Gospel Story Finder

In December 1967, Brother Ed Ka-mauoha was appointed to be the new headmaster at Sauniatu. For years, Sauniatu had been functioning as a school, but when he arrived, the future of Sauniatu was once again in question.
“There were real administrative questions about the efficiency and quality of the school,” he explained. Everyone in Samoa is required to take a standard government education test when they leave high school, and the Sauniatu scores were an average five points below the scores of students from the other Church schools in Samoa. In addition to the low test scores, it was costly to operate the remote school. Many of the students were from very poor families and could not afford to pay more tuition. Enthusiasm among students and teachers was low.
“I felt bad about the school,” he said. “As an administrator, I understood the problems, but I also understood what the tradition of Sauniatu means to the Saints in Samoa. I knew the place was not what it could be because it was not living up to President McKay’s 1921 blessing.”
Ed Kamauoha believed Sauniatu had a prophetic future yet to be fulfilled if each person living there cared. His mind remained restless and his wirey Polynesian body became charged with nervous energy as he began planning to meet the many requirements needed to make the students of Sauniatu self-sufficient and proud and to help the community of Sauniatu reap the promised blessings.
The projects he outlined for the betterment of Sauniatu were big projects. In many people’s minds, they were too big for a handful of teachers and a few dozen school children to handle. Yet Brother Kamauoha felt they could do it.
“Getting everyone to work on big projects is like starting a large machine. You just can’t let it idle; you have to really rev it up and keep it going,” said Brother Kamauoha.
He also felt that the students’ performance in school would improve and the morale among the teachers would also improve if they knew they had some control over their own future. “We had been waiting for others to help us at Sauniatu,” explained Brother Kamauoha. “I tried to teach the people that they had depended too much on outside help and assistance from others. I told them the Lord gives us brains and a pair of hands but they won’t help us unless we use them. And so we started building roads, and we did it by hand.”

It takes faith to stand alone, as Natalia did; it also takes faith to change your life, to leave behind friends who are a bad influence. That is what Viktor Russo found out when he learned about the gospel of Jesus Christ and had to make a few changes in his life.
Life had been rough for Viktor. As a boy, he was scrawny. Other boys beat him up. Out of resentment, he made a mistake. He joined a gang at age 15. “I wanted the others to be afraid of me,” he says.
And that’s what started to happen. He became one of the “bandits,” as he calls them. But before he got in too far, he discovered the Church. His aunt, a Latter-day Saint, invited Viktor and his mother to attend Sunday meetings.
“Right from the opening prayer there were tears in my eyes,” Viktor explains. “They didn’t just recite words. They spoke with their Father in Heaven. I felt a great love overpowering me, an understanding that I also have a Father in Heaven who loves me.” Viktor was so impressed he continued to attend. And he began meeting with the missionaries.
“I had always wanted to know if there really is a God,” he says. “So I prayed, ‘Please tell me if what I am learning is true.’ The same powerful feeling I had during sacrament meeting surrounded me again.”
He was particularly impressed as he learned about the priesthood. “I felt this love among the men, something I had never felt in the gang. During one of the missionary discussions, I remember thinking, ‘I can’t be in a gang and serve God, too.’ From then on, I tried not to meet with my old associates. I tried to be only with good people.”
And what happened was remarkable. “I was amazed,” Viktor recalls. “Some of my former ‘friends’ teased and taunted me, but most of them just said, ‘All right then, go. We’ll leave you alone.’” Enemies didn’t retaliate. True friends took an interest in his new religion. Some of them even met with the missionaries, but Viktor is the only one so far to be baptized.
“I had a lot to repent of first,” he acknowledges. “But I knew it was the right thing to do.”
Today Viktor is 18. He has been a Latter-day Saint for almost three years. He spends his time with other Aaronic Priesthood holders, helps with the sacrament, and goes home teaching. He looks forward to serving a full-time mission and to the completion of the Kyiv temple. Day after day you’ll find him with the elders when they’re teaching. “I like to share my testimony of Jesus Christ,” he says. “I like to tell people they need to believe in Him.”

