Gospel Story Finder

“My father was the greatest influence on me. He was such an example of one who quietly serves! He would sit back and listen to everybody’s opinion and then make a wise judgment. One day I decided I didn’t want go to sacrament meeting. My father wasn’t alarmed. He only said, ‘Just remember that when you don’t go once, it’s easier not to go the next time. That’s how we can fall into bad habits. I would suggest that you go every time, and then you won’t have to keep remaking that choice.’ That’s all it took. I didn’t argue with him, and I didn’t feel unhappy about going to church that day—or any other day. And l’ve always remembered that advice when I’ve been tempted.

Leaders of the Church have counseled us to cultivate a garden at our homes. Recently, members from the Mountain View Ward in Nairobi, Kenya heeded that counsel, and following their bishop’s assignment and worked hard to create a ward shamba (the word ‘shamba’ means ‘garden’ in Swahili). Ward members joined hands and applied their knowledge in transforming the thickets and shrubs into a bountiful harvest.

Finally, the day came when the rewards were quite visible and abundant. The Mountain View Ward members’ hard work proved itself. There was an abundance of food, ranging from bananas to mboga to beans and they are about to harvest the maize. It was clear that the members’ aim wasn’t for instant gratification. They understood that in all harvests, some blessings don’t come until later, so they chose to be patient with the sweet potatoes and cassava.

When Jamie’s mommy came to get him from his Star A class, he was very excited. “I’m giving a talk in Primary next Sunday.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Mommy. “You ask Daddy to help you.”
While Mother fixed dinner, Daddy helped Jamie think about what to say. That evening, Mommy helped him practice the words.
On Monday Jamie practiced as he swung back and forth in the swing. On Tuesday he practiced while he shoveled sand from the sand pile into his dump truck.
He even practiced in front of the mirror in the bathroom at night before he went to bed.
Later in the week, he gave his talk to his best friend, Grandpa Strong.
“Good talk,” Grandpa told him.
Jamie’s sister, Ann, listened to his talk while she curled her hair. “Nice job,” she said.
On Saturday Jamie said his talk to the dog while she was sleeping in a patch of sunlight. I know every word now, Jamie thought. I’m ready to give my talk tomorrow.
In the morning, Jamie put on his blue pants and white shirt and pink bow tie and blue jacket. In Primary he sat on a seat behind the pulpit and listened to the prayer and scripture reading.
Sister Dodson said, “Jamie will give his talk now.”
Jamie stood at the pulpit. His mommy and daddy sat in the back of the room and smiled at him. All the other children looked at him. Then something happened: When Jamie started to say the words, nothing came out of his mouth! He tried to think, but all he could think of was that he had forgotten his talk. Big tears came to his eyes. He stood there and didn’t know what to do.
Then he saw Daddy come toward him. Daddy knelt down beside him and put his arm around him and told him the first words of the talk. Jamie started to remember the rest of his talk. With Daddy’s arm firmly around him, Jamie said every word.
After Sharing Time, lots of people told him that he had given a good talk. Jamie felt good. He had tried hard all by himself, and with Daddy’s help, Jamie had given his first talk.
After church Jamie took Daddy’s hand. “Thanks for helping me,” he said.
Daddy squeezed his hand. “You know, Jamie, when I get stuck I ask my special Father to help me. I can depend on His help. Do you know Whom I’m talking about?”
Jamie smiled. “Heavenly Father.”
“That’s right, son. Heavenly Father will always be there to help you.”

Hold an “iron-in” to raise money for a missionary? That’s what the young people of the Blacktown Ward, Sydney Australia Parramatta Stake, did for 74 hours to raise money for a ward member who was called to the France Toulouse Mission. They worked through the night to get their work done (and enjoyed several stacks of steaming pancakes that were donated to the cause), raising over $200. Additional happy results of the activity were the smiling mothers of the stake holding their empty ironing baskets.

