Gospel Story Finder

The deacons and teachers of the Sandton Ward, Sandton South Africa Stake, had a rare opportunity to explore a game preserve and learn to live, for three days, with nature as it exists in this rugged and beautiful part of the world.
The group, including the young men and their leaders, met a guide who accompanied them into the Doorndraai Dam Nature Reserve. The game park had a variety of wild animals ranging from leopards to mongeese, from giraffes to hyenas. The group had to truck in containers of water as well as food and equipment for their stay.
The first night, as darkness fell and as the campfire burned low, each member of the group was assigned an hour watch. A schedule of night watches is necessary in an area where large animals prowl. For some, the strange noises and the stories about prowling hyenas and leopards did not allow for a restful night.
The next morning the group set off on a hike. The guide pointed out plants, birds, and game. They often came across such animals as zebra, wildebeest, impala, water buck, eland, warthogs, and monkeys.
After the day’s exercise, no one had trouble sleeping the second night. The hour assigned to night watch was a welcome time to be alone, listen to the sounds of the preserve, and reflect on a loving Heavenly Father’s creations.
Heading for home, the young men packed up, then obliterated all signs of their camp. They were leaving the preserve as they had found it, except for the new appreciation of nature each one carried home.

I was called to serve a mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo, but for political reasons my visa was suspended, and I would have to start in Abidjan. But it did not affect me too much because I had entrusted myself to the Lord and the place of my mission did not matter. So, I zealously embarked on the work with Elder Kalema Peron my trainer in the Koumassi area where I had one of the most rewarding experiences of my mission.
One day we went to visit the ward mission leader in Adjahui a sub-district of the commune of Koumassi. It is a peninsula whose access is difficult and is done only by pinasse, a rudimentary and inconvenient means of transport that uses the lagoon way. The neighborhood does not have a good reputation due to the precarious living conditions of its inhabitants.
But my companion and I loved to go because these people are humble, had the desire to learn, the need to be encouraged and strengthened by the envoys of Jesus Christ that we were.
We were chatting with the ward mission leader and his family next to his house in a common courtyard made up of houses built with precarious materials where his friend and neighbor Francis (an assumed name) would occasionally talk with us. He was a kind man but faced great challenges. Having lost his job, he lived alone in his house and was very withdrawn. When he saw us, he would come to greet us respectfully and then go home. Francis also faced a tobacco addiction related to the hardships he was going through and had no hope.
The ward mission leader told us that Francis had already received a Book of Mormon and that he had read it entirely in his solitude in just four days. This is rare in Africa where reading is a difficult art. As a result of frequent visits, I noticed his growing interest in the word of God.
Francis claimed to have felt something special after reading the Book of Mormon. We explained to him that it was the Holy Ghost teaching him. Personally, I had a strong prompting that told me that Francis was going to convert to the restored gospel.
Francis agreed to attend church and take the missionary lessons. He still struggled with the Word of Wisdom. At this time, he shared with us that it would be difficult for him to give up his addiction to cigarettes of which he had been a prisoner for about 20 years.
We spent time with Francis praying and encouraging him. With the help of God, he made the commitment to be baptized. He had overcome his addiction and you could see the joy on his face. We too were happy for him.
Sometime after his baptism, he relapsed and I admit that it was his attitude that touched me the most. Indeed, very late at night he sent us the following SMS message: “Elder, I fell”.
Immediately my companion and I knelt and prayed for him.
The next day we went to his house and reassured him that this was part of the conversion process and that he could repent and begin again. We shared the little tips and tricks that might help with his addiction.
Listening to us speak and teach of repentance we saw tears and a glimmer of hope in Francis’ eyes. He gradually stopped smoking and overcame his addiction forever.
I finally got my papers to continue my mission in the DRC when circumstances improved.
I later learned that Francis joined the Church and was called as a stake clerk. He had married and was sealed in the Accra Ghana Temple long before me.

We attend a lot of meetings in the Church, and one meeting I attended a few years ago had a powerful effect on me. It was a testimony meeting in a ward in Barcelona, Spain.
To my surprise, around 10 youth shared their testimonies following an FSY conference they had participated in. What impressed me most was that they all bore pure, powerful testimonies of the Savior, Jesus Christ, His atoning sacrifice, and His love for all of us. I was amazed that after five days of fun activities with other youth, food, games, and dances, it was the joy they had in the Savior that really stuck with them. It left me wondering why.
Later I moved to Brazil. I learned the leaders in the area were preparing for an FSY conference. As an Area Seventy, I was invited to help organize the conference and to participate in all five days with the youth.
Before I left, the Area Presidency asked me to be prepared to give a report on my experience at FSY when I returned. My wife and I attended the conference, and for the first three days we enjoyed the planned activities, including morning scripture study, devotionals, classes, outside activities, good food, family home evening, and dances. Everything moved forward as planned, and I felt that I had seen enough to complete my report.
The next evening, we held a beautiful and touching musical program. The Spirit was so special that the owner of the conference site, not a member of the Church, told me that he would love to have our group attend FSY at his place every year.
After the musical program, the youth gathered in their groups for a testimony meeting. My wife and I went from group to group and heard touching testimonies. We could tell that the participants in the conference had been having strong spiritual experiences. We loved hearing the youth freely express their feelings of happiness. We felt like a part of a big spiritual family. We felt the love of the Savior for each one of us.
I looked to my wife and asked, “What is going on here?” She could not say a word. But we knew so many had experienced a spiritual moment and received an unforgettable testimony of the Lord, Jesus Christ.
I went to my room that night and wrote a totally different report! The following year, my wife and I went to FSY again and enjoyed the same experience. Now I understand why the youth in that testimony meeting in Spain shared such meaningful feelings for the Savior instead of relating the fun activities they had.
My desire is that you will have many similar experiences in your life, whether it is at FSY, by your bedside as you pray, when you read the scriptures, or when you share your testimony with your friends.
I testify that we are sons and daughters of a loving Heavenly Father. We came here to earth from His presence, and we are all members of His great spiritual family. Our eldest Brother is the Lord, Jesus Christ. He is our Master, and from Him we can learn and grow “in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man” (Luke 2:52), as He did.
Detail from Christ and the Rich Young Ruler by Heinrich Hofmann
Jesus Christ is our Savior. His power is infinite, and He stands ready to rescue us from any afflicting situation we may find ourselves in. He is our friend—a friend who loves us, knows us, and has offered His life to save us. His atoning sacrifice for us made it possible for Him to know how to succor us, to strengthen us, and to perfect us. Let us all accept His invitation: “Come, follow me” (Luke 18:22).