It has been said that children are our hope for the future. The wonderful youngsters of the Navu 1st Ward in Samoa are already making the future brighter.
On the cool, foggy morning of March 25, they planted 300 small trees at Malololelei Recreational Reserve with the help of their Church leaders and parents.
The children’s service project was in conjunction with the Ministry of Natural Resources and Environment’s Three Million Tree Planting Campaign, an initiative to protect the biodiversity of Samoa.
The children were happy to serve in a hands-on way. They experienced what it feels like to contribute something good to their community and to make a difference.
Ten-year-old Charity said with a smile, “I really loved the tree-planting activity. I learned that trees provide us with air to breathe every day and for birds to live in. By planting trees, we are helping the environment and the different animals and birds in the forest. I felt happy and I loved this activity.”
“I had so much fun,” eight years-old Jonnie said. “I was happy to be with my friends and to help the world by planting the trees. It made me happy to know that this is what our Heavenly Father wants us to do, and it will make Him happy. I love this activity.”
Falefatu, age nine years, agreed, adding, “When I was told what to do, I was really happy and excited to learn how to plant trees and now I know that trees protect the world. I learned that they give us air, medicine and wood to build our houses. I wish to have more activities like this because trees are really important for everyone.”
The adult Church leaders who accompanied the children were pleased to see them enjoying the opportunity to serve.
“The tree-planting activity was such an amazing experience,” noted Eric U.J Tuia. “From the beginning, we could see the excitement in the eyes of the children. It was great to see them participate in doing community service.”
He continued, “I really felt a strong presence of the Spirit of Christ with us during this project. The children radiated joy and happiness as they planted their first tree and quickly ran to get more trees to plant. Even as it started to rain later that day, their enthusiasm for trying to plant as many trees as they could seemed unaffected. What a sight to see that day, and what a fantastic experience it was. The children will never forget it.”
Eseese Moke Ah Sam added, “It was a privilege to witness the excitement of our children planting the trees. I felt very blessed and had a sense of overwhelming joy that these children learned to invest themselves in caring for the environment. They now understand that it is God’s will that they nurture and care for the planet that He blessed us with.”
The children and the small trees will grow up together, and in their own way, will make their world a better place to live. The trees will beautify and give more oxygen to the world and the children learned that they, too, can serve to enrich and add life to their communities.

My second miracle was to watch an interpreter, Sandra Pratt, on the same screen as the guest speaker on YouTube. That had never happened before for me. I was amazed and asked how it happened. I found out that Bishop Fakatou used StreamYard (a live streaming facility used in web browsers). I immediately told my youngest deaf sister, Heather, who is married to our stake president—I wanted to make it happen in Belfast Stake, Northern Ireland.

My third miracle was listening to Brother Griffin talking about the tree of life, The lost sheep, the lost coin and the prodigal son.
The lost coin parable stood out for me because I realised for the first time that the lost coin was lost because of neglect. I began to think about people in general and wondered how often we neglect others in our lives to the point that they don’t feel part of society. Then I remembered a verse that my deaf mission president, Derrick Siswick, quoted to his missionaries at a zone conference: “And in that day shall the deaf hear the words of the book, and the eyes of the blind shall see out of obscurity, and out of darkness” (Isaiah 29:18).
From that moment on, I felt that deaf members and investigators can ‘hear’ the gospel in their language. How grateful I am that Bishop Fakatou agreed to have two interpreters for the Solihull Ward’s weekly virtual fireside each Sunday evening.
This is one way of uniting both deaf and hearing members during this lockdown. I plead with everyone to share what they know with deaf members. Tell them of virtual firesides or videos that can uplift. Remember, I relied on hearing members for information, which led me to my story, which I wanted to share with you all. I need you, and you need me. Together we can move forward and build Zion.
My fourth and last miracle was to make it possible for an interpreter and a guest speaker to be present in my weekly ward Zoom meetings for Sunday School, Relief Society and sacrament. That was ‘live’ for the first time on Sunday, 24 January 2021, with David & Jess Templeton’s support.

We can make things happen with the Lord’s help. In Luke 1:37, it says, “For with God nothing shall be impossible.” I know this is true, and I am very grateful for my uplifting experiences during my lockdown. I know that Heavenly Father is mindful of what we are going through. This is a beautiful opportunity to use modern technology to share the gospel of Jesus Christ with everyone.
President Nelson has spoken to us of his great desire to help hasten the Lord’s work in the latter-days. Hasten means to cause something to happen more quickly. Using modern technology will hasten the Lord’s work and help us to work together to make things happen for everyone. However, it is vital to understand that hastening is not just about acceleration and speed. It is also about strengthening.

