Gospel Story Finder

About four years later, he set out to enroll at Oberlin College, Ohio, in hopes of furthering his military ambitions. On the way, he met and traveled with David W. Patten, a Mormon apostle.
Subsequently, Lorenzo went to Kirtland, Ohio, where his sister Eliza, who had joined the Church, had gone to live. He became closely associated with the Prophet and, after a time of investigation and study, was baptized in June 1836.

After I graduated from high school, I pondered the words of the Book of Mormon in Enos 1:15, “Whatsoever thing ye shall ask in faith, believing that ye shall receive in the name of Christ, ye shall receive it.” I called the temple to put my name on the temple prayer roll and continued to pray personally, asking my Heavenly Father to help me find a job that would allow me to save up money to pay for my mission and also to touch the hearts of my family members so that they could be baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints before I left to start my mission.
My desire was to go on mission in 2017.
A few weeks later, Heavenly Father began to answer my prayer. In November 2016, I found a job. It was really difficult at first, but then it became easy. I saved up money to help my mother AND to pay for my mission.
In February 2017, I invited my family to our stake conference, and in April, my mother, one of my sisters, and two nephews were baptized into the Church. What a blessing: four members of my family baptized within a month!
In September 2017, I received my call to serve a two-year mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo Kinshasa Mission.
Through this experience, my testimony has grown. I know that our Heavenly Father loves all His children, He lives and knows us all individually, and He knows our desires. The Book of Mormon is the word of God—the name of Jesus Christ is quoted 558 times in it, which strengthens my belief that the Book of Mormon is another testament of Christ because I read it.

I have learned this truth through a personal experience that, though seemingly insignificant, left a lasting impression on me. At the age of 22, while serving in the French Air Force in Paris, I was thrilled to learn that Elder Neal A. Maxwell, an Apostle of the Lord, would be speaking at a conference on the Champs-Élysées. However, just before the event, I received orders to drive a senior officer to the airport at the exact time the conference was set to take place.
I was disappointed. But determined to attend, I dropped the officer off and rushed to the conference. After finding a parking spot, I sprinted down the Champs-Élysées to the meeting place and arrived breathless with only five minutes left before the meeting ended. Just as I entered, I heard Elder Maxwell say, “I will now give you an apostolic blessing.” In that instant, I had a beautiful, unforgettable spiritual experience. I was overcome by the Spirit, and the words of the blessing seemed to penetrate every fiber of my soul as though they were meant just for me.
What I experienced that day was a small yet powerful manifestation of a comforting aspect of God’s plan for His children: When circumstances beyond our control prevent us from fulfilling the righteous desires of our hearts, the Lord will compensate in ways that allow us to receive His promised blessings.

I have spoken here of heavenly help, of angels dispatched to bless us in time of need. But when we speak of those who are instruments in the hand of God, we are reminded that not all angels are from the other side of the veil. Some of them we walk with and talk with—here, now, every day. Some of them reside in our own neighborhoods. Some of them gave birth to us, and in my case, one of them consented to marry me. Indeed heaven never seems closer than when we see the love of God manifested in the kindness and devotion of people so good and so pure that angelic is the only word that comes to mind. Elder James Dunn, from this pulpit just moments ago, used that word in his invocation to describe this Primary choir—and why not? With the spirit, faces, and voices of those children in our mind and before our eyes, may I share with you an account by my friend and BYU colleague, the late Clyn D. Barrus. I do so with the permission of his wife, Marilyn, and their family.

Referring to his childhood on a large Idaho farm, Brother Barrus spoke of his nightly assignment to round up the cows at milking time. Because the cows pastured in a field bordered by the occasionally treacherous Teton River, the strict rule in the Barrus household was that during the spring flood season, the children were never to go after any cows who ventured across the river. They were always to return home and seek mature help.

One Saturday just after his seventh birthday, Brother Barrus’s parents promised the family a night at the movies if the chores were done on time. But when young Clyn arrived at the pasture, the cows he sought had crossed the river, even though it was running at high flood stage. Knowing his rare night at the movies was in jeopardy, he decided to go after the cows himself, even though he had been warned many times never to do so.

