Gospel Story Finder

To British Saints and thousands of Americans whose ancestry springs from this part of England, Liverpool and Preston are as much a part of the rich Latter-day Saint heritage as Nauvoo and Kirtland. And it was the word heritage in a letter from the First Presidency to all units of the Church that triggered a chain of events leading to one of the most unusual and spectacular joint activities ever organized by the Liverpool and Preston districts.
That letter urged Church members to organize significant activities to commemorate their history as part of an international heritage year. Rod Fullwood, seminary supervisor in the Liverpool District, and his counterpart in the Preston District, Arthur Hardy, had already talked over the possibility of a joint seminary graduation. From that it was a short step for them to come up with the concept of a major commemorative program telling the story of the first missionaries to arrive in England and the events leading to the first baptisms in the River Ribble in July 1837.
Once the plan had been approved by the Preston and Liverpool district presidencies, the next few weeks were marked by frantic activity as seminary groups in each branch worked on their own projects. Branches in the Liverpool District were assigned to re-create the atmosphere and scenes of 1837 by staging an “English Fayre,” complete with stalls from the period. They also wrote a dramatic production telling the story of early Mormon emigrants. Period dress for the nearly 200 young people and adults who attended was mandatory, but forseeing the likelihood of a few arriving in 20th century dress, the organizers assigned the Southport Branch to construct a set of stocks to “discipline” offenders.
The afternoon following the “Fayre” and the dramatic production the Liverpool Saints joined those at Preston for the second half of the program—a sermon on the banks of the Ribble and a commemoration of the baptisms that took place there in July 1837.
The weekend’s events provided a natural attraction for newspapers, radio, and television, and they were widely publicized. The events were relayed in a four-minute spot on BBC television, which also included an interview with Brother Fullwood. In addition to newspaper reports of the weekend, at least one Lancashire paper began plans for a full-scale feature on early Church history.
Appropriately winding up the commemoration, a 24-member Brigham Young University ballroom dance team, which had been performing in international competition in nearby Blackpool, gave a brief display for members immediately before the seminary graduation. As if to underline the point, it was then announced that Preston seminary students had beaten all other districts in Britain in enrollment and work completion for the year.
Said Brother Fullwood: “I think the weekend’s events and all the work that went in beforehand have given the members here a greater appreciation for those early missionaries as well as for our own heritage. The fact that an ambitious program like this was so successful will encourage us to shoot for high goals in the future.”

Danny Cope maneuvers his motorized wheelchair with the skill of a parking attendant. He can’t move his arms or fingers very well, but he prods the control stick mounted on his armrest with his fist. Danny’s wheelchair has seen a lot of action. As a deacon in the Oakridge Ward in the El Dorado California Stake, he uses it to fulfill his Aaronic Priesthood duties.
The wheelchair takes him to collect fast offerings and to quorum and Scout activities. His dad even made a special sacrament tray attachment so Danny can pass the sacrament with the other deacons. Since he isn’t able to lift the tray himself, the ward member nearest to the aisle helps him. Cerebral palsy might limit him physically, but mentally and spiritually he keeps moving.

As bishop of our ward, I encouraged parents to give their children opportunities to teach in family home evening. My wife and I decided to do as I had said.
Our son taught first, and we enjoyed his lesson on prayer. The next Monday was our daughter’s turn. She had been baptized only a few months before. Her topic was God’s creation. She asked a series of questions, which we answered in turn. She then bore her testimony and concluded.
My son exclaimed, “You’ve not taught us yet; you were only asking questions.” But I told my family that I had been moved when my wife, answering one of the questions, said that she is grateful to God for creating family units and giving her a wonderful family with a loving husband. I told them that my heart was full of gratitude when my youngest daughter answered the question “Who created the world?” by exclaiming, “Jesus.” I found many other answers overwhelming in their insightfulness.
So even though my daughter did not “teach” as my son expected, her lesson—and others my children have taught—are my favorite family home evenings.
Richard Ikpegbu, Nigeria

