Gospel Story Finder

President Russell M. Nelson taught that we should “learn to listen, and listen to learn from one another.”3 As you listen with the intent of learning about others, you will be in a better position to understand their needs and hear promptings about how you can care for those around you as the Savior would.

A story from Elder Holland illustrates the power of listening:
“My friend Troy Russell pulled his pickup truck slowly out of his garage. … He felt his back tire roll over a bump. … He got out only to find his precious nine-year-old son, Austen, lying face down on the pavement. … Austen was gone.
“Unable to sleep, unable to find peace, Troy was inconsolable. … But into that agonizing breach came … John Manning. …
“I frankly don’t know on what schedule John and his junior companion made visits to the Russell home. … What I do know is that last spring Brother Manning reached down and picked Troy Russell up off the tragedy of that driveway just as if he were picking up little Austen himself. Like the … brother in the gospel he was supposed to be, John simply took over the priesthood care and keeping of Troy Russell. He started by saying, ‘Troy, Austen wants you back on your feet—including on the basketball court—so I will be here every morning at 5:15 a.m. Be ready. …’
“‘I didn’t want to go,’ Troy told me later, ‘because I had always taken Austen with me. … But John insisted, so I went. From that first day back, we talked—or rather I talked and John listened. … At first it was difficult, but over time I realized I had found my strength in the form of [John Manning], who loved me and listened to me until the sun finally rose again on my life.’”4

Darrell was born in Bournemouth, the middle son of John and Iris Babidge. Music and the arts were a part of his childhood; his grandfather played keyboard in a band and his dad had a striking voice and loved to sing.
Singing wasn’t Darrell’s forte, to begin with, but he did have a love for the piano, inspired by his wonderful piano teacher, Miss Martin, who taught him from the age of 10. His uncle, Bryan Aubrey, was also a supporter of his musical ambition and bought him a metronome.
At the age of 16, despite his early promise, Darrell failed his O-level in music, although he still played the piano and sang at his local church. At this point singing was still an untapped passion in his life.
After serving a full-time mission in Scotland for the Church, Darrell went back to work at the solicitors’ practice of Lester and Russell. He enjoyed the work and the solicitors loved him and his work ethic.
They encouraged him to go to the careers office to find out what he would need to do to become a legal executive. Darrell was encouraged to pursue the vocation that meant the most to him. It was to be a pivotal conversation, for he left the office determined to follow a career in music. The advisor had told him that such a path promised little money or future, and yet something had been sparked in the young man’s imagination; even though the path was far from straightforward, he had a vision to follow.
At the age of 23 he auditioned for the London College of Music, using both voice and instrument (piano) as part of the audition. He was successful, and in 1990 started at the college as a mature student. Darrell was mindful of the career advisor’s warning, but his love of his chosen field blossomed and overrode any other practical or financial concerns.
During his time at the London College of Music he attended a performance of The Magic Flute at the English National Opera. There he had an epiphany, setting the wheels in motion for the next shift in his career.
Transferring to the Royal Northern College of Music in Manchester, Darrell won a prestigious competition and was employed by the Glyndebourne Festival Opera. His voice was starting to be heard.
Darrell graduated in 1997 and attended Brigham Young University in Utah, USA to complete his master’s degree. From there, he moved to New York City to study at the Manhattan School of Music, for his third degree in the subject he had once failed while still a struggling schoolboy.
Whilst in New York he met and married Jennifer Welch, a renowned opera singer in her own right. In 2005 Darrell, Jenny and their two little sons moved back to Utah where they were both asked to teach at BYU. Darrell was eventually offered a full-time position, and Jenny decided to be a full-time mother.
As a professor of music for 14 years, Darrell was hugely successful, with his students winning major international opera competitions. One of his students, Rachel Willis-Sørensen, was invited to sing at Prince Charles’ 70th birthday party at Buckingham Palace, who has since gone on to be a highly successful recording artist.
In 2019, Darrell was approached by the world-renowned Juilliard School and offered a full-time faculty position. Darrell, Jenny and now five children moved back to New York.
His abilities opened many doors. He was part of the Channel Four programme on Glyndebourne Festival Opera; he sang with the BBC Symphony Chorus in the Last Night of the Proms; and he was a soloist at the BBC Proms at The Royal Albert Hall, and a member of The Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square. He has also sung at the Metropolitan Opera and Carnegie Hall.
In 2021 it was announced that Darrell would be chair of the music faculty at the Juilliard School. It can be no surprise to learn that his students have also won many competitions and have appeared on The Voice and America’s Got Talent. One student has also been nominated for a Grammy award.
Not bad for a young man who failed O-level music and was told a career in music had no future.
In Darrell’s words, “Never give up your hopes of doing something you love! I always knew I had a passion for music; my 16-year-old self just didn’t know it.”

Armed with cleaning rags, needed supplies, and lots of heart, more than 400 youth in Nampa, Idaho, set out to do some good in their community. In a citywide effort that included 20 wards and 1 branch in the 2 Nampa stakes, the youth committed a Saturday to serving. But they also spent weeks in preparation: making quilts, practicing programs, and organizing food, clothing, and toy drives. On the day of the project they did everything from stacking firewood for the elderly in their wards to filling the supply closets at shelters. Following all their service the youth got a much-deserved rest, including a testimony meeting, dinner, and a dance.

One clue comes out of a conversation I had recently with Brenda, a woman I work with. A month or two prior to our conversation she had been called to serve as the young women’s secretary in her ward. And she had mentioned at that time that she wasn’t exactly thrilled with her new calling. So when I asked her recently if she liked her new calling any better, I was surprised to learn that she now loves it. What happened?

“I’ve always believed you shouldn’t refuse a call from the bishop,” Brenda responded, “so when our bishop came to our home that day and asked me to serve as the young women’s secretary, I couldn’t tell him no. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him yes, either. I had worked with the young women several times before, and I’m ashamed to say I hated it. Well, the bishop took my silence to mean yes, and so I was sustained in sacrament meeting the following Sunday. I’m afraid I felt kind of like a martyr when I started my new calling.”

