Gospel Story Finder

On another occasion I became aware that one of our outstanding seniors had failed to take one of the basic requirements in English. I contacted his department head and indicated that he would have to make up this deficiency. The next day the student contacted me and asked me to use my influence to have that requirement waived, using as justification the fact that his overall scholastic performance had been outstanding. After talking with him I was convinced that he was aware that he lacked three quarter hours of English credit but was trying to avoid the subject because he was weak in English. I said it was my responsibility to see that the requirements of the institution were met, and I could not waive the course requirement. He begged me to reconsider, but I was firm. I made arrangements for him to use a study room rather close to my office where he could study as long as he wanted without being disturbed. When he became convinced that he would have to take the class, he really buckled down, disciplined himself, and came through with flying colors.
After graduating from Utah State University he went to Iowa State University on a fellowship, and there he earned his Ph.D. degree. Some years later he returned to Utah State University on a visit. He contacted me and thanked me for being firm and insisting that he take that English class. He said it had been one of the most meaningful experiences in his life and had paid rich dividends later, both while he was a graduate student and during his subsequent employment. This experience truly illustrates how a difficult challenge can turn out to be a great blessing.

After crying for a few minutes, Thomas began to get frightened. He’d never been at home by himself before. He tried to think about another time when he’d felt frightened and about what he’d done then. A few nights earlier he had had a scary dream. When his mother came into his bedroom to comfort him, she had helped him offer a prayer to Heavenly Father. “You can ask Heavenly Father to give you a feeling of peace any time you are frightened,” she had told him.
He knelt down now by the couch and wiped the tears from his eyes. He folded his arms, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. “Dear Heavenly Father,” he began, “I’m sorry I didn’t put on my shoes and socks when I was told to. Please help Dad come back to get me, and help me to not be afraid. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
He still felt a little nervous as he sat on the couch and looked around the living room. Then he saw the photograph on the piano. He quickly climbed onto the piano bench and picked up the photograph. He sat on the couch and studied it carefully. Then he hugged it close to him. Peace filled his heart.
A few minutes later he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. He knelt on the couch and looked out the big window. It was Dad! His father ran up the steps, unlocked the door, and called out, “Thomas? Where are you, Buddy!”
“I’m right here, Dad.”
“I’m so sorry we left you!” Dad gave him a big hug. “Were you scared?”
“At first,” Thomas admitted. “Then I said a prayer. And then I saw this.” He showed Dad the picture of the family dressed in white, standing in front of the Logan Temple. “I remembered that our family is forever, so I knew you’d be back for me.”
“You weren’t the only one praying, Son,” Dad said with tears in his eyes. “I had a prayer in my heart that Heavenly Father would comfort you until I could get home. And now I see how He did.”
“You put the picture back, and I’ll put on my shoes,” Thomas suggested. “Then we can go to church together.”
“Together forever,” Dad said with a wink.

On 24 November 2016, as Sister Kasimbe returned home after an honourable missionary service, her mission president gave her $50 for eventualities during her trip home. She travelled safely and there were no eventualities. Upon her return home, she handed the $50 to her stake president, who in turn gave it back to the mission president. She later learnt from her stake president that her mission president said that she was one of the very few missionaries who returned such funds. Sister Kasimbe knew that she was returning home, where such money would go a long way, since her mother was striving to afford the necessities of life. Sister Kasimbe knew too that this was not her money. She was determined to be totally honest with great integrity even if that meant sleeping on an empty stomach. She tells her own experience: “When I arrived at home, life was difficult. My mother sacrificed her earnings for my welcoming home party. After two days at home, we were struggling to have meals on the table, so I prayed for a miracle. Soon after my prayer, I felt to look in my tithing envelope in which I found $10, which was a great miracle for my family”.

We have a good many people who have been in the ministry join this church. I had a call last week from a minister who lives in Los Angeles, who served, as he told me, for 20 years as a Baptist minister. Then he met the Mormon elders and they taught him the gospel as it has been restored through the Prophet Joseph Smith, and he gave up his ministry and became a member of the Church. He is now working in the temple there, and he called me to thank me for writing the missionary book that helped him to understand what the Lord has done in restoring his truth to the earth in this dispensation.

