Gospel Story Finder

The Salvation Army also runs a preschool to provide support to low income families in the area. The Precious Jewel Day Care Centre, located in Oistins, Christ Church had a dire need of appliances which has now been assuaged by the Latter-day Saints Charities’ donation of a stove, washing machine, food processor and several standing fans. In addition, playground equipment and sheets for the cots used by the preschool will be delivered in the near future. Principal Kelly Hall was overjoyed to receive these items and said, “It’s wonderful to have a stove with an oven that works!” Major Brown of the Salvation Army described the donation as the answer to her prayers.

He walked into a little classroom in the Philippines to be interviewed in preparation for receiving the Melchizedek Priesthood. I didn’t know how old he was, but even the older members of the branch called him Tatay (father).
When I asked whether he would be able to understand my English, he smiled warmly and replied with careful diction, “Yes, I will.”
After our interview I asked him if there was any reason he should not be ordained to the priesthood. After a moment he said, “Perhaps I should not receive the priesthood.”
Puzzled, I asked, “What do you mean?”
“I have only one tooth,” he replied. “I know I don’t look very good to receive the priesthood. It is all right if you tell me I cannot have the priesthood.”
We sat for a moment while I pondered his comment, tears welling up in my eyes. Then I put my hand on his hand and told him that I had seen many wonderful priesthood holders who had lost their hair, but he had beautiful, thick black hair. I also told him of priesthood holders who had only one ear or one eye, but he had both of his eyes and ears.
I then told him of a friend of mine who had lost his arm to cancer. When that brother had prayed in our home and had asked Heavenly Father to bless my wife and children, I knew he was a great servant of the Lord. I told Tatay how this friend had placed his only hand on the head of a little girl to bless her because she was dying and that I had felt the power of the priesthood that day.
This elderly Filipino smiled and said, “I hope my service to God will also be acceptable.”

Attention Scouts! All that time spent in first-aid workshops can really pay off. It has for Rhyan Donahoe of the Tuckahoe Ward, Richmond Virginia Stake. At 15, he’s already been able to save two lives by using the Heimlich maneuver.
Rhyan works at Ginter Hall, a retirement/convalescent center. That’s where he had the opportunity to save two elderly patients’ lives. The nurses there are impressed with Rhyan’s quick-thinking, take-charge attitude. Rhyan says humbly, “I’m glad I was able to help.”

It’s opening night.
Makeup has been applied, costumes put on, and props laid out. The final shout of “break a leg” has finished echoing through the hallway. After hours of utter chaos, it’s peaceful. Actors who moments ago joked and talked with one another now sit side-by-side in silence. Slowly they are making the transition from the everyday lives of modern-day teens to the daily struggles of adults who lived more than 100 years ago.
They are getting into character.
“When you’re in character, you’re acting just like that person, feeling the way they feel, and you have to let that show,” says deacon Jeff Timmons.
Building a character for a play means training yourself to think, feel, and behave the way your character would. In real life, building a character is not that much different. It requires the same hard work, discipline, and dedication as acting. But it also requires making decisions about the attributes that should be included in the part you wish to play—things like willingness to work, to share, and to love others.
In Los Lunas, New Mexico, Jeff and his fellow cast members are participants in a ward play that spreads the gospel message. While they are learning how to act on stage they are also helping each other learn the best ways to act in life.
Part of creating a strong character includes an appreciation of those who have gone before. As part of their stake’s Pioneer Day celebration, the youth in Los Lunas re-created the lives of 19th-century Armenian converts to the Church in their production of “And They Shall Be Gathered.”
“The early converts to the Church faced challenges, just like we do now. They were just different kinds of challenges,” says Geoff Pankretz, a priest who plays the male lead, Sarkis.
The Los Lunas First Ward put the production together with the help of director Norlan Jacobs, who was in the original production of the play at BYU more than 20 years ago. Brother Jacobs, cast members say, taught them many things about acting—concepts like blocking (learning where to stand and how to move on stage), characterization, and motivation. But more important than that, he stressed the significance of the story the play tells: a story of love, sacrifice, and of the great strength early converts to the Church were required to have.
“Brother Jacobs told us about the actual people the play was based on. They left their family behind in Armenia because they knew the Church was true. They decided to come to Utah. After they left, their family was killed. It makes you realize how important this play is. It gives you an appreciation for what people went through,” says 16-year-old Shae Dunkley.
Sometimes building character means knowing when to be a leader and when to be a follower. Putting together a play is no exception.
“This play has taught me a lot about working as a team,” says 17-year-old Libby Farnsworth. “I’m used to getting on the stage and being the center of attention, but this play is not a one-person show. You have to really allow the limelight to be on the person it’s supposed to be on.”
On stage, teamwork means remembering your own lines and helping others out when they forget theirs.
“Libby’s really great at feeding me lines. When I forget what to say next, she repeats the line before, to jog my memory. She’s saved me more than once,” says Geoff.

