Gospel Story Finder

Our season was ending, and we had one more race in Spartanburg, South Carolina. We stayed at a Marriott hotel, which had a Book of Mormon in every room. I found a teammate reading a copy. When I asked her why she was reading it, she replied that she was interested in what it was about. Excited, I bore my testimony to her of its truthfulness. Many of the other girls on the team had joined us in the room, and they asked me questions about the Book of Mormon.

When we got home I invited my best friend on the team, Rosa, to go to church with me. She enjoyed the meetings and felt peaceful there. After that, Rosa came to church almost every week. It was so wonderful to see the gospel touch her life.

About a month later I received an unexpected phone call from a young man on the men’s cross-country team, Brendan. He told me that he had taken the missionary lessons and was getting baptized in a week! I was so happy and thrilled for him. Both Rosa and I attended Brendan’s baptism. Rosa also took the missionary lessons and later chose to be baptized.

Looking back on these wonderful experiences, I am amazed that so many blessings resulted from joining my college cross-country team. I learned you don’t have to be set apart or wear a badge to be an instrument for Heavenly Father. Through my actions and living the gospel, my teammates wanted to know more about the gospel, which led them to baptism. I found that truly “by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).

Would you be a little nervous if you were called to be a home teacher to the prophet and his family? This is just what happened to William Cahoon, a young man who lived in Kirtland; and he was, in fact, a bit anxious about this responsibility.
“I was called and ordained to act as a teacher to visit the families of the Saints,” he said. “I got along very well till I found that I was obliged to call and pay a visit to the Prophet. Being young, … I felt my weakness in visiting the Prophet and his family in the capacity of a teacher. I almost felt like shrinking from duty. Finally I went to his door and knocked, and in a minute the Prophet came to the door. I stood there trembling, and said to him:
“‘Brother Joseph, I have come to visit you in the capacity of a teacher, if it is convenient for you.’
“He said ‘Brother William, come right in, I am glad to see you; sit down in that chair there and I will go and call my family in.’
“They soon came in and took seats. He then said, ‘Brother William, I submit myself and family into your hands,’ and then took his seat. ‘Now Brother William,’ said he ‘ask all the questions you feel like.’
“By this time all my fears and trembling had ceased, and I said, ‘Brother Joseph, are you trying to live your religion?’
“He answered ‘Yes.’
“Then I said, ‘Do you pray in your family?’
“He said, ‘Yes.’
“‘Do you teach your family the principles of the gospel?’
“He replied, ‘Yes, I am trying to do it.’
“‘Do you ask a blessing on your food?’
“He answered, ‘Yes.’
“‘Are you trying to live in peace and harmony with all your family?’
“He said that he was.
“I turned to Sister Emma, his wife, and said ‘Sister Emma, are you trying to live your religion? Do you teach your children to obey their parents? Do you try to teach them to pray?’
“To all these questions, she answered, ‘Yes, I am trying to do so.’
“I then turned to Joseph and said, ‘I am now through with my questions as a teacher; and now if you have any instructions to give, I shall be happy to receive them.’
“He said, ‘God bless you, Brother William; and if you are humble and faithful, you shall have power to settle all difficulties that may come before you in the capacity of a teacher.’
“I then left my parting blessing upon him and his family, as a teacher, and took my departure” (quoted in Marion G. Romney, “The Responsibilities of Home Teachers,” Ensign, Mar. 1973, 14–15).

A passage from the novel Les misérables illustrates how priesthood holders can treat those individuals viewed as strangers. Jean Valjean had just been released as a prisoner. Exhausted by a long voyage and dying of hunger and thirst, he arrives in a small town seeking a place to find food and shelter for the night. When the news of his arrival spreads, one by one all the inhabitants close their doors to him. Not the hotel, not the inn, not even the prison would invite him in. He is rejected, driven away, banished. Finally, with no strength left, he collapses at the front door of the town’s bishop.
The good clergyman is entirely aware of Valjean’s background, but he invites the vagabond into his home with these compassionate words:
“‘This is not my house; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome. … What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me [your name], you had one which I knew.’
“[Valjean] opened his eyes in astonishment.
“‘Really? You knew what I was called?’
“‘Yes,’ replied the Bishop, ‘you are called my brother.’”

“Dad, will you buy some seeds for Cindy and me?” Randy asked. “We could plant a really neat garden in the backyard.”
It was Saturday morning, and Mr. Ortez had taken the twins with him to the garden store to get some fertilizer for the lawn.
“That’s a good idea,” Dad answered. “What do you want to plant?”
“How about radishes? They grow really quick. And cucumbers too. I love cucumber sandwiches,” Randy said.
“I want some tomato seeds,” Cindy added. “Tomatoes are red and pretty.”
Dad nodded and said, “You two decide what seeds you want while I’m getting the fertilizer. You’ll divide each pack between you, so be sure to choose what pleases both of you. I don’t want any arguing about it when we get home.”
After many exclamations of “I don’t want those,” “That’s yucky,” and “Let’s get those,” Cindy and Randy finally decided on radishes, tomatoes, cucumbers, and green beans.
Each twin hoed, spaded, and raked until there were two garden plots turned and raked smooth. Each plot was six feet wide and ten feet long—just the right size for four rows of vegetables.
Every day after school, they made a beeline to the backyard to see if the seeds had sprouted yet. Finally, on the fourth day, there were cracks in the soil, and small radish plants were pushing their way through.
It wasn’t long before all the rows were green with growing plants. Every day the twins watered the plants. They scattered fertilizer along the edges of the rows. Cindy kept the hoe busy, too, uprooting the weeds around her young plants.
Randy had other things to do. A new boy had just moved in down the street, and they had quickly become pals. Randy watered his garden every afternoon, then hurried to his new friend’s house to play until suppertime.
One evening Cindy came running into the house with a big bunch of radishes. “Take a look at these, Mom. They’re real beauties!”
“Oh, they really are!” Mom exclaimed. “I’ll wash them, and we’ll have them for supper. And tomorrow, Randy, we’ll try some of yours.”
The next evening Randy brought a bunch of radishes to the kitchen. He hung his head as he handed them to Mom. “I don’t know why, but mine didn’t grow as big as Cindy’s.”
“Maybe it’s the soil,” Dad said. “Let’s go out and take a look.”
When they arrived at the garden, it was clear why Randy’s crop was not growing as well as Cindy’s. His rows were choked with weeds, while hers were weed-free. Her plants were green and healthy, reaching up toward the sun. The weeds in his garden were so thick that hardly any sun could reach his plants.
Dad pulled up a weed. “Here’s your problem, Randy. Plants need plenty of food and sunshine to grow.”
“But I gave them fertilizer, and I watered them every day.”
“Yes, you fed them, but you didn’t keep the weeds out. They stole water, nutrients, and sunshine from your plants. They stunted your radishes’ growth just as breaking God’s commandments would stunt your spiritual growth.”
“Well, I’m going to do something about it right now,” Randy said, dropping to his knees and starting to pull up weeds.
“Good for you!” Mr. Ortez said. “It’s never too late to get rid of weeds.”

