Gospel Story Finder

One of the guidelines in For the Strength of Youth states: “Through your dress and appearance, you can show the Lord that you know how precious your body is. You can show that you are a disciple of Jesus Christ.”
After studying these words, one young woman realized that perhaps some of her clothes were not completely modest. Through prayer and study of the scriptures, she was reminded that she was a disciple of Jesus Christ and that, as His representative, she needed to make some changes. She didn’t want to have anything in her wardrobe that was a temptation, so she went through her closet and drawers and got rid of anything that wasn’t modest. She said, “I would be smart if I didn’t even try on anything in stores that I knew I shouldn’t wear. Why be tempted?” That firm resolve showed the Lord that she respected her body, and she drove down a deep stake for modesty.

To kick off the project, we invited the Reverend to come and speak in the Luton Ward during the second hour of a fifth Sunday meeting. He talked about the support he and his church were giving and how we could be of help. Members of the Luton Ward were encouraged to start volunteering at the drop-in sessions. The youth planned an activity to sort out their overflowing and disorganised toy cupboard, as well as purchasing needed toiletries from local supermarkets for asylum seekers. The Reverend was amazed to see all the youth there bringing toiletries, and even more amazed that the leaders had made purchasing toiletries a competition for the youth. One ward member even volunteered to be Father Christmas for their drop-in session right before the holidays.

My missionary companion and I were eating a quick dinner at a member’s house one Sunday evening in December when we heard a knock on the door. There were the youth from the branch singing. We were serving in the Joliet Illinois Second (Spanish) Branch. It was nice to see the youth serving and to hear them singing familiar Christmas carols.
Later that evening we were visiting with one of our investigator families when we heard a knock on the door. To our surprise, there stood the same group of youth singing Christmas carols for our investigators.
I was impressed that they would think not only to visit people they knew from the branch, but also to visit the people the missionaries were teaching. I thought it was a wonderful way for the youth to get involved in missionary work.
Our investigators were impressed for a very different reason, however. After the youth left, they told us how amazed they were that a group of teenagers would give up their Sunday evening to bring others some Christmas cheer. They commented on how many youth today seem selfish and would not do such a thing but that the youth in our Church were different. They wanted their children to be like these young men and women.
Soon after Christmas this wonderful family decided to be baptized, and I know one of the influences on their decision to join the Church was the members’ testimonies and examples. They could also see the light in the members’ faces. I know they saw it that night when those youth gave of their time to spread the spirit of Christmas.

One day at school, I heard that a boy was being bullied. I felt sad. No one should be treated that way.
Later that day, our grade had a party. The boy who had been bullied earlier came to the party and sat by himself. When I saw him, I remembered what had happened. I heard a voice tell me to sit by him. But I didn’t want to be the only one sitting by him. He’ll be fine, I thought. He doesn’t need someone to sit next to him. I pushed the feeling away.
The voice came to me again, stronger. Go sit by him.
I looked at the boy. He looked lonely and sad. OK, I thought. When I sat down by him, he looked uncomfortable. I told him my name and asked him about himself. At first, I was nervous. But as we talked, I felt peaceful. And he didn’t look lonely or sad anymore.
When he had to go back to class, I said I’d talk to him later. He smiled a little and said OK. My teacher came to me and said, “Thank you, Sierra. That was very kind.” I just nodded my head.
The rest of the day went by quickly, but that peaceful feeling didn’t go away. I knew I did the right thing. Sometimes people aren’t treated right when they’re different. I don’t like it, but it happens.
We are all God’s children. We should treat others kindly. If we do this, I know that God will bless us.

Once I had a huge doubt about whether to go on a date with a nonmember. One Sunday in sacrament meeting, a sister gave a talk that seemed to be directed personally to me. At that moment, I received an assurance that the Lord had answered my prayer. Before, I had been confused about what to do, but then I was comforted by the Holy Ghost, who filled my heart with joy and courage. God answers us through feelings, thoughts, the scriptures, and even speakers at church!
Karen V., 19, Minas Gerais, Brazil

