Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago I heard a story that impressed me. A beautiful little blind girl was sitting on the lap of her father in a crowded compartment in a train. A friend seated nearby said to the father, “Let me give you a little rest,” and he reached over and took the little girl on his lap.
A few moments later the father said to her, “Do you know who is holding you?”
“No,” the little girl replied, “but you do.”
Some might say, “What a perfect trust this child had in her father.” Others may say, “What a wonderful example of love.” And still others might say, “What an example of faith.” To me it indicates a beautiful blending of all of these principles. Affection, respect, and care over the years had placed in this little girl’s heart a peace that surpasseth all understanding. She was at peace because she knew and trusted her father.
Our trust and our relationship with our Heavenly Father should be similar to that of the little blind girl with her earthly father. When sorrow, tragedy, and heartbreaks occur in our lives, wouldn’t it be comforting if when the whisperings of God say, “Do you know why this has happened to you?” we could have the peace of mind to answer, “No, but You do.”
Peace is a blessing that comes to those who trust in God. It is established through individual righteousness. Just as the little girl could sit peacefully on the stranger’s lap because her father knew him, so we can find peace if we know our Father and learn to live by His principles.

Barbados is a charming island belonging to the Lesser Antilles. On its beautiful beaches, as well as on other Caribbean islands, there are protection zones for sea turtles.
On a mission tour, we had the opportunity to visit the island. One morning, Norma and I went for a walk on the beach, which is in front of the hotel where we were staying. As we did, we saw one of the senior missionaries who was working on the side of the path that separates the beach from the road.
As we got closer, we asked her what she was doing. She told us: “A large turtle had spawned in that part of the beach. The tortoise had found a good place to lay its eggs. She covered them and then left.”
The challenge would be for the little turtles, who, at birth, would search for the ocean and a recently built pedestrian path that had left a slope, would be an impossible hurdle to avoid on their way to the ocean. On the other hand, during the night the little turtles would mistake the lights of the vehicles and the city for stars and when going towards them they would die either by the vehicles or by starvation going in the opposite direction of the ocean.
Inspired by the missionary, we set out to look for baby turtles. Some were trapped among the plants, others had died, and others were struggling to climb the causeway that separated them from the beach and the ocean. We rescued as many as we could. Some people passing by told us that what we were doing was a waste of time.
Later, in a service activity, the missionaries leveled that path so that in the future the turtles that were born could find their way to life.
Personally, I felt an indescribable joy at being able to hold a little turtle in my hands and put it on its way to the sea.

Jenni Holt is from Ottawa, Canada’s beautiful capital city built on the wooded banks of the Ottawa River. She and friends from the Ottawa Ontario Stake talked with Church magazines about how prayer affects their lives.

One of the most interesting things the Ottawa teens discussed was how their prayers were answered. First, Susan Brook said, “If you want an answer, you have to listen for it.”
Susan said her answers sometimes come by reading the scriptures. She had a good example: “One day, I was just really tired, and I was being mean to everyone. I didn’t want to talk. I remember reading in the scriptures, I don’t even remember where, and it said, ‘Be humble.’ It hit me. That’s my answer.” (See D&C 112:10.)

There were at least two Latter-day Saint connections to the Titanic. Both illustrate our challenge in understanding trials, tribulations, and tragedies and provide insight as to how we might deal with them. The first is an example of being appreciative for the blessings we receive and the challenges we avoid. It involves Alma Sonne, who later served as a General Authority.9 He was my stake president when I was born in Logan, Utah. I had my mission interview with Elder Sonne. In those days all prospective missionaries were interviewed by a General Authority. He was a great influence in my life.
When Alma was a young man, he had a friend named Fred who was less active in the Church. They had numerous discussions about serving a mission, and eventually Alma Sonne convinced Fred to prepare and serve. They were both called to the British Mission. At the conclusion of their missions, Elder Sonne, the mission secretary, made the travel arrangements for their return to the United States. He booked passage on the Titanic for himself, Fred, and four other missionaries who had also completed their missions.10
When it came time to travel, for some reason Fred was delayed. Elder Sonne canceled all six bookings to sail on the new luxury liner on its maiden voyage and booked passage on a ship that sailed the next day.11 The four missionaries, who were excited about traveling on the Titanic, expressed their disappointment. Elder Sonne’s answer paraphrased the account of Joseph and his brothers in Egypt recorded in Genesis: “How can we return to our families and the lad be not with us?”12 He explained to his companions that they all came to England together and they all should return home together. Elder Sonne subsequently learned of the Titanic’s sinking and gratefully said to his friend Fred, “You saved my life.” Fred replied, “No, by getting me on this mission, you saved my life.”13 All of the missionaries thanked the Lord for preserving them.14

