Gospel Story Finder

Nothing important had ever happened to Little Brave. He had never found a beautiful rock with a yellow streak like Yellow Rock Finder had found. He had never run a race like Fast Runner had run. He had never sat quietly for a very long time watching butterflies as Butterfly Watcher had done.
“No Name! No Name! Little Brave No Name!” the other boys often chanted as they circled around Little Brave. Then Little Brave would drop his head and clench his hands and wait until he had a chance to get away.
One day Little Brave No Name went to his grandfather’s lodge to hide. Grandfather was not there, but hanging on posts were many masks the wise old man had carved from wood. One very fierce face lay on a log near the entrance. It had great big eyes and a long pointed nose.
Little Brave picked up the mask and swung it by the rawhide laces. As it moved back and forth, Little Brave No Name said, “I wish I could, I wish I could—” Suddenly he stopped swinging the mask and cried, “I will!” Then he ran quickly out of Grandfather’s lodge with the mask in his hand.
The boy hid the mask at the edge of the woods and hurried back to his own lodge. There he found a tough piece of smoked deer meat and placed it in the beaded pouch he wore at his waist. Then he returned to the woods.
Little Brave put the mask on his face and tied the rawhide laces firmly behind his head. “Now,” he whispered, “I will go out and find a name! I will scare some creature so much it will not be able to move. Then I will grab it and take it home to the chanting boys.”
The eyes in the mask were so far apart, Little Brave couldn’t see very well out of the eyeholes. He stepped carefully along the forest path, and with one eye he searched the bushes and trees. Little Brave crouched low so that the mask was very close to the bushes.
Suddenly a rabbit jumped in front of him. Little Brave stopped and moved his head slowly from right to left. The rabbit stopped and looked at Little Brave. The rabbit’s nose quivered and its eyes blinked excitedly. Then its ears stood straight up, and with a wild jump the rabbit leaped away.
Little Brave laughed. “Ki, yie! The long-eared one is very frightened. But I will not chase him. I would not want to be named for a rabbit.”
Now the forest seemed very still to Little Brave. “I hear no birds. I see no bees. Perhaps they know a fearful face is walking in the woods and they are hiding.”
A noisy chattering broke out beside the trial, and a fluffy-tailed gray squirrel scolded from a branch of a tree.
“The bright-eyed one is not afraid, because he is safe high up in the tree. Oh, well, I do not want to be called Little Brave Squirrel.”
Soon Little Brave came upon a round bushy fellow slowly moving through the forest.
I will scare Mr. Porcupine! thought Little Brave as he left the trial and moved around through the bushes. Then Little Brave hunched himself together and moved his masked head slowly before the porcupine. “Boo-boo! Googy-boo!” he hissed in a deep scary voice.
The porcupine stopped. It slowly raised its head and looked at the big mask. It hesitated just a moment and then put its head down again and started forward, straight for the mask and Little Brave.
Little Brave did not want to feel the prickly quills of that animal. “A porcupine is an honorable animal,” he whispered, “but I would not want to be called Sticky One, so I will let it go. I will leave the trial and go through the thick woods to find a better animal to scare.”
Traveling through the woods was not as easy as walking on the trial.
It was very still in the woods. A stick cracked under his feet, and Little Brave stumbled. Down he went, and the fierce-looking mask tumbled off his face.
He moved over beside a big log and hung the mask on a dead limb. Little Brave reached into his beaded pouch for the smoked deer meat. I will eat a little and then I will return the mask to Grandfather’s lodge, he decided.
As Little Brave ate, he watched an ant crawl from under the log and stop to twitch its feelers in every direction. The boy broke off a small piece of meat and put it before the ant. He watched as the ant worked to carry the tiny bit away.
Then Little Brave heard a twig snap. He turned just in time to see a golden fox reach its head through the loop made by the laces of the mask and snap up the rest of the meat off the log. As the fox drew its head back through the loop, the mask dislodged from the twig and the loop fell around its neck. As the mask dropped to the fox’s chest, the animal gave a startled yelp, whirled around, and then ran off through the forest.
“Come back!” screamed Little Brave. “That is Grandfather’s mask! Come back!”
Little Brave had taken the mask without permission, and he knew that his grandfather would be very angry if it were not returned. “Come back with that mask!” cried Little Brave as he ran after the fox.
Over logs, through brush, and out into meadows went the golden fox. Finally it ran beside the river, where Yellow Rock Finder, Fast Runner, and Owl Catcher were splashing in a swimming hole.
The boys gasped in surprise when they saw the fox dart from the woods with Little Brave chasing right behind the animal and yelling at the top of his voice!
When the fox and boy disappeared, Fast Runner cried, “Did you see that? Little Brave No Name has put a mask on a swift fox, and now he is chasing the golden one!”
“I can’t believe it!” Yellow Rock Finder exclaimed. “I did not know Little Brave had such courage!”
“Let’s hurry to the village!” suggested Owl Catcher, who was anxious to tell what he had seen.
Before long the fox grew tired. In one last effort to be rid of the mask, it jumped into a thicket and rolled in the brush. The stout rawhide strings held, but the mask moved up over the fox’s head and settled tightly about its eyes and nose.
There Little Brave No Name found the animal lying, defeated by the mask.
“Poor fellow,” said Little Brave. “How you run! But do not fear, for I will help you get the mask off. I know how it feels.”
Then Little Brave knelt down and worked the mask from the fox’s head. As soon as the mask was free, the golden fox darted away.
Little Brave No Name started back to the Indian village with the battered and scratched mask in his hand. “Grandfather will be angry, but he will not be nearly as angry as if I had lost the mask,” he said to himself.
As soon as the villagers saw Little Brave No Name coming, they all went out to meet him. Little Brave looked down at the ground and dug his toes into the soft earth as he waited to hear Grandfather scold him.
But instead of angry words, Little Brave heard Grandfather say, “Little Brave, though you took a mask without permission, I am not going to scold you. The boys have told us you were chasing a golden fox in the forest—a fox wearing a mask. No one will ever question your secret magic, for now you no longer are a brave without a name. You have proved your right to a name that is for you alone. From now on you will be called Fierce Fox Chaser!”
So that’s how the name of Little Brave No Name was changed to Fierce Fox Chaser. And always he was kind to the creatures of the woods, but he was especially kind to golden foxes.

