Gospel Story Finder

For me, parenthood has been a refiner’s fire. My weaknesses seem to come out as I become stressed, sleep deprived, worried, or upset. Of course, parenthood’s blessings make up for those moments, but I have found that I have a temper. It’s humiliating to admit, but I used to yell or throw things to get my children’s attention.
I would resolve time and again not to lose my temper, but I would still lose it in times of stress. Heavenly Father knew I needed something dramatic to help me.
One evening after a long day of bottling peaches, I put on the last batch and decided to take a short nap. I was sure I would wake up in time to take the bottles from the steamer.
I didn’t.
My husband, Quinn, and I were startled awake by the sound of exploding jars. I ran to the kitchen and saw shattered glass and gluey peaches over every surface of the room. Apparently, the steamer water had evaporated, heat and pressure had built up, the top of the steamer had blown off, and six of seven peach jars had exploded.
“I think I’ll clean this up in the morning,” I said.
Bad idea.
By morning the hot peach muck had solidified into hardened, glass-filled mounds all over the kitchen and dining room. The plastered peach-glass tidbits had even found their way behind countertop appliances and into every nook and cranny, including behind the fridge.
Cleanup took several hours. I had to soak the glass-filled mounds with wet paper towels and then try to wipe them up without cutting myself.
As I cleaned, a familiar voice whispered to me: “Mary, when your temper explodes, as did these jars, you cannot easily fix things. You cannot see where and how your anger hurts your children and others. Like this mess, that hurt hardens quickly and is painful.”
Suddenly, the cleanup took on new meaning. The lesson was a powerful one. Like my anger, there was no quick cleanup. Weeks later I was still finding little clumps of peach rock embedded with glass.
I pray that someday my patience will become as great a strength as it was a weakness. Meanwhile, I am grateful that the Lord’s Atonement is helping me better control my temper so that I can spare my loved ones any more messes caused by exploding anger.

