Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago, on an assignment to the beautiful islands of Tonga, I was privileged to visit our Church school, the Liahona High School, where our youth are taught by teachers with a common bond of faith—providing training for the mind and preparation for life. On that occasion, entering one classroom, I noticed the rapt attention the children gave their native instructor. His textbook and theirs lay closed upon the desks. In his hand he held a strange-appearing fishing lure fashioned from a round stone and large seashells. This, I learned, was a maka-feke, an octopus lure. In Tonga, octopus meat is a delicacy.
The teacher explained that Tongan fishermen glide over a reef, paddling their outrigger canoes with one hand and dangling the maka-feke over the side with the other. An octopus dashes out from its rocky lair and seizes the lure, mistaking it for a much-desired meal. So tenacious is the grasp of the octopus and so firm is its instinct not to relinquish the precious prize that fishermen can flip it right into the canoe.
It was an easy transition for the teacher to point out to the eager and wide-eyed youth that the evil one—even Satan—has fashioned so-called maka-fekes with which to ensnare unsuspecting persons and take possession of their destinies.

When Sasha Strachova was 13 years old, she began to feel a yearning to know God. For months, she prayed, “Heavenly Father, I want to know thee more.”
The Lord answered her prayer. One day, two missionaries were invited to speak to the students in her school class in St. Petersburg, Russia. Something they said caught her by surprise and riveted her attention: “Men are, that they might have joy” (2 Ne. 2:25). What an unusual concept that was! “But I believed it,” says Sasha. “I felt they knew how we could have joy in life.”
Excitedly, she hurried home to share her discovery with her mother. But her mother, recently divorced and feeling burdened with life, dismissed her news and her excitement. Sasha begged for permission to attend Sunday meetings at the branch, even though it was far from where she and her mother lived. “Mama said, ‘Why do you have to travel so far?’ But I said, ‘Mama, I will go to this church.’”
The next Sunday, Sasha traveled alone by bus and subway to reach the branch. “I felt love there,” she says. “I felt life in the people. I was just starting to know about God, and I wanted very much to feel what they were feeling.”
Soon she was asking her mother if the missionaries could come to their apartment. “My mother said, ‘No, we don’t need missionaries.’ But I told her, ‘Mama, I will wash the floor every day. Please let them come.’” After a month of washing floors, Sasha convinced her mother to let the missionaries come. When they arrived, they were surprised to find the apartment crowded with 13-year-olds. Sasha had invited her entire school class! Three months later, she and two of her friends were baptized.
Sasha wanted her mother to enjoy the blessings of the gospel. “I fasted and prayed for her,” she says. “Every night I put notes on her bed. I wrote: ‘My dear mommy, God loves you so much. Please pray to him. He will certainly bless you today.’” Sasha has family home evening with her mother and still hopes she will eventually be baptized.

Heber J. Grant’s wife Lucy was sick for nearly three years. He knew that she was dying, so he gathered their children into the room.
Heber: The Lord is calling your mother home to be with Him.
Daughter: I don’t want Mama to die! She has felt better lots of times after a priesthood blessing. Can’t you heal her?
Heber: If I tried, I feel it would be against God’s will.
Heber sent his children out of the room and prayed.
Heber: Heavenly Father, I won’t complain that my wife is dying, but I can’t bear to see the faith of my children shaken. If it is Thy will for Lucy to die, please give my daughter peace.
Within a few hours, Lucy passed away. When Heber told his children, his little son started crying. But Heber knew that his prayer had been answered.
Daughter: Don’t cry! I prayed, and the Holy Ghost told me that it is God’s will for our mama to die. Everything will be all right.

