Gospel Story Finder

Years ago, Sister Wendy L. Watson, now the wife of President Russell M. Nelson, spoke at a BYU devotional. She told a story about a caterpillar named Yellow who was trying to figure out what to do with her life. One day Yellow discovered another caterpillar who seemed to be caught in a mess of thin, hairy fibers. When Yellow asked if she could help, the caterpillar explained that he was making a cocoon so he could become a butterfly.

Yellow had never heard the word butterfly before, but it made something inside her leap. “What is a butterfly?” she asked.

The other caterpillar described the beauty and majesty of a butterfly and explained, “It’s what you are meant to become.”

Yellow was skeptical. “How can I believe there’s a butterfly inside you or me when all I see is a fuzzy worm?” But she could not leave the thought alone. “How does one become a butterfly?” she finally asked.

The other caterpillar answered, “You must want to fly so much that you are willing to give up being a caterpillar.”

Over the 27 years my husband, Joel, was sick, I noticed that he became stronger spiritually as his physical health declined. He never complained. It still amazes me that despite the literally hundreds of doctor visits, procedures, hospitalizations, and surgeries, he didn’t see himself as sick until the last three months of his life. He always looked for the positive despite being in constant pain. He had some partial amputation of toes. When people would ask him how he felt, he would say “Well, if the Lord is going to take me a piece at a time, I’m glad that He started at that end”—a quote he had heard attributed to Bruce R. McConkie. He always looked forward to his renewed perfect body. Even in the last two days of his life when our dear bishop came to our home and asked him if he had any message for our ward family, Joel quickly replied, “He lives!”

My friend and I were kicking a rock back and forth as we walked to school. I kicked the rock and it hit the side of my neighbor’s truck and made a small dent. I was scared that I would get in trouble, so I decided not to tell anyone. When I got home from school, I felt worse and worse until I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I told my parents what had happened. My dad took me over to my neighbor’s house, and we told him about it. My dad asked if we could clean the truck as payment. We spent a long time cleaning the inside and outside of the truck, and when we took it back I felt much better. I was glad that the Holy Ghost had helped me to choose the right.

Brad came into this life as innocent as any child, but it didn’t take long for us to realize that he was different. He couldn’t go to nursery without my husband or me with him because he was too aggressive. As he grew older and played with other children, he needed constant supervision. When we sought help, we were told that we just had to be more consistent with him. We did everything we could think of: we researched online, read parenting books, and asked doctors and family members. Finally, when Brad started school, he was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD, as well as a host of other problems.
For the first time we felt we had hope. Now that we had a diagnosis, we could start a treatment plan. We were hopeful that Brad would respond well to a medication that had helped others. Unfortunately, Brad’s behavior on medication was worse than without it, so he had to stop. I felt the last bit of my hope drain away.
One day when Brad was six, I faced one of his many daily tantrums. I wanted to give up. I went to my room for a moment to myself, and tears rolled down my cheeks. I prayed for the strength to be able to face the approaching bedtime routine. How could I keep doing this, day after day? I felt like I was past what I could endure. Did Heavenly Father understand how hard it was? If He truly loved me, I reasoned, He would remove this burden from me and give my son a normal life. Those thoughts and feelings surrounded me as the trial I faced seemed to get worse instead of better.
I thought I understood trials. We were supposed to go through them like a pot being heated in a kiln. We’d go in and out of the fire, and then life would go back to normal until the next round of heating and tempering. But I had been facing this trial for years, and it was not going away. I felt the weight pressing down on me, and the feeling of helplessness brought me to my knees.
I then knew that the place I needed to go for comfort and understanding was the temple. By inspiration, I realized that we do not get to pick what trials we have in this life or how long they last. What we can control is the way we think and act when trials come.
I realized that the reason I was feeling sorry for myself was because I was allowing self-pity to fill my mind. The first thing I decided to do was stop any negative thoughts that crept in, such as “This is unfair,” “I can’t do this,” “Why can’t Brad be normal?” or the worst culprit, “I am such a bad mother.” I worked hard to stop the negative voice in my head, and I saw that my real voice became more patient and loving when I was dealing with all of my children.
I also encouraged positive thinking. I began to think, “You are doing great,” and I would give myself a compliment, such as “You kept your voice low and didn’t yell. Way to go!”
After a particularly hard day, I asked my husband to give me a blessing. During the blessing I was reminded that I am a daughter of God, that He is aware of me and my needs, and that my son is a son of God. Brad was God’s son first, and my husband and I have a partnership with God in Brad’s behalf. I realized that I had not been using all the tools that the partnership provides for me. My husband and I had researched and discovered many resources to help us, but we forgot the most significant one: prayer.
I began to pray daily about how I could help Brad. When he was having an emotional meltdown, I would say a quick prayer for inspiration before approaching him. As I relied on God for my support and for inspiration for my son, I got a glimpse of what I could be and what I could do for him. I strived to follow Alma’s words: “And this is my glory, that perhaps I may be an instrument in the hands of God” (Alma 29:9).
The changes were immediate. I was flooded with ideas and ways to help Brad. I used family home evening as a tool and prayed for ideas about what to teach. I also read the scriptures with more intent and recognized the great parenting advice they contain. I began to be filled with hope and comfort.
As I continued to put into practice the idea that my husband and I are partners with God in parenting our children and using the tools that He has given us, I began to rely on God more and more. I realized that my knowledge of parenting could only go so far, but a loving Heavenly Father, who knows all things and loves my son more than I do, could help me become a better and stronger mother. And though I still sometimes falter, I know where to look for help. I understand now that some trials may not have a time limit on them, but if I keep my eye on eternity, God will help me.
When times were tough, I learned to take time to feel joy in the little moments—the gifts—that are given to us. When my son cannot help but give me a kiss, I am grateful. When I watched my son ride the bus without anyone to sit with, I was blessed to have this scripture come into my mind: “I will go before your face. I will be on your right hand and on your left, and my Spirit shall be in your hearts, and mine angels round about you, to bear you up” (D&C 84:88). I knew that Brad was not alone and never will be.
We are an eternal family, and with the help of people who love us and our loving Heavenly Father watching over us, I can appreciate the small gifts given to me daily and feel the joy and happiness that we are meant to have. And with those small blessings and the help of the Lord, I can become who I am meant to be, no matter how long it takes.