With a physical handicap and learning disability, Billie, at 15, was all but forgotten by our quorum. It was not necessary to baptize him. He had his own school to attend. With his physical handicap, Scouting had not seemed realistic. Then a new teachers quorum adviser was called. “If Billie is going to be on the rolls, then he should at least be included in the activities.” Brother Wilson made the first contact, and the response was overwhelming. Sure Billie wanted to come. “No one had even thought to ask,” his mother said apologetically.
Over the next few months of spring and summer Billie was at every Mutual activity, and we started to get acquainted with him. He felt like he belonged. Some of the boys didn’t understand Billie and were critical of him for being clumsy and awkward, but Billie felt wanted and knew our adviser loved him.
When Billie turned 16, he was forgotten again, but only until some of the rest of us turned 16. We remembered Billie and started bringing him out; with us around again Billie felt even more accepted.
Volleyball season came. We knew we were the best team in the stake. For two years we had been knocking on the door, and this was our year. We had the veteran “senior” boys. We had the height; we had the talent. And we even had a mascot—Billie. We even let Billie play. Just hitting the ball was a major achievement, but everyone clapped and encouraged him, so Billie really felt that he was making a contribution.
Being at each game was more important than ever to him. During the regular season, Billie might have cost the team a few points, or even one game in a series, but everyone recognized the sparkle in his eye when he played and we all felt good because of our sacrifice.
Finally the stake championship came. It was the same rivalry that had been there for the last two years. This time we would win. We had beaten them during the regular season, and we would beat them in the championship. Perhaps as an extra precaution someone “forgot” to tell Billie about the game.
Saturday afternoon at game time some of our players were overconfident and had run down to the store for some pop. The first game started without them, but the second string was good enough. Then in came the bishop with Billie. Both teams were well coached. The game was close, but we lost. We couldn’t afford to hold back. We had to have the next game if we were to win two out of three.
Billie had been at the coach’s side the whole first game. “Now? Should I go in now? Do you want me to play now?” His persistence was distracting. The coach spoke firmly but kindly, “Go sit down; I’ll tell you when, Billie.”
At the end of the first game, Billie couldn’t wait any longer. Scores didn’t mean anything. The only thing that was important was playing. The coach looked at Billie; for a long minute he agonized. He had always played all the boys. Would he change the rules now? Was the principle more important than the game?
This was a unique group of boys. Just weeks before, the coach had told us that sometime in his life every coach should get a chance to work with a group like ours. He felt that we could understand principles. There wasn’t any choice; he had to let Billie play.
The other team served—right to Billie. Another serve—to Billie; and another. Again and again the serve was to Billie. The other coach called time-out; he was talking to his server. Another serve—right to Billie. The score was 11 to 0; no service had been returned. Finally a service went into the net, but it was too late. The final score was 15 to 6. It was our year to win, and we lost.
The other team walked off the court with heads lowered. We were fighting back tears. We didn’t understand. We went outside, and the coach tried to talk. “I thought I knew what was right.” Even he was fighting for composure. “I believe it’s important for everyone to play. I’ve always let everyone play. I hope I’m doing what’s right.” The bishop was there with Billie. He looked as if he wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. Finally Billie broke in and said, “Well, we won another one!”
Something happened after that. The bishop gave a lesson in priesthood meeting on winning. He said something about an inactive father going to the temple because his handicapped son was loved by our quorum. He said that was winning. Somebody said if Billie could play volleyball he could come to priesthood meeting. All of a sudden Billie was really part of us. We’d invested a volleyball championship in him, and he was important to us.
Basketball season came. Everybody knew Billie by now. Everybody knew he would be playing. The referees knew what to do when he tried to dribble. The teams made certain allowances. He was really part of things.
Stake championship again. We worked our way through the teams in the stake, and the final game was between us and—you guessed it—them.
Well, it was close the first half, but then we fell apart. The coach could see what was happening, and by the third quarter it was pretty obvious that nothing was going to work for us that night. While we were looking for some way to get even with the same guys that beat us in volleyball, something unique was happening on the basketball court.
Billie was playing. He really couldn’t shoot. One arm and hand was withered, and he couldn’t give much direction to the ball. But every time he got the ball, their coach yelled for someone to foul Billie. That was the end; I was fighting mad. Even the people in the crowd couldn’t believe their ears. Why was our bishop smiling? Then one of their players gingerly went out and tapped Billie. One referee was so mystified by what was happening that he just stood there. In fact everybody just stood there for several silent seconds. Then the other referee blew his whistle, and when he did everyone understood. Billie got to shoot a foul shot. In fact, he got to shoot two foul shots (intentional foul), and when he missed those, one of the boys on the other team was standing with his foot over the line and Billie got to shoot again, in fact several more.
The crowd was clapping and cheering for Billie; we were cheering for him, but so was the other team. Was this really losing? Everyone was pulling together. No one seemed to care what the score was; everyone was helping Billie. Both teams were helping and cheering and pulling for Billie.
Billie shot a lot of free throws that night. We all cheered; we laughed a little; and Billie went home the star of the evening. Who won? They did, we did, and the stake did.
We found out that when we forget ourselves and our selfish goals, scores aren’t as important as the individual; and we found out that we all care about the same thing. Those guys on that other team aren’t so bad. The referees are really human. And losing a game isn’t the end of the world, not when you’re winning.
We went on that year to play in the Explorer Olympics. We played team sports in volleyball and basketball, and we won some and we lost some. But our investment in Billie was there, and we taught some other teams—or Billie taught some other teams—that winning only matters if you’re building your own stature or, as our bishop says, “if you’re developing character.” And I guess that’s what we learned from Billie—character.
Our bishop said that Billie is here to teach us. We’re all watching him a little more closely to see what other lessons we might learn from him.