Illustration by Mitchell McAlevey
While working one day a few summers ago, I got the news that a good friend of mine passed away from suicide. I was shocked—I honestly didn’t know how to react. I remember sitting at my desk in silence, unable to think or do anything.
All sorts of thoughts and emotions came flooding in, leaving me confused. But I kept telling myself that I was OK and that I would get over it. The following months, however, brought an overwhelming wave of depression and sadness over me. There were many tears and sleepless nights. Some mornings, I couldn’t even get out of bed. I didn’t think my prayers were being answered or heard. Reading the scriptures felt flat and uninspiring. I felt hopeless and didn’t think things would get better.
For the longest time, I was afraid to talk to anyone about what I was feeling. People knew about my loss and would offer to talk or give support, but I always turned them down. “I don’t want to bother them,” I would think. “Besides, they have their own problems to worry about. Why would they care about mine?”
There was one Sunday where my grief seemed too much to bear. I couldn’t sit still during sacrament meeting. When the meeting finally finished, I bolted into the hallway to get out of the building. Just before I made it to the door, I ran into a woman in my ward who had lost a son to suicide years earlier. When we made eye contact, the Spirit told me it was time to say something about what I was feeling.
It was scary, but with a shaky voice I stopped her and asked, “Can I talk to you for a bit? I need help.”
She listened to me explain what had happened and how I was feeling. Then, without hesitation, she held my arm and looked at me with tears in her eyes. “I just want you to know that this is not your fault and that you are so loved,” she said.
We both couldn’t help but cry as we kept talking. For me, it felt like the clouds were parting. There was finally some sort of a light shining through on my life. Everything she said to me in the hallway that day was an answer to my prayers.
What I learned most from that moment was that sharing my feelings had finally allowed me to start healing. For some reason, I had convinced myself that I could face everything alone and that I didn’t need any help. Though I couldn’t see it, I was surrounded by people who loved me and wanted to help me.
I’ve learned that when we say that we are to be “of one heart and one mind” (Moses 7:18), it means that your heartaches are my heartaches and my pains are also your pains. It means not only giving help when needed but also being willing to receive help when we need it as well. Simply letting others help me is what made the difference and ultimately what led me to make a full mental recovery.
Now, a few years after this experience, I can honestly say that I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. With a lot of hard work, and ultimately by the grace of God, I have become someone stronger than I was before all this happened. Prayer, service, vulnerability, humility, therapy, countless blessings, and so much more have helped me get to where I am today. I owe a lot to Heavenly Father, my family, and my close friends for helping me through all this. How grateful I am that I reached out for help—it was a key to healing.

Elder Smith then married Jessie Evans, a well-known vocalist and member of the Tabernacle Choir, on 12 April 1938. A born entertainer with a vivacious and cheerful nature, she was at Elder Smith’s side for thirty-three years, buoying him up and caring for him with a love and devotion that was truly beautiful. She lived to see him become President of the Church and traveled extensively with him on his many Church assignments—sharing not only his rigorous schedule, but also the loving reception of the Saints of many lands. When she succumbed to a heart ailment on 3 August 1971, millions shared President Smith’s loneliness and sorrow.

At that difficult time, President Harold B. Lee, who served President Smith as a Counselor in the First Presidency, expressed compassion to the prophet over his loss. President Smith assured his friend that the Lord would give him strength to continue in his duties: “I’ve been through this before, you know,” he said.

