Gospel Story Finder

His youngest sister, Cho Sungja (Korean women retain their birth family name after marriage), recalls that at first her brother simply held family home evenings with his brothers and sisters and taught gospel principles. But eventually he introduced them to missionaries.
His youngest sister accepted the gospel readily. She felt the Holy Ghost testify to her of the truth of Joseph Smith’s First Vision. Members of another faith had shown her a scripture in the book of Revelation that they said warned against adding to the words of that book (see Revelation 22:18–19). But as she opened the Book of Mormon one day to read in 2 Nephi 29, some of the verses in that chapter told her of the need for additional revelation (see vv. 11–14), and again she felt the Spirit testify that it was true.
Her father was against her joining the Church, but finally, in answer to her prayers, he gave his consent. She was baptized and confirmed in 1976, at age 16.
Like her pioneering elder brother, Joong Hyun, Sungja wanted to share the gospel she had found. She shared it freely with friends at school, and eventually five of them were also baptized and confirmed.

Carl and his friend Spencer liked to play with toy race cars and soldiers. One day, Spencer had to go home before they were finished playing.
“What a mess you boys made!” Mommy said. “You’d better clean your room before dinner.”
Carl frowned. He didn’t think he could ever put away all the toys that he and Spencer had accidentally spilled. He started to pick them up one by one, but there were so many! He went to the kitchen, where Mommy was cooking. “It’s too hard to clean my room.”
His sister, Kimberly, was setting the table. “Cleaning is easy,” she said.
Mommy kept slicing vegetables. “Try a little harder,” she said.
Carl went back to his room and picked up a few race cars, but there were many more still on the floor. “I’ll be cleaning forever!” he thought. He went back to the kitchen and said, “It’s too hard to clean my room.”
“Cleaning is easy,” Kimberly said again. She finished setting the table and disappeared down the hall.
Daddy was stirring juice. “You can do it,” he said. “You made the mess, so cleaning it up is your special job.”
Carl went back to his room and picked up several soldiers. But there were still many more on the floor, and he was getting tired. “Spencer helped make this mess, and he went home and no one is helping me clean it up,” he thought. “It isn’t fair!”
He ran back to the kitchen. “The mess is too big to clean up by myself,” he wailed.
Mommy’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe you have too many toys,” she teased. “Would it be easier to clean your room if we gave some of them away?”
“No!” Carl stomped back to his room in tears.
When he opened the door, he could hardly believe his eyes! There were no more toys on the floor. He wiped away his tears and peeked into the toy box. Like magic, race cars and soldiers were stacked neatly inside. Then he saw Kimberly hiding in the corner.
“Surprise!” she yelled.
“How did you clean my room so fast?” He was so happy!
“Cleaning is easy,” Kimberly said. “I’m older than you are, so some chores are easier for me. Next time I’ll show you a game I learned that helps me to clean faster.”
“But why did you clean my room?” Carl asked. “Daddy said it was my special job.”
“Jesus helps us to do things that are hard. This time, I think He wanted me to help you with your special job.” She hugged Carl. “Jesus wants us to make other people happy.”
Carl was happy because Kimberly had helped him. He was so happy that he wanted to please Jesus by making others happy, too. He started by squeezing Kimberly tight and saying, “Thank you!”

I have seen many acts of kindness working with these people and not just from the volunteers. I like to help at the cake stand at the soup kitchen, and it’s always tricky with to open the bags we put the cakes in while wearing rubber gloves. One of the homeless men saw me struggling and came to help. Now, every week, he always opens the paper bags for us. When I asked him why he helps, he said, “I just wanted to do something.” That struck a chord with me. He just wanted to help in any way he could and being able to help someone made him feel needed and useful. On my mission, I will try to have that drive. I will try to be like Jesus Christ in any way I can.

Brothers and sisters, six months ago as we met together in our general conference, my sweet wife, Frances, lay in the hospital, having suffered a devastating fall just a few days earlier. In May, after weeks of valiantly struggling to overcome her injuries, she slipped into eternity. Her loss has been profound. She and I were married in the Salt Lake Temple on October 7, 1948. Tomorrow would have been our 65th wedding anniversary. She was the love of my life, my trusted confidant, and my closest friend. To say that I miss her does not begin to convey the depth of my feelings.

