Gospel Story Finder

Nanette gazed out the rain-spattered living room window from her perch on the big wooden moving crate. She hugged her knees a little closer and gloomily watched the storm drench her new neighborhood.
“My, this rain is refreshing,” Nanette’s mother exclaimed as she scooped an armful of towels out of one of the packing boxes. Then she paused, put down the towels, and climbed over a box to reach Nanette.
“Honey, I know it isn’t easy to leave your friends and school and the only home you’ve ever known, but it could be a wonderful new beginning for you.”
“But, Mom, I don’t even know anyone here,” Nanette said, tears filling her eyes.
“Nanette, we’ve been here only two days,” her mother said kindly. “It takes time for us to feel at home. Now, would you like to help me put away the linens?”
As they put away the last stack of sheets, Todd woke up from his nap and began calling, “Nan! Nan! Nan!” Nanette lifted him out of bed and held him close for a while. Then she put him in his playpen with some toys. But he was not happy and began to cry. He had been unusually fussy ever since they had arrived at their new home.
Maybe it’s hard for babies to move, too. But not as hard as it is for a ten-year-old girl to start a new school near the end of the year without a single friend! Nanette decided.
“Nan,” her mother called from the kitchen. “Now that the storm has let up would you please run to the store for a loaf of bread?”
“Can I take Todd in the stroller?”
“Oh, he’d love it!” Mother answered. “His warm clothes are in the bottom drawer.”
The store was only a couple of blocks away, but Nanette pushed the stroller slowly so she could look around the neighborhood, hoping to see a boy or girl about her own age. The big evergreen trees lining the street had a spicy smell that made her nose tingle, and everything was green and glistening from the rain.
Nanette was taking a deep breath of the cool and fragrant air when suddenly a furry little black dog came bounding toward them. He slid on the slick grass and landed in a puddle in front of the stroller. Todd squealed with delight as Nanette gathered the dripping ball of fur into her arms and held him for her brother to see.
In another minute a girl wearing a bright-colored raincoat came running down the sidewalk toward them. She was about Nanette’s age and she stopped a few feet from Nanette to gaze at her from under her raincoat hood.
Nanette held the dog out and the girl took it, tucked it under one arm, and muttered shyly, “Thanks.”
“Sure,” answered Nanette, trying to sound casual. Both girls stood for several moments waiting for the other to speak. Finally, the girl in the raincoat turned and ran to a nearby house.
On the way back from the store, Nanette saw the girl sitting on the curb tossing leaves into the water. She slowed the stroller and the girl stood up and turned as though she were going to speak, but they only stood face to face again in awkward silence. Relieved a little when Todd began to fuss, Nanette made him comfortable, bit her lip, and began walking toward her new home.
Why didn’t she talk to me? She certainly knows I’m new in the neighborhood. I wonder why she doesn’t like me! Nanette thought as she turned into their driveway.
“I don’t like this place at all!” Nanette exclaimed as she lifted Todd out of the stroller and carried him into the house. She dropped the bread and sank into the nearest chair and complained, “I want to go back to our old neighborhood.”
“What happened?” questioned her mother.
Nanette related the whole episode, becoming even more upset as she talked about it.
“Perhaps the girl is shy,” her mother suggested. “Why don’t you be a little more friendly when you see her again?”
The next morning Father called to say he would be there that night with Nanette’s two older brothers. After Mother was through talking to Dad, Nanette suggested, “Let’s make some chocolate chip cookies for Dad and the boys.”
“That’s a great idea! You can start them while I finish the vacuuming,” Mother agreed.
It wasn’t long before the aroma of freshly baked cookies began floating through the house. After the last batch of cookies was out of the oven and carefully moved to the cooling rack, Nanette said, “I wish I had at least one friend before Dad and the boys get here tonight.”
“Perhaps you will have one,” her mother answered.
“Maybe,” said Nanette as she munched on a warm cookie. Suddenly her eyes brightened. “I have an idea, but I’ll need a few of these cookies. I’m sure Dad and the boys won’t mind!” She quickly chose some of the larger ones and put them on a covered plate.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she called as she hurried out of the door.
When Nanette stopped running to catch her breath, she was almost at the house where the girl lived who had the little dog. But her courage that had carried her this far began to disappear as she walked up the steps toward the big white door.
What if she still won’t talk to me? Nanette wondered. But she hesitated only a minute and then knocked very lightly, hoping that no one would hear and she could just leave the cookies and slip away quietly. However, the door quickly swung open and there stood the girl, staring wide-eyed in surprise.
“I—I—made something for you,” Nanette’s voice trembled.
The girl took the cookies and then stepped back and said with a warm smile, “Please come in.”
Nanette followed her into a cluttered living room and found a place to sit on the sofa between two big boxes of books.
“My name is Cindy,” the girl began, “and I’m so glad you came. After yesterday I didn’t know if I would ever see you again. You see, we just moved here last week and I don’t know anyone yet.”
“What!” exclaimed Nanette. “We just moved here too.”
Both girls began laughing.
“I brought you some friendship cookies,” Nanette explained.
“I’m glad you did,” said Cindy.
The girls smiled at each other. Then they both began asking questions and talking as fast as they could to learn all about their new-found friendship.

