Gospel Story Finder

A few weeks later, Mom sent me a newspaper clipping about Todd. “Local Man Saves Child on Woolly Caterpillar Fun Ride” was the headline. Now what had he done?

According to the article, a child had fallen from the last seat of the ride and gotten his hand stuck in the rail. Todd heard him screaming and ran to the ride. He stopped it and stood under the dangling boy, hoisting him up. He held him until the paramedics could free the boy’s injured hand. Todd had stood with his head poking through the rails, a dangerous spot if the ride should somehow start again. There was a picture of the boy’s mother kissing Todd’s cheek and a smiling Todd with his hands on the shoulders of a beaming boy who held up a bandaged hand. The article said the mayor had plans to honor Todd as “The Hardworking Hero of Fun King.” Hardworking hero? This certainly wasn’t the Todd I knew.

Thanks for an uplifting and wholesome magazine. Recently I had the opportunity to see the Lord’s hand in helping me to make a right decision. At the beginning of the week, I quit the school musical because of the language used. At the end of the week, the director came to me and invited me back, as all offensive language had been changed. I had read about this happening often, especially in the New Era. But I didn’t feel it would happen to me. I am a keen reader of the magazine and I know it just keeps on getting better. Whenever I am down, I reach under my bed in the overflowing box of New Eras. Thanks for the motivation.
Sariah WesenerLogan City, Queensland

When a very young child in the home of my youth, I was fearful at night. I traced it back to a vivid dream when two [Native Americans] came into the yard. I ran to the house for protection, and one of them shot an arrow and hit me in the back. Only a dream, but I felt that blow, and I was very much frightened, for in the dream they entered the house and frightened Mother.
I never got over it. Adding to that were the fears of Mother, for when Father was away, Mother would never go to bed without looking under the bed; so burglars were real to me, or wicked men who could come in and try to take advantage of Mother and the young children.
One night I could not sleep. I was only a boy, and I fancied I heard noises around the house. Mother was away in another room. My brother Thomas by my side was sleeping soundly. I could not sleep, and I became terribly fearful, and I decided that I would do as my parents had taught me to do—pray.
I thought I could not pray without getting out of bed and kneeling, and that was a terrible test. But I finally did bring myself to get out of bed and kneel and pray to God to protect Mother and the family. And a voice as clearly to me as mine is to you said, “Don’t be afraid. Nothing will hurt you.” Where it came from, what it was, I am not saying. You may judge. To me it was a direct answer, and there came an assurance that I should never be hurt in bed at night.

The burning testimony of God’s love which still excites my soul came to me when I was only ten years old, at a time when I needed strength to sustain me through a very frightening experience. That testimony, firmly embedded in my soul, became the motivation in my search for truth and led me to a testimony of the gospel and membership in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints years later.
The experience began with Aunt Maggie and a little book called the Ten Commandments which she had given to my youngest sister for Christmas. Because Aunt Maggie came nearer to being an angel than anyone I knew, there was no doubt in my mind that we should live by every word written in that book.
Aunt Maggie loved the scriptures. Her life was one of selflessness, and often in our family gatherings she would speak of the importance of learning Jesus’ teachings and using them as a guide in our daily lives. I felt warm and secure in her home, and that feeling came back to me when I read the little book and looked at its lovely family illustrations. I knew I wanted our family to look like that.
One day my little sister, Edres, and my younger brother, Wade, and I were playing in the sand dunes across the field from our house when we suddenly felt a change in the atmosphere. Looking up, we could see an angry, dark storm approaching rapidly. We had seen such storms before. One had recently blown down our windmill, torn great branches from trees around our yard, and sent small farm sheds bouncing along the ground.
Now we were frightened, and Edres began to cry. I took her by one hand and my brother took her by the other, and we began to run toward home. My little sister couldn’t run that fast for long, however, and we had to slow down when home was still a hay field and an orchard away. As we hurried along, I kept telling them, “Don’t worry. The Lord will take care of us. If we do what he says in the Ten Commandments, he will protect us.”
I must have repeated these phrases to them more than a dozen times, partly to reassure them and partly as a form of prayer. “The Lord loves little children,” I told them. “All he wants us to do is keep the commandments. If we just ask him to help us, he will.” I was scared, but I couldn’t show it because I had to keep them from being scared. I knew we had to reach home before the full force of the storm hit, but Edres’s little legs couldn’t carry her very fast. Still, from all that Aunt Maggie had said and from the things written in the little book, I knew the Lord would help us.
And then the testimony came. We had just passed the peach section of the orchard and were going past the apple trees when a glowing, exciting warmth surged through my body, telling me that the things I was saying to my frightened brother and sister were true. That burning within me I would never forget. I felt 3 meters tall! I was no longer afraid! Although the wind grew stronger and balls of hail and huge drops of rain began to fall, I knew we would reach home in safety.
Mama came running out to meet us. She took Edres up in her arms, and we all hurried back to the house as fast as we could.
Later, alone with my thoughts, I pondered what had happened out there on the orchard road. I knew I had had a spiritual experience and that it had to do with the things written in the Ten Commandments. From listening to religious discussions between my mother, grandma, and Aunt Maggie, I knew there was a lot more to it than that, and that somewhere on earth there was a church that taught what I decided in my own mind was the way the Lord would have us live.
That experience became a treasure to me, and years later when I found the Latter-day Saints that same burning within that had come to me as a child returned. How grateful I am to Aunt Maggie, her devotion to the scriptures, and her gift of the little book.

