Gospel Story Finder

Chris awoke to the sounds of excited voices. It was the first day of school, and everyone was bustling about, trying to get back into the familiar routine. He could hear his sister, Cathy, chattering to herself as she tried on one outfit after another. She was starting sixth grade and wanted to look just right.
Even though his eyes were closed, Chris knew from the banging of the dresser drawers that his older brother, Mike, was also getting dressed.
Both Cathy and Mike were excited about the new school year. Chris wasn’t, though, which was why he pretended to still be asleep. “Better hurry, kid,” Mike said as he gave Chris a nudge. “You’ll miss your bus if you don’t get going.”
“Maybe I want to miss my bus,” Chris sighed. “Then I wouldn’t have to go to first grade again.”
Mike gave his brother an understanding look, then bent over to mess up his hair a bit. “Don’t worry,” he said assuredly, “it will only hurt today.”
“What do you mean, ‘It will only hurt today’?” Chris asked as he forced himself out from under the covers.
“I mean that you’ll probably be embarrassed a little today, but by tomorrow, you’ll realize that it isn’t that big a deal to anyone but yourself.”
After Mike left the room, Chris pulled on his clothes. He remembered how the other students had teased him last year when he couldn’t read as well as they could. He especially remembered the teasing that he’d had to endure when they learned that he would have to repeat first grade. Alan Thomas had teased him the most. He wasn’t a good reader, either, and he’d often made fun of Chris during reading time so that the other children wouldn’t notice his own mistakes.
“Ready to go?” Cathy asked as she poked her head into the boys’ room. “Dad says to hurry down for family prayer.”
The family was already kneeling in a circle when Chris entered the living room. As he found a spot, he felt the love and comfort that prayer always gave him. It was Mike’s turn to pray. After pausing a moment to look at his little brother, he closed his eyes and began. It was a wonderful prayer. Chris liked to hear his older brother pray because he always seemed to say just the right things.
Mike mentioned Chris and asked Heavenly Father to comfort him. He also asked Heavenly Father to prompt the other children to be kind to him and to not tease him. After the prayer, the whole family, in turn, gave Chris a little hug.
It was hard walking into the first grade class again. Chris was glad that his mother had decided to take him that morning. As he opened the door to the classroom, he saw the familiar painted walls. Mrs. Sanders looked the same, too, and she seemed very happy to see him. “I’m glad that you came a bit early, Chris,” she began. “I need someone who can help me set up for the new students. I imagine that they’ll be a little confused.”
Suddenly the door opened again. “Wonderful!” Mrs. Sanders exclaimed. “Now I have two students to be my helpers this morning.”
Chris turned around to see whom Mrs. Sanders was speaking to. There, standing in the doorway and looking very uncomfortable, was Alan Thomas! Chris quickly turned in astonishment to his mom and caught her quick smile and wink.
The day went by quickly. Chris made friends with two of his new classmates, and he even asked Alan to join them in a game of foursquare during recess.
Chris found that he knew his alphabet better than anyone else and that he was one of the best readers in the class. He decided that he was going to like going to first grade again. Mike had been right—it really did hurt for only a little while.

Desiree carefully glued her picture in the book. Using her best first-grade handwriting, she wrote, “I love you, Teacher. Happy Valentine’s Day. Love, Desiree.” She smiled at how even the letters looked.
“I’ve finished, Mom,” Desiree called. “Do you want to see it?”
Desiree’s mother lifted baby Micah from his high chair and came to the table where Desiree was working.
“How do you like it?” Desiree asked. Her smile showed the gap where her two front teeth would soon grow in.
Mom ran her fingers over the words as she silently read them. She looked at Desiree. “Well, you’ve done a nice job, but …” She looked at the book Desiree had glued her picture in—the Book of Mormon.
Desiree became worried that she might have done something wrong. “Mom, you told me that my teacher isn’t a member of our church. The prophet said we’re supposed to tell people about the Church and give them the Book of Mormon, right?”
Mom sighed. “That’s right.”
“I’ve tried to show her how happy we are,” Desiree continued. “Now I want to give her a Book of Mormon. I love her. I want her to join our church.”
“I guess I’m just afraid that your teacher won’t like it,” Mom said. “I know you love your teacher and I think you’re very brave to do this for her.”
Desiree smiled. “Is it OK, then?”
“Yes. Let’s remember in our prayers to ask the Lord to bless her with a desire to learn more about the gospel,” Mom said.
“She’ll like it,” Desiree assured Mom.
On Valentine’s Day, Desiree took the Book of Mormon to school for her teacher. The teacher got valentine gifts all day long. She got chocolate hearts, flowers, pens, and cards. Desiree began to worry. Maybe she shouldn’t give the Book of Mormon to her teacher. Maybe Mom was right. Maybe her teacher wouldn’t like it.
When the bell rang for the children to get ready to go home, Desiree took the Book of Mormon out of her backpack. She walked to her teacher’s desk and gently placed the book in front of her.
“Here’s my valentine for you,” she said softly.
Her teacher put down her pencil and asked, “Well, what can this be?” She picked up the book and read, “The Book of Mormon.” She looked at Desiree with questioning eyes. “You want to give this to me for a valentine?”
Desiree opened the book to her picture and note.
The teacher read the note and smiled. “Thank you, Desiree. I love you too.”
“What did your teacher say about your valentine?” Mom asked when Desiree came home.
“She said thank you, and she loves me,” Desiree told her. “She wasn’t mad at all.”
Mom nodded. “Well, I guess we’ll know for sure when I go to see her next week.”
“Are you still afraid, Mom?” Desiree asked. “It’s OK.”
Mom smiled. “You have strong faith.”
The next week, Desiree, her mother, and baby Micah went to school for parent-teacher conferences. When they got there, Desiree waited on the playground where her mother could see her, and played with some of the other children. Desiree wondered what her teacher and mother would talk about.
After what seemed like a long time, Mom and baby Micah came outside and Desiree ran to meet them. “What did my teacher tell you about me?” she asked.
“Your teacher sure thinks a lot of you,” Mom said. “She told me your valentine was one of the best she’s ever received.”
“Really?” Desiree beamed. “That’s because I gave it with my heart.”
Mother looked intently at Desiree. “That’s almost exactly what your teacher said.”
Desiree smiled. “Maybe she will read it and want to be baptized.”
“You know, Desiree,” Mom said, “she might not join our church right away. But maybe someday she’ll be ready to turn the pages past your picture and start reading.”
“I hope so,” Desiree said.
“Whatever happens, I know the Lord will bless you for obeying the prophet and sharing the gospel.”
“I’ve already been blessed,” Desiree replied. “I’m not afraid to tell people the Church is true.”
Mom squeezed Desiree’s hand and smiled. “I hope you never will be.”

