Gospel Story Finder

Share in the fun of a happy Christmas feeling. On a piece of paper write the following list of words, cut out, mix up, and paste them in the blank spaces as you read this true story.
jars of jelly
candy canes for the tree
long-stemmed red roses
presents wrapped in red
bags of cookies
pieces of pink divinity
pieces of fruit
chewy popcorn balls
loaves of date bread
lace-trimmed handkerchiefs
pieces of fruitcake
pieces of candy
decorated gingerbread men
cakes
Mrs. Gallagher finished trimming her small Christmas tree. Beneath the tree she carefully placed each small figure in the manger scene.
“Dear me, dear me,” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher, “Christmas is only twelve days away and I still haven’t felt a happy Christmas spirit. My tree looks lovely and I have received many cards and packages through the mail. Now why am I feeling sad?”
Mrs. Gallagher went to her bay window and watched the six children next door help their father bring in a large Christmas tree.
“Now there’s the answer to my question right before my eyes,” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher. “I’m lonesome. My children are grown and can’t come home for Christmas this year. I won’t be able to share Christmas with my grandchildren.”
Mrs. Gallagher blinked and a few tears ran down the wrinkles in her cheeks.
“Say, I’ve got to do something besides stand here and cry,” said Mrs. Gallagher. “And I think I’ll start by making some ginger-cream cookies to share with my neighbors. Then I’ll sit at my old pump organ and play some Christmas songs.”
Mrs. Gallagher was taking the last batch of cookies out of the oven and was about to sit down at her organ when the doorbell rang.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children from next door sang out and Mary Lynn, the oldest girl, handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
The children stayed a little while to visit and to enjoy some fresh, warm cookies. As soon as they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened her package.
On the first day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
One large loaf of bread.
“What a nice Christmasy thing to do,” said Mrs. Gallagher delightedly as she taped the note to her bay window. She enjoyed the bread and some ginger-creams with her supper that evening.
The doorbell rang before Mrs. Gallagher had even finished breakfast the next morning.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” said the children from next door again, and Erick handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
The children stayed just a minute. When they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the second day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Two ____________________.
“Another surprise!” exclaimed Mrs. Gallagher and she taped the note to her bay window. What thoughtful children I have living next door to me, she thought.
The next day the doorbell rang as Mrs. Gallagher was sitting down to lunch.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” called the children and Kathy handed Mrs. Gallagher a package with a note on top.
As soon as they left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the third day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Three ____________________.
Mrs. Gallagher taped another note to her bay window. She was enjoying the visits and all of the presents but she had to admit she was a little surprised.
The next afternoon the doorbell rang and it was the children again. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” they said all together and Robby handed her a package with a note on top. Mrs. Gallagher smiled when she read the note on the package.
On the fourth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Four ____________________.
“Now isn’t that thoughtful of those children!” said Mrs. Gallagher. With a happy smile on her face she taped the fourth note to her bay window. The next day when the children came, she was standing near the window waiting and watching.
She opened the front door to greet them. Three-year-old Jeremy handed her a package with a note on top.
When the children left, Mrs. Gallagher read the note and opened the package.
On the fifth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Five ____________________.
“Just what I love,” said Mrs. Gallagher and she was as happy as could be. “I wonder if the children will come again tomorrow morning,” she said to herself as she taped the fifth note to her bay window.
The children did come the following morning and every morning during the next week to wish Mrs. Gallagher a Merry Christmas. Every afternoon they worked in their kitchen preparing the next day’s note and gift for Mrs. Gallagher. This is what their notes said:
On the sixth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Six ____________________.
On the seventh day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Seven ____________________.
On the eighth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Eight ____________________.
On the ninth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Nine ____________________.
On the tenth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Ten ____________________.
On the eleventh day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
.Eleven ____________________.
Mrs. Gallagher was more excited than ever on Christmas day as she waited and waited at her bay window.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children called as they climbed up the front steps. Cameron, the smallest child, handed her a package with a note on top.
Mrs. Gallagher smiled with delight and said, “Come in children. I have a Christmas treat for all of you too.”
While the children ate ginger-cream cookies, Mrs. Gallagher sat at her old pump organ and played Christmas songs for them.
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Gallagher,” the children called out as they waved good-bye and, after they were gone, she read the note and opened the package.
On the twelfth day of Christmas
What did Mrs. Gallagher see?
Twelve ____________________.
On the bottom of the note it read, “P.S., We love you, Mrs. Gallagher!”
“What a happy Christmas this turned out to be,” said Mrs. Gallagher. She taped the note to her bay window beside the others.
She left them there all year. And whenever she was lonely she would stand at her bay window and reread her cheery Christmas messages.

