Gospel Story Finder

Anna liked going to Sunbeam class. She liked her teachers, Brother and Sister Lee. She liked the lessons about Jesus. She liked knowing the words to the songs.
But now she wouldn’t be in the Sunbeam class anymore. Today she would be in a new Primary class. She would have new teachers. She would sit in a new row in singing time. She would have a new classroom.
Anna was nervous. She wanted to sit with Sister Lee. She tried not to cry as she walked into the Primary room.
One of her new teachers smiled at her. “Hi, I’m Sister Ball. What’s your name?”
“I’m Anna,” Anna said.
Sister Ball patted the chair next to her. “Would you like to sit by me? This is my first time in Primary.”
Anna sat down by Sister Ball. “I can help you. I know all the songs!”
“Thank you,” said Sister Ball. “That would be a big help.”
Soon her friend Beth came in. Last year she was in the Sunbeam class with Anna. Beth sat by Anna.
“This is Beth,” Anna told Sister Ball.
Anna smiled. She liked her new Primary class after all!

“The Joy Is in Becoming” in the June New Era really made an impression on me because I had been questioning some of the new styles. They seemed to look really good on my friends and on models, but something just wasn’t quite right. They looked cheap.
About a week ago I purchased a two-piece bathing suit. It was very pretty, but I didn’t feel comfortable in it. Well, I thought about it, prayed about it, and I knew finally that I was not to own it. I returned it. The article in the New Era helped me a lot; I was afraid to do what I knew was right, and it helped give me courage. From here on in I’m going to try to be a good example of high moral standards.
Debbie ThompsonTustin, California

From 2001 to 2003, E. Ankhbayar served in the Utah Salt Lake City South Mission. Now in his mid-20s, he is the young single adult leader in the Ulaanbaatar district.

He spoke no English when he received his mission call; two American missionaries read the letter to him. Now he manages the one-room distribution center in the Church offices in Ulaanbaatar, helping members obtain gospel materials available in Mongolian and materials in English for those who can use them. He says that as a missionary, he helped people learn about the gospel, and he is still doing the same.

Ankhbayar came into the Church in 1998 with the rest of his family—parents and younger brother. While his family was attending a Church meeting, he had two dreams that influenced him. In both he was fleeing from certain destruction when a bright, shining personage saved him. Ankhbayar’s parents told him later that this personage was undoubtedly the Savior and invited him to pray about the meaning of his dream. The answer he received led him to listen to the gospel.

Before they joined the Church, “my family was not close,” he says. Now “we talk to each other. I can feel my mother and father’s love.” In the mission field, Ankhbayar felt like Church members were family. He works now to share the gospel with friends so they too can enjoy this feeling.

One person with whom he has shared the gospel is his girlfriend, who was baptized and confirmed. If they should marry, they would face the dilemma many young Mongolian couples struggle with: where to live. Housing is scarce, and the cost is too high for many young marrieds. They may end up living with parents in a small apartment or perhaps in the traditional ger, the circular, one-room tentlike home of the Mongol nomads.

As a young stake president, I met many of the General Authorities when they came to speak at our stake conference. What a wonderful experience! President Hugh B. Brown came to one of our stake conferences just a week before he was called and sustained as a member of the Council of the Twelve. We enjoyed his warm spirit and his good humor. As I helped him put his coat on and walked out to his car with him, I said, “Elder Brown, do you have any personal advice for me?”
His answer was, “Yes. Follow the Brethren.” He did not choose to elaborate or explain, but he left that powerful message: Have the simple faith to follow the Brethren.

At supper that evening Ethan asked, “Dad, do you think that lucky socks can really help someone spell well?”
“Are you kidding!” Ethan’s sister chortled. “Socks have nothing to do with spelling well.”
“That’s true,” Ethan’s father agreed. “Let’s set up a hypothetical situation: All the students have studied and know the words, and one student has a special good-luck charm—”
“Like Blake’s lucky socks?” Ethan broke in.
His father nodded. “This student really thinks that the charm will help him, and because he believes that he has more ‘luck’ than anyone else, he has more confidence and he does do better.”
Ethan thought for a minute. “But what if he doesn’t learn the words and only counts on his lucky socks?”
“What do you think, Ethan?”
“I think that he’s in a lot of trouble.”
“I think that you’re right,” his father agreed, smiling.