Third, we can come to know the Lord and trust Him as we serve others. I share the following story with permission from Amy Wright, who came to understand the principle of serving even amid a terrifying and life-threatening illness. Amy wrote:
“On October 29, 2015, I found out I had cancer. My cancer has a 17 percent survival rate. The odds weren’t good. I knew that I would be in for the fight of my life. I was determined to give it everything I had not just for myself but, more important, for my family. In December, I began chemo. I was familiar with many of the side effects of cancer-fighting drugs, but I did not know that it was possible for someone to be so sick and still be alive.
“At one point, I declared chemotherapy a human rights violation. I told my husband that I was done. I quit! I was not going back to the hospital. In his wisdom, my sweetheart patiently listened and then responded, ‘Well, then we need to find someone to serve.’”
What? Did he miss the fact that his wife had cancer and couldn’t take one more bout of nausea or one more moment of excruciating pain?
Amy goes on to explain: “My symptoms gradually worsened to where I generally had one or two ‘OK’ days a month [when] I could somewhat function as a living, breathing human being. It was those days when our family would find ways to serve.”
On one of those days, Amy’s family distributed chemo comfort kits to other patients, kits filled with items to cheer and to help relieve symptoms. When Amy couldn’t sleep, she would think of ways to brighten someone else’s day. Some ways were big, but many were just small notes or text messages of encouragement and love. On those nights when her pain was too great to sleep, she would lie in bed with her iPad and search for ordinances that needed to be completed on behalf of her deceased ancestors. Miraculously the pain would subside, and she was able to endure.
“Service,” Amy testifies, “saved my life. Where I ultimately found my strength to keep moving forward was the happiness I discovered in trying to relieve the suffering of those around me. I looked forward to our service projects with great joy and anticipation. Still to this day it seems like such a strange paradox. You would think that someone who was bald, poisoned, and fighting for [her] life was justified in thinking that ‘right now it is all about me.’ However, when I thought about myself, my situation, my suffering and pain, the world became very dark and depressing. When my focus turned to others, there was light, hope, strength, courage, and joy. I know that this is possible because of the sustaining, healing, and enabling power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ.”
Amy came to trust in the Lord as she came to know Him. If she had leaned even a little to her own understanding, she might have rejected the idea that she serve. Service enabled her to withstand her pain and afflictions and to live this scripture: “When ye are in the service of your fellow beings ye are only in the service of your God.”

Illustration by Melissa Manwill
Iren was having fun visiting Taiwan. His grandfather, his Yéyé, took him and his little sister, Ila, to the zoo and on a ferry ride to a small island. They went to beautiful gardens filled with mango trees and orchids. And they visited a mountain where monkeys tried to steal their food! The monkeys made Ila nervous, but Iren thought they were awesome.
Yéyé was teaching Iren and Ila all about where their family came from. He took them to meet all of their relatives and to restaurants to try new foods. Iren had been practicing with chopsticks. He was getting really good.
One day Yéyé took Iren, Ila, and their parents to a special place. It was a big building with large, open doors and shiny wooden floors. Before they went in, Iren and his family took off their shoes. “This is a place where you have to be reverent,” Mom said. “Just like at our church.”
“Is this a church?” Iren asked. It sure didn’t look like any church he’d ever seen. The building’s colorful roof had curled-up edges. People in dark blue robes walked quietly through the doors.
“Sort of,” said Mom. “It’s a Buddhist temple. But people don’t get married or sealed here, like in our temples. It’s a church building for Yéyé’s religion. He comes here to learn the teachings of Buddha and to help people.”
Dad added, “Do you remember the earthquake in Taiwan we saw on the news a month ago? Yéyé and the other volunteers at this temple all helped after the earthquake was over.”
“What did they do?” asked Ila.
“I think they brought water to people and cleaned up rubble,” said Dad. “They also helped people who lost their homes find a place to stay.”
“Whoa,” said Iren. He looked at Yéyé. “That sounds like a lot of work!” Yéyé smiled and nodded.
When they went in the temple, Iren noticed how quiet and peaceful it was. He looked around and saw a large wooden statue. Ila and Iren stopped and stared.
“Is that Buddha?” Iren asked.
Mom nodded.
Yéyé said something to Dad in Chinese, pressed his hands together, and bowed in front of the statue of Buddha three times.
“Yéyé is teaching us how he shows respect for Buddha,” Dad said, his voice just above a whisper.
Iren scrunched his eyebrows together. “Isn’t that … ?” He tried to remember something he’d heard before. “Isn’t that worshipping idols?”
“Buddhists don’t actually worship Buddha,” Dad said. “Buddha was a great teacher, and they visit his statue to remember what he taught.”
“When people bow here, they’re showing respect—sort of like shaking hands,” Mom whispered. “Yéyé bows to show respect for Buddha and what he taught.”
Mom put her arms around Iren and Ila. “And do you know what?”
“What?” Ila asked.
“These are all God’s children. He loves them. He loves what they’re doing to help each other.”
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story!
Iren looked over at Yéyé and all the other people sitting quietly. He felt warm and good inside and knew what Mom said was true. Iren said a little prayer to Heavenly Father: Thank you for helping me meet more of your children.

