Gospel Story Finder

One day in chemistry class, our teacher passed back a test we had taken so we could look over our grades and ask any questions. I wasn’t very good at chemistry, and this test was proof. It was not a good grade, and I was very discouraged.
As the teacher went over the test for the class, I realized he had marked as correct a question I had actually missed. I showed it to my friend, Gary, who said, “Lucky—you got a higher grade.”
I told Gary I was going to show it to the teacher. He told me I was going to lower my grade by being honest and that it was a stupid idea. I went up anyway. My teacher fixed the mistake, and my grade was lowered.
A few months later, we got another test back. As the teacher went over it, Gary raised his hand. He told the teacher that he had made a mistake on his test, a mistake that if fixed would lower his grade. Gary took the test up to the teacher, and his test grade was lowered. As Gary walked back to his seat, he winked at me. I knew he had learned from my example.

“ZZZZZ …” Eight-year-old Jason faked a snore, then burst into giggles. Lying in his bed, he pulled the blanket over his eyes and pretended to sleep. Across the dark room, his six-year-old brother snuggled into his pillow, then let out a long, dreamy sigh before he started to laugh as well. “Shh!” Jason whispered, pulling the blanket off his head. “We’re supposed to be sleeping!”
“I’m sleeping. I’m sleeping!” his brother whispered back. Both boys giggled again, then pulled the sheets up under their chins, squeezed their eyes shut, and lay as stiff as possible while they waited.
In the next room, their sister also waited, pretending to sleep. Down the hall, their brother waited, pretending to sleep. Even their mom, they knew, was lying in her dark bedroom, curled up under her covers, pretending to sleep.
A floorboard creaked in the shadowy hallway. Dad was somewhere nearby. Any moment now they would hear the signal. Jason listened intently, hardly breathing as he tried to guess where Dad might be standing at that moment. He was definitely coming closer. Any second now …
“BEEEEEP!” A screech blared throughout the house. Jason dropped to the floor and crawled toward the door on his hands and knees.
“Go, go, go!” his brother yelled, bumping into Jason’s side. “We have to get out!”
“Fire!” Jason shouted, crawling into the hallway. “Everyone out!”
“Everyone out!” Mom called. “Stay low!”
Dad joined them on the floor as they crawled down the hallway, into the kitchen, and out the back door. Once outside, they stood up and ran to the maple tree.
“Are we safe?” Dad asked. “Is everyone here?”
“We all made it,” Mom said, counting heads.
Dad looked at his stopwatch. “That was our best time yet,” he said. “Now everyone back to bed—for real this time.”
The next morning, as the family gathered for breakfast, Jason thought about the fire drill. “I’m glad we have an escape plan,” he said. “I feel safer with a fire alarm in our house.”
“Me too,” Mom agreed. “Having an alarm helps keep us safe—as long as we respond quickly when we hear it go off.”

After finishing my studies in technical administration, I worked with a young executive who later became my husband. What a marvelous time of my life it was! But one month after our wedding, as my husband and I were traveling from Bogotá, Colombia, where we lived, to visit my parents in Duitama, we were involved in an automobile accident. The accident took my husband’s life and left me with amnesia. I couldn’t remember anything of the previous six years, couldn’t walk, and couldn’t move my left arm.
After months of physical therapy, I was finally able to walk again and move my arm somewhat. Gradually, my memory returned to the point that six years after the accident I could recall the events of my life except for two years: the one preceding the accident and the one following it. Still, my previous capabilities were much diminished. I had trouble converting my thoughts into words, and I found it difficult to repeat something after hearing it. Because I easily forgot details, some people took advantage of my lapses.
Eventually, the doctors felt they had done all they could. I tried to appear happy and enthusiastic, but I often felt frustrated and angry. What was I to do with my life?
When I was at my lowest point, I read in the scriptures where the Lord promises that we will not be tried above that which we can bear (see 1 Cor. 10:13; D&C 64:20). I prayed for a testimony of this promise.
I finally returned to the company where I had worked before the accident. Since I could not handle my old job, I worked at less demanding assignments—but even these tasks proved difficult. Nevertheless, I didn’t give up. I fought to complete my six-month contract. As I did, a marvelous feeling of hope illuminated my spirit, inspiring me to keep trying to improve my capabilities.
By staying close to the Lord, I reestablished confidence in myself and could feel the influence of the Holy Ghost in my life. This influence soon led me to consider serving a mission. I know some people thought my desire foolish, but when I spoke with the branch president, he gave me the courage I needed. To prepare myself, I decided to read the Book of Mormon in its entirety—something I had not yet accomplished in my 12 years as a member.
However, my poor memory posed a real challenge. After starting with 1 Nephi at least 10 times and not being able to remember a thing I had read, I knew I needed a different approach. I prayed to find a solution, and soon a method entered my mind: I would write a summary of each chapter as I read it.
I bought a notebook and read the first chapter of 1 Nephi. Since I had only a vague idea of what I had just read, I read the chapter again. Only then was I able to summarize in my notebook the main ideas in that chapter.
Prayerfully, I moved on. After completing 1 Nephi, I found I no longer had to read each chapter twice; once was enough to write a good summary. I read the entire Book of Mormon this way. When I finished, I was left with a strong spiritual witness that the book is true, and I could also testify that the Lord strengthens us if we turn to Him.
I next completed the missionary health form, and I answered each question honestly, even though the answers could frustrate my desire to be a missionary. How great was my joy when I received a call to serve in the Colombia Cali Mission! There I discovered the truth of another of the Lord’s promises, found in 1 Nephi 3:7: “The Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them.”
After I returned from my mission, I came to live with my parents on a farm where we grow products to sell. I have also developed a talent for knitting, which allows me to earn money and leaves me time for spiritual growth. I live a happy and productive life.
Of course, I would have preferred not to have had the accident, but I recognize the tremendous growth I have experienced because of it. I’ve learned that we may lose our dreams and hopes, even our loved ones, and our talents, riches, and strength might disappear—but the Lord will always support us. He gives us new dreams to replace those we have lost. In spite of all the difficulties we encounter, the Lord can help us move forward. He compensates—and He always keeps His promises.

