Gospel Story Finder

We’re Sam and Anastasia, and we try to SHINE OUR LIGHT by sharing with others!
Where we live, in Florida, USA, we see lots of people who are homeless. We wondered how we could help them. Jesus fed people who were hungry, and everyone needs to eat! So we decided to make emergency snack kits.
Our friend Joa helped us shop for supplies at the dollar store.
We put granola bars, bread sticks with cheese, and other yummy snacks in our kits. Sam even tried one!
Sharing our kits made us smile. Some people said, “Thank you!” and “Awesome!”
Our mom put the project online, and the young single adult branch found out about it. They made 100 more snack kits for our local homeless shelter. The shelter used them to invite people to sign up for a program to help them get homes. That made us really happy!

The year after I turned 12, several things changed in my life. I was ordained a deacon in the Aaronic Priesthood. I was old enough to join the Boy Scout troop in our ward. And I moved up from elementary school to junior high school.
Just beginning the seventh grade brought many new experiences. I rode a bus to school every day. I had seven teachers instead of one. I put my backpack, lunch sack, and jacket in a locker each morning—no more coat hooks or cubbyholes. And I had different books and papers for every class.
I was especially proud of the three-ring binder that had reams of blue-ruled notepaper and folders for each subject. By the time the first few weeks of school had gone by, each folder was thick with homework assignments, handouts, and other school papers.
Going to school with eighth-and ninth-grade students was one of the biggest changes of all. I often felt small and unnoticed as I hurried down the halls, dodging classmates and strangers who seemed much more confident than I ever felt.
In several of my classes, I sat with students who were two and even three years older than I was. My first-year Spanish class had students from all three grade levels: seventh, eighth, and ninth. One boy, a ninth-grader named Jared, was tall, liked to talk, and frequently said things that made the students and even our teacher, Mr. Bishop, laugh.
I wanted to do that, too, but there were so many new things all around me that I often felt shy and usually stayed quiet. I was not small, but many of my fellow seventh graders were bigger than I was, and all my friends from elementary had lunch at a different hour.
One thing that made it difficult for me to adjust and make new friends was that during this first year I endured my share of rough pranks that junior high school students often play. I remember one in particular.
I was walking by the school’s main office between classes, in an area where dozens of students were hurrying past in both directions. I had my usual armload of books, including my three-ring binder, nestled against my hip.
Suddenly another student stepped up behind me, reached out a hand, and gave the books a hard flip. They flew out of my grasp and slid across the floor ahead of me. When the binder landed, it snapped open and folders and papers went spinning everywhere.
It was hard not to cry as I got down on my hands and knees and tried to scoop everything up as quickly as I could. I felt certain everyone was watching me, which only made me feel worse. Then a ninth-grade girl knelt down beside me and asked if I was okay. She smiled, squeezed my arm, and started to help me gather my books and papers.
Following her example, a tall boy came over and asked me if I’d seen who had knocked my books out of my arms. It was Jared from first-year Spanish, and he too knelt down to help.
I never learned the ninth-grade girl’s name, but I’ve never forgotten her kindness. Her actions reminded me of the Book of Mormon story of King Benjamin, who taught his people to always treat each other with love. And like Ammon, the great Book of Mormon missionary, this unknown friend of mine set an example by her actions that others followed.