Since my article “But Will I Get My Eagle” was published in the May 1983 New Era, I have been receiving comments from all over. And whether they were offering me bouquets or brickbats, they almost all asked the same question: “Did John receive his Eagle?”
Well, believe it or not, the question is not easy to answer. John advanced to Star normally, as a result of the program of his Blazer leader and Scoutmaster, but when he was on his own to continue, he let four years pass before he earned his Life Scout progress award. This was barely six months before his 18th birthday.
The application originally prepared for review (well after his 18th birthday due to John’s involvement in school activities) had the leadership deficiency I had been concerned about, but it was augmented and submitted to the council office after John was off to college.
The local Scout council was persistent. When John came home temporarily he was pounced on, and the necessary Board of Review was held. The approved application was forwarded to National Council. John went back to college. The local council explained to National Council why the long delay in submission had occurred and confirmed that all work had been completed in time. National Council considered the evidence and authorized the awarding of the Eagle badge at an appropriate time and place and with the proper ceremony which we commonly call the “Eagle court” and which is actually a national court of honor.
So does John have his Eagle badge now? One small problem: Elder John is now engaged on another continent in a higher mission than Scout advancement. I rejoice in what he is doing, but he is obviously not here to attend a court of honor.
I was going to say that the story has a happy ending. John is an Eagle Scout, even if he does not yet have the badge. But when I think of what might have been, I am not so sure. John did not have his Eagle court and cannot attend the great Eagle Scout recognition banquet. The younger Scouts did not receive the leadership and help he could have given them had he fulfilled his leadership requirements within the Scouting program instead of outside it. The focus became whether he would get his badge rather than how he could have served others. He is making up for that now as a missionary, but only for the present and future. What he might have done earlier is now sealed. And perhaps worst of all, when people read that John is now an Eagle Scout, this might encourage future generations of Scouts and Explorers to also aim at the last minute with predictable results.
John wrote me a letter from the mission field after my article was published. He said, among other things, “The Eagle is still very important to me, but like you said, it means more when you really work for something. I worked, but not with all my heart, might, mind, and strength. If I had really stretched myself and made it more of a growing experience, it would have meant a lot more. (I did grow, of course, but not as much as I could have.)
“I would probably have gotten my Eagle four years earlier if the age limit had been 14. That’s a weakness I had, and I’ve had to work on it—so I look at this as a special growing experience. The New Era article helped me to realize more fully what a bad weakness procrastination can be.”
Robert H. JohnsonSan Francisco, California

We had a wonderful experience as part of our humanitarian projects.
Brother Eric Graffe, who assists us with our projects, told us about a drinking water problem on the island of Tahaa. We quickly set up a video conference with Madame Patricia Amaru, mayor of Tahaa.
To our astonishment, she began with a prayer. We then asked her what their priority needs are. With tears in her eyes, she confided: “You must be the answer to my prayers, because just yesterday we had an urgent problem. And I’m powerless to solve it.”
She went on to explain that the drinking water distribution network is outdated, making it difficult to supply water to a large part of the island.
So we headed off to Tahaa to see what was needed. As water is one of the priorities of humanitarian projects, we decided to put together a dossier that we would submit to the branch president. If successful, this substantial project will bless the lives of over 2,000 people.
Once we had finished visiting the facilities, Madame Amaru regretted leaving us, as she had to attend a meeting “with a young man from your church who is going on a mission”.
It was in fact a vigil during which the future missionary was to open his call letter. We asked her if it’s a member of her family. “No!” she replied. “But I go wherever I’m invited.”
“Then we’ll be delighted to accompany you!”
When we arrived, we found a branch filled with love for this young future missionary who had lost his mother a year earlier. What’s more, he’s the first missionary from this branch . . . in 40 years!
The branch president asked to the mayor and her husband to address a word. They both gave “parent” advice, encouraging him to be obedient and respectful, to remain humble, and especially not to stay there (Salt Lake City Mission) after the mission.
Before we left, we learned that this couple, who are very close to the people of their community, had recently attended the dedication of the meetinghouse. What’s more, during the seven-month construction period, they welcomed the entire branch into their home (not the municipality’s premises, but their own) for Sunday meetings!
It was with hearts overflowing with love and gratitude for such generous and humble people that we set sail again to leave them.
Unquestionably, we declare that our Heavenly Father watches over His children tenderly, that He sent us to Tahaa to serve them, and that the Church is the means by which this might be done.

Cathy has always found time to accomplish her goals. She has helped with political campaigns and even served as a page in her state legislature. She attended seminary for four years. (“It really helped me gain a testimony,” said Cathy.) She took modeling classes for several years, and her teacher encouraged her to enter the Miss Teen North Carolina Hemisphere competition.
“I won the state competition, so I competed in the nationals, which were held in Philadelphia and included the western hemisphere—Guam, Canada, the U.S., and the Bahamas,” Cathy said.
“I learned that it wasn’t that important to be beautiful. I just wanted to put on my jeans and be myself, but for 24 hours a day I was there fixing my hair and putting on lipstick, and I’m just not used to doing that much. You couldn’t go out of your door unless you were all dressed up, and that’s just not for me.
“I really enjoyed entertaining others for the competition, though, and it helped me develop a talent I didn’t think I had. I’d always taken ballet, but I realized I needed another talent to win the state competition. I told my mom, ‘I’ve got to sing!’ She smiled and said, ‘You can’t sing.’ And I said, ‘Well, I’m just going to have to learn.’ So I took lessons and practiced, and I won the contest. I realize now that I can sing and not be embarrassed. I met some nice people in the pageant, too.”

