Gospel Story Finder

As you reach out to them, please remember the experience of a friend of mine. He had never owned a horse in his life until he married a wonderful woman who loves horses. Wanting to impress his new bride, he announced one evening that he was going to the pasture to teach a colt how to be led. He weighed more than the colt. He knew more than the colt. He assumed all he would need to do was pull on the lead rope and sooner or later the colt would follow. He was confident that the process would be short and simple.
He attached the lead rope to the halter, got in front of the colt, and pulled. The colt resisted. My friend pulled harder, and the colt planted his legs more firmly. So he really pulled, and the colt fell over. The process was repeated several times until my friend made this assessment: in just four or five minutes he had successfully taught the colt to fall over. All he had to do was get in front of the colt, pick up the rope, and over it would go.
His wife, watching this process, finally suggested that instead of getting in front of the colt and pulling, he might try wrapping the rope around the colt and simply walking alongside. To my friend’s chagrin, it worked.

Many years ago, I went to a meeting with other doctors in a little town in Mexico. One night, one of the doctors suddenly became very ill.
Many doctors were there. But we didn’t have the equipment we needed to help the man who was sick. The nearest hospital was more than 100 miles (160 km) away. It was night, and no planes could fly. We thought he might die. What could we do?
The sick doctor whispered and asked for a priesthood blessing. I put my hands on his head. I felt the Holy Ghost tell me that the sick doctor would get better. He would live and return safely to his home. I gave him this blessing in the name of the Lord.
The next morning, the doctor was much better. A few days later, he was able to go home. We thanked the Lord for this most remarkable blessing.
The lesson we learned was simple: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5). We experienced this ourselves. We knew it was true.

Let me tell you about one little boy’s prayer. His name is Brayden. He was very young at the time—five or six years old. He had been reading the Book of Mormon with his family. The family would read a few verses each day and then have family prayer.

One day they read the words in Moroni 10:4:
And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.

It was Brayden’s turn to pray that day. He began his prayer in the same usual way, using the same usual words, but then he said something different. He said, “Heavenly Father, is the Book of Mormon true?” Then he paused.

He paused for so long that his father glanced over at him to see if he needed help in finishing his prayer. But he didn’t need any help. He finished by saying simply, “Thanks, Heavenly Father,” and closed his prayer. The Spirit entered that home and bore witness to the whole family of the truthfulness of the scriptures. His prayer was one of simple, beautiful faith.

In tournament golf competition, there is a rule that a contestant must be disqualified if he signs an incorrect scorecard or turns his card in without signing it. A famous golfer named Gary Player did that once and was eliminated from a prestigious tournament. He was asked if someone in the scoring tent couldn’t have reminded him to sign his name on the score card.
“My friend,” Player replied, “there are responsibilities in life. You cannot shove your responsibilities onto the shoulders of someone else. This was my responsibility. I failed to do it, so I must suffer the consequences.”

During Sister LaVaun Asay’s orientation interview with her mission president, Elder M. Russell Ballard, now of the First Quorum of the Seventy, she confided to him that she didn’t know how to be a missionary and was nervous and frightened to try. So he kindly went through a practice session with her asking the golden questions.
Later, on her first missionary day in Kirtland Lake, Ontario, while her husband, Verl, was paying for their groceries, she found the courage to ask the lady at the grocery check counter the golden question. The lady responded positively.
After the Asays’ first discussion with this woman and her husband, Robert and Betti W. Guild, Robert invited his brother, Don, and his wife, Sheila, to join them. After a short time all four were baptized. Their influence among friends and other family members has led to at least twelve more baptisms so far—all because Sister Asay discovered courage she didn’t think she had.

I was called to serve a mission in southern Mexico. When I was at the Language Training Mission in Provo, Utah, (which later became the Missionary Training Center) I had an experience with prayer that was a breakthrough for me in understanding and feeling a relationship with God. I gained a great love and appreciation for communication from the Holy Ghost. I remember one day, during my personal prayer, looking at the mountains and pouring out my heart to Heavenly Father and feeling for the first time in my life that there was real communication taking place. It was not just saying prayers; it was a true spiritual communication where I felt the Lord communicating with my spirit and confirming my testimony and determination to serve Him.

