Gospel Story Finder

Elder Peterson was born in Roy, Utah, on 6 October 1939 to Rulon and Naomi Skeen Peterson. He and his wife of 39 years, Joan Jensen Peterson, have reared six children, which has been a rich and rewarding experience. A year after he and Sister Peterson were married in the Logan Utah Temple, their first child, Linda, was born with spina bifida. The experience rapidly brought the couple a deepened maturity. Their faith increased as they saw prayers answered and small miracles occur in the life of this daughter. Today Linda has served a mission, taught at the Missionary Training Center, graduated from Brigham Young University, married in the temple, and is the mother of two.

Ophélie and her family walked out of the church building together.
“What an amazing general conference,” Papa said. “What was your favorite part, Ophélie?”
“I like how President Nelson asked us to do acts of service,” Ophélie said. “I like helping people.”
“I do too,” Maman said. “Let’s follow the prophet and look for ways we can help others.”
A few days later, Ophélie and Papa visited their neighbor Suzie. Ophélie really liked Suzie. She had white hair and a big smile. She was like a bonus grandma!
Suzie told them she was going to have eye surgery the next day. Ophélie was a little worried.
“Will Suzie be OK?” she asked Papa while they walked home.
“Yes,” Papa said. “She’s been having trouble seeing, and the surgery will help her see better. But she’ll need a few days for her eyes to heal.”
Ophélie told Maman about Suzie’s surgery while they set the table for dinner.
“Maybe we could do something to help her,” Ophélie said. “Like President Nelson said.”
“Good idea. What could we do?” Maman asked.
Ophélie thought about it. Ophélie’s family raked leaves in Suzie’s yard each fall. They shoveled her snow during the long Canadian winters. But now it was springtime. There wasn’t any snow. Or leaves. How could they help?
During the prayer before dinner, Ophélie asked Heavenly Father to bless them to know how to help Suzie. Then Papa helped her scoop pâté chinois onto her plate.
The delicious smell of the potatoes, vegetables, and ground beef made Ophélie’s mouth water. She took a bite. It was one of her favorite dinners. Especially because Maman always let her mash the potatoes! She loved helping Maman cook.
Then Ophélie had an idea. “Maman, can we make dinner for Suzie tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Maman said. “How about a tourtière?”
“Great,” Ophélie said. “And we could make muffins too!”
The next day, Ophélie and Papa carried a plate of meat pies and muffins outside. Ophélie spotted the beautiful purple flowers blooming in their garden. She picked some and held them together in a little bouquet. Then she and Papa walked to Suzie’s house.
Ophélie knocked on Suzie’s door. Soon Suzie answered. She was wearing dark sunglasses.
“Bonjour,” Ophélie said. “We brought you dinner. And muffins.”
“It’s so kind of you to think of me,” Suzie said.
“These are for you too,” Ophélie said. She handed Suzie the bouquet.
“Très jolie!” Suzie said. “They’re beautiful. Please, come in.”
Ophélie and Papa followed Suzie into the house. “How are your eyes?” Papa asked.
“They’re a little sore right now. That’s why I have these,” Suzie said, tapping her sunglasses.
“Can you see better now?” Ophélie asked.
“It’s still a little blurry. But I should be able to see better in a few days.”
Ophélie gave Suzie a big hug. “I’m glad you’re OK. Can we come see you again when your eyes are better?”
“Of course. And when you see me next time, I’ll be able to see you too!” Suzie said. They all laughed.
Ophélie was glad she could serve, like Heavenly Father wanted her to and like the prophet asked. She liked helping her friend Suzie.

