Gospel Story Finder

I hope you will let me be very personal for a minute because my family is my life's dream and my treasure. These are our seven children. Our four sons are all worthy priesthood holders and good fathers. The oldest was born while we were students and came to our home during the second day of final exams during Elder Henderson's junior year. Just after Elder Henderson's graduation, our twin boys were born, on February 14, Valentine’s Day. We had recently moved to our first job. Everything in our small home was borrowed, including the three cribs or baby beds. With three babies under one-year old, and diapers we had to wash, our lives seemed an endless round of feeding, diapers, washing clothes, and crying babies. We learned quickly to work together as a team. Elder Henderson would take his turn and get up with a crying baby late at night so I could rest. I would try to have dinner and look nice for him when he came home from work. We went on our knees a lot and prayed that the Lord would somehow give us the strength and money to keep going. We remembered the sacred covenants that we had made with each other and God in the temple, and He remembered us. We added three more girls and another son. We were happy and felt richly blessed to have such a special family.
All of our children have blessed us beyond measure. They brought precious grandchildren to us with great love and sacrifice. Raising a family is not easy. We have known times of happy family experiences together. But we have also known heartache and pain. At times, Elder Henderson and I have knelt together with heavy hearts and asked for help when we could not see the way. Heavenly Father has always heard our prayers and raised us up to be more than we could be, together, to realize the blessings of our temple covenants.

James’s favorite Primary song is “Book of Mormon Stories,”** because it’s about learning the scripture stories. James and Jessa now have the scriptures and wonderful teachers, friends, and family who help them learn about Jesus Christ and His church. For both children, this was a real comfort when they moved to a new country and had to learn a new language. James even remembers hiding in the bushes because he was so scared and lonely when he first moved. Now both he and Jessa are confident and happy, and they know that they are loved by many.

It was through the Liahona that I became acquainted with the Church and was baptized. In 1997, when I was 11 years old, a friend showed me copies of the magazine. The beautiful pictures caught my attention, as did the articles and games in the children’s section. I was baptized a short time later. Even though it was years ago, I remember it perfectly.Paula F. P. da Silveira, Ibirapuita Ward, Alegrete Brazil Stake

Twelve-year-old William Moroni Palmer leaned against his mother’s arm. “Read the story about David and Goliath,” he said.
“I read that one to you yesterday.”
“Then how about Daniel and the lions?”
“You already know that by heart.”
“I know. But David and Daniel were so brave. I wish I was as brave as they were.”
“They were more than brave,” his mother said. “They also had great faith in the Lord. They knew He would help them.” She put her arm around her son. “Besides, you are as brave as they were. Every day you face a world of darkness, and every day you face it with a smile.”
William reached for the Bible his mother held, and she put it into his hand. He gently caressed the cover. “Oh, I wish I could read it!”
His mother tousled his hair. “You can read it in your mind,” she said, her voice growing firm. “Daniel 6:23.” [Dan. 6:23]
William sat up tall. “‘Then was the king exceeding glad for him, and commanded that they should take Daniel up out of the den. So Daniel was taken up out of the den, and no manner of hurt was found upon him, because he believed in his God.’”
“Very good,” his mother said. “Because you have memorized it, you can read it any time you’d like.”
Just then his father stepped into the room. “It’s official,” he reported. “Elder Heber C. Kimball is coming to the conference your mother and I will be attending in Ogden.”
“He’s in the First Presidency now!” His mother jumped to her feet and ran to the front door. “Hyrum,” she called to William’s brother, “come here, please. I have something wonderful to tell you!”
For the next several hours, William’s parents, his married brother and sister, and even nine-year-old Hyrum excitedly talked about the upcoming conference.
William only listened. Ever since he had learned that President Kimball was coming, a great shivery feeling had filled his heart. Did he truly have enough courage—and enough faith—to ask what he so desperately wanted to ask?
After a while, his mother returned to his side. “What is it, Son?” she asked. “Aren’t you excited too?”
William nodded. “Yes, but …” He swallowed hard. “Mother, would you ask President Kimball to come to our place after the conference and bless me so that I can see?”
His mother pulled him into her arms. “Dear William, do you believe that you can be healed?” she asked.
William thought of Daniel climbing out of the lions’ den. He pictured David swinging his slingshot above his head. “I know I can, Mama, if he will come and if the Lord wills it.”
“Then I will bring him. He gave me a blessing to heal me when I was dying in Nauvoo, and he promised that he’d shake hands with me in the west, so I’m sure that he will come.”
When conference day arrived that day in 1858, William’s father gathered his family for prayer. He prayed that he and his wife would have a safe journey, that all would be well at home, and that William would receive his sight, if it was God’s will. Then the boys’ parents left for the conference.
While they were gone, William spent most of his time in his parents’ room, praying. “Please, Heavenly Father,” he pleaded, “let President Kimball come.”
Finally, just as the warm afternoon air was beginning to cool, William heard the clickety-jingle of the family surrey. He ran to the front door and listened harder. The Apostle’s voice!
“Is this the boy you told me of?” President Kimball asked as he stepped through the door.
“It is,” his mother said. “But would you like to eat with us first?”
“This must come first. He has waited long enough.”
William’s father placed a chair in the middle of the room for William to sit on. Then he and President Kimball gave William a blessing.
“Open your eyes, Brother William,” President Kimball said, “and you shall see.”
William’s eyes flew open. He sat stunned for a moment, then jumped from his chair and ran out the door. “Oh! I can see! I can see! Oh, Mama, I can see!” Then he fell to the ground and hugged it.
How grateful he was that God had not only restored his sight but had also taught him that if he had faith in Him, all things were possible.