This conference marks 50 years since I was called to the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles by President David O. McKay. Through all these years I have felt nothing but the full and complete support of my sweet companion. Countless are the sacrifices she made so that I could fulfill my calling. Never did I hear a word of complaint from her as I was often required to spend days and sometimes weeks away from her and from our children. She was an angel, indeed.

I wish to express my thanks, as well as those of my family, for the tremendous outpouring of love which has come to us since Frances’s passing. Hundreds of cards and letters were sent from around the world expressing admiration for her and condolences to our family. We received dozens of beautiful floral arrangements. We are grateful for the numerous contributions which have been offered in her name to the General Missionary Fund of the Church. On behalf of those of us whom she left behind, I express deep gratitude for your kind and heartfelt expressions.

Of utmost comfort to me during this tender time of parting have been my testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ and the knowledge I have that my dear Frances lives still. I know that our separation is temporary. We were sealed in the house of God by one having authority to bind on earth and in heaven. I know that we will be reunited one day and will never again be separated. This is the knowledge that sustains me.

The spring Lanny was born, the Toronto Maple Leafs were in the quarterfinals of the Stanley Cup playoffs—led by the playmaking defense of Borje Salming, the quick goaltending of Mike Palmateer, and the scoring touch of right winger Lanny McDonald.
Mr. O‘Brien was a big Maple Leafs fan. In fact, while his wife was delivering in the hospital in Basques, Mr. O‘Brien watched game 7 of the quarterfinals in the waiting room. By the time the doctor came out to say “It’s a boy,” the Maple Leafs and New York Islanders were locked in a 1–1 overtime battle.
The doctor, who liked a good game of hockey as much as the next Newfie, stayed. And finally, when the CBC [Canadian Broadcasting Corporation] announcer screamed in a breathless frenzy that Lanny McDonald had scored to advance the Leafs to the semifinals against the Montreal Canadiens, both the doctor and Mr. O‘Brien had the same idea: The kid’s name must be Lanny McDonald O‘Brien.
They signed the birth certificate before Mrs. O‘Brien had a chance to slap them both.

The scriptures have always been very meaningful to me, and I have owned several different books of scripture throughout my life. When I turned eight, I received a new Book of Mormon from my Primary president. When I was 12, I received a triple combination from my grandfather. (A triple combination is a book that combines the Book of Mormon, the Doctrine and Covenants, and the Pearl of Great Price.) The book had belonged to his father, Elder George F. Richards, who had been a member of the Quorum of the Twelve. I took that book with me on my mission. It contained some of my great-grandfather’s markings, which were very special to me.

In the fall of 1978, Jeff, as we’ll call him, was very discouraged with life. He was born in the Church but had been mostly inactive. He had married a member of the Church but after a few years, because of marital difficulties, they had separated. In addition to that challenge, Jeff was suffering from severe health problems. He had diabetes, which caused partial blindness.
He worked as a night watchman in a chemical plant. His work associates were not members of the Church. Over the months they enticed him saying, “Come on, Jeff, let’s go have a beer,” “One cigarette won’t hurt,” or “I’ve got some pretty friends we could have some fun with tonight.” Opportunities to break the commandments were presented, but he did not partake of any of those things.
On a Friday evening, discouraged and lonely, Jeff was invited to visit with a friend for a wild time in a city known for its gambling casinos and immoderate lifestyle. With a feeling of desperation he decided that he would go. He thought to himself, “What does it matter? No one cares about me anymore. I’m miserable. I’ll go.” Sitting on the bus he conceived evil thoughts of the things that he would do. He would demonstrate his independence to his ex-wife, the Church, and everybody else. As this evil spirit about him persisted, he became more and more determined what his course of action would be.
Then a United States serviceman boarded the bus and walked down the aisle. He could have selected any number of seats, but he sat down by Jeff. The serviceman was a very cheerful young man, and as he talked to Jeff he let slip words like “family unit” and “the Church.” Jeff began to be suspicious wondering if this young man might be a member of the Church. The serviceman then asked, “What would you think if I told you I didn’t smoke or drink coffee or alcohol either? And if I told you that at 26 years of age I’m morally clean?” Jeff pretended to be shocked and said, “Is that right?” The serviceman asked, “Do you think there is something wrong with that?” Jeff said, “No, every man has the right to choose what he wants to do.” Then the young man began to bear his testimony about the truthfulness of the gospel and in the process told him that he had had the privilege of baptizing 15 people in the last six years. As the bus pulled into the depot where he was to get off, the serviceman again bore his testimony, got off the bus, and disappeared into the crowd.
Jeff was struck with amazement. He thought to himself, “Here I am indulging myself in self-pity and this young man with as many problems as I have is out facing the world positively. Here I sit criticizing myself and everything around me.” Right then Jeff knew what he must do. He kept saying over and over to himself, “I’ve got to take control of my life. I must get out of this situation and be more positive.” He arrived in the city and did meet his friend, but this time Jeff was in charge. He returned home with his faith strengthened and thankful that the Lord had provided someone to help him just when he needed that help.
Will that young serviceman ever know that he was talking to another member of the Church? Will he ever know that he was in tune with the Lord and, as an instrument in His hands, saved Jeff from most undesirable consequences?

