Gospel Story Finder

A massive hurricane is bearing down on you and your family. Winds exceed 150 miles per hour. Flooding and wind damage are certain. Survival may depend on how well you respond to two questions: What should I do before the hurricane arrives? What should I do after it passes?
For Latter-day Saint youth and their families who live along the Gulf Coast of the United States, dealing with both questions became a terrifying reality in August and September 2005. First, Hurricane Katrina slammed ashore, devastating the New Orleans area and the Mississippi coast. Just weeks later, Hurricane Rita ripped through southeastern Texas and western Louisiana. Both storms damaged homes and businesses for hundreds of miles and created the need for massive clean-up. Youth who had to deal with the devastation will remember it for a lifetime.
“No one ever believes it will happen to them, and neither did we,” says Kim Dohm, 17. Hurricane warnings come so often here they seem routine. “We evacuated, but we didn’t think much about what we took with us, because we expected to be back in a few days. We thought it was just another false alarm.” It wasn’t. The storm smashed through Kim’s hometown of Slidell, Louisiana. Winds tore roofs from buildings and snapped trees like toothpicks. Rapidly rising water flooded major portions of the city.
“The damage seemed so random,” Kim says. “In the same neighborhood some houses were torn apart, while others were mostly undamaged. The main thing I learned was to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. If you have to evacuate, leave early and plan to be gone for a while.” Her family had to stay away not just for days, but for weeks.
“No one can predict exactly where and when a hurricane will come ashore,” says Nolan Moore, 15, of Vidor, Texas. “But if officials say you should leave, then leave. And do it as soon as you can.” Nolan and his family caravanned with other Latter-day Saints and found shelter in an LDS meetinghouse a safe distance away.
Seventeen-year-old Brittany Crossley and her thirteen-year-old sister, Danielle, live in Vidor, Texas. Their father is an emergency room doctor at a hospital in Port Arthur, directly in the projected path of Hurricane Rita. Dr. Crossley prayed and felt impressed that if he would spend the day before the storm evacuating patients, he and his family would be all right. Since the Crossley’s home was in an area of potential danger, he obtained permission from his bishop for the family to stay in their ward building during the storm. “The ward is far enough north to be safe,” Brittany explains.
“When Dad said, ‘We’re going to the church and we’re going to be okay,’ I thought, ‘Trust the inspiration and follow him to higher ground,’” Danielle recalls. Soon they received calls that the mass evacuation had resulted in gridlock on the freeway. “It’s good that we listened to our father,” Brittany says. “Otherwise, we would have been stuck in traffic all through the storm.”
So they “hunkered down” at the church, in an inside room with no windows. “We had food and water. We played a board game to pass the time. At 11:00 p.m., the power went out, so we read scriptures by flashlight and had family prayer,” Danielle recalls. They listened to the wind rattling like a freight train. “At one point someone held a flashlight high so we could all see each other,” Brittany says. “I remember how grateful we were for the light. It made me think of the Savior, the Light of the World.”
Kim Dohm was comfortable at her grandparents’ house in Fort Worth, Texas, 500 miles from her home and parents. Her father and mother were helping with relief efforts in Slidell. But when she heard the news that evacuees wouldn’t be allowed back home for weeks or possibly months, it was more than she could bear. “One day at school, I just started to sob,” Kim says. “Everyone told me things would be okay, but I couldn’t stop crying.” Anxious and uncertain, she prayed. “I felt the most overwhelming peace in my heart,” she says. “I remembered how the Savior calmed the storm and reassured the disciples on the Sea of Galilee. My heart was raging, but His example calmed and reassured me.”
Fifteen-year-old Ashley Clarke of Slidell remembers that reading the Book of Mormon calmed her nerves and brought relief from the uncertainty of living in an evacuation area. So did writing in her journal. “It gave me something productive to do instead of getting annoyed,” she says.
It was almost a month before Emily Smith, 17, who had stayed with relatives, was reunited with her immediate family in Slidell. “Even though we were together, dealing with the destruction was depressing,” she recalls. “All of the downed trees, water-soaked furniture, and ruined clothes piling up in people’s yards—it could get to you. Some of the places where we used to hang out had vanished like they never existed.” Now, 9 months after the storm, things are slowly getting back to normal. “Each day it seems a little better,” Emily says. She and her friends are back in school, back in seminary, and finding new places to have fun.
“We saw that designer clothes, furniture, and even nice houses can be ruined. Material things don’t matter much,” says Samantha Adams, 17. Following the hurricane, she spent a lot of time working in the bishops’ storehouse. “When I saw people come in who had lost practically everything, it didn’t seem important to worry about how my hair looked or if I had makeup on. I was just glad to help them.”
Samantha, along with Ashley Clarke, and her brother Thomas, 17, worked day after day in the storehouse. “They knew the landmarks and locations, and they understood computers,” explains Mike Dohm, field operations coordinator for the command center that was set up there. “We gave them responsibility for mapping out locations so work crews could get where they needed to go. They saw a need, recognized they could do it, and showed up every day to get it done. There’s just no way we could have done as much as we did without them.”
In anticipation of the hurricanes, the Church had moved food, bottled water, generators, chain saws, and other equipment to safe sites near the coast. As soon as the storms passed, supplies and equipment were quickly moved to locations like the storehouse for use and distribution. Stakes and wards in surrounding areas organized thousands of LDS volunteers into work groups that came each weekend from September to November to put tarps on roofs, cut up trees lying across roads, and pull up water-soaked carpets.
Ben Bradley, 13, was on one of these crews. He and his father, sister, and brother drove seven hours each way from Albany, Georgia, to Gulfport, Mississippi, making the trip several times. “We wanted to help,” Ben says. “I learned that all it takes is a willingness to pitch in, and Mormons are good at that.” Often crews would complete a work order at a member’s house and then perform similar tasks in other houses or yards in the neighborhood. The Church was widely recognized for its ability to help its own members and its willingness to help others, too.
Hurricanes Katrina and Rita left reminders of their fury that will endure for a decade or more. But they also left a memory in the minds of these teens who survived the storms. “Sometimes people ask if living through Katrina has made me worried about the future,” Ashley says. “I tell them just the opposite is true. Now I know I can handle emergencies. All I need to do is hold fast to gospel principles and rely on a little help from my family and friends.”
Natural disasters are a possibility no matter where we live. The best way to prepare is to have emergency plans in place, survival supplies prepared, and training completed where it is available. Here are some other lessons learned by those who survived the hurricanes:
Make sure you have fresh batteries and flashlights.
Refrigerators and freezers will provide food for a few days.
Store water, both for drinking and for bathing.
Have important papers in a place where you can easily grab them.
Get to know your neighbors, and have a contact list for emergencies.
Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women camping experience can prepare you for living in emergency conditions.
Remember, “If ye are prepared ye shall not fear” (D&C 38:30).
“The time has come to get our houses in order. … There is a portent of stormy weather ahead to which we had better give heed.”—President Gordon B. Hinckley (“To the Boys and to the Men,” Ensign, Nov. 1998, 53).
To learn more about preparing for emergencies, go to www.lds.org and click on “Provident Living” and then on “Food Storage and Emergency Preparedness.” There you’ll find advice on topics such as how to prepare for the future, both spiritually and temporally; preparing for home emergencies and natural disasters; and a list of emergency preparation resources.

