Gospel Story Finder

My sister has Down syndrome. I try to help her and love her. One thing that helps me spend even more quality time with her is reading the New Era with her. We have lots of fun reading the articles, and she points out her favorite pictures. She sees things in them that I had never seen before. I love my sister, and I love the New Era. Thank you for the time and effort that is put into every wonderful issue.Kalia Robinson, Aurora Ward, Springfield Missouri Stake

In 1996, August 13, I’m working in our store at the ZCMI center and one of our little desk girls came up and said, “Mac, Elder Haight’s secretary is on the phone and she wants to talk to you at once.” I said, “Fine.” I knew Elder Haight well. He started at ZCMI a long, long time ago, and then I had later on, and we used to share war stories. We used to go over and take a break and we’d talk about things that had happened and things we thought should happen. I knew him well. Sweet, kind senior apostle. So I went over and answered the phone, and his secretary said, “Elder Haight wants to talk to you at once.” And I said, “Fine.” Elder Haight got on the phone and said, “Mac, how are you?” And I said, “Elder Haight, I’m just fine,” and I was at that time. And he said, “I’d like you to bring your wife and come over tomorrow at 11:00. Can you kids do that?” And I said, “Okay.” He said, “Then I’d like to take you two to lunch. Could you have lunch with me?” And I said fine, and then I thought he was going to hang up, but then he said, “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow at 11:00. By the way, we’re calling you two to be the directors of the Washington Temple Visitor’s center,” and then, Click, he hung up on me. True story.

Sister Christensen just happened that day to be working in the Relief Society Building as a hostess, and I’d only been over there, I think once, so I thought I better go over there and tell her. So I walked across the street to the Relief Society Building, and I walked in and she looked up and it frightened her. She thought something had happened to the children. She said, “What’s wrong?” And I lied to her and said nothing. Then I told her, and then she went white, and we spent an interesting day thinking about that. The next day at 11:00 we went over to Elder Haight’s office, and it happened to be that after the 13th of August comes the 14th of August and that was and still is Sister Christensen’s birthday. And we didn’t tell Elder Haight that, but we went over and he told us about the Washington Temple Visitor’s Center. Fifty-seven magnificent acres, spiritual acres, right next to the temple. The beltway comes around you can see the temple. You’ll have people from all over the world and just how magnificent it was and how much he loved that area. And then he took us down to the lunchroom where the General Authorities have their lunch, and I’d been there once or twice before, and people look at you, the other General Authorities, and wonder if you’re in trouble or why you’re there. Some know. But he wanted to pay for us, so we went through the line and he pays, takes us over to a table, and we sit down and immediately Elder Holland came over. Now, we had lived in Elder Holland’s ward and knew him well. He used to come over to my home and three or four of us would work out in the mornings. So we knew Elder Holland and then Elder Hales came over. I knew Elder Hales quite well because when he couldn’t find someone to play golf with on a Friday or Saturday, he knew that I could always get him on a golf course. He’d call and say, “Can we go look at land?” So, I knew them, but here is this senior apostle with two junior apostles - this was fun. And Elder Holland started in on Elder Haight - did you tell them this, did you tell them this, did you tell them this - a little from Elder Hales, but really Elder Holland. Finally, Elder Haight said to the two junior apostles (he called them boys), “Boys, I’ve been doing this for a long, long time. Now the first thing you do is you get them to say yes, and then you talk about those things.”

We went back to Washington, D.C. and we were frightened. We were really frightened. You’re open 365 days a year, you have people from all over. At Christmas time for about 40 days you have the festival of lights and you have about 400,000 lights out around the temple grounds, and people come clear from New York, Boston and they come to see the lights. Then we have concerts inside and we are getting referrals. It’s an extremely busy time. And you might have thirty buses to park and no where to park them, and if the temple president should say that if they got on his part of the area and take the patrons’ [parking], we were in trouble. It was a busy time. We learned a lot. We had a lot of things going on. We found that you had to have people in the visitors center, and our responsibility was to make friends, to give everyone who came there a spiritual experience, to get a referral and to send them out with something in their hand. We have the greatest sister missionaries in the world.

