Gospel Story Finder

Joel was worried. He was almost sure he had started down the right canyon, but he should have been able to see smoke from their cabin long before now.
Mother was probably worrying because he was so late. She had reminded him when he left home that morning everything would look different if it should start to snow.
“I know you have to check the sheep today, Joel,” she said, “even if it is Thanksgiving. But with those black clouds building up behind Gap Mountain, there will be snow before noon.”
Joel tied a scarf around his neck and pulled on his gloves. “I’ll be careful,” he said, wishing his mother would remember he was eleven now and could take care of himself. “Besides, I’ve been up to the sheep range nearly every day this month. I won’t get lost.”
Mother still looked worried, though, when Joel opened the cabin door to leave. He turned to look back. The big room was bright and warm and already smelled good from the pies that were baking in the oven. On the sideboard three chickens were ready to be stuffed. Joel hoped Father would make it home from the settlement in time for the special dinner.
It was a long walk up winding Lost Canyon and across Nameless Ridge to the flat meadow where the sheep were kept. But Joel finally checked the sheep and then started home.
While he was walking home, he remembered how he and his father and mother had come to this valley three years before. Then they had only two horses, a few sheep, and no home. He had helped his father build the cabin. Now they had more than fifty sheep and four cows. Their garden grew well too.
Even the Ute Indians who lived in the valley on the other side of Nameless Ridge were friendly now. Joel remembered how Chief Kanosh had threatened them when they first moved to the valley. But that seemed a long time ago. Joel’s father and mother had done many things to help the Indians, and in return the Indians had helped them a great deal. Kanosh’s wife visited with Joel’s mother often, and Joel enjoyed watching them talk in sign language.
Joel stopped walking and bent his head back. If he only knew where the sun was, he would be able to tell whether he was going the right way, but dark weighted clouds filled the whole sky.
Which way was home? Joel looked in every direction. He knew he was going down a canyon, but how could he tell if it were the right one!
Before long big snowflakes began to strike his cheeks. Joel could scarcely see the nearby trees.
He remembered how his father always said, “Now don’t be nervous.” It helped Joel to remember Father’s calm voice.
Joel wiped snowflakes off his nose and began to walk very fast, looking to his left to be sure the slope of the hill was still there. If so, he was near Nameless Ridge and couldn’t be lost. Home was only half a mile east of where the ridge ended.
Joel began to wonder if he were really following Nameless Ridge. The pine-covered slopes looked alike through the thickly falling snow.
Joel walked steadily on. The swirling white snow that lit on the ground was beginning to pile up. Walking seemed to be harder with each step.
After what seemed a long time, Joel felt the ground under his feet begin to rise steeply. Although he couldn’t see ahead, he knew he should not be climbing. If anything, he should be going downhill to reach the clearing where the cabin stood.
Joel took a shaky breath. He stood still. Then he slowly turned around and around. The whole world was white. Everywhere he went looked exactly the same.
“I’m lost,” Joel said aloud. “I’m really lost.”
Blinking hard, Joel looked around once more, but it was no use. He didn’t know which way to go. But he couldn’t stop moving or he might freeze. The world was cold and silent. All he could hear was the crunch of wet snow beneath his boots.
Then Joel stopped as he heard another sound. Was something coming behind him? Or did something move to his left? He held his breath to listen, but the snow muffled sound and changed it.
Coming from the trees behind him, Joel caught sight of a dark moving figure and two others following behind. The frightened boy watched the figures plod steadily closer.
As they came closer, Joel saw it was Chief Kanosh and his wife and their little boy! Joel was so happy to see the big Ute chief and his family that he grinned from ear to ear.
“You go wrong way,” said Chief Kanosh when he reached Joel. He pointed to the right. “Cabin is over there. We go together.”
Joel didn’t say a word as he fell into step behind Chief Kanosh. The four people pushed through the snow. In a short time Joel saw a break in the trees. Dark smoke rose from the chimney of their cabin.
A wagon was behind the barn. Father was home too!
Later that night after everyone had eaten all the roast chicken and stuffing, creamed corn, and squash pie they could hold, Chief Kanosh and his wife pulled their chairs in front of the fireplace beside Joel’s mother and father. Joel sat on the floor by the Indian boy.
“Well, Joel,” said his father, smiling. “We certainly have lots to be thankful for today.”
“We surely do, Father,” Joel agreed. “And one of the things I’m most thankful for tonight is that Mother invited Chief Kanosh and his family here for Thanksgiving dinner.”

Sammy liked to do many things. He participated in karate and school sports. He enjoyed reading and kept up with his favorite book series. He attended his Webelos meetings and worked hard to earn the badges. But one thing Sammy didn’t like was dogs—big, small, or anywhere in between. He wanted nothing to do with them. The sight of a dog terrified him, and he would move as quickly as he could in the opposite direction.
One morning, Sammy’s neighbor Megan went skipping down the road, heading for the school bus stop. Suddenly she stopped. There in front of her was the biggest dog she had ever seen. It was tan and even taller than she was. She froze in her tracks and began to scream. The dog started walking toward her.
At that moment, Sammy left his house and started down the street toward the bus stop. He heard Megan screaming and saw her and the dog. He started shaking, but he continued to walk closer. Then he bent down, put his hands on his knees, and called, “Come here, dog. Come.” The dog looked back and forth from Sammy to Megan, and then trotted over to Sammy. Sammy held onto the dog’s collar until the owner came to take the dog home. Sammy was awfully glad to see the dog go.
Sammy still doesn’t like dogs. But he was glad he had the courage to help a friend in need.

