Gospel Story Finder

I am grateful for the opportunity I had to take part in the self-reliance group meetings, starting and growing my business which has been a source of blessings to me today.
I acquired sewing skills with the help of the PEF loan in 2013, and I am thankful to Heavenly Father that I was not just an applicant, but also a beneficiary of this process.
There were challenges along the way, but my determination and zeal gave me the strength to press forward. This has assisted me as an individual and as a mother, adding extra income for my family.

The Holy Ghost also lets us know what to do, and when He does, it is important to be obedient—even when it is hard. I was once visiting Washington, D.C., on business, and I had planned to go to the temple that evening. By the end of the day, however, I was so tired and frustrated that I decided, “No, I don’t think I’ll go to the temple tonight.” I began to walk to my hotel.
When I reached the hotel, the Spirit came very strongly, whispering that I should go to the temple, anyway. I decided to obey. As I stepped off the curb to cross the street, I heard someone say, “Attention!” (“Look out!”). I was pulled back onto the curb just as a car went whizzing by where I had been standing. I looked around. No one was there.
I safely crossed the street, got in my car, and started driving. The traffic was terrible, and I kept thinking, Maybe I’ll go back. But I didn’t.
Finally I reached the temple. I was given the name of the person whose temple work I would perform, and immediately I felt something special about that person. I noticed that it was a man who had been born and lived in France. I remembered the French voice that I had heard earlier, and through the entire temple session I felt as if he was right next to me. I realized that this man had been waiting for me to do his temple work on that day. I was supposed to go to the temple, and the problems at work had been designed by the adversary to keep me from doing the most important work.

Finally we were almost home. Everything was shut down. There was no train, no car, no bus, no telephone—nothing. So we continued crawling through the forest, following the creek. I knew that area well. We reached my neighborhood, and I just wanted to go through the gate of our neighbor’s backyard. I left the others and opened the gate. A little gun that had been put there to shoot the gophers went off. It scared the wits out of me and the neighbors, who quickly came running. But they were glad to see that I was home safely. I sent my sister back to the forest with some food for my friends before they continued on to their homes.
We all made it because the Lord guided us to the right places at the right times.

My bishop and I sat in his small, organized office. He peered at me through his clear glasses. “A patriarchal blessing is like a blessing from Heavenly Father. And as you go through life, little by little, more of your blessing will make sense.”
I got up from the small wooden chair and shook the bishop’s hand. He then gave me a patriarchal blessing recommend. I thanked him and left the office.
Lately I had been pondering some questions. Does Heavenly Father really love me? Does he really know who I am? Does he know me individually and love me for who I am, not just because I’m one of his daughters?
I would try to come up with as many answers as I possibly could. “God loves you because you’re his daughter,” my teachers would tell our class during Young Women lessons.
“You should feel special because you’re a child of God,” my Primary teachers had told me.
I knew those things were true. I knew he loved me. I knew I was a child of God, but would Heavenly Father be able to point me out among all of his children? Did he love me for my qualities, my personality?
I rode to the church house with my mother and walked briskly to that small office where the patriarch was waiting. He was an elderly man with a smile and soft, kind eyes.
He gave us a quick review of what a patriarchal blessing was and how sacred it was. He then put his hands on my head and began talking for my Heavenly Father.
I listened closely to every word he said. I felt the Spirit so strongly at times I couldn’t help crying. I received the answer my heart had wanted to hear: “I assure you your Heavenly Father knows you well and loves you.” The patriarch also mentioned several things only my Heavenly Father knew. I felt a complete feeling of love and caring.
I know now that my Heavenly Father loves me and knows me, just as he does each of you. He loves you for who you are.

