Gospel Story Finder

A short time after returning from his mission, Elder Alvarado stopped by the local Church distribution center in Puerto Rico to pick up a few items. The employee who assisted him was Cari Lu Rios, a fellow Ponce resident. They knew each other vaguely from past Church activities.
The young returned missionary was immediately smitten. “When I looked into her eyes, I knew she would be my wife.”
The feeling was not mutual, said Sister Alvarado, laughing—at least not initially.
But they had fun with one another. Soon they were spending most of their time together and realized they had become a couple. They married in the Washington D.C. Temple six days before Christmas in 1992.

I want to thank you for the article “Why Am I Running?” in the January 1991 issue. I am a 27-year-old male who is currently serving a prison term. I am here as a direct result of “running.”
As a teenager I became too concerned about what others thought of me. I began to do things that were not socially acceptable. By the time I was an adult my free agency belonged to those I was constantly trying to impress.
I am trying to return to the gospel, but old habits die hard. Please use your agency wisely. The road back is tough, so stay on the straight and narrow path.
K. T.Clallam Bay Corrections Center, Washington

“When I was younger, I was struggling with letting go of an issue with one of my siblings, which could have ruined our family unity for years, but my dear mother lovingly and swiftly corrected me and asked me to do what the Lord had counselled the Nephites to do when He appeared to them in the Americas.
“In 3rd Nephi it says (and she made me read this even when I was angry):
“But behold I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you (3 Nephi 12:44).
“It was hard for me to do, at first . . . Who knew that kind of grudge can affect you, not just spiritually, but also physically and mentally? Yet, as Mum shared, the other person with whom I held a grudge against, is living their best life, unaware of my personal turmoil because life progresses for those who learn to let it go quickly.
“She said, ‘Don’t you let Satan win!’
“I am grateful for the Atonement of my Saviour Jesus Christ that allows me, an imperfect daughter of God, a striving covenant-keeper and disciple of Christ to repent daily as I practice being meek. The power of His Atonement strengthens me to keep trying and I know He will be there for all of us in our daily efforts to be meek and lowly in heart.”

I hope that you will have the experience of being taught to read by your parents. Since my father was busy at the New England Conservatory of Music all day, my mother taught me to read when I was about four years old. One day we walked down Huntington Avenue to the shops in the center of Boston. We went to the publishing house of Little, Brown and Company. There we were shown a lot of children’s books. Mother bought several that were suitable for my ability. One was an attractive little primer that inspired my imagination. It was called The Brownie Book, a story about imaginary little creatures who did good deeds and went on a trip to the moon! I could see the moon out of our window at night. It seemed such an important object in the sky. The idea of anybody going to the moon brought many stimulating thoughts to my eager, young imagination.
Another book was a primer describing the coming of the Pilgrim fathers, the establishment of the American colonies, and the development of the nation into which I had been born. I was deeply impressed by it.
About this time, President Joseph F. Smith and his counselors in the First Presidency suggested to members of the Church that they hold a family home evening once each week. Accordingly, my father would gather us around a little table after supper to read the Book of Mormon. We read it from cover to cover that year. Because Mother had taught me to read, I was privileged to take my turn in reading aloud. What excitement I experienced as we approached the Third book of Nephi and the coming of the Savior! With feelings of sadness we continued through the books of Mormon, Ether, and Moroni. These feelings were strongly reinforced by my father.
Father told me the story of Grandfather Durham, who had been inspired to compose a melody called “The Nephite Lamentation.” Thomas Durham had been promised in a patriarchal blessing that he would hear music as it was sung in the heavens. My father related how one night my grandfather had a dream. In it he saw twenty-four men by a stream. They looked very sad. Their leader arose and addressed them. Then he heard a melody played on what sounded like a trumpet. The impression came to him that it was a dream concerning Moroni and the last twenty-four Nephites. He awoke. In the late hours of the night he went to his little organ and played the tune he had heard and wrote it down. Later, a choir in the Parowan Ward in southern Utah sang the tune to the words of “O My Father.” It was published in modified form in the old Primary songbook as arranged by Henry E. Giles.
Hearing this music and reading the Book of Mormon in these early years with my parents made a forceful impression upon my mind as to the reality and truth of the Book of Mormon.
I hope that each of you will watch and listen carefully to what your parents say and do. I pray they will teach you well. I also hope that the music you hear in your home will be uplifting and inspiring, because we believe that “if there is anything virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy, we seek after these things.” (A of F 1:13.) The place to begin with good things is at home with your family.
Finally, let us all remember the commandment: “Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee.” (Ex. 20:12.)

