Gospel Story Finder

The youth of one ward in Washington state came up with a plan to focus on service for an entire year. Throughout the year, each hour of service was marked by a white address label that was then attached to a large cardboard cutout of the temple. These young men and women came up with an amazing variety of ways to serve: babysitting, doing yard work, community coaching, doing baptisms for the dead, mentoring, helping at a community center, splitting wood, visiting a nursing home, tutoring, serving at school camp, and more. Many of the youth even turned down payment for their work, opting instead for the service stickers they could add to the temple cutouts. One of the main projects of the year was completely redoing the yard of a Young Women leader going through chemotherapy. At their ward conference in January, these youth presented their stake presidency with two huge temple cutouts covered with their service bricks representing the 2,070 hours given that year.

Trying to write a message to the world caused some serious contemplation. For some of the girls it was not easy. The words were put on paper only after prayer and thought. Beth Story of the California Saratoga Stake said, “I don’t really know how I came to write what I did. After I found out I would be writing to a stranger about how I felt about the Church, I prayed. I really had a desire to write something that a person would pay attention to if he found it.” Jennifer Bezzant, a Beehive from Rigby, Idaho, also tells of the time she spent before writing her message. “I was really unsure as to what to write. No thought seemed to come. The Sunday came when we were to write our messages down in church, and I still hadn’t thought of anything. I was getting desperate. My Young Women president let me take my card home to pray about it over the week. On Tuesday of that week, when I knelt by my bed, I asked Heavenly Father to help me write a suitable message that would help someone. As I got up from my knees, I felt impressed to get my pen and write. The words just seemed to come, and I kept writing until I was finished. When I read over what I had written, I was surprised. It sounded so good, I couldn’t believe I wrote those words.” Heather Thompson of Rexburg, Idaho, also caught the vision of the broader purpose for the balloon event. She found that the thought she invested as she prepared her message was valuable even if no one ever received the copy sent aloft. Heather said, “I feel as if I wrote my message, not only to the finder of my balloon but to myself and my Heavenly Father.”
Young Women in some areas of the world were in situations that did not allow them to release balloons. Many of them sent their messages to Church headquarters, where they were distributed to girls in stakes that were holding balloon events. Shawna Bowcutt was one who asked that someone release her message for her. She wrote, “I live in Kinshasa, Zaire, and our branch has not yet been organized, so I am including my message in this envelope for someone to send up for me. I am one of two Young Women in our branch. Thank you for including me in this event.”
Five Young Women in Egypt put into action an alternate plan. It was inappropriate for them to release helium-filled balloons, so their adviser planned an excursion. They drove through a tunnel under the Suez Canal to the tip of the Sinai. There, following a sunrise service, the girls snorkeled over the edge of the reef and released their messages sealed in bottles into the ocean currents.
In many locations the most touching moment came when the signal was given and the balloons were released. As the balloons rose in unison, a shout of joy sent them on their way. Then it was quiet, but girls’ faces, some streaming with tears, were still upturned watching for as long as they could follow their balloons.
Andrea Smith from the California Saratoga Stake remembers that moment at Coit Tower in San Francisco. “As we let go of the balloons, I think everyone gasped. It was a beautiful sight, and I was overwhelmed with the thought of the wonderful testimonies and messages of the girls.”
Marilee Griffeth was one of 2,000 gathered in Rexburg, Idaho. She shouted with the rest as the balloons were released. “I felt a warm glow when the words were spoken, ‘Girls, release your balloons.’ A part of me rose with that balloon so that I shall never forget that day.”
Lance Wickman, the stake president of the Poway California Stake, wrote, “We watched, transfixed, as the balloons floated steadily heavenward until they disappeared into the clouds still gathered overhead. I cannot express the feeling that I felt—that we all felt—at that moment.”
The balloons made their journeys, and much like the parable in the scriptures, some seeds fell on fertile ground. A message written by Laura West in the Salt Lake Cottonwood Height Stake was found by one who desperately needed her encouragement. Laura had written, in part, “Keep your hopes up and rise like the balloon. Always have faith in Christ and Christ will have faith in you.” Her balloon was found only a couple of miles from where it was released. The man who found it wrote to Laura that he was a member of the Church but had fallen away 18 years earlier while he was in his teens. He told of his struggle to be reunited with his wife and children and the decision he made to come back to the Church. He wrote, “I’ve been reading the Book of Mormon and praying since Sunday night (the day after I got your letter). I went to the bishop of my ward that night and told him I knew it was time for me to straighten out my life. … If only you could feel the peace and tranquility that has come to me since I began the reading and prayer. It’s truly like the difference between night and day. To top off my own feelings that I’m on the right track, I picked up your letter. You said you hoped your letter would brighten my day. It not only brightened my day, it was a godsend! I will remember your letter forever.” He signed it “Your friend you’ve never met” and his name.
All the messages in the balloons were good seeds. Even though every balloon was not discovered and appreciated by someone, the messages still took root where they could be nurtured and cherished. Each message took root in the heart of the girl who wrote it. As Tahneam Merrill of Rexburg, Idaho, said, “I can sincerely say my testimony soared higher and farther than my balloon could ever travel. My message may not be received by anyone, but it was received by me.”

