Gospel Story Finder

Heavenly Father certainly sends us things when we need them most! I’ve just said good-bye to my boyfriend prior to his departure on a mission, and I was missing him very much and writing him very miserable letters. Then the December New Era arrived with “The Way to a Missionary’s Mailbox,” which uplifted me so much, and I’m sure that his mission will now be much more successful because of it. My nonmember family also realizes this.
Susan AyerChristchurch, New Zealand

Three siblings in another family in the same stake have also joined in a community Patenschaft.
“The family we’re mentoring is from Afghanistan,” says Vinzenz C., 17. “They fled because bombs were falling around them and they were afraid they wouldn’t survive. They crossed the sea in a rickety boat, traveled through several countries, and lived in camps for a long time before they were placed in our community.”
Like Elisa, Vini (as his friends call him) had also previously prepared materials for refugees. He was one of about 50 youth who sorted donated clothing and toys. “I was carrying boxes around for about six hours,” he recalls. “It was exhausting, but it helped me to understand how much they need simple things we often take for granted.”
Meeting a refugee family in person deepened his desire to be of service, and the same is true for his brother Philip, 15, and his sister Ida, 12.
“I helped the elders quorum assemble bicycles that a company donated,” Philip says. “We attached the wheels and the pedals. You don’t need to do huge things, just do simple things and you can make a difference in refugees’ lives.”
“It’s difficult to be in a completely new environment, with new customs, foods, and languages,” Ida says. “If I had to go through what they’re going through, I’d be eager to just have a friend.” She says she has also learned from their example of sticking together as a family, even during desperate trials.
So, if you want to get to know refugees, where do you start?
“You can communicate in a lot of ways,” Ida says. “You can point, nod your head, or smile. Besides words, remember you can also communicate with feelings and emotions.”
There are, in fact, many “languages” everyone speaks—music, kindness, laughter, and love, for example. “You already speak many ‘languages’ that they understand,” Ida says. “Like Fußball. Start with those. Show that you care for them and that you want to help them.”
“It’s about understanding them,” Vini says. For example, refugees are often deeply religious and have faith and traditions of their own. “Reaching out to them is not about bringing them into the Church. It’s about treating them as brothers and sisters of our Heavenly Father, with respect and love.”