As a Young Women leader, I had been to several New Beginnings programs. But when I went to New Beginnings with my own first daughter, I saw it through new eyes.
As we waited for the program to begin, I couldn’t help wondering what the coming years would hold for my daughter: Would the young women in our ward accept her? Would they be her friends? Would her leaders love her? Would they be her mentors in the challenging times ahead?
After the opening prayer, the older young women and their leaders joined hands in the middle of the room and started singing a beautiful song:
Ours is a circle, a circle of friendship,
and just like a circle, it goes on and on
endless, eternal, this circle of friendship;
enter our circle, for here you belong.1
Then each 16- or 17-year-old young woman took a younger girl by the hand and drew her into the circle too. Again they sang the song, repeating the process until every girl was included.
In the weeks to come, I saw that this song was not an idle promise. It was a symbol for something real and wonderful. The young women in that ward didn’t just accept my daughter; they welcomed her with open hearts. She was treated by the girls her age as an instant new friend, by the older classes as a treasured younger sister, by the leaders as a cherished daughter. How grateful I was—and still am—for those girls and leaders who opened their circle and made my daughter feel wanted, valued, and loved.

Late last year, I decided to talk to my stake president about something I had kept inside for a long time. Even though I’ve had a picture of the temple on my nightstand for over 10 years and have always had a temple recommend, I had never actually gone inside. A quiet fear had kept me from taking that step.
What made it even harder was that I had been deeply involved in the success of many temple-related events in Haiti, including the laying of the cornerstone at the dedication of the Port-au-Prince Haiti Temple as a member of the Haiti Communication Council and helped promote the temple in many ways. Yet still I couldn’t bring myself to go inside.
I told my stake president that it wasn’t a lack of faith but a fear I couldn’t overcome. Having grown up in the Church, I’ve always tried to be a faithful disciple of Christ. But the thought of actually entering the temple overwhelmed me. Maybe it was the sacredness of the place or the feeling that I wasn’t ready or worthy, even though I wanted to go.
He listened kindly and encouraged me to pray for help to overcome that fear. I took his advice seriously. As the new year began, I knelt in prayer and felt it was finally time to move forward. I no longer wanted to miss out on the blessings of the temple because of my doubts. I told the stake president I was ready to go, and he responded with words I’ll never forget: “May the Light of Christ illuminate your progress as you walk the covenant path and help you overcome your fear.” Those words gave me strength and peace.
I made plans to go to the temple with my mother on January 3, 2025—a day I will never forget. I was nervous but excited. Just before we left, I received a surprise phone call: a long-awaited prayer of mine had finally been answered. After several rejections, I was told that a request I had lost hope on had been approved. It felt like a direct message from heaven, a sign that God had been listening all along.
With a joyful heart, I entered the temple for the first time. The temple president and his wife welcomed me warmly, fully aware of the significance of this moment for me. Their kindness helped calm my remaining fears, and I felt a deep peace.
During the temple session, every word touched my soul. I felt a clarity and joy I had never experienced before. I knew I was in a holy place of revelation and blessings. Afterward, the temple president walked me to the door. That simple act made me feel loved and supported.
That day changed me. I overcame a fear that had weighed on me for years. I felt God’s love and guidance more clearly than ever before.
But the blessings didn’t stop there. When I returned home, I received a second confirmation—another answer to the same prayer but through a different person. It was as if the Lord wanted me to be absolutely sure that He had heard me. Receiving two answers to the same prayer was a powerful witness of His love and mercy.
As I reflected on everything, the words of President Russell M. Nelson came to mind: “It is significant that the Savior chose to appear to the people at the temple. It is His house. It is filled with His power. … I promise that increased time in the temple will bless your life in ways nothing else can.”
Now I know the temple truly is a refuge—a sacred place where I will continue to return for light, direction, and peace.