"For a number of years our family lived in Seattle, Washington- nine years, in fact, and we hoped that it would be 90. At the beginning of the ninth year, in September, there were some feelings granted to my wife that "something important" , some kind of change, was going to happen to us that year. Through the years of our marriage, we had both come to respect the gift she had for those quiet prompting's, and so we looked forward with some anticipation to this prompting's fulfillment, whatever it might be. In January, because my supervisor in the Church Educational System became ill, portions of his assignment were parceled out to a couple of us. This new, important, and weighty opportunity was viewed as a fulfillment of my wife's feelings, at least as far as I was concerned. Returning home after traveling and interviewing personnel in western Washington and Alaska, and thrilled at this opportunity for growth and service, I mentioned to my wife that her feelings were certainly right, that "something important" had indeed entered into our lives.

"She had thought much of this experience and simply stated, "This is not what I have been feeling, I believe there is something else which we are still to experience." Shortly thereafter, in just a matter of weeks, she received another impression that we should get our home ready to sell. This time her feelings were more than just expectations, they led to work. However, we acted on those sacred preparatory feelings and began a multitude of tasks to make our home more presentable and saleable.

"After weeks of labor, we wondered why the impression had come. We hadn't even considered that we might be moved by Church Education. However, there was an issue surrounding the school system in the city of Seattle that had caused many to move outside the city limits to adjoining communities. Considering that as a foundation for the impressions, we began looking for another home. We found a lovely house, in an area we liked, and in our price range. After praying about our decision, however, we felt confusion. Only after deciding not to make an offer did we feel we had made the right decision. In fact, we were impressed that we should not look for another home at all, and the peace that followed that decision was confirming.

"A few weeks later, in the second week of June, I received a telephone call from Salt Lake City, the central office of the Church Educational System. My boss asked me if I was sitting down, and when I assured him I was, he asked me to consider a move to the Midwest. Not only did the request shock my wife and me, for we had loved our experiences in Seattle, but it was coming to us four to five months later than most requests normally come, months that would give a family time to sell and buy a home and to make this kind of major transition.

"The next 24 hours given us to make our decision were as difficult as any I had ever lived. The feelings that came to me concerning our neighborhood, our friends, our Church positions, and our Church Education experience were so enormous, that until the decision was made and confirmed by the Lord, I did not once consider all the preparatory blessings the Lord had introduced into our lives to make the move more expeditious. We had been prompted and we had responded--our home was ready to sell. In only a couple of weeks, after making the final arrangements of our home to be shown, we drove to Utah and secured our children with grandparents, and then flew to Indiana to buy a home where we were to live for the next 10 years.

"Our experience in finding a home in Indiana was nothing short of providential. Not only did we feel the Lord's help in purchasing our home, but the only people to walk through our home in Seattle while we were gone made an acceptable offer, and we were able to move rather expeditiously. The Lord's omniscience had prepared the way.

"If someone had stuck a microphone in my face at different stages of our experience that year and asked, "Are you in the middle of a spiritual experience?" I could not have responded completely. I knew we were being directed by the impressions my wife was having, and we were acting on them faithfully. Yes, we were in the middle of a wonderful spiritual experience, and we were just beginning, as we returned from our Indiana house-buying travels to realize its full meaning in our lives. I bear testimony that God's knowledge, as it is indicated in the scriptures and in the Lectures on Faith, is a preparation for us. His knowledge saves us, temporally and spiritually."

Young Women in the Warner Robins First Ward, Macon Georgia Stake, had their last standards night at the beach. Well, okay, not exactly—but they did come with their beach towels and sunscreen, ready to learn and have a great time. The “beach” was actually a room at the meetinghouse where talks about how to stay in spiritually “safe water” were given by “lifeguards” who were actually their parents and leaders.
The standards night was based on an article in the October 1994 issue called “Swim between the Flags.” Each leader-lifeguard had a flag that represented a standard; principles like honesty, modesty, and chastity were discussed.
“It was a very positive night, and I received answers to some questions that I had,” says Mia Maid Sarah Harden.
Beehive Stefanie Papenfuss agrees, “The leaders talked about some things that I had never thought about, like making the right kinds of friends to help you keep your standards strong. The whole night was a lot of fun, and I learned a lot.”

