Gospel Story Finder

As I elaborate a bit on my testimony, perhaps an experience might help. While serving as a mission president, I had occasion to discuss the gospel and to discuss missionary work with a Protestant minister. He was troubled because he had received a call to preside over a mission for his church, and because he had had a prior poor experience, he was seeking help. He came to my office in Dallas and said that he really didn’t want to accept the mission call, but he felt he had to. He said he knew that we had the best missionary program in the world, and he wanted to know why it was that we were so successful. I think he was looking for some organizational hints or something of that sort, but I knew that wasn’t the answer.

After I had collected my thoughts, I told the man that there were four basic reasons why the Lord’s program succeeds. I said, first of all, we succeed because we are led by a living prophet, a man who is the mouthpiece for God on the earth, a man who receives inspiration—revelation—on behalf of the Church.
Second, we succeed because we work under the power and authority of the holy priesthood. We don’t assume that authority, we don’t take it upon ourselves, but it is given to us by the laying on of hands, and we are duly delegated to go out and preach the gospel. We have the priesthood.
Third, I said, we succeed because we are teaching the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ as restored in this day. We don’t play, as Elder Packer has taught, on one key; we play the entire keyboard. We know why we’re here, we know what we’re supposed to prepare for, and we know where we’ve been.
And fourth, we succeed because we do what we do on the strength and power of personal testimony. Our young people go out and teach, not because of some promise of remuneration, but because they have a testimony; they forego college or delay it and put other personal plans aside so that they can go out and share their testimonies with the world. I said, when your church can conduct a program with a prophet directing under the power of the priesthood, teaching the fulness of the gospel, and on the strength of personal testimonies, you can do exactly what we are doing. I said, there is no need for you to go to that trouble, though. We already have it going; why don’t you join us? He didn’t accept my invitation.

About five years ago, our family received the sad news of my mother’s illness. She was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis, a disease where her lungs gradually dry out and the body’s oxygen capacity is reduced until she can no longer breathe. The only way this disease can be cured is through a lung transplant, which is very expensive and not everyone is eligible.
From the beginning, despite being diagnosed with the disease, my mother went through very difficult times with a diminished quality of life. Even though the doctors gave little hope that she would qualify for a transplant, because her weak heart could not withstand the operation, my father and my siblings and I never lost faith. The doctors weren’t sure that she would make it through the night and asked us to get ready with funeral arrangements. One of the doctors who treated my mother always saw my father or a priesthood holder give her a blessing of health during the most difficult moments of her illness, and this was no exception. He was not a member of the Church, but he knew that those prayers had a power that he could not describe. The doctor joined in prayer with great faith, hearing and seeing how powerful prayers were.
And that night the miracle happened. My mother made it through the night. She got better over time and walked out of the hospital. I cannot imagine all the love of Jesus Christ that that doctor could feel. I am sure that this experience that he lived thanks to a difficult test of a patient and an example of faith of family, friends, and siblings, even my mother, helped to know and obtain the testimony that Jesus Christ is a living God who works miracles.
Although my mother died four years later from this disease, she was a great example of teaching and love for God, she prepared the family for her future departure, she strengthened doctors, nurses, my father, their children and grandchildren, brothers and sisters in the Church and everyone who ministered to her.

A man lying on a mattress in the aisle. The rest of the story: When I moved into a new ward, I was surprised to see a brother on a moveable hospital bed in the chapel. This man had many disabilities and was only able to attend church in this way. I quickly realized this was typical for this ward, and I adapted quickly. His being there was not irreverent but, in fact, quite the opposite. After all, didn’t the Savior heal a man who had been lowered down on his bed by his friends into a crowded house? (see Luke 5:18–20).

