Gospel Story Finder

I can’t think of a better example of helping someone gain understanding than the story of Helen Keller. She was blind and deaf and lived in a world that was dark and quiet. A teacher named Anne Sullivan came to help her. How would you teach a child who can’t even see or hear you?

For a long time, Anne struggled to connect with Helen. One day around noon, she took her out to the water pump. She put one of Helen’s hands under the waterspout and began to pump the water. Anne then spelled out the word W-A-T-E-R on Helen’s other hand. Nothing happened. So she tried again. W-A-T-E-R. Helen squeezed Anne’s hand because she began to understand. By nightfall, she had learned 30 words. Within a matter of months, she had learned 600 words and was able to read Braille. Helen Keller went on to earn a college degree and helped change the world for people who couldn’t see or hear.9 It was a miracle, and her teacher was the miracle worker, just like you will be, parents.

One day after a particularly hard shift in the hospital’s pediatrics unit, I was tired and grumpy. As I walked to the security desk, I noticed some beautiful flowers. When I commented to the person at the desk how beautiful they were and how good they smelled, she told me I could have them.
I was so happy! I thought that surely Heavenly Father wanted me to have the flowers to brighten my day.
Walking out of the hospital, I found myself behind a woman in a wheelchair. I grew impatient with her but finally was able to pass her as we exited the building. As I passed, she lifted her head and said, “Oh, what beautiful flowers.” I thanked her and hurried toward my husband, who was waiting in our car. I was excited to show him my flowers.
Suddenly I felt the Holy Ghost tell me that the woman needed the flowers more than I did. I was reluctant to give them to her, but I followed the prompting. When I asked if she would like them, I hoped she would say no.
“Oh, yes!” she replied. “I would love them. They are beautiful.”
I handed them to her, but as I turned to leave, she began to sob. When I asked if she was all right, she told me that her husband had passed away several years ago and that it had been more than a year since any of her children had visited her. She said she had been pleading with God to show her a sign of His love.
“You are an angel sent from God to give me my favorite flowers,” she said. “Now I know that He loves me.”
My heart broke. I had been so selfish. This woman needed a loving word, and I didn’t even want to talk to her. I was no angel. As we parted, I also started to cry.
When I reached the car, my husband asked what was wrong and why I had given away my flowers. He seemed confused but then relieved as I related the story.
“I sent you roses today. I felt that you needed them,” he said. “I was worried you had just given them away. If those weren’t the flowers I sent you, where are they?”
It turned out that the floral shop had forgotten to deliver the roses, so we drove to the shop. My husband went in and soon came out with a beautiful bouquet.
I couldn’t help but cry again. Heavenly Father had asked me to sacrifice those flowers, knowing that there was something better waiting for me and also that His lonely daughter needed a reminder of His love.

In 1980 Central was invited again to compete outside of Tahiti against New Galedonia in the France Cup. Erroll balked at taking part. “It was an international match,” he explains, “and it was clear that if we reached the final and it involved a Sunday game, there would be bad feeling if I pulled out. I suggested it would be fairer to all concerned if I let someone else take my place. But Mr. Spitz wouldn’t hear of it. He talked the New Caledonians into playing on a Saturday.” Erroll took the winning goal in a 4–3 score.