As a young couple, my husband and I were called by our bishop to visit and minister to a family who hadn’t been to church in many years. We willingly accepted the assignment and went to their home a few days later. It was immediately clear to us that they did not want visitors from the Church.
So on our next visit, we approached them with a plate of cookies, confident that chocolate chips would melt their hearts. They didn’t. The couple spoke to us through the screen door, making it even clearer that we weren’t welcome. But as we drove home, we were fairly certain success might have been achieved had we only offered them Rice Krispies Treats instead.
Our lack of spiritual vision made additional failed attempts frustrating. Rejection is never comfortable. Over time we began to ask ourselves, “Why are we doing this? What is our purpose?”
Elder Carl B. Cook made this observation: “Serving in the Church … can be challenging if we are asked to do something that frightens us, if we grow weary of serving, or if we are called to do something that we do not initially find appealing.”1 We were experiencing the truth of Elder Cook’s words when we decided we had to seek direction from Someone with a greater perspective than our own.
So, after much sincere prayer and study, we received the answer to the why of our service. We had a change in our understanding, a change of heart, actually a revelatory experience.2 As we sought direction from the scriptures, the Lord taught us how to make the process of serving others easier and more meaningful. Here is the verse we read that changed both our hearts and our approach: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, with all thy might, mind, and strength; and in the name of Jesus Christ thou shalt serve him.”3 Though this verse was so familiar, it seemed to speak to us in a new and important way.
We realized that we were sincerely striving to serve this family and to serve our bishop, but we had to ask ourselves if we were really serving out of love for the Lord. King Benjamin made clear this distinction when he stated, “Behold, I say unto you that because I said unto you that I had spent my days in your service, I do not desire to boast, for I have only been in the service of God.”4
As our focus gradually changed, so did our prayers. We began looking forward to our visits with this dear family because of our love for the Lord.5 We were doing it for Him. He made the struggle no longer a struggle. After many months of our standing on the doorstep, the family began letting us in. Eventually, we had regular prayer and tender gospel discussions together. A long-lasting friendship developed. We were worshipping and loving Him by loving His children.
Maybe our bishop knew that was the lesson my husband and I would learn from those early and well-intentioned, yet not perfect, efforts to minister to God’s beloved sons and daughters. I bear my personal and sure witness of the goodness and love He shares with us even as we strive to serve for Him. In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Good-bye, Mother,” said Ricky. “I’m going for a walk. I’m going to walk to the corner all by myself.”
Ricky walked down the steps of his town house and looked around. The sun was shining high up in the sky. Next door, Mr. Paul was sitting on his front steps. He said, “How are you this fine day, Ricky?”
“I’m fine, Mr. Paul. I’m going to walk to the corner all by myself.”
“That sounds like a good walk. When you come back, would you like to have some cookies with me?” asked Mr. Paul.
“Yes, thank you,” Ricky said. He waved to Mr. Paul and walked down the sidewalk. He looked at the tree in front of Mrs. John’s house. He liked this tree. Its shade felt cool. Ricky patted the tree.
Ricky walked on. What’s that in front of Bill and Becky’s house? he wondered. Ricky got down on his hands and knees to look closer. A whole bunch of ants was trying to move a big piece of bread. Ricky wanted to help them, but he wasn’t sure where they wanted it to go. Besides, he liked to do things by himself, so maybe the ants did too.
When Ricky stood up again, some birds in the next yard flew away. Ricky went over to see what they had been doing. Someone had scattered pieces of bread on the lawn for the birds. That’s where the ants got their bread, he decided.
Ricky walked on and came to the alley. This was the first time that he had ever crossed it by himself. He stopped. He looked. He listened. Ricky didn’t see or hear a car coming, so he walked quickly to the other side. Then he turned and looked back at his own house. It seemed a long way off, but he wasn’t afraid. After all, he had just crossed the alley safely by himself.
Ricky decided to run the rest of the way to the corner. He liked to run. Suddenly he saw a fuzzy caterpillar. Ricky stopped and carefully picked it up. Mother likes surprises. I’ll take it home to her, Ricky decided. Then he walked on toward the corner, carrying the caterpillar gently in his hand.
There’s the mailbox! Ricky said to himself. Touching it meant that he had really gone to the corner all by himself. Ricky gave a sigh of pure pleasure. Now that he had walked to the corner by himself, he would go back and give the caterpillar to his mother and ask if he could have some of Mr. Paul’s cookies. Ricky would tell Mr. Paul about all the things he had seen on his walk. Mr. Paul would like that almost as much as Ricky would like the cookies. They liked to share that way.