Although Joseph was only eight years old when he and his family moved to Winter Quarters, Nebraska, he and his friends were responsible for taking care of the cows.
One day, the boys were watching the grazing cattle outside of town. They were suddenly attacked by Indians. Joseph’s friends were frightened and rode their horses home. Joseph was frightened, too, but he tried to drive the cattle to safety.
3. Joseph and his horse were moving fast, but the Indians were going faster. When Joseph looked to his right, there was an Indian alongside him! There was one on his left, too!
4. Joseph didn’t know what to do. The Indians reached over and grabbed his arms and legs and lifted him from his horse. Then they dropped him to the ground and rode off with the horse.
5. Even though several horses galloped over Joseph, he was unhurt. Joseph was very brave, and he continued to be brave throughout his life. When he was older, he became the sixth President of the Church.

I was sixteen when my father invited me and my younger brother to work with him on his farm. For us, the main purpose was to save enough money to go study in a distant city. My brother and I knew nothing about farm work and had to learn everything. In the beginning, it was difficult and demanding for young people like us who had never carried out such manual work. Step by step, our father taught us how to do it.
Here is one of the many lessons he taught us: “Only work makes someone independent and ennobles them. When someone is self-sufficient, they have self-esteem, they are respected, and they can accomplish many things for themselves and others.”
With the means that we acquired, my brother and I were able to buy food, school supplies and clothes, and to focus on our studies without too much worry. Being independent, we started to grow.

Philippe and Chantal had the best grandmère (grandmother) and grandpère (grandfather) in the whole world. Why, what other grandmère and grandpère lived in a magical house—a house with a small cement pool outside where they could go wading and sail toy boats and play pirates? Who else had a house with a secret room halfway up the stairs and halfway down, with shelves full of storybooks, magazines, and old toys?
Philippe and Chantal loved to visit Grandmère and Grandpère. They loved to play in the pool and in the secret room. They helped Grandmère cook, and she took them to the library and to the park, and she taught them how to crochet. They helped Grandpère fix the car, weed the garden, and put puzzles together. Both Grandmère and Grandpère played tennis with Philippe and Chantal and read them stories. Philippe and Chantal had so much fun at their grandparents’ house that they always hated to leave.
One day when Philippe and Chantal arrived for a visit, Grandmère and Grandpère were especially excited to see them. “Guess what!” Grandmère exclaimed, taking their jackets. “Guess what Grandpère and I are going to do!”
“Are you going to travel around the world?” Philippe asked.
“No, but that’s close.”
“Are you going to take a class to learn something new?” Chantal asked.
“No, no, but that’s close too.” Grandpère’s eyes twinkled.
Philippe and Chantal frowned at each other. “We give up.”
“We’re going to be missionaries for the Church!” Grandmère exclaimed proudly.
“Oh, but that means that you’ll go away, and we won’t be able to visit you!” Philippe said sadly.
“I’m glad that you’re going on a mission, but what will happen to your house?” Chantal wiped a tear from her eye.
Grandmère put her arm around Philippe. “We’ll miss both of you very much. But we’ll think about you, and pray for you, and write you letters too. Think of all the mail that you’ll get! Won’t that be fun?”
Grandpère pulled Chantal onto his lap and held her as he rocked back and forth. “And we’ll miss this house and having you come to visit. We’ll have to rent it to someone while we’re gone. But,” he added, “we won’t tell them about the room that’s halfway up the stairs and halfway down. It will be our secret! How about that?”
Philippe and Chantal laughed.
“But, Grandmère, how can you and Grandpère go on a mission if you’ll miss us and the house so much?” Philippe asked, looking puzzled.
“A mission is a special way to serve Heavenly Father,” Grandmère replied. “Not everyone is as blessed as we are to have the gospel. We are such a happy family that we want to show other families how to be happy too.”
“We’ll teach families about Jesus and His gospel,” Grandpère added, “and we’ll share our testimonies and our love with others, just as we have with you.”
“It will be hard to leave you, but we’ve fasted and prayed, and we know that it’s right for us to be missionaries now,” Grandmère explained.
“Oh, Grandmère,” Philippe said, giving her a hug, “I love you. And I guess I can share you and Grandpère with other people who need you.”
Chantal kissed Grandpère on the cheek. “And when we grow up, we want to be missionaries just like you because you’re the best grandpère and grandmère in the whole world!”