When I was a young boy, as I read the Book of Mormon, I often wondered why Laman and Lemuel did not believe the truths that were given to them, even when an angel of the Lord appeared and spoke to them directly. Why couldn’t Laman and Lemuel be more humble and obedient to the teachings of their father, Lehi, and their younger brother Nephi?
I found one of the answers to this question in 1 Nephi, which states that Nephi was “grieved because of the hardness of their hearts.” Nephi asked his older brothers, “How is it that ye are so hard in your hearts, and so blind in your minds?”
What does it mean to have a hardness of heart?
The Korean translation of “hardness” in the Book of Mormon is ?? (Wan-Aak: ??). This phrase uses the Chinese character “Wan” (?), meaning “stubborn,” and “Aak” (?), meaning “wicked.” When we harden our hearts, we are blinded, and good things cannot come into our hearts or our minds. We become stubborn and begin to place more focus on worldly desires, closing our hearts to the things of God. We choose to focus solely on our own thoughts while not accepting the opinions and guidance of others. We choose to not open our hearts to the things of God but instead to the influence of the things of the world and the adversary. When our hearts are hardened, we resist the influence of the Holy Ghost. We are “slow to remember the Lord,” and over time we become “past feeling” His words.
Alma taught the people in Ammonihah that some “would reject the Spirit of God on account of the hardness of their hearts.” He also taught that “they that will harden their hearts, to them is given the lesser portion of the word until they know nothing concerning his mysteries.” Eventually, the Spirit withdraws, and the Lord “will take away [His] word” from those who have hardened their hearts just like Laman and Lemuel. Because Laman and Lemuel continually hardened their hearts, resisted the feelings of the Holy Ghost, and chose not to accept the words and teachings of their father and Nephi, they ultimately rejected eternal truths from God.
In contrast to Laman and Lemuel, Nephi continually humbled himself, seeking guidance from the Spirit of the Lord. In return, the Lord softened Nephi’s heart. Nephi shares that he “did cry unto the Lord; and behold he did visit me, and did soften my heart that I did believe all the words which had been spoken by my father.” The Lord helped Nephi to accept, understand, and believe all the mysteries of God and His words. Nephi was able to have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost.
What can we do to not harden our hearts?
First, we can practice daily repentance.
Our Savior taught, “Whoso repenteth and cometh unto me as a little child, him will I receive.” Our beloved prophet, President Russell M. Nelson, taught:
“Repenting is the key to progress. Pure faith keeps us moving forward on the covenant path.
“Please do not fear or delay repenting. Satan delights in your misery. … Start today to experience the joy of putting off the natural man. The Savior loves us always but especially when we repent.”
As we experience the joy of softening our hearts and coming to the Lord, we become “as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father.”
Second, we can practice humility.
Daily repentance will bring humility to our hearts. We want to become humble before the Lord, like a little child who obeys their father. We will then always have the Holy Spirit with us, and our hearts will soften.
My wife, Sue, and I have known a wonderful couple for the last four years. When we initially met them, the husband was a new member of the Church, and his wife was meeting with the missionaries to study the gospel. Many missionaries met with her to help her come unto Christ. We felt that she had a vibrant testimony of the gospel and knew that the Church was true. She felt the Spirit often during our visits and actively participated in all the meetings. She loved to interact with the wonderful members of the ward. However, she found it difficult to commit herself to enter the waters of baptism. One day she was reading Moroni 7:43–44, which reads:
“And again, behold I say unto you that he cannot have faith and hope, save he shall be meek, and lowly of heart.
“If so, [your] faith and hope is vain, for none is acceptable before God, save the meek and lowly in heart.”
After reading these verses, she realized what she needed to do. She thought that she had understood the meaning of being meek and humble. However, her understanding was not sufficient enough to have faith and hope to obey the commandments of God. She had to let go of her stubbornness and her own wisdom. She started to humble herself through sincere repentance. She began to understand humility in the perspective of God’s eyes. She relied on Heavenly Father and prayed to soften her own heart. Through these prayers, she felt the Spirit witness to her that Heavenly Father wanted her to be baptized.
Both husband and wife shared that the more they became humble, the more they could understand the words of God, and their hearts were softened to follow the teachings of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Third, we can trust and rely on our Savior.
Nephi was a great example of allowing his heart to be softened by trusting in the Lord. He taught, “I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever. I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh.” Similarly, in a revelation given to the Prophet Joseph Smith, the Lord said, “Put your trust in that Spirit which leadeth to do good—yea, to do justly, to walk humbly.” When we put our trust in the Lord and rely on Him, He will soften our hearts, and we will be supported in our trials, troubles, and afflictions.
If we sincerely repent, humble ourselves, and trust and rely on the Lord, our hearts will be softened. He will then pour out His Spirit and show us the mysteries of heaven. We will believe all the words that He has taught, and our understanding will deepen.
Our Savior, Jesus Christ, was the ultimate example of meekness. In 2 Nephi 31:7, we read, “But notwithstanding he being holy, he showeth unto the children of men that, according to the flesh he humbleth himself before the Father, and witnesseth unto the Father that he would be obedient unto him in keeping his commandments.” Even though He was holy and perfect, He humbled Himself before the Father and was obedient to Him by being baptized.
At the end of His mortal life, Jesus Christ submitted His own will to His Father by partaking of the bitter cup. This suffering caused Him “to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit.” The Savior asked that He “might not drink the bitter cup, and shrink.” “Nevertheless,” He said, “glory be to the Father, and [He] partook and finished [His] preparations unto the children of men.”
Brothers and sisters, we’ve been given moral agency. We can choose to harden our hearts, or we can choose to soften our hearts. In our daily lives, we can choose to do the things that invite the Lord’s Spirit to come into and dwell in our hearts. I know that in these choices, there is peace and joy.
Let us follow the example of our Savior, Jesus Christ, who followed the will of the Father. As we do so, the Lord has promised us, “For, behold, I will gather them as a hen gathereth her chickens under her wings, if they will not harden their hearts.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

It is not an easy thing to be amenable always to priesthood authority. I recite the experience of the founder of Brigham Young University, Dr. Karl G. Maeser. He had been the headmaster of a school in Dresden, Germany—a man of distinction, a man of high station. In 1856, Brother Maeser and his wife and small son, together with a Brother Schoenfeld and several other converts, left Germany bound for Zion.

