Gospel Story Finder

I learned to appreciate the principle of fasting by fasting for just one meal the first time I did it. That helped me develop confidence that I could fast for two meals. I also learned to ask for Heavenly Father’s help, so that the experience might be spiritually uplifting.

My aunt became a member of the Church after we fasted and prayed in her behalf.

Marianne Vaags, 13Muelheim Ward, Dortmund Germany Stake

A spy? Seven-year-old Amanda couldn’t believe her eyes. She traced her finger over Mosiah 9:1 again, just to make sure.
“I, Zeniff, having been taught in all the language of the Nephites, and having had a knowledge of the land of Nephi, or of the land of our fathers’ first inheritance, and having been sent as a spy among the Lamanites …”
A spy! There it was.
Amanda closed her Book of Mormon. She knew she should be listening to Brother Anderson’s sacrament meeting talk, but she couldn’t help but giggle. She knew lots of Book of Mormon stories, but she never knew there was one with a spy in it.
She sank down on the bench and peeked at the page again. Zeniff the Spy. It sounded mysterious. And important.
I could be a spy! she thought excitedly. She knew all about spies. Spies noticed everything. Spies used secret codes. Spies wrote down important information with special pens.
Amanda knew some secret codes. And she had a special pen—well, a very special pencil. She rummaged through her scripture case and pulled out the sparkly yellow pencil she had earned in Sister Wooster’s Primary class for perfect attendance. Then she pulled out her little purple notepad. It had pages and pages just waiting to be filled with important information.
Amanda the Spy! she thought. It sounds mysterious and important!
The closing song and prayer captured her attention. She loved to sing the hymns, and she always wanted to mean it when she added her own “amen.”
Normally Amanda would have hurried to Primary. But today she peered over the back of the bench and watched.
Brian Fisher tripped on his shoelaces. Three babies were crying. And … and … something small and gray was under the last bench.
It was an envelope. A heavy envelope that jingled.
It sounds like money, she thought. She peeked inside. It was money!
Amanda hugged it to her chest. Wow! she thought. I could buy a doll. Or a new book. Or lots of candy! She pulled out her notepad and pencil and wrote, “Found money.”
Then she wondered, It’s all right to keep it, isn’t it? After all, it isn’t that much money. If she’d found a million dollars, that would be different. But this was just a few dollars. Whoever had lost it probably wouldn’t even miss it.
Amanda gave the envelope a quick kiss—then gasped. The letters seemed to jump right off the paper: “Bishop Johansen, Creek Ward.”
It was a tithing envelope!
She plopped down on the bench, feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach. It wasn’t fair! She had already planned what she was going to buy.
It was hers! Wasn’t it?
She looked at her notepad. What would Zeniff have done? she asked herself. Spies were experts at staying out of trouble. Amanda thought she knew what to do.
She glanced around. Brother Campbell was just leaving the chapel. He was a member of the bishopric.
Stuffing her notepad into her pocket and dashing toward the doors, she called to him, “Brother Campbell, I found this envelope in the chapel.”
Brother Campbell shook Amanda’s hand. “Thank you, Sister Pratt,” he said. “I’ll make sure the bishop gets it.”
Turning toward the Primary room, she thought, Amanda the Spy knows how to stay out of trouble, too! She got out her notepad and wrote, “Turned money over to Brother Campbell.”
“Oh, no!”
Amanda looked up to see the box in Sister Kelly’s hand bounce onto the floor, spilling crayons.
“What next?” Sister Kelly despaired as she balanced her crying baby on her hip and desperately grabbed at pictures slipping from her fingers.
Without even thinking, Amanda dashed down the hall toward her CTR teacher. “Don’t worry, Sister Kelly,” she said as she started to pick up crayons. “I’ll help.”
“I can help, too,” her friend Melanie said.
Amanda and Melanie quickly filled the box with crayons.
“Thanks so much,” Sister Kelly said with a grateful smile. “Everything’s been going wrong today.”
“No problem,” Amanda and Melanie said together.
“Come on, girls,” Sister Kelly whispered, glancing toward the Primary door. “We’d better hurry.”
Amanda and Melanie slipped quietly into Primary and sat with their class. Amanda quickly wrote, “Helped Sister Kelly pick up crayons,” in her notepad.
“Sister Kelly,” the Primary president said, interrupting Amanda’s thoughts, “Randy could not come today. Would someone else in your class like to give the prayer?”
Sister Kelly glanced at the four children in her row. Amanda did, too. She knew Jared wouldn’t do it. He was scared. And she knew Wayne wouldn’t do it—he never volunteered for anything. That left Melanie and her. But Melanie was holding Sister Kelly’s baby.
“I’ll do it,” Amanda volunteered. She walked quietly to the podium. When she sat down again, she wrote in her notepad, “Said opening prayer for Primary,” and drew a smiling face.
“What’s that?” Melanie whispered.
“It’s my spy book. I’m writing down important information.”
“Oh. I thought maybe it was a CTR book or something.”
Amanda read all the things she’d written. “Found money,” “Turned money over to Brother Campbell,” “Helped Sister Kelly pick up crayons,” and “Said opening prayer for Primary.” It was like a CTR book. The entries showed she had chosen the right.
She wrote “CTR” in large letters on the cover of her notepad. It’s like a secret code, too, she thought happily. Amanda the CTR Spy! Being this kind of spy really is wonderful and important.