Maggie loved things that matched. She wore her dark hair in two matching braids almost every day. Her purple backpack matched her purple notebook perfectly. And she carefully sorted her food into matching colors at lunchtime.
One day after lunch, Maggie walked out to the playground. She was about to join her friends when she saw someone sitting alone by the slide. It was a girl with long blonde hair.
Maggie sat down next to the girl. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Anna,” the girl whispered. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked.
“No one will play with me,” Anna said, looking up sadly at Maggie.
Then Maggie saw that Anna had pretty green eyes. Maggie knew another girl who also had green eyes and blonde hair. The two girls would match perfectly!
“I know someone who can play with you!” Maggie told Anna.
“You do?” Anna asked with a hopeful smile.
“Yes! Sarah from my class.” Maggie pointed to a girl jumping rope. “See her over there? She would probably play with you.”
“Oh,” Anna said. Her face melted back into a frown.
Maggie didn’t know what to do next. “Well, I’ll see you later,” she said, standing up and walking over to her friends.
But Maggie couldn’t forget Anna’s sad eyes. That night at dinner, she told her family about what happened.
“She needed someone to play with?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Maggie said, “but she wouldn’t go ask Sarah to play, even though they both have blonde hair and green eyes.”
Dad looked over at Maggie. “Why didn’t you play with Anna?”
Maggie’s mouth fell open. “Because—because—Sarah and the girl matched!”
“Hmm,” Mom said as she wiped the baby’s face. “Do you remember what Jesus says about how we should treat other people?”
“We should love them?” Maggie said. Mom smiled and nodded.
“It doesn’t matter whether our body looks the same as someone else’s,” Dad said. “It doesn’t even really matter if they think the same way we do, or believe in the same things. The most important thing is that our actions match what Jesus taught.”
Maggie felt a warm tingling in her body, and she knew that Dad was right. “I’ll remember that,” she said.
The next day at recess, Maggie looked for Anna. She found her sitting alone by the sandbox.
“Hi,” Maggie said.
“Hello,” Anna said quietly.
“Do you want to come play with my friends and me?”
Now Anna looked up! Her green eyes sparkled brightly as a smile spread across her face.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really!” Maggie said, helping Anna stand.
This feels like a perfect match, Maggie thought as the two ran off to play.

After Ella gulped down her breakfast, she quickly put on her jacket, boots, hat, and gloves. She opened the front door and eagerly stepped onto the porch to see the glistening, new-fallen snow.
Ella dragged her feet through the snow, making two narrow trails across the yard. She reached the sidewalk and peered down the street. The Gonzales twins were already out in their yard, busily constructing a snowman.
“Their snowmen are always the biggest and fanciest on the street,” Ella grumbled to herself, “because there are two of them to do the work. Well, I’ll show them. I’ll build the best snowman that’s ever stood on Larkin Street—even if it takes me all day!”
Scooping up a handful of snow, she patted it into a ball and began rolling it in the snow. Around and around and around the yard she went, until her arms ached from pushing and sweat trickled down her forehead.
“Whew!” Ella stood back in admiration. She’d never seen such a gigantic ball. She glanced proudly toward the Gonzales’s yard—and her eyes popped as the twins set still another snowball on top of the four already there. A five-layered snowman!
“Nuts!” Ella said crossly. She wished that she had someone to help her—this was hard work! She flexed her arms, took a deep breath, and began rolling a second ball.
“Can I help?”
Ella whirled around instantly, but her excitement turned to dismay when she saw who was standing hopefully in the driveway.
Deon! Of all the people on Larkin Street—of all the people in the whole third grade—Deon was the very last person whom Ella would pick to help her. Deon was big enough, but he was awkward. He couldn’t make it through a day of school without dropping something, tripping, or crashing into desks and shelves and people—even Mr. Brown, the principal. Deon’s nickname was the Clumsy Giant.
Deon would probably trip and fall on top of mysnowman and smash it to pieces, Ella thought. I don’t want him to help.
She opened her mouth, all set to tell him—nicely, of course—to go away. Deon’s head drooped sadly. He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking.
“Oh,” said Ella, hating to see him so unhappy, “all right. You can help. Here, let’s lift this up.”
An enormous grin spread across Deon’s face as he plodded into the yard and bent over. Together they lifted the ball and set it on the sturdy base.
“Great!” Ella exclaimed as she dusted the snow off her knees. Then she looked down the street again and groaned. “The Gonzales’s snowman is so tall!”
“Yours is a lot wider, though,” Deon encouraged her.
Ella was pleased. “I’ll make the head, and you can make the neck, OK?”
“Sure!”
In another half hour they were finished.
“Fabulous!” Ella said, beaming. “It’s much better than the Gonzales’s snowman.”
“Are you going to put a face on it?” Deon asked eagerly.
“Of course. A face and a hat, buttons, …”
“A belt?” Deon asked.
“Terrific!” Ella exclaimed. “Why don’t you get a belt and buttons, and I’ll take care of the rest,” she said. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes.”
“OK,” Deon agreed. He lumbered down the sidewalk.
Ella rushed inside and began rummaging through the kitchen.
“Who’s that you’re playing with?” asked her mother.
“Oh, that’s Deon,” Ella explained, slamming a drawer shut. “He’s eight, too, even though he’s so big.”
Mom chuckled. “He reminds me of your Uncle Terry. Terry was big like that when he was a boy. Papa called him a bumbling old sheepdog.”
“Uncle Terry was that big?” Ella was amazed. Uncle Terry looked just like anybody else now. Oh, he was a little taller than average, and quite a bit chunkier, but still he was normal.
“He certainly was a clumsy child,” Mom said. “But now Aunt Rosemary says that he’s the best dancer that she’s ever danced with!”
Ella kept sneaking glances at Deon as they decorated the snowman. Will Deon grow up to look and act like everybody else? She wondered. And had Uncle Terry minded being called a bumbling old sheepdog? I bet Deon doesn’t enjoy being called the Clumsy Giant! Uncle Terry is a pretty super guy—and Deon really is a nice boy.
Soon the snowman was dressed with pop-bottle-cap eyes, a carrot nose, a potato-peeling mouth, an old fishing hat, a moth-eaten blue and green scarf, five shiny black buttons, and a sagging brown belt. Ella lifted up the hat and plopped down an old mophead for hair, and Deon leaned a broken fishing pole against the snowman’s arm.
Deon laughed. “We should make a sign: ‘I’m all ready. Where are the fish?’”
Ella grinned. “That’s a good idea.” She paused, then said, “Come on in. I think that we have paint and cardboard somewhere.”
Mom greeted them cheerfully and gave them cookies and milk after they finished their sign. She didn’t even mind when, on the way out, Deon knocked over a chair and just missed toppling a lamp. “No harm done,” she said, reaching out to steady it. “Now,” she added, “put your sign up, then wait for me. I’m coming out with the camera.”
“Your mom’s nice,” Deon told Ella as they propped the sign against the snowman. “My mom’s always afraid that I’ll break things. She starts yelling at me as soon as I come into the house: ‘Stay away from the table! Don’t set foot in the living room!’” Deon sighed. “I wish that I could take a shrinking potion. I hate being so big.”
“Don’t worry,” Ella said reassuringly. “My Uncle Terry was big like you when he was eight, but now he’s just like everyone else.”
“Really?” Deon’s eyes brightened.
“Yes. After Mom takes our picture, you can come in and play and she’ll tell you about him.”
“Are you ready?” Mom called as she tramped through the snow. “One of you get on each side of this super snowman and smile!”
“The best snowman on Larkin Street,” Ella said proudly as Mom focused the camera. “The best friends too.”