One Sunday morning before church I was playing our piano. I decided to open the piano top to watch the hammers move. When I lifted the top, a large glass vase full of flowers fell off the piano and crashed to the floor. My mom came running to find out what had made such a loud noise. She was unhappy when she saw that her new vase had been broken. She asked me if I had done it. At first I said “No,” but then I said “Yes,” because I knew it was the right thing to do. I asked my mum how much the vase cost, and she told me two pounds. But she said that I only needed to give her one pound to help buy a new one. I went upstairs to my room and got the money out of my piggy bank. I gave her a one-pound coin and then surprised her by hiding another one for her to find. I felt good when I told the truth and paid for the new vase. It made Mum happy too. I want to be like Jesus every day and give more than people ask of me.

One summer I reached the conclusion I was too old and too cool for family vacations. “No way,” I said when my parents suggested we begin planning our annual outing. “I have to work.” Like the local burger place couldn’t function without my eight hours a week.

For 16 years my family had taken summer vacations together. Even when money was tight we hitched up the tent trailer and rambled somewhere. I think Mom and Dad knew that if they got me in the station wagon, and out onto the highway, I’d soften and remember the good times. They suggested I give the family vacation one last try, and after much complaining I finally consented and got the time off work. A few days later we pulled into the freeway traffic and in a moment all that was good about our trips came back to me. Somewhere down the road, through many years of trips, we had learned how to make a vacation fun.

Though I can’t even remember where we went during our 16th summer vacation, I can vividly recall the feeling of closeness we all shared. That trip actually helped me overcome the irrational fear of being seen with my family. Once the station wagon started rolling, the people I sat with and the things we did together made me forget about appearances. And after a while I realized my family were all pretty cool themselves.

The decision by Nephi and his brothers to place their trust in the things of the world proved to be no more successful than leaving it to chance. I was talking to a father while attending a stake conference. He was telling me about the pressures on his teenage daughter to follow the ways of the world and how she had made the decision not to allow those pressures to influence her life.
She was the only member of the Church in her class in school. She was a popular young lady with the boys and had many opportunities to go out on dates. The boys in her class did not live by the standards she had been taught in our Church. She made the decision to tell every boy who asked her for a date what standards she lived by. If she were to date them, they would be expected to conduct themselves in accordance with her standards. She would get such a commitment from them before she accepted a date. One day the big campus football hero came up to her before the most special dance of the year and said, “You know, I would ask you to go to the dance with me if you would lower your standards just a little.”
There was no hesitation in her voice as she replied, “If I would go out with you, I would be lowering my standards.” Be strong enough to make your decisions to not follow worldly ways.