“Do I have to watch Bobby again?” Cindy asked.
“It’s just for a little while, dear. You know how he can get into things. You’re such a good helper.” Mother smiled at Cindy as she went out the apartment door with a basket of laundry in her arms.
Cindy sighed and shut the door. She turned and looked at her baby brother. Bobby banged two blocks together.
“Ah-bah, ah-bah, Mama!” Bobby yelled.
Cindy shook her head. “When are you going to really talk? When are you going to be a helper like me?”
“Me … bah.” Bobby laughed and started climbing up onto the couch.
“Oh no you don’t,” Cindy said as she picked up Bobby and put him on the floor by his toys.
“No, no?” asked Bobby.
“Right. Climbing onto the couch is a no-no. Let’s do something else. We can play Wonder Woman and Superman.”
“Dooper!” Bobby grinned happily.
Cindy ran to her bedroom to get her cape, but she couldn’t find it anywhere.
“I bet you lost it, Bobby. Tell me where you put my cape.”
“Bah-ma. Dooper?” said Bobby.
“I give up,” Cindy said. “If you’d just talk like the rest of us, that would be a big help.”
Cindy went into the bathroom and found two large towels. She tied one loosely around Bobby’s shoulders, then put the other one on herself. Cindy twirled on her toes, letting her cape fly out around her. Then she ran down the hallway. “Wheee!”
“Eeeeh!” Bobby echoed.
Cindy ran around the living room. Bobby ran too. Cindy leaped up and down. Bobby hopped the best that he could in imitation. Cindy jumped over the magazine rack. Bobby tried to do it, too, but he bumped his knee. He screamed. As Cindy turned around to see what had happened, her long cape flew out and hit a potted plant on the windowsill. The pot wobbled back and forth. Bobby stopped screaming. They both stood still and watched helplessly as the pot fell.
Crash!
“Oh, no!” cried Cindy, bending down to look at the mess. There was dirt all over the floor, but the plant didn’t look broken.
“No-no,” Bobby announced.
“It sure is a big no-no! Give me your towel. I’d better put them away and clean up this mess.”
While Cindy was in the bathroom, she heard her mother open the apartment door.
“Bobby!” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”
Cindy went back into the living room. Her mother was pulling Bobby away from the pile of dirt, where he was playing.
“Oh, Cindy,” Mother said, “I wish that you’d watched Bobby a little better.”
Bobby pointed at the floor and said, “No-no!” Then he ran out of the room.
Cindy knew that her mother thought that Bobby had broken the pot. It would be easy not to tell what had really happened. …
“Mom,” Cindy said at last, “I’m sorry.”
“I know, Cindy. It’s not your fault. Please get the dustpan and brush. I think that we can save the plant.”
Cindy didn’t move, even though she wanted to run away.
“Hurry up, dear.” Mother picked up the plant.
“I said that I was sorry,” Cindy said slowly, “because I knocked down the plant.”
“Oh, Cindy!” Mother looked at her and put down the plant. Then she hugged Cindy. “Thank you for telling me what really happened. Now we’ll clean this mess up together. You are a good helper.”
“Mama!” Bobby yelled. He had come back holding the dustpan and brush. He waved the pan in the air and said, “Me do.”
“Oh, Mom,” Cindy exclaimed happily, “Bobby is learning to talk better and to be a helper too.”

When I think about connecting with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, an experience I had a while ago comes to mind.
I was looking out my window at a rainstorm, waiting for the sound of it to bring me feelings of peace. Usually when I concentrate on listening to the drops of water hitting the ground, everything else I’m feeling gets washed away for a few precious moments.
Feelings of peace did come, but not nearly as much as I needed. Most of my thoughts were still stuck on the chaos of life. I didn’t understand why this wasn’t helping me feel better.
After a few minutes, a thought hit me. You’re not letting the rain in. With that, I tugged my window open and let the sound wash over me. There was the peace I was seeking. All the rest of my swirling thoughts faded away as I listened to the gentle rain.
I stood there a while before a question came to my mind: Am I letting God and the Savior into my life?
This caught me off guard. It wasn’t something I had thought about before. But the more I pondered that thought, the more it made sense. Letting the rain in brought me peace, and letting my Heavenly Father and my Savior into my life could bring me even more.
Letting the Savior and Heavenly Father in was only the first step. I still had to open my heart to Them. When I first listened to the rain through the window, it was muffled and didn’t provide me the ultimate peace I wanted. And if I hadn’t opened the window to let the sound in, I wouldn’t have felt what I did.
The same goes for all the “windows” of my life. If I have them all shut and locked, how can I truly accept Deity and establish a relationship with Them? How can I feel the Spirit and the peace of Their love wash over me?
Saying that I need to open all my windows is easier than actually doing so. I’ve realized that when I feel disconnected from the Spirit, I have to figure out what is keeping me cut off. Most of the time it’s small things like always being attached to my phone. Or not reading my scriptures as much as I should. Or deciding to follow my own will rather than seeking to know Theirs. Or even getting caught up in all my trials and distancing myself from Them because I think Heavenly Father is not answering my prayers.
Once I determine what’s keeping me from feeling the Spirit, I can choose to stop doing those things, one at a time. I can inch my windows open little by little, inviting Heavenly Father and the Savior in until I can feel Their love surround me.
Loneliness can seem dark and never-ending at times, especially during Christmastime. In those moments when we want to give up, we have to remind ourselves: We are not alone. We just have to be willing to let Them in.
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “Because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so. His solitary journey brought great company for our little version of that path.”1
Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ are always there for us. They are reaching out, patiently waiting for us to open our hearts and lives to Them—whether at Christmas or any other time.

