Gospel Story Finder

Although Virgilio gave up his governorship to stay true to his testimony, he was able to pass on another legacy to the next generation: that of serving the people by establishing the gospel among them. He lived to see Wilson serve a full-time mission and then return to Guayacana to marry his wife, Ruth, and have children. Some years later, Virgilio died faithful in the Church. His wife, Maria Juana Apa, has lived to witness their son’s calling, in 2014, to serve as branch president in Guayacana.

Dora Valencia, who had lain four years in the Ajax Ontario Hospital, mustered her courage and fulfilled the desire to attend. From her hospital bed, which was wheeled into the celestial room, she not only basked in the spirit found there, but she also helped to provide that spirit. As I walked past her, upon leaving the room, and gazed at her expression of profound gratitude to the Lord, I bent low and took her hand in mine. Heaven was very near.

Jimmy Stewart stars in “Mr. Krueger’s Christmas” this Christmas season, a television special produced by the Church and featuring the Tabernacle Choir. The half-hour program is directed by Kieth Merrill, the Mormon movie director who won an Oscar for “The Great American Cowboy.” Jimmy Stewart plays Mr. Kreuger, a widowed custodian preparing to spend a lonely Christmas by himself until he’s interrupted by Yuletide carolers.

“What made it impossible for me not to do this program was that I would have the privilege of directing the Mormon Tabernacle Choir,” said Mr. Stewart. “I’ve been an absolutely devoted fan of the Tabernacle Choir for many, many years. This is one of the greatest honors I’ve ever had.” To find out how Mr. Kreuger’s Christmas turns out, check your local television listings for December.

Let’s start a secret club,” said Goose.
“What a good idea!” exclaimed Squirrel. “Who will be in the secret club?”
“That will be the secret,” said Goose. “Anyone with feathers may be in our club.” Goose ruffled her snow-white feathers.
“Oh,” said Squirrel. He shook his long tail.
Goose smiled. “Anyone with feathers or a long tail may be in our club,” said Goose.
“Good,” said Squirrel. “Let’s tell my friend Turtle.” They went off to find Turtle.
“Hello, Turtle,” said Squirrel. “This is my friend Goose. We have a secret club.”
“Terrific!” said Turtle. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose and I,” Squirrel replied.
“And anyone with feathers or a long tail.”
“Oh,” said Turtle. She pulled her head into her shell.
Squirrel looked at Goose. They smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell may be in our secret club,” said Squirrel.
“That’s fine,” said Turtle. “Let’s tell my friend Dog.” They all went off to find Dog.
“Hello, Dog,” said Turtle. “These are my friends Goose and Squirrel. We have a secret club.”
“Do you?” said Dog. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose and Squirrel and I,” said Turtle. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell.”
“Oh,” barked Dog. He looked at his own short tail.
Turtle looked at Squirrel and Goose. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks may be in our secret club,” said Turtle.
“Good,” barked Dog. “Let’s tell my friend Frog.” They all went off to find Frog.
“Hello, Frog,” said Dog. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, and Turtle. We have a secret club.”
“Really?” asked Frog. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and I,” Dog answered. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks,” explained Dog.
“Oh,” said Frog. He stuck out his tongue and caught a fly.
Dog looked at Goose, Squirrel, and Turtle. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks or eats flies,” said Dog.
“Fine,” said Frog, swallowing the fly. “Let’s tell my friend Rabbit.” They all went off to find Rabbit.
“Hello, Rabbit,” said Frog. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and Dog. We have a secret club.”
“Really?” said Rabbit. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and I,” said Frog. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks or eats flies.”
“Oh,” said Rabbit. She twitched her long ears.
Frog looked at Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, and Dog. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, or has long ears,” said Frog.
“Super!” cried Rabbit. “Let’s tell my friend Pig.” They all went off to find Pig.
“Hello, Pig,” said Rabbit. “These are my friends Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and Frog. We have a secret club.”
“You do?” asked Pig. “Who’s in it?”
“Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, Frog, and I,” said Rabbit. “And anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, or has long ears,” said Rabbit.
“Oh,” said Pig. He rolled over in the mud.
Rabbit looked at Goose, Squirrel, Turtle, Dog, and Frog. They all smiled.
“Anyone with feathers, a long tail, or a shell, or anyone who barks, eats flies, has long ears, or likes to roll in the mud,” said Rabbit. She was out of breath!
“Perfect,” said Pig. “Let’s tell my friend—”
“Wait a minute,” interrupted Goose.
“Remember, this is a secret club. Does your friend have feathers?”
“No,” said Pig, “she doesn’t have feathers.”
“Or a long tail?” asked Squirrel.
Pig shook his head.
“Does she have a shell?” asked Turtle.
“No,” Pig replied.
“Does she bark?” barked Dog.
“No, she doesn’t,” said Pig.
“Then she must eat flies,” said Frog.
“Never,” said Pig wearily.
“Well, does she have long ears?” asked Rabbit.
“No,” answered Pig, “her ears are very small. She doesn’t like to roll in the mud either.” Pig looked sadly at his friend Rabbit as he brushed some mud from his nose. “But she’s still my friend,” Pig said at last.
Rabbit twitched her long ears at her friend Frog.
Frog ate a fly that buzzed around his friend Dog.
Dog barked softly at his friend Turtle.
Turtle poked her head way out of her shell to look at her friend Squirrel.
Squirrel shook his bushy tail at his friend Goose.
Goose pulled a long white feather from her tail and gave it to Pig. They smiled at each other.
“Pig knows the secret of this club,” said Goose. “It’s not feathers, tails, shells, barking, flies, ears, or mud. The secret is friendship.”
And they all went off to find Pig’s friend.