Earlier this year I attended the funeral of an extraordinary ordinary man—my husband’s uncle Don. One of Uncle Don’s sons shared an experience he had as a small child, shortly after his parents had purchased their first home. Because there were five small children to feed and clothe, there was not enough money to fence the yard. Taking seriously one of his divine roles as the protector of his family, Uncle Don drove a few small wooden stakes into the ground, took some string, and tied the string from stake to stake all around the yard. He then called his children to him. He showed them the stakes and string and explained to them that if they would stay on the inside of that makeshift fence, they would be safe.

One day the visiting teachers watched in disbelief as they approached the house and saw five little children standing obediently at the edge of the string, looking longingly at a ball that had bounced beyond their boundaries and out into the street. One little child ran to get their daddy, who, in response, ran and retrieved the ball.

Later in the funeral, the oldest son tearfully expressed that all he had ever hoped in this life was to be like his beloved father.

Every call to serve is a human drama in the life of the recipient. I am certain that such has been the case with each of the Brethren who earlier today were sustained as new General Authorities. Let me share with you some marvelous lessons from the life of one of these Brethren, Jay E. Jensen, as recently reported in the Church News (“Spiritual Foundation Set Early in Life,” 8 Aug. 1992, pp. 6, 14).
Elder Jensen speaks of turning points in his life. His spiritual awakening began when he was a small boy growing up in Mapleton, Utah. His parents held family night long before it became a Church program. He recalled that his father read to him lessons from the Book of Mormon. His mother’s deep love for books also had a favorable impact on her son. However, it was when he read for himself Joseph Smith’s account of the First Vision that the witness of its truth became a reality.
Upon graduation from high school, young Jay and his sweetheart, Lona, decided to get married and not wait for a call to serve a mission. “It nearly broke my father’s heart,” Elder Jensen related. “Mother told me that Dad just wept.”
Two weeks later, and before wedding plans were finalized, Jay and Lona attended a sacrament meeting where a returned missionary reported his mission. The Spirit touched their hearts. They concluded to postpone marriage. Jay arose, went to the bishop’s office, and reported for missionary service. The rest is history. Jay served in the Spanish-American Mission.
Lona moved to California for employment and served a stake mission. Upon the completion of Jay’s mission, they were married in the Manti Temple. Elder Jensen’s father lived long enough to see his son serve an honorable mission and marry in the temple. Sister Jensen has often said that sending her husband-to-be on a mission was the hardest thing she ever did, but that it was the most rewarding. “I would never do it differently. We could never have been as happy otherwise.”
Today, Jay and Lona serve in Guatemala. He is a member of the Central America Area Presidency.

As soon as the constable took Joseph Smith away, Joseph Knight, Sr., went out and hired two men, a Mr. James Davidson and a Mr. John S. Reid, who were “respectable farmers who were well versed in the laws of their country,” to help Joseph during his trial before Justice Joseph P. Chamberlain.
Newel wrote in his journal:
“On the following day a court was convened for the purpose of investigating the charges which had been made against Joseph Smith, Jun. On account of the many scandalous reports which had been put in circulation, a great excitement prevailed. …
“The trial commenced among a crowded multitude of spectators, who generally seemed to believe Joseph guilty of all that had been alleged against him, and, of course, were zealous to see him punished for his crimes.”
Many witnesses were called up against Joseph Smith, including Josiah Stowell, for whom he had worked, and Mr. Stowell’s daughters, whom Joseph had known socially. Despite many attempts to elicit something from them which could be held against Joseph, all of the witnesses reported that Joseph Smith had dealt with them fairly and kindly.
Joseph Smith was acquitted by the Chenango County court of all charges, and at the very moment he was released, officials from the neighboring Broome County presented another warrant for his arrest.

I go to chess club after school. One day when chess club was over, I went to a side door to meet my mom. I expected her to be waiting outside, but she wasn’t there. I went to another door in the back, but she wasn’t there either. I began to feel lost and scared. I decided to say a prayer asking for help to find my mom. About 10 seconds later my chess teacher found me and told me that my mom was waiting at the front door. I was glad my prayer had been answered.