Before our baptism, the stake temple and family history consultant helped me prepare my mother’s name and the names of several other deceased ancestors to take to the temple for baptism.
Twenty-five days after our baptisms, on January 19, 2018, my mom’s birthday, we made our first trip to the Newport Beach California Temple. I was nervous and didn’t know what to expect, but when I walked into the temple, I felt so much serenity. It was like nowhere else I had ever been. Our group gathered at the baptismal font, where the temple president explained the importance of baptism for the dead and the blessing it holds. I sobbed for joy thinking of how these baptisms would bless our family.
After Navid was baptized for some of the male members of my family, he baptized me on behalf of some of the female family members. The first person I was baptized for was my dear, sweet mother. When I heard the words “who is dead,” I wept. Hearing it made her death so real that it hurt. But then I thought, what greater gift could I possibly give my mother on her birthday than the gift of baptism in the temple?
I look forward to many more trips to the temple. I am grateful to know that I can help provide blessings to those who have gone before me through the ordinances of the temple. What a wonderful gift!

It is a warm day—June 29, 1844.
A boat approaches a horseshoe bend in the Mississippi River. On that bend is a city. A traveler on the boat seeks to find the city on his map, but the map, printed a few years previously, shows no such city. On inquiry, he is told that the city is Nauvoo. A brief stop is to be made.
At the docking, the traveler becomes curious as to why long lines of people wait to enter a large home on the river front. Being in no hurry, he informs the boat’s captain that he is going to remain in Nauvoo, perhaps overnight.
As he approaches the end of the line, it becomes apparent that these are grief-stricken people. The ladies and many men are weeping.
“Excuse me,” he says, approaching a mourner, “but what are these lines for?”
The mourner looks up in amazement: “You mean you don’t know?”
“I’m a stranger here,” he says. “I just arrived on the boat.”
“Oh,” replies the mourner. “We are waiting to view the bodies of Lieutenant General Joseph Smith and his brother Hyrum who were killed two days ago.”
“Lieutenant General Smith?” the visitor says questioningly.
“Yes, he was the lieutenant general of the Nauvoo Legion, an army of 5,000 men.”
“How many others were killed with them?” asks the visitor.
“None. That is probably the main reason why Joseph died. He believed that his enemies wanted his life alone, and if he had to die, he thought that the lust for blood would be satisfied without the rest of us being killed. He wanted his brother Hyrum to live, but Hyrum insisted on remaining at his side.”
“How did the trouble begin that led to their death?” asks the traveler.
“Well, the public reason given was the destruction of the press of the Nauvoo Expositor,” replies the mourner. “The newspaper was owned by Joseph’s enemies, and they published slanderous and inflammatory articles and lies, seeking to build hatred against Joseph Smith. So an order to close the paper was issued by the city council and the mayor, Joseph Smith.”
“Joseph Smith was also the mayor of this city?”
“Yes.”
“This must be a very new city,” says the traveler. “It isn’t even on my map.”
“Yes, it is new. Just six years ago this was nothing but a swamp.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, the traveler says, “It is a beautiful city. I noticed as I came up the river that the farms and corrals are outside of town.”
“Yes, this is the way Joseph planned the city.”
“Joseph planned this city?”
“Yes, so that the people, mostly farmers, could have the advantages of city life—so that we might associate together and learn from each other.”
The traveler then comments on the wide, straight streets and the well-built houses and wonders what the large building under construction is to be. The mourner informs him that it is the temple and that Joseph had designed it to be the dominant landmark in the city.
“Joseph Smith designed the temple!” the stranger exclaims. He then remembers: “You were telling me what led to his death.”
“Oh, yes, the Expositor incident,” says the mourner. “But the trouble began a long time ago, even before Joseph translated the ancient record.”
“He was a translator?” repeats the visitor. “What happened to the translation of this ancient record.”
“It has been published. It is called the Book of Mormon.”
“Has he published any other books?” asks the stranger.
“Oh, yes, as president of the Church …”
“President of the Church?” exclaims the visitor.
“Yes, president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Almost everyone here in Nauvoo is a member of the Church. As president he published the Doctrine and Covenants and …”
“What kind of book is that?” asks the amazed traveler.
“It is a book of revelations that were given to the Prophet Joseph Smith …”
“The Prophet Joseph Smith!”
“Yes. God the Father and his resurrected son Jesus Christ appeared to him and conversed with him in his youth. In fact, it was after Joseph, full of joy and enthusiasm, told his neighbors he had seen a vision that the persecution first began. Not only was Joseph persecuted, but also all of his followers were. Why, some of the people you see here have been driven from homes in New York, Ohio, and Missouri. In Missouri none of us were paid for our losses. Joseph tried to obtain redress but was refused. That’s the principle reason why he became a candidate for the presidency of the United States.”
“A candidate for the presidency of the United States!” cries out the bewildered stranger.
The mourner continues: “It was four days ago that Joseph bid a reluctant farewell to his family, looked longingly at the temple and then at his farm, and said, ‘This is the loveliest place and best people under the heavens.’ He then rode toward the county seat at Carthage to turn himself over to his enemies. He said, ‘I am going like a lamb to the slaughter, but I am as calm as a summer’s morning.’ He was promised protection and a fair trial, but two days ago, on June 27, a band of over a hundred men with blackened faces stormed the jail. A few moments later, Joseph and Hyrum lay dead.”
“How old was he?” asks the traveler.
“Thirty-eight years old,” says the mourner.
The visitor looks on in disbelief and thinks to himself: “Lieutenant general, translator, author, mayor, prophet, Church president, city planner, architect, presidential candidate—what manner of man was this Joseph Smith?”
This little scene has been imaginary, but well might many people have thought these things about Joseph Smith.

