Gospel Story Finder

Although we had both been members of the Church since our teens, because of our Buddhist background, we didn’t have any Christmas traditions for our young family. Then, when the Tabernacle Choir performed in Japan in 1979, we became friends with choir member Mary K. Zackrison. That December and every December since, we have received copies of her family Christmas letter, the “Zackrison Gazette,” complete with Christmas messages, updates on her family, and information about important events in the Zackrisons’ lives.
The Zackrisons inspired us to develop a tradition of our own. The next year, we decided to take a picture of our children arranged in a Nativity scene to send out to friends and family. Starting the year after that, we began cutting out photographs of the children, which we arranged in various Christmas-related settings, and then taking another photograph of the whole scene to make into a card.
In the years since then, we have created cards of the shepherds hearing the angels’ tidings, of the Nativity, of the visit of the Wise Men, and so on. Our children have surprised us with their enthusiasm and creativity for these projects. We send cards each year to many family members, friends, and coworkers. Many of the recipients say they look forward to our cards every year.
Creating Christ-centered family traditions can be challenging, but it can also be a lot of fun. Last year we exchanged our 19th annual Christmas card with the 41st annual “Zackrison Gazette.”
Ken-ichi and Aiko Ishikawa,Kasugai Ward, Nagoya Japan Stake

I raced from math class to my locker. I couldn’t wait to meet my friends for lunch. Starting middle school was pretty scary. But after a few weeks I had made some new friends. I could even make it to my classes without getting lost!
When I got to my locker, I saw my new friends standing around Alex. They were looking at something he was holding.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“It’s Alex’s lucky day!” Josh said. “He went to the library to buy a mechanical pencil, but someone put too much money in the machine, so he got an extra pencil for free!”
Alex held out the pencils for me to see. They had green and blue stripes with yellow erasers.
“Wow,” I said. “But … what about the person who lost the money?”
“Come on, Maya. Whoever lost it is long gone,” Josh said. “It’s their fault they put in too much money.”
“Well, yeah, but the money still belongs to someone else, doesn’t it?”
Alex’s smile faded a little. “I guess it does, but I don’t know who put in the extra money.”
“Don’t listen to her, Alex. It’s yours!” Josh turned to me. “Why are you trying to make him feel bad?”
Everyone seemed to agree with Josh. What if I ruined my new friendships because I disagreed?
I took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” I said to Alex. “But maybe you could talk to Mr. Reed in the library about it.”
“Hey, guys,” Liz interrupted, “we’d better get to the cafeteria before they run out of pizza!”
The group headed to the cafeteria, leaving Alex and me alone. Alex looked at the pencils and then at me.
“I think I want to talk to Mr. Reed,” Alex said. “Will you come with me?”
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We walked to the library, and Alex explained to Mr. Reed what had happened. Mr. Reed checked the vending machine where Alex got the pencils.
“There’s nothing wrong with the machine,” Mr. Reed said. “Someone must have put in money for two pencils but only turned the knob once. I don’t have a way to find out who did it, so you can keep the extra pencil. Thanks for being honest.”
As we left the library together, I worried that Alex would be mad at me for talking him into going to the library for nothing. We were halfway down the hall before Alex spoke.
“Thanks, Maya. I didn’t feel totally good about keeping the pencil, but I wasn’t sure what to do. I feel OK about it now.”
I was so relieved. “I’m glad you’re not mad at me,” I said.
“Mad?” Alex looked surprised. “Why would I be mad? I made my own choice. Thanks for going with me to see Mr. Reed.”
“No problem,” I answered. “I still need to get my lunch from my locker. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”
I grabbed my lunch from my locker and ran to the cafeteria. I was glad I’d spoken up and that everything turned out OK. I was smiling all the way to the cafeteria. Today felt like my lucky day too!

