Gospel Story Finder

As part of the Rise and Reach summer programme, on August 15, September 3, and October 24 of 2020, a group consisting of youth, young single adults and full-time missionaries of the Church in Walworth, London, undertook service projects for Thames Reach at three different sites. Thames Reach is a charitable organisation that supports homeless and vulnerable individuals, some with mental health concerns, to access housing, training, and employment opportunities.

For various reasons, including the national lockdown caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, no gardening had taken place at the charity’s sites for a long time and so the gardens were much in need of care. Thus, when the offer of help was made, Amy, the manager of facilities for Thames Reach readily accepted.

The tasks for the volunteers involved cutting back overgrown foliage, tree branches, weeds, and litter-picking around the properties. The efforts of volunteers resulted in very noticeable differences in the appearance of the gardens.

Amy was delighted with the results. She remarked that finally the residents would be able to use the gardens again. She said the residents were very pleased with the transformation. Thanks to the tremendous hard work of this group of volunteers, the residents at the homes could now enjoy their outdoor spaces more fully.

All my life I’ve had difficulty adjusting to new places and making new friends. A few years ago, my family and I moved. After being in our new home for only a couple of days, we rose early to attend church on Sunday. I didn’t know a soul, but a few girls from Young Women came up and greeted me. Everyone was very friendly that first Sunday, but I still felt a twinge of loneliness and longing for my old friends.
A couple of months later, I prepared to go to girls’ camp. The first few days were filled with physical, mental, and spiritual activities that drew me away from my personal worries as I enjoyed myself. But sitting on my bunk during a break time, I felt the strain brim over, and I quietly cried. I didn’t understand why we had had to move and break away from all that was familiar to me.
After we shared our testimonies while munching on s’mores by the fire that night, I went up to the cabin with all the other girls to go to bed. As I came to the door, a tall Laurel turned around and said kindly, “Let’s have a good-night hug!” As I embraced her, I could feel tears welling up inside me again, but they weren’t tears of self-pity. They were tears of appreciation and gratitude. She cheerfully said good night and left, but the feeling she’d brought with her stayed. I can still feel it now, three years later. I just want to say, “Thank you immensely, and may the Lord bless you!”

The sun shone fiercely on a hot summer day in Salt Lake City, Utah. There was some problem underneath the street near the home of President George Albert Smith, and several workmen from the city had come to fix it.
The workmen were not very careful with their language. They were swearing and using terrible language as the sun beat down on their backs.
Very few people had air-conditioning in their homes in the late 1940s, so nearly everybody had their windows open, hoping to catch any breeze that might cool them. After a while, the neighbors could hardly stand to listen to the workers’ words any longer. One of them walked over to where the workmen were digging and asked them to be more considerate. He pointed out that the Church President, George Albert Smith, lived nearby—couldn’t they show some respect for him and keep quiet, please?
At that, the men let loose with a new string of bad words and spoke even more loudly than before.
Quietly President Smith scurried around in his kitchen and prepared some ice-cold lemonade. He placed some glasses and the full pitcher on a tray, carried it out to the workmen, and said, “My friends, you look so hot and tired. Why don’t you come and sit under my trees here and have a cool drink?”
Their anger gone, the men responded to the kindness with meekness and appreciation. After their pleasant little break, the men went back to their labor and finished their work carefully and quietly.
George Albert Smith believed in treating others with courtesy regardless of how they treated him. On that hot summer day in Salt Lake City he handled a difficult situation with kindness and great wisdom.

