Gospel Story Finder

A priesthood leader wrote to me about a group of young Aaronic Priesthood youth who were baptized by their priesthood leaders for the soldiers: “In almost every case, when the young brother had finished his 14–15 names, he would turn and embrace his leader and shed a few tears of joy. What an example of true priesthood love and service! I had the experience of being a witness at the font and gained, in a few cases, the undeniable witness of the Spirit that those young soldiers who had died had accepted the baptisms that were being performed in their behalf.”

That difference also characterized several hundred members from the Riverton Utah North Stake, who averaged more than fifteen ordinances per family for their ancestors in the Jordan River (Utah) Temple in two days.

For the Riverton Utah North Stake, the challenge to take an ancestor to the temple came from the Jordan River Temple presidency. The stake presidency decided to use two days for the work—the youth would come on 29 December 1987 to be baptized for their ancestors, and the adults would come the following day for initiatory work, endowments, and sealings. That way, the temple would not be overly congested. The goal: that every temple recommend holder in the stake would do work for their kindred dead by the end of the year.

President Duane B. Williams says that they were actually fairly well prepared. “The main reason we were able to undertake this challenge successfully was because the stake and wards were already participating in the Church family history program. A couple were serving as stake family history specialists, and each ward had a couple as ward family history consultants. Furthermore, the ward Sunday Schools offered the family history class.”

The high priests group leaders and family history consultants attended priesthood quorum, Relief Society, and Young Men and Young Women meetings to discuss the challenge and to describe the program: how to fill out the records, when to submit them, and what the schedule would be on the stake ancestral temple days. The consultants also kept up personal contact with ward members, visiting them in their homes to help with the work.

The stake also held a family-history clinic one Saturday. The purpose was to provide hands-on experience in finding information and filling out forms.

The results were astounding. More than 160 families attended the temple on December 29 and 30. Stake members completed over 2,500 ordinances in two days—all for their kindred dead. The outpouring of the Spirit was immeasurable. Many Saints felt their ancestors’ presence during the ordinances. One woman, for example, recounted that she had felt the arm of one of her ancestors encircling her; she was nearly overwhelmed by a great outpouring of love. Many testified that they had never felt such complete peace before.

Because of the experience, many other members in the stake began to prepare to go to the temple. One bishop reported that at tithing settlement, one day after the temple excursion, two couples who had not had temple recommends for some time paid their tithing in full so they could once again attend the temple. They said they did not want to be excluded from the temple work they had heard so much about.

Another way to learn about leadership is to choose good friends. “The best way to learn to be a good leader is to make sure you’re following the right crowd. Then you can step up and be a good leader, listen to them, and invite people to activities,” says Brad Smidt, 17, of the First Ward, Coeur d’Alene Stake. Kiyana Dickson, 18, of the Cheney First Ward, Spokane West Stake, remembers a successful activity in her stake where this principle was illustrated. “One of the best activities we had was a summer social when a lot of inactive and nonmember friends came because other people invited them to have fun with us. Now I talk to those kids all the time, and they smile more often. They go to activities and know how much fun they are.”

Audralyn loves singing, swimming, and playing with her older brother. She has a rare disease called Sanfilippo Syndrome, which makes it hard for her to move on her own and speak. She uses her infectious giggle to make everyone feel loved and happy. Recently, the Young Women leaders and girls in her ward helped Audralyn earn her Young Womanhood Recognition. She was so excited! Through her example, those who know her have been inspired to be kind and show love to others.
Audralyn H., 13, Wyoming, USA

When Charlotte Baumann stood to bear her testimony at the end of the Frankfurt Germany Stake’s youth conference, she shared an experience that many of the other teens could relate to.
“My biology class was discussing the effects of alcohol on the body,” she said. “I noted that alcohol is poison, nerve poison, and people drink it only because they think it’s fun. The class couldn’t understand that, and then I gave my opinion on it, and that led to the question of why. One boy asked me if my ideas were like the Mormons’, and then I said, ‘Well, I am a Mormon.’ At first he didn’t believe me, and I thought that was pretty funny.”
The questions continued, even into the hallway after class, which is when a thought occurred to Charlotte. “I suddenly remembered that I had the shortened version of For the Strength of Youth, and I passed it around and had people read it. I think some of them did understand me then, and maybe that will have some effect on one or the other of them.”