David would not budge. “I don’t want this church. I want my church.”
“It will be OK, I promise,” Mom said.
David did not want to go. But he did not want to stay in the car, either. So he climbed out and took Mom’s hand.
Dad held open the big glass door as David and Mom walked in. David saw a second door. He put his nose to the glass and his hands next to his eyes so that he could peek in. Then he said, “My church has two doors, just like this one.”
“Yes, it does,” Mom said.
A tall man in a blue suit walked up to them. He shook Dad’s hand and said, “I’m Bishop Morris.”
“We’re the Bennetts. My name is Greg. This is my wife, Sharon, and this is our son, David,” Dad said.
The bishop shook David’s hand.
“My church has a bishop,” David said.
“He’s a little homesick for our old ward,” Mom explained.
“Welcome, David,” the bishop said.
David walked over to the chapel doors with his parents. A boy gave him a program. Then the family sat on a side bench. David picked up a hymnbook. “My church has benches with book holders.”
“Yes, it does,” Dad said.
David listened to the song and prayer. He watched the podium go up and down. He saw the priests stand up to prepare the sacrament. When the deacons passed the sacrament, he took one piece of bread. Later, the water came, and he remembered to return the sacrament cup.
“My church has the sacrament. And I know that’s the time to think about Jesus,” he whispered.
“Yes, it is,” Mom whispered.
While the speaker told a story, David drew pictures about it on his program. Soon it was time for Primary.
A tall lady with a nice smile walked up to the Bennetts. “I’m Sister Lee. Can I help your son find his Primary class?”
“My church has a CTR class,” David said.
“We have one, too,” Sister Lee replied. “I can take you there.”
David kissed his mom and went with Sister Lee. They walked by a drinking fountain. Sister Lee pointed to a door with a word on it. “That’s the boys’ restroom, in case you need it,” she said and winked at him.
“My church has restrooms,” he said, winking back.
He went to class and listened to a lesson about faith. They colored a picture of Nephi building a ship. Then the class went to Sharing Time. They stopped for a drink on the way.
“What song do you want to sing?” the music leader asked. David sat up tall and raised his hand. The music leader pointed to him.
“My church has ‘Book of Mormon Stories,’” he said.
“Would you like to sing it?” she asked.
He nodded. Everybody sang, including David.
After closing exercises, his parents came for him. They walked down the hall, and David pointed to a picture of President Gordon B. Hinckley. “My church has a picture of the prophet right there.”
“No, it didn’t,” Dad said.
“Yes, it does,” David said. “This is my church now.”

It was the end of the assembly on Joseph Smith at our seminary, and our teachers had left the last 15 minutes for testimonies. I knew I had felt something during the program, and I realized I had to go up and bear my testimony even though I wasn’t sure if I had one.
I had recently turned 15, and I was questioning everything. I had prayed and read my scriptures, but the answer hadn’t yet come. I began to think Heavenly Father had abandoned me. I didn’t know if it was right to bear a testimony I wasn’t sure I had.
But as soon as I got up there, peace came over me, and I realized that I did know. I knew Christ was my Savior, I knew that Joseph Smith was a prophet, and I knew Heavenly Father was there, listening. I began crying for joy. Heavenly Father hadn’t abandoned me, and He had answered my prayer through my own testimony.
I know that if I live the gospel and do my best, then I will never lose that glorious feeling of knowing what I’m doing is right.

Isabelle was so excited that she almost skipped as she and her dad walked down the hallway. Her mom had just brushed her dark hair and zipped up the long white skirt Isabelle would wear for her baptism. She stopped outside the room where everyone was waiting.
“Can anyone have one of those?” she asked her dad, pointing to copies of the Book of Mormon on a small table.
“Yes. They’re for people who want to know more about our church,” Dad said.
Isabelle peeked into the room. It was full of people she loved. Her grandmother, aunts, uncles, and cousins sat near the front. Her best friend, Grace, sat with her family at the back. But Isabelle didn’t see Miss Perkins, her schoolteacher.
“Let’s go in,” Dad said. “It’s time for the meeting to start.”
“Can we wait one more minute for Miss Perkins?”
Miss Perkins was Isabelle’s favorite teacher. She loved books, and Isabelle did too.
“It was nice of you to invite her, Isabelle, but she might not come,” Dad said gently.
Isabelle sighed and nodded. She and Dad walked into the room and sat in the front row. Right before the opening hymn, Isabelle turned around to look for her teacher one last time. There she was with Grace’s family! Isabelle smiled. Miss Perkins smiled back.
After Isabelle’s baptism the bishop asked everyone to squeeze together for a photo.
“Where is Isabelle?” he asked.
Everyone looked around. No Isabelle!
Grace went to find her friend. First she looked down the hallway, but Isabelle wasn’t there. Then she looked in the foyer, but she wasn’t there either. Finally, Grace looked outside and saw Isabelle standing on the steps of the meetinghouse talking to Miss Perkins.
“Thank you for coming to my baptism,” Isabelle said.
“You’re welcome,” said Miss Perkins. “I’m sorry I had to leave so quickly. I have another appointment today.”
“That’s OK. But I wanted to give you something.” Isabelle handed her teacher a Book of Mormon that she had picked up off the table in the hallway. “I know you love to read, and this is a really good book.”
“Thank you,” Miss Perkins said.
“Will you read it?” Isabelle asked.
“Yes, I will,” Miss Perkins said. “I promise.”
Isabelle felt so happy. She smiled as she turned and saw Grace waiting for her.
“What were you doing out there?” Grace asked. “Your mom wants a group picture.”
“I went to give Miss Perkins a Book of Mormon,” Isabelle said.
Grace’s eyes widened. “Were you scared?”
“A little. But I was more afraid that she would just put it away on a shelf somewhere. So I asked her if she would read it.”
“What did she say?” Grace asked.
“She promised that she would!”
“That’s great!” Grace said.
The two girls joined the group of friends and relatives.
“I’m glad Grace found you, Isabelle!” the bishop said. Then he asked everyone to squeeze together again for the picture. Isabelle stood right in the middle of the front row.
Afterward, Isabelle’s mom leaned over to hug her. “Now you can remember your baptism day forever!” she said.
Isabelle smiled. She knew that with or without a picture, she would never forget her baptism day and how good it felt to be a missionary.

