Gospel Story Finder

As a young child I often wondered, “Where did I come from?” Deep within my heart I knew I had lived somewhere before I became who I am now, but I had no idea where.
For many years I was afraid to tell anyone—even my parents—for fear they would think I was crazy. But one day while I was in my early teens, I was brave enough to ask the pastor of our church, “Where did we live before we came to earth?” He told me I should not think about such things. He said no one lives anywhere before they are born; we simply do not exist in any way before.
I was afraid he was right and that I was crazy, but I still could not put these thoughts out of my mind. I kept searching, but no one had any answers.
When I was 18 years old, our family moved. I thought the preachers in our new town might know more than our last preacher, so I decided to ask one of them my question. His response was the same: he told me it was not normal to think of such things and suggested that I see a psychiatrist.
Soon after that I stopped going to church. I got a job, met a young man, and got married. Five years later the marriage ended in divorce. So I packed up all of my belongings, two children in tow and one on the way, and returned home.
Sometime during those five years, my mom had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She had mentioned the Church when I visited her and had asked me to talk to the missionaries. I finally consented, but before our meeting, I made up my mind that I would agree to take the missionary discussions only if the elders could tell me where I had lived before I came to be who I am now.
To my surprise, they not only answered my question but also gave me the answer straight from the Bible (see Job 38:4–7; Jeremiah 1:5; Jude 1:6). After that, they had my undivided attention! Their answer helped me understand why all my life I had felt that I had lived before. Now I understood that I had lived in a premortal existence with my Heavenly Father.
It wasn’t long before I became a member of the Church. For the first time in my life, I felt like somebody and that I had a destination to pursue—to return home to my Heavenly Father.
I am grateful that the missionaries were able to answer the question that no one else could.

In President Dallin H. Oaks’s recent historic address at BYU, the Marriott Center initially looked completely full. But if you looked closely, there were still hundreds of unfilled seats, and the ushers struggled to find space for those who still wanted to join the devotional. Then something remarkable happened. Students who had already found their seats began to turn their phone flashlights on to signal to the late-arriving students that there was still space. It was as if they were holding up a light to say, “Please come sit with me; we saved a seat just for you.”

I still remember one:
“An older boy and his young companion were walking along a road which led through a field. They saw an old coat and a badly worn pair of men’s shoes by the roadside, and in the distance they saw the owner working in the field.
“The younger boy suggested that they hide the shoes, conceal themselves, and watch the perplexity on the owner’s face when he returned.
“The older boy … thought that would not be so good. He said the owner must be a very poor man. So, after talking the matter over, at his suggestion, they concluded to try another experiment. Instead of hiding the shoes, they would put a silver dollar in each one and … see what the owner did when he discovered the money. So they did that.
“Pretty soon the man returned from the field, put on his coat, slipped one foot into a shoe, felt something hard, took it out and found a silver dollar. Wonder and surprise [shone] upon his face. He looked at the dollar again and again, turned around and could see nobody, then proceeded to put on the other shoe; when to his great surprise he found another dollar. His feelings overcame him. … He knelt down and offered aloud a prayer of thanksgiving, in which he spoke of his wife being sick and helpless and his children without bread. … He fervently thanked the Lord for this bounty from unknown hands and evoked the blessing of heaven upon those who gave him this needed help.
“The boys remained [hidden] until he had gone.” They had been touched by his prayer and felt something warm within their hearts. As they left to walk down the road, one said to the other, “Don’t you have a good feeling?” (Adapted from Bryant S. Hinckley, Not by Bread Alone, 95).

When I was in the fourth grade, I had a variety show to sing in. Some of the girls were singing a bad song. I didn’t like it. When I got home, I told my mom about it. She talked to my dad, and my dad told my principal. The girls had to sing a better song. The program turned out good because I wasn’t afraid to speak out about a bad song. I know that Jesus Christ was happy.
Hydee Rushton, age 10Sun River Valley Ward

