Gospel Story Finder

A number of years ago someone began delivering gifts to us by night, leaving them on our front porch about two weeks before Christmas. We didn’t know who it was. When the first gift was discovered, I asked our children to look around the driveway and our front-porch area to see if the card had simply dropped out of the package. They couldn’t find the name of the person who had brought the gift to us. The same thing happened the next day. Within another day or two we figured someone had made our family the focus of the 12 days of Christmas tradition. For almost two weeks prior to Christmas that year, a wonderful young woman dropped off gifts and, in an important way, changed the lives of our children. They were so touched by her generosity and her desire to secretly do such a nice thing that they each have participated in the 12 days of Christmas for others since that time. The holiday season brings memories of her kindness.

I was trapped.
At 18, I knew the Church was true. The Lord knew I knew. The missionaries knew I knew. But my parents didn’t know I knew.
It took me three weeks to work up the courage to tell Mom about it. I didn’t dare tell Dad.
“Mom,” I asked after she had recovered from the shock of hearing that her Catholic son wanted to become a Mormon, “how can I tell Dad?”
She was silent for a moment. “I don’t know if you should. He’d kill you,” she said, confirming my fears. “But don’t worry,” she added. “I’ll tell him someday.”
“But, Mom, I want to get baptized as soon as possible.”
“If you wait until you go to college,” she said, “you’ll be away from your father, and he’ll have time to make adjustments before he sees you again. It really would be much easier on both of you.”
I knew what she was saying made sense, but I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. I talked to the elders.
“It’s your decision,” said one elder. “Of course we’d like you to get baptized now, while you’ve got the desire and the understanding and the guidance of the Spirit. But you’ve got to do what’s best for you. The only way to be sure,” he said as he patted me on my shoulder, “is to fast and pray about it.”
I had never fasted or prayed in my life, but I was willing to give it a try. My head hurt and my stomach growled, and at every possible chance I prayed and pondered what I should do. I made a list of pros and cons. I talked it over with the elders, my friends, my mom. And I prayed some more.
Finally, near the end of my fast, I had a feeling, a strong feeling, that I should get baptized as soon as possible. I didn’t want to cause problems in my family, but I couldn’t shake that feeling. Heavenly Father had answered my prayers. I knew I had to get baptized.
I told the elders. I told my friends. And then I found the courage to tell my mom and dad. Dad didn’t say anything. He just stared at the floor with his face turning red and his feet shuffling uncomfortably. He was too upset to speak all night. The next evening he did something he’d never done before—he came up to my room to talk with me. I was sure my life was over, but Dad surprised me.
“Son,” he said, sitting on my brother’s bed, “I want you to know that I think you’re making a serious mistake by joining the Mormon church. But you’re old enough now to do what you think is best. When I was your age, I was allowed to make my own decisions, and I guess I turned out okay.”
He stood up to leave. “Dad,” I said, “believe me. I’m sorry that you don’t feel good about my joining the Church. But I’ve thought about it, prayed about it, and I know it’s what I’ve got to do.”
Then Dad did something else he’d never done before. He hugged me.
I was baptized the next week. My baptism fanned the spark of testimony I had gained from the missionary discussions into a fire that burns bright even today.
My experience taught me that Heavenly Father answers our prayers and that some answers don’t come easily. When the answers do come, blessings will follow if we find the courage and strength to act on them.

