Gospel Story Finder

Many years ago a fire destroyed a family’s house. A neighbor tried to comfort the family’s seven-year-old boy by saying, “Johnny, it’s too bad your home burned down.” Johnny thought for a moment and said, “Oh, that was not our home; that was just our house. We still have our home; we just don’t have any place to put it right now.” Johnny knew that the fire had not destroyed his family and their kind feelings for one another.

The Veranos’ struggles with faithfulness were not yet over, however, and neither was the loving work of others in fellowshipping them.
A fine home teacher, George Baker, helped keep them active in the Church, Brother Verano recalls. Unused to attending church meetings three times a day, beginning with priesthood at seven A.M., Brother Verano was ready to quit. The early meetings were difficult because he was working from midnight to six A.M. But Brother Baker, who could not go himself, arranged for someone to drive the Veranos to ward meetings, and kept them coming.
The Veranos’ spirituality grew as they faithfully attended meetings and obeyed gospel principles.

As we talked about it and as I looked at that beautiful little baby, I thought of last summer. Ruby and I were up in Idaho for a short visit, and we met some people from Mountain Home, Idaho, the Goodrich family. Sister Goodrich had come to see us and had brought her daughter Chelsea with her. In part of the conversation that we were having, Sister Goodrich said Chelsea had memorized the proclamation on the family.

To Chelsea, who is now 15 years old, I said, “Chelsea, is that right?”

She said, “Yes.”

I said, “How long did it take you to do that?”

She said, “When we were young my mother started a program in our house to help us memorize. We would memorize scripture passages and sacrament meeting songs and other types of things that would be helpful to us. So we learned how to memorize, and it became easier for us.”

I said, “Then you can give it all?”

She said, “Yes, I can give it all.”

I said, “You learned that when you were 12 years old; you’re now 15. Pretty soon you’ll start dating. Tell me about it. What has it done for you?”

Chelsea said, “As I think of the statements in that proclamation, and as I understand more of our responsibility as a family and our responsibility for the way we live and the way we should conduct our lives, the proclamation becomes a new guideline for me. As I associate with other people and when I start dating, I can think of those phrases and those sentences in the proclamation on the family. It will give me a yardstick which will help guide me. It will give me the strength that I need.”

There are always ways to support each other. Even years later while Bruce was serving as a General Authority and coping with health challenges, he still wanted to support me when I served as a Sunday School teacher. He would have discussions with me about upcoming lessons, and every Sunday when he was available, he would help me get needed supplies, set up the classroom, and offer thoughtful comments in class. Although he was limited in his time and energy, he was unlimited in his desire to support me.