I wonder if you have any idea how easy you are to love and how much I love you. Just before this session started, some of our grandchildren stopped by our hotel room. They had obviously been talking about Elder Marlin Jensen’s talk of this morning. One of them said, “Are you scared, Grandpa?” I lied and said, “Not very.” Another one said, “Don’t worry, Grandpa, if you mess up, we’ll still love you.” But then reality came back into the room when someone added, “But, Grandpa, it would be very embarrassing.” So I am going to try very hard not to mess up.
On June 26, 1858, what I believe to be the largest standing army in the history of the United States up to that date began its prearranged entry into Salt Lake Valley. They had come to quell a nonexistent rebellion. Almost anyone remotely familiar with the history of the Church can tell you that they marched in relative silence within a few yards of where this building now stands, through a city described by one writer as “deserted,” and encamped some distance to the west. What followed is far less well known. In due course the army moved approximately 40 miles south of Salt Lake City to the village of Fairfield, a small farming community in Cedar Valley, home to what is estimated to have been less than 200 people. Their local spiritual leader was John Carson, my great-grandfather.
Imagine how this small congregation must have felt. After all, how would you like to wake up some morning and find that several thousand soldiers, together with over 3,000 wagons, 10,000 oxen, and 12,000 mules, had moved into your ward? The challenges were immediate. From our oral family history, and subject to all of the romanticizing and inaccuracies of such histories, we learn that Bishop Carson was gravely concerned about the welfare of the people over whom he presided. All of the challenges that attended army encampments of that time descended upon Fairfield almost overnight.
To protect the members of the congregation as much as possible, Bishop Carson met with the commander of the fort, who often dined at his hotel and with whom he developed a good relationship based upon mutual respect. The two leaders surveyed the situation and then by agreement drew a line upon the ground. No army personnel would cross into the civilian community without specific approval of their superiors. And members of the congregation would not cross into the fort without specific approval from Bishop Carson. The line on the ground represented an unspoken command: “Over this line you may not cross.”
When we were children, a line on the ground had special significance. Whenever boyhood tempers caused disagreement, the time-honored solution called for a line on the ground. The antagonists stood on opposite sides of the line, attempting to act as intimidating as possible. Someone would say, “Step over the line and you’ll be sorry,” though they usually didn’t say it in those genteel words. In those moments I learned the great value of a line on the ground and the consequences of stepping over it. In the years that have followed, I have come to understand that figurative lines on the ground are placed there by a loving Heavenly Father who seeks to protect us from Lucifer’s army.
While each of us may have dozens of lines on the ground in our life today, I would like to discuss just one of them—the line that says, “Keep each person’s name safe in your home.”
During the early years of my service as a General Authority, I was privileged to be in company with Elder Marion D. Hanks on one occasion when he related the following story. I use it here with his permission:
Oscar Kirkham was one of the great men of the Church and among the Church’s most respected Scouters. He served in the First Council of the Seventy and was a significant presence wherever he went. Often in meetings he would rise to a “point of personal privilege” and then, when recognized, would proceed to say something good about someone. Near the end of his life, he spoke briefly at Brigham Young University on the theme “say the good word.” On the morning that Elder Kirkham died, Elder Hanks was invited to the Kirkham family home. There he was handed a small, inexpensive notebook in which Elder Kirkham had kept his notes. The last two entries were: “Say the good word” and “Your name is safe in our home” (see Marion D. Hanks, foreword to Say the Good Word, by Oscar A. Kirkham [1958], 4).
What a blessing it would be if all of us could follow that counsel, if each of our names truly could be safe in the home of others. Have you noticed how easy it is to cross over the line and find fault with other people? All too often we seek to be excused from the very behavior we condemn in others. Mercy for me, justice for everyone else is a much too common addiction. When we deal with the name and reputation of another, we deal with something sacred in the sight of the Lord.
There are those among us who would recoil in horror at the thought of stealing another person’s money or property but who don’t give a second thought to stealing another person’s good name or reputation.
The old adage “Never judge another man until you have walked a mile in his footsteps” is as good advice today as it was the day it was first uttered. Someone once said:
There is so much good in the worst of us,
And so much bad in the best of us,
That it ill behooves any of us
To find fault with the rest of us.
[In Hazel Felleman, sel., The Best Loved Poems of the American People (1936), 615]
The principle is not new, nor is it unique to our day and time. The book of Psalms from the Old Testament contains this urgent warning from the Lord: “Whoso privily slandereth his neighbour, him will I cut off” (Ps. 101:5).
James, a servant of the Lord in the meridian of time, repeated this eternal truth when he said: “Speak not evil one of another, brethren. He that speaketh evil of his brother, and judgeth his brother, speaketh evil of the law, and judgeth the law. …
“… Who art thou that judgest another?” (James 4:11–12).
And in this latter day, the Lord renewed His long-taught command in a revelation given through the prophet Brigham Young: “Cease to speak evil one of another” (D&C 136:23).
It is most significant to me that this simple commandment is set forth just a few verses from the Lord’s words on the penalty for disobedience: “Be diligent in keeping all my commandments, lest judgments come upon you, and your faith fail you, and your enemies triumph over you” (D&C 136:42).
To those who doubt the importance of the commandment, may I pose two simple questions: (1) How can you say you love your fellowman when behind his back you seek to diminish his good name and reputation? (2) How can you say you love your God when you cannot even love your neighbor?
Any feeble attempt to justify such conduct only brings more forcibly to mind those explosive words of the Savior found in the book of Matthew:
“O generation of vipers, how can ye, being evil, speak good things? …
“But I say unto you, That every idle word that men shall speak, they shall give account thereof in the day of judgment.
“For by thy words thou shalt be justified, and by thy words thou shalt be condemned” (Matt. 12:34, 36–37).
I would like to say a few words to the Primary children who may be listening. Children, I’ve been trying to teach your moms and dads something very important, but I need your help. I’ll make you a deal. If you will promise to listen very carefully, I promise not to talk very long.
Do you remember the story of Bambi, the little deer, and all of his friends in the forest? If you do, you will remember that one of Bambi’s good friends was a rabbit named Thumper. Thumper was about your age. He was a neat rabbit, but he had one problem. He kept saying bad things about people. One day Bambi was in the forest learning to walk, and he fell down. Thumper just couldn’t resist the temptation. “He doesn’t walk very good, does he?” Thumper blurted out. His mother felt very bad and said, “What did your father tell you this morning?” And then Thumper, looking down at his feet and kind of shifting his weight, said, “If you can’t say somethin’ nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.” That’s a good piece of advice that all of us need to follow. What I need you to do, young people, is this. If you hear anyone in your family start to say something bad about someone else, will you please just stamp your foot and say in a loud voice, “If you can’t say somethin’ nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.” Now, even though that isn’t correct English, everyone will understand exactly what you mean. Now, Moms and Dads, that ought to make it a little easier to live the commandment.
I pray that the Lord will bless each of us that we may never cross over the line on the ground and that we may live so that it can be said, “Your name is safe in our home.”
On this special Easter Day, I close with my solemn declaration, born of the Spirit, that Jesus Christ is indeed our Savior and our Redeemer and that salvation comes by and through His atoning sacrifice and in no other way. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

