Gospel Story Finder

It had been four years since my baptism, and I had been less active for most of that time. I was drinking, smoking, and very depressed. My husband, Ian, was away at sea, leaving me home alone with two small children. And now his submarine had major defects and was in dry dock at the other end of the country. Each evening for six weeks the phone would ring, and Ian would say, “We should sail tomorrow.” But tomorrow never seemed to come, and the promised sailing was repeatedly delayed.
The bright lights on the horizon were my marvelous home teachers and visiting teachers, who came regularly to my door and shared their love and fellowship. I must admit I was not always polite and sometimes downright rude. Nevertheless, I knew I could pick up the phone at any time and they would be willing to help. My home teachers were consistent in their belief that if I came back to church, Ian would get baptized—but I had to set the example first. Yet I never felt the desire to put their faith to the test. I was too spiritually low.
One evening after speaking to Ian and learning that the submarine had again been unable to sail for home, I sat and cried, feeling utterly desolate. Then I began to pray, something I had not done for a very long time.
As I prepared for bed that evening, I was conscious of something I had not noticed before—a very strong, though not unpleasant smell. It stirred a memory long forgotten. I had to think for a while before I recognized that it reminded me of the chapel where I had been baptized. As recognition dawned I felt a warm, comforting glow within and an awakening desire to go back to church.
I phoned Tony, one of my home teachers. Soon he and his wife, Rosie, arrived at my door, and we talked as we had never talked before. All past barriers were swept away. I was going back to church.
I could hardly wait for Ian’s next phone call. This time he was met with excitement rather than depression. To my astonishment, his reaction to my story was to suggest that when he got home we should go to church as a family.
The following Sunday Tony and Rosie picked up the children and me and took us to church. I was surprised to see a missionary who had been sent back to the area for a second time. He had been to our home before but had failed, along with many others, to impress either Ian or me to go to church. He greeted me warmly now and announced that he had come back to our area to baptize Ian. I was skeptical and laughed, but during the following week Ian at last came home. As he had promised, he came to church the next Sunday. Elder Paskett approached him on that first visit and made arrangements to come with his companion, Elder Brown, and teach Ian the discussions. Within two weeks Ian had accepted the invitation to be baptized. The whole process took less than a month, and shortly afterwards the missionaries were moved from our branch to another area.
During those weeks the outpouring of love through the Holy Spirit and from the members of our branch was overwhelming. We made a commitment then that if we were going to live the gospel at all, we would live it fully. Shortly after his baptism Ian was called as president of the Young Men, and I was called to serve in Primary. Our Church life became full and exciting. Over the years our family blossomed from two to five beautiful children. We were sealed in the London England Temple in 1982, with Tony and Rosie in attendance.
The gospel has touched every part of our lives since that time. We have had our ups and downs but have never regretted our decision to serve the Lord. We have truly found a home in His Church.

One weekend I slept over at Grandma Roberts’s house with my sisters. We spent Saturday doing many fun things. We baked brownies, and went to the zoo, the pioneer museum, garage sales, the bookstore, and the bread store. We were very busy.
When I am with my grandma I always have fun. Grandma Roberts teaches me things. I’ve worked in the kitchen with her making rolls and bottling fruit and strawberry jam. She teaches me about sewing. We made a purse together. She thinks reading is important, and at her house there is a bookcase filled with children’s books. When one of her grandchildren reads one of these books, he or she gets an Olympic pin.
I know that family is important to Grandma because she tells us about her parents and their parents. She has us write down their names. Sometimes we play games or have quizzes to help us remember the names.
She bought us each a doll with old-fashioned clothes and pretty hair in long ringlets. We had to give each doll the name of one of our ancestors. I named mine Carrie Myrtle Thompson Olson, who is my great-great-grandmother. My sister’s doll is Effie May Wagstaff, another great-great-grandmother. We keep these dolls at Grandma’s. When we play with them, she talks about those people and other relatives in the family.
I know that family is important to my grandma because she teaches us about them. I know that families can be together forever, so one day I will be with the people my grandma has taught me about.
I love my grandma and I am thankful for all she teaches me.Lauren Elizabeth N., age 10, Utah