I hadn’t even been thinking of the new kid down the street—not until Mom remarked one evening at the supper table, “Toby Walker’s mom is surely glad that Toby has a good friend like you.”
I choked on my milk and looked across the table at Mom to see if she was kidding. “Who said I was Toby Walker’s friend?” I asked.
“Toby told his mom that you were his best friend,” Mom answered, glancing at me.
I set my glass down and licked the milk from my lips. “I have plenty of good friends without Toby,” I mumbled.
“Maybe Toby needs you for a friend,” Dad said as he reached for the rolls.
I shrugged my shoulders and tried to think about eating my peas and carrots. “Toby’s all right,” I grumbled. “It’s not that I don’t like him. It’s just … well, it’s just …”
Mom and Dad both stared at me and waited for me to explain. “I’m never mean to him,” I said, poking at my peas and carrots with my fork. “I don’t play keep-away with his hat or hide his books or tell him he can’t play baseball with us. I don’t say mean things to him.”
“Do you do nice things for him?” Mom asked.
“Or tell the other kids not to be mean to him?” Dad asked.
“Why should I do that?” I blurted out. “Toby’s not my—” I shoved a forkful of peas and carrots into my mouth, but I had a hard time chewing them, and I could fell my face turning red.
I didn’t think much about Toby until the next day at noon recess, when we were getting ready to choose up teams for baseball. Bobby Mills and I were the captains, and we were each trying to choose the best team that we could. I didn’t pay any attention to Toby until everyone else had been chosen and he was the only one left. It was Bobby’s turn to choose. He took one look at Toby and growled, “You can’t play, Walker. It will make the teams uneven.” Then he grinned. “Why don’t you see if the girls will let you play?”
Everybody laughed and headed onto the field. Toby stood looking down at the ground and digging at the grass with the toe of his shoe. Just as I was about to turn and run out to first base, Toby looked up and stared at me. He had big, sad brown eyes that looked out from under a shaggy mop of sandy hair. He didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked off and sat on the school steps to watch us play.
I tried to think about baseball. I tried to laugh and make jokes with the other guys, but I kept remembering Toby’s sad eyes. I also remembered what Mom and Dad had said the night before, and I wondered what it would be like to have no friends at school.
All afternoon I thought about Toby. When I came home from school, I was still thinking about him. As I dragged my feet up our walk, I glanced up and saw myself in the glass in our front door. Usually I liked to watch myself in the glass. My reflection was like having a good friend come out to greet me. But this afternoon I took one look in the glass, ducked my head, and went around to the back door, where there wasn’t a reflection. I knew then that I’d lost two friends that day—Toby and the guy in the glass.
The next day on my way home from school I spotted Toby a half block ahead of me. He was alone as usual. His head was down, his hands were in his pockets, and he was kicking a battered pop can down the sidewalk. For a long time I just watched him, staying back so that he wouldn’t know that I was there. Finally I hurried to catch up with him. “Hey,” I called out, “where’re you headed, Toby?”
He jumped and whirled around like he was scared; but as soon as he saw that it was me, he smiled and mumbled, “Hi, Kyle.”
I bit down on my lip. “I have a pretty nice tree house in my backyard,” I said. “Dad helped me make it. Want to come over and see it?”
Toby looked at me to see if I was kidding him. I wasn’t, so he nodded and we headed for my place.
We had a good time that afternoon. Toby was quiet at first, but it wasn’t long until he was talking and laughing and having a good time just like any other kid. I was having a good time too. We played Tarzan in the tree house, shot some marbles, played catch with my new football. And while we had cookies and milk on the back steps, we just talked. I liked Toby. He was as good a friend as a guy could have.
That afternoon I grinned at the guy I saw when I went into the house through the front door.
The next day at recess Bobby Mills said something about Toby always wearing the same pants and that they were full of fleas. Everybody laughed and started making fun of Toby, and he walked off by himself and sat under the weeping willow tree at the corner of the school grounds. I didn’t say anything bad about Toby or laugh at him. But I didn’t stick up for him either, not like a real friend would have done. That afternoon when I went home, I had to go through the back door again because I knew I couldn’t face the guy in the glass.
After supper I found Dad in the living room, reading the paper. “How can a guy be a real friend?” I asked.
Dad looked up and asked, “What do you mean, Kyle?”
I looked down at the floor. “It’s easy to be a friend to Toby here at home,” I said, “but when I go to school, I’m scared to be friends. I keep wondering if everyone else will start to laugh at me like they do at him.”
Dad dropped the paper on the floor and thought for a while. “Being a friend isn’t always easy,” he said. “Sometimes it takes more courage to be a friend than to be anything else.”
“Can a guy have that much courage?” I mumbled.
Dad reached over and squeezed my arm. “When Jesus was on the earth,” he said, “there were lots of men and women that other people didn’t like. There were poor people, lepers, publicans, and sinners. People probably made fun of them and wouldn’t be friends with them or even talk to them. But Jesus was a friend to everyone who needed Him. He knew that being a friend was very important. In fact, He said, ‘Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends’ [John 15:13]. And while we may not have to give up our lives for our friends, we should be willing to defend them when necessary, even when it’s not easy.”
That night when I knelt down by my bed, I prayed harder than I’d ever prayed before. I asked Heavenly Father to help me have the courage to be Toby’s friend.
At school the next day my stomach was churning and flopping, and I kept licking my lips and chewing my fingernails. The closer the clock’s little hand got to the twelve, the more I twisted and squirmed in my seat.
At lunch I finished my sandwich, drank my milk, and headed for the baseball diamond. When I got there, everyone else was lined up and ready for Bobby and me to choose sides.
I had hoped that Toby would be there, but he was over on the steps by himself. I told myself that since he wasn’t on the field ready to play, I didn’t have to help him out, that he didn’t want to play, that maybe he liked being by himself. I looked around, about to choose someone else. But I couldn’t. I knew I had a job to do. I thought about Jesus and the lepers and the publicans, and I knew what He would do if He had to choose a team.
“Come on, Kyle,” Bobby said. “You’re choosing first. Let’s get going!”
I looked across the field toward Toby. “Hey, Toby, you’re on my side!” Toby looked up. Even though he was a long way away and I couldn’t see his face, I could tell that he was surprised. I waved for him to come over and shouted again, “Toby, you’re on my team. Hurry!”
For a moment no one said anything. Everyone just stared at me, then at Toby, wondering if I was playing a joke. Even Toby wondered, because he came over kind of slow and had his hands deep in his pockets and was just waiting for someone to laugh or tell him to go play with the girls.
“What do you want him for?” Bobby asked.
I guess he thought I would choose Billy Taylor or Brandon Cooper or Justin Knight. I just shrugged and said, “your turn, Bobby.”
“He doesn’t even have a mitt,” Bobby growled.
“I’ll let him use mine,” I answered.
“You’re going to lose. He doesn’t even know how to play ball.”
“Your turn, Bobby,” I said.
“Who even said he could play?” Bobby demanded, scowling at Toby.
I licked my lips, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I said he could play,” I replied hoarsely. “I’m choosing, and I can choose anybody I want. I choose Toby.”
“But why is what I want to know?” Bobby insisted. “Why him?”
“Because he’s my friend,” I answered. The word was out before I really had a chance to think about it, but as soon as I’d said it, I felt good about it, and I knew then that it didn’t really matter who won or who lost the game.
My team didn’t win that day. We lost by two runs. But when I went home that afternoon, I didn’t sneak in the back door. I marched up the front walk and onto the porch and looked my reflection right in the eye. I knew then that I’d made two friends that day—Toby and the guy in the glass.