It was an uncommonly warm spring evening in Port Alberni, the small mill town in British Columbia, Canada, where I lived. I was looking forward to attending Mutual and spending time with my Latter-day Saint friends. I was friendly by nature but was nevertheless struggling socially both at school and at church.
As was our habit, a group of us gathered in the foyer of our meetinghouse and began chatting. I spent little time on center stage in these conversations, and from my outside vantage point I spotted two sister missionaries coming in the front doors with a boy beside them. I recognized him from my neighborhood.
While her companion stood off to the side speaking to the boy, Sister Eaton approached us and said, “Look, you guys. We’re really excited about this. We’ve been working with this boy and his family for months, and this is the first time he’s agreed to come. Would you make him feel welcome?”
We nodded halfheartedly, said our hellos, and made a small opening for him to stand with us. He looked awkward and uncomfortable and mostly stared at the floor. In comparison to most of us, he was poorly dressed and unkempt. We talked for a few more minutes until the adult traffic became too intrusive. Then we slipped away to the rest room for more privacy.
All of us, that is—except the new boy. We were so caught up in our discussion we didn’t notice him turn and walk out the door alone. Nor did we miss him in the rest room.
A few minutes later the bell rang for the start of opening exercises. We filed out of the rest room, joking among ourselves. Just outside the door, however, Sister Eaton was waiting for us, tears pouring down her face.
“What’s the matter with you?” she cried out, more in disbelief than anger. “All you had to do was be friendly to him, to include him. Was that too much to ask?”
“Where’d he go?” I stupidly asked.
“What do you care?” she snapped back. “You won’t have to worry about him again. He won’t be back.” With that, she turned, joined her companion, and left the building to look for the boy. It was a five-kilometer walk back to our neighborhood.
Stung by her chastisement, we filed quietly and sheepishly into the chapel. Even when the others began to revive their spirits, my conscience burned. I was deeply disturbed by what we had done. Later that evening after I returned home, I talked to Laurence, my older brother, about it. He had returned from college and would soon go on his mission. I respected his advice on spiritual matters.
“What do you think you should do about it?” he asked me after I had blurted out the whole story.
“I don’t know,” I answered glumly. “What can I do now? Sister Eaton says it’s too late.”
By now Laurence sensed how upset I was.
“Maybe not,” he said with a tinge of hope in his voice. “The sisters should be home by now. I’ll call over there.”
Within five minutes Laurence had the boy’s address, and we began walking there together. Although it wasn’t far, it was getting dark as we walked into the poorly lit part of town where the boy lived. I was glad my brother was with me. I didn’t know what kind of reception awaited us, and I was nervous.
We approached an old house that needed a coat of paint. Laurence checked the number under a streetlight and pointed toward it.
“That’s it,” he announced. Taking a deep breath, I headed toward the front door with Laurence at my side. I knocked quickly before my courage failed. My heart was pounding. A few moments later, a woman I assumed to be his mother answered the door. She looked older than I had expected and seemed tired.
“Hi, is your son here?” I asked.
“What do you want with him?” she asked suspiciously.
“He came to our church tonight, and we kind of ignored him,” I stammered. “I want to apologize and invite him back.”
She folded her arms and looked directly at us. I saw in her eyes a look of disgust at the way we had treated her son.
Ignoring me, she looked over at Laurence and said, “Thank you for coming by, but I don’t think he’ll want to come back.”
As she began to close the door, Laurence made a last attempt to reassure her of our repentance. “The boys made a mistake, and I know they’re sorry. I know them. It won’t happen again.”
But the door had closed before he could finish. For the second time that night, I felt stung by my actions.
“Do you think he’ll ever come back?” I asked apprehensively.
“I doubt it,” Laurence replied bluntly.
We said very little the rest of the way home. I had done wrong, and I knew it. I had felt deep remorse, and I had even tried to make restitution. But I had failed. I wondered why, after I had followed all the steps I had been taught, the Lord hadn’t recognized my repentance and lifted my burden of guilt. I felt awful.
The answer finally came from my heart: I hadn’t done enough. But I was too afraid to go back and try again. So I never did.
For me, this was a complete failure, one I’m still deeply ashamed of. Yet in a curious way I learned an important lesson from it—one that still humbles me and reminds me of what it takes to be a true disciple of Jesus Christ.

