Gospel Story Finder

“Why do we have to come so early?” Ashley grumbled as she and her parents and brothers sat down in the chapel. Mom and Dad wanted the family to be at church a whole 15 minutes before sacrament meeting started! She’d barely had time to eat breakfast and brush her teeth before it was time to go.
“I like to watch people as they come in,” Mom said.
Ashley noticed Mom looking at the people as they walked into the chapel.
“What are you looking for?” She glanced at the Mendez family as they walked in, but she didn’t notice anything different from usual.
Mom’s gaze moved from one person to the next. “I’m trying to see who might need some extra love.”
“How can you tell?” Ashley asked.
“I notice if anyone seems sad,” said Mom. “Or worried.”
“But how do you know?”
“I look at their faces, especially their eyes,” Mom said. “People’s eyes often show their true feelings.”
“Huh. I guess that makes sense.” Ashley paid closer attention to the people around the room. Mom was right! Some ward members had eyes that seemed a little sad. Sister Henderson looked like she’d been crying. Brother Henderson wasn’t there. Ashley remembered her parents saying that he was very sick with cancer.
Mom wrote down some names in a notebook she kept in her purse. Then the prelude music started, and she put away the notebook.
Later that day Ashley found Mom writing cards. “Are those for the people we saw at church?”
Mom looked up from her writing and nodded. “This is just my little way of helping others. We can’t always take away their problems, but we can try to help. A card shows that someone cares. It’s like an extra dose of love.”
An extra dose of love. Ashley liked that! “How can you know everyone who needs a card?”
“I can’t,” said Mom. “That’s why I pray first. I ask Heavenly Father for His help.”
“Does He tell you who needs a card?” Ashley asked.
“Sometimes I keep thinking about a person. That’s one of the ways the Holy Ghost can speak to us.” Mom signed the card she’d been writing. “I don’t know all the problems people have. Only Heavenly Father knows that. But I want to help where I can.”
Ashley remembered that Mom had wanted a box of cards and stamps for her last birthday. Now Ashley knew why.
That night Mom put a stack of stamped cards on the counter, ready for tomorrow’s mail.
“How many did you write?” Ashley asked.
Mom smiled. “Eight today. I may write a few more during the week as I think of people.”
Ashley thought of her friend Janine, whose parents were getting divorced. Janine was really upset about it and had been crying after school. “Can I use one of your cards?” Ashley asked. “I want to send one to Janine. Maybe it’ll help her feel better.”
“Of course you can.”
Ashley searched through Mom’s box of cards and picked one with bluebirds on it. She found a pen and started to write. “Dear Janine. …”