Most people who stand six-foot-six and weigh over 300 pounds get some respect. Chad O’Watch is no exception. But in his case, there is no fear involved.
People in the Carry-the-Kettle First Nation (a native reservation) in Saskatchewan, Canada, and far beyond respect the 17-year-old Latter-day Saint because he is a genuinely good person. An honor student at the Nakoda Oyade Education Centre, where he serves as the student president, Chad has earned the school’s citizenship award three years in a row. He is the school’s go-to guy. He has been put in charge of the drink machine at sporting events because of his well-known honesty. If the school needs a representative at a conference, they send Chad. He attended the First Nations and Inuit National Science Camp as one of 5 students from Saskatchewan and only 50 or 60 from all of Canada.
“I love to go to school. I like to learn and be with my friends,” Chad says. “I like to help people. I can’t bear to see someone in need and not be helping.”
This helpfulness seems to be an inherited trait. Chad’s father, who maintains and drives the school’s buses, is known as a kind and generous man, always ready to share with those in need. Though a member of the Church, Brother O’Watch has not attended for many years. That’s why it’s so amazing that he did what he did one afternoon in April when Chad was 11.
Brother O’Watch and Chad were returning in an empty bus from the last run of the day. Instead of turning down his own lane as usual, Brother O’Watch made a surprise right turn into the parking lot of the Carry-The-Kettle Branch of the Regina Saskatchewan Stake. “The missionaries are waiting for you,” he said.
Chad was not a member of the Church and had no wish to be one. He refused to get off the bus. His dad, uncharacteristically, insisted. “There are other kids here,” he said. “You’ll have fun, and it will be good for you.”
So Chad obeyed, steaming and fuming. “I thought my dad was the worst guy alive,” he recalls. He met the missionaries and attended his first Primary meeting. He was astonished to find that he kind of liked it, and he went again the next week.
“After going a few times, I found that I just loved being there. There was a feeling of the Spirit. The missionaries lived next to the chapel, and before long I was there almost every day helping them and being taught.”
In November Chad was baptized and confirmed. “I had a warm, good feeling, like coming home to a place where I belonged.” He felt even more at home as he accepted callings and was eventually ordained a deacon. At the age of 13 he was called to serve as branch clerk and has fulfilled that assignment ever since. “From the first day, serving as a clerk was a joy. The Lord has called me specifically to do this, and it’s a privilege to do His work. When I started, balancing a checkbook was not one of the things I knew how to do. I had to learn that and lots of other things. But the Lord has blessed me with the ability to do my duty. Because of the challenge, I think I’ve grown in both mind and spirit.”
Whenever something needs doing, Chad steps forward. When no one in the branch knew how to lead the music, he taught himself and volunteered for the job. He has since led the singing in a tri-stake youth conference.
Chad’s outward devotion stems from inward conviction: “I know that Jesus Christ is my Savior. I know that He died for me. I love Him, and I know that He loves me. Knowing that I can return to live with Him and Heavenly Father changes everything. It makes me want to bring people to Him. Everyone’s life would be so much better if they had Jesus Christ in it.”
For Chad, serving a mission is a no-brainer. “It says in my patriarchal blessing that there are people waiting specifically for me. I owe it to them to bring them the gospel. I love to serve the Lord, and I just can’t wait to put on the armor of God and go do that.”
Although Chad never preaches to his friends, he has been a missionary since the day of his baptism. Elder and Sister Dudley, full-time missionaries serving on the reserve, have seen him in action. “He teaches the things he believes, but he does it in a fun way,” Sister Dudley says.
“Chad has had a tremendous influence on his nonmember friends just by being himself,” Elder Dudley explains. He sets such a good example that people see the difference between his standards and the standards of the world. One of Chad’s best friends is coming to seminary this year and has attended youth conferences.”
Chad is an easygoing person and fun to be around, but his standards are firm. “If I know in my heart that a thing isn’t right to do, I don’t do it. It’s as simple as that. It’s just not going to happen. I guess I’m hardheaded that way.”
Do his peers have a problem with this? “They respect the fact that there are things I don’t do. If they do those things, they do them somewhere else.”
“There’s a zone around Chad where things like that stop,” Elder Dudley says.
He does put himself in places where right things will be happening. He faithfully attends every meeting, youth conference, service project, fireside, baptism—you name it. He helps his dad maintain the buses. He gives people rides in his car when they need transportation. He pitches in to help make and mend. He embraces every chance to use his priesthood in blessing the lives of others. “When I bless or pass or prepare the sacrament, I think about the Savior and all He has done for me. It is such an honor to serve Him.”
Chad is committed to extending the blessings of the gospel to his ancestors. He does research with his grandmother and has been baptized in the Regina Saskatchewan Temple for several hundred of his ancestors—70 of them in one memorable session alone. “I love the temple,” he says. “There’s a feeling you get there that’s just unreal.”
Another source of inspiration is the Book of Mormon. “Reading the stories and applying them to my life have made me a much happier and better person.”
Practical as well as spiritual, Chad is determined to earn a college degree. But unlike some, he does not see it as a means of leaving behind the poverty and problems of the reserve. “I know deep down inside that my people need me. It’s my responsibility to help bring them to Christ. I really don’t know what my career path needs to be—a teacher might be one possibility—but I’m not looking to escape this place.”
Besides, the reserve can be beautiful. It lies amid low wooded hills on the vast Saskatchewan prairie. It’s a quiet, peaceful landscape that Chad loves. “When I was visiting Edmonton, I felt out of place. It was so noisy and busy. Here it’s quiet and laid-back. It’s just home.”
There are other attractions too. Chad likes to ski, skate, and snowmobile in the winter. He and his dad hunt deer in the fall and ducks and geese in the spring. They always share their game with the elderly.
Though perfectly willing to share his possessions, Chad’s dad is not so comfortable sharing his feelings. He has never explained why he chose to drop his son at the chapel that life-changing day in April. But a fair guess might be that the bus driver was driven by love. If so, the feeling is mutual. Chad has set a firm goal of being sealed to his family in the temple someday. He seeks an eternal bond with the man who made the crucial right turn at just the right time. How could any son show greater respect?