The Primary children of the Ardmore Ward in the Norman Oklahoma Stake love to serve others. Their leaders challenged them to find ways to serve in secret. When they read about the invitation to help someone in need for President Thomas S. Monson’s birthday, they were excited to have a service activity. They decided to make hygiene kits and children’s kits. But no one knew how much the kits would soon be needed.
For a few weeks, ward members donated soap, shampoo, toothpaste, crayons, soft toys, and other items for the kits. At their activity, the children packaged 15 hygiene kits and 15 children’s kits. In each kit, they included a big paper heart with the scripture, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).
Then a terrible tornado swept through their community. Many people lost their homes and belongings. The Primary gave the hygiene kits and children’s kits to people in their community who needed them right away. Giving service helped the children feel thankful and peaceful during a hard time. They learned that serving is a blessing to both the receiver and the giver.

SHAWN: In elementary school I was diagnosed with learning disabilities, and I had a real hard time with the kids teasing me about it. In the sixth grade I started smoking cigarettes because there was a group of people there I could relate to. They let me into their crowd, and all I had to do was smoke cigarettes.

SHAWN: I remember my parents saying to me: If you use drugs, you’re going to be a freak. You aren’t going to be normal. I used drugs. I felt pretty normal. I decided they had been lying to me.

SHAWN: In the seventh grade I started using alcohol, and in the ninth grade I added marijuana and speed. Before I started using drugs, and for a while afterward, I danced, I sang, I played baseball, I wrestled. As the drug use progressed, I stopped dancing. I quit baseball. I backed out of everything. In the ninth grade I started backing away from the Church, even though I was the teachers quorum president. I slipped right off the deep end into devil worship. It was a frightening experience, but I was too numb to realize it at the time. I didn’t feel anything. I got more and more depressed. I had my first suicide attempt about the middle of my ninth grade year. At the end of that year I was arrested for possession.

I really started fighting hard with my parents. Every single day when I woke up it was a fight. Lying became a way of life. I lied so that I could keep using.

I went on to LSD. On a bad trip I beat myself up and stabbed holes in the wall. I remember seeing the walls in the house literally eating the flesh off my friends.

I started needing drugs many times each day just to survive. I still looked like a straight, clean-cut kid, but I was taking anything I could get my hands on, just to see if it would get me high. Once I overdosed and almost died.

In tenth grade I quit school and started looking really different. I wasn’t Shawn anymore. I was drugs. If I talked it was drugs. If I walked it was with drugs. Everything I did was drugs.

When I finally was forced into treatment I weighed 97 pounds. After being hospitalized for three weeks I weighed 130. That’s what drugs do to your body, and they injure your mind and spirit even more.

I wasted five years of my life that I’ll never have back. It’s gone, just gone.

SHAWN: I had totally lost control of my own life, but I still didn’t think I had a problem. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing wrong with me. I just blamed it all on my parents for being so strict.

When you’re using, there’s a gut feeling, a pain like someone’s just drilled a hole right through you, and you want to fill it up. It seems as if the only way you can do that is by denying everything to yourself and using more and more.

SHAWN: The hardest part of my treatment was when they said, “You’ve got to find God.” They called it “a higher power,” because not everybody has a religious background. I thought, There’s no way; He’ll never forgive me after what I’ve done. I can’t even forgive myself. I had been in the program two or three months before I finally understood that he forgives everyone who repents. You’ve just got to give him the chance and be willing to change. Changing is hard, but you don’t have to do it alone.

SHAWN: Even after treatment, staying sober is a day-to-day struggle. You wake up every morning and the first thing you say is, “God, help me make it through the day.” And for the rest of the day you’re working on it. It gets easier, but you never forget that you’re an addict.

I’ve been sober for a year and a half, and I still wake up in the morning and think, “Go get some speed; you need something to pump you up.” It almost breaks me in two sometimes.

