Gospel Story Finder

Leann liked preschool. She especially liked the days when her mommy was the parent-helper.
“Today we’re going to talk about our bodies,” the teacher, Mrs. Whitney, said after all the children had gathered in a circle on the floor. “What are some of the things that our bodies can do?”
Everyone took turns naming things.
“Run.”
“Eat.”
“Play.”
“Sing,” Leann said.
Mrs. Whitney smiled. “That’s right. Our bodies can do all those things and more. We’re going to make life-size pictures of ourselves.” She gave a long sheet of white paper to each child.
Leann lay down on the paper, and Mommy traced an outline of her. While Mommy helped the other children, Leann drew in hair, eyes, ears, a mouth, and a nose. She colored her shirt and jumper blue just like the ones she was wearing.
Leann looked at the picture of herself. Something was missing. “Where’s my spirit?” she whispered to Mommy.
“Your spirit is part of you,” Mommy said, “but it’s not something we can see.”
“But I want to draw my spirit so everyone will know that I have one.” Leann chose a yellow crayon and drew a circle around her picture.
After all the children had finished coloring, Mrs. Whitney asked them to show their pictures and to name the parts of their bodies.
Soon it was Leann’s turn. She held up the picture of herself so that the other children could see it. “And this yellow circle helps me remember that I have a spirit,” she said, pointing to the yellow circle.
She smiled at Mommy.
Mommy smiled back.
Leann knew that her spirit wasn’t really a circle, but the yellow color reminded her that her spirit was happy because she was a child of God.

Moving? Tomorrow? It can’t be time already, thought eleven-year-old Sarah as she folded the last of her mother’s dish towels and put them into a barrel. The family had been planning for the past few weeks to leave Kirtland, Ohio, for Missouri with some of the other Saints, but they didn’t know exactly what day they would leave. This morning Sarah’s father had come into the kitchen and told his family that tomorrow was moving day.
Sarah wasn’t really surprised that they had to move. For the past year people who were against the Church and its members had caused the Saints a lot of problems. How vividly she remembered the day when her family had been sitting in the Kirtland Temple for their Sunday meeting and several ruffians had come into the room carrying knives and guns. Brandishing their weapons and shouting, they had disrupted the services. Sarah could still remember how frightened she had been that day. Joseph Smith’s father had been conducting the meeting. He’d sent for the police, and the intruders had been ushered out of the temple. After that, the meeting had gone on without interruption.
Just a month ago, when spring was in its glory throughout the Kirtland area, Father had told Sarah that she must do all that she could to help Mother get ready to move. However, Sarah had tried to convince herself that they wouldn’t have to do it. How can I leave Kirtland? she’d wondered. We’ve never lived anywhere else.
Kirtland was the place where Sarah and her brother John and sister, Laura, had all been born. Another brother, two years younger than Sarah, had even been buried in Kirtland shortly after he was born. It was the place where Sarah and her parents had been taught and baptized by Brother Sidney Rigdon. Brother Rigdon had been their minister when they had all belonged to the Campbellite Church, and the whole family had loved him. They had been glad to read the Book of Mormon when he had brought it to their home. It was only right that Brother Rigdon had baptized them when they were sure that the gospel was true.
Sarah had been excited about turning twelve in the fall and going with her best friend, Mary, to Sister Eliza Snow’s school for girls. But Sister Snow’s family and Mary’s family had already moved to Missouri, so there would be no school. She had hoped that someone else would teach the school once things settled down a little. But things hadn’t settled down.