Rosina Howells died on April 27, 1970, aged 83. She was born in Abertillery, Monmouthshire in 1886. Her parents, James and Jane Douglas, were members of the Church. She was baptised at the age of eight and was active in the Church throughout her life. It is believed that Sister Howells was the oldest serving member of the Church in Britain when she passed away.
When she was a little girl, she had to travel to church with her mother from Abertillery to Talywain—a distance of 20 miles each way by road, or eight miles each way over the rough mountain track. When they arrived at Talywain they would hold a cottage meeting at the home of Brother Biggs, and the grandmother of the Forward family, who are also long-serving members. Every week, Sister Howells would have to walk from Brother Biggs’ home back over the mountain to Abertillery.
Sister Howells married Thomas Howells, a nonmember, and resided in Abertillery for a while, and then moved to Pontypool. She had ten children, and throughout each pregnancy she continued to walk miles each way to the Parteg Branch, quite often carrying one or two small children in her arms.
In 1945, her husband joined the Church, at age 69, and was the organist for the Pontypool Branch until he died in 1967.
When the Church meetinghouse was opened at Cwmbran, Sister Howells was wheeled in in a chair, and sent a note to President Pulman, the presiding officer, asking that she should have the opportunity of bearing her testimony.
This request was granted, but when called upon to do so she did not have the strength to stand.
President Pulman lifted her up and held her in his arms. In a clear voice she declared to all present her knowledge of the truthfulness of the gospel.
Her example will live on in the hearts of all those who had acquaintance with her.

An example from Victor Hugo’s novel Les Misérables, though fictional, has always touched and inspired me. Near the beginning of the story, Bishop Bienvenu gives food and overnight shelter to the homeless Jean Valjean, who has just been released from 19 years in prison for having stolen a loaf of bread to feed his sister’s starving children. Hardened and embittered, Valjean rewards Bishop Bienvenu’s kindness by stealing his silver goods. Later detained by suspicious gendarmes, Valjean falsely claims the silver was a gift to him. When the gendarmes drag him back to the bishop’s house, to Valjean’s great surprise, Bishop Bienvenu confirms his story and for good effect says, “‘But! I gave you the candlesticks also, which are silver like the rest, and would bring two hundred francs. Why did you not take them along with your plates?’ …
“The bishop approached him, and said, in a low voice:
“‘Forget not, never forget that you have promised me to use this silver to become an honest man.’
“Jean Valjean, who had no recollection of this promise, stood confounded. The bishop … continued, solemnly:
“‘Jean Valjean, my brother: you belong no longer to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you. I withdraw it from dark thoughts and from the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God!’”
Jean Valjean indeed became a new man, an honest man and a benefactor to many. Throughout his life he kept the two silver candlesticks to remind him that his life had been redeemed for God.6

I had only lived in Tokyo, Japan, a little while. It takes an hour for me to get home from school on the bus. One day a friend said that if we got off at the first bus stop, he knew the way to my house and would guide me home. I believed him. So I got off the bus at the first stop, thinking that he would get off, too. But he tricked me. He didn’t get off, and I was alone.
I tried to remember the way to my house. I started to walk, but I came to a fork in the road, and I didn’t know which way to go. I felt very bad and scared. I said a prayer. I told Heavenly Father that I had made a mistake, and I asked Him to help me get home. I felt better, and He helped me choose the right way to go. I got home safely and was grateful that He helped me. I learned that He really listens to our prayers and helps us solve problems.
Ian Robert Evans, age 7Tokyo, Japan