After sixty-six days at sea aboard the Mayflower, Ellen Howard is as excited as any of the ship’s passengers to see America for the first time. Her longing for her brother and sister, Roger and Sarah, still living in Holland, and her memory of the near-disastrous ocean voyage are temporarily forgotten as the travelers approach the New World—and a new life.
The long weary journey of the Pilgrims was almost ended. The vast ocean lay behind them, and beckoning ahead stretched a thin strip of land. The Mayflower, as though eager to reach harbor, skimmed along in the spanking breeze.
But as the land loomed larger, Captain Jones made the disappointing announcement, “We’ve sighted the clay highlands of Cape Cod. We’re a three weeks’ sail northeast of Jamestown.”
Ellen looked up at her father with troubled eyes. “Oh, Papa! Does that mean we have to sail on?”
“Perhaps, darling. Perhaps,” he replied.
Both strangers and Pilgrims debated and decided they should head south for the mouth of the Hudson River. But within a few hours the Mayflower tangled with the dangerous shoals and roaring breakers known as “Tucker’s Terrors,” and they were forced to turn back. Winds that had blown them off course and tumultuous waters had decided their destiny.
So, on a Saturday afternoon, November 21, the Mayflower dropped anchor in a Cape Cod harbor too far north to be governed by the laws of the Virginia colony.
“Aye, when we go ashore we’ll use our own liberty,” boasted one of the strangers. “King James’s patent is of no effect here.”
But the Pilgrims and strangers both realized that to keep their freedom they must have rules. Forty-one men aboard gathered in the ship’s cabin, drew up the Mayflower Compact, and signed it. John Carver was unanimously chosen to be governor of the new colony.
When the council meeting was over, several armed men went ashore, staying just long enough to look around quickly and to collect a load of firewood. The next day was Sunday, and everyone stayed on board in Sabbath worship.
On Monday the overjoyed passengers were rowed ashore.
Ellen knelt in the sand and, sifting it through her fingers, exclaimed, “Oh, sand, how good you feel!” Flinging her arms wide, she cried, “Oh, earth, I love you and wish I could hug you!”
Her feelings reflected those of all the passengers, for they fell upon their knees and blessed the God of heaven who had brought them over the vast and furious ocean. Nevertheless, each night was spent aboard ship for safety reasons.
While the men worked on a shallop (small open boat) from the ship, hauling it up onto the beach for repairs, the women went ashore to wash clothes. After the shallop was repaired, Miles Standish, the military captain of the colony, with Captain Jones and a group of men, most of them Pilgrims, set out to explore. Daily they prayed for guidance.
On December 21, the travelers stepped ashore at the site of a deserted Indian village. Old and weathered cornstalks rattled in the breeze where land had been cleared. A brook sparkled and babbled down a hillside. Nearby was an excellent harbor. In one field was a great hill that commanded a view of the sea and land roundabout. Why the place had been deserted was a mystery.
“We’ll build our new Plymouth here,” Captain Standish announced.
When they returned to the Mayflower, William White looked anxiously about the deck for his wife, Susanna. Then he saw her coming toward him. Placing a tiny bundle in his arms, she said, “My husband, our little son was born while you were gone.”
Tenderly, William uncovered the tiny pink face. “So our little traveler has arrived,” he said, beaming.
Standing by, Governor Carver exclaimed, “Aye, William, your little son is the first white child we know of to be born in New England. He should be called Peregrine (traveler).”
“Peregrine White,” William mused. “That is what he shall be called.” Then noticing Ellen’s eager upturned face, he asked, “Do you want to hold the baby?”
“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. Gently he laid the bundle in her arms, and Ellen smiled with pleasure.
The Mayflower sailed across the bay and cast anchor in Plymouth Harbor on December 26. Work on the new settlement was immediately begun. The lookout hill became Fort Hill, with the cannon mounted on its top. On the sunny side of the hill, they dug shelters and built pens for the chickens, goats, and pigs, which cackled, bleated, and grunted their appreciation. Timber was hewn from the forest, and a common house was built. Then came the bitter cold and snow. Since there was not sufficient shelter for all the families, they remained on the Mayflower, and the men rowed back and forth each day. Many times the stormy waters dashed over them, freezing upon them like coats of iron. Many caught colds that turned into pneumonia. Sickness spread like an epidemic, and almost half the people aboard the Mayflower died. Sailors who had sneered at the praying church folks, and strangers who had quarreled with them, now grew close in their mutual suffering and grief.
Warm weather came at last, and birds sang in the forest. A half dozen cabins were completed, and by the end of March the last of the Mayflower passengers went ashore.
Friendly Indians came—Samoset, Squanto, and Hobomack, all of whom knew some English. Chief Massasoit also came to make a peace treaty with the colonists.
Squanto and Hobomack remained in Plymouth. Squanto went to live with William Bradford, who was now governor. (John Carver had suddenly become ill and died.) Hobomack went to live with Miles Standish.
One day Squanto was visiting with Ellen and John Howland. “This was once my home,” he explained. “Plymouth, as you call it, was a Pawtuxet village. When I was a papoose like you, Ellen, I played in the meadows. When I was a young brave like you, John Howland, Captain Hunt invited me and some other braves to go aboard his trading ship. When we were at sea, strange sailors boarded our ship and tied us up. They took us to Spain and sold us as slaves. I later escaped to England and lived there a long time with good people. Finally, I became a seaman for Captain Dermar. He brought me back to America. At Pawtuxet Harbor, I ran swiftly to see my people, but they were gone—no braves, no women, no papooses! I was sad and alone; my eyes filled with tears. I went to the Sowams, and Chief Massasoit took me in. He said all my people died in a smallpox plague. You came, and my village has people once more. I will be your son. You will be my people. I will teach you Indian ways, and you will become strong.”
Squanto taught the people how to plant corn, and everyone helped with the planting. “If you want to get crops from these old grounds,” Squanto advised, “you must fertilize the fields with fish.” When the herring began their spring run, he showed the settlers how to trap them. Then the men spaded holes in the hillocks, and the boys dropped in three herring, spokewise, with their heads toward the center. Ellen and the other little girls put four kernels of corn into each hill, then covered them. Squanto told the settlers to guard the crops against animals. The children kept watch by day and the grownups by night.
Squanto also showed the villagers how to tap maple trees for the sweet sap, how to trap deer and other game, and where to find eels. Thanks to him, the colony began to thrive.
The six acres of wheat, barley, and peas the settlers had planted with seed brought from England scarcely produced seed enough for the next year. But with the pumpkin and corn from the Indians, the harvest was bounteous far beyond their expectations. And because of the peace treaty with the Indians, the children could gather wild plums, berries, and grapes in the woods as safely as they could have walked the sidewalks of Holland.
One autumn morning as Ellen and the other children had gone to the woods to gather nuts, they were startled by the booming of the cannon from the top of Fort Hill. Kathrine Howard came racing across the meadow, calling and beckoning to them.
“What is it, Mama?” cried Ellen, running to meet her.
“A tall white sail has been sighted off Cape Cod. It’s heading for Plymouth. Governor Bradford fears it may be a French vessel coming to raid us.”
“Where’s Papa?”
“Captain Standish has marshaled every man and boy who can handle a gun,” Kathrine panted.
The vessel, when she hove into sight, ran up a white flag bearing the red cross of the English. A cry of joy went up from the anxiously watching crowd, and everyone raced for the shore. When the first little boat with its passengers ran aground, Ellen rushed into the shallow water.
“Sarah! Roger!” she cried as her sister and brother alighted.
The tears, laughter, and hugging at this joyous reunion were quite a contrast to the sadness at the time of their parting.
The ship, Fortune, with the thirty-five men, women, and children who had come to live in Plymouth, dropped anchor in her harbor just a little less than a year after the Mayflower had anchored at Cape Cod. One of the first to come ashore was Deacon Robert Cushman, who brought with him formal legal rights to the land the settlers now occupied.
When the pumpkins and corn had been harvested, Governor Bradford declared, “We will hold a harvest feast of thanksgiving so we might all rejoice together!”
The colony bustled in preparation. An invitation was sent to the friendly Indians. Chief Massasoit and ninety braves came, bearing five deer to be barbecued. Hunters returned from the forest laden with wild turkeys, geese, and ducks. The women busied themselves with baking, while the children tended the roasts on the spits over open fires. Long tables were spread outdoors, and everyone sat down together. Besides the game from the forest, the table was spread with fish, clams and other shellfish, succulent eels, journeycake, corn bread with nuts, succotash, pumpkin stewed in maple sap, dried berries, plums, grapes, leeks, watercress, and various other herbs.
The celebration lasted three days. Elder Brewster gave a prayer of thanksgiving, and Captain Standish staged a military review. There were games of chance—the Pilgrims competing with flintlocks, the Indians with bows and arrows. There were songs and expressions of worship and praise. After the celebration, the Indians returned to the woods and the Pilgrims to their duties of enlarging the colony and making it snug for winter.
Contentedly, Ellen watched the dancing lights cast by the flickering fire upon the cabin walls. A steady wind whistled outside in the starlit darkness. Sighing softly, Ellen said, “The celebration is over now, but thanksgiving goes on and on. I’m thankful that I’m a Pilgrim and live in America and that Sarah and Roger came so we can all be together.”
Her father patted her hand. “The Lord is good. America is good. She is our sweet land of promise.”