Two weeks ago, I learned a powerful lesson from a colleague, who without hesitating agreed to accompany a young student home to her family after becoming too ill to continue her studies. It was inconvenient, and there was no hoopla over the decision to make a quick round-trip over a weekend to the mainland and back. This is one of countless acts of kindness and service on campus motivated by genuine care and evidence of true discipleship, as we strive to do our part.

Recently a mission president asked me to speak to a troubled missionary who was having extreme homesickness problems. His intense yearnings were causing poor performance, a waste of time, a lack of concentration, and a dislike for his present assignment. I took the occasion to tell him that some of the right kind of homesickness could be desirable, but it must be kept under control. Let me say at the outset, yearning is defined as “to have a strong or deep desire; be filled with longing” (American Heritage Dictionary, second college edition, 1982). This missionary seemed very sincere in wanting to do better. Proper yearnings for home can be beneficial.
Not just children but all of us will want to think of home under joyous or trying circumstances. We let ourselves become homesick for love, acceptance, security, understanding, and guidance that generally are taught and shared there. Home should be the place in which a person can unburden his soul and find renewed strength to face the world; where there is comfort, joy, and understanding; where best friends live; and where we can learn to be our best selves.
There is a certain kind of yearning for home we should never want to lose. Home should be an anchor, a port in a storm, a refuge, a happy place in which to dwell, a place where we are loved and where we can love. Home should be where life’s greatest lessons are taught and learned. Home and family can be the center of one’s earthly faith, where love and mutual responsibility are appropriately blended. Thinking of home with its pleasant and happy memories can make us stronger during our present and future days here upon the earth.
President Benson has always loved his childhood home. He loves Whitney, Idaho, his birthplace. He loves the homestead where all eleven children were born and reared by noble parents.
Over a lifetime of worldwide travel, he yearned to return often to his home, and he did so. His heart has always been in Cache Valley. He loved going back and visiting with family members still there and seeing the friends of his birth, his neighbors, his teachers, his bishops, his kin who had such an impact for good on his life. He calls them “the finest people in all the world,” and Whitney “the ideal farm community.”
It revitalizes President Benson to go back to his roots, to go back to the land that nourished him and built character in him and provided him the sacred beginnings of a life devoted to God, family, and country. Truly, President Benson loves his childhood home.
I am concerned for people today who do not have a longing for or thoughts of home. It is unfortunate that among us we have people who have never experienced home life that has been and is desirable so that there can be an anxiousness under control for thoughts toward home. Our responsibilities are to share the warmth of our homes by being good neighbors and friends.
To know who we are is important, but to know where we are in relationship to our earthly home and heavenly home is essential if we are to receive all the blessings our Father in Heaven has for those who love him and keep his commandments. Our eternal home is our ultimate destination. A proper yearning for home can prevent our getting lost in detours or paths that lead us away.
It is reported that one summer at a Young Women’s conference in Alberta, Canada, three hundred girls were camped in tents scattered among tall pines. It rained every day and was very cold and wet. Even so, there was no murmuring in the camp. The last day of the conference, the leader addressed the young women under cloudy skies. Despite the unseasonable cold, there was a feeling of warmth among them for this their temporary home. Maybe because of the cold they were all drawn together and felt warm from the inside out.
The speaker began her remarks by asking, “Where are you going following this outdoor conference?” The united chorus of three hundred young women resounded through the tall pines. “Home!” they cried out. “Where?” they were asked again, and they responded with even greater conviction: “Home!” They knew where they wanted to go most of all and were anxious to get there.
The most attractive home that we will ever share will be that abode with our families with appropriate relationship to our Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. Even the prodigal son could not resist the pull of home. He spurned his father, his home life, and his heritage, lavishly wasting his inheritance on riotous living. When he had nothing and was reduced to living off the spoils that only swine would eat, his thoughts turned homeward. Could there have been moments, as he gleaned the fields for husks to eat, when he longed for the security, safety, and acceptance he’d had before? Might he have been deeply homesick? Repentant, and hoping his father would accept him as a servant, he finally returned home. His father rejoiced, welcoming him back with open arms and complete acceptance. He no doubt knew that welcoming his wayward son was crucial if he hoped to ever return to his heavenly home. (See Luke 15:11–32).
Over the years I’ve counseled with many whose homesickness threatened to interfere with their missions, marriages, and families.
But I’ve come to see that being homesick isn’t all bad. It’s natural to miss the people you are closest to. It’s normal to long to be where you feel secure, where those you love have your best interests at heart. It’s understandable to want to return to the place where you learned how to walk and talk, where you felt loved even when friends turned away, and where you were accepted, regardless of the situation. There’s no place on earth that can take the place of a home where love has been given and received.