Sixteen-year-old Kimberli Lingard left for work one afternoon last summer, having no idea that in a few hours she’d come face-to-face with a killer and be shot twice and left for dead. After what should have been a fatal event, a series of miracles occurred, and now Kim is living proof of God’s blessings in her life.
Kim worked at a laundromat in Grantsville, Utah, a tiny town where everyone knows everyone, and few people lock their doors. The town is located near a major freeway, and in early June 2004, an angry gunman on the run from the police pulled off the freeway into this quiet town. He looked around at local shops for an easy place to rob until he found the laundromat where Kim was working alone.
The man took what little money was in the cash register, shot Kim in the head and shoulder, and fled. With Kim lying on the floor and losing blood fast, time was precious. A woman—only the second customer to come in during Kim’s shift—entered just minutes after the shooting to discover Kim lying in a pool of blood. The woman raced to a nearby restaurant and called the police.
Uncertain if the shooter had left the premises, a brave man from the restaurant rushed to find another priesthood holder, and they gave Kim a blessing. Kim was soon flown to a hospital and immediately underwent seven hours of surgery to remove bullet fragments from her brain.
Kim can’t remember any of this. The last thing she remembers was being alone at work. But her family has a clear recollection of everything after the shooting. They remember turning immediately to the Lord. Her younger sister Rachel says, “I was really scared. I came downstairs and knelt down beside the couch and said a prayer that she’d be okay.”
The 45-minute drive to the hospital was tense, but her little sister Jenessa says, “I just sat there praying the whole time.”
Kim’s friends at school started calling other friends to ask them to fast and pray for their dear friend.
Many hours and prayers later, Kim was stabilized. Three days after being shot, she woke up in the hospital to see her older sister Nicole leaning over her with a tear-stained face. Kim wanted to know what was wrong but couldn’t ask. Her vocal chords had been partially paralyzed from the shooting. Kim couldn’t talk, eat, walk, blink, or smile.
She couldn’t move her right arm or hand, and the doctors weren’t hopeful that she would ever fully recover from her wounds.
Even with Kim’s future uncertain, her family drew comfort from the Holy Ghost and remained positive. The Lingards say there was a special feeling in Kim’s hospital room throughout her stay. Her youngest sister Kristin explained: “When I came into Kim’s room, I didn’t want to go because I felt the Holy Ghost so strongly that I wanted to be in the room more.” This feeling helped the family to be calm and hopeful.
Kim wanted more than anything to be able to play the piano again and wrote a note asking the doctors if it would be possible. She says, “They just got this look in their eyes. They wanted to say yes, but they couldn’t. And from then on, I wanted to prove them wrong. I was going to get well.”
She received another priesthood blessing that she would heal quickly, and with faith and hard work, Kim made astonishing progress.
Kim’s family stayed by her bedside for weeks while she was in the hospital. Every day, her sisters would massage her hands so the nerves might begin to work again. And Kim worked hard to exercise her hand.
Eventually Kim’s voice came back, and she regained movement in her face. Then one day her family came in and found her moving her fingers—something the doctors never expected to see. Kim’s stepmom, Karen, says, “Every day seemed like a week’s worth of recovery. You’d see her the next day, and she’d be doing something they said she may not ever be able to do.”
Kim’s condition improved at a remarkable rate, and she became eager to leave the hospital. Just over three weeks after the shooting, she went home—in time for her 17th birthday. The only obvious change in her appearance was that her hair was shaved short from the surgery.
Still, Kim faced weeks of voice and hand therapy. Although her rehabilitation was difficult and painful, she didn’t complain. Her father, Craig, says, “Her testimony is stronger because she sees how her Heavenly Father has blessed her.”
Kim’s family are no strangers to loss. Her mother died of lung cancer only three years earlier, leaving behind a family of 11 children. And now this challenge. But Kim doesn’t feel the need to ask questions. She simply says, “The Lord knows a lot more than we know.”
The Lingards count their blessings. Brother Lingard says, “I knew that if the Lord preserved her life, we could live with whatever else we had to live with.” Kim’s family was calm as they relied on the Lord for strength.
Kim says, “I think about how the Lord hears our prayers. I know that the Lord knew I could do this. I know that He lives and that He’ll help me, and I’m so glad it was me and not someone else.”
Kim’s testimony left her with a good attitude and peace throughout her struggle. And because of that, Kim says, “I was able to forgive the shooter. I know that he is a son of God, too. He made serious mistakes in his life, and I feel sorry for him.”
From the looks of the half-inch round scar the bullet left on the back of her neck, it seems impossible that anyone could live through such an injury. But these days Kim is driving, painting, playing the piano, and laughing with her sisters. Kim has several lasting effects from the shooting, including weakness in her right arm, no right jaw socket, and total deafness in her right ear.
“The doctors didn’t know if I would ever be able to live a normal life.” But Kim was at school the first day of her senior year, just 11 weeks after the shooting. She graduated with her senior class and is now a freshman at Brigham Young University—Idaho.
Kim has few regrets about what happened. “It just amazes me how aware the Lord is of us. The Lord knows all things. We just need to learn to trust in Him. There are good days and bad days, but He is there for us when we need Him.”

I am very grateful to have had a father who did not overindulge his sons, except with love and moral support. I think I have a special appreciation for many things because of having worked in a canning factory and having caught the hot cans as they came from the capper, for the munificent sum of 25¢ per hour. One of the by-products of the job was to have the flesh of the hands peel off from the moisture and the heat of the cans. It also involved a 16-kilometer bicycle ride every day to and from work.

Ezra Taft Benson was born in Whitney, Idaho, on August 4, 1899. He was the first of 11 children of George T. Benson, Jr. and Sarah Dunkley Benson. The birth was difficult. The doctor said he would try to save the mother, but he held little hope for the baby.
President Benson tells the story, “The faith of my father, the administrations of the priesthood, and the quick action of my two grandmothers, who placed me first in a pan of cold water and then in a pan of warm water alternately, brought forth a husky yell to the joy of all” (Ensign, Oct. 1974, pp. 22–23).