Throughout the scriptures, and indeed in the writings of thoughtful Christians through the centuries, we find examples of how Christ’s message of light and salvation can spiritually and physically sustain us. As a young priest traveling in Italy in 1833, Englishman John Henry Newman encountered emotional and physical darkness when illness detained him there for several weeks. He became deeply discouraged, and a nurse who saw his tears asked what troubled him. All he could reply was that he was sure God had work for him to do in England. Aching to return home, he finally found passage on a small boat.
Not long after the ship set sail, thick fog descended and obscured the hazardous cliffs surrounding them. Trapped for a week in the damp, gray darkness, the ship unable to travel forward or back, Newman pled for his Savior’s help as he penned the words we now know as the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light.”
Lead, kindly Light, amid th’encircling gloom; …
The night is dark, and I am far from home; …
Keep thou my feet; …
one step enough for me.
(Hymns, no. 97)
This hymn echoes a truth our hearts confirm: though trials may extinguish other sources of light, Christ will illuminate our path, “keep our feet,” and show us the way home. For as the Savior has promised, “he that followeth me shall not walk in darkness” (John 8:12).

Levi didn’t have his mind on Primary that Sunday. He was still angry with his older brother, Jason.
Jason had just gotten his driver’s license. Last week, he had run over Levi’s bike, even though Levi had carefully parked it at the side of the garage. Levi had saved his own money to buy the bike. It had taken a long time.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll fix it up just like new,” Jason promised.
Levi looked at the crumpled fender. “It won’t be the same.”
Jason apologized again, but Levi refused to listen. “If you weren’t such a crummy driver, you wouldn’t have wrecked my bike.”
“I told you I’d fix the bike.” Jason didn’t sound so sorry now.
Levi stomped off, locking himself in his room for the rest of the afternoon and coming out only when Mom insisted he join the family for dinner.
That was last Wednesday. Levi had held onto his grudge for four days. It bothered him, being angry at Jason. Still, he didn’t feel like forgiving his brother.
After opening exercises and singing time, Sister McClure, the second counselor in the Primary presidency, presented Sharing Time to the older children. Starting with Levi’s class, she passed around a small paper cup. “Take one and pass it on,” she said.
Levi reached inside the cup and found it filled with pebbles.
“Put a pebble into your shoe,” she said. “Now try walking in place.”
Levi lifted up his foot and brought it down again. The little stone felt funny against his foot. He tried to move it to a more comfortable spot, but it kept rubbing against his foot.
“Now reverently walk around the room,” Sister McClure instructed.
Some of the children started giggling but stopped when Sister McClure reminded them to be reverent. A couple of the younger children started to limp and bent down to remove their stones.
Levi kept the pebble in his shoe. It began to feel a lot bigger as he walked.
After a few minutes, Sister McClure told the children to take their seats and remove the pebbles from their shoes. Once more, she passed around the paper cup and asked the children to put the pebbles inside.
Then she explained, “Those little pebbles are like the feelings we have when we don’t forgive someone who has offended us. They can start out small but then feel bigger and bigger.”
“What if the person who did something to hurt us isn’t really sorry?” Levi wanted to know.
“Sometimes we need to forgive, even when the other person doesn’t apologize or repent,” Sister McClure responded.
Sister McClure told a story about a time when the Prophet Joseph Smith forgave one of his friends who had betrayed him. Levi felt a lump in his throat as he listened to how the Prophet had forgiven William W. Phelps, even though Brother Phelps had conspired with the mobs who persecuted the Church and its leaders.
Levi thought about Sister McClure’s lesson during the rest of Primary. Following dinner that evening, when his parents asked family members what they had learned in church, Levi told them about the pebbles.
“How did your foot feel by the time you took the pebble out?” his dad asked.
“My foot was a little sore,” Levi admitted. “Sister McClure compared walking around with a pebble in your shoe to carrying a grudge and refusing to forgive someone who offended you.”
“It sounds like one of Mom’s object lessons,” his little sister, Annie, said.
Everyone laughed. The whole family knew that Mom liked to use objects in the lessons she gave for family home evening.
Before he went to bed, Levi knocked on Jason’s door. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk,” he said when Jason opened the door. “I know you didn’t mean to run over my bike.”
“Hey, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Jason pulled Levi into a bear hug and lifted him off the floor. “What do you say we work on the bike together tomorrow after school? I’ll ask Dad if we can use his tools.”
“Great!” Levi said, and as he went to his room, he thought, “I really do feel great!”