Let us go back to the year 1805, on the 23rd day of December, in the town of Sharon, Vermont. Will you accompany me as we look back on those dramatic events taking place on that day? As Joseph Smith Sr. and his wife, Lucy Mack, proudly looked down upon the little baby who had come into their home, I’m certain they were pleased and most grateful. A choice spirit had come to dwell in its earthly tabernacle.
Some have asked, “Did he have an unusual childhood or boyhood?” “Was the Prophet Joseph different from me or my brothers?” I think we could gain insight into the childhood of the Prophet by reading the words of his mother. She said, “I am aware that some of my readers will be disappointed, for … it is thought by some that I shall be likely to tell many very remarkable incidents which attended his childhood; but, as nothing occurred during his early life except those trivial circumstances which are common to that state of human existence, I pass them in silence.”1 This is all we have from the boy’s mother concerning his early childhood activities.
During his early youth, however, ill health and ill fortune seemed to pursue the family. When young Joseph was seven years old, he and his brothers and sisters were stricken with typhus fever. The others recovered readily, but Joseph was left with a painful sore on his leg. The doctors, doing the best they could under the conditions of the time, treated him—and yet the sore persisted. Finally the doctors were afraid they were going to have to amputate his leg.
Thankfully, however, one day the doctors came unexpectedly to the home and told the family they were going to try a new operation to remove a piece of the bone, hoping this would permit the sore to heal. They had brought with them some cord and planned to tie Joseph to the bed because they had no anesthetic, nothing to dull the pain, when they cut into his leg to remove the piece of bone.
Young Joseph, however, responded, “I will not be bound, for I can bear the operation much better if I have my liberty.”
The doctors then said, “Will you take some wine? … You must take something, or you can never endure the severe operation.”
Again the boy prophet said, “No, … but I will tell you what I will do—I will have my father sit on the bed and hold me in his arms, and then I will do whatever is necessary in order to have the bone taken out.”
So Joseph Smith Sr. held the boy in his arms, and the doctors opened the leg and removed the diseased piece of bone. Although he was lame for some time afterward, Joseph was healed.2 At seven years of age, the Prophet Joseph Smith taught us courage—by example.
When Joseph was in his 11th year, his family, which now consisted of 11 souls, left Vermont and moved to Palmyra, New York. Four years later they moved to Manchester, located in the same county. It was here that Joseph described the great religious revival that seemed everywhere present and of prime concern to every heart.
These are his words: “So great were the confusion and strife among the different denominations, that it was impossible for a person young as I was, and so unacquainted with men and things, to come to any certain conclusion who was right and who was wrong. …
“While I was laboring under the extreme difficulties caused by the contests of these parties of religionists, I was one day reading the Epistle of James, first chapter and fifth verse, which reads: If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him” (JS—H 1:8, 11).
The Prophet said that after reading this verse he knew for a certainty he must either put the Lord to the test and ask Him or perhaps choose to remain in darkness forever. He declared that as he retired to the grove to pray, this was the first time he had attempted to pray vocally to his Heavenly Father. But he had read the scripture, he had understood the scripture, he had trusted in God his Eternal Father; and now he knelt and prayed, knowing that God would give him the enlightenment which he so earnestly sought. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught us the principle of faith—by example.
Can you imagine the ridicule, the scorn, the mocking that all of his young friends, his older friends, and his foes alike must have heaped upon him as he mentioned that he had seen a vision?
I suppose it became almost unbearable for the boy, and yet he was honest with himself, for these are his words: “I had actually seen a light, and in the midst of that light I saw two Personages, and they did in reality speak to me; and though I was hated and persecuted for saying that I had seen a vision, yet it was true; and while they were persecuting me, reviling me, and speaking all manner of evil against me falsely for so saying, I was led to say in my heart: Why persecute me for telling the truth? I have actually seen a vision; and who am I that I can withstand God, or why does the world think to make me deny what I have actually seen? For I had seen a vision; I knew it, and I knew that God knew it, and I could not deny it” (JS—H 1:25).
The Prophet Joseph Smith taught honesty—by example.
The Prophet Joseph was truly blessed with the ability to inspire faith. One bright morning Joseph walked up to John E. Page and said, “Brother John, the Lord is calling you on a mission to Canada.”
John E. Page was rather astonished and said, “Why, Brother Joseph, I can’t go on a mission to Canada. I don’t even have a coat to wear.”
The Prophet Joseph took his own coat from his back, handed it to John Page, and said, “Here, John, wear this, and the Lord will bless you.” Brother Page took the coat, went to Canada, and in two years walked 5,000 miles and baptized 600 souls, because he trusted in the words of a prophet of God.3
The Prophet Joseph believed in missionary work. While he and Sidney Rigdon were proselyting at Perrysburg, New York, October 12, 1833, having been long absent from their families and feeling concerned for them, they received the following revelation:
“Verily, thus saith the Lord unto you, my friends Sidney and Joseph, your families are well; they are in mine hands, and I will do with them as seemeth me good; for in me there is all power. …
“Therefore, verily I say unto you, lift up your voices unto this people” (D&C 100:1, 5).
Joseph and Sidney continued their missionary labors.
Joseph Smith not only inspired men to volunteer for missions, but he also taught the importance of missionary work—by example.
I think one of the sweetest lessons taught by the Prophet, and yet one of the saddest, occurred close to the time of his death. He was required to leave his plan and vision of the Rocky Mountains and give himself up to face a court of supposed justice.
These are his words: “I am going like a lamb to the slaughter; but I am calm as a summer’s morning; I have a conscience void of offense towards God, and towards all men” (D&C 135:4). That statement of the Prophet teaches us obedience to law and the importance of having a clear conscience toward God and toward our fellowmen. The Prophet Joseph Smith taught these principles—by example.
There was to be one great final lesson before his mortal life ended. He was incarcerated in Carthage Jail with his brother Hyrum, with John Taylor, and with Willard Richards. The angry mob stormed the jail; they came up the stairway, blasphemous in their cursing, heavily armed, and began to fire at will. Hyrum was hit and died. John Taylor took several balls of fire within his bosom. The Prophet Joseph, with his pistol in hand, was attempting to defend his life and that of his brethren, and yet he could tell from the pounding on the door that this mob would storm that door and would kill John Taylor and Willard Richards in an attempt to kill him.
And so his last great act here upon the earth was to leave the door and lead Willard Richards to safety, throw the gun on the floor, and go to the window, that they might see him, that the attention of this ruthless mob might be focused upon him rather than the others. Joseph Smith gave his life. Willard Richards was spared, and John Taylor recovered from his wounds. “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13). The Prophet Joseph Smith taught us love—by example.
I pray we may learn from his example, that we might incorporate into our lives the great principles he so beautifully taught.

