Let me tell you of a man I know. I will not mention his name lest he feel embarrassed. His wife felt there was something missing in their lives. She spoke with a relative one day who was a member of the Church. The relative suggested that she call the missionaries. She did so. But the husband was rude to them and told them not to come again.
Months passed. One day another missionary, finding the record of this visit, decided that he and his companion would try again. He was a tall elder from California who carried a big smile on his face.
They knocked on the door; the man answered. Could they come in for a few minutes? they asked. He consented.
The missionary said, in effect, “I wonder if you know how to pray.” The man answered that he knew the Lord’s Prayer. The missionary said, “That is good, but let me tell you how to give a personal prayer.” He went on to explain that we get on our knees in an attitude of humility before the God of heaven. The man did so. The missionary then went on to say, “We address God as our Father in Heaven. We then thank Him for His blessings, such as our health, our friends, our food. We then ask for His blessings. We express our innermost hopes and desires. We ask Him to bless those in need. We do it all in the name of His Beloved Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, concluding with ‘amen.’”
It was a pleasant experience for the man. He had gleaned a little light and understanding, a touch of faith. He was ready to try another step.
Line upon line, the missionaries patiently taught him. He responded as his faith grew into a dim light of understanding. Friends from his branch gathered around to reassure him and answer his questions. The men played tennis with him, and he and his family were invited to their homes for dinner.
He was baptized, and that was a giant step of faith. The branch president asked him to be a Scoutmaster to four boys. That led to other responsibilities, and the light of faith strengthened in his life with each new opportunity and experience.
That has continued. Today he stands as a capable and loved stake president, a leader of great wisdom and understanding, and above all, a man of great faith.
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We Walk by Faith
Summary: A man's wife contacted missionaries, but he rudely turned them away. Months later, new missionaries returned, taught him how to pray, and patiently taught him the gospel; friends fellowshipped him. He was baptized, accepted callings, and grew in faith until he became a beloved stake president.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Baptism
Conversion
Faith
Missionary Work
Prayer
TTS:Things They’re Saying
Summary: A mother, long addicted to cigarettes, pleaded with her daughter never to start. The daughter heeded the warning, became active in the Church, and loved and pitied her struggling mother. The mother’s failure became a catalyst for the daughter’s better path.
I knew a mother who in her younger years began smoking. It finally gained such a control over her that it was a habit she had great difficulty breaking. She said to her beautiful young daughter: “Look at me and make up your mind to never let a vicious thing like this little cigarette make you a slave to it. I would give anything to quit. I just haven’t got what it takes. Profit from my example.”
The daughter did. She became an active member in the Church, doing everything that she knew was right and good. She loved her mother, yet pitied her, as no doubt the mother did herself.
The daughter did. She became an active member in the Church, doing everything that she knew was right and good. She loved her mother, yet pitied her, as no doubt the mother did herself.
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👤 Parents
👤 Youth
Addiction
Agency and Accountability
Conversion
Family
Word of Wisdom
Follow the Living Prophet
Summary: President Lee recounts receiving a letter from a young woman distressed that her husband would shave his beard to meet priesthood and temple standards. In his reply, he counsels her to look to the appearance and direction of the living prophets rather than ancient figures, and he shares an experience at Carthage Jail illustrating the danger of following a deceased prophet instead of his living successor.
President Lee on several occasions gave wise counsel with respect to following the living prophet. I should like to quote from one of his Brigham Young University devotional addresses:
“Now may I make a personal reference, which I’ll try to treat in such a way as to preserve the confidentiality. It involved a beautiful, young wife and mother from a prominent family. She had gone away from her home and was now in the East. She had gone out into an area where she and her husband had taken up with those in the ghetto, and she wrote me a rather interesting letter, and I quote only a paragraph: ‘Tomorrow my husband will shave off his long, full beard. Because of the request of the stake president and your direction in the Priesthood Bulletin, he must not have the appearance of evil or rebellion if he is to get a recommend to go to the temple. I have wept anguished tears; the faces of Moses and Jacob were bearded, and to me the wisdom and spirituality of the old prophets reflected from the face of my own spiritual husband. It was like cutting out for me a symbol of the good things my generation has learned.’ Then the letter concluded with a challenge to me: ‘We are prepared for clear, specific, hard-line direction as youth. Wishy-washy implications are not heard very well here. We look to you to tell it straight.’
“I don’t know whether she knew just what she was asking for when she asked me to tell it straight, but these are some things I wrote to her: ‘In your letter you address me as, “Dear President Lee,” and in your first sentence you refer to me as the Lord’s prophet. Now, in your letter you tell me that you are saddened because with the shaving off of the beard and the cutting of the hair, which, to you, made your husband appear as the prophets Moses and Jacob, he would no longer bear that resemblance. I wonder if you might not be wiser to think of following the appearance of the prophets of today. President David O. McKay had no beard or long hair; neither did President Joseph Fielding Smith; and neither does your humble servant whom you have acknowledged as the Lord’s prophet.
“‘The inconsistency in your letter has made me reflect upon an experience that I had in the mission field when, in company with some missionaries and the mission president, we were at Carthage Jail, where the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph and his brother, Hyrum, took place. In that meeting there were recounted the events that led up to their martyrdom. Then the mission president made some significant comments. He said, “When the Prophet Joseph Smith died there were many who died spiritually with Joseph.” Likewise there were many who died spiritually with Brigham Young, and so with others of the presidents of the Church, because they chose to follow the man who had passed on, rather than giving allegiance to his successor upon whom the mantle of leadership had been given by the Lord’s appointment.’
“And then I asked her, ‘Are you following, in looks, prophets who lived hundreds of years ago? Are you really true to your faith as a member of the Church in failing to look to those who preside in the Church today? Why is it that you want your husband to look like Moses and Jacob, rather than to look like the modern prophets to whom you are expressing allegiance? If you will give this sober thought, your tears will dry, and you’ll begin to have some new thoughts.’” (“Be Loyal to the Royal Within You.” Speeches of the Year, Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 1974, pp. 97–98.)
“Now may I make a personal reference, which I’ll try to treat in such a way as to preserve the confidentiality. It involved a beautiful, young wife and mother from a prominent family. She had gone away from her home and was now in the East. She had gone out into an area where she and her husband had taken up with those in the ghetto, and she wrote me a rather interesting letter, and I quote only a paragraph: ‘Tomorrow my husband will shave off his long, full beard. Because of the request of the stake president and your direction in the Priesthood Bulletin, he must not have the appearance of evil or rebellion if he is to get a recommend to go to the temple. I have wept anguished tears; the faces of Moses and Jacob were bearded, and to me the wisdom and spirituality of the old prophets reflected from the face of my own spiritual husband. It was like cutting out for me a symbol of the good things my generation has learned.’ Then the letter concluded with a challenge to me: ‘We are prepared for clear, specific, hard-line direction as youth. Wishy-washy implications are not heard very well here. We look to you to tell it straight.’
“I don’t know whether she knew just what she was asking for when she asked me to tell it straight, but these are some things I wrote to her: ‘In your letter you address me as, “Dear President Lee,” and in your first sentence you refer to me as the Lord’s prophet. Now, in your letter you tell me that you are saddened because with the shaving off of the beard and the cutting of the hair, which, to you, made your husband appear as the prophets Moses and Jacob, he would no longer bear that resemblance. I wonder if you might not be wiser to think of following the appearance of the prophets of today. President David O. McKay had no beard or long hair; neither did President Joseph Fielding Smith; and neither does your humble servant whom you have acknowledged as the Lord’s prophet.
“‘The inconsistency in your letter has made me reflect upon an experience that I had in the mission field when, in company with some missionaries and the mission president, we were at Carthage Jail, where the martyrdom of the Prophet Joseph and his brother, Hyrum, took place. In that meeting there were recounted the events that led up to their martyrdom. Then the mission president made some significant comments. He said, “When the Prophet Joseph Smith died there were many who died spiritually with Joseph.” Likewise there were many who died spiritually with Brigham Young, and so with others of the presidents of the Church, because they chose to follow the man who had passed on, rather than giving allegiance to his successor upon whom the mantle of leadership had been given by the Lord’s appointment.’
“And then I asked her, ‘Are you following, in looks, prophets who lived hundreds of years ago? Are you really true to your faith as a member of the Church in failing to look to those who preside in the Church today? Why is it that you want your husband to look like Moses and Jacob, rather than to look like the modern prophets to whom you are expressing allegiance? If you will give this sober thought, your tears will dry, and you’ll begin to have some new thoughts.’” (“Be Loyal to the Royal Within You.” Speeches of the Year, Provo, Utah: Brigham Young University Press, 1974, pp. 97–98.)
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Apostasy
Joseph Smith
Priesthood
Revelation
Unity
Q&A:Questions and Answers
Summary: The article presents readers’ advice on controlling anger and temper. In Sheila Webb’s story, she says she had a bad temper and was irritable, especially with her family, but learned that a vitamin deficiency was contributing to it and that she needed to learn to love like the Savior.
She explains that instead of asking Heavenly Father to make her little brother nicer, she prayed for help to be nicer to him herself. She says it worked: he is still irritating, but she is less touchy about it.
Readers
Anger is an emotion everyone is subject to at one time or another. The difference is that some people learn to control their anger while others don’t. If you lose your temper, then you’re not in control. Satan is.
Something that helped me was to watch other people to see what they looked like when they lost their tempers. When I saw how foolish other people looked, I made a promise to myself to practice self-control and not lose my temper. I am learning patience.
Kurtis Hyde, 19Lovelock, Nevada
We all get mad for one thing or another. That’s normal. But blowing up at someone doesn’t solve anything. It only worsens the situation. Think before you burst. Stupid or silly acts are committed by those who don’t think. Some people try to make you mad. Disappoint them and respond nicely. You may need to count from one to ten and back again to gain composure before you say anything, but don’t give in to thoughtless action. In time, you’ll master your temper, and you’ll learn a lot about patience. “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger” (Prov. 15:1).
Tonya Stock, 20Sandy, Utah
I’ve had many problems with my temper. I used to yell at people because I thought they were such idiots. My temper had a very short fuse. The way I overcame my “short fuse” was by reading the Book of Mormon, writing my feelings down on paper, and making a conscious effort to change. After about a week, I could tell that I wasn’t getting mad at people nearly as often.
Elder John O. Leyer, 19Indianapolis, Indiana
I lose my temper easily. I was told by my mom that when I get angry I should use these statements: When you _____, I feel _____ because I have _____. For example, I might say, “When you interrupt me, I feel hurt because I have something important I’d like to tell you.” Try it; it helps.
Jennifer Snow, 12Veneta, Oregon
I understand where you’re coming from. Anger is a funny thing, and it’s a shame that we are sometimes victimized by our emotions. We each have weaknesses to overcome and grow from. Let me share with you some suggestions that helped me: (1) Delay. When you delay, you “cool it.” Count to ten, leave the scene that caused the feeling before you erupt, or take some deep breaths. (2) Identify the anger. Where is it coming from? How was it caused? And how can it be avoided? (3) Go someplace where you can be alone, get on your knees, and tell the whole thing to Heavenly Father. (4) Ask the Lord for help. Pray that he will take the anger from your heart and replace it with peace and forgiveness. He has promised in Ether 12:27 that if we are humble before him, he will “make weak things become strong.”