Like many new converts, I struggled to live the Word of Wisdom and the law of tithing. Tithing was for me the most difficult. How could I possibly take something away from the little that was just barely enough? The Lord helped me understand how I could do just that by teaching me a wonderful lesson.
As I began to pay tithing, I realized I would have to put my finances in order. I immediately began to budget my money better. I made a list of all my monthly expenses, starting with tithing. I compared the list to my monthly income. To my astonishment, there was enough to live on and even a small amount for savings. I was also surprised to see how much money I had previously spent on alcohol and coffee. The Lord blessed me financially and spiritually as I worked to live His law.

Even when we think we are doing no harm by our critical remarks, consequences often follow. I am reminded of a boy who handed a donation envelope to his bishop and told him it was for him. The bishop, using this as a teaching moment, explained to the boy that he should mark on the donation slip whether it was for tithing, fast offerings, or for something else. The boy insisted the money was for the bishop himself. When the bishop asked why, the boy replied, “Because my father says you’re one of the poorest bishops we’ve ever had.”

For example, the witness of the truth of the Book of Mormon came to me as a young man because I developed the desire to be protected from evil by a shield of goodness. It was during World War II. I was a young sailor assigned to the Anacostia Naval Airbase in Washington, D.C.

One of my jobs was to help make training films identifying shapes and outlines of enemy ships and airplanes. These films were made in a large, barnlike structure containing a big flat stage and filled with models and outlines and forms and other devices.

Most of the time we were very busy, but there came a time toward the end of the war when we went for weeks without an assignment. Eventually, all the other personnel on this job were assigned to other tasks, but for some reason, I was left alone in the building, I guess to guard the equipment.

At first, I enjoyed my freedom. It was great to have nothing to do. All the electricity in the building was turned off with the exception of one outlet into which was plugged a small lamp, which sat on the corner of a table. There was a hard wooden chair where I could sit if I cared to. All the rest of the great building was in darkness. So for a few days I opened the door to the outside light and sat in the doorway on the old chair and thoroughly enjoyed myself. But before long I became immensely bored.

I had been raised in the Church by careful parents who had taught me the gospel, but I had never read the Book of Mormon completely through for myself. One day as I sat idle, I decided that this was an opportune time for me to read it. So that afternoon I brought my small serviceman’s Book of Mormon from my room and, desiring privacy, went inside the building and turned on the little light by the table and began to read. I remember how I was struck by those first words, “I, Nephi, having been born of goodly parents. …” (1 Ne. 1:1.)

As the days went by, I read every word. My soul, programmed as it was to goodness and truth, began to respond to the testimonies of the prophets. I had never had such an experience! I read slowly, prayerfully, savoring every word, wishing that it would never end. I had feelings in my heart that I had never been conscious of before. And when at last I read the admonition of Moroni at the end of the book, I felt a great desire in my heart to test his words, to ask for spiritual verification even greater than what I was then feeling. I remember shutting the doors of that vast building and locking myself in, then kneeling in the darkness on the cold cement floor, my forehead resting against the hard wooden seat of the old chair, and telling the Lord that I believed the words of Moroni, and asking him to strengthen my belief into knowledge.

I shall never forget what happened; I have felt it many times since. I became aware that I was surrounded by a power beyond myself, which came over me and through me. It was all around me, calm, clear, and indescribably powerful. It seemed white and delicious to me, like the fruit of the Tree of Life which Nephi told of. (See 1 Ne. 8:15.) It filled me completely and did not leave me for days after. It was not shocking or disturbing in any way, as is the power of evil, but was sweet and assuring to my soul. I knew that the book was true.