It was a dreary January day in 1928. As I looked out of the schoolroom window at the gathering clouds, I wanted only to be home sitting on my mother’s lap. It had been a very hard day. My family had recently moved from a small farming community in Utah to a mining town in Nevada. My first day in second grade in this new and very different school had been anything but pleasant.
My mother had brought my older sister, Marjorie, and me to school early in the morning. The principal took me to my classroom and introduced me to the teacher. I heard the other students whispering about “the new girl,” and I felt my face turning red. I wanted to find my mother and go back home. The children were not very friendly and I didn’t feel welcome. The only bright spot had been the teacher, Miss Quigley, who was very friendly. She tried to make me feel a part of the class.
As I looked out the window and saw huge snowflakes filling the air, I longed for the bell to ring so I could find Marjorie and go home.
The minutes dragged by. Finally, Miss Quigley announced that it was time to put away our pencils, books, and papers and line up to go home. How I welcomed those words! I quickly put on my coat and found a place in the noisy line.
My mother had reminded me several times to wait for Marjorie, who was in fourth grade. She would help me find my way home. So I stood by the radiator in the school entrance and waited. She didn’t come and I began to worry about where she was. The snow was now swirling down. I was anxious to go home and talk to my mother about my miserable day, but still Marjorie didn’t show up.
Miss Quigley appeared and asked, “Avonell, why haven’t you gone home?”
I explained that I was waiting for my sister who was in the fourth grade.
“She won’t be out of school for another hour,” she explained. “You had better run along home before the storm gets worse. Can you find your way home alone?”
I was too proud to admit that I really wasn’t sure. So I nodded my head and said, “Yes.”
I left the warmth of the school and ventured out into the cold, snowy world. By now there was a blizzard going on and it was hard to see where I was going. I walked in the direction of my home but when I arrived at the first row of houses I realized that in this mining town all the houses looked alike. I felt a gnawing in my stomach and wished I had stayed and waited a little longer for Marjorie. But I pushed on through the snow hoping I could remember where my house was. I walked up one row and then another. I couldn’t even remember the number on my house. I began to get colder and more worried.
What should I do? It wouldn’t do much good to stop at a house and ask because we had just moved in a week ago and we didn’t know the neighbors yet. Besides that, I was too shy to even consider that choice. I thought of going back to the school and waiting for Marjorie, but I wasn’t even sure where the school was in this blizzard. Tears rolled down my cheeks, mixing with the snow that was blowing in my face. I was cold, scared, tired, and lost.
Then I thought of my mother telling me about prayer and reminding me that when I needed help I should ask Heavenly Father. This made me feel better. I bowed my head and asked Heavenly Father to please help me find my way home. As I finished my prayer I noticed my new shoes were all wet, and I realized that I hadn’t put on my galoshes that morning. I had left them sitting on the top step of our porch.
Then a beautiful thought came into my head. All I had to do was walk up and down the rows of houses until I saw my galoshes. Then I would be home. A flood of happiness filled my whole body and I hurried through the gusts of snow looking for my galoshes. They were not on the first row nor the second. But on the steps of the second house in the third row I saw a most welcome sight—my galoshes! I was finally home! I opened the door and ran into my mother’s loving arms.