As a convert in 1972, I became inactive for over 20 years. I became active again about 10 years ago and have been sealed in the temple to my husband, also a convert. I loved President Hinckley and felt that no prophet could take his place. As President Monson was offered for our sustaining vote, I felt angry and somewhat bitter, because I didn’t think he could do the job. Oh, how stiffnecked I was! When President Monson rose to speak, I looked into his eyes and watched his every movement. There was the very same sparkle and gleam in his eyes that had been in my beloved President Hinckley’s! I was overcome with joy and recognition of the presence of the Holy Spirit in this man—my new prophet, seer, and revelator.
Mary Lou R., New Mexico, USA

A vital part of that loving is listening. I know what listening really is, because I have had the blessed experience.
I used to farm with my dad. I didn’t always enjoy it, but when lunchtime came we’d sit in the shade of the tall poplar trees, eat our lunch, and talk. My dad didn’t use this as a golden teaching moment to lay down the law and straighten out his daughter. We just talked—about anything and everything.
This was the time I could ask questions. I felt so safe I could even ask questions that might provoke him. I remember asking him, “Why did you embarrass me in front of my friends last week when I had stayed out too late and you came and got me?”
His answer leads to another aspect of love. He wasn’t being arbitrary. There were certain standards of behavior I was expected to live. He said, “Having you out late worried me. Above all, I want you safe.” I realized his love for me was stronger than his desire for sleep or the inconvenience of getting dressed and driving down the road looking for me.
Whether it is a hayfield or other casual places, those times together can fill the reservoir for other times that may not be as idyllic and serene. Relationships stay intact with this kind of investment—in spite of hard doctrine and correction—or maybe because of it.
Love is listening when they are ready to talk—midnight, 6 A.M. on their way to seminary, or when you’re busy with your urgencies. Have you seen the Church spot on television showing a darkened bedroom? The door opens, and in walks a little girl with a book under her arm. She goes over to where her dad is sound asleep and asks, “Daddy, will you read me a story?” The dad doesn’t open his eyes; he just mumbles in his sleep, “Oh, honey, Daddy is so tired. Ask Mommy.” The little girl patters over to where her mother is sleeping and asks, “Mommy, can Daddy read me a story?” You see the dad’s eyes pop open, and the next picture shows all three of them together, and Dad is reading a story.
Loving may come naturally, but leading is a polished skill that maybe we don’t take seriously enough. We lead by example more strongly than any other way. That is a heavy burden for parents and leaders of youth.
Can our young people tell by the way we live and talk and pray that we love the Lord? Do they know that their Father in Heaven is a God of love by the way they feel when they are with us? Can they feel secure that we will not be moved by every wind of doctrine or the craftiness of social pressure and worldly acceptance? (see Eph. 4:14).
If we are going to lead in righteousness, there can’t be any question where we stand. Small uncertainties on our part can produce large uncertainties in our youth.
I wonder sometimes if we as mothers are the ones who make our children feel the pressure to be popular and accepted. Educating our desires so our standards are the Lord’s standards sends a clear message that in the Lord’s kingdom there are no double standards.
Following President Hinckley’s talk to the youth last November, a young woman reported to her mother that her Young Women leader had removed her second set of earrings. These scrutinizing young people notice. They notice how short your shorts are or if you had to tuck and pin to wear that blouse; they notice what you wear (or don’t wear) when you are working in your yard; they notice which line you are standing in at the movie theater.
We have made covenants with the Lord, and leading often tests the level of our commitment to those covenants.
A young mother said, “It takes an enormous amount of time and energy to be a good parent. It is easier to let my children fall asleep in front of the television while I pick up the house and then put them to bed than it is to read the scriptures to them, have prayers and stories, and tuck them in. But they look forward to this evening ritual, and I know this investment, even when I’m too tired to move, will pay eternal dividends.” Consistent leading helps youth make wise choices, and our trust in them increases.