Sometime after the collapse of the Teton Dam and the ensuing flooding disaster which affected several counties in eastern Idaho, while serving as the area welfare leader, I was asked to speak on behalf of the Church to a group of people who were responsible for civil defense and disaster relief. They included representatives from city, county, state, and federal organizations as well as a number of religious, volunteer, and service groups. The requested topic was how the LDS Church is prepared to respond to emergency crises.
I realized that they had already observed the response of the Church to the flood. They saw firsthand how the bishops’ storehouse system was almost immediately prepared to ship in truckloads of supplies and then stood by to fill the requests of the local priesthood leaders. They saw the Deseret Industries help bring order out of chaos. Large mountains of clothing were donated from many parts of the country and placed in large, unsorted piles. There were party dresses with work shoes, small sizes with large, men’s with women’s, and clean with soiled. In a very short time the Deseret Industries had these much-needed articles of clothing cleaned, pressed, sized, and placed on racks from which those in need could choose for their particular needs.
They saw how the LDS Social Services was available to help the people in their social and emotional needs as emotional tolerances were pressed to the limit. Many jobs were lost due to the flood, and many new ones were created. LDS employment program was busy as employees and employers were matched together. They saw, as did people from all over the world, the many thousands of volunteers who came, at their own expense, to help in the cleanup effort.
There was a need in the early days of the flood cleanup for heavy equipment. A request was made for tractors and front-end loaders from stakes both near and far. We thought in terms of 5 or 6 outfits. Soon after the request was made, the area welfare leader from Soda Springs, approximately 165 miles away, called and said, “President, I understand that you need some tractors and front-end loaders. We are ready and prepared to bring 150.” I told him that 20 would be marvelous.
There was a need for electricians to restore power to the homes that lost it because of the flood. We estimated that 150 would be a great response. The call went out. We didn’t get just 150. More than 450 licensed electricians and helpers responded to that call. This same type of devotion and dedication was shown many, many times over as a variety of needs was fulfilled.
It was evident to this group to whom I would speak, as well as to others, what had happened in this major crisis, but were they aware of those who are helped every day on an individual basis—for example, the young girl who found love, understanding, and kind assistance from LDS Social Services when she was confronted with a major crisis in her life? Because of wise counsel, she did not compound an already serious problem with a graver tragedy when she found that there is an alternative to the accepted worldly philosophy of abortion.
They did not know of the many other services of LDS Social Services, the childless marriages with loving homes who are blessed with the opportunity to adopt a little infant, the Lamanite program, professional counseling, foster homes, and others.
I was sure that most of them did not totally understand the Deseret Industries; and most certainly did not understand that it is a living example of the principle of consecration, wherein each of us has the opportunity to give freely of our surpluses, and then those great people who are not willing to be spectators in the arena of life are given the opportunity to maintain their dignity by enjoying the blessing of work. Perhaps they were not even aware that Deseret Industries is open for all to make purchases which are so helpful in meeting the pressures of an inflated economy. Shopping at Deseret Industries is like shopping at an exclusive store. There are many items that are one of a kind, and with shipments arriving daily we have an opportunity to make new choices every day.
On one occasion when I had arrived early at Deseret Industries prior to our monthly meeting of the local operating committee, I made a tour of the well-organized displays and racks of commodities. My eyes were drawn to the area of overcoats. One particularly appealed to me. It was a fine, all-wool, English-tailored coat. I thought, “If it fits, I’ll buy it.” I looked at the price: four dollars and seventy-five cents! At that price, I knew it fit. I bought it and I paid cash for it. I took it home and, when I modeled it for my wife, I put my hands in the pockets, and there were a number of rare, one-cent postage stamps. I guess the stamps themselves were worth probably about as much as I had paid for the coat. And I suspect that I was probably the only person who made a purchase at Deseret Industries who not only made an excellent buy but also received stamps!
This group of people to whom I would speak certainly had no way of knowing about the father who found himself with his loving bishop exclaiming, “Bishop, tragedy has struck our family. I have lost my job. I need welfare.” That knowledgeable bishop replied, “Brother, you don’t need welfare. What you need is a job, and you have come to the right place.” That wise bishop had just taught the great principle of work. The bishop’s comment was not an idle remark, because he had available to him, as a part of the great storehouse system, a ward employment specialist, who has access not only to the employers within the ward and stake but also, through the employment center, to those throughout the entire area. If a job could not be found in the open market, that same employment specialist would become a resource to the bishop to help find meaningful work opportunities for the needy brother within the Lord’s plan, thus allowing that father the joy of maintaining his dignity by working for the commodities received. This same employment system serves the needs of all members as they seek employment and seek to upgrade their opportunities.
This group of interested people that I would speak to wanted to know what we as the Church can do in a major disaster, but that is not all. There are heartaches, hurts, problems—yes, even disasters—which occur in every life at some time. And, in the individual’s life, those personal disasters are just as real and just as deserving of our help as the disaster of those involved in the flood in eastern Idaho, or the earthquake in Guatemala, or the flooding in California.
I wanted this group to know that in the Church not only are we prepared to deal with major disasters which involve many, but the Lord’s plan provides for the loving care of each of his children on an individual, one-on-one basis.

The next morning the Godfreys wanted to try to find some valuables, even though pieces of their home were spread over 3 miles (5 km) or more and pictures of the Godfrey children were later found 100 miles (160 km) away. Before they started searching, Brother Godfrey offered a prayer that they would be able to find some specific items, namely his and his wife’s wedding rings, their wallets, scriptures, a journal, and a diabetic blood tester.
After 30 minutes of searching, a counselor in the stake presidency found the Godreys’ rings under some insulation. Fifteen minutes later their wallets turned up, fully intact with licenses and contents inside. Then the blood tester, the journal, and the scriptures were found.
“All that stuff is replaceable, but I think the reason we found them was to build everyone’s testimony of prayer,” Brother Godfrey said.