The French have a phrase for it—au courant. It means to be aware of what’s happening, to know what’s going on. And 17-year-old Nathalie Perez had a plan to help the youth in the branch of Tours stay au courant.
“There aren’t that many LDS youth here,” Nathalie explains. “Sometimes we start to feel like we’re losing touch with each other.” So she decided to start a branch newspaper—just for the youth.
Soon the paper, published every other month, had its first edition, then the second, then the third. Now it’s in its second year of publication. The Journal des Jeunes (newspaper of the youth) is a hodgepodge of scriptures, inspirational thoughts, and news about the branch. There’s an ongoing series of biographies of presidents of the Church (Joseph Smith, Brigham Young, and John Taylor have already been featured), and there’s usually a note from one of the youth leaders.
But there are also recipes, jokes, tips on how to sew on a button or make perfect mayonnaise, crossword puzzles, descriptions of world geography, poems, and cultural notes about famous painters and musicians. Ingrid Garnier, 17, writes feature articles, riddles, and public opinion surveys. Pascal Brossard, 16, prepares a regular column on bird-watching. And Wilfried Garnier, 14, is the staff cartoonist.
The newsletter may not seem like much at first glance. It’s just a few sheets of photocopied paper with typed messages and hand-drawn illustrations. But to those in the know, it represents a heartbeat for the young people, a way of keeping in touch with the less active, a unifying force that the youth initiated themselves.
“The important thing is that the Journal gives us all a sense of belonging,” Nathalie explains. “Everyone has something they can contribute.”

