Gospel Story Finder

I am writing to thank you for the New Era, which I have found to be spiritually uplifting, and to share with you my little miracle. At a point in my life when I had become totally inactive and thought that life was no longer worth living, I started to receive the New Era. I don’t know who paid for the subscription, but I will be eternally grateful because it helped to bring about the turning point in my life. I am now back on the right road, and I know that life is worth living. I have a lot of steps to climb and a lot of praying and learning to do, but I know that my Heavenly Father is beside me all the way.
Terri WhittingPerth, Australia

“We’re number one!” shouted the cheerleader at a high school football game. I admired her straight teeth and perfect smile. I watched as she laughed and talked to the girls and flirted with the boys.
“It must be glorious to be her,” I thought, reflecting on my own loneliness. My father’s job required us to move every three to five years, so it was hard for my sister and me to form lasting friendships.
The cheerleader had a reputation for dressing immodestly and going to drinking parties. Watching her, I began to ache for the popularity that I thought she represented. I wanted friends so badly that for one fleeting moment I wondered if I should lower my standards to become like her.
While my sister and I drove home, I was wallowing in self-pity, and I prayed in my heart to Heavenly Father. I asked Him to tell me the secret that would take away my loneliness and insecurity. Although I wasn’t a Church member at this time, I had a strong faith in God.
Immediately came into my mind the idea, “Stop thinking about yourself.”
“That’s the secret?” I thought disappointedly. “How can that help me to become popular?”
Later that week, I read about charity in 1 Corinthians 13. It helped me understand that Heavenly Father was trying to teach me to have charity toward others rather than focus on how they were treating me. I took the characteristics of charity listed there and put them to work. When I did this, I found that my whole school experience changed. Here are some of the valuable things I learned.

As part of their ministering, Elder Tune, President Kendall and the missionaries brought a much-needed laptop and monitor to donate to Chevalier Catholic High School on Abemama, where over 500 students from other small islands board.
“It was a humbling experience to see their computer lab. We walked into the building with the ‘computer lab’ sign over the door and there were no computers there. So, when we came with a laptop and a screen, the principal and the students were so excited! Now they have a computer in their lab,” Elder Tune said.

Just a few years ago we converted a Reverend Cooke from up in the northwest–the state of Washington. He wrote a letter to my brother, who was then president of the Northwestern States mission, in which he said, “I have always thought that I had as much authority as any man to administer the ordinances of the gospel–until I met the Mormon elders. Now I have come to feel that I must accept baptism at their hands.” Then, after he was baptized, he came down to Salt Lake and to my office and said this: “When I joined the Church I did not feel I could say that I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, but I believed that he was. But when Brother Burroughs [and I know Brother Burroughs up there] laid his hands on my head and ordained me to the priesthood I felt something go through me like I never had felt before in all my life, and I knew that no man could do that for me. It must have come from the Lord.” Then he continued, “When I think of how little I had to offer my people as a Methodist minister compared with what I now have in the fulness of the gospel as it has been restored I want to go back and tell my friends what I have found. Now they won’t listen to me; I am an apostate from their church.” But he had given up his ministry (and that is an honorable calling) to run the elevator in our state capitol building so that he could join the Church. Through the window in my office he pointed to the temple and said, “I can’t wait until I can go there with my wife. I want to be sure I have her forever.” That is what it is when people really love truth and are called out of darkness, as Peter said, unto the Lord’s true light.

As a youth, I had a strong desire to serve a mission. I knew that it would be difficult, but that the blessings would far outweigh the trials I would face both in my preparation and during my service. I knew that the Lord had a plan for me but looking back I did not know how different His plan would be.
After finishing school, I thought I was ready to serve. However, it was a long hard road of several years of trials and sufferings, especially from mental health issues. These prevented me from being ready to serve a mission, although I always had the desire and willingness as well as they assurance that the time would soon come.
Fast forward to about a year ago, when my bishop called me into his office and asked me, “Why do you want to serve a mission?” I had never truly pondered that question. I knew the textbook answers: I wanted to serve the Lord and those around me, and to share the joy that I have felt through the gospel of Jesus Christ with others. My bishop asked me to think about it and come back to him the next week. I came back and tearfully explained that as I am a perfectionist and find it hard to forgive myself for even the smallest of mistakes, I wanted to serve a mission because through that service I would give to those around me (and indeed to the Lord), I would come to love Him and each of God’s children more and, in turn, I would come to love myself more.
As I started my application, I could see the Lord’s hand in my life as I drew closer to serving my mission. I could see the love for others already growing within me, as I felt more sorrow and compassion for the welfare of the people that surrounded me. Then COVID-19 came, and I fell into despair—I felt so close to starting my mission, but now it seemed a distant goal. But the Lord had something incredible in mind for me that I would not have expected.
I knew that I might not have the opportunity to serve a proselyting mission due to my difficulties. However, I am eternally grateful to my Saviour Jesus Christ for delaying my mission until the time was right. A few months ago, I was contacted about the opportunity to serve a service mission for the Church. I was thrilled at the opportunity to serve in local communities and to volunteer for charities, to be an example of Jesus Christ and to serve just as He did (although I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be moving from home).
In retrospect, I am incredibly grateful, even tearful, to the Lord for the privilege it is to be a service missionary, and although it is still going to be a challenge, I know that the Lord loves me, and He will be there every step of the way!