Two young men dressed in white shirts and ties came to our home in Honduras. “We are from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” they said.
Mama welcomed them in. The missionaries taught our family about the gospel of Jesus Christ. Though I was only nine, I felt the truth of their words in my heart.
“What must we do to become members of Christ’s Church?” Papa asked.
“Be baptized,” one of the elders said.
Mama, Papa, and I were baptized one month later. My brother, Tomas, who was six years old, would be baptized in two years.
While teaching us more about the gospel, the elders explained how families could be sealed together in the temple.
The closest temple was in Guatemala, many kilometers away. We would need to pay for a two-day bus ride and two nights’ lodging in the city. We had no money for such a trip, but Mama and Papa refused to let that stop us from attending the temple.
Every year our family grew corn. We used it to make tortillas to sell to travelers who passed through our village.
Mama pulled out a paper and pencil. She added up some numbers and said, “We must sell 2,500 tortillas to pay for our trip.”
My eyes widened. That was so many tortillas! “We have never sold so many tortillas,” I said.
Mama didn’t look worried. “The Lord will provide,” she said. “Raoul, you and Tomas must help your papa harvest the corn,” Mama told me.
Tomas and I helped Papa harvest the corn. Every day, Mama ground it, made the dough, and fried it. Tomas and I took the tortillas to the village.
“A bus of tourists came today,” I told Mama when we returned home the first day. “We sold many tortillas.”
“It is a miracle,” Mama said.
Every day we sold more tortillas. Within a few months we had saved the money we needed to make the journey to Guatemala. But I was still worried. I had heard stories about robbers who stopped buses passing through the jungle. They took all the passengers’ valuables.
“What about the robbers?” I asked.
“The Lord will protect us,” Mama said. Then she asked, “Raoul, do you believe in the gospel?”
“Yes.”
“Then you know that we must do all in our power to follow the Lord and His prophets.”
One year after we were baptized, my family was ready to make the trip to the temple. We rode to Guatemala City in a bus. I will never forget the Spirit I felt as my family was sealed together for time and eternity.
That night, as I knelt to say my prayers, I thanked Heavenly Father for the blessings of the temple.

They had worked for years to resolve problems in their marriage. At times things would improve, but before long the same old problems would return again … and again.
“Why should it be so hard to have a good marriage?” they asked. They had been married in the temple, were active in the Church, and had four delightful—though demanding—children. Yet recurring stresses and strains exerted a lot of pressure on their relationship. Lately their disagreements seemed more frequent and more volatile, satisfactory solutions seemed harder to find, and conflicts often lasted for days.
At one point, they had sought professional help and were instructed in the use of various techniques. They had discussed how to have clear communication, had practiced creative listening, and had worked through a number of exercises in effective problem solving. As a result, their marriage received a needed boost and things seemed to improve for a while.
But after several months, they were plagued again by the old, dividing conflicts, and although they tried to apply what they had previously learned from the marriage counselor, nothing appeared to work. As their marriage deteriorated, they became haunted by the unanswered questions: “What’s really wrong with us? How can we revitalize our relationship? Is there nothing better?”
The complexity of this particular couple’s dilemma doesn’t permit a simple solution. However, it is likely that part of the problem lies in their failure to understand fundamental laws governing human interaction—laws based in the gospel of Jesus Christ. To their credit, this husband and wife had expended considerable time and effort in trying to resolve their difficulties, but they had never uncovered the cause of their problem. I’ve found that couples who are most successful in creating a wonderful marriage are those who not only have developed valuable marital skills, but—more important—have developed an understanding of the basic gospel principles that underlie productive relationships.
The couple discussed earlier in this article had to struggle quite a bit before catching the vision of voluntary servitude. But as they quietly and conscientiously moved toward this goal, they began to realize some of what is meant by taking upon themselves the name of Christ. (See D&C 20:77.) Who but Jesus himself can better demonstrate for us the role of servant? As they grew in their desire and ability to serve, they discovered a sweetness and peace that comes only from an increased interest in the needs of others. They found that, in fact, they had truly begun to find their own lives by losing them in the service of each other. This was probably the greatest gift of all—to learn that the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ could have no greater relevance than when applied to their own marriage.

“Is anyone still awake?” The first time I asked, I had received two whispered responses in the affirmative. Now, hours later, the silence answered that I was the last one in the room who couldn’t get to sleep.
It was my first night in the Missionary Training Center (MTC). That day, I had said good-bye to my parents, met my companion and the other new missionaries going to Italy, and been to the first set of classes. I was exhausted, but my mind was spinning with anxiety. “What have I gotten myself into?” I asked myself over and over. I didn’t know if I could really learn to be a missionary. Would I have the courage to fly to a foreign country and talk to strangers about the gospel? Maybe I wasn’t supposed to be here. Tears started to roll down my cheeks.
Then I remembered something my mom had told me about her brother Larry. Uncle Larry served his mission in Uruguay and Paraguay in the 1970s. At first he had spent sleepless nights worrying about his inadequacies. When he felt like he couldn’t bear it anymore, he would get out of his bed, go into the bathroom, and kneel down to plead with Heavenly Father for peace. Somehow, with the Lord’s help, Uncle Larry made it through and served a faithful mission.
I felt some hope at this thought and crept down the hall to the bathroom. In the dim light, I knelt on the cold tile floor and sobbed. I begged Heavenly Father to grant me a feeling of peace so that I could have the courage to move forward.
I waited. Nothing happened. I waited some more, hearing only the sound of my crying. Finally, there was nothing to do but go back to bed.
In the moment before I fell asleep, the answer came. The Spirit filled my mind with a bright, warm impression of a beautiful place. Suddenly I knew that although I might have a hard time with fear in the beginning, if I pressed forward, I would get to where the Lord meant me to be. The thought filled me with peace, and I fell asleep.
The Spirit had hinted of beautiful things ahead. In hard moments during my stay at the MTC, I closed my eyes and remembered what I had felt. With prayer and hard work, I outlasted my fears.
It wasn’t long before I found myself in Genoa, Italy, with my new companion. In the kitchen of our apartment was a glass door that led to a balcony. I stepped out on the balcony and gazed at the city. I already knew and loved this city. This was the place I had seen in my mind’s eye that night at the MTC. I knew the Lord had led me to this moment, and I was right where I belonged.