Are ministers of other churches inspired of God? Of course they are, if they are righteous and sincere. Do they accomplish good? Certainly. In his journal, Wilford Woodruff records this incident before he ever heard about the Church:
“The people of Connecticut in those days thought it wicked to believe in any religion, or belong to any church, except the Presbyterian. They did not believe in having any prophets, apostles, or revelations, as they had in the days of Jesus, and as we now have in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“There was an old man in Connecticut, however, by the name of Robert Mason, who did not believe like the rest of the people. He believed it was necessary to have prophets, apostles, dreams, visions and revelations in the church of Christ, the same as the people who lived in ancient days; and he believed the Lord would raise up a people and a church, in the last days, with prophets, apostles and all the gifts, powers and blessings, which it ever contained in any age of the world.
“The people called this man, the old prophet Mason. …
“This prophet prayed a great deal, and he had dreams and visions, and the Lord showed him many things, by visions, which were to come to pass in the last days.” (Leaves from My Journal, Salt Lake City: Juvenile Instructor Office, 1882, pp. 1–2.)

Then one year came a special trial of his faith. The scorching summer seemed to come early that year, portending a drought. The days passed slowly, the sun baking everything—the lawn, the garden, and the fields wilting under the burning rays. Of all the years to have a Sunday water turn! The farm needed water, water that had not come down the irrigation ditch as runoff on Friday and Saturday; consequently, the farm was dry on Sunday.
One Sunday morning, my mother approached my father with great concern. “Joseph” she said, “I think you’d better turn the water down from the ditch, at least on the lawn and garden. They’re burning up.”
And they were. Everything was burning up without water. There was no alternative. The farm had to have water, and if father let his irrigation turn slip by, there would be no water until the following Sunday. The farm would never go another week.
And so, before getting dressed for his Sunday meetings, father left the house, carrying his shovel over his shoulder. It must have been terribly disappointing for him to trudge up the hill that morning. All these years he had worked to avoid this very labor, and now he was caught. We were sure the Lord would not condemn him, and yet, Father wanted very much to find another way.
He reached the irrigation ditch and put the canvas dam in place, but before doing anything else, still bending over the ditch, he paused and contemplated. What was he to do? He pondered the Lord’s injunction to keep the Sabbath day holy. Did he really believe that, not merely with his lips but with his life?
While he was deep in thought, he received a poignantly powerful communication, one he would never forget: “Pull out your dam. Put up your shovel and tools. I will take care of things for you. It may not be early in the day, but I will take care of it. As for the summer, leave it to me, I will provide.”
Father straightened up. There was no one around. He looked heavenward. The sky was clear and blue, no clouds in sight. A dry breeze was blowing, promising a stifling, suffocating day.
With the broiling sun intense and the earth parched and powdery dry, father pulled out the canvas dam, left the ditch, and returned to the house. He had been told. He knew that. He didn’t know how he would be taken care of, but he knew he had been promised. He dressed and went to his Sunday meetings, leaving his farm to the power he had trusted all his life.
When they returned home from their meetings, the sky was still clear, the air hot, the farm wilting beneath the sweltering sun. With no visible sign of relief, mother, still greatly concerned about the garden, again spoke to father, who had not mentioned to her the experience he had had that morning; “It surely doesn’t look much like rain,” she said. “What are you going to do about the garden?”
For the second time that day father climbed the hill of the irrigation ditch, but then he paused, amazed by his own faltering conviction. “Where is your faith?” he asked himself pointedly.
Filled with a new resolve, he pulled the dam from the ditch and went down the hill, determined never again to make that Sabbath trek to the canal.
Coming down the hill, he lifted his eyes to the sky and saw clouds beginning to gather. Within an hour the rain was coming down in torrents. The dry earth soaked up the needed moisture, and the lawn, the garden, and the fields were refreshed.
That rain was a miracle, but it was only a beginning. Summer was just commencing. The sweltering months of July and August lay ahead. But father had no worries; he had been promised by Him who had given the law and who would provide the way for its compliance.
The following week a neighbor asked father if he would trade a portion of his Sunday water runoff for a portion of a Saturday one. Father was delighted. During that short time on Saturday he was able to water the lawn and garden.
Still, there was no possible way to irrigate the farms’s acres of corn, barley, and hay during those few short hours on Saturday. But the Lord blessed him in another way. Periodically throughout the summer, just when rain was needed most, clouds gathered, the rains came, and the crops were watered.
So sure was my father that the Lord would watch over him that not once during the summer did he clean a ditch or furrow out the corn. This was hot, dry Utah, where the farmer’s whole existence was dependent upon those irrigation ditches, but this summer the ditches on father’s farm were never used. Never before had father gone an entire summer without irrigating his farm, but this summer was different. This summer was the Lord’s summer, and he was providing.