Kelly tossed her book bag on the floor. She just had to talk to someone, and that someone had to be Grandma because Mom wasn’t home. “Grandma, Julie was so mean today—I’m never speaking to her again. She told Ryan that I like him.”
Grandma set down the music she was practicing and smiled at her. “I can see that you’re angry.”
“Of course I’m angry,” Kelly fumed. “You would be too.”
Grandma chuckled softly.
Kelly couldn’t believe her ears—her life was ruined and Grandma thought it was funny!
All of a sudden Grandma began to laugh out loud. “Oh, Kelly,” she said finally when her laughter stopped. “You sailed in here just like a soprano I once knew. Everything made her mad, and she flounced theatrically here, there, everywhere, all around the opera house.”
Kelly was mortified. “I don’t flounce, and not everything makes me mad.”
Grandma chuckled some more. “Of course not, I know that. Come on, child, see some humor. If you don’t laugh about your troubles in life, you’ll grow old before your time. Being angry takes energy.”
“I want to be angry,” Kelly mumbled.
“I know,” Grandma nodded wisely. “Anger is such a strong feeling that you think you like it. But actually you don’t feel good inside right now, do you?”
Kelly stubbornly refused to agree with Grandma. She had a right to be angry. Julie had been mean to her, and she hadn’t done anything to Julie—at least not at first. “I feel just fine,” she said grimly.
Grandma chuckled again. “Remember, voices are my business. I can tell by your voice that you’re feeling bad inside. I think I’ll sing you a song. It’s helped me many times when I’ve felt all bad inside.”
Kelly wanted to sigh out loud. Grandma’s opera songs were usually hard to understand, and most of the time they were in another language. She was in no mood for opera.
Grandma began to sing softly:
“‘Help me, dear Father, to freely forgive
“‘All who may seem unkind to me
“‘Help me each day, Father, I pray;
“‘Help me live nearer, nearer to thee.’”*
Kelly looked up in astonishment. The song was simple, it had a sweet melody, and it wasn’t opera. She listened quietly as Grandmother sang it again. She felt her anger melt away. “Where did you learn that? I’ve never heard you sing a churchy kind of song before.”
Grandma smiled. “I never was much of one for church in the past, but since I was here last, I joined one.”
“Which church?” Kelly asked.
“The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. That’s where I learned the song—in Primary.”
“What’s Primary?”
“It’s kind of like Sunday School for children your age. They have classes, Sharing Time, and singing time. I lead the singing in Primary.”
Kelly was astonished. Grandma was one of the country’s best operatic sopranos. She got paid a lot of money to sing in operas, and now she was leading music for little kids! “How much do they pay you?” she blurted out.
A satisfied look came to Grandma’s face. “Not one single penny.”
Grandma teaching music for free? She took a good look at Grandma. Grandma had been happy ever since she’d arrived. She sang and danced; she helped around the house. She got along well with everyone. “You’re truly happy,” Kelly said thoughtfully.
Grandma nodded. “Yes, very happy. Learning about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, and the gospel has brought me peace and happiness. I’d like to share it with you, especially—” Grandma winked at her—“the peace part right now.”
“I suppose you think I should forgive Julie,” Kelly said grudgingly. “Like it said in that song.”
Instead of answering, Grandma began to sing again:
“‘Help me, dear Father, to truly repent,
“‘Making things right, and changing my ways.
“‘Help me each day, Father, I pray;
“‘Help me live nearer, nearer to thee.’”
Kelly stared at Grandma, “You don’t think I need to repent, do you? Is that why you sang the rest of the song?”
“Was Julie the only one that did something wrong?”
Kelly had yelled at Julie. But Julie deserved it, Kelly told herself defiantly. Aloud, she answered, “Yes, she was.” She refused to look Grandma in the eye. It was all Julie’s fault. It was!
The rest of the evening the song whirled around in her head. She could hear it when she did her homework. She heard it when she brushed her teeth. She woke up the next morning with it ringing in her ears, so she put on the headphones to her radio to make her brain switch tracks. The new music worked—she walked to school, forgetting the song and all that Grandma had told her.
As she turned the corner, she caught sight of Julie talking to Jamie on the playground. Julie saw Kelly and started to wave, then stopped and turned her back. Why is Julie mad at me? She’s the one in the wrong. Kelly hesitated, remembering the name she’d shouted at her best friend. It wasn’t a nice word. Maybe Grandma was right—maybe she should be sorry. When Jamie ran off to claim her turn at tetherball, leaving Julie alone, Kelly hurried over to her. “Julie, I’m sorry I called you that name.”
“You’re apologizing to me?” She looked embarrassed. “I’m the one who should say she’s sorry.”
Kelly grinned at her. “Yes, you should, too—now Ryan will bug me for the rest of the year.” They both laughed.
Julie smiled again. “I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I was mad because you were playing with Jenny and not me.”
After school, Kelly hurried home. “Grandma,” she called, “guess what.”
Grandma was making cookies.“Julie and you are friends again.”
“How did you know?”
“Well forgiving and being forgiven make people happy. You look happy, and you sound happy.”
“Grandma, do you think Mom would let me go to church with you this Sunday?”
“There’s only one way to find out—we’ll just have to ask her.”
Grandma began to sing a familiar song from an opera. Kelly felt so good that she joined right in.