After graduation Franklin received an appointment to the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland. He wondered if he accepted the appointment if he would ever serve a full-time mission. It was a difficult decision to make. Elder Richards said, “I think unknowingly I was following the advice of the Lord to Oliver Cowdery:
“‘Behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you; therefore, you shall feel that it is right’ [D&C 9:8].
“In effect, I was doing that, I thought about a mission and about my grandfather, and I wondered, Do I want to go to Annapolis and tie myself up or don’t I? So I studied it out, talked to several people, and reached the decision that I would prefer to go on a mission. I made it a matter of prayer, expressing my feelings to the Lord, and the Holy Ghost bore witness to me that my decision was right.”

Rusty Rooster wanted to crow. Although he had never crowed before, he declared, “Today I’m going to crow! I’ll fly up on the fence post, flap my wings, and crow, Cock-a-doodle doo! Then all the hens will hear and look at me and I’ll be so proud.”
Up on the fence Rusty Rooster flew. He flapped his wings, stuck out his chest, flipped his tail, opened his mouth, and out came a squeaky, “Cock-a-diddly-dub!”
“Oh, my!” he said to himself when he heard these strange sounds.
The hens down on the ground laughed noisily in a cluckety-chuckly way.
Pussycat Pete stopped on his way to the barn and stared at Rusty Rooster.
Dubby Duck came waddling from the pond. “Poor fellow,” he said.
Rusty Rooster flew down from the fence post as fast as he could and hurried off to a far corner of the pasture. “I’m no good for crowing!” he said, hanging his head. “I guess I’ll never amount to anything. I just can’t crow!”
Pussycat Pete and Dubby Duck felt sorry for Rusty Rooster so they followed him to the pasture.
“You just need more practice,” said Pussycat Pete. “It takes time to become a good crower.”
“Please try again,” begged Dubby Duck. “We won’t laugh at you!”
Rusty Rooster looked at them and smiled. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “I’ll try once more.”
Then he jumped up on a rock, opened his mouth, stretched his neck, and crowed, “Cock-a-diddly-dub!”
“It’s no use. I’ll never be able to crow!” he sighed.
“Yes, you will,” said Pussycat Pete. “You can start by making a soft sound like this—Meow! Try it!”
Rusty Rooster tried. “Meow!” he said in a quiet voice.
“Fine! Fine! Beautiful!” cried Pussycat Pete.
“Now,” said Dubby Duck, “make loud clear sounds like this—Quack, quack, quack!”
“Quack, quack, quack!” said Rusty Rooster much louder.
“Excellent! Wonderful!” said Dubby Duck. “You see, you can do it. Now keep practicing.”
Pussycat Pete and Dubby Duck went back to the barnyard while Rusty Rooster practiced in the meadow. He practiced all day. When evening came, he ate a few grass seeds and then practiced some more before he went to sleep.
“Where is Rusty?” the hens asked early the next morning. They looked everywhere for the little rooster, but no one could find him.
The next day the hens asked again, “Where is Rusty Rooster? We hope he isn’t lost.”
All the hens clucked when they saw Rusty Rooster come strutting into the barnyard later that afternoon.
“Going to criddle-crow again today, Rusty?” one hen asked with a chuckle.
“I’m going to crow,” Rusty answered firmly as he flew to the top of the fence post. He proudly flapped his wings, flipped his tail, and fluffed out his chest. Then he opened his mouth and crowed loudly, “Meow! Meow!”
The hens that were gathered below gasped in astonishment. Pussycat Pete’s tail stood straight up in surprise, and Dubby Duck’s eyes began to blink open and shut, open and shut.
But before any of them could say a word, Rusty Rooster stretched his neck and crowed, “Quack, quack, quack!”
The hens stood silent and Pussycat Pete and Dubby Duck couldn’t move either.
Then Rusty Rooster threw back his head, stuck out his chest, and crowed, “Cock-a-doodle-doo!” The sound was loud and clear and sure.
The hens cackled with joy and danced about making scritchy-scratchy markings on the ground with their yellow feet.
“Wonderful! Wonderful!” they cried, spreading their wings and flipping their tails. “Rusty Rooster can crow three ways! He’s a marvel—the best in the country!”
From high on the fence post Rusty Rooster winked at Pussycat Pete and Dubby Duck. He nodded his head to say thank you, and Pussycat Pete and Dubby Duck smiled and winked back.