Seventeen-year-old Tyson Henrie’s heart skipped a beat when an elderly woman called him and his younger siblings out of the youth waiting room. It was time.
He straightened his white shirt and tie as he and his brother and sister, also clad in white, quietly followed their escort through the hallway of the Salt Lake Temple. Looking sideways at Dustin and Sharee, he could tell they were as excited and nervous as he was.
When they arrived at the sealing room and its white doors were opened, Tyson was unprepared for what he felt. “The Spirit was so overwhelming that we all started crying as soon as we looked into the room,” he says. There, kneeling at an altar in the beautiful room, were his parents, smiling at him and his brother and sister. When Tyson started going to church on his own three years before, he never dreamed it would lead to this.
“My family wasn’t active, but my really good friends got me to start going to church,” he remembers. “I was interested in knowing more about the Church. I kept going because I liked the teachings and the Spirit that was there and the people.”
While he enjoyed church, Tyson soon found himself wishing his family were there with him. “It didn’t really bother me being there alone at first, but then I started wanting my family to be with me. I wanted them to feel the happiness I felt.”
Tyson didn’t have to wait long for his prayers to be answered. Following her older brother’s example, Sharee, now 14, started to go to church with him. “I just knew that was what I needed to do,” she says. Like Tyson, Sharee quickly made close friends at church.
As time went on, Tyson received the Aaronic Priesthood and developed a desire to serve a mission. He and Sharee both set goals to be married in the temple. Sister Kerri Henrie says that when the teens shared these goals with her, “I started to think, I’m not going to be a part of that if I don’t make some changes. And it didn’t feel right sitting at home on Sundays while our kids went off to church. So I said to my husband, Brian, ‘Why don’t we try going?’”
Soon the entire Henrie family was attending church together. “The ward was so wonderful,” says Kerri. “Everybody welcomed us and really made us feel a part of it.”
Two years after he started to go to church on his own, Tyson was finally able to attend church with his whole family. “It felt great!” he says. “Things started changing. We started reading the scriptures as a family and having family home evening.”
Dustin, 15, who was reluctant to go to church at first, also began to notice changes in the family. “Sundays became a family day. We were spending more time together and feeling the Spirit together, so our family became a lot more open with each other and we could talk about more things,” he says.
With the increased closeness in the family came an increased desire to become an eternal family, and a goal was set to be sealed in the temple. “I was excited because I knew I wanted to be with my family forever,” says Tyson. “I was scared in a way, too, because it was coming up fast and I didn’t know if I had done everything I could to be ready.”
Along with their parents, Tyson, Dustin, and Sharee began praying and studying the scriptures even more earnestly, at home, church, and seminary. “I didn’t want to go to the temple not having a testimony, so I put forth more effort,” says Dustin. “Wanting to be ready helped me want to go to church more and read the scriptures more.”
The Henries also began paying a full tithing. “It was hard at first, but I did it because it was right and because I wanted to be ready to go to the temple,” says Dustin.
When the day of the sealing arrived, the Henries knew they were prepared. “I had been scared because I didn’t know what to expect, and I didn’t know if I was ready. But I asked Heavenly Father to help me understand, and I felt an answer that it was the right thing to do and that our family was ready to go to the temple,” says Sharee.
After entering the sealing room, Tyson, Dustin, and Sharee knelt beside their parents at the altar. As they listened to the beautiful words of the sealing ceremony, “we could feel the Spirit so strongly that it made us all cry,” says Dustin.
Tyson remembers, “That was the strongest I’ve ever felt the Spirit. You could just feel it bonding us all together.”
At the conclusion of the ceremony, the Henries stood and looked into one of the two mirrors that hung on the walls on either side of the altar. The double mirrors made the family’s reflection repeat itself into infinity. “The sealer told us, ‘This is how long your family is going to be together,’” says Sharee.
“I remember looking at my mom and dad and brother and sister and just being so happy that I’ll be able to be with them forever,” says Dustin.
After experiencing the sealing ceremony, all three of the Henrie children say they can’t imagine starting their own future families any other way.
It’s now been several months since the Henries were sealed as an eternal family. But the feelings they experienced in the temple have continued to be an influence in their home.
“It’s different now that we’ve been sealed and have the Church in our lives,” says Tyson. “Things seem so much happier, and there’s so much more love.”
Sharee agrees. “It feels like the Spirit’s more uplifting; the house just seems brighter. I always see how happy my parents are together, and it makes me feel happy to know that my family’s together forever.”
And Dustin says his experience in the temple has given him both a strong testimony and a desire to be active in the Church.
To those young people preparing to go to the temple, whether it’s to do baptisms for the dead, to receive their own endowment, or to be sealed to their family or spouse, Dustin says, “Try your hardest to get to the temple because it will probably be the neatest experience you’ll ever have. You’ll feel the Spirit so strong that you’ll never forget the feeling because you like it so much.”