I was told of a zoology professor who is so tough a grader that nobody has ever received an A in his course. Last semester, history was being made because an especially bright student had A’s on the two midterms. If he could get an A on the final he would have the first A in this professor’s class—ever. The final test was on birds, and so the student practically memorized the three chapters on birds. He went to the library, checked out extra readings, and felt ready for anything that might appear on the final.
The day of the final the professor said, “Good morning, students. This is your final exam.” From underneath the table he pulled out three stuffed birds. Each of them was covered with a little hood, and all you could see were the legs and feet poking out from underneath the hoods. He said, “Now, students, looking at the legs and feet of these three specimens, I’d like you to tell me their common names and their scientific names. That’s all you have to do. You have an hour and a half to complete the exam. Begin.”
The class sat absolutely stunned. There are thousands of bird species. How do you identify a bird by looking at the legs and feet? This test was given so nobody would get an A. The student who previously thought he had a shot at getting an A wrote down some names he knew were probably incorrect. He went up, slammed his paper on the professor’s desk, and said, “Sir, that’s the dumbest test I’ve ever taken in my life. I want to tell you something else. You are the most boring lecturer on this campus.”
The professor fumbled for a pen and said, “Just one minute, student. What was your name?”
The student thought for a second, pulled up his pant leg, showed his hairy leg, and said, “Why don’t you tell me?”

A young adult woman had a gift for writing and some personal experience with depression. When her teenage sister was dealing with a difficult situation at school, she was able to recognize that her sister was slipping into despondency. Heeding the Spirit’s promptings, she wrote her sister a series of beautiful notes, expressing her love and confidence, one for each day of an especially trying two-week period. In that small choice to meet her sister’s need, this young woman was living her mission.

In addition to my wonderful mother, I’ve had many mentors in my life. I first became acquainted with the process of mentoring when I was just nine years old. My Primary teacher taught me to cross-stitch “I Will Bring the Light of the Gospel into My Home,” a picture that hung in my room during my teenage years. My teacher guided me, corrected me, and always encouraged me along the way. Other mentors followed. Two excellent seamstresses in my ward taught me sewing. With their guidance, patience, and encouragement, I entered a dress in a sewing contest when I was 14, and I actually won a prize! The process increased my thirst for knowledge and excellence in other areas as well.

Focusing on what’s most important has helped Bishop Waddell to live up to two family mottos, “Return with honor” and “Trust in the Lord.” That trust enabled him to put volleyball on hold to serve a mission. After he returned from his mission, it enabled him to continue a long-distance romance with a young woman at another university. Later, after they were married, trusting the Lord enabled them to listen to the Spirit when making decisions about moving.
“You do things the Lord’s way,” he says, “and things will work out fine.”

Last semester, I took a Beginning Swimming class on campus. One day we had a competition. As I swam my first event, the 100-freestyle, I was very conscious of my position compared to the other swimmers. I was way behind. When I looked back while taking a breath, I saw swimmers going in the other direction. They were so far ahead I couldn’t catch up. Discouragement flooded my thoughts. Then, an impression came: “Focus on what you have gained.” Swimming was helping me gain more shoulder mobility. I learned new strokes and made new friends. I finished the swim with joy because I saw how far I had come.

I love to go sledding. We have the best hill by our house that all of the neighbor kids enjoy sledding on. One beautiful day, Mom asked my sisters and me if we would like to go. Of course I said yes. Just as we were leaving, one of my best friends, Braiden, called to see if I could play. I invited him to go sledding with us. He hurried over to my house, and we took off for the hill.
The hill was just as icy and fast as I had hoped it would be. We were having a lot of fun going down the hill! Then my friend said his hands were freezing. He had forgotten to bring his gloves. I felt bad that he had such cold hands. I quickly took my gloves off and gave them to him. We kept sledding for another hour or so. My hands were probably freezing, but I didn’t care because I was happy about giving my gloves to a friend. I know Jesus Christ would do the same for His friend. I want to always try to do what He would do. I had the best day ever on the hill because I felt warm inside.