One Wednesday afternoon, I really made a difference in my life as well as in another person’s life. A girl in my class had been very annoying and had refused to answer our teacher when he asked her questions. He very patiently asked her to go to the principal’s office, but again she refused, so he decided to do something different.
All the girls at our group of desks were stunned when he had her sit by us. Then he told us that since she was being disagreeable, we could move our desks away from her. One by one, the other girls moved their desks.
We all know how it feels to be left alone without anyone. I could have increased my popularity by going off, too, which I thought about doing. Or I could stay with her and be more Christlike and not have a guilty conscience. I remembered all the times that Jesus stood up for those who had no one, and I decided to be like Him.
The poor girl started crying, so I put my arm around her and comforted her. I knew that I had chosen the right, and I knew that Father in Heaven smiles when He sees us love each other. That was the day when I knew that, indeed, it is very possible to love one another.

Several years ago I spoke at a meeting for members and investigators in the Peru Lima South Mission. I don’t know why I started talking about revelation and the importance of having a prophet. But as I did, I noticed two young men on the first row listening attentively and taking notes. After the meeting, those two young men came to me and said, “You talk about prophets and about revelation. We thought that there weren’t any prophets after John the Baptist.” The young men had been sent by the local priest to find out what I said. I had to leave on an airplane soon and didn’t have time to explain more about prophets and revelation. However, I did tell them that if they wanted to have personal revelation, they should read the Book of Mormon and follow the counsel in Moroni 10. I gave them each a Book of Mormon and marked Moroni 10:4–5 [Moro. 10:4–5]. Three months later, I received a letter from those young men telling me that they had been baptized. One year later, I received another letter saying that they were both preparing to go on missions. The Book of Mormon was what converted them.

A few years ago, I witnessed in the Hawaii Temple one of the grand moments in time and eternity. A close friend of mine had been fired several years previous and struggled to find permanent employment elsewhere. He felt unjustly mistreated and misunderstood. This night in the temple, his former employer stood at the head of the prayer circle where each member must have "no negative feelings toward other members of the circle." (Encyclopedia of Mormonism, volume 3, p. 1120) Since I knew the history of this man's struggle I could tell he was still suffering inner conflict. He wanted, indeed he needed to participate in the prayer circle, but his old boss was there. How could he stand in God's presence and forgive the man who had caused him and his family so much sorrow. I watched the conflict play out on his face, but then in a gesture of strength and finality, he stood and took his wife by the hand and walked into the circle. For me, the shock of surprise was accompanied immediately by a powerful sense of relief in the room. I could not stop the tears from my eyes.

A woman I once counseled was having difficulty with an adopted son and wanted to learn some techniques for dealing with him. As I listened to her, it became apparent to me that some of the problems stemmed not from the child’s behavior, but from the woman’s own impure heart.
The boy was somewhat handicapped. In addition to a physical difficulty, he was emotionally handicapped because his real mother had been unable to meet his developmental dependency needs.
But the adoptive mother had an even greater handicap: she was suffering from the disease of pride. When she was a child, her parents had tried to appear shameless and had self-righteously demanded perfection from their children. The family was extremely concerned about external appearance and the impression others had of them. They were caught up in the pride of materialism, status, and prestige. They had learned to be judgmental and critical of themselves and of others.
When this woman’s adopted child didn’t measure up to her expectations, the fear of his making her look bad became a serious threat to her personal image, and she would strike out towards him.
Together, we studied a few verses in the Book of Mormon. And she came to realize that, although she had been diligent in the outward performance of religion, she had failed to see the impurity of her heart. In a sense, she was active in the Church, but inactive in some important aspects of the gospel.
This sister began to see that she had become entangled in the pride of the world. One of the greatest evidences of her pride was that she had been relying on her own strength to solve her problems.
As she began to see more clearly, she began to feel hope—hope born not of faith in herself or in her own ability to raise her child properly, but a hope based in Jesus Christ and in his power to heal and redeem. Through repentance, she changed her attitude and behavior. And she began studying the scriptures—not just reading them—seeking the Spirit, and putting her hope and trust in the Lord.
This sister is a different woman today. She is still far from perfect and still has problems dealing with her child. But she has a different perspective now as she confronts her challenges. She is working with the Lord to find the solutions.