During our service at Brigham Young University–Idaho, Sister Bednar and I frequently hosted General Authorities in our home. Our family learned an important lesson about meaningful prayer as we knelt to pray one evening with a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

Earlier in the day Sister Bednar and I had been informed about the unexpected death of a dear friend, and our immediate desire was to pray for the surviving spouse and children. As I invited my wife to offer the prayer, the member of the Twelve, unaware of the tragedy, graciously suggested that in the prayer Sister Bednar express only appreciation for blessings received and ask for nothing. His counsel was similar to Alma’s instruction to the members of the ancient Church “to pray without ceasing, and to give thanks in all things” (Mosiah 26:39). Given the unexpected tragedy, requesting blessings for our friends initially seemed to us more urgent than expressing thanks.

Sister Bednar responded in faith to the direction she received. She thanked Heavenly Father for meaningful and memorable experiences with this dear friend. She communicated sincere gratitude for the Holy Ghost as the Comforter and for the gifts of the Spirit that enable us to face adversity and to serve others. Most importantly, she expressed appreciation for the plan of salvation, for the atoning sacrifice of Jesus Christ, for His Resurrection, and for the ordinances and covenants of the restored gospel which make it possible for families to be together forever.

Our family learned from that experience a great lesson about the power of thankfulness in meaningful prayer. Because of and through that prayer, our family was blessed with inspiration about a number of issues that were pressing upon our minds and stirring in our hearts. We learned that our gratefulness for the plan of happiness and for the Savior’s mission of salvation provided needed reassurance and strengthened our confidence that all would be well with our dear friends. We also received insights concerning the things about which we should pray and appropriately ask in faith.

When a pair of shoes was put aside by a teenager because they “squeezed her toes,” they were taken to Sister Pongsuwan, mother of three young daughters. “Do you want to be Cinderella?” asked Brother Dang as he knelt before her and slipped the shoes on her tiny feet. The shoes fit perfectly. Sister Pongsuwan danced and twirled with happiness, telling everyone that she had never had a pair of shoes before!