“Tonight for our family home evening activity, we’re going to weed Sister Lee’s garden,” Dad announced at dinner.
Preston liked going to Sister Lee’s house. She had chickens and roosters and yummy berries growing in her garden.
After dinner Preston helped his family load shovels and rakes in the back of the van.
On the drive to Sister Lee’s house, Mom asked, “Why is service so important?”
Preston thought for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure.
“It makes you feel good,” Preston’s older brother said.
“That’s true,” Mom said. “Any other ideas? Does anyone remember the scripture we just memorized together? ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings …’”
The rest of the family joined in. “‘Ye are only in the service of your God’” (Mosiah 2:17).
“That’s right,” Mom said. “It’s from King Benjamin’s speech to his people. Preston, can you think of any other reasons why we serve?”
Preston thought of the comic book he had read that morning, the one about the boy dressed in a cape, saving the world. Superheroes did good things for other people. “Serving is like being a superhero!” he said.
Dad smiled. “You’re right. It is like being a superhero. You’re saving the day when you serve.”
They arrived at Sister Lee’s house. Preston liked the idea of being a superhero. He flew out of the car, grabbed a pair of gloves, and super-sprinted toward the garden.
First Sister Lee showed everyone the new baby chicks. Then the family got to work. There were hundreds and hundreds of weeds. They were the biggest weeds Preston had ever seen!
He imagined those weeds as evil forces, attacking the innocent tomato plants. Using his super strength, it was easy to pull the weeds out of the ground. He could feel his muscles getting stronger as he shook the dirt loose from the roots and threw the weeds in a pile.
Some of the weeds were too tough to pull by hand. Preston pulled out his super-power shovel, the one with the red blade. He jumped on the back with both his feet. The blade sunk deep into the dirt, and weeds came out even faster. The pile of pulled weeds grew until it was almost as tall as Preston!
Finally Sister Lee said, “That’s great! Come pick some berries, and then we’ll have a treat.”
Preston’s superhero strength was almost gone. With the last of his energy, he helped pick gooseberries, raspberries, and currants. Then Sister Lee brought out three different ice-cream flavors. Preston chose chocolate.
They were tired, but Preston felt good inside.
“Thank you so much for your service,” Sister Lee said. “You did in one hour what would have taken me a whole week.”
Preston smiled and licked his ice-cream cone.
Having super powers not only felt great. It tasted great too!

It would be safe to say that the bassoon is not one of the more common instruments for a teenager to play. But for Mike Munson, a 16-year-old priest in the Augusta Ward, Augusta Maine Stake, the bassoon has been a part of life for several years and a key to rewarding experiences.
Mike plays several instruments, among them the piano, bassoon, tuba, and organ, but it was because of his talent with the bassoon that he was invited to play with the Navy Band for one performance.
“They chose high school musicians from the Kennebee Valley area,” Mike explained. “But it was still a surprise for the bassoonist in the Navy Band when he saw me. ‘A bassoonist!’ he said. He told me they run into a few here and there, but he seemed glad to see me.”
Mike began playing the bassoon after several years as a pianist. Now he performs with the Augusta Symphony Orchestra, and the Brunswick Regional Youth Orchestra and also plays the piano in a jazz band. He is also involved with several musical groups, including a brass quartet, at Cony High School.
He practices several hours every day, a double duty because he must practice both bassoon and piano. “Schoolwork comes first,” he said, “and with rehearsals and school sessions I play almost every day. I try to practice at home daily, too, but I can’t always do it. I try to squeeze in enough time.”
The practice has paid off in awards. Mike has earned high ratings in regional and state high school competition for both bassoon and piano. He has also been a member of the all=state orchestra and band and been highly rated at the Solo and Ensemble Festival at the University of Maine at Orno.
Mike is a ward organist and is also often called on to play the piano at Mutual. He says his involvement with music has provided a way for him to talk to people about the Church.
“It usually surprises people when they find a Mormon in Maine,” he said. “But through talking about music and sharing ideas in that area, they usually are willing to share my ideas about the gospel, too.
“Music is a means of sharing with others. People receive joy from any type of art, and musicians enjoy sharing what they create,” Mike said.
“You have to have a great desire to be a musician,” Mike added. “If you don’t, you won’t make the necessary effort.” He should know. He’s worked long, hard hours to make himself good.