Will listened wide-eyed in the light of the campfire as a scout reported to their wagon master, Mr. Dillow, that he had seen a huge herd of buffalo. “It’s a reg’lar sea of the critters, spread out over that valley floor, yonder across them rocky bluffs!” the scout said excitedly, pointing westward.
I must see them! Will promised himself, as he listened to the men plan a dawn hunting party to provide fresh meat for the wagon train.
So far, the trip from Missouri had been dull and disappointing. All day long they plodded through choking clouds of dust or through cold rain and mud. Setting up the camp at night involved unloading iron kettles, chopping wood, and refilling water barrels when everyone was weary from the day’s trek. Repacking the wagons before dawn in the chill morning air and still being half asleep was worse. It was nothing like the exciting stories he had read about the West. He had seen no Indians and only very small herds of buffalo from a distance. This might be his only chance to see such a herd.
With a full moon lighting his way, the blond boy slipped away from the ring of covered wagons and cooking fires and searched out a sloping game trail up the bluffs. He felt certain he could see the heard and be back well before dawn and before he’d be missed.
Will was almost to the summit when he realized that he was being followed! How often Mr. Dillow had warned the children about staying close to the train. “Out here,” he warned, “there is safety in numbers. You have to know this country to realize the danger. Besides hostile Indians, there are pumas, rattlers, blinding sandstorms, and flash floods. You can die of thirst under a blazing sun, freeze to death in a mountain snowstorm, or find you’ve walked into quicksand. There will be no private adventuring on my wagon train!”
The boy hesitated. Remembering the warnings about pumas and rattlers seemed to make his heart leap into his throat. The wagon master was a rough, red-faced bellowing man of action. If he had seen Will leave, he would have grabbed him by the seat of his pants and overall straps and dragged him back to camp. So he was sure it wasn’t Mr. Dillow who was following him. Then he heard his younger sister Becky cry, “W—Will? Where are you? I—I’m afraid. Wait for me!”
Will pretended to be angry, but he was so relieved that he could have hugged her. “I can’t do anything without you tagging along after me like a puppy! You were supposed to be asleep under the wagon; what are you doing here?” he asked.
“I was only pretending to be asleep,” Becky explained. “I knew you’d slip away to see the buffalo, and I wanted to see them too!”
Will couldn’t send her back along and risk her getting lost. And he wouldn’t have time to take her back and return. There was nothing to do but let her go with him. “We have to see the herd and get back before first light so no one will miss us. If you can’t keep up with me, I’ll make you wait by the trail until I start back,” he warned.
“I can keep up. I’m as strong as you!” Becky retorted, boasting a little. Will knew she was wiry and fast-moving and the threat of being left alone to wait spurred her on. But when she began to lag, he relented and slowed down until she caught up with him.
“Look at that! There must be thousands and thousands of them!” Will whispered in awe when they reached the crest of the hill and saw the shaggy buffalo spread out over the valley floor. They made their way down the slippery trail for a closer look.
“They have found good water and grazing here,” he murmured. “Just look how much bigger they are than the few we’ve seen so far.”
Engrossed with watching the closest buffalo, he was annoyed when his sister suddenly gasped and clutched his arm in a tight grip. He impatiently tried to shake her loose, but Becky held on tightly.
Will whirled around and swallowed hard when he saw the tall Indian brave standing between them and the trail! His mouth went dry and his heart pounded like a drum as he watched several others move in on each side of them. The braves moved silently like ghosts. No wonder he had not heard them.
He looked for a way to escape, but they were trapped! Are the Indians going to harm us or will they be friendly? Will put his arm around his sister and pulled her close. He thought again of Mr. Dillow’s warnings. How he wished they had obeyed orders never to leave the wagon train. And he thought about their parents. Will they ever discover what happened to us? If we’re killed or taken away, they’ll only have Baby Ben left. He could see tears sparkling on Becky’s cheeks, but she was too frightened to cry out.