It was Friday. Payday! A day we all looked forward to like Christmas, twice a month. Most of us would go out at lunchtime to cash our checks, pay some bills, maybe do a little shopping and take a break from boring sack lunches.
As the checks were brought around, I happened to be passing the desk of one of the secretaries. Shauna was a single woman in her late twenties. She lived with her parents, and apparently they still provided a lot for her. Because when she opened her pay envelope she stopped and looked thoughtful for a minute.
“You know,” she said to no one in particular, “now I can’t remember if I cashed my last check or not.”
The rest of us looked at each other with amusement and maybe a little disbelief. Then Shauna went on to tell us how she had come across several uncashed checks in a drawer at home about six months before. That really blew us away. Those of us who had gathered at Shauna’s desk just walked away, shaking our heads.
Now, if you have trouble relating to Shauna’s attitude, just imagine this: For two weeks you have worked hard. Now you are cashing your paycheck. But when the teller puts the money on the counter, you just take some of it and leave the rest behind. That doesn’t make much more sense than Shauna’s attitude, does it?
So how about this scenario? You go to your church meetings even when you are tired or when you have too much homework or the Super Bowl is on TV. You go to seminary (early-morning, even), you pay your tithing, work on service projects, keep the Word of Wisdom, and stay morally clean despite temptations. You plug along, trying to do what’s right, keeping your parents and your bishop and your teachers happy.
But, are you happy? What are you getting out of it? Yes, you are getting blessings. But some of your less active LDS friends, and even your nonmember friends, seem to be enjoying many of those same blessings. They have loving families, good health, food and clothing, etc. So what are the blessings you are enjoying as a result of “doing the right things”? Do you think they are future blessings that will come when you get married or when you die and are judged?
If you are not happy now because you are trying to do what is right, you may be missing the full paycheck. Because living the gospel should be more than gritting your teeth and abstaining, more than doing your duty with grim determination. There’s joy and happiness to be found in it right now, at this time of your life.
How can you be happy living the gospel now? Here are some important keys.
Develop your testimony now. If you don’t feel that you have one, work at it. Study and fast and pray. Read the Book of Mormon. If you have a testimony or the beginnings of one, continue to develop it.
When you have a testimony, you have the Lord’s personal witness that the gospel principles you try to live are true. Then you are not just doing them for others. And when you open the line of communication with the Spirit, the Lord can bless you with the feelings of satisfaction and self-worth and joy that he alone can give.
If there is something you need to repent of, do it now! True repentance is unbelievably sweet. Your whole soul opens up to the joyous influence of the Spirit when you repent. When you delay repentance, you delay the joy that you could otherwise be experiencing right now.
Think about what you are doing. When you pay your tithing, do it with a prayer in your heart that says you are grateful to offer it to the Lord. When you go to sacrament meeting, think about what you are doing when you take the sacrament. When you work on a service project, remember the Lord’s commandments to love and serve others.
Don’t try to be two people—one person on Sunday and someone else the other six days of the week. Don’t walk the edge, toying with temptation, seeing how close you can come to the brink without falling off the edge. For example, it is difficult enough to remain pure. If you watch the wrong movies and read the wrong books, if you look with longing at what others are doing in the world while you wish and imagine, then the Spirit cannot give you the rewarding feelings of peace and joy and approval that could be yours through controlling your desires. There will not be room in your heart and mind.
Above all, remember that “men are, that they might have joy” (2 Ne. 2:25)—joy in this life as well as the life to come, and this is the best pay of all. Your Father in Heaven loves you. And as you keep his commandments willingly, and thoughtfully, and prayerfully, he stands ready to bless you now with the sweet, joyful reassurance of the Spirit. You will still experience the sorrows that are part of life, but you will also discover the joys that are equally a part of life.