Robin stared into the swimming pool. He tried not to think about how far he had to swim. All that mattered was earning the badge. The Seepferdchen (seahorse) badge would show everybody in Germany that he knew how to swim all by himself.
I can do this! Robin thought. He took a deep breath and jumped.
SPLASH!
The cool water felt great on such a hot day.
Take it one meter at a time, Dad had told him. Don’t think about all 25 meters at once.
Robin kept his head down. He moved his arms and legs the way he’d been practicing for months. Every few seconds he pulled up for air.
Kick. Stroke. Kick. Stroke.
Suddenly, the swimming teacher blew her whistle. Robin looked up in surprise.
“Way to go,” his teacher said.
He’d done it!
Robin laughed and did a few underwater somersaults to celebrate. He was a seahorse!
When Robin got home, he hurried to find Dad.
“Dad, look!”
As soon as Dad saw the Seepferdchen badge, he smiled wide.
“On your first try?” Dad gave Robin a big hug. “What do you want to do to celebrate?”
Robin thought for a second. “What I would really like is to go to the pool with you. I want to show you what I can do.”
Dad smiled even bigger. “Now that would be a celebration for both of us. As soon as I have some time, we’ll go.”
Robin pumped his fist in the air. He couldn’t wait to have the badge sewn onto his swimsuit and go swimming with Dad.
Several days passed. Robin kept asking about the pool, but something was always in the way. Dad always seemed to be busy.
One morning Robin knelt by his bed to pray. At the end of the prayer, he added one more thing.
“Please give my dad some extra time so we can go to the pool. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As Robin opened his eyes, he heard Dad knock on the door.
“Let’s head to the pool. I want to see you in action!”
Robin’s jaw dropped. “Dad! You won’t believe this. I just prayed that you would get some extra time so we could go.”
Dad folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. “Now, isn’t that interesting? You see, I just heard a quiet message from the Holy Ghost that I should take you to the pool. Why don’t we go now?”
They had a fantastic trip. Robin showed Dad how he could swim for 25 meters without stopping. Dad was impressed. And Robin was impressed with Dad’s underwater somersaults. Dad could do five in a row!
“I’m glad Heavenly Father gave you some extra time today,” Robin said.
“Actually,” Dad said, “I think I was just letting myself get too busy. I think the Holy Ghost was reminding me that we have to make time for each other, don’t you think? I promise to do my part.”
Robin smiled. “Me too!”
Dad’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “One more thing. Have I ever told you that I’ve never lost a splash fight?”
Robin grinned back. “The day’s not over yet!”
This story takes place in Germany! Read more about Germany on pages 12–13.

Moving was a challenge for Mary, too, but she met it with independence and tenacity. Once when they moved, “I took her to Germany, dropped her off in Frankfurt with the two boys, and then I had to fly on to Berlin for a temporary assignment,” says Elder Hales. “Mary got the boys into school, learned to find her way around the busy autobahn, and eventually learned to speak German. This was typical. She has always made it work.”

Anyone who has had the experience of opening a mission call knows what a thrilling and spiritual experience it can be. When Joel Hiller of Taylorsville, Utah, saw the white call packet his mother had placed on the kitchen table, his heart jumped, and he could hardly wait until his family and two close friends were able to join him at his home a few hours later to open it.

After what seemed like the longest three hours of Joel’s life, major excitement erupted as everyone gathered together, talking, laughing, and speculating. But a spiritual calm suddenly filled the room as Joel opened the envelope and began to read aloud the words of the prophet: “Dear Elder Hiller, you are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Joel describes what he experienced as he continued reading the letter, “I felt honored to be called, and the Spirit bore an immediate witness that this was the right thing and the right mission for me. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

I remember a faithful and devoted member of the Church who was always in a good mood and always smiling. But one day I saw him crying. He told me the reason he was sad was because, at the age of seventy, he saw himself as a failure for having never been able to give his family the material comforts he felt they deserved.

I asked him, “How many children do you have?” He answered, “Four.” I continued, “How many are members of the Church?” He said, “Four.” I asked further, “How many are faithful members of the Church?” His answer: “Four.” “How many are sealed to you?” “Four.” “How many have married in the temple?” Again his answer was “Four.” Then, moved by the Spirit, I told him that the success he had achieved in his life was one of the greatest success stories I had ever heard.

My son Phillip recently returned from serving a mission in Cape Town, South Africa. But before he was due home, I had a dream about his homecoming, like a revelation, that helped me better understand the wonderful ways of the Lord.
I dreamt that we had gone to pick up my son at Heathrow airport. He hadn’t slept all the way home, so when we saw him, he was so tired that his eyes were bloodshot, and he was so cold. We bought a big quilt and pillows and snuggled him up in the back of the car. He soon fell fast asleep with his head on a pillow against a window.
In my dream, we drove to the London England Temple where we had booked to stay a couple of nights so that we could attend together before setting off home to Cornwall. As we parked, my son was still sound asleep in the back of the car, so we unloaded the car and started taking our things into the accommodation centre. But as I stood at the driver’s door, a lady dressed in a white temple dress approached the car and going straight up to the window where she could see my son sleeping, she gasped and said, “It’s Elder Lawer!” She then started beckoning to others approaching from the temple to come and see. She kept saying excitedly, “It’s Elder Lawer!”
More and more people were coming over to see Elder Lawer. They seemed delighted to see him. They were all dressed in white temple dresses, but I noticed that they had hairstyles from different eras. As I studied them, I could suddenly ‘see’ that they were from the other side of the veil. Because Elder Lawer had taught people the gospel of Jesus Christ on this side of the veil, it had also benefited them! They had their temple ordinance work carried out by those whom Elder Lawer had taught, and so for them, Elder Lawer was their missionary too.
This dream touched me so much that I haven‘t been able to stop thinking about it; the joy these people had because Elder Lawer had served on the Lord’s mission. The ways of the Lord are marvellous indeed.