I started my freshman year at college, and everything was going great. Great, that is, until an all-too-familiar feeling of my personal shortcomings began to settle in my stomach. My second-oldest brother, who was not only co-captain of my college team but also my roommate, had just come home from the mission field. He told extraordinary stories about living in England and preaching the gospel.
I read letters from the mission presidents of both of my older brothers describing what a good missionary “Elder Bennett” was and how blessed they would be because of their obedience and faith. Again, I began feeling inadequate. How could I ever measure up to their high level of missionary success? Although my body had grown several inches taller and my muscles had doubled in size, my testimony had not grown proportionately.
I confided in my brother and roommate, “What can I do to prepare to be a great missionary like you were? How can I change people’s lives like you did?” Again I received simple counsel. “Do the things that great missionaries do. Be nice to people, read your scriptures, and pray daily.”
I took the advice to heart and could feel my spiritual growth begin to catch up with my physical body.

“My, but this boat is slow!” Sarah Thomas complained as the paddle steamer inched its way up the Mississippi River. She was sure the boat was standing still and that the trees were floating past! Even time seemed to stand still that warm day.
Sarah’s mind began to wander. She thought about the day in England a few years before, when a neighbor came knocking at their door. “There be a new preacher in town,” he announced. “Come and listen to him. Everyone’s meeting at the tithing barn.”
“I have a harness to mend,” her father answered without looking up. “It won’t mend itself.”
“His name is Heber Kimball, and he be from the Americas!” the neighbor added excitedly. “They say that he be a great preacher. He preaches about a new religion! The people of Preston really liked him.”
“Well, now,” Sarah’s father said thoughtfully. “An American preacher. I wonder if American preachers have a better tale to tell than British ones. Not a one that I’ve ever listened to preached the truth.” He stitched the leather absentmindedly. A new religion, he thought. I guess I’ll give him a chance.
As the neighbor hurried on his way to spread the word, the Thomas family prepared for the meeting. They didn’t have any other clothes to change into, but they washed themselves and brushed the clothes that they were wearing. Sarah brushed and rebraided her hair.
When they got to the busy town, some of their neighbors were hurrying to the tithing barn. Some of those who had already arrived at the meeting place were caring for their horses; others stood around talking and laughing. They were all eager for the American preacher to arrive.
The people of Chatburn liked to listen to preachers. But after the preachers moved on, it was as though the towns-people were still hungry for something that they didn’t have—the truth. No one in Chatburn had ever joined any of the churches that sent missionaries to their town.
When the American preacher walked into the town square, the people eagerly surrounded him. After they had crowded into the barn, there were so many of them that the preacher had to stand on top of a barrel to speak.
Sarah, who was used to hearing preachers, listened only halfheartedly when he began to talk. They all preach the same thing, she thought. But soon Elder Kimball’s message began to pierce her mind. He was preaching of a Savior who not only came to earth and was crucified but lived still. Elder Kimball bore such a powerful testimony of the living Savior that Sarah began to feel a warm glow, and she could tell that people around her were feeling the same thing. She strained to catch every word. Elder Kimball taught them that everyone must first have faith in Jesus Christ. Then they must repent and be baptized.
“This is it!” Sarah said to herself. “He speaks the truth!”
After the meeting, the people surged around Elder Kimball. Mrs. Partinton tugged on his sleeve. “Please, I want to be baptized!” Soon others were also asking to be baptized.
Sarah wanted desperately to add her own request for baptism, but she couldn’t be heard from the back. As she waited for her chance, the crowd flowed out the doors and down to the river. Following them, she watched as Elder Kimball baptized several people.
Her father found her in the crowd. “Come, Sarah,” he said. “It’s time to get the wee ones home.” Baby Josiah was asleep in her mother’s arms, and Timothy was crying softly as he leaned against her father. Sarah knew that she must obey, so she followed them. As they walked, she became very sleepy. It was a struggle to walk and to listen to her parents.
“I want to be baptized, Joshua,” her mother said softly. “He’s brought Christ’s true church to us.”
She heard her father chuckle softly. “Yes, he has.”
“What’s funny?” Mother asked.
“I was just thinking of all those other preachers who have come to Chatburn,” her father answered. “Not a one of us would join with them. They think that we are wild and hard-hearted. If they could only see us now! This one man has changed everything.”
“Father,” Sarah said sleepily, “I want to be baptized. May I?”
“Yes. Brother Kimball is leaving for Clitheroe tonight, but he’ll be back. We’ll be baptized when he comes again.”
The next few days were very long for Sarah. She did everything that she could think of to make the time go faster. One morning, when she was returning from taking a basket of scones to Mrs. Root, who was sick, she saw Elder Kimball on the path to town. She ran the rest of the way home to tell her family. In a short time, they were back in town, ready for a meeting. This time so many people had gathered that they met outside. Elder Kimball stood on a stone wall and preached to the people, and it was just as before. Sarah felt the Holy Ghost tell her that he spoke the truth.