Elder Bruce R. McConkie spoke of tears in general conference just a few weeks before his death. In one of the most powerful testimonies I have ever heard, that special witness, with full and complete knowledge that his passing was near, said,

I testify that [Jesus Christ] is the Son of the Living God and was crucified for the sins of the world. He is our Lord, our God, and our King. This I know of myself independent of any other person.
I am one of his witnesses, and in a coming day I shall feel the nail marks in his hands and in his feet and shall wet his feet with my tears. [“The Purifying Power of Gethsemane,” Ensign, May 1985, p. 11]

Those of us who witnessed the delivery of this magnificent address can testify that those tears were flowing even as he stood at the pulpit. They were not tears of sorrow relative to leaving this mortal existence, but tears of joy at the anticipation of the blessing awaiting him.

A little while ago, I was invited to read the Book of Mormon every day. I was asked to begin with prayer and to write down my impressions as I read.

Before this challenge, I did not read the Book of Mormon often, but as I accepted the challenge, I became accustomed to reading every day and starting with prayer. It helped me and gave me strength to stand against temptation. It made me much stronger.

At the beginning it was kind of difficult because I would get distracted or tired. But as time went on, I couldn’t stop reading the Book of Mormon. I felt something inside that told me to keep going, and I could feel my testimony growing. Now I don’t just believe—I know that it’s true.

I’ve learned that it helps me to read the Book of Mormon with a spirit of gratitude for everything. And as I continue reading the Book of Mormon, the Spirit indicates that it’s true.

As I wrote in my journal while reading, I knew what to write because I had started with a prayer and asked Heavenly Father to help me understand through the Spirit what He wanted me to learn. And the Spirit taught me as I studied and wrote.

I am grateful for all I have learned. It is going to help me a lot on my mission. I will be a representative of the Lord, teaching others His doctrine and the teachings that the prophets have given us in the Book of Mormon. It is the key for people to come unto Christ.

After my mission, when I marry in the temple and start a family, it will help me to teach my children about the gospel and be able to say to them that all of this is true. Reading the Book of Mormon each day and writing down what I learn has been a great blessing in my life.

When Aunt Jane came to visit, she always brought a present for Hannah and her little sister, Cara. Hannah held her breath as Aunt Jane opened her suitcase and reached inside. Aunt Jane’s eyes twinkled as she pulled out two dolls—one dressed in blue and one in green.
Hannah reached out to touch the doll in the dark green velvet dress. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she said.
Frilly lace trimmed the dress. It looked old fashioned. The doll’s face and hands were carefully painted. Her eyelashes looked so real that Hannah just had to touch them.
“I picked these two dolls out especially for my two favorite nieces,” Aunt Jane said.
Hannah laughed. “We’re your only nieces, Aunt Jane.”
Aunt Jane smiled. “That doesn’t mean you’re not my favorites!”
Cara looked at the doll in the green dress. She smoothed her fingers down the dress. “She’s really pretty.”
Hannah showed the other doll to Cara. “This one’s pretty too.”
Cara barely even looked at the doll in the blue dress. “I want this one,” she said, pointing to the doll in the green dress.
Hannah saw the longing in Cara’s eyes, and her heart sank. What should she do?
Then Hannah looked at the blue dress the other doll was wearing. It looked a lot like a dress her grandma had given Hannah last year. It even had a white collar and red trim around the hem like Hannah’s dress.
Hannah looked back at Cara’s face. Then she picked up the doll in the blue dress. “I like this one,” she said. And she really did.

I have always learned in Primary and at home that we should be honest. We should not keep what does not belong to us, we should return change when we receive too much at the store, and we should always tell the truth even though we may be punished.
One day when I was nine, I was waiting on the school patio for my mother and I saw a wallet on a bench. There was money in it.
I thought about what I should do. My mother works very hard to take care of my two sisters and me, but things weren’t going very well at home. I thought about what I could buy.
Then I started to worry about the person who had lost the money and how much she would miss it. I sat down and waited because I knew she would come to look for it.
After some time, a very upset woman appeared and asked, “Have you found a wallet?”
I answered, “Is this it?”
Her joy was so great she hugged me. She thanked me again and again.
At that time, I did not even think about why I made the decision to be honest. But when I told my mother about it later, she said the Holy Ghost had whispered to me and I had listened to the still, small voice.
I am grateful for having learned to be honest.