Christianity celebrates the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, the Only Begotten Son of God the Eternal Father. Christian churches with great variations of doctrine dot the land the world over. When 14-year-old Cortnee, a daughter of a mission president, entered a new high school as a freshman, she was asked by classmates if she was a Christian. They scoffed at her response that she was a Mormon, a common reference to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Upon arriving home, she asked her mother, “Mom, are we Christians?”
Cortnee asked, “Mom, are we Christians?” As a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, you are a Christian, and I am too. I am a devout Christian who is exceedingly fortunate to have greater knowledge of the true “doctrine of Christ” since my conversion to the restored Church. These truths define this Church as having the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Like other members of the Church, I now understand the true nature of the Godhead, I have access to additional scripture and revelation, and I can partake of the blessings of priesthood authority. Yes, Cortnee, we are Christians, and I testify of these truths in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

One day while playing with his friends as a boy, Elder David A. Bednar accidentally broke a window in a store near his home. The glass shattered and set off a security alarm! Elder Bednar thought he would have to go to prison. He was so afraid that he hid under his bed until his parents helped him calm down and apologize to the store owner. Elder Bednar used this story to teach that all of us are scared sometimes, but when we look to Jesus Christ and follow Him, we can feel peace instead of fear.

This sister who helped us—we call her our “Sister Miracle” now—invited us to her home, wanting to know more of our family’s story. Our two families enjoyed talking over waffles about missions, temple work, family history, and all our blessings from Heavenly Father.
As the evening ended, Sister Miracle asked for a priesthood blessing of comfort as she had just been diagnosed with aggressive cancer and was preparing for chemotherapy, surgery and radiation.
Together with her husband, I pronounced a blessing that her life would not be cut short, that she would see her children serve missions, and enjoy watching her grandchildren grow up.
Later, Sister Miracle shared with me about our visit:
“It was a tender mercy from the Lord, knowing that He was aware of me and my new trial with cancer. My faith was strengthened in Jesus Christ. I am blessed to have had this experience with my new friends from New Caledonia.”
She continued to share what she is learning:
“We all experience different trials and challenges in our lives. I am choosing to center my life on Jesus Christ and keep my covenants with Him. I have confidence that He will bless me in His perfect way. I often use the phrase ‘but if not’ in my prayers. I ask for healing and strength, but if I am not cured from cancer, I trust that He will bless me in His perfect way. I have confidence that He will provide miracles as well as little tender mercies along the way; to help me know He is aware of me.
“This message from Elder Soares explains how I feel: ‘I know that when the Lord sees even a spark of desire or a flicker of righteous effort in our willingness to center our lives on Him and on the ordinances and covenants, we make in His house, He will bless us, in His perfect way, with the miracles and tender mercies we need.’”
From the day of our first visit, we prayed for Sister Miracle. Treatments became more complicated, and her white blood cell count was often too low to continue chemotherapy at the same pace. Even with these complications, I had faith and trusted the Lord for her recovery.
Seven months later, Sister Miracle and her husband called me on my way to work. Through video chat, they explained the post-surgery results, after the cancer growth had been removed. Miraculously, the doctors found no cancer cells in that tissue. Words could not describe my joy and tears over this new miracle!

When I was 11 years old, my bishop called me in for an interview in his office. He said, “Ulisses, it’s time to start your preparation to go on a mission.” I was astonished because I was only 11 years old! But he said, “We have to start that process now.”
My bishop said, “I’ll interview you once in a while to see how your progress is.” Then he gave me some direction. He taught me about the commandments, the priesthood, worthiness, and honesty. I was so impressed because he looked in my eyes and said, “You will serve a mission if you follow the directions I am giving you.”
I always remembered his words, especially when I faced a challenge. For example, one time my mother gave me money to go to a store to buy some fruit. For some reason the cashier gave me back more money than I gave her to pay for the fruit. I started walking home, and when I opened my hand, I saw that I had more money than I had started with.
Satan tried to convince me that I could keep the money for myself. I thought, “I have some money to do whatever I want, and then I will give back the correct change to my mother.” But then I thought, “No, that’s not what the bishop told me. To be a missionary, I have to be honest.” I felt the Spirit at that time and went back to the store to give back the money. I felt good in my heart. I thought, “I was honest, I obeyed the commandments, and I am preparing for my mission. I will be a missionary, and I need to be honest.”
When I was going to high school, I worked to save money for my mission. My parents were poor and couldn’t afford to pay for everything. I didn’t earn a lot of money, but after paying tithing, I decided to buy one piece of clothing per month for my mission. One month I bought a shirt, another month a tie, another month another shirt. During those three years, I saved enough to buy everything I needed. I saved enough to pay for my mission. I learned the principle of saving. I learned the principle of being obedient to the law of tithing and how many blessings we receive when we pay tithing.
My mission was a great experience because it helped me understand the principles of life and how to apply the gospel in my daily activities.
Boys and girls, prepare for a good mission and a good life. The Lord is waiting to give us all the blessings we need.