As anxious European Saints crowded aboard the beautiful sailing ship Olympus, an apostle prophesied that their voyage would be terrible—but successful.
Elder John Taylor, presiding over the French Mission, was in England on Church business in early March 1851. He took time to bid good-bye to friends—converts and missionaries—then leaving Liverpool for America aboard the Olympus. One friend was William Howell, who the previous year had opened up France for the preaching of the gospel, and who was named presiding elder for the 245 Saints taking the trip. Elder Taylor wished the travelers well. Then he prophetically warned that the Olympus would be wracked by storms, that Saints would suffer from evil spirits and from sickness, but “that God would preserve them in the midst of all dangers, and lead them to a harbor of safety.”
Another part of Elder Taylor’s prophecy likewise found quick fulfillment. Hardly had the Olympus entered the terrible Irish Sea when harsh head winds whipped huge waves against the wooden vessel day and night. For three weeks many of the tossed-about passengers were seasick, “suffering intensely from the distressing affliction.” Finally, when a calm day brought relief, the passengers felt the worst part of their voyage was behind them. But Captain Wilson’s trained eyes, making a careful survey of the horizon, spotted a rapidly approaching cloud. At first it was no bigger than a man’s hat, but it swelled and spread at an alarming rate.
Quickly the captain massed both shifts of the crew on deck and ordered all sails immediately shortened. He allowed Brother Nowers and a 20-year-old carpenter from Dover, Edmund Fuller, to stay aloft and help the crew. (Later in the voyage Mr. Fuller fell in love with a Mormon girl, Adelaide Jelley, and he joined the Church and married her in St. Louis.)
Barely were sails hauled in and secured, and passengers herded below deck, when the new storm struck the ship full force. The Olympus trembled and reeled “like a drunkard.” The “regular white squall” snapped the foremast off and carried it overboard. Several men nearly went overboard with the broken mast, which, hanging by the ship’s side, had to be cut loose from its stays with axes. Torrents of wind and water sprang the mainmast at the deck.
Thrown on her beam ends the Olympus became unmanageable. Into a fearfully dark night the ship struggled, battered by hurricane winds. Seams of the vessel cracked, letting water seep into the hold.
Two hours after the storm began, about 8:00 P.M., four feet of water had poured into the hold and the ship’s pumps were started. Above, knee-deep waters rushed over the decks, causing Brother Nowers and Mr. Fuller to lash themselves to the pumps they were manning to keep from being washed overboard. Hour after hour the storm raged. And the Olympus took on more and more water.
By midnight the captain, crew, and men on deck were despondent because the storm showed no signs of abating. Within earshot of Brother Nowers the captain ordered Second Mate Hamilton to go below deck and tell the Mormon’s president, Elder Howell, that “if the God of the Mormons can do anything to save the ship and the people, they had better be calling on him to do so.” The captain confessed that despite the crew’s best efforts the Olympus was sinking at the rate of one foot per hour and that by daylight it would be on the bottom of the sea unless the storm ceased.
The second mate asked Brother Nowers to accompany him below to deliver the message to the Mormons. As soon as the crashing waves allowed, the two messengers unbarred the companionway and ducked below. They found Elder Howell in his bed and told him the captain’s appeal.
“Very well,” answered the Mormon leader calmly. “You may tell Captain Wilson that we are not going to the bottom of the ocean for we embarked from Liverpool on a voyage for New Orleans, and we will arrive safely in that port. Our God will protect us.” Mr. Hamilton returned to the deck and gave Captain Wilson the Mormons’ answer.
Brother Nowers, dripping wet, could not help noticing the absolute chaos below deck. Everywhere unsecured trunks and packages rolled and skidded from one side to the other as the ship swayed and rolled. Some passengers were crying. Others prayed. Still others simply waited.
President Howell quickly arose, dressed, and called about a dozen brethren, including new convert Wilson Nowers, to his side. The leader instructed that each man in the circle take a turn to pray vocally that the Lord would spare the vessel. Elder Howell prayed last.
“While he was still engaged in prayer,” said Brother Nowers, “I noticed a material change in the motion of the ship.” Instead of rolling and pitching, the Olympus “seemed to tremble as one suffering from the effects of a severe cold.” He could not believe the ship was sinking. But he also could not believe that the storm had so suddenly ceased.
After the final hearty “amen” President Howell sent the prayer circle members back to bed. Brother Nowers, however, returned to his pumping duties on deck. There, astonished, he found that “the storm had miraculously ceased; the wind had gone down, and the waves were stilled immediately around the ship, while in the distance the billows were still raging.” The Olympus trembled at so sudden a change.
Pumping continued until daylight. When the Sabbath day finally dawned, clear and bright, Captain Wilson admitted that he had done all he could do before calling on the Mormons and that only God’s hand had saved the sinking ship.