I have been trying to follow the counsel of the prophets by keeping a journal. When I started, I hadn’t yet learned to read or write. I’d save something, like a pamphlet or ticket from an activity we had gone to, and put it in my journal. My mom then helped me write the things I remembered beside the item. I love to go back through my journal and remember all the different things I have done. I have kept my journal for over a year now. I am now learning to read and write, and I love to write down memories for myself.Rachel Averett, age 6Waterloo, Iowa

Many is the time in my current position when those in their advanced years have sought counsel in getting their families to share and take an interest in them. I remember reading of such an experience, which I would like to share. This item was found in an old magazine. No author’s name was mentioned, just this from a heavy-hearted observer. He said:
“Just next door lives a wonderful old man. He is still very alert and active. That special morning he awakened earlier than usual, bathed, shaved and put on his best clothes. Surely, he thought, they would come today.
“He didn’t take his daily walk to the gas station to visit with the old-timers of the community, because he wanted to be right there when they came.
“He sat on the porch with a clear view of the road so he could see them coming. Surely they would come today.
“He decided to skip his noon nap because he wanted to be up when they came.
“He had six children. Two of his daughters and their married children lived within four miles. They hadn’t been to see him for such a long time. But today was a special day. Surely they would come today.
“At suppertime he refused to cut the cake and asked that the ice cream be left in the freezer. He wanted to wait and have dessert with them when they came.
“About 9 o’clock he went to his room and got ready for bed. His last words before turning out the lights were: ‘Promise to wake me when they come.’
“You see, it was his birthday, and he was 91.”

There is the story of two neighboring farmers—one a habitual Sabbath breaker, and the other a faithful observer of the Lord’s day. On one occasion the Sabbath observer severely chastised his neighbor for working his farm on Sundays rather than attending to his religious devotions. This led to an argument and a challenge. “Let us put the matter to a test,” the Sabbath breaker said. “We will select two pieces of ground of equal size and fertility. On them we will plant the same crop. My piece of ground I will work on Sundays, and you will work yours on the other days of the week. Then we will see who gets the greater harvest.”

The challenge was accepted and the conditions were faithfully observed. As the harvest was gathered in, the Sabbath-observing farmer was disappointed to learn that the piece of ground farmed by his neighbor had produced the greater yield. The Sabbath breaker exulted in his apparent triumph and his discrediting of the contention of his faithful neighbor.

“You have forgotten one important thing,” protested the Sabbath observer. “The Lord doesn’t always settle his accounts in October.”