Peering through the rails of a fence, 17-year-old Fabio Fogliatto and his friends of the Canoas Brazil Stake watch intently as workers in hard hats construct a building near the southern tip of Brazil. Fabio notes with satisfaction that one of the workers leaves the construction site before smoking a cigarette. “He must know this is a sacred site for us,” Fabio says.
On the other side of the fence from the teens is a spectacular sight. Against the backdrop of the city, the walls of the Porto Alegre Brazil Temple rise out of the red earth.
“Just watching them build the temple, I can feel it really is a temple of the Lord,” says Ivan Carvalho, age 14, of the Esteio Ward. “It makes me feel even stronger that I want to come here to do ordinances for the dead and for myself.”
Fourteen-year-old Guilherme Recordon of the Estância Velha Ward adds, “And now that we have to go only 20 kilometers instead of 300, maybe we’ll be able to come here every week!”
The feelings of these boys represent a growing excitement all across Brazil as temples are built. Another temple is nearing completion in Campinas (a city just west of São Paulo), and yet another will be dedicated soon in the northern city of Recife. As the Church builds temples in Brazil, youth here are constructing their own temple-worthy lives.
Living worthy of going to the temple can be anything but easy for young Brazilians. They are teased by their peers if they don’t use drugs, alcohol, and tobacco. Extreme immodesty is common on billboards and prime-time television. Many students carry pornographic magazines to school. During carnaval, a weeklong festival Brazil is famous for, immodesty and immorality parade in the streets.
But Latter-day Saint youth say that looking to the temple helps them keep the commandments despite the many temptations and trials they face. “At school, when you won’t look at the [pornographic] magazines, people make fun of you. But I have a goal to serve a mission and marry in the temple, so I already know that if they push this stuff at me, I won’t do it,” says Fabio Marques, age 16, of the Campinas Fourth Ward, Campinas Brazil Stake. “I’ve already made my decision.”
Fabio says having a temple so close to his home in Campinas will strengthen him and his Latter-day Saint friends. “It’s hard to get to the temple in São Paulo, but soon we’ll be able to do baptisms for the dead more easily and frequently at the Campinas temple. And each time you do that, you make a stronger goal to return to the temple and to be worthy to marry in the temple.”
Whenever challenges seem too much for 18-year-old Janise Figueiró, she looks at a little bottle of red earth she received from her Young Women president in the Higienópolis Ward, Porto Alegre Brazil Moinhos de Vento Stake. “Whenever I look at that soil from the temple site, I remember to live worthy.”
Fourteen-year-old Juliano Garcia of the Guaiba Jardim Ward, Porto Alegre Moinhos de Vento stake, was thrilled with the prize he won. Although he had been a Church member for just under a year, he won a scripture chase in his multistake seminary bowl. As he began to look through the pages of his prize, a booklet entitled The Holy Temple by Elder Boyd K. Packer of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, he became fascinated with the pictures of temple baptismal fonts and celestial rooms. Juliano didn’t know much about the temple, but as he read in the booklet about baptism for the dead, his heart turned to his deceased grandparents. “I thought about my grandparents, how great they were, and I thought that more than anything I wanted to go to the temple for them.” Juliano hasn’t been able to travel to the São Paulo temple, but he is now preparing to go in Porto Alegre.
As Juliano and other Brazilian teens continue to construct their own temple-worthy lives little by little, they do not doubt that when the doors of the new temples are ready to open, they will be ready to enter.
When the angel Moroni appeared to 17-year-old Joseph Smith in 1823, he told the young prophet that Elijah the prophet would “plant in the hearts of the children the promises made to the fathers, and the hearts of the children shall turn to their fathers” (JS—H 1:39).
This prophecy is literally being fulfilled in the hearts of young Brazilians. “The Spirit of Elijah is working … , especially on the young people, to do work for their ancestors. It’s something that we cannot explain,” says former São Paulo temple president Aledir Barbour.
For example 16-year-old Jeferson Montenegro of Canoas (pictured below) and Suelen Alexandre (age 15); José Meirelles (age 18); Priscila Cavalieri (age 18); Carlita Fochetto (age 14); and Carolina (age 16), Christiane (age 15), and Carlos Rodriguez (age 12) of São Paulo volunteer in their Family History Centers for 10 to 20 hours each week. They assist Church members in their research, enter extracted names into the computer system, and search for names of their own ancestors.
These teens aren’t unusual. Many Brazilian youth have found the names of hundreds of their ancestors and have eagerly begun their temple work. Why? “I feel the influence of the Spirit of Elijah,” says Jeferson. “It makes me feel a closeness with those who’ve gone before me.”

Remembering some of her experiences in Primary and Sunday School, Sister Smith said, “One time after I had given a two-and-a-half minute talk, I thought I had done quite well. But a certain brother said, ‘I was really disappointed in you.’ I felt crushed and asked, ‘What didn’t I do?’
“He said, ‘You didn’t smile.’
“I think that made me realize that you need to smile often if you want people to feel comfortable with you. Now that I’ve learned how to genuinely smile at people, it has made a big difference in my life. Smiling is a signal of friendship. Heavenly Father has told us that one of our purposes here is to experience joy. I think that smiling is one way to reach that goal.”