When my mama had an operation on her back, I prayed hard that the operation would go well. When she came home from the hospital, I saw her crying, and I asked her why she was crying. She said she was in pain. I asked her if she wanted me to say a prayer and she said yes. I quickly knelt down and asked Heavenly Father for her pain to pass so she could stop crying. When I ended the prayer my mother was no longer crying. She was smiling and she hugged me and kissed me.

This truth is illustrated in the experience of two young missionaries serving in Europe, in an area where there were few convert baptisms. I suppose it would have been understandable for them to think that what they did wouldn’t make much of a difference.
But these two missionaries had faith, and they were committed. They had the attitude that if no one listened to their message, it would not be because they had not given their best effort.
One day they had the feeling to approach the residents of a well-kept four-story apartment building. They started on the first floor and knocked on each door, presenting their saving message of Jesus Christ and the Restoration of His Church.
No one on the first floor would listen to them.
How easy it would have been to say, “We tried. Let’s stop right here. Let’s go and try another building.”
But these two missionaries had faith and they were willing to work, and so they knocked on every door on the second floor.
Again, no one would listen.
The third floor was the same. And so was the fourth—that is, until they knocked on the last door of the fourth floor.
When that door opened, a young girl smiled at them and asked them to wait while she spoke with her mother.
Her mother was only 36 years old, had recently lost her husband, and was in no mood to talk with Mormon missionaries. So she told her daughter to send them away.
But the daughter pleaded with her. These young men were so nice, she said. And it would take only a few minutes.
So, reluctantly, the mother agreed. The missionaries delivered their message and handed a book to the mother to read—the Book of Mormon.
After they left, the mother decided she would read at least a few pages.
She finished the entire book within a few days.
Not long after, this wonderful single-parent family entered the waters of baptism.
When the small family attended their local branch in Frankfurt, Germany, a young deacon noticed the beauty of one of the daughters and thought to himself, “These missionaries are doing a great job!”
That young deacon’s name was Dieter Uchtdorf. And the charming young woman—the one who had pleaded with her mother to listen to the missionaries—has the beautiful name of Harriet. She is loved by all who meet her as she accompanies me in my travels. She has blessed the lives of many people through her love for the gospel and her sparkling personality. She truly is the sunshine of my life.
How often have I lifted my heart in gratitude for the two missionaries who did not stop at the first floor! How often my heart reaches out in appreciation for their faith and work. How often have I given thanks that they kept going—even to the fourth floor, last door.