“Hi. You’re new here, aren’t you?” asked Carl.
“Yup,” Tony answered.
“Where did you go to school before?”
“Lincoln.”
“Lincoln Elementary? Across town?”
“Nope. Lincoln, Nebraska,” replied Tony.
“Oh. I was in Nebraska once, but I was just a kid, so I don’t remember much about it. You like it here?”
“It’s all right.”
“What did you do at recess in Lincoln?” Carl asked.
“Well … we played marbles.”
“Marbles! Terrific! Are you any good?” probed Carl.
“OK, I guess,” Tony answered modestly. “Do you play?”
“Not much. Mostly I play kickball. You’ll have to meet Marvin.”
“Marvin?”
“Marvin the Marble Marvel,” Carl explained.
“Is he any good?”
“Is he any good! That’s like asking if ice is cold. That’s him, over there,” said Carl, pointing across the playground.
“What grade’s he in, first?”
“No, third—like us.”
“He sure doesn’t look like a third grader. He’s so little,” Tony declared.
“I know,” agreed Carl. “But that doesn’t stop him. He’s the best marble player in the whole school. I can’t remember anyone ever beating him. Want to meet him?”
“Yup.”
Carl and Tony walked over to Marvin, and Carl introduced him to Tony.
“Hi!” Marvin said, grinning and pushing up his glasses. “Want to play?”
“I didn’t bring my marbles,” Tony answered.
“That’s OK,” Carl said generously, handing Tony a marble. “I’ll lend you Orangy.”
“Let’s play lag-outs,” Marvin suggested.
“OK,” Tony agreed, “but no snudging.”
“What’s snudging?”
“That means that your knuckles stay on the ground when you shoot,” explained Tony.
“Oh,” said Marvin. “It doesn’t matter. I shoot flingies.”
“Flingies?” asked Tony.
“Sure. Like this,” said Marvin, snapping the marble forward with his thumb and index finger.
“Oh, snappers,” Tony replied.
“Whatever,” Marvin said, “Hurry—the bell’s about to ring. We’ll play funsies. You shoot first.”
“OK. Thanks.” Tony shot his marble.
“We play no hits on first tries,” explained Marvin, rolling a green marble in the opposite direction. “Your turn.”
Tony aimed his marble carefully. An audible click was heard as Orangy collided with Marvin’s marble.
“Wow!” exclaimed Carl. “What a shot!”
“Good hit,” complimented Marvin, handing Tony his marble.
“You said funsies,” reminded Tony, giving both marbles back to their owners. “I’ll bring my marbles tomorrow.”
By the next morning the whole school knew about Tony’s fantastic shot. Carl met Tony on the way out to recess. “Did you bring your marbles?” he questioned.
“Yup.” Tony held up a bulging brown leather bag.
“Good. That looks like enough. Sometimes Marvin likes to play undergrounds.”
“Undergrounds? You mean pots?” asked Tony.
“I guess, Don’t let Marvin fool you,” warned Carl.
“How?”
“Well, he doesn’t look or act like a marble champ.”
“What do you mean?” Tony asked.
“He brings the same marble to school every day,” confided Carl.
“Only one?”
“That’s right,” Carl replied. “He brings it in a sandwich bag, and every afternoon he goes home with a bagful of marbles that he’s won.”
“You’re joking,” Tony challenged.
“No. Honest. I’ve always wondered what he does with the marbles he wins.”
“He must have a closetful at home,” Tony said as they approached Marvin and a couple of his friends.
“Hi. Ready to play?” asked Marvin, pulling a sandwich bag containing just one marble out of his pocket.
Carl gave Tony an “I told you so” nudge as some of the other kids came over to watch the game.
“Same rules as yesterday,” Marvin announced.
“OK,” Tony agreed, “but no go-fors.”
“Gophers?” Marvin repeated.
“Go-fors.”
“What does that mean?”
“No one else can shoot for you,” Tony explained.
“Oh—no helpers. OK. Come on, Sunshine,” Marvin pleaded, rolling his shiny yellow cat’s-eye marble between his thumb and forefinger.
Tony wisely shot his blue marble some distance away from Marvin. But when Marvin shot his marble, it stopped just short of Tony’s. On the next shot Tony easily won the cat’s-eye.
“Good game,” said Tony as Marvin handed him Sunshine. “You’ll have to bring more marbles tomorrow.”
“I don’t have any more marbles,” replied Marvin quietly.
“What?” Carl protested. “How can that be? You’ve won hundreds.”
“Well … I …” Marvin hesitated.
“He always gives them back the next day,” Jenny, an on-looker, broke in. “I’m sorry, Marvin. I had to tell.”
“That’s OK,” Marvin mumbled, staring at the ground.
“You mean that you’ve been winning the same marbles over and over again?” Carl asked incredulously.
“Well, yeah,” admitted Marvin. “You see, I found Sunshine on my way home from school one day, and I’ve just always won. I give the marbles back so that everyone will keep playing with me.”
“You’re good, Marvin,” Tony said, handing Sunshine back to him.
“You won it,” Marvin insisted. “You can keep it.”
“We said we’d play the same rules as yesterday,” Tony reminded him. “We were playing funsies yesterday, remember?”
“That’s right!” Marvin replied, happily tucking Sunshine into his pocket.