Before his death, the Prophet Joseph directed that a canvas tabernacle be built to shelter the Saints during large meetings. In 1845, as the temple was nearing completion, Elder Orson Hyde of the Quorum of the Twelve was sent back East to raise funds and to buy “about four thousand yards” of canvas to build what Brigham Young referred to as “the Tabernacle of the congregation in Zion.”
Brother Orson Pratt outlined the proposed location and design of the canvas tabernacle in a letter written on August 30, 1845:
“It is intended to erect a tabernacle of canvass in front of, and joining the Temple on the west. The form of this tabernacle will be that of an ellipse. … The area of its base will be sufficient to contain eight or ten thousand persons; its seats will gradually rise one above another in the form of an amphitheatre.”
The brethren the next day began to clear the ground for the construction of the canvas tabernacle. However, because of the intense persecution from their enemies, the Saints had to leave Nauvoo, so the canvas tabernacle was never built. Orson Hyde “loaded the canvas into wagons in 1846 and headed west with it.” Some have speculated that “the canvas was put to good use for such things as tents, tent ends and wagon covers” for the Saints in the exodus to the Salt Lake Valley.

One night after contemplating the upcoming change, I dreamed about my great-great-grandfather Joseph Skeen. I knew from his journal that when he and his wife, Maria, moved to Nauvoo, he desired to serve, so he sought out the Prophet Joseph Smith and asked how he could help. The Prophet sent him to work on the prairie and told him to do the best he could, so he did. He worked on the Smiths’ farm.

Fulfilling callings requires faith. Shortly after Joseph began working on the farm, he and Maria became very sick. They had no money and were among strangers. It was a difficult time for them. In his journal, Joseph wrote, “We worked along [and] hung on to the Church with what little faith we had, though the devil tried to destroy us and turn us back.”

I, along with hundreds of other descendants, will be eternally grateful that Joseph and Maria did not turn back. Blessings come as we persevere in our callings and responsibilities and hang on with all the faith we have.

The Samoan way is much more than shared chores. It’s about lifting each other to a higher place whenever possible. And for a lot of families, that includes siblings helping siblings with the cost of their education.
“I work in the city to help provide money for my family, including paying for my younger brother’s schooling,” Sefa explains.
This sacrifice means a lot to Don. “This makes me feel closer to my brother,” he says. “I love him and appreciate what he’s doing for me.”
Sefa also knows that Don will ultimately be able to pay it forward. He likes to imagine the man his younger brother will grow to be. “I know that someday Don will do great things for his own family,” Sefa says. He wants his brother to have every shot at success.
Once again, it’s the Samoan way. They help build each other’s future.