The cold winter winds had blown drifts of snow into our tent that morning. We didn’t find out until later how lucky we were—the snow had piled up on the tops of several other tents that same night, causing their roofs to collapse on the people sleeping inside. But at the time, all Tamar and Maria, two of my sisters, and I knew was that we were terribly cold and hungry.
We were camped next to the Sweetwater River with our mother and other family members, on our way to the Salt Lake Valley. It had been snowing for four days straight, and until the blizzard let up, we were stuck. And what was worse, we were quickly running out of food. Everyone in our handcart company shared their supplies equally, which meant that everyone got equally small portions. We were only allowed a handful of flour each. The night before, Mama had taken a strip of rawhide off the frame of the cart and boiled it into a sort of broth. To my brother and sisters and me, it tasted wonderful, but it did little to fill our empty stomachs. And now here we were the next morning, lying buried under a layer of quilts and a layer of snow, knowing that there would be no more food today than there was yesterday. All that stood before us was another day of cold misery.
I shut my eyes and wished that I could go back to sleep. In my dreams, at least, I was comfortable and warm. I could pretend that I was back in our lovely England, in our beautiful little cottage. I remembered the day the missionaries had spoken at our town chapel, and how Mama’s and Papa’s eyes had begun to burn with a light I had never seen before.
That was why we were here. Ever since their baptisms a few years ago, Mama and Papa had dreamed of joining the Saints in America. We had skimped and saved and finally were able to afford the price of passage on a boat to the United States.
Not being able to afford a horse or wagon, we signed on with a handcart company led by Mr. Edward Martin. Papa passed away early in the journey, and Mama’s health was very delicate. We often had to let her rest in the handcart while we three older girls pulled and pushed. She was so determined to reach Salt Lake that there was never any thought of turning back. But now, after trudging across half the American continent, it didn’t look as if we were going to get much farther. I shuddered and tried pulling the quilt closer around me. I had never felt as weak or as miserable as I did that morning.
“Patience, are you awake?” Mama’s sleepy voice came from the other side of the tent.
I groaned.
“Come, Patience, get up and help me make a fire.” I could hear the rustlings as she climbed from beneath the quilt.
The thought of leaving the small warmth provided by the quilt and my slumbering sisters made me shiver even more. “Oh, Mama,” I said, “I can’t get up. It’s too cold. And I’m so hungry! I don’t think I have the strength.”
“Tamar? How about you, lass?”
Tamar barely stirred beside me as she mumbled, “I don’t feel well, Mama, not at all. I can’t possibly get out of bed.”
Mama came over and knelt next to our huddled bodies. She put a gloved hand on Maria’s shoulder and shook her gently, saying, “Come, Maria, you get up.”
Maria groaned. “I can’t, Mama.”
Mama stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Girls, this will not do!” She pursed her lips in thought for a moment, then her face brightened. “I believe I will have to dance for you. Will that make you feel better?”
And before we could react, Mama stood on her toes and began dancing a jig, a bright lively dance from home with lots of kicking and bouncing. She also began singing an old ballad we used to sing in our village on holidays. Mama jumped and spun around, her voice cheerful and bright in the muffled stillness of the winter morning. Tamar, Maria, and I all poked our noses out from beneath the quilt to watch her, too surprised to laugh.
Then all of a sudden, Mama’s foot slipped on the snow that had drifted in through the tent door. She let out a little yelp as her feet flew out beneath her and she landed on the cold ground with a thump.
“Mama!”
In seconds, all three of us girls were at her side. We were sure that she had twisted her ankle or broken her leg or worse. But as soon as we helped her sit up, we saw that she was shaking not with pain but with silent laughter.
“Mama!” I exclaimed. “What on earth did you think you were doing, dancing like that on the snow! You could have been hurt!”
Mama chuckled again as she held us all close. “Oh, girls, I knew I had to get you out of bed somehow! I couldn’t stand the thought that my girls were getting discouraged and were going to give up. I knew that that simply would not do. So I thought that I could make you all jump up if I danced for you—especially if I fell down!”
I looked at my sisters. They looked at me. I knew at that point that no matter how hard our journey got, Mama would never let us fail. We would make it to the Salt Lake Valley if she had to drag us all along behind her.
“That was a clever little trick, Mama,” Tamar said.
“Yes,” I said as I grabbed Maria’s hand, “and now that we’re out of bed, let’s get that fire going before we all freeze to death!”

I tried an obedience experiment one day when I knew I would not be distracted by deadlines. "Today," I said, "I will try to do whatever the Spirit seems to direct." I felt nudged to revisit some of my visiting teachees and tried to follow the nudges all day. I got almost nothing done on my long to-do list, but the next morning when I opened my scriptures to a passage that was usually very run of the mill, it now seemed filled with incredible, powerful spiritual light. It is clear that if we work to obey his voice, the Lord will pour down his light on us. That light will be a protection against the evils of the world, spiritually and physically, just as the divine cloud and pillar were a defense for ancient Israel. Protection promised to Zion is real.