My falling away from the Church was gradual. It began in the fifth grade, when I met some new friends. We used bad language and got into all the wrong things. Once junior high came around, we entered into all the wrong groups, and by high school, things started to get really bad.
I became really depressed. I was wearing more and more black and kept insisting on thickly layering dark eye makeup. To me, life became something just to get through and not to enjoy. My thoughts were often suicidal, and I had no confidence. I almost completely shelled up. I never really talked to anyone, never told people what was going on. I knew I was loved, but I just didn’t care.
I almost completely fell away from the Church. I say almost because I was never allowed to skip church, and my parents always expected me to take seminary during high school. But I wanted nothing more to do with the gospel or the LDS Church.
My family and loved ones saw this downward spiral, and they tried to help. I often spent time on Sundays in the bishop’s office, and just as many days trying to avoid the bishop. He showed a lot of support and interest in me, looking into the things I believed in so that he could better understand me. My parents kept trying to help, but they didn’t know what to do. There were times when my dad and I were near tears trying to talk about our differences.
During my sophomore year, I hit a turning point when a foreign exchange student from Japan came to live with us. She was a softball player, and she convinced me to play that year. That experience alone did a great deal of good for me. The coach helped me raise my self-esteem, and the experience of belonging to and working on a team gave me the blessed feeling of belonging somewhere.
That summer I went to Japan to stay with the family of our foreign exchange student for five weeks. During my stay, I went four weeks without going to church. Finally, in the very last week, we stopped by the Tokyo Japan Temple to take pictures. In a strange country where the language and customs were so foreign to me, it was the most comforting feeling to finally be in a familiar place. The Spirit there was so strong.
That Sunday we found a ward building, and I attended church. It was amazing to experience sacrament meeting and Sunday School in Japanese, but what hit me most was when I went to Young Women. Seeing those few Japanese girls rise and say the theme, I realized that the gospel was just as strong halfway across the world as it was at home. I knew that many of these members didn’t have the support from friends and family that I did, but they still believed. Again, I felt at home.
Shortly after I returned to Utah, my brother Richard came home from his mission. Rich noticed my struggles and made it apparent that we would be having a lot of talks. He got me to pray with him.
But what really hit home was seminary. My dad found out I wasn’t enrolled for my junior year and was surprised. It wasn’t long before I was called to meet with the seminary principal. It was very nonconfrontational; he just talked to me, conveyed friendship, and expressed concern that I wasn’t enrolled. Finally I agreed to take seminary. I met my teacher, went to class, and that was it. I never skipped and rarely begrudged going.
I’m not sure when the transition took place, but I started to feel comfort. I began to pray regularly again. It was really hard at first, but I stuck with it. I read my scriptures and knew that they spoke truth. Life began to look up. I had more energy, confidence, and ambition. I felt better about the new friends I began associating with. I tried out for plays, immersed myself in my artwork, and started singing again. I tried out for my school’s select choir group and made it. I was no longer the shy, introverted girl I had been for so long.
I was also called to serve on the seminary council, and that was when I knew that I would be okay. If someone had told me a year ago that I would be where I am now, I never would have believed it could happen. I’m a completely different person. And I’m grateful to my friends, family, and teachers, who gave me their love and patience. Their faith in me was the constant in my life that I could always fall back on in my darkest hours. And now I’m so grateful for the gospel. I feel it really has saved my life. If I hadn’t made the turnaround when I did, who knows how far off the path I would have gone. I’m grateful I’ve never had to find out.
The Church is true; I know that with all of my heart and mind. Heavenly Father loves His children, and Jesus Christ is our Savior. Having the restored gospel on earth is one of our greatest blessings, and I pray that someday all of God’s children will come to know the truth and feel the same gratitude and love for Him that I have in my heart.

The story is told that in ancient Rome a group of women were, with vanity, showing their jewels one to another. Among them was Cornelia, the mother of two boys. One of the women said to her, “And where are your jewels?” to which Cornelia responded, pointing to her sons, “These are my jewels.” Under her tutelage, and walking after the virtues of her life, they grew to become Gaius and Tiberius Gracchus—the Gracchi, as they were called—two of the most persuasive and effective reformers in Roman history. For as long as they are remembered and spoken of, the mother who reared them after the manner of her own life will be remembered and spoken of with praise also.

Another important relationship in a family is that between children themselves. Often an older brother or sister will come to the aid of a younger sibling in a show of love and concern. If there is any doubt about love as a divine inheritance, consider a brief Reader’s Digest story shared by Sister Sharon G. Larsen at the recent Young Women conference. The story is about

twin girls, Brielle and Kyrie, who were born prematurely. “They were placed in separate incubators to reduce the risk of infection. Kyrie, the larger sister at two pounds three ounces, quickly began gaining weight and calmly slept. But Brielle, who weighed only two pounds at birth, could not keep up with her.”

Sister Larsen said Brielle’s condition became critical as her oxygen intake plummeted and her heart rate soared. “Then the nurse remembered a procedure she had heard about. The parents consented, and the nurse slipped the squirming baby into the incubator with the bigger sister. No sooner had the door of the incubator closed than Brielle snuggled up to Kyrie and calmed right down. Within minutes Brielle’s blood-oxygen readings were the best they had been since she was born. As she dozed, Kyrie wrapped her tiny arm around her smaller sibling.” [“Protect Families from Anger, Strife,” Church News, 4 April 1998, p. 5]

One might argue that the relationship formed in the womb was the reason why Brielle snuggled up to her sister and why Kyrie wrapped her arm around her smaller twin. Even then, the bonding reflects a divine spark in both children that reaches back into the eternities.

