephraim Hanks. We thought he was a living Santa Claus.”

Brother Ayerdis currently serves as bishop of the Brooklyn Second Ward, where meetings are conducted in Spanish. He recalls the day when he took his family to see the judge who would grant them permanent residency in the United States: “Our children sat beside us on the long bench—quiet, like angels.” The judge thought that New York would corrupt the children and said to the family, “What a shame that you had to bring your lovely children here.” Sister Ayerdis responded, “We may have left our furniture, our house, and our clothes behind in our native land, but we did bring our traditions.”

Long ago, the renowned author Charles Dickens wrote of opportunities that await. In his classic volume entitled Great Expectations, Dickens described a boy by the name of Philip Pirrip, more commonly known as Pip. Pip was born in unusual circumstances. He was an orphan. He wished with all his heart that he were a scholar and a gentleman. Yet all of his ambitions and all of his hopes seemed doomed to failure. Do you young men sometimes feel that way? Do those of us who are older entertain these same thoughts?

Then one day a London lawyer by the name of Jaggers approached little Pip and told him that an unknown benefactor had bequeathed to him a fortune. The lawyer put his arm around the shoulder of Pip and said to him, “My boy, you have great expectations.”

Tonight, as I look at you young men and realize who you are and what you may become, I declare, “You have great expectations”—not as the result of an unknown benefactor, but as the result of a known benefactor, even our Heavenly Father, and great things are expected of you.

When I was a boy, I used to go with my father to the stockyards. We lived on a small farm and occasionally sold a few animals there.
The holding pens for the cattle, hogs, and sheep were on the river bank. A fenced bridge spanned the river and connected with a ramp that angled up to the top story of a processing plant on the other bank. Since the animals to be butchered had to be herded across the bridge and up the ramp, the men who managed this operation developed a clever solution. They trained a black goat to enter the sheep pens, mingle with the sheep, and then lead the way across the bridge and up the ramp through the door of the processing plant. Once inside the doorway, the goat stepped aside, and the sheep pressed on to their ultimate fate.
I remember watching this scene as my dad explained the operation. He paused, then added, “Let that be a lesson to you; be careful who you follow. Make sure you know where you are being led.”
I’ve never forgotten that experience. When I think of fathers leading, teaching, spiritually feeding their families, I remember how my father did it—in simple but lasting ways. The opportunities to teach important lessons are not always planned. They often arise out of our day-to-day experiences—here a little and there a little, taking advantage of a teaching moment.
It encourages me to read Enos’ experience, showing that his father’s effort to provide spiritual nourishment did not have their greatest impact immediately. (Enos 1:3.) Sometimes it may seem that our efforts are of little avail, that they are being ignored or at best grudgingly endured. But experiences such as the one I had as a young boy, watching a black goat named Judas, are witnesses to me that the return is worth the investment, even when it takes a while to gather interest.

Tithing has always blessed me and my family in our lives. During the time that I was in school, my wife and I were very busy and really very poor. There were times when we wondered if we would have enough money. But we had made the commitment that we’d always pay our tithing first, and we always had enough. We’ve done that all of our lives. There have been challenges, but somehow there’s a way when you pay your tithing that you can do the kinds of things you need to.

