Gospel Story Finder

The young women from a ward in Virginia, USA, wanted to create these shirts for Mutual and then wear them to school. Emily C., 14, had recently moved from out of state. Many of her friends at school didn’t yet know she is a member of the Church. “A lot of my friends pointed out my shirt and thought it was so cool,” Emily says. “They asked a little bit about the Church, and I told them about the temple.”

A true story from the USA.
“Action!”
Evan’s little brother Ethan pressed record on the tablet, and Evan began his speech. “Hi, my name’s Evan. I was looking for more service opportunities and found our town’s food pantry.”
Evan and Ethan loved making movies together, but this video was special.
The pantry gave food to families who didn’t have enough money to buy groceries at the store. Right now, the pantry was all out of jelly. They were asking people to donate more.
Evan always felt happy when he did service, so he decided to gather some jelly to donate. He was making a video to ask his neighbors to help too.
“If you wanna help, you can drop off jelly at my house. Or you can send money, and I’ll buy the jelly for you!” Evan said as Ethan filmed.
When they were done filming, Evan edited the video until it was just right to share. After Mom posted the video online, people started dropping off jelly and sending money to buy even more!
At the store, Evan stacked jelly jars into a cart. “This would be even more fun with more kids,” he said. “Maybe the kids at my school can help.”
“Great idea!” said Mom.
The next day at school, Evan asked to see Principal Sanchez. He explained his idea to collect jelly for the food pantry.
“It can be like a game,” Evan said. “We can call it the Jelly War.”
“That’s a great plan!” said Principal Sanchez.
Evan made special flyers to pass out to all the fourth graders telling them about the Jelly War.
The next week, the whole fourth grade competed in the Jelly War. Each class tried to bring the most jars of jelly.
At lunch, everyone was excited about the Jelly War. “I’ve never done a competition like this,” said Evan’s friend Maria. “I hope my class wins.”
“I bet my class wins!” said their friend Isaac. “I brought three jars today.”
Evan watched the donation boxes in each classroom start to fill up with jars.
At recess, Evan dug in the sand with his friend Gabe. “Have you brought any jars of jelly yet?” he asked.
“My dad gave me five to donate! I put them in the box this morning,” Gabe said.
“Wow!” Evan couldn’t believe how many kids were joining in the Jelly War.
Soon the jelly boxes were filled to the top. All the fourth graders and teachers gathered in one classroom to hear Evan announce the winners of the Jelly War.
“Together we collected over 200 jars of jelly!” said Evan. The kids all cheered.
“Everyone did such a good job, but only one class can be the winner,” Evan continued.
Everyone held their breath to hear who won.
“Mrs. Child’s class is the winner!”
The kids in Mrs. Child’s class jumped up and down and clapped their hands.
After school, Evan met up with his friends to walk home.
“My class didn’t win, but I just feel happy that I got to help other people,” Maria said.
“Me too,” said Evan. “Who knew kids could make such a big difference?”
Evan couldn’t wait to take all the jelly to the food pantry. He felt warm inside when he thought of all the people who would have food because of their donations.
Best of all, he knew he had followed Jesus Christ by helping others. Evan wanted to feel this way all the time.
“Hey, Mom,” he said when he got home. “When can we do our next service project?”

One other early claim to the presidency came from James J. Strang. A convert of just four months, Strang claimed that Joseph Smith himself, a few weeks before his death, had ordained Strang to become the next president of the Church. Strang possessed a letter, allegedly written by the Prophet, supporting his claim, but the Twelve pronounced the letter a forgery, and historical investigations since that time have confirmed this opinion. Nevertheless, Strang continued in his claim and gathered a small group of followers to his settlement on Beaver Island, in Lake Michigan, where he pronounced himself a king. He ruled the colony until he was killed by one of his own people in 1856. Elder Lyman Wight also led away a group of members into Texas in a direct challenge to Brigham Young’s counsel.

