Gospel Story Finder

Grandmother was visiting us, and we were just ready to go out on a fun family outing when a minor disaster struck—we couldn’t find the keys to the car. Children, parents, and Grandmother searched everywhere, but the keys were not to be found, and we thought in dismay that we would probably have to stay home. Then Grandmother excused herself and went into her bedroom. In just a few minutes one of the children suddenly found the keys just barely hidden under a corner of a rug.
As we drove happily to our outing, someone asked Grandmother, “Why did you go into your bedroom instead of looking for the keys?” Grandmother’s answer was absorbed carefully by five young children: “I knew how disappointed everyone would be if we didn’t go on the outing so I went in and prayed that we could find the keys. I knew we would find them after that.”

Sharing the gospel is about people, not numbers. So what happened in Immokalee, Florida, began just as it should have, when Junior Reyes invited one of his friends to come to church.
Little did he know what he was starting.
At the time, there were only two Aaronic Priesthood bearers in the Immokalee Branch: Junior and another young man named Jorge Caceres. Jorge was born in the Church but had become discouraged because for a long time he had been the only Aaronic Priesthood bearer in the branch. So Junior, a convert, was the only one who went to stake firesides.
“Every time I’d go, I’d see the other branches and all the youth in the stake, but from our branch, it would just be me,” Junior says. “Finally, I said, ‘Why am I the only one here from Immokalee? I’ve got to open my mouth.’
“The way I was raised, I was taught not to be scared,” he continues. “When I talk to my friends about Jesus Christ and the restored gospel, I’m not afraid; I’m happy. I know what I’m telling them can help them make their lives better.”
So Junior invited his friend Wedner Daly to come to church. “I said, ‘You learn a lot of things and you get a lot of blessings, and it’s worth it.’”
Wedner accepted.
“I didn’t think anything special about it at first,” Wedner says. “I thought it would be like other churches. But when I got there, it was the day that everybody shared their testimonies, so I got to feel the Spirit when I first came. That was different for me. I had never been to a church where people shared their testimonies and felt great about their church. That’s one of the reasons that I liked it.”
So Wedner invited his friend, Milsont Pierre. Milsont started coming to weeknight activities and then to Sunday meetings, and then the missionaries started teaching his family. He remembers vividly, “I felt the Spirit, over and over again, especially during the sacrament prayers. I knew this was the true Church.” Milsont and his three brothers were baptized and confirmed, as well as a cousin, a nephew, and four of Milsont’s friends.

John Martin is one who had to wait until he was 18 to get baptized. Unlike most of these recent converts, however, some of John’s family—his dad, grandmother, and some cousins—are members of the Church. With their support and the help of two friends in the Danville Second Ward, Adam Broderick and Matt Peterson, John started going to church a couple years before he was baptized.
John ran on the cross-country team with Adam, who encouraged him to read the Book of Mormon. At school, John occasionally talked to Matt about the Church. One summer, they invited John to attend youth conference.
After the conference, John’s friends invited him to church. He went and kept going because “it was a good atmosphere, and I learned a lot,” John says. “They also talked about values I believed in, like not drinking or swearing.”
That summer John was working at a grocery store until 10 p.m. each night. Before and after work, he’d read the Book of Mormon for an hour or two. He thought, “There’s something to this book, because it gives me a good feeling.” During that summer, he and Matt would talk about verses they liked.
The day before school started, John began taking the discussions, with Matt there to support him. At the first discussion, the missionaries invited John to be baptized. Though he wanted to say yes, his mom objected. But he was allowed to attend church and seminary, where they studied the Book of Mormon that year.
The Book of Mormon is the foundation of John’s testimony. He says, “The missionaries told me that if I have a testimony of the Book of Mormon, everything else falls into place.” John has a strong testimony of the Book of Mormon, so he believes the Church is true and that Joseph Smith was a prophet.
A month after he turned 18, John was baptized. About 100 people were there, including his friends in the ward and relatives from as far away as Michigan.
In addition to the gift of the Holy Ghost, John has noticed some other blessings: “Since I’ve been interested in the Church, things have gone well, like school and family and deciding everyday things. Most things have improved.”