As a teenage boy I watched my six-week-old sister, Carol, struggle with whooping cough at a time when there were no antibiotics. I came home one night from having been a grease monkey [mechanic] at a bus depot and saw the light was on. It was about four o’clock in the morning. I knew it meant trouble. As I came in, Carol was laid out on the round dining room table, and Dad was waiting for a neighbor to come to join in blessing her. I thought she was gone. It seemed to me she had quit breathing. Then I watched the power of the priesthood, and I watched her start breathing again. That experience let me know the reality of the priesthood at a very young age. Our prayers for her were answered.

Some prayers are answered dramatically, as with Carol. With others we must wait. But if we do that, in those waiting moments there will come to us special things.

Since President Thomas S. Monson announced the change in age for missionary service, youth all over the Church have eagerly responded not only to the invitation to serve but also to the invitation to prepare to serve. And one way to prepare is to learn more about what’s in store when you become a full-time missionary.
Some youth in Norway did exactly that during a day-long “Missionary Experience” hosted by the Fredrikstad Ward of the Oslo Norway Stake.
The youth gathered at the meetinghouse in a room that represented a missionary training center. “We received an assignment to learn about a country,” says Jakob R. of the Moss Ward. “It gave us a feeling for what it must be like to receive a mission call and know that you could be called to a place that’s different from what you are used to.”
“Then we went next door to meet a returned missionary who was playing the role of a mission president,” says Simon W. of the Oslo Ward. The returned missionary and other returned missionaries talked about what to expect while serving a mission. “I thought it was really neat to learn from returned missionaries what to expect during a full-time mission,” Simon says. Participants also received a name badge, were assigned a companion, and were instructed to remain with their companion at all times.
Workshops taught the youth about developing spiritually but also about managing temporal needs such as doing laundry, following a budget, and staying in good physical condition.
“I particularly enjoyed the workshop about how to start gospel conversations,” says Inger Sofie J. of the Oslo Ward. “That’s something I can start doing right now.”
“I enjoyed discussing how to use Preach My Gospel,” says Karl Frederik O. of the Fredrikstad Ward. “I had always thought that missionaries had their own list of scriptures to learn, but I found out that what I’m already doing in seminary will help me as a missionary and so will what I’m already studying in Preach My Gospel.”
Many young men said that one of the most memorable workshops included hands-on experience with ironing a white shirt. “It reminded me that there are a lot of practical skills I can work on to get ready for a full-time mission,” says Jakob.
“I learned that there is a lot I can be doing right now to join with the full-time missionaries serving here so that we are all part of the same team,” says Sarah R. of the Sandvika Ward. “Members are missionaries too.”
As a reminder that missionaries serve all over the world, refreshments featured recipes from a variety of nations. “That reminded me that I should try new foods now so that I’m used to trying things I don’t eat all the time. That will help me to adjust more quickly if I am called to a place where they eat things I’m not used to,” says Simon.
“At the end of the day, after we heard the testimonies of two of the youth and two newly returned missionaries, we sang the hymn ‘Called to Serve,’” says Liss Andrea O. of the Fredrikstad Ward. “I felt that if I keep singing this hymn all the time, I will have a constant reminder that when we are missionaries, we are serving Heavenly Father and He will bless us.”
By the end of the day, the youth in the stake understood that not only are they preparing for a full-time missionary experience but that they can have missionary experiences right now and through the rest of their lives.

I once found myself late at night on an airplane bulging with passengers going north from Mexico City to Culiacan. The seats in the plane were close together, and every seat was taken, mostly by the gracious people of Mexico.
A young woman came down the aisle with four small children, the oldest of which appeared to be about four, and the youngest a newborn. She was also trying to manage a diaper bag, a stroller, and some bags. The children were tired, crying, and fussing. As she found her seat in the airplane, the passengers around her, both men and women, literally sprang to her aid. Soon the children were being lovingly and tenderly comforted and cared for by the other passengers, who passed them between one another all over the airplane.
Settling down in the caring arms of those who cradled them, the children soon went to sleep. The mother was freed from the care of her children for most of the flight. The only thing that I felt bad about was that no one passed any of the children to me!