Another spiritual highlight came two days later in Haifa in the form of an apostolic blessing. The physical and professional demands had been overwhelming for everyone involved with the tour. The following comments of a choir member are representative of similar stresses experienced by others: “Three months of arduous rehearsals, several performances, a dozen broadcasts, personal preparations for the tour, family Christmas activities, and the death of my mother had taken their toll. When I boarded the plane on December 26, I was utterly exhausted. That’s no way to begin a choir tour.” Then in the first two days after arriving in Israel, the choir had four major rehearsals, including three rehearsals of the Berlioz Requiem (nearly an hour and a half long) and a rehearsal and a performance of the a cappella concert.
Before the choir’s first concert in Haifa, Elder James E. Faust pronounced a blessing upon the group. He blessed them that their bodies would be renewed and that they would have the strength to perform.
“I could physically feel the strength gradually come into me,” says choir member Toni Davis. “By the time we were on the stage, we were there in power. I believe that after you do all you can do, the Lord fills in the rest. When I returned to the hotel, I dropped to my knees and gave thanks to the Lord for the strength—not just the spiritual, but also the physical.”

Clara McMaster was the eleventh child in her family, and she learned to love music at an early age. She sang and accompanied others on the piano as she grew up in Brigham City, Utah. For twenty-two years she was a member of the Tabernacle Choir. Today she and her husband sing together for numerous church occasions. “Music is a rich gift of God, and it is in the world to make the lives of His children happier and better.” Sister McMaster says.
When serving on the Primary General Board, Sister McMaster was asked to write a song for the first reverence program. She worked hard and prayed that she would be prompted to write what would be best for the children. One day as she was looking out the window and pondering her assignment, an idea came to her. She went to the piano and quickly wrote it down. The new song was “Reverently, Quietly.” “I felt very humble,” she said. “If you prepare and do all that you can do, then Heavenly Father will help you.”

Kenny slouched on the sofa with his head down. He was folding and refolding a paper in his hands. When the door opened, he didn’t look up. He knew it was his mother. She had just finished burying his fish, Mike.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked as she hung up her coat.
“Nothing—just making a paper airplane.”
Mom went over to Kenny. She ran her fingers through his soft brown hair. “Want to tell me what you’re thinking?” she asked.
How can Mom understand how I feel? Kenny thought. Mike was just a plain old fish that his friend Mike had given him when he had moved. That’s why Kenny had named the fish Mike.
Mom patted Kenny’s head and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll have dinner ready in a minute,” she said.
Kenny watched his mother with his eyes half raised, not caring what she fixed for dinner. He felt sick and laid his head on the arm of the sofa and closed his eyes.
“Ready for dinner?” Mom called later. “We’re having tacos.”
“I’m not hungry,” Kenny answered, keeping his eyes closed. He opened his eyes when he felt his mother sit down beside him.
“I miss Mike, too,” Mom said softly. “I enjoyed watching him swim through his bridge and hide in the shell.”
“He was a good fish,” said Kenny as he sat up. “He helped me remember Mike and all the fun we had. Why did he have to die, Mom?”
She paused for a moment, looking perplexed. “I don’t know, Kenny,” she finally answered. “All living things have to die. Maybe it was Mike’s time to die.”
“Will I die?” Kenny asked, looking up at his mother.
“Yes, Kenny,” she said, “someday you’ll die too. But only our bodies die. Our spirits live forever. Do you remember what we talked about in family home evening just after Grandma died?”
“Yeah, Dad told us that Jesus died and His body was buried. But Mary went to the place where He was buried and saw Him. He wasn’t dead any more!”
“That’s right, Kenny. And because of Him, we will all live again. If we’re good, we’ll go back to Heavenly Father, and we’ll be happy.”
“Is Mike happy?” asked Kenny.
“Yes, Kenny, I think he is,” said Mom. “Heavenly Father created Mike too. I’m sure there’s a place prepared just for him.”
“Will I see Mike again?” Kenny asked, sitting up straight. His eyes shone with excitement. “Just like you said I would see Grandma again someday?”
Mom took hold of Kenny’s hands and said, “Kenny, I can’t answer that. But Heavenly Father knows how much you love Mike. Everything will turn out for your good.”
“Do you promise?” asked Kenny.
“Even better than that, Son,” Mom replied, “Jesus promises.”
Kenny thought for a minute. He picked up his airplane and turned it slowly in his hands. “You know, Mom,” Kenny said, looking up with a smile, “I think Mike would want to know about his namesake. Will you help me write him a letter? But let’s eat first. I’m hungry!”