I begin my account in October 1978, when President Spencer W. Kimball gave a great missionary address to the Regional Representatives of the Church. I was then a Regional Representative, and I was also president of BYU. (I pause to note that in October 1978, most of you who are now freshmen at BYU were just entering the first grade. It takes many years to accomplish the purposes of the Lord. That idea has special application to China.)

President Kimball spoke of our obligation to take the gospel to what he called “the uttermost parts of the earth” (see D&C 58:64). His message was electrifying. No one who was present will ever forget the witness they felt that this was a prophet giving the Lord’s message to the leaders and members of his restored Church.

The prophet pleaded for us to move forward, saying, “It is better for something to be underway than under advisement.” He referred to various nations where we had not yet taught the restored gospel. He singled out China for special praise, saying:

By comparison with the widespread breakdown of morality and discipline in the western world, the Chinese are a disciplined, industrious, frugal, closely knit people. Their moral standards are very high by modern western standards. . . . Family life is strong, with old family members still given great respect and care.

I quote just two more sentences from President Kimball’s great message:

When we are ready, the Lord will use us for his purposes.

There are almost three billion people now living on the earth in nations where the gospel is not now being preached. If we could only make a small beginning in every nation, soon the converts among each kindred and tongue could step forth as lights to their own people and the gospel would thus be preached in all nations before the coming of the Lord.

When I returned from that meeting I asked my assistant, Bruce L. Olsen, to begin planning for a BYU performing group to go to China. That idea was farfetched, because at that time the United States had no diplomatic relations with China, and U.S. tourists were not welcome there. But a prophet had called for beginnings, and this was a beginning BYU could attempt.

What followed seemed a miracle, even for those with the greatest faith.

Just two months later, in December 1978, President Jimmy Carter unexpectedly announced that the United States and China would exchange formal diplomatic recognition on the first day of 1979. With that announcement, a BYU trip to China became at least a theoretical possibility—if an invitation could be obtained, if our board of trustees would approve, and if we could figure out what music and dance numbers would be acceptable in that country with which we had so little experience.

Beyond all of the political and musical questions were a host of technical problems. For example, if a BYU group were invited, could they take their sound and lighting equipment, and, if so, what was the voltage of the power source in the various cities of China, and what kind of connections would be necessary to tap into it?

Miracle followed miracle. Our friends in Friendship Ambassadors, a group that fostered improved international relations through the performing arts, had close ties with officials in Romania. That nation had close relations with China. China offered to receive a tourist group sent by Romania in February 1979. Romania authorized Friendship Ambassadors to assemble the group, and they invited BYU to send representatives. By these means, Val Lindsay and Ed Blaser went to China on a trip that established our contacts with the China Travel Service, answered most of our technical questions, and gave us valuable insights into what kind of music and dance would be acceptable to Chinese audiences.

During the first few months of 1979 we began serious but confidential planning about how we could assemble a group with the varied talents that would be required for a first-class variety show. But we could only plan. We could not make any arrangements until we had a formal invitation from our Chinese hosts.

How would we obtain an invitation? As often happens when we are doing the work of the Lord and the time is right, friends were raised up to assist us. A BYU official had a friend on the island of Guam. As president of a friendship association with China, this businessman had been one of the first Westerners to visit that country. He identified the Chinese officials we should contact to seek an invitation. He also counseled us to enlist the help of prominent U.S. senators. Idaho Senator Frank Church, then chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, wrote Chinese officials on our behalf. His enthusiastic endorsement of BYU was extremely helpful.