The story is told of a 14-year-old boy who had come to Nauvoo in search of his brother who lived near there. The young boy had arrived in winter with no money and no friends. When he inquired about his brother, the boy was taken to a large house that looked like a hotel. There he met a man who said, “Come in, son, we’ll take care of you.”
The boy accepted and was brought into the house, where he was fed, warmed, and was given a bed to sleep in.
The next day it was bitter cold, but in spite of that, the boy prepared himself to walk the eight miles to where his brother was staying.
When the man of the house saw this, he told the young boy to stay for a while. He said there would be a team coming soon and that he could ride back with them.
When the boy protested, saying that he had no money, the man told him not to worry about that, that they would take care of him.
Later the boy learned that the man of the house was none other than Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet. This boy remembered this act of charity for the rest of his life.13

This story happened in the USA.
Charlotte hated loud noises! She didn’t like the way sounds pounded in her ears or echoed in her head. Even when she knew she was safe, she still felt tense when cars screeched, crowds cheered, or drums boomed.
And Charlotte really did not like fireworks!
Her family tried lots of things to comfort her when there were loud noises. Dad bought her special earmuffs to help block the noise. When there was thunder, Mom snuggled with her under the covers. Charlotte also prayed for help not to be scared.
All of these things helped. But loud noises still made her feel afraid.
“We are going to a special firework show at the park tonight,” Mom told Charlotte. “Do you want to come?”
Charlotte frowned. “But fireworks are so loud.”
“Now that you’re older, fireworks might be more fun to watch,” Mom said. “All of your friends will be there. We can even bring your special earmuffs. Do you think you can give it a try?”
Charlotte sighed. “OK. I guess I’ll try.”
The fireworks show at the park started off perfectly. Charlotte and her friends ran around on the grass, sharing treats and playing games. Soon the sky grew dark. Charlotte sat down and pulled on her earmuffs as she looked nervously at the sky.
BOOM! BOOM! CRACK!
Charlotte’s heart beat faster, and her chest felt tight. She jumped up and tried to get away from the booming all around her.
Mom ran after Charlotte and scooped her up. They sat back down, and Mom hugged her close. Tears fell down Charlotte’s face.
“I’m sorry that scared you,” Mom said. “I’m right here. Let’s focus on the colors so you don’t notice the sound so much. What do you see with your eyes?”
Charlotte took a big breath. “I see gold, and red, and green.”
“Now use your nose,” Mom said. “What do you smell?”
“I can smell the smoke and the grass,” said Charlotte. “And popcorn!”
“What other senses can you use right now?”
Charlotte closed her eyes. “I can feel them. When the fireworks explode, I can feel the shaking in my chest.”
“Can you taste anything?” Mom asked.
Charlotte stuck out her tongue. “l can’t taste the fireworks.” She laughed.
All of this made Charlotte curious. How do people make the different colors? she wondered. Why do fireworks explode? How do they make different shapes? Fireworks didn’t seem so scary now.
“Mom, fireworks are amazing!” Charlotte said.
As Mom tucked Charlotte into bed that night, Charlotte asked, “Why doesn’t Heavenly Father answer my prayers when I ask Him to make the loud noises go away?”
Mom thought for a moment. “Heavenly Father doesn’t always take away scary things,” she said. “But sometimes He helps us see things in a different way or gives us people who help comfort us.”
“Like how He helped me tonight!” said Charlotte.
“That’s right!” Mom smiled. “You went to the firework show even though you were scared. Then Heavenly Father helped you calm your fears. He also helped you see the beauty of the fireworks by using your other senses.”
Charlotte thought of the bright colors in the sky and smiled. She still didn’t like loud noises. They still scared her. But she knew Heavenly Father could always help her to be brave.
“Fear thou not; for I am with thee” (Isaiah 41:10).
Illustration by Adam Howling

On one occasion, when President David O. McKay was in his youth serving as a missionary in the land of Scotland, a very spiritual missionary meeting was held under the direction of Elder James McMurrin, a counselor in the mission presidency. As testimonies were borne and spiritual experiences mentioned, President McMurrin turned to President McKay and said: “Elder McKay, I’ll say to you as the Savior said to Peter, ‘Satan hath desired to have you, that he may sift you as wheat: But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and when thou art converted, strengthen thy brethren.’” He then said, “If you are faithful you will yet stand in the leading councils of the Church.”