Principle Number 1: In our quest for holy wisdom, we must have the faith to lay our whole selves on the altar.
To echo the words of President Dieter F. Uchtdorf:
To sacrifice means to give something up in favor of something more valuable. . . .
. . . Our sacrifices show what we truly value.1
My parents have acted as a powerful example of this principle. My family decided to immigrate to the United States when I was six years old. At the time, my father worked at an international law firm—which allowed him to practice law in the U.S. with his Australian law degree. Unfortunately, just a few months after we had moved to Utah, the firm was suddenly forced into bankruptcy.

Initially my parents saw this as God closing a door, signaling a return to stable work in Australia. However, after prayer and reflection, they felt guided to remain in Utah. This choice required uprooting our lives, including sending my father to law school for a second time to become eligible to practice in the United States.

Over the next three years, my parents raised five children in a cramped, three-room basement apartment, surviving on meals supplemented with one too many cans of beans. In choosing to follow God’s will, despite discomfort, my parents taught me that no cost is too high to pursue the Lord’s will.
Each of you has incorporated sacrifice into your BYU education, whether it was relinquishing your free hour to crochet hats with Y-Serve or deciding to enroll in a challenging major based solely on revelation. Your sacrifice, like that of my parents, has taught you to love the things the Lord loves. Your sacrifice has purified your hearts, fashioning you into worthy instruments in God’s hands and preparing you to go forth to serve.

As a young man I had the opportunity to serve in the British Mission, which was a seminal, defining event in my life. The influence of a valiant mission president is one of the great miracles of the restored gospel. A few weeks ago I received a birthday card at Church headquarters from a woman I helped teach in Gloucester, England, many years ago. I had lost contact with her. She informed me that she and her husband are both very active members and have 6 children and 20 grandchildren, all born in the covenant. It may be the best birthday card I have ever received.

Here's a test of obedience to the request of a living prophet in Sierra Leone. I quote from an article in the Church News a couple of months back (Peter Evans, CN, Saturday, Jan. 1, 2011.)

"The first converts baptisms in Freetown, Sierra Leone, came in June 1988. By 1990, Mustafa Touray and his family were organized as a home group in Sierra Leone's second largest city. By August 1990, a branch was organized in Bo and Brother Touray was called to preside. Two other groups were meeting in rented buildings.

There was enthusiasm for the growth of the Church, and the saints felt they had finally gained a toehold in this teaming city of ½ million. There was notoriety in the community and recognition by those of other faiths that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints was there to stay.

(Now - notice what happened.) 5 months later, in January 1991, mission president, Miles Cunningham, received a letter from Church President, Ezra Taft Benson, in which he asked the Saints in Bo to abandon their meetinghouses and go back to their homes to worship. The young leaders were very discouraged feeling that the buildings were such an important milestone for the Church in this part of Sierra Leone.

Uniformly, members were disappointed and unhappy about the request. Some members of the infant congregations were offended that the prophet in Utah would give such unwelcome advice. Others were heard to question whether or not the prophet understood their circumstances, and, lacking faith in the Lord's servants, they left the Church (those were not 'saints.' Others felt the stirring of testimony and confirmation of the Spirit, and while they didn't understand why President Benson would ask such a thing, they knew him to be a prophet. President Touray was sad and discouraged, but "recognized that [that saints] had been given a formal commandment, and had to obey. "I realized" he said, "it would be very important for us to obey although I did not know why at the time." The chapel doors were closed.

In March 1991 (2 months later), civil war erupted in Sierra Leone and this little nation became engulfed in a fiery battle that lasted more than a decade. Communities collapsed, infrastructures deteriorated, banks were closed, food was in scarce supply and repeated military coups left uncertainty as to who was a friend or foe. [Here's the point]: Churches were frequently targeted by the rebels with bullets and firebombs, and thousands of people lost their lives while sitting on pews hoping to pray and worship. But the members of the Lord's Church were safe from this harm for they were home -- worshiping in obedience to a prophet's counsel.

President Touray spoke of the miracle that had come to the people because of their obedience. "No member of the Church died in the city of Bo during the war : not one. The LDS Church was the only church that continued operating during the war in Bo : the only one. Every other church closed its doors. It was too dangerous for the people to walk to church and too dangerous to sit and worship. None of us (the Latter-day Saints) had any problem during the war. We worshipped through the whole war no matter how grave the situation was. Because we were obedient, our members received this great blessing."