Sixteen-year-old Steven D. McKell of Salt Lake City, who was kidnapped at gunpoint but was able to free himself, received Scouting’s Medal of Merit for his bravery.
The FBI report of the incident reads:
“While alone at his home, Steven was confronted by a person who represented himself as a deliveryman. The man at the door had a truck-type dolly with a large cardboard box on it.
“The man indicated he had a document that Steven should sign as a receipt for the package. As the youth started to do this, the deliveryman pulled out a handgun, held it against Steven’s cheek, and forced him into the house.
“The man placed leg irons and handcuffs on Steven and forced him to lie on the floor. Steven’s mouth was then stuffed with a bandanna, and the bandanna was taped in place. Pads of cotton were placed over his eyes and taped closed. A nylon stocking was pulled over his head to keep the bandanna and pads in place.”
Steven was told to get inside the carton, which was then hauled out of the house on the dolly and lifted into the van, which was driven to a location about 10 minutes away.
The boy was led into an old rabbit hutch where boards were nailed over him. He was told by his captor not to try to escape since someone would be watching him.
“I didn’t believe him,” said Steven, “so when I heard him drive away, I began kicking my feet until I could get out of the frame. In my efforts to get free, I felt a nail against my nose and used that to pull the blindfold off.”
Steven was still gagged and cuffed hand and foot, but he could see and move. He made short jumps toward the road and attracted the attention of a jogger, who removed his gag and carried him over his shoulder to a nearby home. From there, Steven called his father, allowing enough time for the local police and the FBI to set a trap for the kidnapper, who was caught, convicted, and imprisoned.
Steven received the national Scouting office medal at a court of honor. He is a member of the Butler 12th Ward, Salt Lake Butler Stake.

This legacy began about 10 years ago when some Aaronic Priesthood holders in the Canyon View Seventh Ward in the Orem Utah Canyon View Stake decided they wanted to earn the Genealogy merit badge, so they worked with the ward’s family history consultant to research their families and get names ready for the temple.
“We had so many names we couldn’t do them all in one trip!” their former Scoutmaster, Lani Hatch, remembers. “We had to go back four or five times to finish up the family file cards from that merit badge project.”
Young Women in the ward also became interested and found opportunities to help with family history research and to go to the temple.
Today many of the young men from that first Scout troop have already returned from their missions. Others are preparing to serve. And with each new Beehive or deacon, the interest in the temple continues.