I learned about those realities from a wise teacher nearly 25 years ago. I spoke in an ancient theater in Ephesus. Bright sunlight flooded the ground where the Apostle Paul had stood to preach. My topic was Paul, the Apostle called of God.
The audience was hundreds of Latter-day Saints. They were arranged on the rows of stone benches the Ephesians sat upon more than a millennium before. Among them were two living Apostles, Elder Mark E. Petersen and Elder James E. Faust.
As you can imagine, I had prepared carefully. I had read the Acts of the Apostles and the Epistles, both those of Paul and his fellow Apostles. I had read and pondered Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians.
I tried my best to honor Paul and his office. After the talk, a number of people said kind things. Both of the living Apostles were generous in their comments. But later, Elder Faust took me aside and, with a smile and with softness in his voice, said, “That was a good talk. But you left out the most important thing you could have said.”
I asked him what that was. Weeks later he consented to tell me. His answer has been teaching me ever since.
He said that I could have told the people that if the Saints who heard Paul had possessed a testimony of the value and the power of the keys he held, perhaps the Apostles would not have had to be taken from the earth.
That sent me back to Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. I could see that Paul wanted the people to feel the value of the chain of priesthood keys reaching from the Lord through His Apostles to them, the members of the Lord’s Church. Paul was trying to build a testimony of those keys.

Graduation day was approaching. There were finals to prepare for, college applications to finish, and homework assignments to complete. Life was crazy! Then there was the church stuff: read my scriptures, pray, go to seminary, and serve in the priests quorum. I felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders. Lastly, many of my friends relied on me for support. They were having problems and needed someone to talk to. I couldn’t keep up with everything, and unfortunately, the first thing to go was scripture reading.
One day I felt especially overwhelmed. Everything happening in my life just seemed to take over. I felt like I had no control. I went to my bedroom to escape. I sat on my bed and tried to forget about everything for a few minutes.
While I was sitting there, I had the impression to pray. I got on my knees, bowed my head, and prayed to Heavenly Father. I explained that I needed help, that I could not do everything by myself.
After closing my prayer, I looked across my bedroom. I could see the corner of my scripture case underneath a pile of schoolbooks. I felt ashamed that I had neglected the scriptures so much. As I looked at them, I felt the peace of the Spirit. I knew I could find an answer in the scriptures.
As I thumbed through my scriptures, I read Helaman 12:1, which states, “And thus we can behold how false, and also the unsteadiness of the hearts of the children of men; yea, we can see that the Lord in his great infinite goodness doth bless and prosper those who put their trust in him.”
This verse spoke to me strongly. I had been trying to do everything myself. If I would really put my trust in the Lord, He would bless and prosper me. I needed to prioritize my life and make sure that I made time for the important things, like reading my scriptures.
I have remembered this verse throughout my life. It has helped me to remember the Lord and that He is mindful of us and will help us if we put our trust in Him.

In high school. After my mission I wasn’t accepted to a university, so I studied on my own. I read lots of books. I visited Europe to study the stained-glass windows of famous cathedrals. I stared at one window in Czechoslovakia for an hour! It was inspiring. I promised myself that someday I would try to make a window that beautiful. Now I get to make stained-glass windows for temples around the world.