As the seven-year-old urged his old horse, Banner, down into the cold, swift stream, the horse’s head barely cleared the water. An adult sitting on the horse would have been safe, but at Brother Barrus’s tender age, the current completely covered him except when the horse lunged forward several times, bringing Clyn’s head above water just enough to gasp for air.

Here I turn to Brother Barrus’s own words:
“When Banner finally climbed the other bank, I realized that my life had been in grave danger and that I had done a terrible thing—I had knowingly disobeyed my father. I felt that I could redeem myself only by bringing the cows home safely. Maybe then my father would forgive me. But it was already dusk, and I didn’t know for sure where I was. Despair overwhelmed me. I was wet and cold, lost and afraid.
“I climbed down from old Banner, fell to the ground by his feet, and began to cry. Between thick sobs, I tried to offer a prayer, repeating over and over to my Father in Heaven, ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me! I’m sorry. Forgive me!’
“I prayed for a long time. When I finally looked up, I saw through my tears a figure dressed in white walking toward me. In the dark, I felt certain it must be an angel sent in answer to my prayers. I did not move or make a sound as the figure approached, so overwhelmed was I by what I saw. Would the Lord really send an angel to me, who had been so disobedient?
“Then a familiar voice said, ‘Son, I’ve been looking for you.’ In the darkness I recognized the voice of my father and ran to his outstretched arms. He held me tightly, then said gently, ‘I was worried. I’m glad I found you.’
“I tried to tell him how sorry I was, but only disjointed words came out of my trembling lips—‘Thank you … darkness … afraid … river … alone.’ Later that night I learned that when I had not returned from the pasture, my father had come looking for me. When neither I nor the cows were to be found, he knew I had crossed the river and was in danger. Because it was dark and time was of the essence, he removed his clothes down to his long white thermal underwear, tied his shoes around his neck, and swam a treacherous river to rescue a wayward son.”

Sixteen-year-old Dwan Chevelle Bondad, one of the speakers, shared that she was not confident enough in delivering her talk in Filipino, as English was her first language.
“I’m afraid I might not articulate my talk well,” she said.
Her parents Marisol and Oliver Bondad shared the same concern. “She’s not very good at Tagalog. Her nerves might get into her and she might stutter,” her mother revealed. “So we included her in our daily family prayer.”
She added, “We prayed hard. We were confident that the Lord would bless her.”
While reviewing her talk, Dwan had a hard time understanding her own message.
Then a beautiful turn around happened. She recalled, “The moment I gave my talk in the Celestial Room, my own message resonated with me more.”
She felt comforted. “I received the aide I needed and my anxieties disappeared,” she said. “I realized that there’s no room for worry in the Celestial Room.”

Let me tell you of a young man I knew when I was a mission president. He was a missionary full of faith. He was Uruguayan. He had been in the mission about three or four months when I arrived, and I noticed that wherever he served, people were being baptized. In the beginning I thought it was because of his senior companion, because he seemed too young, too new, to be the cause—that was my mistake. He knew how to make things happen.

He was called as a senior companion and a district leader. I sent him into a city that had gained a reputation of being a tough, “no results” city. Missionaries had not baptized anyone there for nearly a year—not one person! The members were discouraged. Only ten to twelve members were attending the branch. I didn’t tell him anything—I just notified him of the transfer. Three weeks later, he and his companion began baptizing. He served there about ten weeks. All of his district started baptizing.

It is great to have a missionary who can baptize, but if he can teach others how to do it, his leadership can bless the lives of many.

This missionary never wrote me much in his weekly reports. He would only write, “Dear President, I sure love you. Things are going great. Sincerely,” or “President, the Lord is blessing us greatly. I love the work. Your brother.”