“Another of my classmates studied for a long time and had a testimony, but she didn’t want to be baptized because she was afraid of water. She couldn’t imagine standing in the baptismal font. So we prayed and decided she should try her faith. The baptismal date was set. Even the day before she was still scared. So we prayed again. About 11:00 P.M. that night, she called me to say she had found peace about it and would be baptized.

The little girl’s black hair was as shiny as patent leather, and her bright ebony eyes seemed to hardly ever blink. She was always so busy examining something, turning it upside down or inside out, that blinking seemed a waste of time.
Lynette Wood was her name, but she preferred being called Ettenyl. People laughed and nodded tolerantly at one another. And her mother humored her when she remembered to, which wasn’t very often. “What’s that you said your name was?” she would ask. Why couldn’t they remember? Lynette wondered, then decided that there was nothing to be done except to answer to both names. Once in a while even Lynette forgot, especially when she was involved with turning something inside out.
“Lynette! Lynette! I’ve called you to supper five times! If I have to call again, I’m going to give your share to the dog!” her mother threatened.
“You didn’t call me by my name,” Ettenyl muttered, but she hurried inside, anyway.
The little girl was usually happy. Her mother let her take clocks apart, and she laughed when Ettenyl made sand buckets into hats. When she built towers that tottered on one small block with six across the top, her father said that she was smart. Every time she turned around to look, the shapes of things changed. If she walked backward and watched, the trees changed colors and got smaller.
When the leaves grew scarlet and her mother said, “Lynette, it’s time for you to go to school,” Ettenyl was excited and a little scared.
Her teacher, Miss Morris, had beautiful, flowing, golden hair. It fell across her eyes, and great blue circles peered through like discs on a magic screen. Ettenyl was so enchanted that she forgot to answer a question that the teacher had asked her. The teacher frowned and pushed away the golden curtain. Her voice slashed at the little girl. Ettenyl’s stomach tightened up and tried to run away inside her body. She caught her stomach and sat very still with her hands pressed against it.
The next day Ettenyl was determined to do better. She labored hard over the paper, printing her name. Try as she might, she could not get the pencil to make the lovely round circles. Finally she got all the letters copied. She was the last one to finish, but her last letter was the best circle that she had ever made.
“That’s very good, Lynette,” her teacher said, “but this last letter isn’t quite right. Your last name is Wood.” The teacher pointed to Ettenyl’s “perfect” little circle and said, “You have written Woob.” She corrected it with a big, red mark.
Ettenyl’s stomach revolted. She sat still and tight.
The teacher held out a pencil and said, “Please write the d correctly at the end of your name.”
Ettenyl couldn’t move; her hands were stiff from holding her stomach.
“Lynette, please take the pencil.”
She took the pencil and drew a straight line.
“Good. Now put the circle on it.”
Ettenyl bit her lip, and she managed to draw a squarish circle.
“No, Lynette. That’s a b. Your name ends with a d, like this.” The teacher demonstrated.
Ettenyl spent the rest of the week trying to do it right. But each time that she tried, Miss Morris looked so disappointed that Ettenyl started to cry, and the children teased her about it on the playground.
The following week Miss Morris asked Ettenyl’s mother to come to school for a conference after classes were over.
“Don’t look like that, Lynette,” her mother said. “I’m just going to talk with her. Lots of parents visit with their children’s teachers at school.”