In 2017, after returning from my mission, I embarked on an academic journey fueled by faith and determination. I enrolled in a computer school, dedicating a year to acquiring valuable skills. My resolve grew stronger, leading me to take the university entrance exam. To my delight, I was successfully admitted that same year.
Amidst my academic pursuits, I learned about the Benson Agricultural and Food Scholarship. Despite applying twice, I faced disappointment as there were insufficient funds. However, my fortune changed when I met Karen Melby Teerlink, the missionary couple dedicated to welfare. With their support, I was finally awarded the scholarship.
Since receiving the Benson scholarship, my life has transformed remarkably. At Stella Maris Polytechnic University, I consistently achieved honor roll status, a testament to the comprehensive support provided by the scholarship, covering all fees, including books and other expenses.
The scholarship alleviated my financial struggles, allowing me to focus on my studies. This opportunity enabled me to serve as a student leader, a favorite among students, and a trusted communicator within the administration. I had the privilege to conduct surveys for the Center for Agricultural Research Institute (CARI) on integrated rice and fish farming, and for World Fish under CARI, as well as a survey for Solidaridad on cocoa seeding and plantain suckers. These experiences were invaluable and only possible because of the scholarship.
Today, I am proud to be the first in my family to earn a BS degree. This milestone sets a precedent for my siblings, encouraging them to pursue higher education. Inspired by the scholarship’s impact, I initiated an animal husbandry project, starting with pig raising and planning to expand to other animals like goats and cattle. My vision includes establishing an agribusiness that encompasses the entire value chain process, benefiting end consumers.
Currently, I am pursuing agribusiness studies at BYU-Idaho, an opportunity made possible by the scholarship and the support of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I am immensely grateful for these blessings and the positive changes in my life. The scholarship has not only advanced my education but also instilled a deep sense of responsibility to give back to society with the knowledge and skills I have gained.
My journey is a testament to the power of faith, perseverance, and the profound impact of the Benson Scholarship. I am committed to making a difference in my community and beyond, forever indebted to those who have supported me along the way.

Four “full-time missionaries” joined efforts during the Highland High School seminary’s second annual “missionary week” last fall in Salt Lake City. All four offered pleasant smiles, outstretched hands, and copies of the Book of Mormon, but only two could answer questions. The other two were seven-foot-tall statues with papier-mâché heads, hair of yarn, and bodies made of wood and chicken wire. They were designed and built by publicity chairmen Greg Goates and Heidi Nelson and were dressed in dark suits, white shirts, and striped ties.
The “giant missionaries” served as attention-getters during the special missionary week, which included proselyting; mini-classes for members and nonmembers on such subjects as temple marriage, the plan of salvation, the Second Coming, present-day prophets, and prayer; and a Sunday evening fireside with guest speaker Elder Hugh Pinnock, a member of the First Quorum of the Seventy. In addition, the students wrote their testimonies in 460 copies of the Book of Mormon, which they gave to the missionaries for use in the Utah Salt Lake City Mission.
Several students became interested in finding out more about the Church as a result of the missionary week efforts. According to Jeff Swanson, seminary instructor, “Missionary week has developed into a great tradition at Highland seminary. We hope that we can continue to follow President Kimball’s instructions to lengthen our stride by sharing the gospel.”

It is painful to imagine a shepherd feeding himself and letting the sheep go hungry. Yet I have seen many shepherds who feed their flocks. One was the president of a deacons quorum. One of his quorum members lived near my home. That neighbor boy had never attended a quorum meeting nor done anything with the members of his quorum. His stepfather was not a member, and his mother did not attend church.
The presidency of his deacons quorum met in council one Sunday morning. Each week they were fed the good word of God by the fine adviser and teacher. In their presidency meeting, those 13-year-old shepherds remembered the boy who never came. They talked about how much he needed what they received. The president assigned his counselor to go after that wandering sheep.
I knew the counselor, and I knew he was shy, and I knew the difficulty of the assignment, so I watched with wonder through my front window as the counselor trudged by my house, going up the road to the home of the boy who never came to church. The shepherd had his hands in his pockets. His eyes were on the ground. He walked slowly, the way you would if you weren’t sure you wanted to get where you were headed. In 20 minutes or so, he came back down the road with the lost deacon walking by his side. That scene was repeated for a few more Sundays. Then the boy who had been lost and was found moved away.
Now, that story seems unremarkable. It was just three boys sitting in a room around a small table. Then it was a boy walking up a road and coming back with another boy. But years later, I was in a stake conference, a continent away from the room in which that presidency had met in council. A gray-haired man came up to me and said quietly, “My grandson lived in your ward years ago.” With tenderness, he told me of that boy’s life. And then he asked if I could find that deacon who walked slowly up that road. And he wondered if I could thank him and tell him that his grandson, now grown to be a man, still remembered.
He remembered because in those few weeks he had been, for the first time in his life that he recognized, watched over by the shepherds of Israel. He had been warned by hearing eternal truth from people who cared about him. He had been offered the bread of life. And young shepherds had been true to their trust from the Lord.

