Gospel Story Finder

Most Creative Response
The most interesting reply to an invitation for a date that we’ve heard about came from Nikki Mather of Preston, Idaho. She responded to a dance invite from Wade Meek by delivering a jar full of Reese’s Pieces and M&Ms. She told him if there were more M&Ms than Reese’s Pieces, the answer was yes, and vice versa. It’s difficult, however, to tell one kind of candy from the other, so Wade had to have the whole family and half the neighborhood over to cut the candies in half, see if there was chocolate or peanut butter inside, and count them. When they were all tallied the answer was yes, of course.

Prior to my introduction to the restored gospel, I spent much of my time playing soccer, including games on the Sabbath day. Even though I had been brought up to have respect for the Lord’s day, it was through applying the principle after I came in contact with the Church that I gained an understanding of the doctrine and its blessings. Withdrawing from the Sunday league team was one of the significant sacrifices that led to my conversion. It helped me appreciate the value of the gospel in my life.
Three years later, when work commenced on building the Norwich chapel, I also withdrew from the Saturday league team so that I could make my contribution to the building project. The mist of self-interest that had previously restricted my vision was beginning to disperse, and a new panoramic view was emerging, bringing with it a deeper appreciation for and an increasing love of life.

“When I tracked my phone usage, I realized that I was on my phone the most on Sunday. I thought that was sad because that’s when I should be trying to get closer to my Savior—but instead, I had been staring at my screen.
“As I started reading my scriptures, I would read the 10 minutes every night before I went to bed, which for me was just about a chapter a night. As I did this, I noticed that I was able to fall asleep much easier. I also found myself making better decisions throughout the week, and I overall just felt better about myself.
“I am grateful that I was able to receive this invitation, and I plan to continue to read for 10 minutes a day and say my nightly prayers.”
Ryan E., 16, Alabama, USA