In 1986, I was invited to give a special lecture at a university in Accra, Ghana. There I met a number of dignitaries, including an African tribal king. As we visited prior to the lecture, the king spoke to me only through his linguist, who then translated for me. I responded to the linguist, and the linguist then translated my responses to the king.
After my lecture, the king made his way directly to me, but this time without his linguist. To my surprise, he spoke in perfect English—the Queen’s English, I might add!
The king seemed puzzled. “Just who are you?” he asked.
I replied, “I am an ordained Apostle of Jesus Christ.”
The king asked, “What can you teach me about Jesus Christ?”
I responded with a question: “May I ask what you already know about Him?”
The king’s response revealed he was a serious student of the Bible and one who loved the Lord.
I then asked if he knew about the ministry of Jesus Christ to the people of ancient America.
As I expected, he did not.
I explained that after the Savior’s Crucifixion and Resurrection, He came to the people of ancient America, where He taught His gospel. He organized His Church and asked His disciples to keep a record of His ministry among them.
“That record,” I continued, “is what we know as the Book of Mormon. It is another testament of Jesus Christ. It is a companion scripture to the Holy Bible.”
At this point, the king became very interested. I turned to the mission president accompanying me and asked if he had an extra copy of the Book of Mormon with him. He pulled one from his briefcase.
I opened it to 3 Nephi chapter 11, and together the king and I read the Savior’s sermon to the Nephites. I then presented the copy of the Book of Mormon to him. His response lodged in my mind and heart forever: “You could have given me diamonds or rubies, but nothing is more precious to me than this additional knowledge about the Lord Jesus Christ.”
After experiencing the power of the Savior’s words in 3 Nephi, the king proclaimed, “If I am converted and join the Church, I will bring my whole tribe with me.”
“Oh, King,” I said, “it doesn’t work that way. Conversion is an individual matter. The Savior ministered to the Nephites one by one. Each individual receives a witness and testimony of the gospel of Jesus Christ.”

I share just one tender experience. While President Monson was serving as a bishop, he learned that a member of his ward, Mary Watson, was in the hospital. As he went to visit her, he learned that she was staying in a large room with several other patients. When he approached Sister Watson, he noticed that the patient in a neighboring bed quickly covered her head.
After President Monson had visited with Sister Watson and given her a priesthood blessing, he shook her hand, said good-bye, and prepared to leave. Then a simple but amazing thing happened. I quote now from President Monson’s own recollection of this experience:
“I could not leave her side. It was as though an unseen hand [was] resting on my shoulder, and I felt within my soul that I was hearing these words: ‘Go over to the next bed where the little lady covered her face when you came in.’ I did so. …
“I approached the bedside of the other patient, gently tapped her shoulder and carefully pulled back the sheet which had covered her face. Lo and behold! She, too, was a member of my ward. I had not known she was a patient in the hospital. Her name was Kathleen McKee. When her eyes met mine, she exclaimed through her tears, ‘Oh, Bishop, when you entered that door, I felt you had come to see me and bless me in response to my prayers. I was rejoicing inside to think that you would know I was here, but when you stopped at the other bed, my heart sank, and I knew that you had not come to see me.’
“I said to [Sister] McKee: ‘It does not matter that I didn’t know you were here. It is important, however, that our Heavenly Father knew and that you had prayed silently for a priesthood blessing. It was He who prompted me to intrude on your privacy.’”17