Jennifer sat up sleepily in her bed and pushed the flowered curtains away from the frosty window. Rubbing a small spot clear with her fist, she peeked out and saw the drifting snowflakes. “It’s finally snowing!” she declared. “Now it seems like Christmas.”
She climbed out of bed, rushed to the closet, and pulled out her velvet dress. Mother had said that just this once she could wear it to school for the Christmas party. As she tugged the beautiful dress over her head, Jennifer’s thoughts skipped ahead to school and the party. First there would be a whole morning of spelling, arithmetic, and reading. How can I stand it until one o’clock? she wondered. She shivered with anticipation as she adjusted the lacy collar and sleeves on her dress.
“You look like you’re ready for a party,” Mother said when Jennifer came into the kitchen.
“I am,” she agreed. “The Christmas party!”
“You look lovely, Jenny, but you’d better hurry now and eat your breakfast. The bus will be here soon.”
The school bus rumbled to a stop in front of Jennifer’s house. She climbed aboard and sat next to Sally.
“What do you think we’ll do at the party this afternoon?” Sally asked. “Do you think there will be games and prizes?”
“Oh, I hope so. I just can’t wait!” Jennifer bubbled.
The girls entered their classroom just as the clanging bell signaled nine o’clock. Four more hours until the party!
Every few minutes throughout the morning, Jennifer glanced up at the round clock above the chalkboard—ten o’clock, eleven-thirty; at last it was time for lunch.
When the children returned to their classroom, red and green crepe paper streamed down from the ceiling, and bright signs proclaimed MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY HOLIDAYS. At the back of the room a table was loaded with candy, cupcakes, and punch.
“First we’ll play pin the star on the Christmas tree,” Miss Brewster announced. Blindfolded and equipped with a paper star and pin, each of the children tried to place his star at the very top of the green paper tree. Next they played musical chairs to the tune of Christmas carols.
“Now we’re going to play a word game,” Miss Brewster said. Jennifer glanced over at Jeff who was sitting in the next row. She and Jeff were the best spellers in their class—one of them was sure to win the word game.
“When I say ‘go’ write as many words as you can think of that can be made from the letters in MERRY CHRISTMAS,” Miss Brewster explained as she handed out sheets of paper. “These drawing pencils and this sketch pad will go to the person who has the longest list.”
Jennifer gazed longingly at the rainbow of pencils and the creamy colored sketch pad Miss Brewster was holding. What fun it would be to take the pencils and pad out into the woods and draw the brown squirrels. The green pencil is just the color of the spruce trees and the red would be perfect for drawing poinsettias. I just have to win! she thought determinedly.
“Miss Brewster, what if there’s a tie?” Sally asked.
“Then both winners will receive a box of pencils and a sketch pad. Now it’s time to begin. You have fifteen minutes. Ready? Go!”
Jennifer began writing: sit, sat, miss, rim, tear, and on down the page. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Jeff writing furiously, never pausing. Jennifer forced her thoughts back to her own list. She had twenty-four words now—mist, hat, hit, ham, tire. A slight noise attracted her attention. Jeff had turned his paper over and was writing on the back! She had to hurry. Yam, ram, mast, hi, tie—forty-nine words. How many does Jeff have? she wondered. Looking up, their eyes met. Jeff’s confident grin spurred her on. Sir, him, tam, rite, cast, tar, she scribbled, her mind racing. Sixty-two words. Surely I’ll win, she thought with assurance.
“Time’s up,” Miss Brewster said. “Put your papers on by desk. You may help yourselves to punch and cupcakes while I find out who our winner is.”
Jennifer nibbled nervously at her cupcake as she watched Miss Brewster check the lists. “All right, boys and girls. We have a winner!” she announced. “Our grand champion word maker for today is …”
The moment’s pause seemed to stretch on for hours as Jennifer waited to hear her name.
“Jeff Mason! Congratulations, Jeff. I hope you’ll enjoy the prize.”
Jennifer turned away, blinking back the tears that flooded her eyes.
“Jennifer,” Miss Brewster called gently.
Jennifer turned around, her head down, her face hidden.
“I’m sorry you couldn’t have been a winner too,” Miss Brewster said, “for you and Jeff almost tied. He had just one more word than you did.”
“Only one more?” Jennifer asked in disbelief. “Then I could have tied with him. I could have won the other set of pencils except, except—” she broke off, her voice faltering.
“Except what, Jennifer?”
Jennifer looked up, a wistful smile brightening her face.
“I thought of one more word, but I just couldn’t use it. Christmas is such a happy season, so full of love. I just couldn’t make hate out of MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