Ettenyl went home and waited and waited. Just when she thought that she couldn’t stand it any longer, she noticed the rocket plane that she had made the day before. She had tossed it into the air to make it fly, and now it leaned at a rakish angle against the table leg. Suddenly she had an idea. If she removed the tips of the wings, turned the body on end, and stuck the wings on the bottom, it would be a robot. She was so engrossed with her project that she didn’t notice when her mother came home.
Every night after that, Ettenyl’s mother helped her read and write. Sometimes it took so long that her mother bit her lip angrily. Ettenyl’s stomach hurt, and she hated going to school. The letters floated like the noodles in her alphabet soup. She burst into tears.
“Lynette! Stop crying! You can’t do anything if you cry!” Her mother was cross. Ettenyl cried louder. “Why are you crying?”
“I can’t read. I’m stupid!” she blubbered soggily.
“Oh, Lynette, you’re not stupid. Reading is very hard work,” her mother comforted her.
“You’re mad at me.”
“I’m impatient. Being patient is hard work for me just like reading is hard work for you.”
Ettenyl had an idea. “If you have to help me read, then I can help you to be patient,” she offered.
“That’s a good idea!” her mother agreed.
They worked and worked and worked, and finally Ettenyl put the letters in the right order, even though she knew that there were other ways to see them. After reading, Ettenyl turned her toys inside out. She learned to make one toy into a helicopter, a boat, and even a funny-looking person.
“That’s wonderful!” her mother laughed. “What is it?”
“It’s a ‘twistup.’ I can twist it all up—see?”
As Ettenyl grew up, she invented more twistups, and she became a famous toy maker by turning things inside out and upside down for happy children. Grown-up Ettenyl called herself Lynette and almost forgot her old name. Eventually she married and had a fine son, Kevin, who had shiny black hair and bright eyes that almost never blinked. She read him stories and turned him upside down until he squealed with delight. One day she took Kevin river-rafting. They loved bouncing and swirling in the rushing water, but no matter how she tried, they always went through the biggest rapids backward.
“I can’t see where we’re going,” Kevin complained.
“That’s the way Ettenyl would do it,” his mother answered.
“Who?” he asked.
She just smiled mysteriously and said, “Wasn’t it fun that way? Hold on tight!”
They laughed together as they swooshed backward through another wall of foamy water.

Ron Rasband never doubted that he would serve a full-time mission. The only question the 19-year-old had while opening his mission call was where he would serve.
“My dad went on a mission to Germany. My older brother went on a mission to Germany. My future brother-in-law went on a mission to Germany,” he recalls. “I thought I was going to Germany.”
But the Lord had other plans. Ron had been called, instead, to the Eastern States Mission, headquartered in New York City, USA. Disappointed, he took his call to his bedroom, knelt by his bed, said a prayer, randomly opened his scriptures, and began reading:
“Behold, and lo, I have much people in this place, in the regions round about; and an effectual door shall be opened in the regions round about in this eastern land.
“Therefore, I, the Lord, have suffered you to come unto this place; for thus it was expedient in me for the salvation of souls” (D&C 100:3–4; emphasis added).
Immediately, the Holy Ghost confirmed to Ron that his call to the Eastern States Mission was no mistake.
“I went from being disappointed to having my first of many scriptural impressions that this is where the Lord wanted me to go,” he recalls. “That was a pivotal spiritual experience for me.”