Before homes could be built, the Saints had to cut down the thickets and dig ditches to drain the swamps. Unfortunately, they were unaware of the dangerous disease the pesky mosquitoes were carrying. Many workers became ill with malaria. Before long, hundreds of people in Nauvoo and across the Mississippi River in Montrose, Iowa, were very ill. Many were dying.
For a time Joseph and Emma Smith nursed and cared for the sick, but then Joseph also became ill. For several days he lay overcome with the sickness. But on 22 July 1839, the Spirit of the Lord prompted Joseph to arise and help others. He obediently arose and began to administer to the sick staying in his house and to the people in the tent city surrounding his home. Then he went down to the river, where many more lay too sick to move.
Elder Heber C. Kimball and others then accompanied the Prophet across the river to Montrose, where they visited the homes of the sick and, using the power of the priesthood, healed them. When Joseph arrived at the home of Elijah Fordham, the man was unconscious and near death. Joseph took Brother Fordham’s hand and said, “Brother Fordham, do you not know me?” There was no response at first. Then Joseph repeated his question, and Elijah whispered, “Yes!”
Joseph said, “Have you not faith to be healed?”
Elijah answered, “I am afraid it is too late.”
Joseph asked next, “Do you believe that Jesus is the Christ?”
“I do, Brother Joseph,” Elijah said. Then the Prophet Joseph said in a loud voice, “Elijah, I command you, in the name of Jesus of Nazareth, to arise and be made whole!”
Elijah Fordham arose from his bed and was healed!
Wilford Woodruff said of the miraculous healing: “The words of the Prophet were not like the words of man, but like the voice of God. It seemed to me that the house shook from its foundation.”

I cannot begin to tell you how much the New Era has meant in my life. I received a copy of the New Era at the Young Women fireside in November of 1985, and it has strengthened my life. At first it just sat on my desk collecting dust. Then one day I came home from junior high feeling depressed, so I thought I would take a little peek. It just so happened that I spent the rest of the afternoon reading it—all!
Today I had a quarrel with my friend. When I got home from school I just fell on my bed and started to read the New Era. Then I prayed. Then I apologized to my friend, and the rest of the day has been wonderful!
I love the New Era so much, and I always know it is there when I need it, because we’re now subscribing to it.
Wendy FindgrenSandy, Utah

In January this year, my wife, Anita, and I, visited Abaiang Island with the vice president of Kiribati and his wife. Church members prepared well to receive them. The vice president spoke very highly of the Church.

Whilst there I met four widowed service missionaries: Sister Turia Manraoi Kaiea, (75) widowed for 12 years; Sister Tiena Kiakia, (64) widowed for 10 years; Sister Bakate Tekarika, (63) widowed for nine years and Sister Tengabi Ioaa, (70) widowed 10 years ago.

These four senior citizens receive monthly government grants of AUD 200. They went to their stake president after deciding that they can utilise the money well if they serve missions. They were set apart and off they went to Abaiang, an outer island in North Tarawa. They help in ministering and teach the temple preparation courses at Abaiang units. President Mwemwenikeaki said, “These are faithful sisters who are leading by example in serving missions.”

In the early ’90s, before Melbourne had a temple, our stake hired a bus once a month to take us to the Sydney Australia Temple.
In preparation, I would ensure my visiting teaching was done. One Tuesday evening before a Friday bus trip, my companion and I visited one sister. As we sat chatting, her husband came into the lounge, and I felt to ask him for a priesthood blessing.
In that blessing, he said that two of the sisters whose work I would do in the Sydney Australia Temple would come and thank me in the celestial kingdom, which of course, was very nice to hear.
The next day, I received a phone call and was told that the bus wasn’t going to the temple on Friday.
I thought, “Oh dear, what am I to do?” I rang my friend, Bev, who always went on the bus, and she confirmed that the bus trip was cancelled.
I suggested that we hire a little bus for a few of us to go, but she didn’t want to do that.
“What about these two sisters?” I thought, recalling the words in the priesthood blessing I’d received. “I have to get to Sydney somehow!”
I worked on Fridays for a lady who owned a home in Ivanhoe for people with special needs. I did a lot of cooking and was responsible for all the meals there, which needed to be served exactly on time. The day before we were meant to bus to the temple, 24 ladies were to have dinner at 5:00 pm. I needed to have them fed and everything cleared away by 5:25pm so that I could get to the travel agency and book my airline ticket to Sydney.
Throughout the day, whenever I had a chance, I kept ringing the travel agent hoping to secure a ticket but to no avail. Anne, the travel agent, said to me at one point, “Give up, Bev.”
Well! That was like waving the red flag at the proverbial bull!
I managed to clear the evening meal and ring the bell and by 5:25 pm, with my bag in hand, I was waiting at the front door ready to leave—then off I went in my car to the travel agency.
Fortunately, another client was booking an overseas trip, so the office was still open when I arrived at 5:35 pm. The agent who assisted me looked at the screen and said, “I don’t think you’re going to find a flight.”
I stood there, smiled, and waited, and then she said, “Hang on. There is still one left.”
I said, “Thank you,” paid for my ticket and raced out to my car to get to the airport as soon as I could.
I knew I was a little late getting to check-in. I apologized to the attendant and asked, “Am I okay?” She had a look, found that the plane was running 20 minutes late, then handed me my ticket and said, “Go to Gate 11.”
From the Sydney Airport, I needed to catch a train to my girlfriend’s house in Epping, which is not far from the temple. When I landed, I thought I might get a taxi to her place instead, but it was 11:00 pm by then and no taxis were available. I had to walk in the dark for nearly two kilometres.
When I finally arrived at her home, I saw there were no lights on I had to carefully make my way down the dark driveway, lugging my suitcase, one step at a time, to knock on the door.
My friend had thought I wasn’t coming because I’d forgotten to tell her about the mayhem I had been through, but all is well that ends well.
I was able to do the work for those two sisters, and I often think of the time when I will greet them in the celestial kingdom of God.