He was called later to serve as a zone leader and sent to supervise the whole upper area of the mission where there were some very challenging cities. His new challenge was to teach the missionaries to do what he was doing. He served there two or three months and was responsible for scores of baptisms, and he literally changed the spirit of the whole zone, member leaders as well as missionaries. Together they wrought a spiritual miracle.

Then came a spiritual struggle for me, a restless feeling about him. I felt impressed that he should be sent to Paraguay. At that time the work was very slow in Paraguay. We averaged only 20 to 25 baptisms a month in the whole country. I wrestled with that and thought to myself, He has really proved himself here, but to put him in that situation might drag him down in discouragement as it has so many others. He may have a hard time sustaining his faith there. I had to struggle with my faith to convince myself that he really ought to go, but I obeyed the promptings.

I sent him a telegram transferring him to Asunción, Paraguay, as a zone leader and told him that he should leave the very next day. When he came into Montevideo, he didn’t even come to see me. He was modest and always a little embarrassed to see “the president.”

He departed from the mission home, but he left a letter, which was the first one that I had ever received from him. It said, in effect, “Dear President Cook, I received a telegram today telling me to go to Paraguay, and I thought you ought to know a few things: (1) You can’t baptize in Paraguay. I have had at least ten to fifteen elders tell me of their experiences there. (2) The members are not helping at all. (3) There are some real morality problems among the nonmembers there. (4) Many people live together unmarried. (5) ,(6), (7), (8) …” And he went through and listed ten to twelve of some of the most negative things that I have ever heard in my life.

I thought to myself, Oh no, unbelieving people have gotten to him.

But as he finished the list, he said, “I just wanted you to know, President, that I don’t believe any of those things.” Talk about faith! Then he committed himself, after expressing his faith, saying, “I want you to know, President Cook, that on Christmas Day (and the date of the letter was December 1), we are going to baptize 25 people.”

When I read that, I prayed for him and thought, The Lord bless you, elder. You have a tremendous amount of faith, and the Lord will sustain you. You don’t know the country. You haven’t ever been there. You don’t know where you are going to live. You don’t know your companion, the leaders, the members. You don’t know anything, and yet you, in faith, believe that you are going to baptize 25 people in 25 days.

Well, this young man was full of faith and was a real example of a great Latin leader. On December 25, he and his companion baptized 18 people. They hadn’t reached the 25, but 18 was just about all that the whole country baptized in a normal month. It was a great privilege two weeks later to participate in a baptismal service where he and his companion baptized 11 more. His district baptized about 30 that day. Can you see how one righteous man can turn around a whole set of circumstances? He believed, he committed, and he and the Lord did it.

In the final years of young Brother Uchtdorf’s high level training as a pilot, he was flying solo with an instructor “on his wing” in another aircraft, directing his maneuvers and giving instruction. In one particular maneuver he was to represent an emergency landing by making an abrupt approach to the runway, requiring a sharp, steep embankment of the airplane before leveling out just in time to land. As young Dieter made the maneuver and attempted his steep, angular descent, the steering control of his airplane did not respond. He had, in airplane parlance, a “stuck stick.” The result would be a continuing roll of the airplane, leading to a crash landing upside down. “Bail out!” the instructor called. “Bail out!” But the man with “the courage of a bull,” as one of his Brethren described him, reversed the stick away from the extremity he had put it in and tried again to land. Once again the mechanism froze. “Bail out,” the stern command came again, this time with genuine concern in the instructor’s voice.

Determined that he be in charge of the aircraft, not the other way around, this future Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ wrestled physically with the steering, somehow breaking it free of the earlier resistance, made his sharp descent as prescribed in what was now not an imagined but very real emergency landing, and walked away grateful for divine help in times of need. “Man könnte sich darüber ärgern, aber man ist nicht verpflichtet dazu.” Such will be Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf’s determined and faithful service to the holy apostleship he now holds. He will give his all for the Lord Jesus Christ, His gospel, and His Church. In doing so he will lead untold legions of others on to new horizons.