Using things from around the house helped Britta discover something else that is fun. Once she was experimenting with a long piece of string and a plastic baseball bat, and she made a pattern of special loops around the bat. Her mom saw that Britta had discovered how to knit. With some real knitting needles instead of the baseball bat, Britta was soon busy knitting scarves, a hat, and even a long cape that she gave to Peter for Christmas.

The warm spring sun sparkled on the melting snow, and icicles wept as Liv and Ivar gazed out the window at the rolling white ridges. From the wooden tower they could see their lonely ski tracks winding through the fir saplings.
“I feel as though we’re the only people left in Norway,” said Ivar solemnly.
“Looking at the mountains makes it seem that way,” Liv agreed a little uneasily. “But we know it isn’t so. Papa and Mama will soon be back from their skiing tour to Hornfjell. Let’s go back now so we can be at the hut before they arrive.”
Ivar was only six, and Liv had not intended to bring him so far. But the sight of the fire-watcher’s tower in the distance had tempted them to continue just when they had been going to turn back.
“Remember, we are the only family in the area this vacation,” Mama had warned Liv before she and Papa had left that morning. “That means you have to really take care of yourself and Ivar. I think twelve is old enough to do that.”
Her stomach growled, and Liv wished she had brought some sandwiches. Papa never went anywhere on skis without food and extra clothes in his backpack. “It’s best to be prepared for emergencies,” he always said. Thinking about Papa, Liv wanted to hurry. She hated to have him see that she had gone exploring unprepared.
“We may be the only people around here, but we are not the only animals,” said Liv as she stopped to fasten her skis. “Look at all the mouse tracks.”
“Where are the mice?” Ivar asked.
“They live in tunnels under the snow,” explained Liv. “They eat moss and seeds and sleep in grass nests. In the spring they come out and enjoy the sun.”
Ivar squatted and stared at a hole in the snow.
“Is it warm down there?” he asked.
“I think so,” said Liv. “The snow is like a blanket that keeps the wind and cold away.”
As Liv pulled Ivar’s cap down over his ears, she said, “Let’s go back along the north edge of this ridge. If we stay out of the trees, we can go much faster.”
The snow was hardening in the late afternoon cool, and every kick gave them a long glide as they sped along.
“Look how tall my shadow is, Liv,” called Ivar. “I’m a giant—a hungry giant!”
“We’ll be home soon,” she called back.
But Liv was pushing away fear. It seemed to her that they had skied farther now than on the trip to the tower. Maybe she had been wrong to take a different trail above the trees. They could be going astray.
“Let’s climb to the top of the ridge and see if we can see the lake by our cabin,” Liv suggested as she turned to face her brother. But Ivar was not behind her. He had been skiing more and more slowly until he was far behind.
“I can’t climb that hill,” Ivar sobbed when he caught up. “I’m too tired, and I’m hungry.”
“I know you’re tired, but we have to get home before dark. I have a piece of chocolate I’ll give you at the top.” Liv’s heart was pounding, but she forced her voice to sound calm.
Slowly zigzagging up the short slope and urging Ivar along, Liv willed that the summit show them the way home. But when they reached the top, all she could see was another snowy ridge, and then another.
With shaking hands, Liv took out the chocolate bar and broke it in half. Ivar gobbled his piece in two bites, but she put hers back into her pocket. They might need it later.
Liv tried to think, but her mind was racing, leaping from idea to idea: They were not going to find the lake before dark. They were lost. It had already turned cold, and the slushy snow would soon be ice. As long as they exercised, they might keep warm enough, but how much longer could Ivar go on? “Let’s get off this ridge. The wind is coming up.” Liv’s voice wavered as she fought back tears.
Branches caught at their clothes, and buried stumps tripped them as they picked their way down through the trees. When Ivar fell, he lay listlessly in the snow until Liv pulled him up by the arm and set him on his skis again.
At the bottom of the hill was a meadow, and as the last light faded, Liv thought she could see a shed on the other side. Despair ran through her like ice water when the shed turned out to be nothing more than four posts and a roof to protect hay from rain. A few armloads of last summer’s hay lay scattered about.
Ivar was shivering. He was silent except for an occasional whimper.
Like a little mouse, thought Liv sadly.
Of course! Like a little mouse! Suddenly she knew what to do. “I’m going to make a mouse house, and you can help,” she announced with all the enthusiasm she could muster.
She yanked a loose shingle from the hay shelter. Finding a sapling bent almost double by the snow, Liv began digging under it as fast as she could. The branches would provide support for the roof of a tunnel.
“Bring that hay over here, please,” she called to Ivar.
Ivar slowly gathered an armload of hay and shuffled over to Liv. When he saw how she made the snow fly, he hurried for the second load. The more he hurried, the warmer he got.
When the tunnel was deep enough, Liv stuffed the old hay inside. “Now,” she said, “the ‘mice’ are going to crawl into their warm grass nest.”
Ivar chuckled, and the two of them wiggled feet first into the snow cave. Liv pulled hay over the top of them, and they curled up together. It wasn’t exactly toasty, but Liv knew that at least it wasn’t going to get any colder.
After an eternity of holding the gently snoring Ivar, Liv heard the skreek, skreek of skis on icy snow. She wriggled partway out of the tunnel and peered across the meadow. There, not ten meters away, was a looming figure with a bright lantern attached to its forehead.
“Papa!” cried Liv bursting out of the cave in a flurry of snow and moldy hay.
“Thank goodness! There you are at last.” Papa sounded angry, but when Liv told him what they had done to keep warm, he started to laugh and she knew everything was all right.
As they hugged each other, Ivar popped out of the hole. “Did you know mice live under the snow, Papa? Liv did.” Ivar danced with excitement.
Papa put down his heavy pack. He had brought a small tent, warm sleeping bags, plenty of gjetost (goat cheese) and kneipbrod (brown bread).
“How did you find us?” Liv asked when they were settled inside the tent.
“I followed your tracks. They froze solid before the wind could cover them. Since no one else is around here, I knew they were yours.”
Later, when Ivar was sleeping, Liv whispered, “Are you cross with me, Papa, for being so foolish?”
“No,” he said softly. “You broke the safety rules, but you saved Ivar and yourself by using your wits.”