It was almost Christmas, and the year had been hard for my family. My dad’s job was not going well. At night I could hear my parents talk about Christmas and how they didn’t know what to do. They knew that they could tell us that we would have to go without giving presents to each other, but they didn’t know what they could do about Santa, because most of the kids were still young. I was 13 years old and the oldest of six. At nights I would lie in my bed and try to think of a way that I could help my family to have a good Christmas.
One night I had the idea that I could earn some money, buy gifts for my brothers and sisters, lay them out on Christmas Eve, and say that they were from Santa. The next day, I walked around my neighborhood asking people if there was any work that needed to be done so I could earn some money. For a couple weeks before Christmas, I worked to earn the money I needed.
Two days before Christmas Eve, a friend who was old enough to drive took me to the store so I could finish some Christmas shopping.
As I was walking down the aisles in the store, I was getting excited looking for things that I knew my brothers and sisters would like. Every present was chosen with much love, and I couldn’t wait for them to open these gifts. Spending all the money I earned, I took the gifts home and hid them in my room until Christmas Eve.
When Christmas Eve came, all of my brothers and sisters were excited. After having our Christmas dinner, we got ready for bed and laid our stockings out for Santa to fill. Going downstairs to my room, I set my alarm so I could wake up in the night to lay out the gifts I had bought. I knew that my mom and dad would be setting things up and going to bed late, so I tried to get as much sleep as I could so I wouldn’t be tired for Christmas day.
That night, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t go to sleep. I hoped my parents would go to bed soon. After waiting a few hours, I got all the gifts that I bought and snuck upstairs. A warm feeling came over me as I set out the gifts. I couldn’t wait for morning to come. I didn’t sleep the rest of the night because I was so filled with excitement and love.
When morning came, we all ran upstairs to wake up Mom and Dad and to see what Santa had brought. Watching my brothers’ and sisters’ faces as they opened the gifts that I bought them was the best part of my day. When mom and dad realized there were other gifts, they started to cry.
I will never forget that Christmas and the feeling I felt. It was worth working hard to prepare for that day.

Photograph by Jonas Rebicki
Micaela R., 15, of Buenos Aires, Argentina, strives to develop and share her musical talents. Together with two young women from her stake, she formed a band called Remive. They came up with the name by combining the first two letters of each of their names: Rebeca, Micaela, and Veronica.
“Music is something that has always brought us together, because we started in the stake choir,” Micaela says. “Thanks to that, I met Rebeca and Veronica. And the choir helped us a lot, both spiritually and in our friendship.”
Together, they created an Instagram account where they post covers of songs they play. They started it for fun, but Micaela explains they also wanted to touch people’s hearts with the songs they sing. “We wanted to develop our talent,” Micaela explains. “It’s something that we love, and to see that other people like it too is wonderful!”