Thousands of experiences show that we can pray and have our prayers answered. Some of the choicest involve young children. In the biography of President Spencer W. Kimball we read:
“Again and again Spencer watched his parents take their problems to the Lord. One day when Spencer was five and out doing his chores, little one-year-old Fannie wandered from the house and was lost. No one could find her. Clare, sixteen, said, ‘Ma, if we pray, the Lord will direct us to Fannie.’ So the mother and children prayed. Immediately after the prayer Gordon walked to the very spot where Fannie was fast asleep in a large box behind the chicken coop. ‘We thanked our Heavenly Father over and over,’ Olive recorded in her journal” (in Edward L. Kimball and Andrew E. Kimball, Jr., Spencer W. Kimball [Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1977], p. 31).

I know this sounds a little odd just to blurt out, but I got a new father about six months ago. His name is Raymond. Everyone calls him Ray.
“ ’Bye Christy.” My mom stuck her head through the doorway. “I’m off to run some errands. Then I have one more visiting teaching appointment. Don’t forget tomorrow is Father’s Day.”
“Yeah, I know. Hey! Eileen and I are going to the dance tonight. Okay?”
“I see you’re getting your room cleaned. Okay, bye.”
It was just Mom and me until Ray came along. My parents divorced four years ago. I used to see my dad on weekends until after the wedding, when we moved here. Now we live too far for weekend visits. I miss not seeing him as often.
Ray wasn’t the only new member of my family. I now have two little brothers—Jim and Kirt. Jim’s twelve, and Kirt is ten. Believe me, I nearly died when I found out I’d have two brothers. Sometimes they drive me nuts, but usually we have a pretty good time together.
Anyway, I have to think about my problem. It’s Ray. I decided tomorrow is going to be the time when I let him know I think it’s going to be okay between us. I mean, I hated the thought of having somebody take Dad’s place, but it’s okay now. Dad was Dad, but Ray is Ray, and I like him too. I just don’t know how to let him know that.
Ray came to the door. “Christy, how’s the room coming?”
“I’m working on it,” I said with a shrug.
Ray came in and settled on the bed. He never came in here much, so I was surprised. He looked at the shelf above my bed.
“You know, I never had a daughter before you, Christy. Do all girls collect as much stuff as you?”
I giggled. “Sure, I guess. Everything means something special. That’s the glass unicorn I got for my 12th birthday,” I said pointing it out. “And that’s an Indian bead necklace I made at girls’ camp.” I picked it up and showed him the intricate design I had invented.
“Hmmm, nice. You did this yourself?” he said, taking it from me.
“Yeah. The beads are very tiny and scatter everywhere. It’s a lot harder to make one of those than you think.”
“I bet it is.” His eye traveled along the shelf. “A rock? What’s so special about an old rock?”
“It’s not an old rock,” I said, grabbing the rock and suddenly clamming up. I suddenly felt my eyes start to sting like when I’m going to cry.
Ray was quiet for a minute, but he didn’t leave. “I’m sorry. I didn’t say that to upset you.”
“It’s okay,” I said taking a deep breath. “The rock just means a lot to me, that’s all.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’ll understand.”
I hesitated, then I said, “Four years ago, my dad and I took a trip to the beach. We played all day in the sand and waves. When it was almost time to go, he took my hand and we walked along the shoreline. He told me to look for the prettiest rock I could find. After looking and looking, I picked this one. It was round and smooth and had this sort of green spot that reminded me of a heart. See it?”
I pointed it out to Ray. He nodded.
“Dad asked me if the rock would change much if I kept it a hundred years. ‘Of course not,’ I said. He said, ‘Love is like that. It lasts forever.’ Then he told me he was going away and wouldn’t be living with us anymore. He said I should always keep this rock and remember that”—I couldn’t keep the tremor from my voice—“he loves me.”
“I’m glad you have this rock, Christy. Of course he loves you.” He paused. “So do I, you know. I wish …”
“What?” I asked.
“Oh, never mind. Guess I’d better check up on your brothers. When Mom gets home we’d all better have our work done, right?”
“Right.” I watched him leave. He wished … What did he wish? Suddenly I knew. But how could I tell him? Tomorrow had to be the perfect time.
But how? Not a card. He’d think I gave it to him because Mom made me. He’d expect that much. I needed something else, some special gift, to let him really know how I felt.
I thought about my Father’s Day gift all day. While I was getting ready for the dance I decided to kneel down and ask Heavenly Father if He had any ideas for me. When I finished, I glanced up at my shelf, and it hit me. Of course! I closed my eyes and whispered, “Thank you, thank you.” Then I got busy. I had some things to find and a poem to write.
When Mom came in to see if I was ready, she asked me how I felt about tomorrow being Father’s Day and all. I just smiled and told her it would be nice to celebrate it again with her. She looked relieved as she left.
Sunday morning we all got up early and fixed breakfast to take in to Ray. He pretended to be asleep, and we all shouted and woke him up and put the tray in front of him. My mom and the boys all gave him presents.
After they were opened, I pulled out a little leftover Christmas box and handed it to Ray.
He took off the lid. A smile lit his face. He reached in and took out the small flat rock inside, one with a heart lightly smudged with green colored pencil. He glanced down into the box again and pulled out the crumpled paper that contained my poem and read:
Love is like a rock,
Because it lasts forever.
But on the shore are many stones
With which to build a treasure.
“It’s not much,” I faltered, suddenly embarrassed over how dumb it looked beside the other gifts. Mom and the boys were trying to figure out why an ordinary rock was such a neat present.
“But it’s the best present you could have given me!” His eyes met mine in understanding.
He reached over and suddenly pulled me into his arms and gave me a bear hug. “Thank you, Christy, thank you,” he whispered.