“My older brother Bobby is retarded, so it’s natural that I’d associate with other retarded children,” said Cathy. “I couldn’t ask for a better brother. He’s seven years older than I am, and I was born on his birthday. He’s always said that I was his birthday present. We’ve been very close.”
Cathy would go to parties for her brother Bobby and his friends and sing for them. “I’ve always wanted to be an entertainer, so it was fun for me. They don’t care how bad you sing. They appreciate even small things. The rest of us need to be more like they are.”

Clare makes friends wherever she goes. She has friends she met in Brownies and in Girl Guides. She has friends she has made while swimming or playing field hockey. And she has friends she met while doing a pantomime show at the local town hall, where her mother helped make costumes for everyone in the cast.

When her mother learned that some of the cast members had questions about the Church, she invited them to visit the Portadown Ward meetinghouse. While they were there, many of them and their mothers noticed pictures of the Savior and learned how deeply Latter-day Saints love the Lord. “Some of them didn’t know that Latter-day Saints are Christians,” Clare’s mother explains. “Now they understand that we are.”

Does Clare have some secret that helps her in making all these friends?

“I just remember that we’re all children of the same God,” she says, “so that means we’re all brothers and sisters.”

And that’s not really a secret.

George Albert was very ill. The doctor had diagnosed typhoid fever, a dread disease at that time, and ordered the boy to stay in bed for at least three weeks. His mother was told that George Albert should have only liquids and that she should brew him some coffee.
At this very young age, he demonstrated a great faith in his Heavenly Father and a willingness to follow His commandments. George Albert wanted to get well, of course, but he didn’t want to disobey the Word of Wisdom. He asked his mother to bring him water instead of coffee and to send for their ward teacher.
Brother Hawks came quickly in answer to Mrs. Smith’s request and gave George Albert a blessing, promising him that he would soon be well. And the very next morning when the boy awakened, the fever was gone and young George felt much better. Some years later in telling a group of children about this experience, he said, “I was grateful to the Lord for my recovery. I am sure that he healed me.”

Three young women now serving missions in Australia all have something in common. They originally grew up on islands in the Indian Ocean and were converted to the Church by friends.
Soon Lee Lim was born and raised on Christmas Island. She and her family moved to Perth, Australia, where she joined the Church and introduced it to her friend Chong Kheng Lin. Soon Lee was called to the Brisbane Mission to serve as a full-time missionary.
Chong Kheng Lin was also from Christmas Island. She and her family also settled in Perth, Australia. She attended the baptism of Soon Lee and was impressed by the Spirit and the information communicated by the missionaries. She investigated and joined the Church. Lin is serving a full-time mission in the Melbourne Australia Mission.
Maria Rogatienne Augusoa Houareau was born on the Seychelles Islands. She was introduced to the gospel by a friend, and she and two sisters were baptized. Maria is now serving a full-time mission in Melbourne, Australia.

Around the turn of the previous century, two missionaries were laboring in the mountains of the southern United States. One day, from a hilltop, they saw people gathering in a clearing far below. The missionaries did not often have many people to whom they might preach, so they made their way down to the clearing.
A little boy had drowned, and there was to be a funeral. His parents had sent for the minister to “say words” over their son. The missionaries stood back as the itinerant minister faced the grieving father and mother and began his sermon. If the parents expected to receive comfort from this man of the cloth, they would be disappointed.
He scolded them severely for not having had the little boy baptized. They had put it off because of one thing or another, and now it was too late. He told them very bluntly that their little boy had gone to hell. It was their fault. They were to blame for his endless torment.
After the sermon was over and the grave was covered, the elders approached the grieving parents. “We are servants of the Lord,” they told the mother, “and we have come with a message for you.” As the sobbing parents listened, the two elders read from the revelations and bore their testimony of the restoration of the keys for the redemption of both the living and the dead.
I have some sympathy for that preacher. He was doing the best he could with such light and knowledge as he had. But there is more that he should have been able to offer. There is the fulness of the gospel.
The elders came as comforters, as teachers, as servants of the Lord, as authorized ministers of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