I remember when I was about 16 years old overhearing Mom talking to Dad. She was concerned about some choices I was making. I was not guilty of any sin more serious than the immaturity of youth, but Mom was worried. What Dad said seared into my heart. “Don’t worry,” he said to Mom. “I trust Sharon, and I know she’ll do the right thing.” Those hours in the hayfield paid off then and there. From that moment on I was bound to those loving, trusting parents.
One of the greatest tests for parents and leaders is to love the one who seems to be unlovable. This is tough duty. It stretches the heartstrings and wrenches the soul. When heartbroken parents pray for help, the help often comes in the form of angel aunts or uncles, grandmas or grandpas, good friends, and leaders surrounding our loved one. They can reinforce our very message that may put our child on the track we’ve been praying for.
Loving wisely and leading purposefully will help stem the tide of wickedness as we prepare the next generation for the exhilarating delights of parenthood. We never forget the joys of our 12-year-old when he first passes the sacrament or hearing the sacramental prayer given in the voice of our son. How do you explain the feeling of hearing your daughter bear her testimony of the Savior or watching her receive her Young Womanhood medallion?
We catch a glimpse of heaven when we are in the temple with our child who is kneeling across the altar with a worthy companion. They are prepared to start a life together of promise and accomplishments that we have helped to nurture. This is harvest time.
I close with my testimony that we are not alone in this sacred trust of parenting, loving, and leading. There is no greater joy. It is worth every sacrifice, every inconvenient minute, every ounce of patience, personal discipline, and endurance. “If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Rom. 8:31). In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I dragged myself into the dark bedroom, tempted to collapse onto the bed and immediately drift to sleep. My eyes seemed to weigh me down, and my feet felt like lead. I wanted to crawl under my covers, but my desire for an answer to my prayer was greater. I knew I must once again approach the Lord.
I knelt at my bedside and silently pondered the things I was about to ask my Heavenly Father. Would He really answer me this time? Did I deserve to be answered? As I felt my faith wavering, I chose to focus my attention on the countless lessons I had learned in my life, instead of on my doubts. One scripture in particular stood out to me.
“But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him” (Heb. 11:6).
I wanted to know that Joseph Smith was a real prophet. I wanted to know for myself that he truly saw Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ in the Sacred Grove. As a Latter-day Saint, I felt a strong testimony of Joseph Smith was a vital part of my foundation in the Church. I mustered all the faith I could find within my soul by focusing on the times the Lord had shown His hand in my life. I began asking Heavenly Father to help me really know what I had only believed all my life.
I knew the only way for me to receive this knowledge was by the Holy Ghost telling me it was true. I wasn’t sure I had received that type of communication. How would I know the Holy Ghost was talking to me? Would I hear a voice? Would I feel a burning in my bosom like the scriptures say? I didn’t know, but I continued to pray. I sat silently and tried to listen for the whisperings of the Spirit. I didn’t hear a voice, and I didn’t feel anything unusual. Discouraged, I crawled into bed and fell asleep, telling myself I would get my answer tomorrow night.
The obnoxious beep of my alarm clock rang in my ear at 5:30 the next morning. I reluctantly got up and started getting ready for seminary. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the church parking lot.
As I walked into my classroom, my teacher was pulling a television into the center of the room. I quickly took a seat on a cold, folding chair near the back. I had obviously missed the introduction to the video we were about to watch. However, once the movie started to play, I recognized it quickly. It was “The First Vision,” produced by the Church. I had seen it a number of times and thought I understood all there was to learn from it. But as I watched Joseph’s experience in the grove, something incredible happened to me. A powerful, peaceful feeling rested on me and I knew it was the Holy Ghost. The Spirit began to testify that what I was seeing really happened. I knew that Joseph Smith saw Heavenly Father and Jesus.
I was surprised. I was not expecting my answer to come that morning. I thought it would come while I was praying. The Spirit spoke to me, and I knew this was the answer I had been asking for. I’m very grateful for the way Heavenly Father answered my prayer. I now have a strong testimony of the Prophet Joseph Smith. I know if I exercise faith by reading the scriptures and praying, I can receive personal revelation through the Holy Ghost.