My mother and father were married in Canada before the Alberta Temple was built, and so they were not married in the temple. I was born about nine years before the temple was finished and dedicated, and as a child I had a great desire to go to the house of the Lord and be sealed to my parents. I understood very clearly that without the blessing of being sealed in the temple, I would not be with my family in the life after death.
When my parents made an appointment to take me and my brother to the temple immediately after it was dedicated, I was very excited. But the day before we were to go, I became ill and my mother decided that it might be best for our family to wait until I was well again. I can remember how hard I cried as I coaxed her not to put it off. Finally she consented, and we went to the temple.
Although I still remember how dizzy I was, I waited in the children’s room with my brother and many other children. Finally those in charge came and took my brother and me to the sealing room. There we knelt at the altar together, my brother and I clasping hands with my parents. A warm, peaceful feeling came into my heart as one having authority sealed me to my mother and father for time and all eternity. This was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life, for I knew that if I kept all of our Heavenly Father’s commandments, I would be with my family forever.
The morning after this beautiful experience in the temple, I was ill again. The doctor diagnosed my illness as scarlet fever. How worried we were about all the children I had been with in the temple the night before, but not one of them caught the disease from me. I am sure that because of the blessings of our Heavenly Father, this experience, which I wanted so much, was not postponed, and no one else suffered because of my illness.

When I was in high school, one of my best friends came up to me and said, “If you continue to be friends with Joanne, I won’t be your friend any more.” I was so surprised, but my decision was simple. I would continue my friendship with each girl. If Jackie shunned me because of my friendship with Joanne, it would be her decision. That never happened. Twenty years later, Joanne is the friend who still writes and sends Christmas cards and pictures of her family. I am so glad I didn’t accept Jackie’s challenge and lose a lifelong friend.
Vicki Nelson, 36Independence, Missouri

This story happened in the USA.
Dominic climbed in the car and buckled his seat belt. “Where are we going?” he asked Mom.
“We’re going to serve someone,” Mom said. “A family needs help getting some food.”
They drove to a big gray building. Dominic had never been there before.
“What is this place?” he asked. “I thought we were going to the store to get food.”
Mom closed the car door. “It’s called a bishops’ storehouse. It’s kind of like a grocery store, except you don’t have to pay for the food here.”
Dominic’s eyes got big. “It’s all free?”
“Sort of,” Mom said. “When we fast, we can pay a fast offering, just like how we pay tithing. That money helps buy the food that goes into this storehouse. Then when someone from church doesn’t have enough money, they can ask the bishop for help and come here to get what they need. In places that don’t have a storehouse, the bishop has other ways to help.”
Dominic walked up to the door with Mom. “So the family we’re helping today doesn’t have enough money to buy food?”
“Not right now,” Mom said. “But that’s why we’re helping! All the members of the Church help each other, so none of us go hungry.”
Dominic nodded. “I’m glad they’ll be able to get food.”
“Me too. Now, let’s go! I’ll show you how it works.”
Dominic and Mom walked into the storehouse. It had rows of shelves with different things on them, like a store.
Mom pulled a paper out of her bag. “This is called a ‘food order.’ It’s a list of things the family needs. Our bishop and Relief Society President worked together to help them make the list.”
“You always use a list when you shop too, Mom!” Dominic said.
“That’s right! We’ll make sure to get everything on the list so the family has what they need.”
Mom got a shopping cart. Then a volunteer helped them find the things on the list. Dominic pushed the cart while Mom put the things inside it.
“OK, I think we’re done!” Mom looked at the list again. “Let’s make sure we have everything. Did we get bananas?”
“Yes!” Dominic said.
“Bread?”
“Yes!”
When they were done, the volunteer helped them put the food in their car. Dominic waved goodbye.
“How do you feel?” Mom asked as they drove home.
“Great!” Dominic said. “But also . . . not great.”
Mom looked surprised. “Why do you feel not great?”
“Because seeing all that food made me hungry! Can we have lunch when we go home?”
Mom smiled. “Of course! A hard worker like you needs food too.”
Dominic smiled back. He felt good inside for helping someone today.
What can you do to help people in need?
Illustrations by Dagmar Smith