Eighteen-year-old Annie Smith wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck and looked back across the railroad bridge she and her students had just crossed. The students were from her one-room schoolhouse in Porterville, Utah. They were a variety of ages and sizes; some students were even older than she was. She was glad to see the older ones helping the younger ones along the tracks. It was a beautiful winter day in 1892, a perfect day for their school outing. She and her students had already enjoyed dinner at her house and a sleigh ride.
Annie felt a small hand slip into hers. She looked down into the face of her youngest student, little Hughie. His brown eyes were large with excitement.
“Do we really get to walk through the tunnel?” he asked nervously.
Annie nodded. “I have special permission from the railroad. They said no trains are scheduled for today, so it will be perfectly safe.” She looked at the dark opening of the mountain tunnel ahead. “It’s a long, dark tunnel, Hughie, and there are no lights inside. But on the other side is a beautiful view of the rockslide and the valley.”
Hughie gave a little sigh and smiled. Annie’s words had put his fears to rest. Now he tugged on her arm. “Come on, Teacher. Let’s go see the valley.”
Soon they were all inside the tunnel. It took a while for their eyes to adjust to the darkness after the bright daylight. “Go slowly,” Annie said. Her voice echoed in the tunnel. “Stay on the tracks and hold hands so you don’t fall.”
At first the children were laughing and joking, but they soon grew quiet as they concentrated on keeping their footing. Their footsteps grated on the gravel as they guided each other over the railroad ties.
Annie knew they were about halfway through the tunnel when she saw a small circle of light in the darkness ahead. “We’re almost there,” she told her students. “Look at the light.”
As they paused to look, they heard a rumbling noise behind them, and then a sound that terrified them—a train whistle.
“Teacher?” It was Hughie’s voice. “Did you hear?”
Annie hushed him quickly. She stood frozen on the tracks, not daring to believe her ears. But then the whistle sounded again, nearer this time. There was a train rounding the point of the mountain and coming very fast toward the bridge they had just crossed!
Annie prayed silently for help. Please, Heavenly Father, what should I do? Tell me what to do.
“Teacher?” an older child asked. “Should we run?”
The tracks were starting to vibrate under their feet.
“No!” Annie commanded. The words seemed to spring from her lips of their own accord. “Lie down at once as close to the wall as possible. Don’t move or try to get up until I say you can. Now, go!”
She had to shout the last word over the sound of the approaching train. She pulled the nearest child with her to the wall of the tunnel and held him tight. As the train roared into the tunnel, many of the children screamed in terror. Sparks flew from the smokestack, and the smoke almost suffocated them. The train seemed to go on forever. Annie trembled and tightened her grip on the child she was holding, afraid she might lose him in the hot, rushing wind that swept through the tunnel with the train.
When the train was finally gone, she helped the child up and hurried toward the light. She went as swiftly as she could, tripping on stones and helping her students, who were also rushing to get out of the dark.
Once outside the tunnel, one of the older children asked, “Where’s Hughie?”
Taking some older boys with her, Annie returned to the dark tunnel, afraid of what she might find. The boys ran ahead calling Hughie’s name. “He’s here!” a boy called, relief in his voice. “He’s still lying facedown by the wall.”
Annie heard another boy comforting him. “It’s OK, Hughie. The train is gone. You can get up now.”
Hughie turned his face toward them and said in a brave but frightened voice, “Did Teacher say I could?”
Annie hurried over and put her arms around him. “Oh, Hughie,” she said with tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you for being so obedient. You did the right thing, and you are safe. You can get up now. Teacher says so.”
Hughie got to his feet, and Annie took his hand and led him toward the light. She silently thanked Heavenly Father for watching over this little boy who had such faith in his teacher. She hoped she would always live worthy of that trust.
Annie also knew her trust in Heavenly Father had been rewarded. Her prayer had been answered when she told the children what they needed to do to be safe. They were spared because they immediately obeyed those instructions. There is safety in obedience. That was a lesson Hughie, the other students, and their teacher never forgot.