Hello! dear brothers and sisters.
I’m very grateful that I have this Church and gospel in my life. Because of this Church, I was able to attend the YSA conference in Hyderabad. I learned so many things that help me to become self-reliant.
Now I’m working in a company that pays me a good salary. This happened because of the conference. I gave my interview without fear, I explained about myself in 30 seconds. I followed the “no preaching” concept and I was selected. Because of the conference, lots of people became my good friends, and now I’m also planning to go on mission. A mission is the place where you can learn so many things and I can become self-reliant. So many things are there which I can’t explain in words, but I’m glad that I was part of this conference. Those precious memories will stay forever.

Vacations are usually for relaxing and enjoying a few days off, but I did not find that solace on my vacation. Every day I felt sad, and it continued after returning home. I felt lost, became lazy, felt a lack of self-esteem, and there was an emotional wear and tear constantly weighing on me. I was drifting away from Heavenly Father and sinking into my own doubts. I am Yonal. I am sixteen years old, and I live in Verón in the Dominican Republic.
Life can be difficult, but when people go through depression, they often have no idea why or what event caused these feelings in their life. I fall in this category.
I love music, and the words from the hymn, “Where can I Turn for Peace”1 felt very familiar to me. However, it is important to sing that entire song, for in it we receive direction. I was blessed with the knowledge of the gospel, and I did indeed find “love without end” that came from the Lord through my bishop’s guidance. I shared my feelings with him, and he led me to many scriptures that helped me understand my situation. In those scriptures, I was able to see my life through the Savior’s perspective.
One night, I slipped again into discouraging thoughts, but then I remembered this verse in Doctrine and Covenants 25:12, “The song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads.”
Through this scripture, I felt that developing my singing talent would be my song of righteousness unto Him. I felt building that talent would be a blessing to myself and to others. Many artists write songs about how they feel, so I found a notebook and started writing my feelings and after several days I felt peace in my soul. I had my dear friend, Enoch Mirabal, assist with the final touches to my song. I am not sure where that song will go but it allowed me to release my frustration and to move forward.
I am now more aware of songs that lift my spirit and I thank Heavenly Father for opening my eyes to the talents I have. If I improve my musical talents, they will continue to set me, and possibly others, free from their own challenges.
I learned we will be challenged in this life, we are not alone, we are to grow and share the talents that we have to help all of God’s children, and as we do, we will receive blessings upon our head.

In His love for us, God has decreed that any worthy man, regardless of wealth, education, color, cultural background, or language, may hold His priesthood. Thus, any properly ordained man who is clean in hand, heart, and mind can connect with the unlimited power of the priesthood. I learned this lesson well as a young missionary years ago in the South Pacific.

My first assignment was to a small island hundreds of miles from headquarters, where no one spoke English, and I was the only white man. I was given a local companion named Feki, who was then serving a building mission and was a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood.