I had given our third-row seats in the chapel to the missionaries and their investigators and resettled my little family in the last row of folding chairs in the cultural hall. Unknown to me, my nine-year-old daughter, Tracy, was planning to bear her testimony that fast Sunday for the first time in her life.
Three times during the meeting, Tracy stood up and began to walk toward the pulpit. Each time, another member of the congregation also arose and Tracy rushed back to her seat. The hour was growing late. I told her, “Honey, you have to keep going. You can’t give up.”
At the conclusion of the next testimony, she drew a deep breath and began the long walk. The only other person who stood up was the first counselor, who addressed the congregation with gratitude for the testimonies borne. Tracy kept walking.
The organist began the introduction to the closing hymn. Tracy kept walking.
As the congregation sang, Tracy kept walking.
Tears streamed down my face as she took a seat beside the second counselor. He put his arm around her and whispered in her ear. Then, before the benediction, the first counselor announced that one more testimony would be borne that day.
Her head held high, Tracy bore the sweetest testimony—that of a child whose Primary classmates had all been baptized but her. She alone had not entered the waters of baptism, because her father had not yet given his permission.
Tracy remained steadfast. Praying that she would be granted the desire of her heart, she “kept walking.” She never gave up.
That same counselor who put his arm around her at the testimony meeting later conducted her baptismal service. Never had I seen a child as aglow—with the possible exception of her younger sister, who was baptized that same day.
This wasn’t the end of the story, though. In June 1999, Tracy’s father was baptized and confirmed a member of the Church. One year later, Tracy’s smile glowed brighter than ever when her family was sealed for all eternity in the Oakland California Temple.