A family night activity at a swimming pool could have ended in tragedy except for the quick action of 12-year-old Mike Kinder.
The Kinder family was visiting some friends who had access to a pool. Four-year-old Kyle was holding onto the edge, watching his older brothers and sisters play in the deeper section of the pool. The youngster tried to swim for a short distance and couldn’t make it. Mike found his brother floating face down and pulled him to the edge of the pool and yelled for his dad. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation revived little Kyle, who was taken to the hospital and later released.
Mike attributes his fast thinking to things he has learned in church and Scouting. He said that his leaders “teach you to use your head and to make decisions so that when the time comes to use what you’ve learned, your mind is already made up.”
Mike is a deacon in the Baytown Ward, Houston Texas East Stake.

How in the world was I going to get out of this? I was 16 years old and had my first job in the food court of a local grocery store. Pretty safe job—or so I thought—until my boss asked me to dress up as a corn dog to promote a sale we were having. A corn dog!
Next thing I knew, I was in a costume walking around the store with a basketful of candy. I couldn’t hold the basket with two hands because the corn dog suit was so huge my arms couldn’t reach around to the front. Not only that, when kids would run up to the giant corn dog to get some candy, I couldn’t look down to see how many pieces of candy they were taking. I think they caught on quickly.
I was under strict orders not to talk while in this horrible costume. So when people asked if I was a banana, I couldn’t say anything to correct them. I came up with a solution. I put a nice big sign on my front stating, “I am a corn dog!” I was already beyond humiliation. At least no one could see my face.
Around the store I walked. I’m sure the kids thought I was pretty strange—a giant, silent, walking corn dog with an empty basket. But hey, I wasn’t a banana, so it could have been worse.
Then came the cruel laughter and the jabbing kicks from behind. I turned around and saw no one.
Kick! I turned around again. No one.
Kick! Kick! I whirled around as quickly as a corn dog could manage. No one again. Now the laughter was hysterical. Kick! Kick! Kick! Why was no one coming to rescue a poor, persecuted corn dog! Couldn’t they see the kids torturing me? I was miserable. I had to get out of there! So I waddled as quickly as I could back to the food court.
It was then that I saw him. A guy I liked was standing at the counter of the food court. I could hear him asking for me. No!
Then I saw my fellow employee, a girl who I thought was my friend, point in my direction. I turned around as quickly as I could and waddled back to where I had been so rudely kicked. Somehow that seemed so much better than being approached by the guy I liked and had tried so hard to impress. I moved as quickly as I could, cutting through the aisle and making my way back to the food court from the other direction. I had to get out of this thing. Just a few more waddles and I would be there.
I struggled to pull the giant corn dog off of my body. I was so completely miserable, so completely humiliated. I couldn’t go out there again.
How long had I been in the corn dog costume? An hour? Two hours? Three? I looked at the clock. Twenty minutes! How could so much misery, so much humiliation, so much horror fit into just 20 minutes?
I saw my boss approaching me. I pleaded with her to let me be finished. Couldn’t she see how tortured I was? She informed me that if I could find a replacement then I was off the hook. Who in their right mind would actually want to do this? But it was my only hope. I had to at least ask.
I approached the girl who had previously blown my cover. I tried to act like it hadn’t been that bad. I thought if she knew what she was getting into, she’d never agree. But she did. “It’ll be fun,” she told me.
“She won’t last long,” I thought.
Three hours later, she came back smiling. I couldn’t believe it. She actually enjoyed being a corn dog. I didn’t think it was possible.
I learned something valuable that day. I learned that we can choose to be happy, or we can choose to be unhappy. We were in the same situation, and she chose to enjoy it. I could have done that too. I could have laughed along with everyone else. I could have seen the humor in the situation and had an enjoyable time. Instead I chose to be miserable.
It’s the same thing with life. Our circumstances don’t choose for us. We choose. Even in the midst of challenging school assignments, lack of friends, chronic illness, or parents divorcing, we can choose to turn to Heavenly Father and discover that we can still find peace, even joy, in this life. I learned that day that choosing to be cheerful is much more enjoyable, even for a corn dog.