After shopping for groceries, we drove to the pharmacy in Eureka, California—our last stop before heading home to Willow Creek, about an hour away. The pharmacy, however, was closed for lunch. While we waited, my daughter Shae asked if we could drive to Humboldt Bay.
The four of us, including my daughter Tess and her husband, Patrick, grabbed lunch, drove to the nearby bay, and stopped in the parking lot that runs parallel to the bay. That January day in 2021 was overcast and chilly. From our four-door pickup we watched a bird feeding, diving toward the bay and then rising again.
We’d been there less than five minutes and had barely begun to eat when we heard the whining of a speeding car engine. I remember thinking, “Who in their right mind is driving so fast with people all around?”
The road to the bay ran by the parking lot as it turned north. I didn’t locate the source of the engine noise until I saw a gray pickup sailing through the air toward the water. The pickup had missed the turn, sped over a sidewalk, smashed a light pole, and launched into the air. I watched the pickup sail over the shoreline and clear an old pier as it flew toward the water. It was like a scene out of a movie or TV show.
Without speaking a word, we threw open our pickup truck doors and jumped out, groceries spilling onto the parking lot asphalt. Then we ran to the water’s edge just after the pickup splashed hard into the bay. We were close enough to see that the pickup’s driver was staring blankly through the windshield.
As I watched him, I thought, “He’s not moving! He’s not going to get out of that pickup! Something is horribly wrong!”
I had a feeling that I needed to help the man, that I needed to “go and do” (1 Nephi 3:7)—now! The windows of the pickup were rolled up, so Tess and I looked in vain for a rock big enough to break the driver’s side car window. Then she and Patrick called 911 while Shae gathered up our groceries.
Growing up in Willow Creek, I had driven the curvy roads along the Trinity River every day. I had often thought about how scary it would be to go off the road and into the river. What would I do? How would I get out? I would not want to die that way, and I could not let the man in the pickup die that way.
Under normal circumstances, I would never have gone into the bay. But my only thought was, “The driver needs help, and I’m supposed to help him!”
For some reason, I had no fear. The next thing I knew, I was wading in the chilly water, still wearing my pants, shoes, and a pink sweatshirt.
I’m a big girl, and when I waded into the water, I heard someone say, “She’s going to have a heart attack!” I ignored him. After taking 10 steps, I began swimming toward the pickup, about 30 yards (27 m) away. When I reached it, the engine compartment was sinking, but the water was still below the door handle. I tried but could not open the door.
“Open the door or roll down the window!” I called to the driver. “Are you ready to get out of there?”
No response. He just stared straight out the windshield.
I kept talking until he finally turned his head toward me. He gave me a confused smile as if to say, “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”
As the pickup slowly sank, the man continued to sit motionless. My mind raced as I wondered how to open the door or the window. Suddenly and miraculously, the driver’s side window lowered—by itself! I have no idea how it came down, just as I then had no idea how to get the man out of the pickup. I thought about waiting for help, but I heard a loud gurgling sound as water rushed into the cab. I knew I couldn’t wait for help.
I quickly pulled myself up on the door, got halfway into the pickup, reached across the driver, and unbuckled his seat belt. I grabbed him and pulled with all my strength. I got him out of the window and held him up as water sucked the pickup down.
God knew our hearts, and He knew we would go and do what we could to help one of His children.
I didn’t know how deep the water was, and I couldn’t see the sunken truck. But while treading water, I kicked the truck’s hood. I tried to stand on it but kept slipping off. On one of my unsuccessful attempts to stand, I found the truck’s antenna. I held on to it as I secured a foot against a windshield wiper.
Just then another swimmer arrived. A minute later, a boater who had seen the accident maneuvered his craft to us and threw us a rope. Pushing and pulling, the three of us got safely onto the boat. Later, when I took off my pink sweatshirt, Shae pointed out that I had somehow cut my arm from my elbow to my wrist.
I feel that my family was at Humboldt Bay that day to help that man. I don’t pretend to know God’s mind, but I believe that when bad things happen, He expects us to act. I also believe that God gives us experiences and puts us in positions to bless His children. I was raised by a mother who took us swimming and taught us about water currents. We learned to respect but not fear the water. Most important, we learned to help others in need.
We were where we were supposed to be that day—in the right place, at the right time. God knew our hearts, and He knew we would go and do what we could to help one of His children.
The author lives in California.
Editors’ note: Seven months after Hiedi helped rescue Eric Floyd, the driver of the pickup truck, he died of causes unrelated to the stroke he had suffered that day in January 2021. “I wept when I found out that he had died, but I was grateful that he had a little extra time after his accident to spend with his family,” said Sister Johnston, whom witnesses called the “Lady in Pink.” On March 7, 2021, Humboldt County supervisors presented her with the Carnegie Medal for her heroism.

