Gospel Story Finder

The whole LeGault family makes it a practice to try to live close to the Spirit. Shortly after Brother LeGault was praying for help in finding someone to share the gospel with, he was prompted to turn off the main highway to stop at a gasoline station, even though he didn’t need gasoline. A young man riding a motorcycle had stopped there because he was tired of traveling. Brother LeGault offered to put the motorcycle in his van and take the young man to Montreal.
The young man was impressed by the kindness he received and wanted to know more about the LeGault family and what made them so loving. He took the missionary lessons. The LeGault family prayed that the young man would gain a testimony. A few weeks later, he was baptized into the Church.
“When something like that happens, we make it a family activity,” says Chantal. “We all prayed for the young man to listen to the truth. We work together to share the gospel.”
“We try to say to our Heavenly Father, ‘I’ll do what you want; make me what you want,’” says Nathalie. “When we let him do that, he does wonderful things.”

When these five deacons heard how President Russell M. Nelson climbs stairs two at a time1, they decided to start jogging stairs at their school’s bleachers. Can you figure out how many stair flights each deacon could do that first Saturday morning?
Clues:
Jian did six more flights of stairs than Mason.
Garret did two more flights than Jian.
Mason did half as many flights as Hector.
No two friends did the same number of flights.
# of Flights of Stairs
2
4
6
8
10
Garret
Hector
Jian
Mason
Sam
Garret, 10; Hector, 4; Jian, 8; Mason, 2; Sam, 6

His childhood experiences seem to have been part of a divinely directed training process which would sensitize Thomas Monson to the condition of the poor for the rest of his life. When he later became bishop of that very Sixth-Seventh Ward into which he had been born and raised, he had 1,060 members, including some 85 widows and the largest welfare load in the Church.
Many may know that young Bishop Monson took a week of his personal vacation time every Christmas season to visit all of those eighty-five widows in his ward. Many may not know that for the first several years the gift he would take them was one of the hens raised by him in his own poultry sheds. And although it has been more than thirty years since he was released as their bishop, President Monson has taken a gift and visited every one of those widows every Christmas for as long as each has lived.
Furthermore, these sweet folks never seem to die until Brother Monson is back in town from his many assignments, enabling him to speak at their funerals. Perhaps no one in the present leadership of the Church has spoken at so many funerals—he once had three services in one day—and always very personal remarks are given for the sometimes ordinary and otherwise unknown souls that he has met and loved somewhere during his ministry.