The Young Men and Young Women of the Nashua Second Ward, Nashua New Hampshire Stake, chose an unusual way of showing their school teachers how they feel about them. The youth held a Teacher Appreciation Night.
After planning the event in their Bishopric Youth Committee meeting, the youth delivered printed invitations to the teacher or teachers of their choice. On the appointed evening, 48 guests arrived at the ward house to find the cultural hall set up with round tables and decorated with miniature hot air balloons and baskets. The youth served a complete sit-down dinner from salad to dessert. The bishop addressed the group, thanking the teachers for their hard work and the good influence they were having on their students.
At the close of the evening, each teacher was given a certificate of appreciation. One teacher said, “No one has ever done anything like this for us before. It’s nice to be appreciated.”
Comments from the young people included, “I was nervous at first, but we had fun talking and eating. I felt special and so did my teacher.”
The BYC is ready to plan a repeat of the evening next year.

To illustrate, I quote this heartwarming pioneer account:
“Many years ago in a small town in the southern part of the state of Utah, my great grandmother was called to be the president of the Relief Society. During this period of our Church’s history there existed a very bitter and antagonistic spirit between the Mormons and the Gentiles.
“In my great grandmother’s ward one of the young sisters married a gentile boy. This of course did not please either the Mormons or the Gentiles very much. In the course of time this young couple gave birth to a child. Unfortunately the mother became so ill in the process of childbirth that she was unable to care for her baby. Upon learning of this woman’s condition, great grandmother immediately went to the homes of the sisters in the ward and asked them if they would take a turn going into the home of this young couple to care for the baby. One by one these women refused and so the responsibility fell completely upon her.
“She would arise early in the morning, walk what was a considerable distance to the home of this young couple where she would bathe and feed the baby, gather all that needed to be laundered and take it with her to her home. … One morning she felt too weak and sick to go. … However, as she lay in bed she realized that if she didn’t go the child would not be provided for. [With the help of the Lord,] she mustered all her strength and went. [When she returned home, exhausted, she] collapsed into a large chair and immediately fell into a deep sleep. She said that as she slept she felt as if she were consumed by a fire that would melt the very marrow of her bones. She … dreamed that she was bathing the Christ child and glorying in what a great privilege it would have been to have bathed the Son of God. Then the voice of the Lord spoke to her saying, ‘Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of these, ye have done it unto me.’” (My Errand from the Lord: A Personal Study Guide for Melchizedek Priesthood Quorums 1976–77, pp. 154–55.)

Becoming who you really are sounds like a paradox. How can I become who I already am? I will illustrate this principle through a story.
The film The Age of Reason tells the story of Marguerite, a prosperous banker who leads a hectic life filled with travels and conferences. Even though she has an adoring suitor, she says she doesn’t have time for marriage or children.
The day she turns 40 she receives a mysterious letter that says, “Dear me, today I am seven years old and I’m writing you this letter to help you remember the promises I made when I was seven, and also to remind you of what I want to become.” The author of the letter is none other than Marguerite when she was seven years old. What follows are several letters in which the little girl describes in detail her life’s goals.
Marguerite realizes that the person she has become is nothing like the person she wanted to become when she was a young girl. As she decides to reclaim the person she envisioned as a child, her life is turned upside down. She reconciles with her family and determines to consecrate the rest of her life to serving people in need.3

Throughout his life, the Prophet Joseph Smith provided countless examples of courage. One of the most dramatic occurred as he and other brethren were chained together—imagine, chained together—and held in an unfinished cabin next to the courthouse in Richmond, Missouri. Parley P. Pratt, who was among those held captive, wrote of one particular night: “We had lain as if in sleep till the hour of midnight had passed, and our ears and hearts had been pained, while we had listened for hours to the obscene jests, the horrid oaths, the dreadful blasphemies and filthy language of our guards.”