In English class, our teacher handed everyone an article that criticized The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and said we’d be discussing it the next day. As I read it, feelings of fear and anger welled up inside me. That night, I wrote a rather unkind “comeback list” in response to the article.
My mom listened to me rant about my plans for the discussion. I was a bit shocked when she said, “You need to pray about it.”
That night, I prayed for help and forgiveness. Then a verse popped into my head: “The spirit of contention is not of [God], but is of the devil, … and he stirreth up the hearts of men to contend with anger, one with another” (3 Nephi 11:29).
The next morning, I felt at peace. I knew that Heavenly Father wanted me to be kind. But when I got to class, I started to feel nervous.
Classmates spoke in favor of the article. I felt I should speak up, but I worried about failing or ruining my social life. Then I remembered a quote I saw on social media that morning from Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “Defend your beliefs with courtesy and with compassion, but defend them” (Apr. 2014 general conference [Ensign or Liahona, May 2014, 9]).
So I raised my hand and told them I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and clarified points in the article that were unclear or untrue. My hands trembled, but my words didn’t. The class stared at me, but I knew I did the right thing.
I learned that compassionately defending the gospel is a blessing, not a burden. The Spirit was with me, and I had an overwhelming feeling of love from Heavenly Father. I knew He was proud of me, and I was proud of myself too.
The author lives in Arizona, USA.

Reader 3: My dad and I used to fight all the time. Anytime I wanted anything or wanted to do something, I’d always give all my reasons because I was afraid dad would say no. And he always did. Then once, when I argued with dad and he said no, I went to mom. All she said was:
Reader D: “Why didn’t you ask him?”
Reader 3: “I did ask him, mom. I just told you what happened.”
Reader D: “You told me you argued with him. But you didn’t ask him. If you treat your father as if he’ll argue, he’ll argue. Next time, simply ask him.”
Reader 3: It sounded so simple it seemed stupid. But I tried. I stopped defending myself as if I didn’t deserve it, and he was more positive, too.

I saw him again—the little freckle-faced, redheaded kid in the wheelchair—holding a baseball. He couldn’t be more than eight years old, and he was maneuvering that old chair around just like a car. Boy, can he drive that thing!
I wondered if they had taken some blood from him too. I didn’t like it very much when they took it from me, but I didn’t let on. After all, I’m twelve, and I don’t want to act like a baby. Anyway, they made me sit in a wheelchair, and they pushed me into elevators and down long hallways to my room. Our wheelchairs passed each other, and the freckle-faced kid said, “Hi! My name’s Kenny. Do you like baseball?”
I mumbled a quick hello in return, ignoring the question about baseball. I didn’t want to tell him that I loved baseball but that I couldn’t run very fast. I wanted to show him my autographed baseball that was signed by three superstars. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Some of the other guys on our baseball team, especially Bill and Kevin, didn’t want me on the team anymore because I couldn’t run the bases. They said it was my fault we’d lost one of the games. So I quit. But I still have the autographed ball, and I still want to be a famous baseball player someday. I’ll show them!
Anyway, I saw the kid in the wheelchair yesterday, sitting in the TV room watching a major league game. He was still holding a baseball. I went in and sat down on the couch in the back of the room. I wanted to watch the game, too, but I didn’t want to answer any of that little kid’s questions! As soon as I sat down, though, he wheeled that monster of a chair over and started in on me.
“Hi!” he said again. “What’s your name?”
“Luke,” I replied quietly, trying to ignore him. He kept staring at me, and I finally said, “You can call me Lucky. That’s my nickname.”
“That’s neat,” Kenny said. A big grin spread across his face, making his freckles seem to pop out. “Are you really a lucky person? I wish my name was Lucky. Why are you in the hospital? You’re not in a wheelchair, and you can walk.”
Boy, could this kid talk! But he was so friendly that I felt I had to answer.
“It’s something to do with my heart,” I told him. “They had to operate about three weeks ago. They left a big scar straight down my chest.”
I turned away from him, and he started to get excited about the home run scored on TV. I thought about waking up after the operation with the tubes stuck in me. They’d put them everywhere, and they hurt. I didn’t want to tell Kenny about it. After all, he was just a kid and wouldn’t understand. The doctors said that my heart was the reason I couldn’t run fast. Only they said everything would be OK now. But I didn’t believe them. I felt even worse than before. When Bill and Kevin came to see me and told me I could be on the team again when I’m stronger, I told them I didn’t want to be on their old baseball team anymore. I didn’t want them to feel sorry for me.
Kenny suddenly turned toward me and asked, “Do you play baseball?”
I tugged at the back of my hair, my eyes looking down. “A little,” I answered, then added, “I want to be a real baseball player someday, like the guys you’re watching on TV.” I don’t know why I said that. It must’ve just slipped out. Kenny’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he pushed his baseball at me.
“Can I have your autograph, please? You’re the only real baseball player I know. Please.”
He seemed almost to plead with me. He thought I was a star. Hesitantly I took his baseball. Kenny grabbed a pen out of his pocket and gave it to me. I looked at the ball, signed it “Lucky Wilson,” and handed it back to him.
“Thanks a lot!” Kenny actually glowed. “Now I have a real autographed baseball!”
I smiled weakly, turned, and walked slowly back to my room. I didn’t want to watch TV anymore. I felt a little mixed-up. In the hall I met the nurse who worked on that floor. “Why is that boy in a wheelchair?” I asked.
“Kenny?” she said. “Oh. His legs are paralyzed. He’s here for more tests and therapy.”
“Will he ever be able to walk?” I asked.
She gave me a long look before she said, “Kenny’s been in that wheelchair for a long time.” Then she added quickly, “He’s a very nice kid, though, don’t you think?”
“He sure is!” I answered and went on to my room.
Today I went back to the TV room. Kenny was there again, sitting all alone. I walked over to him, put my autographed baseball in his lap, and said, “This is for you.” His face sparkled.
“Are you sure you don’t want it?” he asked eagerly.
“I don’t need it,” I answered. “My name’s Lucky, remember?” I don’t think he understood—but I did. I knew someday I would hit a home run. I would hit it for Kenny.

