Gospel Story Finder

After two students were killed and 22 others wounded in a tragic school shooting in Springfield, Oregon, last May, LDS teens in the area wanted to do something to help their community heal. A tri-stake youth conference was quickly rearranged to include a service project at the high school where the tragedy occurred.
Three bus loads of LDS youth from the Eugene, Eugene West, and Santa Clara Stakes cleaned and beautified the school grounds. Many of the teens who worked on the project had been at the school when the shooting took place and had friends who were wounded. For these students, the service project was as healing for themselves as it was for the community.
“It was such a good feeling to put things back together for our school and community and ourselves,” said Kawika Lawther. “Having the gospel in our lives also helped us get over our feelings so much faster,” added Corwin Lewis, student-body vice president of the school.

Similar to the above accident, but with much more serious consequences, was the situation of a young man who came to see me. He confessed to a serious sin, but thought that he should be allowed to continue as if nothing had happened because “It was an accident. I really didn’t intend to do it,” he said.

No one really wants to commit sins, but at the same time, I don’t think that very many, if any, sins are really as much an accident as they are the direct result of “loss of control.”

When I interviewed in-depth this young man I found out that his life was very much out of control. He was seeing the same young lady much, much too often and was spending too many hours at a time with her, and they were going to the wrong places and doing the wrong things. They were “an accident waiting for a place to happen.” Satan provided the place, and the “accident” happened. They were living too fast. They had lost control of their speed. They were going in the wrong direction. They were not in holy places. They were not doing the right things. They were not home at the appropriate hour their parents had asked them to be. They had begun to lose their virtue piecemeal. No one was in control at all.

A few years ago, our daughter and son-in-law were asked to team teach a Primary class of five active four-year-old little boys. Our daughter was the designated teacher and our son-in-law the designated enforcer, doing their best to maintain a sense of calm amidst occasional chaos in order to teach gospel principles to the children.
During one especially rough class, after a number of warnings to an energetic little boy, our son-in-law escorted the four-year-old out of the classroom. Once outside the room, and about to talk to the little boy about his behavior and the need to find his parents, the little boy stopped our son-in-law before he could say a word and, with his hand up in the air, and with great emotion, blurted out, “Sometimes—sometimes—it’s just hard for me to think about Jesus!”

I was the oldest in a family of five children, and I tried to set a good example for my younger brothers and sisters. But occasionally we got into trouble. One time, when I was about twelve or thirteen years old, my brothers and sisters and I were doing something our parents had told us not to do: play with matches. We were lighting long rye grass stems and holding them over the creek while we watched them burn. It was great fun—until some burning embers dropped on the other side of the creek and set the grass on fire. The fire burned about forty acres on our own and our neighbors’ farms. Hundreds of neighbors came to help put out the fire when they saw the clouds of smoke.
Late that night, after the fire was out, my father came home. He thanked the neighbors, and they all drove away, leaving us there alone—Dad, Mom, us children, and the blackened hillside as evidence of our folly. Dad didn’t yell at us. Instead, he invited us into the kitchen, got out the five-gallon washtub, filled it with water, set five chairs around it, and put a full box of matches on each chair.
“You like to start fires?” he said. “All right. I want you to light each match in your box, one by one. Let it burn down, and then drop it into the tub. I want you to get your fill of lighting matches.”
We sat there virtually all night, lighting matches and dropping them into the tub. From then on, I could never again see a fire on a farm or in the forest without a pain in the pit of my stomach. I gained a great respect for fire—and for my father—that day.