As we kept our plans secret and waited for an invitation, our spirits were touched at the experience of a former BYU student performer. Linda Tang, a Chinese girl from Hong Kong, was working in San Francisco on an internship. As she sat at her desk one day, she had a distinct spiritual impression that she was going to return to BYU and travel to China with the Young Ambassadors. She dismissed the idea as impossible, but the impression kept returning. Several days later, she called Randy Boothe and told him about her impression. When I heard about Linda’s experience, I felt reassured that our desires would be realized. I was not surprised when she was later chosen to perform on the trip.

As I recall, it was late in March or early in April when we received a brief invitation from the China Travel Service. They invited a BYU group to come, but they gave no performance commitments or dates, and they indicated that the group would just be tourists.

Throwing caution to the winds, we went ahead on faith. By this time, all of our performing groups were committed to other summer tours. Randy Boothe assembled a group of twenty performers by depleting the Lamanite Generation and two Young Ambassador groups. They rushed into the rehearsals necessary to learn the complex choreography and music for a ninety-minute program. They also had to learn enough Chinese to do some of the songs and narration in that language.

For an account of what happened next, I quote Bruce L. Olsen, the senior university official on the tour:

Four days before the group departed, a telegram arrived from China which told us to bring only simple musical instruments.

Although the students had been restricted to one carry-on bag, and our equipment was cut to a bare minimum, we still had over 2,000 pounds of costumes and equipment. Despite the nature of the telegram, we prayerfully decided to move ahead with our plans.

Upon arrival in Canton we met our guides, who called a meeting in the International Visitors’ Lounge of the airport. I wish you could have seen that gathering. Surrounding a little round table were our tour leaders, Elder James E. Faust of the Council of the Twelve (who, along with Sister Faust, was assigned by President Kimball to accompany us), and the two guides. “Just what do you expect from us?” Miss Wong asked. I remember tightening my stomach muscles and saying, “We hope to do at least one major performance in each city.” The guides then questioned us in minute detail about the performance—they wanted to see the music, the lyrics to each song, and to know what the choreography to each number meant. As we moved through the show, Randy would call the students over to give their Chinese narrations or to sing their Chinese songs. Soon the balcony area of the airport was rimmed with Chinese watching this curious performance. At the conclusion, the guides announced that we would perform the next morning at the Peking Minorities Institute.

It was clear that this performance was a test. The performance went well, and by the end our Chinese hosts announced that we would be giving another performance in the Red Tower Theater, the most prestigious performance hall in Peking.

The next day Miss Wong took Randy aside and told him that a great deal was riding on this concert. She said, “I don’t want to alarm the students, but I am very afraid for them.” She explained that the artistic elite of Peking would be attending the concert, the symphony orchestra personnel, the ballet, the opera, and the song and dance troupe—in fact, the 1,600 seats would be filled with artistic people. She said that two years ago she was sure that our group would not have been admitted to China and that how the Young Ambassadors were received would decide whether we were invited back or whether other groups would ever be admitted. We called a special meeting to explain the gravity of the situation to the Young Ambassadors and asked them to prepare.

It was an uneasy group of students that went on stage the next night, but their faith was great and their talent and hours of practice were rewarded. The audience responded to the performance quickly. Fifteen minutes into the show people were coming backstage telling us that “The important people in the audience are pleased.” The audience “oohed” and “aahed” during dance routines and called back the clever number from the musical Shenandoah, “Next to Lovin’ I Like Fightin’ Best,” for three bows and then demanded that after intermission we start our show by doing it again.

Prior to leaving for China, we were told not to expect anything but light, polite applause, but this audience demanded four encores and not only gave a standing ovation, but also held their hands high over their heads while clapping. It was the most enthusiastic response I have seen anywhere in the world. It was obvious we had passed the test.

A few weeks ago I was called to the County Hospital in Salt Lake City by a mother. I didn’t know her. She said her boy was dying from polio, and she asked if I would come down and give that boy a blessing. I picked up a young bishop whom I generally take with me, for I think his faith is greater than mine and I always like having him along. We went down there and found this young lad in an iron lung, unconscious, his face rather a blackish color, with a tube in his throat, and they said he had another tube lower down in his abdomen. He had been flown in from an outlying community.