Last spring the softball team was playing a game against Louisiana Tech. The score was 0 to 0 in the fifth inning. The Louisiana Tech lead-off hitter sent a ball deep to center field. The umpire ruled that it was a ground rule double because the ball had bounced over the fence. The BYU center fielder, while chasing the ball, stumbled over the fence. Coach Amicone went to see if she was okay, and she told her she was but that the ball went over the fence, making it a home run. This was also confirmed by both the left and right fielders.

Coach Amicone went to the second-base umpire and told him the ball had gone over the fence without bouncing, so it was a home run. The second-base umpire met with the home-plate umpire, and they decided since it was a judgment call, he had to leave the Louisiana Tech player at second base.

Later in the game the umpire told BYU’s catcher that he had never seen anyone come to an umpire to tell him the ball went over the fence as a home run when the call was favorable to their team. He was amazed by the honesty of the players. In all his experience he had never seen anything like that before.

One of the most touching events I have ever witnessed took place at the auction three years ago. We had sat most of the day on aluminum bleachers, listening to the auctioneer’s bark, the crowd’s babble, and the animals’ bleating, mooing, and squealing. Suddenly we heard another sound—the wind pelting a freezing rain against the building.
Soon, in addition to parents and extended family attending the auction, we had many other people seeking shelter inside the metal livestock pavilion. They were quite surprised to find an auction taking place. Most were from the big city of Las Vegas and had never experienced a real animal auction before. They apparently found the auction entertaining, and a few even bid on animals. Of course, after the auctioneer explained that the price was per pound, the bidding slowed considerably.
Our boys’ pig came up for auction, and I remember feeling quite relieved when it was sold. All I could think of was getting home, away from the people, the noise, and the smell. It was still raining outside, so while I waited for my brother-in-law to get the car, I listened involuntarily to the auctioneer as he started the bidding on lambs.
A young girl brought out her lamb, and the bidding commenced. I don’t remember the exact amount, but I do remember thinking, “That’s a lot of money for a lamb.” Then a most amazing thing happened. The auctioneer explained that the person who had purchased the lamb was donating it back to the little girl to be resold. He went on to explain that this little girl’s father, who normally would have been there with her, was in the hospital. He had cancer, and the prognosis was not good. The family had no medical insurance, and the father was their sole support.
What happened next will burn in my mind and heart forever.
The bidding resumed, and again the little lamb was sold for an unheard-of amount of money. Again the lamb was donated back to be resold. About that time my brother-in-law returned, wet and windblown, but I couldn’t move. I told him something remarkable was happening, and though I tried, I could not stop my tears.
That lamb was sold again and again, and all those people, many of them from the city, were bidding and giving donations for that local family.
As I stood there in amazement, I couldn’t help but think of another lamb—not one that was sold again and again to benefit just one family, but One who allowed Himself to be sacrificed for all of God’s children. It seemed fitting that Easter was just around the corner. The Spirit bore witness to me that day of the significance of sacrifice in behalf of others and the importance of community.

Observing and serving sometimes requires great effort. An inspired young woman named Alexandria noticed that her cousin Madison was unable to complete her own Personal Progress requirements because she suffered from severe autism. Alexandria rallied the young women in her ward, counseled with her leaders, and determined to do something for Maddy that she could not do herself. Each of the young women completed a portion of the Personal Progress activities and projects vicariously to enable Maddy to receive her own medallion.7
These young women will progress well into roles of motherhood and Relief Society sisterhood because they are learning to first observe, then serve in charitable ways.