Eight-year-old Katie didn’t remember until her bus pulled up to a rumbling stop in front of her house. Whitney and Jessie were already knocking at her door. The other girls were probably inside. “Oh no,” Katie thought with a sigh. “It’s Tuesday, and that means Primary activity day.”
“Race you to the door,” her brother said as he scrambled down the bus’s narrow black steps.
“Go ahead,” she called after him. “I want to be last today.” Katie hated activity days. “Well, not exactly hate,” she thought as she trudged across the grass. Her mom was the activity-day leader, and they had done a lot of fun things like making bread, learning to polka, and putting together their own journals.
But Katie just felt uncomfortable at activity days. When everyone came, there were eight girls all laughing and talking. She’d try to join in, but whenever she said something, somebody would say, “Oh,” and then go right back to what they were doing as if she hadn’t said anything.
Today wasn’t any different. When Katie tried to show everyone her new guinea pig, Squeakers, a few of the girls giggled at his soft fur, but as soon as the doorbell rang they raced to the door and forgot all about her.
When her mother told the girls to gather around the kitchen table to make invitations for their daddy-daughter dance, they scrambled around so they could sit next to their friends. Nobody tried to sit next to Katie.
And when the girls were playing tag on the lawn waiting for their moms to pick them up, Katie was sure that nobody noticed that she wasn’t there. They were too busy having fun without her.
“I don’t want to go to activity days anymore,” Katie said that night as her mother tucked her in bed.
Mother looked surprised. “Why not? I thought you liked activity days.”
“I would if it wasn’t for them,” Katie said.
“Them?” Mom asked.
Katie nodded. “Alyssa, Whitney, Jessie—all of them. They’re all a bunch of brats.” Katie knew that she wasn’t being very nice, but that’s how she felt. Mother sat down on the edge of the bed. “What have they done?”
“Nothing—that’s just it,” Katie said, trying to swallow the lump that had swelled up in her throat. “Nobody likes me.” The words sounded as awful as she felt.
Mother wrapped her arms around Katie and gave her a big hug.
“It’s hard to make friends with a big group. In fact, I’d say it’s impossible.”
Katie gulped. Impossible? Mom was supposed to make her feel better, not worse. “Then I’m definitely not going anymore,” she said.
“Impossible with a group,” Mother said. “But you could make friends with an individual. That’s one of the things I love about the gospel. Heavenly Father knows and loves each one of us individually—not just as a big group. Can you think of one girl you’d like to get to know better?”
Katie thought for a moment. There was Alyssa, Jessie, Whitney, Natalie, Hayley …
Katie stopped. Hayley. She hadn’t really thought of Hayley before. Hayley always came to activity days. She just wasn’t as loud as the other girls. “What about Hayley?” Katie asked.
“Why don’t you give her a call and invite her to play tomorrow?”
The next day Hayley arrived just as they’d planned. Katie showed Hayley her guinea pig and let her hold him in her lap. Hayley laughed at the funny whistling noises he made and the way he nibbled at her clothes. Katie found out that Hayley had a lot of pets—a rabbit, two dogs, and four cats!
They spent the rest of the afternoon jumping on the trampoline and making up stories with Katie’s dolls. Katie never knew that Hayley was such a good storyteller. They both had fun creating the latest doll fashions out of scraps of fabric they got from Katie’s mother.
Two hours seemed more like two minutes. Before they knew it, Hayley’s mom was picking her up.
On the next activity day, Katie raced her brother to their door and joined the girls who had already arrived. Katie and Hayley exchanged grins and began talking about all the things they’d done.
“OK, girls,” Katie’s mother announced. “Time to gather around the table.”
“Let’s sit over there, Hayley,” Katie said, pointing at the chairs on the other side of the table. Everyone was laughing and talking. It was fun to have a friend at activity day. Maybe Hayley and Natalie could come over next week.