Although my remarks have been directed to the youth of the Church, for parents and grandparents, I offer the following:
Recently, Elder David A. Bednar described a simple way to conduct a family assessment to mark progress on the covenant path by essential ordinances. All that is needed is a piece of paper with two columns: “name” and “plan for next or needful ordinance.” I did this recently, listing each family member. Among them, I noted an infant grandson, soon to be blessed; a six-year-old grandson, whose preparation for baptism was essential; and a son turning 18, whose preparation for the priesthood and temple endowment was imminent. Everyone on the list needed the sacrament ordinance. This simple exercise assisted Lesa and me in fulfilling our role to help each member of our family along the covenant path, with an action plan for each of them. Perhaps this is an idea for you which will lead to family discussions, family home evening lessons, preparation, and even invitations for essential ordinances in your family.

Joseph William Billy Johnson is one of those people. He has been a member of the Church from its beginnings in Ghana.
In 1964 an associate gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon and some Church tracts that had been sent from Europe. When he read a tract containing the testimony of Joseph Smith, he recalls, “I was inspired,” and when he read the Book of Mormon, “I knew it was true.” He began to preach the gospel truths he had learned. He wrote to Church headquarters, and President David O. McKay encouraged him to continue studying the scriptures and to be patient and faithful until missionaries could be sent to Africa.
Billy Johnson persevered for 14 years despite persecution. He built congregations to whom he taught the gospel doctrine he found in Church books. As nearly as he knew how, he tried to direct his congregations according to Church practices, yet he understood that he did not have authority to perform its ordinances.
Often he felt directed by the Spirit; he was sustained at times by visions and dreams. His son was named after Brigham Young because of a dream in which that former President of the Church offered encouragement. Brother Johnson learned about salvation for the dead after deceased relatives appeared to him in dreams and asked him to be sure they would have the opportunity to receive baptism by proxy.
“I drew inspiration from the pioneers,” he says. Reading of their struggles to build a haven in the western United States where they could worship in peace, he longed for the day when it might be possible to enjoy this same blessing in Ghana.
When Latter-day Saint missionaries arrived in 1978, after the revelation extending the priesthood to all worthy male members, hundreds of Ghanaians he had prepared were ready to be taught and baptized.
Despite the hardships he endured, Brother Johnson, now patriarch of the Cape Coast Ghana Stake, rejoices at the opportunity he had during all those years to help prepare others for the gospel. “Whenever I see in conferences the number of people who have been baptized into the Church, I start weeping for joy at the great work the Lord has done.”

Jax was super nervous about performing his talent, Irish dancing, at the FSY variety show. “I was really, really terrified. Like I’m-in-a-pit-of-snakes terrified,” he says. “I said a little prayer before I got up there. I was still terrified, but then the music came on. I pretended no one was there. And I just started dancing.”

Jax hopped and moved his legs in traditional Irish fashion. But seeing Jax’s cheery face, most people probably wouldn’t guess that it was quite the journey to get there.

“In 2020 I was really stressed and even suicidal,” Jax says. “I was in a mental health hospital for a month. I found out I had pediatric brain inflammation and learned I was autistic. It was really, really hard.”

Once Jax had received some treatment for his mental health, his mom encouraged him to find a physical outlet to help manage his stress. He decided to seek personal revelation about what he could do.

“I prayed about it and asked for help,” he says. “And I remembered that my aunt was teaching Irish dance. So I started the class right before our big Christmas show. I had to learn like five dances in two weeks, so that was fun,” Jax jokes. Soon, Irish dance became a huge blessing in his life. “It really helped with my stress levels and dark feelings,” he says.

At FSY, Jax’s company asked him if he had a talent he could share in the variety show. So he danced on the sidewalk for them. When they told him he should perform, Jax’s first thought was, “Oh, no.” But he decided to share his talent even though he was afraid.

Now that Jax has seen videos of himself performing at FSY, he can’t help but laugh. “I had a completely straight face for the first part,” he says. “But then people started cheering, and I started smiling.”

For youth who are struggling, Jax gives this advice: “It’s better to talk about it with someone than hide it like I did. The Lord knows who you are, and He’ll be there for you. The Lord wants to help you.”

Overall, Jax feels that learning Irish dance has been a blessing from Heavenly Father.