When our son Nathan turned two and a half, we began using occasional time-outs as a consequence for breaking family rules. I became concerned, however, by the negative feelings my son displayed when a time-out concluded. He often seemed sad and discouraged. As I prayed for a way to make the experience more positive, I felt impressed to say the phrase “Let’s try again.”
After the next time-out, I took my son’s hand and said with enthusiasm, “Let’s try again!” Suddenly the focus shifted away from his negative behavior and centered instead on the opportunity he had to start over. I was amazed at the difference this approach made. Instead of coming out of time-out feeling punished, he was eager to make better choices.
I soon started using the phrase in a multitude of situations. I found myself inviting Nathan in lots of ways: “Let’s try again! This time we can do better. This time we can be gentle” or “This time we can be kind.”
The saying became such a motivator for my son that during a time-out he often called to me, “Mommy, I am ready to try again!”
As I pondered the dramatic effect this simple phrase had on my son, I considered the power contained in the words “Let’s try again!” I realized that God, the Father of us all, does not want us to dwell hopelessly on the mistakes we have made. Instead, He invites us to sincerely repent and focus on a brighter future where we can improve each day. To make repentance possible, God was even willing to offer the life of His Beloved Son. His promise is: “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool” (Isaiah 1:18).
Watching my son’s renewed determination to do better, I felt a surge of gratitude for a loving Father in Heaven, who is merciful to His children when they repent. I also felt a deep appreciation for the Savior, whose infinite Atonement makes it possible for each of us to say, “Let’s try again!”

Time was very short as I dashed on to the train, thinking what I was going to study once I had found a seat.
The train was almost empty, but I spied a student seated at a table obviously returning to his university studies, with books piled high at his side, studiously burying his head in his desired subjects.
“Ah,” I thought, “This young man won’t mind one iota if I slide in at his table with my own pile of books filled with interesting material.” Our carriage was already filling up. The train then speedily left the terminal.
I had not been studying too long when I began receiving impressions from the Lord to open a different study guide. No, I obstinately pushed the thoughts out of my mind. But, again and again, the Lord was saying, “Read this one!”
After a while, I chose to be obedient, opening the ’Doctrines of the Gospel’ study guide. Not knowing why, I decided to read. Time passed with the miles fleeing by. Suddenly the student shouted very angrily, “Why, why do I have to go away and study? Why leave my family alone; I don’t understand.” Everyone in the carriage must have understood his distress. I imagined his darling wife back home, perhaps two tiny children, maybe crying as he had to leave them again for another long period.
“Why?” I thought. It came to me that maybe he might be a law student, on a course of study that takes seven long years! (My own brother had a hard time qualifying for his law degree to become a solicitor.) I thought, “Oh, his poor wife.”
I prayed for him in his embarrassed state. Then, “open the book” I heard the Spirit tell me. To the Lord’s entreaty, I opened the manual in a questioning way. Then, there in chapter 13, page 37, a large picture of Daniel in the lion’s den faced me. “YES!” I thought, “Yes I do feel like Daniel in the lion’s den right now.” I’d felt responsible for answering the student’s earnest question.
Above the picture of Daniel in the lion’s den were the words that could answer this student’s question. I was awestruck! The words were a quote from the teachings of Spencer W Kimball. It was so astounding; I was gobsmacked. I found a piece of paper and wrote out the answer to this student’s question, the words from a previous Prophet, and passed it to him.
The quote read, “It takes faith-unseeing, faith, for young people to proceed immediately with their family responsibilities in the face of financial uncertainties. It takes faith, for the young woman to bear her family instead of accepting employment, especially when schooling for the young husband is to be finished.”
The quote goes on to state other matters that I left out. But I went further into President Kimball’s remarks, “Know this—that all these [difficult life situations that require faith] are of the planting, while faithful devout families, spiritual security, peace and eternal life are the harvests.”1
I am thankful indeed, that I could answer his distress call that day. I had given him quotations so he could go on the internet later and look up the source material.
I am always happy to help others; those seeking learning and answers to questions about the meaning of life. He was being tested. Also, I was being tested, to see if I really care for my fellow ‘travellers’.
Oh, how I have looked back on that day when I testified and felt, as is stated in the Book of Mormon, “If he would believe in him that he could show unto him all things—it should be shown unto him; therefore the Lord could not withhold anything from him, for he knew that the Lord could show him all things” (Ether 3:26).
I love to travel about and share what I know to be true, with wonderful sons and daughters of God who are not aware of who they really are. I feel this is required of me as a sister missionary of his gospel, and I am blessed for it.