Kate smiled happily as she looked around the general store in Elizabeth, Colorado, for a birthday present. She couldn’t help thinking about how exciting tomorrow was going to be. It was her brother Edward’s birthday.
For several months Kate had worked to earn enough money to buy Edward a present. And today Kate and Papa had come to town in the wagon for supplies and so Kate could buy something to give her brother. She had decided on a tiny metal locomotive that shot out tiny sparks and sounded a little whistle as it chugged along the floor.
As Kate and Papa left the store they saw a wagon coming into town with a new family riding in it. A man was driving and a woman sat beside him. A girl was holding onto the sides of the wagon and tilting her head as if she were looking at something high in the sky.
The girl appeared to be about Kate’s age.
Papa nodded, and taking Kate’s hand, they walked over to the wagon.
He smiled and said, “I’m Stephen Simonson, and this is our Kate.”
The man put out his hand and said, “I’m John Miner and this is my wife Millie and my daughter Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Miner greeted them and then excused herself to go into the store.
“Well,” said Kate to the girl, “you’ve come to live in the right place, because this town is called Elizabeth too.”
The girl smiled, but she kept her head turned upward as though she were watching something there.
Looking up, Kate could see nothing but blue sky. She couldn’t think of anything more to say to the girl, so they were both quiet as Papa and Mr. Miner talked about land, cattle, and weather for awhile. Then the men walked together over to the land office.
Now I’ll have to say something, Kate worried, but Elizabeth doesn’t seem to want to talk. Finally she asked, “Have you come far?”
“From St. Louis,” answered the girl, continuing to look up at the sky.
Exasperated, Kate put her hands on her hips. “Elizabeth,” she said, “why won’t you look at me?”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Elizabeth said.
“Why not?” Kate asked impatiently.
“I’m blind.”
“Oh,” Kate said. Now she really couldn’t think of anything to say. She could hear the horses pawing the ground, the sounds of people’s footsteps along the wooden sidewalks, and she could hear her own heart beating. Then she said softly, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Elizabeth. “I keep my face up when I’m outside because the sun feels so good. I love things that feel good. Even when it’s a rainy day I hold my face up so I can feel the rain on it. But I like the sun the best.”
Kate’s father came back to the wagon and said he was ready to leave. “Good-bye,” Elizabeth called, and Kate waved. Then she realized that Elizabeth couldn’t see her hand. “Good-bye,” she called back. On the way home, Kate told Papa about Elizabeth.
The next day at school Miss Baldwin said, “We have a new girl in our class. Her name is Elizabeth and she is blind.”
Everyone stopped talking and squirmed around to look at Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth is nine years old and she’s been blind since birth. She knows how to take care of herself, but she’s new here and doesn’t know where things are, so some of us will have to help her for awhile.” Miss Baldwin looked straight at Kate. “Kate, since you’re the same age and grade, I want you to help Elizabeth today. You can show her where everything is.”
Kate stood up and went to the front of the room. She took hold of Elizabeth’s hand and led the way to her seat. She gave her a slate and a piece of chalk and told her what the arithmetic lesson was.
Later she showed Elizabeth where the stairs, the hot stove, the windows, the coatrack and boot rack were, and she helped her back to her desk.
At last it was time to go home. Kate felt a little bit like a Siamese twin. She had never been more than a few inches away from Elizabeth the whole day. She hoped it wouldn’t be like this every day. She didn’t want to be tied to a girl who couldn’t run and play and have some fun. Kate was so relieved to be alone that when she was walking along the road toward home, she swung her arms, whirled around a few times with a great feeling of freedom, and then started to run. It was Edward’s birthday and she didn’t want to be late for his party.
Mama had made an apple cake, and when Edward opened his presents he was so pleased with the train engine that Kate forgot all about Elizabeth and her frustrating day. Edward’s best friend Zachary had come over to the party and Mama blindfolded him to play pin the tail on the donkey. Then she turned him round and round and he felt his way toward the donkey, but he pinned the tail on its ear. Edward pinned the tail to the donkey’s shoulder.
“Let me try,” Kate said. “I bet I can do better than that.”
She took the tail with the pin through it, and Papa wrapped his bandanna around her eyes. He twirled her around three times and then gave her a gentle push.
She put out her hand and started to move forward. Am I headed the right way or will I bump into something, she worried. She couldn’t see at all. Her whole world was dark and as a wave of fear swept over her, she thought of Elizabeth.
Kate stumbled forward until her hand hit something and everyone laughed. She quickly pulled the bandanna from her eyes and found she was in front of the wardrobe. She turned and looked at Mama’s pretty face, at Papa’s kind eyes, at her little brother Edward holding his new engine and at Zachary’s happy smile, and she loved them all.
And she was so glad that she could see them!
The next morning Kate waited anxiously for Elizabeth to come to school. And soon she saw her coming down the road, holding her father’s hand. After he said good-bye, Kate hurried over to Elizabeth and asked, “Does your father bring you to school every day and then come for you again when it’s over?”
“Yes,” answered Elizabeth, “but after a while I think I’ll be able to come alone.”
“Why don’t I stop by for you and we could walk together?” Kate asked eagerly.
“Well,” said Elizabeth, “I don’t want to be a bother. That wouldn’t be much fun for you.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be a bother,” Kate said quickly. “And I’ve been thinking how much fun it would be to go places together. We can go down to the old swing. Then we’ll go to the creek. I know where there’s a rock that a grandfather frog lives under. I can catch him for you and you can hold him for a minute.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, smiling, “I’d like very much to go with you. It sounds like lots of fun. Are you sure that’s what you’d like?”
“I’m very sure,” Kate said, and she squeezed Elizabeth’s hand as they walked into the schoolhouse together.