It was ten-year-old Joshua’s turn to teach the family home evening lesson. It was on faith. When he finished, he told his family, “If you have faith, you can do anything.”
His mom replied, “Well, almost anything.”
“No sir, Mom,” Joshua said. “You can do anything.”
Little did the Dennis family know that within days their faith would be tested. On Friday, September 22, 1989, Joshua’s dad, the Varsity Scout coach in their ward, let him go with him and other leaders and members of a Boy Scout troop from Kearns, Utah, to explore the Hidden Treasure Mine. After looking around for some time, Joshua and some of the Scouts decided to turn back. On the way out of the tunnel, they met Joshua’s dad and some other Scouts heading out of the mine. Then Joshua decided to follow some older Scouts back into the mine tunnel, and he gave his flashlight to his dad, who was leaving the tunnel with a visually handicapped boy.
The older Scouts did not know that Joshua was behind them. They began to run. Joshua couldn’t keep up with them and was soon left behind in total darkness. He couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face.
He turned around and tried to feel his way back to the entrance, but he made a wrong turn and slid down a slope. He climbed back up but went too far and ended up in an ore stope—a cavity where ore has been mined out—six feet wide and twenty-five feet deep. The stope was almost impossible to see from the main tunnel below because of rocks.
“I tried to find my way out for a long time,” Joshua recalled. He yelled, but the stope muffled his cries, and no one heard him. By this time, he was tired and cold and his feet were wet. “I knew that I was lost, and I realized that I had better just sit down and wait,” he said.
Joshua slept a lot. Sometimes he would stand up and stretch or just sit and think—hamburgers and pizza were on his mind quite a bit. For five days Joshua had no food or water and only his coat to keep him warm in the 50° F (10° C) temperature.
But he wasn’t afraid. “I prayed a lot that Heavenly Father would help me,” he said, and his prayers were answered with a feeling of comfort and a knowledge that he would be found. “I felt that I was being watched over by Heavenly Father.”
While Joshua was praying, friends and family were also fasting and praying that he would be found in safety. His parents waited anxiously at a local motel for reports on the search for their son.
Many volunteers from his Kearns 30th Ward and the Kearns Utah Stake helped search the surrounding foothills, which are full of abandoned mines and air shafts. At least seven times some of them passed within 150 feet (46 m) of Joshua.
The longer the search continued, the more certain many people became that Joshua was not in the mine but had wandered away from it. Search dogs, helicopters, and people on horseback and on foot combed the cliff-lined hills of nearby Dry Canyon. There was no trace of the blond boy.
Inside the mine, Joshua waited calmly for someone to find him. To help pass the time, he sang “I Am a Child of God,” “Everybody Has to Have a Hero,” and a song about America that he had learned in school.
As each day passed, the chance of finding Joshua alive grew smaller, but members of the rescue team were determined to not give up. “You would have to drag some of those men off the mountain,” said Ray Guymon, one of eleven Church members on the fifteen-man Utah Power & Light Company rescue team.
“We all had a feeling that we were overlooking something. We just couldn’t give up hope,” said Gary Christensen, another Church member of the same rescue team.
When the search party came out of the mine after another unsuccessful rescue attempt on the afternoon of the fifth day, another Church member, John Skinner, persuaded the men in charge to let him go in with the other searchers for a final attempt. “I just had a feeling that he was still in the mine and that he was still alive,” he explained.
John Skinner had explored the Hidden Treasure Mine 120 times and was very familiar with the dozens of passages that wind through the eight levels. He could picture in his mind at least three places where Joshua might be. One of those places was the ore stope.
As the searchers made another sweep through the mine, he, Ray Guymon, and Gary Christensen—these three men were to become the heroes Joshua had been singing about—separated from the group, and John Skinner led them to the sections of the mine where he thought the boy might be. When they finally came to the ore cavity, they heard a faint cry for help but were not sure what it was. They remained still until they heard it again. The excitement grew as they and Joshua yelled back and forth, trying to find each other in the darkness.
“My heart just started pumping and pounding,” recalled Gary Christensen, the first to reach Joshua. “I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped his arms around me.”
“I felt like we were led there by the Lord,” Ray Guymon said.
All three men said that it was very difficult to describe the feelings that they had when they found Joshua, whom they had never seen before.
“I felt like he was my own,” Gary Christensen said. “I was just really happy inside.”
“It was an overwhelming feeling when we found him,” John Skinner said.
As Joshua was brought out of the mine, there were tears of joy and relief on the faces of many. Joshua, although excited, remained calm—he had not doubted that he would be found.
Because there was no light inside the mine, Joshua had lost track of time. He was surprised when he found out that he had been lost for so long. Dehydrated from going so long without water, and suffering mild frostbite on his feet, he was flown to Primary Children’s Medical Center, where he rested and doctors examined him.
At first the doctors thought that they would have to amputate his little toes. But all he lost was some skin from his feet. He had to be in a wheelchair for about a week. Physical therapy strengthened his leg and foot muscles, and before long he was walking, running, and even riding his skateboard again.
Joshua received more than a thousand letters, many from other school children who wanted to know more about him and his experience. While he was lost, the students at Fox Hills Elementary School, where he was a fifth-grader, tied yellow ribbons on the fences all around their school to show that they were thinking about him and hoping that he would be back soon. It really made Joshua feel good to know that so many people cared about him. He tells everyone, “Heavenly Father does answer your prayers. Have faith, and don’t give up.”