Elder Glenn L. Pace of the Seventy told how his youngest daughter helped their family do things the Lord’s way. He said: “She was the one who reminded us to have family prayer. She was the one who tried to get us excited about family home evening. She devised treasure hunts; she fixed treats; she would do anything to try to get the family excited about having family home evening” (“Friend to Friend,” Friend, Feb. l997, 7).

There’s something different about Kory Cecil, Melissa Hinson, and Stephanie Shaw of Davidson County, North Carolina. Everyone in town notices it. Could it be that they’re the only LDS girls in their high school?
They were nominated to be the representatives of the sophomore, junior, and senior classes, respectively, on the homecoming court. When they were presented to the public, the whole town got an earful of the girls’ church activities and positions, on the loud speaker. It prompted at least one friend to tell Melissa she wanted to hear more about the gospel.

When I was a young mother of several small children, at the end of days filled with diapering, dish washing, and disciplining, no one sang more emphatically the Primary song “I’m so glad when daddy comes home.” I’m sad to admit, however, I was not always cheerful when Craig seemed to bounce through the door after a hard day of work. He always greeted each of us with a hug and kiss and turned many difficult and sometimes disastrous days into delightful daddy times. I wish I had been a little less preoccupied with the endless list of to-dos still to be done and had more wisely focused, like he did, on things that mattered most. I would have stopped more often and enjoyed sacred family time and would have thanked him more often for blessing our lives!

Fourteen-year-old Trevor Hoffman of the Carrolton Second Ward, Lewisville Texas Stake, has already been wrestling for ten years. Recently, he won the Texas Amateur Wrestling Association Championship, in the 15-and-under, 85-pound division.
Last year Trevor had a perfect 21–0 record. He credits much of his success to family support. He’s also got several Montana State wrestling and judo championships under his belt, which he earned before moving to Texas. His goal is to qualify for the 1996 and 2000 Olympics.
Trevor doesn’t live his life on the mat, though—he spends some time hitting the books and has made his school’s high honor roll. He’s also active in his ward.

Sometimes we feel that we don’t have any particularly important gifts. One day, a discouraged sister pleaded, “Lord, what is my personal ministry?” He answered, “Notice others.” It was a spiritual gift! Since then, she has found joy in noticing those who are regularly forgotten, and God has worked through her to bless many. While some spiritual gifts may not be prominent by the world’s standards, they are essential to God and His work.7

A number of years ago, a one-inch article in my local newspaper caught my attention, and I have remembered it ever since: “Four people were killed and seven workers were rescued after clinging for more than an hour to the underside of a 125-foot-high [38-m] bridge in St. Catharines, Ontario, [Canada,] after the scaffolding they were working on collapsed” (“News Capsules,” Deseret News, June 9, 1993, A2).
I was, and I continue to be, fascinated by this brief story. Shortly after reading this account, I called a family friend who lived in St. Catharines. She explained that the workers had been painting the Garden City Skyway bridge for about a year and were two weeks short of completing the project when the accident happened. After the accident, officials were asked why these men did not have any safety equipment. The answer was simple: they had the equipment; they just chose not to wear it. After the scaffolding gave way, the survivors held on to a one-inch (2.5-cm) lip of steel girder and stood on an eight-inch (20-cm) ledge of steel for over an hour until rescue teams could reach them. One survivor related that as he clung to the bridge, he thought a lot about his family. He said, “I just thank the Lord for me being here today. … It was pretty scary, I tell you” (in Rick Bogacz, “Skyway Horror,” Standard, June 9, 1993).
My life is not perfect. I deal with many of the same challenges. We all do. I know that the temptations of the adversary and the difficulties of mortality are ever present and beset each of us. I concur with the rescued worker’s expression of his dangerous experience of holding on to that steel girder: “It [is] pretty scary, I tell you.”