The story is told of a traveler who asked a farmer, “How’s the cotton crop going to be this year?”
The farmer replied, “There won’t be any. I didn’t bother to plant it, because I was afraid of the boll weevil.”
Upon hearing this, the traveler asked further, “Well, are you going to harvest a big corn crop?”
“It’s the same,” came the response. “I was afraid we wouldn’t get enough rain for the kernels to mature.”
The traveler pursued, “At least you will have a good potato harvest.”
“Nope. I didn’t dare plant any, because I was afraid of insects.”
Somewhat frustrated, the traveler then asked, “Well, what is it that you have planted?”
“Nothing, my good man,” came the answer. “I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

One preparatory event happened when I was in an auto accident while visiting France. Moments after I was strongly prompted to fasten my seat belt, the car skidded and plummeted down a 20-foot (6-m) embankment. Because of the warning voice and because I regained use of my feet and legs while others with similar injuries are often left permanently paralyzed, I began to understand that a divine power much greater than I was in control.

When members of the Loganholme Ward of the Beenleigh Stake were looking for a new way to love, share and invite, they took on a tech savvy project to help family history enthusiasts all over the world.
Latter-day Saints believe in the eternal nature of families and have a strong focus on researching their family trees.
For family history enthusiasts all over the world, the process of searching for names has significantly changed over the last two decades. One of these major changes is the introduction of indexing, an online system where volunteers view a digital image of a record, then type in the names, dates and places listed on that record. This digital data is used to create a searchable index that makes it possible for people to find records about their ancestors.
To get the ward members excited about the project, the Loganholme Ward leaders set a goal, to index 10,000 names from April to December 2022. Excitement spread like wildfire and by mid-August, the goal was reached and extended to 20,000.
This particular service project was chosen for a number of reasons, but mainly because it is accessible for a range of ages and skill levels. Early in in the challenge, the ward gathered and learned together how to access records and correctly assess and record the information. Due to the accessibility of this project and the training that was available, many individuals of all ages have joined the cause.
According to one participant, “To see the range of ages come together in a common goal is an incredibly unifying experience.”
But why indexing? In an article released by the Church aimed at the youth in 2014, it states, “Every name you index has the potential to help others find their ancestors and help those ancestors receive the necessary ordinances in the temple. Because of your efforts in indexing, historic records can be made searchable online so that lives can be blessed on both sides of the veil.”1
Through indexing, not only have people been able to link the generations of their family together, but they have also created a greater bond with their living family.
Every Thursday evening, ward members can gather at the chapel and work together, sharing knowledge and stories. Each participant can share their knowledge and wisdom with each other. Young children have been spotted helping older participants with technology as older participants share stories of days gone by and how the world has changed. Everyone can share their knowledge and ask questions if they need assistance, and the group celebrates individual successes together.
“Everyone involved has had such an amazing experience working on these records,” one observer said.
“Many are now finding the search for their ancestors addictive, spending their Sabbath researching for new clues and preparing family names for the temple.”
One of the local Church leaders commented, “What’s great about indexing is that anyone and everyone can participate regardless of your age or experience. Testimonies were strengthened, and an increased interest in temple and family history work was established.”

Some years ago I returned home to find our little children had discovered some newly hatched chicks under the manger in the barn. As our little girl held one of them, I said in a teasing way, “That will make a nice watchdog when it grows up, won’t it?” She looked at me quizzically, as if I didn’t know much.
So I changed my approach: “It won’t be a watchdog, will it?” She shook her head, “No, Daddy.” Then I added, “It will be a nice riding horse.”
She wrinkled up her nose and gave me that “Oh, Dad!” look. Even though she was only four years old, she knew that the little chick would grow up to be either a hen or a rooster—much like its mother or father.
All animal life produces after its own kind, and little ones grow up to look and to be like their parents. That is true of people too. Small boys and girls grow up to be big boys and girls, then men and women.
I testify that God is indeed our Father. When we reach our full growth and destiny, we have the promise that we may be like Him. Just as all life follows the pattern of its parents, so can we grow toward the image of our Heavenly Father if we will live righteously and be obedient to His commandments.