Naturally I asked Brenda how she had come to have such a change of heart. And her experience, combined with what I have learned from others and from my own experiences, leads me to this conclusion: we can enjoy our callings if we learn to apply certain principles and techniques.

Even though Brenda had not had pleasant experiences in working with the young women, she decided this time that she would find as much good in her new calling as she possibly could. “I fasted and prayed for a change of heart,” she told me. “I even asked my husband to give me a special blessing.” Rather than accepting distaste for her calling as a fact of life, Brenda set out to change her attitude about it.

Brenda says that this greater understanding has had much to do with her enjoyment of her calling. “Just filling in reports with numbers and marking X’s on rolls to show attendance meant very little to me. But then I realized that I was helping the class advisors and the young women’s presidency to be informed about the activity of each individual girl. I was also providing information that would help the bishop schedule those vital annual interviews with each girl. So instead of having an impersonal calling that dealt with statistics, I found that by performing my calling well, I was really helping people.”

Another young man, Spencer W. Kimball, was about fourteen when Susa Gates spoke at their stake conference. He recalls: “She gave a rousing talk on the reading of the scriptures; … then she stopped … to ask … us, ‘How many of you have read the Bible through?’

“… My accusing heart said to me, ‘You, Spencer Kimball, you have never read that holy book. Why?’ I looked around me … to see if I was alone in my failure to read the sacred book. Of the thousand people, there were perhaps a half dozen who proudly raised their hands. … When the meeting closed, I … rushed home … gritting my teeth and saying to myself, ‘I will. I will.’”

He went home, got a coal-oil lamp, and climbed the stairs to his attic room. “There,” he said, “I opened my Bible and began [with] Genesis … and I read well into the night with Adam and Eve … and through the flood even to Abraham.” (President Kimball Speaks Out, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Co., 1981, pp. 92–93.)

He continued to read a little each night. Although he didn’t always understand what he was reading, he had made a commitment to himself. At the end of a year, he had finished. This achievement set a pattern for his life. The sermons and the writings of President Kimball convince us that he has labored long hours to gain his profound insights into the holy scriptures.

Being an intern for the New Era magazine is definitely a thrill. I get to discuss the exciting future of the youth of the Church, learn about how the Church magazines operate, and write to my heart’s content.
Of course the job does have a few snags—I have to wear dresses every day, I have to be here at practically the crack of dawn, and riding the elevator up to the 23rd floor of the Church Office Building after lunch makes me queasy. But the benefits by far outweigh the costs.
The only thing missing from this opportunity of a lifetime is an office with a window. Of course, I’m a bit out of line wanting one—I think you have to work here about 20 years before you get that blessing. But one day one of the editors called in sick. I knew what that meant. I’d get to use her office for the day, and I’d have windows.
For about the first 15 minutes, I didn’t get anything done; I was too busy enjoying the view. The office faced west, and I had before me an unsurpassed view of Temple Square and its surroundings. Moroni was sparkling in the sunlight, and it was the first time I’d ever seen him without getting a crick in my neck.
I watched the ant-sized people milling about the grounds. I saw a wedding party trying to organize itself for the photographer, flower beds aglow with spring blossoms, and magnificent structures built to give glory to the Lord.
Then I looked beyond the temple grounds to the surrounding city. Somehow, it paled in comparison. The grass wasn’t as green, and the people didn’t seem quite as buoyant. I saw grim asphalt parking lots, dusty train yards, and a tan layer of air covering the valley.
Then I looked up at the sky, and a thought popped into my head. This must be what it’s like for Heavenly Father. I wondered what he thinks as he observes his children from on high. I found the answer in the scriptures.
In Psalms 14:2, David says the Lord “looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God.” [Ps. 14:2] and again in Jeremiah 31:28, the Lord speaks of watching his children, saying, “As I have watched over them, to pluck up, and to break down, and to throw down, and to destroy, and to afflict; so will I watch over them, to build, and to plant, saith the Lord.” [Jer. 31:28] The Lord watched over the children of Israel during times of joy, sorrow, obedience, and transgression—just as he watches us now. And although we aren’t always as righteous as we should be, he is always there.
It’s reassuring to know that the Lord is always watching and will not forsake us.
Tomorrow, I return to my storage-closet-turned-intern-office. I’ll still envy others’ windows, but I’ll have quite a different perspective on the world than I did before.

Some years ago, just before leaving Salt Lake to attend the annual meetings of Boy Scouts of America in Atlanta, Georgia, I decided to take with me enough copies of the New Era so that I might share with Scouting officials this excellent publication. When I arrived at the hotel in Atlanta, I opened the package of magazines. I found that my secretary, for no accountable reason, had put in the package two extra copies of the June issue, an issue that featured temple marriage. I left the two copies in the hotel room and, as planned, distributed the other copies.

On the final day of meetings, I had no desire to attend the scheduled luncheon but felt compelled to return to my room. The telephone was ringing as I entered. The caller was a member of the Church who had heard I was in Atlanta. She introduced herself and asked if I could provide a blessing for her 10-year-old daughter. I agreed readily, and she indicated that she and her husband, their daughter, and their son would come immediately to my hotel room. As I waited, I prayed for help. The applause of the convention was replaced by the feelings of peace which accompanied prayer.

Then came the knock at the door and the privilege which was mine to meet a choice family. The 10-year-old daughter walked with the aid of crutches. Cancer had required the amputation of her left leg; however, her countenance was radiant, her trust in God unwavering. A blessing was provided. Mother and son knelt by the side of the bed while the father and I placed our hands on the tiny daughter. We were directed by the Spirit of God. We were humbled by its power.

I felt the tears course down my cheeks and tumble upon my hands as they rested on the head of that beautiful child of God. I spoke of eternal ordinances and family exaltation. The Lord prompted me to urge this family to enter the holy temple of God. At the conclusion of the blessing, I learned that such a temple visit was planned. Questions pertaining to the temple were asked. I heard no heavenly voice, nor did I see a vision. Yet there came clearly into my mind the words, “Refer to the New Era.” I looked toward the dresser, and there were the two extra copies of the temple issue of the New Era. One copy was given to the daughter and the other to her parents. We reviewed them together.

The family said farewell, and once again the room was still. A prayer of gratitude came easily and, once more, the resolve to ever provide a place for prayer.