George Albert Smith and his wife, Lucy, took seriously the divine mandate to “bring up [their] children in light and truth” (D&C 93:40). Their daughter Edith told of one occasion when her father took advantage of a teaching opportunity. She had taken the streetcar home from a piano lesson, and the conductor neglected to collect her fare. “Somehow he passed me by,” she recounted, “and I reached my destination still holding my nickel in my hand, and frankly quite elated that I had made the trip free.
“… I ran gleefully to Father to tell him about my good fortune. He listened to my story patiently. I was beginning to think I was a great success. …
“When I had finished my tale, Father said, ‘But, darling, even if the conductor doesn’t know about this, you know and I know and Heavenly Father knows. So, there are still three of us who must be satisfied in seeing that you pay in full for value received.’”
Edith returned to the street corner and paid her fare. She said later, “I am indeed thankful for a Father who was wise enough to kindly point out the error to me, because if it had been overlooked, I could have thought he approved.”13

Eleven-year-old Ashley slowly made her way down a crooked path that wound through the frosted hush of the October woods. She paused in a little patch of misted light that sifted through the leafy gold canopy, softening the early morning chill. She rubbed her arms, shivering at an inner cold that the sunlight couldn’t reach, the same cold that had frozen her father’s face in a mask of sorrow.
Ashley couldn’t see the unhappiness on her father’s face, because she had been blind since birth, but she could hear it in his voice and in the silence that had replaced his laughter when her mother died. It had been almost a whole year, but still—
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of wings. Something or someone had startled a large bird nearby, and it erupted skyward.
A moment later a gentle voice said, “It’s me, Ashley—Michelle.” Ashley felt Michelle’s hand slip about hers. “You should have waited for me at your cabin.” Michelle’s voice was as light and airy as the wind-spun autumn leaves that danced in the yellow wood. “I was on my way to get you.”
“It’s OK,” Ashley said. “I know this path almost as well as these trees do. I’ve been coming here every day for the past two weeks.”
Michelle glanced about at the golden silence. “It is pretty,” she admitted, “but well—since you can’t see, what is it that—” The sadness she saw in the dark, sightless eyes made her pause.
“You said that there are lots of yellows here at this time of year,” Ashley explained. “Remember when I asked you what yellow looked like? You told me it was a happy, warm color—like the sun, like a smile.” She reached through the blackness of her world and touched a yellow aspen leaf. “That’s why I come here. I keep hoping that somehow it will help me feel happy so that I can help my father smile again.”
Michelle squeezed Ashley’s hand. “It is beautiful here. But even if you could see, I don’t think all the yellows in the world could mend a heart for more than a moment.”
Ashley leaned against a leafless tree, feeling as empty as the branches above her. “You’re happy, Michelle. Why? I mean, you lost your brother in that millpond accident just last summer. And then your father’s fruit crop failed because of the late freeze, and he had to sell half his land.”
“I guess our testimonies keep us happy,” Michelle said thoughtfully.
“Testimonies?”
“Knowing that God lives,” Michelle returned simply, “that He loves us, that He allows us difficulties in our lives to help us grow. My mother says that a candle shines brightest in the blackest night.”
I know a lot about the blackest night, Ashley thought as the two girls started down the path in a rush of tumbling leaves. What she wanted to know more about were testimonies. “Tell me more,” she begged.
“They’re growing things, Ashley,” Michelle explained. “A testimony starts small, like the first light at dawn, then gets bigger and warmer like the sun at noonday, like the brightest of autumn leaves. But you have to work at it,” she added as the pair walked toward her farmhouse for a day of play. “You have to feel your way along like you do in these woods, only with your heart. All of it.”
“Will you help me get one, Michelle?”
Michelle stopped and faced her friend. “I can’t give you a testimony,” she answered kindly. “All I can do is share mine with you, and—” Michelle’s voice relayed her sudden idea. “Maybe there is a way I can help you, Ashley! Tomorrow is Sunday, and someone very special is coming to speak at our meetinghouse.”
“Who is it?”
“A prophet, Ashley. A prophet of God.”
Later, as Ashley waited impatiently for her father to return home from his job at the factory in Harperville, she listened to the wall clock tick like a tired heartbeat. At length she heard the rattle of a flatbed wagon and the snorting of spent horses outside. A few minutes later her father stood in the doorway.
“Hi, Ash, it’s me.” Papa’s voice sounded tired. “It was a long day, hon.” He sat down beside her and sighed wearily. “A long day.” He regarded his daughter in the ruddy haze of late-day window light. “What is it?”
“It’s a meeting, Papa! Tomorrow morning at Michelle’s church. Someone special is coming to talk to them. Will you take me, Papa? Please.”
Papa sighed again. “On my only day off? Not tomorrow, sweetheart. I’m so worn out I could sleep on a fence post for a week! I need tomorrow to—”
“Please, Papa?” Ashley implored again.
“Not tomorrow. Another time maybe.”
Papa patted her head, rose to his feet with a tired grunt, and disappeared into his room. “Wake me when the clock chimes again, and I’ll fix us something to eat,” he called back.
That night Ashley prayed that her father would somehow change his mind about the meeting, then drifted off into a troubled sleep.
Early the next morning, Ashley felt someone gently waking her “Ash? If we’re going to make that meeting on time we’d better get ourselves ready.”
Ashley sat up. “Papa! But I thought you were too tired.”
“It’s hard to believe,” Papa replied, “but when I woke up this morning, I felt more rested than if I had slept for a week of Sundays. So are you going to get up, or grow old in bed?” Papa ran his hand through the girl’s tangled hair, then left the room.
For a moment Ashley just lay in bed, reflecting on an answered prayer. She felt as if something was glowing inside her like the dawn’s first light streaming unseen through the curtains on her bedroom window.
At church, Ashley sat with Michelle on one side and Papa on the other, listening to a prophet’s voice. Ashley didn’t have to see the man behind the pulpit to know that he spoke with authority. She could feel it. The comfort, peace, and sweet assurance of his voice settled over her like the patchwork comforter her mother had made for her. He spoke with penetrating assuredness of the living God, the resurrection, and the reuniting of loved ones in the world to come.
Papa’s hand found hers, and squeezed it. Tears filled her sightless eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She felt her father’s body shake with emotion and knew that he was shedding tears of his own.
At that moment Ashley knew what yellow autumn leaves looked like. They were bright and beautiful, and they glowed—like her testimony. Like happy months and years ahead. Like a certain little cabin by the October woods, now even on the darkest of days.