Susanna can still remember the good feelings she had when she was baptized. A week before her baptism she had a dream she remembers very clearly. In the dream she saw a huge mountain in front of her and a path that went straight to the top of the mountain. She saw another path that went sideways up the mountain, but it seemed well lit. She chose the sideways path and soon found herself in deep darkness. She had a sad feeling and turned around.
“Sometimes we choose the wrong path,” she says, “but we can always turn around and find the way to Heavenly Father.” Susanna is courageous enough to always find her way!

Some time ago a father of six children who had the sole responsibility for raising the family, beginning when the youngest was in diapers, told of the struggles of doing so alone. One night he came home from work faced with the problems of being both father and mother and felt unusually burdened with his responsibilities. One of his appreciative daughters, age 12, approached him eagerly after having laid on his dresser a rock that she had painted at school. On the flat portion of the rock, she had written, “Happiness is having a dad who cares.” This painted rock and its sublime message instantly and permanently lightened the burden of this father.

Lyssa carefully walked from the bus stop to her classroom. The freezing Canadian wind whipped her hair across her eyes, but Lyssa didn’t mind—the wind had brought snow as deep as her knees.
Lyssa loved snow. It made the world quiet. It dressed up the trees. It left icicles on the roof. And it tickled her face when it fell. When it snowed, Lyssa sledded. When it snowed, Lyssa built snowmen. When it snowed, Lyssa drank hot chocolate for breakfast.
Once inside the toasty classroom, Lyssa slowly took off her scarf, her hat, her mittens, her coat, her sweater, and her boots. Dressing warmly enough for the snow was a lot of work, but Lyssa didn’t mind. She put her snow clothes in her cubby. “I’ll be back at recess,” she whispered to them, and she hurried over to her desk.
After math and social studies, Lyssa quickly put back on her boots, her sweater, her coat, her mittens, her hat, and her scarf. She joined her best friend, Caitlin, in line to go back outside.
It was snowing again! Lyssa rushed out the door and looked up at the sky, letting the snow fall—tickle, tickle—on her face.
“Let’s play snow tag! Last one to the fence is It!” Caitlin called, and Lyssa’s classmates sprinted for the far field. Lyssa turned to join them until she saw Kevin sitting on a bench outside the classroom.
“Aren’t you going to play, Kevin?” Lyssa asked.
“No. The new snow filled up the paths, and it’s too hard to get to the field. I’m just going to sit here,” Kevin said.
Lyssa looked at Kevin’s legs. They were strapped to braces. Kevin didn’t walk very well even in the classroom. She guessed it would be hard for him to walk in the snow.
“Come on!” Caitlin called as she sprinted past Lyssa. “We’re all having fun!” But Lyssa just looked at Kevin, who stared at his shoes. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I’m going to play with Kevin today,” Lyssa said. Caitlin opened her mouth in disbelief.
“You’re playing with Kevin?” She said it so loudly that everyone stopped playing and looked at Lyssa. Two girls started whispering.
Lyssa swallowed. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll see you later.” Caitlin shrugged and jogged off, and Lyssa turned to Kevin. He was smiling. “So do you want to play with me?” Lyssa asked. “I’ll help you with the snow.”
“OK,” said Kevin.