He told a story of a French carpenter in the early 1800s who was having difficulty in his profession keeping his productivity high because of the defective hammers he used. He had trouble keeping the head on the hammer as he worked. He would spend half of his time chasing his flying hammerhead. He tried everything to attempt to keep the head on. He tried to nail it on. He tried to soak it in water. He even tried to glue it. Each process would help only for a short time before he would again find himself chasing the hammerhead. Now, all of the carpenters in the country were having the same problem and all were seemingly content to live with the situation with the exception of this man. He desired to be the best carpenter in all of France, but his efficiency was limited to the effectiveness of the tools he used. He reasoned that the only way he could become the best was to build a better hammer. Each evening after his working hours, he would ponder and think about what could be done to develop a better hammer. Finally, after years of work, the right concept was discovered. It was a simple solution, but, oh, how workable. The process he developed was to make the bottom of the hammerhead smaller than the top and then drive a wedge into the top of the hammer. As long as the wedge was in place, the hammerhead could not come off. In fact, the more pressure applied to the hammerhead to attempt to have it fly off, the more pressure was on the wedge to keep it in place. He had built the world’s greatest hammer. It has become the pattern for most of the hammer manufacturers even to this day. Now, his was not the world’s greatest discovery, but in his own field he became the best.

When I was about 14 or 15, I had a hard time believing the Church was true, even though I’d been a member all my life. Although my firm testimony of the Church didn’t come until later, here is how I decided that the Church was good and that I should keep going.
One day I prayed about whether or not the Church was true. I was expecting some great experience like hearing a voice or feeling a physical sensation in my body or something similar to assure me it was. Nothing came. I struggled greatly with this.
Then one Sunday, I was at church and started thinking about all of the great people I knew in the Church. I thought about how I felt when I was at church—a peaceful feeling, like I was at ease. I felt the Spirit during this meeting when I was thinking about these things.
This is when my first little bit of testimony started, and I knew that the Church was a good thing and that I should keep going. As I continued going to church, I started forming an even stronger testimony, little by little.

Elder Oaks further illustrates what it’s like to hesitate to share the gospel with our friends:
“Consider that you are invited to a friend’s house for breakfast. On the table you see a large pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice from which your host fills his glass. But he offers you none. Finally you ask, ‘Could I have a glass of orange juice?’
“He replies, ‘Oh, I’m sorry. I was afraid you might not like orange juice, and I didn’t want to offend you by offering you something you didn’t desire.’
“Now, that sounds absurd, but it is not too different from the way we hesitate to offer up something far sweeter than orange juice. I have often worried how I would answer some friend about my hesitancy when I meet him beyond the veil” (Ensign, Nov. 2000, 81–82).

For a long time in Primary, I wanted to go inside the temple and do baptisms for the dead. So when I became a Beehive, I couldn’t wait to get started. The first time I went was on my 12th birthday. My dad took me to the Ogden Utah Temple, where we did the baptisms and confirmations. I felt the Spirit so strongly, and I didn’t want the feeling to leave.
I decided that for a Personal Progress experience, I wanted to do my family history. A kind sister from my ward taught me how to use the FamilySearch program. I then searched for names with my mom, and every time I saw a green arrow pointing to the temple, I squealed with delight—it meant we’d found another name to submit to the temple for temple work!
My mother and I just went to the temple to do six of the baptisms. Temple workers said they had more names for us to do if we’d like to do them. I was overjoyed! My mom and I did at least 12 baptisms each. I felt the Spirit and always will when I go to the temple.