A horse and rider moved out from the trees. He was certainly their chief, by the look of the elaborate feathered headdress he wore. Will stared curiously at him. A white cloth was bound and knotted around his jaw. Has he been wounded? Will wondered.
The first man began to speak. He pointed at the chief, then away toward where the wagon train had stopped for the night. Will couldn’t understand, but still he began to feel better; for the Indians obviously wanted something, and had made no attempt to harm them.
Will pushed Becky behind him and watched the man’s hands. Again, the brave pointed from the chief to Will, then his hands made a swooping motion. Does he mean up and over the hill? Will wondered. The brave made a circle in the air. Is it the ring of covered wagons? The Indian showed his strong teeth, then held his jaw and made a groaning sound.
“A toothache! The chief has a toothache,” Becky whispered. “Don’t you remember how Grandma used to tie a cloth around her jaw when her tooth hurt?”
The brave put his fingers on one of his teeth and made a jerking motion. “You’re right, Becky. I guess they’ve tried to pull it and can’t without instruments. I think they are asking if there is a dentist with us,” Will said quietly. He stepped forward and nodded his head. He pointed at the chief, then toward their train. Will pulled Becky forward and showed them the gap where her two front teeth were missing. The men began to smile and nod their heads.
“What are you doing, Will?” Becky cried. “You know that I pulled those two loose teeth myself! We can’t take them to the wagon train. When they find out we don’t have a dentist along, they’ll probably scalp everybody and burn the wagons!”
“We have Dr. Stieger. He has all kinds of instruments. He could do it,” Will said.
“But he’s not a dentist or even a real doctor. He’s a veter … a vetnar … an animal doctor!” his sister wailed.
“I know that,” Will said gamely, “but he might be the only chance we have of getting out of this spot alive!”
The sky was turning pink when they approached the circle of covered wagons. One of the guards shouted an alarm and the Indian band stopped and waited. Mr. Dillow hastened out to meet them, pulling his suspenders up over his underwear. He stared in disbelief when he saw the children riding double on the horses of two Indian braves. Anger tightened the muscles of his face.
Will couldn’t meet Mr. Dillow’s accusing eyes. He stared down at the ground and explained to the stunned group of settlers, who silently gathered behind the wagon master, what had happened. “Their chief has a bad toothache. I didn’t know what else to do, so I told them Dr. Stieger is a dentist and can pull it for him,” the blond boy finished miserably.
Dr. Stieger was a timid, nervous little man. His face went white with fear and he began to shake his head. “I’m a veterinarian not a dentist. You expect me to yank a throbbing tooth from the jaw of that man who is already reeling with pain? He’d kill me! I won’t do it!”
“Oh, yes you will, Dr. Stieger,” the train master said through gritted teeth, trying to keep a reassuring smile on his face. “You have no choice—and neither do the rest of us. Anyone knows it’s going to hurt. The chief is prepared for that and braced for the pain. Now, get your medicine bag, and act like the best dentist in the world!”
Once he realized he had to do it, Dr. Stieger calmed down a bit. His face was still pale, but he had stopped shaking so hard. The chief sat in a chair, his face impassive, as the little man hesitantly selected a pair of pliers and approached him. Fortunately, the Indians’ efforts to pull the tooth had loosened it. No one was more relieved than Dr. Stieger when one strong jerk removed it.
The chief, who had not flinched, stood up and spat. He rubbed his lumpy jaw and smiled. Poor Dr. Stieger wobbled off, dazed, holding the large tooth, still clamped in the pliers, out in front of him like a candle.
“What’s he saying?” Mr. Dillow asked one of the scouts, as the chief spoke and motioned westward.
“He thanks the good tooth doctor for relieving his misery. And the children for bringing him here. He says he will permit the train to cross their land and escort us to the river,” the scout replied.
“That will save us six hard days of travel!” Mr. Dillow exclaimed incredulously. “According to treaty, we’ve always had to go around his tribe’s land. Tell him we appreciate and accept his generous offer.”
Will’s smile faded as the wagon master turned back to them. “We’ve been lucky this time, but if you two ever leave my train again, I’ll skin you alive!” he growled.
“Y—yes, sir!” Will stammered. “But you don’t have to worry about that. A herd of wild horses couldn’t drag us out of sight of the wagons again!”