If we choose the wrong road, we choose the wrong destination. For example, a friend of many years told me that her husband, always a “good kid” in high school, took a few drinks he thought would help him forget some problems. Before he knew what was happening, he was addicted. Now he is not able to support his family, and he is ineffective at almost everything he tries to do. Alcohol governs his life, and he cannot seem to break free of its grip.

A young woman wrote: “President Hinckley quoted Joshua 1:9 [Josh. 1:9] in one of his talks. It says, ‘Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.’ Sometimes my friends want me to be someone else and I don’t want to be someone else. I want to be myself, and what I am afraid of is that I might lose them, and I don’t want to lose them. When the prophet read this scripture, it was like he knew what I was feeling. I felt like somebody had answered my prayers. Whenever friend troubles happen to me again, I know what to do and think, because I have those words in my mind that I will never forget, never!”

I was 10 years old when my grandfather Elder Melvin J. Ballard (1873–1939) died. Grandfather Ballard was an Apostle, and I understood that he was a great missionary.
While my grandmother was expecting her first child, Grandfather Ballard was called on a mission in the United States. He was sent to the Midwest, and he provided music at missionary meetings at which he, Brother B. H. Roberts, and Brother George Pyper taught the gospel. When Brother Roberts and Brother Pyper went back to Salt Lake City, Grandfather was left alone in Illinois. He was discouraged and lonely. He missed his wife and his firstborn son—my father—who was born after he left. Then he came across the hymn “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go” (Hymns, number 270). He had a beautiful baritone voice, and he sang that hymn often.
When he became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, he was put in charge of the Music Committee of the Church. When the hymnbook was updated in English in 1927, he saw that “I’ll Go Where You Want Me to Go” was included. I think this hymn has the greatest missionary message of any of our hymns. It has affected my life much the same as it did my grandfather’s. My commitment to go wherever the Lord wants me to go has taken me to almost every corner of the earth. As a General Authority, I have visited Africa, Asia, Europe, Latin America, the United States, Canada, and Russia. Truly the commitment to be a missionary has prepared me for a lifetime of service to the Lord.

Illustrations by Brad Teare
Thump!
Ben had barely woken up when something heavy landed on his back. It was the usual morning attack from his four-year-old brother, Evan.
“Wake up!” Evan’s fingers pried Ben’s eyelid open. “You in there, Benny?”
“Yeah, I’m awake!” Ben said. He wrapped Evan in the blankets and tickled him. Evan giggled and squealed.
Ben and Evan shared their bedroom, but not for long. Today Ben would get his own room! Ben turned 10 today, and he was moving his stuff into the basement. Now he could read in bed at night with the light on without bothering anyone. The cool stuff he built would be safe. And there would be no more pesky attacks from Evan. It would be his own private “bear cave,” as Dad called it.
Ben jumped out of bed and punched his fist into the air. He started tickling Evan again, but he stopped when a worry came into his mind. Will I be scared in the basement? He gave Evan a little hug. Then he rolled his brother out of the blanket. Nah, I’ll be fine.
Soon Dad walked in. “Are you ready to move downstairs?”
Ben’s worry slipped away. “You bet!”
Ben’s family helped him pack his things in boxes. One box was labeled “save,” another was labeled “give away,” and the last box was labeled “trash.”
Ben’s little sister, Marissa, dangled a ragged teddy bear by one ear. “You don’t need this old thing anymore, do you?” She tossed it into the trash box.
Ben tried to act like he didn’t care, but he could feel his heart beat faster.
“I think there will still be room downstairs for Bear,” Mom said. She picked up Bear and placed him in the save box. “But how about all your building stuff? You could leave it for Evan.”
Ben’s stomach flipped.
Dad came to the rescue. “He’s just moving his bedroom downstairs. I don’t think he wants to leave his identity behind!”
Ben smiled a little at Dad, but he rescued two army figures from the boxes just in case.
When it was bedtime, Ben raced downstairs. “My very own room!” He turned on his lamp, flopped onto his bed, and opened a mystery book.
Suddenly he heard water gurgle down a pipe. Then he heard squeaky floorboards above him. The house moaned, hissed, and groaned. Ben dropped his book and hid under the blanket. He missed hearing Evan snore.
I’ll be okay if I go to sleep, Ben told himself. But no matter how tightly he shut his eyes, he couldn’t fall asleep. Ben prayed for help and comfort.
It didn’t work.
He prayed for an angel to protect him. Nothing happened. Why wasn’t Heavenly Father helping him? He thought he would always get help when he prayed. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Hot tears built up in Ben’s eyes.
Then Ben heard footsteps, and his door creaked open. Peeking over the top of his blanket, he saw Mom walk over to his bed. “How are you doing in your little cave?” she asked with a smile.
Ben rubbed his tears away. “I can’t sleep. It’s too scary down here. I prayed for help, but it didn’t work! God can’t hear me way down in the basement.”
Mom stroked his hair. “Ben, He did hear you. The Holy Ghost told me that I should check on you. He sent me.”
Mom lay down beside him and began telling him stories. He didn’t feel so scared anymore. Mom was the angel he had prayed for! Ben shut his eyes and listened, and soon he fell asleep.