“You want me to what?” Jason asked.
“Go without eating or drinking for a day,” Amanda said.
“Are you crazy?”
Amanda never got too excited by Jason’s complaints. The two of them had become good friends when they were in a play together at school. When he found out she was a member of the Church, he started asking a lot of questions. Finally, she got him to take the missionary lessons. A month later, he had been baptized.
“It’s called fasting,” she said. “It’s something we do once a month.”
“You people just keep after a guy, don’t you? At first it was ‘Just listen to the missionaries. It’s only six lessons.’ I agreed to that. And then it was ‘Just read a few pages of the Book of Mormon.’ And I went along with that. And then it was ‘Don’t use alcohol, tobacco, coffee, and tea.’ And I went along with that. And then it was ‘Go to church every Sunday for three hours.’ And then it was tithing. And then it was ‘Get baptized.’ And I went along with that. But now it’s, ‘Don’t eat.’ This time you’ve gone too far.”
She smiled. “Poor baby.”
“I’m serious. Eating is number one on my list of favorite things to do.”
“There are blessings for fasting.”
“Blessings? What possible good thing can come from not eating?”
“All I’m asking you to do is just try. There’s more to fasting than not eating or drinking.”
“More? Do you give blood too?”
“I meant not eating is only a small part of what fasting is all about,” Amanda said.
“Not eating will never be a small part of anything. I like to eat, okay?”
“I’ve noticed. Just try it one time. You’ll see. I’ll help you get through it.”
Jason sighed. “All right. You win. You always win.”
“Is that why you got baptized?”
“No.”
“Why then?”
He became unusually serious. “I found out that what the missionaries were telling me was true.”
“You can get the same kind of testimony about fasting.”
The next Saturday was the first weekend of the month. Amanda invited Jason to lunch with her family. It would be their last meal before they began fasting.
After everyone else had left, Jason was still at the table. She watched him eat another slice of bread and jam, then drink another glass of milk. “Done now?” she asked.
He looked around the room. “You got any candy? A cookie? Maybe some ice cream?”
“Jason, we’ve already had dessert.”
“That was ten minutes ago.” He looked in her fridge but didn’t see anything he wanted. “I guess I’m ready.”
“Okay. Fasting is more than just going hungry. There’s a spiritual side to it too. So usually I like to have a prayer when I start. Most of the time I just go in my room and say my own prayer, but maybe today we could say a prayer right here. Is that okay?”
As soon as their prayer was over, Jason said, “Did you know there was an ice cream bar in your freezer?”
“Too late. We’ve already started.”
“That’s it for 24 hours?”
“That’s right. We’ll eat after we get home from church tomorrow.”
He looked at his watch. Two minutes had passed. “I’m not going to make it.”
At two o’clock Jason went home. At seven-thirty that night he came back. “This isn’t working out.”
“What happened?”
“I mowed the lawn. It was so hot out. I went to get something to drink and then I remembered I’m fasting. So I didn’t have anything, but now my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton.”
“Oh, I should have told you. I usually do things like that before I start fasting. Sorry. Next time you’ll know.”
“There’s not going to be a next time. This is too hard. Besides, my aunt is staying with us for the weekend. Since I didn’t eat I had to tell her why.”
“What did you say?” Amanda asked.
“I said I was fasting. She said she knows a good psychologist. I had to get away from her for a while.” He looked at his watch. “Just 18 hours to go and then I will be able to eat.”
“Jason, I found a scripture for you to read about fasting. It’s in the Doctrine and Covenants. ‘Verily, this is fasting and prayer, or in other words, rejoicing and prayer’” (D&C 59:14).
Jason shook his head. “Let me tell you—fasting is not rejoicing.”
“It can be.”
“How?”
“We have a physical side and a spiritual side to us, right?” she said.
“Okay.”
“Usually the physical side is dominant, but when we fast, it gives our spiritual side a chance to show itself. So instead of thinking about what you’re giving up, try to get closer to Father in Heaven. Maybe there’s some encouragement he wants you to have. Listen with your spiritual side.”
“How do I do that?”
“That’s one of the reasons I read the scriptures and pray and go to church and seminary—to find out what message Heavenly Father might have for me.”
“If somebody wants to get a message to me, all they have to do is put it on a cereal box. I always read those. Speaking of cereal …”
“When I fast, I like to read the Book of Mormon and my patriarchal blessing. And I like to write in my journal.”
“Sounds boring.”
“Not to me. The way I look at it, life is like a rough game and fasting is like calling time out so you can rest.”
“Usually during a time out, the players get Gatorade.”
“Jason, c’mon, get your mind off food.”
He fell to the floor as if he were about to die. “I’m not going to make it, Amanda. You go on without me.”
“Go home, Jason. Spend some time with yourself. Think about your life.”
Jason went home and, because every TV commercial was about food or drinks, he decided the only way he was going to get through the night without eating was to go to bed early.
The next morning he met Amanda in the hallway before church started.
“This is the best part of fasting,” she said just before sacrament meeting began.
Somewhere during the meeting he realized he didn’t feel the same urgency to eat as he had the night before. He was still hungry, but he felt like he could get by until church was over. He thought maybe Amanda was right and that his spiritual side was now a little stronger than normal. He appreciated the testimonies of people who told how Heavenly Father had answered their prayers.
Amanda brushed by him on her way to the stand. She went to the podium and began to speak. She said she was proud of Jason for having the courage to be baptized, and this was the first time he had ever fasted, and how proud of him she was that he was willing to do that. She talked about how much she loved her family. Then she said, “My dad once told me when we give our testimonies we should always talk about how the Savior has blessed our life. I’m grateful to know he died for my sins. I know that someday I’ll see him.”
Jason, listening to Amanda, felt tears in his eyes. He was wiping his eyes with his hand when Amanda’s mother leaned over and handed him a tissue. He nodded and wiped his eyes.
When Amanda sat down, she reached over and touched his sleeve. “Now it’s your turn.”
Jason thought about it. He did have something to say. He felt he had made the right decision in being baptized. Now he had something to hold on to. He was just about to stand up when the bishop announced the closing song and prayer.
“Next month, okay?” Amanda whispered.
The other meetings he attended that day seemed even better than usual. Jason knew it was because he was fasting.
And then church was over. “Well, what do you think?” Amanda asked as they walked out to her family’s car.
“It wasn’t too bad actually.”
“You want to try it again next month?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think I will.”
Jason went home. His aunt was busy in the kitchen. “I made you spaghetti and garlic bread,” she said, looking worried.
“That’d be great.”
“The boy’s going to eat something,” his aunt called to the rest of the neighborhood. “I knew my spaghetti would bring him to his senses.”
Jason sighed. Someday he would try to explain all this to his family.
As he ate with his family, everything tasted better than he had ever remembered. He kept telling his aunt how wonderful the food tasted.
When he was finished eating, he felt wonderful. It surprised him, but he looked forward to fasting next month. The scriptures are right after all, he thought. Fasting is rejoicing.
On his way to Amanda’s house, he wondered if the ice cream bar was still in her freezer.

As a young man, I had many questions about the Church. Some of my questions were sincere. Others were not and reflected the doubts of others.
I often discussed my questions with my mother. I am sure that she could sense that many of my questions were sincere and from my heart. I think she was a little disappointed in those questions that were less sincere and more argumentative. However, she never put me down for having questions. She would listen and try to answer them. When she sensed that she had said all that she could and that I still had questions, she would say something like this: “David, that is a good question. While you are searching and reading and praying for the answer, why don’t you do the things you know you should and not do the things you know you should not?” This became the pattern for my search for truth. Through study, prayer, and keeping the commandments, I found that there are answers to all of my important questions. I also found that for some questions, continuing faith, patience, and revelation are needed.
Mom put the responsibility of developing faith and finding answers on me. She knew that the important answers would come from my seeking truth the way that Heavenly Father has prescribed. She knew that I needed to find the truth. She knew that I needed to be sincere in my questions and be willing to act on what I already knew to be true. She knew that I needed to study and pray and that I needed to develop greater patience as I sought answers from the Lord. Willingness to be patient is part of our search for truth and part of the Lord’s pattern of revealing truth.
Over time I came to know that my mother was teaching me Heavenly Father’s pattern for seeking truth. Faith grew, answers began to come, and I accepted a mission call.