I had a best friend, Chris. We did everything together. But whenever a group of us would gather to do something “crazy,” like throw snowballs at cars or toilet paper a house, Chris would always back out. He said his parents would be mad if they found out.
Then one day I talked Chris into stealing tennis balls from the people on the local courts. He followed me, even helped me gather a handful of balls, then took off with me through a hole in the fence. When we arrived at my house I noticed Chris’s face was white.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“We’ve got to take those balls back,” he blurted out.
“No way, they’re ours now,” I replied, but Chris grabbed them and started to run. I’ve always been faster than Chris, but I couldn’t catch him that day. He ran right to the tennis players and gave every ball back. He said he was sorry and then did something I’d never seen before. He asked them for forgiveness. I just knew we were going to be turned into the police, but the men let him go.
When we got home I had a few questions for my best friend.
“I’m a Mormon,” he said.
“I know. You told me.”
“But I didn’t tell you how important my church is to me.” He went on to explain the standards of honesty he had been taught and how he could not feel right about stealing.
Six weeks later I found myself in a font, full of water, ready to be baptized a Latter-day Saint.

Molly could never wait for something to happen. She did all she could to make something happen quickly.
Most of the time Molly’s impatience did not get her into serious trouble. She was just in the habit of hurrying with everything she did.
One day Molly’s teacher, Miss Raymond, said, “Class, your project this month concerns a member of this classroom. How many of you have noticed that Naryana isn’t at school today?”
Ten sixth-grade hands waved above Molly’s head. Molly hadn’t noticed, but, then, she hadn’t paid any special attention to Naryana.
“Naryana Ranjappa is Indian,” Miss Raymond said as she pulled down their geography map. “But she is not an American Indian. She is from India.” Molly watched Miss Raymond place her long pointer on a country across the Arabian Sea and to the east of Africa. “Naryana was born in India and for a short time lived in England. From there she moved to our city here in the United States.”
“Wow!” Howard Higgins said. “She’s come a long way!”
“And she is not happy here,” Miss Raymond continued. “You must have noticed how sad she is. That is a problem we might be able to help her solve. What can we do to make her smile and be happy?”
“Miss Raymond?” Molly wiggled at her desk until her teacher called on her.
“Yes, Molly?”
“Miss Raymond, I have an idea to make Naryana feel more at home. Why couldn’t we have an Indian festival with something about the customs of her country?”
“That’s a wonderful idea, Molly,” their teacher answered, and all the students agreed.
Looking at her class, Miss Raymond said thoughtfully, “If you like the festival idea, you’ll have to find out about Indian customs without telling Naryana. Perhaps if we surprise her it will bring a smile to her face.”
All the children liked the idea and began working right away. The different ways of this country on the other side of the world made them want to learn more and more about it.
Janice checked out from the library a large picture book about India with photographs of people and animals wandering through narrow, crowded streets. Howard brought a calendar picture of an Indian girl who had a red mark on her forehead. She was wearing a beautiful yellow silk dress called a sari. The whole class learned about India in small groups, at recess, or after school without Naryana discovering their surprise.
Naryana was tiny for her age when compared to her classmates. Most of the time she sat quietly staring down at her desk.
The night before the festival many of the children stayed after school and helped decorate the room. They swirled and curled brightly colored designs with poster paint. They hoped that the decorated elephant, the model of the Taj Mahal, and the traditional welcome of fresh fruit and flowers would all help to bring a smile to Naryana’s face. The children felt the excitement grow as the room took on a festive look.
The next morning everyone came to school early. The boys and girls stood silently around the room waiting for Naryana to come to class.
Within a few minutes Naryana walked into the room. Her eyes widened with surprise. She looked at the decorations and at the boys and girls and they looked at her. Would she smile? they wondered.