I was in Vernal, Utah, near the Colorado border, and met a sister who had just helped a family of five join the Church. She said she was down at the grocery store and saw this woman having trouble finding groceries. “Can I help?” she asked. After helping her, she asked if the woman was just traveling through. The woman said she and her husband were traveling to Colorado to find work, and our sister said, “Well, why don’t you look around here?”

“Oh we wouldn’t know where to look,” said the woman.

“Well,” our good sister said, “let me help you out. Let’s get your groceries and come on over to our home and maybe I can help your husband meet some people who can help him get a job.”

The sister got on the phone and within an hour or two, the man was on the way out to interview for some jobs. He accepted one of them, working and helping to manage a ranch.

Well, do you think this good Samaritan sister stopped there? I should say not. The family of five had nowhere to stay, and so they were invited to stay at her home that night, where they saw happy family life, blessing of the food, family prayers, night and morning, and all the rest. The man and his wife and three children were most appreciative and were interested in this sister and her family. She said that after they got settled, she’d like to let them know why they were the way they were. A week later, she took the missionaries out to this man and his wife—and the family was baptized and eagerly entered the Church. And through it all, our good sister and others provided a transition into the community.

But most of all, I remember sitting in a merciless rain on the hill with a sister and her companion while she, with joy filling her eyes, told me how happy she was to be in pageant and related to me a personal incident that had happened to her a few days before.
It was a brisk morning in Palmyra, and she and five other sisters who were staying with a nonmember family during pageant were waiting for the bus that would take them to the rehearsal on the hill. Across the street, a young boy was tossing a baseball up and down in the air. It had been over a week since she had last been with her family in the West. She missed her little brothers and her home.
Before she knew it, she was across the road and asking the young lad if she could play catch with him. The boy’s eyes lit up, and he thanked her for asking him.
“You’re a Mormon, aren’t you?” he asked jubilantly.
“Yes,” she replied, wondering why this eight-year-old youngster was asking.
“I love Mormons,” he added, as if in answer to her thought. “You’re all so nice. You dress nice. You look nice. And all of you are always fun to be with when you come for the pageant.”
Possessed with the true missionary zeal of the pageant and touched by the boy’s comment, this sister asked if he would like to have two “representatives” come to his house. The answer and the feeling that emanated from him brought tears to her eyes.
“That’d be great! But my mother wouldn’t like it. See, Daddy died a little while back, and she doesn’t really want to see anyone. But I keep working on her.” At this point, the boy stopped playing catch, looked at her with the surety and faith that only an adolescent can possess, and said, “I’ve seen the pageant every year, and I pray in secret every night. I love Jesus, and I know Mr. Smith found those plates over there. Someday I’m gonna be a Saint too, and I’m gonna be in pageant and tell everybody what I believe.”
From the mouth of a child, the Lord had given her all the encouragement she could need to be an example. And being an example is the key to the miracle of the pageant. No one thing influences the effect and success of the pageant more than the spiritual atmosphere present on the hill. For this reason, during the performance, participants who are not on stage maintain reverent silence. The result is an astonishingly spectacular pageant that has awed, thrilled, and inspired millions of viewers since its inception thirty-four years ago and has received news reports in papers in all of the fifty states and many other nations, in addition to widespread television and radio coverage. For anyone not to be deeply inspired by pageant, he would have to have water instead of blood in his veins.

At the age of 15, after the death of my father, one of my brothers, Toribio Castaños, took me to live in his house and took me in like a son. At that time, he had already been a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for several years. He made sure I went to church and received lessons of salvation through the missionaries. This has been the greatest and most significant service I have received in this life. I love my brother Toribio and I will be eternally grateful to him for putting all his effort into helping me to embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ and thus changing the course of my life.

About a month after first stepping into the Angoulême chapel, I decided to be baptized. I was 18 and didn’t need parental permission. But when I called my family in Australia with the joyous news, I was shocked and disappointed to discover they had a negative attitude about the Church and opposed my desire to be baptized.
This weighed heavily on my heart. Should I go ahead against the wishes of my family, whom I loved dearly? Or should I delay baptism until I returned to Australia, where I faced the possibility of greater opposition?
Matthew 19:29 helped me make the decision: “And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name’s sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life.” Was I willing to put the Savior first—even before my family? The answer was yes, and on December 16, 1989, I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. My remaining time in France was filled with a peaceful joy I had never known before.