“Soldier!”
Meltiar Hatch leaped to his feet and saluted the man on horseback. The Mormon Battalion had been on the march since dawn. Meltiar had taken advantage of a break to bring his 16-year-old brother, Orin, to rest in the shade of a tree. He hadn’t heard the officer’s horse until it was right next to him.
Lieutenant Smith returned Meltiar’s salute. “At ease, soldier.” He looked down at Orin, who lay unmoving, his eyes closed. “Your companion looks to be very ill.”
“Yes, sir,” Meltiar said sadly. “He contracted the fever at Fort Leavenworth, but I know that in time—”
“Time? Time?” Lieutenant Smith loudly interrupted. “This troop has no time. The untimely death of our former commanding officer has set us back two weeks. We cannot defer to the sick and the weary. Leave him.”
Meltiar’s protests were ignored as Lieutenant Smith turned and gave the order to assemble. As the drums sounded, men began to scramble to collect their provisions and line up. Meltiar sat down heavily and put his head in his hands.
“Meltiar,” Orin’s voice was barely audible. “Forgive me. I joined up only because I wanted to finally be useful, like you were in Nauvoo. I never imagined it would end like this.”
“Well, none of us imagined we’d ever be led by Lieutenant Smith, either. Few of the non-Mormon leaders have been unkind; he’s just the worst of the lot. Let’s not forget the promises given by Brigham Young and the Twelve,” Meltiar said with conviction. “If we conduct ourselves properly on this march, our lives will be spared.” He put his pack and canteen in Orin’s hands. “Here is some extra food and some water. I must go now, but I’ll be back, I promise.” He got to his feet.
“I never meant to be a burden.”
“Brothers can never be burdens.”
When the battalion made camp for the night, Meltiar quietly slipped away and began his journey back to the place where Orin waited. Much in need of rest, he sat down by a tree and quickly fell asleep. Later, he awoke with a start. He couldn’t remember why he was alone in the woods in the middle of the night, but sensed that someone’s life depended on him. Meltiar shook his head to clear his jumbled thoughts.
At the thought of his brother, Meltiar stumbled to his feet. That’s whose life depended on him now! Weary as he was, he had to keep walking. The two previous nights, Meltiar had another soldier help him bring Orin back to camp on horseback. Each morning, when Lieutenant Smith discovered what had happened, he angrily ordered that Orin be left behind again. Last night Lieutenant Smith had informed Meltiar that if he wanted to keep up his “foolhardy venture,” he could no longer disturb the sleep of other men or beasts. That was why he was now alone and on foot. And he knew that he must be only about a third of the way back to where he’d left his brother.
Meltiar had prayed fervently for help when he’d set out. He knew he had an impossible task. Even if he had not been exhausted from lack of sleep, it would take him most of the night just to reach Orin on foot. Although Orin was much improved and could probably walk, he couldn’t travel very fast in his weakened condition. Meltiar knew that if he didn’t get back to the battalion before it pulled out at dawn, it would leave them both behind. But he also knew that he could never leave Orin.
Several times on these night trips, Meltiar had had the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. Now he was certain he saw movement by a large rock up ahead. He stopped walking and slowly reached for his pistol. But the pistol was gone! He must have dropped it back where he had fallen asleep. He started to reach for his knife but froze when an Indian stepped out of the shadows. In the light of the moon something glinted in the Indian’s hand. It was Meltiar’s pistol!
As Meltiar stood wondering what to do, he heard the sound of a horse approaching. Could someone from the battalion be following me? he wondered. Or could it be another Indian? The Indian appeared not to have heard the sound, but stood unmoving, the gun down at his side.
When the horse came into the clearing, Meltiar’s heart sank when he saw that it was an Indian pony with two riders. Meltiar closed his eyes and prayed for help.
“Meltiar?” a familiar voice said.
Startled, Meltiar opened his eyes to see that one of the riders had dismounted and was approaching him cautiously.
“Meltiar?” the voice repeated. “Is that you?”
“Orin?”
The two brothers rushed together in a brief, fierce hug, then turned to face the waiting Indians. The Indians had both mounted the pony, leaving the brothers’ guns and packs on the ground. One Indian slowly raised his hand in a salute. “Brothers,” he said before they turned and rode off into the shadows.
“That’s what he said when he came and got me,” Orin said. “I thought he meant that something had happened to you, so I went with him, even though I was scared. How did they know we were brothers?”
“They’ve been watching us these past few nights,” Meltiar said with sudden realization. “And maybe they could see how much we cared for each other. They could also see how much we needed their aid, so they helped us! Or—” he smiled at Orin— “maybe he meant that we are all brothers.”
“I’m grateful for their help,” Orin said softly, “but sometimes it isn’t easy to accept help from others.”
“I know what you mean.” Meltiar leaned on Orin. “But if you are as strong as you look, now it’s time for you to be useful. I need your help to walk back to camp. I hate to be a burden, but I am very tired!”
“I am much stronger now, Meltiar. Don’t worry,” Orin told him with a smile. “Brothers can never be burdens.”

A friend told of an experience that ended his relationship with a business he had regularly patronized. He had received a letter in the mail with a coupon entitling him to a free oil change at a particular car dealership. After the work was done, he was presented with a bill for the oil. When he objected, he was told that the coupon did not cover the price of the oil, only the cost of the labor to change it. Technically and legally that may have been correct, but my friend, feeling that he had been deceived, never went back to that business.

