Gospel Story Finder

Giuseppe Garibaldi ran along the waterfront toward some fishermen.
“Take me with you,” he pleaded. “I can help man the sails or haul the nets.”
The fishermen laughed. “Hey, Peppino,” one of them called. “Are you playing truant from school again?”
Everyone called the boy Peppino, a nickname for Giuseppe. He was born in Nice, Italy (now part of France), in 1807.
Giuseppe frowned. He wanted to go to sea like his father and his grandfathers had done for years. But his parents insisted he go to school.
Giuseppe spent all the time he could along the waterfront. He was an excellent swimmer. His muscles were hardened by climbing the ropes of ships at port.
When Giuseppe was fifteen years old, he and some friends set sail for Genoa to find adventure and fortune as sailors. A few miles out to sea they were caught. After punishing his son, Giuseppe’s father decided he should send him to sea.
Within ten years Giuseppe Garibaldi was captain of his own ship. It was during these years that he decided to dedicate his life to a free and united Italy.
For many years, ever since the fall of the great Roman empire, Italy had been divided into small territories. Each territory was ruled by a different power. The Italians did not have freedom of assembly, religion, or speech. Most of them were not allowed to learn to read or write, and high taxes kept the people poor and hungry.
In 1834 Garibaldi took part in an unsuccessful revolution. To avoid going to prison, he disguised himself as a peasant and escaped to France.
Now he was a political exile. Since he could not go home, he decided to go to South America, where he became the leader of Italian exiles there. They were known as the Italian Legion, and they fought for the independence of Brazil and Uruguay. These men refused to accept any money for their service because they had not earned it peacefully. The government of Uruguay gave them red woolen shirts, which they wore for uniforms. The Red Shirts, as they were soon called, became a symbol of hope and freedom even in their native Italy.
One day after Garibaldi had been fighting for a town in Brazil, he saw a beautiful young woman named Anita. A bond of love was formed between them the first time they met, and the young couple eloped a few nights after their first meeting. Anita’s love for freedom of nations equaled that of her husband. She fought beside him in South America and later in Italy.
In 1847 several cities in Italy began trying to overthrow their foreign rulers. Garibaldi had been waiting for this. He sent Anita with their three small children to Nice to stay with his mother while he remained in South America, where he gathered his Italian Legion and made preparations for them to sail to Italy. These exiled men were eager to go back home to fight for their own country. They sailed to Nice and from there began the long struggle from northern Italy down into the south.
His men loved Garibaldi. He never asked any of them to do anything he wouldn’t do. He always led them in their battles and fought as hard as they did. This leader ate meals with his men and wore the same kind of clothes they did. They found him always humble, gentle, and fair.
One time some enemy officers were captured and brought before Garibaldi. He had been so feared by the opposing armies that the officers expected to face a cruel, harsh person. To their surprise, this great man shook their hands, told them they had fought bravely, and offered sympathy that they had been captured.
During the battle to defend Rome, Garibaldi was wounded in his side. He hid the injury with his poncho and quietly told the surgeon to secretly visit him that night, for he didn’t want his men to know he had been wounded.
The siege of Rome lasted a long time, because the revolutionary army was so small. Garibaldi refused to surrender, but he knew that if fighting in the city continued, every structure in Rome would be destroyed. His love for this city was so great that he decided to move the fighting up to the mountains to save the city.
Anita had come from Nice to help her husband. She refused to leave him even though they were both in great danger. A few weeks later she became sick and died. Although it was difficult, Garibaldi fought on to achieve their common hope for a free and united Italy.
He had no desire to rule, but only wanted to free the people. Victor Emmanuel, who was a just man, had become king over most of northern Italy. Garibaldi had won many battles in the south. The king was afraid Garibaldi, who was very popular, might be tempted to take over the kingdom. But when the two men met, Garibaldi greeted Victor Emmanuel as his king, and he asked the people to do so too.
Garibaldi was offered titles and money for himself and for his children, but he would not accept them. He chose instead to settle with his children on a small farm.
Italy became a united kingdom; today it is a republic. The people of Italy have a special feeling of gratitude for their country and for the sacrifices of Giuseppe Garibaldi. Every city and village has a street or square named for Garibaldi, or a monument built in honor of this man who loved his country and fought for its freedom.

Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! A busy yellow bee landed on a flower by Andrea. She jumped up and hurried away. Andrea didn’t like bees. She moved to a different part of the garden to pull weeds by a leafy tomato plant.
The sun was warm on Andrea’s back. She could hear Mom close by in the rows of corn. Suddenly Andrea heard more buzzing. Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! She ran to find Mom.
“There are too many bees, Mommy!” she said. “I want to work in the garden without the bees.”
“We need the bees to make our garden grow,” Mom said. “Jesus created bees to pollinate the plants so we can have our favorite foods.”
“Without the bees we wouldn’t have our garden?” Andrea asked. She thought about all of her favorite plants. She liked pretty flowers. She liked to eat strawberries and tomatoes. She would be sad to live in a world without them.
“I’m glad Jesus made the plants,” Andrea said. “And I’m glad He made the bees too!”

A simple act of caring helped Judy* learn from a difficult experience. “It was probably the bleakest time in my life,” she recalls. “My divorce had been long and bitter, and I missed being with my four children. For six months I had been working with Dr. Susan Nelson,* a therapist who helped me recognize that I was partially responsible for what had happened. For the first time, I had to confront my personal weaknesses that, until then, I had denied. It all seemed so overwhelming to me.
“One afternoon in Dr. Nelson’s office, as I was speaking of everything precious I had lost, I looked up to see tears slipping down her cheeks. It surprised me. ‘If a paid therapist can care so much about me,’ I thought, ‘why can’t I care that much about myself?’ Tears began to roll down my face for the first time in years. It was the turning point. In her loving and caring way, Dr. Nelson reminded me that I am a child of God. I could then value myself enough to let go of the past and move on with my life.”

For the past couple of years, the lives of Latter-day Saint youth in Malaysia have been filled with a different kind of firsts—gospel firsts. The Ipoh Malaysia District was organized in 2003. And since then youth here have planned and participated in their first-ever youth conference and attended their district’s first seminary graduation. There are only three branches in the Ipoh Malaysia District, but the youth are determined to share their testimonies with others so they can help the Church grow. They hope they will one day belong to the first ward in western Malaysia.
“You don’t always get to be first in everything,” says Malvinder Singh, 16, who joined the Church in 1998. “But we are pioneers here.”
At a youth conference last year, the air was filled with cries of excitement as the teens experienced yet another first—baseball. Only two or three of the youth who attended the conference had ever played the game before, so they were given the assignment to explain the rules to the others.
“It was a brand-new experience to learn how to play baseball, since soccer and badminton are the sports we play here,” says Malvinder.
In addition to baseball, youth conference was filled with other fun games and activities. Although the youth enjoyed the activities, they say what they will remember most about the experience was the opportunity to meet people with similar beliefs and to draw courage from knowing they are not alone.
Ariana Dabier, a Mia Maid, says, “It was great to see so many Malaysian youth who are just like me—faced with similar trials and temptations—and yet they stand firm in their faith. I now know that no matter where I go on this earth, the gospel will be the same.”
Another gospel first the youth recently experienced was the opportunity to attend their district’s first seminary graduation ceremony. Three Malaysian youth—Kelvin Anand Kumar, Aun Luck Tan Ernest, and Hamish Steven Parsons—earned seminary diplomas.
Kelvin, who was baptized in 1999, attended seminary during the first four years he was a member of the Church. He says the knowledge he gained there increased his testimony. “I am glad I graduated from seminary,” he says. “Seminary helped me to make correct decisions and plan my education. Because of the things I learned in seminary, I know someday I will marry in the temple.”
The youth say the examples of Kelvin and other graduates encourage them to attend seminary faithfully. Attending seminary is difficult for Malaysian teens because studies and homework take up most of their free time. They go to school six days a week, and most students also study with a private teacher after school ends for the day.
Jaslinder Kaur, a Mia Maid in the Ipoh Second Branch, says most of her friends don’t understand her decision to attend seminary. “When I told my friend I was going to church early in the morning to learn more about our Heavenly Father and His Son, she told me I was crazy and my grades would drop,” she says. “But seminary helps me do well in school because I have sacrificed my time for our Father in Heaven. When I go to school, my mind is fully awake, and I can concentrate better on my studies.”
Malvinder Singh also says attending seminary has helped him succeed in school. Malaysian students must complete rigid testing twice during their school careers. Test results determine which colleges students can attend and which professions they can pursue. Although this year was an important exam year for Malvinder, he still chose to go to seminary. He says he knows Heavenly Father blessed him for this decision by helping him do well on his tests. “Faith is the most important thing I have learned in attending seminary,” he says.
Missionaries have been a permanent presence in western Malaysia only since 1980, so there aren’t many members there yet. In fact, only 1 in 12,015 people in Malaysia—or .01 percent of the population—belongs to the Church. Like the early pioneers, the young men and young women in Malaysia know that many of their peers have not had an opportunity to hear the gospel. These youth know they can help the Church grow when they share their testimonies with their friends.
The youth also know that before they will be prepared to share the gospel with others, they must work hard to develop testimonies of their own. Aun Luck Tan Ernest’s parents taught him the gospel when he was young, but he always knew he needed to find out for himself if the gospel was true.
“I wanted to learn more about Jesus Christ when I was baptized,” Ernest, 17, says. “I knew He was the Son of God when I first bore my testimony in sacrament meeting. It was the happiest moment in my life, and I am still trying my best to strengthen my faith and grow in my testimony of Christ.”
Ernest and the other youth in the Ipoh district know that their testimonies will grow as they are shared. There are approximately 10 young men and 10 young women in the Ipoh Second Branch, and when possible they share their testimonies in testimony meeting. Young Women president Liew Siew Ling Chris says, “Hearing their testimonies is the greatest blessing I have.”
Youth in western Malaysia have been blessed with many gospel firsts. Through experiences like youth conference and seminary, they have learned they are not alone in their beliefs. And now they are determined to develop lasting testimonies of their own and help spread the good tidings of the gospel throughout Malaysia.