I miss Laura. I hate when friends move away.
Me too. This feels worse than all the times we had to move away.
You can still call her! Or write letters.
I guess so.
It’s sad when friends go. But we can be thankful for how their friendship has blessed us.
Remember when Laura gave us these friendship bracelets for our birthday?
Yeah! And she wrote us those nice notes too.
She sounds like a good friend.
She is! She’s always kind, like Jesus. I want to be a good friend too.
Hey, maybe we can send Laura friendship bracelets in the mail.
Let’s give some to Lucas and Julia too!

Susan woke with a start. What was that noise? She listened carefully. The wind howled through the eucalyptus trees and knocked seedpods onto the roof above her bedroom. The noise of their falling sounded like heavy rain, and it had awakened her.

Susan sighed. Her family had just moved into this house, and she wasn’t used to all the new sounds. It didn’t help that Susan now slept alone. In their old house she had shared a bedroom with her older sister.

She pulled her blankets up under her chin as another shower of pods hit the roof. She was scared, lonely, and, she realized, missing her dad. Susan’s dad was an officer in the military. He was away on training. Although he wasn’t in danger, Susan suddenly grew frightened. What if someday her dad was sent to war and got killed? She didn’t want to grow up without her father. She needed him.

Tears pricked her eyes, and Susan knew she needed help to calm her growing fears. Her sister wasn’t nearby, but she knew that Jesus and Heavenly Father were always close.

Gathering her courage, Susan slipped out from under her blankets and knelt by the side of her bed. She prayed to Heavenly Father to help her, to take away her fear.

And then Susan heard something. It was softer than the clatter on the roof. It was her mother’s voice, and she was singing. As her mother walked through the house, finishing up her chores and getting ready for bed, she sang.

Susan’s mother had a beautiful voice and sang often, but this was the most wonderful song Susan had ever heard her sing. Though Susan didn’t recognize the tune, the words were about Jesus. The song filled her with peace.

Susan thanked Heavenly Father, then climbed back into bed, and listened to her mother’s song. Tears came to her eyes again, this time tears of gratitude and relief. She felt that all was well. She knew she had a loving family. She knew that Heavenly Father cared about her. She believed that no matter what happened, there would always be a reason to hope. Susan knew that whenever fears threatened to overcome her, she could find peace by remembering the night her mother’s song was stronger than fear.

Another influence in my life was our bishop’s wife. She was a nurse, and she taught me about the power and authority of the Melchizedek Priesthood to heal the sick. She also taught me about the gift of being healed. One day while playing in a silo, my cousin accidently knocked over a rock that hit me in the head. Even before she bandaged my deep gash, the bishop’s wife asked my father and her husband to administer a blessing. My wound healed, and I didn’t have to go to the doctor.

Two missionaries who were aflame spiritually had spent an active day establishing a branch of the Church in a remote village. At 5:30 that morning, they had taught a family before the husband left for the fields. Later they had struggled to plaster their adobe walls to keep out blood-sucking insects. During the week they had laid a small cement floor and had hung a five-gallon can with a shower head to keep clean. They had begun a sanitation facility and put new gravel and sand in their water filter. For part of the day they had worked beside men in the fields to later teach them. They were exhausted and ready for welcome rest.
There came an anxious knock at the crude wooden door. A small girl was crying. She had been running and was gasping for air. They struggled to piece together her message, delivered amid sobs in a torrent of words. Her father had suffered a severe head injury while riding his donkey in the darkness. She knew he would die unless the elders saved his life. Men of the village were at that moment carrying him to the missionaries. She pled for her father’s life, then ran to help him.
The seriousness of their desperate situation began to engulf them. They were in a village with no doctors or medical facilities. There were no telephones. The only means of communication was a rough road up a riverbed, and they had no vehicle.
The people of the valley trusted them. The missionaries were not trained in medicine. They did not know how to care for a serious head wound, but they knew someone who did. They knelt in prayer and explained their problem to an understanding Father in Heaven. They pled for guidance, realizing that they could not save a life without His help.
They felt impressed that the wound should be cleansed, closed, and the man given a blessing. One companion asked, “How will he stand the pain? How can we cleanse the wound and bless him while he is in such suffering?”
They knelt again and explained to their Father, “We have no medicine. We have no anesthetic. Please help us to know what to do. Please bless him, Father.”
As they arose, friends arrived with the injured man. Even in the subdued candlelight, they could see he had been severely hurt. He was suffering greatly. As they began to cleanse the wound, a very unusual thing occurred. He fell asleep. Carefully, anxiously, they finished the cleansing, closed the wound, and provided a makeshift bandage. As they laid their hands on his head to bless him, he awoke peacefully. Their prayer had been answered, and his life saved. The trust of the people increased, and a branch of the Church flourished.
The missionaries were able to save a life because they trusted the Lord. They knew how to pray with faith for help with a problem they could not resolve themselves. Because they were obedient to the Lord, the Lord trusted them and answered their prayer. They had learned how to recognize the answer when it came as a quiet prompting of the Spirit. You have that same help available to you if you live for it.