A few years ago, I learned to index during a large indexing activity organized at the Les Abymes meetinghouse, led in part by Sabrina Bastien. It didn’t particularly captivate me as I found the documents difficult to read. Another time, I participated in an indexing activity on a Sunday with young people who had been called to serve as temple and family history consultants. I then began trying to do it alone at home, calling Sister Bastien for help when problems arose, and reading explanations on FamilySearch. I started indexing every Sunday afternoon. It became a way for me to help my family with their genealogy, as we are all part of our Heavenly Father’s family. If I find it easy to locate my close family, it’s because others have done work for me.
So, it’s my turn to return the favor. I noticed that by asking for help from our Heavenly Father, I could read certain writing more easily. This allowed me to have patience. During the first major COVID-19 lockdown, I indexed every day. And then every Sunday. I am happy to be able to help, through indexing, in bringing families together on both sides of the veil.
I used to index, but I stopped. This challenge encouraged me to resume service. [I found that] as soon as I engage in indexing, the Lord helps me stay calm, and patient, and I see difficult-to-decipher names light up. I feel joy in doing this service and want to do it over and over again. Thank you for the encouragement. Some of you (consultants) have the gift of motivating others to go further and contribute to this work. I am blessed and grateful to have you as brothers and sisters in Christ.
I started indexing when I became a Church member (10 years ago) And since then, I have participated in this work, thinking that I am serving others. I dedicate myself to it on Sundays in general, depending on my motivation level. My participation in the challenge this month helped me develop more patience and compassion for the people listed in the documents. And as Nathalie said, I developed the gift of indexing. I can add this gift to my list that I thought was empty.
During this indexing campaign, I learned that the Lord would allow me, with the help of other members, to better understand His work. I learned that with members who love each other, this work becomes a joy and a source of fulfillment. My relationships with my brothers and sisters have strengthened, thanks to this indexing month, and I love them even more intensely. I have developed, with other members, the gift of indexing.
Indexing did not interest me until now. The challenge allowed me to see indexing truly as a service rendered that will benefit everyone, the whole human family. The indexing group allowed me to get involved and be part of the game.
Indexing brings me even closer to Jesus Christ; it brings me a lot of joy when I do it. I feel a satisfaction that makes me want to continue. Thank you for your example.
This month of indexing has been revealing for me and has given me more momentum on the idea of indexing, and I am grateful to all of you. It also allowed me to become aware of several other things, among others: patience, perseverance, unity, and that whatever happens, the work of our Heavenly Father will move forward with or without us. So, I prefer to be part of it because I know more than ever that it is His work, and I am confident in the continuation of this mission because God cannot lie, and the spirit of Elijah is what will help us resist the difficulties to come in the last days.
I had already had the opportunity to index, but I admit it was not my favorite part of the work of family history. So, it was done a little here and a little there, especially during challenges. However, this year, because of all of you and the Lord, I felt a strength, and a motivation that allowed me to index beyond what I thought I could. I felt close to these people; I was participating in something marvelous. The spirit of Elijah was present. I sometimes saw the correct names materialize before my eyes. Indexing has taken on a spiritual dimension for me. I will continue to do it. The work must be done on both sides of the veil. So, yes, thank you, thank you to the Lord and to each of you for your encouragement, your help, and your love.

Cory stared at the clock in the Primary room. “When will this be over?” he wondered.
Now that Cory was in middle school, Primary didn’t seem as fun anymore. He knew all the scripture stories and the answers to all the questions. He thought the games and songs were for little kids.
Cory slumped in his chair. Then he remembered something he wanted to ask Austin about his new computer game. “I need your help on this one level,” he whispered.
Sister Evans tapped Cory on his shoulder. “Please sing,” she said. Cory waited for Sister Evans to look away and then finished talking to Austin.
On the drive home from church, Mom asked, “How was Primary?”
“Fine,” Cory said. He didn’t remember much about it.
“Sister Evans asked me if she could come over for a visit tomorrow after school,” Mom said.
Cory swallowed hard. “Um, OK.”
The next day at school, Cory worried about what Sister Evans would say. “She probably wants to remind me that I shouldn’t talk during Primary,” he thought.
That afternoon, Cory was playing his new game when the doorbell rang. He looked up to see Mom inviting Sister Evans in.
“Hi, Cory,” Sister Evans said. She sat down and got right to the point. “How can I help make Primary a place you want to be?”
Cory started to say he liked Primary fine, but it seemed like Sister Evans wanted to hear what he really thought. So he told her everything—how he knew all the stories and how the games and songs were for younger kids.
“I think I understand,” Sister Evans said. “You’ve been in Primary a long time. Sometimes when we do the same things over again, it can seem boring.” Cory nodded. “Well,” Sister Evans said, “I don’t want Primary to be boring. I brought a scripture to share with you. I think it might help.”
Sister Evans opened her scriptures. “This was written by the Apostle Paul,” she said. “See if you can tell what he’s talking about.” Then she read, “‘But now are they many members, yet but one body.
“‘And the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you. …
“‘Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular’” (1 Corinthians 12:20–21, 27).
Cory asked, “When it says ‘members,’ is that like members of the Church?”
“Exactly,” Sister Evans said. “Just like every part of the body is important, every person is needed at church. In Primary, you can be like one of those hands that Paul wrote about—a helping hand.”
“But I don’t teach the lesson or lead the songs,” Cory said.
“But when you answer questions, it helps others learn,” Sister Evans said. “And when you sing your best, the younger children feel more confident.”
“I’ll try,” Cory said. “Maybe you can call me your ‘right-hand man,’” he said, smiling.
On Sunday, Cory felt more excited to go to Primary than he had for a long time. He answered questions, and he tried to sing well so that the younger kids could hear the words.
Later, Sister Evans pointed to a boy in the Sunbeam class who was crying. “Would you mind sitting by Steven today?” Sister Evans asked Cory.
Cory sat next to Steven and helped him sing the songs. When Cory folded his arms for the prayer, Steven did too.
On the way home, Cory felt a little more grown-up. He had always known he was important to Heavenly Father. But now that he was a “right-hand man” in Primary, he knew he was also an important part of Heavenly Father’s Church.