"I did not really enjoy being a child, because they were difficult years for me. I was the oldest of six children and somehow resented this responsibility. I can never remember feeling carefree, because I was always trying to measure up to my parents’ expectations. Now when I’m in someone’s home, I often ask the oldest child, ‘How do you feel about being the oldest one in your family?’ I’ve had some interesting conversations.
“I liked school and really enjoyed learning, which has been a very stimulating thing for me. Knowing how to read has been one of the great satisfactions in my life. To be able to read was always exciting to me. When I was a very small boy, I started reading the newspaper. I was a conscientious student.”
Elder Poelman said that one of the things he remembers and cherishes is the scripture stories that his mother taught him during his childhood. “Often my mother would be working at the ironing board. I can remember sitting close-by while she ironed. She would tell me Bible and Book of Mormon stories, and that was a great legacy my mother left to me.
“My parents were always very active in the Church and were hard workers. During my childhood, we lived in rather strained financial circumstances. A good part of that time we lived in a four-room home. We had one bedroom and a sleeping porch and one very small bathroom. I now live alone in a condominium with three bathrooms and it makes me chuckle to think about it.
“Many people had a difficult time during the depression. Father was unemployed for about a year and a half, and I remember worrying a great deal. My mother often took me into her confidence, because I was the oldest child. And I knew from the time I was a small boy all about our family finances—how much the coal bill was and how many months behind we were in its payment.
“But now,” Elder Poelman continued, “I have a great deal of satisfaction enjoying the childhoods of my children and my grandchildren. I have seven grandchildren, one girl and six boys. Our oldest just turned seven. I really enjoy being a grandfather, and I think that I’m reliving my own childhood to some extent. It’s a great opportunity!
“My parents were both musical, though untrained. While we had no musical instruments at home except my father’s ukulele, the family enjoyed singing together. I was in my teens when my parents first acquired a record player. And I remember what a great experience that was and how much we all enjoyed it. When I was older, the family did acquire a piano, and some of the younger children took lessons. My wife was a music major, and that was one of the things I enjoyed about her when we were dating. I loved to sit and listen to her play the Bach Inventions.
“The name Poelman is a Dutch name,” Elder Poelman explained. “My paternal grandfather was born in Holland, and as a young man in his teens, he left Holland and went to South Africa. There he married my grandmother, a Scottish girl. She was working at the time as a governess for an English family living in South Africa. My grandparents had one child born in South Africa, then they went back to the British Isles. Another child was born in England, and then they moved to Glasgow, Scotland, where my father was born. It was to their home in Scotland that the missionaries came tracting, and my grandmother answered the door. They were on the third floor of a cold-water flat in the working-class section, and a man named A. Z. Richards was one of the missionaries. He stayed close to our family until he died, and I have always been very fond of him.
“Subsequently, I was called to serve as a missionary in Holland, as were all three of my younger brothers. My father also served a mission in Holland. That missionary experience was a valuable one for me, because I had an opportunity to meet some of my grandfather’s brothers and sisters, and I was able to learn the language.”
I asked Elder Poelman what message he wanted to share with the children of the world, and he replied, “Your Father in heaven knows who you are and loves you unconditionally. Even when you do things that are bad, He loves you. It makes Him sad, of course, but it doesn’t mean that He stops loving you. I would encourage you to pray to our Heavenly Father often, knowing that no matter what you’ve done or how you feel about yourself, Heavenly Father will listen to you.
“Sometimes we may think that the Lord loves us only if we keep His commandments and that if we disobey His commandments, He loves us less. That isn’t true! This is something Satan would like us to believe because then we feel estranged from our Father in heaven. Remember, He loves you all the time wherever you are and whatever you are doing.”