Since my early school days, I have had a strong interest in various religions. I attended many church services and listened to many sermons. When I was in junior high school, I began searching for a true church, just as Joseph Smith did, and prayed earnestly that I might be led to one.
One afternoon, a friend I had not seen for some time came into my classroom. In my friend’s hand, I saw my first copy of the Book of Mormon. I was curious about the front cover design showing someone blowing a horn, and asked him, “What is that?” That was how I began to learn about the Church.
The Book of Mormon became priceless to me, just as it is to many others throughout the world. It is not just an ordinary book. I found it gave me great strength. I always carried it with me so I could read it whenever I wanted to. After a while, I discovered that I could do more than just read it. I realized that there are many people around me who may be in need of the Lord’s words, just as I was.
Sometimes the Spirit prompts me to talk to a particular person. When that happens, I pray to know what to say, and then I say it. This happens quite frequently.
Because I have a personal attachment to my copy of the Book of Mormon, and I would rather not give it away, I decided to carry an extra copy with me. However, I realized that sometimes one copy is not enough, so I started to carry two copies instead.
Frustrating my mother’s wish to see me grow up a charming little lady carrying a petite purse on my arm, I began to carry copies of the Book of Mormon in a heavy shoulder bag instead. The weight of the bag reminds me that I am a Latter-day Saint with something important to share. When I am tired, I try to do my missionary work more quickly, sharing my load.
Whenever I tell someone how important the Book of Mormon is to me and how great a joy it is for me to share it, they usually accept it. They may not read it right away, but you never know when that person may stop to ponder who he is, what the purpose of this life is, and where he is going. He may then remember what I testified to him, and open the book.
Whenever I give someone a copy of the Book of Mormon, I always try to imagine their expression when they discover that the book is a second witness of Jesus Christ, which contains his teachings, including the plan of salvation and our Heavenly Father’s love for us. That discovery may change the rest of their life.
Once in a while I go to the local Church Distribution Center to buy ten copies of the Book of Mormon. As I travel home, there is always someone on the train who says to me, “Your package seems heavy. I’ll hold it on my lap for you.” Whenever that happens, I always present a copy of the Book of Mormon to that person as a token of my appreciation. At the same time, I bear my testimony that the book comes from God and I tell them how important it is to me. On one occasion, another passenger sitting next to the person holding my package watched what went on. He also offered to help me.
For me, even holding a copy of the Book of Mormon brings blessings. I always like to hold my copy when I go to sleep, and if I ever feel insecure, I can go to sleep peacefully. You can imagine how blessed I feel when I read it.
When I feel inner turmoil because of personal pride, King Benjamin (Mosiah 2:20–22, 24–26) speaks to me. When I suffer from my weaknesses, I am taught by Moroni and Nephi (Ether 12:27, and 2 Ne. 4:17–35). When I am feeling hesitant, I read about Nephi (1 Ne. 3:7). When I am afraid to bear my testimony, Abinadi, who bore his testimony at the risk of his own life, speaks to me.
I think of Amulek (Alma 15:16), rejected by those who were once his friends; the courage demonstrated by the two thousand valiant warriors (Alma 57:19–21); the Anti-Nephi-Lehis, who showed their deep repentance and strong love for their fellowmen (Alma 24); marvelous missionaries, like Alma, Ammon, Aaron, and Muleki; the humility and strong faith demonstrated by the Brother of Jared; King Lamoni, whose heart was as pure as that of a child; Moroni, and Samuel, the Lamanite prophet, who had firm convictions of their faith and courage. I wonder what Moroni thought when he was left all alone after the great battle at the Hill Cumorah, and then as he buried the golden plates.
I appreciate Joseph Smith desperately protecting those same sacred plates, and being worthy to translate them so that we may have the Book of Mormon in our day. I feel the joy and privilege of having the Book of Mormon as my companion, and I pray that I may be worthy to meet its authors someday.

A couple of years ago, as Sister Dickson and I arrived at the Missionary Training Center to speak with the missionaries, the MTC president asked if I would tie my tie for the missionaries to help them understand that they could handle the challenges that come with missionary service. I considered his request and adjusted my talk to cover some of what has been mentioned in this article. As I was about to conclude, I invited four missionaries in the front to come forward for a little race at tie-tying. One asked if they should just use their left hand, but I suggested they would need them both. As you can imagine, the missionaries were quite excited when I won.

This article, however, really has little to do with being the fastest tie-tier, the best quarterback, cheerleader, or hamburger-eating champion. It simply has to do with knowing who we are, that we truly matter to our Heavenly Father and that He loves us and wants us back. At the same time, He wants us to be clean and to learn and to grow from our experiences.