The rest of that day and night went quickly. Suddenly it was daybreak and time to leave their home. When the wagon was packed, the whole family climbed aboard, with Father sitting on the front seat to drive the oxen he had bought only last week. John, looking very big for a seven-year-old, sat next to Father. Five-year-old Laura and Sarah sat in the back of the wagon with Mother. They all watched Kirtland grow smaller as they joined the other wagons leaving the city.
The first few weeks of the trip seemed especially long because of the slow pace of the oxen. John and Laura had been excited about the trek at first, but even they calmed down as time passed. One night Sarah was awakened by the low voice of her father. There was something in the sound of his voice that frightened her. She crawled out from under her blanket and drew back the wagon flap.
The worried look on Father’s face eased a little when he saw her. “Sarah, I need your help. Your mother has a high fever. Can you go to the river and fill the bucket with some water?”
Sarah was afraid. Mother had never been sick! She had always been the one to take care of others when they were ill. Quickly Sarah filled the bucket and returned to the wagon. All night long she and Father took turns wiping her mother’s face with damp cloths to keep her cool. Mother was too sick to say a word, and this really upset Sarah. By morning Sarah realized that she must take care of her brother and sister and fix whatever breakfast she could put together. She knew that she must remain calm so that John and Laura would not be frightened by Mother’s illness. Quietly she woke the children and told them what had happened.
“Will you go and get some small pieces of wood to start the fire, Laura?” she asked. “You’re really good at finding wood.” Turning to her little brother, she said, “John, if you can get some larger pieces, we can build a fire together.”
John crawled out from under his blanket and began to work without complaining. Sarah was amazed at how helpful her sister and brother were. They seemed to know exactly what to do.
Sarah cooked breakfast and quickly cleaned everything up. Mother didn’t seem much better, so Sarah stayed in the back of the wagon and put soothing, damp cloths on her mother’s face. Father had been able to fix a lid on a bucket so that the water didn’t spill with the wagon’s movement. Because the children helped so much, the family was able to keep up with the company.
Sarah spent every spare minute planning and cooking meals, keeping their clothes washed, and tending Mother. Laura and John gathered wood each night for cooking, and they helped in any other way they could. John found some empty wooden spools, and he and Laura were busy making a surprise for the family.
One morning Sarah awoke and realized that her family had been gone from Kirtland for six weeks! Mother was almost well, but she still let the children take care of things together. How proud she was of Sarah’s cooking and John and Laura’s fires.
“Do you know what’s happened to us, Sarah?” Mother said softly. “With the Lord’s help, we are relying on each other now. This is what we’re supposed to do. If I hadn’t been sick, you children would never have been able to show your father and me the many things you can do for our family.”
Before Sarah could reply, John and Laura climbed into the wagon holding something under a cloth. Father climbed in behind them and said, “I don’t know what these two are up to, but they made me stop everything to come and see what they’ve made.”
The children uncovered a checkerboard made from a weathered board, and a set of tiny checkers made from the spools John had found. Laura beamed and said, “John rubbed charcoal on some spools to make the black pieces, and I colored the other ones with some berries we found along the way. We thought everyone could take turns playing checkers.”
Sarah felt tears come to her eyes. She would miss Kirtland and its happy memories, but she was taking with her the best part of those memories—her family.