I have visited with a woman who received the miracle of sufficient strength to endure unimaginable losses with just the simple capacity to repeat endlessly the words “I know that my Redeemer lives.” That faith and those words of testimony were still there in the mist that obscured but did not erase memories of her childhood.
I was stunned to learn that another woman had forgiven a person who had wronged her for years. I was surprised and asked her why she had chosen to forgive and forget so many years of spiteful abuse.
She said quietly, “It was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I just knew I had to do it. So I did.” Her faith that the Savior would forgive her if she forgave others prepared her with a feeling of peace and hope as she faced death just months after she had forgiven her unrepentant adversary.
She asked me, “When I get there, how will it be in heaven?”
And I said, “I know just from what I have seen of your capacity to exercise faith and to forgive that it will be a wonderful homecoming for you.”

As a family we consistently hold family home evening; however, my father often travels for extended periods of time for his employment. Sometimes that means he is out of town when it’s time for family home evening.
Then two years ago, when my father got his own laptop, one of my siblings wondered, “Why not have our family home evenings with Dad via the Internet?”
Since that time, when our father is away during family home evening, we simply agree on a time, and we connect. We can see and hear him, and he can see and hear us. The Internet and the computer have allowed our father to participate in our home evenings.
We do not have to depart from our established schedule: if it is Dad’s turn to give the lesson, for example, he gives it. One of our family’s traditions is to evaluate our personal goals each week; this is never interrupted anymore. And another important thing: our reading of the Book of Mormon as a family is now continual, since we no longer have excuses not to read.
My father also uses the Internet to keep in touch with us in other ways. When he is away from our home in Peru, he connects and finds out what we’re doing and where we are. And when it is time for interviews or family councils, these are carried out at the appointed time, even when he’s traveling.
There are many good and useful technological advances that we often don’t put to good use because we fear their misuse and the harm they can cause us. However, if we use such technology wisely and humbly, it can be of great help.
We feel very thankful in our family for the Internet because it has become a great tool for removing the obstacles that might otherwise keep our family apart.

I was a Scoutmaster leading 20 young men and two leaders on an activity trip in southern Utah, USA.
When we got to the turnoff that would take us to the campsite, I stopped and surveyed the desert in front of me. I had made this trip many times, but for some reason, I couldn’t see anything that I recognized. I scanned left and right, looking for something familiar.
No matter how many roads I turned onto, they were all dead ends.
It was getting dark. Finally, I stopped and told everyone to stay put. I grabbed a flashlight and told them that I’d find the road on foot and signal to them once I had found the way.
What I actually did was kneel down and beg Heavenly Father to help us out of this awkward situation. I poured my heart out to Him, detailing my preparedness, my love for the boys, my gratitude for the fathers who had come with us, and my absolute faith that He would answer my prayer quickly. I finished my prayer and stood up. I expected to get up off my knees, point my flashlight out into the darkness, and have the beam immediately fall upon the right road.
But nothing happened.
I silently scanned the horizon as far as my beam would reach.
Still nothing.
I couldn’t believe it. I knew that as soon as I stood up, I would see the road. I knew that the Lord would not let me down, especially with so many people depending on me.
I now had to face two frustrated fathers and their vans full of rowdy, anxious young men, all of them asking, “Are we there yet?”
I apologized and assured them that I had made this trip 20 times in my life and that I knew the road was there. I just couldn’t see it.
Finally, we decided to drive into town and rent two motel rooms. We would start out fresh on Saturday morning.
Since we couldn’t build fires to cook the campfire dinners we brought, we went to the local pizza place we’d seen at the end of town.
The pizza was delicious and the boys were happy, but I still felt guilty about the motel and dinner bills.
As we ate, I wondered why Heavenly Father hadn’t answered my prayer, when suddenly I heard a loud boom.
I got up, swung open the door of the pizza place, and saw the biggest downpour of rain I had ever seen. There were lightning bolts to the northwest—right toward where I had been praying for an answer not an hour earlier. At that moment, the Spirit came over me, and I realized that the Lord had answered my prayer!
The next morning, the sky was blue, and as we headed back into the maze of dirt roads, I drove straight to the exact turnoff I had been searching for the night before. I know now how prayers are sometimes answered with a no, but they are always answered.