“People on my island have a strong bond to each other,” he explains. “The word ‘family’ is very important, and it drives me to help my own people.”
Eritai learned about hydroponic sustainability while attending Brigham Young University–Hawaii. He spent hundreds of hours developing that idea into a solution to take to his people.
In 2017, he returned to Kiribati and introduced innovative hydroponic gardening to families and communities in response to the challenges faced in accessing healthier food options. He explained that “it provided a healthy alternative to the processed foods that people were eating.”

Approximately 50 Mormon Helping Hands volunteers—including members of the Church, their friends, and Latter-day Saint missionaries—mobilized on Saturday, January 21, 2012, to help clean, weed, and otherwise revitalize Maria Ivone de Menezes, a state school in Macapá, Brazil.
The activity, coordinated by the school board and organized by the Macapá Brazil Amapá District’s public affairs director, Kleber Sainz, drew attention and coverage from several local media outlets. The school’s director, Adelia Danin, assisted in the project. “We were delighted with the generous contribution [the Church] gave us,” she said. “We will always keep the memory of it with us.”

Looking back on his life, a man recently shared this tender story with me: “When I was growing up my father was less active in the Church. He struggled with alcohol and in his darkest moods could become harsh and accusing. He normally didn’t object to Mom serving in the ward. She worked in Primary for 38 years, and during much of that time she served in Young Women. She carried a heavy load. Her marriage was difficult, and I now know that she was discouraged at times, but I didn’t know it then.
“I didn’t realize until later that the sisters in our ward were her strength. She didn’t work in the Relief Society leadership, but she always attended the meetings, and she loved her friends there. I never thought of them as the ladies of Relief Society; they were simply Mom’s sisters. They cared about her and loved her. She had all brothers and all sons. She found the sisters she wanted and needed in our ward. I know she shared her feelings with them—feelings she couldn’t express anywhere else. None of that seemed ‘Relief Society’ to me then, but I understand now that it was.”