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.

“Mike,” Dad called. “Time for school.” Walking slowly down the stairs, Mike found Dad waiting for him at the bottom.
“Do I have to go?” Mike asked. “Can’t I wait until tomorrow?”
Dad shook his head. “There have been too many tomorrows. I understand how you feel, but you need to get caught up.”
“Mrs. Peters sent home some of my work,” Mike said.
Dad sighed and handed Mike a sweater. “Today I go back to work—and you go back to school.”
Mike felt tears welling up. Surely he wasn’t going to cry again! “It’s so hard without Mom.”
Dad knelt and hugged Mike. “I know.” Mike could see the pain in Dad’s eyes.
As Mike walked out the door, he looked at Mom’s beautiful rose garden. But it wasn’t beautiful anymore. Weeds were popping up everywhere. He sighed. Would anything ever be the same again?
School was the same—noisy children running and talking. Mike dragged himself into his third-grade classroom.
Sam, his best friend, waved. Mike tried to smile, but his smile wouldn’t work. He kept taking deep breaths and trying not to cry.
Mrs. Peters began class. Mike heard her talking, but his gaze wandered outside. It was sunny. “How can the world look bright when Mom has died?” he wondered. A tear slid down his nose.
“Look, Mike’s crying!” shouted Bill, who sat across the aisle.
Without thinking, Mike got up and ran out the door and down the hall. He would never go back to school again! He pushed open the big school doors and ran the five blocks home. It was cold without a sweater.
He went to his room to get a jacket, then sat on his swing in the backyard. He swung back and forth, staring at the ground.
He thought of going to Grandma’s house, but she was sad now, too. She used to laugh a lot and go bowling and bake cookies. He wondered if she had gone back to work, too.
Mike made the swing go higher. Maybe, he thought, he would fall off and die. Then he could go to heaven and see Mom.
He heard words like the wind in the trees—“Then Dad and Grandma wouldn’t have you. Would you want Dad to leave?”
He stopped the swing, his feet skidding in the dirt. Who had said that? Was it Mom, speaking to him from heaven? He looked around, but there was only the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.
Mike looked at the patch of blue sky through the trees. “I miss my mom! Please, Heavenly Father, help me!” His tears started again.
Suddenly he had the urge to go to Mom’s rose garden. He stood looking at the poor rosebushes, without water and with lots of weeds. Mom sure wouldn’t like that! He knelt and began pulling and yanking at the weeds. Then he grabbed the garden hose and watered the bushes he had weeded. Soon it would be spring, and the roses would bloom bright red and yellow and pink. He wondered if Mom would see them from heaven. Somehow he felt closer to her as he worked in her garden.
Dad’s car came roaring up the driveway. He jumped out, ran to Mike, and hugged him. “They called me from school.”
“I’ll go back tomorrow,” Mike promised. “Dad, look at the rosebushes.”
“Mom would be proud,” Dad said. “I’ll change clothes, and we can work on it together.”
As Mike weeded alongside Dad, he thought of the roses that would bloom. He could almost smell their fragrance. After they bloomed, he decided, he would pick some of them for Grandma.
Mike looked up to see Sam and Bill. The two boys looked at the weeds.
“Can we help?” Sam asked.
Mike nodded. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face.