When they arrived in England Brother Maeser was surprised to be called on a mission in England. Much to their disappointment the families were separated and the Schoenfelds continued on to America. While the Maesers remained in England to fill the call from the Church Authorities, the proud professor was often required to perform menial tasks to which in his former station he had never stooped.

It was customary among the higher German people that a man of Brother Maeser’s standing never should be seen on the street carrying packages, but when the elders were going to the train they told him to bring their luggage. Brother Maeser paced the floor of his room, his pride deeply hurt. The idea of carrying the suitcases was almost more than he could stand and his wife was also deeply hurt and upset to think that he had to do so.

Finally he said, “Well, they hold the priesthood; they have told me to go, and I will go.” He surrendered his pride and carried the bags.

A good number of years ago I found myself on a bus. The bus was loaded with young men from all over the country. We were arriving at Castle Air Force Base in California to attend summer camp. We were cadets aspiring to be commissioned second lieutenants in the United States Air Force. As the bus entered the field, we got off and were met by a regular Air Force captain who assembled us in companies on the parade ground. Suitcases, duffel bags, and civilian clothes were everywhere. We were given directions to the barracks and the commissary. We were told to report in dress uniforms at 2:00 that afternoon on the parade grounds. I was assigned to lead the first company away.
It was an interesting summer. We spent much time in the classroom, some on the firing line, and some in the air. Each week there was a rotation of assignments; we all drew our fair share of disagreeable duty, and each week cadet officers were appointed to participate in special leadership training programs and to direct the lives of the rest of us.
As the summer wore on, I became aware that I had not received a leadership assignment. As camp drew to an end and the last duty rosters were posted, I noticed that I had been overlooked as a cadet commander. Knowing that my success or failure in the Air Force depended in part on how well I performed in this capacity, I asked for and received an appointment with the officer in charge of the camp.
At the proper hour, I presented myself at his office. I saluted. When asked what I wanted to discuss, I told him that I had noticed a mistake in the duty roster, and that I had not been given the rotating assignment of cadet commander. Without even looking from his desk the captain told me that he knew that, that he had already decided that I had no future in the Air Force. As I started to protest, he said, “You remember the day that you got off the bus? I asked you to march the men to the barracks. As I watched you, I knew that you did not have what it takes to be an officer in the Air Force. The duty roster stands. You are dismissed.”
A flood of thoughts came to my mind. Years of preparation were suddenly of no avail. The course of my life hung in the balance. I turned to leave. There was a silent prayer in my heart. More of a question than a prayer, really. Did I come this far to fail? I thought. I found myself immobilized in front of the captain’s desk. I struggled for words. My career was important to me. To my surprise, I clicked my heels together, saluted smartly, and without having taken thought of what I should say, I said, “Begging the captain’s pardon, sir, but I was under the impression that we were going to be graded by what we learned while we were here, not by what we knew when we came.”
Now you don’t talk that way to regular Air Force officers. There was no precedent for what I did or said. At the time, I didn’t know from what source came the courage for the words. But I do know that I was at a crossroads. My future activities and associates would be different, depending upon what happened at that moment. My temptations and trials would be different, depending upon what happened at that moment. I would be an enlisted man or an officer, depending on what happened at that moment. The course of my life hung in the balance, as it so often does on little things.
The captain got up from his desk; he nearly bit his cigar in two. He obviously was unaccustomed to that kind of insubordination. He walked around to where I stood. He looked at my shoes, he looked at my uniform, he looked at my double chin as I held myself at strict military attention. For at least five minutes, although it seemed much longer, he circled me time after time. I stood there not knowing what else to do. Finally he said, “I might have been wrong about you. Maybe you do have what it takes to be an officer in this man’s Air Force. We’ll change the duty roster; you can command your company during the last week’s activities. We’ll see what you can do.”