Each summer, seven-year-old Dennis helped Grandpa farm his fields, located three miles outside their hometown. Dennis loved everything about Grandpa and his farm. He marveled at the morning sun boiling up over dark hills, the liquid gold of sunset clouds, and the skill in Grandpa’s strong hands as he worked the land that meant so much to him.
Most of all, he marveled at Grandpa’s faith. Dennis could see it in his pale blue eyes that burned in his sunbaked face like fire whenever he spoke of Heavenly Father.
“Give us strength of body and spirit, dear Father, to do today that which we must,” Grandpa prayed one morning as Dennis and Grandma sat at the breakfast table with bowed heads. “Let us be of service, and let our faith be strong.” After breakfast Dennis and Grandpa climbed onto Grandpa’s tractor and set off down the lonely road to the farm.
After working a few hours, Grandpa stopped the tractor and gazed across the hilly landscape of his half-furrowed fields. “Well, son,” he said. “What do you think?”
Dennis wiped the sweat and dust from his face with the back of his hand. “I think I’m tired. There’s too much field, Grandpa. It seems to go on forever, and I’m afraid we’ll never get it done. Besides, it’s hot, and I think there’s enough dirt on me to plant a garden.”
Grandpa laughed and ruffled Dennis’s dusty hair. “You may be right, sprout. But to have a good harvest I’ve got to plow a good portion of earth. Half jobs yield half results, and half a crop just won’t do. Besides,” he added with a wink, “to put off work at my age could be fatal.” Grandpa chuckled and passed a canteen of cold lemonade to Dennis.
Dennis grinned and swallowed a few big gulps.
“You know,” Grandpa said as he squinted into the gold-brown haze of the late morning light, “President Joseph F. Smith once said, ‘We cannot give up; we must not lie down.’ He was talking about the courage of faith. He said, ‘Men who possess that divine quality go on.’”*
Dennis scrunched up his face until he looked like a dirt clod with eyes. “What’s ‘courage of faith,’ Grandpa?”
Grandpa mopped his forehead with a worn bandanna. “To go on. In our case, it means finishing these furrows no matter how hot and dirty the job, no matter how big the field. Especially when that old sun up there and the ache in my back tell me to quit right now.” He patted Dennis’s leg, raising a cloud of dust. “But your help takes the quit right out of it.”
Dennis smiled.
Later, when the canteen was empty, Grandpa decided that it was time to refresh their water supply. He turned the tractor and began to drive it up the hill toward the nearby spring.
But he misjudged the steepness of the hill. Suddenly the front of the machine began to lift off the ground, tipping them backward. “Jump!” he yelled to Dennis as the tractor arched back.
Dennis leaped to safety. Grandpa tried to follow him, but it was too late. The tractor pitched over backward, pinning Grandpa beneath it. He screamed, his face twisted with pain. He turned his head toward Dennis, who stood frozen with horror. “You’ll have to go for help,” Grandpa gasped. “And be quick, son. Be quick!”
For a moment Dennis stood there, his heart drumming. Grandpa’s life depended on him! He took a deep breath and plunged down the hill. All he had were his short legs and the knowledge that help was three long, hot, dusty miles away.
He hit the bottom of the hill at a dead run. His throat and lungs burned as he started down the road that seemed to stretch out forever. His heart and head pounded. Dark thoughts beat at him in rhythm with the hammering of his feet on the hard-baked earth. “I’m only seven. I’m not a runner. I’m already tired. I can’t do it. I’m only seven. …”
Spilling into his thoughts like a flood of light came the words of a prophet: “We cannot give up; we must not lie down.” Then Grandpa’s prayer from that morning echoed through his mind: “Give us strength of body and spirit, dear Father, to do today that which we must.”
Hot tears filled Dennis’s eyes as he ran. “Help me, Heavenly Father,” he prayed aloud in ragged, winded gasps. “Help me to do what I must.”
A little while later, Dennis burst into his house, staggering with exhaustion. “Dad!” he croaked. “Grandpa needs help!” Within moments, help was on its way.
He had done it. He didn’t know how, but Heavenly Father had made it possible. And so had the courage of faith.
Grandpa was rushed to the hospital. His leg was badly mangled. He had to stay in the hospital for several weeks and was in bed for a year after that. But in time he healed completely. The doctor told the family that if it hadn’t been for Dennis’s big run, things probably would have turned out differently. And Dennis knew that if it hadn’t been for what Grandpa had said, he couldn’t have done it. The hug Grandpa gave Dennis when he was well enough made Dennis very glad that he had.

Elder Orton was born on 24 August 1936 to H. Frank and Gwen Riggs Orton and was raised in Panguitch, Utah. His parents had been married in the temple, but not long afterward his father became less active. It wasn’t until young Robert was 12 years old that his father determined to return to full activity. “That took place after many years of hoping and praying and pleading,” Elder Orton says. “He had always been a good father, but there was now a calmness and sweetness in our home because of the spiritual relationship that existed between my father and the rest of our family.”