Eric Coulson was the only Latter-day Saint in his high school, and everyone knew it because he was the student-body president.
In his leadership position, he found a way to introduce the whole senior class to the Church.
Every year the graduating class from his high school takes a trip to Washington, D.C. Eric checked with the principal, then arranged for the bus drivers to take the class to see the Washington Temple one night during their visit. While there, Eric explained the purposes of the temple. Everyone was impressed with the sight of the temple lit at night.
Eric is a member of the Boone Ward, Des Moines Iowa Stake, where he served as first assistant in his priests quorum.

Last spring, our golden retriever, Duchess, had seven brand-new puppies. One day, when the puppies were about five weeks old, I brought the puppies to the Tanner Building so the secretaries could see them.

While I was here on campus, I took them out on the east side of the Tanner Building and let them run around on the patio area which leads down to Helaman Halls. It was a neat experience to watch these mature, scholarly students as they would stop to play with the puppies. Everyone who stopped got down on their hands and knees and played with the puppies, allowing the little dogs to kiss them.

It was great to see these college students “reach out and touch” and extend love to little warm puppies. Surely the Peanuts character, Charlie Brown, was right when he said, “Happiness is a warm puppy.”

Last Thursday evening I had just come home from the office. There was a long distance phone call awaiting me. The voice on the other end of the line introduced herself as “This is the secretary to President Lee. He and President Tanner would like to speak with you, but they aren’t available right now. I am wondering where you will be this evening that they might call you back.”
All of a sudden everything I was going to do that evening became insignificant, and I said, “I will be here.” And then for the next thirty longest minutes of my life, I did many unimportant things, trying to keep busy.
The call came, and President Lee and President Tanner told me of this assignment from the Lord. I must apologize to them for not doing my part in carrying on the conversation that continued. All I was able to say for a while was “Thank you.” It seems that my voice box and tear ducts did not know whose turn it was.
Finally President Lee said to me, “Brother Peterson, we want you to know that we have had a confirmation from the Lord that this is what he would have you do.” It seemed when he said this that I too received that feeling. It seemed then that even though I didn’t know how, and I still don’t know how, I knew that everything would work out as the Lord would have it work out.
I am thankful to him for having called a prophet in this day. I am thankful to him for having called noble men to stand at the prophet’s side. I appreciate their confidence.
I appreciate the confidence of Bishop Brown. I am thankful that the Lord directed him in the selection of his counselors. I will do everything I can to make this an enjoyable and profitable experience for him as he works with me.
After the phone call, I called in my wife, and I told her what had happened. We sat and visited for a while about how this would affect our lives, our five daughters, our business, our home that we just bought. And then it seemed that almost automatically we knelt together and thanked our Father in heaven for his confidence, for his love, and for the things that he has done for us. We thanked him for our children and for their love for their Father in heaven. And I thanked him for her, this eternal sweetheart of mine. I thanked him for allowing her to remain on the earth for another season. I thanked him for her faithfulness in all the calls that have come into our home.
Since the call last Thursday evening, I have had many things go through my mind—just why, just how this ever happened. I have thought and remembered back on my boyhood days, and I thanked him for parents who, by very simple means and very common undertakings, instilled in their sons a love for them and a love for their Father in heaven.
I remember many times, it seemed like almost every week, that four little towheaded boys would stand with their faces against the windowpane or against the screen door and wave goodbye to their mother and dad as they would get in the car and go to the temple in Mesa.
We didn’t know much about the temple, and we didn’t know much about what went on in the temple, but we had been taught without any reservation that Mother and Dad loved us and that they would do anything for us. So, as we stood there and watched them go, we knew that something important must go on in that temple, to have these two people who loved us more than anything leave us as often as they did to go there. We gained an understanding in those tender years of the importance of the temple.
While we were growing up, our father was a ward clerk for fifteen years, and I remember that every Sunday evening he would come home after meeting and go into the dining room. He would pull down the blind and on the oak table he would put the money that he had gathered that day for the bishop—the tithes and offerings.
He would count it and account for it and put the ones and the fives and the tens in a pile; and then he would get the ironing board and an iron and a wet rag, and then our dad would take each of these paper bills and iron it smooth.
Now you would wonder what four little boys would recognize about this. The one thing they got from it was that whatever you do for the Lord, you do the very best that you know how. There is nothing that is too good for the Lord.
This humble man and his wife, who didn’t have much of the world’s goods, by some very simple experiences implanted in their sons a love for the Lord. And it is because of these experiences, and others like them, that I can stand here this morning and tell you that I know that God lives; that I know that Jesus is the Christ, and that I know that this is his church and that he organized it for the salvation of his children.
I know these things are true, and I testify of them in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