My thanks to the fellow who asked a question about his mother’s death in the April 1990 issue. It seems that the New Era knows everything that is happening to people. I am on a mission and my mother died a few months ago. I was given two days to go to the funeral. I came back to the mission field, and even though I knew where she was going, it was hard to endure.
Later, when I was transferred to the city I am at now, the first gift I got was the New Era. I opened it to the Question and Answer column. The ideas and experiences shared by the New Era and its contributors helped me. I very much appreciate the way you answer questions and I hope your magazine will continue, for it provides good services.
Elder Akpan, Okon ImohNigeria, West Africa

Tommy was smaller than the other boys. When he played football at school, he was often mowed down. When he played basketball, he got more elbows in his face than chances at the ball. But when it came to chicken wrestling on the monkey bars, Tommy was the greatest!
One day when Tommy was changing his clothes after school, his mother asked, “Tommy, where did you get all those bruises?”
“Oh, those,” said Tommy, and he grinned as he looked down at his black and blue legs. “Those are from chicken wrestling.”
“Chicken wrestling!” repeated his mother. “What on earth is that?”
“It’s when two kids swing out to the middle of the monkey bars from opposite sides,” answered Tommy. “Then they wrap their legs around each other and tug and pull. The toughest kid hangs on, and the other kid lets go and falls to the ground.”
“Tommy, you’re too little to play something like that with all those big boys,” said his mother. “No wonder your legs are bruised.”
Tommy grinned. “Well, I’m not very good at a lot of things,” he admitted, “but these skinny arms and hands can sure hang on to those monkey bars. I’ve beaten every kid in school so far except Bruiser Boswell, and I’m going to beat him today!”
“Bruiser Boswell? Who’s he?”
“Oh, he’s a big bully,” said Tommy. “He thinks he’s the toughest kid in school.”
“And you think you’re tougher than he is?” asked his mother.
“Not really,” replied Tommy. “He could beat me up in a hurry. I just think these skinny arms and hands can hang on to the monkey bars longer than his fat ones.”
When it was time for Tommy to meet Bruiser Boswell, a bunch of kids gathered around the monkey bars.
“Hey, you little runt,” Bruiser jeered as he swaggered up, “I’m going to stretch your arms five feet today. And if I don’t beat you at chicken wrestling, I’m going to beat you up anyway.”
“Listen, Bruiser,” said Tommy, “I know you’re the toughest kid in class, but these skinny arms and hands can hang on awfully tight to monkey bars.”
“Well, let’s just see how tight they can hang on,” said Bruiser. He began to climb up one side of the monkey bars, and Tommy started up the other.
When Tommy and Bruiser met in the middle of the bars, their legs were already flying and pulling and tugging. All the other kids were yelling and cheering them on. For a long time neither one could gain an advantage. Then Bruiser jerked Tommy’s leg really hard and Tommy’s right hand lost its grip. Tommy quickly regained his hold, then he twisted his legs tightly around Bruiser’s waist and pulled. As Bruiser gasped in surprise, his hands slipped from the bars.
“Wow! What a match!” someone said as Bruiser fell to the ground. “That’s got to be the longest match ever!”
Tommy, who was still hanging on to the monkey bars, looked at Bruiser lying on the ground. He thought it best not to let go for a while.
“That was the best chicken fight ever,” said Tommy.
Bruiser glared up at Tommy. “For you, maybe,” he said.
“You’re not mad at me, are you, Bruiser?” asked Tommy.
“I haven’t decided,” grunted Bruiser.
“Come on, Bruiser. You’ve got to have skinny little arms like mine to win at chicken wrestling. I can’t imagine the toughest guy in the class having skinny little arms instead of big strong ones like yours.”
“Nobody had better call my arms skinny!” threatened Bruiser as he looked at Tommy’s arms and then at his own.
“Well, they would have wondered if you’d won, ’cause everyone knows you have to have skinny arms to win at chicken wrestling.”
Tommy let go of the monkey bars and dropped down beside Bruiser. “I’d like to shake hands with the toughest kid in class, if it’s all right with you.”
“Sure, kid. Why not? I wouldn’t mind being friends with the best chicken wrestler in the class, even if you are sort of scrawny.”
When Tommy got home, his mother met him at the door. “How did it go with Bruiser Boswell today?” she asked.
“Oh, great!” he answered. “I may not be good at some things, but I am good at two things: One is chicken wrestling on the monkey bars, and the other is talking big guys out of fighting.”