My years at Ricks College, during which I tried to seek God’s will and do it, kept the pavilion from covering me or obscuring God’s active role in my life. As I sought to do His work, I felt close to Him and felt assurance that He knew of my affairs and cared deeply for my happiness. But as they had at Stanford, worldly motivations began to present themselves to me. One was an attractive job offer, extended just as I was finishing my fifth year as president of Ricks College. I considered the offer and prayed about it and even discussed it with the First Presidency. They responded with warmth and a little humor but certainly not with any direction. President Spencer W. Kimball listened to me describe the offer I had received from a large corporation and said: “Well, Hal, that sounds like a wonderful opportunity! And if we ever needed you, we’d know where to find you.” They would have known where to find me, but my desires for professional success might have created a pavilion that would make it hard for me to find God and harder for me to listen to and follow His invitations.

My wife, sensing this, had a strong impression that we were not to leave Ricks College. I said, “That’s good enough for me.” But she insisted, wisely, that I must get my own revelation. And so I prayed again. This time I did receive direction, in the form of a voice in my mind that said, “I’ll let you stay at Ricks College a little longer.” My personal ambitions might have clouded my view of reality and made it hard for me to receive revelation.

Thirty days after I was blessed with the inspired decision to turn down the job offer and stay at Ricks College, the Teton Dam burst nearby. God knew that dam would burst and that hundreds of people would need help. He let me seek counsel and gain His permission to stay at Ricks College. He knew all the reasons that my service might still be valuable at the college and in Rexburg. So I was there to ask Heavenly Father frequently in prayer that He would have me do those things that would help the people whose property and lives had been damaged. I spent hours working with other people to clear mud and water from homes. My desire to know and do His will gave me a soul-stretching opportunity.

Long, long ago in the far northern wilderness before white men arrived and built cities and roads, there lived Little Squirrel, a Chippewa Indian boy.
One night as Little Squirrel was sleeping in his deerskin wigwam, the roar of a mountain lion awakened him. He sat up on his blanket bed and peered through the wigwam opening into the moonlit forest.
In the darkness all around him, in the caves and in the thickets, lived the wild forest creatures. Little Squirrel’s eyes penetrated the darkness for their shapes. His ears listened for their sounds. The Chippewas thought of wild ones as people—four-footed forest people. Some of them were enemies, but most were friends. Often one would live in a wigwam, sharing the family’s food and shelter.
Little Squirrel knew the forest people well. He knew their names and secrets. He had learned to speak their language. One of them had even lived with his family for awhile.
Six summers past, his father had found a black mother bear dead in her den, a tiny cub crawling over her. Because a Chippewa would never leave an animal to starve, his father had brought the bear cub home and put it by his little son, who was nestled in a linden cradle. “For you, Little Squirrel,” he had said.
As Little Squirrel grew, he romped and wrestled with the cub. His first steps were taken by her side as his fat fingers clutched her thick black fur. He loved the bear. He called her Bear Sister.
Together they gobbled up berries that grew in tangled thickets. Side by side they searched for honey hidden deep in bee tree holes.
But one day without warning, the bear vanished. She ambled off into the pine trees and did not return. Little Squirrel cried when she first went away. He missed their fun together. He missed his furry sister snuggled on his blanket bed during the cold northern nights.
His mother had told him Bear Sister had gone into the forest to find her own bear people.
But Little Squirrel had never ceased looking for her. As he looked into the forest, he listened for any sound from her.
Suddenly he saw something—a shadow moving through the pines. His black eyes sparked with excitement. It might be Bear Sister, he thought, and his heart was filled with hope.
Trembling like an aspen in the first warm rush of summer, he stepped out of the wigwam. The shadow moved before him, but he only heard its sound. Almost without thinking, he slipped through the trees, following the footfalls that crunched down the leaves. His thoughts were with Bear Sister.
Indian boys were encouraged to go for midnight walks in the wilderness. Watching the ways of the forest people was their school. They learned how the beaver people trim trees and build dams. They listened to the owls chirring to their owlets—they listened to the owls’ secrets so they too could be wise. Little Squirrel moved ahead swiftly, silently, following the sounds of the shadow.
Suddenly in a shaft of moonlight the shadow turned into an elk. His heart cried out. It wasn’t Bear Sister after all. Little Squirrel sighed and sat down on a log as the elk sauntered off.
An owl hooted from the pine boughs above. Little Squirrel’s eyes searched until he found the owl. Then he scanned the trail of stars scattered over the deep dark of the sky above. He was once again absorbed in the wonders of the wilderness.
The pines began to whisper and the owls began to scold him. “Go back to your wigwam,” they seemed to be saying.
I must go, he decided as he stood up and began his walk back to the village. His thoughts were of the wigwam, warm and safe.
Halfway around a rocky ledge overgrown with thickets, he suddenly stopped. What was that sound off there in the depths of the thicket? he wondered. He stood as still as a tree trunk. Again he heard it. His heart began to beat like the wings of a giant bird. It sounded like the grunt of a bear. In the black shadows of the night, he watched and waited. Then in the distance he saw a dark form emerge from behind the rocks. It was a bear!
The moonlight dusted the bear’s fur, but Little Squirrel was too far away to be sure of the color. If it were Bear Sister, would she remember him?
Instinctively he began to sing a song—softly, sweetly, so this bear and all others might know of his love for them. Because of his Bear Sister, he could never harm nor kill one of their people. This was the way of the Chippewas, and this was the message of his song.
Little Squirrel sang of how his father had found a bear cub in the forest many moons ago. He sang of hunting berries and of searching out bee trees; he sang of a bear and a boy together on a blanket bed.
As Little Squirrel sang, the bear moved its head back and forth, growling softly. The boy knew the bear understood the song. He knew the bear understood how he felt in his heart, for the Indians and forest people knew each other well. But Little Squirrel could not be sure if this were really his own Bear Sister.
Then a young bear cub appeared from the rocky den, and the heart of Little Squirrel almost burst within him as it beat a steady rhythm to his soft bear song. And suddenly it didn’t matter even if this were not Bear Sister, for all bears were his friends!
The she-bear grunted to her cub, an owl chirred to its owlet, and the wind began to whisper to the treetops.
By the time Little Squirrel reached his deerskin home, all the forest people had heard of the little Chippewa Indian and his love for the forest people.