The young women of the Stevensville Montana Stake wanted to do more than just camp at their last girls’ camp; they also wanted to do some good. Reaching out to needy children around the world, the young women put together 72 hygiene kits and gathered around 250 toys and stuffed animals to be distributed by LDS Humanitarian Services.
This project helped the girls realize how blessed they are to have what they have. Many talked of wanting to do more and said they were grateful that the Church has the ability to send these items to people who are truly in need.

At 5 a.m. on a Tuesday morning in April 2022, a group of youth and leaders gathered at Heathrow Airport. Although there were a few tired faces, everybody was excited for the trip ahead of them. The travelers were members of the Staines Ward, Staines England Stake, and they were getting ready to board a plane heading for Stockholm, Sweden.
The ward’s Swedish bishop, Örjan Olsson, and his family had moved to England a few years prior. Ever since then, he had dreamt of taking the youth to his beautiful homeland. Now, it was finally time.
After the plane landed in Stockholm, the group traveled by train to the Stockholm Sweden Temple. They would be staying in the temple accommodations for the duration of their 3-night trip. Bishop Olsson’s parents, who lived in the area and worked at the temple, were there to greet the group and had lunch prepared for the starving teenagers. Once physically fed, the youth walked over to the temple where they would spend the afternoon being spiritually fed while performing proxy baptisms and confirmations.
Every morning of the trip would be spent in the same manner—food and temple work. After breakfast (and sometimes before), the eager youth would go in groups to the temple to perform baptisms for the dead. They had a goal to perform 1,000 baptisms. In preparation for the trip, the youth had searched their family trees to find ancestors in need of temple work and had collected names from ward members. The pile of names grew even larger once in Sweden, as other temple patrons heard about the group and asked if the youth would be willing to perform the work for some of their ancestors. The youth worked hard to reach their goal. One morning, each young man and young woman performed 25 proxy baptisms. By the end of the trip, the youth had exceeded their goal and completed 1,250 baptisms and confirmations.
A particularly special moment occurred one morning while a group of youth were in the temple. A couple entered the baptistry and asked the youth if they would be willing to perform the proxy baptisms for the woman’s sister who had passed away. Tears flowed down the couple’s cheeks as they watched a priest and young woman enter the font and perform the proxy baptism. The Spirit could be felt by everyone in the baptistry as the Holy Ghost bore witness of the importance of the work being done.
When not working in the temple, the Staines party enjoyed learning about Sweden’s sights and culture and getting to know the members of Sweden. One afternoon was spent exploring central Stockholm where the youth were able to try Swedish food (the Swedish meatballs were delicious), take in the colourful buildings, buy souvenirs, and enjoy each other’s company. The youth also had the chance to get to know the youth of the local Swedish wards. They laughed their way through the nerves and awkwardness of speed dating and had fun playing games. On the last evening, the youth came together for a testimony meeting where they bore powerful testimony of Jesus Christ and His gospel in both English and Swedish.
Before heading to the airport, the travelers had to make one more stop—a Swedish pick-and-mix candy store. Once everybody had a bag full of Swedish candy, the group headed to the airport and headed back to England, where they landed safely late that night.
This unique temple trip was a cultural and spiritual feast for all those who had the blessing to attend. Of course, none of it would have been possible without the wonderful efforts of many people—the hard-working and positive youth, the leaders who helped organized the international trip, those who served in the kitchens, the dedicated temple workers, the kind temple president who taught spiritual truths (as well as cycling and competitive badminton), the entire Olsson family, and the welcoming members of Stockholm. Bonds were formed and strengthened, and everyone who made the journey returned with hearts full of love—for Sweden, for each other, and for the Lord.

When I was a child, as a family we went on vacation to a beach on the coast of my native country, Chile. I was excited to spend some days enjoying the summer with my family. I was also thrilled because I thought I could finally join in and do what my two older brothers usually did for fun on the water.
One day my brothers went to play where the waves were breaking, and I felt big and mature enough to follow them. As I moved toward that area, I realized the waves were larger than they appeared from the shore. Suddenly, a wave rapidly approached me, taking me by surprise. I felt like the power of nature had taken over me, and I was dragged into the depths of the sea. I couldn’t see or feel any reference point as I was tossed around. Just as I thought my adventure on the earth might be coming to an end, I felt a hand pulling me toward the surface. Finally, I could see the sun and catch my breath.
My brother Claudio had seen my attempts to act as a grown-up and had come to my rescue. I was not far from the shore. Even though the water was shallow, I was disoriented and had not realized I could have helped myself. Claudio told me that I needed to be careful and, if I wanted, he could teach me. Despite the gallons of water I had swallowed, my pride and desire to be a big boy were stronger, and I said, “Sure.”
Claudio told me I needed to attack the waves. I told myself I would surely lose that battle against what seemed like a huge wall of water.
As a new big wave approached, Claudio quickly said, “Look at me; this is how you do it.” Claudio ran toward the incoming wave and dove into it before it broke. I was so impressed with his dive that I lost sight of the next incoming wave. So again I was sent to the depths of the sea and tossed by the forces of nature. A few seconds later, a hand grasped mine, and I was again pulled toward the surface and air. The flame of my pride was extinguishing.
This time my brother invited me to dive with him. As per his invitation, I followed him, and we dove together. I felt as if I was conquering the most complicated challenge. Certainly, it was not very easy, but I did it, thanks to the help and example shown by my brother. His hand rescued me twice; his example showed me how to deal with my challenge and be victorious that day.
If we think celestial, we will recognize Jesus Christ as a flawless example of ministry. There is a pattern for us in the scriptures when He or His disciples reach out to someone in need of help, rescue, or a blessing as they reach out with their hands. As in my story, I knew my brother was there, but being there for me was not enough. Claudio knew I was in trouble, and he went to help lift me from the water.
My brother did not give up on me that day but persisted so I could learn how to do it for myself. He persisted, even if that required rescuing me twice. He persisted, even if I could not get it at first. He persisted so I could overcome that challenge and succeed. If we think celestial, we will realize that our Savior will be there as many times as necessary to provide help if we want to learn, change, overcome, cope, or succeed in whatever will bring true and everlasting happiness to our lives.