“Mint chip,” Erin thought. “No, strawberry.” She peered down at the rows of different flavors inside the ice-cream freezer.
“What are you going to have?” Erin’s best friend, Stephanie, asked. She was already licking her scoop of vanilla, the same kind she ordered every Thursday afternoon when the two girls stopped at the Ice Cream Castle after their tap-dance class.
“I’m still deciding,” Erin said. “They all look good.” Erin had just settled on a scoop of peanut-butter fudge when the bell above the store’s front door tinkled.
In walked Brad and Chris, two boys from school. Erin cringed. Brad and Chris were mean to everyone, and Erin was afraid of them. As the boys sat down at a table at the back of the shop, Erin breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they hadn’t noticed her.
But when the girl behind the counter asked Erin what she wanted, Brad called out, “Hey, Stephanie, be careful Erin doesn’t eat all your ice cream.” He made an oinking sound, and Chris laughed.
Erin’s face got hot, and her legs started to shake. She wanted to run out the door as fast as she could, but she felt like she was superglued to the floor.
“Don’t pay any attention to them,” Stephanie whispered. “Just go ahead and order whatever you want.”
But a peanut-butter fudge ice-cream cone didn’t sound so good anymore. In a small voice Erin said, “Could I have a lemonade, please?”
“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Stephanie asked. “Don’t let those guys bother you.”
But Erin just nodded. It was pretty much impossible not to be bothered by Brad and Chris.
While she waited for her lemonade, Erin glanced down at her blue jeans and purple T-shirt. Leaving the house that morning, she had felt good about how she looked. Now she thought she looked horrible.
The next Thursday when they got to the dance studio, Erin and Stephanie changed into their stretch pants and shiny black tap shoes and started warming up on the scuffed hardwood floor. One whole wall of the dance room was covered in mirrors. When she caught a glimpse of herself—legs moving, arms waving—Erin thought, “I’m bigger than the other girls. I look terrible in these dance clothes.”
Erin remembered what had happened at the Ice Cream Castle the week before, and the knot in her stomach tightened. She was about to go call her mom to come get her when Miss Yvette, their teacher, came into the room. “OK, girls,” she said. “Let’s start with some flaps and shuffles.” She turned on the stereo, and jazzy music spilled into the room.
It was too late to escape. Erin fell into line with the other girls and started moving her feet. The silver taps on the bottom of her shoes clicked and clacked, and Erin let her arms swing in time with the music. She had been taking tap-dance lessons for only a few months, but she loved hearing the sounds her feet made when she moved them just right. Pretty soon, Erin was working so hard to keep up with Miss Yvette that she forgot about how sad she felt.
Toward the end of class, Miss Yvette said, “I want everyone to line up in the corner. We’re going to practice our turns across the floor.” As the girls in front of Erin twirled and leaped, Erin hopped a little, trying to get her feet to do what she wanted them to do. Because she was just a beginner compared to the other girls, she had to try extra hard to get things right.
When it was her turn, Erin started dancing toward the opposite corner. “Stomp-shuffle-step and turn,” Miss Yvette instructed, and that’s exactly what Erin’s feet did. She was doing it! As she turned, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror: blonde hair flying, body spinning, and biting her lip in concentration. As Erin reached the far wall, Miss Yvette shouted, “Bravo, Erin! Good work!”
By the end of class, Erin’s bangs were damp with sweat and her heart was pounding. Miss Yvette said, “You girls did great today. I want to congratulate Erin. She’s only been in this class for a little while, but she’s worked really hard to catch up with everyone. She wins the prize for most improved!”
The girls started clapping. From across the room, Stephanie shouted, “Way to go, Erin!” Just like at the Ice Cream Castle, Erin felt her cheeks start to burn. But this time it wasn’t because she was embarrassed, but because she was happy.
On her way out of the room, Erin watched herself in the mirror. “So what if I’m bigger than some people?” she thought. “Everyone is different.”
Erin knew Heavenly Father had given her her body. From now on, she would be grateful for all the good things her body could do.

Permit me to share with you a more modern illustration of this principle. Sister Shumway’s parents, Josefina and Rufino Villanueva joined the Church as a young married couple in 1964 while teaching at a university in Manila, Philippines. Shortly after their baptism, they decided to move to the island of Negros in the central Philippines, where Rufino’s parents lived. The Church had no congregations on Negros at the time. The American missionary who taught the Villanueva's wrote in his journal that he had little hope that the Villanueva's would stay active in the Church when there was no organized Church there to be active in.

Josefina and Rufino had a choice. They could have said, “With no ward or branch here, we’ll just go back to our previous church.” Or “Once the Church comes to Negros, we’ll be active again.” Or “no one here even knows we joined the Church, so we can just pretend like we’re not members.” With little knowledge of Church organization and structure, but with firm albeit fledgling testimonies of the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith’s First Vision, they courageously shouted “nevertheless” at all those reasons and moved forward with faith.

They wrote to the mission home in Manila for Church manuals and held Church in their home. They kept their tithing in a jar, and whenever a missionary visited them on his way to Manila, they gave him their tithing. They remained true to their covenants, and several years later, when a group was organized on Negros, the Villanueva's became stalwarts of the Church. Thousands of people have been blessed by their service. The impact of that “nevertheless” moment is multigenerational, and their children and grandchildren are the beneficiaries of that legacy of faith and devotion. I owe them more than I could ever say for raising such a glorious daughter.