When I was in the MTC, my companion taught me an important lesson of being in favor with man, or in this case, other missionaries. Throughout our time there, I thought the world of this elder and admired his obedience and hard work. However, it was difficult for him at times to get along with the rest of our district as they continually would bump heads. He felt at times they might not be as obedient as they should or follow the MTC rules to exactness like he did.

At the end of our two month training before we left to The Kingdom of Tonga, he wrote in my journal and a small excerpt from it reads, "All I was trying to do was be the kind of missionary the Lord wanted me to be, but it was hard with all this negative pressure around me to conform to the 'group standard'. After a lot of prayer and searching the scriptures, I found my answer. It's found in 2 Timothy 2:24-26. In summary it says two things: Love with the pure love of Christ all those around you, but never compromise your own standard." He continued writing, "No matter how much good you do, no matter how obedient you are, no one will follow your example if they don't love you."

What a valuable lesson for me to learn at the start of my mission of how important it is to genuinely love others in a way that they would want to follow the example that I could set for them. To me this means being a concerned friend before a home teacher/visiting teacher.

As a young 12-year-old Scout, I received a gift of a much-desired addition to my Scouting equipment. It was a hatchet with a heavy leather cover! On the next overnight hike, we arrived in camp after dark, wet and cold from the heavy snow on the trail. All I could think about was building a big roaring fire. I immediately went to work chopping a fallen tree with my new hatchet. As I chopped, I was frustrated because it didn’t seem to be cutting very well. In my frustration, I worked harder. Disappointed, I returned to camp with only a few pieces of wood. By the light of someone else’s fire, I discovered the problem. I hadn’t taken the cover off the hatchet. I can report, however, the cover was chopped to shreds. The lesson: I became distracted with other things.