It was not until the last session of the General Authority, Area Seventy and General Officers Leadership Training, during the April 2021 general conference, that I finally received the spiritual witness I had been seeking since my call. I will never forget that moment.
This session’s agenda was for all 15 apostles and prophets to bear their testimonies and witness of Jesus Christ. The solemnity and sacredness of this occasion is glorious. It was Elder Neil L. Andersen’s testimony that changed my perspective and gave me the reassurance that I was searching for.
Elder Andersen explained how he felt when he was called to The Quorum of The Twelve Apostles. He said when he first sat in the seat that Elder Ulisses Soares now occupies, he looked up the row at the other 11 Apostles and the First Presidency, and feelings of personal inadequacy overwhelmed him. When I heard Elder Andersen say that, I sat up straight in my chair because I knew that what he had just said—and what he was going to say next—was specifically for me.
When Elder Andersen shared that sacred experience, it became sacred to me also. It was the confirmation that I needed.
I know that Heavenly Father and His Son did not call me because of anything I had done to qualify for this role, but it was because They love me. They know I can change, and They know I can help Them in Their glorious work: to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of all Their children. (See Moses 1:39.)

One night when his father was away from home, David O. McKay heard noises outside his house. He was sure it was burglars, and he was very frightened. He decided to pray.
David had always said his prayers while kneeling beside his bed. It took all his strength and courage to climb out of bed now and kneel and ask Heavenly Father to help him.
Then, just as clearly as one person speaks to another, he heard a voice say to him, “Don’t be afraid. Nothing will hurt you.”
David climbed back into bed and fell fast asleep.

Spencer Williams, 17, had a role as a Mormon Battalion member in Promised Valley, a part that required him to sing a solo. “I don’t like it much,” he admitted before the performance. And the thought of singing on the stage at the University of Utah’s Kingsbury Hall was kind of intimidating. But he went through with it. “It was a good experience,” he reported later. “Each night I got a little better.”

Illustrated by Mike Eagle
When Harold B. Lee was a young man, his father was a bishop. Often Harold helped load their pony cart with things for his father to take to poor families.
Harold: Well, Dad, that’s the last sack of grain.
After dark, Harold’s father quietly delivered the food and clothing to needy people in his ward.
Years later, Harold became a father himself.
President Lee: I thought you were going to Donna Mae’s house to show her your new doll.
Helen: Donna’s family didn’t have a Christmas this year! She says they are too poor.
President Lee felt especially sad because he was the stake president and could have helped the family if he’d known. That night he thought of how much his father did to help people, and he promised Heavenly Father that he would try harder to know who in the stake needed his help.
The next Christmas, President Lee worked hard with the members so that every family in their stake could have Christmas presents and a Christmas dinner.
Relief Society sister: Merry Christmas!
President Lee’s stake became so good at providing for each other’s needs that Heber J. Grant, the prophet of the Church then, called President Lee into his office.
Heber J. Grant: President Lee, the Lord would like you to direct the welfare program of the whole Church.
During a time when many people lost their jobs, President Lee set up farms and building projects where members could work, and storehouses where bishops could send them to be given food and clothing as payment.
Later, as a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and as the eleventh President of the Church, Harold B. Lee continued to serve.
If you’d like to learn more about President Lee, do the “President Harold B. Lee Crossword” on page 23.