Elder Thomas F. Smith, 19Birmingham, Alabama
I’d like to start by saying I have the same problem, but I’ve learned to control my problem. Every once in a while I may burst out and tell the person off, but later I apologize. Honestly, I think you can learn to control it. Until then pray and think about how you are hurting the other person.
Tammy Booth, 14Geneva, Alabama
The actions you take when you are angry can be damaging to others. Instead of yelling and throwing things, you should take time out and think over the problem. Did you overreact? Was that person feeling well, or was there something wrong with them? Were you in a bad mood? Staying angry isn’t good. The best thing to do is talk it out, forgive, and forget.
Vicky M. Brugger, 14Rochester, New York
I’ve got a real bad temper, too. People used to irritate me with the littlest things. Sometimes it got so bad that I’d yell at someone just for touching me. The worst part about it was that it was usually my family. But I found that I have a vitamin deficiency that was causing me to be irritable. I also realized I needed to learn to love. The Savior loved everyone, even those who betrayed him.
Believe me, my little brother gets so irritating I want to kick him.
But I asked my Father in Heaven, not to make him be nice to me, but to help me be nice to him. And it really works. He’s not less irritating, but I’m less touchy about it.
Sheila Webb, 17Sunnyvale, California
Anger is an emotion everyone is subject to at one time or another. The difference is that some people learn to control their anger while others don’t. If you lose your temper, then you’re not in control. Satan is.
Something that helped me was to watch other people to see what they looked like when they lost their tempers. When I saw how foolish other people looked, I made a promise to myself to practice self-control and not lose my temper. I am learning patience.
Kurtis Hyde, 19Lovelock, Nevada
We all get mad for one thing or another. That’s normal. But blowing up at someone doesn’t solve anything. It only worsens the situation. Think before you burst. Stupid or silly acts are committed by those who don’t think. Some people try to make you mad. Disappoint them and respond nicely. You may need to count from one to ten and back again to gain composure before you say anything, but don’t give in to thoughtless action. In time, you’ll master your temper, and you’ll learn a lot about patience. “A soft answer turneth away wrath: but grievous words stir up anger” (Prov. 15:1).
Tonya Stock, 20Sandy, Utah
I’ve had many problems with my temper. I used to yell at people because I thought they were such idiots. My temper had a very short fuse. The way I overcame my “short fuse” was by reading the Book of Mormon, writing my feelings down on paper, and making a conscious effort to change. After about a week, I could tell that I wasn’t getting mad at people nearly as often.
Elder John O. Leyer, 19Indianapolis, Indiana
I lose my temper easily. I was told by my mom that when I get angry I should use these statements: When you _____, I feel _____ because I have _____. For example, I might say, “When you interrupt me, I feel hurt because I have something important I’d like to tell you.” Try it; it helps.
Jennifer Snow, 12Veneta, Oregon
I understand where you’re coming from. Anger is a funny thing, and it’s a shame that we are sometimes victimized by our emotions. We each have weaknesses to overcome and grow from. Let me share with you some suggestions that helped me: (1) Delay. When you delay, you “cool it.” Count to ten, leave the scene that caused the feeling before you erupt, or take some deep breaths. (2) Identify the anger. Where is it coming from? How was it caused? And how can it be avoided? (3) Go someplace where you can be alone, get on your knees, and tell the whole thing to Heavenly Father. (4) Ask the Lord for help. Pray that he will take the anger from your heart and replace it with peace and forgiveness. He has promised in Ether 12:27 that if we are humble before him, he will “make weak things become strong.”
Elder Thomas F. Smith, 19Birmingham, Alabama
I’d like to start by saying I have the same problem, but I’ve learned to control my problem. Every once in a while I may burst out and tell the person off, but later I apologize. Honestly, I think you can learn to control it. Until then pray and think about how you are hurting the other person.
Tammy Booth, 14Geneva, Alabama
The actions you take when you are angry can be damaging to others. Instead of yelling and throwing things, you should take time out and think over the problem. Did you overreact? Was that person feeling well, or was there something wrong with them? Were you in a bad mood? Staying angry isn’t good. The best thing to do is talk it out, forgive, and forget.
Vicky M. Brugger, 14Rochester, New York
I’ve got a real bad temper, too. People used to irritate me with the littlest things. Sometimes it got so bad that I’d yell at someone just for touching me. The worst part about it was that it was usually my family. But I found that I have a vitamin deficiency that was causing me to be irritable. I also realized I needed to learn to love. The Savior loved everyone, even those who betrayed him.
Believe me, my little brother gets so irritating I want to kick him.
But I asked my Father in Heaven, not to make him be nice to me, but to help me be nice to him. And it really works. He’s not less irritating, but I’m less touchy about it.
Sheila Webb, 17Sunnyvale, California
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👤 Youth
👤 Children
Charity
Family
Health
Jesus Christ
Prayer
Were There Not Ten Cleansed?
Summary: He recalls being unexpectedly called as an Assistant to the Twelve in April 1970 and quickly taking his seat in the old Tabernacle. As the choir sang “O Divine Redeemer,” he silently pleaded with the Savior to accept him despite his shortcomings. He remembers it as a wonderful, sacred day, brought to mind by President Monson’s invitation to new leaders in the present meeting.
When President Thomas S. Monson asked those new members of the Seventy and the Young Women general presidency to come up and take their places on the stand, I remembered vividly April 1970, when I was called to be an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve—which was a surprise to me. I’d only known about it for just a few hours. As I was invited to sit in one of the red chairs in the old Tabernacle, the choir started to sing “O Divine Redeemer.” As I listened to that pleading song with that wonderful melody, I silently asked the Savior to accept me as I am and remember not my failures, my shortcomings, and my sins (see Ps. 25:7). What a wonderful day that was! That flashed through my mind as President Monson made that invitation today.
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👤 Jesus Christ
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
Apostle
Atonement of Jesus Christ
Forgiveness
Music
Prayer
Young Women
Freckles
Summary: As a small child sulking on the kitchen floor, the narrator was noticed by her teenage sister, Rebecca, who invited her to count freckles in the mirror. The simple, kind activity transformed her mood and gave her a sense of being loved. She proudly announced her 'more than a thousand' freckles afterward. The experience served as protection against future bouts of unhappiness.
Before I was five years old, I had discovered that the walkway of vinyl between our dining room and our kitchen was a good place to sulk, especially when I wanted my dissatisfaction to be noticed. I would sit there for a long time and feel that no one understood or loved me.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. My teenage sister, Rebecca, found me there one evening before dinner. She knelt down and quietly said to me, “Manda, let’s go count your freckles.”
It was a simple suggestion but so kindly put forth that I forgot my frowns and followed her to the bathroom mirror. She set up a stool for me so I’d be tall enough to see my nose up close in the mirror. With her chin resting on my head, she started with number one, and I helped her as high as I could count. I remember proudly entering the kitchen with the announcement that I had more than a thousand freckles, and we hadn’t even finished counting.
With just a small investment of her time and energy, my sister had changed my black mood. And, although my sulkiness that night probably wouldn’t have lasted very long, by giving me some positive attention, Rebecca insured me against the next time I felt unhappy.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. My teenage sister, Rebecca, found me there one evening before dinner. She knelt down and quietly said to me, “Manda, let’s go count your freckles.”
It was a simple suggestion but so kindly put forth that I forgot my frowns and followed her to the bathroom mirror. She set up a stool for me so I’d be tall enough to see my nose up close in the mirror. With her chin resting on my head, she started with number one, and I helped her as high as I could count. I remember proudly entering the kitchen with the announcement that I had more than a thousand freckles, and we hadn’t even finished counting.
With just a small investment of her time and energy, my sister had changed my black mood. And, although my sulkiness that night probably wouldn’t have lasted very long, by giving me some positive attention, Rebecca insured me against the next time I felt unhappy.
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👤 Youth
👤 Children
Children
Family
Happiness
Kindness
Love
Ministering
Service
An Old Sock and a New Friend
Summary: Lexi notices a new girl, Nasimah from Pakistan, sitting alone at recess because she doesn't speak English. After seeking advice from her mother, Lexi creates a sock puppet to help them communicate through play. Using the puppet, they take turns 'speaking' in their own languages and begin to understand each other. Lexi gifts the puppet to Nasimah, and they share smiles that need no translation.
Lexi ran outside with the rest of Mrs. Crandall’s third-grade class for recess. What should she play today? Sometimes she jumped rope with Tara and Isabella. Sometimes she played foursquare with David and Kristina and Callie. But Lexi wanted to do something different today. Maybe she should join the soccer game.
Then Lexi noticed something very different.
A new girl sat near the edge of the playground. She had brown skin and long, shiny hair that reminded Lexi of her piano teacher’s glossy black piano. Lexi thought the new girl looked like a princess from another country.
Why wasn’t anyone playing with the new girl? Lexi decided to ask a teacher.
“Her name is Nasimah,” the teacher said. “She’s from Pakistan. She doesn’t speak English, but I’m sure she’d like to play with you.”
“I don’t know,” Lexi said. She wondered how she could play with the new girl if they couldn’t talk to each other. How would she say, “What do you want to play?” or, “It’s your turn,” or even, “Hello”?
Lexi decided to jump rope with Isabella after all. But she watched Nasimah whenever she could.
At home, Lexi couldn’t stop thinking of Nasimah and how lonely she must be. There had to be a way to talk to her. Maybe Mom could think of something.
Lexi found her mother in the laundry room. She was sewing patches on Lexi’s brother’s Scout shirt. “Do you know any words from Pakistan?” Lexi asked.
“No,” Mom said. “Why?”
Lexi explained about Nasimah.
“If you want to play with her, I think you should,” Mom said, “even if you can’t understand her words.”
“I don’t know,” Lexi said. She hung her head and played with the spools of thread in Mom’s sewing box. A ball of black yarn reminded Lexi of Nasimah’s shiny hair.
An idea was coming together in Lexi’s brain. “Mom,” she said, “do you have an old sock I can use?”
“An old sock? I suppose so.”
“And can I use some of this yarn?” Lexi dug through the box and found the button jar. “And a couple of buttons?”
“Sure,” Mom said.
With a little help from Mom, Lexi made the perfect sock puppet. Its hair was black, just like Nasimah’s hair. Its button eyes were blue, just like Lexi’s eyes. Mom helped Lexi make a red dress for the puppet.
The next day, Lexi thought recess would never come. Concentrating on her spelling test was hard. She kept thinking of the sock puppet in her backpack. Finally recess came and Lexi raced outside with the puppet.
Where was Nasimah? Lexi looked all over the playground. At last, Nasimah came out with her class and stood by the wall.
Lexi took a deep breath. Would the puppet work? It had seemed like such a wonderful idea yesterday.
“I have to try,” Lexi thought.
She walked slowly over to Nasimah. Lexi held up the puppet and slipped it over her hand. Moving her hand, she made the puppet talk.
“Hi!” the puppet said in Lexi’s voice. “Do you want to play with me?”
Lexi took the puppet off her hand. She gave it to Nasimah and helped her put it on her hand.