Derek snapped on his life preserver and pulled out his sunglasses as the boat sped up. He liked to feel the wind whip through his hair as the boat made ripples in the calm lake. The afternoon looked perfect for a fishing trip. The sun shone brightly, and the smooth water reflected the trees standing along the shore.
Dad had invited Brother Taylor and his two children, Hannah and Jake, to come along, too. Dad had asked 11-year-old Derek to help look after the children since they were only six and four. All afternoon, Brother Taylor helped Hannah and Jake hold tiny fishing poles while Derek and Dad baited their hooks. Derek had fun, even though he didn’t catch any fish himself.
When the sun rolled behind a cloud, Dad looked up at the sky and pressed his lips together in thought. “We don’t have much sunlight left,” he said.
“Good,” Brother Taylor replied. “The fishing’s better when it starts to get dark.”
“The fishing’s better, but driving the boat isn’t,” Dad said. “The lake can be dangerous in the dark. We should stay for only a few more minutes.”
The lake looked peaceful and still as the sky grew darker. Soon, the fish began to bite. After Jake and Brother Taylor had each caught a fish, Dad started the engine.
“Time to go,” he said.
Derek found a huge red towel and wrapped it around Hannah and Jake like a blanket. The air felt crisp now that the sun had melted into the mountaintops.
Dad slowly steered the boat back to the shore as the darkness grew. The boat had two little lights at the front, but they weren’t very bright. “I wonder if Dad can see anything at all,” Derek thought. He didn’t like being out on the lake in the dark. The lapping of the water against the boat sounded creepy, and the air felt cold now. He wished they would go faster.
Suddenly, Dad pulled back on the throttle and the boat drifted to a stop.
“Why are we stopping?” Derek asked.
Dad didn’t respond. He pulled a flashlight out of the glove box and shined it in front of the boat. Directly ahead of them, Derek saw a rock sticking up out of the water. Dad slowly turned the boat and drove around it.
Derek held his breath. They had almost crashed into that rock!
When they reached the dock, Dad patted Derek’s knee.
“That was close,” Derek whispered.
Dad nodded. “I saw that rock this afternoon, but I didn’t think much about it,” he said. “In the light, I could have seen it from far away, but I couldn’t see it at all in the dark. All of a sudden, something inside told me to stop the boat. I didn’t see the rock until after we had stopped. If I had waited until I saw it, it would have been too late.”
Derek’s eyes widened.
“Thankfully, the Holy Ghost could see what I could not.” Dad smiled. “He was looking out for us, and I am glad I listened to Him.”
Derek felt glad, too. A warm feeling rushed through him. He felt safe and calm knowing that Dad had listened to the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Derek knew that if he, too, listened for the still, small voice, he would know what to do—even when he couldn’t see the way.

One of my favorite hymns is “Because I Have Been Given Much” (Hymns, no. 219). As a member of an area presidency in the Philippines, I once attended a stake conference in the Philippines just a few days after a bad typhoon. Many of the members’ homes had been destroyed, and I wondered if they would come to the conference. But the Philippine Saints filed into the chapel with smiling faces. In that meeting, they sang “Because I Have Been Given Much.” I marveled at their faith and devotion.

I visited Palmyra, New York, with my stake for youth conference in the summer of 2004. While we were there, we visited Church history sites around Palmyra, including the Sacred Grove, as well as the Palmyra temple. We ended with a testimony meeting in the Church building at the Peter Whitmer Farm. What a testimony-building experience!
I loved standing where Joseph Smith stood. It struck me during testimony meeting that most of the sites were such small buildings that I must have stood in places that Joseph Smith stood, even if it was only for five seconds. But I also know that I don’t have to stand where he stood to gain a testimony of him. My testimony of him has been strengthened while I have been alone in my own bedroom as well. But I am grateful that I was able to visit where it all began.
By the end of the youth conference, after visiting all the sites, I learned that I want to know Jesus Christ and that the only way to know Him is to constantly learn of Him and to be like Him. I am so grateful for my chance to learn these powerful lessons while visiting the spot where the Restoration began.

President Thomas S. Monson shared this example of President Smith’s love: “On a cold winter morning, the street cleaning crew [in Salt Lake City] was removing large chunks of ice from the street gutters. The regular crew was assisted by temporary laborers who desperately needed the work. One such wore only a lightweight sweater and was suffering from the cold. A slender man with a well-groomed beard stopped by the crew and asked the worker, ‘You need more than that sweater on a morning like this. Where is your coat?’ The man replied that he had no coat to wear. The visitor then removed his own overcoat, handed it to the man and said, ‘This coat is yours. It is heavy wool and will keep you warm. I just work across the street.’ The street was South Temple. The good Samaritan who walked into the Church Administration Building to his daily work and without his coat was President George Albert Smith of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His selfless act of generosity revealed his tender heart. Surely he was his brother’s keeper.”21