Jung Sung Eun of Korea didn’t pass the qualification exam to become a teacher. Tina Roper of Utah, USA, lost a job that she had expected to turn into a career. Todd Schlensker of Ohio, USA, received a spiritual confirmation to marry but saw his engagement come to an end. Alessia Mazzolari (name has been changed) of Italy ended what appeared to be the perfect relationship.
No one likes having to resort to “plan B.” But even when our plans fall through, Heavenly Father does not abandon His children. There are multiple good ways for life to work out. In time, we may even find that the roadblocks that changed our plans gave us needed insight and experience (see D&C 122:7) and led to something better.
Sung Eun had worked hard to achieve her lifelong dream of becoming a teacher. She explains, “Because I have always tried to do my best in all I do, I have almost always been able to obtain what I hoped and prayed for.” But that didn’t happen when she took the teacher qualification exam. “When I failed it,” she says, “I felt I had lost all my dreams in one day.”
Tina wasn’t initially worried when another company acquired the one she worked for. The new organization promised her a long-term position, so she moved closer to her work with high hopes of an exciting new job. When the company laid her off a few months later, she felt “lost, confused, sad, and quite scared.”
Rather than focus completely on building their résumés, Sung Eun and Tina realized they could also focus on building their character. Both women found comfort through gospel study and prayer.
“The Apostle Paul was a wonderful friend who helped me be patient and continually confront challenges,” says Sung Eun. “He always had a positive attitude and willingly waited for what God had for him, rather than hoping for his own timing.
“I learned something from his example: the period of waiting is not merely the process that we must go through to get what we want. Rather, it is a process by which we become who our Heavenly Father wants us to be through changes we make.”
Tina found that the change she needed most was a shift in perspective. “I was surprised to discover that I had measured my self-worth in worldly ideas of value,” she remembers. “I felt valuable because of my employment and position, which were taken away. I now find my self-worth in the eternal truths that I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father and I have divine potential. These truths can never be taken away.”
Both Tina and Sung Eun admit that while building character isn’t always pleasant, the fruits of personal growth are sweet. Sung Eun says, “The year after I failed the teacher qualification exam was not only the most painful and depressing time period, but it was also the most precious. I became more able to truly understand other people’s difficulties and had a desire to help them with real intent and care.”
The examples of Ammon and his brothers in the Book of Mormon showed Tina how the Lord was stretching her faith to help her reach her full potential. “The Lord’s plan was for the Nephites to save their Lamanite brothers instead of using a sword to solve the problem,” she explains. “The sons of Mosiah were given a task that required greater faith, but they were also given a promise that if they bore their afflictions with patience, they would receive success (see Alma 26:27). Being patient is one of my hardest trials because I want to understand my entire plan—but I realized that Heavenly Father’s plan and timing for us will always be the best.”
Todd faced a bright future upon returning from his mission. While attending school, he met a wonderful young woman. After several months of courtship and a spiritual confirmation, Todd proposed and she accepted. They planned their wedding for the end of the summer, and both returned home from school to prepare.
“Three weeks after we said our good-byes at school, she ended our engagement,” Todd recalls. “Heartbroken could not express my feelings strongly enough. There were so many unanswered questions in my mind; it didn’t make sense. I had received a confirmation in the house of the Lord, and now our relationship was over. My testimony had never been tested this hard.
“Unfortunately, for years following my breakup, I couldn’t get past it. I didn’t know how I could ever trust a feeling of confirmation again. I had always trusted in the Lord and tried my best to keep the commandments,” he continues. “It all seemed for naught.”