Continued Elder Pratt:
“I had listened till I became so disgusted, shocked, horrified, and so filled with the spirit of indignant justice that I could scarcely refrain from rising upon my feet and rebuking the guards; but [I] had said nothing to Joseph, or any one else, although I lay next to him and knew he was awake. On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE. … In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’”

Joseph “stood erect in terrible majesty,” as described by Elder Pratt. He was chained, without a weapon, and yet he was calm and dignified. He looked down upon the quailing guards, who were shrinking into a corner or crouching at his feet. These seemingly incorrigible men begged his pardon and remained quiet.9

WELCOME!I’m Sister Simon.Hi! I’m Ramón.Hello. I’m Cathlyn.I’m Mei Lin.Hi! I’m David.And I’m Joshua.
What on earth are you doing, Josh?Archaeology.Sure you are.
This is a very promising dig. I’m unearthing evidence of an early twenty-first century civilization.The early twenty-first century is right now.Exactly. From here I’ll work backward. Soon I’ll be in Book of Mormon times.
Right. So what have you discovered?This!
A CTR ring?Don’t you see? This proves that a young man who wanted to choose the right inhabited this dwelling. I bet with a little more digging, I’ll find a baptismal certificate.
Impressive.Brilliant might be a better word.

Today I share an example with you of “how the Lord can help you” that was shared with me many years ago by one of my youth leaders. This man had an enormous personal impact on me growing up and has recently passed away. Thad Carlson was raised in the Great Depression era (in the United States) as the ninth of fourteen children. His family made a living by farming and raising cattle. It was a difficult time financially, and their greatest asset in being able to support their large family was their herd of cattle. In his youth, one of Thad’s responsibilities on the farm was to care for and, when necessary, herd the cattle to assure they found the best feed, a big job for a young boy. He was able to do this with the aid of a smart cow pony who knew exactly what to do with very little direction. The pony was named Old Smoky. Thad described that Old Smoky had one fault – which was that he never wanted to be caught. Whenever this horse was approached to be caught, he would just run away, knowing that he was going to be put to work!

On this day, after Old Smoky was caught, bridled and saddled, young Thad rode out to the pasture where the cattle were grazing. The ground was dry, and so was the pasture, as the whole area was experiencing a drought. Thad noticed that the grass outside the pasture along the sides of the railroad tracks seemed longer and greener. So, he thought they could herd the cows outside the fenced pasture and let them enjoy some of that good feed which was right along the railroad tracks. With the help of Old Smoky, he herded the cattle out of the pasture, where they began to move back and forth along the rail tracks feeding on the better, greener grass. Everything seemed to be working out so well with this plan. The contented cows seemed to be taking care of themselves, so Thad got off his horse, and sat on the reins of the bridle enjoying the surroundings around him, playing and amusing himself. Old Smoky eventually drifted away, his reins slipping out from under Thad, looking to graze in the green grass himself.

This idyllic and peaceful moment came to a crashing and abrupt halt when Thad suddenly heard a loud noise from far away. It was the whistle of an oncoming locomotive barreling down the very rail tracks where his cattle herd were lazily scattered right in front of him! He recognized the consequences could be devastating to the herd and also to his family if he did not act quickly to get the cattle back into the pasture away from that oncoming train. He felt he would never be able to forgive himself for not fulfilling his trusted responsibility. He swiftly jumped to his feet and ran to grab the reins of Old Smoky. Old Smoky saw him coming and quickly danced away from Thad – of course not wanting to be caught. Breathless and desperate, with images of dead cows and family tragedy flashing through his mind, Thad knew he had to act fast.

He later recorded what followed next :
“My primary teacher had taught us to pray, and reinforced teachings learned from my mother. With no other recourse, I dropped to my knees and started to pray for help to clear the cows off the tracks.” He continues, “I didn’t hear a voice, but the clear thought came, “Notice how the cows can walk by Old Smoky and he doesn’t move. So . . . now that you are on your knees, also get on your hands. Play [pretend] like you’re a cow and crawl over to Old Smoky.” I did. He didn’t move. I grabbed his reins, led him to the fence, hopped on his back and we raced like the wind to get the cows back into the pasture. Old Smoky was unusually brilliant at every twist and turn.”

Thad continued to describe that at the time he “didn’t dare tell anyone about this for fear of getting his pants kicked . . .”
He also described that it was sometime later, when he was in high school that it fully dawned on him that he had a very clear answer to his prayer in a critical time of need. He observed that, “angels administered to Old Smoky beyond my ability, and our family was spared a tragedy.”