The mother said to me, “This is an unusual boy, not because he’s my child, but he is an unusual boy.” I think he was eight or nine years of age.

After they put the usual coverings on us, we went in and we blessed that boy. It was one of those occasions when I knew as I laid my hands upon that lad that he was an unusual boy and that he had faith. Having faith in his faith, I blessed him to get well and promised him he would recover.

I never heard any more about him until last Saturday. I was on my way to Murray for a conference, and I dropped in at the County Hospital. I asked if I might see the lad.

The nurse said, “Certainly. Walk right down the hall.”

As I walked down the hall, out came the boy running to meet me. He ran up and asked, “Are you Brother Cowley?”

I said, “Yes.”

He said, “I want to thank you for that prayer.” He added, “I was unconscious then, wasn’t I?”

I replied, “You certainly were.”

He said, “That’s the reason I don’t recognize you.”

Then he said, “Come on in my room; I want to talk to you.” He was an unusual boy.

Well, we went in the room. He still had a tube in his throat.

I said, “How long are you going to have that tube there?”

He said, “Oh, two weeks. Two more weeks and then I’m all well. How about another blessing?”

I said, “Certainly.”

I blessed him again, and then I was in a hurry. I wanted to get out to my conference.

But he stopped me and asked, “Hey, how about my partner in the next bed?” He was a young ­fellow of about sixteen or seventeen.

I said, “What do you mean?”

He said, “Don’t go out without blessing him. He’s my partner.”

I said, “Sure.”

Then I asked the older boy, “Would you like a blessing?”

He said, “Yes, sir. I’m a teacher in the Aaronic priesthood in my ward.”

I blessed him, and then my little friend left and brought another fellow in. Here was another partner. I blessed him too.

Now, except ye believe as a child, you cannot receive these great blessings. We have to have the faith of a child in order to believe in these things, especially when you reach college age and your minds are so full of skepticism and doubt. I guess there are some things that you should doubt, but you can become as little children in these things.

Johnny Abbott marched down the sidewalk with his fists clenched and a scowl on his face.
“My goodness, Johnny!” Mr. Pierpoint, the grocer, exclaimed. “What are you so mad about?”
“I’m looking for somebody. I’m looking for that boy who always gets me into trouble,” Johnny replied.
Mr. Pierpoint nodded. “I think I know the one you mean. Isn’t he the boy who made you take an apple from my fruit stand last week?”
“That’s right,” Johnny said. “He got me into trouble at school again today too. I’m looking for him!”
“Well, I hope you find him,” Mr. Pierpoint called as Johnny hurried on.
Johnny was walking so fast that he almost ran right into Mrs. Wiggins as she was coming out of the bakery.
“Slow down, Johnny!” she told him. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“I’m looking for somebody,” Johnny explained. “I’m looking for that boy who always gets me into trouble.”
Mrs. Wiggins thought for a moment and then she said, “I think I know the boy you’re talking about. Isn’t he the one who made you push over my trash barrel yesterday?”
“I’m afraid so,” Johnny answered. “And it was his fault that I had to stay after school too. I have to keep looking for him. Goodbye, Mrs. Wiggins.”
Susie Whitaker was playing with her dolls when Johnny walked by.
“Hello, Johnny,” she called. “You don’t look very happy today.”
“I’m not,” he told her. “I’m looking for that boy who always gets me into trouble. I’m mad at him!”
“Oh, I know who you mean,” Susie answered. “He’s the boy who made you tease my kitten and pull her tail.”
“That’s the one,” Johnny agreed. “He kept me from playing any games at school today too. I had to sit on the bench. I’m looking for him!”
“Keep looking!” Susie encouraged.
Johnny went faster. He almost tripped over Mr. Ramsey’s garden hose lying across the sidewalk.
“Sorry, Johnny,” Mr. Ramsey said. “Let me get this hose off the sidewalk before someone has an accident. What’s your hurry?”
“I’m looking for somebody. I’m looking for that boy who always gets me into trouble,” Johnny replied.
“Is he the same one who made you tie knots in my hose one day?” Mr. Ramsey asked.
Johnny nodded. “Yes, that’s the one! That’s why I’m looking for him. I’m tired of getting into trouble.”
“I don’t blame you,” Mr. Ramsey said.
Johnny’s mother was ironing when he walked into his house. “Why, Johnny, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“I’ve been looking for somebody and I haven’t found him,” Johnny replied.
“Who is it?” his mother questioned.
“That boy who always gets me into trouble,” Johnny explained.
“Oh, is he the boy who sometimes makes you leave your bed unmade and your clothes lying around your room and all that sort of thing?” Mother inquired.
“Yes,” Johnny answered. “And I’m looking for him.”
“And just what are you going to tell him when you find him?” his mother asked.
“I’m going to look him straight in the eye and tell him I’m tired of getting into trouble!” Johnny replied.
“Do you really want to find that boy?” Mother asked.
“Yes!” Johnny answered. “I really do!”
“Good,” she smiled. “He’s here right now. Come with me and you can talk to him.”
Johnny followed her into the bedroom. “Where is he?” he asked. “I don’t see him.”
“You will,” she promised. “Stand on this chair.”
Johnny climbed up on the chair that his mother had placed in front of her dresser mirror. He found himself face to face with a boy just his size, one with red hair, freckles, blue eyes, a missing tooth, blue pants, and a striped shirt.
It was the very boy he had been looking for!
“Now I’m going back to my ironing,” Mother said. “You may stay here and talk as long as you want.”
And that’s just what Johnny did. He told the boy how tired he was of getting into trouble.
“I don’t like you when you do that!” Johnny exclaimed. “And I’m not going to listen to your ideas anymore!”
Then Johnny jumped down from the chair, and the boy in the mirror suddenly disappeared.