Every Thursday the people in Winter Quarters gathered at the little log cabin that was used as a post office. Their independent mail service had been established by Brigham Young to serve the Saints living in Nauvoo, Garden Grove, Mt. Pisgah, Council Bluffs, and Winter Quarters. Each week a man brought this mail over a private route to Winter Quarters.
On Thursday, Tommy and Betsy, with their mother and Eliza and Elija, were waiting with the crowd for the mail. As Brother Clayton read off the names of those who had letters, Tommy heard his name called. He couldn’t believe his ears! It was the first time in his life he had received any mail. His trembling fingers tore open the envelope. He was so excited, he could hardly read the letter, which was from his friend Joseph, who was still in Nauvoo.
Dear Tommy,
At last we are leaving. We finally sold our house and land for enough money to get a wagon and some supplies. We will cross the Mississippi River tomorrow.
Nauvoo has not been a happy place since you left. Some of the brethren went outside the city limits to harvest their grain. They were captured by a mob and beaten with hickory goads. No one is safe!
Most of the people have crossed the river by now, but they are still camped on the flats because they can’t go on to Winter Quarters. Many of these people are elderly or sick. Some of them do not have provisions. Mother says she hopes that help will come for them.
I will be very glad to see you in a few weeks. We plan to leave immediately for Winter Quarters after we cross the river. Mother says that maybe we can go to school when we get there. I will be glad if we can.
Your friend, Joseph
That night when their chores were done, Elija and Tommy sat talking with Tommy’s mother. “I’ve been thinking about those people who have been driven across the river from Nauvoo. I wish I could do something to help them,” Tommy said.
“Brigham Young will certainly find a way to help them,” his mother answered. “But right now it is time for you to get to bed.”
The next day, while Tommy and Elija were herding their cattle, they saw Betsy and Eliza running toward them. “Is something the matter?” called Tommy.
“No,” answered Eliza. “We have a message for you from Brigham Young. He wants to see both of you in his cabin right away.”
“Why does he want to see us?” asked Elija.
“I don’t know,” Eliza replied, “but Betsy and I will watch the cattle while you find out.”
When Tommy and Elija arrived at Brigham Young’s cabin, Tommy’s mother was there waiting for them. Brigham Young spoke as they entered. “Boys,” he said, “I want each of you to take a wagon to the poor camp on this side of the river from Nauvoo. Some of the Saints there have been driven from their homes and are greatly in need of food, clothing, and shelter. Bring them to Winter Quarters. You are young for so great a task, but I know you will do it well. Brother Allen will have charge of the wagon train, and you will be under his direction. There will be about twenty wagons. You will leave in the morning.”
Tommy’s mother looked at the two boys. “The girls and I will be all right here,” she smiled.
The long trip to Nauvoo was pleasant. As the boys neared the river, Tommy noticed that the sky had darkened, and he heard the sound of rushing wings. Then they saw thousands of quail flying overhead. Many of the birds settled down on the wagon covers, on the wagon seats, and on the heads and arms of the drivers.
When those in the wagon train entered the camp, they found quail on the ground, in the air, in the tents, and on the people. The birds did not move when touched. Even the sick could reach out and catch one without the quail offering any resistance. The joy of the people was boundless.
“It’s a blessing from heaven,” said one of the men from the camp. “The people here were starving, and the Lord has sent them food.”
Suddenly Tommy remembered hearing how the Lord had sent quail to the children of Israel who wandered in the wilderness long ago.
Just then Joseph came running up. He and Tommy threw their arms around each other in greeting. It was good to be together again, and good to know that all the people around them had food. “It’s a miracle!” Joseph exclaimed, and Tommy nodded in agreement.

At one time I worked on the immediate staff of a very hardworking, demanding, misunderstood man who became the father of the nuclear navy that provided great protection for the United States at a critical time in world conditions. His name is Hyman Rickover. I have great respect for him. After eleven years in that service, I received a call from the First Presidency to preside over a mission. I knew I would have to tell Admiral Rickover immediately. As I explained the call and that it would mean I would have to quit my job, he became rather excited. He said some unrepeatable things, broke the paper tray on his desk, and, in the comments that followed, clearly established two points.