This story happened in Italy.
“Giulia! Marco! Come down for home evening!” Ma called up the stairs.
“Coming!” Giulia called back.
She came downstairs. After the prayer, Giulia saw that her parents had brought out backpacks, food, water, and other supplies.
“What’s this for?” Giulia asked.
“We’re doing something important for home evening,” Pa said. “There have been some small earthquakes recently. We want to be prepared in case a bigger one comes. We’re going to make emergency bags.”
Giulia looked at her brother, Marco. She was worried. She had felt the small shakes before. But the thought of a big earthquake scared her.
Ma held Giulia’s hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll do our best to prepare, and the Lord will help us. Before we make the bags, let’s read some scriptures.”
Her parents read them a story from 3 Nephi. There was a big storm with fires and earthquakes before Jesus Christ visited the Americas. The people felt scared and sad. But Jesus said He would heal and comfort those who came to Him.
“Jesus Christ blessed each of the little children,” Pa said. “He knows and loves both of you just like He loved them.”
The scriptures made Giulia feel calm and peaceful. She had faith that Heavenly Father would comfort her and her family.
As they made the bags, Ma told them what they should do if an earthquake came. “Get down in an open area or under a strong table. Then cover your head and neck with your hands. Stay where you are until the shaking stops.”
Giulia practiced what Ma said. She was glad they were prepared. If an earthquake did come, they would have what they needed.
A few weeks later, Giulia felt her room shake in the middle of the night. She sat up in her bed. The room was still shaking. It was an earthquake!
At first, she felt afraid. But then she looked at her Book of Mormon on her bedside table. She thought about how Jesus Christ promised to comfort the people in the Americas. A calm feeling came over her.
Giulia remembered what Ma told her to do. She huddled under her desk, covering her head and neck with her hands. After the shaking stopped, she ran to her parents’ room.
“Are you OK?” Ma asked. Her parents hugged Giulia and Marco tightly. Marco gave her a hug too.
“Yes, I’m OK! I knew what to do,” Giulia said. But then she saw the tears on her brother’s face. He was scared, just like she had been.
I know what will help him, she thought. Giulia got her Book of Mormon and opened to a picture of the Savior.
“Look, Marco. Jesus can comfort us, even when we’re scared.” Giulia gave her brother a hug. “Everything is going to be OK.”
How did the Book of Mormon help Giulia?
Illustrations by Marina Pessarrodona

Once, when we were still new converts and were living in my father’s house, the bishop came to visit. My father threw him out. He said he did not want members of the Church in his house. The bishop was inspired to call us in for an interview. He said that members and missionaries were not going to visit us in our home for a while so as not to antagonize our family. He said that we needed to be strong and that we would receive many blessings if we continued on the strait and narrow path.
We could not move to a house of our own due to my employment situation. I could not find good work as I had done before. I worked a little at jobs that didn’t pay much, but we managed to pay our tithes and offerings, attend church, and buy the food we needed. The Lord multiplied our blessings, and we were truly happy.