“Tillman dribbles downcourt. He’s double-teamed by O’Neal and Hardaway. Wow! Somehow he got free. Slam dunk! The crowd is going wild. Tillman comes up with a steal. He stops behind the three-point line. It’s good! Robert Tillman has single-handedly brought his team …”
“What do you think, Robert?”
“Uh, obey the commandments.”
“Good. That is one thing you can do. Now, Sylvia, what else can you … ”
Hah. Sunday School is the same every week. Every answer is “obey the commandments,” or “read the scriptures,” or “pray.” All I have to do is use one of those answers. No listening required. I’d rather be watching basketball anyway. Someday I’ll be playing professional basketball. Boy, I’ve got to practice more. But Mom wouldn’t let me play on Sunday anyway. I don’t know why she won’t let me. I go to church, so why can’t I have the rest of the day off …
“Robert, do you have any ideas?”
“Obey the commandments.”
“That’s what Jerry said.”
“Oh, I meant read the scriptures.”
“Very good.”
Man, this is so easy. The answers are so simple. I don’t need this. What I need is a math tutor so I don’t fail math. If I fail math, I won’t be eligible to play basketball. I have to play. If I don’t, it’ll rule out my chances of getting a scholarship. Without that, I can say good-bye to the pros. I thought the Holy Ghost was supposed to help me. And I need help with my homework. What have I done wrong? What am I supposed to do to get help from Heavenly Father? I don’t do anything wrong. I don’t drink or smoke. I don’t even have a girlfriend. I don’t swear. I wish someone would just tell me what I am supposed …
“Brother Tillman. Please wake up and tell us what we can do to stay close to our Heavenly Father.”
“Oh, sorry. How about pray?”
“Very good, Robert.”
Pray. That’s the answer to almost all the questions in this class. I wish math was as easy as this class. Sunday School is so easy, and I know all the answers. Pray. Obey the commandments. Read the scriptures. It’s easy. If I do all of those things, my problems will disappear. That means if I do all those things, I will get help with my math. Well, it hasn’t worked so far. I read the scriptures. Just today in priesthood, I read a scripture. President Hunter said to read the scriptures every day. Well, I don’t read every day, but … I guess I don’t read much at all. I have homework, basketball, my friends.
I do everything else. I pray. At least I used to say my prayers every night. Sometimes when I stay up doing homework, I’m too tired to kneel down. In the morning, I don’t have time. I’d be late for school if I took time to say my prayers all the time. I’m sure Heavenly Father wouldn’t want to hear prayers from me when I’m tired. Well, maybe he would.
I do keep all the commandments. I don’t kill, I don’t steal, and I don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. I keep the Sabbath day holy. Most of the time. Well, I suppose I do have some work to do there …
“What would you say, Sylvia?”
“Listen to the Holy Ghost.”
“That’s right.”
That makes sense. The answers to the questions are easy to say in class. They’re just words there. It’s life where it gets more difficult. There, you can’t just say the words. You have to put in the effort too. I guess I’ve never really thought about it that way before. I definitely need Heavenly Father’s help. I better get to work.

The Kuang Kuang Hao, a special express train, sped through the countryside in Taiwan, passing scenes of quiet rivers, hills dotted with Chinese burial mounds, scattered villages, and endless waves of rice fields. As I stepped off the train in Miao Li, the cold winter wind hit me in the face.
Despite the cold, missionary routine in my new area soon became settled. I enjoyed being a senior companion and had a good junior companion. I was comfortable giving the missionary lessons and interacting with the people.
In our branch I met a member named Hu Chin Hsi, who looked like a scarecrow with wild, straggly hair. His eyes were bright but sunken, and his body was thin and straight. He talked with enthusiasm but stopped often to wheeze and cough because he had a chronic lung and respiratory disease. Despite his struggles, Brother Hu was a faithful member and the branch clerk.
One cold winter night we rode our bikes to visit Brother Hu. He lived on a hillside, where the winter wind blew. His home made of loosely nailed planks with a dirt floor was just large enough for one man to lie down and store a few things in. Brother Hu explained he was poor because the money he made as a tax assessor was spent on medicine to keep him alive, and any leftover money was spent on food.
As the rainy season became more severe, we knew Brother Hu needed more help to survive until spring. We collected two extra comforters, some clothing, and some money for food. Brother Hu was grateful for the gifts, and with tears in his eyes, he thanked us over and over.
Everything seemed fine until we noticed he had nothing to keep his hands warm. I thought we could buy him a pair of cloth gloves, but I knew these gloves didn’t last long and often came apart. Brother Hu needed something dependable, long-lasting, and warm.
I had a pair of leather, fur-lined gloves that were given to me by a companion who had completed his mission the previous summer. He told me the gloves were rare and that it would be impossible to find or buy such gloves in Taiwan. The moist, cold tropical air of Miao Li proved how valuable a gift those gloves were, and I guarded them everywhere I went. But now someone else needed them.
When Brother Hu needed blankets, clothes, and money for food, we shared. Now he needed gloves, and I was more than willing to buy him some cloth gloves but not give him mine. I rationalized that I had two more winters as a missionary on this island and needed warm gloves. I even bought a pair of cloth gloves to give Brother Hu, but I was uneasy and unhappy.
I contemplated my behavior and realized I was being selfish. If it didn’t cause me any hardship or sacrifice, I was willing to give. But a rare possession like my gloves was a harder test.
Though it seemed like such a sacrifice at the time, I gave Brother Hu my leather, fur-lined gloves. I took the cloth gloves, which caught on my bike and totally unraveled two days later. What lasted, though, is my memory of Hu Chin Hsi with his cough and wheeze and what I learned from giving to him.