Recently we’ve witnessed the tragic devastation that Hurricane Andrew left in its wake in southern Florida and Louisiana. Tens of thousands of people have lost their homes. Armed forces personnel have raised tent cities to try and at least provide these victims with shelter. But the sobering fact is that, at least for a time, many of these people literally cannot go home. I cannot imagine how they must yearn for what they so recently had.
I have known other men and women who, for one reason or another, could not go home or who had no home to go to. I have felt their pain and seen their tears. It is, at best, a heartbreaking situation.
In another application, I have also known men and women who have jeopardized the privilege of returning to their heavenly home. Some were dealing with problems that made them ineligible to enter the temple and make the eternal covenants that bind us to our eternal home. I have felt their heartache and their longing for opportunities that, at least for a time, were beyond their reach.
The ramifications are poignant and endless. Perhaps we’ve all had these overwhelming thoughts come to mind: What if I am unworthy? What if I could never go home?
If he could have his way, Satan would distract us from our heritage. He would have us become involved in a million and one things in this life—probably none of which are very important in the long run—to keep us from concentrating on the things that are really important, particularly the reality that we are God’s children. He would like us to forget about home and family values. He’d like to keep us so busy with comparatively insignificant things that we don’t have time to make the effort to understand where we came from, whose children we are, and how glorious our ultimate homecoming can be!
We are literally the children of our Heavenly Father. We kept our first estate. During our experience in premortality, we lived with and were cared for and taught by a loving Father. Among other things, we were schooled in what had to be a perfect spiritual and educational environment. And we rejoiced when told of the plan whereby we could prove ourselves. Hence the day arrived when it was our turn to experience a period of probation and testing, a period during which a veil would be drawn over our memories so that we would be free either to walk by faith and by the Spirit or to forsake our spiritual heritage and birthright.
Now we’re here. And I’m sure we would all agree that this second estate has lived up to its billing. It is a time of testing, of probation. The challenges and duties and responsibilities, at times, seem to overshadow almost everything else. Sadly, it’s easy to become so encumbered by the press of daily life that we lose our focus.
One definition of the word focus is “directed attention” or “emphasis” (Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary). Perhaps as much as anything in this day and age of mass media, instantaneous worldwide communications, and modern conveniences that seem to help us pack more into each day than would have been considered possible just a few decades ago, we need to focus on and direct our attention to the things that really matter. And simply, what really matters is a personal testimony of Jesus Christ, an understanding of who we are and what we’re doing here, and an absolute determination to return home.
What young musician, finally scheduled to debut in a capacity concert hall after years of agonizing rehearsal, would, while en route to the performance, stop to join a long line forming at the latest hit movie, forgetting the thousands of people waiting to hear her?
What world-class runner, after training for well over a decade, would find himself in the Olympic finals, only to stop running halfway through his race to watch the high-jump finals taking place on the other side of the field?
These examples may seem preposterous—but how much more tragic it is for someone who, equipped with a testimony of the truth and a knowledge of the purpose of life, becomes more absorbed in life today than in life forever. Who’s just a little more concerned about his or her status and standing in mortality than in eternity. Whose focus is not directed to God the Father and his Son, Jesus Christ, with whom it is possible to have a glorious connection and bond.
I fear that, at times, we run the risk of acting like seasoned, conditioned athletes who are more interested in what kind of jogging suits we’ll wear than in buckling down to train for the race. C. S. Lewis had an intriguing way of evaluating this dilemma: “We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. … We are far too easily pleased” (A Mind Awake: An Anthology of C. S. Lewis, ed. Clyde S. Kilby [New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1968], p. 168).
The prophet Mormon put it another way: “Why are ye ashamed to take upon you the name of Christ? Why do ye not think that greater is the value of an endless happiness than that misery which never dies—because of the praise of the world?” (Morm. 8:38).
When we have a yearning and don’t know what it is for, perhaps it’s our soul longing for its heartland, longing to be no longer alienated from the Lord and the pursuit of something much higher, better, and more fulfilling than anything this earth has to offer.
After Joseph, son of Jacob, had been reunited with his brothers, he asked them to return home to Canaan to bring his father, Jacob, to him in Egypt. As the brothers were preparing to depart, Joseph said to them simply, “See that ye fall not out by the way” (Gen. 45:24).
Might our Heavenly Father have given us much the same counsel as we departed his presence to begin our earthly sojourn?
May our yearning for home be the motivation we need to so live that we can return to our heavenly home with God our Father on a forever basis, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