The next day, Sunday, in testimony meeting they sat together, sang the opening song with great enthusiasm, and then with quiet reverence and a special depth of feeling blended their voices in the sacramental hymn. When the priesthood leader turned the time over to the audience for testimonies, the girl stood up.
““I love my dad and mother,” she began, then stopped, brushed a tear away with the back of her hand, cleared her throat, and continued. “I haven’t always been able to say that. When I was about thirteen, I had a problem and went unexpected to my father’s office. He is president of a large corporation. Upon being told that he was too busy to see me, I rushed home, flung myself upon the bed, and cried. Mother, hearing my sobs, came into the room. ‘Daddy doesn’t love me!’ I blurted out through the tears. ‘Why do you say that?’ Mother asked. Then I told her what had happened. Nothing more was said, except my mother firmly declared that Father did indeed love me, and I was not to think otherwise again.
“The next day while at school I received a call from my father’s private secretary. ‘Could you come to the office at 4:00 o’clock today for a visit with President ____________?’ and she named my father. I was thrilled, and the appointment was set. At 4:00 o’clock I was ushered into my father’s office with as much pomp and ceremony as the richest client. There, my father told me to sit in a brand-new chair located next to his desk. Then he said, ‘That is the chair. Whenever you have things bothering you, come and sit in that chair, and I will drop whatever I am doing and listen to and help you, because I care about you more than I care about anything in this world except your mother and your brothers and sisters.’ And you know,” the girl said, wiping more tears from her eyes, “he never once broke his promise.”

I guess I should start out by saying that I’m just a regular, ordinary, ten year old who lives on a very ordinary street—North Maple. I’ve been going to Primary since I was little, and, of course, I’ve been planning on going on a mission as long as I can remember. But practicing being a missionary is something I haven’t done much—that is, until about a month ago. And that’s where my being a regular, ordinary boy is so amazing. I mean, if I can do it, anybody can!
You probably should know that I’m the only member of the Church in my whole school, except for my little sister. A lot of people know we’re Latter-day Saints. It isn’t hard to figure out, since my family doesn’t go to the local sport club’s Sunday soccer games, we have family home evening every Monday night, and we read the Book of Mormon every day. Sometimes my friends tease me about all the things Latter-day Saints can’t do. One time Nick even wanted to know if Church members could drink milk—and he was serious!
Anyway, when my best friend’s family moved, I resigned myself to living out my days never having any members my own age in my school class. There were two other people in my Primary class, but they didn’t go to my school.
About a month ago, the Millers moved into our neighborhood. Right away Mom took over some of her homemade enchiladas, and Dad helped Mr. Miller carry in their furniture. I was pretty excited to find out that they had an eleven-year-old son who likes baseball cards.
Jeff invited me up to his room a few days later. There were still boxes and stuff all over the place. I was busy admiring his coin collection, when I noticed that he had a picture of Jesus Christ on his nightstand. Whoa! My thoughts started spinning. The whole rest of the room was pretty much a mess, but this picture looked like something he had unpacked right away. I knew he wasn’t a Mormon—I’d already found that out—so I asked him about the picture.
Jeff wasn’t embarrassed or anything. He said that his whole family had prayed a lot before they moved to decide whether his dad should take a job in Chicago or come here. They had felt very good about their decision. He said they didn’t know why they were supposed to move here, but they knew that Jesus Christ loved them and they were sure that He would bless them to know why someday.
Well, I started getting pretty tingly all over, and then I did a very scary thing for a regular, ordinary, ten year old. I told him that my whole family loved Jesus Christ, too, and that we prayed every day. I said I knew that someday his family would know why they had moved to this neighborhood.
Well, since then, Jeff and I have become good friends. He came with me to Primary Activity Day two weeks ago and asked a lot of questions about the Church. Some of the answers were easy, and others I had to find out from Mom and Dad. Even Mr. and Mrs. Miller are starting to ask about the Church. We’re having them over to our house next Friday to hear a missionary discussion with the elders. Who knows? Maybe I will live to see another member family live on North Maple Street.

I mention one more example of the incorrect way to accomplish home teaching. President Marion G. Romney, who was a counselor in the First Presidency some years ago, used to tell about his home teacher who once went to the Romney home on a cold winter night. He kept his hat in his hand and shifted nervously when invited to sit down and give his message. As he remained standing, he said, “Well, I’ll tell you, Brother Romney, it’s cold outside, and I left my car engine running so it wouldn’t stop. I just came by so I could tell the bishop I had made my visits.”6
President Ezra Taft Benson, after relating President Romney’s experience in a meeting of priesthood holders, then said, “We can do better than that, brethren—much better!”7 I agree.