In 1988, Gerard was called to preside over a new mission in the Mascarene Islands, with headquarters on Reunion. When he and Annie and four of their seven children arrived, they found home and office to be a missionary apartment with only an old typewriter and little else. They moved temporarily into the apartment and went to work.
Annie quickly accepted her own role as a missionary. “One day,” says Gerard, “she saw a lady in the supermarket whom she had met at a parents’ meeting. The lady had been impressed by Annie, but had never dared ask about her name tag. At the store, the woman took the opportunity to ask. She was baptized one month later, and the following year she received her temple endowment.”

Jeremy’s parents were building a bigger home for their family. It was on the next-door lot, and each afternoon on his way home from school, Jeremy stopped to see what the builders had done that day. He’d picture in his mind what his new home would look like and how he would fix up his own room.
One afternoon when Jeremy went there, the builders had already gone for the day. He scrambled over the just-begun walls and down into the unfinished basement.
This is going to be a great home, he thought, walking from wall to wall, seeing how big it was going to be. Then he peered up at the holes where the windows would be. He could see the sky—and big gray clouds coming toward him very fast! I’d better get home before Mom starts to worry about me.
But when he turned to find his way out, he discovered that there were no stairs yet. What am I going to do now? he wondered. He tried grabbing at the walls and jumping as high as he could, but it didn’t work. The walls were too high, and there was nothing to hold onto.
He yelled at the top of his lungs, “Someone help me—I can’t get out!” But no one was close enough to hear. Although he yelled again and again, his words just echoed back.
Feeling afraid, Jeremy sat down in the dirt. Then he remembered what his mom and dad had taught him about how to talk to Heavenly Father and how to listen for His answer, Jeremy knelt near some of the builders’ supplies left on the floor. “Dear Heavenly Father,” he prayed, “I know that I’m supposed to thank thee first, but I’m scared. Please help me to get out of here. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As Jeremy stayed there with his eyes closed, listening, he thought about what he was kneeling next to: bricks! “Heavenly Father, thank you!” he shouted as he opened his eyes and jumped up. It didn’t take long for him to pile enough bricks firmly against the wall to climb up and over it.
Then he raced home to tell his mom what had happened. He knew that she would want to thank Heavenly Father too.

By now our children had joined with us in the discussions, and the two sisters who had originally knocked on our door had been replaced by another pair of lady missionaries. I would put the baby in his playpen, and then we’d start bombarding the missionaries with question after question. We found that the two sticks mentioned in prophecy were the Bible and the Book of Mormon. “Do we get to see the Book of Mormon? When? When can I read it? Next discussion?” This was going to be a long week—I could hardly wait.
The week was long. I kept thinking about the Book of Mormon and could hardly wait to get my hands on it. The day finally arrived, and I hoped in my heart they wouldn’t forget the Book of Mormon. I even thought they might finally have a cup of coffee with us.
As we discussed the Book of Mormon, they told me of a wonderful promise contained in it. Yes, we’d give it a try. We’d pray about it.
It took only a few pages of the Book of Mormon to convince me that it was true. It’s true! This is the word of God! And so, each morning at 6:00 I would take my cup of coffee out on the back steps of the house in the cool morning air and read until the children woke up. How forceful were the words! Who could ever deny, after reading this book, that it was the word of God? It is the word of God! What a feeling of excitement, of discovery, of awe, of warmth, of wonder.