A few years ago I read a Reuters news service account of an Alaska Airlines nonstop flight from Anchorage to Seattle, carrying 150 passengers, which was diverted to a remote town on a mercy mission to rescue a badly injured boy. Two-year-old Elton Williams III had severed an artery in his arm when he fell on a piece of glass while playing near his home in Yakutat, 450 miles (725 kilometers) south of Anchorage. Medics at the scene asked the airline to evacuate the boy. As a result, the Anchorage-to-Seattle flight was diverted to Yakutat.
The medics said the boy was bleeding badly and probably would not live through the flight to Seattle, so the plane flew 200 miles (320 kilometers) to Juneau, the nearest city with a hospital. The flight then went on to Seattle, with the passengers arriving two hours late, most missing their connections. But none complained. In fact, they dug into their pocketbooks and took up a collection for the boy and his family.
Later, as the flight was about to land in Seattle, the passengers broke into a cheer when the pilot said he had received word by radio that Elton was going to be all right. Surely love of neighbor was in evidence.

In two weeks, we will celebrate Easter. Our thoughts and feelings will, hopefully, focus on Jesus Christ. For many people, this will be another Easter that will casually come and casually go. For some, this Easter will be a season of meditation, reflection, and appreciation.
There is one special Easter that I vividly recall, experienced twenty-seven years ago as a missionary serving in the North Argentine Mission. Our mission had sent missionaries into southern Bolivia. That Easter Sunday 1968 I spent in Quiriza, Bolivia, a small village nestled in the foothills of the Altiplano of southern Bolivia. I remember the preparations made by the villagers for that Easter. The mood, the music, the feel of that moment still linger with me to this day.
Early on Easter Sunday morning, Elder Arce asked me if I would accompany him to visit an investigator family. Shortly thereafter, we walked down the dirt streets of that small village with adobe homes lining the way. We visited the family, reviewing important questions such as, Where do we come from? Why are we here? and Where are we going? We drew pictures with our fingers in the dirt floor. The Spirit was present. A baptismal invitation was extended and accepted. A beautiful baptismal service was held that afternoon. We baptized in the nearby muddy waters of the San Juan de Oro River. Seasons are reversed in South America. When it is springtime here, it is fall there.
Those being baptized disappeared behind large, freshly cut stacks of cornstalks, only to reappear dressed in beautiful white baptismal clothing. Their brown skin, black hair, and radiant smiles still linger to this day in my mind’s eye. The power of that Easter Sunday still moistens my eyes as I reflect on the universality of Christ’s invitation to all to come unto Him.
For me, to have administered in His name as a missionary among those people prompted thoughts of Jesus talking to His disciples during His earthly ministry. He said, “And other sheep I have, which are not of this fold: them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice; and there shall be one fold, and one shepherd” (John 10:16).
Before we left Quiriza, Bolivia, for Argentina, a special prayer was offered. Accompanied by a dear missionary companion, kneeling on a dirt soccer field under the stars, the two of us took turns pouring out our hearts to our Heavenly Father. There were expressions of love and gratitude for the people, for our mission president, and for the privilege of being missionaries. Promises were made to help the people.
The years since my mission have provided opportunities for the fulfillment of those missionary promises. I returned home to marry my high school sweetheart, Christine Swensen. She is a wonderful companion, and I love her dearly. As a registered nurse, she worked helping us to get through dental school. As school was drawing to a close and our sixth wedding anniversary was upon us, we were still without children. Then a door opened and an opportunity presented itself, and Ashley came into our lives. Our dear, precious Ashley.
A year later we traveled to Bolivia to bring Joshua home from an orphanage. He was two years old. I can still see that beautiful little boy walking to me with outstretched arms, saying, “Papa, Papa.”
Megan then joined us, not even twenty-four hours old when we brought her home. Then back to Bolivia for Daniel, five months old when we held him for the first time.
Several years later, while I was presiding over the Mexico Merida Mission, Jennifer joined our family—a beautiful two-week-old Guatemalan baby girl born in Mexico. She opened the hearts of our missionaries and members in southern Mexico. Natalie Joy came into our family three weeks before our mission ended. Her middle name, Joy, is an eternal reminder of the witness we received that she should be included in our family.
After sixteen years of marriage and six adoptions, Anne and Andrew naturally joined our family, to the joy and happiness of their brothers and sisters. As a family, we are forever grateful for the binding and sealing effect the temple provides for the members of Jesus Christ’s church.
With special promises made to the Lord under the stars in Bolivia at Easter time 1968, there is not a day goes by but that Chris and I embrace our children and feel of God’s love for all of His children. And now, as with Easter 1968, for me Easter season 1995 will be one never to be forgotten.
Six months ago, as members of the Church, we sustained President Howard W. Hunter as the fourteenth President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was sustained in that conference as a new Seventy. In early March, President Hunter passed away. My mind is fresh with remembrances of him. We will never forget President Hunter telling our children at the time I was set apart: “We love you. We want you to feel comfortable around us. We want you to feel like we are family.” Following our setting apart, President Hunter and his counselors, President Hinckley and President Monson, shook hands with each of our children. A treasured moment. Six months following that setting apart, I now stand before you for the first time to speak as a General Authority in the Tabernacle.
And President Gordon B. Hinckley has been sustained as the fifteenth President of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
During a visit twenty-seven years ago to South America, Elder Gordon B. Hinckley spoke to missionaries. He was younger then. He had served but seven years as an Apostle. He shared a scripture and extended an invitation. He taught from 2 Timothy: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Be not thou therefore ashamed of the testimony of our Lord” (2 Tim. 1:7–8).
Elder Hinckley invited missionaries to not fear and not be ashamed of their testimonies of Jesus Christ. His invitation penetrated my heart as a missionary then and is equally important to me and to you this day. The Lord has raised up a new prophet—one who has no fear, one who is full of power and love and of a sound mind, and one who by example reminds us never to be ashamed of our testimony of the Lord.
May this be an Easter season of meditation, reflection, and appreciation. May we resolve to be obedient to prophetic invitations from those who hold the keys of the kingdom. A favorite hymn says:
There is sunshine in my soul today,
More glorious and bright
Than glows in any earthly sky,
For Jesus is my light.
[“There Is Sunshine in My Soul Today,” Hymns, 1985, no. 227]
Jesus is my light. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Last year on the first day of school, I met a new student. He made friends with boys who didn’t have good standards. They swore and sometimes made fun of other people. After a few weeks, I joined their group. My mom started to notice some changes in my attitude. I got into trouble with these boys, who I thought were my friends. My mom spent months telling me that if I wanted to make better choices, I needed to switch my friends. But I didn’t believe my mom. I got into a fist fight once. I didn’t feel very happy. I felt frustrated sometimes.
Fast forward four months. … One afternoon I read a story from the Friend called “Game Changer” (April 2017). When my mom and I were done reading the story, I felt in my heart that I needed to change friends or I would continue to have a bad last two months in school.
The next day I went to school and decided to sit away from my friends. I sat beside a girl named Olivia. We started talking, and it took one day to become friends. My mom prayed that I could make a new friend easily after we read the story in the Friend.
From this experience in my life, I’ve learned that your choice of friends affects your life a lot. Making new friends is not that hard if you make them with the right people. The Holy Ghost told me in my heart that I should sit at that different table, not tomorrow or in a week, but that day. I think Heavenly Father wanted to give me a new friend so that I could change. I’m thankful that I read the article in the Friend with my mom that day.
Harrison C., age 9, British Columbia, Canada