Several months ago I left my country to go to one where I knew only my sister and her boyfriend. At church I felt like an outsider. Two or three months went by, and I felt the same feeling of loneliness until I decided to smile at others and ask, “How are you?” Each Sunday that went by, they were saying more to me than the simple “I’m fine.” It also helped to participate in seminary and Mutual and to work on Personal Progress with other young women. Now I feel comfortable at church, as if I were at home.
Vanessa B., age 17, La Vega, Dominican Republic

When I served as a member of the Europe Area Presidency, I was in Ireland for a mission tour and district conference. At the conference President John O’Farrell, the first counselor in the Ireland Dublin Mission presidency, spoke and posed a most interesting question: “Where would I be without the Church?”

He asked the congregation, “Where would you be without the gospel in your life?” He proposed that, “Here in Ireland, without the gospel we would likely be down at the pub with a pint in our hands, telling shady stories.”
Each of us might well ask that question: “Where would I be without the Church?”
What a blessing it is to have the gospel in our lives and to enjoy its saving power.
My dear young friends, may I share with you from the fire of experience and from personal testimony my conviction that the gospel has a dramatic power to change lives. The scriptures are full of stories of men and women whose lives were changed by its influence.
Think of Matthew, a despised tax collector who followed the Savior. Where would he have been had he not met the Master and had continued to seek earthly rather than heavenly wealth? (See Matt. 9:9.)
Think of Saul, the tent maker of Tarsus, and his dramatic confrontation with God on that fateful day near Damascus. He held the coats of those who martyred Stephen, and he went “breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1.) Where would Saul have been—what would he have become—had not the Lord taken charge and turned anger and antagonism into desire and dedication?
Peter and Andrew, James and John heeded the call to leave their nets and become “fishers of men” (see Matt. 4:18–22). I dare say the call was not convenient—it seldom is, in purely worldly terms—but the call was heeded, and they were never the same again.
But what of today? Are there still such stories? Most assuredly, yes!
Let me take you to Huddlesfield, England, for a personal testimony of a sweet sister named Mina Kreslins. She was born in Amsterdam, Holland, into the Jewish faith. She had lost her parents and brothers and sisters during the wartime German occupation of that country.
She recounts in the testimony of her conversion, “I was bitter, and although I prayed, I just could not forgive.”
Then in early October 1983, her daughter Karla came into contact with the missionaries. Karla became interested in the gospel and was converted. She invited her mother, Mina Kreslins, to attend her baptism.
“It was at Karla’s baptism I felt the Spirit. It was so strong. I had never felt anything so beautiful in my whole life. I felt so elated and so wonderful, and I wanted to become part of it.”
The missionaries began teaching Sister Kreslins, and the Spirit bore witness to her of what they said. “During the third discussion—about Joseph Smith and the Restoration—the Spirit was so strong, from my head to my feet. I knew then, with all my heart, that the Church was true and that I had to be part of it.”
On January 22, 1984, she was baptized.
“My baptism was beautiful. No words can describe the feeling I had as I came out of the water. I felt so clean—almost holy. When I received the Holy Ghost, I felt wonderful. I wanted to shout for joy. Finally, there was rest and relief from the horrors and the hating of those war-torn years.
“Now, since I have become a member of this beautiful Church, I have forgiven and I have no bitterness in my heart.”
Where would Mina Kreslins be today without the gospel?
Such is the saving power of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Without its refining influence, each of us, in our individual way, would be lost and lingering in the backwaters and byways of life. The plan of salvation puts true purpose in living. It gives us an eternal perspective on our past, present, and future. Of all the people on the earth, we should be the most happy, for the Lord has given us knowledge of who we are and why we are here.
My young brothers and sisters, seek to be a good example to those around you. In your homes, your schools, your workplaces, and your community, seek to represent well your church and your faith.
When the call came, those apostolic fishermen of old did not procrastinate. They did not ask if it could be deferred until the close of the fishing season. They came “immediately” and left their nets “straightway” (see Matt. 4:20, 22).
The demands of Deity deserve to be met without delay.
I have asked that serious question of myself: “Where would I be without the gospel?”
It was that gospel testimony that persuaded me to say no to my Navy friends when our first “liberty” came to leave boot camp training in Farragut, Idaho, in early 1944. On the train from Farragut to Spokane, Washington, the invitations were presented in a most appealing way to go with them to get a “manly” tattoo and then be off to find the real pleasures that men seek.
I was the only Mormon in that group, and, yes, I felt a little lonely as I broke off to go by myself to the USO facility and then to a movie. The following day I found church services and church friends who strengthened and reinforced a lonely Mormon boy from Provo, Utah.
To have come home from the service in World War II with virtue intact has held for me eternal rewards.
Elder Neal A. Maxwell has wisely observed that “in the economy of heaven, God will not send a prophet when a priest will do.”
Remember that it was through the instrumentality of a young boy in his 15th year that the gospel light was given back to the world.
Age confers no inherent advantages in the kingdom; only righteousness does. You, in your youth, have the selfsame blessings therefrom. There is much you can do to build the kingdom—much, indeed, that a priest or a Laurel, a teacher or a Mia Maid, or a deacon or a Beehive can do.
Only Satan would have you underestimate your worth. Those who truly follow God know well the worth of souls (see D&C 18:10).
The power of Satan is increasing. You see it all about you in books, in magazines, in movies, and on television. You can resist that evil only by putting on the whole armor of God (see Eph. 6:13–17). Put on God’s spiritual armor, for it will protect all who wear it against the deadly weapons of evil and wickedness.
Without the gospel, we would not have available to us the whole armor of God, which is a shield of faith and truly a breastplate of righteousness.
Seeking then serving, and learning then living is the process. Let us learn our lessons well so that we might be profitable servants. Make full use of your educational opportunities, but temper them with the “steel” of seminary.
I testify to you that the gospel can change lives and that we have a loving and caring Heavenly Father who knows each of us and our aspirations and attitudes, our strengths and weaknesses.
Think deeply: “Where would I be without the Church?”
Thank the Lord every day that you have membership in his Church and that you can go to a loving Father in daily prayer and obtain direction and inspiration for the decisions of life.
Give thanks daily that the mission and atonement of Jesus Christ is for you personally and individually and that you can obtain the fullness of his mission. This fullness, however, is predicated upon your personal righteousness.
Don’t compromise. Don’t rationalize your weaknesses. Really go for the improvements and righteousness available to every member of the Church.
May we ever be mindful of him and of his love.