“Scott, what you are doing in this defense program is so vital that it will take a year to replace you, so you can’t go. Second, if you do go, you are a traitor to your country.”

I said, “I can train my replacement in the two remaining months, and there won’t be any risk to the country.”

There was more conversation, and he finally said, “I never will talk to you again. I don’t want to see you again. You are finished, not only here, but don’t ever plan to work in the nuclear field again.”

I responded, “Admiral, you can bar me from the office, but, unless you prevent me, I am going to turn this assignment over to another individual”

He asked, “What’s the name of the man who wants you?”

I told him, “President David O. McKay.”

He added, “If that’s the way Mormons act, I don’t want any of them working for me.”

I knew he would try to call President McKay, who was ill, and that conversation would benefit no one. I also knew that in the Idaho Falls area there were many members of the Church whose families depended upon their working in our program. I didn’t want to cause them harm. I also knew that I had been called by the Lord. I didn’t know what to do. Then, the words of the song we sang tonight began to run through my mind: “Do what is right; let the consequence follow” (Hymns, 1985, no. 237). While I had never contacted a General Authority in my life, I had been interviewed by Elder Harold B. Lee, so I had a feeling to call him. I explained that the admiral would try to call President McKay and would make some negative comments, but everything was all right and I would be able to accept my call. While doing that, my heart kept saying, “Is this going to turn out all right or will somebody be innocently hurt who depends on our program for livelihood?” The song would come back: “Do what is right; let the consequence follow.” True to his word, the admiral ceased to speak to me. When critical decisions had to be made, he would send a messenger or I would communicate through a third party. We accomplished the changeover.

On my last day in the office I asked for an appointment with him, and his secretary gasped. I went with a copy of the Book of Mormon in my hand. He looked at me and said, “Sit down, Scott. What do you have? I have tried every way I can to force you to change. What is it you have?”

There followed a very interesting, quiet conversation. There was more listening this time. He said he would read the Book of Mormon. Then something I never thought would occur happened. He added, “When you come back from the mission, I want you to call me. There will be a job for you.”

Being alone in living the gospel did not break down his faith. When he determined to serve a mission, he was willing to give up the jujitsu practices and competitions he loved—something that had been part of his life from childhood—to work and save money for a mission. Jujitsu, he says, was an art form for him. “I felt like a painter painting a picture when I practiced.” But working left him no time to practice.
Before leaving his hometown of Mystowice to serve as a missionary, Elder Tomaszewski left a challenge for his younger brother Patryk, who was also deeply involved in jujitsu. “If you want to find out why I’m doing this, why I’m giving up my sport, read the Book of Mormon and pray about it.”
And what has been his best day as a missionary?
The day he learned that his younger brother had taken his challenge to read and pray about the Book of Mormon. Patryk Tomaszewski also received a testimony. He was baptized in August 2004.
Now there are two Tomaszewskis to share the joy of the gospel.

In the year 1968, when I was president of a stake in Buenos Aires, Argentina, I received a phone call from a young lady, a member of the Church, who wanted to talk with me as soon as possible. We made an appointment, and during the interview she said something to this effect, “President, as you know, I have a boyfriend who is not a member of the Church, but who is a very fine person. He loves me very much and I love him, and I tell him that often, but now I am confused because on our last date he asked me to prove my love to him.”
Well, you probably understand the test of love that the young man wanted. She continued, saying, “I am confused, President.”
I am sure you know what my counsel was to her, but that which worried me the most, what really concerned me, was her last statement, “I am confused, President.”
How could she be confused? How could she doubt, not knowing what to do or how to act? This type of decision, once made, constitutes the foundation on which we continue to build throughout life. Once you make the decision to live a clean life, once you decide to be chaste, you act accordingly, and you always live a pure life.
The changing circumstances of life are not important. Once the decision is made, on the basis of correct principles proceeding forth from an unchanging God, then that determines our course of action without the necessity of going through the entire process each time temptation or sin appears.