In 1898, President Wilford Woodruff recounted an experience he had as a new member in 1834 at a priesthood meeting in Kirtland. He related: “The Prophet called on all who held the Priesthood to gather into the little log school house they had there. It was a small house, perhaps 14 feet [4.3 m] square. … When we got together the Prophet called upon the Elders of Israel … to bear testimony of this work. … When they got through the Prophet said, ‘Brethren I have been very much edified and instructed in your testimonies here tonight, but I want to say to you before the Lord, that you know no more concerning the destinies of this Church and kingdom than a babe upon its mother’s lap. You don’t comprehend it. … It is only a little handfull of Priesthood you see here tonight, but this Church will fill North and South America—it will fill the world.’”

Let me share another example of what it means to be a doer of the word and not a hearer only. Several years ago, I attended a stake conference in New Orleans, Louisiana. This was the weekend of the Super Bowl. There was great excitement about what was anticipated as a great football weekend. In my remarks in the Saturday conference meetings, I told of some experiences young people had had in determining what it meant to keep the Sabbath day holy. Of course, the football game was to be played on Sunday afternoon.
After the Sunday morning session, one of the brethren handed me a regular donation envelope, indicating there was a note inside that would explain an experience he wanted to share. A little later I opened the envelope and read:
“I was going to take my son to the Super Bowl game today. He has been looking forward to this for quite some time. After your talk to the young people and to the older people, we want you to take our tickets and keep them. This is our thanks to you for sharing with us.”
I learned from the stake president that the boy and the father had made the decision not to attend the Sunday game spontaneously, together. Not only did they not use the tickets, which had cost them $30 each, but they did not sell them, which they could have done for as much as $300 each. This was not only being doers of the letter of the word but also keeping the spirit of the word. Those two tickets are permanently placed in my scrapbook as a reminder of a father and his son who together, yet independent of each other’s thinking, decided they were going to keep the Sabbath day holy.

I was born in Spain and lived there for eight years. We didn’t go to church a lot, so I wasn’t baptized when I turned eight, but I really wanted to be. One day I asked my parents why we weren’t going to church anymore and why I wasn’t baptized.

As I explained to them my desire to be baptized, it touched their hearts, and we started going to church again. It felt good. My mom was such a good example and an inspiration to me. She had a strong testimony and often read the scriptures.

Later on, we moved to Venezuela, where my dad is from. We lived there for two years, and because of the difficulties in the economy, we faced a lot of challenges. But there were good things too. I loved the food, and I had family there who were anxious to meet me. They were such humble people, and we all went to church together and felt the Spirit.

Even though we were going to church and I could feel the Spirit, I knew my family and I were missing something. I really felt that we needed to be sealed as an eternal family. One Sunday morning, the bishop invited everyone in the congregation to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year. I knew this would help my parents and me more fully live the gospel of the Lord. Little by little, as we read the Book of Mormon, the Savior started giving us more knowledge and blessings, and we continued to read the scriptures regularly.

Soon I got baptized. I could really feel the Spirit in my life, and my parents did too. My testimony started growing more. We moved to Florida, USA, and we had to make a lot of changes and sacrifices again, just like when we left Spain. But our testimonies were growing stronger. We went to church every week and kept reading the scriptures.

After a lot of effort and a lot of reading the scriptures, praying, and choosing the right, we wanted to get sealed as an eternal family. We talked to our bishop, and even though it took some time, the day finally arrived. We were so excited to go inside the temple.

I got to do baptisms while I waited for my parents to complete the temple work for themselves. I felt like I was getting baptized again. I was really happy I could help people beyond the veil. Now my family and I go to the temple every week. I regularly do baptisms because I love helping there. I am so glad I got to be sealed in the temple to my parents for eternity and have the opportunity to live forever with them.