I stood on the step of the train and hugged my father good-bye. “Have a nice time in Wales, Hetty,” he said.
“I will,” I answered, smiling.
The spring of 1910 was one I would never forget. I had been baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints just a short time before, and now I was going on a trip all alone from Bristol, England, to Wales to visit my Aunt Nell.
“Hetty”—Father caught my hand—“don’t forget to say your prayers.”
I squeezed his hand. “I won’t, Father.” But as I turned to go, I added under my breath, “I hope.”
I had a hard time remembering to say my prayers at night. Before the missionaries visited our home, I had sometimes said a little prayer before going to sleep that started, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” But the missionaries taught us that prayer was actually talking to Heavenly Father. I wasn’t used to that—and I wasn’t always sure I had anything important to tell Him. But at Aunt Nell’s house there would be lots to tell Him. I didn’t think that I’d forget there.
That night I didn’t forget. I thanked Heavenly Father that the train hadn’t derailed and that Aunt Nell had been there to meet me. I thanked Him for the lovely green Welsh hills and for the pastures filled with sheep.
The next night was different, though. I spent all day exploring the hills with Aunt Nell. I was so tired at the end of the day that I fell into bed and went right to sleep.
“Oh, dear,” I thought the next morning. “I forgot to say my prayers. Well, I’ll say them tonight.” But we spent all day visiting Aunt Nell’s relatives in the nearby village, and the same thing happened that night. And the next.
The next morning, Aunt Nell surprised me. “Hetty,” she said, “how would you like to go into the village by yourself today and buy something for me?”
“I’d love to!”
She gave me some money and told me where to find what she needed. Then she said, “Now, remember—don’t stay too long. A fog often comes in from the sea in the late afternoon. If that happens, you might not be able to find your way home.”
I told her that I’d be careful. Then I skipped off. I had to go over a bridge, walk down a long lane, and cross two fields to get to the village. The fields were surrounded by high hedges. They had stiles, or steps, in them that allowed people but not animals to go through. After I crossed the last stile, I went straight to the village store, made my purchase, and turned toward home.
“Hetty!” someone called. I turned back and saw some of Aunt Nell’s cousins playing on their doorstep. “Can you stay and play?”
“Well …” I hesitated. The sun was still high in the sky. It wouldn’t hurt to stay a little while. “OK,” I said, “but not long.”
“Not long” turned into “too long.” The sun was getting low in the sky when I started back to Aunt Nell’s. I crossed the first field just fine, but as I entered the second field, the fog came rolling in. I walked around and around the field, but I couldn’t find the stile.
Finally I stopped and stood shivering in the thick, damp fog. My father’s words echoed in my head: “Don’t forget to say your prayers.” I knew I needed Heavenly Father’s help, but how could I pray to Him after I’d been disobedient?
I knelt in the wet grass. “Heavenly Father,” I whispered, “I’m sorry I’ve been forgetting to say my prayers. And I’m sorry I stayed too long in the village. But please help me find my way.”
Just then, a horrible “Eeee-Aaaa!” sounded right by my ear. Terrified, I leaped up and stumbled away from that awful noise. And there, right in my path, was the stile! In an instant, I climbed up and over it. Then I ran down the lane, heading straight for a lantern bobbing towards me. It was Aunt Nell! I threw myself into her arms.
“There, there,” she soothed, and she took me home. That night I knelt and thanked Heavenly Father for helping me, and I promised to never again forget to pray.
The sun was out the next morning. I asked Aunt Nell to go for a walk with me. We crossed the bridge, walked down the lane, and came to the stile. I took a deep breath and climbed it. As I reached the top, I looked down into the field and saw the answer to my prayer. There, tethered near the bottom of the stile, was a donkey.
I laughed.
“What is it?” Aunt Nell asked.
“Oh, I’m just happy,” I answered. And I was. I’d found out for sure that Heavenly Father loves me and answers prayers—sometimes in unexpected ways. He might even use a donkey to do it.