“We left off last night at the beginning of Mosiah, remember?” Dad said.
During family scripture study, everyone usually had a turn to read. Nine-year-old Elise read from the Book of Mormon very well. Braydon was six and needed just a little help. Josh sat on Dad’s lap, and Dad whispered a few words for Josh to repeat.
It was Mom’s turn first tonight. After Mom read, Elise began reading with Mosiah 2:6:
“‘And they pitched their tents round about the temple, every man having his tent with the door thereof towards the temple, that thereby they might remain in their tents and hear the words which King Benjamin should speak unto them.’”
Elise stopped reading. She didn’t turn the page even though everyone else did. Dad looked at her as if to say, “Go on, honey.” A big smile came over Elise’s face.
“Dad, was King Benjamin kind of like a prophet?” she asked.
“Yes. We read the other night that he was a holy man who reigned over his people in righteousness.”
“Mom and Dad, do you think since tomorrow is general conference, we could pretend to be King Benjamin’s people and make a tent to listen to the prophets on TV?” Before her parents could answer, Elise was excitedly dancing around the room.
“Yeah!” Braydon said, brightening.
Josh crawled off Dad’s lap to skip with Elise.
Mom and Dad looked at each other. “Do you mean a tent made of tables and blankets and chairs?” Mom asked.
“Yes, a really big tent,” Elise said. “But there has to be a door to watch conference on TV.”
“Hmm,” Mom said. “We need to be listening to conference, not playing and making noise.”
Elise sat down.
“We could pretend it was hard to hear and we’d have to be really quiet to listen,” Braydon said.
“Just like the people trying to hear King Benjamin from the tower,” Elise added. “We promise we’ll be quiet and listen.”
“We could even call it a ‘reverence tent,’” Braydon said.
“Our conference reverence tent!” Elise beamed.
“That’s starting to sound like a fun idea,” Dad said.
“Hurray!” Josh cheered.
“Let’s get some things ready tonight,” Mom said.
After scripture study, Dad, Elise, Braydon, and Josh got busy setting up the “reverence tent.” They started with the long table that was used for big family dinners. They added the card table, some chairs, and lots of blankets, and connected it all to the couch. There was plenty of room inside for snacks and supplies for taking notes.
Most importantly, there was a big wide-open door facing the TV so the children could hear and watch general conference.
Elise, Braydon, and Josh helped color a sign that read “Reverence Tent.” “It’s to remind us to be quiet and listen, Dad,” Braydon said as they pinned it onto the blankets.
“Let’s bring in our scriptures,” Elise suggested.
“Great idea,” Braydon said.
They crawled in to look around. “Mom,” Braydon called, “come and see!”
“Wow!” Mom said as she came into the room. Mom had been busy gathering last year’s conference Ensigns, notebooks, scissors, glue sticks, pens, and crayons. She took out the General Authority charts from the old Ensigns and said that during conference Elise and Braydon could cut out and glue onto their notes the picture of the person who was speaking.
“I’ll help Braydon take notes,” Elise volunteered.
“And I’ll help Josh color a picture of the prophet,” Braydon said, smiling at Josh.
“I’m really excited about the talks,” Elise said.
“And the music,” Braydon added.
“General conference will bring a wonderful spirit into our home,” Mom said.
“This is going to be a great conference,” Dad agreed. “I know the Spirit will speak to each of us as we listen.”

Married and baptized a short time later, María Cristina and I rented a small, uncomfortable room in Ventanilla. Because of my hard work, I was advanced from proofreader to editor at the company’s magazine and newspaper. I had never been an editor before, and I was happy with the position. Even so, things started to change when our publications began to lower their standards, publishing items of questionable morality. These changes, ordered by our directors, opposed Church principles and values.
I had always wanted to be an editor, but the situation made me uncomfortable. Our bishop suggested that if we did things that pleased our Heavenly Father, He would bless us. After my wife and I thought it over and prayed about it, we felt prompted that I should quit my job.
A few days later I was beginning to feel stressed out and wondered if I had done the right thing. After resigning, I had sent résumés to several companies but had heard nothing back. María Cristina suggested that we pray again, and we did so. We prayed that everything would turn out well and that we would not lose faith even though the bills were piling up.
A few hours later my wife encouraged me to call one of the companies. Somewhat unbelieving, I called. I was astounded when an official there said he was just about to call me. He wanted to know if I could start the next day!
We wept for joy. Our Heavenly Father had answered our prayers.
We had to leave our ward and many good friends for my new job, but we left with stronger testimonies. I now have respectable work and a good salary, and we have a nice place to live. Above all, we have been blessed with the certainty that when we do the things that please God, we receive His blessings.