David looked proudly at his project. He had worked very hard to make it perfect for Mommy. He had even stayed in at recess to finish it instead of play dodgeball with the rest of his first-grade class.
He had started out with a large sheet of plain white paper. Then he had carefully cut out bright yellow flowers, curly red flowers, and big orange flowers with long petals. Next, he had carefully glued them one by one onto his paper. With green crayons of two different shades, he had drawn tall stems and wavy leaves on all the flowers. In the very center of the largest yellow flower, he carefully spelled out “I love you.”
“What a beautiful garden, David,” said his teacher. “Your mother will be very pleased.”
“Thank you,” David answered politely. “I made it big so it would be special.”
After school, he went to the back of the room to get his jacket. He set his lunch box and the picture on the floor while he put on his jacket. When he reached down to pick up his picture, he heard an awful tearing sound. His foot had been on the edge of the paper, and a big piece tore completely off. Sadly, David threw the piece away. The rest was still big enough to be special, but not as big as he had wanted it to be.
He started walking home, holding Mommy’s picture carefully in one hand and his lunch box in the other. As he passed Mrs. Johnson’s house, the picture caught on a branch of her rosebush. One whole corner was ripped into shreds. He tore it off and threw it into a nearby dumpster. He hoped Mommy would like what was left of her picture, even though it wasn’t very big anymore.
A sudden gust of wind tore the paper from his grasp at the corner of his block. He chased it down the sidewalk and finally caught up with it, but not before it had landed partway in a puddle. Nearly everything that was left of Mommy’s garden picture was soggy.
As David entered his own yard, he tossed the damaged part into the big trash can near the gate, saving only the yellow flower that said “I love you.” He trudged into the house. “I have something for you, Mommy,” he called.
“What is it, honey?” she asked, coming to give him a big welcome-home hug.
“It’s a flower. It was a whole garden, and it was special because it was big, but this is all there is left.” He held the yellow flower out to her.
“Why, David, this is perfect!” exclaimed Mommy, taking the flower and giving him another big hug. “And it’s just the right size!”
She went over to the table, picked up her purse, and took out her new wallet. “Look,” she said. “It fits into the last empty window in my wallet. I can take my special flower with me everywhere I go, and it will remind me of the special boy who made it for me!”
David grinned a big, happy, “I love you” grin.