Illustration by Gabriele Cracolici
I met Natalie on the first day of sixth grade. I noticed that she wouldn’t hang out on Sundays and that she carried her scriptures around at school. One day I was at a carnival with Natalie, and I said, “I want to join your Church.” I’m not sure what Natalie was thinking at the time, because it came out of nowhere. But from that point on she began sharing more of her faith with me.
Later that year, I went with Natalie to a youth conference. One of the last activities at the youth conference was a testimony meeting. Natalie shared a special testimony that motivated me to want to learn more.
As I studied the gospel, I prayed to Heavenly Father to gain a testimony. Soon, I knew what I had been learning was true. That summer, I became a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Later, a friend asked me what baptism is. I shared with her things I love about the gospel of Jesus Christ and the happiness I’ve found in the Savior. My friend loves soccer, so I worked with my class presidency to plan a soccer activity to invite her to. And Natalie and I studied the Book of Mormon with her through FaceTime.
“As you strive to love your friends in the way the Savior does, you’re inviting them to come to Him.”
At first, helping my friend felt like a big responsibility—saying the right things so she understood or inviting her to the right activities. But I realized it’s not about converting but rather loving. If you have good intentions and righteous desires, then anything you do to participate in Heavenly Father’s work is going to be considered a success. As you strive to love your friends in the way the Savior does, you’re inviting them to come to Him.
When I switched to a new school in sixth grade, a girl named Hannah ate lunch with me and introduced me to new friends. But I never realized that, at the same time, I was helping introduce her to principles of the gospel.
One day Hannah and I were at a carnival together. Out of the blue, she told me she wanted to join the Church. To say I was surprised is an understatement. My first thought was, “I’m not sure if she knows how big of a commitment it is.”
I wasn’t sure what to do, but my parents said, “She’s interested in the gospel. You should invite her to ward camp.” I thought it might be overwhelming for Hannah to spend the entire week with us and meet so many new people. But I took their advice and invited her to camp and to youth conference.
During a testimony meeting at youth conference, I felt like Hannah needed to hear my testimony, even though public speaking is one of my biggest fears. Hannah knew I was afraid, and she admired the fact that I was willing to share because I believed in the gospel.
I’m an overthinker, so whenever I considered inviting Hannah to things, I thought, “She’s going to think I’m pressuring her into joining the Church.” But I knew this was an irrational fear. People like to be invited to things. As time went on, I was more comfortable with sharing how I felt. I learned that sharing the gospel is about love.
“Hannah’s journey hasn’t just changed her life; it’s also changed my life and strengthened my testimony.”
There’s so much joy in sharing the things you love and cherish the most. Hannah’s journey hasn’t just changed her life; it’s also changed my life and strengthened my testimony. I saw the difference that the Savior made for Hannah, and it helped me recognize the difference He makes for me.
The authors are from Hawaii, USA.
Since writing this article, both Natalie and Hannah decided to serve missions! Natalie recently received a call to serve in the Texas San Antonio Mission, and Hannah began her service in the California San Jose Mission.

My mother died when I was a young mother. I still needed her counsel and advice. After her cancer was diagnosed, she lived only six weeks. Initially, my concern was for my father. I felt grateful that Mom had not suffered long and that her death had been a sweet experience for us. But a few weeks later Mother’s Day and her birthday were coming, and I began to miss her terribly. I wanted her arms around me, and I wanted to know that she was all right. I wanted to tell her that I loved her and missed her.
One night as I was praying and crying (which I did often then), I felt comfort fill my body—suddenly and powerfully. The feeling restored me; it gave me peace. It did not last long physically, yet it was immensely comforting. I knew what it was—the Lord’s love encircling me and granting me peace and strength. But just as important, that moment has remained in my memory as a sweet gift to unwrap and remember when life is difficult.