Sarah and her parents were baptized that night. What a good feeling it was to know that they were all members of Christ’s true church. She felt clean and right.
Things changed in Chatburn after that. Parents began to teach their children what Elder Kimball had taught them. The children listened to their parents and obeyed Christ’s commandments. A new happiness and peace filled the village.
A few weeks later the man they now called Brother Kimball returned to their village. The children saw him on the path and, singing the songs of Zion, raced to meet him. They grabbed his arms and held on to his coat. Their parents stood in the doors of their homes as the group passed; they called out blessings on the man who had changed their lives.
What a wonderful time it was for Sarah! Brother Kimball continued to teach them. She learned more about the Prophet Joseph Smith, through whom the Lord restored the true church, and she felt a strong desire to see a living prophet.
Soon the word was spread throughout England: “The Saints are gathering in Nauvoo. Come to Nauvoo!”
“Nauvoo!” The cry jerked Sarah back to the present. The boat was rounding a curve, and now she could see people and buildings.
The Saints pressed eagerly against the rail of the boat as they searched for a glimpse of their new home. Sarah was searching, too, searching for someone very special. She wanted to see the Prophet. She had heard that sometimes he met new arrivals at the dock. Will I know him when I see him? she wondered.
As the boat neared the dock, she could distinguish faces. Her eyes stopped on a tall man who stood out above the rest. He had light brown hair and piercing blue eyes that had a twinkle in them. She knew without anyone telling her. He was the Prophet. Her wish had been answered. She was a member of Christ’s true church, and now she had seen His Prophet. Bless Brother Kimball!

Of course, holiness to the Lord in everyday life includes coming more often to the Lord in His holy house. This is true whether we are Church members or friends.
Three friends came to the Bangkok Thailand Temple open house.
“This is a place of super healing,” said one.
In the baptistry, another said, “When I am here, I want to be washed clean and never sin again.”
The third said, “Can you feel the spiritual power?”
With nine sacred words, our temples invite and proclaim:
“Holiness to the Lord.
“The House of the Lord.”
Holiness to the Lord makes daily living sacred. It draws us closer and happier to the Lord and each other and prepares us to live with God our Father, Jesus Christ, and our loved ones.
As did my friend, you may wonder if your Heavenly Father loves you. The answer is a resounding, absolute yes! We can feel His love as we make holiness to the Lord ours each day, happy and forever. May we do so, I pray in the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Let’s get more sticks!” Callie said to Marco.
Marco looked at the sky. “I have to go home. It’s almost sunset.”
“But we haven’t finished our fort yet!” said Callie.
“Sorry!” Marco called out as he hurried off. “I have to be home before the Sabbath!”
Callie sighed. There were great things about being Marco’s friend, and there were hard things. Well, mostly just one hard thing. They didn’t have very much time to play together. They were in the same grade at school but not in the same class. They didn’t have the same recess. Plus, they both spent the Sabbath with their families. In Marco’s church, the Sabbath was started at sunset on Friday night. For Callie, the Sabbath was on Sunday.
And the good things? There were lots of them. One was that Callie never had to worry that Marco would swear, try to get her to do bad things, or watch things that weren’t good. He and his family went to a different church, but they believed a lot of the same things Callie did. Like keeping the Sabbath day holy, even though they had it on a different day.
Callie set down her armful of sticks and went inside.
“Did Marco go home?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Callie said, slumping into a chair. “We hardly ever get to play.”
“Maybe you two can get together Friday. It’s a school holiday,” said Mom.
“OK,” Callie said, cheering up. She would get everything ready so when Marco came over, they could start working on their fort right away.
During school later that week, Callie’s teacher made an announcement. The whole third grade was going to watch a movie together.
“Yes!” Callie said. She put her lunch box into her backpack and went into the common area between the classrooms.
Everyone found a place to sit on the floor, and the teachers turned off the lights. Callie got excited as the movie began. It was about some boys building a fort together, just like she was building a fort with Marco! If we ever finish it, she thought. She shook her head and focused back on the screen.
But as the movie went on, Callie noticed that some of the words in it weren’t very good. She started to feel more and more uncomfortable. She didn’t know what to do.
Just then, she felt a tap on her shoulder. It was Marco! He had crawled all the way through the crowd of students to talk to her.
“Callie, I don’t think we should be watching this,” he whispered. “I think we should go ask our teachers if we can read instead.”
Callie breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to know someone else felt like she did. “Yeah. I don’t like this movie either.”
She and Marco stood up and tiptoed around their classmates until they reached their teachers. Marco went to his teacher, and Callie went to hers. She asked if she could read a book instead of watching the movie, and her teacher said yes.
As Callie went into her classroom to read, she saw Marco doing the same thing. He waved and smiled. Callie smiled back. Having a true friend was even better than having a finished fort.