When Leah woke up that morning, she looked out the window. She smiled because everything was covered with snow. She dressed for school quickly and rushed down to the warm kitchen. “Mom,” she said happily, “did you look outside?”
Her mother smiled and nodded. “Yes, I did, honey. Isn’t the snow pretty?”
“When I get home from school, can I play in it?” Leah asked hopefully.
“Yes, you may. But you’d better hurry and eat your pancakes now, or you’ll be late for school.”
“Mom!” Tim called from the basement. “Where are our winter boots?”
“Under the stairs,” Mother called back. “In the tall cabinet.”
Leah’s older sister, Carol, wrapped a scarf around her neck. “I found my boots. See you later, Mom,” she said as she gave Mother a kiss. Then she patted Leah’s head and added, “Have a good day, Pumpkin.”
Soon Tim left for school too.
“I wish I could stay home and play in the snow,” Leah said.
“That would be nice,” Mother agreed, “but today is a school day.”
Leah nodded and popped the last piece of pancake into her mouth. “That was good! Thank you.”
Mother smiled. “Thank you, honey, for enjoying it. Now hurry and get ready.”
Leah went to the closet and took out her coat and hat. She wrapped a scarf around her neck and pushed her arms into the sleeves of her coat. Then she went downstairs to the tall cabinet beneath the stairs. She opened the door and looked for her boots. There they were, white and clean, waiting to tramp in the snow. Leah liked them a lot. She sat down and pointed the toe of her shoe into the opening of one of the boots. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get her boot over her shoe.
“Mom,” she finally called up the stairs, “I can’t get my boots on.”
Mother went down the stairs. “Oh, dear,” she said. “Don’t tell me they no longer fit.” Mother knelt in front of Leah and put a boot beside Leah’s shoe. “They look like they might barely fit.” Mother tugged and pushed, but the boots would not go over Leah’s shoes. “Well,” Mother said as she looked in the cupboard. “Let me see … Yes, here’s a pair of Carol’s old boots. Let’s see if they fit.”
Leah tried on one of the boots, and it slipped on without any trouble. “They fit, with room left over.” Leah giggled.
Mother laughed too. “Not too much room, though. I’m glad you can get into them. They’ll keep your shoes nice and dry.”
All the way to school Leah watched the tracks the boots made. The bottoms made squiggily lines like snow tires. Leah was glad that her sister’s boots fit her.
When recess came, Miss Higgins asked, “How many of you would like to go outside and play in the snow?”
Everyone raised his hand and cheered.
“All right,” Miss Higgins said with a smile. “Bundle up and out we go.”
Leah pulled on her boots easily, and soon she was outside playing. Then Leah saw Melanie standing alone near the school building where the snow barely covered the ground. She wasn’t playing with the others because she wasn’t wearing boots.
When recess was over, everyone lined up at the door, waiting to go back inside. “Quietly now, class,” Miss Higgins said. “Shake the snow from your boots and walk quietly past the other classrooms.”
Leah looked at Melanie’s shoes. They looked like they were sopping wet, and Leah knew that Melanie’s socks were wet too. Leah looked at the footprint Melanie’s shoes made in the snow, then made a boot print beside it. Melanie’s shoe print was quite a bit smaller than the print from Carol’s old boot! Leah smiled to herself as she followed the line into the school.
After school Leah looked for Melanie.
“Melanie?” she called. “Do you want to walk in my boot tracks as far as my house?”
Melanie shivered and smiled. “Thanks, Leah,” she said happily.
“Don’t you have any boots?” Leah asked over her shoulder.
“My parents will probably get me some when they can.”
Leah nodded. “I have some white boots at home … I can’t wear them anymore. I think they’d fit you!”
Melanie hesitated. “Maybe your mother wouldn’t like me taking your boots.”
“She wouldn’t care,” Leah told her classmate. “I’m the youngest in the family, so I know she wouldn’t mind.”
Melanie smiled and shivered again. “Well, if she says that I can have them, that’d be great!” Melanie said, hurrying on as Leah turned up the walk to her house.
“Mom,” Leah called, “I’m home!”
Mother turned from the sewing machine and gave Leah a welcome-home hug. “How was school, honey?”
“We played in the snow at recess time and pasted pictures in our books this afternoon. It was fun.”
“That’s good,” Mother said.
“Mom,” Leah said quietly. “Melanie Harper doesn’t have any boots. Can I give her my old white ones? I think they’ll fit her.”
Leah’s mother looked at her for a long minute, then gave her a second hug. “Honey, it’s more than OK. It’s a very caring thing to do, and I’m proud of you. I know how much you liked your white boots.”
“Melanie will like them too. Do you think Heavenly Father would be happy if I give them to her?”
“Honey,” her mother replied, “Heavenly Father is always pleased when we help each other.”