Thirteen-year-old Henry Sanderson, on his way from Connecticut to Nauvoo, Illinois, was not sure if he was riding a railroad train or a boat on wheels.
This was September 1842, and Pennsylvania’s forests were becoming dotted with the reds and golds of autumn. To cross the Allegheny Mountains, Henry boarded a train with his parents and two younger sisters. It had a steam engine like a normal train, but the passenger cars were actually boats on train wheels. Near the mountain summit, trainmen unhooked the engine and snapped a cable to the cars. A motor at the top wound the cable and pulled the train cars up. At the summit, men released the cars and let them coast down the other side of the mountains without any engine at all. Then, for Henry’s final train-boat adventure, trainmen removed the wheels and put the boat-cars into a canal. Horses on a towpath beside the canal pulled Henry’s boat-car to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
Henry knew his stay in Pittsburgh would be short, lasting only one winter. His parents, James and Mary Jane Sanderson, had joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints a few months earlier and had decided to move to Nauvoo. Henry felt glad to move because boys in his neighborhood in Norwalk, Connecticut, had made fun of him after his parents were baptized. At Pittsburgh, Henry helped his father do shoemaker’s work, a skill Henry had learned from him.
Late the next spring, the Sandersons boarded a steamboat and churned down the Ohio River and up the Mississippi River. They reached Nauvoo in the summer of 1843 when Henry was 14 and Nauvoo was barely four years old. Henry found young Nauvoo filled with new buildings, most of them small and made of wood, with taller brick houses here and there. Embracing the city on the west was a broad, crescent-shaped bend of the Mississippi River.
Soon after Henry’s family arrived, he hiked up the bluffs to visit the temple construction project. He walked around the 60-centimeter-high walls that workers were building skyward. He inspected the red brick store whose upper floor was the headquarters for the Church. On Main Street he found a brick post office and the Merryweather store.
The Sandersons became neighbors of Joseph Smith on Main Street, two blocks from the river. Henry’s parents moved into a log cabin next to Sidney Rigdon’s home, which stood between them and the Smiths’ new residence, the Mansion House. Henry saw workers put the final touches on the Mansion House, which the Smiths opened that September as a hotel.
Henry played with the Prophet’s sons. The oldest was Joseph Smith III, three years younger than Henry. Henry became best friends with Sidney Rigdon’s sons, Algernon and John W., who were near his age.
In Nauvoo, men and boys paid their tithing by working every 10th day on building projects. “My father and myself went regularly every 10th day to labor on the temple,” Henry said, “sometimes at the quarry and other times on the temple grounds.”
Henry, who knew and liked the Prophet, “had been to his house frequently and played with his boys and he would occasionally join us. I had been in games of ball where the Prophet was one of the players.”
Henry, 15, was outside his house when Joseph Smith left for Carthage. Henry saw Joseph shake hands and exchange canes with a stranger. Then Joseph rode away. That was the last time he saw the Prophet alive. Henry first heard the tragic news from Carthage Jail “when a runner went past our house shouting that the Prophet was killed.”
A day or two later Henry and crowds of others visited the Mansion House, where “I saw their murdered bodies after they were brought from Carthage.” The murders were “a sad blow to my father,” Henry said, “and for a time he was at a loss to know what the results would be, but [he] finally settled to the conviction that the Church would continue its progress and that the Twelve Apostles were the proper leaders.”
Needing income, Henry and his father went downriver to St. Louis, Missouri, to find jobs. His father joined George Betts’s shoe shop, which employed 25 men. Henry took a job at a small shop belonging to three LDS shoemakers. His mother and sisters joined them in St. Louis in the spring.
Henry’s good friends from Nauvoo, Algernon and John Rigdon, visited him in his new home. Their father, who had been Joseph Smith’s counselor, had decided to leave the Church and was moving to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. In “the last conversation that I had with them as we were saying good-bye,” Henry said, “the boys declared that they would return to the Church. … Knowing they were … sincere, I expected for some years to hear from them but was disappointed.” (John Rigdon rejoined the Church in 1904 just before he died.)
Mr. Betts sent Henry’s father to work on a farm that the Mississippi River had flooded the year before. The Sandersons moved there and lived in a “very good log house.” They plowed and planted, and the farm prospered. But with the summer heat, river sickness (probably malaria) struck the family. Henry’s father suffered the most and died on 16 September 1845, at age 41.
Henry, now 16, returned with his mother and younger sister, Mary Jane, 4, to Nauvoo. An older sister, Maria, stayed behind to work for the Betts family.
Henry, weak himself from the summer sickness, returned to St. Louis for his sister. He earned his passage downriver and back by working on the riverboats. On the trip down he was an assistant fireman, carrying firewood and loading and unloading freight.
On the boat trip back to Nauvoo, Henry was third cook and “had the cabin dishes to wash, they being brought down to me by the cabin boys.” He liked the job because he could eat the leftover food, which was better than what he usually ate. Some plates of food came to him “untouched,” so instead of dumping the food overboard as ordered, he let other cabin boys eat it.
Henry, who was big for his age, joined the Nauvoo Legion. He “enrolled in a Captain Black’s company” when unfriendly neighbors began harassing the Mormons in and around Nauvoo. Officers gave this teenager “something of a gun,” and he “sometimes was scouting all night and took delight therein, even at times when the mob was expected every hour.”
Early in 1846, when Henry was 17, the Saints had to leave Nauvoo. For the wagon trek across Iowa, Jonathan C. Wright hired Henry to be a chore boy and drive an ox team. Henry liked this job, except for Brother Wright’s restriction that Henry walk his horses but never run or race them.
While Henry was camped with the Wrights at Council Bluffs, Iowa, a United States army recruiter arrived. “I had told my comrades that he would not get a man,” Henry said. But President Brigham Young called a meeting in a brush-covered bowery and asked that 500 men enlist in the Mormon Battalion for the Mexican War. Henry felt impressed to answer the call, so he joined the army. Mr. Wright, upset at losing his hired hand, “was wrathy and said that I could not go.” But Henry went. He was not yet 18, as required by the government, “but as I had nearly got my growth in height I passed without difficulty.”
The next summer, when he was 18, he left California, where the Mormon Battalion had completed its march, and entered the Great Salt Lake Valley just after the 1847 pioneers arrived. Wanting to rejoin his family, he returned east with Brigham Young’s company late that same year to the Winter Quarters area.
Henry and his family came west three years later, in 1850. He married and lived at Union Fort, Fillmore, and Fairview, Utah. During his adult years he was a farmer, teacher, and shoemaker.