Edison kicked the ground. All the other boys were talking and setting up tents. But he didn’t know anyone.
Edison’s family had stopped going to church a little while after they moved to Spain. But then the boys from the ward came over and invited him to come on the camping trip. Camping had sounded fun, but now Edison wasn’t sure he wanted to be here after all. He felt like he didn’t belong.
Two boys, Diego and Juan, walked up to Edison. “Do you want to share our tent?” Diego asked.
Edison let out a breath and smiled. “Sure.”
“Cool!” said Juan. “And then we can go swimming.”
The boys set up their tent and ran to the river. The water was cold, but now Edison was having so much fun he hardly noticed. After lunch, the boys and leaders went on a hike. They got back just as the sun started to set, so they helped set up a campfire.
“What’s your family like?” Juan asked.
Edison dropped a pile of twigs by the fire. “My parents are pretty cool. And my sister is my best friend. We moved here from Ecuador.”
Diego and Juan looked at each other with big smiles.
“We’re from Ecuador too!” Juan said.
Diego unzipped his jacket to show his T-shirt. It had the symbol for Ecuador’s soccer team on it!
“Wow!” Edison said. “So what do you miss most about Ecuador?”
Diego and Juan laughed. “The food!” they both shouted.
The boys kept talking about what they missed about Ecuador and what they liked about living in Spain. Edison liked how easy it was to talk to Diego and Juan.
Then one of the leaders, Brother Cisneros, stood up. “Hey, everyone! We want to end the night with a testimony meeting.”
One by one, boys and leaders stood up and shared their testimonies. Their words made Edison’s heart feel like it was wrapped in a warm blanket.
Diego stood up. “I know the Church is true. I know that God is my Father and that Jesus Christ is my Savior.”
The warm feeling grew stronger. I want to know that too, Edison thought.
When Edison got home from the trip, Diego’s words stayed in his mind. He wished he could go to church and learn about Jesus with Diego and Juan.
That night at dinner, Papá asked, “How was the camping trip?”
“It was great!” Edison said. “We swam and hiked and built a fire. I even made two friends who are from Ecuador too!”
“That’s great! We’ll have to invite them over,” Mamá said.
Edison paused. “Could we start going to church again?”
Mamá and Papá didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then Mamá cleared her throat. “If you want to go, that’s fine,” she said. “But Papá and I aren’t going to go.”
Edison slumped in his chair. He didn’t want to go to church alone. Maybe he should stay home with his family.
Then Edison remembered the warm feeling from the testimony meeting. Even if his family didn’t want to go to church, Edison wanted to go.
Besides, he wouldn’t be alone. Edison smiled as he ate his dinner. Then he picked up the phone. He knew some friends he could go to church with!
This story took place in Spain.