Seth lay in the dark, wondering what had awakened him. His ears strained to hear a noise, and his heart began to pound. There it was again! He jumped, then sighed with relief. It was the new telephone. They had bought it through a mail-order catalog. His dad and their neighbors, the Smiths, used the top strand of the barbed-wire fence that separated their ranches to string a telephone wire on. Then they used old rubber tires as fence connectors so that the lines wouldn’t short out. When the phone was first connected, Seth had listened to Mrs. Smith’s voice describing their new Appaloosa colt. He was so astonished that he couldn’t say a word.
All the neighbors had clamored to be part of the line. Everywhere the barbed-wire fences stretched, neighbor was soon connected to neighbor. Mrs. Bowers even put a switchboard in her house so that callers could be switched from one line to another. Now Seth’s family was even linked by the prairie line to Grandpa and Grandma.
Seth sat up in bed. Grandpa and Grandma! Had something happened to them? Who was calling in the wee hours of the morning? He pulled on his jeans and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
His father was still talking on the telephone. “I’m sure he’ll do it for you. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take him over later today.” He hung the earpiece on its hook, then turned slowly around. “What are you doing up?” he asked Seth in surprise. Dad looked awful.
“What’s happened?” Seth whispered.
His mother stood in the doorway, with baby Janet in her arms. She, too, waited for the answer.
“Grandpa’s had a heart attack,” Father said quietly. “They’re taking him to the hospital in Gillette.”
“Oh, no!” Mother cried. “Is it very bad?”
“He’ll be fine. He just needs rest. He’ll be in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Then he’ll be able to come home.”
Seth felt a little of the worry ease, but he still wished that he could see Grandpa or do something for him. Grandpa was like a best friend. He’d always been there when Seth needed someone to talk to.
“Until he gets strong again, he wants Seth to take care of the farm,” Father added.
“No,” Mother protested. “Seth’s too young to be in charge of a dairy farm.”
“Now, Grace,” Father reassured her, “Dad has already sold most of his cows, and Seth has helped him before. I think that he can do it for a short time. And when I get the roundup and haying finished, I’ll go over every day and give him a hand.”
“But some of those cows are about to calve,” Mother said. “What if something happens?”
Seth tried to think of a way to help persuade her. “I could call you,” he suggested. “The Smith’s have that Model T. Maybe Dad could borrow it in an emergency.” He stood straight and tall. “I want to do this for Grandpa and Grandma, Mom. Please let me.”
She looked lovingly at him. “I forgot about the telephone. Yes, you can go. They’ll need your help until Grandpa can be up and around again, and you’re not so far away, after all, if you can telephone.”
Seth hugged her. Then he ran back to his porch bedroom to pack his bag. He was going to Grandpa’s!
At Grandpa’s farm, Seth found himself faced with a bigger responsibility than he had ever imagined. He worked from before sunup each morning till the last of the milk was separated at night. Tired as he was, he still enjoyed turning the handle on the separator and watching the milk pour out into one bucket while the thick cream came out another spout. Oh how good that cream was on hot oatmeal!
Every night he called his parents just after supper. He felt very important as he cranked the handle around and around until Mrs. Bowers answered. “Good evening, Mrs. Bowers,” he greeted her formally. “Would you switch me to the King home, please?”
“Hello there, Seth,” she answered. “How’s your grandpa?”
He’d chat with her for a few moments while she switched him onto his parents’ line.
Everything was fine until Sweetie decided to be difficult. She’s the most contrary Guernsey cow ever born, Seth thought. Guernseys were known for their placid nature—but not Sweetie. She’d rather kick you than look at you. And now she was calving.
Seth went out to the barn and looked at her. He didn’t know much about it, but he could tell that she was in trouble. Carefully he walked into her stall, talking softly to soothe her. She whirled around and kicked at him. He jumped back, but her hoof grazed his shin.
“Ow!” he yelled and ducked back behind the stall. He rubbed the sore spot, then limped a little on his way back to the house. He cranked the handle on the phone and waited impatiently to talk to his mother. “Mom, Sweetie’s having trouble calving. Is Dad around?”
“Oh, Seth,” Mother said worriedly, “he’s out at roundup and won’t be back till tomorrow.” There was a pause, then she added resolutely, “You’ll just have to do the best you can.”
He felt so alone. “But I don’t know what to do.”
In the silence that followed, Mrs. Bowers spoke up. “Just do what you’ve seen your pa do and then pray!”
When Seth hung up the phone, he didn’t know if he should laugh because Mrs. Bowers had been listening in or cry because he couldn’t do what his dad had done. He was too small. And as for praying, he didn’t even know how. He’d never even been inside a church. He went outside and headed slowly toward the barn.
“Hello there!” a voice called out.
He whirled around and saw two men walking toward him. A tall man in a black coat asked, “Are your folks home?”
He shook his head, too miserable to say anything.
“What’s the matter, son?” the other man asked kindly.
Seth looked up and saw a face full of wrinkles, the kind you get from years of squinting in the sun. It was a face like Grandpa’s—weather-beaten and comfortable.
“Grandpa’s in the hospital, and Sweetie’s calf is turned and can’t be born. She won’t let me near her, and even if she did, I couldn’t help her. Mrs. Bowers said to pray, but I don’t know how. Do you?”
The man’s eyes began to twinkle as the whole sad story tumbled out. “Well,” he said, “first things first. I do know how to pray, and I’ll teach you, but for now let’s look at that cow.”
The man headed for the barn at a brisk walk while stripping off his coat. Taken by surprise, Seth ran along beside him, trying to keep up.
The man knew just what he was doing. When Sweetie lashed a hoof at him, he just chuckled. “Kinda bad tempered for a Guernsey, aren’t you?” He looped a rope on that hoof and tied it down, then patted her and began to work.
Seth couldn’t believe how easy it seemed. In just a short time a little calf lay at their feet, too weak yet to get up. He stared at the new little creature and wondered again at the miracle of birth. Would it live? The man handed him some clean straw. “Rub that calf down with this and dry her off. Then we’ll bring her around to her mama. As soon as she gets some warm milk inside her, she’ll be just fine.”
Seth worked carefully over the calf, then carried her to where Sweetie stood, still tethered, in the corner. The calf bumped her udder and, with tail swishing, drank the strengthening milk.
The man brushed his clothes off. “Do you have a pump I can wash off at?”
“Sure. By the back door,” Seth answered. “Say, thanks, mister. Sweetie is Grandpa’s best milker. That’s how she got her name—for her good cream. He’ll be pleased that she’s all right.”
“You’re welcome, son.” He clapped Seth on the back. “I’m a rancher myself.”
Seth looked up at him, puzzled. “Do you live around here?”
“No. My ranch is on a high desert plateau in Arizona.”
“What are you doing in Wyoming?”
“We’re missionaries of the Lord’s church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Oh, so that’s why you know how to pray.”
The man smiled and began to wash. After he washed and put his jacket on, he turned to the boy. “Now it’s time for that first lesson in prayer.” He bowed his head and addressed Heavenly Father. After he thanked Him for the new little heifer and the young boy who was caring for the farm, he asked for help for Seth and strength for his grandpa.
Seth listened in astonishment. It was so easy! Not much harder than talking to Mother on the prairie line. But did God really listen?
The men left then, promising to return the next day to help with the chores. When Seth reported the day’s events that night on the prairie line, he felt thankful. Then he went into his room, knelt by his bed, and tried to talk to Heavenly Father.
The next morning, he found that the missionaries had returned as promised. They helped him with the milking and other chores, and each day Seth prayed for his grandpa and for help to do the things he had to do. Before long Grandpa came home from the hospital and was feeling much better. Seth was happy to see him, and he told him all about the men who had helped him and taught him how to pray.
Grandpa listened carefully, then said, “I think it’s time you learned more about the Lord’s church.”
Soon after that, Seth and his family went to church with the missionaries, and Seth learned that Heavenly Father really was listening. He never forgot the lesson of the prairie line, the calf, and the two missionaries who had stopped to help. From then on, he knew he could pray whenever he needed help.