Sister Acquah is the president of the Cape Coast Relief Society. We were very busy this spring e-mailing back and forth to plan a health fair for the Relief Society sisters to be held on the first Saturday after we arrived in Ghana. As part of the health fair, this warm, caring person wanted the sisters in her stake to assemble hygiene kits and donate them to the children at a local school for the deaf and blind. She told me that for the last few years the Ghanaian Saints have been on the receiving end of many humanitarian efforts. It was time for the sisters to reach beyond themselves and give to someone else in need. What a moment of growth when people who have little learn to give to others. Selfless caring has a giving and a receiving component. We give that we might receive, and we receive that we might give again.

At the end of the health fair, the plan was that a small group of sisters would take the hygiene kits to the designated school. As the sisters were slowly leaving the health fair, Sister Acquah came over to me with a big smile and gave me a hug. Her statement to me in the blunt style of the Ghanaian people was that the health fair had turned out better than she had thought it would. I was not sure if she lacked confidence in our ability to present classes or if she was surprised that 262 sisters were willing to walk from distant villages, come by car, come by tro-tro, or come any way they could to the health fair that day.

As we sat and rested from the warm summer heat and the busy morning activities, Sister Acquah asked, “Of course you and your students are coming with us to deliver the hygiene kits to the school for the deaf and blind?

“Oh,” I said, “you should really take the sisters who prepared the hygiene kits. They should experience the reward of their service project.”

“Some will come,” Sister Acquah said, “but I really want you and your students to come.”

So we did. What a heart-changing experience followed for us that afternoon.

We all grumbled a little as we got on the bus to ride from the stake center to the school for the deaf and blind on the outskirts of Cape Coast, Ghana. I was thinking, it’s a four-hour ride back to Accra, and it’s late in the afternoon. There were giant rain clouds gathering on the horizon, and dirt roads and rain don’t mix well. We turned off the main road and bounced our way down a dirt road toward the school. As we pulled into the school yard, the school seemed very deserted. I was thinking that somehow we had gotten the day or maybe the time of day wrong. But as the bus stopped and we started getting out, we saw smiling, squealing children appearing in the open windows of the assembly hall.

The Cape Coast sisters and the students helped arrange the hygiene kits on the table in the front of the assembly hall as restless children wiggled on their benches. They would wave and smile. The blind children’s choir sang the opening song—“I Have God in My Heart.” We were asked to respond, and in turn we sang to them “I Am a Child of God,” and then the deaf and partially deaf children responded in sign language and voices singing a song called “Heavenly Father Loves Me.” The Spirit was so tender in that bare room as these songs were exchanged. We knew why we had come. We had been fed by the Spirit in that room. Each one of our students helped to hand out the hygiene kits. These beautiful children greeted our students with hugs and squeals as they received their plastic bag containing soap, a toothbrush, a towel, toothpaste, and two combs. To them it was like Christmas. After hugs and many unexpected tears, we loaded up the bus and started on our trip home.

No one complained about how long it took to return to Accra or how scary the thunder and muddy roads were. They were so grateful to have been a part of delivering the hygiene kits to the school for the deaf and blind. In her reflective writing assignment related to her experience that day, one of the students shared the following quote: “She went to minister to them and found then ministering to her. She went to teach and was transformed by what she learned” (author unknown).