Memories of a very special Christmas gift presented to me ten years ago are still among the most inspiring and meaningful of my life.
I had the good fortune to be a volunteer teacher at a home for mentally retarded children, where my duties included helping the children with their normal daily routines, teaching music, reading to the children, and creating various forms of recreation. As I grew to know and love these special children, I realized that a very important part of their lives was being neglected, and that was when I began to teach the gospel to the most receptive and eager group of students I have ever known.
My eight students, who ranged in age from eight to sixteen, were so excited to learn about Jesus Christ that it was very difficult for me to control their enthusiasm. A whole new world was opening up to them, and despite their various capacities to learn, they did learn and respond, each in his own way. There was one exception, however, and his name was Freddy.
Freddy was fourteen years old, mildly retarded and severely emotionally disturbed. He had been abandoned when he was very young, as had many of the children at the home, and outside the people who lived or worked at the home, no one really cared about Freddy. This was the reason I allowed Freddy to become a member of the class, even though he was the center of every disruption imaginable. At times I felt like sending him out of the class, but I knew that rejection was not the answer to Freddy’s problems, so the class endured the situation.
It disturbed me that I was not able to get through to my little troublemaker. While the rest of my class had a concept of Jesus Christ, Heavenly Father, and what they represented, Freddy seemed oblivious to the whole thing. Each week it was my practice to present each child with a Bible verse that he could understand. While most of the children could not read, each one received a copy of the scripture to place among his personal belongings, so he could look at it or read it every day. Many times I would have the children draw pictures to represent the verse I had given them, and if they were not able to draw, I created something visual to correspond to the verse. Most of the children hung their verses and pictures above their beds so they could be reminded of it as they offered their evening prayer, which was a requirement in my class. Each time I gave Freddy his verse, he would tear it up in front of me. All in all it was very frustrating for me because I knew that Freddy was not as severely retarded as many of his classmates but he couldn’t or wouldn’t learn.
Seeking a solution to Freddy’s disruptions, I tried many forms of creative discipline, but nothing seemed to affect him. At times I had the urge to just shake him, but that would have accomplished nothing. Freddy was surely putting me to the test, and I was failing. I was running out of answers, I had already run out of patience, and I was beginning to seriously consider removing Freddy from the class.
As Christmas was approaching, I explained to my children the true meaning of Christmas. They were curious and very receptive. All except Freddy. Several days before Christmas, the entire home held a party for everyone: staff, volunteers, students, parents, and anyone else who wanted to come.
As the party progressed, I noticed Freddy was not to be seen. I searched for him and found him in his room, laboring over a very crumpled, worn-looking package that he was obviously wrapping by himself. I left him to his task and returned to the party. Shortly after, Freddy approached me and threw the package in my lap and ran away. When I opened the package, I found the most beautiful gift I have ever received. It was a ragged piece of coarse fabric, hand sewn at the top, with a piece of cork glued in the middle. It was a wall hanging, and the cork in the middle was to be used to tack the weekly Bible verse to. I was told that Freddy worked three months on the gift and the design was his own idea. It was indeed a labor of love, sacrifice, and above all patience, because I knew the frustrations Freddy must have suffered while making it. I also knew that in his own way Freddy understood what I had been trying to teach him, and in some ways, he understood even better than I.
Freddy now lives with our Heavenly Father, and with few exceptions, I am sure that he has been forgotten on earth. The gift he gave me still hangs in my home as it always will. It is a little older and much more tattered, but as I look at it I see Freddy and remember the sacrifice he made to teach me the virtue of patience. When I feel frustrated or want to give up, Freddy is there, gently nudging me to go on.
Freddy’s Christmas gift has changed my life, and the lesson it taught is deep within my heart. I am so very grateful to have had that very precious child as my teacher.

Prophet loved music. He especially loved Primary songs and Church hymns. He hummed the tunes all day long. He imagined himself sitting at a piano, playing his favorite songs. He also imagined himself teaching other people how to play.
There was just one problem. He didn’t have a piano.
One day Prophet had an interview with his bishop.
“Have you set any goals for the Children and Youth program?” the bishop asked.
“Yes,” Prophet said. “I want to learn to play the piano.”
“That is a good goal,” the bishop said.
“And when I reach that goal,” Prophet said, “then I have another goal. I want to teach 20 other people how to play.”
“You have two good goals,” the bishop said.
“And I have a problem,” Prophet said. “I don’t have a piano.”
“Well, let us see what we can do.”
At church the next Sunday, the bishop told Prophet that he had found a missionary couple who could teach him. They would bring piano keyboards for him and others to practice on. They wanted to teach lots of people how to play the piano.
The bishop talked to people. Prophet talked to people. Prophet’s family talked to people. Soon the whole ward was talking about piano lessons. So were others.
“Many of my friends who are not members also want to learn,” Prophet told the bishop.
“They are welcome, of course,” the bishop said. “The missionaries will give you a book and help you learn the lessons. And after you learn, you can help them teach everyone else.”
“That is my second goal!” Prophet said.
Soon Prophet was practicing with the missionaries. He loved learning what each of the notes meant and hearing them come together to make a song. Two of his friends from church, Kelvin and Alexander, were also learning. After a month, all three boys started teaching too.
Every day, the boys taught keyboard classes at the Church building. At first there were about 10 students, then 20, then 50!
“This is fun!” Kelvin said one day when class was over.
“I think Heavenly Father is happy because we are helping others to learn,” Alexander said.
Prophet nodded. His goal was already helping so many people.
But there was something else that made Prophet happy. As the other students practiced the Primary songs, they were also learning about Heavenly Father. Some of them asked Prophet if they could learn more about the Church.
And in fact, some of the people who first learned about the Church because of piano lessons ended up getting baptized.
“Now in meetings,” Prophet says, “we all join together and sing the songs we love.”
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My long road to become a doctor of medicine was only the beginning. After that came years of hospital work, research, specialty training, and certifying examinations. Then followed many years of teaching, service, and the challenges of the newly emerging field of open-heart surgery, all of which brought me to a profound reverence for the structure and function of the human body. I was convinced that its creation was divine.