The mental image of his wife also gave Viktor Frankl the strength to survive the agonies of a Nazi concentration camp: “As we stumbled on for miles, … dragging one another up and onward, … my mind clung to my wife’s image … her look was then more luminous than the sun. … for the first time in my life … I grasped the meaning of the greatest secret that human poetry and human thought and belief have to impart: The salvation of man is through love.” Therefore, “He who has a why to live can bear with almost any how” (Man’s Search for Meaning, 1984, 56–57, 12). His “why” was the vision of being together with his sweetheart. Full of such hope, he could live with the awful “how” of imprisonment.

When I was about four years old, my family and I spent Easter with relatives in Ephraim, a small town in Utah. We went for a picnic there, and it was then that I saw a cactus for the first time. I ran back to my family, and my uncle was the first person I saw. “I’ve just seen something I’ve never seen before,” I told him. I described what it looked like. “What is it?”
“It’s a cactus,” he said. “You know what cactuses are for, don’t you?”
“No, what are they for?” I asked.
“They’re for sitting on.”
I ran back to the cactus I had seen, and I sat on it. The rest of the afternoon was spent with my mother picking out the painful prickles from the cactus. I learned then that when someone tells you something, you have to pay attention to whether he’s serious or just having fun!

For one Latter-day Saint family, “wholesome recreational activities”… mean parents bonding with their children by finding out what they love.
In the Proclamation on the Family, latter-day prophets have taught that “successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”
For one Latter-day Saint family, “wholesome recreational activities” can be more than just going out together, having a special meal, or playing games. It can also mean parents bonding with their children by finding out what they love—with a whole lot of singing, swaying, and even TikToking!
On a particular night at the home of the Escritor family of Kapitolyo Ward, Pasig Stake, you’ll hear some lively strumming and drumming. First, Darwin, the family head, croons a hit from the 70s rock band America. Then, the beat changes and this time 15-year-old Cyrus leads with a song from Pinoy pop sensation Callalily. Then everybody, including younger sister Arianne, 13, and mother Anna all sing a familiar 90s chartbuster. It’s jammin’ time again!
“Even if we didn’t have gadgets before or instruments, we trained our children to sing together as a family,” Darwin says. “Before we would pray with them and go to sleep,” he adds, “we would sing Primary songs to them.” Darwin and Anna also strove to be close with each child, by trying to like what they liked. “We really wanted to be real friends with them,” Anna shares.
The Escritors actively share their jamming sessions on Facebook, with family members adjusting to each one’s likes and preferences. Now that many pandemic-related restrictions are being lifted and face-to-face meetings are gradually resuming, Simon and Cyrus look forward to actively associating with their age groups as they follow the Children and Youth Program, which focuses on gospel learning, service and activities, and personal development.
Just recently, younger son Simon needed to do a Tiktok video as a school project. “I was too shy to dance alone, so I was really very happy when Daddy helped by dancing along with me,” he reveals. In the video, viewers can see both father and son grooving, doing some hilarious but delightful moves.
“We want our children to be strong socially, physically, emotionally, and spiritually,” Anna sums up. “Heavenly Father entrusted them to us, so we do everything to raise them up in a way that the Lord wants them to, and then have fun doing it!”