In general conference a year ago, Elder Don R. Clarke of the Seventy told how his grandfather went blind and could no longer care for his farm on his own. He received a notice requiring him to make a $195 mortgage payment, something that seemed impossible given the family’s reduced circumstances. Then a miracle occurred. Elder Clarke’s grandfather later wrote:

I shall never forget that cold evening, just before Christmas of 1919. It looked as though we would lose the farm. My daughter, Gladys, laid a slip of paper in my hand and said, “This came in the mail today.” I took it to her mother and asked her what it was. This is what my wife read to me, “Dear Brother Larsen, I’ve had you on my mind all day today. I am wondering if you are in financial trouble. If you are, I have $200 you may have.” The letter was signed “Jim Drinkwater.” Jim was a small, crippled man, and he would have been the last man on earth that anyone would have thought had that much money on hand. I went to his house that night and he said, “Brother Larsen, I received a wireless message from heaven this morning, and I could not get you off my mind all day. I was sure you were in financial trouble.” Brother Drinkwater gave me $200 and we sent the $195 to the mortgage company, and with the extra $5 we bought boots and clothes for the children. Santa Claus did come that year.[11]

Jim Drinkwater, the “small, crippled man,” demonstrated true love. How easy it might have been for him to wallow in self-pity or to think of the comforts he could buy with his money. Instead, he prepared himself by righteous living to be in tune with the Spirit of the Lord. He had selfless intent, and when the “wireless message from heaven” came, he took selfless action.