On the day of my baptism, I felt clean, pure, and truly perfect. I loved the feeling so much that I made a goal to stay perfect forever. I will never sin again, I told myself.
Fast-forward one day.
I wanted to play with my big sister’s new Barbie doll, but she wouldn’t let me, no matter how hard I tried to convince her. So, in a rage that made me forget my goal to remain sin-free, I grabbed a pair of scissors while she wasn’t looking and cut off all her doll’s hair.
Admittedly, I was somehow under the impression that the doll’s hair would grow back. But as I sat looking at all the synthetic hairs piled in my lap, I felt the sting of having ruined my newly perfected life.
When my sister found out, she was furious. My parents explained to me that the doll’s hair would not grow back. Guilt and regret overwhelmed me as I watched my sister cry at the sight of her forever-bald doll.
With a little time and a lot of apologizing on my part, my sister forgave me. But I still never forgot how disappointed I felt for having given up my perfect life all too quickly.
As painful as it was as an eight-year-old to realize I made a mistake the day after my baptism, Heavenly Father provided a way for me to repent. Through the Savior’s perfect example and sacrifice, we can overcome our sins and make good choices that bring us blessings.

The Church also played a role for Brandi Hadfield, 17, of the Denver Colorado North Stake, in getting started in the theater. When she was younger, she participated in a ward road show. “I felt silly at rehearsals,” she says. “It was a silly part. But when the lights went up, my heart beat, and I did awesome. I loved that feeling, so I decided to try out for more.”

Since then she has performed in several school and community productions. And, she explains, she had a secret weapon that once helped her land a leading role in a musical—Primary. “They auditioned four different girls and looked for who was the most confident singing. I was picked for the lead, I think, because I had been singing for years in Primary.”