In closing, let me share a special experience that Sister Ballard and I had in connection with the announcement of the new PBS television presentation American Prophet: The Story of Joseph Smith. We were assigned to meet with the Vermont PBS leaders and others in Sharon, Vermont, the birthplace of the Prophet Joseph Smith. Time allowed us to visit the homestead of Joseph Smith, Sr., and Lucy Mack Smith in Tunbridge. Researchers have now found the location of the humble cabin in which my mother’s great-grandfather Hyrum Smith was born. His brothers Alvin and Samuel and his sister Sophronia were also born in Tunbridge. Can you sense the profound feelings of humility and wonder that came into my heart as I stood at this special site? Two hundred years ago, on February 9, 1800, Hyrum came into this world, destined to become one of the most important and magnificent leaders of the restoration of the gospel of Jesus Christ. From very humble beginnings came the leadership power of Joseph, Hyrum, and many others.

In contrast to that experience, on the ­seventh of this month, with several of the Brethren, I toured the magnificent new conference center, where 21,000 people will gather in April to attend general conference. From the humble beginnings in Vermont to the great conference center in Salt Lake City, tremendous progress has been made. We must never forget the price paid by the courageous, faithful leaders who had testimonies deeply rooted in the doctrine. They faithfully accepted the challenges of leadership. Our appreciation for their service is best shown by you and me in our willingness to prepare to do our part now and in the future.

For the world premiere showing of The Great American Cowboy, our investors invited about a thousand people to attend. There were only a few members of the Church involved. The obvious question came up, “What will we serve the press? We must have a bar set up for the press in the lobby of the theater to get them excited to write some good stuff. We have got to serve cocktails at this premiere.” I said, “There will be no cocktails at any premiere I have any control over.” And since I had control over it, I said, “No way!”

“Oh now, Kieth, you’ve got to be reasonable. There will be hundreds of people there, and they don’t care whether you’re a Mormon or not.” I said, “I care. There will be no liquor. I mean zero liquor in that entire theater the night of my premiere.”

I’d already made that decision. There was no discussion. The decision had been made years before.

The night of the premiere rolled around; the people came, and they went in. My wife and I went in long enough to realize that people weren’t going to get up and leave, and we were delighted and thrilled. We went out into the lobby to be alone and reflect. As we sat down in the lobby, guess who walked in the door? Elder Marion D. Hanks! I didn’t know where he came from; I didn’t even know he’d been invited. But Marion D. Hanks walked in. If we’d had a bar set up with cocktail glasses all over the place when Marion D. Hanks walked in, it would have been like hitting the rocks after jumping off the cliff.

So don’t compromise! Make your decisions now and only make them once!

I recently traveled to the beautiful island of Moloka’i to attend sacrament meeting and visit with members of the church and others. These sweet people were among the first to send supplies by boat after the fires, including much-needed fuel for generators, to the shores of Lahaina—fuel, that I might add, that is far more expensive on Molokai than on Maui. They understand the meaning of “[loving] thy neighbor as thyself.” [13]

This was a special Sunday for me. I watched a group of friends and family gather together to literally lift Brother Arlan Angco, an amazing husband and faithful father to two teenage daughters, into a specially prepared recliner-chair they brought into the chapel. Though he was terminally suffering from the terrible effects of cancer, he insisted on worshipping in person and partaking of the sacrament with his loving ward ‘ohana. He understood that he would soon meet the same Savior Whose emblems he sought on this particular day.

I will forever treasure watching loved ones ensure he was comfortable as they helped him carefully partake of the bread and water.

I also visited with him and his family in their home that afternoon. It was holy ground. My counselors and I blessed him. Then, with one of my counselors carefully supporting Brother Angco’s hand on his wife’s head, we blessed her as well. He passed away just a little over one week later. I am eternally grateful for this experience. His faith changed me.

Recalling his experience in Primary, Elder Ashton said, “In those days we had Primary and religion classes. Primary was devoted to character and personality development, and we were aided by charts, projects, songs, and recitations. In our religion classes we studied nothing but the scriptures and doctrine.
“I had a Primary teacher by the name of Sister Barton, who really made an impression on me. I was wiggly, and she knew that I had extra energy. She got me to use some of that energy in cleaning the chalkboard and in other ways so that I wouldn’t be mischievous or disruptive.”