Over the years I have handled many challenges in my life, as you will in yours. During the time between those interesting adventures, life has been restful and easy, but any true personal growth has always come when I was working my way through one of life’s challenges. As challenges come, we must look at them as stepping-stones in our development rather than barriers to stop our progress. Come they will, and we must simply win and move on.

In 1952 the majority of the families in the Rose Park Third Ward were members whose fathers or husbands held only the Aaronic Priesthood, rather than the Melchizedek Priesthood. Brother L. Brent Goates was called to serve as the bishop. He invited a less-active brother in the ward, Ernest Skinner, to assist in activating the 29 adult brethren in the ward who held the office of teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood and to help these men and their families get to the temple. As a less-active member himself, Brother Skinner was reluctant at first but finally indicated he would do what he could. He began personally visiting with the less-active adult teachers, trying to help them see their role as priesthood leaders in their homes and as husbands and fathers to their families. He soon enlisted some of the less-active brethren to assist him in his assignment. One by one they became fully active again and took their families to the temple.
One day the ward clerk came out of a grocery checking line to greet the last of the group to go to the temple. Commenting on his position as the last, the man said: “I stood by and watched as all of that group became active in our ward and went to the temple. If only I had been able to imagine how beautiful it was in the temple, and how it would change my life forever, I never would have been the last of 29 to be sealed in the temple.”

Brother Walters’ supervisor, CES area director Chris Gollan, believes the challenge of distance is being met by both teachers and students.
He recalls that for eight years when he was coordinating the CES program in Adelaide some years ago, the Stirling Branch had the highest percentage of enrollment and the best completion rate for any unit in the Adelaide region. “The teacher traveled from Adelaide, fifty-five kilometers away, each day. Both the teacher and the branch president were thoroughly committed to seminary. If a student didn’t show up at class, the teacher would drive over to his or her home.
“This is a perfect example of right attitude affecting students. The teacher would walk into that class any day of the week and there would never be a discipline problem. Despite the challenge of distance, they made it work.”

Now it’s a few days after the grubbing—Saturday morning to be exact—and the Young Women of the ward are under London Bridge. They could be in the middle of an old English village, except that every gabled house is full of tourists buying trinkets. It’s the kind of place where there are no shops but plenty of shoppes. In the cool shadows of the water under an arch of the bridge, panhandler carp rise for handouts. Along the river quay there are paddleboats and canoes and aqua jets and motorboats for rent. For a half dollar a man will stamp a likeness of London Bridge on your penny. Art and clothing and curios are for sale. You can get snow cones and hamburgers and hot dogs and pretzels and nachos and pizzas, and just about anything else your heartburn desires. Houseboats and speedboats nose up to the docks. Swallows dart in and out under the bridge. The bridge itself is beautiful, arching away across the channel in great gray sweeps, solid as merry old England. It refuses to look out of place anywhere, even here where its out of placeness is beyond doubt.
But the girls have not come to sightsee. They’ve come to help a friend wash a bus. And this isn’t just any old bus. It’s an authentic London doubledecker, living out its latest incarnation as a fast-food stand. It belongs to a member of the Church, and washing it can be quite a chore for one person. So the girls have decided to help, especially since they plan on having some fun afterward. They do the work, and they do it well. They get each other wet, and they do that well too.
Meanwhile, the deacons and teachers are down the quay digging out grass from between cracks in the cement. It’s their way of helping to beautify their city’s most famous landmark.
When both jobs are finished, the whole group, joined by the priests, tries out the pedal boats. In and out under the bridge from sunshine to shadow to sunshine again they go, their orange life jackets shining in the spray of their pedaling like some frozen citrus treat.
But this is all just an appetizer for the beach party in the afternoon. They meet at State Beach on the island. There, amid palm trees, they play frisbee and volleyball and football and toss-the-leader-in-the-water. Jeff and Shaun and John even team up to recreate the original “Mormon connection” pass. Once again, the football slips through Shaun’s fingers. But just as before, there is a friend handy to back him up. John takes the pass and turns upfield.
He jukes a palm tree, sidesteps a picnic table, and outruns a garbage can. Sand spraying behind him, he sprints, free and strong, toward an unseen goal line.