My parents’ lives together began in an unusual way. It was 1936. They were dating seriously and were planning to marry, when my dad received a letter inviting him to serve as a full-time missionary in South Africa. The letter said that if he was worthy and willing to serve, he was to contact his bishop. You can quickly see that the process of being called as a missionary was very different in those days! Dad showed the letter to his sweetheart, Helen, and they determined without question he would serve.

For two weeks before he left, Mom met Dad each day for a picnic lunch in Memory Grove near downtown Salt Lake City. During one of their lunches, having sought direction through fasting and prayer, Mother told her dear Claron that if he still wanted to, she would marry him before he left. In the early days of the Church, men were sometimes called to missionary service and left wives and families at home. So it was with my mother and dad. With the approval of his priesthood leaders, they decided to be married before he departed for his mission.

In the Salt Lake Temple, Mother received her endowment, and then they were married for time and all eternity by President David O. McKay. Theirs was a humble beginning. There were no photographs, no beautiful wedding dress, no flowers, and no reception to celebrate the occasion. Their clear focus was on the temple and their covenants. For them, the covenants were everything. After only six days of marriage and with a tearful good-bye, my dad left for South Africa.

But their marriage was more than just the deep love they had for each other. They also had a love of the Lord and a desire to serve Him. The sacred temple covenants they had made gave them strength and power to carry them through the two years of separation. They had an eternal perspective of life’s purpose and of promised blessings that come to those who are faithful to their covenants. All these blessings transcended their short-term sacrifice and separation.

While it certainly wasn’t an easy way to begin married life, it proved to be an ideal way to lay a foundation for an eternal family. As children came along, we knew what mattered most to our parents. It was their love for the Lord and their unwavering commitment to keeping the covenants they had made. Though my parents have both passed away, their pattern of righteousness is blessing our family still.

The example of their lives is reflected in the words of Sister Linda K. Burton: “The best way to strengthen a home, current or future, is to keep covenants.”

Their season of hardship and trial was not over. Three years after Dad returned from his mission, World War II was raging, and like so many others, he enlisted in the military. He was away from home for another four years as he served in the navy aboard battleships in the Pacific.

It was a difficult time for my parents to be separated again. But for my mother, those days of loneliness, worry, and uncertainty were also marked by whisperings of the Spirit that spoke of eternal promises, of comfort and peace amid the storm.

Despite her challenges, my mother lived a rich life, full of happiness, joy, love, and service. Her love of the Savior was reflected in the way she lived her life. She had a remarkable connection to heaven and a gift and capacity to love and bless everyone around her. Her faith in God and hope in His promises are reflected in President Thomas S. Monson’s words about the temple when he said, “No sacrifice is too great, no price too heavy, no struggle too difficult in order to receive those blessings.”

In all the seasons of her life, Mother was strengthened and blessed by her love of the Lord and by the covenants she faithfully made and kept.

Despite the occasional need for tests, most lessons are aimed at stretching and unfolding the students’ knowledge. Many teaching moments have happened at the very instant they were needed most. Like the week two young ladies became angry with each other on the way to seminary. They sat down and the meeting began. Their faces were preoccupied and gloomy. The scripture discussed in Scripture Mastery seemed to apply to them. In Doctrine and Covenants 64:9–11 they learned about how to truly forgive. [D&C 64:9–11] By the end of the meeting both girls were back to normal.

We grew so close together over the years as friends that even after I was married she continued to teach me great lessons. We lived next door to each other. When I would return home from work, I had to pass her home before going into my home. During her later years she had arthritis, and I always worried about her health. One of the first days after my wife and I were married and I arrived home from work, I stopped in at my mother’s house before going to my own. I will never forget the experience of having her take me by the arm and escort me right back out of her house with this counsel, “You go see your wife first and tell her you love her. Then you can come and see me.”