In high school, I had the chance to switch to a new school. I really wanted to switch, but I wasn’t sure if Heavenly Father wanted me to. When I didn’t get a clear confirmation, I started to overthink it. One day, I opened a chocolate candy, and the inside of the wrapper said, “You are exactly where you are supposed to be.” Was this my answer? Was Heavenly Father speaking to me through a chocolate wrapper? I didn’t think so.
When I still didn’t receive a clear answer, I finally made what I thought was the best choice and switched schools. But sometimes I still worried that maybe the chocolate wrapper had been a prompting that I’d ignored. Then one day, as I told my worries to a friend, I felt peace. That peace was my answer—but it only came after I’d made a choice and acted on it.

The chute burst open and a raging, bucking bronco leaped high into the air. A cowboy sat atop, in perfect form, his spurs above the point of the shoulders, the rhythm of each move matched to the twisting and turning of the wild horse.
But then the crowd rose to its feet and gasped as the massive animal came crashing down on its side, all of its weight crushing the left foot of its rider.
Zane Davis picked himself up and hobbled over to the chute. When he got his boot off, the foot began to swell. The crushed bones eliminated his chances to continue in the competition, but that didn’t keep Zane down.
Less than a month later he was back in the saddle, working his way to the title as top college rodeo rider in the United States.

At the funeral services for a remarkable daughter of God, someone shared that this sister, as stake Relief Society president, worked with others in her stake to contribute quilts to give warmth to suffering people in Kosovo during the 1990s. And like the good Samaritan, she went out of her way to do more as she and her daughter drove a truck filled with those quilts from London to Kosovo. On her journey home she received an unmistakable spiritual impression that sank deep into her heart. The impression was this: “What you have done is a very good thing. Now go home, walk across the street, and serve your neighbor!”19

The impact of a Christlike teacher can be everlasting. I know because my life was changed by a teacher who taught in the Savior’s way.
When I was a Mia Maid, my adviser, Sister Chambers, was one of the most Christlike people I’d ever known. She truly understood the importance of loving those you teach. She was always so genuine and kind to everyone. I always looked forward to her lessons because it was clear that she truly cared about the young women. I always felt the Spirit when she taught, and I always felt inspired to do better.
I still remember specific lessons that she taught, including one about how we can draw closer to the Savior when we turn our focus outward and look for ways to help others. Years later, I’m still striving to turn that inner focus outward.
Sister Chambers also happened to be my piano teacher. She was so patient with me, even when I was having a hard time with a piece or when it was obvious that I hadn’t practiced as much as I should have. Sister Chambers was encouraging and gentle, and I think that helped me improve more than anything else. I loved her so much that I didn’t want to disappoint her! In fact, I wanted to be like her.
During one piano lesson, she told me she was moving. After the lesson, I think I cried for about an hour! I loved her so much. I don’t think she ever knew the impact she had on me. But that’s the power that good teachers can have. They can shape you in such a way that their influence is felt long after their presence is gone.

I once attended a meeting in Leadville, Colorado. Leadville is situated at an altitude of over 10,000 feet (3,000 m). I remember that particular meeting because of the high altitude, but I also remember it for what took place that evening. There were just a small number of priesthood holders present. As with the branch in the Canadian Mission, that branch was presided over by a missionary and always had been.

That night we had a lovely meeting, but as we were singing the closing song, the inspiration came to me that there ought to be a local branch president presiding. I turned to the mission president and asked, “Isn’t there someone here who could preside—a local man?”

He replied, “I don’t know of one.”

During the singing of that song, I looked carefully at the men who were seated on the first three rows. My attention seemed to be focused on one of the brethren. I said to the mission president, “Could he serve as the branch president?”

He replied, “I don’t know. Perhaps he could.”

I said, “President, I’ll take him into the other room and interview him. You speak after the closing song until we return.”

When the two of us walked back in the room, the mission president concluded his testimony. I presented the name of the brother to be the new branch president. From that day forward, Leadville, Colorado, had a local member leading the unit there.

My first year as a member of the Church was a long and difficult one, but also full of rewards. Being the only member in your family isn’t the easiest thing, and I also received much persecution from old friends. In May of 2004, I received the Melchizedek Priesthood and a call to serve in the Virginia Richmond Mission, speaking Spanish. I left my nonmember family in July of 2004, not knowing exactly what I was getting myself into or just what it was that I was leaving behind.