Lyssa knelt down in the snow and started crawling. She crawled with her knees and elbows so she could flatten the snow for Kevin. Pretty soon, Kevin was walking slowly behind her in the path she had made.
Lyssa turned right. Kevin followed her path to the right. Lyssa turned left. Kevin followed her path to the left. Suddenly, another path was in front of Lyssa. She was back at the beginning!
Kevin started to laugh. “We’re going curvy!” Lyssa started laughing too.
The laughter seemed to make clearing the path easier, so Lyssa kept laughing. She crawled faster and faster, carefully making a path for Kevin. A couple of times he fell down, but Lyssa helped him get up again.
They played all through recess. When the bell rang, Kevin asked, “Can we do that again tomorrow?”
“Sure!” said Lyssa. “It was fun. The only thing better than snow is snow with a friend!”

I’m not good at basketball. Call it genes, call it natural ability, call it whatever—it always seems like everyone else on the court has it, and I don’t. This often makes me feel out of place.
This fact didn’t stop my friends from inviting me to play basketball. I would just run up and down the court, pretending I knew what I was doing. I don’t think I fooled anyone. But, to their credit, my friends did their best to include me.
During one game, I took a shot and the ball flew toward the basket. It hit the backboard, the rim, then fell through the hoop. I couldn’t believe it. Purely by luck, I made the shot!
Understanding the uniqueness of this moment, my friends congratulated me. I didn’t contribute much to that game, but I felt like I belonged, and that meant a lot.

As a very young boy, I was intrigued with oil paintings. I spent many hours not only enjoying, but carefully examining the brush strokes still visible in the hardened paint. I was especially fascinated with the way the colors were mixed and placed one beside another.
It was exciting. Finally, upon growing older, I could restrain myself no longer. I just had to try it!
I obtained a few supplies, and then one night, after all the rest of the family was sound asleep, I ventured to paint.
My first attempt was to copy a painting of a beautiful landscape. Carefully I painted the sky—all of it—in all its detail. I even tried to make my brush strokes look like the ones I saw on the original. When the sky was finished, I painted that magnificent mountain; every stroke of it! Then, the trees—one at a time, of course; and then, the lake. On and on, I moved downward until finally that final blade of grass was placed in the only small white space remaining at the very bottom of the canvas.
Nothing could have kept me from awaking my father and mother to show them the “masterpiece.”
Actually, considering all that I had not yet learned, the painting was not too bad. At that stage in my development, I didn’t notice that the colors reflected by the lake were not very consistent with the colors from which those reflections came, or that perspective lines and size relationships were terribly distorted.
It was not until I enrolled in college art classes that I came to realize that great artists do not produce a finished product by starting at the top of the canvas and by moving systematically to the bottom. Instead, they clearly envision the entire image they wish to portray and then proceed to develop all parts of that image somewhat simultaneously.
By adding one line here and another there, and by applying paint, here a little and there a little, a balanced and coordinated composition finally emerges into reality.