Saturday was finally here. It was time for our surprise adventure!
“I hope we’re going to the trampoline park,” I shouted from the backseat. Mom wouldn’t tell us where we were going, but the street we were on looked familiar. …
Then it hit me. We were going to the care center. Our school class had gone there a few times. We each had a “grandparent buddy” to talk to and play games with. My buddy was named Bill, and he was pretty cool.
But not as cool as a trampoline park, I thought as Mom pulled into the parking lot. When my brother saw the red and tan building, he groaned.
“This is going to be the worst day ever!” he grumbled. “This isn’t a fun adventure at all.”
Mom looked at us from the rear-view mirror. “Oh come on, give it a shot. By the time we’re through, you just might change your mind.”
I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t so sure. I helped Mom carry bags of small quilts into the lobby. It felt calm and peaceful inside.
“Do you know why I like coming here?” Mom asked. I shook my head.
“I feel the same way here as when I see new babies at the hospital,” she said. “Like I’m close to heaven.”
Close to heaven. I liked that.
We showed the receptionist at the front desk the quilts we wanted to hand out, and he led us to a room where we could visit.
“Is Bill still here?” I asked. “The one who’s married to Ruth and likes baseball?”
One of the workers nodded. “Oh, yes! Bill is still here. We sure love him.”
We started talking with some of the people, and it was actually pretty interesting hearing about their lives. And after a while, I saw Bill sitting in his wheelchair.
“Hi, Bill!”
He didn’t look like he remembered me, but that was OK. I picked out a small quilt with a baseball pattern and laid it on his lap.
“He gets cold a lot, and that will really help him,” said one of the workers standing nearby. “His wife will be happy to see it. She comes to visit him every day.”
Our visit wasn’t long, but it was long enough to see Bill smile. On our way out, we read a piece of paper posted on Bill’s door that told some fun things about his life. We learned that he grew up on a farm and learned to play baseball from his stepmother.
“Hey, Mom, look!” I pointed to a line on the paper. “He was so good at baseball that he was going to sign on with a professional team! But then he served in the military instead.” It was neat to learn a bit more about Bill.
Soon we were back in the van, buckling our seatbelts.
“So?” Mom asked us. “What did you think?”
I smiled. “I actually had fun. And I feel really happy. I think it’s because we helped Bill.”
As Mom drove home, we talked about different ways we can show people love and how the Spirit tells us when we are making good choices. We were all feeling so great that we decided to go back and visit another day.
What a great day! I thought as we pulled into our driveway. It was a fun adventure after all.

Illustrations by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
It was a stormy winter night. At the airport in Chicago, Illinois, many people were stranded due to delayed or canceled flights. A young pregnant woman stood in the long check-in line, nudging her two-year-old daughter forward with her foot.
Many people made disapproving comments, but no one offered to help.
Man: Why doesn’t she pick up that screaming child?
Woman: What a terrible mother.
With a kind smile, Elder Kimball walked up to the woman.
Elder Kimball: Can I help you?
Mother: Thank you.I’ve had four previous miscarriages. My doctor told me I can’t lift anything—not even my own child.
Elder Kimball picked up the crying child, rubbed her back, and gave her a piece of candy. When the girl was comforted, he informed the other passengers and the airport workers of the woman’s condition.
Airport worker: We’ll have you on the next available flight.
Supervisor: Come and sit and rest until your departure.
The woman’s stress was lessened. Later, she saw a picture of Elder Spencer W. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.
Mother: That’s him! That’s the man who helped me.
A few months after that, she gave birth to a healthy baby boy.
Twenty-one years later, President Kimball received a letter. It was from the son of that young mother.
Student: I served a faithful mission and am now a student at Brigham Young University. Thank you for helping my mother that terrible night!
President Kimball was happy that his small act of service had resulted in so much good.

Here is one letter that points out many of the problems with starting to think seriously about one person too soon:
“When I was 14, I decided that pairing up with one ‘special’ boyfriend wasn’t ‘dating,’ so it was okay. It began as a way to be more popular, but soon I was lying to my parents so I could spend time alone with him. Over the ten months we were together, my testimony was slowly weakened, and eventually I had problems with the law of chastity. Since then I’ve talked with my bishop and repented, but it was a long, difficult, and painful process. I hurt myself, my parents, and the Lord. It opened the door to many other temptations bit by bit and made the important things in life seem foolish, and the wrong things appear right. My parents and bishop showed me nothing but love as they tried to help me return to the Lord’s favor. How much I wish I’d had the strength when I was 14 to stand alone and be different!”

One day a boy stopped at my office and for several moments talked very negatively and critically about the Church, suggesting several reasons why the Church just couldn’t be the Lord’s Church. When asked to search deeply within himself, to examine his conscience concerning the matter as to whether or not the Church was the Lord’s, he replied after some reflective thought, “I feel it is the Lord’s Church.”