Sisters, we must prepare if we wish to serve, and we must serve if we wish to prepare. When I was 16 I was called to teach the three-year-olds in what was then called Junior Sunday School. (You know there was such a thing in the olden days.) I taught some busy children. They climbed on and under the chairs and table and never seemed to stop moving. I was dreadfully inexperienced, and during the first few weeks I wondered if I had done the right thing in accepting the call.

But I persisted, and what I learned—quickly—was that I couldn’t just pray for help. I had to be prepared. That meant planning activities, stories, and lessons, and it meant having plan B ready, along with C through Z. Many years later, when I was called to lead a Junior Sunday School, I knew how to assist new teachers. I knew how to enjoy the children, and I knew the importance of being faithful in my calling.

Recently, following a large youth devotional, I was visiting amidst a happy swirl of wonderful young men and women. A young man came up.

With great earnestness, he asked, “Elder Gong, can I still go to heaven?”

He was ashamed of some things he had done. He wondered if there was any hope for him. Are repentance and forgiveness real? Could the Lord forgive him? Would he be able to forgive himself? At that moment, it seemed as though time had stopped and it was only the two of us talking.

I asked his name, listened carefully, invited him to talk with his bishop, and gave him a big hug. I think my response may have surprised him: “Trust God and repent, and I promise you can still go to heaven.”

He looked into my eyes until he knew that what I was saying was true.

After that personal, private moment concluded, I returned to the excitement and happy noise of the crowd.

I was so grateful that this good brother could realize with joy that repentance and forgiveness through Jesus Christ’s Atonement can be and are real for him. Sometimes we hear the words, but deep in our hearts we need to know they can be and are real for us—for each of us.

Elder Ulisses Soares traveled with President Dallin H. Oaks to help dedicate a new temple in Colombia, in the city of Barranquilla [bar-an-KEE-ya].
Many children came with their parents to see the new temple be dedicated.
President Oaks invited a boy and girl to help seal the cornerstone in place. The temple was finished!
Inside the temple after the cornerstone ceremony, Elder Soares gave a talk. Then President Oaks gave a prayer to dedicate the temple to the Lord. Now the temple is the Lord’s house.
Now children will be able to go inside to be sealed to their families and do temple baptisms!
“Whatever you do, keep your eyes on the temple.”
—Elder Ulisses Soares

I learned a valuable lesson about staying in the boat. One summer, I took a 10-day break from my graduate studies to raft the Colorado River. Two of my friends who were working as summer guides on the river invited me to be a boatman on one of their trips. Even though the boatman is the person who ends up doing the duties that everyone else does not want to do, like setting up and taking down the portable latrine each day, I was in. A few days into the trip, after having experienced exciting rapids and gentle waters, we approached a rather small rapid, I do not recall the name of the rapid, but it was small. One of my guide friends suggested I join him in jumping off the raft and floating the rapids with just our life jackets. I was a bit hesitant, but he assured me he had done it a number of times in the past and that it would be fun.

I had been down rapids in smaller rivers on inner tubes and sometimes even without a life jacket or an inner tube. So, I excitedly said yes. As we approached the rapids and the spot where we were to jump in, my friend told me to put on an additional life jacket. I quickly followed his example and put on the second vest. Now at this point, any rational human being would pause and say, “if this is so safe, why do I need two life vests” and would question if this was a good idea. But in we went. These rapids were not like others I had been in, they were larger, the waves more closely packed together, and it seemed instead of going up and over the wave, I went through the waves requiring me to hold my breath for long periods of time and exerting tremendous effort to get my head out of the water. It seemed like the waves were just right on top of each other, not giving me enough time to catch my breath and resulting in drinking a number of mouthfuls of dirty, brown river water as I gasp for air. Finally, after what seemed to be forever of a constant struggle against the forces of the river to get life-giving air, I was through the rapids and into what I believed was safe, gentler waters. The raft was about 75 yards downriver, but that didn’t concern me. I thought oh I’ll just relax and float down to it. To my surprise, the river had other plans as I was sucked into a whirlpool and pulled under. I fought with all my energy to get back to the surface, which I did long enough to get a small gasp of air before being sucked down again. This happened three or four times. Finally, for some reason, I escaped and was in calm waters again. Fortunately, others on the boat saw me struggling and made their way to me. When the raft was finally within grasp, I was physically exhausted, requiring others to pull me from the river into the safety of the boat.