Alexander Wright, born 27 January 1804 in Banffshire, Scotland, following the death of his wife, emigrated to Canada and joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on 10 October 1836, and then walked to Illinois, United States. He was later sent on a mission to Scotland and wrote a 531-page journal (8 March 1839 to 8 January 1843) which has been transcribed, from which most of the following relevant information has been extracted. Both journals are at the Church History Department, Salt Lake City, Utah and can be viewed online.
Elder Wright’s companion was Samuel Mulliner; they baptised many in central Scotland. He proselyted alone in the north of Scotland from 24 December 1839 to 28 January 1840, and from 7 August to 20 October the same year, and from 1 July 1841 to 7 September 1842.
On 7 August 1841 Alexander Wright first met Peter Farquhar, a 60-year-old farmer, at his home at Hill of Mennie, Belhelvie, a 10-mile walk from Aberdeen. Peter’s wife Mary Valentine had died age 59 on 10 April 1840. It was the second time he had become a widower.
On 3 December he again met Peter Farquhar at Belhelvie, and the next day set off to preach in many villages north of Aberdeen, sleeping under the stars when he could not find lodgings. He returned to Belhelvie on 10 December and met Peter Farquhar, and on 30 January 1842 baptised him there; Peter was the first person to join the Church in the north of Scotland.
Peter Farquhar’s last meeting with Elder Wright was on 6 September 1842.
No other baptisms in the north of Scotland were recorded by Elder Wright and records available for the Aberdeen Branch (Scotland) British Mission do not record any baptisms prior to Peter Farquhar.
Research proved that Peter Farquhar was born 1781 at a small hamlet of Tough, Aberdeenshire, the son of Peter (or Patrick) Farquhar and Margaret Copland. Old Parish Records show that Peter Farquhar had married his second wife, Mary Valentine, on 12 December 1829; his first wife had been Isabella Robertson.
The 1841 and 1851 census records state that Peter was a farmer of 19 acres at the Hill of Mennie, with a son Alexander and a daughter Jane residing there.
He died 6 January 1856 at Belhelvie, where he is buried. A plaque was bonded to the gravestone and the grave was dedicated.
His will, in which a son named George is an executor, shares his estate equally between Jane and Alexander.
Six grandchildren and three great grandchildren have so far been identified and research continues to find a living descendant.
The temple ordinance work for Peter, his wives and family, was completed in the Preston England Temple in March 2022.

I fell prey to that devilish stratagem early in my professional career, as a management consultant. The prestigious Boston firm for which I worked paid well and entrusted me with leadership opportunities beyond my expectations. I became confident to the point of arrogance. Though I served faithfully in the Church, pride in my professional accomplishments led to a significant deficit of humility.

Providentially, I learned the hard way what Solomon taught: “Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.” [iv] When the professional promotions slowed in Massachusetts, I decided to move home to Utah and open a Salt Lake City office of the consulting firm. I quickly discovered that I had overestimated my abilities and underestimated the challenge of selling high-priced consulting services to Utah’s independent and thrifty entrepreneurs. Before long, I had given up on a Salt Lake City office of the consulting firm. I was grateful just to be getting project assignments in distant cities.

In the meantime, my father had been called as an Apostle. Rather than becoming a high-profile person myself, I felt lost in his shadow. Gradually, disappointment and declining confidence began to show up in my hair. Before long I had lost all of it, from head to toe, leading friends to ask worriedly about my physical health. Having planned to become a “big wheel” in Utah, I instead found myself wanting to disappear.

At the time, I felt like a victim of cruel circumstances. Yet, in my pride, I had actually set myself up for an inevitable emotional fall. I had succumbed to worldly temptation without realizing it. In hindsight, I recognize that my striving for professional success was largely selfish. I had rationalized my self-serving behavior as motivated by desires to benefit my family and the Church. I thought that I could simultaneously bless other people while also fulfilling my personal ambitions.

Not realizing these spiritual faults at the time, I began to feel angry toward heaven, which seemed to be the source of my disappointment and despair. In self-pity, and ignoring my unrighteous motives, I wondered why the law of the harvest wasn’t working for me. It seemed that I was being treated unfairly.