When I was a boy growing up in a home with a widowed mother, I heard a story that touched me and that has had a lot more meaning since I have had the blessing of having a son of my own.
A youngster was assigned by his father to see to the moving of a large rock. He tugged and pushed, and he lifted and struggled without avail. Some friends were enlisted, but together they could not move it. Reluctantly he reported to his father that he could not budge the rock.
“Have you done all you could?” asked the father.
“Yes,” said the little boy.
“Have you tried everything?” persisted the father.
“Yes,” said the boy. “I’ve tried everything.”
“No, son, you haven’t,” said his dad. “You haven’t asked me.”

One sweet LDS girl was asked by her father to postpone her marriage in the temple so he could provide a lavish wedding in a large church that all his friends could attend. She said, “Daddy, I can’t do as you ask. I have seen how you and Mom have loved each other, and yet you have not married in the temple. I made up my mind as a little girl that I would be married to my husband for eternity and not just for this life. You have had my whole lifetime to prepare to go to the temple with me, and you have not done so. I’m sorry, but I must do what I believe to be right.”

All marriages performed outside the temple are canceled at death. It takes a lifetime to develop a Christlike character and to practice the art of successful marriage. How sad it would be to contemplate the termination of such a relationship which has taken most of a century to nurture. Of course, while marriages performed in the temple are beautiful, the ceremony alone does not guarantee happiness. That will depend on keeping our temple covenants and practicing the principles that govern successful marriage.

As a member of the German military, I spent more than half of 1999 in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina. My military assignment came with great challenges and long hours, but I always took time off to attend church in a small chapel used by various denominations in our camp of 750.
When I arrived at the chapel one Sunday afternoon, I found the doors locked. I learned that the other members of the Church in the camp had been transferred. I was disappointed because I had looked forward to worshipping and partaking of the sacrament. Before coming to Sarajevo, I had been busy serving as a branch president in Germany and was able to partake of the sacrament regularly.
Several weeks later, I was assigned to accompany my general on a visit to an American division. During lunch, an American captain who had seen me talking to other soldiers asked if I was a member of the Church. After I told him I was, he gave my name and contact information to the senior group leader of the Church there.
Soon a Brother Fisher contacted me. Following an interview, he set me apart as the group leader of the Church in Sarajevo with the assignment to set up a group. (A group is a Church unit in military installations, similar to a branch.)
I began posting meeting times on bulletin boards and sending out invitations, hoping to find other Latter-day Saints in military barracks in Sarajevo. For the first few weeks, no one else attended. So on Sundays, I sang, prayed, and gave talks by myself. Following Church guidelines for leaders and members in the military, I was able to bless and partake of the sacrament without a second priesthood holder. This brought me great joy.
I held my solitary meetings in English so I could improve my English language skills. The first talk I gave was about Joseph Smith. No one visible was in the room, but I sensed the presence of others. The Holy Ghost strengthened me and revealed to me how important it was for the work of the Lord to begin anew in this place.
A few weeks after I held my first Sunday meeting, a young American soldier entered the chapel. She had been baptized only a few months before. I was so happy! Two weeks later, another sister arrived. Then two brothers came. With the help of the Lord, the Church began growing in Sarajevo.
Now the Church has a branch in Sarajevo. As I remember my time there, I reflect on the honor the Lord gave me to serve in a special way—to be a little cog in His work and to know that “out of small things proceedeth that which is great” (D&C 64:33).