Nasimah moved the sock puppet. It began to speak strange words that danced in Lexi’s ears. They took turns with the puppet for the rest of recess. When Lexi held the puppet, it spoke English. When Nasimah held the puppet, it spoke her language. Lexi thought she was starting to understand a couple of words.
When the bell rang, Lexi handed the puppet to her new friend. “You keep it,” Lexi said. “It’s a present.”
Nasimah seemed to understand. She kept the puppet and smiled.
“Smiles are the same in all languages,” Lexi thought. And she smiled back.
Then Lexi noticed something very different.
A new girl sat near the edge of the playground. She had brown skin and long, shiny hair that reminded Lexi of her piano teacher’s glossy black piano. Lexi thought the new girl looked like a princess from another country.
Why wasn’t anyone playing with the new girl? Lexi decided to ask a teacher.
“Her name is Nasimah,” the teacher said. “She’s from Pakistan. She doesn’t speak English, but I’m sure she’d like to play with you.”
“I don’t know,” Lexi said. She wondered how she could play with the new girl if they couldn’t talk to each other. How would she say, “What do you want to play?” or, “It’s your turn,” or even, “Hello”?
Lexi decided to jump rope with Isabella after all. But she watched Nasimah whenever she could.
At home, Lexi couldn’t stop thinking of Nasimah and how lonely she must be. There had to be a way to talk to her. Maybe Mom could think of something.
Lexi found her mother in the laundry room. She was sewing patches on Lexi’s brother’s Scout shirt. “Do you know any words from Pakistan?” Lexi asked.
“No,” Mom said. “Why?”
Lexi explained about Nasimah.
“If you want to play with her, I think you should,” Mom said, “even if you can’t understand her words.”
“I don’t know,” Lexi said. She hung her head and played with the spools of thread in Mom’s sewing box. A ball of black yarn reminded Lexi of Nasimah’s shiny hair.
An idea was coming together in Lexi’s brain. “Mom,” she said, “do you have an old sock I can use?”
“An old sock? I suppose so.”
“And can I use some of this yarn?” Lexi dug through the box and found the button jar. “And a couple of buttons?”
“Sure,” Mom said.
With a little help from Mom, Lexi made the perfect sock puppet. Its hair was black, just like Nasimah’s hair. Its button eyes were blue, just like Lexi’s eyes. Mom helped Lexi make a red dress for the puppet.
The next day, Lexi thought recess would never come. Concentrating on her spelling test was hard. She kept thinking of the sock puppet in her backpack. Finally recess came and Lexi raced outside with the puppet.
Where was Nasimah? Lexi looked all over the playground. At last, Nasimah came out with her class and stood by the wall.
Lexi took a deep breath. Would the puppet work? It had seemed like such a wonderful idea yesterday.
“I have to try,” Lexi thought.
She walked slowly over to Nasimah. Lexi held up the puppet and slipped it over her hand. Moving her hand, she made the puppet talk.
“Hi!” the puppet said in Lexi’s voice. “Do you want to play with me?”
Lexi took the puppet off her hand. She gave it to Nasimah and helped her put it on her hand.
Nasimah moved the sock puppet. It began to speak strange words that danced in Lexi’s ears. They took turns with the puppet for the rest of recess. When Lexi held the puppet, it spoke English. When Nasimah held the puppet, it spoke her language. Lexi thought she was starting to understand a couple of words.
When the bell rang, Lexi handed the puppet to her new friend. “You keep it,” Lexi said. “It’s a present.”
Nasimah seemed to understand. She kept the puppet and smiled.
“Smiles are the same in all languages,” Lexi thought. And she smiled back.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Children
Friendship
Kindness
Racial and Cultural Prejudice
Service
Service for Mom
Summary: A child and siblings were called inside as it got dark. Asked to close the garage, the child noticed bikes, a skateboard, and a chair outside, put them away safely, and then closed the garage. The child concludes that this service for their mom aligns with what Jesus wants.
I was outside playing with my sisters and brother. It was getting dark, so my mom asked us to go inside, and we did. Then my mom asked me to please close the garage. When I went back out, I saw our bikes and skateboard and a chair outside. I put the toys behind the gate and put the chair away in the garage where my mom wouldn’t hit it with her car. Then I closed the garage. I know that Jesus wants me to do service for my mom.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Family
Jesus Christ
Obedience
Service
The Day I Pushed a Taxi
Summary: A Church leader in Jakarta pushed a taxi to help the driver start his car so he could catch a flight. The plane crew saw this and later asked about his actions, allowing him to share information about the Church. A flight services instructor invited him to potentially train airline personnel, and after returning to Hong Kong he met with the airline’s training manager, who was impressed by the Church. He anticipated more chances to reach people because of this observed act.
After a recent mission tour in Indonesia when I visited the missionaries and the Saints on the island of Java, I had to catch an early morning flight to Singapore, and I checked out of the hotel at 6:00 A.M. I climbed into a taxi that was parked near the hotel entrance and told the driver to go to the international airport, but alas, his car would not start. Apparently the battery was dead.
Well, what do you do in such a case? I calculated that it would probably cost me much time to unload my luggage and find another taxi, and it also occurred to me that the taxi driver was trying hard to earn enough money to provide for his family and would be very disappointed if he could not earn the large fare he would get for the half-hour trip to the airport.
I decided to do my morning exercises by pushing the taxi, leaving the Indonesian cab driver behind the steering wheel to start the car. However, he greatly overestimated the early morning physical power of a Dutchman and released the clutch of the car before I had been able to give the car adequate speed. As a result, it came to a sudden halt. But I tried again and this time it started. With a roaring motor the taxi moved forward. I flung open the door, jumped in, and we were on our way.
An hour and a half later when I boarded my flight, the air hostess who greeted me at the door of the plane said: “I am surprised to see you here! You are the gentleman who pushed the taxi in front of the Borobudur Hotel this morning.”
She then told me that all the members of the plane crew had witnessed the scene from the airport limousine parked at a side door of the hotel. She said that on the way to the airport they had talked a lot about the incident and had wondered: “What kind of a man is this? If he can afford to stay in the Borobudur Hotel, why would he work to push a taxicab at 6:00 A.M.?
I thought, “This is my chance to do missionary work!” I took a name card out of my wallet, handed it over to her, and said, “We in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believe in good human relations.”
The air hostess told me she was not actually a stewardess but was flight services instructor for Cathay Pacific Airways and had boarded this flight to evaluate the performance of some students she had taught in the cabin crew training school in Hong Kong. That enabled me to make another statement about the Church: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the largest educational institution in the world today. At least 2 million people teach one another on a weekly basis with divinely inspired lesson materials.” I further explained to her that a great deal of my time is spent teaching missionaries and members of the Church in the nine missions of Southeast Asia.
She remarked: “Then you are maybe the man we are looking for—an experienced air traveler with the ability to teach our personnel how to be friendly with customers.” I told her that I would gladly do it free of charge whenever they planned another initial or refresher course in Hong Kong and when these dates would not interfere with my other Church assignments. I thought then and there: “What a golden opportunity to let these people know what makes Mormons behave as they do!”
After my return to Hong Kong, I was approached by the training manager of the airline, who had received a report from the flight services instructor. I made an appointment and spent a couple of hours with him in his office. He was greatly impressed by the work and the achievements of the Church.
I am sure I will have the opportunity to reach out to many souls in the future simply because of what the world observed when they saw the Church in action one early morning in Jakarta, Indonesia.
Well, what do you do in such a case? I calculated that it would probably cost me much time to unload my luggage and find another taxi, and it also occurred to me that the taxi driver was trying hard to earn enough money to provide for his family and would be very disappointed if he could not earn the large fare he would get for the half-hour trip to the airport.
I decided to do my morning exercises by pushing the taxi, leaving the Indonesian cab driver behind the steering wheel to start the car. However, he greatly overestimated the early morning physical power of a Dutchman and released the clutch of the car before I had been able to give the car adequate speed. As a result, it came to a sudden halt. But I tried again and this time it started. With a roaring motor the taxi moved forward. I flung open the door, jumped in, and we were on our way.
An hour and a half later when I boarded my flight, the air hostess who greeted me at the door of the plane said: “I am surprised to see you here! You are the gentleman who pushed the taxi in front of the Borobudur Hotel this morning.”
She then told me that all the members of the plane crew had witnessed the scene from the airport limousine parked at a side door of the hotel. She said that on the way to the airport they had talked a lot about the incident and had wondered: “What kind of a man is this? If he can afford to stay in the Borobudur Hotel, why would he work to push a taxicab at 6:00 A.M.?
I thought, “This is my chance to do missionary work!” I took a name card out of my wallet, handed it over to her, and said, “We in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints believe in good human relations.”
The air hostess told me she was not actually a stewardess but was flight services instructor for Cathay Pacific Airways and had boarded this flight to evaluate the performance of some students she had taught in the cabin crew training school in Hong Kong. That enabled me to make another statement about the Church: “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is the largest educational institution in the world today. At least 2 million people teach one another on a weekly basis with divinely inspired lesson materials.” I further explained to her that a great deal of my time is spent teaching missionaries and members of the Church in the nine missions of Southeast Asia.
She remarked: “Then you are maybe the man we are looking for—an experienced air traveler with the ability to teach our personnel how to be friendly with customers.” I told her that I would gladly do it free of charge whenever they planned another initial or refresher course in Hong Kong and when these dates would not interfere with my other Church assignments. I thought then and there: “What a golden opportunity to let these people know what makes Mormons behave as they do!”
After my return to Hong Kong, I was approached by the training manager of the airline, who had received a report from the flight services instructor. I made an appointment and spent a couple of hours with him in his office. He was greatly impressed by the work and the achievements of the Church.
I am sure I will have the opportunity to reach out to many souls in the future simply because of what the world observed when they saw the Church in action one early morning in Jakarta, Indonesia.
Read more →
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Other
Education
Kindness
Missionary Work
Service
Teaching the Gospel
Returning to Faith
Summary: A young mother who had grown up in the Church began struggling with difficult questions that led her to doubt some of her faith’s foundations. Supported by her family, bishop, and ward, she eventually found comfort in Mother Teresa’s writings and learned to move forward by focusing on the truths she already believed.
Inspired by Mother Teresa’s example and counsel, she chose to rebuild her testimony one simple step at a time. The story highlights how faith, support, and patience can help someone navigate uncertainty without abandoning belief.
In a recent Sunday Relief Society meeting, I listened to a young mother share part of her journey of conversion. She had grown up in the Church, with parents who taught her the gospel. She attended Primary, Young Women, and seminary. She loved to learn and discover truths. Her constant quest was to know why. Elder Russell M. Nelson has said, “The Lord can only teach an inquiring mind.” And this young woman was teachable.
After high school she attended a university, was sealed in the temple to a returned missionary, and was blessed with beautiful children.
With the spirit of inquiry, this mother continued to ask questions. But as the questions grew harder, so did the answers. And sometimes there were no answers—or no answers that brought peace. Eventually, as she sought to find answers, more and more questions arose, and she began to question some of the very foundations of her faith.
During this confusing time, some of those around her said, “Just lean on my faith.” But she thought, “I can’t. You don’t understand; you’re not grappling with these issues.” She explained, “I was willing to extend courtesy to those without doubts if they would extend courtesy to me.” And many did.