I have a friend who is liberal with compliments. We faithfully emailed each other while we served our missions, and almost every week she’d tell me she hoped to be like me. Every time she said that, I cringed. I appreciated the compliment, but I couldn’t help but feel that if she knew me better, she wouldn’t think of me so highly. In her eyes, I was a missionary of the same caliber as Alma the Younger—in my own eyes, I still had a lot to learn.
My friend didn’t see the parts of my mission where I felt like I fell short. I wanted to be more like her! Imagine my surprise when I learned of her own feelings of inadequacy; she also felt the immense pressure of being a missionary and was too hard on herself when she couldn’t meet her own high expectations.
Sometimes when I’m given a compliment, I assume it’s exaggerated or inaccurate. I feel like my best isn’t enough at times. My little failures hit me hard because they “prove” I’m not good enough. Sometimes I think God is disappointed in me.
Does this sound like you? Having a mindset like this can be caused by “imposter syndrome”: “It is the nagging sense that no matter what you have accomplished, sooner or later someone will discover that you simply are not good enough, that you do not belong, and that your qualifications really are a sham.”1
In a spiritual context, this might mean that you struggle to feel that you belong in the Church and sometimes wonder if you’re as righteous as the people around you. But don’t worry, you’re far from the only young adult who feels spiritually inadequate in life. As disciples of Jesus Christ, we hold ourselves to high standards. However, when we demand immediate perfection, we might feel discouraged and forget our worth and potential as divine children of Heavenly Father.
Focusing on these practical tips and principles of the gospel helped me shift my perspective from feeling like I’m not measuring up to feeling like a child of God.
As Sister J. Annette Dennis, First Counselor in the Relief Society General Presidency, taught, “When we seek to empathize with others who also experience challenges and imperfections, it can help them feel that they are not alone in their struggles. Everyone needs to feel that they really do belong and are needed in the body of Christ [see 1 Corinthians 12:12–27]”2
You’d be surprised how many other great people you know have experienced similar feelings at some point in their life.
But we can remind each other of the Savior’s enabling power in our lives. We’re all agonizingly aware of our own imperfections, but Christ knows how we feel—He understands our afflictions, temptations, and pains. Because of His Atonement, He can forgive and empower us to move on from our mistakes as we repent and follow His example.
Sharing your feelings and struggles with others—especially with Heavenly Father through prayer—can help you to feel less alone and help you support others as you strive to follow Jesus Christ and move forward on the covenant path.
Share genuine compliments with others, focusing on character or effort-related compliments instead of things outside someone’s control. Praise their work ethic, kindness, listening abilities, or the comments they make in Sunday School.
Compliment yourself too. You have strengths and successes that you miss because it’s easier to focus on weaknesses and failures. Remember what our Savior has promised us if we come unto Him. As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught, “I believe the Savior Jesus Christ would want you to see, feel, and know that He is your strength. That with His help, there are no limits to what you can accomplish. That your potential is limitless. He would want you to see yourself the way He sees you.”3
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles also taught, “The Lord blesses those who want to improve, who accept the need for commandments and try to keep them, who cherish Christlike virtues and strive to the best of their ability to acquire them.”4 Your desires and efforts and divine identity say much more about who you are than any achievement, title, or grade.
“Perfection is pending,”5 says President Russell M. Nelson. Understanding that perfection doesn’t come in this life can be freeing. Instead, focus on progression. Elder Michael A. Dunn of the Seventy also recently taught us that doing just “one percent better”6 and focusing on small improvements can help us reach our potential.
Quoting Elder Neal A. Maxwell of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1926-2004), Sister Michelle D. Craig, Second Counselor in the General Young Women Presidency, calls our desire to be better “divine discontent,” saying that it “leads to humility, not to self-pity or the discouragement that comes from making comparisons in which we always come up short.”7
I would add that there is no such thing as divine despair. If you think that your feelings of worthlessness or inadequacy are humility, you’re misunderstanding what humility is. Humility is holy; despair is not. God wants us to be humble enough to acknowledge our dependence on Him, but He also wants us to see ourselves as what we can become: exalted beings like Him.
The gospel is for everyone, but it’s also specifically for you. Jesus always showed His love for the one while He was here on earth, and that hasn’t changed. Take the time to read your patriarchal blessing and understand your unique gifts, responsibilities, and blessings. Develop a personal relationship with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ through prayer, scripture study, and attending church. You’ll realize They love you as an individual.
So, if you read this article believing you’re not good enough or you’re not measuring up, please know that your worth is inherent; as sons and daughters of Heavenly Father, we each have divine potential. As President Russell M. Nelson taught: “Your potential is divine. With your diligent seeking, God will give you glimpses of who you may become.”8