Seminary students in Farmington, Maine, had an unusual visitor to their early-morning seminary class—a 240-pound moose named Matthew. Because Matthew was abandoned by his mother, he was adopted by a couple in the ward and became the talk of the town. Matthew also served as a good missionary tool, since people connected him with members of the Church.
Last spring, Matthew was released back into the wild, but his friends in seminary will never forget his visit.

During the monsoon when heavy rains swelled the Ciliwong, a monkey PLOPPED in front of Kancil while she was nibbling on tender young liana leaves. Kancil reared back on her tiny hooves and her large eyes rolled wildly. “Why scare me so, Monyét (monkey)!” she cried.
“Hurry, Kancil,” Monyét urged, “your grandmother is gravely ill. She wishes to see her family one more time. I’ve just risked my life leaping from branch to branch over the Ciliwong to find you. Hurry, before the river bandjirs (floods).”
Kancil dashed toward the Ciliwong, but the fast-rising waters were already touching the upper banks. Her familiar stepping boulders were hidden under the rushing waters. How was she to get across to her seriously ill grandmother?
Just then a large tree trunk, felled by the storms, came floating by and halted in a whirling eddy at the river’s edge.
Kancil lifted one tiny hoof to see if the trunk were solid. Then she noticed nostrils and beady eyes. She stepped back and did some quick thinking. “Hello there, Buaya!” she shouted over the roaring river.
Buaya’s piercing eyes never left Kancil. He had not forgotten his humiliating defeat in front of his girl friend and this time he vowed he’d get even.
“Guess what I just heard!” Kancil shouted even louder.
Buaya only stared, hoping to lure her into the water.
“Monyét claims the Kancil family far outnumbers the Buaya family!”
“Impossible!” cried Buaya, his eyes looking even beadier. “The Buaya family has always outnumbered every family in the jungle.”
“Monyét says there are more of us than you!” Kancil switched her short tail while keeping a wary eye on Buaya.
“‘Tis a lie!” Buaya’s tail slapped the water in disgust.
“Ask Monyét!”
Buaya’s eyes searched the tree branches overhanging the Ciliwong, but Monyét was nowhere to be seen.
“Why don’t you call all your family members together and I’ll call mine. In an hour we’ll meet again and count them and get this over with once and for all!” Kancil shouted.
Kancil had to make her preposterous proposal twice because Buaya never quite trusted her. But Kancil’s eyes looked so big and anxious and sincere that Buaya dove into the river and within half an hour was back with sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, cousins, nephews, nieces, grandparents, and other distant relatives.
When Buaya saw only Kancil on the riverbank, his tail slapped the water. “Where’s your family?” he shouted.
“On the other side. I sent Monyét to tell them about our argument, and they’ll be waiting to be counted. In the meantime let’s start counting the Buaya family.” Kancil continued smoothly, “You line up side by side in rows across the river and I’ll count you. When I’m finished, you shall count my family.”
The crocodiles lined up side by side, feet touching, and Kancil jumped from back to back, counting, “1, 2, 3, …” until she reached 207. Then she jumped onto the shore. “Thank you friends!” she shouted, making a curtsy by bending one slender hoof under her tiny body, “for making a bridge. I was in desperate need to get across!”
All the crocodiles’ tails churned the muddy river into a bandjir that overflowed the banks for miles. But Kancil ran ahead of the spreading flood till she was safe with her grandmother.