Fortunately, Sister Eyring and other loved ones stood by me. Through wise words and kind deeds, they helped me see the need to repent of my pride and seek the healing balm of the Atonement and the ministry of the Holy Ghost. I increased my study of the scriptures. And, at Sister Eyring’s inspired suggestion, I began to keep a personal journal. In time, I began to qualify for Heaven’s blessings, which took a different but far better form than I had imagined.

Years ago, President Joseph Fielding Smith, then a member of the Quorum of the Twelve, attended a stake conference where a relatively new stake president had been called. A man repeatedly came up to President Smith and asked him for counsel concerning a personal matter. Finally, President Smith said he would see the man, provided the new stake president could be there. As the man unfolded his situation, the stake president was prompted with what the person needed to do. Yet President Smith listened to the brother and surprised everyone by saying, “I have no counsel for you.” The man was surprised, and he left. After he had gone, President Smith turned to the stake president and said, “I knew how to counsel that man, but I was also prompted to know that he would go against the counsel. So rather than condemn him for going against the counsel of the priesthood, I told him nothing.”

Cindy liked to paint and draw and play with her favorite dolls. She liked ruffled dresses, pretty hats, and shoes. In fact, she liked just about everything that most girls like. But more than anything, Cindy liked to play baseball!
Cindy had practiced pitching balls to George and Sam, her two older brothers, and she was really good.
“You should play baseball,” George told her one day. And Sam agreed.
“I’d like that,” Cindy said. There was nothing she wanted to do as much as play baseball during her vacation, even though she was a girl. But she knew there was little chance of her being able to do so. There was just one team in town, and only boys played on it.
Every afternoon she passed the city park on her way home from school. She always stopped at the baseball field to watch the teams warm up.
One afternoon while Cindy watched from the bleachers, she had an idea. She hurried over to Mr. Turner, the manager. “Can I join the team?” she asked.
The tall man smiled. “Are you joking? This is a boy’s sport! No girls are allowed on the team!” he replied.
“Why not?” Cindy questioned.
Mr. Turner thought for a moment before he answered, “I … well … we just don’t have girls. That’s why!”
“What if a girl can play as well as or even better than a boy? Could she get on the team then?” Cindy asked.
Mr. Turner thought about her question for a moment and then said slowly, “Well, I don’t know. It’s never been done here before, and I know the boys wouldn’t like it.”
Cindy shook her head. It isn’t fair, she thought. I know I can pitch better than any boy on the team, but they still won’t let me play.
The next day Cindy was back in the bleachers watching the ball speed back and forth. Suddenly there was a loud smack, and Cindy heard the pitcher cry out as he dropped the ball.
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Turner asked, as he rushed out to the mound where the pitcher stood holding his wrist.
“I think I sprang my wrist,” the boy moaned.
Putting his arm around the boy, Mr. Turner walked back to the bench with him.
“What’ll we do now?” the boys asked. “Our big game is this weekend. No one on the team can pitch as well as Mike!”
Cindy knew she could help the team. She hurried down from the bleachers and ran over to the boys who were huddled in a group trying to decide what to do.
“I can pitch for you!” she suggested.
The boys turned around and looked at Cindy. They began to smile.
“You? You’re a girl!” one of them laughed.
“I’m a girl,” Cindy agreed, “but I can pitch. Please give me a chance.”
The boys looked at one another. No one said anything for a moment. Finally Mr. Turner smiled. “Why not, boys?” he asked. “Let’s give Cindy a chance.”
Cindy walked to the pitcher’s mound, and the other team members returned to their positions. The catcher threw a few balls to Cindy, and the game started.
Cindy pitched the rest of the game. Afterward Mr. Turner came up to her and said, “Congratulations! I didn’t think you could play ball, but I was wrong!”
The boys agreed. “But what about the game this weekend?” they asked.
“I can play for you, Mr. Turner,” Cindy offered.
He looked at her and then at the boys. Finally he said, “Okay, Cindy. It might work out just fine this time.”
The boys cheered, and Cindy beamed with excitement.
The rest of the week Cindy practiced every afternoon with the team. And when Saturday finally arrived, she was ready for the big game.
At first the crowd laughed when they saw a girl walk out to the pitcher’s mound with long braids showing beneath her cap. But they soon saw what a good ball player Cindy really was.
“You were great, Cindy,” the boys said as they crowded around her after winning the game. “We couldn’t have won without you!”
It had been a wonderful afternoon for Cindy. She was too happy to say anything. All she could do was look around at the team, toss her braids, and smile!