While serving as an assistant chaplain in the Maricopa County Jail system in Arizona, USA, I would visit and share a scripture and prayer with detainees who requested a Latter-day Saint chaplain. On one occasion a young woman made such a request.
I went to her area of the jail, which was behind several locked doors. The reception area had two cafeteria-style tables with a bench on each side and one desk with a guard. I gave the guard the request slip, slid onto one of the benches, and waited for the young woman.
I arose as she entered the reception area, greeted her, and suggested we sit at the table. She looked sad and unkempt and was on the verge of tears. As she discussed her situation, I considered what scripture I would share. I listened carefully to her concerns, and as she disclosed the difficulties she had had with various compulsive behaviors and poor choices, I thought of the perfect scripture to help her: Mosiah 3:19.
I opened the Book of Mormon to Mosiah 3:19, pushed it toward her, and asked her to read. She seemed a little disgruntled at first and began reading in a fast, singsong voice that seemed to express annoyance at being asked to read a scripture. As she finished the first phrase, “For the natural man is an enemy to God,” I interrupted to explain the meaning of “natural man.” When she understood the reference, she continued to read. Her voice gradually changed tone, and she slowed down as the words began to make sense to her.
When she started to read the list of childlike attributes of “a saint,” she slowed down even more. I could tell she was absorbing the meaning of each attribute listed in the verse. When she read “submissive, meek, humble, patient,” I began to feel the Spirit all around us. As she read the words “full of love, willing to submit,” I witnessed a change in her. Her face brightened and her attitude, tone of voice, and general manner seemed affected by the Spirit. I could see hope as she was taught by the Spirit what these words meant to her and how she should make the changes described in the scripture.
I said a prayer and then shook the young woman’s hand warmly. I left the jail on a spiritual high. I had never before seen such an immediate, powerful, magnificent effect from the scriptures. I knew Mosiah 3:19 because I have frequently encountered it while reading the scriptures, but never before had I understood the depth of the impact it could have on someone.

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.