I experienced this true principle with my wife and two children. On Christmas morning in 2016, while I was serving as a stake president in Lubumbashi, the four of us knelt and begged Heavenly Father to bless us with a spirit of peace, simplicity, love, and generosity. We followed President Hunter’s example and shared with our friends, brothers, sisters and our parents all that we had—and what we felt by the end of that Christmas Day was wonderful. Yes, we did experience joy and peace on that special Christmas day, and ever since, that spirit has always led my family.

On another occasion, near the Christmas season, I had the opportunity to meet in the Church Office Building with a group of handicapped children. There were about sixty in the group. My heart literally melted as I met with them. They sang for me “I Am a Child of God,” “Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer,” and “As I Have Loved You, Love One Another.” There was such an angelic expression on their faces and such a simple trust expressed in their comments that I felt I was on sacred ground. They presented to me a beautiful booklet where each one had prepared a special page illustrating those blessings for which he or she was most thankful at Christmastime. I commend the many teachers and families who work behind the scenes in bringing a measure of comfort, purpose, and joy to these special children. They brightened my entire day.

I have always wanted to share the gospel with others, but for many years I wasn’t successful. Until I became friends with a boy named Tiago. We lived close to each other, so we walked home together after school each day.

One day, we took a different route home and passed by the chapel where I went to church. I told him that I had been a member of the Church for a long time. I told him what we believed and how much my family had been blessed by it. I invited Tiago to church that Sunday, and he said he would come.

Sunday arrived, and I anxiously waited for him at church, but he didn’t come. Later that week, I invited him again. This happened for two or three months, but he always had an excuse to not come. But I didn’t stop inviting him.

One Sunday morning, I was in sacrament meeting and looked over to see Tiago standing there. I was surprised to see him, but he came and sat down by me and said, “I promised I would come!”

I introduced him to the missionaries, and they started teaching him. Later, he got baptized. Now we’re both preparing to go on missions. I’m so glad I didn’t give up on him!
Meiry R., Brazil