Once there was a man and his wife who were very happy living in their big house. But one evening as the man read his newspaper while his wife did her knitting, she looked up and said, “We have a lovely house with many nice things, but don’t you think something is missing?”
The man folded his newspaper and said, “Yes, something is missing. Our house is too quiet. Maybe we need a dog.”
So the man and his wife went to the pet shop and bought a cute little soft and cuddly puppy.
One evening as the man read his newspaper while his wife did her knitting and the puppy lay sleeping on the floor, the woman looked up and said, “We have a lovely house and many nice things. We have a cute little puppy, but don’t you think something is still missing?”
The man folded his newspaper and answered, “Yes, something is still missing. Our house is much too quiet. Maybe we need a kitten.”
So they bought a playful little kitten. The kitten liked its new home, and the man and his wife and their little puppy liked the kitten.
One evening as the man read his newspaper while his wife did her knitting and the puppy and kitten chased each other, the woman looked up and said, “We have a lovely house and many nice things. We have a cute little puppy and a playful kitten, but don’t you think something is still missing?”
The man folded his newspaper and said, “Yes, something is missing. Our house is still too quiet. Maybe we need a bird.”
So they bought a pretty canary that sang beautifully. The canary liked its new home, and the man and his wife and their little puppy and playful kitten liked the canary.
One evening as the man read his newspaper while his wife did her knitting and the little puppy and playful kitten chased each other and the canary sang, the woman looked up and said, “We have a lovely house with many nice things. We have a cute little puppy and a playful kitten and a pretty canary that sings, but don’t you think something is still missing?”
The man folded his newspaper and said, “Yes, something is still missing. Our nice house is too quiet. Maybe we should get a parrot.”
So they bought a parrot that talked and squawked. The parrot liked its new home, and the man and his wife and their puppy and kitten and canary liked the parrot.
One evening as the man read his newspaper while his wife did her knitting, the little puppy and playful kitten chased each other and the pretty canary sang beautifully and the parrot talked and squawked. The woman looked up and said, “We have a lovely house with many nice things. We have a cute little puppy and a playful kitten and a pretty canary that sings beautifully and a parrot that talks and squawks, but don’t you think something is still missing?”
The man folded his paper thoughtfully. “Yes,” he said, “something is still missing. Our house is still too quiet. Maybe we need to adopt a baby to come and live with us.”
“Oh, yes,” said his wife.
“Arf,” barked the little puppy.
“Meow,” agreed the playful kitten.
“Tweet, tweet,” sang the pretty canary.
“Squawk, indeed,” replied the noisy parrot.
And so one day the happy man and his happy wife welcomed a tiny baby girl into their house.
Then the little puppy was happy.
The playful kitten was happy.
The pretty canary was happy.
The noisy parrot was happy.
And the beautiful little baby girl was happy too, for now the big house was a home full of love.

Some young people want to rebel against restraints. Some of you think it isn’t “cool” to be obedient to your parents or to follow the counsel of your bishop or quorum president. Bishop Richard C. Edgley shared an experience he had as a young boy about the consequences of being reckless and disobedient:
“When I was a young boy, our garage and the neighbor’s garage were about five feet apart. The neighbor’s garage was very old and dilapidated, and some of the boards were breaking. I, on occasion, would climb onto our garage and jump from one garage to the other and play on top of them. My father had told me, ‘Stay off the garages,’ but I didn’t. One time when I was playing on them, I jumped from our garage and fell through the roof of the neighbor’s garage, scraping my back and legs badly. Because I had been disobedient, I foolishly decided not to tell anyone that I had hurt myself. I went in the house and washed the scrapes and scratches as well as I could, but I couldn’t reach the ones on my back to put antiseptic on them or even wash them clean. I bore the burden of pain, worry over infection setting in, and guilt for several days while the healing process took place.”