Giselle
Before we got married, André was working on his PhD and received a position to work at the University of Michigan. We got married and moved to Michigan. Eventually, André began having some trouble at work and wanted to change jobs.
We were young, we had just gotten married, and we didn’t know what to do. We decided to pray about it.
André
One day, I went to the university and saw a board where available job positions were posted. I applied to three different job postings. In a week, I was offered all three jobs.
Giselle
We wondered what to do. We prayed again. One position was in England, but we wanted to stay in the United States. One was in Texas, and the other job was in Maryland near Washington, D.C. The job in Maryland was with NASA. André is a scientist, so NASA seemed like a good place to go.
André
On our move to Maryland, I was driving while Giselle slept. It was early in the morning when I saw the Washington D.C. Temple.
“Wake up! Wake up! Can you see it?” I said to Giselle. “It’s like a castle!”
Giselle
I told André that maybe we could go and visit one day. We had no idea what it was. A few days after arriving in Maryland, I went to the library to use the internet to apply for jobs and check my email.
A lady who worked there heard my accent and asked where I was from. I told her I was from Brazil and we started to talk. Her name was Edna. I told her we had just moved from Michigan and mentioned where we lived.
“I live in the same apartments,” Edna said.
When I went back to the library the next day, Edna said, “I’m so glad you’re back. I want to invite you and your husband to my house for dinner.”
I thought that was strange because she didn’t know me. Then she said, “I prayed about you because I felt something really special when I met you yesterday.”
We went to her house and learned that her husband had recently passed away. After dinner, she played, “Lord, I Would Follow Thee” (Hymns, no. 220) on the piano. She said it was her husband’s favorite hymn and it was played at his funeral. Then she talked to us about the plan of salvation and invited us to go to church with her.
We went to church, and the people there were welcoming. We decided to go the next Sunday. We agreed to have the missionary lessons. Edna offered to have the lessons at her house. For five months we went to church every Sunday. Our hearts and spirits were being prepared for baptism.
André
When our baptism was announced, everyone looked surprised. “Wow, you’re not members?” they said. “But you’re here every week!” Our baptism was special. Almost the whole ward attended.
We were sealed in the Washington D.C. Temple one year later. When we went to the temple, we realized that it was the castle we saw over a year earlier!
Giselle
After we were sealed in the temple, a lot of things were not working well.
After September 11, 2001, it was hard for us to renew our visas. I was sad because I had just graduated from a community college and applied for a full scholarship at the University of Maryland. I didn’t get the scholarship, and the lab André worked for was closing.
We thought that maybe the time had come for us to go back to Brazil.
André
Our bishop told us we could help a lot of members in Brazil and grow in ways we might not in the United States. He counseled us to stay close to the Church.
“Go to Brazil and serve the Lord,” he said.
After living in Brazil for some time, our stake president came to our house and called me to serve as bishop. I somehow knew I was going to be called. For a couple of nights before my call, I couldn’t sleep. I was thinking and studying.
Giselle
I wondered what was going on. I saw him change before his call.
André
When I started my calling, our ward had 80 active members. When I was released, many more attended church regularly, and 12 missionaries went into the field from our ward. It was great!
Around the time I was released, President Dieter F. Uchtdorf was released from the First Presidency. I remember President Russell M. Nelson saying that President Uchtdorf had new and important responsibilities in the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
Three months later, I was called as first counselor in the mission presidency. I didn’t serve a mission, but I love my calling. I love working with the missionaries. The Lord knows me. He knew I needed to be released as bishop so I can serve in the time and place that is right for me now.