In 1945 President of the Church, George Albert Smith, called Elder Kimball into his office. “I want you to look after the Indians,” he said. “They are neglected. Take charge and watch after the Indians in all the world.”
Elder Kimball traveled thousands of miles to visit the Indians, to teach them, and to bless them. Discovering they needed and wanted more schools, he tried to help. Finding them sick or sad, he blessed them and taught them how important they were to their Father in Heaven. Finding them cold and hungry, he went to those who could help.
Traveling throughout the world to help these people he loved, Elder Kimball also spent weeks and months visiting Lehi’s children in Central and South America and in the Pacific Islands. He taught them about the Savior, Jesus Christ, and helped them with their problems. No matter how tired he was, he was never too tired to help.

During my last year at the university, I looked forward to the prospects of a fine professional future and had my life very well outlined. Then a kind and thoughtful Lord placed a bombshell in my little world. Her name was Jeanene Watkins. Her father’s call to the senate brought her to Washington, D.C., where I lived. The more I knew her, the more fascinated I became, and each opportunity to be with her deepened the growing love within my heart. One evening as we conversed about the important things of life, she innocently said, “When I marry, I’ll marry in the temple, a returned missionary.” That comment struck me to the core. It began a process of reflection, contemplation, and prayer that resulted in my receiving a call as a missionary to Uruguay.

I thought myself ill prepared to teach the gospel to anyone. I had an intellectual understanding of some of the gospel principles that I recognized needed to be converted into a heart-centered, Holy-Ghost-inspired, burning testimony of truth. I struggled to communicate to the Lord my feelings of gratitude for the privilege of service, of the blessing of righteous parents, and for the love of one of His most precious handmaidens. I asked Him to help me become an effective servant in His hands. I strained to forget self, struggled to help others, and in the process, the skeleton of the teachings I had received took on the flesh and blood of new life and meaning.

I discovered that we are not left alone to face the challenges of life, but can receive guidance and strength from a loving, understanding God in heaven. I bathed my pillow with tears of pleading for the mercy of the Lord to forgive a wayward soul or to fortify a family in need—and found my own needs met. I pleaded that a heart could be softened or a struggling father could be given a personal witness of truth—and discovered the limitless breadth of love.

Familiar scriptures, through prayer and application, guided me to new depths of understanding and appreciation. I had read the words many times. They now took on new meaning—
And charity suffereth long, and is kind, and envieth not, and is not puffed up, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil, and rejoiceth not in iniquity but rejoiceth in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
Wherefore, my beloved brethren, if ye have not charity, ye are nothing, for charity never faileth. Wherefore, cleave unto charity, which is the greatest of all . . .
But charity is the pure love of Christ, and it endureth forever and whoso is found possessed of it at the last day, it shall be well with him. [Moroni 7:45–47]
What a priceless message for any who would enjoy the comforting circle of true friendship. How I wanted then, as I do now, to share those exquisite feelings of love and appreciation—of belonging.

There were then, as now, constantly new lessons. Well do I remember the first time, when, as I pleaded with the Lord in solemn prayer for the help and guidance and feeling of support I had come to cherish, there was no answer. Rather I felt a barrier—an insurmountable wall. I reviewed my life, my feelings, my acts, and all that could affect such communication and found no problems. It was not until after much more purposeful struggling that there came the clarification. What I had felt was not a wall but a giant step, an opportunity to rise to a higher spiritual plane—an opportunity evidencing trust that I would obey correct principles without the necessity of constant reinforcement. After more effort, the peaceful, comforting presence of the Spirit returned.