While serving in Santiago, Chile, as a mission leader with my husband, who was a mission president from 2012 to 2015, I learned some life-changing lessons about the reality of miracles and how they come about. Accepting this calling put me way out of my comfort zone because of my inability to speak the language of our mission. I initially felt overwhelming inadequacy.
Early in the mission, a call from a family member helped me realize that I was focusing way too much on myself and my struggles. Remembering the advice that President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008) shared from his father to “forget yourself and go to work,”1 I decided to change my focus. Whenever I was feeling discouraged, I would ask myself, “Whom are you thinking about?” The answer was always me. So I would repent and turn my thoughts outward instead. I chose to focus on the missionaries, those they were teaching, or my family.
I also tried to remember what I could do, not focus on what I couldn’t do. I could smile, give hugs, and get to work learning Spanish, even though that meant frequent failure. I went out with the sister missionaries often (rather than hide away in the mission home where it was safe), even when I felt like there wasn’t much I could add.
As long as I was willing to keep taking little steps of faith, I felt the strengthening power of Christ through His atoning sacrifice helping me to overcome my weaknesses (see Jacob 4:7). As I pondered over the experiences I was having, I recognized a similar pattern in the lives of my favorite people in the scriptures. Here is my journal entry from October 2014:
“Examples from scripture of people choosing to step out of their comfort zone are many—such as Mary the mother of Jesus, Ruth, Esther, Paul, Enoch, Lehi and Nephi, Alma, Ammon and his brothers, Samuel, Abinadi, the 2,000 stripling young Lamanites, Joseph Smith, and many others. These all embraced opportunities that made them vulnerable. They could not predict or control the outcome of their circumstances. They were placed in situations far beyond their comfort zones of familiarity, and the risk of danger, pain, suffering, rejection, and failure were all possible, creating a need to be rescued by the Spirit and gifts from God.
“The natural man [see Mosiah 3:19] wants certainty, security, and control, but I have learned that that is not generally the threshold in which God works His miracles. My experience here has taught me that when people choose to limit what they can and will do, based on what they are comfortable with or to avoid failure, they limit what God can do with them. He seems to work His miracles with us more often when we have made ourselves vulnerable [to His will], when we are willing to step out into the unknown … and lean more completely on our faith in Him and not in our own abilities. I have learned that if I am more concerned with the learning, growing, and becoming process than with risking failure, I open myself to the strengthening power that Jesus Christ’s Atonement offers me.”
Divine Discontent
“Of course, all of us will fall short of our divine potential, and there is some truth in the realization that alone we are not enough. But the good news of the gospel is that with the grace of God, we are enough. With Christ’s help, we can do all things. The scriptures promise that we will “find grace to help in time of need” [Hebrews 4:16].
“The surprising truth is that our weaknesses can be a blessing when they humble us and turn us to Christ. Discontent becomes divine when we humbly approach Jesus Christ with our want, rather than hold back in self-pity. …
“Have you ever felt your talents and gifts were too small for the task ahead? I have. But you and I can give what we have to Christ, and He will multiply our efforts. What you have to offer is more than enough—even with your human frailties and weaknesses—if you rely on the grace of God.
“The truth is that each of us is one generation away from Deity—each is a child of God.”
Michelle D. Craig, “Divine Discontent,” Liahona, Nov. 2018, 54.
One experience that helped me learn this lesson took place when Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles visited our mission, together with the three other missions in Santiago. There were over 1,000 missionaries gathered in our chapel where my husband had been asked to conduct the meeting. Elder Holland entered the chapel, took the seat next to my husband, leaned over to us, and said, “Okay, here’s what we are going to do. Sister Wright, you will speak first and represent all of the mission presidents’ wives here. Then President Wright will follow.”
I honestly didn’t hear the rest of the agenda. It had never occurred to me that Elder Holland would ask me to speak, so I had made no preparations. I prefer time to prepare to speak, time to gather my thoughts a little at least, but I would be speaking immediately after the opening hymn and prayer.
As my thoughts began to swirl, I felt the sudden desire to share my message in Spanish. However, though we were a year into the mission, and I had worked very hard to learn Spanish, I was still struggling with the language, and I was definitely not fluent in it. The translator was available to me if I spoke in English, but this was a Spanish-speaking mission, and I really wanted to speak in Spanish. Speaking would be a hard thing for me to do in English; speaking in Spanish felt like a giant leap. So amid the sound of 1,000 missionaries singing “Called to Serve” (Hymns, 249), I took a deep breath, confessed my inadequacies to my Father in Heaven, and pled for help to be rescued by the Spirit.
I told Heavenly Father that I had no idea what to say or how to say it in Spanish, but I promised Him that I would open my mouth and do my best, having faith that He would fill it (see Moses 6:32). In that moment, I felt a peaceful assurance come over me. After the prayer I rose to the pulpit and began to speak. Words I had pondered before came back in that needed moment, even in the foreign language I was struggling to communicate in. I sat down after my short three-minute talk, still feeling at peace but unsure about how effectively I had communicated.
After the meeting, the brother who had translated for Elder Holland approached me and said, “Sister Wright, I had no idea you spoke Spanish so well!” I replied, “I don’t.” He assured me that I hadn’t made any mistakes.
I am sure that none of those missionaries remembers anything about my short message that day. But for me it was a life-changing experience. I learned to put my trust in Heavenly Father and the Savior, that They could and would strengthen me despite my weaknesses when I was willing to take a leap of faith. If I had chosen the safe route and used the translator, I might never have learned how They rescue us when we open ourselves to letting God prevail.2
I have always loved this portion of the definition of “Grace” in the Bible Dictionary: “It is … through the grace of the Lord that individuals, through faith in the Atonement of Jesus Christ and repentance of their sins, receive strength and assistance to do good works that they otherwise would not be able to maintain if left to their own means.”
I felt His grace that day. Taking that leap of faith gave me the courage to leap out of my comfort zone again and again in the future. Failure will always be a part of the learning process, and I experienced plenty of that with the language for the rest of my mission. But when it mattered most, I felt Jesus Christ’s support and strength lift me above my natural abilities so that I could be the instrument in His hands that He needed me to be to bless others. My faith and trust in Him have grown exponentially, which is the greatest gift I took home from our mission. By the time we came home, I was able to speak Spanish fluently, and I am now able to use it to serve others as a volunteer in my community and in the Spanish branch where we currently attend church.
I have a testimony that “if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them” (Ether 12:27).