When I was a mission president in Toronto, Canada, we knew that investigators worry about the changes that are going to come into their lives. We had a practice of supplying teams of members to help the missionaries. For example, the missionaries were working with a Catholic family (and that was the majority faith in our area). About midway through the set of discussions they could call on Brother and Sister Anthony Belfiglio. They had been Catholics. They’d joined the Church and were a great help to the missionaries. When the missionaries had borne their testimony, Brother and Sister Belfiglio would say, “We know what you’re going through. We were in the same position, but when we heard the truth and realized that a prophet was on the earth at this time, there was no question what we must do, and we never looked back and we’ve never been sorry.” It buttressed the testimony of the missionaries.

At a recent encampment planned and directed by stake and ward priesthood leaders, I asked a young man how he felt about his leaders. He responded: “I’ve always been scared around stake presidents and bishops. For some reason I always feel like I’m getting interviewed. But living in camp with them has helped me make friends with them. Next time I have an interview we’ll have memories to talk about.”

For decades, persecution of Church members was severe. Many missionaries landed in prison, including Mikael Jonsson, a native Swede. He was arrested in 1852 and was brought in chains 480 miles (770 km) to Malmö, where he was thrown in the castle prison, exhausted from hunger and privation. He was visited by a priest, who found that Elder Jonsson was an intelligent man with some education. The priest declared that he was willing to help him and even promised him further education—on the condition that he join the Lutheran faith and deny “Mormonism.” Elder Jonsson would not deny his faith, so he was deported.4

The first of November Christmas trees began to appear in department stores.
“Let’s decorate our tree!” cried Sandra.
“Let’s not,” said Mother. “It hasn’t even snowed yet.”
The middle of November the first flecks of snow fell.
“Let’s buy the tree,” Sandra urged. “Come on, everyone. It’s snowing. It’s time to decorate the tree.”
Daddy kneeled down so he could look his daughter right in the eyes. “Look, honey, there has to be lots of snow—real deep snow. When it snows so much that you must wear your boots, we will buy and decorate the tree.”
The first of December Mother could sweep the snow from the walk with a broom. It was just a little snow.
The middle of December it really began to snow. And it snowed and it snowed. The fence posts wore tall hats, and the red flag was almost hidden on the mailbox. Sandra’s older brother and sister got out the toboggan and searched for their mittens.
“I want to play in the snow too. Wait for me,” pleaded Sandra.
“Susan, Larry, wait for your sister,” Mother instructed. “Sandra, get your boots on.”
“Boots and snow? Boots and snow!” squealed Sandra. “Now can we buy our Christmas tree?”
“Yes,” said Mother, “we’ll talk to Daddy about it tonight.”
After supper Daddy agreed that it was time to get a tree but suggested that they wait until family night to buy it.
So on Monday night, Daddy, Mother, Sandra, Larry, and Susan all dressed in warm coats and cozy snow boots and got into the station wagon. They drove to the vacant lot near the school that was now filled with trees and chose a very big one.
“Now can we decorate it?” asked Sandra.
Daddy laughed. “Not until it’s set up. And I’m going to have to saw off some of the trunk first just to get it into our living room. Give me a little time and it’ll be ready.”
Even when the trunk was cut shorter, it was a close squeeze to stand the tree upright in the living room.
“Now?” asked Sandra.
“Yes, now,” answered Daddy. “You kids run up and get the boxes from the attic.”
There were lots of boxes. Dad opened one box and began stringing the lights.
Mother opened a box of large red glass balls and gently began hanging them.
Larry opened a box of assorted wooden toys and identified each one as he hung them—“Here’s a rocking horse. Here’s a soldier. Here’s a drum.”
“Look what I have!” shouted Susan as she held up beautiful strands of colored tinsel.
Sandra had peeked into each box and then stood very quietly, watching.
“Hey, why aren’t you helping, Sandra? Look, at last we’re decorating the tree just as you wanted,” said Daddy.
“Why the long face, Sandy, honey?” asked Mother.
“It’s not here,” said Sandra.
“What’s not here?”
“The decoration.”
“These are all decorations, dear. Here, you take this bell and hang it on the bottom branch. Maybe the kitty will play with it and not bother the rest of the decorations.”
“I don’t want the bell. I want the decoration.”
Susan said, “I think she’s looking for some special decoration. What color is it, Sandra?”
“White.”
“Here’s a white foam ball,” called her brother. “Is this it?”
“No.”
“This white star?” asked Mother.
“No.”
“Here, I’ll open the rest of the boxes and you search until you find it,” said Daddy. “You better hurry, though. We need you to help us get this big tree decorated before bedtime.”
While the others worked and worked, Sandra hunted and hunted.
Finally the tree was full of colored balls, small trinkets, streamers, lights, and topped with a glittering star. The boxes were empty. Everyone’s face was smiling except Sandra’s.
“It’s gone,” she whispered.
Mother brought in the family night treat of hot cocoa and yellow cheese on round crackers. “Here, now, let’s put on a happy face.”
Sandra shook her head.
Daddy picked her up and said, “Come with me to take these boxes back to the attic. I’ll let you ride piggyback.”
Sandra had to duck low as they left through the door. It almost made her laugh. She loved being high. Both she and Daddy had to crouch low so as not to hit the ceiling in the attic. But something did hit Sandra’s face.
“The decoration! The decoration! I found it!” Sandra shouted.
She took hold of a white paper chain hanging from the attic ceiling that she had made last year in primary. Daddy unhooked it for her, and she carried it very carefully down to the Christmas tree.
Sandra placed it around the bottom branches right above the bell.
“There,” she said, “now the tree is decorated.”