“Hi, Stori.”
“I love you, Stori.”
“Stori, you’re so pretty.”
Everyone wants to talk with Stori B. And Stori talks with everyone. In many ways she is a typical three-year-old. But there is one big difference—Stori is totally deaf. She uses her hands to speak in sign language. She is the only deaf person in her ward, so almost everyone is learning sign language.
Stori has taught the Primary children that talking with their hands is fun. She’s always willing to talk with anyone, even if they know only a few words of sign language. Kaylie learned the letters of the deaf alphabet and can say “I love you.” Joseph learned some sign language words in school, and he enjoys practicing with Stori. The entire Primary is learning to sign the song “I Will Follow God’s Plan.” Stori likes watching them sing to her.

Brothers and sisters, when we met in general conference six months ago, none of us anticipated the coming changes that would tug at the heartstrings of the entire Church. Elder L. Tom Perry delivered a powerful message about the irreplaceable role that marriage and family occupy in the Lord’s plan. We were stunned when just a few days later, we learned of the cancer that would soon take him from us.

Though President Boyd K. Packer’s health had been declining, he continued to “soldier on” in the work of the Lord. He was frail last April, yet he was determined to declare his witness as long as he had breath. Then, just 34 days after Elder Perry’s passing, President Packer also stepped across the veil.

We missed Elder Richard G. Scott at our last general conference, but we’ve reflected upon the powerful witness of the Savior he had borne in many previous conferences. And just 12 days ago, Elder Scott was called home and reunited with his beloved Jeanene.

I had the privilege of being with all of these Brethren during their final days, including joining members of President Packer’s and Elder Scott’s immediate families just before their passing. It has been difficult for me to believe that these three treasured friends, these magnificent servants of the Lord, are gone. I miss them more than I can say.

As I’ve reflected on this unexpected turn of events, one of the impressions that has lingered with me is that which I observed in these surviving wives. Etched in my mind are the serene images of Sister Donna Smith Packer and Sister Barbara Dayton Perry at their husbands’ bedsides, both women filled with love, truth, and pure faith.

As Sister Packer sat next to her husband in his final hours, she radiated that peace that passes all understanding. Though she realized that her beloved companion of almost 70 years would soon depart, she showed the tranquility of a faith-filled woman. She seemed angelic, just as she was in this photo of them at the dedication of the Brigham City Utah Temple.

I saw that same kind of love and faith emanating from Sister Perry. Her devotion to both her husband and the Lord was obvious, and it moved me deeply.

Through their husbands’ final hours and continuing to the present day, these stalwart women have shown the strength and courage that covenant-keeping women always demonstrate. It would be impossible to measure the influence that such women have, not only on families but also on the Lord’s Church, as wives, mothers, and grandmothers; as sisters and aunts; as teachers and leaders; and especially as exemplars and devout defenders of the faith.

This has been true in every gospel dispensation since the days of Adam and Eve. Yet the women of this dispensation are distinct from the women of any other because this dispensation is distinct from any other. This distinction brings both privileges and responsibilities.

Thirty-six years ago, in 1979, President Spencer W. Kimball made a profound prophecy about the impact that covenant-keeping women would have on the future of the Lord’s Church. He prophesied: “Much of the major growth that is coming to the Church in the last days will come because many of the good women of the world … will be drawn to the Church in large numbers. This will happen to the degree that the women of the Church reflect righteousness and articulateness in their lives and to the degree that the women of the Church are seen as distinct and different—in happy ways—from the women of the world.”

My dear sisters, you who are our vital associates during this winding-up scene, the day that President Kimball foresaw is today. You are the women he foresaw! Your virtue, light, love, knowledge, courage, character, faith, and righteous lives will draw good women of the world, along with their families, to the Church in unprecedented numbers!

We, your brethren, need your strength, your conversion, your conviction, your ability to lead, your wisdom, and your voices. The kingdom of God is not and cannot be complete without women who make sacred covenants and then keep them, women who can speak with the power and authority of God!

President Packer declared:
“We need women who are organized and women who can organize. We need women with executive ability who can plan and direct and administer; women who can teach, women who can speak out. …

“We need women with the gift of discernment who can view the trends in the world and detect those that, however popular, are shallow or dangerous.”

Today, let me add that we need women who know how to make important things happen by their faith and who are courageous defenders of morality and families in a sin-sick world. We need women who are devoted to shepherding God’s children along the covenant path toward exaltation; women who know how to receive personal revelation, who understand the power and peace of the temple endowment; women who know how to call upon the powers of heaven to protect and strengthen children and families; women who teach fearlessly.

Throughout my life, I have been blessed by such women. My departed wife, Dantzel, was such a woman. I will always be grateful for the life-changing influence she had on me in all aspects of my life, including my pioneering efforts in open-heart surgery.