1 The Prophet Joseph Smith was a tall, strong man. He grew up on a farm and spent many hours clearing the land and planting crops with his father and brothers.
2 The Prophet loved spending time with young people. One of his favorite activities was wrestling. In those days, wrestling consisted mostly of trying to throw your opponent off balance.
3 One day Joseph noticed a crowd of enthusiastic young men and boys. When he got closer, he saw that they were wrestling. He decided to join them.
4 There was one especially large fellow who seemed to be the champion. He was proud of the fact that no one had thrown him, and he was eager to wrestle the Prophet.
5 The match had scarcely begun when the champion found himself being carried by his collar and the seat of his pants to a nearby ditch, where Joseph dropped him.
6 As the crowd yelled and cheered, Joseph helped the young man to his feet, patted him on his back, and said, “You must not mind this. When I am with the boys, I make all the fun I can for them.”
7 Although he was the first President of the Church and a very busy man, Joseph Smith knew that taking time to be friendly with others was important.

“I joined a Christian Facebook group and posted about feeling God’s love,” Sister Ashton Petty said. “Within 24 hours I had about 200 comments. One comment in particular stood out to me. I messaged him individually, and he told me he didn’t deserve to feel God’s love. I told him about the infinite Atonement of Jesus Christ. Eventually he was baptized. On your social media accounts, testify of God’s love, because you never know who needs to hear it.”

Not long after that, I ran into a different set of missionaries. I was shocked that God would hear and answer the prayers of a boy like me, until I read about Joseph Smith. I had read in the New Testament to pray always, but God appearing to a man? It felt both radical and right. Rather than run away, I set up an appointment to have them teach me.
A month into meeting with the missionaries, they invited me to be baptized. I didn’t want to turn them down, but I was hesitant to leave the tradition of my parents and everyone around me. There were two paths before me, and I knew there was only one way to know which one to take—I had to pray like Joseph Smith. I asked Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ, if the things the missionaries had been teaching me were true.
That was my turning point. From then on, I knew for myself that the restored gospel is true. No one could take that knowledge away from me. I knew which path to follow, and nothing could change that.

Recently a stake president shared with me a tender story. Both the Relief Society and the priesthood had been working with a family in their stake but had failed to make progress with the parents. Primary leaders found the answer. Permission was given by the parents for their young daughter to attend Primary. Their one condition was that she had to want to go badly enough to get there on her own. Rides to church could not be provided. Because she had to go through a rough part of town, the ward council saw to it that someone would drive along beside her as she rode an old bicycle to church.

Through summer heat, through rain and even snow, she persisted in going to church. At Christmastime, a family in the ward gave this faithful little girl a new 10-speed bicycle. This so touched the parents that they too began attending church. This young girl was baptized. What made the baptism even more special was that it was performed by the newest priest in the ward, her recently activated father.

Miranda hurried through the front door, thankful that her house was cooler than the hot summer weather outside. She was sweaty from playing her last soccer game of the season and frustrated because the Teal Turbos had lost. Again.
Mom came into the room carrying a water bottle and a bag of leftover orange slices from the game. “You played a great game. Being goalie is a rough job.”
Miranda had played well—she had blocked a lot of shots and kicked harder than usual. But most of the other girls on her team had never played soccer before, and today made it official: they had lost every game this season.
“I just wish I could be on a team that won once in a while, you know?” A few tears leaked out of the corners of Miranda’s eyes and fell onto her blue-green jersey. As she squeezed her eyes shut, the phone rang.
Mom picked up the phone and after a moment said, “It’s for you.”
“Hi, Miranda? This is Tom, coach of the Chili Kickers. I was watching your game today. You looked great out there.”
Miranda’s heart started beating faster. The Chili Kickers was the best soccer team in the league!
“Our team is going to the regional championship games next month. You played so well today that I want you to come with us as a back-up goalie.”
Miranda’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest. This was her chance to play with a winning team!
“I’d love to come!” Miranda said. They talked for a few minutes about the details before she hung up and ran into the other room to tell Mom. Together they started writing the dates of the practices and games on the family calendar.
Suddenly Mom stopped writing, her pen hovering above one of the calendar squares.
“Uh-oh. Miranda, these games are on Sundays. Here, look.” She pointed to the game schedule and turned to Miranda with a worried frown. “What do you think we should do?”
Miranda’s heart sank, and she bit her lip as she thought about her options. Mom might let her play if she asked, but when she thought about playing on Sunday—and especially about missing church—she got a sick feeling in her stomach. She knew Sunday was for going to church and worshipping Heavenly Father, and she couldn’t really do those things while playing soccer.
“I think I should probably call him back and tell him I can’t play,” Miranda said. She tried hard not to cry. Even though she knew it was the right choice, it was hard to give up something she wanted so badly.
“And you know what I think?” Mom said, giving her a big hug. “I think you are one great kid.”
That Sunday, as Miranda sat in Primary, she thought about the good decision she had made. The coach was surprised when Miranda had called and said she couldn’t play soccer on Sundays. He had tried to get her to change her mind, but she had stuck with her decision. Now, as she listened to the Primary songs and lessons, Miranda smiled. The peaceful feeling in her heart told her that she was in the right place. She’d made a winning decision after all.