James Lee, 18, and his younger brother Christopher sat near the front of the chapel furiously taking notes. They live in Spokane, Washington, and though they knew they were living in an area of high employment, both of them needed summer jobs.
Luckily for the Lees and hundreds of other young Latter-day Saints like them, the local stake leaders with the help of Brother Ronald Buchanan, manager of the Church’s Spokane Employment Center, had organized a one-day career fair for all of the young people in the Spokane area.
The career fair started with talks from some of the local leaders about general gospel principles and how they relate to the work ethic. As the day progressed the information became much more specific, and the participants learned about developing careers, preparing resumes, creative job searching, and interviewing.
“A good resume is probably the most effective job hunting tool for a young person,” said Bill Steen, a professional teacher and consultant on preparing resumes. “Of course a resume is needed for professional, career-oriented job seekers, but very few young people use them. So when you do, it really sets you apart from the rest of the job-hunting crowd.
“Do not depend on an application and then wait at home by the phone for someone to call,” he continued, “because it rarely happens. Few people understand what most job application forms are really designed to accomplish. They are designed by an employer to reveal as many weaknesses as possible and eliminate you from the competition for that job. And this is the tool that most of us use to try to get a job—a tool that is designed to screen us out.”
The young people learned some fascinating ways to find job openings and even to create them if they are not there to begin with. John Munson, 14, is working on the details for his own summer business. He is gong to specialize in selling fresh hot sausages (either on a bun or a stick) to the vacationers at Lake Coeur d’ Alene. John is going to hire two kids to operate other stands which he also owns. He is working on the forms for his health department clearance and business license and has bids from suppliers for his sausages.
A Washington State employment placement specialist, Sister Carole Hankal gave a delightful workshop on the creative job search. “Once you have prepared a good resume, you might feel it’s the best resume in the world. You should remember that for every person hired there are 1,470 resumes sent out. So the resume isn’t going to get the job for you. It is important, but it works better if it is combined with a personal contact. It is just like missionary work: when a person is referred to the missionaries by a close friend or relative, the chances of his being baptized are much greater than if he was tracted out by the missionaries. If you have a family friend or relative that has a business and hires people, don’t abuse the situation. Don’t go up to Uncle Harry and say, ‘Hey, do you know of any job openings?’ This is not what you want to do. However, if your Uncle Dan works in the bank personnel department and you would like a job in a bank you might say, ‘Hello, Uncle Dan, this is Karen. I just graduated from high school, got straight A’s in mathematics and A’s in English, and I type 60 words a minute with very few errors. I would really love to work in the banking institution. Do you know of any openings or anyone who might be aware of some openings and would you mind introducing me to some of your associates?’”
After Sister Hankal gave the above example, she explained that a good percentage of jobs are filled by those who have some kind of personal contact with the employer. She added, “Don’t be discouraged if you feel you have done everything right and still don’t get a job. Be prepared for up to ten interviews. It often takes ten or more in order for you to be successful in getting that job that is just right for you.”
It was now late afternoon, and the young people had sat about as long as they could absorbing the career information. When their appetites for food began to overshadow their appetites for summer work, dozens of Relief Society sisters and their husbands appeared out of nowhere and promptly began serving hundreds of delicious box lunches that had been prepared earlier for the entire group.
The high point of the career fair for most of the young people was the next two-hour block when they were able to talk to individual career specialists. Seventy-eight specialists had set up booths in the cultural hall while the young people were eating. There were representatives from education, health services, community services, government and military, construction, communications, retailing, sales, business, engineering, and a host of other fields of employment. Each representative had handouts giving specific information about the educational requirements, the expected salary ranges, and pros and cons of the job.
There were also 11 colleges and universities represented in classrooms near the cultural hall. Each representative was delighted to talk to the young people about entrance requirements, costs, and financial aids.
The fair was carefully organized to accomplish several different objectives. “We wanted to (1) prepare our youth so they would be the best prepared to enter both the summer and permanent job markets and be the first to apply when an opportunity arises; (2) help them to identify career areas they would like to work in and to match their summer employment with their career goals; (3) create the opportunity for them to visit with more than 75 career specialists; and (4) give them the chance to talk to representatives from local colleges as well as BYU and Ricks,” said Brother Buchanan.
“It took us six months to plan and develop the fair. One hundred and fifty people helped put all the details together. I know that Sister Carole Krohn, chairman of the career specialists, made 300 telephone calls herself. But we wanted the youth to be taught about self-reliance and self-sufficiency. What these young people have learned here today should improve their income potential, job satisfaction, self-esteem, and their ability to serve in the Church,” he added.
James and Christopher left the career fair with new confidence in themselves and determination to use the knowledge they had gained to get their summer jobs.
James got the job he wanted working at a grocery store in Deer Park, Washington. He first talked to the manager, and then he followed up by submitting an application. The manager noted that James would not work on Sunday and so he did not hire him. Yet James kept in touch with the store, and after a few days he was asked to work for two days on a trial basis. The owner of the store interviewed James and asked him why he would not work on Sunday. James told him it was part of the teachings of his church and he had made a personal commitment to try to keep the Sabbath holy. The owner was impressed, and James was hired—to work every day but Sunday.
Christopher found his job using another technique he learned in the workshops at the fair. He applied for a job, but at the time there were no openings. When he followed up a few days later he said, “I know that it costs you something to train new employees. I will volunteer to come in and learn whatever you would like me to learn on my own time and then if you think I can do the job to your satisfaction I will be trained and ready to go to work when you have an opening.” This initiative impressed his employer enough that he interviewed him and hired him on the spot. Although the restaurant is open on Sunday, Christopher’s employer respects his beliefs and has not required that he come in and work on that day.
Both of the Lee boys felt they got the jobs they wanted because of what they learned at the career fair, including proper dress for a job interview, cultivating qualities that an employer would look for like grammar and manners, what to expect in applying for a job, and the kinds of questions an employer would hope a job applicant would ask to show that he is really interested in working for him.
James and Christopher Lee are only two out of hundreds of success stories from those who attended the career fair. More than half of the 850 young people who attended got jobs after the fair. Others who couldn’t get work or didn’t want to work for someone else have started their own businesses, and still others actually are involved in their long-range careers, thanks to the stake leaders and the Church Employment System, who sponsored the 1984 Spokane Career Fair.