She said, “My parents knew my heart and allowed me space. They chose to love me while I was trying to figure it out for myself.” Likewise, this young mother’s bishop often met with her and spoke of his confidence in her.
Ward members also did not hesitate to give love, and she felt included. Her ward was not a place to put on a perfect face; it was a place of nurture.
“It was interesting,” she remembers. “During this time I felt a real connection to my grandparents who had died. They were pulling for me and urging me to keep trying. I felt they were saying, ‘Focus on what you know.’”
In spite of her substantial support system, she became less active. She said, “I did not separate myself from the Church because of bad behavior, spiritual apathy, looking for an excuse not to live the commandments, or searching for an easy out. I felt I needed the answer to the question ‘What do I really believe?’”
About this time she read a book of the writings of Mother Teresa, who had shared similar feelings. In a 1953 letter, Mother Teresa wrote: “Please pray specially for me that I may not spoil His work and that Our Lord may show Himself—for there is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started ‘the work.’ Ask Our Lord to give me courage.”
Archbishop Périer responded: “God guides you, dear Mother; you are not so much in the dark as you think. The path to be followed may not always be clear at once. Pray for light; do not decide too quickly, listen to what others have to say, consider their reasons. You will always find something to help you. … Guided by faith, by prayer, and by reason with a right intention, you have enough.”
My friend thought if Mother Teresa could live her religion without all the answers and without a feeling of clarity in all things, maybe she could too. She could take one simple step forward in faith—and then another. She could focus on the truths she did believe and let those truths fill her mind and heart.
After high school she attended a university, was sealed in the temple to a returned missionary, and was blessed with beautiful children.
With the spirit of inquiry, this mother continued to ask questions. But as the questions grew harder, so did the answers. And sometimes there were no answers—or no answers that brought peace. Eventually, as she sought to find answers, more and more questions arose, and she began to question some of the very foundations of her faith.
During this confusing time, some of those around her said, “Just lean on my faith.” But she thought, “I can’t. You don’t understand; you’re not grappling with these issues.” She explained, “I was willing to extend courtesy to those without doubts if they would extend courtesy to me.” And many did.
She said, “My parents knew my heart and allowed me space. They chose to love me while I was trying to figure it out for myself.” Likewise, this young mother’s bishop often met with her and spoke of his confidence in her.
Ward members also did not hesitate to give love, and she felt included. Her ward was not a place to put on a perfect face; it was a place of nurture.
“It was interesting,” she remembers. “During this time I felt a real connection to my grandparents who had died. They were pulling for me and urging me to keep trying. I felt they were saying, ‘Focus on what you know.’”
In spite of her substantial support system, she became less active. She said, “I did not separate myself from the Church because of bad behavior, spiritual apathy, looking for an excuse not to live the commandments, or searching for an easy out. I felt I needed the answer to the question ‘What do I really believe?’”
About this time she read a book of the writings of Mother Teresa, who had shared similar feelings. In a 1953 letter, Mother Teresa wrote: “Please pray specially for me that I may not spoil His work and that Our Lord may show Himself—for there is such terrible darkness within me, as if everything was dead. It has been like this more or less from the time I started ‘the work.’ Ask Our Lord to give me courage.”
Archbishop Périer responded: “God guides you, dear Mother; you are not so much in the dark as you think. The path to be followed may not always be clear at once. Pray for light; do not decide too quickly, listen to what others have to say, consider their reasons. You will always find something to help you. … Guided by faith, by prayer, and by reason with a right intention, you have enough.”
My friend thought if Mother Teresa could live her religion without all the answers and without a feeling of clarity in all things, maybe she could too. She could take one simple step forward in faith—and then another. She could focus on the truths she did believe and let those truths fill her mind and heart.
Read more →
👤 Other
Adversity
Courage
Doubt
Faith
Prayer
The Sand Tree
Summary: After moving from Michigan to California, Lynn and Jim miss snowy Christmas traditions. They meet an elderly couple on the beach who help them build a sand Christmas tree decorated with shells and a starfish. That evening, the family shares blankets, cocoa, and songs around a bonfire as neighbors gather. Lynn realizes the spirit of Christmas can be felt anywhere.
Lynn and Jim wiggled their toes as the oozing, sucking sand completely buried their feet in the middle of a galloping white wave. As the wave slid back into the sea, the two laughed at the sight of their feetless legs. They looked like two pairs of skinny straws drinking up sea foam.
“It sure doesn’t seem like Christmas, does it?” said Jim.
“No, it sure doesn’t,” his sister agreed. “California isn’t at all like Michigan.”
Lynn and Jim had lived in Michigan all their lives until one day Dad had announced that they were going to move to California. The whole family had been excited at first because they had never been to California. But now Lynn and Jim missed their old friends and the woods where they used to play. It was Christmastime, but there was no snow to play in, no frost to nip their noses when they went caroling, not even any icicles hanging from the rooftops to look at. They missed the proud pheasants and redbirds that came to feed in their backyard, and the frisky squirrels that played tag in the sugar maples. Here at the sunny beach it was hard to remember that it was Christmastime.
Lynn stooped to pick up a shiny white shell. “These shells are awfully pretty, though. Let’s see how many we can collect.”
Soon they had collected so many shells that they could hardly carry them all.
“You need a bag,” said a voice behind them. Turning around, Lynn and Jim saw the oddest-looking couple that they had ever seen. Both had sunburned faces with more wrinkles than a hound dog. The woman’s hair was a scraggly gray mass tucked underneath a patched straw hat; she was carrying a plastic bag. Her dress was shapeless and worn. His clothes were even scragglier, and he was carrying two fishing poles and a small, battered creel. The woman removed a couple of old books from her bag and handed it empty to the children.
“Thanks,” said Jim, dumping the shells into the bag. “But don’t you need it?”
“Oh no,” the elderly woman assured him. “I have plenty more at home.”
“Do you live near here?” Lynn asked.
“Our home is only about a half mile that way,” the elderly man said, pointing up the beach. “We like to come down and read and fish once in a while. We don’t ever catch much. But today we got lucky and founded something special.” He carefully pulled a small, star-shaped object out of his creel.
“It’s a starfish!” Jim exclaimed, reaching out to touch the dead creature.
Lynn gently took the starfish from the man, admiring it. “There are all kinds of beautiful things to collect on this beach,” she declared. “You know, we’ve never collected shells at Christmastime before. We just moved here from Michigan.”
“Well, Christmas is the very best time for collecting shells,” the woman told them.
“I’d rather have snow at Christmas,” Jim complained. “It’s not Christmas without snow.”
“Now, there’s where you’re wrong,” the man responded. “Do you have any pails and shovels?”
“They’re back there.”
“Well, if you’ll get them, there should be enough time before it gets too dark for you to help with one of our favorite Christmas traditions.”
Lynn and Jim ran over to a sagging sandcastle and grabbed up the spoons and cans that they’d been using to build it.
“Now,” began the man as they returned, “have you ever seen a sand tree?”
“Noooo.”
“Well, we’ll show you how to build one.”
Soon the foursome had scooped up piles and piles of wet sand into a mound as high as their arms could reach. Then they began shaping it, first into an upside-down ice-cream cone, then into a fir tree with tiers of branches.
Lynn and Jim were delighted. “Let’s decorate it with our shells,” Lynn said.
The elderly man smiled. “Now you have the idea.”
Carefully, Lynn and Jim placed their shells on the tree. Some were pearl-colored with orange around the edges. Others were dark blue and lavender. They were shaped like fans, teardrops, icicles, and buttons.
“Oh, wait till Mom and Dad see it!” cried Lynn.
“Why don’t you bring them here later, and we’ll have a bonfire, too,” suggested the woman.
Lynn and Jim rushed home to tell their parents all about the sand tree and their new friends.
By the time the family returned with blankets, a huge thermos of hot cocoa, and a plastic container filled with sandwiches, darkness had set in. The elderly couple had already started the bonfire near the sand tree. In the firelight, the shells gleamed like tiny moons. And there was a surprise—on top of the tree shone the little starfish.
“Ohhhh!” they all gasped. The sand tree was too splendid for words. Lynn and Jim quietly sat on a blanket close to the fire and gazed up at the Christmas starfish. Then Lynn nudged Jim and nodded slightly toward the elderly couple. The woman had on a raggedy shawl; the man, a threadbare jacket. They were both shivering.
Jim and Lynn got up; then Jim took their blanket and placed it around the couple while Lynn and their parents poured the cocoa and passed around the sandwiches. After he’d eaten, the elderly man began to sing in a deep voice:
“O holy night,
The stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear
Savior’s birth. …”
The woman’s clear voice joined in on the second line, and Lynn, Jim, and their parents began singing also. Before long, other people who lived along the beach were gathering around the sand tree, singing. Before they knew it, Lynn and Jim had almost forgotten about snow and sleigh rides.
“You can have the Christmas spirit any place,” whispered Lynn.
“It sure doesn’t seem like Christmas, does it?” said Jim.
“No, it sure doesn’t,” his sister agreed. “California isn’t at all like Michigan.”
Lynn and Jim had lived in Michigan all their lives until one day Dad had announced that they were going to move to California. The whole family had been excited at first because they had never been to California. But now Lynn and Jim missed their old friends and the woods where they used to play. It was Christmastime, but there was no snow to play in, no frost to nip their noses when they went caroling, not even any icicles hanging from the rooftops to look at. They missed the proud pheasants and redbirds that came to feed in their backyard, and the frisky squirrels that played tag in the sugar maples. Here at the sunny beach it was hard to remember that it was Christmastime.
Lynn stooped to pick up a shiny white shell. “These shells are awfully pretty, though. Let’s see how many we can collect.”
Soon they had collected so many shells that they could hardly carry them all.
“You need a bag,” said a voice behind them. Turning around, Lynn and Jim saw the oddest-looking couple that they had ever seen. Both had sunburned faces with more wrinkles than a hound dog. The woman’s hair was a scraggly gray mass tucked underneath a patched straw hat; she was carrying a plastic bag. Her dress was shapeless and worn. His clothes were even scragglier, and he was carrying two fishing poles and a small, battered creel. The woman removed a couple of old books from her bag and handed it empty to the children.
“Thanks,” said Jim, dumping the shells into the bag. “But don’t you need it?”
“Oh no,” the elderly woman assured him. “I have plenty more at home.”
“Do you live near here?” Lynn asked.
“Our home is only about a half mile that way,” the elderly man said, pointing up the beach. “We like to come down and read and fish once in a while. We don’t ever catch much. But today we got lucky and founded something special.” He carefully pulled a small, star-shaped object out of his creel.
“It’s a starfish!” Jim exclaimed, reaching out to touch the dead creature.
Lynn gently took the starfish from the man, admiring it. “There are all kinds of beautiful things to collect on this beach,” she declared. “You know, we’ve never collected shells at Christmastime before. We just moved here from Michigan.”
“Well, Christmas is the very best time for collecting shells,” the woman told them.
“I’d rather have snow at Christmas,” Jim complained. “It’s not Christmas without snow.”
“Now, there’s where you’re wrong,” the man responded. “Do you have any pails and shovels?”