A true story from Singapore.
“It’s time for our art lesson!” Madam Nadirah said. She carried a big box to the front of the classroom. The box had bottles of paint and paintbrushes sticking out of it.
Adam smiled. He loved art time! They always worked in groups on their projects. Maybe this time he would get to be with one of his friends.
Madam Nadirah pointed at the first table. “Group one is Enzo, Ivan, Mei Ling, and Adam.”
Adam stood and moved to sit at the table. He didn’t know anyone in his group. But he was good at making friends. Maybe they would become new friends!
Once everyone found their group, Madam Nadirah started to pass out supplies. “Your challenge is to use these items to make art,” she said.
She put three cups on each table. Adam leaned forward to look inside their cups. One cup had nutshells in it, another had wooden sticks, and the last one had colorful beads.
Adam frowned. He didn’t know what to make with these things.
“You only have time to make one project,” Madam Nadirah said. “So work together to decide what you are going to make.”
Loud chatter filled the room as the groups started planning their projects.
“What should we make?” Adam asked his group.
Mei Ling pointed at the sticks. “Definitely a tree. The sticks can be the trunk and branches, and the nutshells can be the leaves.”
“What would we use the beads for?” Enzo asked.
“Some of the beads are green,” Adam said. “Maybe we can use them for leaves.”
Ivan shook his head. “No, we should make a house. The nutshells are for the roof. The sticks are for the walls, and the beads are for the windows.” He grabbed some shells and sticks to show them.
Mei Ling snatched the last cup away before Ivan could get the beads. “But I want to make a tree!”
“Well, I want to make a house!” Ivan tried to grab the cup back from Mei Ling.
Adam looked at his new friends. He didn’t want them to fight. But they were only allowed to make one project. They couldn’t make a tree and a house.
Then Adam had an idea. Maybe there was a way they could do both. “What if we make a house in a tree?”
Mei Ling and Ivan stopped fighting over the cup of beads and looked at Adam.
“Like a treehouse?” Mei Ling asked.
“Yeah!”
Mei Ling set the cup back down on the table. “OK.”
Ivan nodded. “Let’s do it!”
Adam got paper and glue from the art box. Enzo picked out paint colors. Then they started making their treehouse. At first, Mei Ling and Ivan only worked on the parts they wanted. But soon they were all working together and laughing when paint got on their fingers.
Slowly their sticks, shells, and beads turned into a tall, colorful treehouse. Adam added a nutshell to the roof.
“I didn’t know making a treehouse would be so fun,” Ivan said. He glued another bead to the tree.
“Yeah, this was a great idea!” Mei Ling said.
Adam smiled. It was fun to work together. He hoped he could work with his new friends again for the next art lesson!

Not long ago, one of my daughters came home from a date. I heard the garage door open, the car pull in, and the garage door close, but strangely, I could still hear the car running. Since I know this can be dangerous, I went to the garage to investigate. When I opened the car door, I found my daughter hunched over the steering wheel sobbing. She had just experienced a heart-wrenching break up with someone she cared deeply about. It was so hard for me to see this. I wanted to crawl into the car, take her into my arms, and just hold her. But somehow, I instinctively knew that she needed to be alone for a time. I turned off the car, quietly closed the door, and went inside. As I sat in the living room agonizing from a distance, the thought came to me that I was then experiencing, to a small degree, what the Father must have felt as he watched His perfect Son suffer when He withdrew His spirit. It was a meaningful lesson for me and one I doubt I could have learned with as much power and clarity in any other way.

When I was about ten years old I visited my grandparents one summer. They lived on a farm and they had a big barn with lots of hay and pitchforks. One day I took a pitchfork and thrust it into the hay with all my strength. Unfortunately, I forgot that my left foot was in that hay protected only by my sneakers. That old, dirty, pitchfork plunged into my foot. Oh, that hurt. I was so embarrassed I did not tell anyone what had happened.
The next day I went down to the local pond with some of my cousins hoping my foot would start feeling better. But alas, it did not; it felt worse and worse, and I could see red streaks in the skin from my foot into my left leg. It hurt to walk. When my dad saw me limping and asked what was wrong, I told him what had happened and he hustled me into the car and drove me to the hospital right away. The doctor there gave me a giant shot of penicillin in my left arm. That arm stiffened up and hurt for two whole weeks.