Jackie didn’t like Mrs. Baxter very much.
When Jackie and her friend Tara played in the street, Mrs. Baxter shouted at them to be quiet. She chased Tara’s kitten away with her newspaper. And when Jackie’s Frisbee landed in the grumpy neighbor’s window box, she wouldn’t give the Frisbee back.
So when Jackie and Tara saw Mrs. Baxter come out of the grocery store and something flutter from her open purse, they didn’t run to pick it up for her.
“She’s mean,” Tara said.
“The meanest lady in town!” agreed Jackie. “She wouldn’t even listen when I said I was sorry that the Frisbee broke her flowers.”
They watched Mrs. Baxter put her sack of groceries on the hood of her car and rummage in her purse. She pulled out her keys, unlocked the car, put the groceries in the trunk, and drove away.
“She doesn’t know she dropped anything!” Tara exclaimed, watching the big black car turn the corner.
Jackie ran to see what Mrs. Baxter had dropped. “It’s a five-dollar bill!”
“Too bad for her!” Tara said. “Finders, keepers—losers, weepers!”
“We can’t keep it!” Jackie looked at her friend in surprise. “We saw her drop it. We have to give it back!”
“What about your Frisbee that she kept?” Tara said. “She owes you for a new one! It isn’t stealing!”
“Wellll …” Jackie looked at President Lincoln’s picture on the five-dollar bill. He seemed to be looking back at her. Quickly she stuffed the money into her pocket. “I guess it wouldn’t be stealing if I get a new Frisbee with it. Come on, let’s look for one.”
There was a sports store nearby. The girls squeezed past a display of gleaming bikes and headed toward the Frisbees.
“I wish she’d dropped a five-hundred-dollar bill!” whispered Tara. “Then we could both get new bikes!”
That would really be stealing, Jackie thought. Keeping five dollars is a lot different from keeping five hundred dollars! Or is it? She tried to ignore the tight feeling in her stomach. Of course it wasn’t stealing—Mrs. Baxter owed it to her.
“How about this one?” Tara held up a fluorescent pink Frisbee.
Jackie put her hand in her pocket, twisting the five-dollar bill around her fingers. She thought about President Lincoln. He was known as “Honest Abe.” What would he think of her if she spent the money?
Tara was waiting for her answer. “I’m not getting a Frisbee,” Jackie said. “It’s Mrs. Baxter’s money.”
“Wait—”
Tara tried to say something, but Jackie didn’t listen. She knew that her friend was saying that it was stupid to give the money back.
Hurrying out of the store, Jackie unlocked her bike and rode off. As she turned into her street, she saw Mrs. Baxter climbing the two front steps to her apartment building, struggling to get out her key with one hand while still clutching the grocery sack.
Jackie hesitated. She’ll probably just yell at me, she thought. Maybe Tara’s right.
Mrs. Baxter was inside by the time Jackie set her bike down and walked slowly toward the door. As she passed the window box, she noticed the broken geraniums. They had been propped up on sticks and tied in place with green yarn. Mrs. Baxter may not like children and kittens, but she loves her flowers.
Jackie stared at the doorbell. Slowly she lifted her finger and pushed. Was that thumping sound her heart pounding, or was it Mrs. Baxter’s footsteps? It was Tara running up the path to stand beside her. Jackie smiled at her friend.
The door opened two inches and Mrs. Baxter peered out from behind the security chain. “What do you want?”
“You dropped this by the supermarket.” Jackie held out the five-dollar bill. As she passed it through the gap in the door, Mrs. Baxter grabbed it, then slammed the door.
She didn’t even thank me for returning the money! She’ll probably always chase the kitten and shout at us and keep our Frisbees, Jackie thought.
Jackie still didn’t like Mrs. Baxter. But she liked herself. Mrs. Baxter may not like me, but I’m glad that I returned the money. She was sure that Heavenly Father was pleased with her, too, and that was what mattered.

After I quit drugs, I turned to alcohol. I can honestly say I was a high school alcoholic. When I decided I wanted to quit, I couldn’t—at least not by myself. I didn’t care enough about myself to do what I knew I needed to do.
Then I became close friends with a good, active Latter-day Saint girl. She couldn’t understand what I was experiencing, but she did know I was honestly trying to get out of the mess I was in. It hurt her when I slipped back into my bad habits. I finally quit drinking because I knew it hurt her, and I knew I couldn’t lie to her.
Keeping my morals straight was so hard under my weakened condition that I avoided any social contacts with girls except with ones as good as my Latter-day Saint friend.