Brother Woodruff said:
“The first sermon that I ever heard in this Church was in 1833, by old father Zera Pulsipher, who died in the south, after having lived to be considerably over eighty years old. That sermon was what I had prayed for from my childhood,” he said. “When I heard it I had a testimony for myself that it was true. I received it with every sentiment of my heart. He preached in a schoolhouse upon a farm that we owned in Oswego County, New York. He opened the door for any remarks to be made. The house was crowded. The first thing I knew I stood on top of a bench before the people, not knowing what I got up for. But I said to my neighbors and friends, ‘I want you to be careful what you say as touching these men (there were two of them) and their testimony, for they are servants of God, and they have testified unto us the truth—principles that I have been looking for from my childhood.’
“I went forth and was baptized. I was ordained a teacher. I was always sorry that I was not a deacon first, for I had a desire to bear the priesthood in its various degrees as far as I was worthy. I had had a desire for years, not only to hear the gospel, but to have the privilege and power of preaching it to my fellow men. I was a miller by trade, and I spent many a midnight hour in the mill calling upon the Lord for light and truth, and praying that I might hear the gospel of Christ, and be able to teach it to my fellow men. I rejoiced in it when I did receive it.” (Discourses of Wilford Woodruff, sel. G. Homer Durham, Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1946, p. 304.)

“My desire from the first was to be able to help other people, to bless Heavenly Father’s children, to be prepared in case of an accident,” Céline says. Her Personal Progress program helped her refine that desire. “I set the goal to learn first aid before I turned 19,” she says. She met her goal and found she wanted to share what she was learning.

“I didn’t think of it as a talent until I got into it and saw that it comes quite naturally to me,” she continues. “Before, I had asked myself, ‘What can I do to help others?’ For me, first aid is a way of doing that.”

Not only does she help by being trained herself; she is also training others. She has taught first aid at Mutual activities, youth conferences, and girls’ camps. She also volunteers at a small Red Cross center in the basement of a local housing complex. There she teaches cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR), answers the phone, and attends to cuts and bruises of neighborhood children. They come to her as much for a hug as for a bandage.

Elsa Jacobsen had a problem. After years of working hard in school and excelling in the classroom, on the student council, and in the ballet studio, she had created a situation for herself that she didn’t quite know how to handle. Several top universities, including Stanford University located near Palo Alto, California, were vying to have Elsa as a student. All were great schools, some were offering attractive scholarship packages, and any of them would provide lots of great learning opportunities.
“I finally narrowed it down,” says 18-year-old Elsa, “and after a lot of fasting and prayer I received a peaceful confirmation about coming to Stanford. From the time I arrived here, I knew why. I love it here.”

Hooray! Your brother is turning (number) next week! And, being the kind sibling you are, you’ve decided to make him an extra (adjective) birthday present. First, grab some (plural noun) and maybe a few (plural noun) as well. It’s true that (adjective ) (plural noun) are also his favorite, but your sister is giving him those already. Next, (verb) over to your favorite (noun) store to buy (plural noun). You’ll need some (plural noun) to make everything stick together, of course, so be sure to find at least (number). It’s building time! Grab a (noun), gather your supplies, then head to (location) and (verb) for (length of time) to finish the craft. Wrap your brother’s present with a (color) (noun), top it with a bow, and give it to him. He’ll be sure to say (silly phrase) over and over again!