President Thomas S. Monson: “Many years ago I stood by the bedside of a young man, the father of two children, as he hovered between life and the great beyond. He took my hand in his, looked into my eyes and pleadingly asked, ‘Bishop, I know I am about to die. Tell me what happens to my spirit when I die.’

“I prayed for heavenly guidance before attempting to respond. My attention was directed to the Book of Mormon, which rested on the table beside his bed. I held the book in my hand, and, as I stand before you here today, that book opened to the fortieth chapter of Alma. I began to read aloud:

“‘Now my son, here is somewhat more I would say unto thee; for I perceive that thy mind is worried concerning the resurrection of the dead. …

“‘Now, concerning the state of the soul between death and the resurrection—Behold, it has been made known unto me by an angel, that the spirits of all men, as soon as they are departed from this mortal body … are taken home to that God who gave them life.

“‘And then shall it come to pass, that the spirits of those who are righteous are received into a state of happiness, which is called paradise, a state of rest, a state of peace, where they shall rest from all their troubles and from all care, and sorrow’ (Alma 40:1, 11–12).

“My young friend closed his eyes, expressed a sincere thank-you, and silently slipped away to that paradise about which we had spoken” (General Conference, October 1981).

One of these intrepid souls was Emma Batchelor, a young English girl traveling without family. She started out with the Willie handcart company, but by the time they reached Fort Laramie, they were ordered to lighten their loads. Emma was directed to leave the copper kettle in which she carried all of her belongings.
She refused to do this and set it by the side of the road and sat down on it. She knew that the Martin company was only a few days behind. She had been privileged to start with the Willie company, and when the Martin company caught up, she joined the Paul Gourley family.
A young son wrote many years later: “Here we were joined by Sister Emma Batchelor. We were glad to have her because she was young and strong and meant more flour for our mess.” It was here that Sister Gourley gave birth to a child, and Emma acted as the midwife and loaded the mother and the child in the cart for two days, which Emma helped pull.
Those who died in the Martin company were mercifully relieved of the suffering of others with frozen feet, ears, noses, or fingers—which maimed them for the rest of their lives. Emma, age twenty-one, however, was a fortunate one. She came through the ordeal whole.
A year later, she met Brigham Young, who was surprised that she was not maimed, and she told him, “Brother Brigham, I had no one to care for me or to look out for me, so I decided I must look out for myself. I was the one who called out when Brother Savage warned us [not to go]. I was at fault in that, but I tried to make up for it. I pulled my share at the cart every day. When we came to a stream, I stopped and took off my shoes and stockings and outer skirt and put them on top of the cart. Then, after I got the cart across, I came back and carried little Paul over on my back. Then I sat down and scrubbed my feet hard with my woolen neckerchief and put on dry shoes and stockings.”