Get in the habit of taking advantage of every opportunity to learn and remember. You can learn much from those who love and teach you best—your family. Let me share with you part of a letter I wrote to my grandchildren while on our mission:
“The one ‘pearl of wisdom’ that I might impart to you is how valuable every experience in life is. We have been amazed at how many times, since we have been here, that we have grasped onto some idea or skill we learned along the way. Mom’s ‘basic’ cooking lessons have helped me to creatively use what we have here—carrots, cabbage, onions, potatoes, eggs, rice, and mutton—to prepare nourishing meals.”
The Church also gives us many learning opportunities. Remember, starting in Primary, you learned step-by-step how to remain calm and repeat the words you had practiced. As you grew you learned how to organize your thoughts, illustrate them with personal experiences, and gain the confidence to speak in front of a group. These kinds of experiences can lead to practical things like doing presentations in your classes, getting better job opportunities, and most importantly, being able to teach and speak comfortably in Church.
Opportunities to learn are all around you. Join the choir and learn to read music. You’ll be glad your whole life that you have this skill. When I visited young women in Colombia and Ecuador, the young women were the ones who conducted the music, making it possible for all of us to worship the Lord through song.
Take advantage by learning the skills taught at camp and in Scouting—first aid, different methods of cooking, and recreational safety. These skills can bless your families now and in the future.
Look for opportunities to learn to care for and teach children. Now is the time to prepare for your future roles as fathers and mothers. You can literally make a world of difference in the life of a child right now, let alone being a well-prepared parent in the future.
Most people want to know how to be happy. King Benjamin helps us understand that service is the secret to happiness. In Mosiah 2:17 he teaches:
“And behold, I tell you these things that ye may learn wisdom; that ye may learn that when ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”
What can you do as a teenager to learn to serve others? Learn as many skills and gain as much education as you can. This knowledge will allow you to be “more fit for the kingdom, more used.” And by giving service, you will unlock the secret to happiness.
Let me finish telling you about the missionaries in Mongolia. Because all the elders were expected to teach English, I became something of a teaching supervisor to help them provide the best classes possible. I would visit them in class, observe their teaching, and then give suggestions.
I never expected to have to supervise teachers on a mission. But the Lord needed someone who could help these elders do the job they needed to do in order to introduce the gospel to Mongolia. From one class I had taken in college, I knew enough to talk about the positive things they had done instead of focusing on the negative. I knew I had to build their confidence. Having these young men do a good job was so important to introducing the gospel to the Mongolian people.
Much later, when we had returned from the mission field and the missionaries I helped were pursuing their own educations, one elder e-mailed me and thanked me for the day I came to their class to watch him and his companion. The first thing I had asked them that day was to list all the things they had done right. They made their list, but what he remembers is that I came up with a long list of things they had done well. It changed his attitude. It gave him confidence. He had not done well in school before his mission, but now, because he felt he was a good teacher of English, he thought he could return to school and succeed. It wasn’t until he had graduated from college that he wrote the e-mail to thank me. I had no idea that I was helping him. But the Lord knew how to use that bit of knowledge I had learned in college to help one of His missionaries while on his mission and afterwards in his own education.
That is the value of gaining and continuing to gain an education. Remember that being “more fit for the kingdom” will help you be a better mother or father, a better wife or husband, a better employee, a better servant of the Lord. Education of any and every type will help you become more useful to the Lord as we help each other return to live with Him.

Several weeks after the experience with the apples, I set out to join my friends in the wooded area close to home, anticipating that we would devise some activity or game to play. As I approached them, they were huddled together. I saw smoke rising in the air above them and recognized the aroma of burning tobacco. One of them had obtained a packet of cigarettes, and they were smoking. They invited me to join them, but I declined. They persisted, suggesting that my reluctance to participate was a sign of weakness. Their taunts turned to ridicule, combined with condescending remarks. But nothing they could say or do could persuade me to change my mind. I had not been raised with a knowledge of the restored gospel and knew nothing of the Word of Wisdom, but I was restrained by a feeling within that I should not participate with them.
As I walked home reflecting on the decision I had made, I felt good inside. Although my expectations for the day had not materialized and I would have to find a way to occupy my time without my friends, I had discovered something about myself—about the source of real happiness and the invigoration that results from making the right decision, whatever the circumstances or outcome may be.