SISTER RENLUND: You mean how she submitted Lena Sofia’s name for temple work?
ASHLEY: I love that story. Shortly after Lena Sofia died in 1966, Grandma Mariana took her name in person to the Genealogy Department.3 The man behind the counter told her that Church policy stated that someone had to have been dead for at least a year before temple work could be done for that person. Grandma Mariana replied, “I don’t like that answer. Let me talk to someone who can give a different one. She’s waited long enough.”
Grandpa Åke said that he tried to reason with her, but she gave him a look he knew very well—that another word on the subject would be pointless. Grandpa wrote in his journal: “I probably should feel sorry for the man downtown who said that nothing could be done for at least a year. That man just didn’t know what he was up against. I could have told him, but he didn’t ask.”4
ELDER RENLUND: Less than two months later, with the authorization of the President of the Church, Lena Sofia’s and Leander’s temple work was completed. Grandma Mariana and Grandpa Åke acted as proxies for Lena Sofia and Leander, who were sealed for time and all eternity in the Salt Lake Temple. And did you know that now it is Church policy that a person who has not been able to enjoy the blessings of the temple because of distance doesn’t have to wait a whole year? That way, others like Lena Sofia can receive those blessings as quickly as possible. As Grandma Mariana told the man in the Genealogy Department, “They have waited long enough.”

Marta dug a hole in the dirt. She put a tomato plant in the hole and patted the dirt around it. Then she planted some round onions. Next, Marta carefully put watermelon seeds in the dirt.
Marta gave the garden water every day. Finally the garden was ready. Mom picked tomatoes. Marta pulled onions out of the ground. Dad carried a watermelon into the kitchen. Mom used the tomatoes and onions to make sauce for spaghetti. Dad cut the watermelon into sweet, juicy pieces. Marta said, “My favorite foods are the ones we grow!”

While the formal classroom may be intimidating at times, some of the most effective teaching takes place other than in the chapel or the classroom. Well do I remember that about this season, some years ago, members holding the Aaronic Priesthood would eagerly look forward to an annual outing commemorating the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood. By the busload the young men of our stake journeyed ninety miles north to the Clarkston Cemetery, where we viewed the grave of Martin Harris, one of the three witnesses of the Book of Mormon. While we surrounded the beautiful granite shaft which marks his grave, Elder Glen L. Rudd, then a high councilor, presented the background of the life of Martin Harris, read from the Book of Mormon his testimony, and then bore his own witness to the truth. The young men listened with rapt attention, touched the granite marker, and pondered the words they had heard and the feelings they had felt.

At a park in Logan, lunch was enjoyed. The group of young men then lay down on the lawn at the Logan Temple and gazed upward at its lofty spires. Beautiful white clouds hurried by the spires, moved along by a gentle breeze. The purpose of temples was taught. Covenants and promises became much more than words. The desire to be worthy to enter those temple doors entered those youthful hearts. Heaven was very close that day. Learning what we should learn was assured.

Three days after Sally arrived home from Mexico, she was crowned Miss Utah. A short time later a special letter for Sally came in the mail. It was one she had written to herself several weeks before as part of an assignment in an M Men and Gleaner class.
“Write something which will help you later in your life,” the teacher said. “And then, when the time is right, I’ll mail you your letter.” Appropriately, the letter came:
Hi Sally …
By the time you receive this letter, you will have been to Mexico and probably will have made some important decisions.
Just remember, the Lord loves you and he has a very special responsibility for you in the near future. Strive each and every day to draw close unto him and to let him guide and influence your life.
You have a very special talent that you should work at diligently. If you do, you will bring joy and happiness to those around you and will please the Lord.
Always keep your ideals high and be the kind of girl that a wonderful young Latter-day Saint man will love and cherish as his wife.
Honor your parents, and though there may be problems sometimes, remember to love and understand them and to be as patient and tolerant as you would want them to be with you.
People are aware of your example. Remember always to walk in the ways of the Lord and he will bless you beyond measure. You will have many opportunities to be in the public eye, so do nothing that would be contrary to Christ’s example.
Work hard. Use discipline. Have courage, faith, and pray always.
As you love yourself, you will love others.
Smile,
Sally
“Sally,” I exclaimed when she shared the letter with me, “you were positively prophetic when you wrote that!”
“Not really,” she replied thoughtfully. “It is the kind of letter any young Latter-day Saint person could have written to himself.
“Every one of us has important decisions to make,” she continued, “little decisions like whether to attend a bull fight or a Sabbath day meeting and larger ones like whether or not to attend college, go on a mission, marry in the temple—the list goes on …
“Each of us has special responsibilities, talents—and parents to love and to honor.
“Others look to our example. Each of us is ‘that Mormon girl or boy’ from someplace or other. Wherever we go, we represent ourselves, our parents, and the Lord.
“And each one is preparing himself (or herself) to be the eternal companion of someone special who is also preparing. Then when both are ready, we will find one another.
“But for right now, each of us has 24 hours every day in which to work, pray, practice discipline, and cause the wonderful experiences of life to happen.”