Kate smiled happily as she looked around the general store in Elizabeth, Colorado, for a birthday present. She couldn’t help thinking about how exciting tomorrow was going to be. It was her brother Edward’s birthday.
For several months Kate had worked to earn enough money to buy Edward a present. And today Kate and Papa had come to town in the wagon for supplies and so Kate could buy something to give her brother. She had decided on a tiny metal locomotive that shot out tiny sparks and sounded a little whistle as it chugged along the floor.
As Kate and Papa left the store they saw a wagon coming into town with a new family riding in it. A man was driving and a woman sat beside him. A girl was holding onto the sides of the wagon and tilting her head as if she were looking at something high in the sky.
The girl appeared to be about Kate’s age.
Papa nodded, and taking Kate’s hand, they walked over to the wagon.
He smiled and said, “I’m Stephen Simonson, and this is our Kate.”
The man put out his hand and said, “I’m John Miner and this is my wife Millie and my daughter Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Miner greeted them and then excused herself to go into the store.
“Well,” said Kate to the girl, “you’ve come to live in the right place, because this town is called Elizabeth too.”
The girl smiled, but she kept her head turned upward as though she were watching something there.
Looking up, Kate could see nothing but blue sky. She couldn’t think of anything more to say to the girl, so they were both quiet as Papa and Mr. Miner talked about land, cattle, and weather for awhile. Then the men walked together over to the land office.
Now I’ll have to say something, Kate worried, but Elizabeth doesn’t seem to want to talk. Finally she asked, “Have you come far?”
“From St. Louis,” answered the girl, continuing to look up at the sky.
Exasperated, Kate put her hands on her hips. “Elizabeth,” she said, “why won’t you look at me?”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Elizabeth said.
“Why not?” Kate asked impatiently.
“I’m blind.”
“Oh,” Kate said. Now she really couldn’t think of anything to say. She could hear the horses pawing the ground, the sounds of people’s footsteps along the wooden sidewalks, and she could hear her own heart beating. Then she said softly, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Elizabeth. “I keep my face up when I’m outside because the sun feels so good. I love things that feel good. Even when it’s a rainy day I hold my face up so I can feel the rain on it. But I like the sun the best.”
Kate’s father came back to the wagon and said he was ready to leave. “Good-bye,” Elizabeth called, and Kate waved. Then she realized that Elizabeth couldn’t see her hand. “Good-bye,” she called back. On the way home, Kate told Papa about Elizabeth.
The next day at school Miss Baldwin said, “We have a new girl in our class. Her name is Elizabeth and she is blind.”
Everyone stopped talking and squirmed around to look at Elizabeth.
“Elizabeth is nine years old and she’s been blind since birth. She knows how to take care of herself, but she’s new here and doesn’t know where things are, so some of us will have to help her for awhile.” Miss Baldwin looked straight at Kate. “Kate, since you’re the same age and grade, I want you to help Elizabeth today. You can show her where everything is.”
Kate stood up and went to the front of the room. She took hold of Elizabeth’s hand and led the way to her seat. She gave her a slate and a piece of chalk and told her what the arithmetic lesson was.
Later she showed Elizabeth where the stairs, the hot stove, the windows, the coatrack and boot rack were, and she helped her back to her desk.
At last it was time to go home. Kate felt a little bit like a Siamese twin. She had never been more than a few inches away from Elizabeth the whole day. She hoped it wouldn’t be like this every day. She didn’t want to be tied to a girl who couldn’t run and play and have some fun. Kate was so relieved to be alone that when she was walking along the road toward home, she swung her arms, whirled around a few times with a great feeling of freedom, and then started to run. It was Edward’s birthday and she didn’t want to be late for his party.
Mama had made an apple cake, and when Edward opened his presents he was so pleased with the train engine that Kate forgot all about Elizabeth and her frustrating day. Edward’s best friend Zachary had come over to the party and Mama blindfolded him to play pin the tail on the donkey. Then she turned him round and round and he felt his way toward the donkey, but he pinned the tail on its ear. Edward pinned the tail to the donkey’s shoulder.
“Let me try,” Kate said. “I bet I can do better than that.”
She took the tail with the pin through it, and Papa wrapped his bandanna around her eyes. He twirled her around three times and then gave her a gentle push.
She put out her hand and started to move forward. Am I headed the right way or will I bump into something, she worried. She couldn’t see at all. Her whole world was dark and as a wave of fear swept over her, she thought of Elizabeth.
Kate stumbled forward until her hand hit something and everyone laughed. She quickly pulled the bandanna from her eyes and found she was in front of the wardrobe. She turned and looked at Mama’s pretty face, at Papa’s kind eyes, at her little brother Edward holding his new engine and at Zachary’s happy smile, and she loved them all.
And she was so glad that she could see them!
The next morning Kate waited anxiously for Elizabeth to come to school. And soon she saw her coming down the road, holding her father’s hand. After he said good-bye, Kate hurried over to Elizabeth and asked, “Does your father bring you to school every day and then come for you again when it’s over?”
“Yes,” answered Elizabeth, “but after a while I think I’ll be able to come alone.”
“Why don’t I stop by for you and we could walk together?” Kate asked eagerly.
“Well,” said Elizabeth, “I don’t want to be a bother. That wouldn’t be much fun for you.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t be a bother,” Kate said quickly. “And I’ve been thinking how much fun it would be to go places together. We can go down to the old swing. Then we’ll go to the creek. I know where there’s a rock that a grandfather frog lives under. I can catch him for you and you can hold him for a minute.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth said, smiling, “I’d like very much to go with you. It sounds like lots of fun. Are you sure that’s what you’d like?”
“I’m very sure,” Kate said, and she squeezed Elizabeth’s hand as they walked into the schoolhouse together.

Vitaly Yakushev, 18, says that, thanks to the youth conference, he has a deeper understanding of why early pioneers went through so much to gather to Utah. Local Church leaders gave him permission to take the train from his home in Kaliningrad, located in a small slice of Russia on the Baltic Sea, across Lithuania and Latvia, then back into Russia and on to St. Petersburg and Vyborg. The distance isn’t that far, but since the train stops in nearly every town, it took 21 hours.
That might seem like a lot to go through for a youth conference, Vitaly explains. “But I believe Jesus Christ lives and that he restored his Church through Joseph Smith. To be with so many others who believe the same things brings me happiness and joy. My soul wanted to be here.”