Elder Lund leaves soon for his mission. He told us, “I worked at a dry cleaner for two years. I found the position when I took a buddy to his interview. He told the lady he couldn’t take the job because of the hours but that I could. I did. I worked the cash register, took in dirty clothes, and gave out the clean ones. I also cleaned up after closing. When I started the job I was very shy. I learned to speak up and explain things to people. I gained a lot of confidence. Now I don’t have trouble communicating with people.
“My brother and I bought broken lawn mowers, repaired them, and sold them for a profit. We didn’t have to spend money for parts. They just needed our mechanical knowledge.
“I put my money into a savings account. I recommend everyone use a savings account. But give the bankbook to your mom so you can’t take the money out again. You need to start early in life to save because you can’t cram in the last few months like you might for a test.”

I have one more way to learn to love. My story begins in first grade. I loved first grade. The windows that were decorated with our drawings for anyone to see who drove down Main Street were changed with the seasons. I loved the smell of chalk dust and pencil shavings. I loved jump rope and tag at recess, and I loved the books the teacher read to us after lunch. In our school, two first-grade classrooms on the first floor were matched by two second-grade classrooms directly above on the second floor. We first graders were not allowed to go up those stairs except on an occasional afternoon visit to the school library, carefully chaperoned by our teacher. But each day I stood on the first floor and watched the second graders clamber up the stairs talking and laughing, the boys punching each other in the arm and the girls giggling and whispering. I longed to go up those stairs, too. Going upstairs to second grade appeared to me to be the ultimate step in maturity. Second graders knew more than we did, and somehow I understood that knowing more would be advantageous to me, so I longed for the day I could go upstairs to second grade.

That day came. I climbed the stairs on the first day of second grade and sat down in my classroom expecting maturity and understanding to unfold before me. I looked around the room and found seated there the same children I had been with in first grade. To my surprise and dismay, nothing, simply nothing, seemed different. It appeared that second grade would not unlock the mysteries of the world. Surrounding me were ordinary children. All of us apparently were no different than we were last year. What a disappointment when I had expected something much more grand.

I have lived long enough now to watch my classmates grow up, marry, raise families, wrestle with the economy, put food on the table, and set one foot in front of the other in doing the best they could. What I couldn’t see in second grade—and often miss even now—was that I was growing, too. Just because the same people were around me didn’t mean we were the same.

Through all these difficult experiences, I kept praying, and I could feel the comfort I was promised by the Spirit in a priesthood blessing I had received. One day I dared to ask the question, in prayer, “Why do I feel so alone?” And I received an answer or, rather, a promise—that I would make new friends, friends who would understand me.
And I did! I made new friends, some who aren’t members of the Church but who still respect and love me. I also made friends in the Church who have become like family to me.

An observant husband served in two important ways. He relates:
“I was assisting my wife one Sunday with her Primary class full of energetic seven-year-olds. As Primary sharing time started, I noticed one of the class members huddled on her chair and obviously not feeling well. The Spirit whispered to me that she needed comfort, so I sat by her and quietly asked what was wrong. She didn’t answer … , so I began to sing softly to her.
“The Primary was learning a new song, and when we sang, ‘If I listen with my heart I hear the Savior’s voice,’ I began to feel the most incredible light and warmth fill my soul. … I received a personal testimony of our Savior’s love for her … and for me. … I learned that we are [the Savior’s] hands when we serve the one.”
Not only did this Christlike brother notice the need to help his wife with a class full of energetic seven-year-olds; he also gave individual service to a child in need. He followed the Savior, who taught, “The works which ye have seen me do that shall ye also do.”