When Heber J. Grant was a young man, he took a grammar class.
Teacher: Your assignment is to listen to people speak. When they use incorrect grammar, write down what was said and correct it. Hand in four corrected sentences each week.
On Sunday, Heber attended church. The bishop stood to speak, and Heber took out a piece of paper to take notes. He quickly realized that he could do his homework.
Heber: His grammar is terrible! By the end of the meeting, I’ll have so many incorrect sentences I’ll never need another one.
Heber wrote down the first sentence, but that was all. The Spirit came upon him as the bishop bore testimony of Joseph Smith.
By the end of the meeting, Heber still had only one sentence written down. Tears of gratitude ran down his cheeks for the testimony that had been shared. He loved feeling the Spirit. It was the first time he had felt the Spirit this way.
Heber: I truly know that Joseph Smith was a prophet of God.
The bishop’s talk made such an impression on Heber’s testimony that he didn’t use the one sentence he had written for homework. It was too sacred to mock.
Heber: I have never been annoyed by grammatical errors of those who preach the gospel. To judge a man’s spirit by the way he speaks is like judging a man by the clothes he wears. Some have never had the chance for education, and some have never had money for nice clothes. I have tried to judge men and women only by the spirit that they have.
As President of the Church, Heber used this experience to warn members to not harshly judge others.

The plan began to take shape in an unexpected way when I received a phone call from the local police station. Alex had been arrested. My new husband and I put on our coats and in the middle of the night picked Alex up from the police station. We didn’t make a scene; actually Alex’s stepfather and I said very little.

When we got home, Alex told us what had happened when he and his friend had stolen a scooter. He was so sorry for what he had done. I saw for the first time a broken young man.

The arrest was a turning point for Alex as he began to realize the consequences of his actions and where he was headed. From that day on, so many blessings started to come our way.

The next day Alex told us that he had asked the officer to call us because he knew that we loved him. He also realized how much he had hurt us, and he appreciated that we had stayed calm.

I stormed into my house, eyes flooding with tears after yet another disappointing piano lesson. It was my fourth year taking piano, and I had barely improved past “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” My teacher had tried to find something positive to say about my horrific playing, but I only felt worse. My parents were paying money for piano lessons that I didn’t want and had no hope for.
I wanted my parents to let me quit. “Please,” I begged. “I’ll do anything. What will it take?”
After discussing it between themselves, they said, “If you learn 50 hymns, we will let you quit.”
I started practicing right away. I wanted to quit so badly I was willing to spend extra time on the piano. The first hymn, “We Thank Thee, O God, for a Prophet” (Hymns, no. 19), took nearly a month to master. I was still intent on quitting, so I continued practicing.
An interesting thing happened: the hymns got easier to master. I felt happier throughout the week. I found myself humming hymns during the day and singing louder in sacrament meeting.
Eventually, I stopped keeping track of how many hymns I knew. As I became more skilled on the piano, I realized I could learn a new hymn almost perfectly in less than 30 minutes.
When I finally did add them all up, I had learned way over 50 hymns. And there was no way I was going to quit playing piano. I had become much more confident in my abilities to play and had felt the power of the hymns in my life.
Hymns are like scriptures; they speak truth. When I play the hymns, I feel like I am immersing myself in the scriptures. Learning how to play the hymns has been a kick start to building my testimony and learning truth. I find myself going through the words of different hymns to help me throughout my day. Playing piano has strengthened my testimony and has opened doors for me wherever I go.

Elder Dallin H. Oaks of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles
“As a 12-year-old deacon, I was pleased to accompany the bishop to deliver Christmas baskets to the widows of our ward in Vernal, Utah. The backseat of his car was filled with baskets of grapefruit and oranges. This was during World War II, when grapefruit and oranges were scarce, so they were quite a treat. He waited in the car while I took a basket to each door and said, ‘The bishop asked me to give you this Christmas basket from the ward.’
“When we had delivered all the baskets but one, the bishop drove me home. There he handed me the last basket and said, ‘This is for your mother.’ Before I could reply, he drove away. [Dallin H. Oaks was 7 when his father passed away in June 1940.]
“I stood in front of our house, snowflakes falling on my face, holding the basket and wondering. We had been delivering baskets to widows, but I had never thought of my mother as a widow. I had never heard her refer to herself as a widow. I wondered why anyone would think my mother was a widow.
“That Christmas experience was formative in my understanding of the eternal family and in my appreciation for the faith of my mother. She always taught us that we had a father and she had a husband and that we would always be a family because of their temple marriage. …
“I am grateful for temple marriage and for the assurance that we can be together as an eternal family.”4