White Eagle stopped suddenly. He forgot the deer he had been trailing as he stared at a Conestoga wagon drawn up in the clearing. Instinct urged him to flee, but he was overwhelmed with curiosity. White Eagle had never seen the strange covered wagons except from a distance, and sometimes they were blurred by clouds of dust.
The Indian youth cautiously circled the clumsy boat-like vehicle. His dark eyes were glittering with excitement, but he was poised for instant flight. He had seen people traveling in wagon trains, one wagon behind the other, creeping like a string of ants across the plains. He wondered why just one wagon had stopped here. Was it abandoned? There were no horses nearby.
As he approached the rear of the wagon, he was startled by a sudden sound of crying. “If I had the sense of a groundhog, I would run away like the wind,” he murmured. His father, Chief Running Horse, had warned him about rashness many times. I’ll just peek inside quickly and then go, the bronzed youth decided, trying not to visualize his father’s stern and disapproving face.
Looking inside, White Eagle saw that it was a newborn baby who was making the strange crying sound. He stared from the baby to the young mother lying still. White Eagle wondered if she were dead, but her eyes opened in terror when White Eagle touched her feverish cheek with his cool hand. He quickly backed away and spread his hands apart, signaling that he meant no harm to her and the infant.
“Water … water. Please!” she whispered. White Eagle could not understand her, but her hot cheeks and cracked lips showed her need. He knew that the river was nearby, but White Eagle had nothing in which to carry water. He tried to convey this message by motioning with his hands.
The young mother weakly pointed to a round-top trunk near the front of the wagon. Then she made motions of drinking. Water in a box? She must be delirious from the fever.
Lifting the trunk’s lid, White Eagle found a shallow tray filled with small bundles. He handed one of the bundles to the sick woman and watched as she unrolled the cloth, revealing the most beautiful drinking vessel he had ever seen. Pretending to sip from it, she motioned outside and tapped the side of the wagon. Of course! She meant the barrels lashed to the wagon. White Eagle dashed out to a barrel and brought water in the cup. He lifted her head to help her drink.
Wonder filled his face as he looked at the delicate china cup. It was snow white, light as a bubble, and decorated with bright pink flowers. Gleaming gold scallops were all around the top. How he wished that he might have such a treasure! But he knew that it belonged to the woman; so he carefully placed it nearby where it would not be broken.
The woman grew more tired and visibly weaker as she tried to tell him by sign language what had happened. White Eagle understood that they had missed joining a wagon train because the young mother had become ill. After one horse ran away, her husband took the other horse and rode for help.
White Eagle’s scalp prickled with dread as the woman kept pushing the baby toward him. She wanted him to take her baby to his people! How could White Eagle make her understand that she was asking him to do something impossible? He was alone in the forest without food or weapons as a test of approaching manhood. If for any reason he went back before his allotted time, both he and his father, the chief, would be disgraced and White Eagle would fail his survival trial and prove himself unfit to be a brave!
Several times White Eagle prepared to leave, but he could not. Both mother and child would surely die without his help. Why had he, White Eagle, been saddled with such a problem? Had he already failed the test by having contact with the ill woman? Would he be forced to leave his tribe in disgrace?
Remembering the difficult days and nights he had already endured, White Eagle sighed with despair, but he could not just go away and leave the mother and baby to die. He knew that his mother would know how to make the young woman well again. His aunt had a young baby and she could easily care for this child too. If only this were the last day of his test and he could seek help from his family. But White Eagle had three more days of survival before he could return to his people!
Suddenly the boy thought of a solution—a way he might get help without going to the village. Taking one of the horse blankets from the wagon, White Eagle climbed to the top of the bluffs beside the river and built a fire of green brush. A thick column of smoke soon rose high, and he began to signal. White Eagle sighed with relief as he finally sighted puffs of smoke rising in reply from across the plains.
The boy stayed beside the wagon, giving sips of water to the sick woman. When he heard horses approaching, White Eagle fled into the forest and watched from a distance as his uncle, Red Feather, and several other braves dismounted. Red Feather noticed White Eagle’s moccasin tracks. The braves will not harm the woman and child; they are now in good hands, the boy decided as he turned and left.
When White Eagle returned to his snares, he found the first two untouched, but his stomach rumbled with anticipation as he saw a rabbit caught in the third. He had not eaten since the evening before. Although he had prepared warm gruel from food in the wagon for the sick woman, White Eagle did not eat. According to the test, he was to provide and prepare his own food. The woman was very ill and had slept most of the time. No one would have known if he had cheated, but it was a matter of honor that he did not.
Rising at dawn three days later, White Eagle prepared to return to his people. He sorted and rolled his possessions in a deer hide, which when cured would make new moccasins and a shirt. He had come into the forest without food or weapons; he was returning with the deer hide, many small animal pelts, a bow, arrows, sharp bone knives and scrapers he had made, and a handsome claw necklace. He knew he had earned the bright feathers his father would thrust into his beaded headband—unless helping the white woman and child had violated the conditions of his test! That worry nagged at him.
A muted drumbeat signaled his approach as White Eagle entered the village. The women came out of their tepees and smiling braves watched as the youth approached the chief’s lodge. Small boys and dogs excitedly trailed along behind him.
As his father stepped out of his lodge, there was pride, not disapproval, reflected in the chief’s eyes. The tribe gathered around, and each one watched with respect as the youth opened his bundle and displayed the pelts and the weapons.
White Eagle stood straight and tall when his father began to speak. “An Indian brave may collect many feathers, but according to our laws he cannot wear them until he wins that right. White Eagle not only passed his test, but he showed compassion and saved two lives. We know this because we saw the grateful white man drive the wagon away only yesterday with his wife beside him and their child cradled in her arms. White Eagle has earned the right to wear the feather prized above all others—that of the golden eagle, which represents this bird’s great strength and courage.”
White Eagle caught his breath as the chief removed a magnificent fourteen-inch feather from his ceremonial headdress and tucked it into his son’s headband. From the feather’s white color and dark brown tip, the new brave knew that it was one of the thirteen tail feathers of the adult eagle. These prized feathers were considered to possess great medicine. White Eagle had not expected such an honor!
There were gasps of astonishment as White Eagle’s mother emerged from the tepee with a jewel-like drinking vessel balanced on a matching saucer, the gold trim glistening in the sunlight. She told White Eagle the cup was a gift to him from the young mother.
“Such a vessel belongs only to a chief,” White Eagle said, handing the delicate set to his father. “Someday when I have proved worthy, I will reclaim it.”