You may think that all was well, no harm done, and it was exciting, to say the least. But the consequences of my decision continued. Hours later, my gastrointestinal tract was reacting to the swallowed dirty river water, you know Montezuma’s revenge. This prevented me from participating in what was one of the highlights of the trip. Riding donkeys or burros up to the rim of the Grand Canyon to a ranch for a barbeque, an evening of fun, and a donkey ride back down the next morning.

I have learned from this and many more experiences that staying in the boat is the best decision.

In our ward we have had some success with two boys who had been completely inactive. We made friends with them. We took them out for pizza. We planned activities around their special interests. When we told them how much the program had to offer and showed them we really wanted them with us, they decided to give us a try.

Last week they both came to activity night. If we can care enough to make good on our campaign promises and really deliver the good program we’ve promised, and still care about them just as much, we’ll keep these boys, and they will have a chance to work out their salvation.

On August 30, in the middle of Wyoming, the teenage driver received a special honor. Captain Joseph W. Young needed to rush ahead of his train to catch up with another wagon company, so he selected Zeb to drive him in a wagon pulled by mules. (Mules travel much faster than oxen.) Zeb drove as fast as he could for three days and then Captain Young, needing to travel even faster, hailed a passing stagecoach, boarded it, and left Zeb to travel alone.
Zeb liked the fast mule team which moved him 20 to 45 miles a day, double what wagon trains could cover. But driving alone on the hot, dusty trail and camping by himself at night had its lonely moments. So he enjoyed catching up to other travelers and visiting with them. Late on September 3 he overtook the Joseph Horne train “where I joined the people in that camp in a dance.” An injured man in the camp needed to be hurried to Salt Lake, so Richard Horne joined Zeb as a traveling companion, “and I was very glad of his company,” Zeb confessed.
Zeb, the teenage driver, put his mule-pulled wagon and injured passenger into Salt Lake City in near record time, arriving on September 7 at breakfast time. He beat his Joseph W. Young wagon train there by 16 days. In total, down and back, Zeb had been on the trail for 18 weeks.

As I was preparing this talk, I received an unexpected email from someone in the process of repenting and desiring to return to the Church. His former wife was still suffering from the loss “of [their] eternal marriage, [difficulties with the children], the loss of financial security, … not [being] quite able to keep up with expenses, [and] the deeply suffocating feelings of being betrayed.”

He shared with me how his priesthood leader “felt impressed to [ask him] to prayerfully consider what [more he could do for his former wife and children].” With permission, I share a part of his email:
“I [first] thought the [money] I gave up in the divorce decree was more than generous, but my branch president encouraged me to fast and pray about it. …
“Initially, I struggled with the idea of further restitution. Since my sins weren’t financial, I wondered what a ‘generous restitution’ truly meant … [but] I soon realized it wasn’t just about money.
“My priesthood leaders met with [my former wife] and my children and realized they were still struggling and hadn’t healed. …
“My new goal was to move forward with faith. … I simply expressed my desire to help with no strings attached. … I decided to [send my former wife a specific amount] per paycheck, which was a significant portion of my net pay. Just before making the first payment, the Lord [impressed upon my mind that I needed] to pay [twice that amount].
“I’ve learned that restitution isn’t just about money. It’s about humbly dedicating my life to the Lord. … The money is to help replace what I took from my family due to my poor choices. It’s about making and keeping promises without expecting anything in return and helping her not worry about bills so she can seek the Spirit.”

When I was in an elders quorum presidency, we worked with several less-active families. In a personal interview with one couple, I asked, “Isn’t it about time you went to the temple with your family?”
I couldn’t believe their answer: they said yes.
We cried.
They were asked to speak about their “conversion” in a Saturday evening session of stake conference, and as they expressed their love, I cried. I thought I had used up all my tears by the time we went to the temple—until I saw them and their beautiful daughters kneel at the altar and be sealed for time and eternity.