Although we had both been members of the Church since our teens, because of our Buddhist background, we didn’t have any Christmas traditions for our young family. Then, when the Tabernacle Choir performed in Japan in 1979, we became friends with choir member Mary K. Zackrison. That December and every December since, we have received copies of her family Christmas letter, the “Zackrison Gazette,” complete with Christmas messages, updates on her family, and information about important events in the Zackrisons’ lives.
The Zackrisons inspired us to develop a tradition of our own. The next year, we decided to take a picture of our children arranged in a Nativity scene to send out to friends and family. Starting the year after that, we began cutting out photographs of the children, which we arranged in various Christmas-related settings, and then taking another photograph of the whole scene to make into a card.
In the years since then, we have created cards of the shepherds hearing the angels’ tidings, of the Nativity, of the visit of the Wise Men, and so on. Our children have surprised us with their enthusiasm and creativity for these projects. We send cards each year to many family members, friends, and coworkers. Many of the recipients say they look forward to our cards every year.
Creating Christ-centered family traditions can be challenging, but it can also be a lot of fun. Last year we exchanged our 19th annual Christmas card with the 41st annual “Zackrison Gazette.”
Ken-ichi and Aiko Ishikawa,Kasugai Ward, Nagoya Japan Stake

In August 1977 my husband and I moved to Rehovot, Israel, with our three children, all less than six years old. The language was unfamiliar, few people spoke English, the food was different from what we were used to, and shopping was a challenge. We learned much during the two years we lived there.
Time moved quickly, and soon it was December. For most people in the country, December 25 was going to be just like any other day. But for our family and the small number of other Christians living in Israel, it would be Christmas.
We came to know a beautiful Jewish couple, Israel and Millie Jachobson. He had come to Israel as a refugee from his native Lithuania, and she was from South Africa. They were in their late 60s and lived in a small apartment about a mile from us. Israel worked at the Weizmann Institute of Science, where my husband also worked. They had been kind to us, inviting us to their apartment several times to celebrate various Jewish holidays.
As we prepared for Christmas that year, we wanted our children to feel the importance of celebrating the Savior’s birth. I found some brown wrapping paper and cut it into the shape of a Christmas tree. Our children colored it with green crayons. Then we glued candy to our paper tree as ornaments and taped it on the wall. We were not expecting many gifts under our tree that year. We felt alone and far away from everyone and everything we knew.
One evening just a few days before Christmas, someone knocked on our door. When we opened the door, we found Israel Jachobson standing there, holding a cake. He and his wife knew we were Christians and that the birth of Jesus Christ was important to us. They did what they thought was best and made a cake to help us celebrate the Savior’s birthday. That was a tender experience for our whole family.
That Christmas we enjoyed visiting Bethlehem and the fields around it. But nothing touched us more than the thoughtful gift of a wise man named Israel Jachobson and his kind, loving wife, Millie.

Darla’s mittens and boots had barely dried when she sat down on the rug to put them back on. She could hardly wait to go sledding again!
Sledding in the park with her friends was Darla’s favorite thing about winter. The round, snowy hills were perfect for sledding.
But now that Darla and her friends were getting older, they wanted to try the bigger hills at the park instead. They were ready for The Hill. It was the biggest, slipperiest hill in the whole park. And for Darla, it was also off-limits.
“I’ve already heard of at least two kids getting hurt on that hill this year,” Mom said when Darla asked to go sledding on The Hill. “That’s why one of our family rules is that we don’t sled on it.”
When The Hill got icy, sleds got harder to control. Kids crashed into the fence at the bottom and got hurt.
“But, Mom, by the time you get to the bottom, you’re going so slow you can just roll off before you get to the fence,” Darla said.
But Mom wasn’t changing her mind.
Darla headed outside to meet up with her friends.
“Let’s go down The Hill!” Sasha said.
Darla’s stomach squirmed. “How about we just stay on the small hills?” she said. “My mom says I can’t go down that one.”
“Why not? The other hills are too boring,” said Emily. She started toward The Hill. “Come on.”
Darla looked up at The Hill. It really did look fun. And she’d be careful! But then she looked down at the fence at the bottom. Darla sighed. She knew Mom wanted her to be safe.
Sasha and Emily were already walking to The Hill. “I guess I’d better head home,” Darla called after them.
“OK,” Sasha called back. “But you’re missing out!”
Maybe she was missing out, Darla thought as she dragged her sled home.
“What happened?” Mom asked when Darla walked back inside.
“Sasha and Emily wanted to sled down The Hill,” she said with a frown. “I told them I couldn’t, and I asked them to stay on the smaller hills. But they still went, so I came home.”
Mom hugged Darla. “Thanks for being obedient,” she said. “I bet that was hard.”
Darla’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah. I was really excited to go sledding.”
“I know,” Mom said. “Obeying family rules isn’t always easy, but I’m really proud of you for choosing the right. I bet you were listening to the Holy Ghost.”
Darla nodded. She did feel good about her choice, even though it was hard.
Mom’s words helped warm her up inside. And that reminded her. “How about some hot chocolate? Maybe we can invite Sasha and Emily over for some when they get back!”