Shortly before accepting his full-time mission call, Elder Massimo De Feo learned key lessons of sacrifice and love from his father, Vittorio De Feo.
The De Feo family had few financial resources, and neither Vittorio nor his wife, Velia, were Church members. But the elder De Feo respected his son’s desire to share the gospel.
“My father asked me, ‘Do you really want to do this?’” remembers Elder De Feo. “I said, ‘Yes, with all my heart I want to serve the Lord.’”
Vittorio promised to do all he could to help cover the cost of his son’s two years of service in the Italy Rome Mission.
“I considered that money to be sacred—it was the fruit of great sacrifice from a man who did not believe in the Church,” says Elder De Feo. “So I served my mission with all my heart, might, mind, and strength because I loved the Lord and I loved my father.”

Once I gave a lesson in family home evening about missionary work. I challenged my family to invite someone to church. We decided to invite one of our friends who was our neighbor. My mom and I talked about what I could say before I called our friend. I was very nervous, but I invited him to sacrament meeting. I told him it was our Primary program and that I was giving a talk. He thanked me for inviting him but didn’t say if he would come. When I entered the chapel on Sunday I didn’t see our friend. I felt disappointed. After I was sitting on the stand, I suddenly saw him in the congregation. I was so happy and grateful that I got to be a missionary.

“After the Budapest, Hungary, concert I walked up to two full-bearded men,” said Kay Lynn Wakefield. “I asked if they enjoyed the concert, putting my hand out to greet one of them. He looked around, wondering who I was talking to. I then gave him an Articles of Faith card. He backed away, saying, ‘I am light man’—an electrical technician for the concert. He seemed surprised I would talk to him. I assured him I was happy to talk to him, and I thanked him for his lighting. I asked him who his friend was, and he said he spoke no English and was studying for the ministry. At this point, he said again, ‘I am light man only.’ I then put my hand on the arm of this man, looked him in the eye, and said, ‘You are a child of God, and he loves you very much.’ I bore my testimony to him, telling him that we represented our Heavenly Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I asked him to translate this message to his non-English-speaking friend. As he repeated my words, he began to weep. It seemed almost as if a protective bubble fell over us and we no longer heard the noise of the crowd. I told them both how they could get a Book of Mormon from the missionaries. The student was visibly moved and promised that he would get and read the book.”

The city of Athens, capital of Attica (Greece) in 490 B.C. and center of Greek culture, was about to be attacked on two sides by the powerful Persian army. The enemy, numbering nearly 20,000, lay in wait on the nearby plains of Marathon. The Greek forces consisted of about 11,000 men.
Miltiades, the Greek commanding general, gave orders to prepare for combat. His men, armed with spears, shields, helmets, and breastplates, were assembled in groups. Common military practice at the time would have been for these groups to advance in one slow, uniform line. Miltiades, however, was a military genius. Distributing his men over as much territory as possible so that they wouldn’t be outflanked, he ordered them forward on the run.
The Battle of Marathon was on!
The Persians, who were fighting with inferior weapons, were outmaneuvered and outfought. They lost 6,400 men—the Athenians, only 192—as they were driven back to the ships that had brought them.
A young Athenian soldier named Pheidippides had been sent earlier to Sparta, about 150 miles (241 kilometers) away, to ask for their help. Then he had raced back to Marathon. At the end of the battle, Miltiades, afraid that the people of Athens would surrender because they didn’t know of the victory at Marathon, asked Pheidippides to deliver a message to the people of Athens, 25 miles (40 kilometers) away.
Without the slightest hesitation, Pheidippides took the note and ran mile after mile, without slowing down or stopping to rest, toward Athens, where the citizens were gathered in the streets and at the marketplace, awaiting news of the battle at Marathon.
Pheidippides quickly made his way to the center of a crowd of Athenians and, raising his arms in triumph, delivered his message: “Rejoice, we conquer!” Then he sank to the ground, dead.

Whenever I’m having a hard day, I like to read the New Era. I always find that it helps me cheer up. February 2007’s issue came exactly on one of those days. I was sick and couldn’t go to school. That night I read the New Era and found the article “Don’t Face the World Alone.” It included a couple of scriptures that helped me regain happiness. The article itself said that if we can have faith in the Lord and obey Him, we can have good things happen to us and we can help other people. After that, I felt inspired to read the rest of the articles.Wryn W., Colorado