Some years ago, a client seeking my professional advice described to me the nature of his business, which involved selling secondhand furniture and household goods with his father. Their stock was acquired by attending auctions and market sales and by clearing unwanted items from homes. They were careful to only buy items they could sell for a profit.
On one occasion, the son had contracted to clear the contents of a home following the death of an elderly occupant. Hanging in one of the rooms was a painting. Pausing to examine it, he considered the possibility that one day he would discover an antique or painting of far greater value than the previous owner had realized. But concluding that this painting was not in that category, he carried it to his vehicle and put it among the other items.
Later, as he and his father were unloading the vehicle, the father picked up the artwork and said, “I wish I knew more about paintings and how to tell if they are valuable.” The son responded that he was sure this one was not valuable. Nevertheless, the father felt it would be worth having the painting checked by a friend of his who managed an art gallery.
Several days later, the father’s friend informed him that the painting probably had a value of at least £12,000 (almost $29,000 U.S. in the early 1970s). Excited by the news, the father and son pick up the painting. This time they carefully wrapped the work of art in a blanket, and the son held it securely in his arms as they returned to the shop. The painting sold at auction for £12,500.
In telling this story, my client concluded by saying, “I can’t imagine why anyone would be prepared to pay so much for such an ordinary painting.”
I have often reflected on the response of the young man. He had no interest in the painting. He judged it to be of little or no value.

“Christmas was only two weeks away. How would I ever survive the recent death of my eight-year-old son?” says Lyn McGuire of Draper, Utah. “One night after everyone was asleep, I got out of bed and went to the living room to sit by the Christmas tree. I asked Heavenly Father how I was going to make it through the holidays and the years ahead. As I prayed, I remembered an ‘old friend’ that would comfort me—my Book of Mormon. I found it and started to read. I don’t remember what I read; only that it comforted me. As I read, I cried, and relief came. It was like pouring my burdens on the shoulders of a friend.”

I was quite young when World War II started, but I was old enough to be frightened by what was happening. My father assured me that the Lord was in control and that all would be well. As he told me not to worry, he put his arms around me, enveloping me in security and love. I had the same feeling of safety as we knelt in family prayer and I listened to my father, a bishop, pray for the servicemen who were from our ward. I knew that Heavenly Father lived and that He was listening.

Growing up in my family, we lived as devout members of another Christian faith. I was baptized a member of that church shortly after my birth. Our family went to church each week. For many years my brothers and I assisted the pastors who conducted our Sunday services. I was taught the importance of family prayer as our family prayed together each day. I thought that someday I would enter the full-time ministry in my church. There was no question in our minds that we could define ourselves as devout Christians.
When I was a university student, however, I became acquainted with the members and teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a Christian faith centered on the Savior. I began to learn about the doctrine of the Restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ in these latter days. I learned truths that I had not known before that changed my life and how I viewed the gospel. After much studying, prayer, and faith, I chose to embrace beautiful restored truths found only in this Church.

Lily was also able to serve when she completed her Divine Nature value project. For this project, she decided to babysit for free so that a couple could attend the temple the day before their child with Down syndrome underwent a major medical procedure.
Lily’s mom took Lily to the family’s house and stayed with Lily while the parents were gone. “I was a little scared at first,” says Lily, “but then I started playing with the kids, and they were really nice.”
After Lily spent the evening playing with the children, she got them in their pajamas, helped them brush their teeth and hair, and read them a bedtime story. Lily’s mom sat back and read a book, letting Lily do her job. Through this experience, Lily learned about service and about caring for and interacting with others. “I felt happy after I babysat. I learned I could do something I hadn’t tried before.”