The youth of the Ammon Fifth Ward, Idaho Falls Idaho Ammon Stake, planned and prepared for a single day of service that made a big difference to one member in their ward. They chose as their project to repair, paint, and landscape the home of a single mother in their ward. Three months of planning and preparation went into the project before the big Saturday arrived. Committees were organized to take care of painting, landscaping, pouring cement, carpentry, and food for the work crews. Before the youth arrived, the home was prepared by having old paint scraped off and primer put on, building new cupboards and getting them ready to install, and pouring the garage floor.

By seven on the morning of the super Saturday of service, over 100 youth and leaders arrived on the scene. The street was alive with activity. Painting went quickly with ten young people to each side of the house. Other groups were loading rocks and pulling weeds from the yard. Under the supervision of adult leaders, some trees were cut down and others pruned. Another group of boys were on the roof putting new tar paper down.

After a 30-minute lunch break with food prepared by the Laurels, they were back at work. Top soil was hauled in, smoothed, and prepared for planting. Then the landscape committee planted the new lawn, trees, evergreens, and flowers. Wood chips were added as a finishing touch. After all that hard work, the irrigation canal nearby was too much of a temptation, and the work crews took a quick dip. A few more hours completed the installation of new carpet and counter tops before the cleanup crew removed all traces of debris. The group had time for a swim before dinner was prepared by the Laurels. They had fun and learned the sweetness of service when it comes from the heart.

We all need to know what it means to be honest. Honesty is more than not lying. It is truth telling, truth speaking, truth living, and truth loving. John, a nine-year-old Swiss pioneer child who was in one of the handcart companies, is an example of honesty. His father put a chunk of buffalo meat in the handcart and said it was to be saved for Sunday dinner. John said, “I was so very hungry and the meat smelled so good to me while pushing at the handcart that I could not resist. I had a little pocket knife. … Although I expected a severe whipping when father found it out, I cut off little pieces each day. I would chew them so long that they got white and perfectly tasteless. When father came to get the meat he asked me if I had been cutting off some of it. I said ‘Yes. I was so hungry I could not let it alone.’ Instead of giving me a scolding or whipping, father turned away and wiped tears from his eyes.”

As many of you know, our family experienced a tender separation three months ago when our daughter Wendy departed from this mortal life. In the final days of her battle with cancer, I was blessed with the opportunity to have our farewell daddy-daughter conversation.
I held her hands and told her how much I loved her and how grateful I was to be her father. I said: “You married in the temple and faithfully honored your covenants. You and your husband welcomed seven children into your home and raised them to be devout disciples of Jesus Christ, valiant Church members, and contributing citizens. And they have chosen spouses of that same caliber. Your daddy is very, very proud of you. You have brought me much joy!”
She quietly responded, “Thank you, Daddy.”
It was a tender, tearful moment for us. During her 67 years, we worked together, sang together, and often skied together. But that evening, we talked of things that matter most, such as covenants, ordinances, obedience, faith, family, fidelity, love, and eternal life.
We miss our daughter greatly. However, because of the restored gospel of Jesus Christ, we do not worry about her. As we continue to honor our covenants with God, we live in anticipation of our being with her again. Meanwhile, we’re serving the Lord here and she is serving Him there—in paradise.

I sat down with my own children several years ago after a tragedy occurred locally. I felt compelled to share with them that through Jesus Christ, there is always a way forward. There is nothing they could do, or fail to do, that would make suicide the answer. At their tender age, I had no reason to think they were at risk, but I knew there was more I could be doing to prepare my children for handling dangerous, potentially suicidal thoughts.
Immediately after I discussed suicide with my own children, my nine-year-old son asked if he could speak to me privately. He told me about times he had imagined taking his own life, complete with how he would do it. I never could have dreamed he was having these thoughts. I hugged him, thanked him for his bravery in telling me, and told him that no matter what he ever did or ever thought, he was treasured and needed in our family. And I committed to myself to watch him for any further signs of suicidal ideation or mental illness.