As my baptism day approached, my mom and I talked about inviting a friend of mine to the service. We had been friends since preschool, but recently she had moved about 45 miles (72 km) away. I knew she didn’t go to our church, so I was nervous to ask her to come, thinking she might not want to. Finally I decided to invite her, so my mom called her mom. My friend and her mom were excited to come! My baptism day was stormy and rainy, so we thought they might not make it. They showed up right on time! They seemed to really enjoy the baptism, and asked a lot of questions. I felt good that they came and shared this special day. It was an easy and fun way to share the gospel.

After I returned home from serving in the Guatemala Guatemala City Mission, I also traveled to Provo, Utah, to attend BYU. I was grateful for the kindness and support of so many people to help get me there. However, money was still going to be short.

Soon after I arrived in Provo, Thelma and I reviewed our financial situation. We both concluded that even with my working part-time, we did not have enough money to pay my rent and hers for the entire school year. Thelma never doubted that we would make it through that trial though. She trusted that the Lord would provide a way. Less than a week later, Thelma received a letter from BYU’s Spanish department. As she opened it, she turned to me and exclaimed, “This! This is how we are going to pay your rent!” The letter informed her that she had been accepted as a teacher’s assistant, which would increase her income.

For years, Jerry and Linda of Colorado, USA, had lived in a large home with a big yard and a swimming pool. “We spent an inordinate amount of time each year just mowing lawns, raking leaves, and maintaining the pool,” Jerry says. “Finally, we decided we would rather spend time with our children and grandchildren and that we wanted to go on a mission.”

“We moved into a smaller home,” Linda says. “There’s less to take care of, and it even has a basement apartment we can rent out to have some extra income.”

The 2022 For the Strength of Youth theme4 perfectly describes this pattern. My wife, Ailsa, and I had the privilege of being part of the Manchester Scotland session of FSY in 2022. We witnessed this pattern playing out in the lives of many participants. One young woman brought many difficult questions to FSY, with no expectation that they would all be answered. She recounted in joyful tears that, during this Christ-focused event, every one of her questions had been answered. She knew that He knew her. This young woman has recently been called to serve Him in the Frankfurt Germany Mission.

It was a beautiful summer day in northern Alberta, Canada. I was 16 years old, and my dad had set me up with a great summer job at a goat farm. Every day I made the half-hour drive in his old pickup along the obscure, bumpy dirt roads that I doubt were on any map. I loved these drives as I cruised in silence due to the broken radio. The northern landscape is beautiful in the summer. There are forests, fields, and lakes that are virtually untouched by man. At times I would look around and feel like I was the only one around for miles and that all this was made just for me.
On one of these drives home after a long day of herding goats and fixing fences, my peaceful drive suddenly turned into a nightmare. It had rained the day before, and the familiar dirt roads had turned into washboard roads. I hit a few patches of consecutive bumps that shook my old truck around pretty good, and I knew I had to slow down. I shifted down and continued a little more cautiously toward home. Suddenly I hit a patch of bumps that didn’t stop. I could feel my truck losing control, and the rear end started to slide around. By the time I finally got traction, my truck was facing sideways, and I went tearing straight into the ditch.
I remember this almost like slow motion. I knew I was going off the road, and I knew that I was heading straight for a fence post. The only thing that went through my head was to cry out for help. As my truck caught air over the ditch, I cried out loud, “Heavenly Father, help!”
I landed hard, but I did not roll as far into the post as I had anticipated. I was a little shaken but otherwise uninjured. My truck would not start, and it was good and stuck in mud and tall grass. I climbed out and walked back up to the road. I looked around, hoping by some chance that there would be a farmhouse in sight. Nothing. This was before the age of cell phones, so there I was a 16-year-old girl completely alone on an obscure road in northern Alberta.
I began to pray to Heavenly Father and ask Him which way I should start walking to find help. I chose a direction that I thought might be good and began to walk. I had only just started when I received the distinct impression to go back and wait. I reasoned in my head: Wait? I have never once seen another vehicle on this road! What in the world would I be waiting for? Nevertheless, I felt calm and peaceful and knew that was the right thing to do. I stood on the side of the road and waited. Not five minutes later I heard a vehicle in the distance. Please let them stop, I pleaded in my head to Heavenly Father. The truck came into my view, and I simply stood there as it slowed in front of me.
An older, traditionally dressed Russian man and woman got out of their truck and surveyed my situation. I was a little cautious and did not know exactly what to expect from this couple. The wife smiled warmly and said in her thick accent: “It looks like you need some help.”
Her husband moved to the back of their truck and started to hook up a towing hitch. While her husband was hard at work, the wife told me how funny this situation was to them. That morning they had both had the feeling that they would need their tow hitch today, so they had put it in the back of their truck. They had kept it there all day and not needed it. They were now on their way home for the night when her husband decided to turn off the main roads and take the more scenic drive. That is when they came across me. She laughed at the coincidence of it all, but I was filled with the Holy Ghost testifying to me of my Father in Heaven’s awareness and love for me.
Once my truck was released from the mud and grass, it quickly started up again. The Russian couple and I parted ways. I did not drive far before I was overcome with tears of gratitude. I know that the Lord has rescued me many times throughout my life, both physically and spiritually. I know that He was aware of my needs in advance in order to prepare this couple to come and help me. I also know it was the right thing to do to call out for His help as I was going off the road because He heard and answered my frantic prayer.
That the Lord has power enough to move mountains and part seas and yet still cares for little me enough to prompt an old Russian couple to come help me pull my truck out of the ditch is witness to me of God’s love and personal level at which He works.