President Monson, we love, honor, and sustain you! This historically significant announcement with respect to missionary service is inspiring. I can remember the excitement in 1960 when the age for young men serving was reduced from 20 years of age to 19. I arrived in the British Mission as a newly called 20-year-old. The first 19-year-old in our mission was Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, an incredible addition. He was a few months shy of being 20. Then over the course of a year, many more 19-year-olds arrived. They were obedient and faithful missionaries, and the work progressed. I am confident that an even greater harvest will be achieved now as righteous, committed missionaries fulfill the Savior’s commandment to preach His gospel.
In my view, those of you in the rising generation are better prepared than any previous generation. Your knowledge of the scriptures is particularly impressive. However, the challenges your generation faces as you prepare for service are similar to those faced by all members of the Church. We are all aware the culture in most of the world is not conducive to righteousness or spiritual commitment. Throughout history, Church leaders have warned the people and taught repentance. In the Book of Mormon, Alma the Younger was so concerned about unrighteousness and lack of commitment that he resigned as chief judge, the leader of the people of Nephi, and concentrated all his efforts on his prophetic calling.1
In one of the most profound verses in all of scripture, Alma proclaims, “If ye have experienced a change of heart, and if ye have felt to sing the song of redeeming love, I would ask, can ye feel so now?”2
Local leaders across the world report that when viewed as a whole, Church members, especially our youth, have never been stronger. But they almost always raise two concerns: first, the challenge of increased unrighteousness in the world and, second, the apathy and lack of commitment of some members. They seek counsel about how to help members to follow the Savior and achieve a deep and lasting conversion.
This question, “Can ye feel so now?” rings across the centuries. With all that we have received in this dispensation—including the Restoration of the fulness of the gospel of Jesus Christ, the outpouring of spiritual gifts, and the indisputable blessings of heaven—Alma’s challenge has never been more important.
Soon after Ezra Taft Benson was called as an Apostle in 1943, President George Albert Smith3 counseled, “Your mission … is to … warn the people … in as kind a way as possible that repentance will be the only panacea for the ills of this world.”4 When this statement was made, we were in the midst of the conflagration of World War II.
Today moral deterioration has escalated. One prominent writer recently said, “Everyone knows the culture is poisonous, and nobody expects that to change.”5 The constant portrayal of violence and immorality in music, entertainment, art, and other media in our day-to-day culture is unprecedented. This was dramatically described by a highly respected Baptist theologian when he stated, “The spiritual immune system of an entire civilization has been wounded.”6
It is not surprising that some in the Church believe they can’t answer Alma’s question with a resounding yes. They do not “feel so now.” They feel they are in a spiritual drought. Others are angry, hurt, or disillusioned. If these descriptions apply to you,7 it is important to evaluate why you cannot “feel so now.”
Many who are in a spiritual drought and lack commitment have not necessarily been involved in major sins or transgressions, but they have made unwise choices. Some are casual in their observance of sacred covenants. Others spend most of their time giving first-class devotion to lesser causes. Some allow intense cultural or political views to weaken their allegiance to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Some have immersed themselves in Internet materials that magnify, exaggerate, and, in some cases, invent shortcomings of early Church leaders. Then they draw incorrect conclusions that can affect testimony. Any who have made these choices can repent and be spiritually renewed.
Immersion in the scriptures is essential for spiritual nourishment.8 The word of God inspires commitment and acts as a healing balm for hurt feelings, anger, or disillusionment.9 When our commitment is diminished for any reason, part of the solution is repentance.10 Commitment and repentance are closely intertwined.
C. S. Lewis, the striving, pragmatic Christian writer, poignantly framed the issue. He asserted that Christianity tells people to repent and promises them forgiveness; but until people know and feel they need forgiveness, Christianity does not speak to them. He stated, “When you know you are sick, you will listen to the doctor.”11
The Prophet Joseph pointed out that before your baptism, you could be on neutral ground between good and evil. But “when you joined this Church you enlisted to serve God. When you did that you left the neutral ground, and you never can [go] back.” His counsel was that we must never forsake the Master.12
Alma emphasizes that through the Atonement of Jesus Christ, “the arms of mercy are extended” to those who repent.13 He then asks penetrating and ultimate questions, such as: Are we prepared to meet God? Are we keeping ourselves blameless? We should all contemplate these questions. Alma’s own experience in failing to follow his faithful father and then coming to a dramatic understanding of how much he needed forgiveness and what it meant to sing the song of redeeming love is powerful and compelling.
While anything that lessens commitment is of consequence, two relevant challenges are both prevalent and significant. The first is unkindness, violence, and domestic abuse. The second is sexual immorality and impure thoughts. These often precede and are at the root of the choice to be less committed.
How we treat those closest to us is of fundamental importance. Violence, abuse, lack of civility, and disrespect in the home are not acceptable—not acceptable for adults and not acceptable for the rising generation. My father was not active in the Church but was a remarkably good example, especially in his treatment of my mother. He used to say, “God will hold men responsible for every tear they cause their wives to shed.” This same concept is emphasized in “The Family: A Proclamation to the World.” It reads, “[Those] who abuse spouse or offspring … will one day stand accountable before God.”14 Regardless of the culture in which we are raised, and whether our parents did or did not abuse us, we must not physically, emotionally, or verbally abuse anyone else.15
The need for civility in society has never been more important. The foundation of kindness and civility begins in our homes. It is not surprising that our public discourse has declined in equal measure with the breakdown of the family. The family is the foundation for love and for maintaining spirituality. The family promotes an atmosphere where religious observance can flourish. There is indeed “beauty all around when there’s love at home.”16
Sexual immorality and impure thoughts violate the standard established by the Savior.17 We were warned at the beginning of this dispensation that sexual immorality would be perhaps the greatest challenge.18 Such conduct will, without repentance, cause a spiritual drought and loss of commitment. Movies, TV, and the Internet often convey degrading messages and images. President Dieter F. Uchtdorf and I were recently in an Amazon jungle village and observed satellite dishes even on some of the small, simply built huts. We rejoiced at the wonderful information available in this remote area. We also recognized there is virtually no place on earth that cannot be impacted by salacious, immoral, and titillating images. This is one reason why pornography has become such a plague in our day.
I recently had an insightful conversation with a 15-year-old Aaronic Priesthood holder. He helped me understand how easy it is in this Internet age for young people to almost inadvertently be exposed to impure and even pornographic images. He pointed out that for most principles the Church teaches, there is at least some recognition in society at large that violating these principles can have devastating effects on health and well-being. He mentioned cigarette smoking, drug use, and alcohol consumption by young people. But he noted that there is no corresponding outcry or even a significant warning from society at large about pornography or immorality.
My dear brothers and sisters, this young man’s analysis is correct. What is the answer? For years, prophets and apostles have taught the importance of religious observance in the home.19
Parents, the days are long past when regular, active participation in Church meetings and programs, though essential, can fulfill your sacred responsibility to teach your children to live moral, righteous lives and walk uprightly before the Lord. With President Monson’s announcement this morning, it is essential that this be faithfully accomplished in homes which are places of refuge where kindness, forgiveness, truth, and righteousness prevail. Parents must have the courage to filter or monitor Internet access, television, movies, and music. Parents must have the courage to say no, defend truth, and bear powerful testimony. Your children need to know that you have faith in the Savior, love your Heavenly Father, and sustain the leaders of the Church. Spiritual maturity must flourish in our homes. My hope is that no one will leave this conference without understanding that the moral issues of our day must be addressed in the family. Bishops and priesthood and auxiliary leaders need to support families and make sure that spiritual principles are taught. Home and visiting teachers can assist, especially with children of single parents.
The young man I mentioned earnestly asked if the Apostles knew how early in life teaching and protecting against pornography and impure thoughts should start. With emphasis, he stated that in some areas even before youth graduate from Primary is not too early.
Youth who have been exposed to immoral images at a very early age are terrified that they may have already disqualified themselves for missionary service and sacred covenants. As a result, their faith can be severely impaired. I want to assure you young people, as Alma taught, that through repentance you can qualify for all the blessings of heaven.20 That is what the Savior’s Atonement is all about. Please talk with your parents or a trusted adviser, and counsel with your bishop.
When it comes to morality, some adults believe that adherence to a single, overriding humanitarian project or principle nullifies the need to comply with the Savior’s teachings. They say to themselves that sexual misconduct is “a small thing … [if I am] a kind and charitable person.”21 Such thinking is a gross self-deception. Some young people inform me that in our current culture it is not “cool” to try too hard in many areas, including living strictly in accordance with righteous principles.22 Please do not fall into this trap.
At baptism we promise to take upon us “the name of [Jesus] Christ, having [the] determination to serve him to the end.”23 Such a covenant requires courageous effort, commitment, and integrity if we are to continue to sing the song of redeeming love and stay truly converted.
A historic example of commitment to be strong and immovable for all ages was portrayed by a British Olympian who competed in the 1924 Olympics in Paris, France.
Eric Liddell was the son of a Scottish missionary to China and a devoutly religious man. He infuriated the British leadership of the Olympics by refusing, even under enormous pressure, to run in a preliminary 100-meter race held on Sunday. Ultimately he was victorious in the 400-meter race. Liddell’s example of refusing to run on Sunday was particularly inspiring.
Depictions and memorials in his honor have referred to the inspirational words from Isaiah, “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”24
Liddell’s admirable conduct was very influential in our youngest son’s decision to not participate in Sunday sports and, more importantly, to separate himself from unrighteous and worldly conduct. He used the quote from Isaiah for his yearbook contribution. Eric Liddell left a powerful example of determination and commitment to principle.
As our youth follow President Monson’s counsel by preparing to serve missions, and as we all live the principles the Savior taught and prepare to meet God,25 we win a much more important race.26 We will have the Holy Ghost as our guide for spiritual direction. For any whose lives are not in order, remember, it is never too late to make the Savior’s Atonement the foundation of our faith and lives.27
In the words of Isaiah, “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.”28
My sincere prayer is that each of us will take any necessary action to feel the Spirit now so we can sing the song of redeeming love with all our hearts. I testify of the power of the Savior’s Atonement, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