The seventies led us to graduate school at the University of Iowa. Wouldn’t you know it – our babysitter for the three years there was a Primary President. Our son, Arthur, joined their then eight children (eventually ten) and became part of their family and part of their ward. We, the parents, were on the outside looking in on a wonderful transformation of the wards newest “Sunbeam.” Arthur would come home and tell us he was special and wanted a duty in the house! We did NOT know what to say or do … except be impressed. Remember the earlier quote from Richard L. Evans?
We are the sum of all our actions and attitudes and utterances,
of all things stored away in body and mind and memory.
We wanted these values in our little family. We were still experiencing turbulent times being on a college campus. We were just beginning as parents and didn’t have a clue how to continue. We watched and absorbed the Aamodt family’s activities. They eventually gave us a family home evening manual. We didn’t know what the D&C thing meant but we did sit down together on Sunday evening, pop some popcorn and watch “The Wonderful World of Disney” each week. Our babysitters became stability in a time if uncertainty.
We observed this family for three years. They took us to their daughter’s baptism, the yearly children’s sacrament program, a dessert auction, and to Nauvoo to see the “City of Joseph” pageant. We attended the ward so infrequently (once or twice a year) that we were introduced as “Arthur’s parents.”
While in Nauvoo, the testimonies of the missionary couples impressed Scarlett and questions arose as to how these couples could leave their families. “Don’t you miss your grandchildren? “You can’t go home and see them for how long?” “Why do they always end their speeches with ‘I know these things to be true…’” “Is this something they’ve memorized?” During the return trip to Iowa City, we asked, “So, where are those gold plates now?” WHERE? (we thought…) Well, that’s convenient! This trip was a definite turning point in our interest in the church even after we were told where those plates ended up.
Before graduating, I became ill and needed blood. Members of the ward donated blood while the Aamodt family moved us into their home.

Marva Olson Prior is the great-grandmother of Erica. Her life did not take every turn as she expected. She reared her four children righteously in the Church without her husband being a member. She once said: “If we keep His commandments, we will be blessed and find peace of mind and true joy, but not without trials, for we learn so much from our challenges.” Her husband joined the Church after they had been married 46 years. Part of who Erica Wible is comes because of the noble life of this great-grandmother. I have a picture of Erica with her great-grandmother when Erica was younger. Sister Prior passed away four years ago.

When I was an undergraduate, I had the privilege of studying at the BYU Jerusalem Center for Near Eastern Studies. On one field trip we visited an area in which a large stone tower stood. From the tower a watchman could detect threats before they were visible from the ground, protecting the olive, fig, and grape vineyard from plunder.
Years later I reenacted this scene with my family in family home evening. We live in a two-story home. Our backyard is relatively flat close to the home but descends rapidly into a wooded area. For our family home evening lesson, all but one member of the family stayed on the main floor and looked out the windows toward the backyard. One family member climbed the stairs to a second-story bedroom with a window that also looked toward the backyard.
I hid in the backyard and, unbeknownst to my children, was armed with a bow and arrow. Now, with my skills as an archer, I might have been able to harm someone only by accident, but I looked menacing, and that was enough for our lesson.
As I climbed the wooded ascent toward our home, the members of my family on the main floor could not see me. They saw only the grass and trees in our backyard. I was detected, however, by the child at the upstairs window. Before I could lunge from the woods in surprise, I was spotted, and a warning cry went out to those below.

Returning to the family home evening I described earlier, after I was discovered approaching the home with a bow and arrow, we repeated the experience with some modification. A different child took the post at the second-story window. This time I placed our family home evening treat in the garden, a sunken area just beyond the grass of our yard. As before, members of the family on the main floor could not see the treat. Again, however, the watchman at the second-story window could spot the treat that awaited us.