While casual acquaintances often believe me to be an upbeat person, I’ve never thought of myself as a beaming ray of sunshine. In fact, there’s a rather large reminder of my sometimes not-so-cheery disposition that hangs on my parents’ living room wall.
One summer when I was a child, my grandparents came to visit, and we took advantage of the opportunity to schedule some family photos. I was fully prepared in my pink gingham dress and matching brimmed hat, but things took a sour turn when I wasn’t given a stool like the ones that several family members were sitting on.
Frustrated, I frowned my biggest frown for the entire session, tainting what could have been a pleasant experience with my family and spawning decades of jokes about “the grumpy dress.”
Although I can laugh about it now, that family portrait is a constant reminder to me of the power of positivity. Being positive obviously makes life more enjoyable—because who finds genuine pleasure in being angry all the time? Not to mention, positivity has long been linked to various health benefits like reduced stress, lower risk of heart disease, and even a longer life.1
I now smile for family photos (even if I have to stand), and I’ve begun to understand how my own attitude can impact those around me, for better or for worse.

In 1950, Betty met her husband, Bill, who had migrated from Belfast, Northern Ireland to also find work at the shipyard. They married a year later and had three boys and one girl, but sadly, a road accident would take their second eldest son, Donal, at the age of 21. Betty now has 11 grandchildren and 26 great grandchildren and says, “Every one of them is lovely.”
The passing of her son Donal and, more recently, her husband Bill have made Betty more grateful and aware of the blessing it is to know that God’s plan of happiness reunites families in the eternities.
She loves the gospel truth that families can be together forever. “It’s a great motivator to keep us on the straight and narrow path so that we can be reunited in the next life.”

However, all was not going to go as planned because precisely one week before preparing to fly to Hong Kong, Sister Berry began to experience lower back pain. She tried to shrug it off, expecting it to heal on its own. Then, a couple of days later, after a volleyball game, she noticed the pain grew to the point where it was difficult to walk.
She was immediately seen by the MTC doctor and was horrified to be told that she would not be able to fly out for her mission but would need to return home to England to have surgery.
She was utterly devastated but determined to find a way to stay on track. She was able to see a surgeon in the USA who specialised in the surgery she needed. So, Sister Berry remained in the MTC for an extra three weeks, waving goodbye to her MTC group as she waited.
Within that time, the cysts on her spine had receded and drained enough to help the surgery process for which she was waiting.
Following her surgery, the recovery programme would take longer than six weeks, and so it was decided she would return home to England, but she went back with the mindset that she would not stay for long, and that her suitcase would remain packed!
To keep herself in the missionary frame of mind, she kept her daily missionary routine, reading her scriptures and studying the mission language. She also met with her MTC teacher online to practise the language.
She said, “I did not give myself the option even to consider staying home. My mind was firmly set that this was just temporary”.
On March 4, 2019, now stronger, she flew from England to Hong Kong, ready to meet with her mission president and his wife, President and Sister Phillips, from the USA (now living in Salt Lake City).

Fourth, through the giving of themselves. A very special young friend of mine served as a missionary of this Church in Japan. His dedication to missionary work and the Japanese people was so complete and full that, rather than spend all of the money his parents sent to him, he unselfishly made a regular contribution of part of his money to help another local Japanese missionary. His parents sent him extra money so that he could buy some camera equipment available in Japan to record in pictures a few of the great experiences he was having. Rather than buy the camera equipment, which would have served him well for a lifetime, he chose rather to send the money back to his parents. In time, as with most missionaries, the clothes of my young friend became threadbare and thin. In order for him to be able to come home, it was necessary for him to buy a second-hand suit from one of the other elders. His regular denial of himself, in order to share his substance with the local Japanese missionary, was a very closely guarded secret. He is a good example of the young elect of God of this Church, as are hundreds of thousands of others.