Kate looked at the kitchen table covered with dirty dishes, trying to decide where to start. “It’s hard to believe our school vacation is almost over,” she sighed as she started to stack the plates.
“I know what you mean,” Becky said. “It’s our last week of vacation, and we still haven’t gone to the new water park. Do you think Mom will take us there if we ask?”
“Maybe,” Kate said as she carried the plates to the sink. “But I know Mom’s really busy this week. And we’ve done a lot of fun things during our vacation. We just didn’t go to the water park.”
Becky followed Kate back to the table. She watched her sister gather up the glasses and utensils. “Yes—if you call driving all day to get to a family reunion fun,” she muttered.
“It was fun,” said Kate. “You’re just being ornery.” She picked up four glasses and headed back to the sink. Becky followed.
“It was all right,” Becky agreed, “but I bet we’re the only kids in our whole school who haven’t gone to the water park.”
Losing patience, Kate turned to Becky. “Will you please stop complaining and help me with the dishes?”
Rolling her eyes, Becky started to fill the sink as their mom came in.
“Thank you for doing the dishes,” Mom said. “I appreciate all the work the two of you do.”
“No problem, Mom.” Kate smiled.
“Yeah,” Becky agreed. “We were just saying it’s too bad we never made it to the new water park.”
“That is a shame,” Mom said. She thought for a moment, then said, “I’ll make you a deal. I have some errands to run tomorrow morning. If you two will clean your rooms while I’m gone, I’ll stop and buy tickets to the water park, and we can go when I get home.”
“That would be great!” Becky exclaimed.
“It’s a deal,” Kate said.
The next morning Kate jumped out of bed. Mom had already left. “Good morning,” Kate greeted her grandmother.
“Good morning. Are you ready for breakfast?” Grandma asked.
Kate nodded. “Becky and I are going to clean our rooms. Then Mom is going to take us to the new water park.”
“That’s what your mother told me,” said Grandma. “Would you go wake Becky?”
“What’s the big hurry?” Becky grumped when Kate tried to talk her into getting up.
“We need to eat breakfast and start cleaning.”
“No, we don’t. You heard what Mom said. She’s picking up the tickets while she’s out. After she has already bought the tickets, she won’t tell us we can’t go. So we really don’t need to clean our rooms.”
Kate frowned. “But we made a deal.”
“If you’re so worried, you go clean your room. Tell Grandma I’ll have breakfast later. Right now I need to sleep.”
Kate trudged back to the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” Grandma asked.
“Becky says she’s not going to clean. She thinks Mom will let us go even if we don’t clean our rooms,” Kate explained.
“What do you think?” Grandma asked.
“We said we would clean our rooms,” said Kate, “so that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Well,” said Grandma, “you’ve made your decision, and you’ll have to let Becky make hers. Sometimes we want to make other people’s decisions for them, but we can’t.”
After breakfast Kate marched to her room. She decided to start by moving everything off the floor. At first she was angry at Becky for not cleaning, but soon her thoughts turned to the job she was doing.
When Mom arrived home, Kate was organizing books on a shelf.
“Where’s your sister?” Mom asked.
“Watching television,” Kate answered.
“Isn’t she cleaning?”
Kate shook her head.
Just then Becky appeared in the doorway. “Hi, Mom,” she said cheerfully. “Did you get the tickets?”
“Yes I did,” said Mom. “Did you clean?”
“I was just coming to start.”
Mom shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
Becky looked at Kate and smiled an I-told-you-so smile. Her smile disappeared when Mom added, “You can clean while Kate and I are at the water park.”
Becky’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t keep your end of the bargain, so you may not come with us.”
Becky couldn’t believe her ears. “But didn’t you already buy me a ticket?”
“I bought tickets for the girls who kept their promises. Did you keep your promise?”
Becky hung her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I thought you would let me go anyway.”
“You made a choice. You’ll have to live with the consequences.”
Tears streamed down Becky’s face. “That’s not fair.”
Mom put her arms around Becky. “I know it isn’t what you want,” Mom said, “but it is fair.”
Becky watched as Mom and Kate left. “I really wanted to go,” she said.
Grandma nodded. “You made a bad choice. What you need to do is learn from your mistake. If your mom had taken you to the water park, you would have thought it’s all right to make promises you don’t intend to keep. And it isn’t. Does that make sense?”
“I guess so.”
“Now, I have a deal for you, if you are interested.”
Becky looked up. “What is it?”
“If you’ll go clean your room, when you’re done, we’ll bake some cookies for the family.”
“It’s a deal,” Becky said, heading toward her room. “And this time I mean it.”