“Is it music-class day?” three-year-old Dallin asked, running into the kitchen for breakfast.
“It sure is!” Mommy said. She stooped to put Baby Breeana in her high chair as Dallin poured a bowl of cereal, all by himself. “The ladies will be happy to see you.”
“Today I want to sing ‘I’m Trying to Be like Jesus’* for them, Mommy. I think they will like that.”
Later, in the backseat of the car, to practice, Dallin sang for Baby Breeana. “‘I’m trying to be like Jesus.’” He paused. “Mommy, the ladies are like grandmas, aren’t they? I bet they miss their families.”
“I think you’re right, Dallin. That’s why they enjoy your visits every week. Look.” Mommy pointed out the window as she pulled into a parking space and turned off the car. “There’s Jaren and his mommy.”
“I see them. Hurry, Mommy! The ladies are waiting!”
As soon as they entered the building, Dallin and Jaren found the ladies. “Hi,” Dallin called, running up to a lady with gray hair and a purple sweatshirt.
“Why, hello, young man,” the lady said. “You are growing up so fast!”
Dallin reached out his hand, and the lady held it for a long time. Her hand was as soft as Baby Breeana’s, and she had bright pink fingernails. “I’m going to sing my favorite song for you today,” Dallin told her.
The lady slowly stood up. Holding on to her walker, she started toward the music room. Dallin walked next to her, even though he wished she would hurry. He knew the ladies needed to walk slowly.
When they reached the music room, Dallin waved to all the ladies already there. He ran to sit in the circle with Mommy. Many of his friends from nursery class were sitting in the circle, too. They sang a welcome song, and the ladies laughed and smiled. Then it was time for instruments—Dallin’s favorite time. He carefully chose a drum from the box.
“Hey, Dallin,” his friend Sydney said as she reached into the box. “Don’t forget to take instruments to the ladies.”
“OK.” Dallin grabbed a jar full of beans and skipped with it to the lady in the purple sweatshirt. The beans made crackling noises as he bounced up and down. “Here you go,” he told her. “You just have to shake it like this.”
The lady slowly reached for the instrument. “Thank you.”
Back in the circle, Dallin pounded on his drum to the music. The ladies smiled and nodded their heads with the beat. Dallin watched the mommy who was leading the song. Soon she would bring out the small singing platform, and it would be his turn to sing for the ladies all by himself.
“Hurrah! Good job everyone!” the mommy said. She carried the wood platform to the middle of the room and pointed a finger at Jaren. “Jaren, would you like to go first?”
Dallin wished he could be first, but he sat down and listened politely while Jaren sang. Everybody clapped.
“Now, Dallin, how about you?” the mommy asked. “Do you have a song to sing for us next?”
Dallin grinned and jumped to his feet. Climbing onto the platform, he turned so he could see all of the ladies. “I’m going to sing ‘I’m Trying to Be like Jesus,’” he announced. As he sang, he kept turning to look at each person. The lady in the purple sweatshirt waved to him, and the other ladies leaned forward and smiled.
I’m helping them be happy, Dallin thought as he finished the song and everybody clapped. That’s a good way to be like Jesus.