One of my favorite times during childhood was Holy Week, even though I didn’t understand its significance and sacredness.
I loved the traditions my beloved mother had established, especially those related to food. My mother, Doña Negra, was a devout Catholic. During Lent (a 40-day period of spiritual preparation for Easter celebrated in the Catholic Church and other Christian churches), we followed certain practices.
During this period, we didn’t eat meat on Wednesdays and Fridays. The menu at my house always included rice, pigeon peas, fried eggs, fried eggplant (torrejas), green salads, and codfish. My mother would also prepare sweet beans. I loved the food my mother made, but it wasn’t until I grew up and was baptized in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints that I began to understand and value the importance and sacredness of this time and why we celebrate Easter.
From one of the Apostles, President Jeffrey R. Holland, I learned that the Passover feast, instituted in ancient Israel, reminded the people that “the Lord brought [them] out from Egypt, from the house of bondage” (Exodus 13:14). Thus, this annual celebration helped the Israelites remember that the Lord had delivered them from death and captivity.
With the Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Lamb of God, the Lord delivered us from physical and spiritual death by providing the opportunity to be cleansed from our sins. Therefore, the ritual of Passover, which involved sacrificing the firstborn of the flock, was replaced by the ordinance of the sacrament. By partaking of it, the “children of the promise have been under covenant to remember Christ’s sacrifice in this newer, higher, more holy and personal way. …
“With so very much at stake, this ordinance commemorating our escape from the angel of darkness should be taken more seriously than it sometimes is. It should be a powerful, reverent, reflective moment. It should encourage spiritual feelings and impressions. …
“… Do we see it as our passover, remembrance of our safety and deliverance and redemption?”
For most people, Easter is just a holiday. It is often used to do many worldly things that take us away from the true spirit of Easter. We should strive to establish practices in our families that promote understanding of the Savior’s Atonement and fill our homes with gratitude for the gift of the Father and the Son.
These words from the Prophet Joseph Smith add additional context to the importance of the events related to Easter: “The fundamental principles of our religion are the testimony of the Apostles and Prophets, concerning Jesus Christ, that He died, was buried, and rose again the third day, and ascended into heaven; and all other things which pertain to our religion are only appendages to it”
In his message “The Greatest Easter Story Ever Told”, Elder Gary E. Stevenson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles exhorted us: “Perhaps the question we have asked ourselves is one we could all contemplate: How do we model the teaching and celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, the Easter story, with the same balance, fulness, and rich religious tradition of the birth of Jesus Christ, the Christmas story?”
We are all trying. I see an increasing effort among Latter-day Saints to celebrate Easter in a more Christ-centered way, which includes a greater and more contemplative recognition of Palm Sunday and Good Friday. We could also adopt appropriate, Christ-centered Easter traditions found in the cultures and customs of countries around the world.
N. T. Wright, a New Testament scholar, suggested: “We should take steps to celebrate the Resurrection Easter in new creative ways: with art, literature, children’s games, poetry, music, dance, festivals, bells, special concerts. [. . .] It is our greatest festival. If we removed Christmas, in biblical terms, we would lose two chapters at the beginning of Matthew and Luke, and nothing more. If we removed Easter, the New Testament would disappear; we would have no Christianity.”
President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) said:
“No words in Christendom mean more to me than those spoken by the angel to the weeping Mary Magdalene and the other Mary as they approached the tomb to care for the body of their Lord:
“‘Why seek ye the living among the dead?
“‘He is not here, but is risen’ (Luke 24:5–6).
I pray that the Lord will bless us so that we can understand the magnitude of what our Lord Jesus Christ did for us. It is necessary to establish in our hearts and in the hearts of our posterity a greater understanding and gratitude for the Lord’s Atonement and for the celebration of the Passover.
President Monson continued:
“Our Savior lived again. The most glorious, comforting, and reassuring of all events of human history had taken place—the victory over death. The pain and agony of Gethsemane and Calvary had been wiped away. The salvation of mankind had been secured. The Fall of Adam had been reclaimed.
“The empty tomb on that first Easter morning was the answer to Job’s question: ‘If a man die, shall he live again?’ (Job 14:14). To all within the sound of my voice, I declare, If a man die, he shall live again. We know, for we have the light of revealed truth.
“‘For since by man came death, by man [Jesus Christ] came also the resurrection of the dead.
“‘For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive’ (1 Corinthians 15:21–22). …
“… Two weeks ago, I received a touching letter from a father of seven who wrote about his family and, in particular, his son Jason, who had become ill when 11 years of age. Over the next few years, Jason’s illness recurred several times. This father told of Jason’s positive attitude and sunny disposition, despite his health challenges. Jason received the Aaronic Priesthood at age 12 and ‘always willingly magnified his responsibilities with excellence, whether he felt well or not.’
“Last summer, not long after Jason’s 15th birthday, he was once again admitted to the hospital. On one of his visits to see Jason, his father found him with his eyes closed. Not knowing whether his son was asleep or awake, he began talking softly to him. ‘Jason,’ he said, ‘I know you have been through a lot in your short life and that your current condition is difficult. Even though you have a giant battle ahead, I don’t ever want you to lose your faith in Jesus Christ.’ He said he was startled as Jason immediately opened his eyes and said, ‘Never!’ in a clear, resolute voice. Jason then closed his eyes and said no more.
“His father wrote: ‘In this simple declaration, Jason expressed one of the most powerful, pure testimonies of Jesus Christ that I have ever heard. . . . As his declaration of ‘Never!’ became imprinted on my soul that day, my heart filled with joy that my Heavenly Father had blessed me to be the father of such a tremendous and noble boy. . . . [That] was the last time I heard him declare his testimony of Christ.’
“Although his family was expecting this to be just another routine hospitalization, Jason passed away less than two weeks later. An older brother and sister were serving missions at the time. Another brother, Kyle, had just received his mission call. In fact, the call had come earlier than expected, and on August 5, just a week before Jason’s passing, the family gathered in his hospital room so that Kyle’s mission call could be opened there and shared with the entire family.
“In his letter to me, this father included a photograph of Jason in his hospital bed, with his big brother Kyle standing beside the bed, holding his mission call. The caption was written beneath the photograph: ‘Called to serve their missions together—on both sides of the veil.’
“Jason’s brother and sister already serving missions sent beautiful, comforting letters home to be shared at Jason’s funeral. His sister, serving in the Argentina Buenos Aires West Mission, as part of her letter, wrote: ‘I know that Jesus Christ lives, and because He lives, all of us, including our beloved Jason, will live again. . . . We can take comfort in the sure knowledge we have that we have been sealed together as an eternal family. . . . If we strive our best to obey and be better in this life, we will see [him again].’ She continued: ‘[A] scripture that I have long loved now takes on new significance and importance at this time. . . . [From] Revelation chapter 21, verse 4: ‘And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.’
“My beloved brothers and sisters, in our hour of deepest sorrow, we can receive profound peace from the words of the angel that first Easter morning: ‘He is not here: for he is risen” (Matthew 28:6).
God lives; He is our beloved Heavenly Father. I am very grateful to now understand a little more of what my Savior willingly did for me. He was wounded, bruised, and chastised. He suffered my pains, afflictions, and illnesses. He is my Savior. And I share this in His sweet name, the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
For ideas on how to celebrate a Christ-centered Easter, see “Making Easter a Time to Remember the Savior” in the April 2023 Liahona.