Our journey to the temple started by sacrificing a lot of things. We knew that the Church was going to pay for many of our expenses, but we still needed to come up with money to pay for our visas, and for food, housing, and garments.
To raise all these funds, we had to sell our wedding rings and some other gold pieces that we had. It did not yield much money, maybe about almost $500 Eastern Caribbean Dollars. That still wasn’t sufficient. We still didn’t have enough money. A missionary couple gave us $400 US that covered the cost of our lodging on the temple grounds and our visas. The $500 EC had to be changed to US dollars for us to change to pesos to buy food when we arrived in Santo Domingo.
So, with that money, we were on our way to the temple. We spent the night in Trinidad and woke up at 4 a.m. to catch our next flight to Panama. While on the plane we met a missionary named Sister Poulson. She was going to Santo Domingo, so we talked for a short while. In Panama, we had a delay of about four hours before our flight to the Dominican Republic. While there we were very hungry because we had no money to buy anything to eat. So, we walked around trying to pass the time. While doing that, we bumped into Sister Poulson again. We talked for some time because we were going on the same flight. She was on her way to get something to eat and asked if we had already eaten, so we explained about our trip and also our finances, and without us knowing she bought food for the four of us. We were so very grateful. When the time came, we boarded the plane and left for Santo Domingo. When we arrived and finally exited the airport, Sister Poulson was gone.
Outside of the airport, a man was waiting with our names and a taxi to take us to the temple where we were going to stay. Before we got there, we stopped by a supermarket to buy some groceries. The following day, my husband received his own endowment, and we did a few more sessions, spending the day at the temple. Then the big day arrived for our family sealing. Everyone there had heard about us and knew what we were there for. On that day we had the temple to ourselves. We got ready, and when we arrived, some missionary couples were there to assist us. When we got to the sealing room, everything was prepared; we were sealed first, and then our two daughters were sealed to us. It was the most wonderful thing, the way that we felt is unexplainable. There was not a dry eye in the room. All the missionaries who were there and the sister who had fed us at the airport was there, and they were all in tears. The Spirit was so strong and was felt by everyone in the room.
Our Heavenly Father was waiting for that day and had a lot planned for us. We had the most memorable spiritual day. The next few days were filled with temple work. We were able to do work for the dead, for our own family, and for others who had been waiting for a long time.
One very memorable day we were in the temple doing some work for the dead, and I was exhausted, because we had been there for the whole day. When I got up to leave, one of the temple workers asked me to do just one more, so I agreed and finally finished. When I got outside the most amazing thing happened, when I got to my husband, who was already outside waiting for me, fireworks started going off. We both stood there and watched with everyone else who said that they never had that happen. I took that as a sign to mean that our Heavenly Father and those waiting were very happy and pleased with the work we had just done.
We were so grateful for all the people God sent to feed us, to help us, and to just overall take care of us. Thank you to all of you, but most of all thanks to God.

A woman was converted up in Idaho. She comes down to see me often. She calls me after nearly every conference. She is a nurse. She gave me a check for $500 for the children’s hospital because, at the death of her husband, one of our Saints visited her to tell her what she might expect in the future if she just knew the truth. I got a letter from her recently. She said she had found more love in this Church than she had ever known in her life—even from her own mother.

One youth described how he first experienced the spirit of worship. He had been marginally active through his Aaronic Priesthood years. When he attended sacrament meeting, he usually sat in the back with a group of his friends, and he was less than a model of reverence. One day, however, he came in a little late, and there were no seats by his friends. He sat alone, and for the first time in his life, he closed his eyes during the prayers, he sang the hymns, he listened to the sacrament prayers, and he paid attention to the speakers. About midway through the first speaker, he found tears welling up in his eyes. With some embarrassment, he carefully glanced around; no one else seemed emotional. He didn’t know for sure what was happening to him, but the experience changed his life. It was during that meeting that he really started his spiritual preparation for his mission. He felt something, and fortunately, he acted and thus sustained those feelings.

1. Grace was nervous. She was going to sing with her little brother, Ethan, in sacrament meeting.
2. When it was time for Grace and Ethan to sing, Grace looked at Mom. “You can do it, Grace,” Mom whispered.
3. Grace and Ethan walked to the front of the chapel and stood behind the podium so that everyone could see them. Grace saw Dad smiling at her.
4. When the music started, Grace and Ethan sang “Jesus Has Risen.” Grace remembered all of the words and all of the notes.
5. When the song ended, Grace gave Ethan a big hug. Grace felt happy inside.
6. Grace and Ethan walked back to their seats and sat next to Mom and Dad. They were happy too. “That was beautiful,” Dad whispered.
7. Grace smiled. She was glad she and her brother could sing about Jesus.