Armed with cleaning rags, needed supplies, and lots of heart, more than 400 youth in Nampa, Idaho, set out to do some good in their community. In a citywide effort that included 20 wards and 1 branch in the 2 Nampa stakes, the youth committed a Saturday to serving. But they also spent weeks in preparation: making quilts, practicing programs, and organizing food, clothing, and toy drives. On the day of the project they did everything from stacking firewood for the elderly in their wards to filling the supply closets at shelters. Following all their service the youth got a much-deserved rest, including a testimony meeting, dinner, and a dance.

When I was 17 years old, I faced heavy peer pressure at my high school. The friends that I did have didn’t share my values. My friends and I participated in many appropriate activities together like playing basketball or football. But they also drank alcohol and smoked—two activities I didn’t do with them.
One day a group of us was outside of our school studying for a test we would take later that day. With me were two of my closest friends, Juan and Francisco (names have been changed). At one point, someone got out lighters and cigarettes. I thought my friends had gotten bored with studying and had forgotten I was there. I learned I was wrong when they turned to me and said, “Now is the time for Hugo to learn how to smoke.”
Before I even had the chance to react, Juan and Francisco leapt toward me and took me by the arms, one on each side. They held my arms down as someone pressed a cigarette between my lips. My body immediately rejected this, and I spit the cigarette on the ground, far from me. Soon after, I felt the blow of a clenched fist squarely connect with my cheekbone. They threatened me, saying, “We’re going to light the cigarette again, and you’re going to learn to take the smoke. Don’t throw it on the ground. If you do, it’s not going to go well.”
In that moment, I knew I was in trouble. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer asking for some type of help. As soon as I finished my prayer, our teacher’s car pulled up and parked near us. Our teacher got out of the car and asked us what we were doing. My friends released me. “We’re getting ready for the test,” they assured the teacher. We went into the school and took the test, and the situation ended.

It can be easy to feel like we’re not good enough. I felt that recently when I was invited to sing with the Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square during general conference.
My patriarchal blessing says that I should develop my talents, especially those involving music. I really took that to heart on my mission and decided to develop my voice.
When I got home from my mission, I chose to pursue a career in music. I went to a nearby university and got a degree in music. I later started a job as a music teacher, which I am still doing today.
When I found out that the Church was offering to bring singers from around the world to join the Tabernacle Choir and sing for general conference, I decided to audition. However, after the audition was over, all I could think was, “That was so bad. There’s no way I’m getting in after that. I’m definitely not going to be a part of the choir.”
A few weeks later, I got an email response. Again, I told myself I would not be invited to join the choir, based on how badly I’d botched the audition. However, I was stunned to learn that the email was not in fact a rejection letter—it was an invitation.
I was dumbfounded. It was an immense honor to receive this invitation.
Being able to sing with the choir was a highlight of my life. I learned a lot, met many incredible people, and felt the Spirit speak to me strongly as I performed.
When I think about everything that led me to that moment, I’m amazed. I felt the Savior’s love and direction when I felt prompted to get my patriarchal blessing, and I continue to feel it. There were certainly moments in between getting my patriarchal blessing and now when I wondered to myself, “What am I even doing?” I struggled to trust the timing of the Lord and to feel like I was good enough for whatever lay ahead.
During one of those times, a friend gave me this advice:
“When you’re not feeling good enough, there are really only two options.
“Option one: You tell yourself you can do it. You say, I’m going to be great, and it’s going to go well. But in that moment, you’re not letting Christ in. You’re convincing yourself that you can do it alone. But you’re never going to be able to do it alone.
“Hence option two: It is Christ who helps you through all things. It is Christ whose strength helps you live and stand and do. Especially in our brokenness. Because it’s in the brokenness that we turn to Christ and He in turn lifts you and carries you.”
“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,” said Paul to the Philippians (Philippians 4:13). This verse reminds me of what my friend taught me that day and helps me keep in mind my dependence on Christ and His Atonement.
Oftentimes when we face things that are scary or stressful, we shut down. We procrastinate. But that’s not how Christ would have us be. He would rather we act and do, trusting in Him, than not do anything at all.
I’ve come to realize—in times when it’s hard and times when it’s easy—that I’m OK. I’m OK because Jesus Christ knows me at my very worst, and as I rely on Him, He helps me become my very best. And I’ve also learned that once we’ve accepted that within ourselves, then it becomes our priority to love other people in their brokenness so they can experience Christ and become their best.
President Emily Belle Freeman, Young Women General President, taught: “Like Enoch, we must remember that the One who was bruised and broken for us will allow mortality to do its work in us, but He doesn’t ask us to face those challenges alone. No matter the heaviness of our story or the current course of our path, He will invite us to walk with Him.”
If you’re not feeling good enough, remember that the Savior loves you in your brokenness. He and Heavenly Father know what you’re capable of and what you can become. They will support you and lift you up and help you become your very best.