One Saturday during my mission to Guatemala, my companion and I decided to visit Benita. She and her husband, Isaías, were faithful members of the Church. Isaías was continually in search of ways to bring in enough money to support his family. To supplement his efforts, Benita raised chickens to sell them and their eggs.
When we arrived we could tell that Benita was upset. She explained that, after her husband had gone to work in a distant village, her chickens had all become sick, and one had already died. She knew they could not get by without these chickens. She felt frustrated and helpless.
Trying to console her, we sang some hymns and shared our testimonies. We offered to say a prayer with her. When we said this, her face lit up. She asked me to pray and petition Heavenly Father to bless her chickens. I was caught off guard—I had never thought of chickens as subjects for prayer. But then I thought of Amulek’s admonition to “cry unto [God] … over all your flocks” (Alma 34:20). I realized that Benita’s chickens were her flock.
I gave the prayer, telling Heavenly Father that Benita’s husband was gone, that one of her chickens had died, that the rest were sick, and that she didn’t know what to do. I told Heavenly Father that her heart ached and asked Him to please bless her chickens. Benita thanked us for visiting, and we left.
The next day at church, Benita told us of her chickens’ recovery. Each time I think of Benita, I think of God’s love for us and His desire to bless us—if we will just ask.

A week later my mother died. How would it be in a motherless home, without the encouraging look of a proud mother to push us along when times got rough? I thought mothers were always supposed to be there. Who was going to teach me all the things mothers are supposed to teach their daughters? Who was I going to have those special talks with? Why did it have to be my mother?
My father knew it was up to him. It must have been like a building falling on him to have all the responsibility of raising the family. After losing the woman he loved so dearly, he had to be strong to set the example for his family. He did. I remember him standing there and asking us if we understood about paradise and heaven. We all hesitated, as if a nod of approval to his question was an approval for her to die, but then with great effort he told us she was gone. My father’s a big man, but he was even bigger then, when I knew that inside his heart was broken and he was full of loneliness.