Genealogical research has always been difficult for me because I didn’t have the necessary information about most of my family members. However, that didn’t stop me from getting the booklet “My Family: Stories That Bring Us Together” and writing down my information about my parents and two grandmothers, who are still alive. My grandmothers also helped me gather the necessary information about my two deceased grandfathers and other important names.
I still felt like I didn’t know much about my family and couldn’t find the answers because I didn’t know who to ask without upsetting anyone. In Haitian culture, asking about relatives who have passed away can make people feel suspicious or angry. Often, the closest family members think you’re only asking so you can get something, like an inheritance, from the person who died.
For about four years, I had to make do with only the information I had while constantly thinking about how to find what was missing. Then I received a miracle that changed everything.
On September 12, 2024, I enrolled in a family history institute class, hoping to find answers to some of my genealogical questions. A few weeks later, one of our cousins visited our family. He was a distant cousin on my maternal side, and we only met him a year before, after a family member created a WhatsApp group.
During this brief visit, I talked with him and exchanged a few thoughts about spirituality. That’s when he told me he was a Latter-day Saint and was already familiar with the principles I was teaching him. I was so happy to know that I had a distant family member who had also received the blessings of the gospel. Even though he also told me he had distanced himself from the Church in recent years, I didn’t lose hope that he might one day return.
As we talked, he started telling me stories about family members I had never heard of—stories that gave me exactly the information I needed for my family history research. He also mentioned that someone in the family had written a full document about all the generations in our family. He said it had everything needed to really understand our family’s past and present.
I was both happy and surprised to discover that such a document existed in our family. However, despite my excitement, I was hesitant to ask him for the PDF version of the document, fearing I might be misunderstood. After he left, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I felt the Spirit prompting me to ask my cousin for access to it.
After several minutes of reflection and prayer, I contacted him and asked for the PDF version of the family document he had mentioned during his visit. I reminded him that it would help complete my genealogical research, which we Latter-day Saints hold in such high importance. He replied quickly and enthusiastically, saying he remembered this sacred work and was happy that I was asking for the document. Less than five minutes later, I received it.
I was amazed to find the 259-page document more complete than expected. It had all the information I needed about a key branch of my mother’s family. While reading, I saw a familiar last name: my BYU–Pathway missionary’s name. On a whim, I messaged him to ask if the names were part of his family too. He said yes, and as we talked more, we discovered we were first cousins.
The following week, I shared this with my institute class. I felt deeply grateful—not only for the family names and details but also for reconnecting with a Church member and missionary who had once helped me with school.
This experience strengthened my testimony of the power of family history work, the ongoing gathering of Israel, and the truth that God always prepares a way for those who have faith to accomplish what He commands (see 1 Nephi 3:7). With faith, I also know that God will help me find the missing information on my paternal line so I can continue completing my family tree.

After finishing ordinary level a year later, I started to think about my future. One day while I was in bed listening to music, I decided to continue studying business management, but then felt a prompting to preach the gospel. I quickly brushed it off from my mind because at that moment, I was studying commercials. To preach the gospel was one thing I desired, but at that moment the subjects I studied were only leading me to business and there was no way I was going to be enrolled in Bible school.
In early 2021, I started to prepare my mission papers which was kind of rough. One thing that increased my desire and testimony happened when I had less than five days before I left on my mission. I was coming from my bishop’s house with a gift he gave me. I decided to show it to my mother and sister. I was about to leave them when my sister called me back. She asked, “Do you still remember when you were young what you said you wanted to do when you grow up?” And I replied, “to be a businessman,” then she said, “No, that was and is your twin brother’s dream and he is now going to study economics in university. You said you wanted to be like a pastor and now soon you are going on mission.”
I started to remember the prompting in 2018 when I was trying to chase the wrong dream (business management). I had the desire to preach the gospel when I was young, and now is the time to go and do it, in a church that was restored because a boy of 14 prayed to God. Why would God lead me to this Church? So, I can live the dream of young Mabuku! Many things happened and I was tried and tempted because of the new faith I chose. Since I was converted to the Lord, and on my journey to the mission field, though my faith was not always strong, I wasn’t shaken.

