Gospel Story Finder

Compassion for others abounds in Coventry. On 11 March 2023, over 60 women from the community gathered to provide support for the children of Gatispo, a rural community in eastern Rwanda. The joint project was spearheaded by Compassion Direct UK and female members of the Coventry Stake of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Because of poverty and health-related issues, many of the Rwandan children are hungry and lack decent clothing for school. The struggle for survival and dignity is real for many families in the rural community of Gatispo, particularly for those affected by HIV and its ripple effects.
To offset some of these challenges, women in the Coventry community sewed nearly 50 pairs of Bermuda shorts for the children so they could feel comfortable attending school.
The Day of Compassion was also designed to celebrate International Women’s Day and the organisation of the Relief Society of the Church, through service to others.
The event was attended by female leaders in the community, who served as panel members in a question-and-answer session focused on the importance and significance of women. The panel consisted of Councillor Ann Isherwood, mayor of the borough of Redditch; Nyear Nazir, councillor for Batchley and Brockhill and deputy leader at Redditch Borough Council; and Kate Taroni, president of the Coventry Stake Relief Society.
Mayor Isherwood said, “It’s International Women’s Week and I felt honoured to meet with sisters that are like-minded. Christlike service, helping people [whom] we will never meet is a great privilege. I feel honoured to be part of an organisation that recognises this.”
“The worldwide struggle of women continues,” noted Councillor Nazir. “Change is slowly happening. My Muslim faith empowers women. Women are nurturers. A nurturing woman can create a beautiful society. Celebrating women is paramount. We are there to support other women and families.”
Kate Taroni added, “It’s been really good to celebrate International Women’s Day. Being a woman is part of our identity. We are daughters of God, and this reminds us of who we really are.”
The chairman of Compassion Direct UK will be taking the clothing to Gatispo at the end of March. The charity provides practical support to rural children and families living in poverty by providing environmentally sustainable solutions and self-help projects in the developing world.

Now I bear you my testimony, brothers and sisters, that I know this matter of tithing is a true principle and that blessings come from it. My parents taught me to pay tithing, and in the words of Enos I say, to their honor, “Blessed be the name of my God for it” (Enos 1:1).
We were refugees from Mexico. During the years that followed, father had a difficult time getting enough food to feed his family. I remember about two years after we came out of Mexico (that would be about 1914), father got a job in Oakley, Idaho, teaching in the Cassia Academy for $80 a month.
When father and his brother came out of Mexico, they both had large families. Knowing that they would have a difficult time to make a living (they brought nothing out of Mexico except what they could bring in one trunk), they joined together and pooled their earnings. After a short stay in El Paso, Texas, they went together to Los Angeles, California, where they worked as carpenters. Later they moved to Oakley, Idaho, where they could raise their families in a Latter-day Saint environment. When one of them was out of work, they divided the income of the other and thus eked out an existence for both families. My uncle got out of work one winter in Idaho. That left them the $80 that my father received for teaching with which to support about 17 people. They had to pay rent, they had to buy everything they ate, and they had to buy fuel, except that I went out on the side hill and dug the sagebrush from under the snow for fuel. I kept warm digging and mother kept warm poking it into the stove. The rest of them nearly froze.
The question came up in the family council—did father pay tithing on that $80? If he didn’t, he would have $40 a month to care for the family; if he did, it would be cut down by $4 and he would have $36 a month. I remember that council, and I remember that they decided that they would pay their tithing, and I remember that they sent me with the tithing to the bishop. It was cold, and I didn’t have warm clothes, and I wondered what really had gone wrong with father. I learned from that—the training of my parents—that there is truth in the Lord’s promises.

Ever heard of a do-it-yourself musical? The Young Men and Young Women of the Kinston North Carolina Stake have. To help celebrate the sesquicentennial year, they organized, wrote, directed, and performed their own musical drama. First a youth drama specialist was called from each ward and branch in the stake, with a ward adult specialist to assist. Two workshops were held on the stake level to teach how to develop the production. Then each ward and branch selected a different time period of Church history, researched it, and wrote a script for that period. The stake drama specialist tied all the ward scripts together with narrative and musical interludes, and the musical was born! Every youth in the stake who wanted to participate either appeared on stage or helped backstage. Even moms and dads helped, and all had a terrific time.