Harry de Leyer was late to the auction on that snowy day in 1956, and all of the good horses had already been sold. The few that remained were old and spent and had been bought by a company that would salvage them.
Harry, the riding master at a girls’ school in New York, was about to leave when one of these horses—an uncared-for, gray gelding with ugly-looking wounds on its legs—caught his eye. The animal still bore the marks that had been made by a heavy work harness, evidence to the hard life he had led. But something about him captured Harry’s attention, so he offered $80 for him.
It was snowing when Harry’s children saw the horse for the first time, and because of the coat of snow on the horse’s back, the children named him “Snowman.”
Harry took good care of the horse, which turned out to be a gentle and reliable friend—a horse the girls liked to ride because he was steady and didn’t startle like some of the others. In fact, Snowman made such rapid improvement that a neighbor purchased him for twice what Harry had originally paid.
But Snowman kept disappearing from the neighbor’s pasture—sometimes ending up in adjoining potato fields, other times back at Harry’s. It appeared that the horse must have jumped over the fences between the properties, but that seemed impossible—Harry had never seen Snowman jump over anything much higher than a fallen log.
But eventually, the neighbor’s patience came to an end, and he insisted Harry take back the horse.
For years, Harry’s great dream had been to produce a champion jumping horse. He’d had moderate success in the past, but in order to compete at the highest levels, he knew he would have to buy a pedigreed horse that had been specifically bred to jump. And that kind of pedigree would cost far more than he could afford.
Snowman was already getting old—he was eight when Harry had purchased him—and he had been badly treated. But, apparently, Snowman wanted to jump, so Harry decided to see what the horse could do.
What Harry saw made him think that maybe his horse had a chance to compete.
In 1958, Harry entered Snowman in his first competition. Snowman stood among the beautifully bred, champion horses, looking very much out of place. Other horse breeders called Snowman a “flea-bitten gray.”
But a wonderful, unbelievable thing happened that day.
Snowman won!
Harry continued to enter Snowman in other competitions, and Snowman continued to win.
Audiences cheered every time Snowman won an event. He became a symbol of how extraordinary an ordinary horse could be. He appeared on television. Stories and books were written about him.
As Snowman continued to win, one buyer offered $100,000 for the old plow horse, but Harry would not sell. In 1958 and 1959, Snowman was named “Horse of the Year.” Eventually, the gray gelding—who had once been marked for sale to a low bidder—was inducted into the show jumping Hall of Fame.
For many, Snowman was much more than a horse. He became an example of the hidden, untapped potential that lies within each of us.
As illustrated in the story of an old, discarded horse that had within him the soul of a champion, there is within each of us a divine spark of greatness. Who knows of what we are capable if we only try? The abundant life is within our reach if only we will drink deeply of living water, fill our hearts with love, and create of our lives a masterpiece.

“When I was six years old, I had an experience that is very important to me. I’m afraid that I didn’t come out of it as a hero—exactly the opposite. Most of the time we’re not heroes. We are learning, progressing, correcting our mistakes. This incident really taught me about the consequences of dishonesty. In Germany at that time, if teachers wanted to send information to parents, they sent home a letter. Such a letter was always sent in a blue envelope, and so it was nicknamed the ‘blue letter.’ A blue letter always contained bad news! I must have done something wrong at school, because I got a blue letter. I put it in my school bag, and when I got home, my mother asked, ‘What’s wrong with you?’

“I lied. ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’

“She said, ‘Well, I see by the tip of your nose that something’s wrong.’

“That made me angry and very defensive, so after lunch I went into the living room and opened up my school bag and put everything on the desk. I must have been careless, because the blue letter fell out. My mother immediately saw it and asked, ‘What’s that?’ I tried to grab the envelope and hide it, but Mother had already picked it up and was opening it.

“I will never forget the feelings of pain that came over me while she was reading that letter. To make a mistake is one thing, but it isn’t a really serious mistake if you admit it, ask for forgiveness, and make a commitment not to do it again. But to try to hide a mistake, hoping that nobody will find out, that’s a serious mistake.

“And so the lie caused me much more sorrow than the original mistake. I can’t even remember what was in that blue letter, but I still recall, in vivid detail, the awfulness of lying to my mother.”