Time to pick your amigo secreto*! You’ll give a gift to the person you choose. But do not tell them until Christmas!
Hmm. What can I give to Margo? Maybe a stuffed animal.
And I’ll be extra nice to her! That would be a good gift for Jesus too.
The next few weeks …
On Christmas Eve …
Here, Margo! I was your amigo secreto.
Really? You were mine too!
Thanks! I love it! And thanks for being so nice to me.
Thanks for being the best sister ever!
Feliz Natal!
Illustrations by Katie McDee

It was the kind of Saturday that makes me appreciate the warm coziness of staying in bed. But this luxury was not to be. The annoying sound of my pager alerted me to a fire at a nearby cement plant, so I threw on my equipment and headed for the door, thankful my helmet would cover my messy hair. Vanity had taken a backseat ever since I joined our small town’s fire department and then became an emergency medical technician (EMT).
The cement plant fire was soon contained. But our pagers went off again, this time asking for EMTs to respond to a freeway injury accident involving a four-year-old boy. I knew this would be difficult, so my partner and I immediately began to pray. No EMT can truthfully say he or she is not affected when caring for seriously injured children.
We arrived to find a white van upside down in the median. I quickly looked around for our patient, thinking perhaps he was still in the vehicle. But I was called to the opposite side of the freeway where several people were huddled over the small form of a child. One man was a doctor. He gave me a rundown of the boy’s most serious injuries, then disappeared into the crowd. A woman was holding the child’s hand and reassuring him. I asked if she knew his name. “His name is Ryan,” she said. “I am his mother.” Remarkably, she and two older children were unhurt.
EMTs follow certain protocols to ensure the best care for our patients, but none of these procedures can prepare us for the human suffering we must deal with when responding to horrifying accidents. I remember reviewing my training in my mind but also feeling overwhelmed. My little patient was crying, and I wanted to calm his fears, kiss his hurts away, and promise his frightened mother that he would be all right. My hands went through the routines I knew so well, but I felt so inadequate, so alone. My partner was not able to assist me with Ryan because he was caring for the little boy’s father, who was still trapped in the van.
Ambulances soon arrived. I was assigned to stabilize Ryan’s head on the way to the hospital. I knelt above his head and spoke softly to him, but he continued to cry and thrash about. I worried that he might injure himself further, but restraining him would have caused other problems.
At this point my prayers became more fervent, and I asked Heavenly Father to bless me to know how to comfort and calm Ryan and ease his pain. I immediately received an impression: “Sing to him.” I hesitated. I questioned whether I had understood correctly. After all, I was a professional, and what would it look like to have an EMT singing in an ambulance over a critically injured patient?
Ryan cried out, and again I received the distinct impression: “Sing to him.” As I held his head I quietly leaned close to his ear and started singing, “I am like a star shining brightly, Smiling for the whole world to see” (“I Am like a Star,” Children’s Songbook, 163). As I sang, Ryan became quiet. I sang “I Am a Child of God” and many other Primary songs. I realized Ryan was a Latter-day Saint when I noticed his very distraught mother trying to sing with me. More than once the paramedics became concerned because he was too quiet, but Ryan would respond as asked. I continued singing all the way to the hospital and into the emergency room, where the trauma team took over his care.
Later that day I returned to the hospital to check on Ryan and his father. I learned that Ryan had undergone surgery and was now stabilized and doing well. Even though he and his father would require a lengthy hospital stay to recover, I was grateful for the news. Ryan and I soon became good friends, and I still look forward each year to receiving a Christmas card with Ryan’s picture inside.
I will always remember an answered prayer when my little patient quieted instantly in response to songs he loved, songs that reminded him of how much his Heavenly Father loves him. The effectiveness of emergency medicine is truly a marvel, but the beauty and simplicity of a few Primary songs will forever remain in my memory as a gentle and profound miracle.