Brady really liked the song Sister Robers had taught in Primary. He whistled the melody all the way home from church. He hummed it as he washed his hands for lunch and as he raced downstairs to help his mom.
“Hi, Mom,” he called cheerfully. “What can I do to help?”
His mom chuckled as she handed him the forks. “Please finish setting the table.”
“What are you laughing about?” Brady asked as he began putting a fork next to each plate.
“You’re the fourth person who has offered to help,” Mom said. “There’s nothing like a fast Sunday to get cooperation in this family!”
Brady laughed with her. It was true. All the Marsh family eagerly volunteered to help speed up the meal preparation after fast and testimony meeting.
“Brady!” Dad called from the study. “Can you come in here for a minute?”
“Sure, Dad,” Brady called back. He hummed as he put the last spoon in place, then raced to the study. In the dim light of the hall he tripped over something hard and fell to the floor.
“Ouch!” he said, rubbing his stubbed toe. “What was that?” Looking around he saw Trent’s dump truck. It was his little brother’s favorite toy, and he didn’t let Brady play with it. Forgetting the pain, Brady began to work the levers on the truck.
“That’s mine!” Trent yelled from the doorway. “Give it back!”
Brady gave the truck a shove toward his brother. It missed hitting him by inches. “Here, baby. I don’t want to play with your old truck, anyway!”
Brady stomped on down the hall, fuming.
“Come on in,” Dad called from the study. “We need to talk about family home evening. It’s your turn to give the lesson, remember?”
“I forgot,” Brady mumbled. He didn’t feel like thinking about a lesson. He wanted to be mad.
“Is there something you learned in church today that you could share with the family?” Dad sat back quietly and waited for Brady to answer.
“No.” Right then he couldn’t think of one thing he’d learned at Primary that day.
“Maybe I should help Mom get lunch on the table,” Dad said gently, looking at Brady’s angry face. “You sit here where it’s quiet and think. I’m sure it won’t take long for you to come up with something. The books we use for the lessons are on the shelves.”
“All right,” Brady muttered.
After the door closed, Brady stared out the window. All he could think about was being angry. He picked up a pencil and began doodling. As Brady sketched, he began to hum the Primary song that was still in the back of his mind. He stopped, his anger forgotten. What was that song again? he asked himself. “‘I’m trying to be like Jesus; I’m following in his ways,’” he sang softly. That’s it! That’s what I’ll use for my lesson. I’ll challenge the family to try to be like Jesus this week, he decided. I’ll teach them about what He was like and then ask them to follow His example!
After lunch Brady read all he could about the Savior. I’m going to be more like Him, too, he promised himself. I’m going to play with Trent. I’ll help Merry with her chores so that she can practice the piano more. I’m going to be a better friend to all the guys at school.
The next day after school, Brady hurried home to finish preparing his lesson. He took the pictures of Jesus off the walls to use in the lesson. He especially liked the one of Jesus blessing the children.
It seemed forever before supper was over and the last dish was put away. But finally he could start his lesson. The rest of the family seemed to really listen to him as he showed the pictures and told examples of Christ’s life from the New Testament and the Book of Mormon. At the end he said, “I want our family to really try to live as much like the Savior as we can. It’s a challenge from me to you. Next week we’ll all report on how we did.”
For the closing song, they all sang “I’m Trying to Be Like Jesus.” Merry played the piano, and Trent led the music. No one even snickered as he wildly waved his arm. They wanted to be like Jesus, and He would never hurt anyone’s feelings.
After the lesson, Mom gave Brady a hug and Merry stopped to say, “Great lesson.”
Brady smiled as he put the pictures back on the walls and returned the books to the study. When he came back to the family room and saw Trent standing on a chair, patting the picture of Jesus blessing the children, he yelled angrily, “What are you doing? You’re going to knock that picture off the wall, you little brat!”
Trent turned around and smiled at him. “I’m going to be just like Him,” he said, patting the picture again. Hopping down from the chair, Trent pushed his dump truck over to Brady. “Here. You can play with my truck. Jesus would let you.”
Embarrassed, Brady just stood there looking at the truck. Then he walked over to his little brother and put his arm around him.
“Thanks, Trent,” he said. “I’m going to be a better big brother too. Come on. I’ll help you get ready for bed. Then I’ll let you listen to my new tape.”
“On your very own recorder?” Trent asked in awe.
“Yes,” Brady answered. “Until it’s time to go to sleep.”
Trent noisily ran upstairs with Brady following behind, whistling his song. It was going to be a great week!