“I’m home!” Daddy called. He was home early for Wyatt’s birthday. Wyatt turned five today!
Wyatt ran to him. Daddy gave him a big hug. “After lunch, you and I will go to the park,” Daddy said.
“Just us?” Wyatt asked. He loved his mom and his little sister, Maria, but sometimes he wanted to do things with just Daddy.
“Just us,” Daddy said.
Mommy made a lunch with all of Wyatt’s favorites. She also made a crown out of gold paper and glitter.
“Is that for me?” Wyatt asked, eyes wide.
“It is,” Mommy said.
It was a special birthday!
Wyatt wore the crown to the park. It kept slipping off his head, but he didn’t mind. “Daddy, does my birthday crown make me special?” he asked.
Daddy smiled. “A birthday crown is fun, but it’s not what makes you special. You are special because you are a child of God! And so is everyone else. That means everyone is special too.”
Daddy and Wyatt played on the playground. Wyatt went down the slide.
“Do you think I can go down the slide too?” Daddy asked.
Wyatt giggled. “You’re too big.”
Wyatt climbed up the ladder to go down the slide again. A girl was in front of him. She was afraid to go down. Wyatt thought about how everyone was special to Heavenly Father.
“You can do it!” he said.
She slid down the slide. So did Wyatt.
“Good job!” Wyatt said. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.
Being kind made Wyatt happy! He knew everyone was special, whether they had a birthday crown or not.

If you’ve ever felt that way, you’d like to meet Anna Ruth Aaron, 15, of the Lubbock, Texas First Ward. She was afraid, too, until she tried missionary work.
“I was afraid to talk to my friends about the Church,” said Anna Ruth. “But I’ve always been very open with the fact that I’m a Mormon. My friends know my views on drinking and smoking. At parties, if a newcomer tried to pressure me into something against my standards, my friends would tell him to stop.
“I always dreamed I could be a missionary and bring one of my friends, or the whole group of them, into the Church.”
Dreams have a way of making fears disappear. At least that’s what Anna Ruth discovered when she found herself talking to a good friend about the Church.
“I’d known Diane Swann a little, but from the first day of the new school year, we became very close friends. We started walking home from school together and spending time together. One day as we were walking home, something told me ‘Ask her … ask her … ask.’
“So I said, ‘Diane, can I ask you something? I’ve never done this before, and I’ll admit I’m scared, but I would like you to meet the missionaries for my church. You could listen to one of the lessons they have, which will explain what my church is like. If you don’t want to I’ll understand, and it won’t affect our friendship at all.’
“Diane replied, ‘Yes, I’ll listen to one lesson, but I want you to know right now, I’m not going to join your church.’”
Anna Ruth arranged for the first lesson, Diane came, and there was a good spirit there. Diane asked her mother if she might continue the lessons and her mother said yes, but she said that Diane would not want to join the Church. Diane continued the lessons, the missionaries challenged her to be baptized, her mother gave permission—and Diane joined the Church.
How did Diane feel about Anna Ruth talking to her about the Church?
“I didn’t feel offended, but I was surprised,” said Diane. “My mother was surprised when I told her I was interested in the Church, because religion wasn’t discussed much in our home. My brother teased me about it, but my mother was very supportive, and came to the baptism. I think it’s a very good idea to talk to friends about the Church, because if Anna Ruth hadn’t done that for me, I wouldn’t be in the Church. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