“It isn’t fair,” I moaned. “Christmas is a week away, and I don’t have anything for Caitlyn.”
“I thought you were giving her the wind chimes you made at school,” Mom said.
“I was going to give her those because I couldn’t think of anything else.” I sighed. “I’m not supposed to know, but I saw what she’s going to give me—a silver necklace with a tiny pearl in it. It’s beautiful! And what do I give her? Some wind chimes I made at school.” I shook my head. “Maybe it would be different if Caitlyn didn’t already have everything.”
“Caitlyn has everything?” Mom looked up from the Primary lesson she was preparing.
“Well, nearly everything,” I muttered. “Her parents get her anything she asks for.” I shrugged. “She doesn’t ever ask for much. She deserves more than wind chimes from me.”
Last summer I had met Caitlyn at the park. She was sitting on one of the benches all by herself. At first, I didn’t pay any attention to her, and she seemed to ignore me, too. Even when I walked right in front of her, she didn’t look my way or say anything. She just was staring and smiling. Caitlyn almost always smiles.
My little sister, Tricia, and I were tossing a Frisbee back and forth, laughing and joking. I accidentally tossed the Frisbee over Tricia’s head, and it landed in front of Caitlyn’s bench.
“Do you mind tossing that to me?” Tricia called to her.
Caitlyn stood up cautiously. “Tell me where it is,” she said, smiling.
“Right in front of you,” Tricia giggled.
“How many steps in front of me?” Caitlyn continued to stare straight ahead.
“Look down,” Tricia coached. “Look down and you’ll see it.”
“But I can’t see,” Caitlyn came back. She said it as though it were the most ordinary thing in the whole world.
That day in the park, we told each other our names. A few days later, I saw Caitlyn there again. As soon as I said hello, she gave me a huge smile and a cheery, “Hi, Melissa. I hoped we’d meet again.”
“How did you know it was me?”
“I hardly ever forget a voice, especially a friendly one. I told Mrs. Wallace—she looks after me during the day—that I wanted to come back here in case you came again.” She reached out. “May I touch your face?” She explained, “I have to ‘see’ with my fingers.”
We sat and talked most of the afternoon. I learned that her father was a heart surgeon and her mother was an attorney. Caitlyn was their only child. She lived in a huge house east of the park. Mrs. Wallace was her special helper and friend. I might have been just a little jealous if it wasn’t for Caitlyn’s blindness.
“Have you always been …” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
Caitlyn was quiet for a moment; then she answered gently, “Not always. I could see until I was four. Then I was in an accident. I still remember little pictures of the world before everything was dark.” She hesitated. “But most things I don’t remember. Or I never saw them in the first place.”
Caitlyn and I were so different. I came from a pretty ordinary family. We certainly weren’t rich. I lived in a small house with my two brothers and three sisters. I loved to play ball and run and jump. School wasn’t exactly hard for me—it just didn’t interest me much.
Caitlyn loved school. She went to a special school hundreds of miles away, where she learned to read books with pages covered with tiny bumps. She ran her fingers over those tiny bumps and read stories. She could play the piano, and she had a special computer that helped her write and explore the world.
Even though we were different, we became wonderful friends.
Because her school was far away, she was home only part of the time, but during those times we spent hours together, either at her house or at mine. Often when she was at school, she called and we talked for hours. As our friendship grew, I sometimes forgot that she was blind.
Caitlyn will get some really neat gifts this Christmas,” I told Mom. “She doesn’t know it, of course, but her parents are giving her a new music system for her room and a new bed that looks like something out of a fairy tale. Why would she ever want my silly wind chimes?”
“She loves things she can hear. You said she loves wind chimes.”
I shook my head. “I like bubbles, but I don’t think I’d like bubbles for Christmas.” I sighed. “That’s the problem with having a friend who has everything.”
“Everything?”
I knew Mom was talking about Caitlyn’s eyes. “Everything I could give her.”
I leaned back in the sofa and stared up at the ceiling, trying to imagine what Caitlyn’s world was like. I opened my eyes and looked over at Mom. “I know what I’d like to give her. My eyes. Just for a day. Just so she could see the world again. She’d have the memories of everything she had seen that day. I’d be OK, missing my eyes for one day, and that one day of sight would mean so much to her.”
Mom smiled at me. “It would be a wonderful gift. I wish we could both give her that. But we can’t. Caitlyn will know that you are giving her the chimes from your heart. That’s what will mean the most to her. And every time she hears them, she’ll think of you, even when she’s away at school.”
Mom helped me wrap the chimes. Then I went to my room, lay on my bed, and closed my eyes, imagining that I had magically lent my eyes to Caitlyn. I wished that Jesus Christ was here and that He healed Caitlyn’s eyes. I knew that He will come again one day, and He will do His miracles. One day Caitlyn will see again. I knew it. But I wanted her to see now!
While I was lying there, locked for a moment in Caitlyn’s dark world, it came to me what I could give her that would be special enough. I leaped from my bed and went charging down the hall.
Mom listened as I excitedly explained what I wanted to do. I needed her help. Smiling, she agreed, and for the next few days, we worked together—planning, preparing, practicing, pretending. Mom and I drove down the street, walked down the sidewalks, peered into store windows, and saw hundreds of other things all around us. I looked through my eyes as though they were Caitlyn’s. I saw things that I had never noticed before.
Two days before Christmas, Mom drove me to Caitlyn’s house. She was smiling wildly with excitement. “Ever since you called,” her mother said, “she’s been waiting for this evening. I don’t know what you have planned, but—”
“It will be wonderful, whatever it is,” Caitlyn interrupted, because Melissa is giving it to me.”
I led Caitlyn to the car, and we sat in the back. As soon as I closed the door, I announced, “I wanted to give you something wonderful for Christmas, something that came from me.” I reached out and touched her hand. “I thought if I could, I’d let you borrow my eyes for a day. And I’ve discovered a way to do it! Tonight I’m going to use my eyes to show you Christmas.”
Caitlyn nodded but looked confused.
“We’re driving down your street,” I started, my voice shaking with excitement. Mom drove very slowly so I could describe everything. “Right here at the corner is a gorgeous manger scene. Mary is by the manger, holding the Baby Jesus. Lights are shining from overhead. There are little gray donkeys walking across the snow and shepherds and lambs and …”
Mom and I took Caitlyn down several streets and described the decorated homes. We drove downtown to the Village of Lights. We walked up and down Main Street, peering in the big windows of the department stores and in the little panes of the small shops. When we stopped at a cute cafe to sip hot chocolate and munch cinnamon rolls, I described the tiny decorative elves perched on the counter, the holly hanging on beams overhead, and the mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above each booth.
Outside, we met Santa Claus, and we saw carolers. I didn’t want to miss anything, because I knew that if I didn’t see everything, neither would Caitlyn.
It was late when we returned to Caitlyn’s house. As she burst through her front door, she called out to her mother, “It was awesome! It was better than awesome! We went everywhere, and Melissa described everything. It was as though I could see again.”
Caitlyn bubbled with excitement, and I was so happy that I thought I’d burst. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the package containing my simple wind chimes. I pressed the small present into her hands. “This is also for you. Whenever you hear the chimes, you can remember tonight and everything we saw together.”
Caitlyn threw her arms around my neck and squeezed until I didn’t think I could breathe. “It was the best gift ever!” she whispered in my ear.