However, one weekend during my service as a stake president, we experienced perhaps the worst trial parents can face. Our family returned from a Church activity and gathered for lunch. Then our three boys went out within our compound to play.
My wife felt repeated impressions that something might be wrong. She asked me to check on the children while we were washing the dishes. I felt they were safe since we could hear their voices of excitement from their play.
When we both finally went to check on our sons, to our dismay we found little 18-month-old Kenneth helpless in a bucket of water, unseen by his brothers. We rushed him to the hospital, but all attempts to revive him proved futile.
We were devastated that we would not have the opportunity to raise our precious child during this mortal life. Though we knew Kenneth would be part of our family eternally, I found myself questioning why God would let this tragedy happen to me when I was doing all I could to magnify my calling. I had just come home from fulfilling one of my duties in ministering to the Saints. Why couldn’t God look upon my service and save our son and our family from this tragedy? The more I thought about it, the more bitter I became.
My wife never blamed me for not responding to her promptings, but I learned a life-changing lesson and made two rules, never to be broken:
Rule 1: Listen to and heed the promptings of your wife.
Rule 2: If you are not sure for any reason, refer to rule number 1.
Though the experience was shattering and we continue to grieve, our overwhelming burden was eventually eased. My wife and I learned specific lessons from our loss. We came to feel united and bound by our temple covenants; we know we can claim Kenneth as ours in the next world because he was born in the covenant. We also gained experience necessary to minister to others and empathize with their pain. I testify that our bitterness has since dispersed as we exercised faith in the Lord. Our experience continues to be hard, but we have learned with the Apostle Paul that we “can do all things through Christ which [strengthens us]” if we focus on Him.

I had no sooner opened my lips in an effort to pray, than I heard a sound, just above my head, like the rustling of silken robes, and immediately the spirit of God descended upon me, completely enveloping my whole person, filling me from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, and O the joy and happiness I felt! No language can describe the almost instantaneous transition from a dense cloud of mental and spiritual darkness into a refulgence of light and knowledge, that God lives, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and of the restoration of the Holy Priesthood, and the fullness of the Gospel.

Fifteen years ago, there was a quorum of priests in the Salt Lake Valley which consisted of eight members who all attended the same high school. In spite of a certain sense of unity among them, each was different—from very different family circumstances, with his own set of problems, worries, challenges, and dreams. And while they were friends and seemed to enjoy the society of their quorum, there was something lacking that would unify and bond them together.
Living within the ward boundaries at the time was a young man who was not a member of the Church. He was their age, attended their school, and was a star athlete. He was popular and well respected and enjoyed the praise and admiration that came with that kind of popularity. And although he knew and was on friendly terms with each of the priests in the quorum, he had a different set of friends, traveled in another social circle, and hung out with a different crowd.
For some weeks, this young man had been discussed in the quorum meetings in terms of his success in sports and his relative popularity at school. He was a topic of discussion at some point in almost every quorum meeting. On one such Sunday, the bishop, meeting with the quorum in his role as quorum president, suggested that they consider teaching and baptizing this popular young friend of theirs. The quorum members at first laughed at the suggestion, expressing their beliefs that this young man would never join the Church. The bishop’s encouragement was persistent over several weeks, and, finally, the group agreed that they would invite this young man to one or two of their activities. To their surprise, he agreed.
Gradually, one by one, each member of the quorum had an influence on him. He began to attend activities regularly and even came to Sunday meetings. Finally, the quorum leaders approached him about meeting with the missionaries and hearing the discussions. He agreed and received permission from his family.
At first, they took turns visiting him with the missionaries. One or two of them would accompany the elders to his home, the meetinghouse, or some other teaching location. They began to sit together at the games where their friend played, and a spirit of purpose, unity, and strength began to grow among them. They began to change in ways that everyone in the ward noticed. Their parents commented. The bishopric saw it. Other ward members mentioned it, and they themselves felt the changes that were taking place in their lives.
Finally the day of baptism came. They were all there—sitting on the front row and watching intently as one of the full-time missionaries escorted their friend into the baptismal waters. Somehow, it wouldn’t have been fair for any one of them to perform the baptism. They had all become so close and so much a team, that they agreed the elders should perform the ordinance.
Time has passed. Years have flown by. Those young men have served missions, married in the temple, become husbands and fathers, and moved away from the old ward. But every one of them remembers those days of unity, of brotherhood, of friendship, and of the joy of sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ with their friend. No matter what happens to that little group, their lives were changed forever that year. They tasted of true quorum unity and strength.