“Recently, I spoke with a Laurel from the United States. I quote from her email:
“‘This past year some of my friends on Facebook began posting their position on marriage. Many favored same-sex marriage, and several LDS youth indicated they “liked” the postings. I made no comment.
“‘I decided to declare my belief in traditional marriage in a thoughtful way.
“‘With my profile picture, I added the caption “I believe in marriage between a man and a woman.” Almost instantly I started receiving messages. “You are selfish.” “You are judgmental.” One compared me to a slave owner. And I received this post from a great friend who is a strong member of the Church: “You need to catch up with the times. Things are changing and so should you.”
“‘I did not fight back,’ she said, ‘but I did not take my statement down.’
“She concludes: ‘Sometimes, as President Monson said, “You have to stand alone.” Hopefully as youth, we will stand together in being true to God and to the teachings of His living prophets.’”

Sweat trickled down Jake’s brow; he wiped it off with his hand. “Wow! A guy sure gets hot playing pirates!” “Yeah,” agreed Zack as he laid his homemade sword on the ground. “Hey! Let’s go get ice-cream bars down at the market! We have some money left from the aluminum cans that we turned in.”
The store’s freezer felt cool and soothing to the boys as they leaned against it to view the tasty confections through the glass. While Zack was deciding which flavor he wanted, he glanced at a display of Super Squirt Guns. His squirt gun wasn’t a very good one, and he always lost the shoot-out when he and Jake played cowboys. Maybe with a Super Squirt Gun he could beat Jake next time.
As Zack looked back at the mouth-watering ice-cream bars, he remembered how hot he was. He looked at the squirt guns again, knowing that he had only enough money for one or the other. Then he had an idea. I’ll buy the squirt gun and slip the ice-cream bar into my sock. No one will ever know. I’ll pay for it the next time I come here for Mom.
Jake opened the freezer and removed a frozen fudge bar. “What flavor do you want?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know yet. I’ll meet you at the counter,” Zack replied.
“OK,” Jake said as he walked toward the checkout counter.
As Zack watched Jake go, he didn’t see his Primary teacher, Brother Griffin, stacking shelves at the other end of the aisle.
Brother Griffin watched Zack take a fudge bar, slip it into his sock, close the freezer, grab a Super Squirt Gun from the rack, then hurry to join Jake at the counter. Sighing with disappointment, the grocer went to the counter to ring up the boys’ purchases. He was concerned for his young friend. He had never thought that Zack would be a shoplifter. How can I help Zack understand that stealing even a small item isn’t what Heavenly Father wants us to do? As he stepped up to the cash register, he noticed the boys’ swords, and they gave him an idea. “Good afternoon, boys. Why, you look like two fearsome pirates!”
“Hot ones, too,” Jake declared, digging his money out of his pocket.
As Zack placed the squirt gun on the counter, chocolate ice cream trickled into his shoe. He wished that Brother Griffin would hurry and ring up his purchase, but the grocer picked up Jake’s sword for a closer look, instead.
With admiration in his voice, he asked, “Did you boys make these fine swords yourself?”
“Yes,” Jake replied as he started to lick his ice cream.
Zack’s mouth watered as he watched Jake. Then his attention switched to his foot. It was getting stickier every minute that they stood there!
But Brother Griffin started talking to him. “You know, Zack, when I was a boy, I used to play pirates, too, and my friends and I made hats out of newspaper.” He fumbled under the counter. “Hey! I have some newspapers right here! Would you like me to show you how to make one?”
“Well, we really need to be going,” Zack said.
Jake shook his head. “No we don’t!” he countered, taking a bite of his ice cream. “That’d be neat, Brother Griffin.”
Zack wriggled his toes, and melted ice cream oozed between them. He looked at the squirt gun, still sitting on the counter, and rubbed the coins in his pocket with his fingers. Then he looked up at Brother Griffin happily folding a pirate hat out of newspaper for them. Zack didn’t feel good inside. In fact, he felt like his foot, cold and icky.
“There!” Brother Griffin announced as he completed the hat and placed it on Zack’s head.
“Can I try making my own?” asked Jake, finishing the last of his ice cream.
“Sure,” Brother Griffin responded. “Zack, too, if he wants to make another one.”
Zack shook his head, knowing what he had to do, instead. While Brother Griffin coached Jake on how to make his pirate hat, Zack put the squirt gun back on the rack. Returning to the counter, he took a deep breath and blurted, “Brother Griffin, I’d like to pay for my ice cream too.”
“But you didn’t get any ice cream,” Jake said.
“Yes I did—it’s in my sock,” Zack removed the dripping ice-cream wrapper from his soggy stocking, placed his coins on the counter for payment, and added, “I’m sorry that I was going to take the ice cream without paying for it. I was going to pay you later, but that still doesn’t make it right.”
“I’m glad that you chose to be honest, Zack,” Brother Griffin said as he rang up the sale. “You’re a fine young man.”