Assembly Instructions: Cut scenery along solid black lines on pages 30 and 31. Glue scene to cardboard and trim.
Cut out objects on floor along solid black outline and then fold up on broken lines.
Glue figures and props to cardboard and cut out. On the back of each figure glue a Popsicle stick. Place a piece of masking tape on the back of the props so they can be positioned in the scene. If the scenery is set on the forward edge of a table, the figures can be moved around in front of it.
Characters: Mother, Ezra, Susan, Elizabeth, and Thomas
Setting: Kitchen of a pioneer cabin with table, chairs, coal stove, and a hearth.
Scene opens: Mother is churning butter. Susan is working on a rag rug. Ezra is sanding a stool he has made in preparation for the Primary fair. Elizabeth kneels on the floor watching Ezra and his stool.
NOTE: Instead of using puppets, this play could be given by boys and girls in a family home evening.
Elizabeth: (in a discouraged voice) What can a five-year-old make to show at the Primary fair?
Mother: Why, Elizabeth, you’re going to play in the rhythm band at the fair. And, I might say, you do a good job on the triangle.
Elizabeth: I know, but I want something to put on the display table with my name on it!
Ezra: You can help me paint this stool and we can put both our names on it.
Elizabeth: No! That wouldn’t be the same as making something all by myself.
Susan: Do you want me to show you how to make a rug?
Elizabeth: No, that’s what you’re doing; besides, there isn’t time for me to finish one.
Mother: (holding out jar of butter) Here, Elizabeth, please take this butter outside and put it in a cool safe place by the stream.
Ezra: On your way back, Elizabeth, would you do me a favor? Bring in the bucket of corn inside the barn for Mother. I forgot. That way I can keep sanding till I’m through.
Thomas: (calling from outside) Elizabeth, come quick! That pesky raccoon’s in the cornfield again! Help me catch him.
Elizabeth: All right! I’m coming! (Elizabeth runs out, carrying the butter. The other family members run to peer out the window.)
Susan: How can little Elizabeth help?
Ezra: Elizabeth is small and quick enough to run through the cornfield to head him off. (Mother, Susan, and Ezra go back to their work.)
Mother: Susan, will you help me clean out this big heavy kettle so I can make soup in it? (The kettle is on the floor by the hearth.)
Susan: I’ll be glad to, Mother. (Helps mother clean kettle.) This kettle will sure hold a lot of soup!
Mother: Yes, it has to. We’re going to have a soup kitchen at the fair, and I told the sisters I would make a big pot of our favorite vegetable soup.
(After a time Thomas and Elizabeth return. Elizabeth is carrying the bucket of corn. Mother and Susan have finished cleaning the kettle and are getting ready to peel the vegetables on the table.)
Elizabeth: Where do you want this corn, Mother?
Mother: Put it in the kettle on the hearth, dear. (Elizabeth puts corn in kettle.)
Thomas: That pesky raccoon got away. If I ever catch him, I’ll have his tail!
Ezra: Then you can have a raccoon hat (family laughs).
Susan: Maybe we could make the raccoon a family pet. The Cole family has a pet raccoon.
Thomas: No thank you! Then he would eat all our crops.
Mother: Elizabeth, did you find a good place by the stream for the butter?
Elizabeth: (looks alarmed) Oh, Mother, in my hurry to help Thomas catch the raccoon I left the butter outside on the porch. I’ll go get it right now. (She leaves.)
Mother: Thomas, if you’ll lift that large kettle from the hearth to the stove, Susan and I will soon have other vegetables ready to put in it.
Thomas: All right, Mother (lifts pan).
Elizabeth: (enters carrying the butter jar) I’m sorry, Mother. I left the butter in the sun and it’s almost all melted. Is it ruined?
Mother: (walks over and looks in butter jar) Oh, dear! No, it’s not ruined, Elizabeth, but it has to be used right away. What can we do with so much melted butter?
Ezra: We could make pancakes (looks in butter jar) but wow! We’d sure have to eat a lot of them!
Mother: (begins to sniff) Say, what can I smell? Oh dear, I forgot to put some water in the kettle for the corn.
Ezra: But what’s that noise? (everyone sniffs and listens.)
Thomas: It smells and sounds like corn popping. (Everyone looks at the stove.)
Ezra: Oh no! Elizabeth must have brought in my popcorn that I was saving for tithing.
Elizabeth: I’m sorry, Ezra.
Ezra: That’s all right. I wonder if the bishop will take popped corn for tithing (family laughs).
Mother: You’ll have to take some more from your supply for your tithing, Ezra.
Susan: Hey! All that popcorn solves the problem of what to do with all the melted butter.
Thomas: That’s right. We can pour it over the popcorn!
Mother: And that’s what Elizabeth can take to the Primary fair and put on the display table with a big sign that reads BUTTERED POPCORN MADE BY ELIZABETH, age 5.
Elizabeth: Yippee!

Anyone who’s ever been to girls’ camp knows that it’s a lot of fun but also a lot of hard work. For Kelsey Mack of the Safford Arizona Fifth Ward, Safford Arizona Stake, mental and physical handicaps made the challenge of camping even greater.
When Kelsey decided she wanted to go to camp, her mom went to the youth leaders and asked if it would be a possibility. Much to her delight, all the leaders agreed to make it happen. Even more important, the girls rallied around Kelsey and really made her feel a part of all the camp activities.
After five days of crafts, outdoor skills, and other standard camp activities (many of which were tailored to fit Kelsey’s needs) Kelsey returned home happy and excited.
“You know, those girls really love me,” says Kelsey.

Game night is going to be epic! Sam will never know what hit him! I’ve been practicing!
Sam, are you OK? You don’t usually use words like that?
Losing just makes me so mad sometimes!
I know. We’ve been friends a long time.
That’s how I know you don’t normally talk like that. I don’t think it’s the real you, you know?
You’re right. Thanks for looking out for me.
Anytime! But I’m still gonna cream you in this game!

A few years ago a faithful family exemplified for members of our ward that same trust in the Lord. Arn and Venita Gatrell were living a happy life when Arn was diagnosed with an aggressive cancer. The prognosis was devastating—he had just a few weeks to live. The family wanted to be together one last time. So all the children gathered, some from distant locations. They had only 48 precious hours to spend together. The Gatrells carefully chose what mattered most to them—a family picture, a family dinner, and a session in the Salt Lake Temple. Venita said, “When we walked out of the temple doors, it was the last time we would ever be together in this life.”
But they left with the assurance that there is so much more for them than just this life. Because of sacred temple covenants, they have hope in God’s promises. They can be together forever.
The next two months were filled with blessings too numerous to recount. Arn and Venita’s faith and trust in the Lord were growing, as evidenced in Venita’s words: “I was carried. I learned that you can feel peace in the midst of turmoil. I knew the Lord was watching over us. If you trust in the Lord, truly you can overcome any of life’s challenges.”
One of their daughters added: “We watched our parents and saw their example. We saw their faith and how they handled it. I would never have asked for this trial, but I would never give it away. We were surrounded with God’s love.”
Of course, Arn’s passing was not the outcome the Gatrells had hoped for. But their crisis was not a crisis of faith. The gospel of Jesus Christ is not a checklist of things to do; rather, it lives in our hearts. The gospel “is not weight; it is wings.” It carries us. It carried the Gatrells. They felt peace in the midst of the storm. They held fast to each other and to temple covenants they had made and kept. They grew in their ability to trust in the Lord and were strengthened by their faith in Jesus Christ and in His atoning power.