“You’re so little!” Sasha said. “We should call you Tiny Trina.”
Trina tried to smile. The other kids at school teased her a lot for being small. She had been born tiny, and she hadn’t grown as fast as the other kids. But she didn’t like the name Tiny Trina. She didn’t like being different.
“You’re so small you might never grow up,” Max said as they went outside for recess.
“I know I’m small,” Trina said. “But there’s nothing I can do about it. Let’s go play.”
Trina ran to play soccer with the other kids. They kicked the ball back and forth. They were all having fun together.
But soon Trina got really tired. She slowly walked away from the game and sat down on the grass.
Soon her friend Josie came over. Josie was in her Primary class at church too.
“Are you OK?” Josie asked.
“Yeah,” Trina said. “I just need to rest. My lungs get tired when I run a lot. They’re not very strong.”
Josie sat down next to Trina. They picked grass and made little rings and bracelets. They talked about school and friends and homework.
“I heard what Sasha said,” Josie said. “I’m sorry she called you Tiny Trina.”
Trina just nodded.
“But I think you’re just the right size!” Josie said.
Trina smiled. She handed Josie the grass bracelet she had made.
The next Sunday, Trina got ready for church. She put on her dress and brushed her hair. Then she frowned at her tiny shoes in the closet. She was sure no one else in her Primary class wore such small shoes.
Trina dragged her feet as she walked down the hall at church. When she got to her Primary classroom, Josie was waiting outside.
“We have a surprise for you!” Josie said. “Come see!”
When Trina walked into the room, the other kids and their teacher, Sister Bott, were pointing to a brightly decorated board. It had hearts taped all over it. There were notes on the hearts that said, “Trina has a big smile! Trina has a big heart!”
“Do you like it?” asked Josie. “Sister Bott helped us make it.”
“I love it!” said Trina. “Thank you.”
“We wanted to remind you of a big truth,” Sister Bott said. “Heavenly Father loves each one of us. Short. Tall. Big. Small. That doesn’t matter to Him. We are all His children, and He loves every single one.”
Trina looked up at the hearts on the board and smiled—big.
This story took place in the USA.

President James E. Faust, in his address of the Young Women general meeting in March, warned, “You young ladies may have a hard time buying a modest prom dress. May I suggest that you make your own?” (Ensign, May 2000, 97).
This is exactly what happened in the Salt Lake Stake.
To encourage the young women to dress modestly, the stake Young Women leaders decided to include a fashion show in a special night for Laurels and their dads, brothers, or other priesthood holders.
“It was a lot of hard work to adjust the pattern to cover my shoulders,” says Elaine Barnhurst of the 19th Ward, whose project was to make her medieval-style dress from a sheet and curtains. “But it was a fun night and really cool to know I had actually made it myself.”

A Johannesburg family shared their thoughts:
Dad: “The prophet’s words have made me more aware of the responsibility I have to teach my family. The onus is on us—not on the Church—to take our families back to Heaven Father. It is the same as with ministering, we need to look for opportunities, it is not about statistics. With this new awareness, I’m finding more ‘Sabbath’ to teach my children than the extra one hour could ever make.”
Mom: “Maybe it’s psychological—but spending less time at church in the morning makes it easier to have a purposeful family home evening on a Sunday. With all the children’s sporting commitments just having supper together on a Monday was a nightmare! At first, I missed the extra classes and the opportunity to chat with people in between. But now I am aware of the need to fellowship more and to connect better with other members.”
Teenage daughter: “I love that we now have ‘church’ every day at home instead of just once a week! It is also quite nice to have Young Women every two weeks—makes it more special to be together. I am definitely studying the scriptures a lot more than I did last year.”