“Look, the baby is blind. It doesn’t have any eyes!” Incredulously the nurses crowded around to see the newborn infant just beginning to pink up after his journey into this world. Yes, it was true. The baby was blind. There were no eyes where blue eyes belonged. The mother, a beautiful nurse, and the father, a medical student, would have to be told. How would they react?

No, our Father doesn’t promise us immunity from trouble, and so it was with the mother and the blind baby. That child was accepted with love, cared for with kindness, and I was fortunate enough to be present in the fast meeting in which the child was blessed. Both parents stood and thanked God for his trust and confidence in them that they should be allowed to care for such a special child. Because the mother was a nurse and the father a medical student, they could perhaps provide better care for that little child of God. I have watched that couple grow. They are more empathetic, more concerned, more Christlike because of their response to a heartrending problem.

While visiting with a young man a few years ago, he told me that when he was twelve, his father, the ward bishop, upon finishing his Aaronic Priesthood interview, said, “Son, I have talked with you as your bishop. Now I want to visit with you as your father. I can honestly tell you that I have never smoked or drunk or touched tea or coffee. And I want you to know how good it makes me feel to be able to say that to you. Now I would like you to covenant with me that when your own son or daughter is twelve years old, you will be able to tell him or her the same thing.” The covenant was made. Just one year after this, this same man, still the bishop, still a prominent dentist, was just finishing his dissertation prior to receiving another doctors degree, this time in education; he went to his medical doctor for a physical and was told he was in perfect health. Yet that night he cancelled all of his appointments for the next day and arranged to take his wife to the temple. On the way he discussed with her many family financial matters. Upon returning home he went into my friend’s bedroom, reminded him of the covenant they had made a year earlier and then told him that if anything should happen to him that he (my friend) was the man of the house and that he should take care of his mother. Concluding, he bore his testimony that he knew Jesus was the Christ and that the Church was led by prophets, and then he left the room. A little later, hearing a scream, my friend rushed to his parents’ room, and finding his father lying on the floor, he administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He heard his dad pronounced dead when the ambulance arrived. As he told me of this experience, tears came to his eyes, and as he looked at his own three-month-old son, whom he held in his arms, he said, “When he is twelve years old, I will be able to tell him that I have never tasted tea or coffee, liquor or tobacco, and how good that makes me feel.”

Once, when I was about seven years old, I had a pal whom I liked very much. We often walked home from school together. We talked about such things as what happened at school that day or what we were going to be when we grew up. We talked of being brave and of being able to do many things.

Sometimes we would dare each other to jump across a ditch or to climb a tree just to prove that we were brave or that we could do things we had seen older boys and girls do.

As we came to my home one day we stood out by the road and talked about who was the fastest runner in the school. The discussion got a little louder as both of us began boasting. When I strongly insisted that I could run faster than my friend, he turned to me and said, “If you’re so fast, I dare you to run across the road before that car gets here!”

I looked up the road and saw a car a short distance away. Without another word I dashed into the road to prove that I was fast and brave. A moment later the car’s brakes squealed! Its bumper hit me, and I landed in an unconscious heap.

When I opened my eyes, my aching body, a hurt pride, and my mother’s anxious face made me realize that I had been neither fast nor brave. I had only been foolish. I had brought sadness to myself and to others.

Fortunately, my injuries healed quickly. Of greater importance was the lesson I learned that has been valuable to me throughout my life. I learned that the only dare a person should ever accept is the DARE TO DO RIGHT.