Alessia also thought that her relationship with a certain young man was meant to be. “Our story was so beautiful that, even though we had the normal difficulties that every couple encounters, we thought the relationship would never end,” she remembers.
When Alessia’s boyfriend left on his mission, the separation was difficult but for a different reason than Alessia had expected. “While he was gone, I began to know myself better. I realized that many things in my life were not yet right and that many times I had hidden behind some silly ideas rather than humble myself and face reality,” she recounts. “I had been living in a kind of fairy tale, as if being in love were enough to make everything turn out right, and often this caused me to overlook the most important things.”
Still, Alessia expected a happy reunion and continued relationship after her boyfriend’s mission. However, upon his return, the couple dated only a short time before breaking up. “It was one of the most painful moments I can remember,” says Alessia.
In their respective experiences, Todd and Alessia both eventually recognized that even though a key relationship in their lives was altered, they couldn’t abandon their obedience and allegiance to the Lord. He became their anchor when everything else was changing and uncertain.
“I didn’t have all the answers to why I got a confirmation to marry someone, and it didn’t happen,” Todd recalls. “But I realized that didn’t matter. What did matter is that I still had faith in Christ, and I was going to use that faith to trust in whatever the Lord had in store for me.”
Alessia knew that completely pledging herself to the Lord would bring her the strength that she needed. “I understood that the moment had arrived for me to decide what kind of person I wanted to be,” she says. “Would I continue to live life halfway, or would I start on the path to becoming a true disciple of Christ? I wanted to know Him deeply, love Him truly, and try to be a better person by obeying all His commandments—not just externally but in my heart with true honesty.”
After being confronted with unanticipated setbacks, all four of these young adults struggled to find the courage to live in the present and again plan for the future. But they found that their faith in the Lord grew.
Sung Eun remembers that after failing her examination, trying new things became difficult. But then came a crucial discovery: “I realized that the real failure is to dwell on the past and make little effort to try to work things out. I decided that rather than continuing to be sad, I should turn this difficult time into an opportunity to learn. My ability to understand life in general broadened and deepened, and I learned that the end of one thing always brings about the beginning of something else.” She has since retaken and passed the exam and is now “a happy teacher who enjoys spending time with students each day.”
Tina chose to trust that something was waiting for her, even though it was difficult to face an uncertain future. “I decided to reenter school, and there I studied the art and technology field, an area I had desired to become involved in but I did not possess the needed skills,” she explains. “I am ready to start another adventure, a much better one, thanks to the wisdom of my Heavenly Father.”
Todd continued trying to date for six years and worked to develop trust in the Lord. Even when he met women he admired very much, he had to fight to keep his doubts from the past from destroying his hopes for the future. “Finding the determination not to succumb to my doubts of six years was not easy,” he says. “But I was firm in attempting to prove to myself that I really did trust in the Lord and His promptings, even though I had been angry with Him before.” A new relationship eventually led to a temple marriage.
“I often wonder why the Lord blessed me with someone as great as my wife when I struggled so long to fully trust the feelings of the Spirit,” reflects Todd. “It is a testimony to me that the Lord is waiting to bless us, but it’s always on His timetable.”
Alessia, by rededicating herself to the Lord, developed a deep and personal testimony. “The plan of salvation became real for me, and my covenants became more binding and deep. Christ’s Atonement was not theory anymore or something that I had read about, perhaps too superficially. A change of heart was happening inside, and I had a sure witness.” Today, she says, she feels like a new person.
Regardless of the turns life’s journey may take, the final destination of eternal life is what Heavenly Father plans for His children (see Moses 1:39). Some may even find that “plan B” was simply a way of making His “plan A” a reality.