Fifty-eight years ago I was asked to operate upon a little girl, gravely ill from congenital heart disease. Her older brother had previously died of a similar condition. Her parents pleaded for help. I was not optimistic about the outcome but vowed to do all in my power to save her life. Despite my best efforts, the child died. Later, the same parents brought another daughter to me, then just 16 months old, also born with a malformed heart. Again, at their request, I performed an operation. This child also died. This third heartbreaking loss in one family literally undid me.

I went home grief stricken. I threw myself upon our living room floor and cried all night long. Dantzel stayed by my side, listening as I repeatedly declared that I would never perform another heart operation. Then, around 5:00 in the morning, Dantzel looked at me and lovingly asked, “Are you finished crying? Then get dressed. Go back to the lab. Go to work! You need to learn more. If you quit now, others will have to painfully learn what you already know.”

Oh, how I needed my wife’s vision, grit, and love! I went back to work and learned more. If it weren’t for Dantzel’s inspired prodding, I would not have pursued open-heart surgery and would not have been prepared to do the operation in 1972 that saved the life of President Spencer W. Kimball.

Sisters, do you realize the breadth and scope of your influence when you speak those things that come to your heart and mind as directed by the Spirit? A superb stake president told me of a stake council meeting in which they were wrestling with a difficult challenge. At one point, he realized that the stake Primary president had not spoken, so he asked if she had any impressions. “Well, actually I have,” she said and then proceeded to share a thought that changed the entire direction of the meeting. The stake president continued, “As she spoke, the Spirit testified to me that she had given voice to the revelation we had been seeking as a council.”

My dear sisters, whatever your calling, whatever your circumstances, we need your impressions, your insights, and your inspiration. We need you to speak up and speak out in ward and stake councils. We need each married sister to speak as “a contributing and full partner” as you unite with your husband in governing your family. Married or single, you sisters possess distinctive capabilities and special intuition you have received as gifts from God. We brethren cannot duplicate your unique influence.

We know that the culminating act of all creation was the creation of woman! We need your strength!

Attacks against the Church, its doctrine, and our way of life are going to increase. Because of this, we need women who have a bedrock understanding of the doctrine of Christ and who will use that understanding to teach and help raise a sin-resistant generation. We need women who can detect deception in all of its forms. We need women who know how to access the power that God makes available to covenant keepers and who express their beliefs with confidence and charity. We need women who have the courage and vision of our Mother Eve.

My dear sisters, nothing is more crucial to your eternal life than your own conversion. It is converted, covenant-keeping women—women like my dear wife Wendy—whose righteous lives will increasingly stand out in a deteriorating world and who will thus be seen as different and distinct in the happiest of ways.

So today I plead with my sisters of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to step forward! Take your rightful and needful place in your home, in your community, and in the kingdom of God—more than you ever have before. I plead with you to fulfill President Kimball’s prophecy. And I promise you in the name of Jesus Christ that as you do so, the Holy Ghost will magnify your influence in an unprecedented way!

I bear witness of the reality of the Lord Jesus Christ and of His redeeming, atoning, and sanctifying power. And as one of His Apostles, I thank you, my dear sisters, and bless you to rise to your full stature, to fulfill the measure of your creation, as we walk arm in arm in this sacred work. Together we will help prepare the world for the Second Coming of the Lord. Of this I testify, as your brother, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I would like to share a spiritual experience. I was at someone’s house who had a steep hill. My little sister was at the edge of the hill, playing. I felt impressed that I should go over and watch her so she wouldn’t get hurt. When I got there, she was just about ready to fall down the hill. I felt that because I was there, I saved her from getting hurt. I feel that the Spirit helped me save my little sister.
Jessica Jones, age 7Copley, Ohio

My husband is profoundly deaf and deeply devoted to the gospel. However, years of struggling to understand weekly Church meetings left him reluctant to attend additional priesthood meetings and broadcasts. While members of our ward were friendly and encouraging, their lack of understanding of the technical assistance he needed in order to participate in meetings often left my husband feeling lonely and frustrated.
We were new to our ward, and it was time for general conference. My husband grudgingly prepared to go to general priesthood meeting, wondering what problems he would encounter as he tried to watch the broadcast. He arrived to find that no one knew how to put closed captions on the large overhead projector, so a television was rolled in and set up in the corner. There was, however, a minor problem. The cord needed to connect the television had inadvertently been used to set up the projector, rendering the television useless. My husband, who is accustomed to these situations, went to the library and started looking for the projector cord. After searching through several boxes and cabinets, he recovered the short cord intended for the projector.
Because the broadcast was about to begin, everyone was apprehensive about disconnecting and adjusting anything. The cord my husband found was too short to reach the television on the rolling cart, so the TV had to be moved to a lower table. He rolled the cart out of the chapel and into a nearby room. He then began to unstrap the television and wondered if anyone would come to help him lift it. At that moment, he felt someone enter the room. It was the bishop. My husband’s heart was lightened as the two of them placed the TV on the table. My husband got the TV working while the bishop grabbed a chair and placed it facing the screen.
My husband thanked him for his help and shook his hand, and the bishop turned and headed for the door. Much to my husband’s surprise, the bishop passed the door and proceeded to where chairs were leaning against a wall. He grabbed one and sat down next to my husband. The two of them sat side by side throughout the session.
Today my husband eagerly attends his meetings. The bishop’s simple act of kindness lifted my husband’s spirits and allowed gratitude to enter his heart. While some problems still arise, he no longer feels alone or unwelcome. My husband’s perspective was changed forever through the inspired actions of one of Christ’s shepherds.