Years ago my expectant wife, April, and I eagerly attended an ultrasound appointment to discover whether we were having a boy or a girl. We were overjoyed to learn we were having our third son. We also learned there were severe physical complications afflicting his body. Our son was missing sizable portions of his brain, his skull was not properly shaped, and the doctors were unsure if he would survive until delivery.
During the ensuing weeks, every time we received more information, it was distressing news. I distinctly remember when my wife called to tell me the latest update: our son did not have a right eye.
To pray more specifically for our unborn son, we decided on his name early. We chose to call him Caleb, after the Old Testament Israelite who was known for his fearlessness in the face of overwhelming odds.
Miraculously, Caleb survived his birth, though it was clear he would remain like a newborn throughout his life. He would never walk, talk, or be able to feed himself.
When we asked how long he might live, the doctor candidly replied, “Take him home and love him, but don’t bring him back to the hospital. There’s nothing more we can do for him. He has a few weeks to a few months left—at most a year or possibly two.”
I was anxious as we left the hospital with our little boy to take him home. The amount of medical equipment needed to sustain his life was daunting. I would regularly sit in his room watching the little green light on his heart monitor. I was nervous about leaving, worried the light would stop blinking and Caleb would die alone.
Simply feeding him took extraordinary effort because he needed to eat every three hours. The process to eat through a feeding pump took one hour to complete. This involved waking up throughout the night: start the pump, sleep for an hour, stop the pump, sleep for two hours, start the pump again, sleep for an hour, and so on. We constantly feared losing him and doubted how we could keep ourselves alive, let alone our fragile son.
Thankfully, the Lord blessed us with many miracles in our seemingly hopeless situation. Earthly angels rallied around us. We had a competent and compassionate nurse and a doctor who made house calls. Ward members, family, and friends provided meals and offered fervent prayers in our behalf. We felt heaven’s sustaining hand upon us and that angels walked our hallways and sat in Caleb’s room. Our three-year-old son said he sometimes saw the Savior watching over us.
The Lord blessed us with many miracles as we loved and cared for our son.

I’m home again. Things are not going well. The cancer is back, and Tuesday I’ll be leaving for Minnesota for a bone marrow transplant. I’m not excited about it, but it’s the only hope I have. …
I’ve been in Minnesota for a couple of days now. The doctors have killed most of my diseased bone marrow, and because of that I need blood platelets and white cells. I don’t know anyone here to ask to be a donor, so I had the doctor call the mission president. Within just a few hours—can you believe it!—there were more than eight people here waiting to be typed. My doctor was amazed, and I was just thankful. It isn’t like giving blood. They had to sit by a machine for several hours while their blood was pumped out and stripped of the materials I need.
None of them even knew me, and some of them drove as far as 60 miles to help me. The Church is like a big family for me. I know I can depend on the members for help anytime I need it. It’s a good feeling.
My brother is going to be the donor for my transplant. I’m grateful that his marrow is compatible with mine and grateful he is willing to give it to me. It’s a big sacrifice. I really love him for it.
During the operation they are going to kill the rest of my bone marrow and then give me some of my brother’s healthy marrow. If the transplant doesn’t work, I’m in a little bit of trouble. It’s a chance I have to take. I don’t have a choice, not if I want to live. There is so much I want to do, but if I don’t make it, I’m grateful for what I’ve had. I have so much to be thankful for: my family, my friends, the gospel.
I still don’t know why this has happened to me. I guess it really isn’t important. What I do know is that I must trust in and obey my Father in Heaven. I know that in the end, everything will be all right. One of the beautiful things about the gospel is that no matter what happens to us, as long as we have faith and as long as we are obedient, we have hope. I wouldn’t wish what I have experienced on anyone, but I do wish that everyone could feel what I feel about the beauty of life, about the value of living every day as completely as we can, and most of all, about the beauty and strength the gospel can bring to us.