1. Talya sat in the back of the Primary room and watched the other children prepare for their program next Sunday. Because she was only visiting her grandma for a week, she was not going to be in the Primary program.
2. Talya liked watching the other boys and girls practice their scriptures and talks.
3. One little girl, Rachel, stepped to the microphone. She stood there silently. She could not remember what to say.
4. Rachel burst into tears. She was scared to stand and speak in front of so many children.
5. Talya knew Rachel needed a friend. Even though she did not know Rachel very well, Talya went to the front of the room and gave her a big hug.
6. After Primary, Talya told her grandma about Rachel. “Is Rachel one of your friends?” Grandma asked.
7. “No, but she looked so sad,” Talya said. “I wanted to help her feel better.”
8. Grandma gave Talya a big hug and a smile. “I’m glad you could help Rachel,” she said.

Tonight while preparing a talk, I was reading one of my old New Eras (Feb. 1978). I came across an article called “The Basic Concepts of Honesty” by Elder Howard W. Hunter. I read it and decided to do my talk on honesty.
That article changed my life. I had been cheating on some of my school exams. I thought it really didn’t matter, that it was a little thing. Well, Elder Hunter made me realize that the little things count too. Cheating is not honest. With the Lord’s help I will find the time to really study for my tests.
Name Withheld

by Liisa Berg
Tucked away in a small cove in the ultra-modern Crown Colony of Hong Kong sits a tiny village that seems to be a throwback from old China. The community, called Rennie’s Mill, came into existence 40 years ago when refugees from mainland China fled there to avoid the Cultural Revolution. LDS missionaries soon arrived to teach, and the first chapel in Southeast Asia was built there. But over the years, members left, and the branch has dwindled to just a few.
The Young Women of the Hong Kong, Victoria Ward, were recently asked to return to visit with the residents and participate in a sacrament service in the chapel that sits on a hillside at the top of a path that climbs nearly 200 steps.
It took over two hours to get there, via subway, bus, and ferry, but the girls agreed it was well worth the travel. They sang, gave talks, and played the flute for the members, then chatted with the mothers and children of the village and gave them “testimony dolls” that had been made by friends in Utah.
On the way home, they were reminded of the scripture “Know ye not that there are more nations than one? Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, have created all men, and that I remember those who are upon the isles of the sea; and that I … bring forth my word unto the children of men, yea, even upon all the nations of the earth?” (2 Ne. 29:7).

I was the first member of my family to join the Church. As an eight-year-old, I waited to feel somehow different because of my baptism. To be honest, the only thing I felt when I was brought out of the water was … well, dripping wet. I thought something more profound would happen when I was confirmed. However, after receiving the Holy Ghost, again I felt happy but certainly no different than I had just a few minutes before.

It wasn’t until the following day at fast and testimony meeting that I experienced what I now recognize as the influence of the Holy Ghost. A brother stood to bear his testimony and tell about the blessings of his membership in the Church. I felt a flood of warmth sweep over me. Even as an eight-year-old, I recognized that this was something different. I felt a peace descend on me, and I had the distinct feeling that Heavenly Father was pleased with me.

Kathy Hart, fifteen-year-old Latter-day Saint from Albuquerque, New Mexico, has a fabulous goal for the future, and she could very well reach it. Kathy wants to represent the United States in the 1976 Olympics—her skill, track and field. Kathy first began to excel in track and field in the sixth grade. She now takes part in many meets each year, participating in relays, hurdles, the 220 yard dash, the high jump and long jump, and the pentathlon. Kathy has a long list of accomplishments to her credit by now, including the third best long jump-high jump combination in women’s track and field history in 1971 and ninth over all in the national high jump finals where she equaled the winning jump of five feet, four inches.
In 1972 Kathy participated in the Girl’s National and Women’s National track meets in Canton, Ohio, jumping five feet, five inches in both meets. This qualified her to compete in the Olympic trials in the women’s high jump in Frederick, Maryland. At the trials she once again jumped five feet, five inches and placed seventh among the women high jumpers. Kathy was the youngest woman high jumper at the Olympic trials and one of three fifteen-year-old girls participating in the whole women’s division of the trials. Since that time Kathy has jumped five feet, six inches in a regional track meet held in El Paso, Texas. She has jumped higher than any other woman in track and field from the state of New Mexico and has held the thirteen-, fourteen-, and fifteen-year-old state high jump records.

I was lounging in a comfortable living room chair reading a magazine when my four-year-old brother walked into the room, his arms overflowing with toys. Normally I would have told him to play in his room because he is too noisy and I would have to clean up after him. But since I knew he wouldn’t want to do that, I decided not to start a fight I probably wouldn’t win.
He deposited his toys in the middle of the floor and began to play, making appropriate noises for each of his stuffed animals as he picked them up. I laughed, to which he responded with a pouting lower lip.
“Come here, Blake,” I called to him, putting my magazine down. He climbed into my lap. I gave him a hug and said, “I love you,” unconsciously starting his favorite game.
“I love you more,” he insisted, returning my hug.
“No way! I love you more!” I demanded, squeezing him tighter.
He crawled down from my lap. “I love you this much,” he said, stretching his arms out as far as they would go, grunting from the strain.
I stretched my arms out and said, “Well, I love you this much,” which was more because my arms are nearly twice the length of his.
“I love you as much as this whole room.”
I came back with, “I love you as much as this house.”
“I love you as much as the whole world.”
“I love you as much as the whole universe!” I thought I had won because he doesn’t know what the universe is.
“I love you as much as Jesus,” he said surely.
I smiled. He had won. I knew I couldn’t beat that. I asked him to give me a kiss, and he did—a nice wet one on my cheek.
I was not surprised that he had thought of it and I hadn’t. It seems that many of us forget what Sunbeams seem to know so well—that Jesus Christ loves us.