Bing Dao ran through his village, down the dirt path, and into his house. “Mother! My school’s doing the lion dance in the village for our Chinese New Year. And I get to be the lion!”
Mother stopped washing the rice for dinner. “That’s wonderful, Dao. But won’t the lion head be too heavy? They’re made for grown men, not twelve-year-old boys.”
“They ordered a special one, and guess what! I can go to the city of Fushan to get it when it’s finished, if Father will go with me.”
“I’m sure he will. Will someone from school go with you too?”
“No, my teacher told me everything that needs to be done. He said that as long as I don’t travel alone, it will be all right.”
“Be sure you remember everything that your teacher told you.”
“Of course.”
“Now, Dao, you know you forget things when you get excited. Did you pay close attention and write everything down?”
Dao hated these lectures. He sighed. “Oh, Mother, I’ll remember everything. I don’t need to write it down.”
“I hope not,” his mother said quietly.
Dao pranced around the room, bobbing up and down like he’d seen the lion dancers do. He crouched low and sprang up, thrusting his hands above his head, lifting the imaginary lion head high. “BOOM boom! Chiiing! BOOM boom! Chiiing!” Dao imitated the drums and cymbals and danced to their rhythm.
“Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!” He wiggled his body and bowed very low before his mother.
She clapped. “You’ll make a grand lion, Bing Dao!”
“Mother!” Dao scolded from the floor, “When the lion bows like this, you’re supposed to give him something.”
“How about a sweet sesame biscuit?”
The lion wiggled all over. He devoured the offering, wobbled his head, and backed away.
Dao waited anxiously for the day they would go to Fushan. This would be his first trip to a city. Now every day he practiced the lion dance. Of course, he studied hard, too—after all, the village lion dancer had to set a good example for the other students.
On the Friday before they were to leave, Dao went to the office to get the money.
“Mr. Gu is away. You will have to wait until next week,” the office worker said.
Dao’s heart began to pound. “But I’m going to Fushan tomorrow, so I need the money now.”
“I thought you were to come last week for it.”
Dao’s stomach felt like ice, and his mouth got dry. “Oh! I—I guess I forgot!”
“I’m very sorry, but he won’t be back before Wednesday.”
Dao walked home with a heavy heart. Mother’s right, I do forget things when I get excited. He groaned. What will Father say? And now I’ll get another lecture from Mr. Gu about remembering things. And I must keep my head bowed and listen. Father says that’s the Chinese way.
Dao’s father was kind. “There’s enough time—we’ll go a week from tomorrow—all right?”
Something seemed wrong about that, but Dao couldn’t think why. “I guess so.” He hoped he wasn’t forgetting something.
Mr. Gu did lecture, and Dao listened with his eyes lowered. He promised to do better, but all the while he was really thinking about the exciting trip ahead.
When they stepped off the train in Fushan, Father said, “We’ll go to the lantern factory first and pay for the lion head; then we’ll locate a van to take it to our village.”
While walking to the factory, they passed more shops than Dao had ever seen. Some sold tiny delicate clay figures and large ceramic vases. Others sold fabrics, dresses, or jewelry. Dao liked the clean smell of leather coming from the shoe shops. He saw lots of other things for sale—candy, dried fruit, vegetables. Some shops sold dried snakes, deer horns, odd bones, and old bark. The spice shops smelled best of all. Their sweet and pungent odors tickled his nose.
When they passed a delicious-smelling noodle shop, Father said, “Your favorite, Dao—rice noodles! We’ll eat lunch here later.”
In the lantern factory, Dao watched the workers making lion and dragon heads by gluing bright silk cloth or paper to wire frames. Above his head hung hundreds of brilliant paper lanterns. Huge red globes, pagoda shapes with tassels hanging from the corners, animals, birds, and fish were also there.
Dao gave the shop manager the order.
“But that head has been sold,” the manager said. “We didn’t think you were coming. You’re too late. I’m sorry.”
“Too late?”
“The order says the delivery date was seven days ago.”
Dao’s stomach turned to ice again. He’d forgotten about the delivery date! His teacher had warned him that the factory might not hold it past that day.
“I’m sorry,” the manager said again, “but it’s gone.”
“Can you make another one?”
“Goodness no! There isn’t time.”
“Where is ours? Who bought it?” Dao asked. “I must buy it from them.”
“I don’t think that they will sell it. Mr. Wang at Wang’s School of Dance is the person to ask.”
Father tapped his shoulder. “Come, Son.”
Dao fought back tears as he followed his father out of the factory. “Oh, Father, what if Mr. Wang says no?”
“An ancient proverb says, ‘A sweet gift loosens the tight fist.’”
Bing Dao frowned, thinking about that. “You mean I should buy a gift for Mr. Wang?”
Father nodded.
Dao had saved money to buy firecrackers for the New Year. If he had to pay for a gift for Mr. Wang, he wouldn’t have enough for the firecrackers. I can’t ask Father for the money, though, he thought, because it’s my fault. I must pay for it myself. So Dao bought a gift box of fancy cookies because the present had to be very special. It took almost all his money.
At the dance school, Dao gave the gift to Mr. Wang and, with his stomach doing somersaults, explained his problem.
Finally he said, “I didn’t get the money in time, and I forgot about the delivery date. I shouldn’t have been late, and I’m sorry to trouble you, but—” Dao swallowed hard— “may I please buy the lion head?”
Mr. Wang shook his head. “My students are already practicing the dance. How can I disappoint them now?”
“But it really belongs to our school. We ordered it. Please.” Dao sounded more courageous than he felt.
Mr. Wang remained silent for a long time. Finally he said, “Come back after lunch. I must think about this.”
Lunch in the noodle shop was quiet and grim. Afterward Dao couldn’t even remember if it tasted good.
Back at the dance school, Dao found all the students assembled. Mr. Wang said he wanted Bing Dao to explain his problem to the whole school.
Dao looked at the sea of faces and gulped. He tried to speak, but only a creak came out. The faces smiled. He tried again. “Well, … uh … I, uh, came to ask to buy the lion head.”
The smiles disappeared. Bing Dao began to talk fast. “You see, my school ordered it special because I’m not strong enough to carry a hig bion lead … I mean a lig hion bed … I mean—”
Everybody started to laugh. Bing Dao didn’t think it was funny at all. He wanted to vanish into thin air, but he took a deep breath and went on. “My village is depending on me to dance with the lion head for the New Year celebration. I know that it’s my own fault that I’m in such a muddle, but …” He faltered to a stop. Then he saw his father nod and smile. Dao took new courage. “My school got the idea and my school ordered the head. I’m asking you to please help me by selling it to me.”
The room was very quiet. Finally Mr. Wang said, “Bing Dao, you speak the truth bravely.” There was an agonizing pause. The dance teacher turned to the students. “How many think that we should sell the lion head to Bing Dao?”
For an awful minute no hand was raised. Then one went up, and another, and another, until almost every hand could be seen.
“Well, I guess you have the answer, Bing Dao. The lion head is yours.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Wang. Thank you, students.”
On the way home, Father said, “I’m proud of you, Dao. You applied another wise saying—‘Truth spoken gently wins the argument.’”
“Thank you, Father. I learned a lot today. And from now on, I’m going to write things down so I won’t forget.”
“Good idea, Son. Then all you have to remember is to read the list.”
They both laughed.