A man I met recently, whose name is Wes and who is attending the conference today, accepted Christ’s invitation to learn of Him and of His gospel and began to experience the awe of His love after 27 years of distancing himself from the covenant path. He told me that one day he was contacted via Facebook by a missionary, Elder Jones, who was temporarily assigned to Wes’s area before going to his originally assigned mission in Panama. When Elder Jones came across Wes’s profile, not even knowing beforehand that he was already a member of the Church, he felt the guidance of the Holy Ghost and knew that he should immediately contact Wes. He quickly acted on this impression. Wes was amazed by this unexpected contact and began to realize that the Lord was aware of him despite his distance from the covenant path.
From then on, Wes and the missionaries began to communicate frequently. Elder Jones and his companion provided weekly acts of service and spiritual messages that helped Wes to recover his awe of the Savior and His gospel. It rekindled the flame of his testimony of the truth and of the Savior’s love for him. Wes felt the peace that comes from the Comforter and gained the strength he needed to return to the fold. He told me that this experience brought him spiritually and emotionally back to life and helped him to eliminate the feelings of bitterness accumulated over the years because of the difficult experiences he had been through.

Caregiving has been one of the most difficult experiences we have ever had, but also one of the most rewarding. We have seen so many miracles. There were moments when the right resources and people seemed to come out of nowhere exactly when we needed them. Moments when certain medications suddenly became available. Moments when, after an unbearable day, unexpected peace would wash over us. And one of the most beautiful miracles I (Stephen) experienced was watching tender tears fall down Kay’s cheeks as she departed from this world, finally at peace, and seemingly recalling things she hadn’t remembered in years.

I remember being excited to receive my endowment when I was getting ready to leave for my mission. I also remember having that excitement turn to worry and confusion after some family members gave me veiled warnings about attending for the first time.
I knew their intentions were genuine in trying to help me have a good experience. But I wish that instead of focusing on warning me that the temple was unfamiliar, people had helped prepare me for the temple in uplifting and correct ways.
With that in mind, here are four things to consider as you talk to those preparing to go to the temple for the first time:
When someone we love is attending the temple for the first time, we naturally want to share our own experiences with him or her. But we need to make sure what we’re sharing is focused on gospel truths rather than our own opinions.
Correct information allows our loved ones to focus on the Savior and not be swayed into feeling a certain way about their temple experiences. President Russell M. Nelson said, “Good inspiration is based upon good information.”
You can share correct information (and even pictures!) about the temple from the temple preparation course, the scriptures, and temples.ChurchofJesusChrist.org. Sometimes we might get nervous about what to share, but by turning to resources rather than our opinions, we don’t have to worry about oversharing.
By giving correct information about the temple, we offer a more enlightened view about the temple. Opinions are often focused on feelings and experiences we’ve had, while gospel information is focused on allowing your loved one to have their own experience in the temple.
What descriptions of the temple have stuck with you? For example, President Nelson said, “Your service and worship in the temple will help you to think celestial.” And President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) said, “Each [temple] stands as a beacon to the world.”
We can choose words that will offer hope and enlightenment to those we love who are preparing for their temple experience. We can avoid negative descriptors of the temple (like “weird” or “strange”), and we can choose to use positive, Christ-centered descriptions (like “peace” and “hope”).
I find it helpful to think about the many beautiful pictures I’ve seen of the inside of the temple, and often I will share those pictures with friends or family members who are preparing to go. What feelings and emotions and words come to mind when you see those images? Try to be uplifting in how you speak about the temple.
Out of our love and deep respect for the temple, it can be easy to feel afraid of talking about it. We can get flustered and wonder what is OK to say. I know I got caught up in the culture of telling curious friends and family members that we can’t talk about what happens in the temple.
However, as I served in and studied more about the temple, I came to see that we can share more than I realized!
For example, we can share that “an endowment is literally a ‘gift.’” The temple endowment is a gift of sacred blessings from God to each of us, and some of those blessings include:
“Greater knowledge of the Lord’s purposes and teachings.
“Power to do all that God wants us to do.
“Divine guidance and protection as we serve the Lord, our families, and others.
“Increased hope, comfort, and peace.
“Promised blessings now and forever.”
We can also talk about the covenants we make in the temple. The beautiful thing about the temple is that it allows us to draw closer to God and strengthen our relationship with Him by making additional promises with Him. These covenants are:
“Law of Obedience, which includes striving to keep God’s commandments.
“Law of Sacrifice, which means doing all we can to support the Lord’s work and repenting with a broken heart and contrite spirit.
“Law of the Gospel, which is the higher law that He taught while He was on the earth.
“Law of Chastity, which means that we have sexual relations only with the person to whom we are legally and lawfully wedded according to God’s law.
“Law of Consecration, which means dedicating our time, talents, and everything with which the Lord has blessed us to building up Jesus Christ’s Church on the earth.”
As we share positive messages about the temple, we help our loved ones feel more welcome and ready to attend for the first time. We can help them look forward to deepening their relationship with Jesus Christ through temple covenants.
What I learned most about the temple is that with correct information, it’s not strange at all. In fact, most—if not all—of the information and blessings we receive in the temple are familiar to what we are taught every day in the gospel.
Through my experiences, I’ve learned that fear is not of the Lord. When we avoid talking about the temple or try talking about it with veiled warnings or worries, it gives the adversary greater power to skew the beauty of the temple. Instead of cutting our conversations short by saying, “Just keep going back and it will get better eventually,” we can share the positive experiences we have from attending the temple.
When we find ourselves fearful of answering questions about the temple, that may be an invitation from the Lord to study more about the temple. This will bless not only us but also those around us. The Lord intended for the temple to bless us, not scare us.
Remember President Nelson’s words: “Making covenants and receiving essential ordinances in the temple, as well as seeking to draw closer to Him there, will bless your life in ways no other kind of worship can.” And the more we speak positively about the Lord’s house, the more we will keep guiding each other to return and invite those blessings into our lives.