One day the missionaries came to visit. John likes to ask missionaries where they are from, what their families are like, and how many people they are teaching and baptizing. But on this day he asked them how they paid for their missions. Parents and family members often give support, the missionaries explained. “I want to pay for my own mission,” John said. At 10 years old, he’s well on his way to being ready for his mission in more ways than one.

Many miracles paved the way for Raymond Knight’s journey to the house of the Lord.
The first was his baptism in Alice Springs on 1 July 2017, at age 74. Elder Joel Barfuss, of the Australia Adelaide Mission recalls, “We were walking to an appointment and saw Ray walking down another road, so we decided to turn down the road just to talk to him. . . . He came to Church that Sunday and the rest was history.”
The second miracle came through family history. In the years after his baptism, senior missionary couples, Elder and Sister Clark, and later, Elder and Sister Gamble helped Ray to discover his family history.
Elder Scott Gamble helped Ray identify his father through the BillionGraves cemetery index.
“Ray is legendary with the young missionaries in Alice Springs,” says Sister Diane Gamble. “They all know and love him. He loves to share life stories about how his grandmother taught him to knit when he was nine years old, how his daughter in the Philippines asked him to bring her a kangaroo, and about how he knitted a jumper for Johnny Cash, the famous western singer.”
The third miracle involved a series of events that allowed Ray to travel 1,532.8 kilometers to attend the temple for the first time.
Cancer required the removal of Ray’s stomach, but while recovering from massive surgery, the Gambles taught him temple preparation lessons, which he continued after leaving the hospital.
Branch President Schwalger granted permission for the missionaries to resume Ray’s lessons over the phone and at his home. The Gambles used skeins of yarn and other props to review principles like the plan of salvation.
Ray eventually received his temple recommend, and with aid from the General Temple Patron Assistance Fund he prepared to receive his endowment.
Two weeks before his scheduled temple date, the Gambles received a call from Ray. Sister Gamble recalls, “He was in the hospital and told us he just wanted to die. We found him in the emergency department having a vial of potassium administered intravenously, which is apparently quite painful. Elder Gamble gave him a blessing, which helped him tolerate the procedure.”
Once Ray was cleared for travel, the long-awaited moment finally arrived. Ray and the missionary couple set out on 30 January 2024, and the group walked into the temple the following day.
At 81 years old now, Ray was able to participate in proxy baptisms and confirmations for his male ancestors. Then he used his Melchizedek Priesthood authority, for the first time, to perform proxy confirmations on Sister Gamble for his female ancestors. “I was moved to tears when Ray placed his hands on my head,” says Sister Gamble.
The fourth miracle was found in the power of prayer.
Ray wasn’t feeling well on the day Elder Gamble picked him up for his own endowment. His medication was making him dizzy and weak in the knees. They had to stop and rest several times between the hotel room and the car.
After a fervent prayer for Ray’s health and ability to proceed with his journey, Ray got out of the car and walked into the temple to receive his endowment. He had no further issues that day.
With additional support from senior missionary couples, the Felts and the Carrs, and President and Sister Kuhn from the mission presidency, Ray was able to perform proxy endowments for his ancestors. Elder Gamble described evidence of the Spirit in the celestial room later, where he saw tears rolling down Ray’s cheeks. “This is the first time I’ve felt a closeness to the Lord in such a profound way,” Ray explained. “I am in wonderment of His rich blessings.”
His ability to participate in all the planned sessions of his temple trip depended on how Ray felt, but on the days he didn’t attend, Sister Gamble says, everyone at the temple asked where Ray was. “It was like they were inquiring about a long-lost friend.”
Some days, Ray relied on the power of prayer to keep going. “On Saturday morning, [he] was feeling sick again,” Sister Gamble reports. “We said a prayer with Ray in the car and again he perked up almost immediately and was able to move forward with sealings.”
Referencing President Russell M. Nelson’s invitation to think celestial, the sealer said, “doing sealings is just about as close to thinking celestial as one can get in this life.”
Ray was sealed first to his parents, and then his mother was sealed to the grandparents who raised him. In total, 96 family ordinances were performed throughout the week. The group had many tender mercies and felt very close to the Spirit.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how idyllic it was for me to be introduced to the temple for the first time,” Ray said. “It was a joy unimaginable. I’m so looking forward to many more such visits… If only the same joy could be felt in absolutely every other location throughout the world and every single person could focus on the exquisite experience and peace of our Heavenly Father’s presence, there could not be any room for the hurt and devastating destruction that we learn about so constantly in our world.”