The following week I found myself thinking again and again about what had happened. Everytime I recited the poem to myself I felt renewed strength and happiness. The things I had read about God were more than just words. He really did know each individual on the earth and cared about everyone of us. This experience made my scripture reading alive and meaningful. I knew it would have an effect on the church meetings I attended. It had even more of an effect, however, than I had anticipated.
Sunday arrived, and I sat in our branch sacrament room. The meeting started, and all joined in singing the opening hymn. I carefully followed the words as we sang a piece I had never heard or sung before. It was a strong and pretty melody. Finishing the second verse, the conductor cut us off and gave us the upbeat for the third verse. I started in with the rest of the congregation but suddenly stopped singing. My heart beat faster as I read the words. I looked away from the hymnbook and silently repeated the verse to myself: “Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed …”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I felt God speaking to me once again. Not only was his message poetic, but musical as well—a song of the spirit. I joined in with the rest, praising our Heavenly Father with this meaningful hymn. I knew I would never sing it again without being reminded of God’s concern for me.

Hi, I’m Mikey. I’m six years old, and I have a dog named Truffles. Miles had a dog too, but his dog died.
Miles is angry with me. Dad and Mom say that maybe it’s because Miles’s dog died and I still have one, and maybe that doesn’t seem fair to him. I try to be friendly to Miles, but he calls me names and makes faces at me. Once he even threw a rock at me when I took Truffles for a walk.
A few weeks ago, Truffles had two puppies. My parents said we could keep one of the puppies, but they didn’t know what to do with the other one. They asked me to think about it.
I thought a lot about it. I even prayed about it. And then I started thinking about Miles. I knew that Heavenly Father knows all about Miles and the hard time he’s going through. I thought maybe I could do something to help.
I told Dad and Mom that I wanted to give the other puppy to Miles. They smiled, and Dad asked me why I wanted to be so kind to someone who treated me badly.
“You and Mom tell me that we should love everybody, not just people who are nice to us,” I said. “I want to do what Jesus would do.”
When I took the puppy over to Miles, his parents said he could keep it. Miles looked very surprised and happy, so that made me happy too.
Miles doesn’t call me names anymore. Now he just calls me Mikey. All of my friends call me Mikey, and Miles is one of my friends.

Chen Shun Chun, former president of the Hua Lien district, recently drew a diagram to illustrate the far-reaching results of his baptism in 1973. Starting with his name and his wife’s name in the center, he wrote down dozens of interconnected family members and others who have joined the Church, received the priesthood, received the temple endowment, served missions and converted others, and been sealed in the temple. One special area of the diagram lists deceased people whose ordinance work has been done vicariously. President Chen estimates that a whole ward has resulted from his baptism 26 years ago.