Sam Gray, a fifteen-year-old Aaronic Priesthood holder and Boy Scout took the lead in setting up the JustServe programme in the Dublin Ireland Stake. Sam was looking for a project that would help him achieve his Eagle pin, the highest rank a Scout can earn. The project needed to benefit the community or country in which he lives.
While looking for a potential project, Sam and his dad spoke with Mark A. Coffey, stake president, who asked Sam if he would consider taking the lead in setting up JustServe for the stake. Sam said that it sounded amazing as it matched all the requirements of his project, and it could grow over time. Sam prepared a project proposal, a project workbook and a project report before he spoke to his Scout leader and President Coffey to get final approval.
Sam met with Michael Holton, a counsellor in the stake presidency and they agreed to hold the first meeting of the stake’s JustServe committee. It consisted of President Holton, the stake Relief Society president, a public communications representative, a few members of the stake and Sam, who hosted the meeting. It was a slow start, but momentum increased and continued to do so under Sam’s guidance and leadership.
Initially, the committee got eight organisations signed up with opportunities for volunteers. It also set up a JustServe Facebook page for the stake. There are currently over 50 opportunities posted on JustServe.org. Sam will soon be leaving, so his leadership role is now being taken on by another member of the stake.
Sam said he would like to thank President Holton, and the JustServe committee, for all the help they have given him; they did much that he couldn’t do himself. He continued, “I would like to especially thank my Mum and Dad. I used to think it was weird that the Boy Scouts award parents and give them an Eagle pin as well, but now I realize why, it’s because of all the work and time they put into helping their Scout get to that point. I have really enjoyed working on this project and helping not only our stake but also the entire country. I’ve been contacted by several members of the Limerick District and the Belfast Stake who are eager to learn more about JustServe and how to get it up and running. I would encourage everyone to sign up and get serving. I can’t wait to see how JustServe develops and grows over the next period.”