Real Missionaries
Many years ago I was with my companion at the missionary training center when I heard the voice of a child say, “Grandma, are those real missionaries?” I turned to see a young girl holding her grandmother’s hand and pointing at me and my companion. I smiled, extended my hand, looked her square in the eye, and said, “Hello, I am Elder Richardson, and we are real missionaries.” Her face beamed as she looked at me, thrilled that she was in the company of genuine missionaries. I walked away from that experience with renewed dedication. I wanted to be the type of missionary that the Savior, my family, and this young girl expected me to be. For the next two years, I worked hard to look like, think like, act like, and especially to teach like a real missionary.
Upon my return home, it became increasingly apparent that even though I had left my mission, my mission didn’t leave me. In fact, even after all these years, I still feel that my mission was the best two years for my life.
Matthew O. Richardson, second counselor in the Sunday School general presidency

Forced by mob persecution to leave their homes in Nauvoo, Illinois, many members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints decided to go westward to find a new home. The next year, 1847, under the direction of President Brigham Young, they moved to the Great Salt Lake Valley, Utah. The first pioneer colony to arrive at the valley numbered one hundred forty-three men, three women, and two children. Among these first settlers was Green Flake, a former slave of a North Carolina planter, who had been converted earlier to the Church.
Born in Anson County, North Carolina, in 1825, Green was inherited by Madison Flake after his father’s death. As was the custom of the time, Green took the surname of his master. After Madison Flake joined the Church, he offered Green his freedom. However Green chose to remain with Madison, and he moved to Nauvoo with the Flake family. In Nauvoo Green served for a short time as one of the Prophet Joseph Smith’s bodyguards.
Madison asked Green to go with the first wagon train of Saints to help prepare for the subsequent arrival of the Flake family. Life was hard for all of the pioneers. Green proved himself strong and reliable as the small group of men set up winter quarters in Nebraska, made a trail along the Platte River to Fort Laramie, Wyoming, in the spring, and found a way through the Rocky Mountains.
President Young became ill with a fever when they arrived at Echo Canyon, which cut through the eastern slopes of the Wasatch Range eighty kilometers from the Great Salt Lake. He sent Orson Pratt ahead with a company of forty-two men, instructing them to build bridges and roads as they went. Green Flake was included in this group, which pushed on and reached the Great Salt Lake Valley 21 July 1847. He rode in the first wagon to move through Emigration Canyon into the desert valley, later called by Brigham Young “the Promised Land.”
Orson Pratt immediately dedicated the land to the Lord and blessed the seed that they had carried with them over a thousand miles. He then ordered the first crops to be planted. Green Flake plowed the earth and sowed his share of the seed before building a log house for the Flake family. He had chosen a site that the Flakes could live near the Southern Saints who had come west with the Mississippi Company.
When Madison Flake arrived a year later, he found a beautiful home ready for his family. At this time, Green was only twenty-two years old. Shortly afterward Green married Martha Crosby, and they had two children. After his wife died in 1885, Green went to live near his son and daughter in Gray’s Lake, Idaho. He returned to Salt Lake City in 1897 to attend the Jubilee Pioneer Celebration and to receive a special certificate for being one of the first pioneers to enter the valley. He died six years later in Gray’s Lake at the age of seventy-eight.

He ministered in power to relieve the considerable suffering experienced by the Saints. On the “day of God’s power,” July 22, 1839, Joseph lay stricken with a vile disease, as were many of the Saints. Neighbor cared for neighbor, parents for children, and children for parents. There were so many ill that the caregivers were overwhelmed and exhausted. Moved upon by the Spirit, Joseph rose from his sick bed and went across the river to Montrose, Iowa. Dozens were immediately healed on that day. He states in his journal, “Many of the sick were this day raised up by the power of God.”[40]