The warm December sun was about to set as Papá, ten-year-old Juan, and Juan’s burro, Paco, made their way down the winding Mexican road toward the hacienda. Juan was riding Paco, and Papá walked alongside.
As they came to a turn in the road, the burro stumbled a little but soon regained his footing. “Whoa,” said Papá, looking at Paco in surprise. “Our little friend has not lost his footing since he was a small colt.”
Juan brought Paco to a stop, and Papá stepped in front of them and looked into Paco’s big brown eyes. He looked at Paco’s nose and mouth. He stepped back and tugged at his shiny black mustache with his thumb and first finger. Then he looked up at Juan and gave him a funny little smile. Juan had seen his father make this funny little smile before—it meant that something was wrong!
“I do not wish to alarm you, my son—I know how much you love Paco. But I’m afraid that he is very ill.” Papá looked again at the burro, then back at Juan. “Climb down from his back. He does not need to carry a load when he is sick.”
Juan’s heart beat fast as he slid gently to the ground. Paco was not just another burro. Paco was a friend. Juan had raised him from a tiny, newborn colt, and they were inseparable. “How sick is he, Papá? Will he be all right?”
“We must lead him home slowly,” was all that Papá said.
Juan looked at Paco’s face. His nose was very dry, his eyes were very wet, and he drooled a little at the mouth. His head swayed back and forth a little, and he grunted softly. “It is true,” Juan said quietly to himself. “Paco is very ill.”
As soon as they reached the hacienda stable, Juan led Paco to his stall. The burro lay on his side on the straw with a little thud.
“Can we call the veterinarian from Santa Cruz?” Juan asked. Even before he asked, he knew what Papá’s answer would have to be.
“I wish we could, but we cannot afford to pay his fee.”
Papá and Juan entered the kitchen of the hacienda. Mamá was preparing Juan’s favorite food, tostadas. She was heating the corn tortillas while the refried beans simmered on the stove. The green tomato salsa was already on the table.
Juan did not feel hungry. He ate only one tostada instead of his usual four or five, then went to his room. He got into bed and closed his eyes but could not sleep. He was worried about poor Paco lying on the straw in the stable.
After a time, Mamá came to the door. Seeing Juan awake, she came in and sat on the edge of his bed. She stroked his hair as she had when he was little.
In past years, Juan had participated in the local Posada procession. Each night for nine nights, the children of the village and the hacienda reenacted the story of Mary and Joseph’s looking for a place to stay in Bethlehem and being turned away because the inns were all full. This year Juan and his eight-year-old sister, Rosita, had been assigned by the Posada officials to play the parts of Joseph and Mary, with Rosita riding Paco.
But then the missionaries had come to the hacienda and taught God’s plan to Juan’s family. Papá, Mamá, Juan, his twelve-year-old brother, José, and Rosita had listened carefully to Elder Mendoza and Elder Smith and had become baptized members of the Church. And though Juan was very happy to be a Latter-day Saint, he couldn’t help being a little sad when the officials said he could no longer be in the Posada. A Christmas party was planned at the LDS meetinghouse, and Juan and Rosita were invited to play the parts of Joseph and Mary—but the Christmas story was to be put on inside the building, and Paco was not allowed there.
“Are you sad because Paco can’t be in the Christmas play?” Mamá asked now.
“No, Mamá. That is a little thing. That he is so sick is a big thing. I just want Paco to get better. I love him very much. He is my friend.”
“I will pray for him tonight,” Mamá said.
As she left the room, José entered and got into bed. “I’m sorry that your burro is ill,” he said.
“I am, too, but Mamá reminded me of what I can do to help poor Paco. I will say a special prayer for him so that he will not suffer.”
“But, Juan, Paco is only an animal. Prayers such as that are for people.”
“No, José,” Juan said, “my Primary teacher, Sister Martinez, told us that Amulek, a great leader in the Book of Mormon, taught that we should pray for our animals.* Surely God does not want Paco to suffer. If I go to the stable and say a special prayer, he will recover or he will die in peace.”
With this, Juan arose from his bed and put on his best blue jeans, the white shirt he wore to church on Sundays, and his sandals.
José said, “Wait, Juan. I’ll go with you.” He got up and dressed and followed Juan out into the hall.
Rosita poked her head out of her bedroom. “What’s the matter?” she asked, rubbing her eyes.
“We’re going to the stable to say a special prayer for Paco,” Juan told her.
“May I go too?”
“Of course,” Juan said. “Paco will like that.”
Juan entered the stable first. He flipped on the light switch that lit a dim bulb hanging from a long cord, then knelt by the little burro’s head and gave Paco a pat on the neck. All three children folded their arms and bowed their heads. Juan prayed, “Father in heaven, we thank Thee that we have had Paco since he was small. He has given us much joy. Now he is very sick. If it be Thy will, bless him that he will grow strong and healthy again. But if Thou art in need of a fine burro, please take him in peace so that he will not suffer anymore. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Crying softly, no one spoke as they went back to bed, but all three children felt much better for having talked to Heavenly Father about Paco.
As the morning light came through the window and Juan awoke, his first thoughts were of Paco. A few minutes later he was hurrying through the stable doors. How delighted he was to see Paco standing! His hair was matted and dirty; he would not eat and would only drink water—but he was standing!
By Christmas Eve day, when the elders made a return visit to the hacienda, Paco was as well as ever and Juan and Rosita were taking turns riding him in the front yard.
That evening everyone went to the meetinghouse. Juan wore a bathrobe and a towel tied around his head to look like Joseph. Rosita braided her long hair and wore Mamá’s shawl when she played the part of Mary. After the acting out of the Christmas story, Elder Mendoza talked about the meaning of God’s gift of His Son to each of them. Then there was a wonderful party with many good things to eat, lots of colored balloons, and some special treats taken outside to the little brown burro named Paco.