When my dad was young, Grandpa taught his family to memorize songs while they drove on long road trips. Grandpa’s favorite hymn was “I Stand All Amazed.”
That would be the opening hymn the wintry day my family filed into the funeral chapel behind Grandpa’s casket. Unlike my dad’s family, I have a hard time singing. I don’t memorize lyrics easily, and if I can’t read the notes, my weak alto voice struggles to stay on key.
I took my seat behind the podium because I would be giving the eulogy after the hymn and prayer. As the music began, I looked around, dismayed to realize there were no hymnbooks nearby. I wouldn’t be able to sing Grandpa’s favorite song as we honored him. This small setback seemed to add to my loss, and I worried I might get too emotional to speak.
Timidly I sang the first phrase, certain I couldn’t remember the rest: “I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me.” Then the words and notes started flowing into my mind. I sang all three verses without stumbling or going off-key. As the hymn concluded, I felt the Savior’s love—and my Grandpa’s. I delivered Grandpa’s eulogy, calmed by the Spirit and grateful for the gift I’d just been given.
Though I’ve needed a hymnbook to sing “I Stand All Amazed” ever since, I’m always grateful when I can sing it. My grandpa’s favorite hymn reminds me of the love existing for us beyond the veil.

I was touched by the journey of one brother who asked himself, “When the Lord calls, will I hear?” I will call this fine brother David.
David converted to the Church some 30 years ago. He served a mission and then attended law school. While he was studying and working to support a young family, he came across some information about the Church that confused him. The more he read these negative materials, the more unsettled he became. Eventually he asked to have his name removed from the records of the Church.
From that time on, like Alma in his rebellious days, David spent a great deal of time debating with members of the Church, engaging in online conversations with the purpose of challenging their beliefs.
He was very good at this.
One of the members he debated with I will call Jacob. Jacob was always kind and respectful to David, but he was also firm in his defense of the Church.
Over the years, David and Jacob developed a mutual respect and friendship. What David did not know is that Jacob was praying for David and did so faithfully for more than a decade. He even placed his friend’s name for prayer in the temples of the Lord and hoped that David’s heart would be softened.
Over time, slowly, David did change. He began to remember with fondness the spiritual experiences he once had, and he remembered the happiness he had felt when he was a member of the Church.
Like Alma, David had not completely forgotten the gospel truths he had once embraced. And like Amulek, David felt the Lord reaching out to him. David was now a partner in a law firm—a prestigious job. He had developed a reputation as a critic of the Church, and he had too much pride to ask to be readmitted.
Nevertheless, he continued to feel the pull of the Shepherd.
He took to heart the scripture “If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.”13 He prayed, “Dear God, I want to be a Latter-day Saint again, but I have questions that need answers.”
He began to listen to the whisperings of the Spirit and to inspired answers of friends as he never had before. One after another, his doubts turned to faith, until finally he realized that, once again, he could feel a testimony of Jesus Christ and His restored Church.
At that point, he knew that he would be able to overcome his pride and do whatever it took to be accepted back into the Church.
Eventually, David entered the waters of baptism and then began counting down the days until he could have his blessings restored.
I am happy to report that this past summer, David’s blessings were restored to him. He is again fully participating in the Church and serving as a Gospel Doctrine teacher in his ward. He takes every opportunity to speak to others about his transformation, to heal the damage he caused, and to bear testimony of the gospel and the Church of Jesus Christ.

Ninth, obtain your patriarchal blessing. Many of you already have. Let me tell you what a patriarchal blessing meant to our friend Dean in seeing and living the reality that really matters.

When Dean was sixteen or seventeen, he fell for a girl named Consuela. As he described it:

The ultimate for me was this: I would turn up my collar, put on my sunglasses, and pick up Consuela. Then we would go to the drive-in. [I always wanted to ask him, Wearing sunglasses to a drive-in? After dark?] I couldn’t seem to think about anything else except looking cool and going out with Consuela.

Then Dean responded to an invitation to get his patriarchal blessing.