When Gordon and Del [Spencer’s brothers] put up hay … they would pitch it up on the wagon and Spencer would tromp it down. The older boys liked to reach the wagon at the same time, both with huge forks of hay. One would pitch his hay on top of Spencer, knocking him down, then the other would add his load. They would laugh while Spencer picked himself out, infuriated, threatening terrible punishments when he grew up . …

Occasionally he would enjoy a minor revenge. One hot Monday afternoon, hearing the Primary bell across the fields, Spencer said, “I’ve got to go to Primary.” As Spencer told the story years later: “They said, ‘You’re not going to Primary.’ I said, ‘If Pa were here, he’d let me go to Primary.’ Any they said, ‘Well, Pa is not here, and this is one time you’re not going to Primary.’ Gordon was seven years older than I was and Del was five . … They kept throwing the hay up and it all piled in the center of the wagon. They said, ‘What’s the matter with you up there?’ There was no sound. They looked off across the field and I was halfway to the meetinghouse.” (Pages 37 and 38.)

On the last evening of camp, everyone gets together for a testimony meeting. It’s the night that most girls look forward to. One young girl who had just moved to the area stood and with tears in her eyes said she had been very lonely because she was the only one in her family that went to church. Before coming to camp, she worried about being accepted, but she found people who comforted her and understood. Another girl told of her struggle to know for herself if the Church was true. The warmth and caring expressed to her at camp helped her in her search. Many were touched by the concern shown them by a leader or friend. It was a time for sharing feelings of love.

As the work of translation began, Martin Harris took a transcription of some of the characters copied from the plates to scholars in the eastern United States. In New York City he explained Joseph Smith’s activities to the famous Dr. Charles Anthon, a professor of classical studies at Columbia College, and Dr. Samuel L. Mitchill, a New York medical doctor. These men could not translate the reformed Egyptian, and Martin Harris returned home convinced of the authenticity of Joseph’s work. The incident fulfilled a prophecy contained in the Book of Mormon (see 2 Ne. 27:6–20). In subsequent months, Martin Harris served as a scribe while the Prophet translated early sections of the ancient record. Martin Harris later became one of the three witnesses of the Book of Mormon.

While deaths at any time are heartbreaking, the timings of deaths during the crisis of 1918-1920 were sometimes tragic in themselves. In February 1919, John Diston, a native of Sunderland, was faithfully discharged from the British Royal Navy and rushed home to be with his young wife, Beatrice, in Portsmouth. The couple had only been married six months and many of the family were sick with influenza and pneumonia. John finally made it home to Beatrice’s bedside, but he only had five hours with her before she passed away. As they prepared for the funeral, other family members continued to struggle with illness. On the day of Beatrice’s funeral, her adopted brother, George, also passed away. The double tragedy was hard to bear. Of Beatrice’s seven siblings, only one survived to old age.17

Teresa and Reiner met in a hospital. She was visiting a friend, and he was working his way through college as an orderly. When he walked into her friend’s hospital room, Teresa remembers thinking, “Boy, this guy is tall.” Standing six feet herself, she was aware of height. Reiner is six-foot-eight. “He remembered my phone number when I gave it to my friend and called me,” said Teresa. They were married a year later. It was while the couple was stationed in Germany, fulfilling an ROTC obligation in the army, that Shawn was born. After finishing his schooling as a medical technologist, Reiner moved his young family back to Teresa’s hometown of Castle Dale, Utah. They wanted a small-town atmosphere for their children.