I stared out the car window, watching for a hotel. We had started looking for one when the sun was still up. Now it was getting dark, and we still hadn’t found a place to stay. They were all full!
Just then my sister Katie poked me and pointed out the window. “Look, Eliza. I see one!”
I sat up straighter. My eyes fell on the big, bold letters lit up on the sign: NO VACANCY.
Dad frowned. “That one doesn’t have any empty rooms. We’ll have to try the next town.”
I was starting to worry that we’d never find a place to stay. So I said a quiet little prayer. When I was done, I didn’t feel quite so worried. Somehow things would work out.
Soon Mom spotted another hotel. I looked around at the full parking lot. Would there be room for us here?
“I don’t see a No Vacancy sign. Let’s try it,” Dad said.
“Can I come in with you, Dad?” Katie asked.
Annie and Sarah peeked their heads over the back seat. “Us too?”
“Sure,” said Dad. “How about you, Eliza?” I nodded, and we all piled out and followed Dad across the dark parking lot.
“Aw, no pool,” Annie said, looking around.
When we got to the office, Sarah stretched her hand up to the counter and rang the bell. A lady came to the front desk. She was nice, but she told us that all the rooms were full.
I dragged my feet as we trooped back out to the car. When would Heavenly Father answer my prayer?
“No room again, huh?” Mom asked.
“Nope. But I got to ring the bell!” said Sarah.
“This is starting to feel like Mary and Joseph trying to find somewhere to stay in Bethlehem,” said Mom. “There just isn’t room for us!”
“Don’t worry,” Dad said. “Something will work out. We should say a prayer.”
“I already did,” I said. “Heavenly Father helped Mary and Joseph. He can help us find a place to sleep too.”
“And maybe the next one will have a pool,” Annie added hopefully as Dad started the car.
Soon Dad found another hotel and pulled into the parking lot. My heart jumped. This one might be the answer to my prayer.
“It has a No Vacancy sign,” Dad said. “But I’ll go ask just in case.”
Dad was gone for a long time. By the time he got back, I was nearly asleep. I thought I must be dreaming when I heard him say, “We’ll stay here.”
“Really?” I asked. “What about the No Vacancy sign?”
“The manager said his family owns a nice little camper that’s behind the hotel. He said we could sleep there.”
The camper was old but clean. There wasn’t a lot of room, but everyone had a place to sleep. Mom and Dad shared the bed with Sarah. The table folded down to make another bed for Katie. Annie and I slept on the floor. It was just right. Like the stable was just right for Mary and Joseph and the manger was just right for the new baby Jesus.
Before I fell asleep, I said a little prayer. Thank you, Heavenly Father. Thank you for helping us find a room. It’s perfect.

The next challenge was pitching our tents. Those who had brought their own tents were familiar with them and seemed to have no problems. But others, like our stake president, Craig Marshall, had borrowed tents. The owner of the tent had told President Marshall that it was a cinch to put up, but despite lots of head scratching and lightning suggestions from the great brains of the group, he had trouble getting the frame to fit together.
While President Marshall struggled, the rest of us put up the food tent (the most important camp item), collected firewood, constructed a rack for the canoes and paddles, and prepared cocoa and biscuits to eat around the fire in the true tradition of camp. Eventually even President Marshall got his tent erected, with some friendly help from the rest of the group.

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

Shortly after finishing his service as mission president, Brother Vidal was called as the recorder of the Lima Peru Temple. While serving as temple recorder, Brother Vidal was diagnosed with cancer. Though he had to relinquish his duties to an acting recorder as the disease progressed, he was retained as official recorder.