Forrest Michaelson showed up in my homeroom the Wednesday after Easter vacation. It had been a typically wet April morning, and he had on jeans, a T-shirt, and cowboy boots. An ankle-length, buff-leather, oilskin slicker made him look like he’d blown into town out of a Clint Eastwood western. He gave Mr. Riegert a form from the office. Raking his fingers through his tousled, black hair, he gave the rest of us a bemused look as Mr. Riegert shuffled us about so he could reseat us alphabetically.
But the thing that struck me most was how totally unself-conscious he was. His whole demeanor said: Whatever’s going on here, I’m not getting uptight about it.
“Shophead,” sniffed Linda Matthews, who sat behind me.
That said it all. But as Mr. Riegert read the roll to make up a new seating chart, I couldn’t help noticing how Forrest Michaelson paid close attention to each name as it was called out. And when Mr. Riegert called my name and I said, “Here,” our eyes met momentarily. He had sharp, clear eyes, and he winked at me, like we had something in common.
I turned away sharply to tell him he was wrong.
But after the bell rang, he caught up with me in the hall.
“Heather Mastrioanni?”
I nodded.
“Kinda new here, you know. Direct me to D-wing? Room 104.” He pointed to the first class on his schedule. I almost gaped. Auto shop, of course, but he was also signed up for AP calculus.
I said, “First room on the right past the cafeteria.”
“Thanks.” He ambled off down the hall.
After civics I went to the cafeteria and sat down at my usual place. When Forrest Michaelson put his tray down right across the table from me I didn’t notice him. Well, Rob Herndon had just walked in with Linda and I was thinking it would be nice if he ever wanted to eat lunch with me. I looked up and nearly choked on my tuna fish sandwich.
“Thought we should get to know each other better,” Forrest said. “It seems that we constitute a minority of two.”
“What minority of two?” I finally said.
“Mormons,” he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “At least in the senior class. That’s what I gathered from your father.”
Of course. I nearly smacked myself on the side of the head. The Michaelsons. Monday, Mom and Dad had gone over to help a family who were just moving into the ward. But I never connected them with this Forrest Michaelson.
Forrest read my reaction with a smile. “Initial impressions can be misleading.” He glanced around the cafeteria. “So, how about a tour of the student body? Beginning with the pack of jackals over there, for example.” He nodded to where Rob and his teammates were sitting.
“That’s Rob Herndon,” I said, coldly. “He’s on the wrestling team, and he’s a nice guy.”
“If you say so.”
“Initial impressions can be misleading.”
“Touché,” he said, touching his forehead in a kind of salute.
He always sat with me during lunch. There wasn’t anything I could do about it, and I knew as long as Forrest was sitting there, no one else would dare to.
“You know, Forrest,” I finally said to him one day, “I don’t know why you think you have to sit with me. We really don’t have anything in common.”
That provoked a raised eyebrow. “I would have thought we had most everything in common. We sure don’t share the same taste in fashion, but we believe the same things, and that makes us pretty even.”
“Oh, really? What about those shophead friends of yours? I’ve got a lot more in common with Rob than you do with them.”
“No, you don’t. Okay, maybe my friends don’t believe the same things I do, but they don’t pretend they do, either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The people who hang around guys like Herndon, they want to think he’s their friend because they want to pretend they’re his friends.”
I didn’t pretend to understand what he had just said. I just laughed. “You expect me to believe he’s such a terrible person just because you don’t get along with him?”
“I really don’t worry about getting along with Herndon or not, Heather. But I don’t laugh at his jokes or marvel at who he goes out with, so that kind of counts me out, doesn’t it? Every school I’ve been in has a pack of them. And they come on to you depending on what kind of a person they think you are.”
“He’s always been nice to me,” I protested.
“He’s as nice as it takes.”
The worst thing about these arguments was that they convinced everybody that Forrest and I were a serious thing. Even Linda was convinced. Linda would ask me about him, about us, and about other things as well, which was a total shock, because before Linda hardly said two sentences to me. We became pretty good friends, though. She even got me on the publicity committee for senior class night at Jumpin’ Jacks drive-in.
Friday I stayed late cleaning up in art class and missed the bus. I was standing at the front entrance debating whether to call Mom or wait for the late bus when Forrest walked up.
“Miss your bus?”
I hesitated a moment too long.
“Be right back,” Forrest said and jogged off to the student lot. He drove up and got the door for me.
“So what’s this big deal at Jumpin’ Jacks?” he asked.
“It’s the drive-in across from the park by the river marina. The Friday before Memorial Day is senior class night. Nothing formal. Just a chance to have a good time before the Regents exams begin.” I waited as long as I thought I could before I felt I had to ask him the obvious question. “I don’t expect you’d want to come?”
“I thought I might.”
“Really? I didn’t think you’d be interested in that kind of thing. After all, Rob Herndon and his friends will be there.”
“Ordinarily I wouldn’t be. But if you’re going to be there …”
“I don’t need a chaperon, Forrest.”
He pulled into our driveway. I got out and slammed the door to show just how grateful I wasn’t for the ride and stormed up the steps and into the house.
Mom was in the kitchen preparing dinner. “Forrest drive you home?”
I sat down at the kitchen table and folded my arms and didn’t answer.
Mom wasn’t impressed by my attitude. “Forrest taking you to Jumpin’ Jacks tonight?”
“Mom!” I exploded, “Why does everybody think I’m dating Forrest Michaelson?”
Mom looked at me quite innocently. “I didn’t think you were dating Forrest. It just seemed reasonable that he would give you a ride, if you’re both going.”
“I wouldn’t go out with him if he were the last man on Earth,” I stated. “He’s stubborn and opinionated. He always thinks he’s right.”
I could tell by the way Mom reacted that she didn’t like my choice of words, and I cringed inside at the anticipated correction.
“Well, yes,” Mom said, after giving it some thought, “but it’s more than that.”
I looked at Mom, amazed. She was actually agreeing with me.
“I think, like most teenagers, he can’t bring himself to be just another slice of bread. But he’s smart enough to know what’s important. So it’s his way of proving what the Church means to him without having to come out and say it. The same way you wouldn’t respect a lion if it barked like a Chihuahua. He’s protecting what he respects.”
“He’s determined to protect me as well,” I said glumly. “He’s got an opinion about all my friends, whether I ought to be associating with them at all, whether they’re really my friends. Like it’s any of his business.”
Mom laughed. “Young men like Forrest suffer from being taken too seriously too much of the time. I think humoring him would go a long way.”
“Then he’s going to have to be humored at a distance.”
It was only a short walk through the park to the drive-in. Someone came up behind me and I turned around. It was Forrest.
There were tons of kids there already. We crowded into line. It was great food but pretty expensive. I had eaten dinner so I wouldn’t be tempted, but Forrest ordered a seafood platter that made my mouth water. When we sat down and Forrest said, “Have a shrimp,” I couldn’t refuse.
“So where’s Linda?” Forrest asked.
I didn’t know.
A moment later he said, “Speak of the devil.”
Rob drove up and he and Linda got out. She looked flustered, a bit disheveled, and a little scared. Rob just looked angry.
After they ordered, Linda brought her plate over to our table. I couldn’t believe she knew what she was doing. I could tell Rob was hating it.
“Don’t mind, do you?” Rob said icily.
“Not at all,” Forrest said. “In fact, I was just leaving.
“Yes,” I said, almost without thinking, “we were just leaving.”
The rest of the jackals then crowded around the table, pushing us out of the way.
“Are you really leaving?” Linda asked quietly. She tried to laugh and stood up. “I guess I don’t care much for the company of some of my friends,” she said as she began to follow us.
“I don’t care much for the company of some of your friends, either,” Forrest said.
Rob stood up and looked around. “Hey, Linda, where are you going? Get over here. C’mon, the night is still young.”
I heard the jackals laughing. I used to think it was funny, the way Rob talked to Linda, but I felt cold and sick inside.
Then Rob grabbed for her. Linda shied away. “Quit playing hard to get, Linda.” He reached for her again, and Forrest caught Rob’s wrist like a vice grip. Rob’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “You got some kind of problem?”
It suddenly got quiet.
“No problem,” Forrest said. He stepped to the side and let go of Rob’s wrist. Rob immediately lurched forward, thumping Forrest hard on his shoulders. Forrest backed away, showing the palms of his hands.
“Let’s go, Linda,” I said quietly.
Rob stood, flushed and angry. Forrest, facing him, looked like he had just solved a math problem too simple to bother with in the first place. When we reached the sidewalk, he turned and walked away.
“That’s right, chump!” Rob shouted. “Go ahead, walk away!”
“I’m sorry,” said Linda, when Forrest joined us.
Forrest simply shrugged.
We walked through the park, then up Lakeside Avenue to the Michaelsons’s house. It was reassuring to have Forrest with us. So I did have more in common with him than Rob Herndon, a lot more. But I could live with that. When you’ve been in a den of jackals, you come to appreciate the pride of lions.