Also, my wife shared one incident that helped her testimony. She had to write a government entrance test on a Sunday. She said that she went to the exam center along with her colleagues. They insisted on visiting one temple before attending exam. She accompanied them. She saw people coming to the temple elegantly dressed with things needed for worship their God. Everybody was following a queue to worship. But the security as well as the priests there were not giving time, not even a minute, to stand and pray. When she was watching all these things, each and every second she was reminded of God’s plan for each of His children and how Jesus is crucial in the plan. She mentioned that every second she was seeing this she was feeling the living nature of our Lord Jesus Christ. These people reminded her of what the Lord uttered in His mortal ministry as written in Matthew 9:37:
“Then saith he unto his disciples, The harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers are few.”
Even though she was away from church that Sunday, she heartily felt the Holy Spirit witnessing her that Jesus is risen. He is the living Christ for all mankind. This testimony made the foundation of our faith even stronger.

I was truly taught this principle in February of this year while I was visiting my wife's parents. My mother-in-law is in the later stages of Alzheimer's disease. I read from my journal, "I am sitting in sacrament meeting, in mom and dad's ward in Salt Lake City. The ward choir is singing a hymn, 'Now Let Us Rejoice.' Mom is sitting next to me in the congregation. She is quietly singing along with the choir. I am amazed that even as mom struggles to remember her own children, she still remembers the music and every word of the hymns. I am touched by the Spirit and realize the importance for all of us to learn and sing the hymns of the church. The sacred music that we sing as we worship speaks to more than our mind, it speaks to our spirit."