In 2003 I was called to serve a mission in the Ivory Coast, in western Africa. As I researched, I found that the country seemed to be involved in constant civil war, but I was comforted to learn there was a ceasefire in place. Further comfort came when I was set apart. The stake president gave me a promise that while I was serving, I would at times feel the presence of angels and they would protect me. I was also promised that if I was obedient, I would return home safely.
In the first months of my mission, the mission president counseled us to be prepared. In our apartment in the capital city of Abidjan, we kept a three-day supply of food and water, and at meetings we received training on what to do if conflict broke out.
Still, we were nervous when rebels broke the ceasefire on November 4, 2004. Our mission leaders gave us a 6:00 p.m. curfew. During our last teaching appointment the next day, we heard a sudden explosion. Immediately we ended with a prayer, left the family a chapter from the Book of Mormon to read, and rushed home. The other companionship in our apartment arrived shortly after us. The assistants phoned and told us not to leave our apartments under any circumstances—not for church or even food. We learned that some French peacekeepers had been killed in air strikes, so France had attacked the military airport, crippling the small Ivorian air force. In reaction, massive riots had broken out across the capital.
Tens of thousands of protesters swarmed the streets, wielding machetes, looting French shops, and breaking into homes where they suspected the French lived. From our window, we could see the violence unfolding. We knew we were in danger because of our white skin.
On Sunday afternoon, November 7, amid the sounds of screaming, gunshots, and explosions, we held a sacrament meeting in our apartment with only four participants. After blessing and passing the bread and water from our three-day food supply, each of us shared a scripture and bore testimony. I read Doctrine and Covenants 84:88: “And whoso receiveth you, there I will be also, for I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up.” As I read, I reflected on the blessing my stake president had given me, and I knew I would be safe.
We were shut in our apartment for a week. Ward leaders and members visited us and brought us food. One member even took messages from us and e-mailed our families, letting them know we were safe for now. These members’ help was amazing! Meanwhile, our families and Church members around the world were praying for our safety. As my family prayed, they felt a calm assurance that I would be OK.
On Friday, November 12, our evacuation began. Ivorian Church members led us through the streets of Abidjan, and though we heard reports of other refugees being harmed, we made it safely through the barricades to the British ambassador’s home. Then British forces evacuated us from the country, and my family’s prayers were answered when they saw two other elders and me on the news being evacuated. In the dark of the night, members took other non-African missionaries to the mission home. From there the Italian air force transported them to Ghana, where we were reunited.
Despite dozens of attacks on foreigners throughout the country, none of the missionaries were harmed during the riots, and no missionary apartments were broken into. Because we listened to the mission president’s counsel, we were safe at home when the riots broke out and we had supplies necessary for our survival. And even more comforting than military protection was knowing we had the Lord’s protection.

Timmy* had seen the Logan Utah Temple many times when he went shopping in Logan with Mom. He always looked for the temple during the drive. He especially liked seeing it lit up at night. It towered over everything else in the city, as if it was keeping watch over everyone.
Today as they traveled to Logan, it wasn’t for shopping, and he looked forward to seeing the temple even more. He was going there with his family to be sealed together forever. He couldn’t wait until they arrived!
He hummed “I Love to See the Temple,”† one of his favorite songs. Today it meant even more to him. Last Monday, the family had had a special family home evening to talk about what was going to happen when they went to the temple and what it would mean for their family. He knew that after today, his family could be together forever.
He was glad about that. He couldn’t imagine not having his mom and dad and sisters with him always. Even though he didn’t always get along well with his sisters—they sometimes got into his room and into his things—he still wanted to have them forever. All week they seemed especially cute, and he couldn’t help being nice to them.
They were six-year-old twins, and sometimes he felt kind of left out. No matter what, they always had each other, so sometimes he felt a little lonely. After his family had started going to church, though, he realized that he was never really alone. Heavenly Father was always with him, no matter what. He could pray to Him at any time, and He would be there to help him.
Timmy’s mom and dad had been raised in the Church, but it wasn’t until they moved back to Mom’s hometown that they started going to church every week. The missionaries had come and given them the discussions about Joseph Smith and how he had prayed in the Sacred Grove. They said that Heavenly Father had told Joseph that none of the churches were true. He had received the priesthood and restored the true church of Jesus Christ. Timmy liked to listen to these stories about Joseph Smith.
One night, the missionaries brought a video about the Savior visiting the Nephites in America. Timmy really enjoyed it. He thought about what it would be like to sit at Jesus’ knee with angels all around and to hear Jesus speak just to him. His family started to have family prayer every night, and he could tell that the spirit in their home had changed. He knew that the Holy Ghost was with them.
Now as they drove to the temple, he could feel in his heart that Heavenly Father was pleased with them. “Mom, how much longer before we get there?” he asked. He was getting impatient even though they had left the house only ten minutes ago.
“It won’t take us very long. Just watch out the window for the temple,” Mom said.
“I bet I see the temple first,” Sarah piped up.
“I bet I do!” Suzy exclaimed.
They all watched for it eagerly as they came into Logan. Suddenly all three cried out, “There it is!”
Timmy’s heart beat a little faster. Mom and Dad had come to the temple yesterday morning to receive their own endowments. Today they would all be sealed together as a family.
Dad pulled up in front of the temple to let them out while he went to park the car. Timmy’s grandparents were already there. He could see them standing inside the doorway. He wanted to run inside and give them a big hug, but this place seemed too quiet and too special to run. He walked reverently, but he couldn’t help jumping into Grandpa’s open arms.
When Dad came, a woman said that she would take Timmy, Sarah, and Suzy into another room, where they would wait till it was time to be sealed to their parents. Timmy wasn’t sure he wanted to leave Mom, but she said that it would be all right and that they would be together soon. Timmy took his sisters’ hands and followed the woman into a room like the nursery at Primary.
The temple workers had two white dresses for Sarah and Suzy to wear and a white jumpsuit (clothing in which the shirt and pants are attached) for Timmy. Mom and Dad had told him that in the temple they would wear all white, just like when Timmy was baptized.
Finally it was time to change their clothes and go upstairs to one of the sealing rooms. Sister Smith took them in an elevator to the third floor. They stood outside a door until it was opened, and then Timmy and his sisters went into the sealing room.
Their grandparents, some aunts and uncles, and Mom and Dad were in the room. Timmy thought that Mom looked beautiful all dressed in white. She and Dad, also dressed in white, looked really happy, even though she had a tear in her eye.
Timmy felt a warmth like he had never felt before. He felt like he wanted to cry, too. Mom looked at him and smiled. It took only a few minutes, and they were sealed forever.
As they stood up, Timmy’s grandmothers both came and put their arms around him and his sisters. One of them said, “Look in the mirror. See—your family now goes on forever.”
Timmy hadn’t noticed the mirrors, or even what the room looked like when he first came in, but now he could see that there were mirrors lining the walls in front of him and behind him. They went from floor to ceiling and reflected everyone in the room. A big chandelier seemed to cast a spotlight over Timmy, his sisters, and his mom and dad, who were all standing in the middle of the room with their arms around each other. Timmy couldn’t help but cry now. He felt a little silly, but Mom bent down, took him in her arms, and said, “Timmy, now you will be my big boy forever!” and Timmy could see that she was crying, too. Everyone came and gave them hugs and congratulated them.
Later, when Timmy and his sisters changed out of the white “temple clothes,” Sister White gave them each a certificate with their names and a picture of the temple on it for their books of remembrance. The certificate said that on September 11, 1998, they were sealed to their family for time and all eternity.