Years later, our nine-year-old son, Tanner, came home from a touch-football game with a pain that turned out to be cancer. He bravely endured three years of aggressive treatment, two bone marrow transplants, and at one point ten weeks on a ventilator hovering between life and death in a medically induced coma. When he was twelve, after about a year of remission, the cancer recurred with a vengeance and went into his bones and head.

One night he was so sick that we moved his bed into our bedroom, where we could be with him. He awakened in the middle of the night with severe head pain. We tried to comfort him, but to no effect.

Suddenly, in the silent, darkened room, he looked up with an incredulous look on his face and said, “They say I’m supposed to go in the kitchen and sit up on the couch.”

“What do you mean? Who?”

No response. Then, a little impatiently, “I’m just supposed to go sit up.”

He spoke with such unusual certainty that we helped him make his way into the kitchen, where he sat on a couch, pulled a blanket around his shoulders, and slept peacefully the rest of the night.

The next morning we had him admitted to Primary Children’s Hospital for what would be his last time. I told an oncologist of this exchange in the night. The doctor reasoned that Tanner’s head pain had likely been caused by pressure blocking a tube that drains cerebrospinal fluid away from the brain. The only way to get the pain to stop, he said, is to take the pressure off this area by sitting the patient up so things can equalize.

This made sense, but what were the chances that twelve-year-old Tanner could figure that out? And who were they?