I thought about you a lot on Christmas Day. I imagined you and your mom and dad around the Christmas tree, opening presents and later eating turkey and pumpkin pie. Our Christmas in Paraguay was very different, and I thought you might like to hear about it.
We had decided to visit the Ugarte family for Christmas. They live 80 kilometers (50 miles) through the jungle, in a little village called Itakyry. There is a small chapel there, where we could spend the night. In the Ugarte family are a grandmother, a mother and father, and eleven children. Their house has only two rooms and two beds, so we couldn’t stay with them. We packed some small gifts in the back of the car and left early in the morning of the day before Christmas. Two young elders went with us.
In Itakyry, Sister Ugarte was very sad. It was the day before Christmas, and she had no presents to give her children. It took all their money and time just to provide the essential things that such a large family needed. Nothing was left for gifts or even a special treat for Christmas dinner.
All that morning she worked. She washed clothes in the stream and spread them on the bushes to dry. She tended the garden and cooked black beans and rice for their midday meal. After they ate, she rocked the baby and mended clothes. As she worked, she prayed, “Heavenly Father, please send our good friends, the missionaries, here for Christmas. I know it is a long way for them to come, but it would make this day special. Please, Heavenly Father.”
We didn’t know that she wanted us to come. The Spirit just told us that it would be good if we did. A bridge was washed away, so we had to walk the last few miles through the jungle. My goodness, how happy the Ugarte family was when they saw us coming through the trees!
That night we had a very special family home evening in the little wood chapel. The beautiful story of the birth of Christ was told, and testimonies were shared. Then for a long time we sat, watching the silent tropical stars and singing the sacred hymns of Christmas.
The Ugarte children didn’t understand when Grandpa tried to act like Santa Claus the next morning. They did enjoy the simple gifts we passed out, though. There was a small doll for each little girl, sweet-smelling soap for the older girls, and windup toys for the boys. Grandpa had to show the boys how to wind them up, because they had never seen toys like that before.
We missed our own dear grandchildren, but this Christmas in Paraguay was a very special one for us. The best gifts that we can give or receive at Christmastime are love and service.