On the day a new temple recorder was appointed, Brother Vidal slipped quietly from mortality—his work completed and his testimony as vibrant as it was on the night he discovered the truthfulness of the gospel nearly three decades earlier.

I recently learned another significant lesson from my father about his love for me. A few weeks ago the state 3-A basketball championship was being played on a Saturday night in Ogden. I was on Provo High’s team, which was to play Mountain View High School for the championship. After the first quarter the team met for a huddle. As I got up off the nice soft chair I had become accustomed to, my eye caught sight of my mom and dad sitting on the front row. This might seem insignificant to you, but I was thrilled because in Provo that same night was one of the most important events of the year. It wasn’t my father’s inauguration or the annual commencement exercises. It was the BYU-University of Utah basketball game. But Dad left that game, as well as several General Authorities and other dignitaries he was hosting, to come to my game. That demonstration of love meant so much to me, not because my game was more important, but because I was more important. Is it any wonder I want to show that love in return? We do have a bond, not just as father to son—but friend to friend as well.

Some young people want to rebel against restraints. Some of you think it isn’t “cool” to be obedient to your parents or to follow the counsel of your bishop or quorum president. Bishop Richard C. Edgley shared an experience he had as a young boy about the consequences of being reckless and disobedient:
“When I was a young boy, our garage and the neighbor’s garage were about five feet apart. The neighbor’s garage was very old and dilapidated, and some of the boards were breaking. I, on occasion, would climb onto our garage and jump from one garage to the other and play on top of them. My father had told me, ‘Stay off the garages,’ but I didn’t. One time when I was playing on them, I jumped from our garage and fell through the roof of the neighbor’s garage, scraping my back and legs badly. Because I had been disobedient, I foolishly decided not to tell anyone that I had hurt myself. I went in the house and washed the scrapes and scratches as well as I could, but I couldn’t reach the ones on my back to put antiseptic on them or even wash them clean. I bore the burden of pain, worry over infection setting in, and guilt for several days while the healing process took place.”

Luana was 11 years old when I visited her family in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Because of a traumatic event in her childhood, Luana could not speak. She had not spoken for years. She sat silently as we all conversed. I kept hoping for even a whisper from her. She looked at me intently as if uttering words were not necessary for me to know her heart. After a prayer, we stood up to leave, and Luana handed me a drawing. She had drawn Jesus Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane. I then recognized her witness loud and clear. Luana had made a covenant at baptism to stand as a witness of God “at all times and in all things, and in all places.”4 She understood the Atonement of Jesus Christ, as witnessed through her drawing. Had she come to know that, through the strengthening and enabling power of the Atonement, she could be healed and speak again? Since that day three years ago, Luana has progressed in her effort to speak. She is now participating in Young Women with her friends. Faithful to the covenant she made at baptism, she continues to share her witness of the Savior.