First, be your own best self. An eighteen-year-old young woman I know recently got up her courage to ask a mighty senior, a guy she’d had a crush on for weeks, to a big preference dance. The day before the dance she came to her mother in obvious frustration.

“Mom, what am I going to do?” she asked, her brow furrowed. “My face looks terrible. Look at these zits! You could do a dot-to-dot. Besides that, what am I going to talk about? I don’t know what to say. He’ll think I’m stupid.”

Her mother tried not just to comfort her but to teach her: “Just be yourself. Maybe it would help to look at the conversation from his point of view. Talk about things in which you both have some interest. That way you can be yourself and still be interested in him. Don’t worry so much about him being a ‘date.’ Think of him first as a friend.”

I had a really rough time when I didn’t have as strong a testimony as I wanted to. I was scared that I would fall away from the Church, and it sent me into a pattern where I did not want to come to church. However, at a baptism, somebody bore their testimony that they had followed the path that Church leaders and their parents had set out for them, and they eventually gained a testimony of their own. This helped me a lot, and now I love to go to church.
Kaden W., age, Utah, USA

In 1 Kings 3:9, King Solomon asks for 'an understanding heart.' This is a gift and virtue that is comes with much effort and time. A few years ago my wife Ligia asked us if would please, please clean up the kitchen while she was at Relief Society. We readily agreed and away she went content that she would come home to a spotless kitchen; dishes washed, counter cleaned, floor swept and if she was lucky maybe even mopped. As I prepared the dishwater my daughter yells out that a particular movie had just came on. We had both read the book and had a high interest in this movie. We hit upon a plan: since mom would be gone at least two hours we would wash the dishes during the long commercial breaks. In two hours we would have the kitchen finished, the movie watched and a happy mommy.

For whatever the reasons, that now escape me, something went wrong. We were only half way through the dishes when we saw the headlights coming on to the driveway Liz and I looked at each other like the proverbial "deer in the headlights." I think she said something like "we're toast." We made a mad dash to finish up the dishes and were fully engaged when she walked in. We were full of feeble excuses but they could not wash away the look of disappointment on her face. We still had not finished the dishes at 10:00pm that night. In one of my brighter and more insightful moments I said, "You're not upset about a few dirty dishes are you?" And with tender eyes she said, "It is not about the dishes."

Proverbs 2:2: "So that thou incline thine ear unto wisdom and apply thine heart to understanding." In another incident a few years ago while I was driving, I complained to my daughter that she had changed all of the radio stations in the car. She had removed my favorite station that played all the old songs. She mocked my music and ridiculed its simplicity. I finally found the station and we started to listen, I told here this particular song came out when she was in kindergarten, the next song came out when I was dating her mother, and the next song came out when I graduated from college. I admitted the songs were dumb, but I told her, it's not about the songs.

It is not only what it is but what it means. It is not about dirty dishes but respecting and honoring the requests of a love one. It is not about the simple little songs but what they mean to me as audible milestones in my life. And the meanings come from the heart. When you come to comprehend the meaning, you understand the heart and you grow in learning and wisdom.