On May 26, 1976, Rodolfo Villalba left Salt Lake City to return home to Bolivia as a full-time missionary for the Church. “My heart is full of beautiful things I want to share with my people,” he said. After his mission he wants to come back to Utah and Brigham Young University; then he will return again to Bolivia to become a productive member of his community.
Rodolfo Murilla also returned to Bolivia at the end of May—there was a rumor that he had someone special waiting for him. The other four, Raul, Luis, Elizabeth, and Lidia, stayed in the U.S. to attend Brigham Young University. They are serious about becoming good representatives of Bolivia. After their education, they all say they want to go back to help their homeland. Lidia wants to study sociology. Luis wants to go into some technical field. Raul feels that it is a great opportunity, “one in a lifetime, to study in another country. And to do it in the Church university is really something!” His father is not a member but wants the best opportunities for his son. Raul is the oldest of the children in his family, and his father wants him to set a good example for his younger brothers and sisters.

Some years ago, I was in the mountains camping and hiking with my sons and friends. I wanted to head out on my own, so I informed the group of the terrain where I would be hiking and set off for the afternoon. As I enjoyed a beautiful, brisk, fall day, I hiked a considerable distance in just a few hours.
After a while, I determined I had better head back if I wanted to return to the campsite before dark. Too soon, however, darkness began to set in. I had a general idea where I was, and knew I couldn’t be too far from the base camp, yet the darker it became, the more difficult it was to orient myself towards camp.
I stopped and tried to logically direct myself, which became more and more difficult in the dark. As my heart started to pound harder and my breathing began to increase, fear began to take over. I found myself walking faster, almost wanting to run, but without knowing which direction to head. Adrenaline coursed through my bloodstream. I realized I needed to take special care so as to not lose rationality or allow panic to overtake my emotions. This, unexpectedly, required considerable concentration.
By now it was dark enough and the temperature cool enough for me to know that our group would be comfortably settled around a campfire, and that if I found the right vantage point, the fire would be visible from a long distance.
It was with great relief that I spotted a golden flicker far off in the distance. Remarkably, this small speck of light provided the perspective necessary to immediately reorient myself and plot my return course. The fear that had been building inside of me dissipated faster than it came and was replaced with peace.
Today’s cultural landscape is full of those who would mock and ridicule our beliefs. We worry that if we express our peculiar beliefs—and they are peculiar—that this will somehow become an embarrassment, or ultimately, a disadvantage in our relationships. But we shouldn’t hide among the shadows, trying to blend in. “Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid” (Matthew 5:14). Remember how far away I was from the campfire when I was lost, and how penetrating a single spark can be in the black of night.
And so we end where we began. Once again, out in the darkness, looking for the way back to camp, paralyzed by fear, and then rescued by the vision of a tiny spark of light—the fire of faith, the flame of testimony, the burning brilliance of divine strength, the shining gleam of spiritual armor, and the golden glow of selfless service. These will restore peace, provide direction, and eliminate fear.

A family had been taking pictures on a lookout point of the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. They heard screams and ran to find that a two-year-old girl had fallen through a railing to a ledge about 35 feet (11 m) below. The little one tried to climb back up, but her movements caused her to slip even farther until she was 5 feet (1.5 m) from a dangerous 200-foot (61-m) drop.
A 19-year-old young man named Ian saw where she was and, using his emergency-response training, knew how to handle the situation. These are his words: “‘Immediately, it all came at me, and I just knew what I had to do. I set down my camera and went up the trail a little ways where it wasn’t as steep, climbed over the rail, scrambled down a bunch of rocks and through brush, and found her.’ Holding her in his arms for an hour, Ian waited until emergency teams could drop down with ropes [to rescue them]” (in Patricia Auxier, “Save Her!” New Era, Sept. 2007, 6). The phrase “holding her in his arms” caught my attention because the scriptures talk about arms—arms of love, arms of mercy, and arms of safety (see 2 Nephi 1:15; Mosiah 16:12; Alma 5:33; D&C 6:20; 29:1).