It was the most exciting thing to happen that fall or any fall. “I just have to go, Mama,” Kate insisted. But Mama said no.
“Please, Mama. I’ve wanted to be a magician all my life, well, anyway, ever since I read that magic book Papa brought me.”
“I know, Kate,” Mama said. “I’m truly sorry and I wish it were possible, but Papa has to go into town to see the lawyer about the pastureland, and I have an appointment with the doctor. That leaves only you to stay with Sarah.”
Mama put her hand gently on her daughter’s head. “You know she can’t go outside until she’s better. You heard what the doctor said about keeping her from chilling.”
I heard him all right, Kate thought. It’s just that I hoped I could find a way to see the magic show.
Sarah coughed upstairs in the loft where she lay on a straw bed covered with warm quilts and a comforter. “Mama,” she called.
Mama said, “You go, will you please, Kate, and see what she wants? Papa’s waiting for me in the wagon.”
Kate went slowly up the ladder to the loft. She looked out the window and saw the wagon pulling away, raising a cloud of dust behind it. She felt her eyes sting when she thought of the magic show and all the excitement in town.
She could just see the bright red wagon with its bells and silver trim pulled by prancing white horses. There would probably be a silver awning over the driver, who would be the magician himself. He would be wearing a tall hat with gold tassels, very tight pants, and black shiny boots. And his long, expressive hands would be able to fool everyone who came to watch. Everyone except maybe Kate. She knew from reading her book how some of the tricks were done.
“What is it?” she asked Sarah impatiently.
“I …” Sarah began. Then suddenly she turned her face to the wall, but not before Kate saw the quick tears come into her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Kate apologized. She sat on the bed and took Sarah’s hot hands into hers. “I didn’t mean to be cross. Now what can I get for you? A piece of cloud? A chunk of the barn roof?”
“Kate,” Sarah said, trying to match her sister’s smile, “all I want is a drink of water.”
“I guess I can manage that,” Kate said. She went down the ladder and out to the well. As she brought the sloshing bucket up, Kate thought she heard someone behind her. She turned and was startled to see an elderly man standing there.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” the stranger said. He had a long gray beard and wore a huge floppy hat that let long wisps of hair fly out behind. “I just wondered if you could spare some water for me and my horse over there.”
Kate turned to look where he was pointing. A tired horse and an old wagon stood at the edge of the clearing.
“He’s come up lame,” the man said.
“Here,” said Kate, “you can get a drink from this bucket and your horse can drink from the trough. Then we’ll take him into the barn where I can look at his hoof. I’m pretty good with horses.”
The old man unhitched the old horse and let it drink before leading it to a stall. Kate brought some medicine and bandages. Gently she talked to the horse while applying some ointment. Then she expertly wrapped the leg with white strips of cotton cloth. “He’ll be all right now,” she announced, “but you better let him rest a little while.”
“You’ve done a good job,” he said. “Never saw a horse doctor do better. I’ll just settle down here for a bit and keep him company.”
Kate left the old man in the barn and hurried into the house with the bucket. She explained the delay to Sarah and told her all about the man and the horse. Then she went down to fix dinner. While she was boiling potatoes, she imagined the silken scarves that the magician would draw out of his sleeves, the top hat with the rabbit suddenly appearing under it, the doves that would fly out of his coat and swoop around the tent.
She took a tray up to Sarah and then went to the barn and invited the old man up to the house for something to eat.
“I’d be grateful,” he said. “And look how much better my horse is.”
Kate led the way to the house. Later, when the old man had finished his meal, he patted the front of his vest and said, “That was a fine meal. I would like to pay you for it and also for treating my horse.”
“Oh, I don’t want pay,” Kate told him. “Mama says that we should do whatever we can to help people, and it will come back to us in some way. So don’t you worry about it.”
“There is something I can do if you’d like. I’m on my way to the next town to give a magic show. I’d never have made it without your help.”
“You mean you’re a—”
“I’m a magician, yes. How would you like to ride into town with me and see a free show?”
Kate thought for just one wonderful moment about riding into town high up on the wagon seat with the magician, waving and smiling at the crowd. But then she explained to him about Sarah.
“Ah, then,” he said, “I’ll just put on a show for you right here!”
He folded down the sides of the wagon and opened up the ends to display a stage full of interesting and exciting things—flags, bells, horns, metal tables with “invisible” tops, silk scarves, hats, balls, and balloons.
“Wait until I get back before you start,” Kate said, running to the house. She climbed the ladder and pulled and tugged Sarah’s bed over to the window. “Look out,” she said, “and watch the magic show. The man with the lame horse I told you about is the magician who was on his way to town!”
After she was sure Sarah was comfortable, Kate hurried back outside and onto the porch steps where she sat hugging her knees.
The magician had changed. He no longer looked like a tired old man. He was dressed in a red velvet jacket, a white top hat, and very tight breeches that tucked into shiny black boots. His hands were thin and dexterous, and he used them in ways that even Kate could not follow. He made things appear and disappear and fly and walk and multiply and divide and waver and float until her head was spinning.
And then, too soon, the show was over. The magician bowed, folded up the sides of his wagon, and went into the barn to change. When he came out leading his horse, the magician looked just the same as he did when Kate first saw him. “My horse is hardly limping now,” he said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You’ve more than thanked me,” Kate answered. “I’ll remember your wonderful magic show all my life. I’m going to be a magician some day too.”
“If you really want to be one, you will, young lady,” the magician said encouragingly. And then, handing her a carved wooden box with a tiny gold clasp on the lid, he said, “Here, this will be your first magic prop.”
Inside was layer upon layer of beautiful silk scarves. They were in shades of palest pink to fiery red to deep purple.
“From me and my horse,” he said. “Take them and learn to use them. I know you can do it.”
“Oh, I will,” Kate promised. “And thank you ever so much.”
As the magician drove off down the road toward town, Kate thought of the excited people who would watch the show. Some were probably already sitting in the tent waiting for the famous magician. But she and Sarah had seen his show already!
Her feet hardly touching the rungs, Kate flew up the ladder to show the box of scarves to Sarah.

On the Saturday before general conference in October 1856, Elder Franklin D. Richards and a handful of returning missionaries arrived in the Salt Lake Valley. They reported to President Brigham Young that hundreds of pioneer men, women, and children were scattered over the long trail to the valley, facing the early onset of winter. The people were hungry, and many carts and wagons were breaking down. People and animals were dying. All of them would perish unless they were rescued.
Sunday morning President Young assigned all those who would speak that day and during the conference that followed to address the pioneers’ plight. In his address he said:
“That is my religion; that is the dictation of the Holy Ghost that I possess. It is to save the people. …
“I will tell you that your faith, religion, and profession of religion, will never save one soul of you in the Celestial Kingdom of our God, unless you carry out just such principles as I am now teaching you. Go and bring in those people now on the plains.”2
Cyrus H. Wheelock sat in those meetings. He became a member of the first rescue party that left Salt Lake City on October 7 to search for the Saints scattered on the plains.
Later, George D. Grant, who headed the rescue party, reported to President Young: “It is not of much use for me to attempt to give a description of the situation of these people, for this you will learn from [others] … ; but you can imagine between five and six hundred men, women and children, worn down by drawing hand carts through snow and mud; fainting by the wayside; falling, chilled by the cold; children crying, their limbs stiffened by cold, their feet bleeding and some of them bare to snow and frost. The sight is almost too much for the stoutest of us; but we go on doing all we can, not doubting nor despairing.”3
The text of “Ye Elders of Israel” may have been on Brother Wheelock’s mind during those difficult days of 1856. The rescuers literally reached out to the weary, hungry, and cold. They cheered them up and showed them the way to Zion in the Salt Lake Valley.