After eight seasick days and nights on a small, smelly boat, we arrived at Niuatoputapu. I struggled with the heat, the mosquitoes, the strange food, culture, and language, as well as homesickness. One afternoon we heard cries of anguish and saw a family bringing the limp, seemingly lifeless body of their eight-year-old son to us. They wailed out that he had fallen from a mango tree and would not respond to anything. The faithful father and mother put him in my arms and said, “You have the Melchizedek Priesthood; bring him back to us whole and well.”

Though my knowledge of the language was still limited, I understood what they wanted, and I was scared. I wanted to run away, but the expressions of love and faith that shone from the eyes of the parents and brothers and sisters kept me glued to the spot.

I looked expectantly at my companion. He shrugged and said, “I don’t have the proper authority. You and the branch president hold the Melchizedek Priesthood.” Grasping at that straw, I said, “Then this is the duty of the branch president.”

No sooner had I said this than the branch president walked up. He had heard the commotion and returned from his garden. He was sweaty and covered with dirt and mud. I turned and explained what had happened and tried to give the young boy to him. He stepped back and said, “I will go and wash and put on clean clothes; then we will bless him and see what God has to say.”

In near panic, I cried, “Can’t you see? He needs help now!”

He calmly replied: “I know he needs a blessing. When I have washed myself and put on clean clothes, I will bring consecrated oil, and we will approach God and see what His will is. I cannot—I will not—approach God with dirty hands and muddy clothes.” He turned and left me holding the boy. I was speechless.

Finally he returned, clean in body and dress and, I sensed, in heart as well. “Now,” he said, “I am clean, so we will approach the throne of God.”

That marvelous Tongan branch president, with clean hands and a pure heart, gave a beautiful and powerful priesthood blessing. I felt more like a witness than a participant. The words of the Psalmist came to my mind: “Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? …

“He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart.” On that tiny island a worthy priesthood holder ascended into the hill of the Lord, and the power of the priesthood came down from heaven and authorized a young boy’s life to continue.

With the fire of faith glowing from his eyes, the branch president told me what to do. Much additional faith and effort were required, but on the third day that little eight-year-old boy, full of life, was reunited with his family.

I hope you understand and feel these truths. This was a tiny island in the midst of a huge ocean—with no electricity, no hospital, no doctors—but none of that mattered. For in addition to great love and faith, there was a branch president who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, who understood the importance of cleanliness of hand and heart and its outward expression in cleanliness of body and dress, who exercised the priesthood in righteousness and purity according to the will of God. That day his individual power in the priesthood was sufficient to connect with the unlimited power of the priesthood over earthly life.

When I look into the heavens at night and contemplate the endless galaxies therein, I am amazed at what a tiny dot our little earth is and how infinitesimally small I am. Yet I do not feel afraid, alone, insignificant, or distant from God. For I have witnessed His priesthood power connecting with clean hands and pure hearts on a tiny island in a vast ocean.

Photograph courtesy of Berry and Light Chu
Berry Chu of the Taipei Taiwan Central Stake needed wisdom beyond her understanding after she made an investment that didn’t turn out well, leaving her with a large debt. The situation briefly paralyzed Berry from moving forward. But Berry humbled herself and sought Heavenly Father in prayer. From that prayer, she gained the courage to tell her husband what had happened. With tenderness and humility, Berry’s husband, Light Tsai, reassured her that they would figure it out and overcome the debt. Together, Light and Berry prayed to seek the Lord’s guidance.
Berry and Light felt they could benefit from the Church’s self-reliance course for personal finances. Despite the overwhelming debt, they developed a repayment plan. With help from the course, they learned to “prioritize tithing and … to manage finances in a godly way,” Berry says. “We also learned to budget and prioritize our expenses for necessities only.”
Not only did Berry and Light learn to budget their income responsibly, but their personal finance group also inspired Berry to switch jobs. The transition led to a higher salary, which she could put toward paying off her debt.
Unified in their goal, Berry and Light used all their bonuses, investments, and extra income from their full- and part-time jobs to pay off Berry’s debt. With the Lord’s help, they covered all their expenses and, most importantly, still paid tithing and gave other offerings.

David M., 18, Western Kasai, Democratic Republic of the Congo
My mother was diagnosed with cancer two years ago. I didn’t like watching her in pain, and I wished that I could do something. And although my mother got better, it was a hard experience. Your mother is in a place where she won’t feel pain or suffering. It’s hard not to see her anymore, but you are never alone. She will always love you, and our Heavenly Father will always be there to lift you up when you are low. You will never be abandoned. Jesus Christ suffered the pains of the world; He knows how you feel and what you are going through. Do as I did in my time of trial: go to Him and He will make your burdens light.

There is an example from the life of one of our latter-day prophets that I would like to share with you today, an example of following the will of our Heavenly Father. How many times do we have the opportunity to make that kind of decision, to determine whether we will follow God or mammon? It is cardinal to our progression. It is cardinal to having the Spirit with us. It is cardinal to personal righteousness. It is cardinal to becoming of one mind and one heart in this kingdom.