“I don’t know if I can do this new calling,” Lily whispered to Mom. They were waiting outside the bishop’s office after church.
Lily had just been called as president for her Young Women class. She was excited. But also really scared. She had just turned 11 in December and was the youngest girl in her class. How could she be the president?
Lily looked down at her lap and noticed she had torn up the paper she was holding. She always did that when she was nervous. Little pieces of paper were all over her dress.
“I’ve only been in Young Women for a few months!” Lily said, biting her lip. “I don’t know how to be a leader.”
“It’s OK to be nervous,” Mom said. “But you’ll do great!” She grabbed Lily’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Remember when you took cookies to Amanda?”
Lily nodded. A few months ago, Lily’s friend Amanda was sick with the flu. Lily baked cookies for Amanda and made a big word search for her to do so she wouldn’t be bored.
“Yes,” Lily said. “But what does that have to do with being a good class president?”
Mom helped Lily clean up the torn pieces of paper.
“Because,” she said, “you had a good idea, and you followed through. You care about people. That’s a big part of being a good leader!”
“Really?” Lily asked.
“Really,” Mom said, smiling. “Jesus was the perfect leader because He cared about people and helped them. You can try to do that too.”
Lily grinned. She hadn’t thought of that. She took a deep breath. “Thanks, Mom.”
Bishop Roston stepped out of his office. “Are you ready, Lily?”
She nodded. Together, she and Mom went into the bishop’s office.
Lily sat in a chair while Bishop Roston and his counselor put their hands on her head. They set her apart for her new calling and gave her a blessing. Lily listened carefully to the words.
During the blessing, Bishop Roston told her to always listen to the Spirit and to her heart. He also told her that if she was faithful and prayed to Heavenly Father, He would help her know what to do.
Lily felt peaceful as she heard those words. She knew that feeling was from the Holy Ghost.
After the blessing, Lily shook hands with the bishop and his counselor.
“Lily, you are kind, and you’re capable. You will be able to bless the girls in your class,” Bishop Roston said, smiling.
“Thank you,” Lily said. “I’ll do my best!”
As she turned to leave, Lily noticed a picture of Jesus on Bishop Roston’s desk. I can help people too! she thought.
On the way home, Lily thought of ways she could help the girls in her class. She thought about Suzanne, who had broken her arm on her trampoline last week.
I bet Suzanne could use some love right now, she thought.
“Can I visit Suzanne tonight?” Lily asked Mom. “I have an idea about something I can do for her!”
After all, Lily thought with a smile, that’s what Jesus would do. President Lily was ready to serve!

The youth and adults of the Farmington Utah Stake presented an original musical production about the exasperation leading to the organization of the Primary. Entitled “Oh, Those Boys!”, the musical showed boys killing bats during Sunday School in the attic of the Church. A chorus of young girls sang the pleasures and responsibilities of being “at the end of the row.” (In early Primaries, older, well-behaved children were placed at the end of the row to set an example and control the other children.)

“Oh, Those Boys!” played two nights, and most of the audience went away informed, entertained, and amazed at the job the young people had done.

It was late at night, and the house was dark and quiet. I knelt beside a fold-out camp cot, my bed while visiting at my sister’s house. My arms rested on the rough woolen blanket of the bed, and I closed my eyes, pouring all my effort into a fervent and determined prayer.
I was there because I had to learn the truth. I needed an answer to my prayers.
My search for the truth had begun almost a year before. At that time, I was a senior in high school, active in my own church, and happy with my family and my life. I didn’t know the Lord had greater things in store for me.
My sister and her husband had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. They were filled with missionary zeal and had come to visit us, hoping to share the joy they had found. My family and I were not receptive. We were very happy just as we were. But we did agree to accompany them to the Los Angeles Temple Visitors’ Center for a tour.
That was the beginning for me. The story of Joseph Smith and the translation of the Book of Mormon sounded terribly far-fetched, and yet, I thought, “If this is true, what an incredibly wonderful thing!”
So I decided to do a little research. Throughout that year, in my English class, we were assigned to write a series of research essays on a topic of our choice. I decided to compare and contrast my religion with the Latter-day Saint faith. My research included attending several ward meetings, interviewing members of the Church, reading the Book of Mormon, and writing many letters filled with gospel questions to my sister.
Although I was active in my church, I never felt the personal connection with God that the LDS people I met seemed to possess with such ease. As I spoke with them, I realized it was their understanding of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ that gave them such profound faith. I felt not envy but a great desire to believe and understand that what they testified to me was true.
After eight months, my sister invited me to visit her during my Easter vacation. I agreed, and we spent a week baking and laughing, cleaning and visiting, and discussing gospel principles. I didn’t realize it then, but the Spirit dwelt in that house. I was amazed at her ease in answering my questions. No matter what I asked, no matter how complex, she gave me a good understanding of that principle. I felt her love for me, and I felt God’s love for me. I did not know whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, but I desperately wanted to know.
So there I was, kneeling on the cold, hard floor, my eyes tightly shut, begging the Lord to answer my prayer, to tell me whether Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I felt if I could just know that, then everything else would fall into place. It would follow that he translated the Book of Mormon, that he received the revelations in the Doctrine and Covenants, and that he helped establish the Lord’s Church on the earth.
As I prayed, I felt loving arms surround me. I felt great warmth and joy flood my heart. And I heard a voice in my mind say, “Yes, Joseph Smith is a prophet of God.”
I wept for joy as I knelt there, feeling infinitely important to my Heavenly Father, important enough that He would listen to my stumbling, pleading prayer and answer me with such tenderness and compassion.
Grateful for the answer to my prayer and rejoicing in the truth I had found, I decided to be baptized. The only snag was that I had not had lessons from the missionaries yet. I contacted the missionaries, and they came immediately to teach me. The doctrines of the gospel were “as the dew from heaven distilling” (see Hymns, no. 149). I had not known of the Savior’s great love for me. I felt unworthy and began fervently to repent of the things I had said and done and thought that were out of harmony with the Lord’s teachings.
The change was gradual, but after six weeks of learning and praying and striving, I was baptized. I felt such overpowering joy, such purity as I came out of the water, that I knew my sins were forgiven, and I was worthy to be given the gift of the Holy Ghost.
Although the night I had prayed so fervently was long ago, because I knelt in faith before the Lord and received an answer from Him, I have a great testimony of prayer and of a loving Father in Heaven, a testimony that our Savior lives and loves us and that the Holy Ghost is always there to guide, strengthen, and comfort all who seek Him.