“Let’s enter,” Kristy urged her twin brother Derek. So after school they did.
As an incentive to keep the youth out of trouble and off the streets on traditionally mischief-filled Halloween night, community merchants had donated a good used car as a prize for the one teenager contacted and found home before midnight.
Not much was mentioned of the contest or the twins silent dreams until supper time October 31st, when Kristy expressed her distinct confidence and anticipation. A strong hunch that she would be the winner left her expectant all evening while at the door she met one “trick-or-treater” after another. Derek attended volleyball practice, returning home exhausted. By 10:30 he was fast asleep.
Soon treats were depleted, porch lights extinguished, and younger brothers and sisters retired with mild stomach aches from overindulgence. Even Kristy relented and went to bed. Only Mother was still reading when at 11:45 the shrill ring of the telephone sent her flying in response. “This is radio station KPCS wishing to speak with … Derek,” she was told. As if by prearrangement the entire household flared alive. Father switched on the radio to listen in on the conversation. Several youngsters squealed into Derek’s bedroom, dragging their groggy brother to the downstairs extension phone. Suddenly realizing the implication of this late disturbance, he became fully alert. Incredulous as it seemed, his brain registered the fact that he had won the coveted automobile. Hundreds of teenagers must have put in their names. Yet he would be the one to drive home the prize the very next afternoon. Nothing this exciting had ever happened to him before.
Understandably, the family had trouble settling down. Finally, having drifted off to dreamland, Derek visualized himself on gleaming hubcapped “wheels,” gliding noiselessly through throngs of cheering friends. Later he found himself whizzing breathlessly past open spaces in a fire-red machine, and before waking to reality, he was the one roaring down main street in a fabulous convertible, accompanied by several of the most gorgeous girls he had ever seen—the envy of all his peers.
Indeed, the next day Derek was the center of attraction when word of his good fortune spread at seminary and at school. “What kind of a car is it?” he was asked repeatedly. No one knew. Some speculated on a late model; others, less optimistic, suspected an old “clunker.” But when at last classes had finished Derek was to find out.
The vehicle his eyes beheld proved to be beyond his expectations, much nicer than those owned by anyone in his circle of friends. That purring beauty was his, all his. Was he ever going to have a ball!
Delighted and proud he was greeted by his equally pleased family, all assembled on the front lawn. Neighbors soon joined them. Each was given a ride. Definitely this was Derek’s finest hour. Soon the dealer’s license plate had to be returned. Well, tomorrow insurance matters could be worked out.
The subject did come up and was thoroughly considered and discussed with earnest efforts made to help Derek’s car get on the road. Yet it simply could not be done. The painful truth was that funds had been extremely limited with one brother in the mission field, another due to leave and depending on family assistance. Even Derek, a senior in high school, had been forced to drop out of basketball because he was unable to afford the tournament travel expenses. Scraping up nearly $400 for licensing and insurance was impossible under the circumstances.
So there stood the apple of Derek’s eye, evoking a pronounced pounding of his heart every time he glanced at it and extracting each spare minute of his time with polishing and sprucing it up to top performance. Particular care was lavished on achieving the finest reproduction from its stereo system. How he yearned to drive it!
Still, hope prevailed. Perhaps an after-school and Saturday job was the solution. Unfortunately, scores of jobless hopefuls saturated the market. Weeks of filling out applications, interviews, and callbacks produced no results.
One blustery December day Derek noticed a vaguely familiar figure stomping through the deep snow. Seconds later he recognized it as belonging to Sister Taylor. Her family had been experiencing incredible hardships. First, their business had gone bankrupt. Then they had lost their home, recently also their car.
Ever so subtly and ever so quietly a thought began creeping into Derek’s subconscious mind. On reaching awareness, he tried desperately to push it out. However, once conceived, it would not be suppressed. No matter how hard he fought the impulse, gradually a plan took shape, one which caused him to alternate between gladness and sadness. And so, at first reluctantly, but soon with stern determination, the young man made a difficult and noble decision.
Christmas Sunday at priesthood meeting someone mentioned, “Did I see Brother Taylor driving your car today, Derek?” “I sold it to him,” was the reply.
This prompted several priests into simultaneously responding, “But they have no money.”
“They had enough,” answered Derek with a wistful grin. Audible only to himself he added, “They had one dollar.”

I didn’t know it at the time, but when I was 14 I was floundering. I had moved with my family to a new school in a big city, and after a year there I still wasn’t adjusting. I didn’t have any friends, and I felt like I wasn’t worth loving.
I hoped that girls’ camp that summer would offer a break from feeling down, but I only felt worse as I watched the other girls enjoying themselves without me. I knew that as I started high school that fall, my problems would worsen.
Then on the final night of camp, a young couple came to talk to us. As the husband bore his testimony of the Atonement, a powerful realization struck me: Jesus Christ died for me. I had always known that He died for the world, but until that moment I hadn’t realized that He also died for me personally.
With this realization came a great feeling of worth and love. It was as if the Savior, the greatest of all, saw me when He was upon the cross and said, “Yes, I will die for her.” If He was willing to do that for me, then surely I was worth something. As I thought about this I went off by myself, and for the first time ever, I opened my heart completely to my Father in Heaven. For two hours I talked with Him and felt the soothing warmth of His love.
Since that time I have not only grown to know my worth, but I have found joy in the world and discovered my place in it. I will forever be grateful to the Redeemer, who gave His life for me and allowed me to know that I am worth loving.

Only a few weeks before the earthquake, another group of young adults was giving similar service across the Atlantic. The floods that swept through western Europe in July were the most severe in decades.