“These aren’t the friends I want.”
Sadly, this wasn’t the first time I’d had this thought. My friends lived differently than I did, and I felt like I was often tempted to stray from the covenant path. I had learned during my teenage years what temptation can do and didn’t want to repeat previous choices.
Being a follower of Christ in today’s world can be hard. With so many lifestyles, it can be confusing to decide who to spend our time with. We can treat everyone with Christlike love, but we can love while maintaining healthy spiritual boundaries too. As President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) taught: “Friends help to determine your future. You will tend to be like them and to be found where they choose to go.”1
You can find friends who can become your spiritual allies—people who understand your faith and help you survive spiritually. These friends, regardless of faith or background, can support you spiritually as you journey through life.
I’ll be honest—it was super hard for me to let go of my friends who weren’t the best influences. I felt so lonely, but I knew I wanted to follow God more. It took me a few years, but I’ve discovered three ways you can find friends who can be your spiritual allies:
Sometimes our circumstances can make it hard to discern who we should be hanging out with.
So what are we to do? How can we know who will be good friends and spiritual allies?
Luckily, Elder Ronald A. Rasband of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has the answer: “To have friends who live high standards, who stand for virtue and goodness, who are faithful and true to their covenants, you must be such a person to them.”2
Instead of worrying about everyone else, we should first focus on becoming better people ourselves.
Why do we need to make sure we’re a good person before we find good friends? Well, the Lord states this truth in Doctrine and Covenants 88:40: “For intelligence cleaveth unto intelligence; wisdom receiveth wisdom; truth embraceth truth; virtue loveth virtue; light cleaveth unto light.”
Spiritual allies share our values and standards, regardless of their religion, race, or background. When you’re nurturing your testimony and doing your best to follow God, you will naturally draw others to you and be drawn to others who have the same standards.
When I was younger, my favorite TV shows involved groups of friends going on adventures with each other. I always wanted a specific group of friends I would grow up with. But that wasn’t always the reality. I had to learn that even though friendships were sometimes short-lived, it was important to choose friends who helped me grow into a better person.
I once had a friend who said offensive things to someone close to me. His words were disappointing, but I decided to approach him and tell him how I felt. The next time we saw each other, he thanked me for reminding him of his goodness, and I learned that he had apologized to my other friend and made amends.
As Elder Marvin J. Ashton (1915–1994) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught: “It takes courage to be a real friend. … A friend is a person who will suggest and render the best for us regardless of the immediate consequences.”3 It was scary to be honest with my friend, but that’s what spiritual allies and true friends do—they help each other to grow, to become more Christlike, and to progress on the covenant path.
It’s easier to strengthen our faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ when we spend time with those who lift us up and share spiritual insights, rather than those who criticize or demean our faith. Friends have a powerful influence in our lives. Elder Robert D. Hales (1932–2017) of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles once said, “Friends are people who make it easier to live the gospel of Jesus Christ.”4
We all need friends and spiritual allies. By finding—and being—a spiritual ally, we can help each other keep and make covenants and deepen our devotion to Christ. Together, we can support each other on the covenant path.
Heavenly Father knows the importance of surrounding yourself with spiritually uplifting friends. As you make time for Him each day, He will direct you to those spiritual allies and friendships you are seeking. He has for me.

But I am reminded of a story told to me by a friend of mine who is an area authority of the Church in the northeast. He reported a conversation with a district judge in New York City who, on being asked why that illustrious, but oft-maligned city was beginning to actually look a little better, responded that it was because they were enforcing the anti-spitting laws. My friend was surprised by the response and asked what that had to do with the general decline in crime and other positive indicators of improvement. The judge replied that they had discovered that if they enforced the little things that were actually enforceable—anti-spitting, anti-jaywalking, and other seemingly rather insignificant ordinances—then general respect for the city and its moral authority seemed to improve. What were a few years ago actual pockets of anarchy in urban life have now become much more orderly—and here is the important point—thus giving city dwellers more freedom (conversation with Elder Robert S. Wood, April 29, 1998).