It was Josef’s first time at Filip’s house. They had a great time building a cardboard spaceship. They even colored awesome flames on it. When Filip’s mom called them for dinner, Josef followed Filip into the kitchen.
“I’ll say grace,” said Filip’s dad.
What does that mean? Josef wondered. He watched Filip and his family as they each touched their forehead, then the middle of their chest, then the left side, then the right. Josef had never seen anyone do that before.
Filip held his hand out. Josef looked around and saw that the rest of Filip’s family were holding hands and bowing their heads. Are they about to pray? Is that what it means to “say grace”? Josef wondered.
Josef didn’t want to hurt Filip’s feelings, so he took Filip’s hand. Filip’s dad took Josef’s other hand and then started to pray.
“Bless us, O Lord …”
Before they sat down, Filip and his family touched their foreheads and chests as they had before.
When Josef got home, Mom asked about his day.
“Did you have a good time?” Mom asked.
“Yes,” Josef said quietly. He did have a good time. The spaceship was awesome, and the hamburgers were yummy. But something was bothering him.
Mom looked at him more closely. “You don’t sound OK. Is something wrong?”
“Well …”
Josef had so many questions! He kept thinking about that prayer. Why was it different from how he and his family prayed?
“Mom,” he asked, “how did you pray before you joined the Church?” Josef told her about Filip’s family’s prayer.
“It sounds like they’re Catholic, like I used to be,” Mom said. “They were making the sign of the cross with their hands. See how it looks like a cross? It’s a reminder that Jesus died for us.”
Josef smiled. “So Filip believes in Jesus too?”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Do you remember what Filip’s dad said in the prayer?”
Josef had to think about it. “He thanked God for the gifts He gives us … and he talked about Christ!”
“See?” Mom said with a smile. “We’re not so different. I’m glad you could pray with Filip’s family.”
A few days later, Filip came over to play. They were playing outside when Dad called them in for dinner. Josef’s stomach rumbled as they ran to the kitchen.
“I’m starving!” said Josef.
“Me too,” said Filip.
Everyone took their places around the table. Filip sat next to Josef. Filip made the sign of the cross and reached for Josef’s hand.
“This is how we pray at our house,” said Josef. “We fold our arms, close our eyes, bow our heads, and pray.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Easy,” said Filip.
Josef closed his eyes and smiled. He was glad he could pray with his friend.