Following the recommendation of the Council of the Twelve to feature cultural programs in conjunction with June regional meetings, the Payson (Utah) Region youth got together last summer for a lively, creative dance festival on a local high school football field.
“The Colorful World of Dance” was a treat not only for the audience but for the 360 participants from Payson Utah, Payson Utah East, and Santaquin Utah stakes who kicked up their heels in such numbers as “Devil’s Dream,” “Muskrat Love,” and “Spinning Wheel.” Swedish, Norwegian, and Hungarian folk dances were also featured, and a Lamanite sister rendered “The Lord’s Prayer” in Indian sign language.
Many hours were spent sewing colorful costumes and practicing under the leadership of 16 stake dance directors and two ballroom dancers from BYU. As the group concluded by gathering to sing “I Am a Child of God” with the audience, it was generally agreed that it had all been worth the effort.

The main reason I went to church my junior year of high school was because my parents never gave me any other option. But I had an experience that changed my life. One Sunday a new girl was in our Sunday school class. I felt prompted to slide over a few chairs and introduce myself. As we talked, I realized that Kristeen was very shy, so I took it upon myself to introduce her to our class. I assumed she had just moved into the ward, and she and I became fast friends.
A month and a half after she joined our class, I received a phone call from our ward mission leader. He told me that Kristeen and her mother were getting baptized and that Kristeen wanted me to speak at her baptism. I was floored; I thought Kristeen was a member all along. I also felt like I was the wrong person to speak on baptism, but I accepted the invitation.
To prepare for the talk, I used some scriptures on baptism, the fourth article of faith, and a good-sized chunk out of True to the Faith and called it good.
The day of Kristeen’s baptism was beautiful. She looked so confident and cheerful. I could tell she was excited and ready for baptism. Then it came time for me to speak. I’ve always felt comfortable speaking in front of large groups, so the talk seemed cohesive. Things were going well until I read Romans 6:4: “Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life.”
I could feel the Spirit, and I knew that I had not been keeping my baptismal covenants fully. I started crying and did my best to finish my talk. I was jealous of Kristeen, that she was going to be baptized and have the slate of her life wiped clean and renewed. But I was even more overcome by feelings of happiness for her and for her strength. She wanted to follow Christ.
How wonderful it is to know that we can be made pure by baptism and that if we fall even a little short, we can repent and be made whole again through the atoning sacrifice of Christ. I am so thankful for my Heavenly Father’s plan and for Jesus Christ and His eternal sacrifice for me. I know that if I keep trying my best and continue to repent, I can also “walk in newness of life.”

After World War II, my mother and father settled for a time in South Africa. My father was a seaman and the shipping company he worked for was based in South Africa and sailed the world. My parents had two very young children at the time and while my father was a world away from home on one trip, their younger child, Gillian, fell ill. She was less than a year old and sadly passed away during emergency surgery.
My mother was devastated. She was not only without the support of her husband, but also, because they were still not well established in South Africa, she had no extended family or even close friends to turn to. Fortunately, around the same time, missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had recently knocked on her door and had been teaching her the gospel of Jesus Christ. I am so grateful for those missionaries.
They taught my mother that “little children are alive in Christ, even from the foundation of the world” (Moroni 8:12).
Something we never knew until we read about it in her diary decades later, is that in the days after the loss of her child, the mission president sent his car with a driver to take my mother to all the places she needed to go and to attend to all the matters that arose, including arrangements for a funeral. I am so grateful for that mission president.
His act of kindness to someone whom the missionaries were merely teaching has had long lasting effects unknown to him.