For my family and me, the cold winter of 1944 was a time of fear and uncertainty. With my father far away on the western front, my mother struggled to keep her four children fed and warm as war threatened our home in Czechoslovakia.
Each day the danger grew closer. Finally, my mother decided to flee to her parents’ home in eastern Germany. Somehow, she managed to get all of us on one of the last refugee trains heading west. Nearby explosions, worried faces, and empty stomachs reminded everyone on the train that we were traveling through a war zone.
One night after our train had stopped for supplies, my mother hurried off to search for food. When she returned, to her horror, the train carrying us children was gone!
Fraught with worry, she turned to God in desperate prayer and then frantically began searching the dark train station. She ran from track to track and from train to train. She knew that if her train departed before she found it, she might never see us again.
On a dark night in a grim railroad station many years ago, my mother faced a choice. She could sit and bemoan the tragedy of having lost her children, or she could put her faith and hope into action. I am grateful that her faith overcame her fear and that her hope overcame her despair.
Finally, in a remote area of the station, she found our train. There, at last, we were reunited. That night, and during many stormy days and nights to come, my mother’s example of putting faith into action sustained us as we hoped and worked for a brighter future.

“Give it back!”
“No, it’s mine!”
The kids sitting alone behind Jadyn had been pretty quiet during the sacrament, but now they kept distracting him.
“Mom, will you make them stop?” Jadyn whispered.
Mom turned and smiled at the kids. Then she looked around the chapel. “I think their parents are our speakers today,” she whispered back. Mom and Jadyn were visiting, so they knew hardly anyone in the ward.
Jadyn looked at the mom and dad sitting on the stand. They looked a little embarrassed. The kids were still fighting behind him.
Jadyn couldn’t concentrate. How would he even hear the talks? Then he remembered it was sometimes easier to listen when his hands stayed busy. Sometimes he drew pictures of what the speakers were talking about. Two years ago Dad had taught him how to fold colorful square papers into Japanese origami. Now he could make lots of things, like animals and fancy boxes, without even looking at instructions.
Jadyn took a bright red piece of paper from his scripture bag and carefully folded it in half. But before he could continue, he heard more fighting behind him. He looked at Mom. She glanced back at the kids. Jadyn’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about what to do. He couldn’t think of anything. Then Mom leaned over and whispered something in Jadyn’s ear. His eyes widened with surprise.
Jadyn looked back at the arguing kids. He didn’t even know them! He felt butterflies fill his stomach. Would Mom’s idea actually work?
He grabbed some extra paper. Then he took a deep breath and went to work. His fingers moved quickly to fold the bright colors.
Soon he had turned the flat pieces of paper into a colorful flapping bird and a jumping bunny. He turned around and shyly handed the bunny to the boy and the bird to the girl. Their eyes got big as they stared at their new treasures.
“Cool!” the boy whispered.
“Thanks!” said the girl.
The fighting ended as quickly as it had started. Jadyn’s mom turned and smiled at him. The kids played happily and quietly with their origami for the rest of the meeting.
“Your talent made all the difference!” Mom said as they left the chapel. “You used your hands to serve someone. That’s one reason God gives us all talents.”
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story!
Jadyn looked over and saw the kids showing the origami animals to their parents. He was glad he’d helped.
He grinned. “I wonder what else I can do with my talents!”
The most important part of sacrament meeting is the sacrament. It’s a time to put away toys, books, and other things and quietly think about Jesus. Here’s a scripture bookmark to help you remember why the sacrament is so important.
I renew my baptismal covenants each week when I TAKE the sacrament.
T—Take His name upon me
A—Always remember Him
K—Keep His commandments
E—Endure to the end

Illustration by Corey Egbert
Most people at my school do not have the same standards I do. At times it can be very hard. A lot of my friends use foul language and dress immodestly. There were times I went along with them and made choices I’m not proud of.
Then for Christmas my mom gave me what she called a purity ring. She told me the ring could help remind me to follow the Savior and to be pure in my thoughts and actions. I put it on and decided I would change. I began to be more careful about the words I used and how I dressed. I read my scriptures and went to seminary more often. And I tried even harder to be an example to my friends.
Sometimes people at school asked me about my ring. I felt kind of childish explaining it at first, but I have started to feel confident the more I talk about my standards. I have never taken my ring off, and I make sure that people know I have it. More of my friends have started looking up to me because they have noticed how I have changed.
Looking at my small ring helps me get back on the straight and narrow path, remember the Savior, and become a person I can be proud of. I know the Lord will be with us and we are able to feel His presence as we live the gospel, keep our standards, and strive to be more pure each day.
Jessie L., Missouri, USA