Twenty-three years ago, a young elders quorum president, not knowing I was struggling with the passing of my father, asked me during a personal priesthood interview to be an instructor in the elders quorum. I quickly told him I felt very uncomfortable at that time in my life to do that. He encouraged me by telling me this was a call from God. I agreed. A few weeks later as I taught about the Savior in priesthood meeting, the peace and love I needed was overwhelmingly shared with me. I wept as I realized that Dad was in loving hands and was at peace. An ordinary call to serve had turned into an extraordinary event that helped me understand my Dad’s passing.

A few years ago, our little family went through what many families face in this fallen world. Our youngest son, Tanner Christian Lund, contracted cancer. He was an incredible soul, as nine-year-olds tend to be. He was hilariously mischievous and, at the same time, stunningly spiritually aware. Imp and angel, naughty and nice. When he was little and was every day bewildering us with his shenanigans, we wondered if he was going to grow up to be the prophet or a bank robber. Either way, it seemed that he was going to leave a mark on the world.

And then he became desperately ill. Over the next three years, modern medicine employed heroic measures, including two bone marrow transplants, where he caught pneumonia, requiring him to spend 10 weeks unconscious on a ventilator. Miraculously, he recovered for a short time, but then his cancer returned.

Shortly before he passed away, Tanner’s disease had invaded his bones, and even with strong pain medicines, still he hurt. He could barely get out of bed. One Sunday morning, his mom, Kalleen, came into his room to check on him before the family left for church. She was surprised to see that he had somehow gotten himself dressed and was sitting on the edge of his bed, painfully struggling to button his shirt. Kalleen sat down by him. “Tanner,” she said, “are you sure you are strong enough to go to church? Maybe you should stay home and rest today.”

He stared at the floor. He was a deacon. He had a quorum. And he had an assignment.

“I’m supposed to pass the sacrament today.”

“Well, I’m sure someone could do that for you.”

“Yes,” he said, “but … I see how people look at me when I pass the sacrament. I think it helps them.”

So Kalleen helped him button his shirt and tie his tie, and they drove to church. Clearly, something important was happening.

I came to church from an earlier meeting and so was surprised to see Tanner sitting on the deacons’ row. Kalleen quietly told me why he was there and what he had said: “It helps people.”

And so I watched as the deacons stepped to the sacrament table. He leaned gently against another deacon as the priests passed them the bread trays. And then Tanner shuffled to his appointed place and took hold of the end of the pew to steady himself as he presented the sacrament.

It seemed that every eye in the chapel was on him, moved by his struggle as he did his simple part. Somehow Tanner expressed a silent sermon as he solemnly, haltingly moved from row to row—his bald head moist with perspiration—representing the Savior in the way that deacons do. His once indomitable deacon’s body was itself a little bruised, broken, and torn, willingly suffering to serve by bearing the emblems of the Savior’s Atonement into our lives.