As Kevin entered the park, he saw his friends David and Nathan playing in the sandbox. They had some empty milk cartons and raisin boxes that they were using for buildings. Kevin could see that the boys had toy soldiers armed with swords.
“Hi, guys!” he called. “Are you playing Roman soldiers again?”
“Hi,” both boys called in return.
“No, we’re not playing Roman soldiers today,” David said. “We’re playing Book of Mormon soldiers.”
“What are Book of Mormon soldiers?” Kevin asked as he sat next to them in the sand.
“They are Lamanites and Nephites,” Nathan told him. “We read about them in the Book of Mormon.”
“What’s that?” asked Kevin. “I’ve never heard of that book. Or of Lamanites and Nephites.”
“The Book of Mormon is a book of scriptures, like the Bible,” David explained, “except it’s written about the people of ancient America.”
“Yeah,” Nathan added, “and the Lamanites are always fighting the Nephites.”
“So the Lamanites are the bad guys?” Kevin asked.
“Well,” David started, “the Lamanites refused to keep the commandments of God, so I guess, in a way, you could call them the bad guys. But the Lamanites weren’t always bad, and the Nephites weren’t always good. In fact, the part we’re getting ready to play now started with some bad Nephites. Especially one, a man named Amalickiah.”
“Amalickiah wanted to be king of the Nephites, but the Nephites didn’t believe in having kings,” Nathan explained. “They had judges, instead. So Amalickiah got mad and took all the people who would go with him and went over to the Lamanites. When he got there, he tricked the Lamanites into letting him be their king.”
“That’s right,” David said, “only that wasn’t enough for Amalickiah. He still wanted to be king of the Nephites.”
“And that’s where we are now,” Nathan said. He pointed to one of his figures. “This is King Amalickiah, and my army is the Lamanite army. We’re getting ready to fight the Nephites.”
David picked up one of his figures. “This is Captain Moroni,” he said. “He is the chief captain of the Nephite army. He has ordered all his men to dig a dirt ridge around the city of Ammonihah to protect it and has placed men all the way around it.”
David pointed to another spot where they had made a fort. “That is the city of Noah,” he said, picking up another figure. “And this is Captain Lehi. He is in charge of the army in Noah. You can be him if you want to play.”
“All right!” Kevin said enthusiastically. “Let’s play!”
On the walk home from the park, David and Nathan told Kevin more about the Book of Mormon.
“It sounds like a great book,” Kevin said.
“Oh, it is!” agreed David. “My parents have some extra copies. Maybe they’ll give you one.”
David’s parents said that they would be happy to give Kevin a Book of Mormon if it was all right with his father and mother.
The next day at school, David and Nathan could hear their names being called. They looked around to find Kevin running toward them and waving.
“I told my mom and dad about the game we played and about the story of Amalickiah and Captain Moroni in the Book of Mormon,” he said. “I asked them if I could have a copy of the book to read.”
“What did they say?” asked David.
“As soon as my dad heard that the bad guys were the ones who didn’t keep the commandments of God, he said yes!”
“That’s great!” Nathan said.
“My mom said she felt much better about me reading a good book than she does about me reading comics all the time,” Kevin told them. “Then she said, ‘Now, if we can only do something about those videos you watch!’”
David smiled at Nathan and put his arm around Kevin’s shoulder. “Kevin, speaking of the Book of Mormon,” he said, “have we got some videos at home for you!”

“This is going to be the boringest family home evening ever!” groaned Jeremy, slumping in his chair as he pushed his carrots into his potatoes. “Couldn’t we just stay home and make jelly bean cupcakes? What kind of Easter celebration is this? We aren’t even going to go to the town Easter egg hunt!”
Even as he said this, Jeremy knew why that tradition had ended. For the last two years the younger children had wound up in tears because older ones had snatched up most of the eggs. Then in the car on the way home, there was also a disagreement when Mom and Dad insisted that the eggs be equally divided.
“We’ve already discussed this,” said Dad firmly. “Too many Easters have come and gone with very little thought about its real meaning. It’s time our family made a change. Tonight’s service project is the sort of thing the Savior was doing the last week of his life—helping others.”
“But why her?” moaned Jeremy.
“That’s enough,” said Mom. “Finish your dinner. We don’t have a lot of time before the sun goes down.”
Sullenly Jeremy sat up and started in on the cold potatoes. It wasn’t that he had anything against their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Adams. And it was obvious that an eighty-year-old widow needed help. But why couldn’t they do something for someone like Sister White? Every time anybody did anything for her, she treated them with delicious homemade cookies.
Or what about the Spencers? Jeremy’s Primary class had helped them move in. The very next Sunday Sister Spencer had even cried as she bore her testimony about “those wonderful Blazer boys.”
And the time Jeremy’s Cub Scout den had cleaned up the playground at the park hadn’t been too bad, either. The mayor himself had written them a thank-you note and sent them each a coupon for an ice-cream cone.
But it was going to be different with Mrs. Adams. She hardly did any cooking—she had most of her meals brought in to her. She didn’t go out in public enough to tell anybody else how wonderful Jeremy’s family was, and she certainly didn’t have enough money to treat everyone to ice cream. Besides that, she was hard of hearing. She’d probably sit in her house, watching TV and never even notice that they were working in her yard.
Cleaning Mrs. Adam’s yard was about as hard as Jeremy had imagined. It took his whole family nearly two hours to rake up the dead leaves and grass and prune the bushes on the side of her house. It was nearly dark when they finished. And he’d been right about Mrs. Adams and the TV. She had it turned up so loud that they could hear it outside. She never knew what was going on only a few feet away, right outside her door. Even so, Jeremy started to smile when he thought about how surprised she would be.
Jeremy’s oldest sister, Kim, was helping him tie up the last bag of dead leaves. “I know how you feel about tonight. I had a date I had to turn down!”
Jeremy didn’t quite know what to say. Kim was in high school and was so busy that he hadn’t really talked to her for a while.
“But this morning in seminary,” Kim went on, “Sister Hansen reminded us that no one has ever done more for other people on this earth than Jesus. When He prayed in Gethsemane and when He died on the cross, nobody said thank you. Anyway, I started thinking that maybe it would be a good way to celebrate Easter, to do something hard without getting thanked.” She smiled. “You’re quite a worker, you know that? And I happen to know that Mom made brownies for us, so cheer up.” She picked up the bag and carried it out to the curb.
But it wasn’t the brownies that Jeremy was thinking about as he watched her go. He was thinking about how strangely peaceful he felt. The last dark pink of the sunset was just fading, and he could barely make out the rest of his family as they gathered up the rakes and pruning shears and things and headed home. But he knew that they were there, and he knew that he loved them. He could see Mrs. Adams through her living room window as she stood up with her cane to go into the kitchen. And while Jeremy didn’t understand all of those feelings he was having, he knew for sure that Easter Sunday was never going to be the same again.