Nathan jumped out of bed and ran to the window. The sun was streaming from a bright blue sky.
“All right!” he said. It had been raining for days, and Nathan couldn’t wait to ride his bike. He pulled on his clothes and ran to the bathroom. His little sister, Aria, was already there brushing her hair, wearing a dress.
“Oh no!” Nathan groaned. “It’s Sunday!”
“You better hurry,” Aria said. “We’re going to be late for church.”
Nathan went back to his bedroom and looked out the window. His friend Isaac was outside riding his bike, and David was zooming around on his skateboard. It looked like they were having fun.
Normally Nathan liked going to church. He liked learning scripture stories and singing Primary songs. But today he wanted to play outside.
Nathan knocked on Mom’s door. “Mom,” he said, “I don’t want to go to church today.”
“Why not?” Mom asked.
“Because it’s been raining all week and now my friends are playing outside. Can’t I miss church just one time so I can play? I’ll go next week.”
Mom smiled at Nathan. “I know you want to play, but do you know why we go to church every week?”
Nathan didn’t feel like hearing a lesson. “Because it’s a commandment,” he said in a bored voice.
“That’s true,” Mom said. “But the commandments aren’t just rules that are made up to be hard. They’re actually things Heavenly Father wants us to do because they make us happy.”
“But right now riding my bike would make me happy.”
“Riding your bike may give you a fun feeling, but feeling the Spirit when you do something right feels even better.”
Nathan scrunched up his face. He thought about times he had helped Mom or was nice to Aria. Those things had made him feel good. And riding his bike would be fun, but he wouldn’t feel very good about missing church.
“Besides, when you go to church, you always get a blessing,” Mom said.
“What kind of blessing?”
“Well, sometimes it’s something you can hold, like a scripture bookmark. But most of the time it’s something you can’t hold, like learning a new song or feeling the Spirit.”
“I guess,” Nathan said. “Maybe today I’ll see if I really do get a blessing at church.”
Nathan got ready, and soon they were at church. Nathan took the sacrament and listened to the talks. Now that he was here, he felt like he’d made the right choice. Was that his blessing?
Nathan was surprised when they announced the closing song. It was “Praise to the Man”—his favorite. He smiled. Maybe that was his blessing.
In Primary he raised his hand and got to help with a game. Could that be his blessing?
After church Nathan found his family. As they walked to the car, Sister Silva gave them some leftover cookies from her class.
“Thank you!” Mom said. “These cookies look delicious. Nathan, see what you would have missed if you’d stayed home? Was I right about the blessing?”
“Kind of,” Nathan said. “But you said there would be one blessing. I counted a bunch!” He climbed into the car. “I’m glad I came.”
“I’m glad too,” Mom said. “Here, have a cookie.”
Nathan bit into a cookie. “What a yummy blessing!”

Halloween is a traditional autumn holiday throughout North America. And for some special adults in Idaho, it is a holiday they look forward to with great anticipation each year.
At a Halloween carnival given just for them, they arrive dressed up as clowns, hoboes, or witches (with at least one cowboy in the bunch). They bob for apples, hook treats from the fishing pond, win prizes for bean-bag tosses, and compete for goodies at the cake walk—all the usual fun that typifies Halloween. These people are special. They are handicapped.
About 50 adults ranging in age from 20 to 60 come from all over the Upper Snake River Valley of eastern Idaho to attend this carnival. They are guests of the Young Women of the Rexburg Idaho 18th Ward, Rexburg Idaho North Stake.
The event started as a service project seven years ago, and although the people who attend it receive great joy from it, the young women say they have been repaid with an increase of love and understanding for those with physical and mental handicaps.
“This project is a highlight of our year’s activities,” 17-year-old Elyse Moss says as she helps one of the guests shoot a basketball through the hoop. “They get so excited over little things—like this,” as she gestures toward the basketball standard. “They’re like little children on Christmas morning!” And as the evening progresses and both the guests and the hostesses become more comfortable with each other, “It gives you a really good feeling when one of the people asks you to have your picture taken with them,” Elyse continues. Seventeen-year-old Holly Holman adds, “I’ve learned that each person is unique. By the end of the night I’m comfortable around them and calling them by name.”
Other rewards for the young women have come from this activity. For instance, 14-year-old Megan Jeppesen says, “At first I was scared, but the carnival has helped me overcome my fears of handicapped people. Now I tutor some handicapped kids in my school.”
After an evening of games, doughnuts, and cider, the handicapped adults from eastern Idaho leave with happy hearts and bags full of treats. The Young Women of the Rexburg 18th Ward leave happy, too, and with a greater compassion for others who are different from them.

There was an old man in our ward who was visually impaired and couldn’t come to church. He is good friends with my dad, and I felt prompted to help him.
One of my friends and I got permission from my bishop to take the sacrament to him every Sunday. While I was doing that, I realized that sometimes he needed someone to iron his clothes. Then I realized he wasn’t able to do Come, Follow Me or read the Book of Mormon, so I read aloud to him.
The more I tried to be aware of ways to serve, the more I found things I could do to make a difference. This man has now moved away to be with his daughters, but I felt peace when I served him.
When Christ came to earth, He came to serve. I know that by serving this man, I was getting closer to my Savior.