As the father of seven sons, I have always wanted them to love, honor, and respect their mother. As the older ones have gone through their teen years and beyond, it has been gratifying to watch them do special things for their mother.
My wife, Nicki, loves flowers. Over the years, it has not been uncommon for one of the boys to bring his mother a special bouquet of a dozen roses. These floral gifts haven’t necessarily come on Mother’s Day, her birthday, or some other special occasion, although they have come then too. More often than not, these timely gifts come spontaneously and unexpectedly just to say, “Thanks, Mom, for everything you do and for putting up with me.”
Such was the case when Jarom, our mission-bound son, surprised his mother. Over the years Jarom had found words and gestures of love and appreciation difficult to come by. He was a big, handsome, muscular young man who could bench-press 300 pounds but still struggled to refine the delicate art of telling his mother he loved her.
Of course, Nicki knew Jarom loved her, and she had accepted the fact that he would probably communicate his love and appreciation to her in other ways not associated with flowers, cards, or even spoken words.
But one afternoon he walked into the house and handed her a bouquet of yellow long-stemmed roses. Somewhat taken aback, Nicki caught her breath and exclaimed, “Jarom, how beautiful!” She instinctively breathed in their rich fragrance. “I love them. One dozen yellow roses!”
Jarom shrugged sheepishly and shook his head. “Actually, there are only 11,” he confessed. He cleared his throat and smiled bashfully. “I gave one of them away.”
He paused and then explained. “I picked up the roses and was on my way home when I passed this girl from our neighborhood. She was about nine or ten, just kind of dragging down the sidewalk, looking really sad.” He shrugged and grinned. “So I figured, why not. I stopped, took a rose from your bouquet and handed it to her. I told her to have a great day.”
“What did she do?” Nicki asked, curious.
Jarom laughed. “Well, she wasn’t sad anymore.” He took a deep breath and added, “So that’s why you’ve only got 11 roses.”
Nicki smiled for a moment and tried to picture in her mind that girl walking down the street, discouraged and perhaps crushed by some adolescent tragedy. In the midst of her sorrow she looks up and sees this big, handsome neighbor approach her with a single yellow rose, perhaps the first she has ever received in her life. He smiles at her, hands her the rose, and tells her to have a great day. She is probably flattered beyond words, and suddenly her gray day is brightened by the unexpected light from Jarom’s yellow rose.

President Boyd K. Packer had an experience where he had to submit his life to God's will. He had just been called as an Assistant to the Council of the Twelve and moved to Salt Lake City to find a permanent home. He located a home that was ideally suited to his family's needs. Elder Lee was helping President Packer make his choice and advised him "By all means, you are to proceed."
President Packer felt that he could not proceed. He had just completed the course work on his Doctorate Degree and with supporting a wife and eight children, had used all his resources on his education. They could barely get into the house let alone make the payments. And even though he borrowed on his insurance, and after gathering on every resource, he still didn't have enough. Elder Lee continued to insist saying "Go ahead. I know it is right."
President Packer was in deep turmoil because he was being asked to sign a contract without the resources to meet the payments. He had never done this before.
Sensing Brother Packer's feelings, Elder Lee sent him to David O. McKay, the president of the church at that time. Listening very carefully to Elder Packer, Pres. Lee advised him saying "You do this, It is the right thing" without offering any additional resources to meet the payments. This made Elder Packer very uneasy.
Elder Packer said the following "I was still not at peace, and then came the lesson." President Lee taught him the following when he said, "Boyd, do you know what is wrong with you -you always want to see the end from the beginning." President Packer quietly replied that he wanted to see at least a few steps ahead.
President Lee quoted the 12th Chapter of Ether, verse 6. "Wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith." Then he added, "My boy, you must learn to walk to the edge of the light, and perhaps a few steps into the darkness, and you will find that the light will appear and move ahead of you."
We will find that we do not always need to see the end from the beginning. If we submit to the will of the Lord, we can trust that he knows the end from the beginning.

Mob persecution forced the Snow family to move often, leaving homes and friends. On one occasion, during the move to Far West, all the family’s food froze. So they soaked thinly sliced frozen bread in fresh warm milk from the cow for their meals. Eliza met hardships bravely and uncomplainingly, and she helped to shelter and care for her elderly parents, who would later die on the journey to Winter Quarters.