PING!
At the faint, bell-like sound, Wanda’s eyes opened in the dark. She had been half-awake already, too excited to really sleep. But it’s too early to get up, she realized with disappointment. The family rule was that nobody was to get up before daylight and no gifts were to be opened before breakfast.
What a different kind of Christmas this will be, she thought sadly, listening to the steady patter of the California rain. For the first time since she could remember, there would be no snow and no sled to share with her three brothers. Maybe we’ll get a wagon this year, Wanda hoped.
Ping! Wanda sat up and clutched the iron armrest of the old-fashioned daybed. A drop of water fell on the back of her hand. Quickly she snatched her hand from the armrest and rubbed it dry on her flannel nightgown.
Ping! Suddenly she knew what caused the sound—drops of water falling on the metal.
It would be just like this old place to have a leaky roof and spoil our Christmas! she thought with disgust. Daddy had rented the house before he had sent for Mama and the children. It stood on a sandy plain near a shallow river that was hardly more than a trickle. “I know it’s kind of run-down and old,” Daddy had said apologetically, “but it’s all we can afford till I’ve been on this new job a while longer.”
There were two small bedrooms—one for Mama and Daddy and one for the three boys. Wanda slept on the daybed in the living room. She slipped out of bed now, shivering as she picked her way over the cold, bare floor to the window. She strained to see past the rivulets chasing each other down the windowpane and willed daylight to appear through the dark clouds.
Plink! A new sound joined the familiar ping! Another leak, Wanda realized. When she returned from the kitchen, where she’d gotten a couple of bowls to catch the dripping water, she bumped her shin on the table.
Do I dare turn on the light? she wondered, her shin still smarting. She hesitated for just a moment, then groped for the dangling light chain.
Click! The one bare bulb hanging on a cord from the ceiling shone dimly on the little Christmas tree with its homemade decorations. It wasn’t actually a tree, but a rubber plant Mama had gotten to brighten the room. “We’ve always had a Christmas tree,” Mama had declared, “and we’re not doing without one this year just because we don’t have much money.” Then, with a wink at Wanda, Mama had said, as she often did, “Money can’t buy everything.”
This year Wanda felt that she was beginning to understand what Mama meant. She remembered the fun that they had had making the tree decorations. While Wanda and the boys had worked with paper, scissors, crayons, scraps of cloth, fruit jar lids, and homemade flour paste, Daddy had transferred the rubber plant to a large tub of dirt and set it in a corner of the room.
A board creaked, interrupting Wanda’s thoughts. She stopped abruptly, listening for sounds of awakening from her parents’ bedroom. In the silence she became aware of a rhythmic orchestra of sound: ping! plop! plink! splat! Drops of water were falling in several places. Glancing up, Wanda was alarmed to see that the ceiling sagged noticeably just above the table where Daddy had stacked the presents when they hadn’t fit under their little tree. Most of the gifts had come in the mail from Grandma and Uncle Walt the day before. “Just in time,” Daddy had remarked, “to save us from a very skimpy Christmas.”
As Wanda watched, horrified, the bulge seemed to dip lower. The ceiling’s full of water! she realized. It could burst any minute and ruin all the presents! Uncertain about waking her parents, she prayed silently, then decided to wake her older brother, Blaine. He would know what to do.
She slipped into the boys’ bedroom and tugged on Blaine’s pajama sleeve. “Wake up, Blaine!” she urged in a hoarse whisper. She shook his shoulder. He moaned in his sleep and turned away from her. But when she said in a low, tense voice, “Merry Christmas, Blaine!” his eyelids fluttered open.
“Wake up. We have to do something. The rain’s going to ruin all our presents from Uncle Walt and Grandma!”
“What?” Blaine mumbled sleepily. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor.
“Shh! Don’t wake the other boys. And watch where you step. There are puddles everywhere.”
Blaine’s eyes widened when he saw the bulge in the ceiling. He was fully awake now and ready to take charge.
“First thing to do is to move this table. You grab one end, and I’ll take the other. Careful you don’t knock off any presents.”
“I can’t lift it!” Wanda wailed. “It’s too heavy.”
“OK, you drag your end, and I’ll lift mine. But we have to move fast.”
The table legs rasped against the floor as Wanda tugged. “Oh,” she gasped, almost in tears, “if that ceiling breaks, the whole house will be flooded!”
Suddenly Daddy appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?” he demanded.
“Look, Daddy!” Wanda pointed to the sagging ceiling.
“Oh no!” exclaimed her father. “Blaine, bring that big bucket from the back porch. Wanda, get your mother’s canning kettle from the kitchen. I’ll go get my screwdriver.”
Wanda nested several smaller pots and pans inside the big canner, then hurried back to the living room.
Daddy held the bucket under the bulge and poked a hole in the ceiling directly above the bucket. A small stream of water shot into the bucket.
“That will relieve the pressure on the ceiling,” Daddy explained. He directed Blaine to watch the bucket and empty it outside before it got too full to carry. Wanda was to replace the bucket immediately with the empty canner.
“Larry and Andrew can tend the other pans,” said Mama, “and I’ll mop up the water from the floor.”
Wanda hadn’t noticed that her mother and the two younger boys had joined them. Already the smaller pans were positioned around the floor, catching drops.
Soon everyone was dressed and eating hot cereal between quick trips into the living room to check the pans.
Wanda helped Blaine carry the first bucketful to the back porch.
“We could have used a wagon for this job,” she grumbled.
“We should have asked for a boat instead,” Blaine joked as he emptied the bucket.
Then Wanda saw that the boardwalk leading to the woodshed was surrounded by puddles. Wanda’s sense of humor dispelled her gloom. “We don’t need a boat,” she said with a giggle. “Our house is the boat. It’s just like being on Noah’s ark, but without the animals.”
The presents were unwrapped amid general merriment as the family tried to avoid the wet spots in the room. Finally they took the presents into a bedroom to keep them dry.
The children played with their toys for a while, then Mother read the Bible story of the first Christmas—with frequent interruptions as someone raced into the living room to replace a full pan with an empty one.
As Wanda helped Blaine empty the canner for the third time into the “lake” outside, she realized that she had never thought too much about Jesus at Christmas. Other years her mind had been on Santa Claus and what he might bring her. Now, thinking of her family in this rundown house—in a city far from their old home—Wanda felt a kinship with the little family who had spent that first Christmas in a stable far from their home.
We didn’t really need the presents, she thought, to have a good time together.