When I got that blessing, it was as if someone punched a hole through the veil and I could see who I really was, where I really wanted to go, what was really important. I decided I really did want to go on a mission. I wanted to live so I could be married in the temple. That blessing literally changed how I looked at everything.

Before the blessing Dean saw the world through sunglasses—darkly. After the blessing he literally saw the light. In a sense he had come out from the “ugly mists of vapors” (though I think Consuela was hardly ugly) into the brightness of the sun, feeling that God was there and that God knew he was there. Knowing what he knew helped him to act, to begin the process of becoming what he could really become.

During Sister LaVaun Asay’s orientation interview with her mission president, Elder M. Russell Ballard, now of the First Quorum of the Seventy, she confided to him that she didn’t know how to be a missionary and was nervous and frightened to try. So he kindly went through a practice session with her asking the golden questions.
Later, on her first missionary day in Kirtland Lake, Ontario, while her husband, Verl, was paying for their groceries, she found the courage to ask the lady at the grocery check counter the golden question. The lady responded positively.
After the Asays’ first discussion with this woman and her husband, Robert and Betti W. Guild, Robert invited his brother, Don, and his wife, Sheila, to join them. After a short time all four were baptized. Their influence among friends and other family members has led to at least twelve more baptisms so far—all because Sister Asay discovered courage she didn’t think she had.

The problem has been duplicated many times in many places and in many different forms, but it is the response that makes this instance worthy of imitation. The chronological events tell the story:
1. Spring 1970—The associate student senate at California State College at Fullerton voted to cancel funds for the college-sponsored baseball tournament in which Brigham Young University had been invited to participate.
2. Shortly thereafter, Brent Romney, regional president of the Santa Ana region of the LDS Student Association, wrote an article to the student newspaper. He encouraged Mormon youth to write letters. He addressed the senate. The senate reversed its decision.
3. March 1970—A special election was held for the office of senator from the science and education area. Brent ran and won. Then it was decided that a mistake had been made and no senatorial seat was available for Brent.
4. May 1970—Regular elections were held. Brent ran for senator and won again. At the first meeting he was nominated for speaker of the senate. The race narrowed to two persons. Brent lost.
5. November 1970—Speaker of the senate quit. Brent ran for the office. After two weeks of deadlocked balloting, he won office and held it for the remainder of the year.
6. May 1971—Along with seven others, Brent ran for studentbody president. He placed second highest and in a run-off won by twenty-one votes. Black students report that it is their vote that won it for Brent—75 percent of the black vote went to the Mormon whom they had learned to trust.—JMT

It can be easy to feel like we’re not good enough. I felt that recently when I was invited to sing with the Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square during general conference.
My patriarchal blessing says that I should develop my talents, especially those involving music. I really took that to heart on my mission and decided to develop my voice.
When I got home from my mission, I chose to pursue a career in music. I went to a nearby university and got a degree in music. I later started a job as a music teacher, which I am still doing today.
When I found out that the Church was offering to bring singers from around the world to join the Tabernacle Choir and sing for general conference, I decided to audition. However, after the audition was over, all I could think was, “That was so bad. There’s no way I’m getting in after that. I’m definitely not going to be a part of the choir.”
A few weeks later, I got an email response. Again, I told myself I would not be invited to join the choir, based on how badly I’d botched the audition. However, I was stunned to learn that the email was not in fact a rejection letter—it was an invitation.
I was dumbfounded. It was an immense honor to receive this invitation.
Being able to sing with the choir was a highlight of my life. I learned a lot, met many incredible people, and felt the Spirit speak to me strongly as I performed.
When I think about everything that led me to that moment, I’m amazed. I felt the Savior’s love and direction when I felt prompted to get my patriarchal blessing, and I continue to feel it. There were certainly moments in between getting my patriarchal blessing and now when I wondered to myself, “What am I even doing?” I struggled to trust the timing of the Lord and to feel like I was good enough for whatever lay ahead.
During one of those times, a friend gave me this advice:
“When you’re not feeling good enough, there are really only two options.
“Option one: You tell yourself you can do it. You say, I’m going to be great, and it’s going to go well. But in that moment, you’re not letting Christ in. You’re convincing yourself that you can do it alone. But you’re never going to be able to do it alone.
“Hence option two: It is Christ who helps you through all things. It is Christ whose strength helps you live and stand and do. Especially in our brokenness. Because it’s in the brokenness that we turn to Christ and He in turn lifts you and carries you.”
“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me,” said Paul to the Philippians (Philippians 4:13). This verse reminds me of what my friend taught me that day and helps me keep in mind my dependence on Christ and His Atonement.
Oftentimes when we face things that are scary or stressful, we shut down. We procrastinate. But that’s not how Christ would have us be. He would rather we act and do, trusting in Him, than not do anything at all.
I’ve come to realize—in times when it’s hard and times when it’s easy—that I’m OK. I’m OK because Jesus Christ knows me at my very worst, and as I rely on Him, He helps me become my very best. And I’ve also learned that once we’ve accepted that within ourselves, then it becomes our priority to love other people in their brokenness so they can experience Christ and become their best.
President Emily Belle Freeman, Young Women General President, taught: “Like Enoch, we must remember that the One who was bruised and broken for us will allow mortality to do its work in us, but He doesn’t ask us to face those challenges alone. No matter the heaviness of our story or the current course of our path, He will invite us to walk with Him.”
If you’re not feeling good enough, remember that the Savior loves you in your brokenness. He and Heavenly Father know what you’re capable of and what you can become. They will support you and lift you up and help you become your very best.