One week later, in May 1975, Le My Lien stepped off a crowded bus at a military camp near San Diego, California, on the West Coast of the United States. In front of her was a sprawling city of tents set up to shelter 18,000 refugees from Vietnam.
Lien had no money and spoke little English. And she had her three children to care for while awaiting news of her husband in Vietnam.
On their first night at the camp, Lien did her best to make her children comfortable. The camp had provided her with no blankets and only one cot. Her sons, Vu and Huy, crammed onto the cot while the baby slept in a hammock Lien fashioned out of a sheet and rubber bands.
There was nowhere for Lien to lie down, so she slept sitting on the edge of the cot, leaning against a tentpole. The nights were cold, and her health worsened. Soon she was diagnosed with tuberculosis.
She prayed continually that her husband would remain strong, believing that if she could survive her ordeal, then he could survive his. She had heard nothing from him since her flight out of Saigon.
As Lien rocked her crying baby each morning, she cried too. “Please,” she begged the Lord, “let me get through just this day.”
In 1976, President The was imprisoned in Thành Ông N?m. He was desperate for news of his wife and children, but all he knew about his family’s whereabouts came from a telegram from the president of the Hong Kong Mission: “Lien and family fine. With Church.”
Now, more than a year later, The wondered when he would be free again.
Life in the prison camp was degrading. The and his fellow captives were housed in rat-infested barracks. They slept on beds made of steel slabs. Meager and spoiled food, along with the unsanitary conditions in camp, left the men vulnerable to sicknesses like dysentery and beriberi.
Reeducation on the new government’s principles involved backbreaking labor and political indoctrination. Anyone who broke camp rules could expect a brutal beating or solitary confinement.
The had survived so far by lying low and clinging to his faith. For a time, he contemplated escaping from the camp. But he felt the Lord restrain him. “Be patient,” the Spirit whispered. “All will be well in the due time of the Lord.”
Sometime later, The learned that his sister, Ba, would be allowed to visit him in the camp. If he could slip her a letter to his family, she could send it to them.
On the day of Ba’s visit, The waited in line as guards conducted full-body searches of the prisoners ahead of him. He had hidden the message behind the cloth band on the inside of his hat. He had then placed a small notebook and pen into the hat. With any luck, the notebook would distract the guards.
They examined the pen and notebook, then let him pass.
Soon, The saw his sister and pressed the letter into her hands. He wept as Ba gave him some food and money. He trusted that she would get his letter to Lien.
Six months later, Ba returned to the camp with a letter. Inside was a photograph of Lien and the children. He realized that he could wait no longer.
He had to find a way out of the camp and into the arms of his family.
Nguyen Van The and his wife, Le My Lien, with their son in 1973. She and their three children found refuge in the United States, but The was forced to attend a prison camp. Later, he said, “I was able to survive the ‘reeducation’ camp because … I had faith in Jesus Christ.”
As part of its mission to care for families, LDS Social Services had arranged with Church members in the United States to care for about 550 Vietnamese refugees, most of whom were not members of the Church. Lien and her family were sponsored by Philip Flammer, a professor at Brigham Young University, and his wife, Mildred. They helped the family relocate from California to Provo, Utah.
At first, Lien struggled to find work. Philip took her to a thrift store to apply for a janitorial position. But during the interview, the manager tore her high school diploma in half and told her, “This does not apply here.”
She soon found temporary work picking cherries at a nearby orchard. She then found work as a seamstress and added to her income by baking wedding cakes. With help from Philip, she also earned money by typing reports for BYU students.
Amid her family’s hardships, Lien remained faithful to the Lord. She taught her children about the power of prayer, knowing it could carry them through their ordeals.
Then, in late 1977, Lien learned that her husband was in a refugee camp in Malaysia. He had managed to leave Vietnam on an old fishing boat after finally being released from Thành Ông N?m. Now he was ready to reunite with his family. All he needed was a sponsor.
Lien began working even more hours to save enough money to bring The to the United States.
In January 1978, Le My Lien sat nervously in a car headed for the Salt Lake City International Airport. She was on her way to meet her husband for the first time in nearly three years.
After arriving at the airport, Lien joined other friends and Church members who had come to welcome The.
Before long, Lien saw The descending an escalator. He looked pale and had a lost look in his eyes. But at the sight of Lien, he called out to her. Emotion welled in Lien’s chest.
She pulled The into a hug. “Thank God in heaven,” she whispered, “you are home at last!”

In my early childhood I lost both my parents. Aunt Gu Ma, a spinster sister of my father, kept my brother and me together. She brought us up in a little farming village where she grew vegetables for a living. Every morning she would carry the produce to the market in two big baskets, one on each end of a long pole resting on her shoulders. She then would bring home rice and meat purchased with the proceeds of her vegetable sales.
I can remember cooking rice in a huge wok on top of a reed-burning stove. I was then six years old. The wok was so big that my brother and I had to lift it together, each standing on a stool while grasping a handle on opposite sides. Our occasional dinner special was either half-cooked or burnt rice, or both.
Aunt Gu Ma was a wonderful person. Although she had no formal education, she had a noble philosophy of life. She instilled in us correct principles, stern self-reliance, and the value of hard work. We are forever grateful for her love and sacrifice in our behalf.