It isn’t fair. It just isn’t fair at all! Raymond thought as he saw his brother, Joey, coming out the back door. Why does he always have to hang around me? He walked quickly around the side of the house, hoping that Joey hadn’t seen him. But Joey followed him and said “Hi, Raymond. Want to play?”
“No,” Raymond answered. “Now go back in the house.” The last thing that Raymond needed was a four-year-old brother tagging along. He turned his back on Joey and walked away.
Joey stood and watched as his big brother walked across the front lawn to the sidewalk. He knew that Raymond was looking for his friends so that they could play baseball. Joey followed him at a distance, a little closer when Raymond crossed the street and knocked on Pete’s door. Pete was Raymond’s best friend. Pete came to the door, and the two older boys set off for the ball diamond at the park. Joey followed along. Pete and Raymond reached the park and met three other friends. As they took their positions on the field, Raymond noticed Joey standing quietly by first base. “Joey, you shouldn’t have followed us! Mom will be worried. Now go home!” he hollered in his maddest, big-brother voice.
Joey stood still. “I can’t go home,” he said quietly. “Mom won’t let me cross the street by myself.”
Raymond knew that he would have to take Joey home. He wanted to stay and play ball with his friends, but he knew how worried his mother would be when she couldn’t find Joey. Grabbing Joey’s hand and pulling him along, he muttered something under his breath.
“What?” said Joey. “I didn’t hear you.”
“I said that you are a horrible little pest. Sometimes I wish that you had never been born!”
As soon as the words were out of Raymond’s mouth, he was sorry. He saw Joey’s soft brown eyes fill with shiny tears. Then he remembered his friends playing ball without him, and he pulled harder on Joey’s arm. “Hurry up!” he scolded. “I don’t want to be stuck with you all day!”
They crossed the street to their house, Raymond pulling and Joey crying.
“There,” Raymond said. “Now, go into the house, like I told you.”
Joey wiped his eyes and went up the walk.
Raymond ran back across the street and down to the park. He took his place in the outfield. At last he was rid of the horrible little pest. But he could still hear his own angry words, “I wish that you had never been born!” His stomach felt funny just remembering them.
The ball came his way. He caught it and threw it back to Pete at home plate. “Easy out!” he yelled.
Pete laughed and tossed the ball up to hit it again. Raymond watched the ball as it made an arc to the other side of the field. In his mind, he heard the words echo, … never been born! “I didn’t really mean it,” Raymond muttered softly. He felt that funny feeling in his stomach again and wondered if Joey knew that he hadn’t meant it.
He continued practicing with his friends, but it wasn’t as much fun as he thought that it would be. He felt more and more uncomfortable. Finally he threw Pete’s mitt to him and yelled, “Gotta go.”
“But we were going to play for another hour or so,” Pete said. “How come you have to go?”
“I just have to go,” Raymond said, and he began running toward home, pausing only to check for cars before he crossed the street. Reaching his house, he hurried to the kitchen, where his mother was getting things out to fix dinner. She looked at him and said, “How was practice?”
“OK, I guess.” He wondered why mothers always looked at you as though they knew what you were thinking. Is it my guilty conscience, or does she know the mean things that I said to Joey this morning? “Where’s Joey?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“In his room, playing, I think.” She sounded as though she didn’t know what had happened, and yet Raymond couldn’t bear to look at her.
He went down the hall to Joey’s room, promising himself that he would play whatever Joey wanted to play. But when he looked into the room, Joey lay curled up on his bed, fast asleep, with his teddy bear in his arms and tearstains on his cheeks.
The things that he had shouted at Joey that morning still echoed in Raymond’s mind as he went to his own room and lay on his bed. He almost wished that he were young enough to have a teddy bear of his own to hug. He wondered what he could do to make things better.
Slipping off the bed and onto his knees, Raymond folded his arms and bowed his head and said, “Heavenly Father, today I said some mean things to Joey. I made him cry. It made me feel bad too. I really didn’t mean what I said. Please help me to know how to make him feel better. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Raymond lay back down on his bed, thinking hard. Finally he knew what he could do. He jumped up, went over to his desk, and searched quickly through the clutter for a pencil and a piece of paper. He drew a picture of a tall boy on one end of the paper. On the other end he drew a picture of a shorter boy. Under the tall boy he wrote Raymond; under the short boy he printed Joey. Each boy was wearing a baseball mitt, and a baseball was in the air between the two boys. When he was finished, he folded the picture and wrote on the outside, “Joey, I love you. Raymond.”
He crept into Joey’s room and laid the note on Joey’s pillow. Then he went back to his own room to wait for Joey to wake up and find the note. Lying there, he whispered a quiet “Thank you” to his Heavenly Father. He felt lighter and happier inside.
In a few minutes Joey walked into his room. “Raymond?” he said in a little voice.
“Hi, pal!” Raymond replied. “I’m sorry I yelled at you before. I didn’t mean what I said. Want to go out in the yard and play catch with me?”
“I thought that you were playing with Pete and the other guys.”
“Well, I was,” said Raymond, “but right now, I want to play ball with my favorite little brother.”