When the Fayette Branch of the Church moved to Kirtland, Ohio, Porter went with them. However, his stay there was short. Porter was sent with the first group of Saints to Jackson County, Missouri, the intended central gathering place for members of the Church. The elders often met at Porter’s home to discuss ways of protecting the Saints from the lawless Missouri mobs who were persecuting them.
While he was in Missouri, Porter became a crack marksman with a gun. And he made several trips to Liberty Jail to take food and comfort to Joseph Smith and his counselors when they had been illegally jailed.

Years later in York, whilst serving as a home teacher with his son, they were assigned to a less active family who would not let them into their home. On birthdays and at Christmas they would leave gifts and cards hoping for an opportunity to teach in their home. One day, as they went out to visit others, they felt prompted to try once more. As they knocked on the door, their son informed them that the family were all at the hospital where their daughter was giving birth. Quickly buying flowers and a card they headed to the hospital to offer any support or help they could give the family. Because of this they were able to minister to the family who gradually returned to activity.

The conflict of Identity vs. Role Confusion during our teenage years is difficult for many. During this time we incorporate our personal beliefs with those of society and begin to make decisions about the future. When I was a teen, I would occasionally defy my parents’ suggestions regarding my performance in life. I remember very distinctly being frustrated with my mother one day as she proposed recommendations for my future. As my mother was advising me, I angrily turned and began to walk away—and then I heard her quietly comment, “I only want you to be a better person than I am.” My heart immediately softened, and I wondered how anyone could possibly be better than my own dear mother. I have since apologized for my behavior, but her comment (or rather her challenge to me to be a better person) has stayed with me throughout my life. As a teen, and even now, that challenge has motivated me to be a better person—it taught me the importance of applying my learning.

As a small boy on the farm during the searing heat of the summer, I remember my grandmother Mary Finlinson cooking our delicious meals on a hot wood stove. When the woodbox next to the stove became empty, Grandmother silently picked it up, refilled it from the pile of cedar wood outside, and brought the heavily laden box back into the house. I was so interested in the conversation in the kitchen that I sat there and let my beloved grandmother refill the kitchen woodbox. I feel ashamed of myself and have regretted my omission all my life. I hope someday to ask for her forgiveness.

Joseph Smith, a backwoods boy of 14 years, decided the religious turmoil of words and beliefs needed clarification. He left his home early one spring morning and went into the woods to pray.

There, Joseph offered a sincere prayer, begging the Lord for guidance. He had no intention to found a new religion. It was not his motive to take on the great religions of the world. He knelt and prayed and asked God which church to join. Out of that anxious prayer came the restoration of the Lord’s only true church!

Although the life of the Prophet Joseph Smith was terminated at a very young age, he stands today as the preeminent prophet of the Lord. President John Taylor said that Joseph Smith “…has done more, save Jesus only, for the salvation of men in this world, than any other man that ever lived in it….”[17]

A man in a distant city was struggling to make a living, raise a family, and attend to his Church callings. His debts were piling up, there was discontent at home, and his children seemed to be misbehaving increasingly, with everyone going a different direction. Suddenly his job was threatened, and the pressures mounted.
About the time when he didn’t know if he could take any more, his teenage daughter, who had been noticing his frustration and pain, said, “Dad, as a family we can do anything. Hey, let’s work together! I have a wonderful job after school, and Bill has found a paper route. Besides, isn’t it about time we started to eat from our food supply in the basement?”
Well, the entire family caught the spirit. They concentrated their efforts. With time and the mutual support of one another, things did work out.

I knew of a girl in my high school many years ago who had a very poor reputation. How much was simply a vicious rumor and how much was truth I don’t know. But she did associate with a rebellious group who broke many of the rules. And even though she was a member of the Church, she was often seen smoking and drinking. After our school high graduation, I didn’t see her or give her any thought for years. If anyone had asked me what she was like, I could only have described the girl I vaguely knew in school.

But then, more than five years after high school, I was in the temple one night when I heard this girl’s name read from a list of brides who were about to be sealed to their husbands. What a delight it was to see that a great change had obviously taken place in her life. But I shouldn’t have been surprised, because the gospel is changing people all the time.