Dr. Neal Halfon, a physician who directs the UCLA Center for Healthier Children, Families, and Communities, refers to “parental benign neglect.” One example involved an 18-month-old and his parents:
“‘Their son seemed happy, active and engaged, clearly enjoying time and pizza with his parents. … At the end of dinner, Mom got up to run an errand, handing over care to Dad.’
“Dad … started reading phone messages while the toddler struggled to get his attention by throwing bits of pizza crust. Then the dad re-engaged, facing his child and playing with him. Soon, though, he substituted watching a video on his phone with the toddler until his wife returned.
“… [Dr.] Halfon observed a dimming of the child’s internal light, a lessening of the connection between parent and child.”

Ella didn’t like bedtime at all. When the lights went out, her imagination came alive. And the thing was, she couldn’t stop it.
Ella tried to figure out what was making the shadow on her wall. Then she heard a creaking sound. She froze with fear. What if something is under my bed?
Ella rolled over so she couldn’t see the wall. Maybe if I stay really still, nothing will bother me, she told herself. Dad and Mom were just down the hall, but she didn’t want to wake them up.
Pulling her fuzzy blue blanket up around her face, Ella said a prayer to Heavenly Father. But the scary thoughts didn’t go away.
Ella’s muscles felt tight, and her stomach hurt. Am I getting sick? she worried.
The next day Ella couldn’t keep her mind on her reading book. She wasn’t even excited when Ms. Lopez showed a video about dinosaur fossils. What if she really was sick? What if she missed the test tomorrow? Her list of worries just got bigger and bigger.
At recess, an easy soccer pass rolled right by her. “Hey, Ella!” her friend Porter yelled. “What are you dreaming about?” Ella felt her face get hot. She wanted to yell back at Porter.
That night after Mom tucked her in bed, Ella lay awake with her eyes wide open. She tried thinking happy thoughts. She prayed again. She even sang a Primary song. It helped for a minute, but then the scary thoughts came back.
Maybe it’s my fault, Ella thought. Maybe Heavenly Father isn’t answering my prayers because I’ve done something wrong.
The next morning Ella wandered into the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.
“Good morning!” Dad said as he stacked banana pancakes on Ella’s plate.
Ella cut a bite of pancake and pushed it around in the syrup.
“Are you feeling OK?” Dad asked.
Ella didn’t answer. She just stared at her uneaten pancakes. Dad patted her shoulder. “You can talk to me about anything. I’ll listen no matter what.”
Ella felt a tear roll down her cheek. “Dad, I have really scary thoughts, and I can’t make them go away,” she said. “I pray really hard, but it doesn’t feel like Heavenly Father answers. The scary thoughts don’t go away!”
Dad hugged Ella tight. “Maybe Heavenly Father answered your prayer by helping you talk to me.”
Ella nodded and rubbed her eyes.
“And about your scary thoughts,” said Dad, “it sounds like your brain is having a hard time calming down after you have a stressful thought. That’s called anxiety. Mom started having trouble with it when she was your age too.”
Ella let out a deep breath. She didn’t know anyone else felt like she did! But she was still a little worried. “Does it happen because I’m doing something wrong?”
“No,” said Dad. “It’s not your fault at all! A lot of people feel anxiety.” He sat down next to Ella. “But we can definitely help you feel better.”
“How?” Ella asked.
“Well, you already took the first step,” said Dad. “Talking to me.”
“How else?” Ella wanted to know.
“Maybe you can try some of the things that helped Mom. We can talk to your doctor about it too,” Dad said. “I know one thing for sure. Heavenly Father loves you and wants you to feel better. Let’s pray to Him to help us know what else we can do.”
After they prayed, Ella smiled. “Eat up!” Dad said as Ella took a bite of a buttery, syrup-covered pancake. She felt peaceful knowing that Heavenly Father loved her—and that Dad and Mom could help too.