I have found a stable job because of the English language I learned on my mission. I was first recruited as a motorcycle delivery agent. At the end of the first day of work, some of my colleagues refused to pick up some of the goods by hand, arguing that it was not part of their responsibilities. But based on the principles of service I had learned on my mission, I set to work with one of the modestly dressed people who later turned out to be the company’s manager. Immediately after picking up the goods, he gave me a very important financial responsibility in the office.

Ken was nervous as he started to school. This was the day of the Middle School marching band tryouts. More than anything else in the world, Ken wanted to be in the marching band.
Cradling his trumpet case in his right arm, Ken imagined himself marching down the street dressed in a blue and gold band uniform. The drum major would strut along in front, and the drums would beat out the cadence. It gave Ken goose bumps just thinking about it.
As he passed the house two doors from his own, he saw a boy about his own age sitting on a porch swing. He must be part of the family that is moving in today, Ken thought. He wished he had time to get acquainted. But he had to hurry to the tryouts.
Ken was the first person to get to the band room, except for the music teacher, Mr. Walker.
“Ready, Ken?” Mr. Walker asked. Ken’s hands felt damp, and his knees trembled. “Ready,” he said. He fumbled as he lifted his trumpet out of its case. To calm himself, he thought again about marching down the street. The band would start playing. Ken would lift his trumpet, ready to blast out a heart-thumping march. … That’s where his dream always ended—just before heads started turning to see where the sour notes were coming from. Maybe he should just forget the whole thing.
Mr. Walker tapped a pencil on his desk. “Try this tempo,” he said.
Ken looked at the music he’d chosen. Then he lifted his trumpet and blew.
The pitiful little blats that came out of his horn weren’t anything like the notes on the sheet of music.
“Try again,” Mr. Walker said. “Take your time, Ken.”
The second time wasn’t any better. Ken’s fingers just wouldn’t find the right notes, and his breathing was all wrong. “I’m just nervous this morning,” he stammered.
Mr. Walker stood up. “Ken, a lot of people have trouble playing musical instruments. Their coordination and sense of rhythm just aren’t quite developed.” He came over to put a hand on Ken’s shoulder. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s like not being good at basketball. Most people improve as they get older.”
“But I can march just fine,” Ken insisted. “I know I can march. And I can learn the music if I practice a lot.”
“Can you march and play the music at the same time?” Mr. Walker’s voice was kind.
Ken thought about it. He had a hard time even walking while he played.
“Ken,” Mr. Walker continued, “go home and practice tonight. You can try again tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mr. Walker,” Ken said. But he knew that even if he practiced all night, he probably wouldn’t be good enough to march with the band.
The rest of the school day dragged by. On his way home, Ken heard somebody playing a trumpet. The notes were clear and true. Squarely on pitch.
The music was a march that made Ken’s heart thump. It came from the porch of the house where the new family had moved in. The boy blowing the trumpet was the one Ken had seen that morning. He was still sitting on the porch swing.
Ken walked up close and listened. “Wow!” he said when the boy stopped playing. “You’re some trumpet player.”
The boy grinned. “I get lots of practice, especially today, since Mom’s still busy unpacking and I won’t be starting school until next Monday.”
“Any chance of your giving me a few pointers?” Ken held up his trumpet case. “I’m trying out for the marching band tomorrow.”