It was the last day of school. The sun was shining. The temperature was perfect. Everyone had fun playing softball, running races, and eating hamburgers. But now it was time to go home, and for Jena, it wasn’t fun anymore.
This was her last day at Buckingham Elementary. This was her last day to see her teacher, Miss Wilson. This was her last day to be a fifth-grader and have recess. This was her last day to see many of her friends. Most of them were going to Pilot Butte Middle School next year. She was going to High Desert Middle School.
Jena cried when it was time to get on the school bus. All her friends cried, too. They hugged each other over and over. The deep noise of the bus engine started up, but the driver waited patiently. Finally, after more tears and hugs, she and her friend Randy boarded the bus. Jena lowered the bus window and yelled, “I’ll call you this sum—”
Jena never finished her sentence. She remembered that she couldn’t call anyone this summer. She was going to live with Grandma Hunt while her parents took summer classes at the university.
“This is going to be the worst year of my life,” Randy choked out. And even though everyone else on the bus seemed happy and excited, she slumped down in her seat and cried. “We probably won’t get to see our friends from Buckingham any more, and we won’t even see each other all summer.”
Jena wanted to say something to make Randy feel better, but she didn’t know what to say. She knew that if she tried to talk, she’d cry, too.
Just before the bus came to her stop, Jena turned to Randy and gave her a hug. “Write me,” she said. “I’ll write back. I promise.”
The first night at Grandma Hunt’s, Jena thought about Randy. She wondered if Randy was as lonely as she was.
“How about a good game of Irritation?” Grandma Hunt asked as she got out the board game.
Normally, it was Jena’s favorite game. But she didn’t feel like playing this time.
“You really miss your family, don’t you?” Grandma asked.
“Yes. I can’t quit thinking about them and my friends back home. Most of my friends are going to a different school next year. It won’t be any fun without them.”
“It’s true that we have some friends for just a short time and some of them longer. But they each make a difference in our lives forever. So each friend is to be treasured. And new experiences should be fun because they give us a chance to meet new friends.”
“If you say so, Grandma,” Jena faltered.
“Jesus Christ was the perfect example of a good friend. He served His friends. He fed the people, He visited them when they were sick, and He shared the gospel with them. He did things for all of us that we can’t do for ourselves.”
“Their lives were happier because He was their friend,” Jena said.
“That’s right. Their lives were different, better, because of what He did. Our lives are better because of what He did for us. You should look forward to going to your new school and meeting new friends. Be excited about it. You will have experiences you’ve never even dreamed of, experiences that can make you a better person. Just make certain that the friends you choose are trying to do what is right. Now, let’s play this game!” Grandma declared. “In the morning I’ll take you to visit one of my very good friends. I treasure her friendship. I hope you will, too, even though you’ll probably know her for only one summer.”
“Could we take the Irritation game with us and ask her to play?” Jena asked.
“She’d like that.”
The next morning, Jena and her grandma stopped at a store and purchased four large red marbles and four large yellow marbles.
“June B., that’s my friend, just got out of the hospital. She was in a terrible car accident and broke about all her bones, it seems to me,” Grandma explained. “She’s also partially blind from the accident, so these large, bright marbles might be easier for her to use.”
When they got to the house, June B. was sitting in a wheelchair. Her left arm was in a cast, and her right leg was in a cast. Her head was bandaged, and so was her nose.
“Come in, come in,” she called. “It’s so nice of you to come.”
“I brought my granddaughter, June B.,” Grandma said. “This is Jena.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Jena. Thank you for coming.”
“I brought a game.”
“I love games! Sit right here and we’ll play it.”
Jena played three games of Irritation with June B. while her grandmother cleaned the house and prepared some lunch. The games took time because June B. had to bend way over the board to see where each of the marbles was and make a decision where to move.
“There you go,” June B. said when she won the third game in a row. “You’re nice to let a blind lady win.”
“But I didn’t let you win.”
“I know—I’m just more ‘irritating’ than you. Would you help me take a bath now?”
“Well, I, ah …”
“There’s a bucket in the bathroom. Fill it half full of warm water and bring me a washcloth and the soap. I sit right here and scrub most of me. I only need help with my back and feet.”
Jena helped her grandma in the kitchen while June B. bathed. When she needed help, she called to them.
Grandma Hunt gently washed June B.’s back. “Would you like to bathe her feet?” Grandma asked.
“Well, I, ah … sure.”
Jena couldn’t believe her feelings as she knelt and gently lifted June B.’s left foot into the bucket. Ever so carefully she rubbed soap onto her hands and then rubbed the lady’s foot and toes. She lowered the foot into the water again and rinsed it carefully. Then she dried it with a towel.
Before Jena was halfway through, she started crying softly. Now she knew what Jesus Christ must have felt like when He helped others. And now she understood that Heavenly Father wanted her to meet many new friends. She could help them. And they could help her.
“Can I come and play a game with you tomorrow?” Jena asked softly.
“I’d love that!” June B. said. “And I promise, I won’t be so ‘irritating’ tomorrow.”

President David O. McKay emphasized the importance of being spiritually and physically alert with the story of Bishop John Wells, a former member of the Presiding Bishopric, whose son was killed in a railroad accident. A few weeks after the funeral, the mother was resting at home, mourning her son’s death, spiritually and physically alert. The son appeared to her and told her that when he realized he was in the spirit world, he first tried to reach his father but could not, and he said to her that his dad was too busy at the office.