The workshop couldn’t have been busier if it belonged to Santa’s elves. From one end to the other, workers were unloading trucks, repairing sleds and furniture, sorting buttons for clothing, sewing, and even stacking skis.
But these weren’t elves at work. They were young men and women from the Ogden Utah Weber Stake. And the workshop wasn’t at the North Pole. It was at the Deseret Industries welfare complex in Ogden, where the youth of the stake converged one Saturday to help the regular employees beat the Christmas rush.
It was part of a month-long program to get the youth acquainted with the elderly and handicapped who form the main part of the labor force at the facility, which repairs and sells used furniture and clothing. It was also part of an effort to help those employees have a merry Christmas. In addition to the day spent working in the warehouse and production areas, the young people also presented a week’s worth of morning devotionals, put in another Saturday collecting reusable items, and just a few days before Christmas, sponsored a party for employees.
“The whole idea was to get in the Christmas spirit,” Paula Watkins of the Uintah Second Ward said. “When you do something for other people, it makes you feel that you’re giving of yourself.”
Frost was still in the air the morning the young men and women went door-to-door in their ward areas reminding people to donate items in good or reparable condition. Couches, lamps, dolls, toasters, an adding machine, desks, chairs, and other household wares soon bulged the sides of two large trucks, with more contributions still coming. One neighborhood florist donated a whole van full of Christmas decorations. One young man, enthused by the spirit of giving, pedaled up on his used bicycle and donated it to the drive. Half a dozen truckloads of usable items were amassed during the day.
The following week the group began presenting morning devotionals. Each ward was assigned a particular day. Ward members presenting the program would meet with D.I. employees in the Ogden complex chapel for prayer, song, and a spiritual thought.
The devotionals strengthened the staff, according to Niolee Petersen, a supervisor. “One of our goals is to bring the Spirit into the lives of those who work here, and the devotionals help a lot. These were special spirits, a lot of good kids. They have communicated very well with the handicapped workers.”
The following Saturday, however, is when real friendships and close relationships began to grow.
“We have about 30 handicapped workers under the direction of each supervisor, but they don’t all work on the same shift,” Sister Petersen explained. “Handicaps include age, physical impairments, and social and emotional maladjustments. This group of young people moved right in and helped everyone who was there on Saturday. It didn’t take much instruction before they were doing high-quality work.”
It was indeed a sight to see a deacon working side-by-side on a commercial steam press with a woman who could have been his grandmother, but who joked and chatted with him like a schoolmate, or to watch a squadron of young men descend on a carpentry shop and learn under careful tutelage some fine points of cabinet making. Other work assignments included sorting clothing, polishing shoes, shredding rags to make rugs, pricing items for sale and affixing tags, ironing, and a variety of other tasks.
“But,” as Shelley Johnson of the Uintah Second Ward stressed, “the most important thing isn’t what type of work we did. It’s that we were able to help other people.”
About 325 young people participated in the project. They worked in two shifts, one in the morning, one in the afternoon. Each person was given the name of an employee to become acquainted with. Some were then given tasks to perform on their own, others were assigned to work under the direction of an employee, and others worked with supervisors.
“It was something different, something I’ll remember for a long time,” said Nan Brian of the Uintah First Ward. One of the supervisors said Mark Stockset of the Uintah Second Ward was a “real whiz on the steam machine.” Mark laughed. “I’ve never worked with one before,” he said, “but I’m kind of used to it now.”
“I think this whole Deseret Industries idea is a good thing,” said Janean Dickson of the Uintah Second Ward. “It helps people take care of themselves. It teaches the value of work and makes you count your blessings.
“I was especially interested to see the quality of merchandise they sell. The clothing isn’t worn out and run down; it’s nice. They have things for sale I’d be glad to wear.”
“Next time I give things to D.I., I’ll be more aware of what they can use,” said Lisa Fowles of the South Weber Second Ward, “so I’ll make a more meaningful donation.”
Over in the furniture repair shop, three young women from the stake removed nails from furniture being prepared for reupholstery.
“Did you think you’d be doing this kind of work today?” they were asked. “No,” came the reply, “but it’s fun to be able to work firsthand with tools. I don’t usually get a chance to do that, and the exposure will help me.”
“The people who work here have been really friendly to us,” David Jensen of the South Weber Second Ward said. “They seem like they’re glad to have us here.” Laurie Glissman, of the same ward, added, “It helps you when you work along with people; you come to understand them and the way they are. And it sure put me in the Christmas spirit to realize how fortunate I am. I think this welfare program is a good way to help those in need, because they can work and maintain their dignity.”
“Those who have never had a chance to get close to the handicapped don’t understand them.” Gladys Huber, another supervisor, said. “It’s good to see these young folks come out and get to know their brothers and sisters.”
“The workers were a bit wary about it at first,” Sister Petersen added. “But when the young people got here and started working with them, they were delighted. It’s been a perfect show of brotherly love.”
The employees did in fact seem impressed by the youthful volunteers. “They learn pretty fast, and work hard,” Rell Smith said. “It’s good to have them here. We’d like more groups to come. Just let us know when.”
Janean spent the day working with Lottie Dayton, putting size labels on clothing and hanging apparel on racks.
“If I weren’t here today, I’d just be sitting home, or maybe riding my horse,” Janean said. “This is more important—it’s more important to serve the Lord than to serve yourself. That’s what Christmas is all about, helping others. We had to put priorities in order. Sure, it was hard to squeeze everything in, especially when we were trying to do Christmas shopping of our own. But we were excited to come down here, and she’s so sweet …”
Her voice trailed off as she looked over at Sister Dayton, who was still hanging things on the rack as she softly hummed “Where Love Is.”
As young and old labored amid clothing baling machines, steam tunnels (used to remove wrinkles from clothing), label racks, and sorting tables, the workshop did turn out some Christmas magic after all. By the end of each shift, there were no young and old, no handicapped and nonhandicapped, just friends, co-workers, and fellow Saints.
The same spirit prevailed at a Christmas party ten days later.
“We brought all the workers to the stake center,” Nan Brian of the Uintah First Ward explained. “When they got there, we gave each one an ornament with his name and the name of one of the kids in the stake who had worked with him printed on it. Then we did all we could to make them realize we are their friends.”
That included a program of carols, stories, a visit from Santa Claus, and of course, the true story of the birth of Christ as recorded in the scriptures.
As the workers were escorted home and the youth of the Weber Stake returned to their final holiday preparations, there was a warmth and a glow about both groups. Some had learned that others still cared, and some had learned that caring is the solid foundation of December’s glorious celebration.