Eleven-year-old Hatty pulled the last stitch through the apron. “It’s finished,” she said, tying the knot. “Now can I please make Pa’s birthday shirt?”
“Are you sure you want to try something so difficult?” Ma asked.
“Yes! His birthday’s next week, and I’ve been mending as fast as I can so I’ll have time to make it. Besides, you said his old one was ready for the quilt bag.”
Ma laughed. “All right. You’ve convinced me. There’s some cloth in the box by my bed.”
Hatty hurried to the box and pulled out a large piece of newly woven cloth. “How about this?”
Ma nodded. “That will be fine, but be careful not to use more than you need. It has to last us all year.”
“I’ll be careful.” Hatty spread it on the table.
“The first thing we need to do,” Ma said, “is cut out the pieces. Usually I measure your pa first, but since this is a surprise, we’ll have to rely on my memory.” Ma measured, outlined, and pinned. “It’s your turn,” she said, handing Hatty the scissors.
Hatty cut out the sleeves.
“Good,” Ma said. “I’m going outside now to put fresh straw in the mattresses. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.” Hatty started on the next piece. This is so exciting! she thought. I can hardly wait till Pa sees—“Oh, no!” she wailed out loud.
Ma ran through the door. “What’s wrong?” Then she saw the large gash. “Oh, Hatty, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you so soon.” She folded the ruined cloth and put it into the box. “Perhaps we can use it later.”
Hatty wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry, Ma.”
“I know.” Ma quickly traced another pattern, and Hatty tried again. This time she was extra careful.
It wasn’t until the next morning that Hatty had another chance to work on her gift.
As she started sewing the first seam, she thought, This isn’t so hard. But after a solid hour of stitching, her hands were sore, her shoulders ached, and her fingers had been pricked five times.
“Let’s see how you’re doing,” Ma said, examining the stitches. “Hmmm, … most of it’s perfect. But see these big stitches? You’ll need to make them smaller, or they’ll come undone while Pa is working.”
Hatty looked at her pricked fingers. “Maybe this project is too hard for me.”
“It is difficult, but I believe that you can do it.”
“You do?”
“Yes. You’ve already done many difficult things. Remember when we crossed the plains? You had to keep our milk cow walking, even when all you wanted to do was sleep.”
Hatty nodded.
“And what about our garden? You planted it all by yourself.”
“Pa helped a little.”
“And I’ll help you with this.”
Hatty looked again at her sore fingers. “Show me what to do,” she said.
The rest of the week, Hatty spent every spare minute working on the shirt. Sometimes she had to unpick her stitches and sew them again, and sometimes she felt like giving up. But, finally, on the morning of Pa’s birthday, she finished it and wrapped it in brown paper.
“There’s a new company of Saints coming through the canyon today,” Pa said after breakfast. “I’ll be spending most of my day helping them.”
“But it’s your birthday!” Hatty cried.
“And I can’t think of a better way to spend it! You know that we’ve always been helped when we’ve needed it, so I’m glad to help others when they need it.”
“What about your present?” Hatty asked.
Pa laughed. “I’ll be home in time for dinner. You can give it to me then.”
When he was gone, Ma said, “Aren’t we lucky? Now we have the whole day to prepare for his party.”
“His party?”
“Yes. We need to make a cake, fix his favorite dinner, and—”
“String wildflowers around the room! Can I do that?”
Ma laughed. “Go ahead.”
That evening, Pa, Ma, and Hatty sat around the table and ate dinner. There was a flower next to each place.
“Happy birthday to you,” Hatty and Ma sang after dinner.
Pa stuck his finger into the cake. “Mmmm. Let’s eat.”
“Presents first,” said Hatty, reaching under her chair.
Just then someone knocked on the door.
“I wonder who that could be.” Pa picked up the candle and went to the door.
Hatty stood on her tiptoes, trying to see who it was, but Pa was too tall. She could hear a man’s voice, though.
Finally Pa closed the door and faced his family. “It’s one of the new settlers,” he said quietly. “He’s out of money, and his clothes were so torn that he didn’t want you to see him. He hid in the bushes all afternoon.” Pa looked at Ma, his eyes pleading. “I have another pair of pants, but …”
Slowly Hatty handed her father the brown paper package. “Happy birthday,” she whispered. “It’s a shirt.”
Pa pulled Hatty into his arms. “Thank you,” he said. Then, he gathered the clothing and gave his gift to the man outside.

One day, my family went to see some of the animals at our town’s stock show. As we were leaving, I found a $100 bill lying between two cars. At first I was excited, but then I started talking with my mom and dad about how much someone must be missing that money. We decided to report it to the office, but I still felt like we should try harder to find the owner.
As we walked back to where we found the money, I saw a lady who was looking for something. My dad asked her if she had lost something, and she said she had lost a $100 bill. My dad told her that I found it and that I had wanted to return it to her. She was very thankful to get her money back, and she thanked me for being honest. It feels really good to choose the right!