During the beginning months of my mission, I heard many things from many friends about the progress of my parents in the Church. They had been attending church off and on and had allowed the missionaries to come by every so often. I was always excited to hear news. Then one Saturday morning my mission president told me he had just spoken with my stake president about my parents. My parents had decided to join the Church. The gospel had now changed their lives for the better, just as it had mine only two years before.

I am so grateful for my Savior Jesus Christ and for the opportunity I had to serve Him as a missionary. I now understand more fully the plan of salvation. I know that this is the gospel and Church of Jesus Christ. Upon returning from my mission in July of 2006 I was overjoyed to enter the Mesa temple with my parents, where we were sealed as a family for time and all eternity. It’s a day I could hardly have imagined just a few years earlier.

A few years ago following general conference, our four-year-old grandson Andrew asked his mother, “Mommy, is Jesus counting on me?” His mother answered, “Oh, yes, Andrew, Jesus is counting on you. He wants you to obey Mom and Dad, to do what is right, and especially to be kind to your little brother, Benny.” This four-year-old thought about that for a few moments and said, “Mommy, tell Him not to count on me!”
Fortunately, by the time Andrew receives the Aaronic Priesthood, he will have come to know that Jesus is counting on him.

Some years ago, the Salt Lake City newspapers published an obituary notice of a close friend—a mother and wife taken by death in the prime of her life. I visited the mortuary and joined a host of persons gathered to express condolence to the distraught husband and motherless children. Suddenly the smallest child, Kelly, recognized me and took my hand in hers. “Come with me,” she said, and she led me to the casket in which rested the body of her beloved mother. “I’m not crying, Brother Monson, and neither must you. My mommy told me many times about death and life with Heavenly Father. I belong to my mommy and my daddy. We’ll all be together again.” The words of the Psalmist echoed to my soul: “Out of the mouth of babes … hast thou ordained strength” (Ps. 8:2).
Through tear-moistened eyes, I recognized a beautiful and faith-filled smile. For my young friend, whose tiny hand yet clasped mine, there would never be a hopeless dawn. Sustained by her unfailing testimony, knowing that life continues beyond the grave, she, her father, her brothers, her sisters, and indeed all who share this knowledge of divine truth can declare to the world: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning” (Ps. 30:50).

This story took place in Scotland.
Shiloh finished coloring her drawing and put her crayon down on her desk. “There!”
“What’s that?” her friend Lacey asked.
“It’s the cake I’m making for the school contest.” Shiloh held up the picture for Lacey to see.
“It looks really cool!” Lacey said.
“Thanks!” Shiloh grinned. Her cake was going to be perfect. She had it all planned out. The cake would have four layers. Two layers would be blue, and two would be red—the same colors as the flag for the United Kingdom. She’d put white frosting between each layer. Finally, she would put her best homemade cookies on top! She was sure she’d get first place.
“What are you going to bake?” Shiloh asked.
“I’m not sure yet,” Lacey said. “Maybe a cake too.”
“I can’t wait to see what you make,” Shiloh said.
As soon as she got home, Shiloh was ready to start baking. She put her cake drawing on the counter so she could look at it while she worked.
Shiloh carefully measured all the ingredients. She mixed them up and poured the batter into the cake pan. Then she put the pan in the oven to bake the first cake layer.
When the timer went off, Shiloh took the cake out of the oven. She tried to take the cake out of the pan. But when she flipped it over, half of the cake was stuck to the bottom!
“Oh no!” Shiloh cried. She showed the broken cake to Mum. “My cake is ruined!”
Mum patted Shiloh’s back. “It’s OK. We can fix it.”
Mum helped Shiloh take out the rest of the cake. They carefully pushed the broken pieces together.
“There,” Mum said. “You can’t even tell it broke.”
Shiloh felt a little better. She could still make the rest of the cake look perfect. She started making the next layer. This time, Shiloh let the cake cool before taking it out of the pan. It didn’t break!
When all the layers of cake were done, Shiloh stacked them. She put frosting between each layer. Then she carefully placed a few homemade cookies on the top of the cake. Done!
But Shiloh frowned. The cake didn’t look anything like her drawing. The frosting was dripping off, the layers were crooked, and the whole cake leaned to one side. What a mess! Shiloh started to cry.
“What’s wrong?” Mum asked.
“I wanted the cake to look perfect! Now it’s all gone wrong!” Shiloh wiped a tear from her face.
Mum gave Shiloh a hug. “I think your cake looks pretty. And I bet it will taste even better!”
Shiloh shook her head. “I should just throw it away. I’m going to get last place now!”
“Would it help if I said a prayer?” Mum asked.
Shiloh nodded.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Mum said, “I’m so grateful for Shiloh and for all her hard work to make this cake. Please help her feel happy with what she has been able to do. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Shiloh felt calmer. She looked at her cake again. Maybe it didn’t look just like her drawing, but it still looked OK. And she’d had fun making it.
The next day at school, Shiloh looked around at all the other desserts kids had made. She didn’t think she would get a prize. The other cakes looked amazing.
But when the winners were announced, Shiloh got second place! And Lacey got first place!
Lacey ran to Shiloh and gave her a hug. “We both won!”
Shiloh smiled. Even if she hadn’t won, she would be glad she had kept trying.
Illustrations by Maryssa Dennis