Quite by accident, we just happened to be in Trieste, Italy, the day before the Young Women of the ward there were to leave for the camp. Rita Schina, the Young Women leader in the Trieste Ward, invited us to accompany the group. We had other plans, but a whisper in our hearts told us to go to the camp instead, so we heeded the prompting. We have been thankful ever since that we did.
We attended the camp to see if such an experience could change the lives of young LDS girls. Now we realize that the experience changed our lives as well. The joy the girls felt in living simple gospel standards, and the unpretentious love and respect they showed to us and to each other, have been lasting influences in our lives.

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.
Besides saving money, David prepares in other ways for his future mission. He is learning to be responsible and dependable. He can cook a whole meal when asked, is learning to sew, and takes his turn at washing dishes and other household chores. He can even change the diapers on his two-year-old sister, Maryvonne!
Missionaries do not sleep in late, and David has learned to get up early: On school days, the family is usually awake by 6:00 A.M. so that everyone can eat, dress, have prayers, and read the scriptures before the bus comes at 7:15. During the summer, they get up at 6:00 A.M. to help in the family’s large garden for an hour before Dad leaves to work in nearby Lexington.
David is also following the prophet’s counsel to learn a second language. In California, David was in a bilingual classroom. At his Kentucky school, his mother teaches Spanish twice a week to David’s class and to the classes his brothers, Josiah (5), and Jonathan (7), are in.
David works hard in school. He is a member of his school’s Academic Team, which competes with teams from other schools to give the fastest correct answers to questions on many subjects. And for a special school project, he recently typed and illustrated a science fiction book that he wrote called “Survival in Z-P.”
David also has plenty of time for just having fun. He likes quiet activities like reading, drawing, and chess. And he enjoys basketball, baseball, tennis, swimming, Cub Scouts, and exploring the small woods around a clubhouse built in the hollow behind the family home.
If you ask David what he wants to be when he grows up, he’s likely to answer, “A missionary, a dad, an artist, a baseball player, and a cartoonist—maybe.”

A few years ago, I went to the FamilySearch® system and retrieved my wife’s entire recorded family pedigree. That was a serious mistake. The computer revealed that my wife is a descendant of European royalty. It has been hard to live with her ever since. She wants me to refer to her as “Your Majesty.” Maybe now, through this knowledge of her family history, I am more inclined to treat her as our family queen. Of course, even my children share in this royal ancestry, which, sadly, makes me the only “commoner” in my family.

Through service to others, we develop a Christlike love and we experience joy. Service teaches patience and long-suffering as well as gentleness, goodness, and faith. The Bruce and Joyce Erickson family of Centerville, Utah, illustrates this process. The Ericksons were blessed with six children, three who are strong and healthy and three who suffered from a rare genetic disease called glutaric acidemia, which causes a spastic, permanent type of paralysis (see Bruce and Joyce Erickson, When Life Doesn’t Seem Fair [1995], 280–81).

The two oldest children, Michelle and Lara, were blessed with healthy bodies. Cindy, the third child, was normal for the first seven months of her life, but then the disease overtook her. For 18 years doctors were unable to diagnose the problem. Terror struck the family as they tried to understand and deal with Cindy’s suffering. Sister Erickson sometimes spent seven hours a day trying to feed her, and Cindy cried day and night and seldom slept more than 45 minutes in a 24-hour period. At the time of her death in 1995, Cindy was one of the oldest persons with the disease. She never was able to walk or talk. Her body was constantly racked by the twisting and contracting of her muscles, and she weighed less than 25 kilograms as a young adult.

When Cindy reached a point in her development that was a little less demanding, the Ericksons had a fourth child, Heidi, and then a fifth, Heather. Heather developed normally for the first six or seven months, but then she, too, started showing subtle yet troubling symptoms. Sister Erickson decided to take Heather to a doctor, but he could see nothing wrong. Unconvinced, Sister Erickson made an appointment for Heather to see a physical therapist.