When my father-in-law passed away, our family gathered together to greet people who came to pay their respects. Throughout the evening, as I visited with family and friends, I often noticed our 10-year-old grandson, Porter, standing near my mother-in-law—his granny. Sometimes he was behind her, watching over her. Once I noticed his arm linked with hers. I watched him pat her hands, give her little hugs, and stand by her side.
For several days after that experience, I couldn’t get this picture out of my mind. I was prompted to send Porter an email. I told him what I had seen and felt. I also reminded him of the covenants he had made when he was baptized, quoting Alma’s words in Mosiah chapter 18:
A covenant is a promise between you and Heavenly Father.
How many times can you find this word in the story?
“And now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;
“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, … that ye may have eternal life—
“… If this be the desire of your hearts, what have you against being baptized in the name of the Lord, as a witness before him that ye have entered into a covenant with him, that ye will serve him and keep his commandments, that he may pour out his Spirit more abundantly upon you?” (verses 8–10).
I explained to Porter that Alma taught that those who want to be baptized need to be willing to serve the Lord by serving others—for your whole life! I said: “I don’t know if you realized it, but the way you showed love and concern for Granny was keeping your covenants. We keep our covenants every day as we are kind, show love, and take care of each other.
“I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you for being a covenant keeper! As you keep the covenant you made when you were baptized, you will be prepared to be ordained to the priesthood. This additional covenant will give you more opportunities to bless and serve others and help you to prepare for the covenants you will make in the temple.
“Thank you for being such a good example to me! Thank you for showing me what it looks like to be a covenant keeper!”
Porter replied back: “Grandma, thanks for the message. When I was always hugging Granny, I didn’t know that I was keeping my covenants, but I felt warm in my heart and felt really good. I know that it was the Holy Ghost in my heart.”
I also felt warm in my heart when I realized that Porter knows that when he keeps his covenants, he will “always have [Heavenly Father’s] Spirit to be with [him]” (D&C 20:77). This is a promise made possible by receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost.

One Sunday afternoon, I began thinking about Jesus Christ and His atoning sacrifice. Those thoughts helped me feel safe and sound.
Suddenly, however, I remembered the rising cases of COVID-19 in my country. Immediately, I felt sadness for people worldwide who were suffering. I said to myself, “They don’t feel the same security and peace that I do.” Those feelings brought me to my knees, and I began to pray.
I prayed for those who had died, as well as for those who had lost loved ones. I wept for them because I know the pain that comes with losing someone you love. During the COVID-19 global pandemic, many have carried alone the burden of losing a loved one.
Then my thoughts turned to my mother, who had passed away when I was five years old. As tears continued to run down my cheeks, I prayed to Heavenly Father about how much I missed her. Then I remembered that Jesus wept with Mary and Martha after Lazarus, their brother and His friend, had died (see John 11:19–35). His compassion comforted me, but the tears still came as I thought of how much I missed my mother.
As I continued to pray, I included my mom in my prayer. I thought of her and imagined her in front of me. I told Heavenly Father how much I loved her and missed her. I thanked Him for the time I had with my mom in this world. I miss her, but I believe that one day we will meet again and be together as a family forever.
I paused, and my heart filled with hope. I prayed to Heavenly Father to bless my father and me to endure until we could see my mom again. Then I shed tears of joy and hope for that glorious gathering made possible through the Savior’s Resurrection.
I feel immense gratitude to Heavenly Father for the plan of salvation. The death of my mother was painful, but my pain has been “swallowed up in the joy of Christ” (Alma 31:38). I am grateful for Him. He renews my hope in the life to come. His Resurrection means more to me now than ever. I will see my mother again because of my Savior.

In the spring of 1970, our priest had announced that we would be selling our school to the Mormons. “You Chileans think that the Catholic Church is the only religion,” he said.
I thought, “Of course, what else?”
Our priest continued, “All of you will write a report on The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Since the LDS mission office was only two blocks from our home, I went there to find information for my school project. When I got home, I looked at the pretty pamphlets about the Church and at the Book of Mormon. My copy of the book contained Moroni’s special promise right on the first page:
“And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things” (Moro. 10:4–5).
When I read that promise, I received a spiritual witness that those words were true and that the Book of Mormon was true. But I was fifteen and not ready to be “religious,” so I decided not to do anything specific about my feelings. My interest had been stirred, though, and I earned the best grade in the class with my report on the Mormons.