The next night after supper he went with Fitzie and some of his friends to play basketball in the school gym. They played for two hours.
Afterward they were all in the locker room. Kevin had already showered and was just putting on his shoes. The others were in various stages of getting dressed.
Suddenly the lights went out.
“Okay, who’s the clown?” Fitzie yelled. “Turn the lights back on!”
“I didn’t turn ’em off,” someone answered. “Where’s the light switch anyway? … Ow! My toe! … The switch doesn’t work.”
“There aren’t any lights anywhere in the building,” another voice added.
“Oh no,” Fitzie groaned, “another blackout. Do any of you guys have a lighter?”
“I do,” someone volunteered. “It’s in my shirt pocket if I can find it.” Kevin could make out a figure fumbling in a locker near him. “Here it is.”
A small glimmer of light shone in the otherwise dark room.
“Hurry up, you guys! I’m low on lighter fluid.” Kevin sat on the bench and watched unknown figures make use of the small light as they finished preparing to leave the room.
“Man, I never thought I’d be glad somebody had a cheap lighter,” a voice drawled.
“What do you mean, cheap lighter? It cost me two bucks.”
“Yeah, well it sure seems bright in here.”
Finally they were ready. “Kevin, what are you doing sitting there? Let’s get out of here.”
On Sunday Kevin went with Jenny to class, mainly to be with her. He had already discounted any possibility that their teacher could teach him anything, so he sat with his shoulders hunched over, his head down, wrestling with his problems.
It wasn’t until Sister Mattson called on him that he looked up. “Kevin,” she said, then read aloud from the manual, “this can best be seen by examining what the Savior said. Will you read Matthew, chapter 5, verses 14 through 16?” [Matt. 5:14–16]
Jenny loaned him her Bible and helped him find the reference. “‘Ye are the light of the world,’” Kevin began mechanically. “‘A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light …’” He stopped and stared at the words on the page.
“Yes, go on,” Sister Mattson urged.
“‘… and it giveth light unto all that are in the house.’”
“Kevin, there’s one more verse,” Jenny quietly prompted.
“‘Let your light so shine before men,’” he read slowly, “‘that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.’”
“Yes, and what can we learn from this scripture?” Sister Mattson asked.
He didn’t say anything. He pictured the small light in the darkened locker room and the dim figures of people moving around, each attracted by the light and using it as their reference point.
“Jenny, do you know what we can learn from this scripture?” Sister Mattson asked, thinking that Kevin did not have an answer.
“We can learn a lot,” Kevin said quietly, almost to himself. “The first thing is that in order to be a light, we have to live the commandments. You have to set your standards. You can’t re-decide what to do every time someone asks you to do something wrong. You’ve got to make a mental list: This is what I will do. This is what I won’t do. You have to decide what your life is going to mean, or it won’t mean a thing.”
“Thank you,” Sister Mattson said. “Now we should get on with the rest of the lesson.”
Kevin interrupted. “The problem is, I keep thinking that if I didn’t live here, it would be easier. It doesn’t really matter where you live. What matters is that you set your standards once and for all. If you do that, you can be a light.”
“Yes, thank you, and now we’d better get on to Ephesians,” Sister Mattson said.
“You’ve got to be a light to the people around you. Do you know how much light one small lighter can throw in a completely dark room?”
“No,” Jenny replied.
“Enough. That’s the point. Enough for everyone in the room to find his way out of the darkness. And the darker it is, the more the light is noticed. And people who enjoy the light will come nearer to it. That’s how I can find friends who will help me live my standards! We can gather friends around us who will help us, and the light will get even brighter.”
Sister Mattson by now was just looking at both of them.
“Do you know what I’m going to do?” Kevin burst out. “I’m going to memorize jokes from my brother’s Boy’s Life magazine. It has some of the corniest jokes in the world. Every time I hear someone starting a dirty joke, I’m going to bombard him with corny jokes. And I’m going to have a party of my own, at my house, with kids from school and the missionaries. In a nice friendly way, they’re going to know I’m a Mormon.”
“Thank you, Kevin,” Sister Mattson broke in. Turning to Jenny, she asked confidentially, “Jenny, what did he say?”
Jenny put her hand on his arm and answered proudly, “He said that he’s going to be okay.”
“How nice,” Sister Mattson said. “Well, we’d better get on with the rest of the lesson.” She looked at the page of the manual, paused, and then shut the book.
“No. I think Kevin’s story can teach us the same thing. What were you saying about the light in the dark room?”

Sister Spencer stood up to conduct sharing time. “We’re fortunate to have Brother Lancaster of the bishopric with us today,” she said.
Peter liked Brother Lancaster. He always had a smile for the children in the ward.
“Sister Spencer asked me to tell you about my baptism,” Brother Lancaster said. “I was baptized on a very cold day in March. It was so cold that some of the pipes in the stake center had frozen and burst. The whole basement of the stake center was flooded with six inches of icy water. Unfortunately, that is where the baptismal font was.”
Peter’s friend Jeremy raised his hand. “How did they get the water out so you could be baptized?” he asked.
“Well, it took a lot of men to drain the water,” Brother Lancaster said. “And they couldn’t do it before the baptism.”
“So was your baptism canceled?” Jeremy asked.
“No,” Brother Lancaster answered. “I waded through the water to get to the baptismal font. The water in the font was so cold that I was sure I was turning blue. My father was shivering as he said the words of the baptism prayer. As cold as I was, though, I wouldn’t trade a minute of that experience. Do you know why?”
The children shook their heads.
Peter leaned forward in his seat. He was eager to hear why Brother Lancaster didn’t mind the freezing cold water.
“Because it made me think of the pioneers. They sometimes had to be baptized in frozen rivers and streams where the men had to break apart the ice. It also reminded me of the sacrifices many people make to become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Brother Lancaster wiped some tears from his eyes. “My baptism was 43 years ago, but I still remember every detail. It was one of the most important days of my life.”