As a young boy, Spencer watched other boys his age steal watermelons from neighbors’ fields or slash the melons open to rot and then run away.
Boy: I dare you to do it, Spencer.
Spencer: That’s not my idea of fun. It’s just plain mean.Why, if you asked any farmer in Thatcher, he’d give you all the melon your belly could hold.I won’t join in.
When Spencer was a deacon, his duties included gathering fast offerings, which at the time were often fruit, flour, and vegetables. His father lent him the horse and buggy, and Spencer took the responsibility very seriously.
Spencer: The other boy hasn’t shown up. Well, the job still has to be done.I’ll just have to do it alone.
Spencer went on to become the secretary and then president of his deacons quorum.
A few years later, Spencer was stopped by the superintendent as he left Sunday School.
Superintendent: Spencer, I want you to teach a Sunday School class.
Spencer: Me? But I’m only 14.
Superintendent: Lean on the Lord, and you’ll do fine.
In high school, Spencer was voted class president. One day Spencer and some friends borrowed an old buggy for a field trip to the mountains. The rough road was too much for it.
Friend: What’s wrong?
Spencer: A spring broke.
The next day in class, Spencer spoke up.
Spencer: That spring has to be paid for, even if I have to do it myself.
Friend: If you’re pitching in, Spencer, so will I.
Friend: I guess I will too.
The Lord was able to use Spencer W. Kimball as a leader and an example because he was honest, obedient, and filled with integrity.
The qualities he developed in his youth helped him become a great prophet.

The bell rang, and the boys of the teachers quorum left. But Tommy and Richard hung back. It was their responsibility to return the hymnbooks this week. Tommy was still thinking about the lesson, his face creased in a pensive frown.
“Do you teach any inactives, Richard?” he asked tentatively.
“Yeah, we’ve got Brother and Sister Dunbar, but I don’t know what we’re going to do about them. Brother Dunbar is even smoking in front of us now. Not much chance with him, I’d say.”
“What do you think about what Brother Wolff just said?”
“Oh yeah, that was good, but sometimes I guess it just doesn’t work out that way. Some people just don’t want to come back again, so you’re wasting your time, I guess.”
“Do you really think that?” Tommy’s worried frown had deepened, and he searched Richard’s face. “Really?”
“Well, you have to, don’t you? It’s no use thinking it’s all going to be marvellous when it isn’t.” Richard shrugged philosophically. “Have you finished with those books? I’ll take them back to the library.”
Tommy looked at the pile of books in his hands. “Oh, yes. Here you are,” he said, handing them over. He picked up his own scriptures, but his mind was still on Brother Tregaron. He was a problem with a capital P.
Tommy was going with Brother Carson to home teach Brother Tregaron this afternoon, but it was always the same whenever they went. All he did was knock back everything they said to him. If they greeted him with, “Nice day, isn’t it?” He would reply, “I don’t think it will last—probably have a storm later, I’d say.”
If they complimented him on his garden, he would only talk about the weeds, or the slugs and snails. If they asked him about his family, he would remark that he never heard from them, and why should he when they didn’t care about him anyway. He really was hard to talk to. Tommy always felt depressed when he came away from Brother Tregaron’s, depressed and useless. There didn’t seem to be anything anyone could do with him.
But Brother Wolff had said, “Never give up!” And when he heard him, Tommy felt as if Brother Wolff was begging and pleading on his own behalf again, reliving the alienation he had gone through for so many years, and pleading for someone to care enough, as his home teacher had done, to “never give up.”
Tommy shrugged. Maybe Richard was right. Maybe it was a waste of time. What could he, a mere teacher, do when grown men, even the elders quorum president himself, had failed? There didn’t seem to be much point. He would just go there this afternoon, go through the motions, and leave as usual. Only this time, he wouldn’t feel depressed about it, for now he understood that Brother Tregaron didn’t really want to come back. Yes, that’s what he would do.
And that’s what he would have done, if only Brother Wolff hadn’t come back into the room just then. He smiled at Tommy and gripped his hand. Maybe Tommy just imagined it, but a funny sort of feeling was in his stomach and a prickly sort of feeling around his eyes as he looked into Brother Wolff’s face. No words had been said, yet there seemed to be an understanding, as if Brother Wolff knew exactly what had passed through Tommy’s mind those few short minutes ago.
Later that afternoon, he found himself outside Brother Tregaron’s place. Brother Carson was taking the keys out of the ignition, and Tommy heard him say, “Well, come on, let’s get this one over with first.” Suddenly Tommy felt an overwhelming feeling come over him.
“Brother Carson,” he heard himself say, “could we have a word of prayer before we go in, please?”
“Eh?” Brother Carson seemed puzzled, and Tommy knew it was because he had never been asked that before. Usually they had the prayer inside with the family they were teaching—all except Brother Tregaron, of course. But Tommy felt an urgent need for a prayer and repeated his request, “A word of prayer, please.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Brother Carson leaned back in his seat and nodded at Tommy. “Perhaps you’d like to offer it?”
Tommy felt strangely nervous, and his palms were sweaty, but he started the prayer, not knowing quite what to say or why he had even asked for it. Afterwards, he couldn’t quite remember what he actually said, but he did remember the look on Brother Carson’s face when he had finished. It reminded him of Brother Wolff.
Albert Tregaron opened the door to them with his habitual scowl and invited them in with his usual terseness. They followed him down the passageway into the small living room, and Tommy saw that nothing had changed much since the last time they had been there. It was a large, untidy room with a forlorn air about it. Tommy could almost feel the usual depression settle about his shoulders like a heavy cloak, and it took a great effort on his part to shrug it off. Never give up, he reminded himself.
Brother Tregaron was saying, “You’d better sit down, I suppose.” Brother Carson chose a big, faded armchair and perched gingerly on the edge of it, saying, with a hearty smile, “And how are you this month, Albert?”
“Okay, I guess,” came the reply. Brother Carson shifted uncomfortably and caught Tommy’s eye. Tommy could sense the hint of despair in his attitude, but it didn’t prepare him for Brother Carson’s next words.
“By the way, Albert, Tommy has something he’d like to say to you, wouldn’t you, Tommy?” Tommy felt his jaw drop as he met Brother Carson’s strained, jovial smile.
Hey, come on, Brother Carson, don’t leave it all up to me, thought Tommy desperately. His gaze swung from Brother Carson to Brother Tregaron’s face, which now had a speculative look on it.
“Well?” Brother Tregaron asked, mildly curious.
“Well, er …” Tommy fought desperately for the right words to say. Help me, Heavenly Father, he pleaded within himself. What shall I say? Then he heard himself saying, “Well, there’s an elders quorum activity this Saturday. It’s a picnic, and there’s going to be some rafting and games and so on, and we, that is my family and I, thought you might like to come with us?” I must remember to tell Mom and Dad, he thought to himself.
“Ah, no, that’s not my idea of spending a Saturday …” started Brother Tregaron, but Tommy was already brushing aside his refusal.
“Oh, please, Brother Tregaron. See, Dad and I wanted to be in the tug-of-war against the Williamses, but we haven’t got quite enough for our team. Wouldn’t you make up the numbers for us?”
Again the shake of the head came, but still Tommy persisted.” And the deacons reckon you were really good with the rafting competitions at one time.” Brother Tregaron’s head slowed its shaking and tilted to one side, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Tommy.
“Why are you doing this, boy, eh? Why do you want me?”
Tommy stopped in mid-sentence, dumbstruck. Why was he doing it? What answer could he give? What should he say? Then he said something he immediately felt was the stupidest thing of all to say, “Because you’re my brother.”
He flushed crimson. What a stupid thing to say! He began to think of all the things he could have said, should have said, but his mind had gone blank. He was about to apologize when he noticed that Brother Tregaron’s face had softened and there was a hint of a tear in his eye. The silence stretched into infinity as they looked into each other’s eyes.
At last, Brother Tregaron broke the silence with a mumbled, “Well, I guess I could see if I’m free.” It was more a question than a statement. Tommy felt his heart swell.
“Sure, Brother Tregaron! What time shall we pick you up?”
“Hang on, young man. Not so fast. I only said I’d see if I was free.” But there was a smile in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and the stern lines of his face were relaxed. Tommy grinned and looked across to where Brother Carson was sitting, but in his mind, he saw only Brother Wolff looking at him. He heard him say again, “Never, ever, give up on anyone.” And as he turned back to Brother Tregaron, he knew that despite the heartaches that might lie ahead, he never, ever, would.