In 1946 I visited Hawaii shortly after a huge tidal wave, where walls of water some forty feet high struck Hilo and the Hamakua coast, and I saw the devastation that resulted. Homes had been overturned and shredded, crushed into splinters like toothpicks; fences and gardens were obliterated; bridges and roads were washed away. Bathtubs, refrigerators, mangled autos lay strewn all about the streets. Where one of our little chapels had stood, nothing remained but the foundation. More than a hundred people lost their lives; as many more were injured; thousands were left homeless. I heard many stories while there of suffering, of heroism, of salvation.
One woman told how she received a telephone message from friends to get out and to leave—that a tidal wave was coming. She looked out to sea and saw the monstrous wave approaching, like a mountain. She and her husband picked up the baby and ran for their lives up the hill. However, two of their little girls were away from home playing near a clump of lauhala trees. They saw the wave coming, ran into the trees, and held tightly with their arms around the tree trunks. The first gigantic wave washed entirely over them, but they held their breath and clung with all their might until the water receded and their heads were again above the water. When the wave receded, they quickly ran up the hill before the succeeding waves came. Together, the family watched from the safety of the hill as their home below disappeared under the pounding of the waves.

I wasn’t part of the popular crowd at my high school, so my circle of friends was smaller than most. I was so shy that I kept to myself most of the time. I was, as the saying goes, “painfully shy.” Indeed, I was so shy it hurt.
One day as I sat down at my desk in history class, another shy girl sat down behind me. We had spoken to each other prior to this, I’m sure, but I didn’t really know her.
As she set her books on top of her desk, her notebook crashed to the floor beside me. I turned to pick it up and noticed the words Seminary—The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints on the cover. I reached down and retrieved the binder. As I handed it to her, I timidly said, “Oh, you go to church on Saturday?”
Her face displayed confusion at the question. “No, why?”
I pointed to the notebook cover. “It says, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Doesn’t that mean you go to church on the last day of the week?”
She smiled and giggled slightly. Then she took a deep breath and asked, “What do you know about the Mormon Church?”
I answered quite honestly, “Not very much.”
She inhaled deeply again and asked, “Would you like to know more?”
“Yes, I would,” I replied without hesitation.
At that instant her lower jaw must have hit the floor. Her eyes sparkled, and she looked visibly relieved. I found out her name was Yvonne Anderson, and we became friends. Before long we had set a date for me to meet with the missionaries and receive the first discussion. And when I was baptized, Yvonne was there.
I know that notebook did not fall on the floor by accident. And silly as my first question must have sounded, it was golden: it opened up a way for one shy girl to say to another, “Would you like to know more?”
That day in history class, an instant bond was formed. Because of two golden questions, two shy girls became eternal friends.

In the October 2010 general conference, Sister Rosemary M. Wixom, the Primary general president, told about a family with little kids that took three and a half years to read the Book of Mormon. My family and I decided to do the same thing. My parents helped me and my sister and brother say the words in the Book of Mormon. It took us three years to finish reading the Book of Mormon too, and when we finished, I could read all the words by myself.
When we started reading it, we lived in Recife, Brazil, where we read it for one year. Then we moved to Washington, D.C., and read it for another year. Finally we moved to Taipei, Taiwan, where we read it for one more year until we finally finished it.
I like to act out Book of Mormon stories because it’s a fun way to learn about what happened in the book. One of my favorite stories is when Abinadi taught the gospel to King Noah, and Alma had the courage to escape from King Noah to preach the gospel and baptize people into the Church. I like that story because I was baptized while we were reading the Book of Mormon as a family.