As identical twins, we’ve always had a lot in common. Growing up, we both loved swimming and joined a competitive swim team at six years old. The heart-racing feeling before each race was exhilarating. Unfortunately, that exciting feeling quickly turned to fear about how we looked in our swimsuits. For both of us, our appearance started to creep to the forefront of our every thought.
In middle school, we each filled journals with weight-loss goals, food logs, and our most beauty-obsessed thoughts—stacked on shelves next to teen magazines promoting the latest fashion and beauty fixes.
At age 15, we both quit swimming—not because we hated to swim but because we hated the way we looked in our swimsuits. Our years of relentlessly trying to “fix” our bodies simply hadn’t worked.
What we didn’t realize then is that our bodies were never the problem. The problem was our body image, or the way we viewed and thought about our bodies. It had been skewed by all kinds of influences, including movies, TV, magazines, and even friends and family who learned from all of these same sources.
After years of struggling, things changed. We even started swimming again. But it wasn’t dieting or makeovers that did the trick—it was learning how our skewed views of our bodies had held us back in every way. Our research has showed us that developing positive body image—or feeling good about your body from the inside, not just how it looks—is a key to health, happiness, and seeing ourselves as God sees us.

I grew up as a serious, responsible person who followed the principles that my parents, with their limited religious knowledge, taught me. However, after my father died in 2005, when I was 15, I became someone different. Maybe it was a way of expressing my pain for not having said good-bye to him. I will always regret not giving him a kiss before he went to the hospital.
After his death I started hanging around people who didn’t have good values. I was doing things I thought were OK and that everyone was doing, but I now understand they weren’t pleasing to the Lord. I was having fun, according to the world’s standard of fun, but in reality I wasn’t happy. I was empty and missing something, but I didn’t know what. I started doing poorly in school. The worst part was that I had no idea how to find happiness in my life. At the time I didn’t see how much I was missing out on with my family and my mom, who is the person I love most.
At night I would pray to God. No one had taught me how to pray, but I felt like He was listening. I asked Him to help me be happy and to let me know if my dad was OK. I was so afraid that he was suffering somewhere. My pleas went on for many nights.
The answer finally came. I thought I would receive an answer in a dream, but instead it came in the form of two elders. They came to our house in December 2006. I didn’t understand that they were an answer to my prayers, and I didn’t want to listen to even one discussion. My mom listened and decided to go to church. She hasn’t stopped going since. She was baptized, and a few weeks later my nephews and my sister were baptized. I noticed a huge change in my mom after her baptism, to the point that she seemed much younger and happier. Her happiness and peace filled our house immensely; the minute someone came in he or she could feel that something was different.
I realized what had happened and decided to go to church. It was a strange experience; I had never been treated so kindly before. The sisters were friendly and treated me so well that I felt very comfortable at church. Little by little I was convinced the Church was true, and I decided to listen to the lessons from the elders.
I was baptized on February 3, 2007, in the Uribe Ward, Veracruz Mexico Stake, by two amazing elders. I will always remember them, and I consider them our angels. My baptism is a day I’ll never forget. I was clean from all sin. My mistakes had been erased because of the Atonement of Jesus Christ. I left my depression behind, and the void I had felt was no longer there. It was replaced by tremendous joy in my soul.
The true gospel has brought my family and me so much happiness. I’ve found eternal friends. I continue to battle against the world, but now I have the true gospel and the Spirit that give me joy and peace daily. Now I know the answer to the question I was asking the Lord for so long. If my dad accepted the ordinances we did for him in the temple, I know he’s happy and at peace. I believe he accepted the gospel and is waiting for us.
Sometimes I look back and realize how much I’ve been blessed. I see there is a greater happiness than that offered by the world and its pleasures and distractions. True happiness comes from the gospel of Jesus Christ. Everything that the gospel teaches is for our good.

My next example is Carol McAdoo Rehme of the Loveland First Ward, Greeley Colorado, who spreads happiness among the elderly with a weekly sing–along at the neighborhood nursing home. She found they needed a pianist and immediately volunteered. Twice weekly, she played music in the dining room during the lunch meal. It was a low–pressure opportunity to practice hymns and sight–read new music. But one day an elderly resident recognized “Bicycle Built for Two” and sang along as she played. Others spontaneously joined in, so when the song ended she checked in her music book for other old favorites.