Later on, he shared: “this was the first of many promptings that was to come to me. ‘And whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, which is right, believing that ye shall receive, behold, it shall be given unto you.’”10
He finally quipped, “whenever someone would sing the song ‘On Top of Old Smoky’, I always thought of prayer.”

My name is Allison S., and I live in Nashville, Tennessee. I am eight years old, and I was just baptized a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Some of my family members came to my baptism. My little sister, Abigail, and my brother, Daniel, were there. My grandparents came all the way from Utah. My mom helped me get dressed, and my dad baptized me. I was baptized in the same dress that my mom wore when she got baptized when she was a little girl.
I invited some of my friends to come to my baptism too. Some of them were from school and some were from Girl Scouts. None of them are members of the Church, but I knew they would want to be there on my special day.
All of my friends believe in the Bible, so we have that in common. I asked my friends to write down their favorite Bible verses and bring them to my baptism. After my baptism, I underlined the verses is my own Bible and wrote my friends’ names in the margins. My friend Katie gave me Proverbs 17:17, which says, “A friend loveth at all times.” Another friend, Molly, brought Romans 8:28. It says, “all things work together for good to them that love God.”

It was Josef’s first time at Filip’s house. They had a great time building a cardboard spaceship. They even colored awesome flames on it. When Filip’s mom called them for dinner, Josef followed Filip into the kitchen.
“I’ll say grace,” said Filip’s dad.
What does that mean? Josef wondered. He watched Filip and his family as they each touched their forehead, then the middle of their chest, then the left side, then the right. Josef had never seen anyone do that before.
Filip held his hand out. Josef looked around and saw that the rest of Filip’s family were holding hands and bowing their heads. Are they about to pray? Is that what it means to “say grace”? Josef wondered.
Josef didn’t want to hurt Filip’s feelings, so he took Filip’s hand. Filip’s dad took Josef’s other hand and then started to pray.
“Bless us, O Lord …”
Before they sat down, Filip and his family touched their foreheads and chests as they had before.
When Josef got home, Mom asked about his day.
“Did you have a good time?” Mom asked.
“Yes,” Josef said quietly. He did have a good time. The spaceship was awesome, and the hamburgers were yummy. But something was bothering him.
Mom looked at him more closely. “You don’t sound OK. Is something wrong?”
“Well …”
Josef had so many questions! He kept thinking about that prayer. Why was it different from how he and his family prayed?
“Mom,” he asked, “how did you pray before you joined the Church?” Josef told her about Filip’s family’s prayer.
“It sounds like they’re Catholic, like I used to be,” Mom said. “They were making the sign of the cross with their hands. See how it looks like a cross? It’s a reminder that Jesus died for us.”
Josef smiled. “So Filip believes in Jesus too?”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “Do you remember what Filip’s dad said in the prayer?”
Josef had to think about it. “He thanked God for the gifts He gives us … and he talked about Christ!”
“See?” Mom said with a smile. “We’re not so different. I’m glad you could pray with Filip’s family.”
A few days later, Filip came over to play. They were playing outside when Dad called them in for dinner. Josef’s stomach rumbled as they ran to the kitchen.
“I’m starving!” said Josef.
“Me too,” said Filip.
Everyone took their places around the table. Filip sat next to Josef. Filip made the sign of the cross and reached for Josef’s hand.
“This is how we pray at our house,” said Josef. “We fold our arms, close our eyes, bow our heads, and pray.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Easy,” said Filip.
Josef closed his eyes and smiled. He was glad he could pray with his friend.

Years ago, I arrived home from work and was startled to see white paint splattered everywhere—on the ground, the garage door, and our red-brick house. I inspected the scene more closely and discovered the paint was still wet. A trail of paint led toward the backyard, and so I followed it. There, I found my five-year-old son with a paintbrush in his hand, chasing our dog. Our beautiful black Labrador was splattered almost half white!
“What are you doing?” I asked in an animated voice.
My son stopped, looked at me, looked at the dog, looked at the paintbrush dripping with paint, and said, “I just want him to look like the black-spotted dogs in the movie—you know, the one with 101 Dalmatians.”
I loved our dog. I thought he was perfect, but that day my son had a different idea.