Grettel Garcia: “I remember being in Young Women when I was twelve and asking my dad, ‘Why can’t we just be at home?’ I didn’t want to go to an activity. He told me, ‘Sometimes we go for ourselves, and sometimes we go for the people who are there.’ And I really felt it in my life. Even this last Sunday I was struggling, and I was able to be helped by somebody at church. And then during the week, one of my friends was struggling, and I was able to enlighten her.”

I once read a story about a man named Mr. Bogar and his experience with a giant wild turkey in 1925.
Mr. Bogar lived on a small farm in the Missouri foothills, and one year he decided to go turkey hunting on the day before Christmas. Now, it wasn’t any ordinary turkey he was after. He went looking for Foots, a legendary wild turkey who left enormous tracks and who was so wary that no one had ever gotten close enough to shoot him.
Setting out on the hunt, Mr. Bogar hadn’t gone far when he spotted gigantic turkey tracks in the freshly fallen snow. Only Foots could have left tracks that large, and Mr. Bogar began to follow them, higher and higher into the hills. There was no sign of Foots himself until Mr. Bogar was high up on a mountainside. Then he caught a glimpse of the giant bird.
Slowly, carefully, Mr. Bogar stalked Foots until he was about 60 yards away. At that range, this marksman could hit anything with his single-shot .22 rifle. He fired, and Foots dropped and lay still. There was Christmas dinner, just waiting to be carried home.
But, as Mr. Bogar approached the bird, it suddenly leaped up. The air was full of feathers and wings and squawks, and Foots soared out over the valley below. Mr. Bogar never saw the big turkey again.
The next summer, Mr. Bogar happened to be talking to a man who lived down in the valley and who was trying to raise a large family on a struggling farm with a few scrawny cattle. It was not an easy life, and the family didn’t have much. The man wore a coat with so many patches you couldn’t tell the original color.
“Do believe in miracles?” the man asked Mr. Bogar.
He then went on to tell Mr. Bogar about what happened the previous Christmas. Money was scarce, and it looked like Christmas dinner would consist of hominy corn and huckleberries. But as the man rode his old mare down to feed the cattle, a huge turkey crashed dead right in front of him. The man said he hadn’t been praying for a turkey, but maybe his wife had.
Mr. Bogar never told the man about Foots, and the man never knew why a giant turkey had fallen out of the sky right at his feet.

As a teenager I attended family home evening reluctantly. I thought I had better things to do.
One Monday night, after a few difficult FHEs, my mother wiped off the kitchen table and placed a small cherry pie in front of each of us. I eagerly looked around for forks—but there were none! Mom explained that we were having a pie-eating contest, but we could not use utensils or our hands. The winner got bragging rights.
We ate as fast as we could. Soon we had cherry pie covering the table, all over our faces, and even in our hair. I don’t remember who won, but I do remember laughing uncontrollably and truly enjoying my family. I didn’t realize it fully that night, but now I appreciate how nice it was to have a safe and loving place to call home and to have people who watched out for me.
I am sure we had a song and a lesson that night, and that it took my mother a lot of time to prepare and clean up. But I am grateful for an activity that taught a message about the importance of families that I needed—then and ever since.
Heather Mockler Teuscher, California, USA

Several years ago, I remember a gathering with friends when our children were small. As we were talking, we had idly mentioned that there was a date coming up that was going to be really hard on us. Difficult because we had a lot of performances in one day, our children were small, and we had a lot of equipment and logistics to deal with. The date was months away, so after mentioning it, I did not think too much about what was said at the party about it. Well, months later, about two days before the event, my close friend called me up and she asked, “I remember that you said this coming Saturday was going to be a really hard day for you, and I was just wondering what I could do to help -- whether it’s to help babysit your kids, or bring you food, or whatever? Please just let me know.” This act of compassion made a difference to me. It made my life easier for that one day, but more than that, it also let me know that I had a reliable friend I could count on.