Fino all’annuncio del lock-down per Coronavirus a fine Febbraio credevo di essere una mamma organizzata. Con 3 figli a scuola tutte le mattine e il piccolino a casa, avevo organizzato una routine che mi consentiva di assolvere alle mie responsabilità e pianificare momenti tranquilli da trascorrere in famiglia. Rimanere confinati tutti in casa giorno e notte per un periodo indefinito scombussolò la routine e si rivelò inizialmente molto frustrante per me e il resto della famiglia. I piani giornalieri che fino a quel momento mi avevano consentito di essere efficiente nel rispondere alle esigenze della famiglia, da un giorno all’altro furono stravolti e le mie giornate diventarono un correre senza sosta verso la prossima riunione online, la prossima lezione, il prossimo compito di scuola, il prossimo pasto da preparare, ecc ecc. Il tempo sembrava aver perso la sua naturale regolarità e le settimane sembravano dissolversi in un unico giorno.
A questo disorientamento si aggiungeva giornalmente il peso delle notizie gravi riportate dai telegiornali sui contagi e sulle vittime del Covid-19, insieme al pensiero di amici e conoscenti che stavano combattendo personalmente contro il virus, per i quali avrei voluto fare di più, come poter pregare per loro al Tempio.
Per molti versi mi sentivo piccola e senza meta.
Una mattina decisi di alzarmi presto per fare esercizio fisico e nel silenzio della casa cominciai a riflettere sul viaggio che Lehi e la sua famiglia avevano fatto nel deserto. Per otto anni erano rimasti isolati dal resto del mondo, lontani dalla sicurezza che avevano conosciuto durante la loro vita a Gerusalemme per affrontare fatiche e privazioni che non avevano mai vissuto prima. Per tanti anni avevano vissuto senza potersi recare al Tempio ma erano sopravvissuti; in qualche modo erano riusciti a continuare giorno dopo giorno, prova dopo prova, e arrivare alla terra promessa. Il versetto in 2 Nefi 15, “e mio padre dimorava in una tenda”, continuava a tornare alla mia mente e cominciai a chiedermi come vivesse Lehi nella sua tenda e come avremmo dovuto vivere noi… cosa avremmo potuto fare per trasformare la frustrazione in motivazione e la nostra casa in una tenda come quella di Lehi, in una succursale del Tempio?
Per poterlo fare avrei dovuto organizzarmi diversamente.
Iniziai a stilare un elenco di cose da fare giornalmente per occupare al meglio il nostro tempo inserendo anche attività che non eravamo soliti fare in passato. Partendo al mattino dallo studio familiare del Libro di Mormon (cosa che già facevamo, ma non con regolarità assoluta), i bambini più grandi si dedicavano poi ai compiti e alle lezioni di scuola per potere avere il resto della giornata disponibile per altre attività come esercizio fisico, cucina con una sana alimentazione, pomeriggi trascorsi in balcone per beneficiare del sole disponibile, lezioni online, musica e inglese, momenti dedicati ai giochi in scatola, ai progetti di arte, di servizio per la comunità e organizzazione delle nostre scorte alimentari e dei nostri zaini di emergenza e per finire, alla lettura o alle attività basate sulle scritture durante le nostre domeniche a casa.
In poco tempo la nuova routine aveva aperto orizzonti diversi e le limitazioni dettate dall’isolamento forzato si trasformarono in opportunità di fare cose che non eravamo riusciti a realizzare prima come famiglia. La nostra tenda cominciava a riempirsi di buone attività.
Non tutto è arrivato insieme e non tutto è stato fatto sempre col sorriso, ma piano piano, giorno dopo giorno, siamo riusciti a creare una nuova routine efficace per gestire le circostanze.
Ora che siamo tornati a circolare più liberamente la nostra routine è cambiata, ma non è tornata quella pre-Covid-19; ne abbiamo invece creata una nuova, con un mix più regolare di attività in casa basate sullo studio e sul Vangelo e in mezzo alla natura per mantenere in forma il nostro fisico. Lo studio e l’applicazione del Vangelo è diventato un pezzo importante della nostra vita giornaliera e non è più qualcosa che dobbiamo ricordarci di fare ma il punto di partenza e di arrivo delle nostre giornate.
Non posso dire che la nostra casa sia diventata una succursale del Tempio, perché il percorso per arrivare ad una tale meta richiederà tutta la vita e forse di più, ma quando penso al nostro studio delle scritture, al silenzio e riverenza quasi perfetta raggiunta durante il momento del Sacramento in casa alla domenica, ai giochi dei bambini incentrati spontaneamente sulle storie del Libro di Mormon, e alle preghiere inginocchiati insieme in favore di tutte le persone afflitte dal virus e di chi si trova in difficoltà, allora spero di aver messo qualche nuovo picchetto alla nostra tenda familiare.
Spero che nel nostro viaggio verso la terra promessa, anche se in un deserto (per noi comunque pieno di agi rispetto alla famiglia di Lehi) possiamo avere la gratitudine e la forza di pensare a dove vogliamo arrivare e rendere questa meta parte di ogni nostro giorno, mentre dimoriamo nella nostra tenda familiare.

At the accession of President George Albert Smith in 1945, Joseph was asked to stay on as secretary to the First Presidency. He traveled widely with President Smith and learned that he was truly a “man of love.” He recalls that President Smith laid his own overcoat on a bale of clothing to be shipped to the Saints suffering in postwar Europe. Elder Anderson remembers going with him when he called on the presidents of the United States and Mexico. They kept former U.S. President Herbert Hoover waiting in the outer office while President Smith explained the Book of Mormon and bore his testimony to President Avila Camacho of Mexico.”
For nineteen years following the death of President Smith, Joseph served in the administration of President David O. McKay. His boyhood teacher was now the leader of the Church. President and Sister Emma Ray Riggs McKay represented to Joseph the same great example of love for each other and the gospel that became legendary in the Church. “He was always loving, considerate, and courteous,” he remembers. When the prophet was near death, Elder Anderson recalls visiting him in his apartment and finding him on the couch holding hands with his sweetheart. “I asked Sister McKay how she was, and she said, ‘I am all right, but am concerned about my boy.’ I said, ‘He is still your boy, is he?’ She answered quickly, ‘He surely is.’ To this said, ‘He is the best, is he not?’ and she answered, ‘Most certainly.’”

Elder Benson’s travel throughout Europe revealed one shocking sight after another. The scenes in Germany were sickening, like a vivid horror movie. Beautiful cities were in twisted, blackened ruins. Haunted-looking people shuffled along streets and children fled as his car approached.