If you come to Puerto Montt very early in the morning, you will find smoke curling from the chimney of one of the well-kept buildings. Inside, LDS seminary students are studying the gospel. Some of them have gotten out of bed at 4:00 A.M. to be here, but they are smiling. Their attendance record is almost perfect. Some of them are not even Mormons. This is typical. When the seminary program was established in this part of Chile, there were very few members. Undiscouraged, the leaders founded classes composed mostly of nonmembers. Before the end of the first year, many of the students were baptized, and a powerful new missionary tool was born.

Tasi lives on an island in American Samoa in the South Pacific Ocean. And because the village where she lives is on the opposite side of the island from the main town, those who go there must travel by boat.
All summer Tasi watched her father and brother help build the new school in the village.
“"The school has boxes called televisioni," Father told the family. "The boxes show pictures of teachers in the town making lessons."”
“"The TV teachers are Americans like us, but they are not Samoans," Brother added. "They are Palagis (white people) from the United States." He laughed and said, "Palagis are strange people. They talk loud and fast and smile little."”
Brother and Father worked in town with Palagis. They knew all about them.
“"The principal of the new school is a Palagi lady with a title and two names—Miss Rebecca Hall," Father said. "But do not call her by her true name as we do in Samoa—only say Miss Hall."”
Walking to school the first day, Tasi wondered what it would be like to have a Palagi living in the village. Tasi had not seen many Palagis. They made her feel shy. She felt sorry for them, too, because their faces looked faded, like old dresses when the color has washed out.
At school the children sat on floor mats at low desks and stared about, eager to see what the “"televisioni school"” was like. They saw a green wall with white writing on it and a brown wall with pictures stuck on it. They saw the televisioni box with the glass face that made picture lessons. What a strange school! Everything about it was different.
The children had many things besides lessons to learn at the new school. Miss Hall was impatient with them. She talked loud and too fast. She did not know how hard it was to get used to Palagi speech. She did not know how hard the English and math and social studies were. She wanted the boys and girls to do everything right the first time.
The children began to be nervous and frightened when Miss Hall came into their classes for their English lessons. They huddled together at playtime and talked about it.
Tolu, one of the big boys, said, “"Today I stand to speak. I use the respect language because a teacher is the same as a chief. But Miss Hall say, ‘Never mind the fancy speeches, just answer the questions!’"”
The children listened in shocked silence.
Tasi was troubled.
Why is Miss Hall unhappy? she wondered. She never smile, never visit the families at home in their fales (hut or home), never come sing and dance, and she never go to church on Sunday. When is no school she is always going to town on boat.
Every day Tasi worried and wondered. At last she decided that her teacher was sad because she had no family in Samoa, no father and mother, no husband and children, not even anyone to call her by her true name. When Tasi thought about being away from Samoa without her family, she had to push tears away. She tried to think of some way to make Miss Hall happy in Samoa.
Maybe I can make a Samoan present, she thought. I have not yet learned to weave mats and baskets like Mother or catch fish like Father.
That night Tasi decided what present she could give to Miss Hall, and early the next morning she splashed along the shore in the shallow waters, searching, searching. She lifted stones and looked underneath, then put them carefully back in place so the sea creatures under them would not be hurt. At last she found what she wanted and ran off to school.
When Miss Hall came Tasi held out a hand holding three small sea urchins and said, “"A present for you, Peka, to make you happy in the fa‘a Samoa."”
Miss Hall did not know that Peka was Tasi’s way of saying Rebecca. She did not know that fa‘a Samoa meant the Samoan way. Thanking Tasi for the sea urchins, Miss Hall smiled, so Tasi felt sure she had done a good thing.
The next morning Tasi saw the sea urchins on the ground by the teacher’s house. “"She threw them away!" Tasi cried, shamed and angry. "She just threw them away! She doesn’t like us. I know she doesn’t!"”
With a sob Tasi ran home. She told her mother she had a stomachache and cried herself to sleep on her mat.