The next Sunday, i was contacted by some missionaries who asked me if they could visit me at home during the week. I agreed and set an appointment with them. I requested that they bring a copy of the Book of Mormon to me when they came to my house. The missionaries arrived and told me amongst other things “Brother Nimako, do you know that God loves you? The gospel we teach can bless you and your family.” I enjoyed their visit and scheduled another appointment.

I read my copy of the Book of Mormon and prayed. I pondered on the message the missionaries shared and what I was reading in the book of Mormon. I had a good feeling as I did this. I couldn’t wait to be baptised!

When injuries brought an early end to my rugby playing days, I took up rowing with a mate of mine. The first day we went to the rowing club, we took out a boat called a pair—a boat with a seat and one oar for each of the two oarsmen, with the oars being on opposing sides of the boat. Our instinct was to try to outrow each other, showing our superior strength. As a result, we zigzagged up the river, with one of us outdoing the other for a time and then the reverse happening as we tired. Those watching us must have been bent over laughing because we were working against each other rather than for each other. Fortunately we learned from that experience and had success in races in the months and years that followed.
But that lesson applies to each of our lives and to our need to be aligned and in harmony with our Savior.

“There’s no way you’re going on that youth convention, Thomas, and that’s final.” Dad’s voice came loud and curt, bloodshot eyes narrowed, flashing danger signals. His lean, weather-beaten frame straightened to full height, his mouth clamping in a hard line.
I bit my lip, digging the heel of my boot into the dirt with sharp jerks.
“And if I hear any more on the subject, you can tell that James lad to stop picking you up for church Wednesdays. You’re slow enough at school without that … that … seminary stuff taking your time.”
He stomped off past the hen sheds, muttering and shaking his head. “Should never have let you join in the first place. Not been the same since. Always trying to change things, do things.” He tore down a dead branch overhanging the path, swishing it violently. “As if I haven’t got enough problems without you pestering. I’m sick of it, do you hear? Sick of it!” His words ended on a shout as he snapped the branch across his knee.
The hens scattered in all directions, squawking, flustered. One rushed panic-stricken into a pile of loose wire netting. I’d left it there this morning when the school bus arrived before I was ready. (Okay, so I was late—same thing.) Anyway, I never finished the job properly.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Dad yelled. “Can’t you do anything right? That’s all we need, a hen with a broken wing.” Grabbing the screeching hen, he marched back toward the house.
“Get on with the chores,” he flung over his shoulder, “and keep out of my way.”
The twisted, choking feeling in my stomach swam up my throat and stuck there. I hadn’t cried since Mum died in a car accident nine years ago, and I wasn’t about to begin now. We used to live on a Devonshire farm back then, but after the funeral we moved north to Yorkshire. It’s been so cold up here. Seems like Dad’s forever mad at someone for taking Mum, and I’m the one who gets it every time things go wrong.
I think he could use a few of those scriptures my teacher’s always quoting—especially the “forgiving” ones. I’m getting an idea what they’re on about.
I had really thought today would be a safe time to ask about the youth convention, though. I’ve never been to one before, and a boy’s 16th birthday should stand for something, surely?
But no such luck. In fact, the only bright moment was getting that card at breakfast. No one had ever bothered before. Come to think of it, no one had ever believed too much in me at all—that is, before this new seminary lady moved in to the branch. She seems to understand that I’m not as slow as I look. Probably because she’s an artist too.

Our family has not been spared the adversities of life. Growing up, I admired large families. Such families felt appealing to me, especially when I found the Church in my teens through my maternal uncle, Sarfo, and his wife in Takoradi, Ghana.
When Hannah and I were married, we desired the fulfillment of our patriarchal blessings, which indicated that we would be blessed with many children. However, prior to the birth of our third boy, it became medically clear that Hannah would not be able to have another baby. Gratefully, though Kenneth was born in a life-threatening situation to both him and his mother, he arrived safely, and his mother recovered. He was able to begin to fully participate in our family life—including Church attendance, daily family prayers, scripture study, home evening, and wholesome recreational activities.
Though we had to adjust our expectations of a large family, it was a joy to put into practice the teachings from “The Family: A Proclamation to the World” with our three beloved children. Following those teachings added much meaning to my growing faith.
As the proclamation states: “Marriage between man and woman is essential to His eternal plan. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity.” As we put these principles into practice, we were blessed.
However, one weekend during my service as a stake president, we experienced perhaps the worst trial parents can face. Our family returned from a Church activity and gathered for lunch. Then our three boys went out within our compound to play.
My wife felt repeated impressions that something might be wrong. She asked me to check on the children while we were washing the dishes. I felt they were safe since we could hear their voices of excitement from their play.
When we both finally went to check on our sons, to our dismay we found little 18-month-old Kenneth helpless in a bucket of water, unseen by his brothers. We rushed him to the hospital, but all attempts to revive him proved futile.
We were devastated that we would not have the opportunity to raise our precious child during this mortal life. Though we knew Kenneth would be part of our family eternally, I found myself questioning why God would let this tragedy happen to me when I was doing all I could to magnify my calling. I had just come home from fulfilling one of my duties in ministering to the Saints. Why couldn’t God look upon my service and save our son and our family from this tragedy? The more I thought about it, the more bitter I became.
My wife never blamed me for not responding to her promptings, but I learned a life-changing lesson and made two rules, never to be broken:
Rule 1: Listen to and heed the promptings of your wife.
Rule 2: If you are not sure for any reason, refer to rule number 1.
Though the experience was shattering and we continue to grieve, our overwhelming burden was eventually eased. My wife and I learned specific lessons from our loss. We came to feel united and bound by our temple covenants; we know we can claim Kenneth as ours in the next world because he was born in the covenant. We also gained experience necessary to minister to others and empathize with their pain. I testify that our bitterness has since dispersed as we exercised faith in the Lord. Our experience continues to be hard, but we have learned with the Apostle Paul that we “can do all things through Christ which [strengthens us]” if we focus on Him.