Just last month our youngest son, Chad, went to the temple with a beautiful, worthy young woman to be married for time and all eternity. As he took her hand and knelt at the altar, I looked into the mirrors on either side, and again I wanted to whisper, “Do you understand why it is so important to be clean and pure?” But this time I didn’t have to remind him, because the Spirit did the whispering.
To the youth of the noble birthright, look into the windows of eternity! See yourselves in the Lord’s holy temples. See yourselves living worthy and pure lives. Generations are depending on you! I testify that worthiness is possible because of the redeeming and enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I pray that it may be said of each one of us, “They shall walk with me in white: for they are worthy.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

He began 1838 by taking another missionary trip, but in May he was called back to Kirtland. Joseph Smith and the Twelve had moved to Missouri, so Erastus with about 40 others headed West to join them. He arrived at Far West, Missouri, on August 8, 1838. There, to his joy he found his converted mother and unconverted father who had settled with the Saints in Missouri. He had not seen them since his departure from Vermont two years before. Of Erastus’s ten brothers and sisters, all but two had become Latter-day Saints. His father never accepted baptism.

For a few weeks Erastus lived at the home of Joseph Smith, where he earned board and room by chopping firewood, hauling water, and doing chores. But when hostilities escalated against the Saints, “I was among the defenders of Far West when it was surrounded by government troops, and I laid down my rifle with the rest of the brethren on demand of General Clark, at which time Joseph (Smith) was arrested and put into Liberty Jail.”

I went to a party one night with a group of my closest friends. As we sat laughing, the conversation turned. My friends started to gossip about a young man we all knew who was my friend. The conversation went on for a while with everyone except me agreeing with what was being said. Eventually I had enough. I expressed my feelings that it was wrong for them to belittle this young man.
The room went silent, and no one stood by me. I had never felt so alone in my life than at that moment. Eventually the conversations moved on, but everyone ignored me. I decided to call my mom to come pick me up. Then I announced that I was going home. No one asked questions, and small good-byes were said as I left.
It was hard for me to go against my friends, but I knew that it was the right thing to do. This experience changed my life, and I feel good about my decision to stick up for this young man. I learned that even if you stand alone, you should always do what’s right. Your crowd may not be the crowd you’re meant to be with. It’s better to stand alone and do what’s right than to stand with others doing wrong.

The case of a young man, the father of four children, whom we called upon to speak in a stake conference in eastern Utah, emphasizes the desirability of family traditions, special occasions, and warm family relationships.
On each anniversary of their marriage, this couple planned something special to do. Now they had looked forward as a family to observing their tenth anniversary. The father arranged his vacation to cover that period of time. But suddenly it became necessary for his wife to enter the hospital for surgery. He and the children felt sorry for her because she was in the hospital. At the same time she was sad, thinking that her husband and the children would be disappointed. But when she read the little note that came with a bouquet of flowers, she felt better, for it read: “Sweetheart, ten years with you have seemed like ten days, but ten days without you have seemed like ten years.” Signed, “Bill.”