Recently a friend of mine was returning to his home in Salt Lake City on a plane from Dallas, Texas. His mind was focused upon an important event that was soon to occur in his family. His only son would be leaving home in just a few days to serve as a missionary in a far-distant land. His great love for his son caused him to reflect, “If my son is going so far away to teach about our Church, this had better be the best church!” Then he took out a notepad and pen and began to list the characteristics or qualities one would look for in the best church.
“There should be a program to build and strengthen youth,” he wrote, “an athletic program, a wholesome activity program, a program for teaching and training children, a program for developing the skills and talents of women, a program to provide for the needy, for the ill, for the lonely, for the victims of catastrophes and disasters, a program to provide opportunities for work and service, a program to assist families and individuals in spiritual development and progress.”
His list became long and impressive, and he satisfied himself that his church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, offered a program to meet the need of every individual. Truly, he determined, it is the best church his son could represent!
My friend felt so good about his list of attractive qualities of the best church that he decided to show it to the gentleman seated next to him on the plane. The man, an executive from a financial firm, responded with interest and respect. Together they reviewed the list, and as they concluded their conversation the businessman asked my friend, “Would you like to know what I would look for in a church? There is just one criterion: the members of that church would best exemplify the teaching of the Savior—‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.’”
My friend said he learned an important lesson from that experience. He had taught this fine man about the programs of the Church without acknowledging that the purpose of these programs is to help members learn how to love God and their fellowmen. He has shared that experience with me and permitted me to share it with you today that we might all be reminded of this.

My falling away from the Church was gradual. It began in the fifth grade, when I met some new friends. We used bad language and got into all the wrong things. Once junior high came around, we entered into all the wrong groups, and by high school, things started to get really bad.
I became really depressed. I was wearing more and more black and kept insisting on thickly layering dark eye makeup. To me, life became something just to get through and not to enjoy. My thoughts were often suicidal, and I had no confidence. I almost completely shelled up. I never really talked to anyone, never told people what was going on. I knew I was loved, but I just didn’t care.
I almost completely fell away from the Church. I say almost because I was never allowed to skip church, and my parents always expected me to take seminary during high school. But I wanted nothing more to do with the gospel or the LDS Church.
My family and loved ones saw this downward spiral, and they tried to help. I often spent time on Sundays in the bishop’s office, and just as many days trying to avoid the bishop. He showed a lot of support and interest in me, looking into the things I believed in so that he could better understand me. My parents kept trying to help, but they didn’t know what to do. There were times when my dad and I were near tears trying to talk about our differences.
During my sophomore year, I hit a turning point when a foreign exchange student from Japan came to live with us. She was a softball player, and she convinced me to play that year. That experience alone did a great deal of good for me. The coach helped me raise my self-esteem, and the experience of belonging to and working on a team gave me the blessed feeling of belonging somewhere.
That summer I went to Japan to stay with the family of our foreign exchange student for five weeks. During my stay, I went four weeks without going to church. Finally, in the very last week, we stopped by the Tokyo Japan Temple to take pictures. In a strange country where the language and customs were so foreign to me, it was the most comforting feeling to finally be in a familiar place. The Spirit there was so strong.
That Sunday we found a ward building, and I attended church. It was amazing to experience sacrament meeting and Sunday School in Japanese, but what hit me most was when I went to Young Women. Seeing those few Japanese girls rise and say the theme, I realized that the gospel was just as strong halfway across the world as it was at home. I knew that many of these members didn’t have the support from friends and family that I did, but they still believed. Again, I felt at home.
Shortly after I returned to Utah, my brother Richard came home from his mission. Rich noticed my struggles and made it apparent that we would be having a lot of talks. He got me to pray with him.
But what really hit home was seminary. My dad found out I wasn’t enrolled for my junior year and was surprised. It wasn’t long before I was called to meet with the seminary principal. It was very nonconfrontational; he just talked to me, conveyed friendship, and expressed concern that I wasn’t enrolled. Finally I agreed to take seminary. I met my teacher, went to class, and that was it. I never skipped and rarely begrudged going.
I’m not sure when the transition took place, but I started to feel comfort. I began to pray regularly again. It was really hard at first, but I stuck with it. I read my scriptures and knew that they spoke truth. Life began to look up. I had more energy, confidence, and ambition. I felt better about the new friends I began associating with. I tried out for plays, immersed myself in my artwork, and started singing again. I tried out for my school’s select choir group and made it. I was no longer the shy, introverted girl I had been for so long.
I was also called to serve on the seminary council, and that was when I knew that I would be okay. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be where I am now, I never would have believed it could happen. I’m a completely different person. And I’m grateful to my friends, family, and teachers, who gave me their love and patience. Their faith in me was the constant in my life that I could always fall back on in my darkest hours. And now I’m so grateful for the gospel. I feel it really has saved my life. If I hadn’t made the turnaround when I did, who knows how far off the path I would have gone. I’m grateful I’ve never had to find out.
The Church is true; I know that with all of my heart and mind. Heavenly Father loves His children, and Jesus Christ is our Savior. Having the restored gospel on earth is one of our greatest blessings, and I pray that someday all of God’s children will come to know the truth and feel the same gratitude and love for Him that I have in my heart.