Walking down the steps that led to the basement of our meetinghouse, I caught sight of my mother, hunched over a strange-looking machine, peering at illuminated pages in a darkened room and straining to read old documents. Still a young child, I didn’t understand what my mother did every Tuesday night for two hours in this quiet room. I had been sent to retrieve her from the church’s depths because Mutual had ended and my family wanted to go home.
My mother’s dedication to family history confused me for years. I often heard Church leaders stress the importance of participating in family history, but it seemed like an overwhelming task to me. Besides, it looked so boring.
“What satisfaction could she possibly receive from poring over lists of dead people’s names,” I wondered one afternoon as a teenager after dropping her off at the family history center. I continued in this vein of skepticism until, little by little, I began to wade into the waters of my ancestry.
The first time I felt the appeal of family history occurred during the Christmas break of my freshman year at BYU. One evening, as the rest of the family boisterously played a board game in the living room, I found myself seated at the kitchen table with my mom and older sister. The conversation soon turned to relatives, particularly my mother’s dad and his parents.
My great-grandparents, Orla and Roger, died in their 20s, leaving my grandfather and his brother in the care of Roger’s family. After Orla’s death, her father, Robert, died of appendicitis. A short time later, her mother fell, cracked her skull, and suffered several strokes, becoming bedridden. Orla’s oldest sisters, Thelma and Ena, then carried the full burden of supporting the family—a difficult task for two young, unmarried women in the late 1920s.
It was all so fascinating to learn about people I felt connected to but had never met. I was amazed by the trials my family had faced. Hearing it all made my own problems seem so small in comparison.
Several months later, with my mother’s story crowded into the recesses of my mind by school and work, I received an assignment in one of my classes at Brigham Young University to find 8 to 10 primary documents containing the name of one of my ancestors.
My genealogical training to that point consisted of singing the Primary song “Family History—I Am Doing It,” but grades weren’t negotiable in my mind, so I began at the only place I could think to start—Orla’s family. I looked her up on a pedigree chart and traced her line back until I found her grandfather, Joseph Argyle Jr.
One afternoon, I made the trek across the BYU campus to the library and into the family history library. I explained to a worker who Joseph Argyle was and the little information I knew about him.
For the next two hours, that worker guided me through a treasure hunt, which took us all over the library. We searched records of Mormon passengers on emigrant vessels, discovering that Joseph and his family crossed the Atlantic on a ship. Later that year, he traveled to Salt Lake Valley with the Ellsworth handcart company, which we found in a record book of handcart companies. We looked through the Endowment House records (found where he received his temple ordinances), the Utah death index (he lived to 84), and old Church membership records (there he was).
In an online database of Utah newspaper archives, I found a front-page obituary for my great-great-great grandfather. Published in the Davis County Clipper in February 1927, every sentence contained an interesting fact, such as Joseph’s contribution to the building of the Salt Lake Temple.
“He has the credit of having hauled the largest stone put in that building which weighed 13,000 pounds,” the article read.
I began to get a glimpse of the impact we can have on future generations when I discovered he had 88 descendants at the time of his death, a number which increased exponentially in the past 79 years.
Every time I found another document with my ancestors’ names on it, I felt a little tingle of excitement run through my body. It was like a mystery novel, putting all the pieces together, little by little beginning to understand who this man was. I became so immersed in learning about my ancestor, I didn’t leave until late in the afternoon, almost missing work!
I completed the assignment and received an A, but even more importantly, I created a tangible connection with one of my relatives. Joseph Argyle left his home, sailed across the ocean, traveled to Utah and helped build the temple, all because he believed in the gospel of Jesus Christ, a legacy which I inherited and which gives me the strength to fight my own battles in the 21st century.
I am a link in the chain of Joseph Argyle, and I can pass on his example to strengthen my children and their children. There are others I can help as well. The temple work for the vast majority of my ancestors has yet to be completed, and hundreds, even thousands, of my ancestors are waiting for me to do my part.
For more information on how to get started on your family history, visit your local family history center or go to www.familysearch.org.

The beautiful face of Sister Pai on the Altiplano in Bolivia fills my memory with a warm glow. I visited her and her family in January 1975. They had been members of the Church for only three months, but in that time they had learned that President Spencer W. Kimball had encouraged Church members to have gardens. I was thrilled to see their two small vegetable gardens and a flower garden. Each night they covered their three gardens with plastic sheets to protect their treasures from freezing.

I shall never forget their family home evening, held in the warmest spot in the home—on their bed. Of that experience I wrote in my journal: “The rain and the cold, the walk and the mud were all well worth it. I would have walked one hundred miles to visit with this family and have the privilege of feeling their spirit and their enthusiasm in being members of the Church and learning principles which help them to be healthier and happier.” Blessed, honored pioneers.

As the sun set on another Sunday in 1948, I found myself walking by the Trent River in Nottingham, England. I was a 20-year-old missionary at the time. It had been a long, exhausting day, but I was happy and satisfied in the work.
As I walked along the river, I said a prayer in my heart. Hoping to feel some guidance from the Lord, I asked, “Am I doing what You want?”
An overwhelming feeling of peace and understanding suddenly came over me. At that precise moment, I came to know that Jesus Christ knew me and loved me. I didn’t see a vision or hear a voice, but I could not have known of Christ’s reality and divinity any more powerfully had He stood before me and called out my name.
From that day to today, every significant decision I have made has been influenced by my knowledge that Jesus Christ is the Son of God. I love Him more deeply and powerfully than words can express. He is my Lord, my Savior, my Redeemer, and my friend.

The missionary said the Spirit whispered that I would help him find an answer.

I remember one time when the Lord guided several people. I was serving as mission president in the Brazil Porto Alegre South Mission. One of our missionaries had a medical condition called a cleft palate, which had never been treated. When he spoke, air would go through the top of his mouth and out his nose. It was hard for others to understand him.

This young elder told me that he had prayed about his problem. He said the Spirit whispered that I would help him find an answer. His simple, determined faith inspired me. I turned to God for help in finding a solution.