I practice baseball almost every day. I’m getting a lot better. Dad practiced with me twice, but most of the time I practice with Sam.
I have a big problem, Reed. Coach said that we’ll have final tryouts for positions on Sunday. I want to be catcher. Sam wants to be catcher too. We’re both good catchers. I think that I could beat him, but I can’t because I don’t play baseball on Sunday. Did you ever play it on Sunday?
I’ve never played baseball on Sunday, and I’m proud of your decision to keep the Sabbath Day holy. But since you don’t play on Sunday, you’ll have to work harder to show the coach how important baseball really is to you. I know that you’ll be blessed for doing what you know is right.
I’m sad about me too. I won’t be the Indian catcher this year because I didn’t go to the final tryouts on Sunday. Sam will be the catcher, and I’ll just play in the outfield. I don’t want to be an outfielder. I want to be a catcher like you. Maybe we only get blessings some of the time when we do what’s right.
I’m proud of you for doing what you know is right and for working hard on your goals. You be the best outfielder that you can be, and you’ll enjoy it. You have many years ahead of you, and you can try again for catcher another time.
Guess what! Coach says that I can be backup catcher! Sam is happy to be the regular catcher, but he told me a secret. He said that I’m a better catcher than he is! He knows how much I love baseball, and he asked me why Primary is better than baseball. I told him to come with me and find out, and he said OK!
Mom says that I’m being a missionary by example. Am I, Reed? You were right about getting blessings when we do what’s right.
I know that I just wrote to you yesterday, but two exciting things happened at church today. One was that Sam went to Primary with me! He liked it. Sister Johnson taught a good lesson about how we got the Book of Mormon, but he liked Sharing Time best because we played chalkboard baseball. We got hits when we correctly answered questions about the prophets. We could help Sam because he was a visitor, and he got a grand-slam home run. He never did that in real baseball. He wants to come again.

Most people are glad to get away from home for a couple of weeks when they get a vacation. I’m glad to come home. Concert dates can keep our performing group away from home for months at a time. That’s probably why I felt so relaxed being back in Salt Lake, standing in line with a girl I liked, ready to see a movie I thought I’d rave about.
It was a popular space science fiction film, and the line was long. Waiting gave us time to talk but also time to think. My mind wandered to parts of section 88 in the Doctrine and Covenants. Section 88 [D&C 88] talks about the judgment day.
Verses 108 through 110 [D&C 88:108–110] talk about a great revealing that will take place, during which our actions will be shown to all. These verses even mention that our thoughts will be unveiled and imply that our life’s journey will be recreated to prove that the judgment is just.
I had heard people describe this as an epic motion picture on a giant screen, but that thought had never really been clear to me before. Now the thoughts came rushing to me. If a movie were made of my life, would I be half as excited to see it as the one I was standing in line to see now? Would I want to take a girl I liked to see it? Would I take my bishop? My friends? Would I invite the Savior?
What started as a simple thought evolved into deep reflections about my life and the motion picture I would make. The concept remained in my mind long after the true film ended and I had driven my date home. In fact, I kept thinking about it for weeks. I couldn’t get rid of the concern I felt wondering what type of movie it would be.