Scouts and leaders from the Elk Grove Third Ward, Sacramento California South Stake, navigated 111 miles of the Sacramento River by canoe. The six-day trip allowed the young men to earn merit badges and several awards including the 50-Miler Award and the river runner’s patch.
Although no severe rapids were encountered, there was enough fast water and whirlpools to make the trip exciting. Each night a campsite was set up on the river bank, where the Scouts worked toward cooking, camping, canoeing, nature, swimming, pioneering, and wilderness survival merit badges. The group made special stops at a state historical park and at a fish ladder, adding to the excitement of the trip.
Scouts found opportunities to use their knowledge of knots and lashing when they erected makeshift sails to take advantage of the north wind that blew for two days.

My wife, Everjoyce, and I are from the small town of Mutare, on the eastern border of Zimbabwe. Soon after we were baptized and confirmed, we became excited about doing missionary work. We read that “the field is white already to harvest” (D&C 33:7), and even though we didn’t know a lot about how to be missionaries, we decided we needed to “thrust in [our] sickles, and reap with all [our] might, mind, and strength.”
We were members of the newly created Dangamvura Branch located in one of the townships of Mutare. At that time, 1991, the branch had 25 members. Soon we were called as branch missionaries. We learned a lot from a senior missionary couple serving in our area. One suggestion they made was that we set goals.
We wanted to share the gospel with everyone, so we set the goal of sharing it with 100 people during the first year we were branch missionaries. Maybe we were naïve, but it seemed realistic to us. We trusted that the Lord would help us.
By singing hymns at Church meetings, we discovered that we had a hidden talent for music. We decided to use our talents, so we started singing for—and with—people who showed interest in the gospel as we met to teach them. The Spirit accompanied us as we sang sacred music, and He touched the hearts of those we were teaching. So did the message of the restored gospel. We encouraged everyone to join our branch choir, and many did, whether they were Latter-day Saints or not. As more people learned about the gospel, many entered the waters of baptism.
As we continued our missionary efforts, we continued to fast and pray for the families who had joined the Church. We felt that others in the community were witnessing these families’ righteous examples. We received more and more invitations to teach families, and our teaching pool filled with prospective members.
As a result of learning and living the gospel, newly baptized couples became closer and more loving. Parents were able to leave behind traditions that were not compatible with gospel culture. They abstained from alcohol and tobacco. They taught their children correct principles. Many who had been overly absorbed in worldly things in the past were now able to accept callings in the Church. They became a blessing to their branch and their community. The hand of the Lord brought a mighty change to their lives.
With the Lord’s help, we ended up sharing the gospel with many more than our original goal. Because we were willing to look for ways we could reach out to others, we were able to witness a mighty change in the lives of many in our whole community.

I am the oldest of four children. When I was 10 years old, my sisters Kathleen and Kyla, my brother David, and I often scattered our toys around the house. To help us be more responsible, our parents bought us a cabinet. We liked to arrange our toys in the cabinet. Every morning before leaving for school, we checked to see if our toys were in their proper places. Kyla, who was three years old then, didn’t attend school yet.
One afternoon when we returned from school, we were horrified to find the toy cabinet empty. We called Kyla and demanded to know where our toys were. She pointed behind the bedroom door. There we saw our toys in a careless heap, some of them damaged.
I was so angry that I ordered Kyla out of the room. After we put our toys back in the cabinet, I took a pen and paper and wrote in bold letters “Kyla is not allowed to enter this room!” I stuck it on our bedroom door, and we called Kyla to read it. She didn’t know how to read yet, but she pretended she could, reading loudly, “J. J., I love you, from Kyla.”
I felt my cheeks turn red with shame. Kyla had shown me love despite my being angry with her. I will never forget that experience. Whenever I am tempted to be angry, it humbles me. Kyla taught me that we don’t have to be grown-ups to try to be like Jesus. We can start now.

During the first three years after my mission, I took and passed three entrance examinations, but I wasn’t readmitted to medical school. During those same three years, I couldn’t find a job. I was tempted to believe that some of my friends and family members might have been right and that it was a mistake to have forfeited my admission to medical school.
On my mission I learned to cast my burden on the Lord, so I let Him direct my life according to His will. As soon as I did, things started working out for me—but not as I had planned.
One fast Sunday I decided to fast and intently pray for the Lord’s help. That evening a knock came at the door. When I opened the door, I was astonished to see an acquaintance I had met during security training I had attended six months before. He told me that an opportunity for a security operative had opened in a company his elder brother worked for and that the company urgently needed to fill the position. I was the only person who came to his mind.
The next day the company hired me. That singular experience confirmed to me that Heavenly Father had not abandoned me and that I needed to trust in Him. The job proved to be a springboard to other jobs.