The next morning Tasi still had a stomachache—and the next, and the next.
On Sunday after church Tasi’s older brother found her playing on the beach. “"What is wrong at the new school, Tasi?" he asked.”
She stopped and looked at him in surprise.
“"Mother says you have stomachache every day and cannot go to school. But yesterday and today is no school and you run and play. So I am thinking school is the stomachache. Are you going to have your stomachache all the days of school?" asked Tasi’s brother.”
Tasi hung her head in shame and told her brother everything. When she had finished he said, “"Miss Hall did not know the sea urchins were for eating. Palagis do not eat such things. She put them in an ant bed, I am thinking, to clean them out. Palagis like only the shells."”
“"But the shells are trash!" Tasi cried in astonishment. "Why would anybody keep what is thrown to the pigs and chickens?"”
“"Perhaps they see beauty in the life that was there," Brother smiled. "They have shells in their houses, but they do not eat the meat from them."”
“"How can they be so foolish and so wasteful!" she exclaimed.”
Brother’s eyes twinkled and he grinned. “"Perhaps the Palagi teacher does not know the sea urchins are good to eat," he explained. "Perhaps she does not even know how to get them out of the shells. Why not show her?"”
Tasi beamed. “"That is what I will do so the teacher will know it is fa‘a Samoa to get food from the sea."”
Early the next morning Tasi went splashing around in the tide pools again. She was waiting when Miss Hall came out of her house.
“"Tasi," exclaimed the teacher, "I am glad you are well again. So many children are out with stomachaches. Come into the school and see the nice shell collection I started with your sea urchins."”
Tasi held out a handful of sea urchins and small shells.
“"I do not know what is ‘co-le-sioni,’" she replied. "In Samoa, shells have meat in them for eating. I will show you."”
She laid her shells on a flat stone and gently hit them with a rock. She picked away the broken shell bits and held up a handful of sea treats.
“"Now," Tasi explained, "it’s ready for eating." She ate one herself to show how good it was, then offered them to Miss Hall.”
“"They’re very good, all of them," Tasi invited, "but the sea urchin is the best."”
Miss Hall stared at Tasi and the small, live shell animals. Tasi ate another, smiling with pleasure.
“"It’s very good to eat Peka," she urged generously.”
At last Miss Hall took the smallest bite and ate it, smiling bravely. She began to talk, not loud, not fast, but quietly to herself.
“"Who’s the teacher here, Tasi," she asked, "you or me? I wanted to teach English quickly so I could go to town and be at the TV studio. And here you are teaching me that I don’t know how to live in Samoa at all. That’s why I’m so miserable and why I make everybody else so miserable with all those stomachaches."”
Then Miss Hall laughed a strange little laugh and put her arms around Tasi and hugged her hard.
“"Thank you, Tasi," she said. "You just taught me a whole semester of psychology."”
Tasi didn’t understand a bit of what Miss Hall was saying. She just reached her arms around the teacher and gave back the nice hug and they both burst into happy laughter.
And that was good because as Tasi told her brother later, “"Here everybody understand hugs and laughings. It’s fa‘a Samoa."”
fales—fah-leys
Palagis—pah-long-ees

Elder Franklin D. Richards
“A very wise bishop called several young people into his office and said to them, ‘I would like you to help me in an experiment. I would like to prove the impact and influence of one member on the spirit of the family. For one month I would like each one of you to be the peacemaker in your home. Now don’t say anything about this to your family, but be thoughtful, kind, and considerate. Be an example. Where there is quarreling or bickering among members of your family, do whatever you can to overcome these faults by creating an atmosphere of love, harmony, and happiness.’
“It was a challenge for these young people, and they met the challenge in a wonderful way. When they reported back to the bishop, remarks such as these were made:
“One young fellow said, ‘I had no idea I would have so much influence in my home. It’s really been different this last month. I’ve been wondering if much of the turmoil and strife we used to have was caused by me and my attitudes.’
“A young lady said, ‘I guess we were just the normal family, with our selfishness causing little daily conflicts, but as I have worked with my brothers and sisters, a lot of this has been eliminated and there has been a much sweeter spirit in our home. I believe you really have to work at it to have the spirit of peace in your home.’”