“During our annual planning meeting at the beginning of the year, we planned several service projects in our quorums and classes. One was when my quorum helped a family in our ward trim the large tree in their backyard.
“It was pretty awesome! We worked on the tree with chainsaws and branch cutters. With all of us working together, we finished in no time at all. It was also really fun because we got to use power tools. We’d just been looking for an opportunity to serve as a quorum when we heard of this family’s need. At the end, our quorum and the family were very happy!”
Andrew S., 14, Arizona, USA

Youth all over the world are drawn to temples. In Lima, Peru, I met a father and three of his daughters outside the entrance of the temple. I saw the light in their faces. Two of the daughters were severely disabled and sitting in wheelchairs. The third daughter, while attending to her sisters’ needs, explained she had two more sisters at home. They too were in wheelchairs. They were unable to travel the 14 hours to the temple. The temple meant so much to this father and his daughters that four of them had come to the temple that day—two of them simply to observe the one who could be baptized for the dead and perform that sacred ordinance. Like Nephi, they “[delighted] in the covenants of the Lord.”5

As part of their Young Women celebration, the girls of the New York Manhattan Stake participated in a family history open house. The people of the metropolitan area were invited to learn more about family history and the resources of the Church. The Young Women participated by putting up displays about their own projects. During refreshment breaks, those attending the open house were able to talk with the girls about some of the treasured items of their families as well as photos and written histories.
For the display, Alaira Fleming, 13, brought a figurine that was precious to her mother and grandmother. The porcelain figurine was one that Alaira’s mother had given as a Mother’s Day gift to her mother. After her grandmother’s death, Alaira was given the figurine to cherish as a representation of the love between mothers and daughters in their family.
Alaira was also taught and encouraged by her mother to keep a journal. “It makes me feel good that someday my children can read it and know what my life was like and the troubles I went through and the happiness that I’ve enjoyed.”