“Sure.” The boy motioned for Ken to sit on a porch chair. “My name’s Eric,” he said.
“Mine’s Ken.”
Ken heard a crash inside the house and a tired voice saying something about hating moving days. “Are you sure you have time for me?” Ken asked. “Maybe they need you in there.”
Eric smiled a little. “I’d just be in the way.” He pointed to a wheelchair that sat in a shady corner of the porch. “I’m not a whole lot of help.”
Ken felt his face redden a little as he realized why Eric was always sitting. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s OK.” Eric waved a hand. “I guess everybody has some kind of a handicap. Now, go ahead and play something.”
Handicap. Ken knew what his was. But he could try, couldn’t he? Thinking of the beautiful notes Eric had played, he put his horn to his lips and blew.
The trumpet screeched.
“I’m not too good yet.”
Eric didn’t deny it. “We’ll work on it.”
They worked on it for over two hours. Eric was nice. He didn’t even blink when Ken hit sour notes.
“It will sound better in the morning when you’re rested,” he said when Ken left.
But Eric was wrong. The next morning in the band room, Ken’s trumpet-playing sounded worse than ever. He knew even before Mr. Walker said anything that it was hopeless. His dream of marching along in a blue and gold uniform died.
When Ken got home after school, Eric was sitting on the porch swing again. He didn’t even ask what had happened. Ken guessed that it showed in his face.
“You wanted that a lot, didn’t you?” Eric said gently.
Ken nodded. “More than anything else in the world.”
Eric rubbed the trumpet that lay in his lap. “I used to dream about being in a marching band too. You know—with flags waving and people watching and me marching along playing music that almost makes your heart jump out of your chest.”
“Funny, isn’t it?” Ken said. “You’re really good at playing the trumpet, but you can’t march. I can march just fine, but I’m no good at playing.”
“Hey!” they shouted in unison, eyes shining.
Mr. Walker said later that the band that year was his best ever. He said that maybe it was because everyone tried to live up to the enthusiasm that Ken and Eric had brought to it.
Ken didn’t know about that. But he did know that there wasn’t anything wrong with his marching as he pushed Eric’s wheelchair through all the maneuvers. It was easy to do perfectly while those clear, sweet notes from Eric’s trumpet sounded in his ears.

John and Tess found they enjoyed the extra effort they put into visiting their neighbors so much, they decided to expand the assignment into a week.
“As soon as we received the assignment from the bishop we came home and began talking about it. We planned. We prayed. And then we planned and prayed some more,” John reflected.
“From Sunday until Thursday I just kept thinking the day was coming closer and closer. I knew that I had enough time to prepare, and on Thursday I’d better live the best I could. I couldn’t really offer any excuses,” says Tess.
They decided to fill their day visiting their neighbors, taking some fruit or a gift to those who were ill, expressing their thanks to people who had helped them. “So many people are lonely and just want to talk,” says John who serves on the fellowshipping committee in the ward. “We wanted to just go and let them know we cared. And it was wonderful to see how they opened up to us. One sister asked us if the high priests could come and administer the sacrament in her home once in a while since she couldn’t go to the meetings. So I talked with the bishop about it, and the next week a couple of us administered the sacrament to her.”
Was their day a success? “Oh, yes! Most days we think about what we should do, but we just don’t make the effort to do it. And when you finally do it, you have such a good feeling,” Tess said.