A simple surgery could correct the problem, but getting the surgery was not a simple process. If we had it done privately, it would be too expensive for this missionary’s family. On the other hand, using the public health system would require several appointments and would most likely use up the remaining months of his mission.

Every time I have a difficult mission to accomplish, I count on the faith and help of my wife. I explained this missionary’s dilemma to her and asked her to talk with those at the local public hospital. Was there any way the surgery could be done at no cost and within the time frame available?

After praying for help, my wife went to the hospital. She got in a long line of people waiting to talk to an attendant. As the line advanced, my wife was able to hear how the cases in front of her were being handled. Typically, people were told to return for an appointment in six months, sometimes more.

My wife knew this would be too long for our missionary. She felt prompted to leave the line and go through another door. There she found another hospital employee. My wife identified herself and explained the need of our missionary.

The employee instructed her to talk directly with the surgeon, who was in the hospital that day performing surgery on another floor. She explained to the surgeon what missionaries do and how this missionary would be blessed if he could have surgery to repair his cleft palate.

The surgeon asked some questions. Then he said, “Can we schedule the surgery in two weeks?” He completed a hospital form that explained this surgery was in the interest of the community and that he was interested in it personally. He handed the form to his assistant and asked him to schedule the date.

Ten days later, the surgeon operated on our missionary. Soon this elder was back in the field, cheerful and speaking in a clear voice. With renewed enthusiasm, he recognized that the Lord had led him along.

This missionary’s experience is a testimony that our Father hears our prayers and leads us by the hand.

I return to the example of my missionary. He was guided to ask for help and was blessed with a surgery that now allows him to communicate clearly. He was then guided to those who were ready to receive the gospel and its blessings, including baptism. I also look at the example of my wife. Her testimony grew stronger as the Lord guided her. He then opened the windows of heaven and poured out a blessing.

I am grateful I got to work with this young missionary, who was filled with simple, powerful faith. And I am grateful that I can live eternally with my wife, who sets an example of allowing the Lord to lead her along.

Ho ho ho! Mike Smith, 13, of Roy, Utah, doesn’t look like Santa Claus, yet he played the role quite well when he organized a substitute Santa program for five needy families in his area. As part of his Eagle Scout service project, he provided more than 200 gifts for 19 children and their parents.
When this energetic deacon isn’t doing the service thing, you can probably find him in the gym doing power tumbling. He’s one of the best power tumblers in the state and has competed on the national level.

Each day will be a good day if we will think of the Savior and make Him the center of our lives, for He is “the light, and the life, and the truth of the world” (Ether 4:12). Following the Savior will help us to be honest. I would like to tell you about a twelve-year-old boy in the Philippines who is following the Savior.
Julius had gone to school without eating any breakfast, and during class his stomach began to make funny sounds. During recess he hurried to a nearby barbecue stand. He took two sticks of meat, ate the food, and went back to class.
When he returned, he discovered he had not given the pesos for the food. Without hesitation he ran back and paid for his snack. When he arrived back at the classroom, he found a very angry teacher. He had forgotten to ask permission to leave. She wanted to know what he had been doing. He told her everything. Then she put her arm on his shoulder and, facing the class, said, “Class, I want you to be honest like Julius.” She asked him why he returned the money when he could have kept it.
He answered, “Because I believe in being honest.”
“What is your religion?” she wanted to know.
Without hesitation, he said, “I am a Mormon.”
“Oh,” she responded, “no wonder.”
Julius is making each day a good day by always being honest.

This important truth was evidenced some years ago as a member of the Seventy was on assignment in Hong Kong. He visited a very humble ward that was struggling in many ways, unable to provide for its own needs. As the bishop described their situation, the General Authority felt the impression to have the members pay their tithing. The bishop, knowing their dire circumstances, was concerned about how he could carry out that counsel. He thought about it and decided he would approach some of the most faith-filled members of his ward and ask them to pay their tithing. The next Sunday he went to the Primary. He taught the children about the Lord’s law of tithing and asked if they would be willing to pay tithing on the money they earned. The children said they would. And they did.
The bishop later went to the adults in the ward and shared with them that for the past six months their faithful children had been paying tithing. He asked them if they would be willing to follow the example of these children and do the same. The people were so touched by the sacrifices the children were willing to make that they did what was necessary to pay their tithing. And the windows of heaven were opened. With the example of these faithful children, a ward grew in obedience and in testimony.