Seeing how he had come to think about being a deacon made us think differently too—about the sacrament, about the Savior, and about deacons and teachers and priests.

I wonder at the unspoken miracle that had impelled him that morning to respond so bravely to that still, small call to serve, and about the strength and capacities of all of our emergent youth as they push themselves to respond to a prophet’s call to enlist in God’s battalions and join in the work of salvation and exaltation.

1823–1895
“I … wish to be useful to the Church.”
He was born in Spain. He traveled to Cuba, Mexico, and the United States to help people.
He met missionaries and joined the Church.
He helped translate the Book of Mormon into Spanish.
He learned that there were no schools for children who spoke Spanish in El Paso, Texas, USA. So he started a school for them and taught there for many years.
L.M. Peterson letter, Manassa, Colorado, to John Taylor, 1880, Church History Library, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA.

When I first joined L?hui I was scared to huli, or flip the canoe. After being in the canoe once it had flipped, I found out there are much worse things to worry about – like trying to get back into it after it has been righted. Falling out is easy – gravity and momentum help with that. However, getting in the canoe is hard. You must work against gravity to do that. But, just like everyone works together to move the canoe forward, everyone in the canoe works together to right it and get everyone back in. The first time getting back in the canoe I needed some extra pushing and pulling to flop myself into the canoe. It was awkward, uncomfortable, and weird. But I was so overcome with gratitude for my teammates not leaving me in the ocean and paddling off without me that the gratitude I felt for them helped make it not weird. Now that I can get into the canoe by myself (mostly), I have much more compassion and grace for those just beginning out.

Oliver Wendell Holmes (1841-1935) who was an Associate Justice on the United States Supreme Court from 1902-1932 was riding on a train, and when the conductor came by to pick up his ticket, the Justice couldn't find it. Recognizing Mr. Holmes as being very famous, the conductor said, "I'm sure, Mr. Holmes, that you will be able to find your ticket when you return home. I am certain that the Pennsylvania Railroad can get by without that ticket until you find it. Why don't you just mail it to us?" "Young man," said Mr. Holmes, "You don't understand. The problem is not where is my ticket; it's where am I going?"

In Dortmund, Germany, during the last area conference on this trip, we stayed in an older, beautiful hotel. The manager was an austere, tall, straight, gray haired Prussian gentleman. He looked as if he could have been an officer in the army. On the second day after arriving at the hotel, the manager commented, speaking of President Kimball, “Every time that man walks through this lobby, I feel goose bumps all over me.” He felt the spirit that radiates from President Kimball. After making that remark, he was introduced to the prophet. President Kimball spoke with him briefly and gave him a family home evening manual. Arrangements were made for him to receive the missionary discussions.
The hotel manager was vividly influenced by that very brief contact with the living prophet. On the day we left, we boarded a bus in front of the hotel and drove around the block, passing the hotel again because of the one-way streets. As we passed the hotel, this handsome, stately gentleman was standing outside on the sidewalk waving good bye to President Kimball with his white handkerchief. It was significant that the hotel manager could feel the Spirit of the Lord just by watching our prophet walk through the hotel lobby. You know, President Kimball looks like any one of the rest of us. Some may not think that there is anything unusual about his appearance—but there is an unusual spirit that he carries with him.

President Thomas S. Monson explained the gift of the Atonement by telling the story of a young boy who wanted to buy a bicycle.
Every year, the police department of a big city held an auction to sell all the lost or stolen bikes that had been found during the year. One year, almost 100 bikes were being sold. As the auctioneer started the auction, he noticed an 11-year-old boy sitting near the front of the room.
“One dollar!” the boy called out as the first bike went up for bid. But the bidding went much higher, and the bike was sold to someone else. “One dollar,” the boy repeated hopefully each time a bike came up. But each bike was sold for much more money than the boy had. The auctioneer watched as the boy tried over and over to buy a bike.
Finally, just one bike was left. The bidding went to eight dollars. Suddenly the auctioneer spoke up. “Sold to that boy over there for nine dollars!” he said. He took eight dollars from his own pocket and asked the boy for his one dollar.
The boy gave the auctioneer his dollar’s worth of pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters. He took his new bike and started to leave. Then he parked his bike, gratefully threw his arms around the auctioneer’s neck, and cried.