Cassidy sat on the living room floor examining all the items in her emergency backpack—granola bars, hard candy, canned tuna and crackers, a coloring book and crayons, a flashlight with batteries, a small travel game, a whistle, an emergency blanket, paper and a pencil, and other small things.
“Mom, is today an emergency day?” five-year-old Cassidy called out. “I want to use my backpack!” Cassidy and her family had gotten the emergency backpacks for Christmas from an aunt and uncle.
“No, not today,” Mom answered. “I know there are a lot of neat things you would like to use out of your backpack, but if we have an emergency you’ll be glad you’ve kept them all together.” Mom stood at the doorway. “Come on, let’s put all the backpacks on the top shelf in the hall closet. Then we’ll know where to find them in an emergency.”
Cassidy began putting things back inside her backpack. “I want to have an emergency so I can use my stuff,” she said.
Mom sat down on the floor to help Cassidy put the items back. “Do you remember hearing about the people whose homes were destroyed by a big wave called a tsunami?”
“Yes,” Cassidy answered, looking concerned.
“That was an emergency,” Mom explained as she zipped up Cassidy’s backpack. “It’s a situation that happens quickly when people are not expecting it.”
“Emergencies are bad things, aren’t they?” Cassidy asked.
“They can be very serious,” Mom replied. “But when bad things happen it can give us comfort to have something prepared—something we can grab quickly if we need to.”
“Like our backpacks?” Cassidy asked eagerly.
“Exactly,” Mom said. “You don’t need to wish for an emergency though. Let’s plan an emergency day drill. We’ll pretend there is an emergency and that we can only use the snacks and things we have in our backpacks. When we are done, we can replace the things we’ve used and plan another emergency day drill to keep us on our toes.”
“Yes!” Cassidy shouted. “That sounds fun!”
“The Lord promises us that if we are prepared we shall not fear,” Mom said.
“We should tell the rest of the family about our idea,” Cassidy said.
“Good idea. We’ll talk about it tonight at family home evening,” Mom said.
That evening just before dinner, Cassidy was reading a book in the living room. Her brother and sisters were finishing their homework in the basement. The lights flickered a few times, and then the electricity went out. The winter sky was already dark, and for a few moments it was impossible to see anything.
“Mom!” Cassidy yelled.
Mom answered from the kitchen in a calm voice, “It’s OK. Just stay where you are. I’ll come get you.”
Cassidy blinked her eyes several times to adjust to the darkness. Then her mother reached out and took her hand.
“There you are!” Mom said. “Now we need some light.”
“There’s a flashlight in my emergency backpack!” Cassidy said excitedly.
They walked carefully through the dark house toward the hall closet.
“Who turned out the lights?” Cassidy’s older brother, Adison, shouted.
“It’s dark down here!” her sister Olivia called.
“We’ll get a light for you!” Cassidy said as she held tightly to Mom’s hand.
When they reached the closet, Mom pulled down Cassidy’s backpack and got out the flashlight. “That’s better,” Mom said. She quickly pulled down everyone’s backpack, and Cassidy got out the flashlights so that everyone would have their own light.
Dad came in through the door to the garage. “Boy, it sure was dark out there. It took me a while to find the door,” he said. “Were you scared?” he asked Cassidy.
“Yes, but I knew where my flashlight was, so that made me feel better,” she answered.
Looking out the window, they saw that the electricity was out all over the neighborhood, and a thick fog had rolled in.
The family gathered in the living room with their emergency backpacks and everyone chatted excitedly. Dad searched his backpack for his emergency radio and began to listen for a weather report. After a few minutes he announced, “Well, it doesn’t appear to be a winter storm. Hopefully, the power will be back on by morning. Your mom and I have decided that we will use this opportunity to have an emergency drill. You each can use only the things you have in your backpacks. Use them wisely, just in case the power is out for longer than we expect. Now that we are all here, we will start family home evening with a prayer of thanks that we were prepared for this minor emergency.”
Cassidy pulled a granola bar out of her backpack. She leaned over to Mom and said, “It turned out to be an emergency day after all.”