Berlin, for example, was indescribable. Miles of the city lay in utter waste, and Elder Benson marveled that anyone had escaped war’s wrath at the epicenter. “I faced in a cold, half-wrecked 3rd floor auditorium off a bombed street 480 cold, half-starved but faithful Latter-day Saints.” In spite of the harrowing experiences they related—murder, rape, and starvation of loved ones—it was inspiring for Elder Benson “to see the light of faith. There was no bitterness or anger but a sweet … expression of faith in the gospel.”

Peter really missed Grandpa. Mom and Dad had said that Grandpa wouldn’t be home until summer was over. Grandpa was in Kansas, helping people learn about the Church, and he was happy. Peter wanted Grandpa to be happy, but he also wanted to show Grandpa how much he’d grown and how he could ride his bike without the training wheels and how many new birds and little animals he’d found in the woods where he and Grandpa always walked together.
One afternoon a thick envelope addressed to Peter came in the mail. It was from Grandpa, and inside was a small packet and a short letter. Inside the packet were five large black-and-white striped seeds. Mom read the letter to Peter:
“Dear Peter,
Here is a mission surprise for you. Find a nice sunny place by the fence to plant the seeds. If you water them a little every day, you will grow something that we can share with our special friends.
Love,Grandpa”
Mom gave Peter a big, old spoon, and Peter dug five little holes in the soft, warm soil by the fence. He put one seed in each hole, then covered it with soil and patted it down with his hand.
Peter found a watering can in the shed and watered the ground every day, just as Grandpa had told him. But nothing happened. Peter told Mom, “I don’t think Grandpa’s seeds are going to grow.”
Mom smiled at him. “You have to be patient,” she said. “It will probably take at least another week before they push up out of the ground.”
“How many days are in a week?” Peter asked. “I want to see what the mission surprise is. Besides, the sooner the seeds grow, the sooner Grandpa will be home.”
“There are seven days in a week,” Mom told Peter. “Look. Every morning when you get up, cross off one day on this calendar. When you get to this one with the circle around it, you will know that a week has passed.”
So Peter watered the seeds and marked the calendar every day. And sure enough, on the day that was circled, five little green bumps were coming out of the ground!
Soon the bumps were little plants, and then they were big plants! Peter was astonished each time he watered them at how much they grew every day. Soon they were taller than he was, and he still didn’t know what they were or whom he and Grandpa were going to share them with.
One flower grew at the top of each tall plant. Peter had never seen such big flowers. They were even bigger than Mom’s dinner plates, and they followed the sun all day.
Before long summer was nearly over, and Peter was worried. The flowers had gotten so fat that they drooped over and no longer followed the sun. Would they die before Grandpa came home? How could he and Grandpa share dead flowers with their friends? And Peter still didn’t know who the special friends were.
Then one bright sunny afternoon, Grandpa came home. “I see you took good care of the sunflowers, Peter,” he said. “Let’s go cut them down and dry out the seeds. They’ll be a wonderful treat for our special friends this winter.”
Sunflower seeds! Now Peter understood—and he could guess who the special friends were too. All the little animals and the birds would be very happy to share Grandpa’s mission surprise.

The Laurels of the American Fork Utah 17th Ward held two fund raisers in order to earn money to buy a Book of Mormon in braille. Their work and organization paid off when they succeeded in raising enough money to buy the book. They presented their gift to Marion Boone.
Front row, left to right: Dee Harwood, class president, and Marion Boone.
Middle row: Heidi Gifford, counselor, Tonna Jorgenson, Brandi Maynard, Christine Chee, counselor.
Back row: Deanne Hansen, Jerilyn Johnson, Karen Preston, Andrea Glines, Vanese Nash, and Charlene Heaton, adviser.

At one time in my life, I thought that I didn’t need visiting teachers myself. I had a strong testimony of the gospel, and I had no major problems. But one year I was alone on Christmas Eve. My husband was busy shopping, and all my children were married and living out of the country, except for one daughter, who couldn’t come. The house was so empty without the hugs of my little grandchildren. I’m not used to feeling sorry for myself, but that night I sat down in the dark in my living room and let the tears run down my cheeks. Just at that moment the doorbell rang. My visiting teachers! My dear sisters had come to bring me a greeting of Christmas joy. It was as if the Lord himself had reminded me that I was not alone.
By the time they left, my mood had completely changed. I turned on the lights, put on my best dress, decorated the table, and prepared a special supper. When my husband came in, we celebrated Christmas together and gave thanks that we were both alive and healthy.