Eight-year-old Friederike Baumann brings a lot of happiness and sunshine into the lives of her family. She is a very outgoing girl who loves to tell jokes, laugh, and have fun with her four sisters—Juliana (13), Natalie (12), Katharina (10), Charlotte (3)—her brother, Paul (6), and her parents, Beate and Frank. Her mother knows that Friederike will also be a shining influence on her soon-to-be-born sister, Henriette.
The Church is an important part of Friederike’s life. Her family travels by car about 30 minutes to attend the Reinickendorf Ward (Berlin Stake). She always enjoys seeing her friends and attending Sister Fischer’s Primary class. “We’ll Bring the World His Truth” (about Helaman’s army) and “I’m Trying to Be like Jesus” are her favorite Primary songs.
Each Sunday she looks forward to participating in the Sharing Time activities. Father teaches the seven-year-old class in Primary and is also the financial clerk.
Mother has been a Primary president and an institute teacher; she will receive a new calling after she has the baby.
At 6:45 A.M. Friederike and her sisters and brother are out of bed, eagerly waiting to read the scriptures with their parents. Whenever they read the Book of Mormon, she is especially pleased. Her family knows this custom is a very peaceful way to start the day.
Another tradition she and her siblings eagerly participate in is family home evening. If Mother or Father ever forget about it, the children remind them and insist on having it. They know they can always gather around the piano and sing songs from the Children’s Songbook. Everyone takes turns doing different assignments. Putting on the armor of God and preparing for a mission are two lessons Friederike particularly enjoyed.
Refreshments are a great part of the evening, especially when Father makes floats with his wonderful homemade root beer. Because root beer is not available in Berlin, he has created his own secret recipe.
Swimming in the backyard pool and taking bike rides into the forest for a picnic are two more family activities Friederike enjoys. She also likes to ride her bike to visit Grandma or her cousin Ariane. She has a good time playing dolls with Charlotte and jumping off the playhouse roof with Paul. Connections is a board game that she likes to play with her father because she can beat him! A game of Monopoly with the whole family is fun too. Her family does not watch regular television, but they do watch parent-approved videos.
Although Friederike loves being with her family, sometimes she wants to be by herself. Sitting on the playhouse roof, thinking and looking at the beautiful world around her can be very comforting. And finding a private place in the house where she can get really comfortable and read a book is quite delightful. She is an avid reader whose favorite books are by Astrid Lindgren, especially the ones about Pippi Longstocking. She likes a good fairy tale too.
Listening to music can be very relaxing or very stimulating for her. Whenever The Magic Flute by Mozart is playing, she loves to sing along with it.
An important event happened on Friederike’s eighth birthday. She was baptized a member of the Church! She appreciated the musical number that her family performed at her baptism, and the covenants she made then with Heavenly Father are very important to her. In fact, the first thing she said after her baptism was, “In four years I can go to the temple and be baptized for the dead.”
Music school and regular school keep the Baumann household very busy.
Scheduling who goes where at what time, homework, and practicing is a juggling act for Mother. She has found a way to encourage the children to practice, and it has paid off because they are doing well.
Friederike has taken ballet, recorder, and violin lessons. At the present time she is taking piano lessons. Juliana and Katharina play both the violin and the piano. Natalie plays the cello and the piano. Paul has just started taking cello lessons. The family enjoys singing and playing their instruments for their ward, for people in hospitals, and for any others who ask them to. To their parents’ surprise, the children want to dress like angels and perform in shopping centers at Christmastime to earn money for a vacation to the United States!
When Friederike started school, she didn’t like it and wanted to stay home! However, before first grade was over, her parents and her teacher decided that school was too easy for her. They promoted her to the second grade, in which Friederike found the challenge she needed. Now she is in the fourth grade and doing well. Her teacher said that even though this sweet child is two years younger than most of the children, she adds a great deal of sunshine and enthusiasm to the class.
She likes to ride her bike to school, jump on the school trampoline, and attend religion class. Her religion teacher is glad Friederike chose to sign up, because she is one of the few children who knows about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and prayer. Friederike knows that the gospel of Jesus Christ is an important part of her life, and she is very willing and happy to share it with others.

I can tell you from experience something about how to help if you are the one sent. Shortly after I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve, I got a phone call from President Faust, counselor in the First Presidency. He asked me to come to his office. I went with some concern as to why he would take the time to visit with me.
After some pleasantries, he looked at me and said, “Has it happened yet?” When I looked puzzled he went on to say, “I’ve been watching you in meetings. It seems to me that you have been feeling that your calling is beyond you and that you are not qualified.”
I said that doubt had come to me, as if I had hit a wall. I expected that he was going to reassure me. I told him that I appreciated his being aware of my doubts and asked for his help. But I was surprised by his kind, firm reply. He said, “Don’t ask me. Go to Him.” Then he pointed up to heaven. Now years later I sit in that same office. When I walk into it I look up and remember him and how he taught me by example how to help those who are feeling overwhelmed in the Lord’s service. Find a way to send them with confidence to Him. If they will follow your counsel, they will gain the strength they need and to spare.