What should we do for our next activity?
We could play soccer again!
Or do another craft night!
I’ve been thinking. You know Sasha?
Yeah. I haven’t seen her in a while.
I heard she just got first place in the science fair. I have an idea she might like. Here’s what I’m thinking …
… sounds fun! And then …
… invite the young men too? …
… markers to decorate …
Sounds like a plan. Let’s do it!
The week before the activity, at Sasha’s house …
We have this activity idea.
Sure, I’ll help!
Sasha’s going to teach us how to make rockets. Do you guys want to come?
I’ll invite my quorum. Can we bring snacks?
The day of the activity …
Do you think anyone will come?
Sasha says she’s on her way!
Let’s get started!
“A sense of belonging is important to our physical, mental, and spiritual well-being. Yet it is quite possible that at times each of us might feel that we don’t fit in.…Belonging comes not as we wait for it but as we reach out to help one another.”
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, October 2022 general conference (Liahona, Nov. 2022, 54–55).
Learn how to make an air-powered bottle rocket on the Gospel Living app!

Brad wants to be just like Nathan when it comes to serving in the Church, too. When they received the Aaronic Priesthood, Nathan started passing the sacrament. Brad also wanted to pass the sacrament, but the routes around the chapel didn’t allow enough room to maneuver his wheelchair.

Nathan worked with the bishop to change the routes. The new version assigned all of the front pews to Brad, which left plenty of room for his wheelchair. Then he and Brad started passing the sacrament together.

Wendell M. Smoot, president of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, was in his office that day, April 29, 1991, talking about the upcoming June 8 Tabernacle Choir tour to middle Europe and Russia.
He was basking in the assurance that though the tour had not yet begun, he knew everything was going to be all right, that the tour was going to be a success.
“Let me tell a remarkable story,” he said. “As in any such tour, you have to sign ahead of time your contracts for the airlines that will fly you to your destination, the halls where you are going to perform, the hotels where you are going to house and feed 510 people. It is customary to have certain payment dates at stated intervals, with some contracts requiring very heavy payments. The date of February 7, 1991, became a very important date, because on that day we had to put down a substantial amount of money. Late in January, I began to be very concerned.
“Do people remember what was going on in the world at that time?” he asked. “The air campaign against Iraq had started on January 16, a projected ground war was imminent, and fear of terrorism and hostage-taking was prevalent all over Europe. Individuals and organizations were canceling various plans and events due to the fear associated with the war. The people abroad with whom we were making arrangements feared that we, too, might cancel out.
“So, on Friday, February 1, I called President Gordon B. Hinckley of the First Presidency, the man I report to. ‘President, I need to see you,’ I said. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Come on over.’
“I went over and laid it all out to him. I then said, ‘President, the reputation of the Church is at stake if we cancel and this war stops soon. You can imagine what will be thought of us if we default on all our obligations, after pleading and begging to get into these prestigious concert halls and getting the promoters behind us. On the other hand, how tragic it would be to blindly go and put at risk all these people, their lives and their families. President, if there is any possibility whatsoever that the First Presidency would think of canceling this trip, I need to know now because of the big amount of money we need to put down Thursday, February 7. President, I’m here to get counsel.’
“The weekend passed, and on Monday morning I called and said, ‘President, I wonder if you have made a decision with the First Presidency concerning the matter I discussed with you last Friday.’
“President Hinckley said, ‘Wendell, I have thought about little else since you were here.’ There was a moment of silence. Then he said, ‘I will say this. The choir will go to Europe this coming summer. The war will be over.’
“I said, ‘President, that’s all I needed to hear.’ At the conclusion of our conversation, I took steps to fulfill our financial commitment, and we moved ahead.
“That day was February 4. The ground campaign of that tragic war didn’t start until February 24! And after it did start, the fighting ended with a cease-fire on February 28.
“But from those two conversations, I learned that this tour that we are about to go on is ordained of the Lord, that the Lord wants this tour. He wants us to go, and we will go and be preserved and be successful because this is a call from the Lord.”
The day was April 29—still forty days before the Tabernacle Choir’s scheduled departure.