Molly carefully led Naryana to the center of the room. As she looked around at the colorful decorations from her native land, Naryana smiled. But Molly noticed that it was a sad kind of a smile. It pushed at her cheeks, but it did not change her face as they had hoped it would. The festival began as fruits, nuts, and flowers appeared as if by magic. One of the girls played “Song of India” on the piano and Miss Raymond read Kipling’s poem “Rikki Tikki Tavi” to them. They ate, sang, and laughed while sitting on the floor in traditional Indian fashion.
It was a wonderful festival, but Molly was not satisfied. She had hoped for a wide, happy smile from Naryana, but only a shy, little smile had lighted the face of the girl from India.
Later at home, Molly decided that the fruit and colorful designs at school had meant little to Naryana. She wanted to make her happy but would have to do it in another way. Molly tried to think of something really special that she could do for Naryana. She looked around her bedroom, wondering if she might give her a gift. Molly saw her brush and comb set, her stuffed giraffe, and her dolls, but nothing seemed to be suitable.
Molly finally decided to go over to Naryana’s house. Maybe I can cheer her up, she thought. As she ran up the walk Molly suddenly stopped. Naryana was sitting alone on her front steps with her eyes searching the ground.
“Hello, Naryana,” Molly said with a cheery voice.
Startled, Naryana looked up but she didn’t smile. “You’re Molly aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes,” Molly answered, surprised that Naryana knew her name. Naryana invited Molly into her house. The rich-looking brass ornaments and brightly woven fabrics decorating the walls were beautiful. As the girls went back to Naryana’s bedroom, Molly caught the pleasant smell of spices and perfume that filled the hall.
Naryana had twin beds in her room and Molly immediately noticed two photographs hanging on the wall between them. They were pictures that looked like Naryana but not the girl Molly knew. Each of these pictures showed a face that was bright-eyed and happy.
“I’m the one on the right,” Naryana explained, “and the other one is Shani, my sister. We are identical twins.”
“But where is she?” Molly asked.
“In Devonshire, England. We left her there with relatives, because she was too ill to come here with us.”
Molly watched Naryana’s eyes fill with tears and her chin begin to quiver as she talked.
“Shani had a bad accident and can not be moved until she is better.”
“Naryana, we didn’t know you had a twin sister in England. Miss Raymond didn’t tell us.” Suddenly, Molly knew how she could make Naryana happy. It might take weeks, but it would be worth every bit of time and trouble.
It was hard for Molly to keep a secret, but she didn’t tell anybody about her plan for over a month. When she was sure she couldn’t keep the surprise any longer, a package arrived from her brother.
After lunch that day, Molly came flying breathlessly into the classroom, carrying a package and her family’s tape recorder. She went straight up to Miss Raymond’s desk and whispered something to her.
“Oh, Molly! Yes, of course,” she said. “Let’s play it right now.”
Miss Raymond called the class to order. They all felt the excitement of something about to happen.
“Molly has a wonderful surprise for us.” Miss Raymond announced.
Everyone sat quietly when Molly stood up proudly and said, “You may know that my brother is on a mission in southern England. Well, I wrote to him several weeks ago and asked him to do me a favor.”
Molly glanced back at Naryana and saw her raise her head and watch attentively as Molly continued, “He sent me this tape and I want to play it for you now.”
She turned on the recorder and a sweet voice began speaking, “Dear Naryana and Miss Raymond’s sixth-grade class: It is raining here in Devon, and the flowers and bushes outside my bedroom window seem to grow with each raindrop even though we are well into fall. I want to tell you that Doctor Hardwell says I am slowly getting better …”
From then on the tape from Shani was a treat for everyone. On previous occasions, Naryana’s rare smiles never quite filled her face, but now she was beaming when she heard her sister’s words filled with hope.
For Naryana and for them all this voice was a miraculous bridge over time and two continents.
For Molly, it was a lesson in friendship and patience. Sometimes, Molly decided, best things do come from waiting.