If you’ve ever wished somebody would make a movie from a Jack Weyland story, your wish has come true. The youth and leaders of the Cypress California Stake have turned Brother Weyland’s story “The Award,” published in the November 1979 New Era, into an exciting video production that has touched the hearts of many thousands of viewers with its special magic.
“The Award” is the story of several high school football stars who decide to reward the ugliest girl in their school with a corsage and a poem extolling her ugliness. They assign Kevin, the only Latter-day Saint on the team, to deliver the “award.” When Kevin reads the poem to his girl friend, Colleen, she begs him not to go through with the cruel joke, but he is afraid of losing his friends if he backs out. Before he can deliver the award, however, he has an opportunity to meet Mary Beth, the “ugly girl,” and discovers that she is really an outstanding person who donates much of her time to helping handicapped children.
Kevin and Colleen decide to go ahead and give Mary Beth an award, but they change it from a cruel put-down to a tribute for her acts of service. When the rest of the football team discovers the change, things become interesting.
Eventually, they too have a chance to meet the real Mary Beth. Some of them, led by the fullback, are unimpressed. “There are winners, and there are losers,” he says. “We’re the winners, and the girls we date are winners. The rest are all losers.”
But Craig, the quarterback, says, “We pick the person in school who everybody agrees is a loser, but then she turns out to be okay once we get to know her. … What if every one of them turns out to be special in some way?”
The video has been seen in many seminary classes and firesides, and it has changed people’s lives. “I thought about it all day long, and I saw people differently,” a ninth-grade student said. A local seminary teacher said that the video was the best visual aid she had used in seminary all year. Another seminary teacher says that her students now refer to Matthew 25:40 [Matt. 25:40] (“Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me”) as “the Mary Beth scripture.”
Group W Cable TV of Buena Park was so impressed that it is airing The Award on 15 of its community networks in southern California. Representatives of other religions have asked permission to use it with their own congregations. Chuck Coronado, a city councilman who is not LDS, has said, “We are going to give it as much exposure as we can.”
For the cast, it was a learning experience, not only in film production, but in compassion.
Cheryl Pence, who plays the part of Mary Beth, is a senior in computer science at the University of California at Irvine. She is most definitely not ugly. In fact, she is downright pretty. But her performance in the play gives chilling evidence of how stooped shoulders, downcast eyes, and a frightened expression can transform even a pretty girl into a drab shadow of herself. “It has been difficult at times to play the role of ‘the ugliest girl in school,’” she says. “If you’re not careful it can start influencing the way you see yourself. It must be devastating to suffer from that kind of a label in real life.” Back to her attractive self again after the shooting, Cheryl is not even recognized by most people as Mary Beth, but her alter ego has had a profound effect on her. “Being in the video has given me a greater appreciation for my fellowman and made me more thoughtful of others.”