Building chapels is far more than real estate transactions and dealing with contractors. My assignment a few years ago, while serving as counselor to President Evans T. Doxey of the Salt Lake Hunter West Stake, was to acquire building sites. The explosive growth in the area made more buildings absolutely necessary. We only had two chapels in the stake with four wards meeting in each building.
Prayerfully we selected a desirable site but, despite several months of negotiations, were unable to buy it. A site to the north ran into problems with the street system. A site to the south got as far as a survey before the county said they could not issue a permit there. A fourth location was eliminated because the distance and slopes of the land would make sewer connections too costly.
By now, almost two years had passed. Nearly all of the wards should have been divided. Something needed to happen quickly.
President Doxey called a stake fast and prayer to seek the Lord’s help, and two days later, the owner of the original site called and said it was available for purchase.
By then, plans were underway to divide the stake and President Doxey assigned me to acquire property for a new stake house. After careful study and prayer, we selected a 1.6 hectare site owned by two families in Hunter Sixth Ward. The bishop arranged for me to meet with each family. The first generously agreed to contribute the 0.8 hectares. When I met the other couple, the husband, a convert of about a year, began: “I know why you’ve called us in.”
He had had a dream the previous night that he had been called to come to this same office. All of the same people were there. I had explained that his neighbor had agreed to contribute 0.8 hectares for a stake house and invited him to do the same. He woke his wife, told her the dream, fell asleep again, dreamed the same dream a second time, again woke his wife and told her the dream, fell asleep a third time, dreamed the same dream a third time and for a third time, woke his wife. With feeling, she said, “Tell him the Church can have the 0.8 hectares and go back to sleep!”
A new stake center has now been built on this ideal site.
After the stake division, President Doxey, then called to preside over the new Hunter Central Stake, again asked me to acquire a building site. It was owned by one of the stake’s faithful widows who, when approached, said she was not interested in selling the land but that she would like to contribute it to the stake.
These repeated experiences have taught me something new about the faithfulness, love, and generosity of the good members of the Church. And they’ve also taught me that the Lord actively involves himself in these events.

Recently in South America, a lady missionary, who impressed me greatly, told me the story of her conversion to the LDS Church and her missionary call. Before coming on her mission she was a nurse. Her roommate was a Mormon girl. The nurse liked the girl’s habits, was very pleased with her character and personality, and so she decided to study the LDS religion. The Mormon girl got two missionaries to teach the nurse the gospel.

When the nurse’s parents heard that she was favorably inclined toward the Mormon religion, they thoroughly opposed her actions. They forbade her to join the Church, telling her that if she did she would be disinherited.

The Holy Ghost had borne witness to her so strongly that the Church of Jesus Christ was the true church that she asked the missionaries to baptize her even against the wishes of her parents, whom she loved dearly. It grieved her when her father and mother told her not to return home.

After joining the Church, she had a very strong desire to go on a mission and so she decided to work and save the money. It took her three or four years’ time to save approximately $3,000. She was called to labor in South America, where she is doing an outstanding job in taking the gospel of Jesus Christ to the people of that land. When she returns home, she hopes to regain the love and favor of her parents.