From the sheds come rustlings and flutterings and soft cooing sounds. Jeff opens the door of one shed and you quickly step inside. In the half-light, winged shapes blur through the air at the sudden disturbance, then settle back into their boxlike perches.
Pigeons. But not the ordinary kind. Among them are Jeff’s West of England tumblers, named for their place of origin and for a midflight maneuver they perform. Beautiful, with amber eyes and feather-duster feet, these birds are champions and have won national awards for their owner.
Raising pigeons is not Jeff’s whole life, then. It’s a hobby, one he began with his dad’s help when he was about seven years old. At first they were just pets to him. But then he became more serious about raising birds for competition and got some West of England tumblers. When he was ten, a young bird he had raised was judged champion of all breeds at the two-state Oklahoma-Arkansas fair, and Jeff came home with a two-foot-tall trophy. When he was 11, Jeff went with his parents to the national show in Peoria, Illinois. There, competing among thousands of entries, against breeders far older and more experienced, Jeff took first place in his category with one of his birds. He was by far the youngest national winner ever. Another trophy and stories in the hometown papers.
You find yourself wondering how all of this fits together—school, priesthood, basketball, pigeons. Then you remember something Jeff’s dad told you:
The judges at competitions have a list of standards that they compare each bird against. They look at things like coloring, markings, the way the wings lie, the length of the muffs on the feet, etc. “Jeff has a copy of those standards,” says his father, James Vines, “and I’ve tried to teach him what to look for. He’s picked it up very well, compares his birds to the standard, and keeps the birds with the qualities he wants passed along to their offspring. Jeff has brought them a long way in a brief time.” In other words, Jeff has learned to recognize the ideal and to work toward it.

Fino all’annuncio del lock-down per Coronavirus a fine Febbraio credevo di essere una mamma organizzata. Con 3 figli a scuola tutte le mattine e il piccolino a casa, avevo organizzato una routine che mi consentiva di assolvere alle mie responsabilità e pianificare momenti tranquilli da trascorrere in famiglia. Rimanere confinati tutti in casa giorno e notte per un periodo indefinito scombussolò la routine e si rivelò inizialmente molto frustrante per me e il resto della famiglia. I piani giornalieri che fino a quel momento mi avevano consentito di essere efficiente nel rispondere alle esigenze della famiglia, da un giorno all’altro furono stravolti e le mie giornate diventarono un correre senza sosta verso la prossima riunione online, la prossima lezione, il prossimo compito di scuola, il prossimo pasto da preparare, ecc ecc. Il tempo sembrava aver perso la sua naturale regolarità e le settimane sembravano dissolversi in un unico giorno.
A questo disorientamento si aggiungeva giornalmente il peso delle notizie gravi riportate dai telegiornali sui contagi e sulle vittime del Covid-19, insieme al pensiero di amici e conoscenti che stavano combattendo personalmente contro il virus, per i quali avrei voluto fare di più, come poter pregare per loro al Tempio.
Per molti versi mi sentivo piccola e senza meta.
Una mattina decisi di alzarmi presto per fare esercizio fisico e nel silenzio della casa cominciai a riflettere sul viaggio che Lehi e la sua famiglia avevano fatto nel deserto. Per otto anni erano rimasti isolati dal resto del mondo, lontani dalla sicurezza che avevano conosciuto durante la loro vita a Gerusalemme per affrontare fatiche e privazioni che non avevano mai vissuto prima. Per tanti anni avevano vissuto senza potersi recare al Tempio ma erano sopravvissuti; in qualche modo erano riusciti a continuare giorno dopo giorno, prova dopo prova, e arrivare alla terra promessa. Il versetto in 2 Nefi 15, “e mio padre dimorava in una tenda”, continuava a tornare alla mia mente e cominciai a chiedermi come vivesse Lehi nella sua tenda e come avremmo dovuto vivere noi… cosa avremmo potuto fare per trasformare la frustrazione in motivazione e la nostra casa in una tenda come quella di Lehi, in una succursale del Tempio?
Per poterlo fare avrei dovuto organizzarmi diversamente.
Iniziai a stilare un elenco di cose da fare giornalmente per occupare al meglio il nostro tempo inserendo anche attività che non eravamo soliti fare in passato. Partendo al mattino dallo studio familiare del Libro di Mormon (cosa che già facevamo, ma non con regolarità assoluta), i bambini più grandi si dedicavano poi ai compiti e alle lezioni di scuola per potere avere il resto della giornata disponibile per altre attività come esercizio fisico, cucina con una sana alimentazione, pomeriggi trascorsi in balcone per beneficiare del sole disponibile, lezioni online, musica e inglese, momenti dedicati ai giochi in scatola, ai progetti di arte, di servizio per la comunità e organizzazione delle nostre scorte alimentari e dei nostri zaini di emergenza e per finire, alla lettura o alle attività basate sulle scritture durante le nostre domeniche a casa.
In poco tempo la nuova routine aveva aperto orizzonti diversi e le limitazioni dettate dall’isolamento forzato si trasformarono in opportunità di fare cose che non eravamo riusciti a realizzare prima come famiglia. La nostra tenda cominciava a riempirsi di buone attività.
Non tutto è arrivato insieme e non tutto è stato fatto sempre col sorriso, ma piano piano, giorno dopo giorno, siamo riusciti a creare una nuova routine efficace per gestire le circostanze.
Ora che siamo tornati a circolare più liberamente la nostra routine è cambiata, ma non è tornata quella pre-Covid-19; ne abbiamo invece creata una nuova, con un mix più regolare di attività in casa basate sullo studio e sul Vangelo e in mezzo alla natura per mantenere in forma il nostro fisico. Lo studio e l’applicazione del Vangelo è diventato un pezzo importante della nostra vita giornaliera e non è più qualcosa che dobbiamo ricordarci di fare ma il punto di partenza e di arrivo delle nostre giornate.
Non posso dire che la nostra casa sia diventata una succursale del Tempio, perché il percorso per arrivare ad una tale meta richiederà tutta la vita e forse di più, ma quando penso al nostro studio delle scritture, al silenzio e riverenza quasi perfetta raggiunta durante il momento del Sacramento in casa alla domenica, ai giochi dei bambini incentrati spontaneamente sulle storie del Libro di Mormon, e alle preghiere inginocchiati insieme in favore di tutte le persone afflitte dal virus e di chi si trova in difficoltà, allora spero di aver messo qualche nuovo picchetto alla nostra tenda familiare.
Spero che nel nostro viaggio verso la terra promessa, anche se in un deserto (per noi comunque pieno di agi rispetto alla famiglia di Lehi) possiamo avere la gratitudine e la forza di pensare a dove vogliamo arrivare e rendere questa meta parte di ogni nostro giorno, mentre dimoriamo nella nostra tenda familiare.