When you really believe in something, when you know with all your heart that it’s right and that you will defend it and live by it, how do you express that feeling? If you live in Trinidad and feel that way about your culture, they say you are “Trini to de bone.”
A similar expression could apply to young Latter-day Saints in Trinidad. Because they know the Church is true and that they will stand up for it and live by its standards no matter what, you could say that they are Latter-day Saints “to the bone.” They don’t just live the gospel on the surface; it’s in every thought and action.
Here are some of the things youth in the Arima Branch, Port of Spain Trinidad District, recommend that you should do to build your own spiritual “bones.”
Stay morally clean. On billboards and TV, in videos and magazines, even in conversations with some friends, unclean thoughts seem to jump in anywhere you’ll permit them. The best way to beat them is to fill your mind with worthy thoughts instead. “My favorite scripture is D&C 121:45,” says Curfew Sherazade Ali, 17. “If we learn now to have clean thoughts, then we will want to be around others who think the same way. And at the last day, when we meet the Savior, we won’t be ashamed. We will have the confidence to face Him because we will be worthy to stand in His presence.”
Choose good music. “Music is an issue here,” says Curfew. “Dancing, too.” Every weekend in Trinidad, clubs blast loud beats into the streets, and people waiting to dance mill around outside in less-than-modest clothing. On the other hand, Curfew says, “Good music doesn’t degrade you or anyone else. It doesn’t use foul language or drive the Spirit away. Good music can help you feel calm, cheer you up, or help you get closer to your Heavenly Father.” So if you want to feel better, club hopping isn’t the answer. Instead, surround yourself with songs that are uplifting and inspirational, and go to—or organize—dances where standards are observed.
Make good friends. Peer pressure is another challenge for youth in Trinidad, according to Mark Christian Mangray, 17. “No matter what wrong things some of your peers might try to influence you to do, you need to choose the right. Good friends with high standards make that a lot easier. Be a good example yourself, and look for friends who will be a good example to you.” Peaches Clarke, 16, says that once you establish a reputation for being good, it gets easier and easier. “People know me, and they know I won’t do things that are wrong,” Peaches says. Though some will tease or make fun, most will respect your beliefs if you stand strong.
Get an education, but also become wise. Curfew dreams of working as a marine biologist, and Mark talks about becoming an environmentalist, surveyor, or maybe even a pilot. But they both agree that there is a difference between learning and wisdom. “We can study many things,” Mark explains. “But unless we also learn the gospel, we may have knowledge without understanding.”
Build strength daily. One of the best ways to build spiritual bones is through scripture study. “The stories in the scriptures help me know I’m not the only one who faces challenges and trials,” Mark says. “I love the story of Alma. He was one of the high priests of wicked King Noah, but he listened to Abinadi and knew he must repent. The scriptures show me that it’s happened before and these people found a way to learn from their mistakes.” In Trinidad such scripture study takes place daily through home-study seminary. Then on Saturdays, all of the students get together and discuss what they have learned.
“What helps me be strong every day,” Curfew says, “is thinking about the promises the Lord made to the prophets of old, like Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. I have faith in those promises. Each day, I think about what the Lord would have me do in each circumstance I am facing. I try to act as if He is right beside me, and I try to be a good example to those around me, because they may want to come unto Christ, too.”
Two other Arima Branch members who were influenced by that kind of example are Jenelle and Kimberly Phillip, who were recently baptized and confirmed along with their mother.
“I saw all the good things they are doing in the Church, and I wanted to be a part of it too,” says Jenelle, 12. The other youth, she adds, have really made her feel welcome.
Kimberly, 17, says a turning point came when their mother heard them talking about baptism. “She said that she liked the Church and that she wanted to be baptized, too! I really like it that she was baptized and confirmed at the same time and place that we were.”
All of the youth came for the baptismal service, and Kimberly says that means a lot to her, too. “It feels nice being a part of the Church and learning about Heavenly Father and how He wants us to live,” she says. “We know that in the Church the living prophets teach everyone the word of God. When I learned about that I said, ‘This is right for me.’”
With belief like that, both Kimberly and Jenelle are well on their way to becoming Latter-day Saints to the bone. It’s a feeling well known to all of the LDS youth in Trinidad, a feeling Peaches sums up when she says, “I feel blessed. Before I understood the gospel, I didn’t really have any idea of who I am. But now, I feel like I have purpose. I am a child of God, and He put me here for a reason, so I had better fulfill it.” And she feels it, all the way to her bones.