Ever since he was a boy, Wilford Woodruff wanted to know which church was true. When he was 26 years old, he still had not joined any church. He lived with his brother Azmon on his farm.
Wilford: Heavenly Father, help me to know how to live my life.
On December 29, 1833, two Mormon missionaries stopped at Azmon’s house. He and Wilford were both away working, but Azmon’s wife was home.
Missionary: God has restored His Church upon the earth, and we would like to tell you more about it.
Woman: My husband and brother-in-law are not home right now, but we would definitely be interested in hearing more.
The missionaries rented the local schoolhouse that afternoon. They passed out notices inviting anybody who wanted to learn more about the gospel to come to a meeting that evening.
When Wilford got home from working, his sister-in-law told him about the meeting. He immediately turned his horses around and started to the schoolhouse, praying the whole way to know whether or not the missionaries were true followers of Christ.
Woman: But, Wilford, what about supper?
Wilford: These men could be the answer to my prayers! I must go.
Wilford arrived at the schoolhouse, which was packed with people. His brother Azmon was already there. Wilford couldn’t find an empty chair, so he sat on one of the writing desks where he could see and hear everything.
Missionary: I bear strong testimony of the divine authenticity of the Book of Mormon. I also know that Joseph Smith is a prophet who has come to fulfill a great mission here on earth.
Wilford: I can feel the Spirit telling me that these are men of God.
After the missionaries were finished speaking, they asked members of the congregation if they would like to stand and say anything. Immediately, Wilford stood up and told everyone that he knew the missionaries were speaking the truth.
Wilford: The Lord urges me to bear testimony of the truth of this message. Do not oppose these men, for they are true servants of God. They have preached to us the pure gospel of Jesus Christ.
Two days later Wilford and his brother Azmon were baptized.

In a Sunday School class once, we discussed Moses’ reported failure to acknowledge the hand of the Lord in providing water for the children of Israel. Our teacher, a former stake president, tried to explain to the class that we sometimes put our leaders in a “difficult” position when we give them undue praise for their performance. Many class members were puzzled: how could that be a problem? But I knew. So I shared with them a recent humbling experience.
I had been asked to speak at our stake Laurel standards night. As I began thinking and praying about this assignment, I felt inspiration come to me several times through the day, and in the still of the night, I began putting it all together. When I thought the talk was complete—all I needed for the time allotted me—I suddenly seemed to recall a great flood of information from talks and articles on the subject. Speaking quietly to the Lord, I said, “Heavenly Father, I believe you are giving me too much material, I have only thirty minutes to talk.”
Then came the clear instruction to my mind, “Write it all down, then read it aloud and time yourself.”
“That’s a good idea,” I thought. I did it, and to my great surprise, the talk came to thirty minutes. I had such a good feeling that I could have leaped around the room—I was prepared!
But the day before the Laurel standards night, I felt that I should prepare myself spiritually to give the message, and that evening, I began to fast. The next afternoon, I went to my room and began going over the talk. To my surprise, I just couldn’t put it together mentally. “What should I do?” I said in panic to the Lord. “I’m afraid I’ll be reading most of this, and if I do, everyone’s attention will be on me instead of the message you want me to give them.”
Then, very strongly, the thought came into my mind, “Leave it home.”
I resisted this. “I just can’t do that. You know what a terrible memory I have.”
Again came the thought, “Leave it home.”
Frightened, I pleaded, “Remember when I was a Primary president and stood up to give a talk and no words came? That was a terrible experience. Don’t let me go through that again.”
But again, I felt impressed by the Spirit to “leave it home,” so I relented saying, “If I do this, I will have to rely completely on thy help.” And again came the calm assurance of the Spirit that I should leave my talk at home.
That evening as I went out the door, I carried only a handkerchief. And as I glanced up at my bedroom window, I felt literally faint. Once in the chapel, waiting for the meeting to begin, I again tried putting the talk together. I just didn’t have it. I began to panic and then to pray, and immediately felt the comforting assurance that the Lord was there.
When the time came, I walked to the podium with complete assurance and gave all thirty minutes of that talk. I could hardly believe it. This was a marvelous spiritual experience.
When the meeting was over, several people came up to me and paid me glowing compliments. I literally couldn’t force myself to say thank you, and after I stammered through an awkward acknowledgement a few times, I looked around for an exit. I wanted to go home. I could not take credit for what had happened.
Looking back on the experience, the thought has come to me that perhaps the kindest thing any of us can say to someone whose words have impressed us is, “Thanks for that inspired message” or “I felt the Spirit of the Lord in your address tonight”—otherwise we lead them into temptation.