One day, my friends and I bought drinks for lunch. My friends bought iced tea, and I bought juice. Noticing this, they started calling me the odd one out. But I felt good that I didn’t give into the temptation to let down my standards. Now, my friends respect me for standing up for what I believe. I’m thankful for the Word of Wisdom that helps me keep my body strong and healthy.
Alejandria F., 18, Philippines

I especially love the story of Florence Chadwick narrated by Sister Ardeth Kapp. This is what she wrote:

I am impressed with the story of Florence Chadwick, who determined at thirty-four years of age that she would be the first woman to swim the twenty-two miles from Catalina Island to the California coast. She had already been the first woman to swim the English Channel in both directions.

One writer reported the experience: “The water was cold that July morning, and the fog was so thick she could hardly see the boats in her own party. Millions were watching on national television. Several times sharks, which had gotten too close, had to be driven away with rifles to protect the long figure in the water. As the hours ticked off, she swam on.

Fatigue had never been her big problem in these swims. It was the bone-chilling cold of the water. More than fifteen hours later, numbed with cold, she asked to be taken out. She couldn’t go on.

Her mother and her trainer alongside in a boat told her they were near land. They urged her not to quit. But when she looked toward to California coast, all she could see was the dense fog.”

A few minutes later, at fifteen hours and fifty-five minutes, she was taken out of the water. It was not until hours later, when her body began to warm up again, that she felt the shock of failure.

To a reporter she blurted out, “Look, I’m not excusing myself, but if I could have just seen land I might have made it.” She had been pulled out only one-half mile from the California coast.

Later, she reflected that she had been defeated not by fatigue, not even by the cold, but by the fog. It had defeated her because it had obscured her goal and blinded her reason, her eyes, her heart.

This was the only time Florence Chadwick ever quit. Two months later she swam that same channel and again the fog obscured her view, but this time she swam with her faith intact. She knew that somewhere behind that fog was land. And she reached her goal.

In March 1958, while serving as one of the first missionaries in the West Spanish-American Mission, Elder H. Aldridge Gillespie had an experience that profoundly affected his life. Elder Spencer W. Kimball of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1895–1985) had been assigned to formally organize the mission, and the young Elder Gillespie, a newly called second counselor in the mission presidency, was given the opportunity to be his “chauffeur, roommate, and companion” for approximately two weeks.
“Elder Kimball had special spiritual capacities that touched my heart and influenced my opinion of what life should be and how I should live it,” Elder Gillespie recalls. “My concept of what man should be, what families should be, and how people should conduct themselves was greatly amplified in that brief time.”

When Liphapang Monesa from Maseru, Lesotho joined the Church as a child, his choice to enter the waters of baptism came largely as a desire to follow the example of his parents. “I was only nine years old at the time, so I was following my parents more than a clear reliance on a new-found testimony,” he said.
As Brother Monesa became a teenager, he began to question many of the tenets of his faith. “The real question is not what made me join the Church, but what made me stay in the Church,” he said. The answer, largely, was a personal testimony borne of scripture study.
“Through seminary, the scriptures came alive for me and I eventually had a serious study of the Book of Mormon,” he said. As Brother Monesa found that “the word [was] good,” and that it began to “to enlarge [his] soul . . . and beginneth to be delicious to [him] (Alma 32:28), so his desire to share the gospel with others took root in his soul.
“My testimony of The Book of Mormon solidified my resolve to serve a mission,” he said.
He was called to serve in the Zimbabwe Harare Mission between 2005 and 2007.
The experience was a sort of fast-tracked course in life lessons.
“They say the growth you experience can only be apparent when you finally return home,” he said. “I believe this is very true. In the two years I spent on mission I believe I gained the experience of life it would take me a lot of years to have through other avenues of life.”
Serving his mission set the tone for his future in terms of leadership, hard work and ambition to succeed both spiritually and temporally.
“I learnt that leadership is not a question of a position, but the ability to influence others through integrity, consistency and a display of genuine care for other people,” said Brother Monesa. His ability to lead and support others has been amplified since his two years in the field. The growth he experienced was a game-changer, he said.
And perhaps most importantly, those two years of full-time service created a foundation for a commitment to the Lord for the rest of his life.
“My commitment to serve the Lord has been resolute since I served a mission,” he said. “I live by the code that as you take care of the Lord’s business, He takes care of yours. I have seen the Lord take care of my business for the past almost three decades and I have no doubt He will continue to do so as I keep my end of the promise,” he said.