I am a Beehive. Last month, I got my first CD of Church music. I listened to it a lot and downloaded it onto my MP3 player. One day when I got on the bus, there was no place to sit except in the back, right in the middle of the teenagers who say bad things. They were talking so loudly and using such horrible language that I couldn’t block them out. I had a feeling to get out my MP3 player and listen to my church CD. Once I did, the sounds and words around me immediately melted away, and I felt like I was in another place. I concentrated on the lyrics and felt happy. I’m sharing this story so that everyone can know that if you are in situations similar to this, you can listen to music that brings the Spirit, and you’ll feel better.

I saw signs that I was attracted to other women when I was quite young, but I tried to push those feelings away for years.
A few summers ago, I developed feelings for a woman who is also gay. This was something that I had never experienced before, and I spent weeks praying to know what God wanted me to do about this relationship.
With everything I’ve been taught about the gospel, God’s will probably should have been obvious to me, but because of my feelings, it wasn’t. My feelings for this woman were real, powerful, and so important to me.
I was in turmoil for weeks. I expected the answer to my prayers to be obvious. But instead, I felt very distinctly that Heavenly Father was inviting me to use my agency to decide to follow Him.
For years, I had blamed God for all that was missing in my life—for everything I seemingly couldn’t do. I felt like a martyr as I kept His commandments, like I was meant to suffer alone through mortality. But as I grappled with my feelings for this woman, I eventually realized that I have always had the power to choose how to live my life—agency is one of Heavenly Father’s most powerful gifts to us.
I truly loved and cared for this woman. But those feelings didn’t weigh as much as my teaspoon of faith in the truth that Heavenly Father wanted me to choose a different path.
And it was that small, imperfect teaspoon of faith that enabled me to choose Christ.
I was devastated after I made my decision to end this relationship, and frankly, I am still healing from the heartbreak. But looking back, and after many moments of pondering and prayer, I’ve realized that Heavenly Father would have loved me whether I chose to keep my covenants or pursue a same-sex relationship. But because I chose to keep my covenants, He has been able to love and bless me.
As I have deepened my faith and commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ, mountains in my life are being moved, one pebble at a time, just as President Nelson promised:
My family relationships have deepened and are full of honesty, vulnerability, compassion, and trust.
My negative self-image is improving one day at a time.
My ability to love others, love myself, and feel loved is being augmented daily.
My love of the gospel has increased.
My eyes have been opened to how much Heavenly Father wants to bless me each day.
I don’t know what to expect about my attraction to women. I don’t know if it will change or what is in store for me in that experience. But I truly believe that as I embrace the fulness of the gospel, I will be given the opportunity to marry a man whom I love in the temple one day. That is a desire I have for my future. Right now, marriage still seems scary, but with faith in Christ, I am preparing for this mountain to be moved. I know that as I keep my covenants, Heavenly Father will pave my path with wonderful experiences.

Elder Alan and Sister Sheri Erickson, serving in the Liberia Monrovia Mission, enjoyed an inspiring “Light the World” event with the members of the Buchanan 2nd Branch.
For several weeks the sweet Relief Society president, Sister Nagbe, felt inspired to invite the sisters to participate in what she called an “outreach”. Instead of having an end-of-year social for Relief Society, she thought a better use of energy and time would be to invite others throughout the community to come and see.
Elder and Sister Erickson provided 100 “He Is Risen” pass-along cards to be handed out by the Relief Society sisters as invitations to people in the community.
On Dec. 9, one week after the branch moved into its beautiful new meetinghouse, eight sisters excitedly arrived at the church.
Aren’t these sisters beautiful standing outside the front of the new meetinghouse! Relief Society president, Sister Nagbe is in front in the yellow shirt. The sister in orange, Sarah, was baptized the previous Saturday. The sister in rust and white, Sophie, was the most eager and enthused. She is waiting to get married so she can get baptized.
They divided up the pass-along cards and wrote the location and time for Sunday services on the back of each. Then they headed out in groups of two or three to invite people. Some also carried copies of The Book of Mormon.
They had decided upon a target community, but on their way there, they couldn’t wait to start sharing the cards. Soon the idea formed to record the names and contact numbers of those they met.
A usual greeting went something like this:
“Good morning! We are from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We want to invite you to service on Sunday at our new building on God Bless You Hill, next to the auto parts. You are most welcome.”
Almost every person greeted was happy to give their name and number, resulting in a list of 77 names and about 70 numbers (some people did not have a contact number.)
Every card was passed out and a few copies of The Book of Mormon as well, all before 1 p.m. Several of the sisters decided to call those they had met to remind, encourage, and invite them again to come and see.
It was amazing! A true wonder and marvel! All the sisters who came felt so enthusiastic about sharing the gospel. They said:
“We want to do this the last Friday of every month! Soon we’ll be many branches, even a stake!”
With that kind of vision and enthusiasm we don’t doubt but that it will come true.