The memory of that particular summer will always stand out in my mind. It was about a week before school let out when my dad announced that I would be spending the next three months with my grandpa in the mountains, tending sheep.
At first I had been really excited about the idea. That was until I told my best friend about it.
“Awful!” She had said. “How boring. Why do you want to do a dumb thing like that?”
To hide my embarrassment, I quickly explained that I really didn’t want to do it, but that I had to because my parents were worried about Grandpa being in the mountains alone all summer. He’d had a mild heart attack earlier that spring, and the doctor had disapproved of him going. But he insisted that he’d gone every summer since he was a boy and that this summer wasn’t going to be any different.
So, because I was young and strong and could do most of the work, I was to help him. My parents also reasoned that it would be a good experience for me and give me an opportunity to get to know Grandpa better.
The first month of that summer seemed endless, and I became more depressed and lonely by the day. Grandpa didn’t help matters much. He was a quiet man, never wasting many words, and I wondered how I’d ever “get to know him better.”
One night after supper we were sitting near the campfire. It was quiet except for the occasional bleating of sheep in the distance. The sky was particularly clear that night, and I remember leaning my head back to study the stars. They winked back at me, and I tried to imagine the many secrets they held. Maybe someday I’ll be an astronaut, I thought to myself, and uncover some of those secrets. Anyway, whatever I become, I won’t be a dumb old sheepherder!
“Grandpa,” I said finally, “haven’t you ever wanted to do something exciting?”
He chuckled. “Like what?” he asked.
I shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “I don’t know.”
“You aren’t enjoying yourself much these days, are you?”
“Well, it’s kind of boring.”
“And maybe a little lonely?” he asked, smiling at me.
“Yes, that, too,” I admitted. “How can you stand this, year after year, Grandpa?”
He poked at the fire with a long stick. “For me it has never been a question of standing it. I’m a sheepman. This is just part of what I do.”
It’s hopeless, I decided. I’ll never understand him.
The silence between us lengthened until he rose and walked over to the small trailer where we slept. A few minutes later he returned with a worn Bible in his hands. I had seen him read from it every night, so that didn’t surprise me. It did surprise me when he started to speak.
“When I was young, I felt a lot like you do right now. I wanted to do something really important in my life.
“My father, your great-grandfather, died when I was about your age. This old Bible was his. It wasn’t until after he was gone that I opened it and for the first time noticed certain scriptures he’d underlined. One in particular made me do some hard thinking. I thought you might like to read it.”
He handed the old Bible to me. It was opened to the second chapter of Luke. I recognized it immediately as the Christmas story. In the light from the fire I could see that the pages were yellowed and wrinkled from years of use. My eyes went to the underlined verses, and I read: “And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. …”
As I read on, the familiar words began to take on new meaning. At last I closed the book and carefully handed it back to my grandpa.
He fingered it lovingly. “My father was a sheepman, and his father before him,” he said. “I’m proud to have followed in their footsteps.”
Grandpa rose then and left me. I sat alone for a long time, gazing up at the sky. Those were the same stars that had shone that night so long ago, along with that one very special star.
The rest of that summer passed swiftly, and before I knew it, I was back in school. My friends teased me a lot about being a sheepherder, but I didn’t let it bother me. I knew something they’d probably never know.

One of the most touching scenes in the life of the Prophet Joseph (and one of the most thrilling, for it demonstrates the unbounded love of his followers for their beloved Prophet) was when, in the summer of 1843, the Prophet Joseph Smith rode triumphantly into Nauvoo after he had been kidnapped by a couple of sheriffs. His friends had come to the rescue, and he entered Nauvoo in triumph. The Saints had been notified the day before of his coming, and almost all the people came out meet him, with his wife, Emma, and his brother, Hyrum in the lead. After embracing his wife and his brother Hyrum, he mounted his favorite horse, Old Charlie. The band struck up “Hail, Columbia,” and the procession started into town. Besides a long line of carriages and persons on horseback, the streets were lined with people whose countenances were joyous and full of satisfaction to see their beloved Prophet once more safe. The Prophet was greeted with cheers from the people and the booming of gun and cannon.
At his home he was embraced by his mother, with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, while his little children clung to him with feelings of enthusiastic and enraptured pleasure. His little son Fred exclaimed, “Pa, the Missourians won’t take you away again, will they?” His friends from out of town looked on with amazement and astonishment, but with unconcealed pleasure at the loving attachment of the Prophet’s family and his friends toward him. His friends were loath to depart. One can feel the Prophet’s love for his friends as he blessed them: “I thank you for your kindness and love for me. I bless you all, in the name of Jesus Christ.”

On that same London study abroad program when I was a student, the group took an excursion to the Soviet Union. This was not the tourist-friendly, come-see-Anastasia’s-parlor Russia of today. It was 1981. The Cold War was raging. The two superpowers were wrestling close to the brink of another world conflict—this one full of nuclear mushroom clouds. Both sides were armed and ready. I was surprised to see on the runway of the Moscow airport that even Soviet passenger jetliners had guns sticking out of the nosecones. Anyway, there was nothing a good Soviet bureaucrat would love more than to make life difficult for an American.