A few days before the appointment, the visiting teachers came by. When they asked how the family was doing, Sister Erickson mentioned her concern about Heather’s development and indicated she was taking the baby to see a physical therapist on Friday.

“Little did I realize,” Sister Erickson writes, “but at that moment the ‘still small voice’ whispered to those wonderful sisters that I would need help on Friday. So, acting on that prompting by the Spirit, one visiting teacher volunteered to watch Heidi, and the other one later secretly called Bruce and arranged to get a key to our house so she could clean our kitchen while I was gone.
“Friday finally came. As I drove Heather to the clinic, I had a sick feeling in my stomach, a lump in my throat, and a prayer in my heart. I was trying to muster the courage to accept that which I had already suspected” (When Life Doesn’t Seem Fair, 17–18).

The therapist confirmed Joyce’s fears, and she felt devastated. After an hour with her husband at his workplace, where they shared a heartfelt prayer, Sister Erickson headed home. As she opened the front door, she was immediately hit by the aroma of freshly baked bread. She saw that the dishes were done, the kitchen counters were spotless, the floor was mopped and waxed, there was a new tablecloth on the table, and the stove and refrigerator were clean. The kitchen was immaculate! When she walked into the living room, she saw that the floor had been vacuumed, the furniture dusted, and freshly cut flowers in a new vase had been placed on the television. With a heart less heavy, she went upstairs. The beds were made, the bedrooms and bathrooms were spotless, and the laundry was done.

As she entered her bedroom to pray, her previously heavy heart was filled with gratitude and love—gratitude for the gospel and an immense love for her visiting teachers, who had followed the promptings of the Spirit and asked five other sisters to help.

“Although their cleaning my house didn’t change anything about Heather’s handicap,” Sister Erickson writes, “it helped me focus on something outside my immediate feelings of hurt and pain, and it helped me see that I really did have blessings to be thankful for. In a very real sense, it lightened my load and, in the process, taught me once again that the way we help each other is by serving and ‘bearing one another’s burdens, that they may be light.’ How grateful I am to have learned that lesson, for I believe it is central to the entire gospel plan” (When Life Doesn’t Seem Fair, 19).

I wonder what feelings the seven sisters had after baking the bread, cleaning the house, and doing the laundry. I have not heard their side of the story, but I suspect that peace and joy filled their hearts. Special feelings of love and gentleness must have pervaded their spirits. Increased faith must have swelled within them. The greatest miracle of the Atonement is the power Jesus Christ has to change our character if we come to Him with a broken heart and a contrite spirit.

Brigham Young’s natural ability pushed him to the forefront. He was chosen one of the Camp’s captains. Frequently he preached. At times he was delegated to procure provisions. Always he closely observed Joseph Smith’s leadership and acquired experience. However, not all of the men yielded to Joseph’s leadership without murmuring. The difficulty of the march made weak-spirited men complain. “We had to be troubled with uneasy, unruly and discontented spirits,” Brigham Young recollected. “This was the first time we had ever travelled in the capacity of a large company … Brother Joseph led, counselled and guided the company, and contended against those unruly, evil disposed persons.” (Journal of Discourses 10:20.)

Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles grew up in a home with a comfortable living—until World War II broke out. Then his family lost everything and became refugees.
But they pulled together! Speaking of this time, Elder Uchtdorf (then President Uchtdorf of the First Presidency), said, “To this day, I am deeply impressed by the way my family worked after having lost everything following World War II! I remember my father … taking on several difficult jobs. … My mother started a laundry and worked countless hours doing menial labor. She enlisted my sister and me in her business. With my bike I became the pickup and delivery service. It felt good to be able to help the family in a small way.”4