My beloved brothers and sisters, I am grateful for this opportunity that is mine to bear witness of the divinity of this great work and testify to all the world that we are led by a prophet of God. I don’t think I’ve heard any more convincing words of love than those I’ve heard when I’ve been in the temple with President Benson and his dedicated Counselors and he says, “I love you, my Brethren. I love every one of you.” From the depths of his heart, he has proclaimed to us the true significance of love for our fellowmen.
A few years ago while we were in Sydney, Australia, my wife and I received a letter from one of our grandchildren. He wrote: “Dear Grandma and Grandpa, I just turned twelve years of age, and the bishop called me into the office, and he said, ‘I have some questions to ask of you, Bruce. Bruce, you’re twelve years of age now, and so I need to know if you love the Lord.’ I told him I do. ‘Do you say bad words, Bruce?’ ‘No, bishop, I never say bad words.’ ‘Do you love your mother and dad?’ ‘Yes, bishop, I do.’ ‘Do you pay your tithing, Bruce?’ ‘Yes I do, bishop.’
“You know, Grandpa and Grandma, the bishop said that I could receive the Aaronic Priesthood because I was twelve years of age, and he asked me if I knew what the Aaronic Priesthood was. I told him that I knew a little bit and that I could be ordained a deacon. You know, the next week the bishop asked who I would like to be ordained by. I said I would like to be ordained by my dad. So my dad put his hands upon my head, and the bishop stood around and so did my uncles, and my dad conferred the Aaronic Priesthood upon me and ordained me a deacon.
“Now, Grandma and Grandpa, you’re a long way away, but I know that you’re a General Authority and some day you’ll come home. You know, I can’t wait until you come home because I know you’ll sit on the stand, and then Grandpa, I can pass the sacrament to you.”
I think that is the true meaning of love, of families.
I express my love to my devoted sweetheart and eternal companion. I’m grateful for the matriarch that she is in our family. I am grateful for each of our children; I am grateful for their families. I’m grateful to the Lord Jesus Christ for his atoning sacrifice. I’ve come to know him more assuredly as I have sat in council with your great leaders. I testify to you that they are men of God.
I like a scripture that I reflect upon frequently, and I think of it when I think of them, “For they were set to be a light unto the world, and to be the saviors of men.” (D&C 103:9.) I bear witness that those who come into the kingdom will eventually say unto them who have helped them come into the kingdom, “You were a light unto me, and I acknowledge you as literally being a savior to me.”
Another of my favorite scriptures that I would like to share with you is, “Search diligently, pray always, and be believing, and all things shall work together for your good, if ye walk uprightly and remember the covenant wherewith ye have covenanted one with another.” (D&C 90:24.)
Inscribed on the granite walls of the temple here in Salt Lake City is the constellation of Ursa Major, or the Great Bear, commonly known to you as the Big Dipper. If you were to project a line through the bottom two stars opposite the handle, it would point to and bisect the North Star. The mariners and those who have been lost at sea or on land have looked to the North Star to find their bearings.
I bear witness that there is, figuratively speaking, a “North Star” leading us today—a beloved prophet of God. Look to him. He will point you to the way of truth and righteousness. Look to the Savior, for he will give you life eternal.
Again I express my love to you, President Benson, to your dedicated and devoted Counselors, to the General Authorities, and to the body of the Church for your love and sustaining influence. We have come to love you in the Pacific islands; we have come to love you in Europe, where we served; we have come to love the Saints all over the world. My lovely companion and I shall ever remember this association with grateful hearts as we continue to bear witness of the atoning sacrifice of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
I bear witness that the Church has been restored, that Joseph Smith is a prophet of God, as is a living prophet today, President Ezra Taft Benson, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

As a newly ordained teacher in the Aaronic Priesthood, my first home teaching companion was Henry Wilkening, a high priest nearly 60 years my senior. He was a German immigrant, a shoemaker by trade, small in stature, but an energetic and faithful shepherd to the families assigned to us. I trotted behind him (for he seemed to walk and to climb stairs much faster than I could) during our monthly visits, which took us into sobering environments new to my sheltered experience. He expected me to present part of each lesson and to make all the appointments, but mostly I listened and watched as he aided brothers and sisters with various spiritual and social, economic and emotional needs previously unknown to me as a 14-year-old.
I began to realize how much good could be done by a single faithful priesthood bearer. I watched Brother Wilkening forging a strong priesthood link for himself through his loving service to those families in need—and to me in my youth.