Several years ago while my wife and I were serving in Venezuela, our youngest son left the comfort of his high school to join with us. He did not complain, but it was obvious that he struggled as he went to this country where everything was new to him; but in an amazing turn of events, the experience went from one of trial to a huge blessing in his life. He accomplished this by changing his own attitude and developing a determination to succeed.

She wasn’t really her grandmother, but that didn’t matter to Sue Baker. The woman finally felt close enough to ask her for a favor.
“I have a parcel that needs to be wrapped,” the older lady said with a smile, propping herself up on her rest home bed. Sue, eager to help, asked if the package was going to be mailed somewhere.
“No, it’s not going to be sent off. But I need you to get some tissue paper, ribbon, and a card …”
Sue asked a few more questions. She needed to know the size of the package in order to purchase the correct amount of paper, and she wanted to be sure to select an appropriate color.
“Can you tell me what it is?” she said. “It might help me to know what I need to get for you, what kind of card, that sort of thing.”
The elderly woman decided she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. She pulled the package out from behind her pillow, handed it to Sue, and said, “Here. It’s for you. Pick out a card you like.”
It’s hard for Sue to tell the story without crying. When she opened the box later, she found inside some embroidery she had admired. A few weeks before, her grandmotherly friend had said it was “the most precious thing” she owned.
Sue, whose home is in La Crescenta, California, is just one of more than 60 BYU students who participate in the Adopt-a-Grandparent program (AAG) sponsored by the Student Community Services office. Coordinating their efforts through a central bureau, the students work with Provo rest homes and private individuals in an effort to battle loneliness in the lives of elderly area residents.
“I felt good about the program when I first heard about it,” said Jan Henrie of Idaho Falls. “One of the greatest things about it is that you bring joy into their lives by visiting with them. But the joy that comes back to you is much more than you would get by doing something for yourself. It helps you see what a great thing service really is, not just for the person you do something for, but for yourself as well.”
The elderly participants are as excited about the once-a-week (minimum) visits as the students are. “For several years, the Y has sent somebody down here who has the time to help me make my deliveries,” said Fred Davis, an “adopted grandfather” who sells shoes. “The other day, Mike (Mike Allred, who’s working with Fred this year) took me over to deliver some in Springville. We sold a couple of pairs, and I got the chance to talk to him. He doesn’t mind helping me. I’m blind in one eye, and I like to have him describe what we’re passing.”
On the days they know visitors are coming, rest home residents sometimes get so eager they line up out in the halls, according to Sheryl Sanders of Boise, Idaho, AAG’s assistant director. “If it hadn’t been for the program,” Helen Strong, one elderly sister, emphasizes, “life would have meant nothing to me. Now, I have a friend. I feel good about having her come.”
Julie Melville, of San Jose, California, directs the Adopt-a-Grandparent service. She explains that students who wish to participate must be willing to donate at least an hour each week for six months to visit their special friend. A screening committee interviews applicants to orient them to the program and explain the commitment necessary to do a good job. Glen Hale, from Murray, Utah, the orientation and training director for the staff, meets with each new volunteer and discusses likes, needs, and tips for getting along with his elderly friend. Then the visits begin, along with a weekly progress report to a supervisor, who can offer help or refer problems to qualified authorities.
“They matched me with Albina Felker,” Jan said. “As I’ve come to visit her every week, I’ve also become acquainted with her roommate, Wanda Roper. Albina is always cheerful, tells me stories about her life, and gives me good advice. She’s 94 but active. She walks outside every day. She tells me about how she’s never smoked or drunk, how she’s done things to keep herself healthy. She also loves to talk about her family.” When Sister Felker isn’t in, Jan will spend a few minutes with Sister Roper. “I’ve worked with young people all my life, and I still enjoy it,” Sister Roper said.
“Some of the people we visit have so much to say, but no one to say it to,” Sue added. “I know it means a lot to my special friend just to be able to talk. I’ve got a great relationship with my grandparents back home, and leaving them was hard. Having someone up here who more or less is ‘family’ means a lot to me. But when I first met my friend I felt I had something to overcome. I talked with her for about 90 minutes, and a couple of days later came back. She couldn’t remember who I was. The next week I went back, and she still didn’t remember me. I finally started calling her every day and talking to her. I wouldn’t tell her who it was; I’d make her guess. Then she started saying, ‘Oh, I’ve been looking forward to your call all day.’
“About three weeks ago she said, ‘Why don’t you give me your phone number so I can call you sometime?’ It was when she actually phoned me that I got excited. She called the other night. My roommate said, ‘I think it’s your grandmother.’ I got on the phone and said, ‘Grandma?’ She said, ‘Yes, it’s me. I’ve got something exciting to share with you,’ and told me that a group of children had just come by with a basket of fruit and a card. That meant a lot to me. I feel like I’ve overcome the problem of her not knowing who I am.” Sue obviously won her heart. She’s the same elderly lady mentioned at the beginning of this story, the one who asked Sue to help her wrap a present and then gave the present to Sue.