My journey through life has included medical studies, during which a connection between faith and medicine became evident to me. One time while training in cardiac surgery, I assisted in a heart operation. A patient was to receive a coronary artery bypass. Preparatory steps included connecting a heart-lung machine to ensure that vital blood and oxygen supply would be in the body’s circulatory system.
Using a special liquid solution, the surgeon temporarily stopped the heart so he could perform the procedure without the heart moving. I carefully watched the surgeon’s hands and saw him slightly lift the heart in front of him in the chest. At that moment he turned to me with a subtle movement of his head. He asked me to carefully grasp the heart with my right hand so that it could be stabilized for the bypass procedure.
When I held the patient’s heart in my hand, I immediately felt an enormous responsibility, as well as a deep sense of awe. The following words from Doctrine and Covenants 101:16 came to my mind: “Be still and know that I am God” (see also Psalm 46:10).
I associate this image of a calm heart with the spiritual realization that Jesus Christ, as our Savior, takes our heart in His hands and heals it.

“Marionette,” called out the teacher.
Lucia stood before the class, her dark eyes shining and her hands clasped before her in eager anticipation. Her only opponent, Susan Hanley, spelled quickly, “M-a-r-i-o-n … ” She hesitated a moment before finishing, “e-t.”
“I’m sorry,” said the teacher, “but that’s the wrong spelling.”
Lucia felt sorry for Susan, whose crushed expression and flushed face mirrored her disappointment. Should I misspell the word and end the contest in a tie? Lucia wondered.
Lucia didn’t want to begin her first week at a new school making an enemy. She wondered if Susan was like Donna at her former school. Donna and Lucia had battled constantly for first place in everything.
“Marionette,” the teacher repeated.
Lucia tore her gaze from Susan and began to spell the word: “M—” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and began again, “M-a-r-i-o-n-e-t-t-e.”
“The winner is Lucia Martin!” declared the teacher.
Lucia smiled weakly and looked at Susan. Susan’s eyes were downcast, and her complexion was a dull brick red. Lucia’s stomach lurched. I did the wrong thing, she decided.
Just then the recess bell rang, and the fourth grade class spilled out onto the playground. Lucia trailed with heavy steps, her eyes following Susan. I don’t want to compete with her, she thought. I just want to be friends. But she knew how hard it was not to compete. She could never resist trying to beat Donna.
Lucia found herself standing near Susan and another girl.
“Too bad about the spelling bee,” Susan’s friend was saying. “Up until now you hadn’t lost any. Will your folks be upset?”
Susan picked nervously at the buttons on her coat. “I suppose so,” she muttered dully. “My parents get upset whenever they think I’m not doing as well as my sister Sylvia. The trouble is, my sister’s good at everything! I’m tired of trying to keep up with her.”
Poor Susan, Lucia thought. At least I don’t have those problems.
“Let’s play jump rope,” Susan’s friend suggested. “Everyone knows you’re the best rope jumper in the school!”
Immediately a game of jump rope was started, and Lucia asked to turn one end of the rope. Before long she forgot her troubles and was shouting the chants with the others.
Soon it was Susan’s turn to jump. The girls counted out the turns of the rope together. On and on they counted. Lucia found herself cheering for Susan with the rest. “Hit two hundred!” she called. “You can do it!”
The girls counted excitedly, “193, 194, 195, …”
Susan’s face was the color of a ripe tomato. Lucia could hear her gasping for breath as the girls called out, “198, 199, 200!”
As the girls cheered the exhausted jumper, Susan’s shoe caught the rope and she went down on one knee.
Lucia put out a hand to help Susan up. But Susan jerked away, looking triumphant. “Let’s see you beat that!” she whispered.
Lucia’s face burned. As she took her turn jumping the rope, a familiar anger tightened her stomach. It was happening all over again.
The only sound was the slap of the rope and the tap of her leather shoes on the cement as she easily jumped to fifty. The rope arched up and down, over and over again, making a whooshing sound as it cut through the air.