I carried a tray of food, prepared by my mother-in-law, into a cluttered and dusty home. The sole occupant sat where she always sat, on a big armchair positioned so she could see out the window. Her swollen legs were stretched in front of her and her cane, which she used only with great effort, leaned against her arm. She smiled when she saw me, thanked me for the food, and apologetically asked who I was. As I sat next to her and listened to her stories, I was filled with warmth and peace.
Three years later, I was on the floor with my two young children, bouncing them on my legs and singing a racehorse tune. Only a few feet away, my kitchen was in disarray and toys were scattered across the floor. I suddenly felt a reassurance from the Spirit that I was right where I needed to be. Warmth and peace flooded my soul, filling its worn edges and giving energy where there was none.
Another two years forward, I was lying on the bed. A pile of laundry was visible on the floor, and a stack of papers littered the desk to my left as I fed my newborn son for the fourth time that night. I brushed my fingertips against his long lashes, felt his soft bald head, and was thrilled when fingers curled around the lace of my shirt. I was so filled with warmth and peace that I didn’t even mind that I was sometimes awake at three in the morning.
In each of these cases, the Holy Ghost was with me, telling me I was in the right place and doing the right thing, and in each of these cases, I was in a messy home.

Some years ago in Eastern Europe, I listened as a young elder stood before his fellow missionaries in zone conference to share an experience that shaped his life. He and his companion had found and taught a middle-aged man named Ivan (name has been changed) in a distant city. Their investigator came from a difficult background, as was reflected in his well-used clothing, ragged beard, and hesitant demeanor. Life had been harsh and unkind to him.
Without any prior religious training, Ivan had much to overcome. Practices not in harmony with the restored gospel had to be set aside. New principles needed to be accepted and then incorporated. Ivan wanted to learn, and he prepared himself diligently for his baptism and confirmation. His clothing remained threadbare and his beard ragged, but he had taken the first steps. Shortly after Ivan’s baptism, the missionary was transferred. He hoped that he might again cross paths with Ivan.
Six months later the mission president reassigned the young elder to his former branch. Surprised but eager to return, the elder, with a new companion, came early to sacrament meeting his first Sunday back in the branch. The members were pleased to see the missionary in their midst again. They rushed forward with broad smiles and warm greetings.
The elder recognized nearly everyone in the small congregation. However, he searched in vain among the faces for the man he and his companion had taught and baptized six months earlier. There arose within the elder a sense of disappointment and sadness. Had Ivan returned to his harmful habits? Had he failed to honor his covenant of baptism? Had he lost the blessings promised by his repentance?
The elder’s fears and reflections were interrupted by the approach of an unfamiliar man who was rushing forward to embrace the missionary. The clean-shaven man had a confident smile and an obvious goodness radiating from his countenance. Wearing a white shirt and a carefully knotted tie, he was on his way to prepare the sacrament for the small gathering that Sabbath morning. Only when the man began to speak did the elder recognize him. It was the new Ivan, not the former Ivan they had taught and baptized! The elder saw embodied in his friend the miracle of faith, repentance, and forgiveness; he saw the reality of the Atonement.
The missionary told his peers attending the zone conference that Ivan had changed and grown by every measure during the months the elder had been away from the branch. Ivan had embraced the gospel, and it radiated from him. He had experienced a “change of heart” (Alma 5:26) sufficient both to be baptized and to press forward in the continuing process of conversion. He was preparing for the higher priesthood and the ordinances of the temple. Ivan had indeed been “born again” (Alma 7:14).
As the missionary concluded his remarks, he asked himself aloud, “How much of a ‘change of heart’ have I experienced in the past six months?” He continued his self-examination, asking aloud, “Have I been ‘born again’?” These are two profound questions that each of us should privately pose on a continuing basis.

by David Forbes
How much service can the youth of a stake provide in a single day? The youth and leaders of Canada’s Vernon British Columbia Stake donated about 500 man-hours in a five-hour project, providing some much-needed work on the grounds and facilities of a 28-acre Church-owned apple and pear orchard located in Kelowna. Smaller service projects had been organized in the past, but this was the first of such magnitude in the stake. In all, 150 youth and 40 leaders participated. In order to get to know one another, they were purposely grouped with people from different areas of the stake.
“It was a great opportunity for the youth to work shoulder to shoulder, some of them never having met before,” said Reg Olson, stake Young Men president.
Under the direction of Brother Val Purness, the volunteers surveyed a fence line, dug post holes, erected a fence around the orchard manager’s home, stained the new fence, demolished two old storage sheds, relocated and painted two outhouses, moved material and supplies to new storage sites, painted a large warehouse and built a barbecue pit and five picnic tables. A few young men were assigned to carry huge buckets of water to provide much-needed drinks in the sweltering heat.
The shade of 2,600 apple and pear trees provided welcome relief during the lunch break, and it was nice to relax and enjoy the beautiful scenery which surrounds the orchard.
Service was just part of a day full of activities, which also included a car rally through Okanogan City, miniature golf, and swimming, besides the two Ds—dining and dancing.
The project touched the hearts and strengthened the testimonies of the youth of the stake and provided them with a real sense of accomplishment.