Within the city of Sete Lagoas, Brazil, is a shelter for women with disabilities whose lives have been affected by drug abuse. Each day they struggled to survive. They had a small oven they used to produce about 30 loaves of bread a day. Though the women had received some aid from a local humanitarian association, they scarcely had enough to feed themselves. When Church leaders from the Sete Lagoas Brazil Stake learned of the needs of these women, they wanted to help.
They spoke with the women about their needs. The women said that if they could produce more bread, they could not only better feed themselves but perhaps could sell a few loaves and earn some desperately needed income.
Church leaders and members worked with the local military police and a local school to improve conditions for these women. With the help of a Church humanitarian grant and volunteers from the Church and the community, they were able to create a new bakery—one that allowed the women to produce 300 loaves of bread daily.
With the proceeds they have received, the women at the bakery have been able to hire their first employee—one of the women at the shelter.

Recently, a man sent me a book. He is a doctor of philosophy in a great university. He told me that reading that book had become a significant experience in his life. I read it. It is the story of a boy in Paris who, in an accident, was blinded at the age of eight. It is an account of how when darkness surrounded him, there came a new light into his life. When he was 16 or 17, the Germans conquered France and German soldiers marched into Paris. This blind boy, a brilliant student, organized a resistance group. He and his associates ran an operation for getting information and circularizing it with a little newspaper they printed on a duplicator. The effort grew until they were distributing more than 250,000 copies an issue. Then he was betrayed by a member of the group, arrested, and sent to Buchenwald. There in filth and despair he lived with similar victims. He could not see, but there was a light within him that rose above the tragedy of his circumstances. He survived as a leader among those in that foul camp. The little newspaper he started became a great newspaper. I read that book and was lifted and strengthened by the story of that remarkable young man. If you cannot find good heroes and heroines for your children on television, help your children find them in good books.

This story took place in the USA.
Kevin turned around in the computer chair. He hit random keys on the keyboard.
“Mom, can I play the racing game yet?” he called.
Mom looked in from the kitchen. “After you finish your homework.”
Kevin sighed. How was he supposed to focus on homework? He was so close to beating the next level of his favorite computer game. And his homework was, well, homework.
He guessed he could at least start on it. He scrolled through a website. It sure didn’t look as cool as the racing game.
Then Kevin saw a link. He clicked on it. The link took him to a website with pictures of people wearing no clothes.
This is bad, he thought. I should leave it. Kevin looked over his shoulder. No one was watching him. He looked at a few more pictures. He was just curious.
Kevin started to feel a little sick inside. He quickly closed the website. He tried to go back to his homework. It’s OK, Kevin thought. I just saw just a few pictures. But the bad feeling didn’t go away.
Kevin felt like he should talk to Mom about the website. But he was scared. What if she got mad?
That night, after dinner, Kevin helped Mom wash the dishes.
“Are you feeling OK?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Kevin said.
But he wasn’t OK. He felt like he was going to cry. The feeling that he should tell Mom came back. But Kevin was still scared.
Heavenly Father, please help me, he prayed silently. He felt a little better.
“Can I talk to you?” Kevin asked.
“Of course,” Mom said. “What do you want to talk about?”
Kevin looked at the floor. He wasn’t sure how to start. “When I was doing my homework, I looked at a site that had pictures of people without clothes. I was just curious. But now I can’t forget what I saw.”
“I’m glad you told me,” Mom said. She gave Kevin a hug. “Curiosity is normal. You know that those things are bad, and you shouldn’t be looking at them. But the good thing is that you were honest. You’ll feel better now because you told me.”
“You’re not mad?” Kevin asked.
“Of course not,” Mom said. “I love you. I want to help you. And so does Heavenly Father. He can always help you make things right.”
The sick feeling left Kevin’s stomach.
“I was scared to tell you,” he said. “But I felt better after I said a prayer.”
“It sounds like the Holy Ghost helped you be brave!” Mom said.
Kevin had felt calm and peaceful when he prayed. But even before he prayed, he had felt like he needed to talk to Mom.
“I think the Holy Ghost helped me the whole time,” Kevin said. “He told me the pictures were bad. And He told me I needed to tell you what happened.”
“I’m always here if you need to talk about things like this,” Mom said. “I won’t get mad. Let’s work together to make a computer safety plan.”
Kevin smiled. “That sounds like a good idea to me.”
Illustration by Laura Catrinella