Subject: Dan
Age: 16 years
Event: First prom date
The dance was over. Dan carefully maneuvered his dad’s car out of the high school parking lot. “I thought we’d go out to eat,” he said suavely.
“Great!” his date said. “Where?”
“Of course, because of the prom, many places will be full.”
“How about the Pyrenes?” she suggested. “My parents go there.”
“I’m sure it’ll be full,” Dan answered quickly.
“Okay, how about the Bonanza?”
“That will be full.”
“McDonald’s?” the girl pleaded.
“Full,” Dan answered firmly. “But don’t worry. I know a place that’s never full.”
“What’s it called?” she asked suspiciously.
“Big Alice’s Truck Stop Diner and Reloading Emporium. You get all the hashbrowns you can eat.”
“Oh,” the girl said with disappointment.
The old diner seemed to be leaning into the wind along the nearly deserted section of old highway that had been abandoned with the construction of the interstate. Apparently a few truckers still went out of their way because two large semi-trucks were parked outside.
“My dad gave me ten dollars to take you out to dinner,” Dan said as they pulled to a stop in front of the place, “but, gosh, you could eat here for a week for ten dollars.”
Alice, a huge woman, stood behind the counter with her arms folded and argued politics with two truckers. Dan and his date moved quickly to the other end of the long row of stools along the counter and sat down. In a minute, Big Alice sauntered down to get their order. “Whataya want?”
“Two hamburgers with everything,” Dan said, “plenty of hashbrowns, and a couple of donuts for dessert.”
“Is it okay, what I ordered for you?” Dan asked his date. “My dad said that the guy is supposed to order. It’s etiquette.”
The two truckers and Big Alice continued their argument as she cooked their order.
“You can’t say that!” one trucker argued.
“Well, I’m saying it!” the other trucker roared. “The trouble with people today is that nobody wants to fight! Especially the kids today. They couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag!”
Suddenly the three looked down the long row of empty stools to Dan and his date.
Dan nervously smiled at them.
In a few minutes, Big Alice brought their food and then left.
The girl carefully examined the hamburger. “The meat’s all greasy,” she complained.
“That used to bother me, too, when I first started eating here,” Dan eagerly explained, “but I learned a little trick.” Grabbing some napkins, he picked up her hamburger patty and blotted it with the napkins. “There,” he said proudly, “how’s that?”
He eagerly ate, but she took a fork and only probed the food with it.
“Aren’t you even going to eat your hashbrowns?” he asked.
“They’re greasy, too.”
“Yeah, but they’re great with catsup.” He picked up the catsup bottle, and in his eagerness, dumped the entire contents on her plate. Some of it splashed on her formal.
“Whoops,” he said apologetically.
“Please,” she said, beginning to cry, “take me home.”
“Okay,” Dan agreed. “Why don’t you take a donut with you in case you get hungry on the way?”__________

On the 22nd of February 2024 Chloe and Mandy Pritchard, twins, were set apart as full-time service missionaries by President Haji, Stake President of the Preston England Stake.
After a series of visits to the Preston England Temple, Sister Jessica Pritchard felt very strongly that she should serve a mission. Sister Chloe Pritchard had spent a lot of time helping and serving with the sister missionaries and felt a great desire to serve. When Sister Mandy Pritchard discovered the opportunity to serve a service mission she also desired to apply. Their mother went on to say, “I knew that they wanted to serve a mission, but I never expected them all to serve at the same time.”

Several years ago, I was working as a software engineer. I was married, had two kids, and was serving in the Church. I started teaching some night classes at the local university, and I loved it. So, I was considering trying to become a university professor, but that would mean that I would need to quit my job and go back to school full-time.

My wife and I counseled together about it and asked the Lord to help us with wisdom and judgment. In the end, we felt good about this option and moved forward with faith that the Lord would help us through the process. So I quit my job and started back into school full-time. In addition to my schooling, I was working on the side to try to make ends meet. Needless to say, this was a busy time for me.

Perhaps you can relate.

At this time, I was serving as the executive secretary in my ward, and so I attended bishopric meetings. During some of these meetings, it came up that our ward needed a new young men's president. As the bishopric discussed names of possible people, none quite felt right. And in the process, my name came up. The bishop knew this was a very busy time in my life, but he asked me to give it some thought and let him know how I felt. He said he wasn't officially issuing me a calling, and if I said it wasn't a good fit right now, it wouldn't be a problem.

This was a difficult decision for me to wrestle with. In some ways, I think it would have been easier for me if the bishop had issued the calling directly. Because, as it was, I was left to weigh the options myself.

My wife and I counseled together about it, because it would affect our whole family, and we felt assurance and faith that the Lord would bless us if we moved forward with this calling.

I wrote the following in my journal: "It was really in my court whether or not I would be called. I didn't sleep well and wasn't sure what to do, but as I was reading in the scriptures, I had the distinct impression that if I waited until I had time to serve, then I never would, because things will always be busy. So I told the bishopric I was willing, and I was given the call."

This decision blessed my life in many ways during that time, but it has blessed it even more since, because it established a pattern in my life that has made a huge difference for me.

I can't tell you how many blessings have come from simply saying yes and showing up—even when I was tired or didn't always start with the best attitude.