The girls began to count aloud now, “101, 102, …”
Lucia’s breath came in shallow pants. Her hands clenched and unclenched automatically. Her leather shoes beat out a pattern on the concrete. The perspiration on her forehead trickled down her nose. She wiped it away quickly.
Above the roar in her ears she heard, “189, 190, 191, …” Her legs felt heavy now, and there was a tingling numbness in the soles of her feet. She felt a strange elation. “… 195, 196, …”
Then Susan’s face loomed before her. She saw the crumpled features and brimming eyes of her defeated opponent in the spelling bee. Lucia knew what she must do. When “199” rang out, she dragged one foot just as the rope hit the ground. She fell to her hands and knees gasping for breath. The girls crowded around her expressing sympathy.
Lucia gazed into the gray eyes of her opponent, noting Susan’s look of satisfaction. Then Susan’s eyes widened as she recognized Lucia’s sacrifice to win her friendship. A flush crept slowly up Susan’s cheeks before she lowered her eyes.
Please understand, Lucia pleaded silently. People are more important than winning or losing.
When Susan looked up again, her eyes had softened and tiny twinkly lights glinted in their depths. She smiled warmly and held her hand out to Lucia to help her up.

“It’s scripture time!” Lila said.
Lila loved reading to her little sister, Ánika, and her baby brother, Svetan. Soon Lila would be getting baptized! To be ready, she wanted to read the scriptures every day.
Lila opened the scripture storybook to the first page. Ánika and Svetan snuggled close so they could see the pictures.
“Listen carefully because I’m going to ask you questions after,” Lila said. Then she started reading the first chapter.
“Before we were born, we lived in heaven,” Lila read. “We didn’t have bodies yet. We were spirits.”
Lila, Ánika, and Svetan looked at the pictures of people dressed in white.
“Ready for your first question?” Lila turned to Ánika. “Where did you come from before you were born?”
Ánika clapped her hands. “Heaven!”
“That’s right,” said Lila. “And where did Svetan come from?”
“He came from heaven too,” Ánika said. Svetan giggled and put his fist in his mouth. Lila and Ánika laughed. Svetan was the cutest one-year-old in Argentina!
“Our whole family came from heaven,” Lila said. “Jesus did too. He came to help us so we can live with Heavenly Father again.” Lila pointed to the picture of Jesus on the page.
After she finished reading, Lila kept thinking about what it must have been like to live with Jesus in heaven. She wanted to be like Him. She wanted to always choose the right!
The next day at school, Lila’s tummy rumbled as she waited in line for breakfast. She could almost taste the empanadas as Señora Ruiz slid them onto her plate. They smelled so good!
Then Señora Ruiz poured Lila a cup of milk. Uh oh, Lila thought. The milk looked darker than usual. Sometimes her school added coffee or tea to the drinks.
“Is there any coffee or tea in the milk today?” Lila asked.
Señora Ruiz waved her hand. “A little coffee,” she said. “You won’t even taste it.”
Lila thought for a moment. She remembered how she wanted to be like Jesus and choose the right. She knew drinking coffee was something the prophets said not to do.
“No, thanks. I won’t have milk today,” Lila said. She gave Señora Ruiz a smile. Then she sat down to eat.
That night, Lila helped Papi wash dishes in the kitchen. She was still thinking about the scripture story. She was thinking about the milk too.
“Papi?”
“Yes?” Papi said.
“Why did Heavenly Father want us to have bodies?”
Papi thought while he rinsed another plate. “Well, He gave us bodies so we could become like Him,” he said. “Your body is a home for your spirit. That’s what we mean when we say our bodies are temples.”
Lila nodded. She sang a song about that in Primary sometimes! “So that’s why Heavenly Father wants us to take care of our bodies?”
“Exactly,” Papi said.
“Today at school, they put some coffee in the milk,” Lila said. “I didn’t drink it, though. I’m trying to take care of my temple.”
“I’m proud of you,” Papi said. He dried his hands on a towel and gave Lila a hug.
Lila hugged Papi tight. She was happy to take care of the body Heavenly Father had given her.