When Elders Brigham Smoot of Provo and Alva John Butler of Salt Lake first arrived in Tonga, in 1891 they had their moment of exile, as the saints on the pioneer tract heading west. Tonga at this time was heavily engaged in religious and political upheaval. King Tupou I, was the leader of the Free Church of Tonga, and Tungi, the Minister of Lands, was the leader of the Wesleyan Church. They were both heavily engaged in competing for more membership enrollment in their individual churches.
When the two young Mormon Elders arrived, Tonga was prejudiced against them, and a law was passed prohibiting Tongans from hosting foreigners in their homes. This penalty was $500.00. The government was not enthusiastic to give the LDS missionaries a permit to lease land; although Germans and English merchants were allowed to. The Elders thought this was totally unfair. Life was very tough in Tonga for these missionaries because of this law in addition to the language barrier.
The missionaries finally found an apartment of an English merchant, situated in the middle of Nuku’alofa. They took their luggage into a back room and immediately set up their living room for cottage meetings. Little did the Elders know that their apartment was situated only a block from the Parliament House. Governors, and ministers of the kingdom, and legislative members started to visit their cottage meetings out of curiosity. They came early in the morning before their legislative sessions, again during lunch and in the afternoon.
On August 7th, the new Prime Minister of Tonga, Tuku’aho, was one of the dignitaries who visited the Elders’ meetings. He was touched by the Elders message. Perhaps they were guided by the Light of Christ. The Premier was impressed by the power of their performance for these reasons:
Five months later, Tuku’aho, could not contain the spirit of respect he had for the Elders. He decided to ignore the pressure from without, and to assist the Elders. He left the Premier’s office and escorted Elder Smoot, and pleaded with his father, Tungi, the leader of the Wesleyan Church, to give a portion of their land for the Elders to lease. He later assisted the Elders to organize the first LDS Church in Tonga in 1891, and the first school in 1892. Simply because his conscience urged him to do so. It was the same Spirit that prompted his wife to register their son, William Tungi, in the same school in 1894. This young boy of 7 became the consort of Queen Salote Tupou III in 1917.
Here we witness that the Elders moment of exile ended with a miracle. Today the present King of Tonga, Tupou VI, is named after his great grandfather Tuku’aho. And the King’s son, Prince Ata was baptized a member of the LDS church here in Hawaii in 2015. No one in Tonga, even the Royal Family, thought that was possible. But with perseverance and sensitivity from the light of Christ all things are possible. From the humble beginnings of these two American missionaries came great miracles and blessings, simply because of the Light of Christ. Tonga now has two LDS high schools, many primary schools, beautiful LDS chapels in every village in Tonga and a beautiful temple. 57% of the population in Tonga today is LDS which means that Tonga has the highest percentage of Latter-day Saints in the world per capita.

Linahei not only uses her voice for music and prayer, but she also speaks up about helping family members on the other side of the veil.

“I had a dream one night where I saw hundreds of people, but none of them could communicate with each other,” she says. “I thought I recognized them, but I wasn’t sure.”

Linahei didn’t know what to make of the dream at first. Then she had an exciting thought: “Before the COVID-19 lockdown, I had performed over 100 baptisms for my ancestors—these people in my dream could represent those family members!”

Feeling more excited about family history than ever, Linahei did all she could to help move those names along in the temple to receive their additional ordinances. Soon after, Linahei and her mom were called as family history consultants in their ward.

“We helped a woman in our ward access her FamilySearch account. When she saw her family tree, she was so happy—it was the first time she had seen all of her ancestors!”

“I used to feel nervous going up to people in my ward,” Linahei admits. “But now that I have my mom with me, I feel more confidence teaching people about family history.”

Now Linahei looks forward to helping people learn about their ancestors. “I love seeing how happy people are when they do their family history. And I think our ancestors are happy that we’re interested in them and in performing their ordinances.”

In her calling as a family history consultant, she recently organized an activity for her ward’s young women. Not only did she help them find family names to take to the temple, but she also helped Primary children set up accounts so that they can participate.

“We are going to the temple soon,” she says.

“I like the joy that comes when you do family history.”

Want to be as cool as Linahei? Don’t worry, it’s definitely possible. “Young people can advance the errand of God by using technology,” Linahei says. “Anything that helps us think of our ancestors is wonderful. I know doing family history will bring everyone more joy in their lives. Family history has brought me closer to my ancestors and to Christ at the same time.”

With all the work she’s doing for her ancestors, one thing’s for sure: Linahei’s family is definitely not just history!