“Being adopted means having a family that loves you,” says nine-year-old Kimberly who was adopted and sealed to our family five years ago. Often adoptive parents think they will teach and guide the adopted child, but in our family Kimberly is the one who often does the teaching.
Kim recently entered two events in a track-and-field competition. She had never raced before but wanted to give it a try. She positioned herself on the track to compete with the 20 or so other girls her age in the 100-meter race. A shot rang out to begin the race and, with hundreds of spectators looking on, Kim started running. I was waiting near the finish line with camera poised to capture her coming down the lane, when I realized that she was in last place. I expected to see a disappointed little girl, but Kim had a huge smile on her face! When I retrieved her from the group of girls, she blurted out, “Mom, that was so much fun! When’s my next race?” She then rushed off to sit with her new friends.
Feeling shocked, but extremely proud of my daughter’s positive attitude, I took my place once again at the finish line to see her race in the 50-meter dash. The starter’s gun fired again, and I caught sight of Kim’s beaming smile as she ran with all her might toward me. As I watched my beautiful daughter cross the finish line, parents around me were jumping up and down, congratulating their own daughters. I stood calmly as a warm, peaceful feeling of gratitude filled my heart. Only I knew how far Kim had come in the years since she came to our home. She was once a frail, malnourished, and withdrawn child, and now her strength and confidence couldn’t be contained. She cried out, “I came in third, Mom!”
I gently replied, “No, Kimmie, you didn’t come in third. The winners are over there receiving their awards.”
“I meant I came in third to last, and I want to race again!” I hugged her tightly, and we both giggled out loud as we walked off the dusty track. I knew that Kim was the real winner and had been blessed with gifts and talents far greater than speed and agility. How blessed I felt at that moment to be her mother. I can only hope that I will face my challenges and trials in life with a smile on my face and the same positive outlook that Kim showed me that day. I thank Heavenly Father for bringing us together and pray that I can continue to learn from her example.

During my life I have found that it is very important for children to listen carefully to their parents. They can learn much from them. My father was a music student in Boston. He sat at a rented piano and played the music of Edvard Grieg, Frederic Chopin, Ludwig van Beethoven, and Robert Schumann. I can still hear that music and over the years I have learned to play most of it myself. It has added greatly to my appreciation of the world into which I was born. Those beautiful sounds have made a great contribution to my life, crowding out many of the uglier sounds we occasionally hear.

Stelio Mauahiti lived next door to an attractive building in Paea on the island of Tahiti. He was told it was a church, but he didn’t really know what kind of church. The grounds were always neat, and people seemed to come nearly every day to participate in a variety of activities. On Sundays, he could hear the singing as the doors and windows were always open. Other days, he watched boys near his own age play basketball on the outdoor court. He paid particular attention to the two young men who wore white shirts and dark trousers.
Soon he was playing basketball with them. Then he started to listen to what they had to say. He and his mother agreed to be taught the gospel. At their baptism, Stelio made up his mind to serve a mission someday.
That day has come. Elder Mauahiti was called to serve in the French Polynesia Mission. One of his first assignments was to the village of Uturoa on the island of Raiatea. Mission life is very different from his life before his mission. Now he is the young man in the white shirt and dark trousers. Now he is the one who plays basketball on the outdoor court with those who are wondering about the Church. Now he is the one who does the teaching.
Best of all, Elder Mauahiti sees the same thing happening to his people that Elder Pratt saw 150 years ago. He’s seeing people change for the better. “I have seen the difference between the homes of members and the homes of nonmembers,” says Elder Mauahiti. “I have seen lives changed, hearts touched by the Spirit. I know that it’s not me who makes the difference, but the Spirit of the Lord working through his missionaries.”