Well, the lucky man in our group was a student who also happened to be someone who was less than fully cooperative with our faculty director, even by his own admission—there was a bit of a personality conflict. As we were about to leave the airport, this same student was detained by Soviet officials over some passport issue—real or trumped up, I don’t know, but I do know I had never seen just about anyone as scared as he was. He was not getting out of the Soviet Union, he was in trouble, and there was no negotiating.

Our director tried some quick diplomacy, but it wasn’t working. One of the director’s older children with us, a teenager who knew this was a difficult student and said what most of us were thinking but dared not say. In offhanded teen talk she said, “Oh, Dad, just leave him. He’s not worth it.”

In the tension of that moment, I will never forget the director’s perfectly calm response: “Oh, yes he is. He is worth it. We are not leaving without him.”

My director treated this student as the Savior treats us: we are all “worth it.” The crisis was resolved, and we were on our way.

Born to George and Antonia Foote in October 1947 in Alexandria, Louisiana, USA, she was the only sister to six younger brothers. After graduating from Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas, with a degree in English literature and secondary education, she moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts, where she worked as a secretary at Harvard University. There she met David Cannon Marriott, who told her, “I have some friends I want you to meet.” He soon brought the missionaries to teach her and her roommates.
As she listened to the missionaries, she said, “the lessons filled in the missing pieces of my gospel understanding.” After her baptism in May 1970, she and David remained friends; after a year they began dating and were married in June 1971 in the Salt Lake Temple.
Working together with her husband, Sister Marriott stayed home with their 11 children while he pursued a career in business. They have served in many Church callings. She served with him as he presided over the São Paulo Interlagos Mission from 2002 to 2005, and she has served as an ordinance worker in the Salt Lake Temple, a stake and a ward Relief Society president, a ward Young Women president, a Gospel Doctrine teacher, and a food storage specialist.
In her new assignment, Sister Marriott hopes to share the same testimony she received as a young woman. She wants young women to know that “they are loved by their Heavenly Father with the deepest, most glorious love.”

One example of Chea’s diligence and enthusiasm as a young missionary is recorded in Elder Gooch’s journal: “I was home for lunch, sitting on my hardwood rocking chair, trying to prepare a talk for zone conference. Somehow I just couldn’t get my thoughts gathered. The telephone rang. It was Chea. He told me that he wanted Elder Black and me to visit the Vongs, a Cambodian family that had been in Lowell for a year. They were praying and fasting to find a church they could attend.”

Saveth Vong and her three children, Chetena, Chendra, and Tola, had narrowly escaped execution. Her husband, a pilot in the Cambodian Army, had been captured. Saveth and her children managed to get out of prison three days before they were scheduled to be shot.

Chea smiles as he recalls his and the elder’s first visit to the Vong home. “Everyone seemed so eager to learn. There were many questions. The Spirit was very strong.” Although the Vongs used a Book of Mormon printed in Cambodian, they needed help with gospel principles. Chea played an important role, assisting the elders as he translated discussions and shared his own experiences in the Church. Elder Gooch’s journal entry continues, “Day after day, Chea sat quietly by Saveth helping her understand the things we taught. He never seemed to tire of the message of the gospel.”

Indeed, as Chea taught the gospel his testimony grew. He recalls, “I remember reading 3 Nephi 27:7: ‘Therefore, whatsoever ye shall do, ye shall do it in my name; therefore ye shall call the church in my name; and ye shall call upon the Father in my name that he will bless the church for my sake.’ [3 Ne. 27:7] I thought, how could it be that I’ve never seen this scripture before? It makes so much sense. Heavenly Father’s true church must be named after his Son!”

This scripture also confirmed for Chea what he knew in his heart was true—that if he prayed to Heavenly Father in the name of Jesus and asked for help to share the gospel message, Heavenly Father would bless his efforts.