Notwithstanding, answers to our prayers may come from reading the scriptures, from listening to the speakers. And occasionally when it is important, some will come by very direct and powerful circumstances. The promptings will be very clear and unmistakable. Let me share an experience with you:
It was one of those days when the tracking seemed endless with no success and no contact. The days were getting hot. My senior companion and I walked almost mindless in an area called Shaukeiwan, search for something, but did not know what.
All of a sudden we heard sirens and commotion around the corner and decide to find out. There was a gathering of 100 people, along with firefighters working feverishly setting up a safety net, also in search of something up in the air. It seemed to us that all the attention was focused skywards.
We turned our heads upwards and saw a woman sitting on a window edge 12 stories high.
The window edge was about 2 feet long and two feet wide and she could barely sit on it - her feet dangling in the air. Apparently she had locked herself from outside so no one could reach her. She was going to jump and kill herself. Down from her, the noise of the onlookers grew louder and louder and people began to loose patience watching her and started to jeer and laugh at her
Someone noticed us: two white shirt, young missionaries standing in their midst, also looking up. In a mocking tone, one of them said, "Hey, you represent God; why don't you go up and save her?!..."
My companion looked at me and said, "Well, why don't we do just that!"
So we waded through the crowd and went to the 12th floor where this woman lived. Once inside that dinky little apartment of 100 square feet, we found ourselves stood out even more: the room was packed with policemen, firemen, paramedics and the tenants of the apartment. All looking at us with query eyes. We explained that we're from the Church and wanted to know if there was anything we could do...
Someone told us the situation: the women had a big argument with her husband hours ago over family matters. Desponded and confused, she attempted to kill herself. She climbed out of the window, locked herself UP from outside, and had been sitting there on that tiny window edge for hours. Despite all the persuasion from her husband, children and even the servicemen, she remained sitting out there and threatened to jump if people move any closer. It is now an impasse. Meanwhile, she's getting weaker and tired by the minute. And her limbs were turning stiff and blue from the wind sheer and the constant sitting.
I said to my companion: "Why don't we have a prayer?" He agreed. We looked around: there was simply no room to pray in that tiny apartment packed with people and with all the commotion going on. All, except the bathroom: it was not much of a bathroom, simply a smelly wet floor with a hole in the middle of the room that could barely fit two people. We walked in, closed the door behind us and knelt in that wet, soggy unpaved floor and began to pray.
My companion started first, pleading with the Lord if it be His will that this woman's life be spared, then allow her to come back to her love ones. Then it's my turn: we poured out our hearts earnestly pleading with our Heavenly Father for the Spirit to guide this woman in her behavior so she could be saved. We knew the TIME was running out and asked the Lord to intervene with saving this woman's life.
Suddenly, we heard a loud roar and cheer. We finished our prayers and got up from the wet floor and walked out of the bathroom. To our surprise, the cheering came from the servicemen. After all the impasse, the woman had suddenly changed her mind, reached in and handed over the keys to the locked windows and wanted to come back.
It was an emotional scene: the husband hugging and crying with his wife with the children hanging onto the parents. There were similes of content in the faces of the policemen, policewomen, the firemen and the paramedics. Everyone began to pull out from this apartment and my companion and I were amongst some 15 others all jammed into the elevator.
On our way down, one fireman spoke, "I wondered what happened there?
She's was so adamant to kill herself..."
He went on, "I bet it must be the sound of the 'jaws of life' that we're about to pry open the window that changed her mind..."
"Yeah, right..." Everyone else ECHOED and chimed IN their own version of rationale.
Then they discovered us:
two missionaries wearing white shirts and ties standing in their midst.
All eyes focused on us.
All of a sudden, no one spoke and there was dead silence in the elevator.
I turned and looked at my companion, who turned and looked at me, smiled and nodded knowingly.
We knew at that moment it was the Spirit of our Heavenly Father that had touched this woman. It had made her changed her mind and be united with her family once again.
Our prayers were answered. Right there and then.