He and his wife, Amy, met in Poland where they were serving missions. After they married, they moved back to Poland when Elder Schwartz received a Fulbright Scholarship, which enabled him to study there with a future judge of the Polish Constitutional Tribunal.
During that time, he was excited to teach with the missionaries as he had during his mission. On returning from a meeting with the missionaries, Amy reminded him that he is a husband and father who now fulfills new roles, and that together they needed to think differently. Instead of going out with the missionaries, they invited missionaries and their friends to join them at home. As they shared the gospel in their home, they experienced more happiness and missionary success in one year than they had in both their missions combined. Elder Schwartz says he learned the wisdom of listening to a much wiser companion when doing the Lord’s work.

Time moved forward, and I remained on the island of Viti Levu, the main island of Fiji. I went to stay with my older sister, who had moved away from home years before. In the chaos of the tragedy, President Davis lost track of me, and I lost track of the Church. Learning that I had survived, however, he instructed the missionaries to search for me. They looked for months but to no avail. President Davis’s time as mission president came to a close, and he passed the search on to his successor.
The years passed, but because of poor communication systems, I could not be found. The family I was staying with was not interested in the gospel, so I had little hope of finding the Church during my teenage years. I struggled with the loss of my family and wondered why I had been left alone. But I carried in my heart the truths my parents had taught me. Although at times I gave in to weakness and temptation, I always remembered my father’s testimony concerning Jesus Christ and His true Church. Eventually I got married and settled on Vanua Levu, the northern island of Fiji.
In March 1985 I was at work cutting coconut copra not far from the main road when an elderly couple in a small car stopped and called out to me. They asked me if I knew a man named Joeli Kalougata. But before I told them they had indeed found him, I asked what they wanted. They introduced themselves as Elder and Sister Kimber and explained that they were missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Finally they had found me! It was a glorious moment. Following six missionary discussions in two days, I was baptized on 18 March 1985, along with my wife, Elenoa. Our lives have never been the same since.

Last summer my friend and I were playing in the backyard. She wanted to go down the hill and play in our fort. We knew we needed to ask for permission, so we went to ask her mom. She said yes. Then we went to my mom, but she was out running some errands. My friend said, “Let’s play anyway. We’ll be done by the time your mom gets back. If she asks you where you’ve been, just say that we’ve been playing on the trampoline.”
I knew that I shouldn’t lie to my mom. I told my friend I couldn’t play in the fort, and she got mad. I was sad, but I knew that I had done the right thing. When I told my mom later that night, she was very happy that I had chosen to do the right thing.
Shybree Richins, age 8St. George, Utah

Frost was still in the air the morning the young men and women went door-to-door in their ward areas reminding people to donate items in good or reparable condition. Couches, lamps, dolls, toasters, an adding machine, desks, chairs, and other household wares soon bulged the sides of two large trucks, with more contributions still coming. One neighborhood florist donated a whole van full of Christmas decorations. One young man, enthused by the spirit of giving, pedaled up on his used bicycle and donated it to the drive. Half a dozen truckloads of usable items were amassed during the day.

I loved the story “A Day to Decide” (Friend, November 2010). One Sunday during general conference I went to my grandparents’ house. General conference was going to start in 10 minutes, but I wanted to play on the computer. I had a feeling I shouldn’t turn on the computer, but I did anyway. After a few moments, I decided to turn off the computer and watch conference instead. After conference, my mom asked us questions about what we heard. I got every question right! I’m glad I decided to listen to conference.

“We think Australia is the greatest!” said Bill Foggle as he and the other young Latter-day Saints rushed to explain some of the unique and unusual facts about their homeland and its inhabitants.
Young Latter-day Saints in Sydney often meet together to do service projects, work on the local Church welfare farms, participate in sports, and see the sights of their fair city. On this Saturday the young people met at the famous Sydney Opera House, then took the ferryboat across the harbour to Taronga Zoo, where they laughed at the animals’ antics and lunched on meat pies and chips.
From the zoo, the young people caught another boat ride back to the Rocks area on the western shore of Sydney Cove. Here they caught a glimpse of the very early colonial life of the city. After a walk under the bridge and a stop at the Argyle Center to see some aboriginal art and shops featuring Australian sheepskins, pottery, and needlework, the day was gone. Bill and his friends had to hustle back to the opera house parking lot where everyone said their good-byes and ta-ta’s and went their separate ways for home.