When the Vongs made the decision to be baptized, Chea was delighted. Elder Gooch recalls that evening, “While we were driving home, Chea asked Elder Black and me to stop by a grove of trees in a nearby park so that we could thank Heavenly Father. We took turns giving thanks and expressing our joy. When we were finished, Chea climbed on my shoulders. After a few quiet moments Chea lovingly looked down, flashed his million dollar smile and said, “The Holy Ghost is with us, Gooch, isn’t it?”

“Yep, Chea, sure is.”

“I know—I felt it!”

The Vongs were baptized a week later.

I have been inspired by Moroni’s courage because of the many trials the world has seen this year, including the COVID-19 pandemic. Many of us around the world were forced into social isolation this year, some of us needing to separate ourselves from the people we love most. I too had to make that difficult decision.
I am a pediatric doctor, and I work on the front lines to give children urgent and emergency care in Maranhão, Brazil. During this pandemic, I made the difficult decision to avoid close physical contact with my beloved husband, two-year-old daughter, mother-in-law, and nephews (who all live in my home), along with all my other family and friends elsewhere. I isolated myself to avoid possibly transmitting the disease.
Social isolation was difficult because my family is so close. Every Sunday we get together for lunch. We also have regular family nights. I soon discovered that without them, I felt sad and lonely. However, I decided to spend a lot of time reading the Book of Mormon to invite the Spirit into my life. I learned that having the Holy Ghost as my constant companion helps me focus on gratitude and goodness, shows me how to serve others, and surrounds me with the Savior’s love during difficult times.
Sometimes I wonder how comforting it must have been for Moroni to read the words of his father, Mormon, after he was gone. I tried to apply his words to me: “Be faithful in Christ [my daughter]; ... may Christ lift thee up” (Moroni 9:25). I’ve learned that He always will! The Savior can give us power that is greater than all the problems we may face in this troubled world and help us hold on to hope.
As hard as this year has been, I am so grateful this experience has strengthened my testimony of Jesus Christ and taught me to place my total trust in Him as Moroni did. As I read the account of Jesus Christ in the Americas, I realized that before His arrival, the land of the Nephites was undergoing great and wonderful transformations (see 3 Nephi 11:1). Certainly, before the Savior returns, we will be able to go through our own transformation, preparing ourselves to meet Him again. I know that all the challenges we are experiencing all give us the opportunity to help us prepare to meet Him.
I know that Jesus Christ is my Savior. He is the light that I need to guide me when the way is uncertain. And I know that the Book of Mormon is a testament of Him. The truths found in that book can truly help us turn to Him and to have strength and courage and faith in times of crisis. I know it has for me.

Gift of health. In October we heard the shocking news that our beloved stake president had suffered a heart attack and was in a coma. As the weeks passed, members of our stake prayed earnestly for him. The doctors were very concerned, but then he came out of his coma and drastically improved. He lives in my ward, and one Sunday before Christmas I walked into the chapel and was surprised to see him sitting on the stand. After the speakers gave their talks, the stake president came to the pulpit and told us that he could feel the strength of our prayers. As I looked at him, tears streaming down my cheeks, I realized his return to health was a great Christmas present for all of us.Katie B., Washington

I pay tribute to beloved ladies in my life who have taught sanctifying lessons to me.

For a short time during the first year of our marriage, Sister Nelson maintained two jobs while I was in medical school. Before her paychecks had arrived, we found ourselves owing more than our funds could defray. So we took advantage of an option then available to sell blood at $25 a pint. In an interval between her daytime job as a schoolteacher and her evening work as a clerk in a music store, we went to the hospital and each sold a pint of blood. As the needle was withdrawn from her arm, she said to me, “Don’t forget to pay tithing on my blood money.” (When her mother learned I was bleeding her daughter between two jobs, I sensed at that time she may not have been too pleased with her new son-in-law.) Such obedience was a tremendous lesson to me. Sister Nelson’s commitment to tithe became my commitment, too.