Lynn didn’t chatter through breakfast, she didn’t kiss her mother good-bye, and she didn’t bounce out the door and clatter down the front steps. When she saw her friends waiting, she didn’t toss her black curls and smile.
“You have it, don’t you, Lynn?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, I have it.”
“It’ll be great to see Anne’s face when she realizes she’s the only one who wasn’t at the party!” Mary laughed.
Lynn smiled outside, but inside she winced. You’re new in town, she told herself. Don’t blow it!
Lynn, Mary, and Betty walked to school, carrying their show-and-tell items—prizes they’d won at Betty’s birthday party. Everyone in class was bringing one. Anne was the only person in third grade who hadn’t been invited—and she didn’t even know it!
At school, Anne leaned across the aisle to Lynn.
“Hey, Lynn, what did you bring for show and tell?”
Lynn’s heart sank. “Nothing much, just some doll clothes.”
“I’m so excited—I found a cocoon! I’m going to put it in a jar and watch the butterfly come out!”
“That’s great.” Lynn’s voice sounded hollow. She felt awful. But Mary and Betty were the prettiest, most popular girls in class. Anne was, well … different. Not a snob, as Betty’d said—just shy. She was really smart and read a lot of books. And even though her family had money, Anne didn’t even dress in expensive clothes. She cared about books, and nature, and other people. Maybe Betty and Mary are jealous, Lynn thought now.
Jealous? Of Anne? But it kind of made sense. They probably wished that they had all that money—they’d spend it on clothes and stuff. And they probably wished that they were as good in school as Anne.
“Show-and-tell time,” announced Mrs. Sears. Books slapped shut, desk tops squeaked, and kids got out their treasures.
“Tina?” called Mrs. Sears.
Tina rose and went to the front. She looked straight ahead. “I brought this horse, which I won at Betty’s birthday party for pinning the tail on the donkey.”
“How nice,” said Mrs. Sears. “Tim?”
Tim showed his prize from Betty’s party. Lynn glanced sideways at Anne. She looked a little sad. She probably doesn’t really mind, Lynn thought. But her hands started to feel cold and clammy.
One by one, the children showed off their prizes. Now Anne’s chin trembled and her face started to crumple. She bowed her head a little, to hide her face with her blond hair.
Finally it was Anne’s turn.
Anne tossed her head and stood up. The class was completely silent. Lynn thought that Anne was going to be OK, but tears formed in Anne’s eyes. She took a deep breath and said shakily, “Mrs. Sears, I’m sorry—I don’t want to share anything today,” then slumped into her seat.
“Lynn?”
Lynn looked across the aisle. Anne didn’t look at her. Lynn looked at Mary, who hissed, “Go on!” Taking a deep breath herself, Lynn stood. “Uh, I don’t have anything I want to share today, either.”
Betty glared angrily from her desk.
“Sam?”
“Me, either, Mrs. Sears,” Sam said apologetically.
A few more kids took their turns, and Anne still sat looking down. Then it was time for recess.
Outside, Anne sat alone. Lynn slowly walked up to her. “Anne, I’m really sorry.”
“You knew all about it, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m really sorry, though. I just wanted to be part of the group. It was dumb.”
“Yeah, well, thanks … for not showing your prize.”
“Did you notice that Sam didn’t do it, either?” Lynn asked.
They looked around the schoolyard until they spotted Sam. He looked over, smiled, and started toward them.
Lynn linked arms with Anne and thought that maybe she would be part of a group—a group she could be truly happy in—after all.

My friend, Corwin Sutherin, was a pole vaulter in high school. He had never achieved a height beyond the 12-foot mark. Not in a meet, nor in practice. One day in practice after several failed attempts at 11 feet, 11 inches, his coach told him he was lowering the standard to 11 feet 6 inches. Knowing his ability to clear this height, Corwin easily cleared the adjusted bar. His coach then called him over, and asked him to look at the measurement. It was set at 12 feet six inches. By his coach setting the standard, higher than Corwin’s own expectation for himself, he achieved a level beyond his expectation. Corwin went on to surpass that level by another foot, earning a meet championship.