The next Sunday was fast Sunday. I had hoped to make a discreet entry, but when we arrived it seemed that everyone greeted us with a smile and a kind word. Many people welcomed me to the ward and asked if I was new. However, when I quietly passed along the sacrament tray without partaking, my three-year-old loudly asked, “Mom, aren’t you hungry?” Then my 11-year-old stood up to bear her testimony and said how happy she was that her mom had quit drinking beer and had started coming back to church. So much for quietly sneaking in!

Steve was born a beautiful child, perfect in every respect. His infancy was problem-free, and he was busy playing and getting into mischief. Everything was going well in his life, until one day he became very ill with an unknown disease.
It didn’t seem serious at first, but when Steve didn’t get better we learned that he had a brain tumor as big as a grapefruit and would need surgery right away. My mother and father were separated, so we children were on our own with mother. The doctors told my mother that Steve probably would not survive the surgery, but it was decided to operate anyway. The surgery lasted 12 hours. Afterward Steve remained unconscious and was not expected to live through the night.
That night mother had the elders give Steve a blessing, feeling that the best would happen. Steve had a really bad night, but the next morning when my mother went to see him, he was sitting up in bed for the first time since the surgery.
This was the beginning of a long recovery. Steve had to learn how to walk and talk, to do everything all over again just like a baby. With the strong will that he had, even as young as he was, he did learn how to do the everyday things in life. He was a little slow and had to attend a special education class to catch up with the children his own age, but Steve worked very hard and before long was up with the other children.
In addition to Steve’s new life we were all adjusting to a new father; my mother had married again.
Just when things were going well for him it came time for more surgery to relieve fluid that was collecting on his brain. The doctors didn’t think that the surgery would be very serious. We were all getting ready to leave for the hospital to see Steve when my parents received a phone call telling them to come to the hospital right away because Steve had just had a stroke and was not expected to live.
This was a real turning point in our life as a new family with my new father. We became so close and worked together for Steve. The stroke was serious, but there was hope and the gospel in our lives. We relied on our Heavenly Father at this difficult time, and the Spirit was with us constantly. Steve recovered from his stroke but was paralyzed on his left side and could not talk, walk, or eat by himself. These were hard times for Steve. He could have given up very easily, but he didn’t. Steve had set goals for himself, one of which was to go on a mission and serve his Heavenly Father. This seemed like a goal that couldn’t possibly be reached. Steve would achieve it, however, because he never gave up.
The days after his stroke were difficult for him. He was confined to a wheelchair and required physical therapy every day. His spirits were always high, and he never complained. He just worked hard. After his time in the hospital, he finally got to come home, but in a wheelchair. He progressed from a wheelchair to a two-handed walker, which was amazing, and finally to a one-handed walker. We thought this would be as far as he would go, but Steve fooled us all. He kept up the hard work and finally could walk without any assistance.
This wasn’t enough for Steve. He still had that big goal of a mission to accomplish, so he set about working on school and learning more about the gospel. The bishop was a little skeptical about sending Steve on a mission but supported him all the way. To see if he could handle the everyday life of missionary work, Steve was called on a two-week mission in Salt Lake City. He did so well that the following Sunday after he was home, he submitted his missionary application and was soon called to labor in the California Arcadia Mission. He was so excited that he had been able to accomplish the goal he had set, especially since he wasn’t even supposed to have lived.
Steve is an example to his family and everyone he comes in contact with. He has the will to accomplish goals and the will to keep on going when things don’t look good. Steve is an example to us all that we can accomplish our goals if we have faith and keep going.
I am so proud to be his sister.