That was all it took. She had a new program: a weekly sing–along that moved to the comfortable confines of the lounge room. Her bag of music expanded to stacks of sheet music and pounds of books. The repertoire grew, ranging from Gay Nineties melodies to wartime songs, from familiar hymns to show tunes, from patriotic marches to nursery songs. As word spread, both the program’s popularity and resident attendance increased.

What a revelation it was to hear their chorus of memory–to see eyes light up, toes tap, and hands clap. Ninety-eight-year-old Gladys couldn’t recall what she ate for lunch an hour earlier but knew the words to nearly every song Carol played! Eleanor, limited to her wheelchair because of a degenerative disease, kept rhythm by nodding her head, the only part of her body she could control. Betty, a double amputee unable to do but able to tell, was instrumental in explaining phrases like “tootsie wootsie” and “wiffle tree.” And Carol? She witnessed the pleasure the songs brought. She listened to venerable voices ringing out. Her voice lifted with theirs as they all joined together to “make a joyful noise” (Ps. 66:1).

The name Rudger Clawson will, unfortunately, be unfamiliar to many of you. For forty-five years Brother Clawson was a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles and for twenty-two of those years served as the president of that quorum. But long before any of those responsibilities came to him, he had a chance to prove his faithfulness and demonstrate in his youth just how willing he was to defend his beliefs, even at the peril of his life.

As a young man Brother Clawson had been called on a mission to the Southern States. At that time in America’s history, well over one hundred years ago, malicious mobs were still in existence, outlaws who threatened the safety of members of the Church and others. Elder Clawson and his missionary companion, Elder Joseph Standing, were traveling on foot to a missionary conference when, nearing their destination, they were suddenly confronted by twelve armed and angry men on horseback.

With cocked rifles and revolvers shoved in their faces, the two elders were repeatedly struck and occasionally knocked to the ground as they were led away from their prescribed path and forced to walk deep into the nearby woods. Elder Joseph Standing, knowing what might lie in store for them, made a bold move and seized a pistol within his reach. Instantly one of the assailants turned his gun on young Standing and fired. Another mobber, pointing to Elder Clawson, said, “Shoot that man.” In response every weapon in the circle was turned on him.

It seemed to this young elder that his fate was to be the same as that of his fallen brother. He said: “I … at once realized there was no avenue of escape. My time had come. … My turn to follow Joseph Standing was at hand.” He folded his arms, looked his assailants in the face, and said, “Shoot.”

Whether stunned by this young elder’s courage or now fearfully aware of what they had already done to his companion, we cannot know, but someone in that fateful moment shouted, “Don’t shoot,” and one by one the guns were lowered. Terribly shaken but driven by loyalty to his missionary companion, Elder Clawson continued to defy the mob. Never certain that he might not yet be shot, young Rudger, often working and walking with his back to the mob, was able to carry the body of his slain companion to a safe haven where he performed the last act of kindness for his fallen friend. There he gently washed the bloody stains from the missionary’s body and prepared it for the long train ride home (in David S. Hoopes and Roy Hoopes, The Making of a Mormon Apostle: The Story of Rudger Clawson [New York: Madison Books, 1990], pp. 23–31).

I tell that story with some concern, hoping no one will dwell on the death of a young missionary or think gospel living brought only trials or tragedies in those early years. But I do share it for an ever younger and ever newer generation in the Church who may not know the gifts that earlier men and women—including young men and women—have given us in what our new film states simply in another single word—Legacy.

Uncertainty can be frustrating and scary. Some of the people I talked with in my job couldn’t stand uncertainty. They wouldn’t allow themselves to even contemplate the possibility of the existence of God or life after death. They’d made up their minds before they even asked me questions, and they only heard what they wanted to hear.
I remember one man who said, “You can’t show me the golden plates, so I can’t believe they ever existed.” To which I responded, “Suppose I could show you the plates—would that be enough for you?” And he replied, “No, because I would be looking at forgery.”
No matter what I said, he had already made up his mind that “no” was the right answer—because “no” could eliminate his uncertainty.

One day, my best friend from the Church provided it. I was to leave my parent’s house and establish a home elsewhere. I managed to get employment in Burntwood (Staffordshire) and bought a home there. After some time, my wife, Rajinder, let me go to a one-hour meeting one Sunday and I was called as the Sunday School president. But Rajinder refused to let the children go with me and at one time ripped up the Book of Mormon in front of me. She had been brought up as a strict Sikh and did not want to dishonour her family.