It was a beautiful shawl. Chi-wee could see that clear across the trader’s store. Dark blue on one side and glowing red on the other, and with a fringe of the same two colors, it looked warm and soft.
Chi-wee also saw the look in her mother’s eyes as she passed her hand over its surface. In Chi-wee’s heart a fierce little voice said: “My mother shall have that shawl.”
It was trading day for Chi-wee and her mother. In the early morning they had come in the wagon of Mah-pee-ti the sheepherder. They carried with them the pottery that Chi-wee’s mother had made to trade at the store for food and clothing.
It had been a long, bumpety ride from the high mesa town to the canyon store, a ride over the wide desert of many-changing colors, up and down sandy washes. But it was a ride that Chi-wee dearly loved and of which she never tired. There were many living things to see on the way: prairie dogs, lizards, horned toads, sheep, and sometimes, away in the distance, an antelope or a gray coyote. And then there was always the excitement of wondering whether Mah-pee-ti’s old wagon would hold together when they jostled down a deep wash and struggled up on the other side. But for as many years as Chi-wee could remember, the wagon had always made it.
Now Chi-wee came close to the shawl and felt it with her fingers. It was soft and very warm. “Will you buy it, Mother?” she asked eagerly, laying her cheek on the soft wool.
Her mother shook her head a little sadly. “No, my little one. We must trade today for food and not for the things we do not need.”
“But you do need a shawl—this shawl!”
“We will not speak of it anymore,” said her mother, turning away. “We have money for food only, my daughter.” Then Mother spoke to the trader of the flour, sugar, and grain that she needed.
Chi-wee stood looking at the shawl. Somehow, my mother shall have this beautiful shawl, she resolved. While her mother carried some of the food out to the wagon, Chi-wee went to the trader. “What is the price of that shawl?”
“Six dollars,” answered the trader with a kindly smile. “It is all wool and very warm.”
“Will you trade it to me for the necklace that I have on. See, the shells are the color of the sky when the sun comes up.”
The trader stooped and looked at it. “It is beautiful. I can give you two dollars for it. But I could not exchange the shawl for it. I’m sorry.”
Chi-wee felt her heart grow very heavy, and all the way home she had no eyes for the lizards, rabbits, and prairie dogs that scuttled out of the way, nor for the tumbleweeds and cactus or the faraway blue buttes. Her mind was busy with plans to earn money for the wonderful shawl. But how could she earn that much money before someone else bought it?
She could weave a little, but that took a long time, and it took money to buy the colored wools. She could try to make pottery, but she knew that she couldn’t make it well enough to sell.
When next they went to the trader’s, Chi-wee looked eagerly for the shawl. Hot tears stung her eyelids when she could not find it. “That beautiful shawl—has it been sold yet?” she asked the trader.
He looked at her for a moment with a puzzled frown on his face. “The shawl?” A look of remembrance came into his eyes as he answered her. “No, it’s still here. Do you want to buy it?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, looking to see that her mother was beyond hearing. “I want to buy it, but I have not all the money right now. Here!” and with trembling fingers she unclasped the little shell necklace and thrust it into his hand. “Could you keep the shawl a little while for me? I will bring more next time.”
“I will keep the shawl for you until the end of next month. If you can bring me the rest of the money by then, you shall have the shawl.” He turned to assist the other customers who had entered his store.
The next few weeks were busy ones for Chi-wee, happy ones too. Had her mother not been occupied with her own work, she might have noticed that Chi-wee made many trips into the desert for which she gave no explanation, and when she returned, she seemed to be hiding something. When the next trading day came, there was a bump under the little girl’s shawl that had not been there on other trips.
When they reached the trading post, she handed the trader a big jar of wild honey. Her heart was beating fast with excitement and happiness. She did not tell of the pain caused by the needle-sharp cactus quills that stuck her fingers or of the painful lumps on her arm from the stings of angry bees. There was just deep pride in her voice as she said: “I have brought this to pay on the shawl.”
There was a look she did not understand in the trader’s eyes as he took the honey. He turned quickly and spoke to a stranger standing nearby holding a parcel. Finally he turned back to her. “I’m sorry, little girl. I waited until the end of the month. When you didn’t come, well, I just sold the shawl to this gentleman. Wouldn’t you like any of the other shawls in trade for your bracelet and honey?”
To Chi-wee it seemed as if the world turned black. Her mother’s shawl had been sold to this stranger! She could not speak. Words would not come. Everything began to swim through the sudden rush of tears. She saw the stranger walk to the door with his bundle under his arm, and the trader turn to attend to those who waited at his counter. She stumbled out of the store and into the waiting wagon with a storm of anger and grief in her heart. But she did not cry anymore. She sat in silence all the way home.
When they reached home, Mother called her to help with the parcels in the wagon. “And take your package,” she said. “The stranger said that you bought it from the trader. With what did you buy it, little daughter?”
Chi-wee opened her eyes wide and stood as still as a statue while her mother placed the package in her arms. Then she tore off the paper. There was the shawl—her mother’s shawl! Attached to one corner was a little card. On it was written: “It is your love for your mother that has bought this shawl, little girl of the mesa. And it is my love for a little girl like you that gives you back your precious treasure.” And there, beside the shawl, wrapped in a bit of paper, was her pink shell necklace. Now Chi-wee cried hard—but the tears were tears of happiness as she gave the shawl to her mother.

Building relationships—as well as cutting down some unwanted trees—is in full swing where a third group of youth are stationed. Todd Swenson, age 17, is here, and he’s a little tired from pulling up roots and clearing leaves. But his attitude is not the least bit tiresome. “This is my first time doing anything like this, but I want to do it again. I think it makes the people we are helping feel that they have friends, that someone is looking out for them,” Todd says.
Ben Mullins, age 14, agrees. “I hope it makes them feel that Church members like to help other people. It also gives me a better attitude about serving.”
Besides, according to Heather Swenson, there’s not much better to do on a Saturday. “I can spare one Saturday. I’ve got a lot of time left in my life to help other people. I need to use that time well.”