A few years ago, our family gathered to discuss where we should spend our Christmas vacation within our country. Two of my children—both energetic and outgoing—wanted us to stay in a hotel in Kenema. My wife and I understood their excitement, but we also knew how that choice would affect our savings and limit our ability to extend help to needy family members. Kenema is where many of our extended relatives live and also a place where they value culture. Christmas has always been a time when we try to open our arms to those who may come to visit.
What started as a simple decision soon turned into repeated strain. The children who wanted the hotel stay felt misunderstood; the others felt opposed for thinking differently. Small communication has broken down here. Some days my wife and I felt indecisive, wondering whether we were failing as parents—especially because the conflict was beginning to overshadow the spirit of the holiday.
We prayed and counselled together, searching for a way to honour our children’s desires while also teaching the deeper principle of balancing personal enjoyment with charity. Eventually, we found a middle path: a simple Catholic guesthouse with enough room for all of us, affordable enough to preserve what we needed to bless others, yet still giving the children the feeling of being “away” for the holiday. It was not exactly what anyone originally wanted, but it was something that honoured everyone’s needs.
During that period of tension, I spent many moments on my dialogue. One day, as I prayed, a calm feeling settled over me. A thought entered my mind—gentle but clear. It reminded me of something President D. Todd Christofferson has taught that parents are called not merely to keep peace in the home but to lead their children toward higher principles—and that true discipleship often requires deliberate, loving correction, patient teaching, and choices that reflect eternal priorities rather than momentary desires.
He teaches that families grow stronger when parents guide with purpose, helping children learn to choose what builds faith, unity, and compassion—even when those choices require sacrifice.
Remembering that helped me breathe again. It reminded me that our role was not to please every wish but to guide our children toward Christlike balance—toward understanding that joy, charity, and family unity can and must coexist.
And as we moved forward with love and steady leadership, hearts softened. The arguments faded. And our family grew closer—not just because we found a place to stay but because we learned, together, what President Christofferson teaches so often: that true happiness in families comes when love, sacrifice, and discipleship walk hand in hand.
“Love them first. Teach them second.”
That night, instead of teaching them about obedience or respect, I gathered all of our family and expressed how much we loved them. I shared memories of my childhood, their kindness, and the joy they brought into our home. To my surprise, they softened. One of them began to appreciate sharing gifts and coordinating plans to assist when the opportunity arises. Our family grew stronger not by avoiding conflict but by facing it with love and the help of the Lord.

As a freshman at Brigham Young University–Idaho (then Ricks College), I missed my family. But after a few months of classes, I had settled into college life and was enjoying myself. When the telephone call came, I was in my apartment, studying.
“Christy, I have some bad news for you,” my mother said, her voice breaking. “Your father passed away tonight from a severe heart attack.”
Emotions flooded over me as I tried to comprehend what I had just heard. I had seen my father only a few days before, but I had no idea it would be for the last time. Dad’s death was a shock to our entire family; it was also a shock to my home ward. Dad was only 53 years old, and he was serving as our bishop.
The days that followed were filled with visits and phone calls from family, friends, ward members, and neighbors. We felt a tremendous outpouring of love from those around us. At Dad’s funeral, family members shared memories of our life with him, and we testified of the plan of salvation and of life after death.
Dad had been a faithful husband, a devoted Latter-day Saint, an avid Scouter, and a wonderful father. Many people were blessed because of the life he had lived. After the funeral my oldest brother dedicated the grave, and as a family we stood and sobbed through “I Am a Child of God” (Hymns, no. 301).
The day after the funeral I returned to school. I wasn’t thrilled to be back, but I knew I had to go on with life and fulfill my responsibilities. Some days were easier than others. I spent a lot of time thinking about my father, and I relied on my knowledge of the plan of salvation and my faith in Jesus Christ to help me face my challenges and questions.
About two weeks after my father passed away, I took my journal to a chapel on campus to record my feelings and the events surrounding Dad’s death. As I wrote, I felt the Spirit so strongly that I had an overwhelming assurance that my Heavenly Father loved me, that He had a plan specifically for me, and that I would never be left alone. As I finished writing, bells sounded from speakers atop the nearby student center playing the hymn “I Know That My Redeemer Lives” (Hymns, no. 136). Words from the hymn instantly came to my mind:
I know that my Redeemer lives.
What comfort this sweet sentence gives!
He lives, he lives, who once was dead.
He lives, my ever-living Head. …
He lives to silence all my fears.
He lives to wipe away my tears.
He lives to calm my troubled heart.
He lives all blessings to impart.
I do know that my Redeemer lives, and I know He loves me. Because He rose from the dead, I know that my father and all of our loved ones who have gone before us will also live again. What a comfort it is to know these truths.