For example, on Christmas morning in 1925, three men walked down to the river’s edge in a park in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Most of the city was probably still sleeping late on a holiday. But these men had left their families behind and spent 21 days on a steam ship to get here. Elder Melvin J. Ballard, a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, had been sent by President Heber J. Grant to dedicate the entire continent of South America for the preaching of the gospel.
So while the rest of the city still slept, Elder Ballard entered a willow grove with Elder Rulon S. Wells and Elder Rey L. Pratt. They sang hymns and read from the Book of Mormon. Then Elder Ballard offered a prayer and used his apostolic authority to “unlock and open the door for the preaching of the gospel in all these South American nations.” From that time on, like a stone tossed into a pond, the ripples of the gospel message spread outward across a continent.
Since Elder Ballard’s visit to Buenos Aires, Church membership in South America has grown from less than a dozen to over a million. Tens of thousands more are joining every year. There are an increasing number of LDS chapels, and temples have begun to dot the land.
That’s why seminary graduation time in Buenos Aires isn’t just another weekend. When Elder Ballard offered his powerful prayer in that willow grove nearly 70 years ago, he asked the Lord to “remember in mercy … the youth of thy Church who are to bear the responsibilities of the future, that they may keep themselves clean … and come to their glorious destiny.” For the LDS youth in Argentina, seminary has been one of the most direct answers to that prayer.

“The day after I was born, my father wrote me a letter,” Elder Pingree said. “He saved that letter, and later, when I left to serve a full-time mission, he mailed it to me. The letter contained several pages of his testimony and lessons he wanted me to learn during my life. As I read it, the Spirit bore witness to me that what I had been taught about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ by my parents was truth.”

I swept pretzels, cereal, popcorn, and chips into a pile.
“Nope. I didn’t eat any of these things,” I said as I brushed them into a dustpan.
My husband, sitting at the table, said quietly, “It’s the mother’s sacrifice.”
I straightened up. “What?” I asked.
He spoke louder and clearer between bites of breakfast: “It’s what mothers do. They spend their lives cleaning up messes that they had no hand in making—just like the Savior did.”
This observation was profound to me. I should have been pleased to consider that sweeping crumbs was more Christlike than I had thought. But instead, I felt a wave of guilt. I felt uncomfortable with the comparison. How many times had I mentioned to my spouse or simply to myself all the things I had done for my children, hoping for recognition and gratitude? It didn’t seem wrong to desire that my children be more grateful, but in that moment of clarity, I saw that my desire was more about me receiving praise or compensation than it was about them learning gratitude. But the Savior never required praise. He never asked for it or wanted it.
I then realized my motives were rarely pure enough for the comparison my husband had made. The Savior never keeps a list to compare what He’s done to what I’ve done. I would lose every time.
With the broom still in my hand, I awoke to a new concept of mothering—mothering as He would. Not for praise, recognition, a hug, or even a thank-you. I would sweep up crumbs with love because that is what He would do.
Everything He did was in obedience to His Father. It was never about Him. The Lord always mends the broken and cleans up our messes infinitely with perfect love, for His Father and for us. I will now strive to teach and serve my children with the purest love I can. Only then do I feel like I am truly participating in Christlike mothering.