I blame this all on Mr. Barnes, our social studies teacher. He’s the one who paired Joe and me up to work on—now get this—a team project on Finland. Can you believe it? What I know about Finland can be written on the back of a postage stamp.
Why Joe McCabe? Up until this point, I probably had as much meaning in his life, as say, cauliflower. Now it’s me and Joe Cool, no escape. After class, Joe comes up to me and says, “Hey, Ben.”
And I, not knowing how to speak cool, mumble something like, “Glrrrrk.”
“We’ll ace this report. Let’s get together on it right away. I can stop by your house on Thursday. Don’t you live on Oakway Street?”
Again, I utter a sensitive, insightful comment, “Uh-hur.”
“About eight o’clock okay? My mom has a business dinner at our place that night. Next time we get together it can be at our house.”
I nod my head meekly, wisely having given up trying to speak.
“See ya’ then, bud,” says Joe before he saunters away.
* * *
Now it’s dinner time on Thursday, less than two hours from Joe time. Everything is more or less normal at the Grundys. We are at the kitchen table, finishing off the main course—Mom’s almost-famous cheesy noodles.
“Anyone doing something special tonight?” Dad says, shoving a bite of cheesy noodles around his plate. “You up to anything, Ben?”
“Not much. Someone is coming over for a little social studies project.”
“A girl?” asks Mom, with great hope in her voice. Mom is aware of the fact that I’m socially awkward, and she drops these subtle hints about how she wishes I’d date more often. “Is it that cute little Margaret Gromo? I think she’s darling.”
“No, Mom. It’s not Margaret. It’s a guy. His name is Joe McCabe.”
Suddenly, life in the Grundy household comes to a grinding halt. My sister April almost chokes on a bite of noodles. My twin brothers, Philip and Andy, stop chewing in mid-bite. Mom ponders, “Where do I know that name from?”
“Joe McCabe?” Dad asks. “Isn’t he the football player I keep reading about?”
“Yeah.”
“Joe McCabe is coming here? Tonight?” mumbles April, suddenly taking off her thick glasses and running her fingers through her hair. “He is so conceited.”
“Do you think he’ll throw the football to us?” asks Andy, with hope.
“No. It’s dark out. Now look, Joe and I are, like, assigned to do a social studies project together and he’s coming over and we’re going to talk about some ideas. That’s all. Joe is very popular, so please …”
What I want to say is “don’t embarrass me,” but instead I say, “just leave us alone so we can get some work done.”
“Well sure, son. We can do that. You won’t even know we’re here.”
Exactly on time, the doorbell rings. Andy and Philip almost kill each other trying to get to the door first. Joe is dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, running shoes, and a leather jacket. Andy and Philip are fighting over who can hang up Joe’s jacket.
Dad, who can usually be counted on to act fairly normal, stands up and says to Joe, “So you’re the famous Joe McCabe. BYU could sure use someone like you on its football team. Are they trying to recruit you?”
Joe smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, I think they are.”
Mom walks into the room. “I just have to ask, Are you the one dating Margaret Gromo? She’s this nice girl on the track team who lives down the street.”
“No, I’m sorry, Mrs. Grundy. It must be someone else,” Joe says, as I look for something to crawl under.
This is not the way I hoped the evening would start.
I usher Joe into the living room, hoping to get working before any other social blunders are committed. We start talking about what we know of Finland, which basically is nothing. At least April is keeping her word and not doing anything to embarrass the Grundy name.
Just then I hear a thump from near the doorway. It’s April, now in a dress, without her glasses, which is unusual because her range of clear vision without them is about three inches. April, the one who was so determined not to impress Joe, has just accidentally walked into one of our living room chairs.
“Oh, Benjamin! I didn’t know you had company!” she says, straightening up and speaking in what I think is a slight English accent. “How gauche of me! And what might be your guest’s name?”
“This is Joe McCabe. Joe, this is my sister, April.”
“Hi, April. I’ve seen you at school. Are you a tenth-grade cheerleader?”
She almost falls over at his question. “Uh, no, but I’ve thought about trying out,” she stammers, suddenly forgetting the phony accent.
“Well, you should give it a try. I bet you’d be good.”
“Oh.” April leans against the wall for support. “Well, I … I must be going. I have to … to, like do … my hair. Yeah, my hair.”
With that, she walks out of the room, although on somewhat wobbly legs.
We finally get down to the task at hand, although I notice Andy and Philip peeking in at Joe every once in a while. Just after nine we finish. We still don’t know much about Finland, although we dug up a few facts from the encyclopedia. “It’s a start, Grundy. We’ll hit it again next week.”
“Okay, Joe.”
I close the door and then slump into a big chair in our front room. There must be no doubt in Joe’s mind where I got my geekiness from. It runs in the family.
April comes around the corner, her glasses back on, dressed in baggy sweatpants and a sweatshirt. She has a thoughtful expression on her face, as though she is about to say something profound.
She clears her throat. “You know what, Ben? Joe McCabe isn’t as conceited as I thought.”

Young Women from the Mesa Arizona North Stake decided to devote some of their time at girls’ camp to performing a service to others. For the three days they were at camp, the girls devoted some of their time each day to sewing teddy bears to be given to local fire departments. Firefighters can give the bears to children who have been in traumatic situations, to comfort them and keep them occupied.
Just one week after giving their phenomenal gift of 650 teddy bears (all sewn in patriotic red, white, and blue), the girls were able to see their gift in use. A local paper showed a picture of a child who had been involved in an accident. In his arms, he was holding a small bear, hugging it tightly around the neck.