When their fathers said the pond was frozen solid enough to skate on, the boys began clearing the snow to make a skating rink. On Saturday, they’d be able to play hockey.
By the time Jeremy arrived after his paper route, he expected to see the boys racing up the ice, maneuvering the puck, aiming at the net. But they were just standing around.
“Sorry I’m late,” Jeremy said, skating up to them.
“There’s a problem,” Bill said, “and your brother is part of it! I told those squirts to beat it, but they’re still here!’
Jeremy looked at his little brother, Ryan, and his friends. They were standing on the ice, looking scared. “What’s the problem?” Jeremy asked.
“They think they’re going to skate on the part we cleaned off!” Bill declared angrily.
Jeremy knew that getting mad wouldn’t solve anything. He tried to keep his voice calm as he said, “The pond’s big enough for all of us. We’re only practicing. We don’t have a a real arena. They can stay out of our way.”
“No way!” Bill snapped. “We cleaned it off, we use it!” He yelled at the younger boys again, ordering them to leave.
Jeremy could see a confrontation coming. He had seen Bill in action in the schoolyard too often. Most of the time even the older boys backed off, but pushing smaller boys around was too much.
The younger children shuffled around uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. “Skate up and down the edge, boys, and stay away from us, OK?” Jeremy suggested.
“No, they won’t!” Bill took a menacing step toward them, but Jeremy hurried between.
He tried to speak quietly. “I came here to skate, not fight. But if my brother and his friends have to go, then I’m going too.”
He whirled away to the bank, and his friends followed. “Way to go, Jeremy. Let Bill skate by himself,” they all agreed.
Ryan looked upset. “No, we’ll go. We’re just playing. You guys are practicing.”
“That’s not the point,” Jeremy said. “Bill can’t always push people around. Let’s leave him to cool off by himself.”
As they left, Jeremy had an idea. “Say, why don’t we clean off that corner of the pond? The younger boys can have a small rink of their own.” The others agreed and raced home for brooms and shovels. Soon the snow was cleared off the ice.
“How about a hockey school?” Jeremy asked. “We’ll teach you to shoot.”
“That would be great, but we don’t have sticks and pads,” Ryan said.
“That’s OK,” an older boy said. “There are some old sticks in our basement. We could shorten them.”
“My dad says they used to wrap magazines around their legs with rubber bands to make pads,” another said.
“Right! Let’s go, guys!”
After lunch they met at the pond. They fitted the young boys with makeshift pads, hand-me-down gloves, and cut-off sticks. Everybody laughed at the getups.
The younger boys soon learned how to change direction quickly on their skates and use their sticks to keep possession of the puck. Every once in a while, Jeremy glanced back at Bill skating aimlessly on the ice, watching the fun. Then, as Jeremy watched the boys skate, he heard a voice from behind.
“I was a jerk this morning.” Bill stood there, looking embarrassed. “I mean—I’m trying to say I’m sorry, guys. OK with you if I help too?”
The group gave each other questioning looks, then one by one they nodded their approval.
“You have to mean you’re sorry,” Jeremy said. “End of bullying. Period.”
“You’ve got it!” Bill declared. He skated back across the ice, then returned carrying a load of assorted hockey equipment. “I dug around in our attic while you guys were away, and found this stuff. You’re welcome to it.”
Pulling on proper pads and gloves, the small boys lost their fear of Bill and followed his coaching tips until the sun began to sink and the air grew chilly. But the unexpected friendship between the different age groups was warm enough to melt the ice under their skates.
As they parted, Jeremy called out, “Look out, National Hockey League—here’s your future competition!”
“I wish winter would last forever!” Ryan remarked as they said good-bye, and a chorus of voices chimed in, “Right on!”