“I have a surprise!” Ema (Mom) said when she picked Rasmus up from school. They walked together down the narrow streets lined with colorful buildings.
“Rosolje for dinner?” Rasmus guessed hopefully. They had eaten it just last week for his seventh birthday. But he could always eat more beet-and-potato salad with pickled herring!
Ema shook her head with a smile. “I met two young women on the bus this morning. Missionaries. They’re coming to visit tonight to talk about their church.”
Rasmus looked up curiously. He had never met missionaries before.
He was in his bedroom playing with his fire truck when the missionaries came. “Tere! Tere! Hello!” they greeted Ema as they walked into the apartment. They removed their heavy boots and put on the house slippers Ema kept for visitors. Ema led them to the orange couch. But Rasmus hung back by the door.
The taller woman noticed him and smiled. Her black name tag said Õde Craig (Sister Craig). “Your mother told us you just had a birthday,” she said. “We brought you something.” She held out a small card. Rasmus looked at it closely.
It was a picture of a man. He wore a white robe, and his hand was stretched out.
“Do you know who that is?” Õde Craig asked.
Rasmus didn’t know the man’s name. He had never seen this picture before. But the man looked kind and powerful. “I think he’s a king!” Rasmus said.
Both missionaries smiled. “Yes, He is! He is the King of kings! His name is Jesus Christ.” Õde Craig pulled out a book with a blue cover. “And this is a book that teaches about Him, the Mormoni Raamat. The Book of Mormon.”
He and Ema began reading the Book of Mormon every day before he went to school. During school, Rasmus and his class went on nature walks and then took a nap. After school, he and Ema often met with the missionaries. They talked with the missionaries about what they had read in the Book of Mormon. Sometimes Ema fed everyone kringel, braided cinnamon bread. On weekends he and Ema rode bikes or picnicked on the beach. Sometimes they took long walks in the forest or along their favorite river.
On one of those forest walks, Ema told him she wanted to be baptized. Rasmus grinned. The missionaries had asked Ema to pray about whether or not to get baptized. It sounded like she had gotten her answer!
“And I know just where I’m going to be baptized,” she told him with a smile. “Can you guess?”
Rasmus thought about the missionaries’ lesson on baptism. They had held up a picture showing Jesus with John the Baptist in a river. …
“The river!” he exclaimed. “Our favorite river.”
One week later, Rasmus stood on the riverbank with the missionaries and some other people from church. Ema was ready to be baptized. She went all the way under the water, just like Jesus did. When she came up, she was smiling. Rasmus wanted to remember this moment forever—the blue water, the white wildflowers in the green grass, and his mother’s smile.
“What did getting baptized feel like?” he asked later, when everyone was eating cookies the missionaries had brought.
“Wonderful,” she told him. “I wanted to stay in the river forever. I feel so new!” She hugged him tight.
“For my next birthday, I want to be baptized, just like you and Jesus,” he told her. “I want to feel new too!”

Ryder was so excited. His best friend, Jacob, had agreed to go to church with him! Ryder loved playing with Jacob. They played video games together and pretended they were dinosaurs. Ryder just knew Jacob would love Primary.
When Ryder and Jacob got to their class, Sister Johnson smiled and welcomed Jacob. Ryder smiled too.
Then, during the opening prayer, Jacob poked Ryder and talked right out loud. Ryder was worried. Jacob was great at playing video games and being a pretend dinosaur, but maybe he didn’t know how to be reverent.
Sister Johnson had everyone show how to sit during prayer. She reminded them that they were speaking to Heavenly Father and they should listen to the words of the prayer. Ryder watched Jacob listen closely to Sister Johnson. Maybe no one has ever taught Jacob about prayer before, Ryder thought.
Later Jacob made his handout into a plane and kept throwing it around the room. During sharing time he wouldn’t sit still. While Sister Myers led everyone in singing Ryder’s favorite song, Jacob kept jumping out of his chair.
“Jacob, you need to stay in your chair,” Ryder whispered. “You need to be reverent.”
“What does reverent mean?” Jacob asked.
Ryder was surprised that Jacob had never learned what it meant to be reverent.
“It means you sit quietly and fold your arms like this,” Ryder said, showing his friend. “This way, it’s easier to learn about Jesus.”
Jacob sat in his chair and copied what Ryder did.
Ryder was glad that Jacob was learning, but he still felt bad that his friend hadn’t been reverent for most of church that day. At the end of Primary, he went up to Sister Johnson.
“I’m sorry about how Jacob acted,” he said. “He’s never been to church before.”
Sister Johnson put her arm around Ryder’s shoulders. “That’s OK, Ryder. I’m so glad Jacob is here today,” she said. “Primary is for everyone. I hope he’ll come with you again.”
Ryder had a warm feeling inside. He looked at the picture of Jesus on the wall. He knew Jesus loved all children and wanted them to be closer to Him. He was glad his friend had been able to come to church and learn more about Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ.