Gospel Story Finder

In various parts of the world, obtaining a computer and Internet access presents a challenge for some who are eager to index. This is the situation leaders in the Mexico City Zarahemla Stake faced when they decided to get the youth involved in indexing. Because not all of the youth had computers in their homes, stake leaders decided to reserve a local school’s computer labs after hours for them to use.
The youth then worked to index Mexican census records from 1930. “As the youth reviewed the documents,” says Bishop Darío Zapata Vivas, “they imagined people moving from house to house collecting all this information without knowing that someday their efforts would assist the Lord’s work of bringing ‘to pass the immortality and eternal life of man’” (Moses 1:39).
Through the creative efforts of the stake leaders to obtain the needed technology, the youth and other members of the stake were able to index over 300,000 records within one month.

When enemies of the Church saw this increase in temple activity, they renewed their determination to drive the Mormons away. They obtained a warrant for the arrest of Brigham Young and eight other Apostles. On December 23, government officials went to the temple to arrest Brigham Young. Knowing that they were coming, Brigham knelt and asked for guidance and protection so that he could “live to prove advantageous to the Saints.”
Soon afterward he noticed William Miller in the hall. He proposed a plan to Brother Miller who was about the same height as President Young.
Brother Miller put on President Young’s cloak and left the temple in his carriage. The waiting marshals thought that he was Brigham Young and arrested him. They took him to the Mansion House, where friends and relatives of Brigham went along with the masquerade. Miller was then taken to Carthage and held until someone who knew Brigham told them that they had the I wrong man. In the meantime Brigham Young and the others had gone safely into hiding.

9. Encourage your family to have prayer together. No matter how many excuses come up for neglecting this, remember instead the words of Alma: “Cry unto him in your houses, yea, over all your household, both morning, midday, and evening” (Alma 34:21). Even if not all of you are members of the Church, still make the suggestion. A Ricks College student shared this experience: “When I returned home for the summer after my first year at school, I began to feel guilty that our family did not ask the blessing on the food. It had become a habit for me at Ricks, and now I missed it very much. I wanted to ask my parents if we could say the blessing on our evening meal, but for some reason I was very nervous about it. When I did work up the courage, I was surprised to find that everyone readily accepted the idea. That evening we said a blessing and have been saying one ever since. I now feel that the reason it was so hard to bring up the subject was because Satan knew what a positive and strengthening effect it would have—and has had—on our family. I feel a peacefulness in our home now that wasn’t entirely there before.”

When I was baptized I wanted to have a strong testimony like other members of the Church. I fasted and prayed until I gained a small testimony, but I still felt a little sad. Then I read “A Growing Testimony” by President James E. Faust, Second Counselor in the First Presidency, in the January 2001 Liahona (Spanish). President Faust said that our testimonies will continue to grow, and I know this is true. My testimony is getting stronger every day. I’m grateful and happy to be a Latter-day Saint and to have a growing testimony.
Gilberto Cordero Castro,Coronado Branch, San José Costa Rica Toyopán Stake

Shuddering, Brigitte remembered the bombs hitting the top floor of their apartment building before they could escape to the shelter. She remembered burning mattresses being flung out of windows. And she remembered being pulled along to the bunkers by her father’s strong hand as they ran through the street in terror, the upper part of it engulfed in flames. That time there had been no warning.
As though reading her mind, Papa said, “Gitte, remember the time Mama covered you with blankets in the shelter to try to block out the noise and screaming? You had been crying. I know that you were very much afraid. Then you heard one of our neighbors say, ‘I want to sit by Mrs. Baier—she has such strong faith, nothing ever happens to her.’ You pushed the blanket off and looked at Oma (Grandmother), who was sitting quietly. Do you remember what you did then?”
“Yes, Papa. I crawled into Oma’s lap, and I stopped crying.” Brigitte smiled. “I always want to be just like Oma.”

Nine Scouts and three leaders from the Hobart First and Third Branches (Australia Melbourne Mission) were the only Latter-day Saints to join 60 fellow Scouters in an Easter camp at Maria Island.
To reach the island the boys had to travel one and a half hours by car and one hour by ferry from Triabunna. The island is a national park and wildlife sanctuary that abounds in emus and Cape Barren geese. (Emus, for the non-Australian reader, are flightless birds related to the ostrich.) It was first established as a penal colony, with its own brickworks. Later a company established a cement works and farming, but these eventually failed. Now it is great for camping, hiking, exploring nature and prison ruins, mountain climbing, and swimming.
The Scouts and their leaders made the rough sea crossing and backpacked all the gear and food to a well-watered and protected campsite a mile from the jetty. The boys were kept busy after setting up camp by keeping the emus out of the camp area, cooking meals over the open fire, gathering wood, exploring the ruins, getting footsore on a long hike, playing games, bush walking, and mountain climbing—some of the hardier ones went swimming.
On Sunday afternoon the Church Scouts and a few friends withdrew from the campsite and held a short sacrament and testimony meeting. This was followed by a quiet walk back to camp for the evening meal and then a gathering around the campfire for singing and talks.
The next morning they broke camp after breakfast and cleaned up the campsite. A final game of softball was played, and then the tractor and trailer arrived for the bulky gear. The final parade was held and two boys from the Hobart Third Branch were invested as Scouts.
Finally it was time to carry personal packs to the jetty to await the ferry. The gear was put aboard, and the trip home began, the ferry bucking and rolling through the rough water.
The Scouts had a fine time of fellowship, but possibly more important, more people gained an insight into Latter-day Saint standards because of the Scouts and leaders’ behavior.

Ryan* came through the door and placed his schoolbag on a peg in the hallway. His mother called to him, “Be sure to check out the bathtub. You won’t believe this.”
His curiosity aroused, Ryan walked directly to the bathroom. He didn’t know what to expect, but what he saw made him shudder. In the bottom of the tub were five hairy tarantulas. Each was half the size of a man’s hand.
As Ryan peered tentatively over the edge of the tub, his mom touched him on the shoulder. “I can’t even look,” she said nervously. “The girls promised me that those things couldn’t get out of the tub. I’ll have nightmares for a week over this.”
“Who brought them?”
“One of those things has a tag tied to its leg. That will answer your questions,” his mom said as she turned away.
Getting the tag off the tarantula’s leg took half an hour and occasioned the gathering of several of Ryan’s friends, who thought this was the coolest dance invitation they had seen yet. The house was in an uproar. On one side, the tag read: “Hey, big guy! How about going to the girl’s dance with me? Kim.” On the other: “Don’t hurt the spiders. They’re rented.”
When the last of the visitors had drifted away, Mom said to Ryan, “You don’t seem that excited about the invitation. Is Kim somebody you want to go with?”
Ryan replied after a pause, “Yeah, I guess.”
“She’s certainly a gorgeous girl. I was impressed by her poise and self-confidence,” his mom continued.
“Uh huh.”
“And her friends were very classy. I’ll bet they don’t have any trouble dating the boys they want to.”
“Not much.”
“Is she the person you hoped would ask you?”
“Not really,” said Ryan.
“Tell me about her,” his mom pressed.
Ryan was starting to feel impatient with the conversation. He ended it more abruptly than he meant to by saying, “I don’t think it would be a good thing for me to go out with her. She and her friends are making some bad choices.”
That’s what Ryan did. He just didn’t feel right about accepting an invitation from Kim, no matter how cleverly it was presented. In the end, he chose to do what was right. I hope and pray that you will be faithful in developing the ability to do the same.

Late one evening on a Pacific isle, a small boat slipped silently to its berth at the crude pier. Two Polynesian women helped Meli Mulipola from the boat and guided him to the well-worn pathway leading to the village road. The women marveled at the bright stars which twinkled in the midnight sky. The friendly moonlight guided them along their way. However, Meli Mulipola could not appreciate these delights of nature—the moon, the stars, the sky—for he was blind.
His vision had been normal until that fateful day when, while he was working on a pineapple plantation, light turned suddenly to darkness and day became perpetual night. He later learned of the Restoration of the gospel and the teachings of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His life had been brought into compliance with these teachings.
He and his loved ones had made this long voyage, having learned that one who held the priesthood of God was visiting among the islands. Brother Mulipola sought a blessing under the hands of those who held the sacred priesthood. His wish was granted. Tears streamed from his sightless eyes and coursed down his brown cheeks, tumbling finally upon his native dress. He dropped to his knees and prayed: “Oh, God, Thou knowest I am blind. Thy servants have blessed me that if it be Thy will, my sight may return. Whether in Thy wisdom I see light or whether I see darkness all the days of my life, I will be eternally grateful for the truth of Thy gospel, which I now see and which provides me the light of life.”
He arose to his feet, thanked us for providing the blessing, and disappeared into the dark of the night. Silently he came; silently he departed. But his presence I shall never forget. I reflected upon the message of the Master: “I am the light of the world: he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life.”

When I was called on a mission to Argentina, I spent three months at what was then called the Language Training Mission. We had a test every Saturday, and I kept getting low scores. I was used to getting good grades in high school, and I was not content with the grades I was getting on my tests at the LTM. The price to get better at Spanish was to get up earlier than anyone else there and practice. At the time, we memorized discussions. When I arrived in Argentina, I had memorized six lessons. When I gave my first discussion, I looked at my companion to see if I had done it right. It was far from perfect, but I felt that the Lord knew I was trying, and He helped me with the language. Learning Spanish was important so that I could serve. I served in Argentina for two years. Later I was called to serve as a mission president in Bolivia for three years and then lived in Central America for three more years, so learning Spanish has blessed my life.

I live in Kazan’, Russia, but my native land is Armenia. I am 17 years old and was baptized on 13 June 1999. The Church has been in Kazan’ for several years. Our missionaries and leaders tried for a long time to register the Church, but it was not an easy task. Finally, our prayers were answered. A miracle happened! We now have a chapel. I know that miracles are possible. “God has not ceased to be a God of miracles” (Morm. 9:15). I am grateful the work of the Father is going forth upon all the face of the earth.
Lelit Karapetyan Tevosovna,Kazan’ Branch, Russia Samara Mission

My father had an idea that his boys ought to learn to work, and so he bought a five-acre farm which eventually grew to include more than 30 acres. We lived there in the summer and returned to the city when school started.
We had a large orchard, and the trees had to be pruned each spring. We learned a great truth—that you could pretty well determine the kind of fruit you would pick in September by the way you pruned in February. Further, we learned that new, young wood produces the best fruit. That has many applications in life.

Glancing back over his shoulder across two hundred yards of dry powdery snow, Brian could hardly believe he had lengthened the distance between himself and the nearest challenger.
Tom Stacy was trying hard to repeat his last two wins in the annual cross-country ski race. But Brian was trying just as hard to capture the championship that had eluded him twice before. Realizing there was less than a mile to go, Brian was confident that Tom had little chance of catching up.
Listening to the soft shush, shush of his skis, Brian watched the clouds boiling over the hills and across the valley. The sky seemed to be getting darker and heavier by the minute.
It could be a whopper, he thought. But it’s probably a couple of hours away. Then his thinking drifted to Tom and how disappointed he would be at his failure to make three wins in a row. This was the last year Tom and Brian would be eligible for this particular race. After the ski season they would both be past the age limit. It was Brian’s last and only hope for a win which, he remembered bitterly, he might have had last year except for a stupid mistake.
Coming in ahead of Tom would be final proof of his skill. They were both good skiers. But then, Tom was good at everything he tried—swimming, running, jumping, and all kinds of team sports. Brian, though not inept, had never been outstanding in any of those things. But when he started skiing he discovered he had an unusual talent for it.
Casting another look backwards, he saw the space between himself and Tom hadn’t changed. As he rounded the brow of a hill, Brian noticed a small dark object in the snow ahead but he paid little attention. He kept his even, steady stride, not easing up or increasing his lead. Though it seemed unlikely, with a superhuman burst of speed Tom could overtake him.
Brian couldn’t help watching the dark object in the snow ahead. Then he saw it move and his curiosity was heightened. When he came closer, he found that a dog was struggling to get through the snow, but it was making little headway through the powdery drifts.
Brian tried to offer some encouragement to the dog as he passed by. “Come on, boy. You can make it,” he coaxed.
Hearing Brian’s voice, the animal looked up with a beaten, hopeless expression. The dog whined, a pathetic, pleading sound as forlorn as its expression.
Glancing from the stricken animal to the finish line ahead, Brian convinced himself the dog likely belonged to one of the nearby farms and, in spite of its painfully slow progress, should be able to get home.
He went on a few feet and the dog whined again. When he turned around, Brian was met with an expression even more pathetic than before. “You little mutt,” he said dismally. “Why do you have to keep looking at me that way?”
Sidestepping back, he made a quick decision and weighed his chances of carrying the dog to the finish line before Tom caught up. It might be a tip-to-tip race after all, but Brian still felt capable of winning.
It wasn’t until he knelt down that he discovered the dog was favoring one foot, trying to struggle through the snow on three legs. As Brian took the leg to examine it, the dog yelped with pain.
“Oh, oh, fella,” he said. “You’re in trouble.”
Tom had already cut the distance between them in half. The storm, too, was getting closer and uglier and might easily turn into a blizzard.
Brian picked the dog up in his arms. “Come on,” he said hoarsely. “We’ll win this race together.”
After another two or three hundred yards, however, it was plain they wouldn’t be able to do it. The dog was too heavy. It had already slowed Brian so much he could hear Tom’s skis behind him, sliding over the snow. At this rate he might not even come in second because the next racer wasn’t too far behind Tom.
No more than a minute later, Tom’s skis were even with Brian’s.
“What are you trying to do,” Tom asked, when he saw Brian carrying the dog, “give me a handicap?”
There was no taunt in the way he said it and Brian knew it was an offhand, spur-of-the-moment remark. Then Tom slowed and asked seriously, “What’s the matter with the dog?”
“It’s hurt, Tom,” Brian said. “I’ll bet its leg’s broken.”
Tom came to a complete stop and asked with sincere interest, “Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. He can’t move it at all, and the little fella yelps whenever I touch it.”
Tom shot a look backward at their nearest pursuer, who was gaining rapidly.
“Take off your coat, Brian.”
“What for?”
“Just take if off,” Tom repeated, at the same time unsnapping his own parka. He laid it out on the snow and asked Brian to do the same, then he lapped them across one another. As Brian settled the dog gently on the makeshift sling, Tom carefully wrapped the trembling body. Then he worked the coats around until the snapped sides were underneath, providing a snug, hammocklike cradle.
“Grab the sleeves on your side, Brian.”
Brian picked up two sleeves and Tom held the sleeves on the opposite side. By the time they started again, their closest competitor was a scant hundred yards away.
Matching strides, the boys kept together as they approached the group of people waiting at the finish line, their pursuer still too far behind to catch up with them.
“If you cross that line one inch ahead of me,” Tom teased as they neared the end of the race, “I’ll wring your neck.”
“I won’t,” promised Brian, smiling.
The tips of their skis crossed the finish line so close together that the judges had no choice but to call the race a dead heat.
“I wouldn’t have believed it could happen,” the official said, but the expression on his face showed that he was glad about the way the race turned out. “I guess the only thing we can do,” he added, “is to let you share the trophy. I suggest we flip a coin to see who gets it first.”
“That’s all right with me,” Tom said.
“Okay with me too,” Brian agreed, grinning broadly.
It wasn’t exactly the kind of win either of them would have preferred, but Brian couldn’t help feeling a warm satisfaction as he and Tom watched one of the cars drive away to take the dog to a veterinarian.

A few nights ago I had a dream. I saw a piece of white paper with a name on it I did not know and a date I could only partially read. I got up and went to the records of my family. The last name on the slip of paper is from a line which came into my mother’s ancestry 300 years ago in a place called Eaton Bray. Someone is anxious for a long wait to end. I have not yet found that person. But I have found again the assurance that a loving God sends help in answer to prayer in this sacred work of redeeming our families, which is His work and His glory and to which we have pledged our hearts. I so testify, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Restoration of the Vernal Temple went carefully, brick by brick. However, some of the native brick was damaged and needed to be replaced. What’s more, additions to the building itself needed to match. A long-time Vernal resident had a pioneer home built of the same brick as the tabernacle. Though not a member of the Church himself, he graciously agreed to donate it to the temple. So two years before the temple was completed, youth groups from all the wards in the four stakes surrounding Vernal spent service time dismantling the house and cleaning the brick. Each small effort toward the restoration gave joy and satisfaction to those who helped.

On one occasion, I received the assignment to visit a stake located in the beautiful mountains of the Peruvian highlands. This unit of the Church had not been visited by a General Authority for more than two years because of the dangers involved in traveling there. After obtaining proper authorization, and with the help of the mission president, we commenced the five-hour trip that took us to the beautiful Mantaro River valley.
When we arrived at the stake center, the president and his counselors were waiting for us. Upon seeing us, their faces lit up with happiness and we joined in a strong, brotherly embrace. Some three years previously, two of our beloved missionaries had been killed in this city. After embracing the president close to my heart, trying to communicate to him all my love, I asked, “Have you suffered greatly during this time in which we haven’t been able to come?” He answered with his eyes filled with tears, “Yes, we have suffered greatly, but we have kept the faith.” This simple phrase touched our hearts, and we could feel that the hand of the Lord had been with them in the difficult circumstances they had experienced as a people and as members of the Church.
During our meeting with them, we learned many things, one of which was how to keep the faith in areas such as these, far from large cities and far from the headquarters of the Church. In the things that we learned, we were able to distinguish at least five principles which aided them to overcome their difficulties.
First, they never stopped trusting in the Lord, and they placed all of their faith in him. This was the foundation for their assurance. They trusted in the fact that he would protect and guide them. The Lord has said, “If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me” (Moro. 7:33).
Second, they remained faithful in prayer. Each member, whether adult, child, or adolescent, faithfully followed this holy practice each day, praying individually and as families with all of their faith. As we know, prayer is the means by which we communicate with our Heavenly Father. He listens to us because we are his children and he loves us, and he is anxious to bless us when we keep the commandments.
Third, they never stopped studying the scriptures. In the scriptures they found faith to overcome fear, solutions to their problems, divine comfort from the Master, the loving counsel of the Father, and especially the assurance of being guided in righteousness towards eternal life. “Search the scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which testify of me” (John 5:39). They lived this commandment even in the midst of all their difficulties. One of the Saints there said, “We have never been as close to the Lord as when we were reading the scriptures.”
Fourth, they implemented priesthood programs. Due to the fatal incident that had taken place there, it was necessary to remove full-time missionaries. In order to make up for the help that was lost, it became necessary to organize the returned missionaries so that they could teach the gospel to those who wanted to hear it. References came in from member families. Home teaching increased. Nobody was overlooked. Just as they said, they had kept the faith.
Fifth, they humbled themselves before the Lord. They purified their lives; they repented; they tried to live together as Saints, sharing much of what they had, fasting when problems arose or when they were threatened.
These simple yet powerful principles enabled them to sustain themselves, to be preserved, to remain faithful and active as members of the Church in that area.
At the close of the conference in that stake, I assured the members that God loved them, that the First Presidency and the Twelve Apostles were mindful of them, and that this was the reason we were there—to give them our testimony of the fact that they were part of the Church, that we had not forgotten them, and that we prayed for them. There was gratitude in their hearts, and again they smiled as humble members who had been comforted by the Spirit of the Lord.
As he gave the closing prayer in one of the conference sessions, a worthy elderly man, nearly eighty years of age, expressed well the ways in which they remember the prophets. In his prayer he said, “Heavenly Father, we give thee thanks for having sent one of thy servants here to the Mantaro Valley, where thy beloved servant, President Kimball, knelt down and blessed this land that it would feed us and always provide us a livelihood.”

Many years ago I had the opportunity of witnessing a state championship high school track meet at Brigham Young University. The lesson I learned as I watched the mile run was most impressive. I know I shall never forget it. About a dozen young men had qualified to represent their schools. The starting gun was fired, and these young men who had trained so long and so hard took off. Four fellows, closely bunched together, took the early lead. Suddenly the runner in second place spiked the first runner’s foot with his shoe. As the leader was about to make the next stride forward, he found that he was without a shoe.
As I noticed this, I wondered what the leader would do because of what his competitor had unintentionally done to him. It seemed to me he had a number of choices. He could take a few extra quick sprints and catch up to the fellow who had put him out of first position, double up his fist, and hit him to get even. He could run over to the coach and say, “This is what you get—I have trained all my life for this big day, and now look what’s happened!” He could run off into the stands and say to his mother, father, or girlfriend, “Isn’t this horrible?” Or he could sit down on the track and cry. But to my pleasure, he did none of these things. He just kept running.
This was halfway around the first lap, and I thought to myself, “Good for him; he’ll finish this first lap of the four and retire gracefully.” But after he had completed the first lap, he just kept running. He completed the second lap, then the third lap—and every time he took a stride, cinders were coming up through his stocking, hurting his foot. They ran on cinder tracks in those days. But he didn’t quit. He just kept running.
I thought, “What an outstanding display of courage and self-discipline! What parents! What a coach! What leaders who have affected his life enough so that in a situation like this he would not stop running!” He finished the job he had to do. He did not place first, but he was a real winner. When I walked over to him at the completion of the race and congratulated him on his courageous performance, he was composed and in complete control. He was able to carry on when it would have been much easier to quit.

When I was a bishop, being obedient meant sacrificing to attend the temple. My wife and I were invited to attend general conference in Salt Lake City, Utah. We did not have enough money to make the trip, but we greatly desired to be sealed for eternity in the Lord’s house. We prayed to Heavenly Father and asked Him to provide a way for us to be obedient and answer His invitation to all Saints to go to the temple. We were blessed to find additional jobs. We earned enough to make the trip to Salt Lake City. Kneeling in the temple, all in white, with my wife, Cristina, was one of the most special experiences of my life. Our marriage was different after we had been to the temple and felt the Holy Spirit of the Lord seal us to each other for eternity.

My bishop has helped me by encouraging me and giving me opportunities to strengthen my talents.
Knowing that I played the piano, he asked me one day if I wanted to learn how to play the organ. I had always thought it would be fun to learn, but my bishop was the one who really encouraged me to start. He helped me get in contact with the ward organist so she could help me get started, and it’s been going really well! Every time my bishop sees me practicing, he compliments me and asks about the next time I’ll be playing in sacrament meeting.
I know my bishop sees my potential, and I’m grateful for his constant encouragement. He has helped me learn and grow in ways I would not have been able to on my own.
Aubrey B., California, USA