“Will you give the blessing if she wants you to?” asked Jacob on the other end of the phone line. Jacob, my home teaching companion, explained that one of the people we home taught wanted a blessing.
“What would I say in a blessing?” I wondered. I was only 18, and I’d just become an elder and moved away to college. I had prepared my whole life to receive the Melchizedek Priesthood, but I had never thought about the day when I would really need to use it.
I hesitated, swallowed hard, and then heard myself say reluctantly, “Yes.” As soon as I realized what I had said, I cut the word so short that it was hardly audible. I hadn’t meant to say it, but somehow it had popped out of my mouth.
“Great!” cheered the enthusiastic voice. “I’ll be over in a couple of minutes.”
I stood by the phone in my basement apartment, considering calling Jacob back to tell him I couldn’t do it. Then I remembered my dad. Whenever he had to give a blessing, he went quietly into another room and prayed first. He would always say, “Just a second,” and then go say a prayer without anyone noticing. I had noticed though.
Alone in my apartment, I knelt down next to the couch. I bowed my head and started to pray: “Heavenly Father, I might be giving a blessing in a few minutes, and I’ve never done it before. If it be Thy will, help me to have my mind clear of my own thoughts and help me to know by the Spirit what I should say.”
As I stood up, I had a peaceful feeling that I was worthy and that the Spirit would tell me what I needed to say when I needed to say it. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but it didn’t seem to matter.
Several minutes later Jacob and I were in our suits and ties, sitting in the home of the young lady we home taught. The three of us talked for a few minutes about how her life was going. She was having a difficult time and hoped a priesthood blessing would help.
“Who would you like to give the blessing?” Jacob inquired.
She turned to me. “Will you give the blessing?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered, this time without cutting the word short.
We pulled a white metal chair from the kitchen table into the middle of the room. As I laid my hands on her head, I silently repeated my prayer that I would know what to say. Jacob placed his hands on top of mine, and I began speaking: “By the authority of the holy Melchizedek Priesthood, we lay our hands upon your head and give you a blessing …”
As soon as I finished speaking those words, I knew what to say next. She had told us what her troubles were, and some of the words that came to my mind were about those troubles. Some of the words, though, dealt with things she hadn’t even mentioned. It wasn’t as though I thought ahead about what to say next; the words just came to my mind. They weren’t words I had heard my dad or my companion use. I could feel the Spirit telling me what to say.
After I ended the blessing, she looked up with tears in her eyes and thanked me. I realized I also had tears in my eyes, and I silently thanked my Heavenly Father. He really does inspire worthy priesthood holders. I learned that truth because I had prepared myself to be worthy to receive and use the Melchizedek Priesthood.

Sister Rita was baptized in August 2018 by her son, Brother Debdeep. She came to know about the Church from his son who became a member while staying in Texas. After investigating the Church for few weeks and learning about the gospel, Sister Rita was inspired to take the decision to be baptized. It is a joy to watch her grow strong in her testimony and her hunger to learn more about our Savior every day, something which President Nelson invited us to do in his counsel “Our focus must be riveted on the Savior and His gospel. It is mentally rigorous to strive to look unto Him in every thought. But when we do, our doubts and fears flee.” (Russell M. Nelson, “Drawing the Power of Jesus Christ into Our Lives,” Apr. 2017 General Conference; Liahona, May 2017).