A young adolescent came to see me one day saying that he was having trouble communicating with his dad. In fact, he said, they never spoke but what they nearly came to blows. He went on to say that he thought his father was often behaving quite childishly. I was struck by the general level of maturity displayed by this 16-year-old. I vividly recall my reply to him, because when I finished one sentence, he looked at me and said, “I’ll do it.” His clipped response was in reply to this question: “Why don’t you become your father’s father and treat him the way you’d like him to treat you?”

When the alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., 17-year-old Yee Mun Lim got out of bed and got ready for the day. She left the house at 5:20 for seminary. At 6:30 a.m. she hurried to school, where she stayed until 7:00 p.m. for classes and cocurricular activities. Then she rushed to the stake center by public transport to practice for the stake musical production.
This was the standard routine of most youth in the Singapore Stake every Friday for five months. Sometimes exhaustion and fatigue set in, but throughout the entire preparation for the musical production, When a Prophet Speaks, there were no complaints or regrets, because the youth felt that the sacrifices they made were worthwhile. “This is the most amazing, awesome, spiritually uplifting, fun-filled, and heartwarming event I ever took part in,” said Yee Mun.
“Our initial purpose was to unite the youth,” said Kate Loreto, the stake Young Women president. “We have youth in eight different wards and from various cultural backgrounds. It’s hard for them to interact with each other. So we thought, why not do a musical to bring them together?”
The leaders chose music inspired by the list of B’s from President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008).1 This music was chosen “so the youth could internalize the lyrics of the songs, feel the Spirit, and live the standards,” said Connie Woo, the general director of the production. “We wanted to involve as many youth as possible,” said Sister Woo. In all, 78 youth performed.
Perhaps not all of the youth came with the same motive at the beginning, but almost all of them kept coming to rehearsals because they enjoyed the friendship, the singing, and, most of all, the Spirit.
After the theme was chosen and practices were organized, the youth were assigned to different parts in the production and to different committees that suited their talents.
Ally Chan, age 18, volunteered to help on the costume committee. “We needed to choose something that was modest, which was very important, and it had to be economical, youthful, and at the same time look good on the stage,” she said. Not only did she learn how to make decisions based on gospel standards and working with others, but she was also happy about how the youth looked.
Canden Petersen, age 15, was appointed choir president to help make sure that every practice ran smoothly. His responsibilities included assigning prayers, rallying and herding the youth for practices and games, and announcing seating on the stage. “I was also asked to have some young men help set up and take down the set and oversee the youth in fulfilling their assignments,” he said. “I felt that this responsibility was good for the youth. Hopefully it helped them understand that the Lord calls leaders now, not just from among the adults. They can and should sustain their leaders whatever their age or experience level.”
Kandace Lim, age 18, helped by taking multiple roles, including being a member of the costume committee, the choreography committee, and the photography committee and also by singing a solo. About her many responsibilities, she said: “It was my mum who inspired me to take on these assignments. She taught me that if there’s a chance to serve, just go for it. If you accept the task and put in your best effort, the Lord will definitely help you get through any difficulties you might face.”
Besides these administrative responsibilities, performers were also needed. John Lee, age 17, was one of the brave souls to volunteer for a solo part. His reason was simple: “I just like to sing! And it makes me feel special.”
Ezra Tadina, age 17, didn’t feel like he could sing, so he found another way to contribute. “I chose to be involved,” he said, “and I am actually the one who narrated the part about being involved. I feel the message because I know it’s true.”
The practices extended from November 2009 until March 2010. During this time, the youth gathered at the stake center to rehearse every Friday night, except on holidays. The amount of time and commitment required of the youth was no small sacrifice, considering the strenuous schedule of a typical Singaporean youth.
First-year junior college student Olivia Hoe chose to participate because “no matter how life throws mud at me, at the end of the day, it’s the gospel that’s going to keep me standing and pull me through the rubble. Knowing that there’s One who’s looking out for me and loving me completely gives me plenty of comfort, and I think that’s more than enough to get me going every day.”
Many of the youth had other commitments, but they knew that the Lord had laid a path for them. Such was the case of 16-year-old Amanda Ho. “I had dance practice, which clashed with some of the rehearsals for this musical, but miraculously the school changed the practice schedule, which enabled me to turn up for the musical rehearsals,” she explained.
After months of practice, the show was finally ready to be performed. Thanks to the teens’ enthusiastic promotion, more than 700 people showed up to watch them at three performances. As the youth shared their message through songs, dance, instrumental music, and their own testimonies, many in the audience were touched.
The group was also challenged to invite nonmember friends to see their performance and to make it a missionary opportunity. Michael Lee, age 18, took this challenge seriously. “I invited six friends to come, and three of my schoolmates and a schoolteacher came,” he said. Their performances especially left an impression on his teacher. “He said that it was a great experience. He even requested a copy of the For the Strength of Youth booklet. He said that he felt the energy through the many hopeful hearts of the youth.”
The leaders’ initial purpose of bringing the youth together was certainly fulfilled. “As I sat there and looked up at each of them during the performance, my heart was filled with joy,” Sister Woo said. “It was not about how good they looked, how well they sang and played, or how well they delivered the narrations. It was not about which school or country they came from. They were one.”
The musical helped many gain a stronger testimony. Some say they hum the tunes and sing the lyrics of the songs wherever they might be, and the message in the songs helps them get through their daily challenges. Many of them became not just good friends but spiritual supports who can lift each other up when the going gets tough. They can help each other stay on the narrow path and grow spiritually.