The comforting bear was the result of a project organized by Micki Adams, West Point Stake Young Women president, and Annice Nixon, her second counselor. After reading in a newspaper of a similar project in another community, they talked with Captain K. D. Simpson of their local sheriff’s department with the idea of placing teddy bears with the sheriff’s paramedic and patrol units.
The bears would be helpful, Captain Simpson told them, because children are involved in approximately 45 percent of all the calls for services by his department.
Knowing how anxious children are when confronting a policeman or a paramedic, the young women of the stake decided, “to give the children something to focus on beside their pain,” Sister Adams said. “We wanted to give them something to hold on to and to love.”
Consequently, at a stake Young Women meeting, work began on cutting out, sewing, stuffing, and hand finishing more than 200 bears.
Lori Ellsworth, a Beehive said, “The first bear I did was hard to make until I got used to doing it. But it was worth it because it might help someone forget their pain.”
Ninety bears were actually completed that evening. The girls took home the unfinished bears to complete in their own time.
The bears are twenty centimeters tall and made from scraps of fabric donated by some stake members. Other members donated the stuffing for the bears.
The sheriff’s department received 100 of the teddy bears. Another 100 were donated to the local hospital where they were hung on a Christmas tree so young patients could choose one for themselves.
When the paramedics or sheriffs respond to a call involving anyone under the age of ten years, they give the child a teddy bear. That’s become department policy.
Captain Simpson said, “It took two or three times for the paramedics to hand out the bears before they realized how effective they were in calming the children. Now the paramedics and sheriffs rely on the bears whenever they work with children.”

The Example of Martin Luther
Here is an account of how Martin Luther himself came to believe the doctrine of justification by faith alone; it is an ideal illustration of why this doctrine has such wide appeal.
A friendly biographer tells us: Luther “was much concerned about his personal salvation and given to gloomy reflections over his sinful condition,” so much so that “he fell dangerously ill, and was seized with a fit of despair.” Also:
No one surpassed him in prayer, fasting, night watches, self-mortification. He was . . . a model of sanctity. But . . . he found no peace and rest in all his pious exercises. . . . He saw sin everywhere. . . . He could not trust in God as a reconciled Father, as a God of love and mercy, but trembled before him, as a God of wrath, as a consuming fire. . . . It was sin as an all-pervading power and vitiating principle, sin as a corruption of nature, sin as an alienation from God and hostility to God that weighed on his mind like an incubus and brought him to the brink of despair.
While in this state, he gained
the conviction that the sinner is justified by faith alone, without the works of the law. . . . This experience acted like a new revelation on Luther. It shed light upon the whole Bible and made it to him a book of life and comfort. He felt relieved of the terrible load of guilt by an act of free grace. He was led out of the dark prison house of self-inflicted penance into the daylight and fresh air of God’s redeeming love. Justification broke the fetters of legalistic slavery, and filled him with the joy and peace of the state of adoption; it opened to him the very gates of heaven. [Philip Schaff, History of the Christian Church, vol. 7, pp. 111, 116–17, 122–24]
So says Luther’s biographer.
It should be perfectly clear to all of us that Luther’s break with Catholicism was part of the divine program; it came as an Elias preparing the way for the Restoration. But this does not in any sense put a stamp of divine approval on the doctrine he devised to justify the break in his own mind.