One such story is about the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light”. It describes the Savior as a guiding light during our personal moments of darkness.

As a young Catholic Priest from England, John Henry Newman became very ill while visiting Italy in 1833. He was unable to travel for almost three weeks and during that time became despondent with his situation. He sat on his bed and sobbed bitterly. When asked by his nurse what was wrong, all he could answer was that he had “work to do in England.” Finally, he was able to gain passage on an orange boat bound for Marseilles; one step closer to England. While passing through the Straits of Bonifacio the ship was beset by a dense fog. For one week the ship sat anchored, unable to move, surrounded by a thick, gray fog. It was during this time that John Newman pleaded for the Savior’s help and penned the words to the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light”

In a few days we will dedicate the beautiful Denver Temple.

When it was announced that we would build a temple in that city and had selected a site on which it should stand, opposition rose against us. We gave up that site and tried another. Again we were thwarted. But we were determined to go forward, putting our trust in the Lord that He would guide us in accomplishing His purposes. Two other possible sites were selected. At the time, President Kimball and President Romney were both ill, and mine was a serious responsibility. I asked President Benson, then President of the Council of the Twelve, if we might go to Denver together, and there with Elder Russell Taylor we looked over these sites. I give you my testimony that we were guided by the Spirit in choosing the ground on which that beautiful new structure now stands. It will be dedicated later this month as a house of God.

You may have noticed children on their way to Primary with their scriptures in hand. Primary children this year are being taught from the scriptures, and they are learning to use them. Our theme for sharing time is “I Know the Scriptures Are True.” One Sunday morning I visited a Primary sharing time, and I noticed the children had their scriptures open on their laps. The Primary presidency and the teachers were helping them find stories of the prophets in their scriptures. I was asked to share a favorite scripture with the children. When I finished, a little four-year-old girl on the front row held up her scriptures and said, “That scripture is in my scriptures too.” Through the guidance of loving parents and dedicated teachers, small children can become familiar with the scriptures and the spirit that accompanies them.

Johan and Lisa Koch of Copenhagen could tell them about the long-term rewards of setting the right priorities. The Kochs joined the Church as a young married couple in 1968 and reared their seven children in the Church. In 2004 when they served as guides during the open house for the Copenhagen temple, a man who had gone to school with one of their sons came on a tour. “I had to come,” the man explained, “because I know Christian, and I know what it would mean to him.”
The Kochs first went to the temple in Switzerland many years ago, and they set an example for their family by serving as temple workers when that meant an eight-hour trip to Stockholm. They kept a picture of the temple on a wall in their home. They used every resource to help their children grow strong in the gospel, including family prayer, home evening, and home-study seminary.
After years of having to travel outside their country, “to have a temple so close is a special blessing,” Sister Koch says. Her husband, who was released as president of the Copenhagen stake in 2001, sees the coming of the temple as a sign of growing maturity among members. But the Kochs are also impressed by its effect on those who are not members. When they talked of sealing during the open house tours, Brother Koch says, “you could tell which couples had a good marriage by the way they looked at each other. They would ask, ‘Could we do that?’”