Recently, I witnessed a three-generation family participate in baptisms together for their ancestors. Even the grandmother participated—though she had some trepidation about going under the water herself. As she emerged from the water and hugged her husband, she had tears of joy. The grandfather and father then baptized each other and many of the grandchildren. What greater joy could a family experience together? Each temple has a family priority time to allow you as a family to schedule time in the baptistry.

Our next project began when our oldest son started mowing lawns the year before his mission. We bought a 1962 truck that ran most of the time, and some lawn-care equipment. That first year he did most of the work himself and occasionally took a younger brother with him. The next year dad decided to get involved, since none of the younger boys had drivers’ licenses. We advertised, gave bids, received referrals, and increased the number of our customers. Then came the day when dad mowed his first lawn. First the edger didn’t start, so he traveled across town to find out what to do. When he returned, one mower had broken down so he went back across town again to find out what to do. After several hours on that job, the second oldest boy looked at his dad and asked, “And is this what we are going to do all summer?”
We stuck with it and are now completing our fourth year. We have learned to keep our sense of humor through broken sprinklers, a flooded basement, unexpected rain, a burned-out truck engine, broken equipment, dad pulling up someone’s prized miniature tree, and the front wheel coming loose off the truck in busy traffic. And then there are those days when every piece of equipment is working, the truck is running, the sun is shining, we are on schedule, and someone forgets to fasten the tailgate of the truck. One by one our equipment slides out as we travel to the next customer.

Alexander and Rachel had a mutual friend who introduced them at a young single adult activity. But the first time they really talked was at a young single adult convention held in Brisbane. Alexander said hello to Rachel as they were leaving the food hall. Rachel had a lot on her mind and needed someone to talk to. So they sat on the grass outside one of the dormitory buildings and talked.

Alexander promised to take Rachel out for her birthday, but before their first date, he was hospitalized because of a motorbike accident. They began spending a lot of time together. But since they lived a long distance from each other, they ended up breaking up and going their separate ways.