I remember the first time I met my wife, Elisa. As a favor to a friend, I had gone to her home to pick up her sister, Frances. Elisa opened the door, and at least for me, it was love at first sight.
I think she must have felt something too, for the first words I ever remember her saying were, “I knew who you was.”
Elisa was an English major.
To this day I still cherish those five words as some of the most beautiful in human language.
She loved to play tennis and had a lightning serve. I tried to play tennis with her, but I finally quit after coming to the realization that I couldn’t hit what I couldn’t see.
She was my strength and my joy. Because of her, I am a better man, husband, and father. We married, had eight children, and walked together through 65 years of life.
When President Hinckley spoke at Sister Wirthlin’s funeral, he said that it is a devastating, consuming thing to lose someone you love. It gnaws at your soul. He was right. As Elisa was my greatest joy, her passing is my greatest sorrow.
We will all rise from the grave. On that day I will once again hold in my arms my beloved Elisa.

Soon after we moved to India, a boy began bullying us. We were around him a lot because we lived in the same neighborhood, rode the same bus to school, and played on the same soccer team. We know that Jesus taught us to love our enemies and pray for people who are not kind to us. For many weeks we tried to be nice to the bully, and we prayed that he would be our friend. We asked him to be our friend one time, and he finally said yes. After that we had fun playing together.
Spencer and Zachary W., ages 9 and 7, India

“The day after I was born, my father wrote me a letter,” Elder Pingree said. “He saved that letter, and later, when I left to serve a full-time mission, he mailed it to me. The letter contained several pages of his testimony and lessons he wanted me to learn during my life. As I read it, the Spirit bore witness to me that what I had been taught about the restored gospel of Jesus Christ by my parents was truth.”

What do rabbits, postage stamps, and children’s music have in common? They are some of the things that have helped nine-year-old David Whitworth to save for his mission.

For nearly two years David raised Harry, then Jule, two Angora rabbits. Angoras need their loose fur plucked frequently, and David plucked the soft, fine fur and sent it to his grandmother in New Mexico. She paid David for the fur, which she combined with wool on her spinning wheel to make soft yarn for knitting.

He saved most of his rabbit money in a special missionary bank that his Uncle Tim made for him one Christmas. The bank looks like a brown leather book, and it sits on the bookshelf; but it is really made of wood and is hollow.

Although Harry and Jule died recently, David plans to get more Angora rabbits as soon as possible. Meanwhile, the savings in his missionary bank grows. Before the family’s recent move from California to Kentucky, his older sisters, Erin (16), Shaunda (14), and Katie (12), paid him for helping them deliver newspapers on their five routes. Now he gets paid for helping his parents in two small businesses that they run from their home. He helps his dad put postage stamps in vending machines, and he helps his mom with office work, booths, and workshops in her business of selling children’s music.

And, as Michael and Debbie have found, they experience tremendous revelatory moments and attendant blessings when they are working on the Lord’s temples.

“We needed some bigger stencils for a temple we were working on, but since we didn’t know anybody in that particular city we just went to the internet and found two or three stencil suppliers.” Debbie said. “We felt drawn to one in particular, but it was 11 o’clock at night and we needed these stencils as soon as we could get them. We couldn’t find their trading hours on the website but out of the blue the impression came to me, “Why don’t you just call them?”

“We discussed that if we did that maybe their answering machine would give us their hours,” Debbie continued. “So, I called the number and the owner of the business answered.”

He was at the office that night because of some problems his own people were having with a project they were working on. Later, when Michael and Debbie went in to pick up their new stencils, the man told them it was very unusual for him to be at the office at that time of night.

“He said he had to come in to recut all the stencils for his own project and that he was going to be there until two or three in the morning. That had never happened before,” Debbie said. “But Mike had been fasting and praying all day about this, and we believe the Lord led us to the business that could help us complete what we were working on.”

“We’re so grateful for moments like these.”