“Hurry up, Mom!” five-year-old Jackson shouted. He grabbed the Book of Mormon story book and sat down on the bright blue chair.
Four-year-old Michelle climbed up beside him. “Story time!” she cried, eagerly clapping her hands.
Mother squeezed between them on the chair and opened the book. “Let’s see. … Yesterday, we were reading about the Anti-Nephi-Lehies, weren’t we?”
Jackson nodded.
“They were Lamanites. And they’d been converted to the gospel, remember?”
“And they were really wicked!” Michelle declared emphatically.
“Yes, they were really wicked. But when they were converted, they wanted to repent,” said Mother. “They promised the Lord that they would never fight again. In fact, they buried all their weapons of war in a big pit—see,” she said, pointing to the picture.
“Wow!” Jackson cried excitedly. “Look at all those weapons. Swords and bows and arrows and all kinds of things!”
“That looks fun!” exclaimed Michelle. “Let’s bury our weapons, too, Jackson!”
Jackson giggled. “Oh, Michelle, don’t be silly. We don’t have any weapons.”
“Hmmm,” Mother said thoughtfully. “You may not use swords and bows and arrows, but sometimes the things that come out of your mouths hurt too.”
Michelle looked puzzled. “What comes out of our mouths?” she asked.
“Words,” said Mother.
“You mean words like stupid and dumb, don’t you?” Jackson asked.
“Right,” said Mother. “Sometimes words hurt as much as a punch on the arm.”
“Then we must bury our bad words,” Michelle urged, “and never use them again!”
“I know what,” said Mother. “You tell me some words that hurt other people’s feelings, and I’ll write them down on slips of paper. Then you can dig a big hole and bury all those bad words, just like the Lamanites buried their weapons.”
“Great idea!” Jackson exclaimed. They found some paper and tore it into pieces. Then they thought of all the unkind words that they knew. Mother wrote them down.
“Come on, Michelle, let’s go dig that pit now,” Jackson called enthusiastically. They took their dad’s shovel out of the shed and hurried to an area behind the house where they could dig.
Jackson dug the shovel tip into the dark, rocky soil. He pushed as hard as he could, but the ground was so hard that he loosened only a small clump of dirt.
“Wow! You’re not very strong,” Michelle teased.
“Well, you’re pretty weak yourself,” he growled back. Then he stopped. “Hey, wait a minute. We’re supposed to be burying those kinds of words! Sorry.”
“Me, too,” Michelle told him sincerely. “How about trying this?” she suggested, handing him a garden trowel that they used in their sandpile.
Jackson took it and chipped at the dirt while Michelle dug with a stick.
Soon they were covered with dust and dirt, but the hole was dug. They put all the papers with the unkind words written on them into the hole. Then they pushed the dirt back.
“Are you finished yet?” Mother called from the kitchen window. “I’ve made some hot muffins for my two hungry Anti-Nephi-Lehies.”
“Yes,” answered Jackson. “Our weapons are finally buried!”
“And,” Michelle solemnly declared, “we won’t ever use them again!”

When he returned from Asia, he moved to southern California, where he began working and attending college. At a Church dance, he met Clara (Claire) May Jeffs. After dating for three years, they were married in the Salt Lake Temple on June 10, 1931. Howard decided to give up his band, for he felt that working as a professional musician would interfere with what was more important—his family and the Church.

I remember the first time I met my wife, Elisa. As a favor to a friend, I had gone to her home to pick up her sister, Frances. Elisa opened the door, and at least for me, it was love at first sight.
I think she must have felt something too, for the first words I ever remember her saying were, “I knew who you was.”
Elisa was an English major.
To this day I still cherish those five words as some of the most beautiful in human language.
She loved to play tennis and had a lightning serve. I tried to play tennis with her, but I finally quit after coming to the realization that I couldn’t hit what I couldn’t see.
She was my strength and my joy. Because of her, I am a better man, husband, and father. We married, had eight children, and walked together through 65 years of life.
When President Hinckley spoke at Sister Wirthlin’s funeral, he said that it is a devastating, consuming thing to lose someone you love. It gnaws at your soul. He was right. As Elisa was my greatest joy, her passing is my greatest sorrow.
We will all rise from the grave. On that day I will once again hold in my arms my beloved Elisa.

I remember some years ago, our family seemed to be limited to three children as my wife was not able to become pregnant again. She questioned why and started to blame herself. She prayed day after day. Our children noticed her sadness, and they felt sad too.
Finally I called our children together. In council, we decided to have a special prayer. I prayed; then each child prayed in turn. We had a wonderful feeling, and the Spirit of the Lord was there. Our children believed that their mother would have another baby. Approximately 10 months later, our fourth child was born. What joy we felt and what a testimony that was to my wife and me and our children.