Following that initial fast and testimony meeting experience, I looked forward to each subsequent fast and testimony meeting. I would fast and take the opportunity to bear my testimony. Since English is my second language, I had difficulties expressing myself during that period of my life. Therefore, I would write my testimony on a piece of paper and read it. After a few months of writing and reading my testimony, my branch president called me into his office and said that a testimony is a spiritual witness given by the Holy Ghost. He admonished me to prepare myself spiritually and to listen to the impressions I received. He asked that I be prepared to share those impressions rather than writing down my testimony as a talk. He reminded me of my first day at church when I stood and shared my testimony. He encouraged me to have faith and bear my testimony from the heart without written notes.
I accepted this challenging invitation. What I did not say to my branch president was how difficult it was for me to compose sentences, let alone express myself in the English language.
At the fast and testimony meeting following the counsel from my branch president, I stood up and walked to the pulpit. I stood at the pulpit without saying anything for what I thought was a full minute. I couldn’t remember the words I had memorized. Since I was told not to read my testimony, I wrote it down and spent the whole week committing it to memory. Finally, when I could speak, I spoke in a haphazard way. The words were meaningless in my own mind. The congregation just looked at me in a very strange way. I felt terrible.
It took me a few months to gain enough confidence to be able to bear my testimony again. After my unfortunate experience, I resolved not to bear my testimony. I did not want to embarrass myself. I would sit and listen to others sharing their testimonies. I watched and listened to each brother and sister carefully. I felt their spiritual witness of the Savior Jesus Christ, the reality of the first vision, and that Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ appeared to the boy Joseph. I was inspired by each affirmation that the Book of Mormon teaches and testifies of Jesus Christ and that it is indeed another testament of Christ.
On each succeeding fast and testimony meeting, my motivation welled up from a new and more compelling source. My soul was hungry for spiritual nourishment. I was like a starving man. I couldn’t get enough. The sincere expression and the words were mellow and soothing to me—more than that, they rang true. Words cannot express my feelings. It was as if I had experienced such a feeling of ecstasy somewhere before in a dim past. I felt the Lord’s love for me and a desire to want to be better.
I fought the urge to share my testimony each fast and testimony meeting. Then one Sunday as the meeting was about to end, I couldn’t hold back. I stood where I was and declared my own witness of the Savior. I declared “the things which [I] have heard, and verily believe, and know to be true” (Doctrine & Covenants 80:4). I knew then as I now know, that bearing a testimony is a blessing not only to me, but to those who are touched by it. A year after the Church was organized in these latter days, the prophet Joseph Smith met several elders returning from Independence on the bank of the Missouri River. Joseph received this revelation regarding the importance of bearing one’s testimony: “Nevertheless, ye are blessed, for the testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice over you, and your sins are forgiven you” (Doctrine & Covenants 62:3).
Since that Sunday, whenever I have an opportunity, I bear testimony of the Savior and His Atonement. I bear testimony of how the Book of Mormon has changed my life through its prophecies and teachings. I felt then, just as I do today; peace, comfort and a consistent desire to change for the better. I feel compelled to share my testimony as a service to others.

—The son of a newspaperman, 18-year-old Michael Bitton of Idaho Falls had studied journalism since high school. He had also dabbled in drama. He was amazed when he landed a role in a major production at Ricks.
“I started thinking, This came so easily, maybe I should be in theater!” Soon, however, he found he was spending too much time with the show.
“My grades went down. I was on a scholarship and lost it. I was fired from my job because I didn’t show up.”
He looks back philosophically.
“Maybe being fired was the best thing that could have happened to me,” he said. “I discovered that success in one area is relatively unimportant if the rest of your life is falling apart.”
Now he’s back in journalism, and feels “certain that it’s where I want to be.”