Here is another example from recent times. In a southern community a baby fell into a wellhole. The hole was 60 feet deep and only 13 inches across. A boy could go down, a man could not. Elbert Gray, a black boy, volunteered. He was let down on the end of a rope. Sharp rocks cut his face and his bare feet. He reached the baby and managed to grab its shirt, but the cramped position kept him from getting a good hold. They pulled him up, and he volunteered to go down again; this time head first so he could take hold of the child with both hands. Shaking with cold, blood pouring from his numerous cuts, he brought the baby back. He was awarded a bronze medal, symbol for heroism, by the Carnegie Fund Hero Commission.

Gil Ja had learned service by example. Her mother always lived by that principle, serving Church members even before she became one herself.
Her mother had come to love the members of the Church and the sister missionaries who wanted to teach her. But it was difficult to give up her traditional religion. In her closet she had a small statue of Buddha to which she prayed each day. The turning point in her conversion came after she dreamed that she was praying to her Buddha when it began to cry tears from its painted eyes and slowly turned its back on her. She understood that the dream meant it was time for her to follow a new religious path.
Three years after her baptism and confirmation, her husband—by then the lone member of the family who was still outside the Church—finally consented to listen to the gospel and was converted. After he joined the Church, he became a changed man, his children say—sweeter, kinder, more tolerant.
Some 26 years after Cho Joong Hyun’s baptism, all of his family were at last members of the Church. It was a high point for the family when their mother and father were sealed in the Seoul Korea Temple. A touching moment for the entire family came at a later gathering when the Cho children sang to their father the lullaby he had sung to them when they were small.
Their mother served faithfully in the Church until the end of her life. Even in the hospital, suffering from stomach cancer, she was a missionary to the young woman in the next bed, introducing her to the gospel.
Her sons and daughters carry on the tradition of service. There are two President Chos in the family. Yong Hyun, the CES coordinator, has served in a variety of priesthood leadership callings through the years and is currently president of the stake in Gwangju. Cho Joong Hyun, who led the way into the Church for his family, has also served in a variety of leadership roles in Suncheon, including district president. He is currently president of the Suncheon Branch. Cho Gil Ja has served for more than 16 years as president of the Relief Society in the ward and stake. Other brothers and sisters in the family are active in their own areas as well, and all are married to active members.
Seven of the Cho children and grandchildren have served as missionaries so far, and still others are preparing to serve. Several of the children and grandchildren have married returned missionaries. Now the fourth generation of Chos is beginning to be reared in the Church. Their days have not been free of life’s difficulties, but blessings have come through their obedience.
The missionary who handed that pamphlet to a young postal worker nearly four decades ago could not have known what would grow from the small seed he planted. But the harvest has been plentiful—and it may be only beginning.

TJ shivered. Even with the warm air blasting through his bedroom vent, he was still cold! He missed Hawaii more than ever.
TJ missed surfing in the ocean and hiking in the mountains. He missed his friends. Ohio was OK, and it was fun to see snow again, but he still felt pretty lonely.
And cold.
TJ heard a soft knock on his door, and Dad stuck his head into the room. “Hey, buddy,” Dad said.
TJ smiled. “Hey, Dad.” Right before they moved, Dad had come home from military deployment in Afghanistan. Moving was hard, but having Dad home was awesome!
Dad sat next to TJ on the bed.
“I just had an idea,” Dad said. “Let’s run a half-marathon together. We’ll make our own training plan. We can even start running tomorrow. What do you think?”
TJ looked out the window. It would take a lot of work to get ready for a 13-mile (21-km) race. “How can we run in the snow?”
“Why not? We can do anything together. It’ll be an adventure!”
It was still dark the next morning when they left the house, TJ with a pocket full of jellybeans and Dad with a bottle of water strapped to his belt. They both wore long-sleeved shirts, sweatpants, hats, and gloves, but every muscle in TJ’s body still clenched against the freezing wind.
I can’t believe I let Dad talk me into this, he thought.
It was hard at first, but as he and Dad ran and talked together, TJ almost forgot to notice the cold. Dad told TJ about his adventures as a kid and how serving a mission had changed his life. They talked about their favorite movies and cars and how Dad met Mom in Texas. TJ tried to convince Dad that ham and pineapple pizza was way better than pepperoni.
Before TJ knew it, they were back home.
We did it! he thought. He gave Dad a high five. Then they went inside for hot chocolate.
Together Dad and TJ mapped out a four-month training plan. They would train inside on a treadmill during the week, and every Saturday morning they would go for a long run outside. On Friday and Sunday they would rest.
One Saturday, TJ skipped and stayed in bed, but as soon as he heard the front door shut, he wished he’d gone with Dad. When TJ asked Dad how the run was, Dad said, “It was OK, but I missed you. It wasn’t the same without my running partner.”
After that TJ never missed a run. Soon he was looking forward to their Saturday runs all week! While they ran, TJ told Dad about his new school and Dad talked about military training and some of his adventures around the world. TJ’s favorite stories were from Dad’s mission. He hoped he could go on a mission someday, just like Dad.
By the time the snow melted, TJ decided he kind of liked Ohio. He still missed his friends in Hawaii, and he still didn’t like the cold, but he noticed his loneliness fading away. He was glad he’d done something challenging and stuck to their plan. He was part of an awesome two-man running team, and together they could do anything. He couldn’t wait to run their race!