I am thrilled when I hear the many stories of deacons quorum presidents who have caught the vision and occasionally are teaching all or part of the lesson in their quorum meetings. Several weeks ago I attended a deacons quorum class. A 12-year-old boy gave a 25-minute lesson on the Atonement. He commenced by asking his fellow deacons what they thought the Atonement was. Then he shared some meaningful scriptures and asked thoughtful questions, to which they responded. Realizing, however, there was more time than remaining lesson material, he had enough presence of mind and perhaps some forewarning from his father to ask the leaders who were present what questions they had been asked about the Atonement on their missions and their responses. He then concluded with his testimony. I listened in awe. I thought to myself, “I don’t recall ever giving a significant part of a lesson when I was an Aaronic Priesthood youth.” We can raise the bar and vision for these young men, and they will respond.

Fourteen-year-old Matt Anderson from Bountiful, Utah, is one tough character to shake. Matt was diagnosed with diabetes on a Saturday. He spoke in church the next day. His mom explains, “When the bishop called and asked if Matt still wanted to speak, Matt’s reply was, ‘Sure, Bishop, it’s already written!’” Matt’s talk was on gratitude.
Matt’s positive attitude and strong testimony of the gospel are anchors in his life. “Now I’m just thankful for every day,” he says. “I’m thankful for the power of prayer.”
After receiving a blessing in the hospital, he remembers waking up during the night. “The hospital was all quiet, and I felt this real peace come over me. A true peace. And I wasn’t scared.” Matt says the priesthood blessing gave him strength to give himself shots and to start testing his blood-sugar level.
“This trial has been a blessing in my life,” Matt says. “It has made me conscious of the gospel more than ever. It has brought me closer to my mom and dad and my sister. I play sports just as much as I did before, and I’m still really close to my friends. I know we have trials for a reason.”

When Elder Quentin L. Cook was 15 years old, he had a talk with his big brother, Joe. Joe was trying to decide if he should go to medical school instead of going on a mission. They talked long into the night. They talked about the gospel. They talked about testimonies. They talked about serving a mission.