This time her fifth-grade teacher was furious!
“Oh, oh,” Flora moaned, bolting for the door. “This time I’ve really done it! Can’t Tad ever leave me alone?”
Outside the classroom, Flora leaned against the wall, trying not to cry. Not only had she lost her temper again, but she’d also torn the one nice dress she had. It’s all Tad’s fault, she thought. If only he and his friends wouldn’t tease me!
Poor Flora. The kids did tease her. They teased her about her tousled blond hair. They teased her about her mismatched skirts and blouses. They teased her because nobody liked her. And nobody liked her because when they teased her, she got angry—screaming, hitting, chair-throwing angry.
As Flora stood silently blaming everyone else for her problems, the new girl in her class appeared in the hall on her way to the library. “Why’d you go and do that, Flora?” Jerri Ann asked. “It wasn’t Tad’s fault that you missed so many words on the spelling test.”
“It was, too,” Flora shot back. “He makes me nervous, and he covers his paper so that the teacher will think I’m copying. Anyway, what’s it to you?”
Jerri Ann didn’t blanch at the rude question. “It just seems to me,” she said, “that it would be a whole lot easier to study and get a hundred and show Tad that you don’t need to cheat. I’d be glad to study with you anytime.” With that, Jerri Ann turned and walked on to the library.
Humph! though Flora. Tad was always teasing her, and he seemed to enjoy her tirades. But I’ll get even with him—if I’m not suspended! she thought, suddenly remembering her teacher’s earlier warning. She quietly opened the door to the classroom and tried to slip unnoticed into her seat at the back of the room. No such luck—Tad saw her and gave her a big grin that said, “Oh, boy, are you going to get it now!”
At recess, Tad found Flora and started in on her: What punishment had she received? What had the teacher said to her? What had the principal done to her? And on and on. Flora felt herself getting red in the face, and her fists tightened around the jump rope in her hands. She wanted to hit Tad, or scream at him, or something! She threw the jump rope to the ground and was storming toward Tad when Jerri Ann ran up and asked her to play tetherball. As Jerri Ann coaxed, Flora began to calm down. Finally she agreed to play, and the two girls ran off together, leaving Tad to himself.
“You see,” said Jerri Ann as she served the ball to Flora, “if there’s nobody to make mad, Tad’s little game isn’t so much fun for him. Why do you let him make you so mad?”
“Let him!” Flora yelped. “I can’t stop him!”
“You just did. He’s not here now, is he?”
“No. But he doesn’t always go away so easily,” Flora said. She thought about what Jerri Ann had told her, and wondered, Do I really let Tad make me throw temper tantrums?
During the next few days, Tad continued to tease her, and Jerri Ann continued to point out what she ought to have done in each case. Flora wondered why Jerri Ann tried to help her—they hardly knew each other, really—but she began to listen. And she surely did admire the way Jerri Ann was always so cool.
One day Flora actually walked away on her own from Tad’s taunts. But the next day she lost control and threw her books on the floor when she missed five words on the practice spelling test. Afterward she felt so bad that she went straight home and studied her spelling words, and the next day she beat Tad on the final test. He gave her a grudging smile and didn’t tease her even once at recess.
Little by little Flora learned how to avoid getting angry by being prepared and ignoring—or at least pretending to ignore—her classmate’s insults. Tad had even commented, “Boy, Flora, you’re no fun to tease anymore!”
And not only was Flora keeping her temper, she was gaining a friend! She’d never had a real friend before; she’d always scared most of the kids away. But Jerri Ann seemed to like Flora, and Flora definitely liked Jerri Ann. Whenever she found herself getting angry, she could turn to Jerri Ann, and together they would find a way out.
Flora came to depend on her friend, and she felt lost one Friday when Jerri Ann was absent. At first Flora began to tell herself that it was going to be a bad day, that she would never be able to cope alone. Then she wondered what Jerri Ann would say to that. Maybe if she tried to think of what Jerri Ann would do, she could make it through the day. Well, she’d give it a try!
And things went well all morning! Even recess had presented no challenges. This is going to be a snap, Flora thought happily. Then, at lunchtime, trouble came. Tad had challenged her to a game of tetherball, and they had no more than begun the game when a sixth-grade boy came over and said, “Hey, creep. Don’t get cooties on the ball. I might want to play.”
Flora tensed up, but before she could say anything, Tad sprang to her side and seemed ready to punch the older boy. Flora was so amazed by Tad’s standing up for her that she forgot to be angry! “It’s all right, Tad. I’m not mad. He’s probably afraid that I’m going to win and doesn’t want to have to play me.” Flora turned and gave the boy a big grin. “Isn’t that right?” Flora knew that she could never beat Tad, much less the sixth grader. But it didn’t matter, because she had kept her temper! And Tad had stuck up for her! Whatever the outcome of the tetherball game, Flora was a winner!

Immediately after the shock of the eruption, even with the uncertainty of not knowing what was going to happen, the young people of wards across Washington jumped wholeheartedly into helping other people. Calling committees checked to see that ward members were safe; teachers and priests quorums and the young women organized to help clean chapels and homes. Volcanic ash started flying as young volunteers got out their shovels and brooms and started the cleanup.
“The youth in my ward were helping even as families started leaving the chapel the morning of the eruption,” said Bishop Terry Brandon of the Yakima Fourth Ward, Yakima Washington Stake. “The teenagers comforted the children, talked with them, and in many cases scooped the young ones into their arms and delivered them safely to waiting cars and their parents. Breathing was uncomfortable, and the falling ash was irritating their eyes, but these youth didn’t care about that.
“Then early the next morning I began receiving phone calls from teens wanting to help anyone who needed it, so we organized a cleanup force. They spent eight, nine hours at a time in the grittiest, dirtiest mess you’ve ever seen helping other people, in addition to the efforts spent in cleaning up their own homes. They took a lot of initiative themselves. All of them helped clean up the stake center.
“It was such a spiritual uplift to work alongside such cheerful youth during a depressing, messy week of cleanup. We have a fine generation of young people here with goals and ideals that just won’t let them be defeated. When we didn’t know if we’d be able to hold church the next Sunday, I was determined we should, just so I could let them know how I felt towards them. I’ve never seen a finer group of young people,” said Bishop Brandon.