Anyone passing the cottage of Emrys Davis on that autumn evening would have stopped to smell the aroma that was coming from the chimney. It was different from the usual smell of coal smoke. If they could have looked inside they would have seen an incident almost beyond belief.
But first, let us get acquainted with Mr. Emrys Davis. He was born and still lived in a little Welsh village that has a name that only Welshmen can pronounce. His life was quite simple. He worked as a clerk at a nearby colliery (coal mine), and several evenings a week he would visit the local pub and indulge in a pint of beer and watch his fellow villagers play billiards or throw darts.
There were other evenings when he stayed home and read his Bible, for deep inside Emrys Davis was a religious man. He had been approached on one occasion by the minister of a local church and invited to become a member. He had refused and had embarrassed the minister by saying that his sermons were pure “posh” and did not agree with the scriptures. That was several years ago and there had been no further invitations.
A tragedy had come into his life when his beloved wife of just two years had died at childbirth. Somehow, he could not bring himself to believe that he and Gwyneth whom he loved so well were separated forever.
Then one evening, as he was sitting by his fireside reading his Bible, a knock came at his door. Upon answering he faced two young men. Before he could even ask what they wanted, one of them said, “We are missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We would like to tell you of our church and doctrines.”
Emrys Davis was about to close the door in their faces, thinking to himself that their teachings would probably be more “posh,” when he took a second look at these young men. There was something different about them that he could not quite understand. He saw in their faces truthfulness, sincerity and courage.
Going against his stubborn Welsh background, he heard himself say, “Come on in.” As the flames from the fire reflected on their faces, these two young men unfolded for him a story that made his Bible come to life. What he thought would be just more “posh” was something that touched the chords of his whole being. At midnight the young men left with a sincere invitation from Emrys to return.
A few evenings later they returned and continued the gospel discussions. Then came that magical evening when the prayer of his heart was answered. The missionaries explained to him the law of eternal marriage, that he and his departed wife could be reunited through accepting and following the teachings of the gospel and by being sealed in the temple of the Lord.
His very soul seemed to come alive, and he knew he had found the truth. However, there was one encumbrance before he could be baptized: he loved his tobacco. The beer at the pub would be no problem, but through the years he had collected a variety of pipes for smoking. There were briars, meerschaums, and pipes from many different lands. They were part of his life.
He had requested baptism, but now he wondered if he had the courage to overcome this part of his life. Over his mantle were those pipes in a glass case. They looked down on him like an idol seeking worship.
That night he kneeled by his bedside and prayed for an answer. When the morning light broke over the Welsh hills, his answer came. The Lord had said through his prophet that tobacco was not good for man and that the Spirit of God would not dwell in an unclean tabernacle.
The next Sunday after sacrament meeting, Emrys Davis invited the members of his branch to his cottage. He had made Welsh cakes and lemonade, and after the refreshments were served, he asked for the attention of his guests.
“For some time,” he said, “I have faced a difficult problem, but tonight as we sang the closing hymn, the solution came to me. We sang, ‘Sacrifice brings forth the blessings of heaven.’” He then explained the problem of the pipes.
When he was through, he reached above the mantle and took down the case of pipes. One by one he dropped them into the fire and watched them being devoured by the flames.
On each side of him stood the missionaries and in back were the branch members. Outside the air was scented with briar and meerschaum, but inside was the Spirit of God.

Helen gazed through the window as the snow swirled outside, and shivered. “Brrr, Mama, it’s cold!” she said. She thought about Daddy, who was out working at whatever job he could find on this cold, windy day. “I hope Daddy is all right.”
“I’m sure he will be fine,” Mama said. “Come help me finish kneading this bread before your sister wakes from her nap.”
Helen climbed on a chair and watched Mama push, pound, and roll the ball of dough. She looked over at the beans that had been boiling on the stove all morning, and frowned.
Mama saw her frown and said, “Helen, we are lucky Daddy has work so we have food. And I have a secret,” she whispered. Helen moved closer.
“I have raisins, walnuts, and a little honey for our leftover dough. Let’s make cinnamon rolls!”
“A Christmas gift for Daddy!” Helen said, clapping her hands. Together they rolled the dough and spread the honey. Helen carefully placed each raisin and walnut as Mama sprinkled cinnamon.
Then Mama said, “Let’s go to the barn while we’re waiting for the rolls to rise and see if the chickens laid any eggs.”
The wind whistled around them as they ran to the barn. When Mama finished placing the last egg into a basket, Helen counted each one. “Nine eggs, Mama!”
When they got inside, Helen checked the cinnamon rolls. “Look! They’re perfect,” she said as Mama placed them in the oven.
Then they heard a knock at the door.
“Who could that be?” Mama asked.
Helen followed Mama and hid behind her skirt as Mama opened the door. Behind it stood a tired-looking woman holding a couple of red wooden chairs. Helen peeked out from behind Mama.
The woman stepped forward. “I’m selling these little red chairs for one dollar each,” she said.
Helen let go of Mama’s skirt and touched one of the chairs. She thought how she and her sister would love those chairs. Something behind the woman caught Helen’s eye. A daddy and little children were waiting in an old truck.
Mama wiped her hands on her apron and invited the woman inside. “With these hard times, I don’t have any money to give you,” Mama said. “But I will make you a Christmas trade.”
Mama picked up the basket of eggs and added potatoes to it. Then she took out a clean bucket and filled it with the cooked beans. Helen’s heart felt warm as Mama took out a hot loaf of bread and put it in the basket.
“Thank you,” the woman said softly.
Helen smiled at the woman. The woman put down the red chairs as Mama put a finger over her lips, “This is our Christmas secret, Helen.”
Tears rolled down the woman’s face as she walked with Mama to the door and they wished each other “Merry Christmas.”
On Christmas morning Helen and her sister each unwrapped a little red chair. One leg on Helen’s was a little shorter than the other three. “Look, my very own rocking chair!” This had been the very best Christmas.