I recently learned firsthand of a young man who attended the temple with a heart pleading for help. Many months earlier he had received his call to serve in a mission in South America. However, his visa was delayed for such a lengthy period that he was reassigned to a mission in the United States. Although disappointed that he could not serve in the area of his original call, he nonetheless worked hard in his new assignment, determined to serve to the best of his ability. He became discouraged, however, because of negative experiences he had with missionaries who seemed to him to be more interested in having a good time than in sharing the gospel.
A few short months later this young man suffered a very serious health challenge which left him partially paralyzed, and so he was sent home on a medical leave.
Some months later the young man had healed completely, and his paralysis had disappeared. He was informed that he would once again be able to serve as a missionary, a blessing for which he had prayed daily. The only disappointing news was that he would return to the same mission which he had left, where he felt the behaviors and attitudes of some missionaries were less than they should be.
He had come to the temple to seek comfort and a confirmation that he could have a good experience as a missionary. His parents also had prayed that this temple visit would provide the help their son needed.
As the young man entered the celestial room following the session, he sat in a chair and began to pray for guidance from his Heavenly Father.
Another who entered the celestial room shortly afterward was a young man whose name is Landon. As he walked into the room, his gaze was immediately drawn to the young man sitting on the chair, eyes closed and obviously praying. Landon received an unmistakable prompting that he should speak with the young man. Hesitant to interrupt, however, he decided to wait. After several minutes had gone by, the young man was still praying. Landon knew he could no longer postpone the prompting. He approached the young man and gently touched his shoulder. The young man opened his eyes, startled that he had been disturbed. Landon said quietly, “I have felt impressed that I need to talk with you, although I am not certain why.”
As they began to converse, the young man poured out his heart to Landon, explaining his circumstances and ending with his desire to receive some comfort and encouragement concerning his mission. Landon, who had returned from a successful mission just a year earlier, told of his own mission experiences, the challenges and concerns he had faced, the manner in which he had turned to the Lord for help, and the blessings he had received. His words were comforting and reassuring, and his enthusiasm for his mission was contagious. Eventually, as the young man’s fears subsided, a feeling of peace came to him. He felt deep gratitude as he realized his prayer had been answered.
The two young men prayed together, and then Landon prepared to leave, happy that he had listened to the inspiration which had come to him. As he stood to go, the young man asked Landon, “Where did you serve your mission?” To this point, neither of them had mentioned to the other the name of the mission in which he had served. When Landon replied with the name of his mission, tears welled up in the eyes of the young man. Landon had served in the very mission to which the young man would be returning!
In a recent letter to me, Landon shared with me the young man’s parting words to him: “I had faith Heavenly Father would bless me, but I never could have imagined that He would send someone to help me who had served in my own mission. I know now that all will be well.”2 The humble prayer of a sincere heart had been heard and answered.

I used to attend a school where it was really hard to be a Latter-day Saint. The LDS students were a minority, and there weren’t many who shared similar standards. It seemed especially frustrating for me because my parents divorced during my freshman year.
During that time life was pretty confusing for me. I guess that’s when I really discovered the scriptures. But my family wasn’t supportive of my scripture reading. Even my mother used to tell me it was a waste of time. But through the scriptures I found someone else who dealt with family contention.
Lehi counseled Laman and Lemuel “because of the stiffneckedness of Laman and Lemuel; for behold they did murmur in many things against their father” (1 Ne. 2:11–12).
My family was divided. We fought all the time, my parents couldn’t say anything kind about each other, and they discouraged me from attending church. Our home was full of conflict.
“And it came to pass that Laman was angry with me, and also with my father; and also was Lemuel, for he hearkened unto the words of Laman. Wherefore Laman and Lemuel did speak many hard words unto us, their younger brothers, and they did smite us even with a rod” (1 Ne. 3:28).
I tried to set a good example for my family. I went to church, attended Mutual, and prayed regularly. I even invited my mom to get active in the Church again.
“And now I, Nephi, … spake unto them, saying, … Behold ye are mine elder brethren, and how is it that ye are so hard in your hearts, and so blind in your minds, that ye have need that I, your younger brother, should speak unto you, yea, and set an example for you?
“How is it that ye have not hearkened unto the word of the Lord?” (1 Ne. 7:8–9).
Sometimes, in private, I cried. Sometimes I prayed for them. Always I felt lonely.
“But, behold, Laman and Lemuel would not hearken unto my words; and being grieved because of the hardness of their hearts I cried unto the Lord for them” (1 Ne. 2:18).
When I was sad, I knew that Nephi knew sadness. When I was discouraged, I knew that Nephi knew discouragement. When I was lonely, I knew that Nephi knew loneliness.
No, my story doesn’t have a nice, neat ending. I wish it ended “happily ever after,” but it hasn’t yet. My home is still unhappy. But Heavenly Father has given me the scriptures, and I know that he understands exactly what it is like for me at home. Though the conflict hasn’t stopped, at least I have found comfort and peace and ways to cope.
“I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save he shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which he commandeth them” (1 Ne. 3:7).
Just as Nephi knew that the Lord would help him accomplish anything that was commanded, I too know that Heavenly Father will continue to strengthen and support me from my heavenly home as I struggle to deal with a torn earthly home. The scriptures are my lifeline to that heavenly home.

The deacons and teachers of the Sandton Ward, Sandton South Africa Stake, had a rare opportunity to explore a game preserve and learn to live, for three days, with nature as it exists in this rugged and beautiful part of the world.
The group, including the young men and their leaders, met a guide who accompanied them into the Doorndraai Dam Nature Reserve. The game park had a variety of wild animals ranging from leopards to mongeese, from giraffes to hyenas. The group had to truck in containers of water as well as food and equipment for their stay.
The first night, as darkness fell and as the campfire burned low, each member of the group was assigned an hour watch. A schedule of night watches is necessary in an area where large animals prowl. For some, the strange noises and the stories about prowling hyenas and leopards did not allow for a restful night.
The next morning the group set off on a hike. The guide pointed out plants, birds, and game. They often came across such animals as zebra, wildebeest, impala, water buck, eland, warthogs, and monkeys.
After the day’s exercise, no one had trouble sleeping the second night. The hour assigned to night watch was a welcome time to be alone, listen to the sounds of the preserve, and reflect on a loving Heavenly Father’s creations.
Heading for home, the young men packed up, then obliterated all signs of their camp. They were leaving the preserve as they had found it, except for the new appreciation of nature each one carried home.