Whatever country you live in, it takes a lot of effort to earn the top award in Scouting. So imagine the effort required to earn the award three times. Rocco du Plessis is the first Springbok Scout in the 26-year history of the First Edgemead Troop in South Africa. So becoming a three-time Springbok Scout is a huge accomplishment.
However, there’s another award Rocco earned last year that is equally important to him. “Earning the Duty to God has helped me achieve even more for my personal and spiritual growth,” he says. “It’s about your relationship with your Father in Heaven.”
“The Scouting program here is very demanding,” says Rocco, who is a member of the Panorama Ward in the Cape Town South Africa Stake. It’s hard to earn the Springbok. Sure, the Scout leaders are there to help you. But it’s still tough. “If you don’t work very hard, if you don’t pull your weight, you’re not going to get it,” Rocco adds. A lot of time, planning, and effort goes into every award as you advance in the Scouting program, which in South Africa is not Church sponsored.
For the Duty to God Award, Rocco says the support of his parents and his Young Men leaders has made a big difference. “They want you to earn your Duty to God,” he says, “and so many of the requirements are things you’re doing daily already.” Then it’s just a matter of working with your parents and leaders to record your progress in those areas. “Most of the normal Mormon aspects of your life fill Duty to God requirements—if you do them.” In other words, if a young man is attending Church meetings, praying regularly, studying the scriptures, and fulfilling his priesthood responsibilities, he is on the right track.
Only about one or two percent of all Scouts nationwide receive South Africa’s top Scouting award. And then only about one or two percent of these Springbok Scouts complete more than one of the three possible Explorer challenges. Rocco completed all three challenge awards, becoming only the third Scout in South African history to accomplish the feat.
A South African Scout advances through the program from Pathfinder to Adventurer to First Class then to Explorer. The Explorer badge is split into three different sections: Land Scouts, Air Scouts, and Sea Scouts. Usually a Scout will choose one of these sections to focus on as he works toward his final advancement—Springbok. Rocco focused on all three.
Along with the other badges and requirements, there are compulsory badges specific to each type of Explorer: The Land Explorer earns his Backwoodsman and Mapping badges. The Air Explorer earns his Air Navigator and Air Traffic Controller badges. And the Sea Explorer earns his Helmsman and Boatsman badges for sailing and rowing.
Rocco explains that it usually takes about two weekends at a badge course to earn each award. There are the white badges—the theory behind a skill. And then there are the green badges—the practical application of the skill. For example, to earn your Backwoodsman badge, first you’ll learn things like wilderness survival, navigating with the stars, and making fires without matches. Then comes the practical application. You get dropped off in the bush for 48 hours, and you’re on your own.
So Rocco has been pretty busy with Scouting for several years now. From February until December last year, for example, he was away many weekends. “It seemed I was up permanently on badge courses,” he says. Plus, for the past five years, Rocco has been the troop leader. That means he’s been in charge of organizing all the troop camps. He’s had to plan meals, do the shopping, coordinate troop meetings, type up consent forms for the other Scouts and their parents to sign, and oversee each of the campouts.
One valuable trait Rocco has learned along the way is persistence. “At least half of my badges I didn’t pass the first time on the course,” he says. “Within six months you can go back and do it again or have an adult who has done the badge test you on it.” For instance, one of the requirements for First Aid is bandaging. “I failed bandaging because part of the knot on one of my bandages stuck out,” Rocco says. “So I had to redo the bandaging portion in order to earn my level-two First Aid.”
In addition to the badges, there are other projects a Scout must complete to earn his Springbok. One of these is a construction project. Rocco chose to build a bridge. He had to first design and build a scale model of the bridge. Then, with a team of six other Scouts, Rocco had to build it full size, about 20 feet tall (6 m) and 30 feet long (9 m). It took nearly nine hours to build the bridge and then disassemble it.
Then there’s community service, which is a big part of earning both the Springbok and the Duty to God Award. For his Springbok service requirement, Rocco visited more than 40 homes of seniors to help them with various chores and repairs. “The only big thing that overlapped was the 40-hour service project I was able to use for both Scouts and the Duty to God Award,” says Rocco.
Of all the requirements Rocco has fulfilled to earn his various awards, he points to one in particular as most valuable for his personal growth: “Reading the Book of Mormon,” Rocco says without hesitation. “That was the biggest and most rewarding challenge.”
“I had read the Book of Mormon once already, a year or so ago, but I was just reading to get it done,” Rocco explains. “When I started reading it again, I really wanted to learn and gain a testimony of it.” He approached reading the Book of Mormon in a completely different way his second time through. “Every time I read now, I pray before to ask Heavenly Father’s Spirit to be with me as I read.”
Rocco’s already begun on his next big project—to more actively share his testimony with others as he prepares to serve a full-time mission. His Scouting experiences and earning the Duty to God Award have helped him in his personal development and in becoming a missionary. “To spread the gospel, I needed to know what is in the Book of Mormon, and I needed to know that it is true,” he says. “After reading the Book of Mormon for the second time, I received a testimony of it.”
Even if there was not a Duty to God Award to earn, Rocco says he would have fulfilled most of the requirements simply because he wanted to prepare for missionary service. Attending church, reading the scriptures, praying daily, and giving service are just part of who Rocco is, of being what a Latter-day Saint is supposed to be.
Now that he has received his call to serve as a full-time missionary, the testimony Elder du Plessis has built is proving much more useful than the rope-and-log bridge he built for his Springbok construction project. However, some of the backwoodsman skills he learned as a Scout may come in handy as he serves in Zimbabwe, Zambia, and Malawi.

I went to a Young Women activity at a beach, where we all took 20 minutes to silently ponder and meditate. I sat on a rock, listened to the crashing waves, and saw the serene sunset. But I was disappointed to find that even after 20 minutes, I still had not been able to find reverence. My distracted mind was too busy turning its wheels. I was consumed with my college application process. I was having trouble getting into my school of choice, and I felt like I had forgotten to breathe every once in a while.
When I realized I was having trouble feeling calm, I began praying for peace and relying on the Lord more. Instead of reciting a wish list in my prayers, I tried to remember that the Lord’s will was more important than my own. I prayed for what the Lord wanted to happen, not what I wanted to happen.
I felt more at peace over the course of the next few months and saw miracles in my life. I realized the Lord was trying to show me that He loved me. The peace I felt helped me to know of His love. I know that it is possible to find reverence despite our everyday distractions. If we seek peace and reverence, then we can more fully usher in the feelings of love that come from our Heavenly Father.