Seminary students in the Palo Verde and Santa Rita areas of Tucson, Arizona, used an unusual method of tracking their progress in seminary. Instead of the usual charts or contests to gauge progress, they created a mosaic of the First Vision; every time someone bore their testimony of the First Vision, they added another tiny piece to the over 2,000 pieces that made the final project.
“I never thought this would look like anything,” says seminary student Amanda Gomez, “but we did it; we came together and we did it.”
The project was so large that some students doubted it would ever get done. Although it took an entire school year to complete the mosaic, the students agreed the final project was worth the time it took.
“This is beautiful,” said Melanie Raehl, another student in the group.

The members of the youth committee of the Little Rock Arkansas Stake wanted to fellowship and get acquainted with the Special Interests and Young Special Interests in their stake. They planned an evening dinner and program, but first the Special Interests were invited to attend the Super Saturday seminary lesson.
Over 230 youth, chaperones, and Special Interests attended and enjoyed the dinner the youth prepared and served as well as the talent show, skits, and readers’ theater.

Spiritually: I decided to say my prayers frequently and fervently, study the scriptures more often and be consciously engaged in family history work. I have been able to complete my family tree to the ninth generation and have extended it to my in-laws. Now my family tree is as large as an obeche tree. I feel closer to Heavenly Father and the Saviour Jesus Christ as I involve my family in prayers and scripture study. Also, I needed to minister more to not only my assigned sisters but also to everyone around me.

Seven years ago, Kathy and I met Diego Gomez and his beautiful family in Salt Lake City. They attended a temple open house with us but graciously declined our invitation to learn more about the Church. This past May, I received a surprising telephone call from Diego. Events in his life had led him to his knees. He had found the missionaries on his own, taken the discussions, and was ready for baptism. This past June 11, I walked into the waters of baptism with my friend and fellow disciple Diego Gomez. His conversion had its own timetable and came with the help and support of many who reached out to him as “witnesses of God.”