Several respondents felt society’s emphasis on personal appearance could lead to a form of idolatry. While a clean and healthy body is important, some people go to extraordinary lengths to emulate the beautiful men and women who smile from advertisements in magazines, in newspapers, and on television. Our society too often equates personal happiness with its definition of personal beauty. Trying unsuccessfully to emulate these unrealistic images, many people are constantly discontented. One of my students shared the following story:
“I had just moved away from my high school, where I was involved in everything. At my new school, I felt I was nobody. I knew no one, and no one knew me. I desperately wanted to be included.
“As I observed the popular crowd, I noticed that the girls who received attention were skinny and beautiful. Furthermore, slender girls graced the covers of magazines, billboards, and television screens. I looked at my body and realized it was not like theirs. I decided that the only way to gain back the popularity I had lost when I moved was to be skinny. So I began to diet.
“I was trying to lose only a few kilograms, but then I read a magazine article discussing qualities the men in the article looked for in women. The best-looking guy said, ‘A girl can never be too skinny.’ I concluded that in order for the guy I was interested in to pursue me, I had to be skinnier. I was still not associating with the popular crowd and did not know many people. Obviously, I was not thin enough.
“I continued to diet and exercise but still did not achieve the acceptance I wanted. Finally, after five months of starvation and depression, I was hospitalized, weighing only 40 kilograms.
“I was deceived. Being skinny does not bring happiness. Now I realize that happiness accompanies spiritual growth and comes from within. When one’s only focus is worldly popularity, it is difficult to progress spiritually. I have found that true happiness is obtained only through striving to please the Lord.”

Several weeks ago I returned to my old high school for the first time in years. I was visiting a stake conference that was being held in the school’s auditorium. As I walked down the halls, a flood of memories began to pour into my mind. I remembered exactly how I felt when I attended high school as a young woman—insecure, unsure of myself, self-conscious, and so, so desirous to fit in. I went into the auditorium. Again a flood of memories came to mind. I was familiar with every detail of that auditorium. Only one thing had changed—me.
That day I had the opportunity to stand on the stage as I had done in high school many times as a student officer. I even saw some of my former classmates in the audience—some I had dated! But this time, instead of conducting an assembly, I had the privilege—there in my high school auditorium—to “stand as a witness”6 and bear my testimony of our Savior, Jesus Christ.
Young women, make sure your relationships with others are such that 40 years from now, you will not be embarrassed. No amount of peer pressure, no acceptance, no popularity is worth a compromise. Your influence on the young men will help them remain worthy of their priesthood power, of temple covenants, and of serving a mission. And who knows? Forty years from now, you may even have one of them walk up to you, there in your high school auditorium, and thank you for helping him remain worthy to fulfill his priesthood duty to serve an honorable mission. And who knows? You may even receive a letter from one of those young men’s wives, thanking you for the influence you had on her husband and their future family clear back in your high school days. Your choices matter. Your choices now not only affect you, but they also affect others. They are of eternal significance. Be not moved!