More than a year later, Alexander bought another motorbike. While riding home from church, he was struck by a vehicle and was again hospitalized. Rachel’s mother found out about the accident and mentioned it to her daughter. Rachel decided to make the long trip from Brisbane to Sydney to visit Alexander.

Alexander says, “I still had feelings for Rachel, and she must have had feelings for me if she was willing to make the trip from Brisbane just to visit me.” The couple had spoken about marriage when they were going out, but now Alexander felt it was time they prayed about getting married. Rachel was startled by the question but agreed to pray about it.

Alexander already knew his answer. When Rachel prayed to know if they should marry, she felt she should say yes. Alexander was her best friend.

With a cast still on his leg, Alexander took Rachel to the same grassy spot where they had first talked, and then, while sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean, he officially asked her to marry him.

In three months, with the help of family and friends, Rachel moved to Sydney and made plans for a temple marriage. For Alexander and Rachel, their sealing in the temple represents commitment and a promise that they will work on creating an eternal marriage together.

This story took place in England.
Jonah ate his last bite of food and smiled. Dinner was always more fun when the missionaries came over.
“We want to share a message with you about service,” said Sister Kearl. “Why is serving others important?”
“Because it makes Jesus happy!” said Eliza, Jonah’s little sister.
“You’re right! It makes Him very happy. And when we help others, it makes us happy too,” said Sister Christensen. “Do you know anyone who needs help?”
Jonah thought for a minute. “I can’t think of a person, but our garden at school could use some help.”
“Good idea,” said Mum.
Jonah’s school had a garden where they could do outdoor activities. But no one had taken care of the garden for a long time. The bushes were overgrown. There were lots of weeds too.
“We’d love to help you with that!” said Sister Kearl. “Who can we invite to help clean it with us?”
“Our cousins!” said Jacob, Jonah’s brother.
“And our Primary class,” said Jonah.
The next day, Mum talked to someone at the school to get permission. They picked a day to clean the garden. Then Mum helped Jonah and his siblings call their cousins and Primary class.
A few weeks later, Jonah and his family met the missionaries at the school. Their cousins and Primary friends were there too. It was time to get to work!
Jonah put on a pair of big rubber garden gloves. “Look, Mum. My hands are huge!”
Mum laughed. “You can use those huge hands to help trim these bushes.”
She handed Jonah some clippers that looked like giant scissors. Then she helped him cut away the dead branches.
“This is fun,” Jonah said.
While Jonah trimmed, Eliza helped dig around the garden. Jacob helped Daddy build a new bird house. The others pulled weeds and gathered sticks. They put them in big blue plastic bags. Even Jonah’s youngest brother, Ezra, helped by picking up rocks.
Soon the garden was clean. Jonah counted the bags they had filled. “There are 13 bags!” he said. “We cleaned up so much rubbish.”
Sister Christensen smiled. “Now we need everyone’s big muscles to help us carry these to the car.”
Jonah, Jacob, and Eliza each grabbed a bag. Jonah felt happy as he lifted the last one into the car. Helping the missionaries had been fun. He wanted to be a missionary someday too. Until then, there were lots of ways he could serve. He could hardly wait to think of his next project!

After a young mother was diagnosed with cancer, she felt alone and filled with fear. But as the news of her illness spread throughout her ward, she was soon surrounded by the love and concern of her fellow sisters. As her difficult treatments began, sisters drove her to her appointments and sat with her during long chemotherapy sessions. They prayed with her, encouraged her, brought her the few treats she could eat, and brought meals to her family week after week. Other sisters took time away from their own busy lives to clean her house. One sister knew certain treatments would make it hard to fall asleep, so she planned late-night visits to watch comedy movies. Instead of tossing in bed, the young mother was able to turn away from fears for a while and feel the healing power of laughter and friendship. Through these ministrations, priesthood blessings, and ward fasts, she was carried through an extremely difficult time, and strong bonds of love grew between all who were involved.