At first glance, Dusti Bills appears to be an average, confident 19-year-old who loves animals and Chinese food. You’d never suspect that she wasn’t expected to walk. Or that she didn’t cry until she was one. Or that she didn’t talk until she was three. Or that she has a disability that leaves her in almost constant pain.
Dusti was born with cerebral palsy, but she doesn’t let that stop her from doing the things she enjoys. And one thing Dusti loves is serving others.
Service is something Dusti, a member of the Riverton Utah First Ward, strongly believes in. When her brother was on his mission in Peru, he mentioned in one of his letters that some of the newly baptized members lacked appropriate clothing to wear to church. Dusti decided to help.
For one of her Value Projects, Dusti asked her friends to donate dresses that the Peruvian Saints could wear to church. When others found out what she was doing, clothing of all kinds began pouring in to the Bills’s home. After collecting and sorting, Dusti filled several suitcases to take with her family when they traveled to Peru to pick up her brother. The bags were crammed with everything from white baptismal clothes to suits for potential missionaries.
Dusti’s help didn’t stop there. Her new wheelchair had arrived a few days before she left Utah, so Dusti was more than willing to leave her old chair at the mission home in Lima. It would go to a woman who recently had a stroke and was no longer able to walk.
“I was just glad someone who needed it got to use it,” Dusti says.
Along with finding grateful Saints who were thrilled with their new clothes, Dusti found a little bit of herself, too.
“You could tell that the members were humble and they really believed in the Church and Jesus Christ. That made me think, I do know that the Church is the right one,” says Dusti. “I believe that Jesus Christ has a plan for everybody.”
Apparently Dusti thinks a big part of her plan includes service, as it is often the basis of what she does. For another Value Project, Dusti made arrangements for her ward’s Young Women group to volunteer at an elementary school for severely disabled children. Dusti had already spent countless hours there as a volunteer, and she wanted her friends to have the experience as well. Dusti feels a special connection with the children she works with, and is sensitive and understanding of their needs.
“I know the children are smart, and they’re thinking of stuff. They just can’t tell people,” Dusti explains.
Dusti’s first thought is to serve, but when she’s not organizing clothing drives or working with disabled preschoolers, she likes playing with her dog, Puck, and her bird, Kiwi. She also has two horses, two cats, a hamster, and a goat. She enjoys acting and playing bass clarinet, and she places high priority on getting things done.
Yet in the background, the surgeries, operations, and medication are a very real part of Dusti’s life. She tries hard to maintain a positive attitude.
Dusti remembers a time when she was 13 and came to terms with her condition. “I thought, Why am I in so much pain? Why does this have to happen to me? I just thought that it was part of the plan for me, and that I am going to know why some day.”
Dusti may not know now why she has to attend therapy sessions every week, or why she can’t go to the mall without her wheelchair. But she does know God has a plan for her life, and she knows that serving others is what brings her true happiness. She lives a life full of faith, determination, and service. And that’s anything but average.

I once visited a family in Chile. Their father had died in an accident a month before I came. One of the children was a boy named Benjamin. He was 10 years old.
Before his dad’s accident, Benjamin gave a family home evening lesson. It was about the stripling warriors from the Book of Mormon (see Alma 53:16–22; 56:42–57). He talked about how brave they were and how they trusted God.
When Benjamin’s mom heard about the accident, she thought of Benjamin’s lesson. She told her family, “We need to be brave like the stripling warriors. We have another battle to fight.”
It was hard for Benjamin’s family. It felt like their lives were turned upside down. They had to move to another house to live with their grandma. And they really missed their dad. But they knew they would be together with him again someday. They decided to be a stripling warrior family. Benjamin told us, “I’m being brave.”
I walked into their house wanting to comfort them. But I was the one who left feeling blessed. Benjamin and his family are fighting this battle so bravely. Their faith is inspiring to me.

I have always enjoyed nature and the outdoors. I grew up in Boise, Idaho, and one of my favorite things to do when I was out of school in the summer was to go to my aunt’s ranch. There I herded cows, rode horses, swam in the canal, and often slept in the haystack under the stars.
Oh, how I admired the boys and girls who lived on ranches and farms! They had opportunities that those of us who were raised in the city never had.
However, within a half mile of where I lived in Boise was a river that ran through the city. There was a wooded area there that I loved to go to after school or on Saturdays. My dog was my pal, and we went there together and sailed boats or made whistles out of willows. We watched the beavers make dams and the fish swim in the water. We watched the birds build nests and hatch their young.
As I grew older, I joined the local Boy Scout troop and enjoyed hiking and camping in the summertime with my friends. Many of these boys were in Primary with me. My mother was Primary president, and my younger sister, Dorothy, and I were regular attenders.
My father, however, was not a member of the Church, and when I had my eighth birthday, I was not baptized.
I did have a testimony, though. I knew that God lived. My mother had taught me to pray and to thank Heavenly Father for all the things that I enjoyed. I often thanked Him for the beauty of the earth and for the wonderful times that I had at the ranch and by the river and with the Scouts. I also learned to ask Him for the things that I wanted or needed.
I went to all the Church meetings and activities, but it wasn’t until I was twelve that I really missed not being baptized. By that time, all my friends had been ordained deacons. Because I wasn’t an official member of the Church, I wasn’t able to do many of the things that they did. Passing the sacrament and building a fire to warm up the meetinghouse were only two of the responsibilities that I watched my friends do without me.
So my sister and I began coaxing our father to allow us to be baptized. We also prayed that he might say yes. We were overjoyed when he finally gave his consent, and I was baptized when I was thirteen years old. A whole new world opened up to me as I learned the responsibilities of being a member of the Church and holding the priesthood.
I’m grateful for the influence of the Church in those early years and for my mother’s teachings. Even though I wasn’t baptized until later than many children, I knew that God loved me and listened to me.