Melissa looked out the car window, hoping she would be the first one to spot the tall white temple spire. “I love to see the temple. I’m going there … today!” she sang. Finally it was the day she had been waiting for.
“Do you remember how you felt when you became part of our family a year ago?” Dad asked.
Melissa thought for a minute. “I was a little bit scared,” she said. “I had already lived with another foster family, and it’s hard to make changes.”
“We were nervous too,” Mom said. “We knew it was the right thing to become your new foster family, but we weren’t sure how things would turn out.”
“You fit right in, though,” Dad said. “Deciding to adopt you was easy.”
“We’re so grateful that Heavenly Father has blessed us to have you in our family,” Mom said. “Today you will be sealed to us for eternity.”
Melissa was excited and also a little nervous. She didn’t understand everything about the temple. But she knew that the temple was the house of God, and she was happy to become part of a forever family. Sometimes she wondered why she wasn’t just born into this family in the first place.
“There’s the temple!” Melissa and her three brothers called out as the car rounded the corner. In front of them, the statue of angel Moroni rose up through the trees against the bright blue sky.
Inside the temple Melissa and her brothers put on white clothes. Melissa loved her pretty white dress with lace on the front. Then one of the ladies who worked in the temple took them to a room that was just for children. They quietly played a game while they waited.
Then it was time for the sealing!
Melissa and her brothers walked with a temple worker through the halls of the temple. Finally they came to a beautiful room. Melissa gazed at the crystal chandelier in the center of the room and the large mirrors facing each other on two of the walls.
Then Melissa saw her mom and dad waiting for them. Mom’s eyes were sparkling, and Dad’s grin spread across his face.
“You look like an angel,” Mom whispered to Melissa.
“So do you,” Melissa whispered back. She felt reverence, sacredness, and love.
Melissa was invited to kneel at the altar with Mom and Dad. She was then sealed to her parents as part of an eternal family through the power of the priesthood—they could now be together forever and ever.
Melissa couldn’t stop smiling. She was filled with so much joy that she thought she might burst!
Melissa hugged her family tight as they all stood in front of the two mirrors. They could see themselves reflected over and over as far as they could see.
She thought about how she and her family would be together, now and for eternity. She felt love wrapped around her like a warm blanket.
“Thank you, Heavenly Father,” Melissa whispered.

A few years ago our family moved from a fast-paced, congested metropolitan area to a small, rural property outside a quiet little village. Nearby was an abandoned blueberry farm, and through friends of the owner, we obtained permission to pick all the blueberries we wanted.
Several mornings each week that summer we piled into the car with buckets and bags and spent a delightful, delicious hour gathering blueberries. One morning our youngest son, Hyrum, seemed reluctant to accompany us. He was sure we had picked every blueberry and that it would be a waste of time to go again. How surprised he was to find as many blueberries as ever. There were clusters in places he had overlooked, and some of the juiciest berries were growing on branches he was sure he had explored earlier.

“Turn on your lights”—Sister Sharon Eubank’s message for October 2017—was the theme of our stake Relief Society activity for this year 2018.
The purpose was to unite sisters, increase their self-­worth, and enlighten their minds toward ministering and temple preparation.
All were excited. The preparations from the stake activity committee began. They started planning, organizing, and assigning sisters for the activity.
We were five wards and one branch, which was a big number to coordinate. Each ward’s sisters were assigned with a topic to present on the day of activity with a skit or presentation.
And these were the topics covered:
Being righteous
Being articulate/different/distinct
Being happy
Preparing for the temple
Being self-reliant
Ministering/the worth of souls
Each ward started preparing for their presentation on the activity day. The long wait came to an end.
?It was a beautiful morning. When the activity began, there were not as many sisters as was expected. However, they began with an opening hymn and prayer. And slowly more sisters started coming in. There was a message from the stake Relief Society president. She displayed different kinds of lights and explained about each light, comparing it with the qualities of the sisters. It was a beautiful message.
Then the actual part of the sisters came. It was time for them to showcase or present their topics.
Each group of sisters came forward and presented their topics in the form of skits. Every one of them had put in a lot of effort to convey the message in a spiritual way and with a little bit of humor.
We all laughed and enjoyed ourselves, but in the end of each presentation, we were touched by the Spirit for the messages they carried about how to be happy always, how to be articulate and different, how to be self-reliant, and how to prepare for the temple.
It was amazing to see how the sisters joined hands together, both young and old, in acting it out. Lastly it was concluded by the testimonies of a few sisters who strengthened ours for their commitment to the gospel.