When the waters finally receded, one shopkeeper in the riverside district of Ahrweiler, Germany, surveyed the damage and was utterly overwhelmed. This humble man, a devout Catholic, whispered a prayer that God might send someone to help him. The very next morning, President Dan Hammon of the Germany Frankfurt Mission arrived on the street with a small band of missionaries wearing yellow Helping Hands vests. The water had reached up to 10 feet (3 m) on the shopkeeper’s walls, leaving behind a deep layer of mud. The volunteers shoveled out the mud, removed the carpet and drywall, and piled everything in the street for removal. The overjoyed shopkeeper worked alongside them for hours, amazed that the Lord had sent a group of His servants to answer his prayer—and within 24 hours!

Mom left the decision up to us. How could she! Oh, I knew which choice was right. It’s just that the wrong choice was so appealing. And really, it didn’t seem as bad as all that.
I lay sprawled across my bed with my chin in my hands. I looked at my sister. Yes, she was thinking about it too. She had a peaceful, determined look on her face. Traitor! I knew what she had decided.
Maybe I’d better start at the beginning. My name is Susie, and my sister’s name is Karen. We were born eleven months apart, and we are the best of friends.
Yesterday, Stephanie, one of our non-LDS friends, brought over a birthday invitation. It sounded like so much fun! It was a swimming party and barbecue.
Stephanie’s pool is gorgeous. It’s made of colorful ceramic tiles. And there’s a beautiful waterfall that cascades down a miniature rock mountain into the pool, a diving board, and a spiral slide. Karen and I were really excited about going—until we checked the calendar.
“Oh no!” I groaned. “July 10th is on a Sunday!”
“Mom and Dad are never going to let us go,” Karen said. “We might as well call Stephanie right now.”
“Wait a minute,” I said. “Maybe if we tell Mom and Dad how much we want to go—and that we won’t be rowdy—they’ll let us go.”
Karen looked doubtful but agreed to wait.
We decided to clean up the house to surprise Mom when she got home from visiting teaching. Karen did the dishes and cleaned the bathroom. I dusted, straightened, and vacuumed. The house looked great!
“Wow! Somebody’s been busy!” Mom exclaimed as she walked in the door. Her eyes twinkled, and she smiled.
“Surprise!” we yelled. “You’ve been working so hard, we thought you could use some extra help today,” I added, winking at Karen.
Mom smiled again and went upstairs, humming to herself. Our idea certainly seemed to be working!
Mom came downstairs a few minutes later. It was her turn to cook dinner. “Well, it looks like we have a choice of spaghetti or french dip sandwiches. What do you think, girls?”
“French dip,” I said.
“Spaghetti,” said Karen.
“Spaghet—” I started to say.
“French—” said Karen at the same time. All three of us laughed.
“Oh—I just realized that I forgot to pick up mix for the dip at the store,” Mom said. “Looks like it’s spaghetti for dinner.”
The kitchen came to life with the clatter of pans and singing. In a few minutes the heavenly aroma of Italian spices and garlic filled the air. The timing seemed perfect.
“Mom, guess what?” I said.
“We got an invitation to Stephanie’s birthday party this weekend,” Karen said, handing Mom the invitation.
“Isn’t that nice! This sounds like fun—swimming and a barbecue and—oh-oh! It’s on Sunday!”
Mom looked sympathetically from my disappointed face to Karen’s. “You girls know what Dad and I have always taught you, and what you’ve learned in Primary. I trust you girls to make this decision. You have been baptized and received the gift of the Holy Ghost. I want you to think seriously about this. When you have made a decision, ask Heavenly Father if the choice is right. If it is, the Holy Ghost will let you know by helping you feel peaceful and good inside. Dad and I will support whatever choice you make.”
Karen and I walked slowly back to the bedroom we shared to think it over.
I flopped down on my bed. I had to admit that Mom was smart. We would make the right choice because we’d feel too guilty if we didn’t.
I decided right then that I was going to outsmart Mom. It was just a little party, after all. It wasn’t so bad, was it? As I tried to convince myself, I began feeling uncomfortable. A small, hard lump formed in my throat. I swallowed it and decided I was going to the party, anyway.
That was when I looked over at Karen. She had just finished praying and was sitting quietly on her bed. She had a sweet, peaceful look on her face. I could tell she would need to be convinced.
My sister and I talked a long time. She was calm and self-assured. I was defiant and stubborn. Karen finally convinced me that we should pray together. As we got up from our prayer, we hugged and smiled at each other, then went to the phone.
After dinner, while Dad was loading the dishwasher and Mom was dipping up pistachio ice cream for dessert, Dad asked, “Have you girls decided what to do?”
“Yes,” Karen and I answered together.
The day of the party was the kind of hot day that made you want to sit in the shade of a huge tree with a tall, cool glass of soda pop. It was the perfect day for a swimming party. Karen and I grabbed suits, towels, and a shimmering pink package and walked excitedly to Stephanie’s house.
We rang the doorbell. There stood Stephanie with a big grin on her face.
“Thanks for changing the party to Saturday!” I said.
“Yeah. It must have been a lot of extra work having to call everyone,” Karen added.
“It wouldn’t have been any fun without my best friends. Besides I think it’s neat that you stand up for what you believe.”
The three of us walked back to the pool, arm in arm. The party was even more fun than I had imagined.