Besides sprucing up Main Street, washing cars, tidying the cemetery, spreading gravel at the train depot, and chopping weeds at a main intersection on the highway into town, the youth painted the city’s historic log church, landscaped its grounds, and polished the benches and the organ inside.
“I thought that was neat,” said Daphne Motto, 17. “It didn’t matter that it’s not an LDS church. It’s like we were saying, we’re all brothers and sisters and we need to help each other.”

My classmates and I were stationed near Hannover. Every month or so our unit of about 300 people would get together. Usually there was a unit party, and everyone would be drinking and smoking—except me. I didn’t know it at first, but our commander-in-chief watched me during these parties.

One day he called me in and asked me why I didn’t smoke or drink. I was a little shy, and I told him that I just didn’t believe in it. I think I was the only one who didn’t smoke or drink in the whole outfit, and I was the only Latter-day Saint.

“There must be a specific reason why you don’t do that,” he continued questioning me. I told him it was better for the body to abstain from those things, and I tried to evade the question a little bit. When you’re 15, it’s not so easy when people laugh at you and say you’re not a man if you don’t smoke and drink. My fellow soldiers had made fun of me quite often, and my commander had heard that.

“You’re a Mormon, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” he asked.

“I’m a little shy,” I explained. “You’ve seen what kind of reaction the others have.”
“Well, that might change if you just tell them,” he replied.

One night we were all sitting at a big table at a party, and everyone was drinking, except me. I think I had a pop that I had bought downtown. My commanding officer was watching me again.
He stood and said, “Rahde, get up.” Then he said to the whole group, “I would like to inform you that Rahde is a Mormon. He doesn’t drink, and he doesn’t smoke. And I would like you to respect that. If I see anybody making fun of him because of that, I will put you in jail.”
I was shocked. I turned red because everyone was looking at me. Then he said, “From now on, Rahde, it is your job to take care of these men and see that when they go downtown and have too much to drink they find their way home.”

From that minute on, I had a lot of groups that wanted me to go with them. They took me to their beer joints, and said, “No drinks for Heinz. He doesn’t drink, and he has to take us home.

I didn’t have to mention anything anymore. I had more friends that way than I would have had any other way. Nothing could have done more good for me than this frankness, as my wise commanding officer had sensed. It was a testimony to me that the others trusted me so much that whenever something came up, they always asked me to go with them, and they protected me.

Clay, Ron, and Dean proved themselves to be young men of action and compassion as they rescued a young woman from her burning car.
Returning home from a movie, the trio discovered the burning, wrecked car on the freeway exit. The driver was seriously injured, unable to move, and calling for help. Bystanders were doing nothing.
Ignoring personal risk, Clay approached the car and was forced back. “I backed off once,” he said. “I was afraid it was going to blow up. She was kind of groggy and she said, ‘Help me, please, someone help me.’
“The second time, I just said to myself, ‘It’s for her good. If it blows up on me, that’s it.’” With that thought, Clay helped the badly injured woman out of her car. With a compound ankle fracture, she relied on Clay to carry her to the curb.
Meanwhile, Ron used the fire extinguisher from his car to attack the flames. When that and another extinguisher provided by a bystander failed to completely douse the fire, Ron and Dean ran to a pay phone and called for paramedics. Arriving police and firemen completed extinguishing the fire.