Nathan and his mother were driving home from the store when something scary happened. They had been waiting at a red light, and when it turned green, they started into the intersection. Nathan looked past his mother and saw a car speeding toward them from the left. There was nothing they could do. The other car crashed into them with the sound of crunching metal and shattering glass.
Suddenly everything was quiet. He looked at his mother and saw that her arm was hurt. “Don’t worry, Nathan,” she said, “I’m OK. Are you all right?”
“I think so.”
They watched as the man from the other car angrily walked around the car and opened Nathan’s door. “Lady, you ran that red light! Look what you’ve done to my car! I’m going to sue you.” Just then a police car arrived, and the man went to talk to the policeman.
Some people who had been watching came over and helped Nathan and his mother out of the car. Nathan’s mother looked around at the group. “Did any of you see what happened?”
One lady stepped forward and said, “I saw you waiting at the red light. You didn’t go until it had turned green. That was when he hit you.”
Other people said that they had seen the accident, and Mother asked, “Would you testify in court about what you saw?” When several of them said that they would, she asked them to write their names and addresses and phone numbers down and give them to the policeman.
Two other police cars and an ambulance had pulled up, and one of the officers started talking to Mother. He noticed her hurt arm and had her and Nathan taken to the hospital.
Later that evening, as Nathan nestled into his comfortable bed, his parents came in to kiss him good night. Mother’s arm was in a white cast and was supported by a sling around her neck. Father swept Nathan up into his arms and said, “I’m so thankful to Heavenly Father that neither of you was seriously injured.”
Nathan gave Father a hug. “I’m scared, Dad. That man said the accident was our fault.”
Mother reached out and took Nathan’s hand. “Don’t be afraid. There were several witnesses who will testify, or bear testimony, that we waited for the light to turn green. The judge will decide who was at fault.”
Nathan’s parents knelt in prayer with him, then tucked him in bed again, and he soon drifted off to sleep.
A few weeks later they drove to the courthouse for the trial. Nathan was nervous. How would the judge know the truth when he hadn’t seen the accident? As they walked into the courtroom, Nathan recognized the man who had hit them. The first policeman and some of the witnesses were already seated.
The judge asked the policeman to come to the witness stand. The policeman showed a big board with a diagram of two streets crossing each other. First he used drawings to show how the cars had collided. Next he showed the judge some photographs that had been taken of the accident.
After he had gone back to his seat, the judge asked the man who had hit them to come to the stand and tell about the accident. The man said, “I was driving along Thirty-fourth Street, the light was green, and suddenly her car drove right in front of my car. There was nothing I could do. I tried to stop, but there wasn’t time.”
The judge told him that he could sit down. Then the judge asked Mother to come to the stand. After she explained what had happened, he said, “We have conflicting stories here. Are there any witnesses to this accident?”
The policeman gave the judge a list of people’s names, and he called each of them to the stand to give their testimony. Every one of them said that the man had been going very fast and had gone through a red light and hit Mother’s car.
The judge looked through some papers, then made his decision. He looked first at the man. “You are guilty of speeding and running a red light. You are the cause of this accident. You will have to pay the woman’s medical fees and the cost of having her car fixed. You will also have to pay a fine of seven hundred dollars in court costs.
Nathan was relieved. The judge knew the truth because of the witnesses’ testimonies.
The next Sunday morning, at testimony meeting, Nathan realized how important testimonies are. Each person who stood up told how he or she knew that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ live.
Nathan had a warm feeling about his testimony. He wanted to bear it often so that others would know the truth of the gospel, just as the judge had known the truth about the accident.

At 92 years old, Sister Marie Giles is a shining example of unwavering faith, commitment and service.
During the lockdown, she has sewn scrub bags and masks, knitted hats for Syrian refugees, baby hats and blankets for Poole Maternity Unit and gloves for the homeless. She has also contributed food for Hope for Food, a local organisation which serves the vulnerable and homeless in the community. She has made meals for the missionaries, cakes, pickles, jams and lemon curd for ward members and for those to whom she ministers.
Sister Giles also cares for her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. She has recently organised a temple week for her family who are spread out over three continents. Realising that they can’t presently attend the temple, she has arranged for a week of daily temple/family history activities. This will start with a virtual fireside to introduce and motivate all the members of the family, including of course, the young great-grandchildren.
Sister Giles joined the Church, against the wishes of her family who initially disowned her, after being tracted by the missionaries 62 years ago.
Since then, she has served as branch and district Primary president, as a stake Relief Society president, as a stake Young Women president, in the mission Relief Society presidency, as a Relief Society teacher, as a chorister, as a Sunday School teacher, as a visiting teacher and ministering sister, as a family history consultant and for the last thirty years as a temple worker.
Neither age, a recent diagnosis of illness nor current COVID conditions have halted Sister Marie’s determination to serve as she always has.
What an inspirational example of a continuing life of service.