Many of the students said they became involved with Adopt-a-Grandparent in about the same way Sharon Pritchett of Atlanta, Georgia, did. “Julie had been praying about finding people who wanted to get involved, and I had been feeling lonely and praying for ways to get to know new people,” Sharon said. The two met on their way to a religion class they had together, and after class Julie invited Sharon to a staff meeting the same day. Soon Sharon was publicity chairman for AAG.
The volunteers also said they felt their leaders had been inspired in matching them with particular elderly participants. “The Lord guides us a lot in what we do,” Julie said. “You wouldn’t believe the backgrounds of these people,” another supervisor added. “One man used to catch broncs by the tail and then train them. Another was born in Czechoslovakia and was a concert pianist. Now he’s paralyzed in one hand, but he still plays. His name is Rudy.” The supervisor also said it’s a goal of the program to place volunteers and participants with similar interests together. One fellow watches football games each Saturday with the gentlemen from a rest home. A young lady is learning how to crochet. Others work on sewing, knitting, and lapidary (making jewelry from rocks) projects with their elderly friends.
Kathleen Koch, of Carbondale, Illinois, often discusses genealogy with Alberta Campbell, her special friend. They spent one day together watching a general conference session, eating lunch, and visiting with Sister Campbell’s friends in other rooms of the convalescent center.
“My friend has been to college. Even more important, she doesn’t want to be treated like a baby,” Karen Critchfield of Los Altos, California, said. “We were both nervous to start with, but now we confide in one another.”
Besides visiting their elderly friends, the students meet on their own at least once a month for a fireside and often have social gatherings. Wendy Ius of Trail, British Columbia, said fireside speakers are usually experts in social work, psychology, or human relations. The meetings help group members feel like a team, sharpen their skill in dealing with others, and provide a time for sharing ideas and experiences. A periodically published newsletter also helps to unite the group.
From time to time special activities are held at the rest home, especially on holidays. “We had a home evening a little while ago,” Karen said, “at which she (Sister Strong) bore her testimony. It was really uplifting. We had my entire home evening group out here, and she spoke about relying on the Lord.”
Linda Barr, of Brunswick, Georgia, said AAG “makes you more concerned because you find out how lonely some people are, what little joy they have, how they feel they’re not worth anything. You want to make them feel better. And it makes you feel better to think you’re important to them.”
“Just because they’re old doesn’t mean they’re not people. They’re up-to-date, not living in the ’20s. The person inside will be the same, now or later on,” Julie said.
And Sharon Wendell, of Bountiful, Utah, added, “They have lots to offer, unless people forget them.” Colette Johnson, of Boise, Idaho, commented, “It’s hard to know if I’ve changed because of the program. It was so great to start out with, how could it get any better?”
Perhaps one of the most poignant stories, however, was related by Peggy Buchanan, of Waynesboro, Virginia, as she described her first visit to the rest home: “I went to visit Edna. She was in bed and kind of sick. I had a picture of a lily mounted on matboard, with a poem on the back. I was going to read the poem and give her the picture. She didn’t respond much, so I decided to talk to her instead. I asked her if she liked flowers. She said yes and started talking a bit. She is a great lady, and she brought out something in me. I told her about my grandmother’s flowers, and she listened while I shared parts of my life with her, which was very rewarding. Then she fell asleep, and I left. Outside the door, a woman in a wheelchair asked me to pick up her blanket and tuck it in. She cuddled up and snuggled back in her chair and was happy. I got to see about five ladies that day and helped them all. As I was leaving, I went down the back hall and asked if I could visit anybody else. I started to go, when someone called out to me and said to please come in. She reached her hand out and said, ‘Please don’t leave. We love you.’”
Peggy said, “I love you, too,” and spent several more minutes chatting with the woman. As she left, Peggy knew “that lady was happy, and that it meant a lot to her to have people visit.” She also knew that despite the pressures of school, dating, and work, she had found friends and would find time to come back often.

I went to summer camp for six weeks, and at first I was really bored. But then I decided to read my scriptures. When my brother came to camp, he brought up the 1997 April New Era. I borrowed it from him and read every article. I have never really sat down and enjoyed a magazine so much. It helped strengthen my testimony. I especially liked “Clean Again.” It made me realize what I have to work on. Keep up the good work.
Joseph BreeCrescent City, California

President Harold B. Lee told of a great educator, Horace Mann, who “was the speaker at the dedication of a … boys’ school. … In his talk he said, ‘This school has cost hundreds of thousands of dollars; but if this school is able to save one boy, it is worth all that it cost.’ One of his friends came up to [Mr. Mann] at the close of the meeting and said, ‘You let your enthusiasm get away with you, didn’t you? You … said that if this school, costing hundreds of thousands of dollars, were to save just one boy, it was worth all that it cost? You surely don’t mean that.’
“Horace Mann looked at him and said, ‘Yes, my friend. It would be worth it if that one boy were my son; it would be worth it’” (in Conference Report, Apr. 1971, 64–65; or Ensign, June 1971, 61).