Audrey liked to be awake. She liked to play with her friends Karen and Sue. Her mother and her grandmother were fun to be with too. Audrey liked to run and jump and chase her shadow. Some days she even liked helping with chores around the house.
The one thing Audrey didn’t like, though, was taking naps. Every afternoon when Mother suggested that Audrey lie down for a little while, Audrey would pout and say, “Do I have to?” Audrey was afraid she might miss doing something she enjoyed while she slept.
“Audrey, it’s time for your nap,” Mother announced shortly after lunch one day.
“Oh, Mother, could I skip my nap just this one time?” Audrey pleaded.
“But if you do, you’ll feel cranky and tired later on,” Mother warned.
“No, I won’t. I promise, Mother. Just let me skip my nap for today,” Audrey persisted.
“Well, OK, just this once,” Mother agreed, but Audrey noticed she didn’t look very pleased.
As Audrey raced over to Karen’s house, she felt very grown up.
“Where’s Karen?” she asked Karen’s mother.
“Karen is napping,” her friend’s mother answered.
Audrey felt disappointed as she walked next door to Sue’s house. She knocked on the back door and asked if Sue could play with her.
“I’m sorry, Audrey,” Sue’s mother said, “but she’s in her room taking a nap. Perhaps later.”
Unhappily, Audrey started home. Maybe Mother or Grandmother will play with me, she thought, rubbing her eyes.
When she was home again, Audrey looked up at Mother, who was busy sewing.
“Mother, will you play a game with me?” Audrey asked.
“Honey, I can’t now,” Mother told Audrey, glancing at the clock. “I’ve promised to hem this dress for your grandmother. She needs to wear it tonight.”
“Where’s Grandmother?” asked Audrey.
“She’s taking a nap,” Mother explained.
“But Grandmother is too old to take naps,” Audrey said in surprise.
“Audrey, people don’t take naps because of their age. They take naps because they’re tired and need to rest,” Mother explained, smiling.
Audrey knew what Mother said made sense, for already she was beginning to feel tired. She let out a yawn and then said, “Mother?”
“What, Audrey?” Mother asked.
“I don’t think I want to skip my nap after all. I think I’ll go lay down for a while like Grandmother. I’m sort of tired too.”
Then Audrey kissed her mother and hurried off to her room.

When the Young Women of the Del Rio First Ward in Chandler, Arizona, heard about an orphanage in Zimbabwe that needed hats, they got right to work and started knitting. The Young Women already had an annual retreat planned to the mountains in northern Arizona, so they decided to knit hats while they enjoyed the fresh mountain air.
“I had a great time sitting and talking with everyone while we made these hats. We felt a sense of accomplishment,” said one of the Mia Maids. Jessica White, another Mia Maid, said she was really glad to make time for service. She says that all the girls became so engrossed in knitting that when the leaders suggested they go outside for a break, the girls wanted to stay inside and finish their work instead.
The Young Women made 40 hats during the weekend outing and many of the girls have continued knitting more hats since returning home.

Ruby didn’t like to put on her socks. She didn’t like to put on her shoes. She liked Mom to do it for her. But Mom couldn’t today. Mom was taking care of Ruby’s baby brother, Ezra.
It was Sunday. It was time for church. Ruby cried about putting on her socks. She cried about putting on her shoes. Her family was late for church.
On Monday night, it was time for family home evening. The family sang a song. Mom said a prayer. Ruby’s big brother, Danny, gave the lesson.
Danny read a story from the Bible. The story was about Noah. God asked Noah to build a ship. Other people made fun of Noah. But Noah did what God asked.
“When we choose the right, we feel happy,” Danny said. “When we choose the right, it makes Heavenly Father and Jesus happy too.”
Ruby thought about that. She didn’t feel happy when she cried about her socks and shoes. Maybe she could make a better choice.
The next day, Mom needed to go to the store. “Ruby, please put your socks and shoes on,” Mom said. “I’ll get Ezra dressed.”
Ruby started to cry. She didn’t want to put on her socks. Or her shoes. Then she remembered the story from family night. She could choose the right!
Ruby put on her socks and shoes. She brushed her hair. She put on her coat. “I’m ready,” she said.
Mom smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re getting so grown up.”
Mom’s smile made Ruby happy.