“On Sunday the 4th day of June 1837,” says Heber C. Kimball, “the Prophet Joseph came to me, while I was seated in front of the stand, above the sacrament table, on the Melchizedek side of the Temple, in Kirtland, and whispering to me, said, ‘Brother Heber, the Spirit of the Lord has whispered to me: “Let my servant Heber go to England and proclaim my Gospel, and open the door of salvation to that nation.”’”

Imagine what happened after this prompting by the Lord.

The day of departure came; Tuesday, June 13, 1837. The solemn scene of Heber’s parting with his family cannot be more tenderly or graphically told than in the words of Elder Robert B. Thompson, who thus describes it:

“The day appointed for the departure of the Elders to England having arrived, I stepped into the house of Brother Kimball to ascertain when he would start, as I expected to accompany him two or three hundred miles, intending to spend my labors in Canada that season.

“The door being partly opened, I entered and felt struck with the sight which presented itself to my view. I would have retired, thinking that I was intruding, but I felt riveted to the spot. The father was pouring out his soul to that ‘God who rules on high, Who all the earth surveys: That rides upon the stormy sky, And calms the roaring seas,’ that he would grant him a prosperous voyage across the mighty ocean, and make him useful wherever his lot should be cast, and that He who ‘careth for sparrows, and feedeth the young ravens when they cry’ would supply the wants of his wife and the little ones in his absence. He then, like the patriarchs, and by virtue of his office, laid his hands upon their heads individually, leaving a father’s blessing upon them, and commending them to the care and protection of God, while he should be engaged preaching the Gospel in a foreign land. While thus engaged his voice was almost lost in the sobs of those around, who tried in vain to suppress them. The idea of being separated from their protector and father for so long a time was indeed painful. He proceeded, but his heart was too much affected to do so regularly. His emotions were great, and he was obliged to stop at intervals, while the big tears rolled down his cheeks, an index to the feelings which reigned in his bosom. My heart was not stout enough to refrain; in spite of myself I wept, and mingled my tears with theirs. At the same time I felt thankful that I had the privilege of contemplating such a scene. I realized that nothing could induce that man to tear himself from so affectionate a family group, from his partner and children who were so dear to him—nothing but a sense of duty and love to God and attachment to His cause.”