“They’re back there.”
“Well, if you’ll get them, there should be enough time before it gets too dark for you to help with one of our favorite Christmas traditions.”
Lynn and Jim ran over to a sagging sandcastle and grabbed up the spoons and cans that they’d been using to build it.
“Now,” began the man as they returned, “have you ever seen a sand tree?”
“Noooo.”
“Well, we’ll show you how to build one.”
Soon the foursome had scooped up piles and piles of wet sand into a mound as high as their arms could reach. Then they began shaping it, first into an upside-down ice-cream cone, then into a fir tree with tiers of branches.
Lynn and Jim were delighted. “Let’s decorate it with our shells,” Lynn said.
The elderly man smiled. “Now you have the idea.”
Carefully, Lynn and Jim placed their shells on the tree. Some were pearl-colored with orange around the edges. Others were dark blue and lavender. They were shaped like fans, teardrops, icicles, and buttons.
“Oh, wait till Mom and Dad see it!” cried Lynn.
“Why don’t you bring them here later, and we’ll have a bonfire, too,” suggested the woman.
Lynn and Jim rushed home to tell their parents all about the sand tree and their new friends.
By the time the family returned with blankets, a huge thermos of hot cocoa, and a plastic container filled with sandwiches, darkness had set in. The elderly couple had already started the bonfire near the sand tree. In the firelight, the shells gleamed like tiny moons. And there was a surprise—on top of the tree shone the little starfish.
“Ohhhh!” they all gasped. The sand tree was too splendid for words. Lynn and Jim quietly sat on a blanket close to the fire and gazed up at the Christmas starfish. Then Lynn nudged Jim and nodded slightly toward the elderly couple. The woman had on a raggedy shawl; the man, a threadbare jacket. They were both shivering.
Jim and Lynn got up; then Jim took their blanket and placed it around the couple while Lynn and their parents poured the cocoa and passed around the sandwiches. After he’d eaten, the elderly man began to sing in a deep voice:
“O holy night,
The stars are brightly shining;
It is the night of the dear
Savior’s birth. …”
The woman’s clear voice joined in on the second line, and Lynn, Jim, and their parents began singing also. Before long, other people who lived along the beach were gathering around the sand tree, singing. Before they knew it, Lynn and Jim had almost forgotten about snow and sleigh rides.
“You can have the Christmas spirit any place,” whispered Lynn.
Read more →
👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Other
Charity
Children
Christmas
Family
Friendship
Jesus Christ
Kindness
Music
Service
The Lost Scriptures
Summary: While traveling in Bolivia in 1977, a Church leader’s luggage—including his treasured scriptures and freshly written, inspired notes—was stolen. After earnest prayers and widespread searching, a woman in La Paz felt prompted to buy the scriptures from a drunken man and took them to the mission office, leading to their safe return. She and her son then accepted the missionary lessons and were baptized. The experience strengthened the leader’s testimony that God answers prayers and can bring forth good from hardship.
Illustrations by Anna Sutor
On July 29, 1977, Sister Cook and I had just finished visiting the Bolivia Santa Cruz Mission as part of my assignment as a member of the Seventy when we had a layover in the Cochabamba, Bolivia, airport for about five hours. We were very tired, so we were both delighted to have a few hours to rest. As I was drifting off to sleep, I had a strong impression that I should awaken and write down some ideas flowing into my mind.
I wrote for nearly three hours, solving some organizational problems I had struggled with in my responsibility at Church headquarters for a number of years. I felt a great outpouring of the Spirit and excitedly wrote down each inspired thought.
Finally we left for La Paz, Bolivia. We were graciously met by President and Sister Chase Allred at the airport and driven in their van to the mission office. We locked the van, leaving our luggage and my briefcase inside, but only did so because Sister Allred asked an elder to keep his eye on the van.
Upon entering the office, the president was confronted by a woman whose husband was dying. Both the president and I helped calm her and assist with her needs. Meanwhile, Sisters Cook and Allred left for the mission home.
When the president and I returned to the van, all of our property was gone. I assumed that Sister Cook had taken the things with her to the mission home. But while we were driving toward the home, I discovered that the right front small window-wing had been damaged and began to fear that perhaps our property had been stolen.
Upon arrival at the mission home, we realized that all of our property had indeed been stolen. The loss of the clothing and a large amount of cash created an immediate but only temporary problem. What was more disheartening was that my scriptures were in the stolen briefcase along with the inspired ideas I had just received in Cochabamba. I was overwhelmed with discouragement, anger, and feelings of helplessness.
After we had all prayed for the recovery of our possessions, we tried to enjoy our dinner but could not. My scriptures had been given to me by my parents, with a sacred inscription to me from my mother and my father before he died. I had spent thousands of hours marking, cross-referencing, and loving the only earthly possessions I had ever considered to be of much value.
Though President Allred and I had much to discuss, I felt a strong impression that we must do all in our power to recover the scriptures. So after supper all of those present knelt to pray once again. I pled with the Lord that the scriptures would be returned, that the persons who had taken them would be led to know of their unrighteous act and repent, and that the return of the books would be the means of bringing someone into the true Church.
We determined to search the area near the mission office and in a nearby field, hoping that the thief or thieves might have taken the saleable items and discarded the English books.
About 10 of us then loaded into the van with flashlights and warm clothing. We drove up and down streets, scouring vacant lots and talking with people until we’d exhausted all possibilities. No one had seen or heard anything. Finally we returned home dejected. President Allred and I finished our business late into the night, and the next day Sister Cook and I flew back to our home in Quito, Ecuador.
Over the next few weeks, the missionaries in Bolivia kept searching. In sheer desperation, they decided to place an ad in two daily newspapers offering a reward.
Meanwhile, in Quito, I was struggling. I had not studied the scriptures at all since mine were stolen. I had tried to study, but every time I read a verse, I could recall only a few of the many cross-references I had made over 20 years. I was disheartened, depressed, and had no desire to read. I prayed many times that my scriptures would be found. My wife and young children also continued praying every day for three weeks, saying, “Heavenly Father, please bring back Daddy’s scriptures.”
After about three weeks I felt a strong spiritual impression: “Elder Cook, how long will you go on without reading and studying?” The words burned, and I determined that I must be humble enough and submissive enough to start all over again. Using my wife’s scriptures, I began reading in Genesis in the Old Testament, and with her permission, marking and cross-referencing once again.
On August 18, a Church employee, Brother Eb Davis, arrived in Ecuador from Bolivia with a package from the mission president in La Paz. He laid my scriptures on my desk along with the inspired notes I had made of my spiritual impressions.
The joy I experienced is indescribable. To realize that the Lord, in some miraculous way, could lift those books out of La Paz, a city of 700,000–800,000 people, from the hands of thieves and return them intact—not one page removed, torn, or soiled—is still beyond me. That day I promised the Lord I would make better use of my time and my scriptures than I had ever made before.
A few days later I returned to Bolivia and discovered that a lady had been in a marketplace—one of hundreds in La Paz—and saw a drunken man waving around a black book. She was a member of a Protestant church and had a strong spiritual impression that something holy was being desecrated. She approached the man and asked him what it was. He did not know but showed her the book. She asked if he had anything else. He pulled out another black book. She asked if there was more. He removed a folder full of papers that he said he was going to burn. She then asked to purchase those things from him, to which he agreed, for the price of 50 pesos (about U.S. $2.50).
Afterward, she felt unsure why she had purchased the books. They were in English, but she didn’t even know English. And they had been expensive—nearly 10 percent of her monthly income. She had no reason to buy the books except for her spiritual impression. She immediately began a search for the church that was named on the front of the books: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
After approaching a number of churches, she finally arrived at the mission office of the Church in La Paz. She hadn’t heard about the reward or seen the ad in the newspaper, which was to appear that day. She did not ask for any money, not even to reclaim the 50 pesos she had paid. The elders received the books with joy and paid her the reward anyway.
She told the missionaries that she was associated with a Pentecostal sect but listened intently as they told her about the gospel. She recalled reading something about Joseph Smith from a pamphlet she had picked up in the street two or three years previously. She accepted the missionary lessons, and after the second lesson, she committed to baptism. Two weeks later, on September 11, 1977, on a Sunday afternoon at a branch in La Paz, Bolivia, Maria Cloefe Cardenas Terrazas and her son Marco Fernando Miranda Cardenas, age 12, were baptized.
The Lord had transformed my overpowering feelings of helplessness when the scriptures were lost into great feelings of joy at seeing His hand revealed. The Lord said, “Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them” (Mark 11:24).
God does hear and answer our prayers if we exercise faith in Him and in His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ.
On July 29, 1977, Sister Cook and I had just finished visiting the Bolivia Santa Cruz Mission as part of my assignment as a member of the Seventy when we had a layover in the Cochabamba, Bolivia, airport for about five hours. We were very tired, so we were both delighted to have a few hours to rest. As I was drifting off to sleep, I had a strong impression that I should awaken and write down some ideas flowing into my mind.
I wrote for nearly three hours, solving some organizational problems I had struggled with in my responsibility at Church headquarters for a number of years. I felt a great outpouring of the Spirit and excitedly wrote down each inspired thought.
Finally we left for La Paz, Bolivia. We were graciously met by President and Sister Chase Allred at the airport and driven in their van to the mission office. We locked the van, leaving our luggage and my briefcase inside, but only did so because Sister Allred asked an elder to keep his eye on the van.
Upon entering the office, the president was confronted by a woman whose husband was dying. Both the president and I helped calm her and assist with her needs. Meanwhile, Sisters Cook and Allred left for the mission home.
When the president and I returned to the van, all of our property was gone. I assumed that Sister Cook had taken the things with her to the mission home. But while we were driving toward the home, I discovered that the right front small window-wing had been damaged and began to fear that perhaps our property had been stolen.
Upon arrival at the mission home, we realized that all of our property had indeed been stolen. The loss of the clothing and a large amount of cash created an immediate but only temporary problem. What was more disheartening was that my scriptures were in the stolen briefcase along with the inspired ideas I had just received in Cochabamba. I was overwhelmed with discouragement, anger, and feelings of helplessness.
After we had all prayed for the recovery of our possessions, we tried to enjoy our dinner but could not. My scriptures had been given to me by my parents, with a sacred inscription to me from my mother and my father before he died. I had spent thousands of hours marking, cross-referencing, and loving the only earthly possessions I had ever considered to be of much value.
Though President Allred and I had much to discuss, I felt a strong impression that we must do all in our power to recover the scriptures. So after supper all of those present knelt to pray once again. I pled with the Lord that the scriptures would be returned, that the persons who had taken them would be led to know of their unrighteous act and repent, and that the return of the books would be the means of bringing someone into the true Church.
We determined to search the area near the mission office and in a nearby field, hoping that the thief or thieves might have taken the saleable items and discarded the English books.
About 10 of us then loaded into the van with flashlights and warm clothing. We drove up and down streets, scouring vacant lots and talking with people until we’d exhausted all possibilities. No one had seen or heard anything. Finally we returned home dejected. President Allred and I finished our business late into the night, and the next day Sister Cook and I flew back to our home in Quito, Ecuador.
Over the next few weeks, the missionaries in Bolivia kept searching. In sheer desperation, they decided to place an ad in two daily newspapers offering a reward.