“You are not good enough.”
Those are the words hanging up on a wall in my basement. There’s a small room there where I exercise, and as negative thoughts come into my mind, I write them down and pin them up on a board. It’s a reminder of the struggles I have faced and the old self I am leaving behind.
For a long time I told myself I wasn’t good enough. I felt overwhelmed with depression and anxiety, which in turn led to poor physical health. I was drowning. I felt worthless. I felt hopeless. I believed I wasn’t worthy of God’s love or anyone else’s.
As young adults, many of us probably experience times when we feel like we’re not good enough, whether it has to do with our behavior, talents, or, in my case, self-image. Recently, I challenged myself to open up and dust off the most hidden pages in my personal book of life. During my exploration, I found a few things that had cultivated the negative personal image I held inside for so long. But I also discovered these three ways to overcome them.
I once read a quote by Theodore Roosevelt that said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” In a world where everyone’s life experiences are freely shared through social media, I felt constantly driven by unrealistic comparisons to friends, family, and prominent social figures. My deepest shortcomings were being matched with another’s greatest accomplishments, and I was often left feeling inadequate. In this time of negative self-reflection, I realized that I needed to change my mindset.
I took a break from all forms of social media and started to work on personal positivity and seeing the best in others. In a short amount of time, my thoughts began to change. I quickly stopped comparing my negatives to others’ positives like I had so often done before. In fact, I began to secretly celebrate the successes of others! This practice instantly melted away the wall of pride and jealousy I had built up over time. What followed was a clear mind and the ability to view things from an eternal perspective.
Our experience on earth is sometimes overshadowed by the burdensome realization that we are imperfect mortal beings. Eventually the negative way I viewed myself and my body consumed all parts of my life. When I felt the weight of my imperfections growing, I would turn to destructive behaviors instead of to the Lord. These behaviors created a feeling of imperfection that was so heavy at times that I felt life wasn’t worth living. Ultimately the only place I could turn to was to the Lord. Through humility and repentance, I made an effort to be more consistent in reading the words of prophets with a purpose and praying to understand my surroundings with heavenly eyes.
No trial is too great when we turn to the Lord and accept His will, no matter the outcome. Contrarily, trials tend to feel burdensome when we attempt to force our will over His. By accepting His will, I found a higher level of clarity, and I began to see value in the person I was instead of constantly living in a state of inadequacy.
In Moroni 8:16 we are told that “perfect love casteth out all fear.” Perfect love is the most powerful tool we can wield as we face ourselves in the mirror and comprehend the eternal value of ourselves and everyone around us. It is seeing ourselves for who we are instead of putting our flaws under a microscope. It is not conditional on outward appearance. It is forgiving ourselves and others of past errors and moving forward with our eyes fixed on the light of eternal glory.
I found I cannot simply attempt to love; I must let it consume me and become a part of who I am. Within the walls of perfect love we find the true nature of God—and by extension our own divine nature—and the path that He has created for us.
My journey to better mental, physical, and spiritual health has strengthened my faith in God’s timing and His eternal love for me. At times I was brought very low, but when I stopped comparing myself to others, aligned my will with God’s, and learned to truly love myself, the image of my eternal destiny came into focus and I found peace. God’s love is infinitely mighty. When we slow down and take the time to discover it, He will help us see that we are good enough, even in our weakest moments.

The Young Women of the Niagara Falls Ward, Buffalo New York Stake, comforted some of their peers with quilted comforters, handmade. They made a dozen quilts in all, and also contributed personal items like shampoo, washcloths, towels, and deodorant to put into kits.
They then delivered the kits to teenagers in a home for those with no place to live or unsuitable family situations, the Compass House, in Buffalo. “The project was a lot of work, but it was worth every minute of it,” they said.