It’s early Saturday morning. You have lots to do—go to the mall, hang out with friends, maybe catch up on your homework. This is definitely going to be a long and enjoyable day. Then the phone rings and you remember that this Saturday is your ward’s youth serve-a-thon. You groan and think about getting in one more hour of sleep, right?
Of course not. Getting up is as easy as counting to ten, especially if you’re in the Richmond (Virginia) Ward and today you get to join the missionaries for a day of service. Besides, you’ll be meeting a lot of new people, since much of the service will be for those who aren’t members of the Church.
This Saturday morning, youth from the Richmond Ward are spread out in five different locations around the city. The first stop is a small house in the middle of Richmond. Fourteen-year-old Zack Harton and his friend Will Jones are stationed here, raking leaves, pulling weeds, and having fun.
Zack doesn’t personally know the family his group is helping, but he does know that this family is investigating the Church. Therefore, he knows that he’s also setting an example. “It makes me feel good, because I’m helping someone in need—just as I would help my own brother and sister if they needed help,” Zack says.
His friend Will is also investigating the Church and is glad that Zack invited him to come along today. Will has already caught on to the wonderful feeling that comes from service. “I feel that I have an obligation toward other people,” Will says. “I started coming with Zack to Scouts and never knew it was going to get into this. But I just think it’s wonderful that somebody would care enough to do this. While we were working in the yard, everyone would just help one another. You didn’t even have to ask. I could just feel God around me.”
Will’s enthusiasm for service touches Cary Fleming as she, too, helps to clean up at this stop. “The house looked pretty bad when we got there,” Cary says. “I wondered how we were going to clean all this. But then Will started singing nonstop, and I kept on pulling weeds, and we had a blast.”
Cary found out that what her mom said last night was right. “I did not want to go, but she told me it would strengthen my testimony if I really prayed about going and asked to have a good time. So I knelt down and I prayed, and I’ve had the best time.”
A couple of miles away, Charity Holderness is cleaning bedrooms and bathrooms for a part-member family in the Richmond Ward. For Charity, this is a little out of the ordinary. “When I clean my own room, my mom thinks I’m sick,” she says.
Today she’s feeling something different. “I can’t even explain this feeling. I know that I haven’t done even a fraction of the work some people do. But I feel so much better knowing that I can keep doing small things. Maybe I’ll sweep the kitchen floor when I get home.”
Thirteen-year-old Caity Ingles is also here. She is a nonmember and came with her friend April Lacy. April invited Caity because “I want her to know that I like to serve and help other people.”
The two missionaries at this station like April’s idea about setting an example. Elder Jeffrey Mortensen, from Visalia, California, says, “We’re just the missionaries serving in this area for a short time. But when a ward member can make a connection with a nonmember, that is awesome.”
Building relationships—as well as cutting down some unwanted trees—is in full swing where a third group of youth are stationed. Todd Swenson, 17, is here, and he’s a little tired from pulling up roots and clearing leaves. But his attitude is not the least bit worn. “This is my first time doing anything like this, but I want to do it again. I think it makes the people we are helping feel like they have friends, that someone is looking out for them,” Todd says.
Ben Mullins, 14, agrees. “I hope it makes them feel that the Church likes to help other people. It also gives me a better attitude about serving.”
Besides, according to Heather Swenson, there’s not much else to do on a Saturday. “I can spare one. I’ve got a lot of time left in my life to help other people. I need to use that time.”
Across town at a less-active ward member’s home, Chris Odell knows all about using his time well. “I know this is the best thing I could do today,” Chris says. “When I serve, I feel so close to heaven.”
Lindsay Lansing, 14, nods in agreement and says, “Service shows that you love and respect others.” She helps the sister missionaries here gather leaves and stuff them into a garbage bag. This is not the first time she has joined them to provide service for her neighbors and less-active ward members. “I do this whenever I get the chance.”
Lindsay, Chris, and the rest of the group here finish quickly, but they don’t want to quit yet. So each of them jumps into a leader’s van to find another group that may need some extra hands.
By lunchtime, the last group of Richmond Ward youth are putting finishing touches on a wall at Svetlana Iskiyayev’s Village Shoe Shop. They have spent the morning tidying and painting the back room of the shop.
Svetlana and her husband left careers as a doctor and a lawyer when they came to Virginia from Russia several years ago. Now they are building their dreams here. And Helen Capehart, 16, is happy she can help them. She has invited two nonmember friends to help her today and hopes that they, as well as the Iskiyayevs, will see the light of the gospel through her service.
After all, examples of service are what drew Helen to the gospel herself just a short time ago. She says, “I’m so grateful that the Lord led me to this church, and for the awesome examples my friends here have been to me. My biggest example now is Jesus Christ, and I find so much joy in serving him. I hope I always have this feeling in me.”
Most likely, that feeling will stay with Helen because she has found an important key to sharing the gospel—service.
As youth from the Richmond Ward close their day of service with a testimony meeting, Helen once again captures the essence of this activity. “I don’t think that I’ve ever felt the Spirit so strong in my life as when I am serving the Lord,” Helen says. “Look at all those magazines with beautiful people on the covers. The world says that’s beauty. But when I was working today, I got paint and dirt all over me. And I think that is the Lord’s true definition of beauty.”
She is probably right. What could be more beautiful than a child of God who has found the way to happiness by following the example set by a friend?

And I can testify that this is true, because I’ve experienced it firsthand.
When I was called to serve a mission on Temple Square, I was able to serve with other sister missionaries from over 40 different countries. It was amazing to see how despite our differences in culture, race, traditions, and even small things like food preferences, we were united as one through serving God and furthering the gospel of Jesus Christ.
We weren’t divided by differences—we saw the good in one another; we saw one another as children of heavenly parents, regardless of appearance or differences; and we loved one another dearly.
My mission was a beautiful experience I have always carried with me.

“It’s not like we were on a date, Bishop,” said Paul. “We were just hanging out.” Fifteen-year-old Paul was trying to explain why he was having moral problems with a young lady whom he had never “dated.” When the bishop spoke with the young lady, she, like Paul, failed to grasp the seriousness of what they had done because, after all, they weren’t “dating.”

After Paul and his “girlfriend” spoke with their bishop, they realized that they could get themselves into negative and undesirable situations even when it wasn’t a formal dating situation. Everyone will be happier if we worry less about what does or doesn’t qualify as a “date” and more about keeping our covenants. Perhaps some of the suggestions from the young people in my ward can help others hang in as they hang out.

I had the opportunity on a Monday in December to present a family home evening lesson to four of our grandchildren. We talked about the Wise Men finding the Baby Jesus. The three youngest boys, usually quite rambunctious, were unusually attentive that night and so I was able to put my energy into trying to help them learn something from that story that they could apply to their own lives.

I took them through the story this way: The Wise Men saw a star in the east and followed it traveling to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him."[1]

King Herod heard of their quest and inquired of his chief priests and scribes where Christ was to be born. They told him it had been prophesied that He would be born in Bethlehem of Judaea.[2] And so, with evil intentions, Herod sent the Wise Men to Bethlehem and instructed them to search diligently and return and bring him word. The Wise Men departed, ". . . and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was."[3]

I asked my grandchildren what it might have been about the Wise Men that allowed them to have the "gift of a star."

We talked about the Wise Men being wise and knowing what to look for; but I also wanted to teach them about another light, a light besides the star, that worked in leading the Wise Men to Jesus.