A true story from the USA.
I lean back on my heels and look at the yard. There is a line of dark soil against the side of the Johnsons’ house where Mom and I just planted flower bulbs. I pat the soil and sigh.
“Thanks for helping plant those,” Mom says.
I look at my hands, covered in dirt, and don’t say anything. I’m thinking about Celeste Johnson. Celeste, who used to live in this house. Celeste, who was almost exactly the same age as me. Celeste, who came with me to Primary. We played together and went to each other’s birthday parties. Sometimes we’d set up a tent in her backyard and pretend we were camping. She was my best friend.
Celeste’s gone now. She died in a car accident a few months ago. My family and I cried a lot. Celeste was our friend, and we knew we would miss her. We cried because Celeste’s dad had gotten hurt in the car accident. We cried because Celeste’s family was sad.
I really wanted to help Celeste’s family. I gave a stuffed animal to Celeste’s younger sister, Ella. I also helped some people from the ward make gifts for Celeste’s family. I wanted them to know they were loved.
When I went to Celeste’s funeral, I sat close to friends from church. We sang Celeste’s favorite Primary song, “Faith,” about how we can live with God again. It reminded me I’ll see Celeste again. At the cemetery, I placed a flower on top of the casket. Everyone who knew Celeste was still sad. We missed her. But when I prayed and fasted, I felt less sad. Reading scriptures and talking with friends from church helped too.
Today, we came to visit the Johnsons to help them plant flower bulbs in their yard. The bulbs are small and brown right now. I don’t know exactly what they’ll look like in the spring, but they’re supposed to be pretty.
Mom has been watching me and says, “Do you know what I like about bulbs?”
I shake my head. The sun is bright, and I have to squint to look at her. “What?”
“The flowers from these bulbs die in the winter, but they always come back in the spring,” she says. “They remind me of the resurrection. You can’t see the flowers after they’ve died, but that doesn’t mean they’re gone. Just like Celeste and all of us when we die. Because of Jesus Christ, we will all be resurrected and live again.”
I look at the mounds of dirt. The bulbs will grow, and grow, and push away the dirt. I know that by spring they will be beautiful flowers, and I know that I will see Celeste again.
I lean over the dirt where the bulbs are planted and blow a kiss. “See you in the spring!” I whisper.

“It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” Heather called to her mother, who looked up from feeding her little sister Beth. When Peter comes home, maybe I can go out and play in the snow with him, Heather thought.
Heather remembered last year when everyone told her she was too little to help build a snowman. But not this year! she decided. Heather eagerly looked out the window, waiting for her brother to come home.
Seeing him coming down the driveway, she opened the door. “Let’s build a snowman,” she shouted as he ran inside.
“Sounds great to me,” said Peter with a smile. “Go get your coat and boots on.”
Peter’s friends Sharon and David came over to help, but they didn’t let Heather join the fun. Even when she tried to stick a piece of coal on the head for the snowman’s eyes, Peter said, “No, Heather, you can’t reach. Let me do it.”
Dad brought Beth outside to see the snowman. “Dad, they won’t let me help,” complained Heather.
“Well, I’m sorry, dear, but it looks like the snowman’s finished.”
After supper Dad tried to explain to Peter that Heather was growing bigger every year and that he needed to include her in doing some things. And he tried to explain to Heather that other people forget sometimes when little brothers or sisters are getting old enough to play with older ones.
Heather went to bed right after supper. She listened to the wind blowing outside and watched the snowflakes swirl through the air wherever the wind took them. Soon she was fast asleep.
The next morning, Heather and Peter went to join their friends outside. They soon discovered that during the night the wind had blown the snowman’s hat away!
“Every snowman needs a hat,” Sharon said. “It’s just not a snowman without a hat.”
The children looked everywhere for the hat, but it was not in sight. “We’ll have to spread out,” said Peter. “Each one take a different direction.”
Heather thought about the snowflakes she had watched last night. Although they had made circles of all sizes as they swirled up and around, they seemed to blow mostly in one direction, toward David’s house. She headed that way. I have to find that hat! she decided. If I do, maybe Peter will see how big I am.
Heather walked for a long time. She even went past David’s house, before she saw Mr. Snowman’s hat hanging high on a limb in the oak tree.
How can I get it down? she wondered. Then she had an idea. A snowball!
Heather made a snowball and threw it at the hat. After four tries the hat fell. Heather picked it up and ran to find Peter.
Peter, Sharon, and David were back at the snowman. They were looking sad. “Maybe we could get another hat or something,” suggested David.
“We don’t have to,” Heather called as she held the hat up for them to see.
Sharon started to take the hat from Heather, but Peter stopped her. “If Heather’s big enough to find the hat, she’s big enough to put it on.”
And that’s exactly what she did!