Elena sat back on her heels and looked at what she and Grandma had done in the backyard. “It looks good,” Elena said, admiring the newly cleaned out garden beds.
Elena loved spending time with her grandma. Grandma could always make her laugh, even when Elena was feeling down. Sometimes Grandma made up silly poems or stories.
“Let’s go inside.” Grandma started toward the back door. “I have a surprise for you.”
She handed Elena an envelope with some money inside.
“You don’t have to pay me, Grandma!” Elena said.
But Grandma shook her head. “You help me so much. I want to give you something. Please take it.”
“Thank you!” Elena gave Grandma a big hug.
Elena thought of some jeans and a shirt she’d seen at the store. With what Grandma had paid her and what Elena had saved, she’d have just enough money to buy them after paying her tithing.
The next day was Sunday. Elena and her family got to church a few minutes before sacrament meeting began. She couldn’t wait to tell her friend Courtney about earning money for the clothes.
But when she saw Courtney sitting in the foyer, she noticed that her friend looked really sad. Elena sat down next to her.
“Are you all right?” Elena asked quietly.
“I’m fine,” Courtney said, but she didn’t look Elena in the eye.
Elena knew her friend wasn’t fine. Courtney struggled with depression and got really sad sometimes.
“How can I help?” Elena asked.
“There’s nothing anyone can do,” Courtney said and turned away. Elena saw a tear slide down her cheek.
Elena felt like crying herself. She sat with Courtney until sacrament meeting started and it was time for them to join their families.
For the rest of the day, Elena felt an idea grow inside her. She thought about Courtney. She thought about the money she’d earned. Buying new clothes didn’t seem very important any more. After praying about her idea, Elena knew what she wanted to do.
On Monday after school, Elena asked her mom to take her to the store.
“Sure,” Mom said. “Are you going to get those jeans you were telling me about?”
Elena shook her head. “I decided I don’t really need more clothes. I’m going to get something else.”
Mom looked surprised. “OK.”
At the store, Elena showed her mom a necklace with a butterfly pendant.
“Courtney loves butterflies,” Elena explained. “She’s having a really hard time right now. She’s failing one of her classes. She tries so hard, but sometimes she can’t study when she’s feeling down.”
Mom nodded. “I know. Her mom is worried about her.” She smiled at Elena. “I’m proud of you for being so thoughtful.”
Before school the next day, Elena handed the gift to her friend. When Courtney pulled the necklace out, a smile spread across her face.
“Wow. Thank you! It’s perfect,” she said, slipping the necklace over her head. The butterfly’s wings sparkled in the sunlight. Courtney gave Elena a hug. “I’m so lucky to have you for a friend.”
Elena hugged her back. “We’re lucky to have each other.”

As I entered the home for old people, my thoughts were not really on grandma, even though she was dying. I love her, and it made me sad to realize she would soon be leaving, but she had been waiting so long to be with grandpa again that it seemed like her dying would be a blessing, a long-awaited reward for her faithfulness. My own mind longed for such assurance of what the future would hold. I was wrestling with an important decision and was filled with confusion; I found myself pleading with the Lord for peace of mind. That’s why I was so surprised when such a feeling of calmness came over me when I walked into grandma’s room. She was weeping. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and told me softly that as she looked back at her life, she was overcome with the blessings the Lord had given her. Her quiet reflection and gratitude totally removed me from my earthly worries. I hardly realized I was standing there, listening to her in the darkness. She was radiant, thin and dying, but glowing.
Any unappreciative thought I’d ever had about her was erased from my mind, and I was so humbled that I can’t find words to explain it. Why don’t those times stay with us forever? I put my unwrinkled hand over her wrinkled one and held it. I asked her what she was thinking. She said something I’ve often felt but could never quite express. She shook her head and said, “Oh, dear, if you knew all I think about.” Then she told me I looked different. I told her it was because I had no eye makeup on and she probably couldn’t recognize me. But she hadn’t even looked at me. She’d been looking out the window and then she said, “No, you are different than when you came in. You’re seeing your future laid out in front of you, and you wonder what will happen to you.” Tears came to my eyes. She was right. “Don’t be impatient, my dear. The Lord has many good things in store for you, and he loves you very much. But you are impatient like me. You want to tell the Lord when you’re ready and when you’re not.”
The she smiled. “I have been a trial to my Lord all my life because of my impatience, and now I see my life closing, and I realize he still loves me—he loves me.” When she had finished, tears fell down her cheeks. I wasn’t crying outwardly, but when I saw her tears, mine came, too. At that moment we were sharing something together as children of God, not as an old lady and her granddaughter. That is how I will remember Grandma Windsor, and when my time comes to join her, I hope she will be proud of me.
I walked down the steps of the home for old people with one more testimony that there really is one greater than ourselves, and that he loves me far more than I can even imagine. He has blessed me so much! Knowing that, I can’t be anything less than my best. When I fail, I punish myself. He is a God of abounding love, not hate or resentment. I do so many things wrong, and yet he still loves me. Looking at grandma’s face that day, I could see that love. I could see wisdom, humility, and peace—an overwhelming peace. I wish I could have written on stone plates that would last forever the feeling I had then.