In another instance, a Laurel class president determined that she was going to fulfill her responsibility to activate a girl even though her leaders felt the situation was almost hopeless. Her bishop told her that because of some problems in the home and for other reasons, there was very little chance this girl would ever come to church. The other class members laughed when they learned helping this girl come back to church was to be one of the goals of their class president.

Nevertheless, she was determined to befriend this girl and enlisted the help of a neighbor girl as well. They began by saying “Hi” whenever they saw her and always stopping to visit for a minute. Then they started finding reasons to visit her. She was selected to be a member of the Booster Club for her high school wrestling team. The Laurel class president took her a flower and a note expressing congratulations. This process went on for three or four months. Finally, one Sunday the girl accepted an invitation to come to Sunday School. The next week she was there again, and that week she also attended Mutual. Because of her courage and faith, a young Laurel influenced one of her peers to take the first step toward activity in the Church.

Jenni Lynn was still worried about yesterday’s Primary lesson. Carefully shutting her bedroom door, she pulled her thinking chair out of the corner and sat down to give some thought to what she had learned in Primary. Jenni Lynn was seven years old, and Sister Hendley, her teacher, had told the children about baptism and confirmation. Sister Hendley said that every person who was confirmed a member of the Church received the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Jenni Lynn was afraid of ghosts. When her friends told ghost stories, she plugged her ears. When scary shows came on television, she ran into her bedroom and shut the door. Shawn, her big brother, and Lisa, her big sister, laughed at Jenni Lynn and called her a scaredy-cat. She didn’t like their teasing, but still she was afraid of ghosts.
She wanted to be baptized and to become a member of the Church. But I don’t want to have a ghost around, Jenni Lynn worried. In two more months I’ll be eight. What can I do?
At dinner Jenni Lynn watched Shawn and Lisa. She watched Mother and Daddy too. They had all been baptized and confirmed. They all had the gift of the Holy Ghost. But they didn’t act as though they were scared. She was the only one. Maybe I shouldn’t be afraid either, she reasoned.
The telephone rang, interrupting Jenni Lynn’s thoughts.
After Dad had answered the telephone, he said, “Grandma is coming a day early. I have to go to the airport after dinner and pick her up.”
“Oh, my,” said Mother. “I’m going to need some help getting everything ready.”
“We’ll help!” the children said, jumping up from the table.
Shawn helped clear the table. Lisa didn’t complain once as she did the dishes. Jenni Lynn helped Mother get Grandma’s room ready. She dusted the dresser and helped Mother put pretty flowered sheets on the bed.
“Grandma will need a blanket, too,” said Mother. “Jenni Lynn, will you please go get the comforter out of the cedar closet.”
Jenni Lynn ran into her parents’ bedroom. She started to open the cedar closet and stopped. Sister Hendley had said that another name for the Holy Ghost is the Comforter. What if a ghost were in the closet? She turned and ran back to her mother. Trying not to look frightened, she asked, “What’s a comforter?”
“It’s a soft, fluffy quilt,” Mother answered as she opened the dresser drawers to see if they were clean.
“Why is it called a comforter?” Jenni Lynn asked.
“Because it’s warm and soft. When you wrap it around you it makes you feel safe and good inside,” Mother explained.
Jenni Lynn sighed with relief. There wasn’t a ghost after all. She ran back to the bedroom, opened the door to the cedar closet, and lifted down a beautiful pink satin comforter. It was shiny and slippery to touch. Then she sat on the bed and pulled the comforter around her and over her head until there was only a hole big enough to peek through.
Mother was right, thought Jenni Lynn inside her comforter cave. I feel warm and safe in here. She sat still for a long time because it felt so good.
“Hurry, dear,” said Mother, coming into the room. When she saw her daughter, she asked, “What are you doing all wrapped up in that comforter?”
Jenni Lynn peeked out. “It feels good, Mother,” she said. “Just like when you hold me on your lap.”
“Does it, little one?” smiled Mother as she sat on the bed and cuddled Jenni Lynn close.
“Mother, why do they call the Holy Ghost the Comforter?” asked Jenni Lynn.
“Because He’s a special friend. He comforts you. That means He makes you feel warm and safe and helps you solve your problems,” answered Mother.
“Just like this comforter makes me feel warm and safe; right, Mother?” asked Jenni Lynn.
“Almost,” said Mother. “Except He’s a real person.”
Jenni Lynn snuggled closer to her mother and said, “But I thought that He was a scary ghost. I was afraid of Him.”
Mother laughed. “You and your ghosts! Well, He’s not that kind of ghost. The Holy Ghost is just a name that shows He is a spirit without a body. He loves us and Jesus sent Him to help us. Now why don’t you help me put that satin comforter on Grandma’s bed?”
Jenni Lynn jumped off the bed and helped Mother gather up the comforter in her arms. Just as they reached the door, she looked up at Mother and said, “Know what? I can hardly wait until I have the Holy Ghost for my friend.”

Now if you could hear from each one of these men! For instance, I had a business with ten men and two girls working for me, and the President of the Church sent my father over to see how I would like to go to California and preside over the Hollywood Stake. I won’t take time to tell you all the details. In sixty days I’d sold my business, I’d sold my beautiful home, and moved my family down to California with no allowance to live on. I had to start all over again.
Then when I was in business here in Salt Lake and President Heber J. Grant called for a thousand short-term missionaries, he said: “Bishops and stake presidents are not exempt.” I was then a bishop. I landed back in New England—left my wife and seven kiddies and my business in the hands of my brother-in-law. You don’t do things like that with normal men! It takes men inspired by the Holy Spirit.