Every December since I can remember my family has bought a nativity set, and every year we give it away. As a family we decide who we will give it to. Usually we choose someone in our ward or neighborhood who does not have family in the area, or someone who may feel lonely over the Christmas season.
Twelve days before Christmas we begin delivering our gifts. Each night we secretly deliver one piece of the nativity set with a poem attached, starting with the camel. On Christmas Eve, we deliver the baby Jesus. We do not run and hide when we deliver this last gift as we do with the others. Instead we deliver this last piece with some goodies in person.
The best Christmas gift I get every year is seeing the happiness of the people when we give them the baby Jesus—the piece to complete their set. I always get a wonderful feeling inside when I deliver the nativity set with my family. I know the Lord is pleased with what I am doing.
My brother is on a mission right now, and last Christmas we sent him a nativity set so he could carry on the tradition even while he was serving. I really enjoy this family tradition. It is something that I plan to continue when I get married. I thank my parents for starting this tradition that helps us focus on the Savior and His birth.

Remember names. One youth leader said: “I attended a youth fireside with a guest speaker from outside our stake. I was impressed to see the speaker mingle and visit with the youth before and after the talk. He asked the young people their names and called them by name. He made each individual feel included and important. I decided that if a visiting speaker could make an effort to learn names, I could certainly try harder.”
This youth leader set a goal to learn the name of every young person in his ward and at least a few others he saw regularly at stake functions. “I tried some memory techniques but didn’t find them as helpful as simply writing down names inside the folder I always take to church,” he said. “Then if I forgot a name during the week, a quick glance at my folder would refresh my memory.”

I'd like to relate another experience. This experience is personal, but I tell it to illustrate some points, not to draw attention to myself or to try to make myself seem anything but very ordinary. Pat and I have the privilege of serving in the Rexburg Temple.

We serve on the Tuesday evening shift, and the shift is divided into 45-minute segments in which you serve in various capacities, as assigned by the shift coordinators. Occasionally, one assignment may finish early, and there will be a little time before the next assignment begins. It was during one of those short breaks I was reading the Book of Mormon. I was reading in 1 Nephi 8, which, as all of you know, is Lehi's dream. Now, I have read or been taught Lehi's dream many, many times, as have all of you. But as I was reading that very familiar story in that quiet, sacred setting, something marvelous, even miraculous, happened. I was reading in verses 24 through 28, about the group of people who had grasped the iron rod and actually made it to the tree of life and partook of the fruit but then, because of the pressures of the world, fell away. Let's review some of those verses a little closer.

"I beheld others pressing forward, and they came forth and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press forward through the mist of darkness, clinging to the rod of iron, even until they did come forth and partake of the fruit of the tree.

"And after they had partaken of the fruit of the tree they did cast their eyes about as if they were ashamed.

"And after they had tasted of the fruit they were ashamed, because of those that were scoffing at them; and they fell away into forbidden paths and were lost" (1 Nephi 8:24-25, 28; emphasis added).

Please note the words "fell away."

Then two verses later, a different group of people moved along the iron rod. In verse 30 it says, "He saw other multitudes pressing forward; and they came and caught hold of the end of the rod of iron; and they did press their way forward, continually holding fast to the rod of iron, until they came forth and fell down and partook of the fruit of the tree" (1 Nephi 8:30). Please note and compare the words "fell away" to "fell down." At that point, the contrast in my mind's eye of one group "falling away" and the other group "falling down" became amazingly significant. At that point, at that moment, the Spirit taught me in a most significant and powerful way. I was taught of true faith and humility, of sincere reverence and respect, and of heartfelt commitment and dedication. I was taught of proper worship. I was taught of being in the world but not of the world, and of keeping an undistracted focus on principles of eternity. And, most importantly, I was taught of the love of God. "[And] God so loved the world, that He [sent] his only begotten Son" (John 3:16). I was taught of a loving Savior who knows me personally, and I was taught of an Elder Brother who loves me so much that He even died for me. This all happened in a spiritual instant but had an amazing and miraculous long-term effect.

As I pondered those feelings, it was apparent nothing totally new had been received. The words or the verses were not new, and even the feelings were not totally unexperienced, but the Spirit used that opportunity of repetition to strengthen and reaffirm the truth and validity of many powerful gospel principles. It was an amazing spiritual confirmation, a strengthening of testimony, a witnessing through the Spirit of a loving Father's tender mercies. It was a personal miracle stimulated through the medium of the Book of Mormon. My life was touched. My life was changed by a Book of Mormon miracle! I am grateful for that reaffirming witness of eternal truths. I am grateful for that repetition.