Joe knew that going to medical school and becoming a doctor was a good way to help people. But he also knew that Jesus Christ truly lived, that Joseph Smith was really a prophet, and that the Book of Mormon was really true. So he knew that going on a mission first would be a better choice. Quentin learned that night that his brother Joe had a strong testimony.

5 Facts about Elder Cook
Born on September 8, 1940
The L stands for LaMar
Played basketball, football, and baseball in high school
Served a mission to the British Mission
Became an Apostle in October 2007

Quentin decided that he wanted to have a testimony too. After they finished talking that night, Quentin went to another room to pray. He had always had a testimony of Jesus Christ. And he believed that Joseph Smith was a prophet. He believed the Book of Mormon and the Church were true. But he wanted a spiritual witness from the Holy Ghost. As he prayed, a powerful witness came to him that swept away any doubts he had forever.
Now Elder Cook relies on that strong testimony to help him with every choice he needs to make.

One time I went to the beach. I met a friend named Courtney. We were playing in the ocean. Soon everyone started running out of the water. I wondered why everyone was running. I looked at the lifeguard’s flag, and it was red. Then I was swept under the water by a huge wave. There was a loud swishing noise in my ears, and I kept paddling my hands but couldn’t get out. Then I heard a voice say, “Kick your feet.” So I did, and I suddenly floated to the top and got out of the water.
I am so glad the Holy Ghost was with me that day, because the ocean can be very dangerous. I know that the Holy Ghost can protect us if we listen to Him.Lauren Adair Jones, age 6Hookerton, North Carolina

When I was a teenager, my independence and my privacy were very important to me. So I didn’t like our family rule that Mom and Dad always had to know where we were, who we were with, and when we would be home. But even though my siblings and I complained about it, we abided by it.
During my junior year in high school, my 13-year-old sister, Jenni, and I played on a volleyball team. Our team was not the best or the worst. We just played to have fun.
One of the most exciting matches of the season, involving several teams, was scheduled for a Friday night at a location about 40 minutes from our home. Since I’d had my driver’s license for more than a year, Mom and Dad let me drive our van to the match, with my little sister as my companion. Jenni and I didn’t always get along, but we had a great visit on the way to the match. Being alone gave us the opportunity to really talk. The evening was as much fun as we had anticipated. After saying good-bye to friends, Jenni and I headed for home.
Just 15 minutes into the drive—and on a busy freeway—we ran out of gas. It was a dark night, so we hoped we could coast to the next off-ramp. But the van came to a stop under an overpass more than a kilometer from the exit. Scared, we offered a prayer. “Heavenly Father,” we prayed, “please help us find a way to get home safely.”
As we ended our prayer, I remembered learning that in an emergency we should lift the car hood and put something white on the antenna, so we did. We knew it was just a matter of time before a police car would drive by and offer to help. But three times we saw police cars pass us without stopping, even though we were flashing our lights and honking.
Discouragement nearly overcame us, and we decided it was time to pray again. Finishing the prayer with tears streaming down our faces, we talked about possible solutions. We could see the exit sign and decided to walk toward it, hoping to find a telephone.
After walking almost half a kilometer, we heard vehicles approaching us and slowing down. Were our prayers going to be answered? We turned and saw two motorcycles coming toward us. At that moment we both felt very strongly that we should return to the van.
Back in the van, huddled together, we tried to comfort each other. Then, as the Spirit whispered peace to us, we looked out the window and saw our mother and father coming to a stop on the other side of the freeway. Relief and gratitude overwhelmed us as we ran into the arms of our anxious parents.
“How did you know?” we asked. Softly and clearly our parents answered that they knew where we were, who we were with, and when we were supposed to be home. Because we had always followed this rule, they knew to come looking for us when we didn’t arrive home on time.
I was never again annoyed by my parents’ strict rules.

For an appropriate example, I look to my own grandchildren. Occasionally they quarrel or speak harshly one to another. But I am amazed and pleased when I observe how quickly the victim of a harsh word or action forgives and forgets. I am delighted that the offender is soon welcomed back into the fold of love by his brothers and sisters. Mother and father teach the offending child not to give offense again. So the family grows in affection.