Mara buttoned her skirt and looked in the mirror. It felt funny to wear church clothes on a Saturday, but this was a special Saturday. It was general conference!
“Are you excited for the women’s session?” Mak (Mom) asked. She brushed Mara’s hair with quick, gentle strokes. “I want you to try to listen as much as you can.”
“Yes! I hope they tell pioneer stories!” Mara liked those best.
“Maybe they will,” Mak said. “Did you know your dad is a pioneer?”
Mara was confused. Her dad had never pulled a handcart.
“How is he a pioneer?” she asked.
Mak nodded toward the window, toward the river. “He was fishing there when he met the missionaries. He was the first one in his family to get baptized,” Mak said. “That makes him a pioneer! Now let’s go find your grandmother.”
Yiay (Grandma) was waiting for them in the front room. Mara’s family and her grandparents all lived together. Yiay helped take care of Mara after school while her parents worked. Now Yiay stood by the moped, the big motorized scooter that carried them around the city.
“The Church has only been in Cambodia for 25 years,” Mak told Mara as she opened the door and pushed the moped onto the street. “So we’re all pioneers. Even you!”
“How am I a pioneer?” Mara wondered as she got on the moped. Mak drove the moped, with Yiay in back and Mara in the middle. Mara held on tight as they zigged down the crowded street.
As they passed a café, the smell of tea wafted over them. Almost everyone here drank tea. But Mara didn’t. She followed the Word of Wisdom. Mara grinned. That’s one way she was a pioneer!
As the moped turned a corner, Mara saw a wat, a Buddhist temple. The red pointed roof rose above the other buildings. Monks with shaved heads and orange robes sat studying in the courtyard.
Mara knew that most people in Cambodia were Buddhist. They didn’t believe in Jesus Christ. But Mara did. “That’s another way I’m a pioneer,” thought Mara. And today she would get to listen to the prophet!
As the moped turned into the church parking lot, Mara saw lots of women arriving. Some had walked or ridden mopeds. Others arrived in tuk tuks, small carriages pulled by a motorbike. Many of the women wore dresses or plain skirts, like Mara did. And some wore sampots, beautiful long skirts made of colorful patterned fabrics.
Mara, Mak, and Yiay sat down in the chapel with the other women. Conference had actually happened a whole week ago in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA. But now the people in Cambodia would be able to watch the broadcast in Khmer. Mara spoke both English and Khmer at home, and she also learned French in school. But many Cambodians just spoke Khmer.
The first speaker didn’t tell any stories about pioneers. But then the second speaker told a story about walking up a steep dirt path on her way home from school. It was called the “boys’ trail,” and sometimes she would take off her shoes and walk barefoot. She wanted to do hard things so she could be like a pioneer! Mara smiled as she thought about all the ways she was a pioneer.
The last speaker was the prophet. He stood tall. Mara listened extra closely. “I invite you to read the Book of Mormon between now and the end of the year,” he said. “The heavens will open for you. The Lord will bless you.”
Mara knew it wouldn’t be easy to read the whole Book of Mormon. She looked at the women around her. All of them had chosen to follow Jesus Christ. All of them had come tonight to listen to the prophet. She would follow the prophet, just as they did. She would be a pioneer!

Since joining the Church, I have had many opportunities to serve my brothers and sisters in various callings, many in leadership positions. I always believed my purpose in life was to serve others and not myself. However, that changed 10 years ago, when one Christmas, I was rushed to the hospital because my kidneys stopped working. The doctor in the emergency room told my family that my condition was so severe that they weren’t sure if I would make it through the night and that they should be prepared for the bad news. I spent three days in intensive care, but thanks to the Savior’s mercy, I was moved to a regular room on the third day and stayed in the hospital for 15 days. My kidneys didn’t recover, and I became a chronic kidney patient, now requiring dialysis three times a week.
I remember pouring out my heart in prayer to Heavenly Father, asking Him to give me more time to see my children serve missions. The Lord heard my plea, and I was able to leave the hospital. I have been fortunate to see my two sons go forth to serve the Lord.
Five years ago, I faced another health challenge. Doctors found a malignant tumor in my colon, and I had to undergo emergency surgery to remove 25 centimeters (10 in) of my transverse colon. During that time, I lost more than 15 pounds (7 kg) in two months. The chemotherapy treatments were so harsh on my body that I became extremely weak and couldn’t eat. Again, my family was told to prepare for the worst. I prayed if it was His will, I still wanted to see my youngest son go on his mission. A miracle happened by God’s great love, and I made it through. The tumor was removed entirely, and my youngest son is currently serving in the Maracaibo Venezuela Mission and is happy to share the gospel and help bring souls unto Christ.
Last December, I had an accident. I fell on the street and broke my hip on both sides and my right arm. This has been one of my greatest trials because it kept me in bed, and I couldn’t walk for more than seven months. They put a hip prosthetic on one side, and the doctor decided to wait until I could walk before they put the other one in. I am still struggling with this challenge today, but I’m not facing it alone. I know my Savior has been by my side every day and always will be. This time, I prayed to help me regain my health so I could continue to enjoy the blessings of going to the temple and serving others. Many people have come to support and assist me. I’ve learned to be humble, recognize my weaknesses, and accept the service they have given me.
I have a testimony of the Savior’s love, of His mercy. I testify that He answers prayers, and through faith, He sustains us in the most challenging times. I testify to the power of the priesthood, which blesses people’s lives. I know we are on this earth to be tested, serve, and love people. I testify that miracles have never ceased to happen—I am an example of those miracles. Because of those miracles, I am still on this earth to testify of Him.