Not long ago, I had an experience with cheating. Like you, I felt unable to compete, and so I gave in little by little until I rationalized myself into thinking I wasn’t really cheating at all. I have never been more embarrassed than when my teacher informed me that she wasn’t counting my test. But that was just the beginning. I then had to admit to myself and to my parents that what I had been doing was cheating. It took me the rest of the year to regain that teacher’s trust as well as my parents’.
Don’t take that first step because it gets easier every time. Remember my experience. No amount of success is worth the heartache of not liking yourself.
Name withheld

A pregnant woman living in one of the villages neighbouring our small family farm passed through on foot one Saturday morning on her way to the community clinic where she was due to give birth. As her labour pains increased, she found herself without any help or assistance in an unoccupied portion of our farm. This would have been a very difficult moment for any woman in that condition.
My wife, Vianney, being prompted to head to that side of the farm for some reason, found the woman giving birth without any help. Upon seeing this, my wife took responsibility to help this woman until she completely delivered the baby. Then she wrapped her arms around her.
During childbirth, this woman had sustained an injury, which led to a massive loss of blood. She could not be treated in a small health centre like the one near our farm in the Kikanda Sector. She was losing her strength, which meant that her life was in real danger.
It was at this moment that my wife came to request my assistance. She asked me to drive her and this woman very quickly to the big health centre where this woman would be properly taken care of—in hopes of saving the life of both mother and baby.
We drove quickly but carefully, delivering the woman and her new baby to the clinic. The worst was averted. Vianney covered all the medical expenses and even bought a layette for the baby, since nothing else was ready.
This opportunity to serve, where we helped a stranger, is so similar to the teachings of the Saviour found in Luke 10:30–36, in answer to the question, “And who is my neighbour?” In response to that question, the Saviour taught the principles of unselfish service in a story we now refer to as the parable of the good Samaritan.

When I was 10 years old, my family became refugees in a new land. I had always been a good student in school—that is, until we arrived in West Germany. There my educational experience was a significantly different one. The geography we studied in my school was new to me. The history we studied was also very different. Before, I had been learning Russian as a second language; now, it was English. This was hard for me. Indeed, there were moments when I truly believed my tongue simply was not made to speak English.
Because so much of the curriculum was new and strange to me, I fell behind. For the first time in my life, I began to wonder if I was simply not smart enough for school.
Fortunately I had a teacher who taught me to be patient. He taught me that steady and consistent work—patient persistence—would help me to learn.
Over time, difficult subjects became clearer—even English. Slowly I began to see that if I applied myself consistently, I could learn. It didn’t come quickly, but with patience, it did come.

As we continue our thinking along the lines of plans, destinations, goals, arrivals, and commitments, we can learn from two more of my friends. Some of my friends are unusual. They come from unusual places. Last Tuesday evening, as I was clearing my desk prior to leaving for home, the telephone rang: “Brother Ashton, I have permission from the prison authorities to come and visit with you. Will you wait until I get there?”
Frank came. We talked. In response to the questions, “Now that you are going to be released from the prison in one week, what are your plans? What are you going to do? What are your goals?” he answered, “I have an apartment. I have a full-time job. I have a wonderful sweetheart. I am going to continue my education. I have a church assignment. I have a lot of things I need to do. I am thirty-two years old and I am only a teacher in the priesthood. I want to be an elder before too long.”
He ended his friendly visit with a request: “Brother Ashton, if I keep myself squared away, will you go to the temple with me in a few months and perform my marriage?”
Contrast this, if you will, with another conversation with a member of the same institution. I spoke to him during a visit some months ago. As I think back, I selected him to talk to because no one else was speaking to him.
“What are you going to do when you get out of this place?” I said. “All I want is out,” he snarled back. “I’m in here on a phony rap, and I want out.” No plans, no goals, no aims, no preparation. All he wants is out, and I am afraid from his attitude he doesn’t care how he accomplishes it.
I humbly bear witness to you today that an honorably completed mission, a celestial marriage, a valued testimony, a position of major responsibility in the Church are not destinations in the lives of true Latter-day Saints. They can be important aids in eternal progression. They will not save you and me in the kingdom of God. Only living the life of a faithful Latter-day Saint will make that possible.
“If thou wilt do good, yea, and hold out faithful to the end, thou shalt be saved in the kingdom of God, which is the greatest of all the gifts of God; for there is no gift greater than the gift of salvation.” (D&C 6:13.)

I was really touched by the story “Please Bless Kathy” in the November 1989 issue. I had the same experience with a very good friend of mine who really hurt me. After a year of just wallowing in hate, I decided to pray about her, and though it was hard, my feelings towards her changed. I discovered that, instead of being angry towards her, I felt more sorrow, for she didn’t have the religion I have to rely upon. I also hoped that maybe I could give that to her. Thanks.
Melissa BurfordEugene, Oregon