On one occasion when I arrived home late from church meetings, my wife expressed concern about one of our sons. She was worried, because the events of the day had seemed to demonstrate that our son’s thoughts and actions were not riveted upon serving a mission. Her concerns clearly indicated a desire that I speak with him before going to bed. When I asked where he was, she indicated that he was in his room preparing to retire. I went to the room and sat on the floor next to his bed. I asked if I could speak to him about something that was sacred. He replied ”certainly.” The hour was late, I was tired and so was he—I asked “son, are you still planning on serving a mission?” “Yes,” he answered. “I’ve always planned on serving, and I haven’t changed.” “Son, do you know what qualifies a young man to serve a mission? Do you know what it means to be worthy?” “Yes, Dad,” he said, “I understand the requirements and standards.” I said “thank you, I have one last question: Are you clean and worthy to serve? Could you accept a call if one were issued to you today?”

There was a moment of reflective silence, then he sat up from his pillow, leaned over on one elbow and thoughtfully declared: “Dad, remember when I was little, and we started having father’s interviews?” I said “yes,” ”well” he said, “I promised you then that I would serve a mission and you promised me that you and mom would serve a mission when you got old... [then there was another pause), are you guys having some problem that will stop you from serving...because maybe I can help you.” Quite frankly I was speechless. Together we laughed and felt the warmth of the Holy Ghost in our hearts.

This was a wonderful, beautiful, spontaneous, and sanctifying experience. He has now returned from his mission and married in the temple. But following the pattern established many years ago, we continue to have father’s interviews, though not as regular as they once were.

During my college years I looked at a fellow student, whom I will call Roy, in amazement. Where did he get such a gigantic ego? His need to be recognized and praised was never ending. Every conversation he had with anyone always centered on his recent triumphs and the projects he was now involved in that would ensure his fame. He was underappreciated and let everyone know it. His name became a joke. We had him pegged as an obnoxious egomaniac who blew his own horn from morning until night.
One day I learned that one of my friends knew his family. She began to tell me some things. “Roy’s father was an alcoholic. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Oh, yes. He made their life just miserable. He was a crazy man. Once, when Roy was about five, he walked in the kitchen and saw his father attempting to kill his mother. It was a terrible scene and Roy was there to watch it all.”
The tremor was instant. All my perceptions, all my judgment shattered, and I saw past the facade into the reality. I saw past the obnoxious adult to the traumatized little boy that I wanted to take in my arms and comfort. I never looked at Roy the same again. I knew his secret, one of his secrets, and I understood.

Early in her marriage, Lucy prepared herself to raise a prophet. On one occasion she became seriously ill, and the doctors said she would die. Lucy records that she “made a solemn covenant with God that if He would let me live I would endeavor to serve him according to the best of my abilities.” After a voice assured her that she would live, she told her mother, “The Lord will let me live, if I am faithful to the promise which I made to him, to be a comfort to my mother, my husband, and my children.”3

As a junior high school teacher with eight children, I needed to provide at least GHC 5.00 as pocket money to each child every school day. None of the days were for rest in my family, including Sundays. My wife needed to work hard with the children to make ends meet. She sold mashed kenkey (ice kenkey), water, cocoa drinks, or farm produce I brought from the farm I owned aside my teaching job.
After my family’s baptism, the missionaries taught us the importance of Sabbath day observance. We found it difficult and inconvenient to observe the Sabbath due to the high financial challenges we faced. The missionaries taught us to our understanding from scriptures such as Mosiah 13:16–19 and Exodus 20:8–11. Reading such scriptures overturned events of the family. We prayed for the Lord to help us keep His day holy by providing for our needs from Monday to Saturday.
While offering a prayer in our family home evening one Monday, I declared that henceforth there should be no more sales on Sundays. My children jubilated with the hope that Heavenly Father would provide. The Lord indeed answered my prayers. Each of these children have now completed various levels in their education, and four of them are returned missionaries with university education.
Thus, the Savior will bless His people who obey and keep the Sabbath day holy.

Elder Quentin L. Cook of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles tells the story of his father teaching him to set goals by sitting down with the children individually and offering help.

“I had the desire to engage in this practice with my children,” Elder Cook said. “When our son, Larry, was five years old, I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up. He said he wanted to be a doctor like his Uncle Joe. …

“Several months later, I asked him again what he would like to be. This time he said he wanted to be an airline pilot. … I said, ‘Larry, last time we talked you wanted to be a doctor. What has changed your mind?’ He answered, ‘I still like the idea of being a doctor, but I have noticed that Uncle Joe works on Saturday mornings, and I wouldn’t want to miss Saturday Morning Cartoons.’

“Since that time our family has labeled a distraction from a worthwhile goal as a Saturday Morning Cartoon.

“What are some of the Saturday Morning Cartoons that distract us from attaining the joy that we desire? … If we examine the reasons we don’t do what we ought to do, we find that the list of Saturday Morning Cartoons is almost endless.”

Elder Cook’s teachings show us that we need to reflect on how we are doing, avoid distractions, and stay focused as we seek to achieve our goals.