In 1982, we moved to Hemel Hempstead (Hertfordshire). The meetings were now consolidated, and I stayed for the whole three hours. I was called as the elders quorum president. An elderly missionary couple were assigned to visit my home, and for the first time Rajinder said a prayer and felt the Spirit. I subsequently baptised her. We were later sealed in the London England Temple with our children.

In 1986, I was called to be the branch president. I served in that capacity for three and half years and was released when our branch was merged into the Watford Ward.

My testimony has grown from strength to strength. I love the Lord and His restored gospel. I am in His hands and will always give thanks to Him for saving me and sending those missionaries. The evidence that this is the true church, is too great; I cannot deny it. Regardless of what happens to me or my family I will bless the Lord my God. I believe in His goodness, and that He will uphold me if I do as He asks. I give daily thanks for all the blessings He has given me and the tender mercies He has shown me.

I have recently published a book called LDS Christians and Sikhs. This book was the result of an inspiration I received to invite Sikhs to come to Christ. I have included many testimonies from Sikhs who have converted to the Church. I hope that it will do some good in persuading and inviting Sikhs to examine their religion and to offer them further blessings through the gospel.

Tracy pressed her nose against the big picture window and watched the rain. Tracy usually liked the rain, but today she felt miserable. Her two older sisters, Janet and Merry, were standing on the sidewalk in their bright pink raincoats, waving good-bye to her. They had a clear plastic umbrella to keep the rain off, and they were laughing.
Tracy waved to her sisters, then began to cry. She would have to wait another year before she could go to school too.
“It looks like it’s raining in here,” Mother said, coming into the room. She had the popcorn popper in her hand. “I thought that you might like some popcorn,” she added. “Janet and Merry will just have to miss out this time.”
“All right,” Tracy said with a sigh. She took one last look at her sisters skipping down the street, then followed Mother into the kitchen.
Tracy was a good popcorn maker. She poured in the oil, and when Mother said it was hot enough, Tracy added the popcorn and shook it just right.
Mother made caramel on the stove. She had to stand away from the stove, because her tummy was big with a new baby. She looked so funny with the apron trying to cover her big dress that Tracy couldn’t help but laugh. Mother laughed too. “I’ll be glad when this baby comes and I can stand next to the stove again!” she said.
When the caramel was ready, Mother poured it over the popcorn and shaped the sticky popcorn into round balls. Tracy put each one on a sheet of waxed paper to dry. Then they each ate a popcorn ball.
Suddenly the kitchen was very bright. “Look,” Mother said. “It’s stopped raining outside.”
“It’s not raining in here anymore, either,” Tracy said, pointing to her dry eyes. Then she thought of her two sisters and how much she would like to go to school with them. “I do hate to be here by myself, though.”
“I do, too,” Mother said.
Tracy was puzzled. “But I’m here with you, Mother. You’re not alone with me here.”
“I’m glad about that.” Mother put her arms around Tracy. “I would be lonesome without you. One reason that I wanted a new baby is that when you’re at school next year, I’ll have someone to keep me company. And this year while Janet and Merry are both in school, I can have you all to myself for a while!”
Tracy gave Mother a big hug. “And I can have you all to myself!”

One day as one of my sons bade me farewell prior to his leaving for high school, I noticed he had forgotten to tie his shoelaces. For a fleeting second, I was tempted to turn the moment into the major crisis of the week, but, thankfully, I let it pass. A few days later we went to a school function where, to my amazement, I observed the shoelaces of all of the young men were untied. I then realized my son had fallen victim to another fad. I think it was in this same year that I found out it was no longer socially acceptable to go to school with boots, gloves, or earmuffs.

Anyone who’s ever been to girls’ camp knows that it’s a lot of fun but also a lot of hard work. For Kelsey Mack of the Safford Arizona Fifth Ward, Safford Arizona Stake, mental and physical handicaps made the challenge of camping even greater.
When Kelsey decided she wanted to go to camp, her mom went to the youth leaders and asked if it would be a possibility. Much to her delight, all the leaders agreed to make it happen. Even more important, the girls rallied around Kelsey and really made her feel a part of all the camp activities.
After five days of crafts, outdoor skills, and other standard camp activities (many of which were tailored to fit Kelsey’s needs) Kelsey returned home happy and excited.
“You know, those girls really love me,” says Kelsey.