I love to play soccer, but because I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I didn’t want to play on Sundays. It was hard for me to tell my coach that I wouldn’t be able to practice on Sunday, but when I explained that I attend church, he still let me join the team.
Since I missed Sunday practices, my teammates wouldn’t always trust my skill level. I prayed that I would be focused and play well during practice, since I didn’t have as much practice time as the rest of the team. When the final tournament came around, I was invited to participate in the game. I know God helped me to achieve that goal.

After President Hinckley’s fireside one young woman decided to stop steadily dating a close friend.
“It was one of the hardest things I have had to do,” she writes. “But my understanding of why we are counseled to not steady date has been increased. I know we did the right thing and that we both needed that experience. I don’t know if I would be as happy as I am now without that experience to help my testimony of the prophet and the gospel grow.”

Another gospel first the youth recently experienced was the opportunity to attend their district’s first seminary graduation ceremony. Three Malaysian youth—Kelvin Anand Kumar, Aun Luck Tan Ernest, and Hamish Steven Parsons—earned seminary diplomas.

Kelvin, who was baptized in 1999, attended seminary during the first four years he was a member of the Church. He says the knowledge he gained there increased his testimony. “I am glad I graduated from seminary,” he says. “Seminary helped me to make correct decisions and plan my education. Because of the things I learned in seminary, I know someday I will marry in the temple.”

Like Sister Chieko N. Okazaki, I have discovered that some lives are woven together in a divine pattern of friendship and kindness (see Ensign, May 1993, page 84).
I was 15 years old when I came in contact with a pair of missionaries from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in my hometown of Tilburg, the Netherlands. My parents were charmed with these two young men, and when the missionaries asked if they could take me to church, my parents agreed. I was raised in a Christian home, so I did know of a Heavenly Father. But I had never thought about life or about his plan for us. At church and from the missionary discussions, I soon discovered the true gospel. My life changed, and I asked my parents for permission to be baptized. They refused, but that did not stop me from living according to the laws of Heavenly Father.
About this time, I became acquainted with Ans, a young woman who was a little bit older than I was. Later she told me that she had been searching for the truth and was so impressed by the enthusiasm I radiated that she decided to investigate the Church. She lived in another town, so our contact stayed rather superficial. However, I later learned that she joined the Church.
During this same time period, I took my friend Angela with me to a Young Adult camp. The experience convinced her to investigate the Church, and she was baptized several months later. She moved to the United States, but we stayed in contact and our friendship continued.
Unfortunately, my life took another direction after I introduced Ans and Angela to the gospel. I moved to Dordrecht and distanced myself from the Church and was not baptized. But no matter what I thought of the Church or what I was doing with my life, both Ans and Angela stayed in touch with me. They avoided talking about the gospel, but they were there for me when I had questions. I had not lost faith altogether, and it continued to work on my conscience. Then Ans moved closer to where I lived, and our friendship blossomed. She visited me often and showed her love for me in small, subtle ways.
I am now married to a wonderful husband and have two sweet children. About a year ago I came across a book in the public library about the history of the Church, and I checked it out. I was very touched by the book’s description of the hardships the pioneers endured; they were willing to go through many things because of the gospel. Reading the book revived my testimony. I knew the Church had to be true!
Great was their surprise when I told my friends that I wanted to be baptized. Ans and I shed many tears of happiness after my baptism. Angela could not be there, but I felt her support and encouragement.
I am very grateful to Heavenly Father for these friends. Our lives have been woven together over the years, and the pattern is getting more clear all the time. I truly believe what Sister Okazaki said: “We can never afford to be cruel or indifferent or ungenerous, because we are all connected, even if it is in a pattern that only God sees” (Ensign, May 1993, page 85).
My investigation of the Church lasted 15 years. And though the missionaries who first taught me were disappointed to see my testimony wither, their work wasn’t in vain. If they had not sown the seed, I wouldn’t be who I am today. I will never be able to thank them enough for what they did. The seeds they sowed I shared with others—and they, in turn, continued to nourish the seed in my heart until it flowered in joy and our hearts were woven together in faith and love.