One day when I was younger, my stomach began to hurt. As the day went on, it got worse. It hurt so bad I couldn’t even walk. At night, I woke up crying because I just couldn’t handle the pain. My parents rushed me to the emergency room. The doctors there thought my intestines were twisted and that I would need an intensive surgery, so they sent me to a hospital where it could be taken care of.
My family was really worried, and before I left, my dad and grandpa gave me a priesthood blessing. At the hospital, I was prepped for a special kind of X-ray, but the doctors found out I was fine. The pain started going away too. I really believe that the priesthood blessing made everything OK.
Hearing about this story growing up has really helped my testimony to grow. I know that the Lord can perform miracles today and that He is always there when I need help. Even though this experience was hard, I am thankful for trials like this in my life because they have strengthened my faith and my testimony.
Kailyn S., Nevada, USA

When she was younger, Céline would go to summer camp, as most French children do. “They would offer a week of training in first aid, and I would always sign up,” she remembers. The classes were usually held at the local Red Cross. “At the end of the course, the monitors would always ask if anyone would like to attend some Red Cross meetings and see a little bit how it works,” Céline continues. “So I went for about two months to see what it was like, and I joined. I started getting more and more training and passing more and more tests.”

Now she’s as qualified in first aid as the sapeurs-pompiers, firefighters the French call when there’s an emergency.

“My desire from the first was to be able to help other people, to bless Heavenly Father’s children, to be prepared in case of an accident,” Céline says. Her Personal Progress program helped her refine that desire. “I set the goal to learn first aid before I turned 19,” she says. She met her goal and found she wanted to share what she was learning.

“I didn’t think of it as a talent until I got into it and saw that it comes quite naturally to me,” she continues. “Before, I had asked myself, ‘What can I do to help others?’ For me, first aid is a way of doing that.”

Not only does she help by being trained herself; she is also training others. She has taught first aid at Mutual activities, youth conferences, and girls’ camps. She also volunteers at a small Red Cross center in the basement of a local housing complex. There she teaches cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR), answers the phone, and attends to cuts and bruises of neighborhood children. They come to her as much for a hug as for a bandage.

“I’m in my final year of high school,” Céline says. “And first aid is helpful there, too. Even in school, people fall down, break a bone, or have some kind of sickness. Someone might even have epilepsy and go into a seizure. A lot of people don’t know how to react. But I know what to do. I’ve developed my skills for exactly that reason.”

Through the Red Cross, Céline is also deeply involved in feeding and caring for the homeless. “Government agencies, shelters, churches, and charities often refer people to the Red Cross,” Céline explains. “People who drink too much or have other problems don’t nourish themselves well, and so they often become weak, especially during cold weather. We dress them, nurse them, try to give them another chance.”

That may sound ambitious, but for Céline helping others is more than a desire—it’s a way of life. “They are Heavenly Father’s children,” she says. “That means they’re our brothers and sisters. If we can make an effort to get them back on their feet, we ought to.”

Of course, if there were a major natural disaster—a flood or an earthquake, for example—the Red Cross would be there, too. “Not long ago in Paris, terrorist bombs were exploding,” Céline remembers. “The Red Cross was there, helping take care of those with minor injuries and getting others ready to go to the hospital.”

Doesn’t all that volunteering take a lot of time? “I suppose it does,” Céline says matter-of-factly. She’s busy with Church activities, school assignments, quizzes, finding time for friends—the usual stuff.

“But I would prefer to give up a little of my own time rather than see someone else suffer,” she says. “Besides, it helps me feel useful. I know I’m good for something, that I serve a purpose.”

That’s the real reason why nearly everyone says bonjour when Céline walks down the street. She isn’t a Pied Piper; she’s a people person. She helps children of all ages overcome the skinned knees of life. She’s popular because she cares, because people know of her good works, and because, since all are children of God, she loves everyone. That love, quite clearly, flows back to her.

An example will illustrate the kind of moral courage I mean. Some years ago a persuasive, able individual with great influence in the Senate of this nation leveraged legitimate concerns for the defense of this country for personal ambition. Some of his colleagues became concerned with allegations made against him. They decided that an investigation was required to determine whether or not his actions were justified and honorable or whether he should be censured. Discussions were held concerning who should participate in the search for truth.
A relatively unknown senator—but a good man with faith in God and unquestioned integrity—awoke from a nightmare and told his wife that he had dreamed he had been put on the committee.
She responded, “Oh, no! That would be political suicide.”
He went to the office and returned home after a long day, ashen white.
His trembling wife said, “No! You’ve been put on the committee.”
He responded, “Worse than that. I have been asked to be its chairman.”
Then, with characteristic devotion to duty, he and other valiant men began the difficult, trying evaluation of evidence to discover truth and to put an end to false practices. It was not an attack against an individual but against wrongdoing in high places. Though that action did later cost him his political career, I will ever remember him for his courage, integrity, and willingness to sacrifice personal gain for the greater good he gave this nation.