About seven weeks after the accident, I was able to return home. My family stayed most of the day, helping me get settled in, but I spent my first Sunday morning home alone. That was very difficult. After being with people and being surrounded by their love, I felt a terrible loneliness that day—something deeper than I had ever felt before. I had gone through the typical frustrations of being single and of wanting to be a mother. Now, after having been wrapped in the wonderfully sustaining love of my family, I wondered if I could handle living alone any more.
That afternoon, Jerry Tucker came to visit me. We had come to know each other through his calling as high council adviser to the Young Women program, so I wasn’t too surprised when he continued to visit me. Months later, though, when he proposed marriage, I wondered if I was reading my feelings correctly. I suppose, quite naturally, that I felt the need for outside assurance to confirm that my judgment and thoughts were sound. Because the Lord had been so close to me through the crisis of the accident and the slow healing, and because my family had given me such tremendous support, I felt the need for their approval and for wisdom outside my own.
So I began praying about Jerry’s proposal. My prayers were answered one day when a great feeling of peace washed over me. I knew then that this was my time to be married. I also knew that the Lord had not left me alone and that I would never be cheated of anything he had promised me. Jerry and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple on 12 February 1987.

One day my friend got angry with me. She yelled and shouted at me. For two weeks I was angry with her. After the first week, she asked me if I wanted to walk with her. I said no. Then one day I prayed and asked Heavenly Father if He would help me not be angry. The next week my friend asked me if I would walk with her, but I still said no. The next time she asked me, I wasn’t angry, and we walked together from then on. Heavenly Father helped me forgive my friend. And that’s how I learned that self-control works, just like Elder Gibbons said in the Friend.

In addition to a belief in the existence of God, we must know something of his character and attributes or our faith will be imperfect and unfruitful. Faith will avail us nothing unless it is based on true principles. This is illustrated in a story I have told before about the meeting of the Indians with the Europeans when they first began their explorations in the New World. The Indians were amazed at the power and explosive qualities of gunpowder and asked many questions about how it was produced. Taking advantage of the ignorance of the savages and seeing an opportunity to increase their wealth through deception, the Europeans told them it came from the seed of a plant. The Indians believed them and purchased some seed in exchange for gold. They carefully planted the seed and watched it grow, but of course they did not get any gunpowder. No matter how sincere one’s belief may be in an error, it will not change the error into truth.

Sometimes it’s difficult for Jenna to have a brother with special needs, but she has learned to be loving and compassionate from helping him. One time their grandparents gave them a few dollars to buy a toy at a gift shop. When they came back, Zack had a toy and Jenna didn’t. “Jenna had given Zack her money so he could have the toy that he wanted,” her mom says. “She always does little things like that without expecting to be rewarded for it.”

My wife and I were married in 1981 in the Tokyo Japan Temple. Our life after marriage was not easy at first. I was grateful to have a job, but we had trouble meeting our expenses. We asked Heavenly Father for His help and did all we could to make ends meet and pay our tithing. We knew that if we trusted in the Lord, He would provide for us.
One week both my wife and my friend brought me the same small clipping out of the newspaper. It was an ad for a full-time English teacher.
I sent my résumé to the company and was asked to come in for an interview. At the end of the interview, the interviewer said, “You wrote in your résumé that you had been involved in volunteer work as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. So that means you go to church on Sundays, don’t you? If you had to decide whether to go to church or to work on Sundays, which would you choose?”
It was a difficult question because I needed a better job. But after pondering, I replied, “I would go to church.”
With a vague smile, the interviewer said, “Oh, I see.” Then he dismissed me with the promise that the company would make a decision by that evening and that I should call to find out the results. As I left the room, I thought I had failed.
Later that evening when it came time to call, I dialed the company’s number with great fear.
“What about the results of the interview?” I asked the secretary. “I failed, didn’t I?”
I was stunned but happy with her answer.
“We’d like to ask you to work for us,” she said.
About a month later I learned why I got the job. The secretary explained that the interviewer lived next door to full-time Latter-day Saint missionaries. He had often watched the missionaries briskly riding their bicycles to their work in the morning.
“He believed that you, belonging to the same church, would work for us just as hard as the missionaries worked for their church,” she said. “Lucky you!”
Since then our family has always had what we needed.
Whenever I think of this choice experience, I am encouraged and comforted. I know that God often uses other people to bless His children. I cannot adequately express how grateful I feel for my wife and my friend for their inspiration in bringing that newspaper ad to me, for those hardworking missionaries and their great example, and for our merciful, loving, and caring Heavenly Father, who has miraculous power to consecrate our experiences for our good.