As Ryan was participating in a school quartet, he found that the song selected for the group to sing had lyrics he objected to. Ryan talked to the teacher about changing the words, but the teacher became angry. Ryan was hurt by the teacher’s reaction. After school, the teacher asked to speak to him and apologized for getting upset. “She said that what I had done took courage,” said Ryan. “She said she admired me for standing up for what I believed in and that she was willing to resolve the problem because she really wanted me in the quartet.”

Anciently, certain women sacrificed as they testified and lived the teachings of Jesus. Certain women in the early days of the Restoration did the same. Drusilla Hendricks and her family were among those who, as new converts, suffered during the persecution of the Saints in Clay County, Missouri. Her husband was permanently paralyzed during the Battle of Crooked River. She was left to care for him as well as provide for her family.
“At one particularly distressing time, when the family was out of food, she remembered that a voice told her, ‘Hold on, for the Lord will provide.’”
When her son was needed to volunteer for the Mormon Battalion, at first Drusilla resisted and wrestled in prayer with Heavenly Father until “it was as though a voice said to her, ‘Do you not want the highest glory?’ She answered naturally, ‘Yes,’ and the voice continued, ‘How do you think to gain it save by making the greatest sacrifices?’”
We learn from this certain woman that covenant-keeping discipleship requires our willingness to sacrifice.

I am now back in Cambodia, working with an orphanage and continuing with the humanitarian work I started on my mission. Recently the two LDS sisters who run the orphanage realized they had a surplus of school supplies and thought it might be a good idea to share the excess with the children who live in the neighborhood around the orphanage. The orphans were excited to share these school kits with 46 other children. As word went out, 15 more children came to the distribution of the kits. When the orphans heard about the need for 15 more kits, they were immediately ready to share their own kits, and the additional children were served. I know that this act of service brought a feeling of joy to the orphans who are so giving in every way.

Todd and I went to the temple again today. I realize now that there is still a lot I need to learn. I feel peace though, because I know I don’t need to learn everything at once. Todd said, “That’s one reason why you go back over and over again.”

Todd and I are blessed to live near a temple. We have already decided on a day and time to go every week. I can’t think of anything else that will bless our new marriage more.

The first of this group in England were Elders John Taylor and Wilford Woodruff, who docked at Liverpool January 11, 1840. Immediately they began their work, and Elder Woodruff became one of the most productive missionaries in the Church’s history. He preached first in the Staffordshire Potteries, working with members among their friends. One member especially helpful to Elder Woodruff was William Benbow, who undoubtedly told the apostle of his brother, John Benbow, a prosperous farmer at Herefordshire, who had joined the United Brethren in his search for the ancient gospel. In early March Elder Woodruff noted in his diary that “the Lord warned me to go to the South.” Immediately he and his host journeyed to the John Benbow home, where the gospel was preached to that family and then to hundreds of willing listeners. In that area alone, Elder Woodruff baptized 158 converts within a month.

Every year the North Ogden 14th Ward, North Ogden Utah Ben Lomond Stake, puts on a super service project, but last year’s was something special. They decided to provide a party and presents for the residents of an adult mentally handicapped facility.
Each family with a teenager was assigned one resident, so it became a family project as well. Each family provided a stocking with their friend’s name on it and several gifts.
The program included a puppet show of “The 12 Days of Christmas,” carols, a slide show with the residents’ pictures, and the reading of the Christmas story from Luke. It also included the making of many new friendships.