My paternal grandparents had two children, a son (my father) and a daughter. After serving a mission and military service in Hawaii, my father returned to the islands in 1946 to establish himself professionally and raise his family. His parents lived in Salt Lake City, as did his sister. She married in 1946 and four years later was expecting a child. There is something very special for parents to anticipate a daughter (in this instance an only daughter) giving birth for the first time. No one knew that she was carrying twins. Sadly, she and the twins all died during childbirth.
My grandparents were heartbroken. Their grief, however, immediately turned them to the Lord and His Atonement. Without dwelling on why this could happen and who might be to blame, they focused on living a righteous life. My grandparents never had wealth; they were never among the socially elite; they never held high position in the Church—they were simply devoted Latter-day Saints.
After retiring professionally in 1956, they moved to Hawaii to be with their only posterity. The ensuing decades found them loving their family and serving in the Church, and mostly they just enjoyed being together. They never liked being apart and even spoke of whoever died first finding a way to help them reunite soon. Nearing their 90th birthdays and after 65 years of marriage, they passed away within hours of each other by natural causes. As their bishop, I conducted their double funeral.

I was going to do a cheer onstage at the school open house. When I got home, I went upstairs to try on my uniform. The skirt was too short. I went down and showed my mom. My mom called my dad and told him everything. He said that I should pray about it. I went back upstairs and asked Heavenly Father what I should do. When it was time to go, I wore pants. I missed the cheer, but I’m glad that I followed Heavenly Father and Jesus.

I stood one day some years ago with a Japanese businessman in Hiroshima, beside the monument that marks the events of that tragic August 6, 1945, when in a matter of minutes some 85,000 people were killed. He told me that he had been a member of the Japanese Imperial Army, that out of that experience had come a hatred for all Americans.

One day two of our missionaries knocked on his door. He was too intoxicated to talk with them. All purpose had gone from his life, and his only refuge was drink. Not recognizing them for what they were, he invited them back, and there followed some weeks later his baptism.

With his conversion came purpose into his life, the will to forsake old habits, the strength to turn completely around. He spoke of appreciation for the young men who had taught him and the motivation they had cultivated within him.

At the time of our conversation he was serving as a member of the branch presidency and as an active member of an elders quorum. His case, in essence, can be multiplied thousands of times. There is no other power like the reforming power of the gospel of Jesus Christ to give men the desire and the will to change their lives.

I remember the smile of Sister Ruby Haight. She was the wife of Elder David B. Haight, who was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. As a young man he served as the president of the Palo Alto stake in California. He prayed over, and worried about, the girls in the Mia Maid class in his own ward.

So President Haight was inspired to ask the bishop to call Ruby Haight to teach those young girls. He knew she would be a witness of God who would lift, comfort, and love the girls in that class.

Sister Haight was at least 30 years older than the girls she taught. Yet 40 years after she taught them, each time she would meet my wife, who had been one of the girls in her class, she would put out her hand, smile, and say to Kathy, “Oh! My Mia Maid.” I saw more than her smile. I felt her deep love for a sister she still cared for as if she were her own daughter. Her smile and warm greeting came from seeing that a sister and daughter of God was still on the covenant path home.