8. Keep your car locked when not in use. Not only does this discourage theft, but it can also prevent freak accidents. Recently two missionaries were in a home presenting a discussion when they noticed through the front window of the house that their car was rolling down the driveway into the street. A young boy of the household, attempting to play a trick on the elders, had backed the car out into heavy traffic. It was demolished and the boy ended up in the hospital. Whose fault? The missionaries’—for leaving the car unlocked and the keys in the ignition.

“After traveling along several hundred kilometers the monotony was broken by our cattle stampeding. It seemed the longer we went and the harder the cattle worked, the easier they got frightened. The one that terrified me the most was at night. We had had one or two stampedes before so the cattle were prepared for one at any moment. I think it was because of the Indians, or it might have been the large herds of buffalo that we saw daily, that our company was counseled to corral their animals every night. At night the cattle were turned out to feed, they were watched and herded, then brought into the corral. It was made with wagons formed in a large circle with the wheels touching each other with one opening to drive them in, then logs were put across the opening, so they were perfectly secure.
“We were in buffalo country. We had heard what a terrible thing their stampedes were, and that not long before a large herd had started on their mad run and that when those in front came to a high bluff of the Platte River, they dashed in and made a bridge for the last ones who trampled to death and drowned their companions.
“One night about two o’clock the whole camp was peacefully sleeping when all at once there came an awful sound of tramping and bellowing, the ground shook, our wagon trembled and rocked. It flashed through my mind in a moment that a herd of buffalo was stampeding and that we would all be trampled to death. So I covered my head and prepared to die. Mother soon called out to Phebe and myself since there was no sound from our little bedroom (the front end of the wagon). I gave a smothered answer from under the bed clothes that I was alive.
“All at once there was a change. It was our own cattle that had broken out of the corral. Something had frightened them and then they started on their wild, mad run. They had run around and around inside and then broken through the logs blocking the opening. Nothing could hold them back. They scattered over the country for many kilometers. It took our men days and days to gather them back again, and they looked terrible, those that were left, for some died from exhaustion and others were killed. One pair of the captain’s cows ran up a very steep hill, fell backwards and broke their necks—one pair less to pull his wagon and one pair less to milk (oh the delicious milk—what a luxury on the plains).
“In that stampede there were two or three men hurt, one quite badly. He was a gold digger going to California who had overtaken us and was traveling with our company a while. The California emigrants traveled much faster than the Mormon emigrants. In trying to stop the cattle he was knocked down and trampled on. His groans were hideous. I did not see him again until one day the next winter, when he visited us. During all the time he was there he was down on his knees. He could stand up but could not sit down. I never heard from him again after he left for the gold mines. Old cattlemen say that tame, domestic horned cattle are the most crazy and wildest of all animals in a stampede. It is remarkable, but they seem to start all at once, just as if lightning had struck every one at the same instant.”

Ophélie and her family walked out of the church building together.
“What an amazing general conference,” Papa said. “What was your favorite part, Ophélie?”
“I like how President Nelson asked us to do acts of service,” Ophélie said. “I like helping people.”
“I do too,” Maman said. “Let’s follow the prophet and look for ways we can help others.”
A few days later, Ophélie and Papa visited their neighbor Suzie. Ophélie really liked Suzie. She had white hair and a big smile. She was like a bonus grandma!
Suzie told them she was going to have eye surgery the next day. Ophélie was a little worried.
“Will Suzie be OK?” she asked Papa while they walked home.
“Yes,” Papa said. “She’s been having trouble seeing, and the surgery will help her see better. But she’ll need a few days for her eyes to heal.”
Ophélie told Maman about Suzie’s surgery while they set the table for dinner.
“Maybe we could do something to help her,” Ophélie said. “Like President Nelson said.”
“Good idea. What could we do?” Maman asked.
Ophélie thought about it. Ophélie’s family raked leaves in Suzie’s yard each fall. They shoveled her snow during the long Canadian winters. But now it was springtime. There wasn’t any snow. Or leaves. How could they help?
During the prayer before dinner, Ophélie asked Heavenly Father to bless them to know how to help Suzie. Then Papa helped her scoop pâté chinois onto her plate.
The delicious smell of the potatoes, vegetables, and ground beef made Ophélie’s mouth water. She took a bite. It was one of her favorite dinners. Especially because Maman always let her mash the potatoes! She loved helping Maman cook.
Then Ophélie had an idea. “Maman, can we make dinner for Suzie tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Maman said. “How about a tourtière?”
“Great,” Ophélie said. “And we could make muffins too!”
The next day, Ophélie and Papa carried a plate of meat pies and muffins outside. Ophélie spotted the beautiful purple flowers blooming in their garden. She picked some and held them together in a little bouquet. Then she and Papa walked to Suzie’s house.
Ophélie knocked on Suzie’s door. Soon Suzie answered. She was wearing dark sunglasses.
“Bonjour,” Ophélie said. “We brought you dinner. And muffins.”
“It’s so kind of you to think of me,” Suzie said.
“These are for you too,” Ophélie said. She handed Suzie the bouquet.
“Très jolie!” Suzie said. “They’re beautiful. Please, come in.”
Ophélie and Papa followed Suzie into the house. “How are your eyes?” Papa asked.
“They’re a little sore right now. That’s why I have these,” Suzie said, tapping her sunglasses.
“Can you see better now?” Ophélie asked.
“It’s still a little blurry. But I should be able to see better in a few days.”
Ophélie gave Suzie a big hug. “I’m glad you’re OK. Can we come see you again when your eyes are better?”
“Of course. And when you see me next time, I’ll be able to see you too!” Suzie said. They all laughed.
Ophélie was glad she could serve, like Heavenly Father wanted her to and like the prophet asked. She liked helping her friend Suzie.