During the next week and a half, our team worked hard to get ready for the regional games. If we won all our games there, we’d be playing three games Friday and two Saturday.
Friday I woke up to a gray, overcast sky. “You don’t think it will rain, do you?” I asked Dad as we drove the hour and a half to Bakersville, where the games were to be played.
“The clouds will just make it nice and cool,” Dad said optimistically.
But Dad was wrong. It rained off and on all Friday and Saturday. Games were delayed and schedules were changed. By late Saturday evening, we were just finishing the semifinal game. At the end of regulation time, our team was tied with the Tunis Tigers. We didn’t give up, though. We hung in there two more innings, neither team able to get the advantage over the other one. Then, with two outs and Bobby Simms on second, I hit a single to right field. The right fielder overthrew the third baseman, and Bobby raced into home to score.
After all the celebrating, the coach gathered us around him. “Well, guys, one more game and we’re regional champs!”
“When do we play?” Chad asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon. The weather’s supposed to be good all day.”
“Tomorrow?” I asked. “Tomorrow’s Sunday.”
Coach Decker shrugged. “It’s too late to play tonight, so it was decided to play Sunday afternoon.”
I felt sick. Nobody else seemed to care that we were going to be playing on Sunday.
“The game starts at 2:00 P.M.” Coach said. “I’d like you here no later than noon. That will give us some time to warm up and get ready for the game. Any questions?” He looked around. I just stood there, feeling sick inside.
As the group broke up, Coach Decker slapped me on the back. “Don’t look so glum, Marcus. We’re one game from the championship! You’re not nervous, are you? You’re going to pitch us to the championship.”
“Do we have to play on a Sunday?”
Coach Decker laughed. “No, Marcus, we get to play on Sunday.”
“I have church tomorrow,” I said quietly.
“Church?” Coach’s smile began to fade. “Marcus, this is the championship. You can go to church any Sunday. But this is the only time you’re ever going to play this game. Now you head home and get a good night’s sleep.”
Slowly I turned and headed to where Mom and Dad were waiting for me on the bleachers. Looking at their faces, I knew that they had heard about the Sunday game. They waited for me to speak. I was quiet until we got to the car.
“Church starts at 8:30,” I remarked. “It’ll be over at 11:30.” I wet my lips. “I’d be a little late getting here for the warm-ups and all, but we could still go to church. I’d be able to give my talk in Primary.”
Mom and Dad were quiet for a moment. Then Dad said, “Do you feel good about that?”
“Dad, I didn’t plan for this game to be on Sunday. That’s just the way things turned out. If it only hadn’t rained these last two days, we’d have played the championship game tonight. I have to pitch in that game. The team’s depending on me. We’ll lose if I don’t. Tony’s the backup pitcher, and he just can’t do the job. I just have to play.”
“It’s a tough decision,” Mom commented, looking out the car window as we headed for home. “You have to make sure you do the right thing.”
“I’ll be going to church,” I argued. “Isn’t that what Sundays are for?”
“Is that the only thing Sundays are for?” Dad questioned gently.
“That’s the main thing.”
Dad took a deep breath. “The Lord has asked us to keep His day holy. We’re to worship Him. Not just when we’re at church, but all day. It’s a day of rest from our labors.”
“Playing this game isn’t work. It’s play.”
“Marcus, as a family we’ve always been careful about what we do on the Sabbath, haven’t we?”
I nodded slowly.
“Sunday has always been a special day for us. That’s the way the Lord intended it to be. That’s why we don’t go to movies or shop on Sundays. We’re careful to not do some of the things that we do on other days of the week.”
“But I can’t play this game any other day of the week. I would if I could, but I can’t. Do you think it’s fair that I let Coach Decker and the other guys on the team down? I owe them something.”
“Do you owe the Lord anything? You made a commitment when you were baptized to obey His commandments. That was long before you ever agreed to pitch for the Chiefs.”
“But, Dad—”
“Marcus,” Dad cut me off, holding up his hand. “I’m not going to tell you that you can’t play tomorrow. This will be a decision that you make. But you need to think about what you’re doing.”
“It’s just going to be one time, Dad. One time can’t hurt. Besides, the Lord has helped me get as far as I have this season. That’s what I was going to say in my Primary talk. Did He help me all this time just so I could sit home and not play in the biggest game of the season?”
“Marcus,” Dad spoke again, “do you know what a covenant is?”
“Isn’t it like a promise?”
“That’s right. But it’s a special promise between you and the Lord. Did you know that keeping the Sabbath holy is part of the covenant you made at baptism? The Lord has asked us to keep the Sabbath holy. How well we do it shows how faithful we are at keeping His commandments. And He has covenanted that He will bless us if we keep His Sabbath holy.”
“But I’ve kept the Sabbath holy,” I argued again. “This is just one time.”
“Maybe this is the time the Lord is testing you to see how faithful you will be. Was it easy to keep the Sabbath holy last week?”
“Yes. It was just like any other Sunday.”
“So if the Lord really wanted to know how obedient you are, which Sunday would show Him that, last week or tomorrow?”
We didn’t say anything the rest of the way home. I did a lot of thinking, though. I thought about the other guys. I thought about Coach. I thought about the championship trophy.
Then I started thinking about the Lord, my family, Bishop Peterson, and everyone else who was depending on me to make the right decision. I thought of the things the Lord had given me. He hadn’t ever asked for much in return. Now it was my turn to give something back. I thought of what I could offer Him. Deep inside I knew He wouldn’t care much about my giving Him a championship trophy. The only thing I could really give the Lord was the way I lived my life—show Him that He could count on me, no matter what.
I offered a silent prayer, asking the Lord to help me know what to do and to have the courage to do it. It was funny, but after that prayer, there was no question in my mind.
“I’ll need to call Coach Decker,” I said quietly as we pulled into the driveway at home.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Dad asked.
In a way I did, yet I knew that that wouldn’t be right. “No,” I answered softly, “I want him to know that this is my decision.” Looking at Mom, I added, “And I think I’m going to change my talk for Primary tomorrow. I think I’d like to talk about keeping the Sabbath holy.”

Dan’s favorite place in the Holy Land is the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus did much of His teaching. It is beautiful and green, and Dan loves to swim and look for crabs there with his younger brothers, Cody (4) and Alex (4). The Ball family took a boat ride across the Sea, just as Jesus and His Apostles did. While there, the Balls read about how Jesus walked on the water and calmed the waves (see Matt. 14:22–33).
Dan has also sat on the Mount of Beatitudes, near Galilee, and read Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount (see Matt. 5–7).