When my mission president announced my transfer, I thought he must be punishing me. A native of France, I was serving in France and Switzerland. Now my new companion and I were called to be zone leaders in Avignon—a city where there had not been a convert baptism for many months.
My companion and I spent our first evening in Avignon discussing our situation and trying to find motivation and strength. One solution would be just wait for things to happen. But when we thought of how short our missions were, we knew that we would hate to waste precious months.
We remembered the scripture in Matthew 19:26: “With God all things are possible.” [Matt. 19:26] What if we were in this city and region for a reason? What if the people of this city were not as hopeless as we had been led to believe? What if their problems were only the missionaries’ attitudes toward them? What if the Lord would prepare a recompense commensurate with our faith, our effort, and our desire?
We decided not to pay attention to what others had said about Avignon. In our prayers, we asked the Lord to guide us to a choice soul—one whom we would be able to prepare for baptism the following month. And we promised the Lord that we would work with all our strength.
Two days later, we met and began teaching Haroun—and we baptized him exactly one month after we had made our commitment to the Lord. Haroun referred us to his neighbors who lived above his apartment, so we also began to teach the Langer family. They, too, accepted the gospel and were baptized. It is wonderful to watch the miracle of conversion in people you love.
Since the apartment building where Haroun and the Langer family lived had only two stories, with one apartment in each, we realized that their entire building was now converted to the Church! We had achieved 100 percent success there!
After four months of work, sacrifices, miracles, and blessings, the little branch in Avignon had practically doubled. The missionaries of our district had prepared fifteen people to come into the Church. Now all of the missionaries wanted to serve in that city. Its reputation had been restored. All of the bad ideas about it had changed.
A year after my mission, I attended the Swiss Temple and had the surprise and extreme joy of seeing Brother and Sister Langer and their three children there. I witnessed them kneel at the altar and be sealed as a family. Brother Eric Langer is now a high priest—and is president of the Avignon branch.
I thanked the Lord for his generosity to me. And I thanked him for enlightening my companion and me on that first evening in Avignon when we decided to work with all our strength. What would have been the result if we had just waited for things to happen?

I wish to bear you my witness of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and the power of His infinite, atoning sacrifice. In doing so, I will call upon an experience from my years in Tennessee. One evening there I received a call at home from a gentleman I did not know. He introduced himself as a recently retired minister of another faith and asked to meet with me privately the following Sunday. When we met, my guest stated frankly he had come out of concern for the welfare of my soul. He pulled out of his portfolio a fairly long list of scripture citations from the New Testament and said he wanted to review these verses with me and see if he could help me be saved. I was a bit surprised at his directness, but I could tell that he was sincere, and I was touched by his genuine interest in me.
We conversed for more than an hour, and he was open to hear me explain something of my faith as well as to read with me some teachings from the Book of Mormon with which he was not familiar. We found there was much we believed in common and some things we did not. We felt a bond of friendship and prayed together before he left. What remains with me is our discussion about being born again. It is spiritual rebirth through Jesus Christ that is the context of my witness of Him.

It’s six in the morning at the Redondo Beach chapel. The cultural hall is filled with chairs. Slowly, seminary students begin filing in. Only today it’s not a normal seminary morning. Something is different. Sure, you can smell the French toast cooking in the kitchen. Breakfast is in about 30 minutes. What’s out of the ordinary, though, is that not all of the teenagers in the room are Latter-day Saints. Some have never even been in an LDS church building before.
On this Monday, it’s the monthly version of Bring a Friend to Seminary, an idea hatched by Linda O’Brien, the seminary teacher who challenged her students to invite nonmember friends to seminary once a month. This morning, Aarika and many other students are enthusiastic participants.
Today, four of Aarika’s friends have come for the lesson—and the food. “Once you get them to come, they have a great time. They have so much fun, and then they tell another person. But I do kind of mumble the six-in-the-morning part,” Aarika says, laughing. “They’re not sure what to expect, but they’ve told me their days have been so great because it started out with a prayer and talking about the scriptures.”
When Aarika was attending her first year of seminary, she was unsure about the program. “I thought, Who am I going to ask? But now I’m really comfortable, and it’s a lot easier now.”
Sharing the gospel is so much a part of Aarika’s life that she can’t remember a day when she didn’t talk about the Church with someone.
As seminary ends, Aarika and her four friends leave. They’re all smiling.

The Young Men and Young Women of the Grants Ward, Grants New Mexico Stake, really went the extra mile when they volunteered to wire signs to fences denoting the newly created national monument and conservation area known as “El Malpais.”

There were ten miles of fences surrounding the lava-filled valley with geological and archaeological sites. The youth were required to wire signs every tenth of a mile. The Bureau of Land Management representative expected the project to take all day. He was surprised and pleased to find that the youth completed it in a mere two hours, and he commented on their enthusiasm and efficiency.

The young men and women not only enjoyed the work, but felt good about the example they’d set. They were also proud to have a hand in helping their area’s new national monument.