Every day we make choices. Some aren’t a big deal—what color backpack we carry, for example. Other choices are a big deal—for instance, how we treat other people or whether we obey a commandment. Read the story below and pretend that you are the main character. What choices would you make?
Your mom says that you may invite two friends over after school tomorrow. First you call Julie, who lives a few miles away. She is in your Primary class as well as in your class at school. Her parents say yes! She will walk home with you; her parents will pick her up before supper.
Next you call Tasha, a nonmember who lives just a few houses away. She can come too. Before she hangs up the phone, though, she asks if anyone else is coming. When you tell her that Julie is also coming, Tasha says, “Yuk! Then I don’t want to come, after all.”
If you say, “Julie is my friend too. Why don’t you come and get to know her better?” go to A. If you say, “OK, I’ll tell Julie that something came up with my mom and that I can’t have anybody over,” go to F.
A. Tasha says, “Well, I guess I’ll still come, but don’t expect me to make friends with Julie.” After school, Tasha and Julie walk home with you. When Julie stoops to tie her shoelace, Tasha makes an ugly face at her behind her back.
If you say, “Julie, Tasha’s making faces at you. She didn’t want you to come,” go to J. If you say nothing but give Tasha a look of disappointment, go to E.
B. When Tasha is out of earshot, you whisper to Julie that Tasha didn’t want her to come and had made faces at her behind her back. Julie gets very quiet. Your get-together is no fun after that.
Surely you didn’t mean to do that! Won’t you reconsider and choose I?
C. You all three go back to the tire swing and have a lot of fun. After a while, Julie’s mom picks her up and Tasha walks home. You’re glad that she and Julie have become friends too.
This is the end of the story—unless you want to do a little more missionary work. If you do, go to G.
D. Tasha hides the cigarette as her mother drives past, then starts to put it in her mouth. You yell, “Stop! It really is bad for you.” She says, “Once won’t hurt. I want to know what it tastes like.” She takes a puff and starts to cough. When she throws the cigarette down, you stomp on it and say, “I wish you hadn’t done that. Heavenly Father doesn’t want us to hurt our bodies.” Tasha asks, “Is Heavenly Father the same person as God? How do you know that He doesn’t want us to smoke?”
If you say, “I just do, that’s all. Come on—it’s Julie’s turn on the swing,” go to C. If you say, “Because he told us so in a scripture we call the Word of Wisdom,” go to G.
E. When you get to your house, punch and cookies are on the table. They turn out to be the favorite treats of both Tasha and Julie. As the afternoon goes on, you see that Tasha is actually being friendly with Julie. Tasha says, “Hey, Julie, I didn’t know you were such fun! You never say anything in school.”
If you suddenly feel jealous and try to discourage their growing friendship, go to B. If you try to help them become better friends, go to I.
F. Julie doesn’t come, because she thinks that your mom changed her mind about your having friends over. You and Tasha have a good time, except that you feel guilty about lying to Julie. Later, Julie finds out that Tasha was at your house, and her feelings are really hurt. Your friendship is never the same. You are sad that you lost a good friend.
You can’t make such a bad decision so soon—repent and go to A.
G. “What’s the Word of Wisdom?” Tasha asks. “It’s kind of like a health code,” you say. “It teaches us to not smoke, drink coffee, tea, beer, or wine—stuff like that. And to not do drugs.”
Julie pipes up, “It teaches us to eat fruits and vegetables and grains—you know, healthy things.”
“So do you two go to the same church?” Tasha asks. When you both nod, she looks down. “I don’t go to church, except when I visit my grandma. What do you do at your church?”
“Well,” you answer, “we have Primary every Sunday. It’s kind of like Sunday School in other churches. We have a lesson and learn about Jesus Christ. We sing songs, too, and have a lot of fun. Oh, and we have special activity days every so often.”
“Yeah,” Julie chimes in, “it’s all really neat! Would you like to come with us this Sunday?”
“Do I have to wear a dress?”
“We always do,” you tell her. “I’m always glad I do—it just feels right, somehow.”
Tasha shrugs. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt me to dress up. Sure—I’ll ask Mom if I can go.” (The End)
H. You put the cigarette to your mouth. You don’t breathe it in deeply, but even so, it tastes yucky. You are still holding it when Tasha’s mom drives by. She stops the car, hollers at Tasha to get in, and says to you, “Don’t expect Tasha to be coming over anymore.”
You feel awful. When your eyes meet Julie’s, you see that she is very disappointed in you. You promise that you’ll never do anything like that again. Julie gives you a weak smile and says, “I believe you, but I don’t think that Tasha’s mom ever will.”
This is your last chance in this story to get on the “right-choice” track. Hurry to D!
I. You suggest that you all play on the tire swing. Tasha has the first turn swinging. As Julie climbs on the tire for her turn, a car full of teenagers zips by. One of them flips a cigarette on the curb. Tasha runs to pick it up. “It’s still lit!” She turns to you and says, “I dare you to try it!”
If you say, “No, I don’t do that kind of stuff, and I hope you don’t either, ‘cause it’s bad for you,” go to D. If you say, “Well, maybe just one puff—but you’d better not tell anyone!” go to H.
J. Julie gets tears in her eyes and doesn’t say anything. Tasha says, “Thanks a lot, Big Mouth,” and goes home. You and Julie have fun playing, but you get a knot in your stomach when you think about Tasha’s angry eyes. The next day in school, Tasha won’t even speak to you.
Not again! Aren’t you glad that this is just a story? Change your choice to E.