When Elder Perry was seven years old, his family started to remodel their home in Logan, Utah, USA. They were taking out some of the walls in the house. Each day, the workers would tear down the old walls, leaving many boards full of nails. One of young Tom’s tasks was to take care of these boards.
Each night after the workers had finished, Tom gathered up the boards and took them out to the back lawn. There he made a big pile of boards. Then, one at a time, he put them up on two sawhorses and pulled out all the nails with a crowbar.
After pulling out the nails, Tom did his best to straighten them. Then he threw the straightened nails into a big green bucket and stacked the boards in a neat pile. The workers were able to use the old boards to remodel the house.
Elder Perry says this project helped him learn good lessons. First, it taught him the discipline of working hard. Second, it taught him not to waste things. These lessons have helped him his whole life.

“Dennis, will you give a talk in Primary next week?” Sister Harris asked. “We’d love for you to talk about a prophet in the Book of Mormon.”
Dennis gulped. He had shared a scripture and said a prayer in Primary before, but he wasn’t sure he could give a whole talk. What if he stuttered? He went to speech therapy, but it was still hard to speak clearly when he got nervous.
“I’ll try m-my best,” he said.
Sister Harris smiled. “That’s all that Heavenly Father asks of us.”
Dennis couldn’t stop thinking about the talk for the rest of Primary. As soon as his family left church, he blurted out, “I’m scared of giving a talk!” His voice trembled, and he felt hot tears in the corners of his eyes. “What if I mess up? What if I trip on my way to the microphone? Or what if I can’t remember what to say and freeze like a human statue?”
Mom smiled and put her arm around his shoulders. “I believe in you, and I have faith that Heavenly Father will help you.”
“Does Heavenly Father know I’m scared?” Dennis asked, wiping his eyes.
“Yes! Heavenly Father always knows how we feel,” Dad said. “He and the Savior understand everything we go through. They love us with all Their hearts.”
Dennis felt better after that. That night, he prayed about what he should say in his talk. He decided to share a scripture story. He thought of when Nephi’s bow broke. Nephi was brave and faithful, even when his older brothers were mean to him.
The next day Dennis wrote down that story in his own words. Mom helped him spell the words he didn’t know. Dennis practiced telling the story every day for the rest of the week.
On Sunday morning, Dennis said his talk to his family one last time. But he was still a little nervous.
“Dad, will you give me a blessing?” he asked.
“I would love to,” Dad said.
Dennis sat in a chair, and Dad put his hands on top of Dennis’s head. Dennis listened carefully as Dad spoke. Dad blessed him that he would be calm and that he would be able to say what he wanted to say. “Dennis, your Heavenly Father loves you very much,” Dad said. “His peace will be with you.”
Dennis felt a warm, calm feeling. He knew what Dad said was true.
When it was time for Dennis to give his talk, he walked to the front of the Primary room. He felt his knees shaking, but that didn’t stop him. And he didn’t trip! He looked to the back of the room and saw his parents smiling at him. He smiled back.
“Nephi and his family lived in the desert for years. But one time, Nephi b-broke his bow, so they couldn’t get f-f-food.” Dennis stopped. He was stuttering! He thought about giving up, but then he remembered his blessing. He took a deep breath and kept going.
“Nephi made a n-new bow and caught some food for his f-family. I know that Heavenly F-Father will help us as we try to do what’s right. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
As Dennis sat down, he felt a warm, calm feeling again. He had given a whole talk! God had helped him, just like Dad had promised in the blessing.

President David O. McKay remembered listening to his mother many times tell of growing up in Wales, where she was born in the village of Merthyr Tydfil on August 28, 1850.
When Jennette was only six years old, she and her family came to America on a large ship. They had been baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and wanted very much to live with the Saints in Utah.
The Evans family settled in Ogden, Utah, and Jennette was attending school there when she first met David McKay. They were later married by Wilford Woodruff, who would soon become president of the Church.