What took a short six months to destroy took years to rebuild. For the next full year I worked very hard to prove to the good kids that I was one of them. Every time I thought I had succeeded my past would come back to haunt me.
The summer after I was in tenth grade our girls’ church basketball team won the regional play-offs. We would be going to the area play-offs 1,000 miles away. We would be traveling with the boys’ team that won the regionals. I couldn’t believe what my coach said about me after that trip. She said that when we left home she had been sure she’d be sending me home early. After all she’d heard about me, she was just sure that I would get into some kind of trouble. She said she was surprised and pleased to discover that I was the best-behaved girl on the trip. I couldn’t believe it! I realized people were still judging me by the friends I’d had over a year ago. I’d never done any of the things people were saying I’d done in the past, but because of the people I’d associated with, the places I’d been seen, and the way I had dressed, everyone assumed I’d done the same awful things my friends had! I was guilty by association. Everywhere I went people were watching, testing me, judging me—all because of some choices I’d made in the past. It was so unfair, yet something I had to live with. You can’t fix a ruined reputation overnight.

The importance of the Book of Mormon in the latter-day work cannot be overestimated. President David O. McKay once related a story about his father, Bishop David McKay, who, in 1881, was called to serve as a missionary in Scotland, his native land. He performed a great work and presided over the Glasgow District. In that year there was great persecution in the land, and whenever he tried to teach, it seemed that the people turned away. There was bitterness against anything relating to our faith and its origins. Antagonism seemed to arise at the very mention of the name of Joseph Smith. President McKay, speaking of his father, states:
“One day he concluded that the best way to reach these people would be to preach just the simple principles, the atonement of the Lord Jesus Christ, the first principles of the gospel, and not bear testimony of the restoration. In a month or so he became oppressed with a gloomy, downcast feeling, and he could not enter in the spirit of his work. He did not really know what was the matter, but his mind became obstructed; his spirit became depressed; he was oppressed and hampered; and that feeling of oppression continued until it weighed him down with such heaviness that he went to the Lord and said, ‘Unless I can get this feeling removed, I shall have to go home. I can’t continue having my work thus hampered.’
“The discouragement continued for some time after that, when, one morning before daylight, following a sleepless night, he decided to retire to a cave, near the ocean, where he knew he would be shut off from the world entirely, and there pour out his soul to God and ask why he was oppressed with this feeling, what he had done, and what he could do to throw it off and continue his work. He started out in the dark toward the cave. He became so eager to get to it that he started to run. … Something just seemed to drive him; he had to get relief. He entered the cave or sheltered opening, and said: ‘Oh, Father, what can I do to have this feeling removed? I must have it lifted or I cannot continue in this work;’ and he heard a voice, as distinct as the tone I am now uttering, say, ‘Testify that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God.’ Remembering then what he tacitly had decided six weeks or more before, and becoming overwhelmed with the thought, the whole thing came to him in a realization that he was there for a special mission, and he had not given that special mission the attention it deserved. Then he cried in his heart, ‘Lord, it is enough,’ and went out from the cave.”
President McKay went on: “You who know him know the mission he performed” (Cherished Experiences from the Writings of President David O. McKay, compiled by Clare Middlemiss, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1976, pages 11–12).