The first lesson is that everyone makes mistakes. Not long ago I was with an eight-year-old girl on the day of her baptism. At the end of the day she said with all confidence, “I have been baptized for a whole day, and I haven’t sinned once!” But her perfect day did not last forever, and I am sure she is learning by now, like we all learn, that as hard as we try, we do not always avoid every bad situation, every wrong choice, or control ourselves as we should.

Illustrated by Shauna Mooney Kawasaki
Coach: You guys were awful! We’re holding an extra practice tomorrow, and I’m going to work you hard! If anybody has a problem with that, step forward.
Coach: What’s your beef, Matt?
Matt: Tomorrow’s Sunday.
Coach: I know the days of the week, Matt. What’s your point?
Matt: I go to church on Sunday.
Coach: All day?
Matt: No, but Sunday isn’t for work or play. It’s for thinking about Heavenly Father and for visiting the sick and stuff.
Coach: Your team is sick. Come visit us.
Matt: I guess I can’t explain it so you’ll understand. But I won’t be at practice tomorrow.
Coach: And your starting spot won’t be here next week.
Mandy: You’re quiet, Matt. Is it because you lost?
Matt: I’m not sure I did.

When I was the Presiding Bishop and one of my counselors, Bishop Ashton, died, I asked for Brother [Thorpe B.] Isaacson. He was then at the head of a large insurance business that he owned and operated. And when President George Albert Smith asked him if he was willing to serve as my counselor, he said: “Yes, but I would like to go back East and arrange with my company to appoint a manager, because you know in the insurance business so much depends on renewals. But,” he said, “if they won’t let me do it, I’ll tell them to take the business.” I happen to know that the tithing he had been paying was just about the equivalent of what his allowance was when he became a counselor in the Bishopric! And not only that, for the first six months after he received his allowance, he turned it back to the Church. He said: “I’ve never been on a mission, so it is about time I did something.”