Meanwhile, in Quito, I was struggling. I had not studied the scriptures at all since mine were stolen. I had tried to study, but every time I read a verse, I could recall only a few of the many cross-references I had made over 20 years. I was disheartened, depressed, and had no desire to read. I prayed many times that my scriptures would be found. My wife and young children also continued praying every day for three weeks, saying, “Heavenly Father, please bring back Daddy’s scriptures.”
After about three weeks I felt a strong spiritual impression: “Elder Cook, how long will you go on without reading and studying?” The words burned, and I determined that I must be humble enough and submissive enough to start all over again. Using my wife’s scriptures, I began reading in Genesis in the Old Testament, and with her permission, marking and cross-referencing once again.
On August 18, a Church employee, Brother Eb Davis, arrived in Ecuador from Bolivia with a package from the mission president in La Paz. He laid my scriptures on my desk along with the inspired notes I had made of my spiritual impressions.
The joy I experienced is indescribable. To realize that the Lord, in some miraculous way, could lift those books out of La Paz, a city of 700,000–800,000 people, from the hands of thieves and return them intact—not one page removed, torn, or soiled—is still beyond me. That day I promised the Lord I would make better use of my time and my scriptures than I had ever made before.
A few days later I returned to Bolivia and discovered that a lady had been in a marketplace—one of hundreds in La Paz—and saw a drunken man waving around a black book. She was a member of a Protestant church and had a strong spiritual impression that something holy was being desecrated. She approached the man and asked him what it was. He did not know but showed her the book. She asked if he had anything else. He pulled out another black book. She asked if there was more. He removed a folder full of papers that he said he was going to burn. She then asked to purchase those things from him, to which he agreed, for the price of 50 pesos (about U.S. $2.50).
Afterward, she felt unsure why she had purchased the books. They were in English, but she didn’t even know English. And they had been expensive—nearly 10 percent of her monthly income. She had no reason to buy the books except for her spiritual impression. She immediately began a search for the church that was named on the front of the books: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
After approaching a number of churches, she finally arrived at the mission office of the Church in La Paz. She hadn’t heard about the reward or seen the ad in the newspaper, which was to appear that day. She did not ask for any money, not even to reclaim the 50 pesos she had paid. The elders received the books with joy and paid her the reward anyway.
She told the missionaries that she was associated with a Pentecostal sect but listened intently as they told her about the gospel. She recalled reading something about Joseph Smith from a pamphlet she had picked up in the street two or three years previously. She accepted the missionary lessons, and after the second lesson, she committed to baptism. Two weeks later, on September 11, 1977, on a Sunday afternoon at a branch in La Paz, Bolivia, Maria Cloefe Cardenas Terrazas and her son Marco Fernando Miranda Cardenas, age 12, were baptized.
The Lord had transformed my overpowering feelings of helplessness when the scriptures were lost into great feelings of joy at seeing His hand revealed. The Lord said, “Therefore I say unto you, What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them” (Mark 11:24).
God does hear and answer our prayers if we exercise faith in Him and in His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Missionaries
👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Baptism
Conversion
Faith
Holy Ghost
Miracles
Missionary Work
Prayer
Revelation
Scriptures
Come and See
Summary: Elder Bednar and his wife watched as their older son tended to his younger brother after a minor accident, vigorously cleaning the wound, soothing it with ointment, and covering it with bandages. After being helped, the injured boy immediately took the remaining supplies outside to treat his friends. This spontaneous sharing illustrated how personal relief leads to a desire to help others. Elder Bednar connects this to why Latter-day Saints share the gospel.
One evening Susan and I stood near a window in our home and watched two of our little boys playing outside. During the course of their adventures, the younger of the two boys was injured slightly in a small accident. We quickly recognized that he was not seriously hurt, and we decided not to provide immediate assistance. We wanted to observe and see if any of our family discussions about brotherly kindness had sunk in. What happened next was both interesting and instructive.
The older brother consoled and carefully helped the younger brother back into the house. Susan and I had positioned ourselves near the kitchen so we could see what next took place, and we were prepared to intervene immediately if additional bodily harm seemed likely or a serious accident was imminent.
The older brother dragged a chair to the kitchen sink. He climbed up on the chair, assisted his brother onto the chair, turned on the water, and proceeded to pour a large quantity of dishwashing soap onto the scratched arm of his little brother. He did his best to gently wash away the dirt. The reaction of the little brother to this procedure can only be described accurately using language from the holy scriptures: “And they shall have cause to howl, and weep, and wail, and gnash their teeth” (Mosiah 16:2). And did that little boy howl!
After the scrubbing was finished, the arm was carefully dried with a towel. Eventually the screaming stopped. The older brother next climbed up onto the kitchen counter, opened a cabinet, and found a new tube of medicated ointment. Though the scratches on his little brother were not large or extensive, the older brother applied almost all of the ointment in the tube to the entire injured arm. The screaming did not resume, as the little brother clearly liked the soothing effect of the ointment much more than he appreciated the cleansing effect of the dishwashing soap.
The older brother returned again to the cabinet in which he had found the ointment and located a new box of sterile bandages. He then unwrapped and put bandages all up and down his brother’s arm—from the wrist to the elbow. With the emergency resolved, and with soap bubbles, ointment, and wrappers all over the kitchen, the two little boys hopped down from the chair with bright smiles and happy faces.
What happened next is most important. The injured brother gathered up the remaining bandages and the almost empty tube of ointment, and he went back outside. He quickly sought out his friends and began to put ointment and bandages on their arms. Susan and I both were struck by the sincerity, enthusiasm, and rapidity of his response.
Why did that little boy do what he did? Please note that he immediately and intuitively wanted to give to his friends the very thing that had helped him when he was hurt. That little boy did not have to be urged, challenged, prompted, or goaded to act. His desire to share was the natural consequence of a most helpful and beneficial personal experience.
The older brother consoled and carefully helped the younger brother back into the house. Susan and I had positioned ourselves near the kitchen so we could see what next took place, and we were prepared to intervene immediately if additional bodily harm seemed likely or a serious accident was imminent.
The older brother dragged a chair to the kitchen sink. He climbed up on the chair, assisted his brother onto the chair, turned on the water, and proceeded to pour a large quantity of dishwashing soap onto the scratched arm of his little brother. He did his best to gently wash away the dirt. The reaction of the little brother to this procedure can only be described accurately using language from the holy scriptures: “And they shall have cause to howl, and weep, and wail, and gnash their teeth” (Mosiah 16:2). And did that little boy howl!
After the scrubbing was finished, the arm was carefully dried with a towel. Eventually the screaming stopped. The older brother next climbed up onto the kitchen counter, opened a cabinet, and found a new tube of medicated ointment. Though the scratches on his little brother were not large or extensive, the older brother applied almost all of the ointment in the tube to the entire injured arm. The screaming did not resume, as the little brother clearly liked the soothing effect of the ointment much more than he appreciated the cleansing effect of the dishwashing soap.
The older brother returned again to the cabinet in which he had found the ointment and located a new box of sterile bandages. He then unwrapped and put bandages all up and down his brother’s arm—from the wrist to the elbow. With the emergency resolved, and with soap bubbles, ointment, and wrappers all over the kitchen, the two little boys hopped down from the chair with bright smiles and happy faces.
What happened next is most important. The injured brother gathered up the remaining bandages and the almost empty tube of ointment, and he went back outside. He quickly sought out his friends and began to put ointment and bandages on their arms. Susan and I both were struck by the sincerity, enthusiasm, and rapidity of his response.
Why did that little boy do what he did? Please note that he immediately and intuitively wanted to give to his friends the very thing that had helped him when he was hurt. That little boy did not have to be urged, challenged, prompted, or goaded to act. His desire to share was the natural consequence of a most helpful and beneficial personal experience.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Family
Friendship
Kindness
Parenting
Service
40 Saints—40 Blessings—No Coincidences!
Summary: In April 2023, 40 members in the Cook Islands received patriarchal blessings after missionaries and Church leaders arranged for Patriarch Steven Stebbings to travel there. Despite torrential rain, Saints came from the outer islands with great faith, and the Stebbings worked long days to meet the need. The article concludes with Brother Stebbings explaining the purpose of patriarchal blessings and how they are meant to guide members throughout life.
The number 40 was symbolically significant to ancient Hebrews. In scripture it is mentioned 146 times and can represent a long period of time. For example, Moses lived 40 years in Egypt, then 40 years in the wilderness when he led his people out of slavery. The Saviour fasted for 40 days after being tempted by the devil, etc. For the Saints in the Cook Islands, many have indeed waited a long period of time to receive their patriarchal blessings—and in April 2023, 40 members received their blessings. Several miracles were evident around this special week.
Earlier this year, when leaders of the New Zealand Auckland Mission planned to visit the remote island country of the Cook Islands for the district’s semiannual conference, they invited the Auckland New Zealand Harbour Stake patriarch, Steven Stebbings, to join them to provide an opportunity for members there to receive their patriarchal blessings.
Brother Stebbings and his wife, Kathy, who is also his scribe, arrived in the country during a torrential rainstorm. One might have thought that would discourage people from venturing out—it did not. Two young elders happily gave up their car for Brother and Sister Stebbings to use while they were on the island. The missionaries were more than happy to use bikes for the week.
The Saints came in that heavy rain. They came with hearts full of gratitude and excitement for what was about to happen. They came to listen to and feel the love of their Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. They came to learn more about their potential and the blessings the Lord has in store for each of them. The people kept coming—the Spirit was strong, and the Stebbings experienced the sweet joy that comes from serving the Lord.
Brother Stebbings is used to giving about four blessings a week; he anticipated he’d interview and bless 15–20 people, so he was more than surprised that 40 members aged 12–74 came in from the outer islands to Rarotonga to receive their blessing.
Sister Stebbings said they started working early each morning and worked long into the night—and through their exhaustion, the Lord sustained and strengthened them to be able to accomplish all that they did.
The experience began in February 2023 when Elder Doneal White and Sister Claudia White arrived in the Cook Islands to serve a mission where there was no stake patriarch. In an early morning seminary class, they heard that 14 students told their teacher they had not received their patriarchal blessings. Wheels were set in motion and soon thereafter Brother Stebbings was authorised to travel to the Cook Islands to provide the desired blessings.
Elder and Sister White said they had prayed the Stebbings there—to the Cook Islands, and the timing was perfect—with a district conference during that time, and it was school holidays—plus a national youth soccer tournament the following week had brought in two groups of members for the tournament—and they could receive their blessings.
Brother Stebbings said patriarchal blessings are given to worthy members of the Church and contain personal counsel from God. “This blessing is intended to be like a road map that helps guide a person through their life,” he said.
“As a patriarch, I have no blessings to give,” Brother Stebbings said. “When I place my hands upon a person’s head, I receive inspiration and revelation for them by the power of the Holy Spirit, which then becomes their blessing.”
“These blessings are not to be neatly folded away and forgotten, and they’re not to be framed or published,” Brother Stebbings said. “It is to be read, followed and loved, and it will see a person through their darkest nights, and will guide them through all of life’s stages.”