“Fam’lies can be together forever through Heav’nly Father’s plan” (“Families Can Be Together Forever,” Hymns, no. 300). I love this Primary song, which teaches that families can be sealed for eternity. I prayed that this could be true for my family, especially after my father passed away.
Recently the Lord answered my prayer. My mother, my two brothers, and I were able to travel to the Manila Philippines Temple to be sealed together and to my father. It was our first time in the temple together, and I can still remember the happiness I saw in my mother’s and brothers’ eyes. There was a great feeling of joy there.
I know the temple is the house of the Lord and that those in the temple have the proper authority to perform sacred ordinances. I’m so grateful that through these ordinances, my family can be with my father again. Since going to the temple, we try to be a stronger family and do all we can to keep our covenants so that we can be together forever.
Crisanto Coloma, Philippines

Timothy Wood had a fun time serving at the dance. He made sure that everyone was having a great time, and even led a large group in a “train,” where everyone lined up behind each other and snaked through the gym. Timothy says that serving is acting as Christ would and that doing so has built his testimony. “I act better when I’m here,” he says. “I’m calmer, more patient, and I think of others’ needs before mine. It helps me to be more like Christ would have me be.”
Timothy says that on some nights at special-needs Mutual, when he’s waiting for his friend, Stephen, to arrive, he’ll remember something he needs to get for the activity. But Timothy will wait for Stephen to arrive because he wants him to feel welcome when he gets there. “Being a volunteer helps me to care more for others,” Timothy says.

The Young men of the Sunderland Ward, Sunderland England Stake, held a fund-raiser to provide subscriptions to the New Era for the inactive young men of the ward.

They auctioned off their Young Men president to do gardening, decorating, shopping, and car washing. Chiltern MacNaught, a priest, used his talent of ballroom dancing to hold a sponsored dance. Now every active and inactive Aaronic priesthood holder in the ward enjoys a monthly issue of the New Era.

Walnetta’s musical skills strengthened as she continued to serve. She witnessed the miraculous growth of the Church in her area, and with it came the opportunity to develop her talent. In her early teens, her branch became the Auckland 5th Ward, and its new chapel featured an electric pipe organ. Walnetta had never played an organ before. “The installer handed me a pamphlet and gave me a very quick rundown – it took about fifteen minutes,” she says. It would be the only organ-playing instructions she would ever receive—but she was not fazed. “I knew the Lord would help me. I then made it my business to learn all I could and to practice, practice, practice!”
For 70 years now, Walnetta’s dedication to music has blessed so many. When President Steve Midgely, a former stake president for the Whangarei Stake, had difficulty finding an organist for a stake conference, Walnetta was happy to meet his request. And, whenever Area President David Baxter presided at Takapuna Ward sacrament meetings, he would always stop by the organ after the service to thank Walnetta for the music.
“I’m sure I speak for all music personnel when I say we feel appreciated when the brethren and members are grateful for the music we provide,” she says. “I have played for ward, stake and Pacific Area meetings [and] accompanied Church choirs, particularly in local music competitions.” She feels honoured to have been able to work with so many talented singers and instrumentalists in the Church as they performed musical numbers.
Over the years, Walnetta has served in many other callings and enjoyed those experiences too. Today, she feels just as privileged to provide prelude music in her current Taupo Ward, to invite the Holy Spirit and set a reverent tone for their sacrament meetings. Reflecting on her love for her calling, she is so grateful for the gift that Elder Ashman gave her all those years ago when he asked for a volunteer pianist. “His invitation to play for our meetings and [his] confidence in me has blessed my life,” she says.
Music quickly became her expression of love for Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and each of the hymns she has learned holds so much meaning for her. The first hymn she ever played was, “Lord, Dismiss Us with Thy Blessing.”
“It is a prayer that God’s Spirit will always be with us,” Walnetta says, “and over the years, that truth has been manifest in my life.”
Could she ever choose a favourite hymn? After some thought, Walnetta’s conclusion is, no. “What is more important to me is that no matter which hymn I play, I am always grateful to feel the Spirit as I have played that hymn.” She continues: “Spencer W. Kimball (1895–1985) once said, ‘We are in a position, as musicians, to touch the souls of those who listen.’1
“I feel that responsibility.”