“Do we have time before dinner for our walk?” said Mr. Knight (names have been changed) from his wheelchair.
“Of course,” I responded, “I always have time for a walk.”
As I rolled my 90-year-old friend through the front door of the nursing home and across the street, we talked about skiing, slopes, and snowdrifts. Mr. Knight had been on ski patrol until an accident forced him to retire at age 86.
On our walks, I’d pour out my senior-year problems, and Mr. Knight would tell me stories several decades old, giving me courage to face the mountains of life that he had already conquered.
“So,” Mr. Knight asked, “did you have a date last night?”
“Yep,” I responded, dreamily thinking of the good-looking guy I had gone out with.
“Well, how did it go?”
“Great! He is so cool! I can’t believe he actually wants to date me!” I said, bubbling over with excitement. Brock was the star of the high school swim team. He was every girl’s dream boy. He wasn’t an active member of the Church and not exactly a good guy either, but he was incredibly good looking, and I was flattered he had asked me out. I thought as long as I didn’t do the bad things he was doing, I could still go out with him and have fun. Brock’s good looks hid many of his flaws.
I kept hanging out with him even though my parents weren’t crazy about the idea. I rationalized to them that his habits didn’t have any effect on me. Not surprisingly, they didn’t agree. When I told Brock this, he promised me he had quit drinking and smoking. But after a while, I could tell he was lying.
My parents taught me I should only date guys worthy to go on missions—guys who could one day take me to the temple. Brock was definitely not that type. Still, I had a hard time separating the excitement from the impending trouble.
As the weeks went by and I kept going out with Brock, I started lying to my parents about where I was going. And even though I wasn’t the one drinking or smoking, I knew I had crossed into a danger zone.
After going out with Brock one night, I sneaked into my house and headed to the bathroom to wash off my makeup. As I looked in the mirror I met a scrutinizing eye.
“Well, here you are,” scolded my reflection. “I see you finally made it home tonight.”
“Of course I made it home,” I countered.
“Surprising, though,” the girl in the mirror continued, “don’t you think? Brock was so drunk. It’s amazing he didn’t crash.”
I pictured myself mangled and bleeding in a coffin of twisted metal. The image seemed almost real, and I didn’t want to think about it.
I lashed back at the image in the mirror: “Quit overreacting! You’re starting to sound like my mother!” I slammed my fist against the light switch, and brushed my teeth and washed off my mascara in the dark.
After yet another week of sneaking around, fighting what I knew I should do, it was time to see Mr. Knight again. I tried to act natural, but Mr. Knight knew I was in trouble.
“You’re in a mess because you’re breaking the rules,” he said.
“What rules?” I asked, innocently raising my eyebrows.
“Your rules and God’s rules. When people go against the laws they know, they are sinning.”
If I had heard this from anyone else, I would have felt as if they had called me a sinner. Yet I knew Mr. Knight loved me and cared about my happiness, so I listened to what he had to say.
“You know that lying to your parents, even stretching the truth a little, is wrong. You know that lying to yourself is wrong. You know that dating someone who drags you down is wrong. You can’t expect to stand barefoot in the snow and not get cold.”
“Mr. Knight, I’ve lied so many times though. I don’t know how to start telling the truth. If I tell my parents the truth now, they’ll ground me until I graduate.”
I was afraid of facing the truth. I thought if I told the truth, I’d spend my senior year dateless and friendless.
“Mr. Knight, I’m not sure I can fix this mess.”
“Trust me, you can. Remember, you don’t have to do this all by yourself. You need the help of the Lord and His Atonement.”
“Hey, this isn’t a big enough problem that I need to repent. I don’t need the Atonement. Remember, I’m not the one smoking and drinking.”
“I know, but you still have things you need to change. Repentance means changing, and it’s possible because of Christ’s Atonement. You need to repent because you’ve broken God’s rules.”
I stopped pushing the wheelchair, realizing for the first time that I had offended God and not just myself. Now, instead of fearing my own face in the mirror, I was afraid of facing the Lord. I knew He was aware of everything I had done. I wanted to bury myself under a mountain.
Mr. Knight gave me instructions on how to get back to where I needed to be. I told my parents the truth about going out with Brock behind their backs. I knelt and told the Lord the truth. Still, a confession wasn’t enough. I changed my behavior. I quit dating Brock and only dated guys who lived Church standards. Lots of kids at school teased me, telling me I was stuck up, but I knew that what I was doing was right. Most importantly, faith and hope returned to my life, replacing the guilt and despair I had felt.
My fear of being friendless and dateless never happened. By being true to myself, I found friends who were true to me. Mr. Knight helped me see the need for the Atonement in my life so I could change and look at myself in the mirror. When I look to Christ and then look at myself, I am able to recognize in my reflection something of divinity and what He expects me to become.