The bright coloring of the surrounding mountains was inspiring. The yellow, brown, and gray of the stone in the nearby hills and the blue of the distant mountains was a scene that only nature could paint. An artist who tried would be accused of exaggeration.
I stood on the edge of a great precipice. The ground beneath my feet was white sandstone. It was strange how drab the ground at my feet appeared but how beautiful that same stone was when viewed from a distance. “Isn’t that the way life is?” I thought to myself.
I looked down. Far below, the Colorado River, like a puny gray ribbon, wound itself through the deep canyon gorge. It made me dizzy, and I backed off for fear of losing my balance. I looked up and saw the other side of the canyon 183 meters beyond. As I contemplated how remote we were from civilization, fear came into my heart. “What have we promised to do?” I asked myself.
We had signed a contract to fabricate and erect the steel for a bridge to span the Colorado River gorge. We were relying upon our engineer’s computations and designs to do something we had never done before. The last thing I would ever do under these circumstances would be to express aloud any doubt. I had to be positive. If the leader of the organization lacks courage or judgment when exploring new horizons, the operation will crumble. It was a critical point, a precipice for those of us who had worked so long and hard to build a professional reputation. We could not turn back now. I displaced my fears by thinking, “If men never ventured beyond their experience, the world would make no progress.”
How do you go about bridging such a chasm? First, we spanned the river with a cord. The cord was used to pull a light rope across, then a heavier rope, a light cable, and a heavier cable, until we had a 76 millimeter steel cable spanning the gorge supported by high towers on each side. Together with other essential parts we had a high line system that would carry fabricated steel segments into their respective positions; some pieces weighed as much as 30 tons.
The segments of the arch were supported by towers and held 600 tons of steel high above the river until the arch could be closed. After the arch was closed, its weight was transferred down to the huge concrete foundations supported by the bedrock of the canyon walls, enabling the towers to be relieved and dismantled.
Every step taken had to be right. Every piece of steel had to fit with exactness. Every move was carefully planned. A complicated scheduling process was used to coordinate engineering, purchasing, steel preparation, steel fabrication, storing, transporting, unloading, and erecting so that the right piece of steel arrived at the site at the exact time it was needed. It’s that way in life, isn’t it? We must plan things to a standard of excellence if we want to succeed. The greater the challenge, the higher the standard must be, whether we are building bridges or building lives.
Today, people never notice the precipice on which I stood on that particular day. As the motorist travels over what before was an impassable route, he now crosses from one side of the canyon to the other in approximately eight seconds, I seldom look back upon that precipice in my business life without realizing that man, with the help of the Lord, can pretty well do whatever he determines to do. What is a challenge for one might be quite commonplace for another, but what is now commonplace was once a great challenge.

Through quick thinking and bravery, two New Zealand Scouts helped save the life of a drowning girl who had struck her head while diving into a swimming pool. Craig Biedford and David Belbin of the Temple View Third Ward, Temple View New Zealand Stake, pulled the girl from the water after David noticed that she was in trouble. The boys then quickly called their leader, who applied artificial respiration and started the girl breathing again.

For their quick action the two Scouts were awarded the Chief Scout’s Commendation for Meritorious Conduct, an award for bravery given by the Governor General of New Zealand.

My name is Nene Quame Nyame S. I’m 14 years old, and I live in Ghana.
When I first went to senior high school, there was one thing I struggled with: when a new subject was introduced, I would find it difficult to understand. One evening I prayed to Heavenly Father to help me understand and overcome that challenge. I had faith, and I was able to understand better. Since then, prayer and faith have been on my to-do list in school and everywhere I go. Being in a boys school is challenging because of some of the immoral things students do. When that happens, the words of my parents come to my mind: “Don’t do something that will drive the Holy Ghost away.” I am grateful to my mum, who always reminds me to listen to the Holy Ghost. When we do what is right, God blesses us.
Nene Quame Nyame S., 14, Ghana.

The first experience happened when my brother was sick. My father called a man from our ward to come to our home and help give a priesthood blessing. As our family gathered before the blessing, the man suggested that we children should leave because we might disrupt the spirit of the blessing. My father replied gently that it was important that each child be present during the blessing because our pure faith was needed.
Even at that young age, I not only felt the presence of the Spirit, but I also sensed the great love my father had for his children. My father’s love helped me believe in and understand Heavenly Father’s love for me.