I told them that when we lived with Heavenly Father before the world was created, we accepted Heavenly Father's plan of happiness. Because we accepted that plan, all of us born on earth have the Light of Christ within us. This Light helps us to feel and recognize our connection to Him.

As John taught, Jesus is "the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world."[4]

The Wise Men had that Light within them. They nurtured that Light by studying the prophecies about the coming of Christ and by watching with faith for the signs that would foretell His birth. With that preparation, when the star appeared they felt a connection to the star and rejoiced with "exceeding great joy"[5] and followed the star to Bethlehem and to the stable where Mary and Joseph cared for the newborn baby.

When they found him, the Wise Men bestowed valuable gifts upon the baby Jesus. But the Wise Men also received a valuable gift. The joy and rejoicing they experienced when they saw the star was multiplied by an immeasurable amount when they saw the Christ child. They knew that the Baby they found in the stable in Bethlehem truly was sent from God to light the world, to be the King of Kings, the Savior and Redeemer who the prophets had taught would come into the world.

With that witness as their gift and having been "warned of God in a dream that they should not return to Herod, they departed into their own country another way."[6]

To end our family home evening, I told the children that like the Wise Men, we have the Light of Christ that helps us find and follow Jesus so that we can receive all the gifts He has for us. One of those gifts is repentance. I told the children that when they repent, Jesus forgives them and helps correct their mistakes.

At that point five-year-old Matthew asked, "And helps us get off the naughty list?" "Yes, Matthew," I said. "We can always get off the naughty list if we trust in Jesus and His light within us."

Probably the reason those three little grandsons had been so attentive in home evening that night was because they were working hard to get off the naughty list before Christmas.

I am grateful that the Light of Christ guided me to teach a lesson that reinforced a lesson that they had already begun to apply. It was a sweet gift.

“This is the greatest!” Shilo exclaimed as she laced up her ice skates. The girls and boys she had invited to her birthday party glided across the ice. The clank of skate blades on the ice could be heard throughout the indoor rink.
“Be careful in there,” her mom said. “Have fun!”
“OK!” Shilo tottered toward the rink to join her friends. “Hey, Kari! Let’s go skate over there.” Shilo pointed to some of their friends, and they skated over to join the group. They all laughed and joked and raced around the rink. They were having a great time!
After a while, Shilo asked Kari, “Have you seen Brian? I haven’t seen him.”
“Me neither.”
“Wait, I see him over there sitting at that table.”
Shilo and Kari left the ice and joined Brian at the table. His brown eyes looked as if he had lost a puppy.
“What’s wrong, Brian?” they asked.
“Oh, nothing. They won’t give me any skates. They ran out of my size. And the guy won’t give me my money back.” He shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
Shilo’s mom overheard. “Come with me, Brian,” she said. “We’ll see if we can do something about that.” She smiled at him, trying to cheer him up.
The two girls went back to the skating rink. Time went by, but Shilo still didn’t see Brian out in the rink. She went back to see what was taking so long. When she got off the ice she saw her mother still talking to the man at the counter. Brian had resumed his position with his head on the table.
“Why aren’t you skating?” Shilo asked.
“They still don’t have my size, I guess.”
“What size do you wear?”
“Six.” Brian didn’t lift his head from the table.
“So do I! How about if you use my skates for a while? I need to rest my ankles. They’re beginning to hurt a little.”
Brian perked up. “Really?”
“Yeah. I can’t wear these things too long because I have weak ankles.” Shilo grinned as his face lit up.
“OK, but if you want them back just come and tell me and we can trade.”
“OK!”
Shilo took off her skates and gave them to Brian. He put them on and was quickly out on the ice. As Shilo watched Brian skate, she felt good inside. She knew she had done the right thing.

The LeGault family joined the Church after they were tracted out by missionaries ten years ago. Although Nathalie was only eight years old when the missionaries came, she searched to find out for herself if the Church was true. “When I was nine years old, I knew it was true,” she says. “My relatives said the girls were joining the Church because their parents had joined. But I said no, I know it’s true. It was my decision to join. I always tell young people you have to have your own testimony, not just the testimony of your friends or family.”

Many years ago, I observed a heartbreak—which became a tragedy. A young couple was nearing the delivery of their first child. Their lives were filled with the anticipation and excitement of this monumental experience. During the delivery, complications arose and the baby died. Heartbreak turned to grief, grief turned to anger, anger turned to blame, and blame turned to revenge toward the doctor, whom they held fully responsible. Parents and other family members became heavily involved, together seeking to ruin the reputation and the career of the physician. As weeks and then months of acrimony consumed the family, their bitterness was extended to the Lord. “How could He allow this horrible thing to occur?” They rejected the repeated efforts of Church leaders and members to spiritually and emotionally comfort them and, in time, disassociated themselves from the Church. Four generations of the family have now been affected. Where once there were faith and devotion to the Lord and His Church, there has been no spiritual activity by any family member for decades.