Ana walked past the fishing nets drying along the shore. She was on her way to Maria’s home to ask her friend for help. When she arrived, Maria was sitting under a tree, embroidering a shawl. Ana sat down next to her. After admiring the embroidery, she asked, “Maria, ¿qu‚ es un brownie? (Maria, what is a brownie?) A friend of mine slipped on the street and broke her leg, and I want to give her something to make her feel better. She told me once that brownies were her favorite food. Mama said that if I found out how, I could make some for her, but I don’t even know what a brownie is.”
“Who is this friend who likes brownies?” Maria asked.
“Her name is Hermana (Sister) Anderson. She’s a missionary from the United States. She and her esposo (husband) came to Peru to teach people about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She taught our family the gospel, and we were baptized last month.”
“Why did you join a foreign church?” Maria asked.
“It’s not a foreign church. People all over the world are members. There are thousands of members here in Peru. Senor Garcia is one.”
“¡Senor Garcia!” Maria’s eyes widened in surprise. “But he lives right here in our town and owns the best boat!” (Maria’s and Ana’s fathers worked on a boat that caught pescados [fish]. Senor Garcia was well liked in their town because he was fair and honest with his workers.)
“We didn’t know that he belonged to the Church till Hermana Anderson took us there one Sunday. He greeted us at the door and helped us feel comfortable. After that he had the missionaries teach us in his home on the hill.”
“Wow! Are there others in our town that belong to your church?”
“Yes. You know, we are so happy now that we’re members that I want to do something special for the missionaries that helped us. How do I find out about brownies?”
“We could ask my mother,” Maria suggested. They went inside to ask her, but she just shook her head. She had never heard of brownies either. “Why don’t you ask Senorita Consuelo?” she suggested. “A teacher knows about many things.”
The girls ran down the path past the nets to Senorita Consuelo’s home. When she came to the door, they asked together, “¿Qu‚ es un brownie?”
She smiled her twinkly smile at them and invited them in. After they were seated, she told them, “I’ve never heard of brownies, but I do have a good English dictionary. Let’s look it up.”
Together they searched the dictionary pages for the meaning of brownie. One definition read: “a small, flat, chocolate cake, often made with nuts.”
“A flat, chocolate cake,” Ana repeated happily. “We have some chocolate at home, but the dictionary doesn’t say what kind of nuts! Would any nuts do?”
Senorita Consuelo thought for a moment. “I think so. But why do you want to make a brownie?”
The girls explained that Hermana Anderson had broken her leg and was in bed.
“It’s sad to be sick so far from home,” Senorita Consuelo said. “I’ll help you make a brownie and take it to her.”
They walked to Ana’s house, and Mama helped them find a recipe for chocolate cake and alter it so that the cake would be flatter than a regular cake. Then they added nuts to the batter. When the cake came out of the oven, it looked very strange. The girls started to giggle when they saw the lumpy, lopsided cake.
“I can’t see why anyone would want to eat a brownie!” Maria said.
“A real brownie probably isn’t like this,” Ana said, laughing harder and harder, till the tears rolled down her cheeks. Senorita Consuelo and Mama started laughing too. When Ana finally stopped laughing, she said, “Maybe we should make arroz con leche (rice pudding) for her, instead. It’s easy to make that.”
“If she’s as nice as you say, she will appreciate your efforts to make her happier,” Senorita Consuelo counseled. “Let’s take her the brownie.”
When Hermano (Brother) Anderson opened the door of their casa (house), he greeted them warmly and immediately invited them in to visit Hermana Anderson. Ana gave the flat cake to her and explained, “It’s supposed to be a brownie. You said that brownies were your favorite food.”
“How thoughtful of you!” Hermana Anderson beamed at the small group. “I haven’t had one since we left Chicago. Hermano Anderson,” she directed, “please bring some plates and forks so that we can eat my brownie!”
She cut the cake and served a portion to everyone. Ana and Maria and Senorita Consuelo held their breath while Hermana Anderson took her first bite.
“That’s the best brownie I’ve ever eaten!” Sister Anderson told them. Ana and her friends took a bite too. It tasted good, even if it did look funny! Soon everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves. It was fun to get to know each other over a Peruvian brownie.