Many lives have been blessed by the success of the Philippines Area’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve: 4600” initiative. Aside from the inspired vision of the Area Presidency, the support of the local priesthood leaders and the efforts of youth leaders, the miraculous success of the campaign was also boosted by the catchy theme song performed by Loredel “Daday” Ducena-Baluyot.
Composing the popular anthem with her husband Justin was a labor of love. After the first Area Presidency fireside premiered on Facebook on May 16, 2021, Daday and Justin felt the spirit and were inspired to write the song. After a few weeks, they presented the song to the Church area production team and offered its use to help sustain the momentum of the campaign. The song was reviewed and approved, and by July they were recording it with some help from Brio Divinagracia on the arrangement and background vocals. The song was officially launched during the follow-up Area Presidency fireside on November 21, 2021.
Aside from the 2021 youth theme song “A Great Work,” Daday’s “I Will Go, I Will Serve,” became popular after being part of youth, YSA, and FSY conferences all over the country. It was also listened to and sung along with the 2022 youth theme song “Trust in the Lord.” Recently, the couple rewrote the song as part of the November 20, 2022 Area Presidency fireside launching a heightened and more comprehensive “Come Unto Christ: I Will Go, I Will Serve” initiative.
“We were so honored when the Area Presidency requested that we rework the song so it can still be part of the relaunched campaign,” shares self-taught musician Justin. “He immediately took a leave from work and we spent an entire weekend brainstorming and working together on the song,” discloses Daday.
April 2020 MTC batchmates, the couple drew from their mission experiences when they first wrote the song. Justin served under the Philippines Bacolod Mission while Daday labored in the Philippines Urdaneta Mission. Upon returning from her mission, Daday was tapped to represent the country in the 2021 Youth Music Festival and eventually became a host of the monthly online program “Hear Him through Music.” They got reacquainted when Justin arrived home from his mission, and the whirlwind romance led to their wedding at the Manila Temple on February 3, 2022.
On working on the song again, they expressed gratitude for the emphasis placed on the temple because it is their favorite place. “As a young couple facing many of life’s challenges, the temple is our safe haven where we receive strength and guidance,” says Justin. “I agree,” adds Daday. “We live far from the temple, but we are always excited to go there and feel the Spirit of the Lord.”
With their love for each other strengthened by their love for music, missionary work, the temple, and the Lord, the Daday and Justin consider themselves very lucky to have found each other along their journey on the covenant path.

When Jeff woke up on Monday morning, everything went wrong. He could not find his favorite bear, and his socks did not match. His cornflakes got mushy, and he spilled orange juice all over his shirt.
“I’m having a bad day,” Jeff told Mom.
“You need some of my ‘magic,’” Mom said, smiling. “It can change your bad day into a happy one.”
“What kind of magic?” Jeff asked.
“Close your eyes,” Mom said.
Jeff shut his eyes and waited. A second later, Mom gave him a giant hug. It felt warm and soft.
“Did it work?” Mom asked.
“It sure did!” Jeff declared.
Then Mom said, “I need some of your magic.”
Jeff smiled and gave Mom a great big hug too!

I had been on my mission in Taiwan only a few months when Sister Newton was preparing to return home. Several sisters were visiting with her on the eve of her departure, and someone asked, “What’s the most important thing you’ve learned on your mission?” After a moment’s reflection, Sister Newton replied, “I’ve learned about the joy of serving the Lord. If I’m called to be the light-bulb changer when I go home, I’m going to do it to the very best of my ability!”

When Neil was older, he wanted to serve a mission. But he was a little worried. “How can I serve a mission when I know so little?” he prayed.
He felt the answer in his heart. “You don’t know everything, but you know enough.”
That answer gave Neil courage. He obeyed and served a mission in France. Before he left, he went to the temple. There he made special promises, called covenants, with Heavenly Father. He was blessed for going to the temple.

It’s sometimes tough to be a teenager in Iceland for the same reasons that it’s hard in other countries. It’s the time when you have to make lots of decisions about how you want to live your life. Ulfar explains: “This is a hard age. Everyone is saying, ‘Hey, come get a drink. Have a cigarette.’ Even your friends are going out drinking. They asked me two or three times, but I just kept saying no and changed the subject. They leave me alone about it now.”