Earlier this year, when leaders of the New Zealand Auckland Mission planned to visit the remote island country of the Cook Islands for the district’s semiannual conference, they invited the Auckland New Zealand Harbour Stake patriarch, Steven Stebbings, to join them to provide an opportunity for members there to receive their patriarchal blessings.
Brother Stebbings and his wife, Kathy, who is also his scribe, arrived in the country during a torrential rainstorm. One might have thought that would discourage people from venturing out—it did not. Two young elders happily gave up their car for Brother and Sister Stebbings to use while they were on the island. The missionaries were more than happy to use bikes for the week.
The Saints came in that heavy rain. They came with hearts full of gratitude and excitement for what was about to happen. They came to listen to and feel the love of their Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. They came to learn more about their potential and the blessings the Lord has in store for each of them. The people kept coming—the Spirit was strong, and the Stebbings experienced the sweet joy that comes from serving the Lord.
Brother Stebbings is used to giving about four blessings a week; he anticipated he’d interview and bless 15–20 people, so he was more than surprised that 40 members aged 12–74 came in from the outer islands to Rarotonga to receive their blessing.
Sister Stebbings said they started working early each morning and worked long into the night—and through their exhaustion, the Lord sustained and strengthened them to be able to accomplish all that they did.
The experience began in February 2023 when Elder Doneal White and Sister Claudia White arrived in the Cook Islands to serve a mission where there was no stake patriarch. In an early morning seminary class, they heard that 14 students told their teacher they had not received their patriarchal blessings. Wheels were set in motion and soon thereafter Brother Stebbings was authorised to travel to the Cook Islands to provide the desired blessings.
Elder and Sister White said they had prayed the Stebbings there—to the Cook Islands, and the timing was perfect—with a district conference during that time, and it was school holidays—plus a national youth soccer tournament the following week had brought in two groups of members for the tournament—and they could receive their blessings.
Brother Stebbings said patriarchal blessings are given to worthy members of the Church and contain personal counsel from God. “This blessing is intended to be like a road map that helps guide a person through their life,” he said.
“As a patriarch, I have no blessings to give,” Brother Stebbings said. “When I place my hands upon a person’s head, I receive inspiration and revelation for them by the power of the Holy Spirit, which then becomes their blessing.”
“These blessings are not to be neatly folded away and forgotten, and they’re not to be framed or published,” Brother Stebbings said. “It is to be read, followed and loved, and it will see a person through their darkest nights, and will guide them through all of life’s stages.”
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👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Faith
Gratitude
Holy Ghost
Miracles
Missionary Work
Patience
Patriarchal Blessings
Service
Willie’s Miracle
Summary: During a buffalo stampede, young Emily's sister Willie is thrown from a wagon and severely injured. Priesthood holders bless Willie as the wagon company stops, fasts, and prays, while Emily serves her sister and prays fervently each day. After three weeks, Willie recovers enough to travel, and the sisters acknowledge that faith and prayers brought healing.
The ground began to tremble, and a shout went up from the members of the wagon train. “The buffalo are coming!”
Eight-year-old Emily held tightly to her mother’s hand as her father jumped to the ground, skillfully guiding their team of oxen into a circle formation with the other wagons. As 40 wagons and three carriages jammed together, Emily looked around for her older sister, Wilhelmina—“Willie” for short. Willie was traveling in the covered wagon ahead of theirs, riding on the spring seat with the driver.
Suddenly, a great herd of buffalo thundered over the hill behind them. Emily cried out and hid her face in her mother’s skirts as the fearsome beasts stampeded over the prairie and around the huddled wagon train.
When the dust cleared, Emily heard the wagonmaster calling for help and saw him carrying someone in his arms.
“Willie!” Emily cried. She ran toward her motionless sister and reached for her hand.
Mother spread a quilt on the ground, and the wagonmaster gently lowered Willie onto it. “She’s been badly injured,” he said. “It looks like she was thrown from the wagon.”
Emily stared in horror at the black stripe from a wagon wheel crossing Willie’s left shoulder to her right hip. The right side of her face was terribly cut and bruised, where either an ox or a buffalo had stomped on her.
Emily was so frightened that she started to cry. Mother put her arms around Emily as they knelt by Willie’s side.
Because Emily and Willie’s father was not a member of the Church, other priesthood holders, including their brothers and uncles, gave Willie a blessing. When they were finished, Willie stirred. Mother put her hand over Willie’s face and said, “Don’t open your eyes, dear.”
“Will she be all right?” Emily whispered.
Mother squeezed her hand while blinking back tears. “If it is Heavenly Father’s will.”
Suddenly, Emily remembered being taught by the missionaries back home in Delaware. They had said that if she had faith and believed in Heavenly Father, He would hear and answer her prayers.
Running toward a large rock, Emily dropped to her knees and prayed harder than she ever had before. “Please, Heavenly Father,” she said, “make Willie better.” A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart, and she knew Heavenly Father was listening.
By the time Emily rejoined Willie, the company was setting up camp. Since Willie was unable to travel, the whole company would remain near Buffalo Creek for a time. “We will trust in the Lord that the weather and our supplies will hold out until Willie gets better,” Mother said.
As the wagon train waited for the smallest sign of improvement in Willie’s condition, they fasted and prayed, and the elders continued to pray for her and bless her.
Emily did what she could to help. She gave Willie water when she was thirsty. She read scriptures to Willie and told her stories. She gathered dried buffalo chips to be used as fuel for fire. Sometimes she helped the doctor gather herbs and roots from the prairie, preparing poultices [medicine] to help treat Willie. And every day, Emily prayed and prayed.
Three weeks later, Emily’s prayers were answered. Willie was well enough to travel! The company continued its westward journey.
“Oh, Willie,” Emily said as she sat in the back of the wagon with her sister. “I’m so glad Heavenly Father heard my prayers.”
Willie smiled. “I know that faith and prayers made me whole. What would I have done without you?”
Gingerly touching Willie’s brow, Emily said, “Your cuts are healing. Pretty soon you won’t be able to see them at all.” Emily snuggled close to her sister. “You’re a miracle, Willie.”
“So are you, Emily,” Willie said as she kissed her little sister on the cheek. “So are you.”
Eight-year-old Emily held tightly to her mother’s hand as her father jumped to the ground, skillfully guiding their team of oxen into a circle formation with the other wagons. As 40 wagons and three carriages jammed together, Emily looked around for her older sister, Wilhelmina—“Willie” for short. Willie was traveling in the covered wagon ahead of theirs, riding on the spring seat with the driver.
Suddenly, a great herd of buffalo thundered over the hill behind them. Emily cried out and hid her face in her mother’s skirts as the fearsome beasts stampeded over the prairie and around the huddled wagon train.
When the dust cleared, Emily heard the wagonmaster calling for help and saw him carrying someone in his arms.
“Willie!” Emily cried. She ran toward her motionless sister and reached for her hand.
Mother spread a quilt on the ground, and the wagonmaster gently lowered Willie onto it. “She’s been badly injured,” he said. “It looks like she was thrown from the wagon.”
Emily stared in horror at the black stripe from a wagon wheel crossing Willie’s left shoulder to her right hip. The right side of her face was terribly cut and bruised, where either an ox or a buffalo had stomped on her.
Emily was so frightened that she started to cry. Mother put her arms around Emily as they knelt by Willie’s side.
Because Emily and Willie’s father was not a member of the Church, other priesthood holders, including their brothers and uncles, gave Willie a blessing. When they were finished, Willie stirred. Mother put her hand over Willie’s face and said, “Don’t open your eyes, dear.”
“Will she be all right?” Emily whispered.
Mother squeezed her hand while blinking back tears. “If it is Heavenly Father’s will.”
Suddenly, Emily remembered being taught by the missionaries back home in Delaware. They had said that if she had faith and believed in Heavenly Father, He would hear and answer her prayers.
Running toward a large rock, Emily dropped to her knees and prayed harder than she ever had before. “Please, Heavenly Father,” she said, “make Willie better.” A warm, peaceful feeling filled her heart, and she knew Heavenly Father was listening.
By the time Emily rejoined Willie, the company was setting up camp. Since Willie was unable to travel, the whole company would remain near Buffalo Creek for a time. “We will trust in the Lord that the weather and our supplies will hold out until Willie gets better,” Mother said.
As the wagon train waited for the smallest sign of improvement in Willie’s condition, they fasted and prayed, and the elders continued to pray for her and bless her.
Emily did what she could to help. She gave Willie water when she was thirsty. She read scriptures to Willie and told her stories. She gathered dried buffalo chips to be used as fuel for fire. Sometimes she helped the doctor gather herbs and roots from the prairie, preparing poultices [medicine] to help treat Willie. And every day, Emily prayed and prayed.
Three weeks later, Emily’s prayers were answered. Willie was well enough to travel! The company continued its westward journey.
“Oh, Willie,” Emily said as she sat in the back of the wagon with her sister. “I’m so glad Heavenly Father heard my prayers.”
Willie smiled. “I know that faith and prayers made me whole. What would I have done without you?”
Gingerly touching Willie’s brow, Emily said, “Your cuts are healing. Pretty soon you won’t be able to see them at all.” Emily snuggled close to her sister. “You’re a miracle, Willie.”
“So are you, Emily,” Willie said as she kissed her little sister on the cheek. “So are you.”
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👤 Pioneers
👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Adversity
Children
Faith
Family
Fasting and Fast Offerings
Miracles
Prayer
Priesthood Blessing
Service
Feedback
Summary: A missionary serving in France and Switzerland regularly received thoughtful, testimony-filled letters from a friend. The letters lifted him, especially during a difficult period, increased his desire to work diligently, and even earned the friend a playful 'Most Edifying Letters' award he created.
“The Way to a Missionary’s Mailbox” in the December New Era was an excellent article. I hope that the many girls who are writing to missionaries will read it and apply the wonderful and appropriate suggestions given therein. I have a strong personal testimony of what the right kind of letters can do for a missionary because I received many such letters during my recently completed mission to France and Switzerland. I cannot remember a single instance in which my friend wrote a letter that was in any way selfish or distracting. There was, of course, news from home, but the majority of the space was used to write thoughts, feelings, insights, and testimony that could only encourage and uplift me. Instead of feeling homesick or full of self-pity after reading her letters, I felt grateful and desirous to work all the more diligently for the Savior. The article spoke of building self-esteem in elders. The friend who wrote to me understood this well and often expressed her respect, her confidence, and her belief in me as a servant of the Lord. This can work miracles and was especially important to me during a very difficult period of my mission. I know that her support played a large part in helping me overcome the difficulties I faced during those months. My friend even earned, at one point, the “Most Edifying Letters to a Missionary Award” presented by the special awards committee of the Switzerland Geneva Mission. I was the committee. I will never cease to be grateful to the Lord for the blessing this sister was to me during my mission.
Walter LenelPhiladelphia, Pennsylvania
Walter LenelPhiladelphia, Pennsylvania
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Friends
Adversity
Friendship
Gratitude
Missionary Work
Testimony
Young Women
Doing His Own Fling
Summary: Jimmie Nicholson, a Highland dancer and musician from Dundee, developed an interest in the Church after meeting a member through his performances. After studying with missionaries and praying sincerely, he received a strong answer and decided to be baptized. Although his family initially had mixed reactions, they came to support him, and Jimmie now lives his faith openly while continuing to honor his Scottish heritage.