President Ezra Taft Benson lived on a farm in Whitney, Idaho, when he was a child. There were chickens, cows, and horses on the farm. When President Benson was just twelve years old, his father was called on a mission. Ezra was the oldest child in the family, with six younger brothers and sisters. He knew that his mother would need him to help her make their home a cheerful and comfortable place. He woke up early each morning so that he could milk the cows before he went to school. His little brothers and sister laughed as he squirted milk into their mouths when they came into the barn to watch him, and he comforted them when they missed their father. He even dug vegetables from the snow so that they would have enough to eat. Ezra tried in every way to make his home a happy one.
There were also many neighbors in their little farming community. Ezra’s mother taught him to greet people with a polite “How do you do?” Ezra helped his neighbors willingly when they needed extra people to do farm work. Some of the neighbors said that they never knew anyone who could work harder than he did.

Ellie loved hugs. Hugs from Dad. Hugs from Grandma and Grandpa. Hugs from Mom. Hugs made her feel warm. And safe. And happy.
That’s why Ellie hugged Mom during church. She loved sitting on Mom’s lap. Mom always held her close.
Then sacrament meeting ended. It was time for Primary. Ellie loved Primary. She was a big girl now. Three years old! She even had her own scriptures!
But today Ellie just wanted to keep hugging Mom forever.
Mom carried Ellie down the hall. In the Primary room, Mom sat Ellie down on a chair.
“Can I go with you?” Ellie said.
“No,” Mom said. Her voice was kind. “You need to be in your class,” she said. “And I need to be in my class.”
Mom kissed Ellie’s cheek. Then she walked out the door.
Ellie felt tears rolling down her cheeks.
She thought about Mom holding her. Mom always held her when they read the Book of Mormon. They usually read with the family. Sometimes Ellie and Mom read by themselves.
Ellie picked up her Book of Mormon. Inside was a picture of Jesus.
Ellie closed the book and hugged it. She felt like she was hugging Jesus. She felt warm. And safe. And happy. It was the best hug ever!
What helps you feel better when you are sad?

Hannah P., a Laurel from Illinois, USA, thought she had a handle on what it means to accept and fulfill a calling. After all, she’d already served as Mia Maid class president and later as second counselor in the Laurel class presidency. But then she was given a ward calling she never expected: family history consultant.

“This came as a shock,” Hannah says. “This wasn’t a calling for a 16-year-old. It was a calling for older, wiser people!”

Shock notwithstanding, Hannah accepted the calling and rolled up her sleeves, so to speak. Soon she realized she really could make a difference. “It doesn’t matter what age you are. Anyone can do family history,” she says.

Hannah spends one evening a week at the local family history center working on FamilySearch (see FamilySearch.org) and teaching others to do the same. “Not only do I have the opportunity to feel the Spirit of Elijah myself,” she says, “but I can also help others feel it.” She loves helping people find a family name they’ve been trying to find for months. “They’re thrilled!” she says about such moments.

I wanted to share the light the gospel brought to my life, so exactly one year from the date of my baptism, I sent in my application to serve a full-time mission. Hoping that my father’s heart had softened, I told him about my decision. His reaction was unexpectedly angry. I sat quietly in my room all night, and after work the next day, I was too scared to come home. I was still working when my father came into my workplace. After a long silence he finally asked, “Do you really want to leave all of these things—your home, your friends, your education, your work—only to go someplace you don’t even know?” I said, “Yes.” After that, we did not talk until the day I left for my mission. That day came 10 short days after I received my call to serve in the Utah Salt Lake City Temple Square Mission.