Why is Floriano Oliveira, a member of the high council in a stake in Brazil, so successful as a missionary? Because he obeyed the Lord’s counsel to open his mouth and share the gospel. One day as he was driving through the congested traffic of São Paulo he took his eyes off the road for but a second and crashed into the car in front of him. He jumped out of the vehicle, hurried up to the car he had hit, opened the door and said, “I am so sorry I hit you. It was all my fault. I accept the full blame and will pay the total costs. I had no intention to do this, so please forgive me. Yet if I hadn’t hit you, you wouldn’t have received this message I have for you, the message that you have waited for all your life.” He then explained the restoration of the gospel to this man, who was a medical doctor, and the man joined the Church two weeks later. Why has Brother Oliveira had so much success in baptizing more than two hundred people? Obedience—obedience to the request of the Lord.

During the planning and preparation for the Mexico, Central and South America area conferences in February 1977, we were scheduled to hold meetings in La Paz, Bolivia, which is twelve thousand feet above sea level. Dr. Ernest L. Wilkinson and Dr. Russell M. Nelson advised us that President Kimball should have four to six hours’ rest to acclimate his heart and blood pressure to the high altitude. President Kimball is very tightly scheduled during area conferences, and this allows little time for rest. (In reality, the doctors accompanied the General Authorities so that we could keep up with President Kimball.)

I talked with President Tanner and President Romney to seek their assistance in getting President Kimball to rest in La Paz before the start of the area conference. They only smiled and said, “You can try.”

Detailed plans were presented to the First Presidency for area conferences in Mexico, Central and South America. I saw President Kimball make two small red check marks next to La Paz, Bolivia, where there were two meetings that he was not scheduled to attend. “What are these meetings? Why am I not attending?” he asked. There was a pause; then I replied, “That’s a rest period, President Kimball.” And he remarked, “Are you tired, Elder Hales?”

We arrived in La Paz, and the first meeting was a cultural event. He would not rest. My head ached; it felt as though it would explode in adjusting to the altitude, and we breathed oxygen to attempt to speed up our being acclimated to the twelve-thousand-foot altitude; but President Kimball took no oxygen. He greeted, embraced, and shook hands with two thousand Saints.

After the last meeting, he invited one thousand more of his beloved Lamanites, who had come down from the Altiplano, to come shake his hand. They came and embraced him and shook his hand vigorously. He wanted to show his love for the Lamanites.

Dr. Wilkinson was concerned with the President’s vigorous activity at twelve thousand feet and approached him. He asked President Kimball if it would be possible for him to stop soon. President Kimball said, “If you knew what I knew, you wouldn’t ask me that question.” President Kimball is driven by the knowledge that we are preparing for the second coming of Jesus Christ. He knows that it is his responsibility, along with those who are chosen to work with him, to take the message to all nations in their own tongue and language.

A couple of years ago my family and I moved. The first few weeks that I attended church and Mutual, I felt alone. But I prayed every day that I would be able to make new friends and feel a part of my new ward. Little by little I have come to love and appreciate this ward. I had to be the one to initiate friendships. I had to start the conversation. I had to fully participate in classes and listen to what others said. With Heavenly Father’s help, I now have close friendships with people I never pictured being friends with.
Leah V., age 16, Colorado, USA