Four years ago Jimmie discovered a new heritage. Through entertaining, he met a member of the Church. They became friends, and she invited him to go to church with her. He enjoyed the meetings and soon he began talking with the missionaries.
“I found out all about the Church. I was more active than some members,” he says. Finally after two years Jimmie decided he was going to get baptized.
“I had the object one week to pray about it. I did pray, and sincerely. I think that was the big difference. I prayed sincerely because I did want to know if the Church was true. An answer came. I mean it was really strong—very, very strong.
“Before, I was expecting an answer straight away when I was praying. This time I waited. I didn’t have to wait very long. Once I had the feeling, I knew there was no way I could deny it. Just no way at all.
“My parents weren’t too keen on my decision at first. I had been brought up in the Church of Scotland. My mother was slightly hurt, but my father was just concerned I was doing the right thing. I asked them to come to my baptism, and they were there on the front row seats.
“My brother disowned me. He just didn’t want to know me at all. But now he’s great about it. If he hears anyone saying anything bad about the Church or my being a Mormon, he’ll jump to my defense. It’s heartwarming. It’s good to see him stand by me as my parents do.”
Jimmie shares with his family the things that happen at church each weekend. “If I have a calling they seem quite pleased. They know the Church is quite a big part of my life.”
He was attracted to the Church because he had many of the same values it teaches. “I’m a firm believer in doing unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
When he started studying with the missionaries, he was already living the Word of Wisdom. “As a teenager I drank, but only because all my friends were drinking. I realized that to be one of the boys you didn’t have to drink. They respected me eventually because of it.”
Jimmie is proud of his new-found heritage as a Latter-day Saint and strives to share it with others by his example. He blends his new beliefs with the Highland traditions of his homeland to show others what it means to be a Scottish Latter-day Saint.
“I found out all about the Church. I was more active than some members,” he says. Finally after two years Jimmie decided he was going to get baptized.
“I had the object one week to pray about it. I did pray, and sincerely. I think that was the big difference. I prayed sincerely because I did want to know if the Church was true. An answer came. I mean it was really strong—very, very strong.
“Before, I was expecting an answer straight away when I was praying. This time I waited. I didn’t have to wait very long. Once I had the feeling, I knew there was no way I could deny it. Just no way at all.
“My parents weren’t too keen on my decision at first. I had been brought up in the Church of Scotland. My mother was slightly hurt, but my father was just concerned I was doing the right thing. I asked them to come to my baptism, and they were there on the front row seats.
“My brother disowned me. He just didn’t want to know me at all. But now he’s great about it. If he hears anyone saying anything bad about the Church or my being a Mormon, he’ll jump to my defense. It’s heartwarming. It’s good to see him stand by me as my parents do.”
Jimmie shares with his family the things that happen at church each weekend. “If I have a calling they seem quite pleased. They know the Church is quite a big part of my life.”
He was attracted to the Church because he had many of the same values it teaches. “I’m a firm believer in doing unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
When he started studying with the missionaries, he was already living the Word of Wisdom. “As a teenager I drank, but only because all my friends were drinking. I realized that to be one of the boys you didn’t have to drink. They respected me eventually because of it.”
Jimmie is proud of his new-found heritage as a Latter-day Saint and strives to share it with others by his example. He blends his new beliefs with the Highland traditions of his homeland to show others what it means to be a Scottish Latter-day Saint.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Friends
👤 Other
👤 Church Members (General)
Baptism
Conversion
Faith
Friendship
Holy Ghost
Missionary Work
Prayer
Revelation
Testimony
To the Ends of the Earth
Summary: As a 15-year-old in Buenos Aires, Ximena received yard help from a neighbor who brought missionaries. Her mother was baptized, followed by the children, and Ximena longed for a father and temple sealing. Through a church friend, her mother met Rubén; they soon married in the temple, and the children were sealed to them and moved to Ushuaia. Ximena now strives to build Zion at the 'end of the world.'
Consider the story of Ximena Martínez. A few years ago, Ximena, her sister Micaela, and her brother Gonzalo were living with their divorced mother in Buenos Aires. Ximena was 15 at the time. She had been assigned the responsibility of taking care of the yard. “But I had neglected it,” she explains. “Daniel Garrido, a nice neighbor who lived across the street, offered to help. A few days later he came, accompanied by full-time missionaries. They worked hard and made everything look beautiful. But this was only the beginning. Daniel and his wife, Elisabet, continued to be faithful friends, and the missionaries offered to teach us about the Restoration of the gospel. How could we say no?”
That was the beginning of a journey to understanding. After studying with the missionaries, Ximena’s mother was baptized. The children soon followed her example. “I decided to change my life, to have the kind of freedom only Christ can give,” Ximena continues. “More and more, I wanted to live the gospel. But there was something missing—we needed a father, and we wanted to be sealed in the temple.
“One day at a Church dance, I talked to a friend named Martín Morresi. He mentioned that his father was a widower. Jokingly I said, ‘Well, my mother needs a husband! We ought to get them to meet.’ We had only one problem—his father lived 2,000 miles [3,200 kilometers] away.
“I began to tease my mother that I had found a husband for her. Then, at a stake choir rehearsal, Martín told me, ‘My father is coming to visit Buenos Aires, and he wants to have dinner with your mother!’ I was stunned, but I won’t even tell you my mother’s reaction. However, she accepted. Martín accompanied his father, Rubén, and I accompanied my mother, Susana, and we had a wonderful evening. Rubén Morresi was attentive and respectful. I could see he was upright and faithful, a man of God.”
Three and a half months later, Rubén and Susana were married in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple. Ximena, Micaela, and Gonzalo Martínez were sealed to them and moved with them to Ushuaia, where they joined Manuel and Micaela Morresi as new brothers and sisters. (Three older children live away from home.)
“Now I live at the end of the world,” says Ximena. “I am working with all my might to help Zion to grow here. I know the Lord’s kingdom will extend to the four corners of the earth, and this is why He has guided us to one of them.”
That was the beginning of a journey to understanding. After studying with the missionaries, Ximena’s mother was baptized. The children soon followed her example. “I decided to change my life, to have the kind of freedom only Christ can give,” Ximena continues. “More and more, I wanted to live the gospel. But there was something missing—we needed a father, and we wanted to be sealed in the temple.
“One day at a Church dance, I talked to a friend named Martín Morresi. He mentioned that his father was a widower. Jokingly I said, ‘Well, my mother needs a husband! We ought to get them to meet.’ We had only one problem—his father lived 2,000 miles [3,200 kilometers] away.
“I began to tease my mother that I had found a husband for her. Then, at a stake choir rehearsal, Martín told me, ‘My father is coming to visit Buenos Aires, and he wants to have dinner with your mother!’ I was stunned, but I won’t even tell you my mother’s reaction. However, she accepted. Martín accompanied his father, Rubén, and I accompanied my mother, Susana, and we had a wonderful evening. Rubén Morresi was attentive and respectful. I could see he was upright and faithful, a man of God.”
Three and a half months later, Rubén and Susana were married in the Buenos Aires Argentina Temple. Ximena, Micaela, and Gonzalo Martínez were sealed to them and moved with them to Ushuaia, where they joined Manuel and Micaela Morresi as new brothers and sisters. (Three older children live away from home.)
“Now I live at the end of the world,” says Ximena. “I am working with all my might to help Zion to grow here. I know the Lord’s kingdom will extend to the four corners of the earth, and this is why He has guided us to one of them.”
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Parents
👤 Youth
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
Baptism
Conversion
Faith
Family
Friendship
Marriage
Missionary Work
Sealing
Service
Single-Parent Families
Temples
The Restoration
Thirty Years as a Visiting Teacher
Summary: Mercedes and her companion, Olga, arrived at an elderly woman’s home just as her daughter, who had an intellectual impairment, could not wake her. Mercedes fetched the author while Olga aided the woman. They called a doctor and calmed the frightened daughter, marveling at the Lord’s timing.
Mercedes became a dedicated visiting teacher herself. She and her companion, Olga Barros, visited an elderly sister who lived with her daughter, who had an intellectual impairment. One day Mercedes and Olga arrived to find the daughter distressed and confused. She said that her mother had been tired after lunch and had lain down to rest. When the daughter tried to rouse her, she refused to wake up. At that very moment the visiting teachers arrived.
Since I lived nearby, Mercedes ran to get me while Olga massaged the old woman. We called a doctor and did everything we could for the mother until the doctor arrived. How remarkable it was that the visiting teachers had arrived at the very moment when we could call the doctor and calm the frightened daughter!
Since I lived nearby, Mercedes ran to get me while Olga massaged the old woman. We called a doctor and did everything we could for the mother until the doctor arrived. How remarkable it was that the visiting teachers had arrived at the very moment when we could call the doctor and calm the frightened daughter!
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👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Disabilities
Health
Ministering
Relief Society
Service
The Funny-Face Fix
Summary: Before church, baby Ellie starts crying while Mom is helping Grace get ready. Ben first offers toys that don't help, then makes silly faces that calm Ellie and make her laugh. Mom thanks Ben, and he says he likes when Ellie is happy.
Ben and his baby sister Ellie were all ready for church. Ellie sat on the floor with some toys. Ben looked at a book. Mommy was in Grace’s bedroom helping her get ready.
Then Ellie started to cry.
“Ben, can you help Ellie?” Mommy called.
“I’ll try,” Ben called back.
Ben looked at Ellie crying. How could he help her feel better?
“Look, Ellie. It’s your favorite teddy bear.” Ben gave the teddy bear to Ellie. But she kept crying.
“Ellie, here’s your ball.” He gave her a little red ball. But she pushed it away. Now she was crying even louder. She did not want her toys. What could Ben do?
“Look at me, Ellie!” Ben put his thumbs in his ears and wiggled his fingers.
Ellie looked at Ben making a funny face. She stopped crying!
“Watch this, Ellie!” Ben stuck out his tongue and wiggled his head. Ellie smiled. She started to giggle.
Ben made another silly face. Ellie was laughing!
“Thank you so much for helping,” Mommy said when everyone was ready for church. She gave Ben a big hug.
“I like it when Ellie is happy,” Ben said with a smile.
Then Ellie started to cry.
“Ben, can you help Ellie?” Mommy called.
“I’ll try,” Ben called back.
Ben looked at Ellie crying. How could he help her feel better?
“Look, Ellie. It’s your favorite teddy bear.” Ben gave the teddy bear to Ellie. But she kept crying.
“Ellie, here’s your ball.” He gave her a little red ball. But she pushed it away. Now she was crying even louder. She did not want her toys. What could Ben do?
“Look at me, Ellie!” Ben put his thumbs in his ears and wiggled his fingers.
Ellie looked at Ben making a funny face. She stopped crying!
“Watch this, Ellie!” Ben stuck out his tongue and wiggled his head. Ellie smiled. She started to giggle.
Ben made another silly face. Ellie was laughing!
“Thank you so much for helping,” Mommy said when everyone was ready for church. She gave Ben a big hug.
“I like it when Ellie is happy,” Ben said with a smile.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
Children
Family
Kindness
Parenting
Sabbath Day
Service