That brings us to the first category of trials we will consider: the tragedy that death can bring. Life ends early for some and eventually for us all. Each of us will be tested by facing the death of someone we love. Just the other day I met a man I had not seen since his wife died. It was a chance meeting in a pleasant social holiday situation. He was smiling as he approached me. Remembering his wife’s death, I phrased the common greeting very carefully: “How are you doing?”
The smile vanished, his eyes became moist, and he said quietly, with great earnestness, “I’m doing fine. But it’s very hard.”
It is very hard, as most of you have learned and all of us will sometime know. The hardest part of that test is to know what to do with the sorrow, the loneliness, and the loss that can feel as if a part of us has been lost. Grief can persist like a chronic ache. And for some there may be feelings of anger or injustice.

On the way home from school, Ben ran to catch up with his older brother, Rick. Rick didn’t seem to be in a good mood, but Ben had something important to ask him that just couldn’t wait.
“Hey, Rick,” Ben panted, “are you going to enter the school spirit contest this year?”
“I have no choice,” Rick said without slowing down. “Everyone has to enter.”
Ben was surprised. “But you probably can’t win it again.” Ben swallowed hard and then spoke quickly. “Maybe you’d like to help somebody else win.”
“Like who?” Rick asked.
“Like me.” Ben smiled weakly.
“You? Bashful Benny?”
“After I win, nobody will call me Bashful Benny anymore. They’ll know I’m somebody special, a real winner, like—well, like you.”
Rick’s expression softened. “Think so, huh? I’m sorry I can’t help you. It’s against the rules.”
“I didn’t mean for you to do anything. I just need to borrow your camera for a few days. Please?” Ben pleaded.
“You can use my camera for one week if I can cut up all your old magazines for my poster,” Rick said.
“Deal!” Ben sprinted home before Rick could change his mind.
Ben worked hard on his project. For the contest, students had to get involved in school activities and make posters to promote school spirit. Ben decided to take photographs of different school activities and mount them on poster board. He had just finished writing carefully under the last picture when Rick came into his room and looked over his shoulder.
“You spelled a word wrong,” Rick said.
“I did not! Mom checked all my spelling. You’re just jealous of my poster.”
“I’m not jealous,” Rick said. “I won last year. You’re the one who should be worried.”
“What do you mean?” Ben asked.
“What are you going to do when you have to get up in front of all those people and accept your award?” Rick asked.
Ben thought about that. “I won’t have to give a speech, will I?”
“You never know.” Rick shrugged and turned to leave.
“Rick,” Ben said, “were you ever scared to win?”
“Of course not,” Rick said quickly. “Well, maybe a little.” He sat down on Ben’s bed. “Do you know what helped me last year?”
“What?” Ben scrambled up next to him.
“My friend, Pete—remember him?”
Ben nodded. “The one who moved away?”
“Yeah. Pete started clapping and yelling so loud when they announced my name that it made me laugh. And I forgot my fear.” Rick smiled, remembering it. “Tell you what, Ben. When you win the contest I’ll clap really loud, and maybe even whistle.”
Finally the day came when the whole school assembled to find out who would win the school spirit contest. The room was so crowded that Ben had to look for a long time before he saw his brother. Rick grinned and gave him a thumbs-up sign. Ben tried to smile back, but he was too nervous.
The room fell silent as the principal stood up to speak. “I am so proud of each of you for the hard work you’ve put into your projects this year.” Her words echoed throughout the gymnasium. “Normally we would not award the prize to the same person two years in a row,” she explained, “but we have an exceptionally talented student at our school.” Ben’s mouth dropped open as the principal announced that Rick had won. Again. At first Ben wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Then he thought it must be a mistake. The principal had probably confused him with his brother.
Ben looked up hopefully at the principal, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking across the room to where a group of boys was shoving Rick forward. But Rick wouldn’t move. He shook his head, looking disappointed and a little frightened.
When Ben saw this, he realized his brother really loved him. Rick had wanted Ben to win. Ben could also see that Rick was scared. He couldn’t face the crowd alone. Ben wished that Rick’s friend, Pete, was still there to help him.
Then Ben had a rather frightening idea. He wasn’t sure he could do it, but he knew he had to try, for Rick’s sake. Ben closed his eyes. Then, finding his courage, he leaped to his feet and started to clap.
“Way to go, Rick!” he yelled as loud as he could.
Some of Ben’s classmates tugged on his shirt and whispered, “What are you doing? Sit down.”
“That’s my brother!” Ben whispered back. Many students stood up and clapped with him. Others patted Ben on the back and said, “You’re pretty brave, Ben!” Soon the whole room was filled with applause and cheering.
Slowly Rick walked to the podium to accept the award. He looked at Ben and smiled gratefully. Even though Ben had lost the contest, he felt happy. He knew he was a winner. Nobody could call him Bashful Benny anymore.