One school year I began to feel weighed down from the stress of life. During one of these stressful days, I prayed and read the Book of Mormon for 10 minutes. As I read, I felt an incredible warmth fill my heart. I felt loved, uplifted, and happy despite my trials. I felt an incredible peace I had never felt before. From this experience I finally understood what the Savior meant when He said, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you” (John 14:27). The next few weeks, I had this experience multiple times, and it propelled me to move forward through my struggles.
Chloe K., 18, Wisconsin, USA

I sat on the airplane Saturday morning enroute to Louisville, Kentucky, with a young friend, a medical person, who said that for years he has been singing in the Tabernacle Choir and has not been able to attend priesthood quorum meeting. Under the new meeting schedule he has been earnestly looking forward to a more consistent attendance. The week before the first consolidated meetings began, he was invited by the bishop to teach Primary. You will discover that that means he cannot go to priesthood meeting again for a while. The incident reemphasizes what I am saying—that sooner or later most of us end up doing some formal teaching, and if we do not we are yet teachers in other ways along the route.

In the spirit of the wonderful comments you’ve made and the insights you’ve given me—new insights about the power of the word and the healing, the help, and the light that comes from it—I am reminded of a story President Packer told the Quorum of the Twelve some years ago. He talked about a severe winter in Utah when the snow was excessive and had driven the deer herds down very low into some of the valleys. Some of them were trapped by fences and circumstances as they were taken out of their natural habitat, and well-meaning, perfectly responsive, capable agencies tried to respond by feeding those deer to get them through the crisis of the winter. They brought in hay and dumped it everywhere; it was about as good as they could do under the circumstances. Later an immense number of those deer were found dead. The people who handled those animals afterward said that their stomachs were full of hay, but they had starved to death. They had been fed, but they had not been nourished.

Just 65 miles (105 km) from Topeka, in the Lenexa Kansas Stake, President Bruce F. Priday, stake president, and Sister Carol Deshler, stake public affairs director, are working together to build positive relationships with influential members of their community. They want to help them recognize Latter-day Saints as “good neighbors, a positive influence in the community, and followers of Jesus Christ,” says President Priday.
Sister Deshler, who works with the stake presidency and other members of the stake’s public affairs council, seeks opportunities to partner with other faith-based groups and community organizations to better serve the citizens of their area.
“Nearly all of our successes working with community groups have been a result of one-on-one relationships,” Sister Deshler says. For instance, a member of another church and a member of her stake ate lunch together and discussed ways the two groups could come together to do something positive for the community. The conversation led to six people—three from each church—forming a “Better Together” committee to brainstorm ideas for the partnership.
That partnership led to a benefit concert in 2010 in which choirs from several churches participated. Admission was a bag of groceries, which benefited a local food pantry. Some 700 people from the community attended the event, which was held in the newly completed stake center. A reception was organized so community and religious leaders could mingle prior to the concert.
Following the concert, four additional churches, two members of the city council, and the chief of police asked to be represented on the Better Together committee, which now meets monthly. The concert was repeated again in 2011, that time with another church hosting, a total of seven churches participating, and approximately 1,000 community members attending.
“The feeling of goodwill and unity as followers of Jesus Christ came through in a significant way among the churches,” Sister Deshler says. Those feelings were evident later when President Priday was in an airport more than 1,000 miles (1,600 km) from home. A woman he had never met approached him and said she recognized him from the Better Together benefit concerts, which she had participated in and found remarkable.
She told him, “I have never felt such a feeling of love for others in our community as I have through these events. Thank you for cosponsoring these concerts. I belong to another congregation, but we have the deepest respect and admiration for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“That,” says President Priday, “is what public affairs is all about. As we’ve broadened our circle and expanded our vision, we’ve developed many special friends throughout the community. We have mutual respect for each others’ beliefs and a genuine love for one another.”