The assignment to the Huntsville Second Ward road show committee was a challenging one: In just a few weeks, put on a great road show. And don’t spend a lot of money doing it.
“Our total budget consisted of $20 to $30,” said Becky Worthington, who was called as ward road show specialist.
It seemed like an impossible assignment. Costumes can cost a lot. Lumber and hardware for sets can cost a lot. Even tempera for painting cardboard can cost a lot. Some wards spend $30 or more just for a cast party.
“But we knew that if the youth of the ward got involved, they could make it work,” Sister Worthington said. She called a meeting to discuss the road show theme, “Future Fantasy.”
Someone suggested that the story take place in a city underneath the sea, and the idea caught on quickly.
“We could use strips of old sheets to look like waves.”
“At the space museum they’ve got a light that shines through water so you see waves projected on the wall. Maybe we could do that.”
“You could have a sea horse and an octopus.”
“We still need a plot. What’s the conflict?”
“How about pollution?”
“You could wear slime suits or something like that.”
“Here comes the slime! You could run off all the Primary kids with that.”
Sister Worthington had to whistle to get everyone to stop talking and pay attention.
“Okay. We’ve got some good ideas for the script. We know who the characters will be. Now let’s talk about costumes. We’ve only got $20 to spend.”
After more discussion, the group dismissed. But based on their ideas, costume making began right away. And by the time the script was finished and rehearsals were underway, costumes were ready. A Chicken of the Sea wore scuba fins, goggles, and a beak made of cardboard. Starfish dressed like movie stars and carried sunglasses with paper stars pasted on them. Girls with cardboard oyster shell hats carried white balloons for pearls. Cast members dressed like cowboys rode brooms with poster board sea horses taped on them. A fish net and some shells, borrowed from members who used to live in Hawaii, were pinned to curtains as a backdrop.
But perhaps most ingenious of all were the octopus costumes, made from black plastic trash bags and paper egg cartons.
“Everyone helped out and donated paper, fabric, paint, tape, and time,” Sister Worthington said. “But mostly the costumes were made out of things we had on hand. We tried to keep it simple. You can do a lot with a little if you think and plan.”
When the stake road shows were presented, the Second Ward won a superior rating, an award for best actor, and the award for best costumes as well. And the price tag? Just 23 dollars and 50 cents.

“Wait, you haven’t finished your breakfast,” Mom said. Mom pushed the small plates of vegetables closer to Juhyuk.
Juhyuk looked at his breakfast. He was running late! Normally his big brother helped him get ready for church. But his brother was out of town, so Juhyuk had to go on his own today.
“OK, Mom,” Juhyuk said. He hurried to finish eating. Then he hugged Mom and headed for the door.
Mom stopped him. “Do you have your phone?”
Juhyuk held it up. “Yes. I can text my Primary teacher if I have a problem.”
“And a sweater under your coat? It’s cold.”
Juhyuk showed Mom his sweater.
She nodded. Juhyuk hurried out to the street. All the city sounds made him smile. It was fun to live in one of the biggest cities in South Korea!
But Juhyuk still wished his brother were with him. They always made the trip to church together.
“I know the way,” he told himself. And sure enough, before long he was at the first bus stop.
But he was alone there. That was strange. He checked his watch. He must have just missed the bus! Now he would have to wait for the next one.
After several minutes, other people started gathering. Finally, a bright blue bus rolled up. Juhyuk climbed the stairs, paid the driver, and sat down.
Ta-tink!
Juhyuk checked his phone after the text alert. It was from his Primary teacher.
“Are you on the bus? Remember, if you get lost, we can come find you!”
He grinned and texted back. “Yes. I’m on it now.”
This was only the short bus ride, though. The second bus he had to ride for more than an hour.
Juhyuk looked at the time and frowned. He didn’t want to miss the sacrament. He loved the part in each sacrament prayer that said, “always remember Him.” That meant always remembering Jesus. And Juhyuk wanted to do that.
When his aunt and uncle had invited him and his brother to church a few months ago, he met the missionaries. Elder Kim and Elder Moon taught them both about Jesus. The more Juhyuk learned about Jesus, the more he loved thinking about Him.
Ta-tink!
“Have you switched buses yet?” the text said.
“Not yet,” he texted back.
The bus pulled up to the busy street where Juhyuk needed to get off to switch buses. He asked the driver if his second bus had come.
“You just missed it,” the driver said. “The next one arrives in 15 minutes.”
“Oh, OK,” Juhyuk said. “Thank you!”
Finally, after the second bus ride, Juhyuk hurried inside the meetinghouse. His aunt and uncle had saved him a seat. He had made it!
Juhyuk thought about everything he had done to get to church. He thought of all the people who had helped him along the way. He felt that Heavenly Father was glad he was there.
Juhyuk said a silent prayer. “Thank Thee, Heavenly Father, that I can come to church today.”

On one occasion, a missionary in the final week of his mission reminded me that I had given him clearance two years previously to serve a mission. The clearance had been extended with some reservations on my part because his life before his mission had been dotted with transgressions. He said, “You allowed me to go into the field after due repentance and after I promised that I would be strictly obedient and would work diligently. I can assure you that I have worked hard and have obeyed every rule.”

Then he said something very significant. “I will always wish I had never done those things in the first place. But I feel that my sins have been forgiven. I feel perfectly clean.” He had been cleansed through selfless service and by developing a close association with the Holy Spirit. He had been through the refiner’s fire, and impurities had been burned away.