“Next week,” said Dad at the end of family home evening, “the lesson will be about why family members shouldn’t say unkind things to each other when they’re angry.”
“Yippee!” shouted nine-year-old Alan. He was glad the lesson was on family members not getting angry with each other. Alan’s brothers and sister always seemed to be angry with him.
He remembered borrowing Ryan’s electric shaver to practice shaving and Ryan had yelled at him. At Christmastime he tied red bows on Alice’s geranium to surprise her and she became really upset.
Even Dad and Mom had become irritated with him—like the time when he taped the two halves of the dining room table together underneath so that they couldn’t be pulled apart to put extra leaves in. Alan thought it was funny. Dad and Mother didn’t.
I can’t wait for next Monday to come, Alan thought.
Then Father continued, “And I’m going to assign Alan to give the lesson.”
“Uh-oh,” Alan said.
“You can do it,” encouraged Mother. “You were so enthusiastic a moment ago.”
Alan thought for a minute. “I guess since I’m an expert on making people angry, I probably could give a lesson on how to keep all of you from being cross with me.”
Everybody laughed. But Alan really meant what he said.
He had never given a lesson in family home evening before—at least not all by himself—and he wanted to do a good job. And so he thought about it all week.
Every now and then Mom would say, “Alan, how’s the family home evening lesson coming? Want any help?”
“It’s coming great, Mom,” Alan would say. “I’ve decided to do it all by myself, but thanks anyway.”
On the Sunday night before family home evening, Alan spent a lot of the evening downstairs in his room, writing.
“What are you writing?” Dad asked.
“Things,” Alan answered, “for the family home evening lesson.”
As soon as he got home from school on Monday afternoon, Alan put a sign on the basement door. It said, PLEASE DO NOT ENTER! FAMILY HOME EVENING LESSON UNDER CONSTRUCTION.
His second oldest brother Harry knocked on the basement door. “Alan,” he said. “I want to watch television.”
“Sorry,” Alan called. “You can’t come down right now.”
Harry became upset. “I’m warning you, Alan, this better be a mighty good family home evening!”
“Don’t worry,” Alan said.
After a while his sister Alice knocked on the door. “Alan,” she said, “all my sewing stuff is in the basement. Can I come down?”
“I’m sorry, sis, not now,” Alan replied. “Can’t you crochet for a while instead?”
“I want to sew, Alan,” she said, sounding cross.
“Sorry,” Alan repeated. “But if I let you come down it would ruin my family home evening lesson.”
“It better be good,” Alice threatened.
“It’ll be one of the most interesting family home evenings we’ve had,” Alan promised.
Finally it was dinnertime and Alan came upstairs, closing the basement door carefully behind him. When dinner was over, the family gathered together in the living room for family home evening.
After the song and the prayer, Alan stood up and said, “Tonight the lesson is on how family members shouldn’t yell or talk unkindly to each other even when they’re upset. When someone yells at another person it makes that person feel bad, and that isn’t the way we’re supposed to make people feel.”
Everyone agreed that Alan was right. Then he passed out pieces of paper to everyone. Dad read his first: “If you came home from work and you set down your briefcase and then some of us got into it and made paper airplanes out of the papers, what would you do?”
Dad thought for a minute. “I would probably get angry.”
“But what would you do about it?” Alan asked.
Dad smiled. “I’d call in the ones who made the paper airplanes and explain to them that these were important papers that other people were depending on, and I would ask them to unfold the paper airplanes and flatten out the pages as best they could.”
“You wouldn’t yell?” Alan asked.
“I wouldn’t yell,” Dad promised.
Mom read, “If you were making a cake and one of your children came in and jumped real hard in front of the oven and the cake fell, what would you do?”
“Well, I would feel just awful,” said Mom. “I’d explain to that child how his jumping made the cake fall and ruined the family’s dessert and that I felt really bad about it.”
“But you wouldn’t say anything mean?” Alan asked.
“Not if I were acting the way I should,” said Mom, smiling.
Soon all the family promised that they would not be cross or unkind to other family members anymore even when they had cause to be angry.
“Is that the whole lesson?” asked Ryan.
“No,” Alan said. “Now we’ll go downstairs to the family room.”
Everyone went downstairs, Alan first. He watched them very carefully as they saw what the family room looked like.
Everything was in the wrong place. All the books were out of the bookshelves. Alice’s sewing things were scattered everywhere. The boxes from the storage room were piled up around the bottom of the stairs. There were little pieces of wadded up newspaper on the floor. And facedown on the Ping-Pong table was what looked like an expensive picture that Mom was going to frame, ripped right in half. It was the worst sight any of them had ever seen.
“What a terrible mess!” said his mother, irritably.
“I know it, Mom,” said Alan. “But you can’t yell at me. All of you promised you wouldn’t be cross no matter how upset you got.”
Dad looked at Mom. Mom looked at Ryan. Ryan looked at Harry. Harry looked at Alice. Alice looked at Alan.
“Alan,” Alice said, “if we can’t yell, can we at least whisper that we want to knock somebody’s block off?”
“No,” Alan said.
Alan gave them all a little time to think. Then he asked, “Is anybody here going to be cross at anyone else, namely me?”
After a while they all said, “No, we won’t.”
Then Alan smiled. “All right, you passed the test. Now I’ll tell you about this mess. Actually I didn’t just scatter these things around even though it looks that way. I set them all very carefully where they are so that nothing would be damaged. And see, Mom, I cut out some paper the same size as your picture and you just thought I’d ripped up the original one. I’ll have everything back in place in a couple of hours.”
Then everybody laughed, because Alan had really made them realize how they had been behaving toward each other. They decided that Alan shouldn’t have to put everything back alone, so they all worked together, and soon everything was back in place.
When it was all cleaned up, Alan said, “Well, I guess my lesson’s over. Thanks for helping.”
“It was a good lesson, son,” Dad said. “And if we could keep from yelling about the way this family room looked a few minutes ago, I think we can keep from being upset about anything.”
“It was a good lesson,” Ryan said, “but I hope you never make the family room look like that again.”
“You must be kidding!” Alan replied. “I’ll never make a mess like that again in my whole life. It took hours! You guys may think being a messy kid is easy, but I can tell you it is really hard work!”