We were coming down a hill, feeling tired and frustrated. It was our 16th day in Sogod, Philippines. We had opened this area to missionary work and had spoken to a host of people as we climbed up and down the hills of the city. But we had yet to find anyone who cared enough to listen to our message. Rejection filled our days with sorrow.
Sogod—a small paradise, really—faced a beautiful, tranquil bay, and Elder Archer, my American companion, and I were knocking on doors that day. “Let’s stop and plan for a few minutes,” Elder Archer suggested, wiping his forehead. His neck and arms were sunburned, and my shoulders were aching from the weight of 30 copies of the Book of Mormon inside my backpack. We sat under a tree and looked at our weekly planner.
“Our next appointment is at 6:30 tonight. It’s only 3:30. What do you want to do?” Elder Archer asked.
“Let’s continue tracting. See that street going to the river? I think it’s a good area. And besides, it’s got plenty of shade with all the coconut trees,” I said.
As we made our way down the hill, I prayed in my heart that we would not be rejected again. As we reached an unfamiliar junction, we met an old couple carrying bamboo poles, bundles of wood, shingles, and tools.
They seemed a little embarrassed when we offered to help carry their load. After we insisted, they finally gave in—and off we went, not sure how far we had to go. We must have been quite a sight because as we entered the neighborhood, many people gathered on the street to see two strangers in white shirts and ties carrying this old couple’s bundles.
We were surprised to find out that the materials we were carrying were to be used to build a temporary home to replace one toppled by a typhoon. As we talked with them, a curious crowd gathered around us trying to find out who we were. There were smiles of gratitude on the faces of the old couple as we left, and we were happy about what had happened.
Carrying some bundles for an elderly couple was such a simple task, but it opened the doors to missionary work in the area. People didn’t forget what we had done, and they became more interested in hearing the gospel. Elder Archer and I witnessed how this simple act of service blessed Sogod. I labored there for almost four months and witnessed wonderful growth of the Church.
I now understand the promise the Lord makes to those who give true service to others—there is lasting joy in giving, in helping, and in bringing souls to the truth. We learned this for ourselves that day in Sogod.

When Lisa was nine years old, she felt unhappy and out of sorts much of the time. Everyone in the family wondered why she was so grumpy. One night as she walked into her bedroom, she saw her Book of Mormon by the door.
Of course I’m not happy, she thought, I haven’t been reading the scriptures. That night she read a few verses. She decided that she would read every night. As the days passed, she felt happier and more peaceful.
This habit of reading the scriptures every day, even just a few verses, has blessed her ever since.

In June of 1986 I drove my mother to the Cardston Alberta Temple so she could receive her endowment. I had already received my endowment, but my nonmember husband and I lived in a remote part of British Columbia, and I had allowed my recommend to expire. Therefore, I was able to walk with my mother to the recommend desk but could follow her no further. I went outside, leaned against the temple wall, and cried.
After that experience, I determined never to be left outside of the temple again. My husband supported me in my decision, and I was soon attending the temple as frequently as I could. There I learned principles that made a profound difference in my personal life and in relationships with family and friends.

(President of the Church since 2008)
When President Thomas S. Monson was 10 years old, his parents gave him an electric train set for Christmas. Tommy was happy until his mother showed him a less-expensive train she had bought for a neighbor boy. Tommy noticed a car that his train didn’t have. He was jealous, and he convinced his mother to let him keep the train car. When they went to surprise the neighbor boy with the gift, Tommy realized how selfish he had been. He ran back home and got the car, plus another car from his own set, to give to the boy. He felt joy when he focused on giving instead of getting.

To get ready for the Primary program, I learned the songs and memorized my part. But when it was my turn to speak into the microphone, I was scared by all of the people watching me. My Primary teachers tried to help me, but I was still too scared to say anything. Then my dad came up and held my hand. I didn’t feel scared anymore, and I said my part just right. That must be like how Heavenly Father helps all of us.

One of the great leaders of our time, President Harold B. Lee, in a devotional address at BYU, spoke of a Latter-day Saint young man who, during World War II, was in England. He had gone to an officers’ club where they were holding a riotous kind of celebration. He noticed, off to the side, a young British officer who didn’t seem to appreciate the party at all. So he walked over to him and said, “You don’t seem to be enjoying this kind of party.” And this young British officer straightened himself a few inches taller than he was before and replied, “No, sir; I can’t engage in this kind of party because, you see, I belong to the royal household of England.” As our Latter-day Saint young man walked away, he said to himself, “Neither can I, because I belong to the royal household of the kingdom of God” (“Be Loyal to the Royal within You,” in Speeches of the Year, 1973 [Provo: Brigham Young University Press, 1973], p. 100).