I worked as the assistant manager for about two years, and I will never forget the great challenge that then came to me. I had been paying my tithing regularly during that time and certainly believed in the principle, but I did not have as sure a witness of that principle as I was about to attain.
One Saturday afternoon after finishing work, the manager told me that starting a week from the following day, on Sunday, it would be necessary for me to work every Sunday morning. The manager was an inactive member of the Church at the time, and he knew that I was not going to react favorably to the suggestion. But he was quick to tell me that even though I would miss priesthood meeting and Sunday School, I could find some other way to attend meetings, and thus it would not be that serious. He then attempted to entice me by telling me that my pay would be increased by 30 percent, thinking that might change my feelings about the principle of working on Sunday.
I remember how strongly those words fell upon my heart, but I also remember my response: “I am quite certain that I cannot work on Sunday.”
“Well,” he said, “you will have to work on Sunday or I will find another assistant manager.”
I left the office rather sad that day. I remember asking the Lord why I should lose my job as a result of the Church. I had been working hard to save enough money to support myself on a mission, and now I was going to lose my job unless I were willing to work on Sunday.
I talked to my father to ask his counsel, and all he would tell me was, “I am sure you will do what is right, whatever that may be.” I was left to make my own decision. The feeling came over me that there was no way to resolve this matter except by finding out what the Lord would have me do.
The following Saturday I went in and announced to the manager that I would not work on Sunday. He informed me that since that was my choice, I would have one week and no longer as the assistant manager, and then I would be replaced by a young man who was “really willing to work.”
I left work that day feeling very unhappy realizing that in five or six days I would be without a job. In one more year I was to go on my mission, and I did not yet have sufficient funds to support myself. I prayed much that week.
The following days at work seemed very long, and there were few words spoken between my boss and me. I waited for the next Saturday, which was to be my last day.
Friday finally arrived. As I was finishing work that evening, the manager approached me and said, some what emotionally, “Gene, you are right in what you are doing, and I am wrong in asking you to work on Sunday. I have found a young man of another religion who is willing to work on Sunday, but I still want you to be my assistant manager. And that 30 percent pay increase will be given to you anyway, even though you will not be working the Sabbath day. You are a fine young man.”
I will never forget the feeling of gratitude that came over me at that moment. I will also never forget my feelings that month as I paid more than an honest tithe and faithfully fulfilled my responsibilities on Sunday.
The Lord will pour out the blessings of heaven upon a man, even a young man, and teach him in his heart both the value of paying tithing on that which he earns and the value of keeping the Sabbath day holy. At any price, the commandments of the Lord are worth keeping.

Only a few weeks before the earthquake, another group of young adults was giving similar service across the Atlantic. The floods that swept through western Europe in July were the most severe in decades.
When the waters finally receded, one shopkeeper in the riverside district of Ahrweiler, Germany, surveyed the damage and was utterly overwhelmed. This humble man, a devout Catholic, whispered a prayer that God might send someone to help him. The very next morning, President Dan Hammon of the Germany Frankfurt Mission arrived on the street with a small band of missionaries wearing yellow Helping Hands vests. The water had reached up to 10 feet (3 m) on the shopkeeper’s walls, leaving behind a deep layer of mud. The volunteers shoveled out the mud, removed the carpet and drywall, and piled everything in the street for removal. The overjoyed shopkeeper worked alongside them for hours, amazed that the Lord had sent a group of His servants to answer his prayer—and within 24 hours!

An acquaintance of mine used to live in a ward with some of the highest statistics in the Church—attendance was high, home teaching numbers were high, Primary children were always well behaved, ward dinners included fantastic food that members rarely spilled on the meetinghouse floor, and I think there were never any arguments at Church ball.

My friend and his wife were subsequently called on a mission. When they returned three years later, this couple was astonished to learn that during the time they were away serving, 11 marriages had ended in divorce.

Although the ward had every outward indication of faithfulness and strength, something unfortunate was happening in the hearts and lives of the members. And the troubling thing is that this situation is not unique. Such terrible and often unnecessary things happen when members of the Church become disengaged from gospel principles. They may appear on the outside to be disciples of Jesus Christ, but on the inside their hearts have separated from their Savior and His teachings. They have gradually turned away from the things of the Spirit and moved toward the things of the world.