I like chemistry, football, fried chicken, a cute girl, and strawberry malts. I guess you can say that I am an average American guy—except for one thing. I don’t think anyone who has a sister like mine can be all average. I mean, she doesn’t just giggle, comb her hair for hours, fill your nostrils with the aroma of hair spray, and monopolize the bathroom to put on her make-up, but she saves things too. Like when she came home from kindergarten the first day carrying an empty milk carton. That’s when it started.
“You’re not supposed to bring that home,” I told her. “When you get through drinking the milk, you throw the carton in the trash can.”
“I know,” she answered as she opened a drawer and tucked it neatly inside, “but I want to save it.”
“What for?” I persisted. “Are you going to make something out of it?”
“No,” she said, closing the drawer, “I’m just going to save it.”
“Boy, that’s dumb. Mom,” I called, pursuing the subject further, “Lisa has a milk carton in her drawer, and it will probably sour and smell the whole house up. She isn’t going to use it, so why is she saving it?”
Mom smiled. “Well,” she said, “this is her first day at school, the first time she’s been given milk in a small carton. I guess it represents a happy memory.”
That was just the beginning. She saved everything. I mean I can understand kids saving useful things like marbles, bicycle valve caps, and bugs for scientific research. I could even understand my sister saving outdated clothes to remodel, because Mom said that was being conservative, but I think everything that came into her possession she kept. The older she got the more she saved. She saved test papers, banquet favors, pressed corsages, ticket stubs, and programs.
Now, I suppose all this would have been tolerable if it hadn’t been for the string. Suddenly she started saving string. Not long lengths, but bits and pieces.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“For nothing,” she snapped defensively. “I’m just saving it. Is there a law against that?”
I couldn’t believe it. I decided she was a real dumb-dumb. Now, don’t get me wrong. Just because I thought she was dumb didn’t mean I didn’t like her, and it didn’t mean that anyone else could make fun of her, for if they did they would have me to settle with. Like the time Mom said I couldn’t go fishing with Jim unless I took Lisa along. She and Dad were planning to be gone for the day, and she didn’t want Lisa to stay home alone. Boy, I was pretty burned up over that. A twelve-year-old guy having to take his kid sister fishing! I grumbled and complained and yelled at her all the way. But when Jim started yelling at her and grumbling because she was along, it made me plain boil.
“What’s the matter with Lisa going fishing with us?” I bristled. “She’s my sister, and if she wants to go fishing, she can.”
Jim was so surprised he didn’t say anything. Lisa was so surprised she dropped the rock she had been holding, and I was so surprised at what I had said that I picked it up and gave it back to her—to save.
But what really takes the cake about all this saving is what I discovered the day Mom was helping Lisa clean her room. I stepped in to see if either of them could tell me what had happened to my blue sweat shirt. I knew if Lisa had seen it, it was safe, but Mom sometimes got carried away and burned things just because they were ten years old, full of holes, and covered with paint smears and grease spots. She never burned things like banquet favors or pressed corsages, just sweat shirts.
“I didn’t burn it,” Mom said patiently. “I didn’t throw it away. In fact, I haven’t seen it since the day you were washing the car with it.”
“Oh, yes!” I remembered and was standing there wondering if I had hung it up to dry so it would be wearable to goof around in, when I caught sight of the curler bag on Lisa’s bed. It wasn’t the bag that captured my attention exactly, it was the fact that instead of curlers it was full of string, bits and pieces.
“What in the world!” I picked it up and read the small neatly handwritten note pasted on the outside, “String too short to use.”
I started laughing.
“Give it here,” Lisa cried, snatching it out of my hands.
“String too short to use!” I doubled over with laughter. “Man, I can’t believe you’re for real.”
“Mother!” Lisa was close to tears.
“Son—” Mom started.
“But she says herself that the string is too short to use.” I defended myself. “If she can’t use it then she isn’t being conservative, and I don’t believe this represents memories. No one has that many happy memories,” I teased as I darted out the door still laughing.
Actually the string incident came in very handy, for I used it constantly as a weapon. For instance, when Lisa started teasing me when I let my hair grow longer than usual, I reminded her of her useless string, and she said no more.
Then I met this kind of special girl. She liked football and fried chicken and strawberry malts; and I liked her.
When we got married, I decided I was the luckiest guy ever. It was somewhere around this time I decided that I was pretty lucky not to be all average. In fact, it was the evening Ann and I were looking at our wedding gifts in our apartment. I picked up this one gift, and as a kind of lump came in my throat, I realized that if it had been a large amount of money, it wouldn’t have been as nice as it was. The homemade article represented many things, among them a kind of forgiveness.
Ann came up in back of the chair in which I was sitting and put her arms around my neck. “I wonder who that is from,” she said as she leaned over and read the unsigned note pinned on the pretty velvet cushion.
I started to tell her, but the lump in my throat kept me from speaking. “I’ll explain later,” I said finally.
Then I unpinned the note and read the neatly handwritten message once more.
It said, “This cushion is filled with all my love and the string too short to use.”

Hello! My name is Megan, and I live in Mexico. I want to tell you about a very special time in my life—the day I was baptized.
I was baptized on my eighth birthday. It was a very important day because I celebrated my birthday by being baptized.
Getting baptized was a beautiful experience. My mom made me a notebook with different activities to prepare. It helped me learn about the importance of baptism and the covenants I would make with Heavenly Father.
Many people who love me came to my baptism. I felt very happy that they came. I wore a white dress, and the water was warm.
After my dad baptized me, I dried off and changed clothes. Then I received the gift of the Holy Ghost. I was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints by holders of the priesthood. I felt so much peace, love, and joy.
I will always remember that day. It was very special because I made my first covenant with God. I promised to follow Jesus and obey His commandments.
If you are nervous about what your baptism day will be like, don’t worry. Heavenly Father will be happy about the choice you made!
Illustrations by Olga Lee