“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16). This is the first scripture mastery verse I learned in my first year of seminary. After I memorized it, I tried to follow its teaching. I never knew who was watching me, but I wanted to set a good example for them. As I became good friends with my piano teacher, I learned that we can shine as bright as a candle and stand out in a group.
I’d begun practicing piano in kindergarten. After I finished sixth grade, my family moved to a different state, so I had to find a new music teacher. A friend at church suggested I take lessons from her instructor, Susan. At the time, Susan was teaching about 80 lessons a week and her schedule was very full. But she agreed to teach me and squeezed my piano lesson in right after school.
At each lesson, the first song I would practice would be a hymn. As I played, Susan sang the words and would often ask me questions about the scriptural meaning of the piece. This served as a great missionary opportunity. Susan and I had fun as we played duets and learned more about each other. I found out that she worked as the music director at her Catholic church. She always showed a great love for God, and I am glad we had such a strong relationship.
One day, Susan sent out invitations for a recital. At my lesson, she told me it would be our last performance. To her dismay, she had to close down her piano studio because our economic times hurt Susan financially and she knew she couldn’t pay the rent for her studio and keep her two other jobs going.
The night of the recital arrived and was filled with splendid talent and beautiful music. Before each student performed, Susan shared something unique about the person or information about the song he or she would play. As she stood before the audience to introduce me, she began to tear up. “I know that God sends certain people into our lives for a reason,” she began. She said she could see something bright and different about me. As she spoke about our friendship, I felt the Spirit strongly, and I could tell she felt it too. Then I played a duet with Susan for the finale of the recital.
The impact and importance of my lessons stretched far beyond improving my piano talent. There was a reason Susan chose to teach me even though she already had an overflowing list of students waiting for an open lesson. I know that because I tried to set a good example for Susan, she is now more familiar with the Church and its teachings. She has not given up her own religion to change faiths, but she knows about the restored gospel. I’m glad I could share my light with her.

Let me conclude by sharing with you a recent episode in the life of Elder Anguiano, a young Mexican-American who prepared for a Spanish-speaking mission, only to be called by the prophet to serve in Christchurch, New Zealand, of all places! Imagine a young man with Spanish as his prime language being sent to a country where the Spanish language is spoken very rarely, if ever!

As President Philip Sonntag waited at the airport for his one lone missionary to arrive, his mind was seeking for divine help in the proper placement of a young man with Spanish language ability in a mission where only English was understood. As the passengers started deplaning, President Sonntag spotted his new elder immediately. Maybe it was his gleaming, new white shirt that seemed particularly white compared to the other holidaying passengers. His sparkling attitude set him apart as being very special. He was one of the Lord’s anointed. His steps quickened as he neared the terminal building. He was obviously eager to start his mission. As he approached his mission president, it was with outstretched arms for a warm Mexican abrazo. This was his background, this was his custom even in faraway New Zealand. And then he spoke his first words: “President, I have come here to baptize.”

Now, mission presidents don’t usually release one of their assistants to be a trainer for a new missionary, but when the Spirit prompted President Sonntag for the third time, he was convinced, and Elder Keung, an outstanding young man of Chinese and Maori parentage, was made available to form this “League of Nations” companionship.

Would you believe that not more than three weeks later President Sonntag was informed that the two had contacted what was perhaps the only family on the south island of New Zealand who could speak nothing but Spanish? This Chilean family, newly arrived in New Zealand, needed the Church. They needed Elder Anguiano, and the Lord answered that need through a living prophet. Not only that, but word has now come that more than one hundred other families from Chile are currently in the process of immigrating to New Zealand, and Elder Anguiano is anxiously waiting with his newly baptized family to start the friendshipping and teaching process.

Such were the missions in the early career of Lorenzo Snow—and the beginnings of many more. The following year he went to Great Britain. He was upon the sea forty-two stormy days. Writing to his aunt he described the storms:
“Just look at me in your lively imagination, in one of these terrific storms, seated to a large hogshead of water—holding on, with both hands, to ropes near by … the ship reeling and dashing from side to side—now and then a monster wave leaping over the bulwarks, treating all present with a shower bath—see, sitting near me, a man weeping bitterly with terror on his countenance—the next moment a wave shoots over the bulwarks, dashing him from his seat and landing him … on the opposite side, from which he arises with a broken arm and dripping wet.” Below, boxes broke loose and tumbled about among the groaning and crying women and children. Yet, through it all, Elder Snow was filled with peace, for he was on the Lord’s errand.

Jovencio Ilagan smiles as he tells that he had intended to just play along with the missionaries who knocked on his door. “I wasn’t a very religious person,” he says. But then he began to read the Book of Mormon. As he was reading in Alma, he says, “I felt the warm feeling that comes when the Holy Ghost is there bearing testimony.” Jovencio, Zenaida, and their six children who were old enough set a baptismal date.

But three days before the baptism, “I had a business appointment with some of my old drinking buddies,” he says. “They persuaded me to drink beer with them.”

Jovencio admitted to the sister missionaries what he had done. “I’m sure they were devastated. I told them to go ahead and have my wife and children baptized, and I would follow later. But the very wise district leader said no. That was a tremendous pressure, you know! Here’s my family—they couldn’t be baptized! Oh, I struggled!” A week later, they were all baptized.

Soon Jovencio became Young Men president and Zenaida became Relief Society president. They’ve since had many callings, including his as regional representative and mission president.

The Ilagans saw their lives change in many ways. “We have a data entry service bureau,” he says, “and many times we had to work on Sundays to meet our deadlines. But after we joined the Church, we decided we wouldn’t work on Sundays. So we lost some clients. But the income we earned during the six days in the week was far more than what we used to make working overtime seven days a week.”

Then they had an opportunity to open a restaurant while still operating their service bureau. “But we never opened on Sundays. We never served any beer or coffee. We never sold any cigarettes—or anything that we felt was against the Word of Wisdom. Some customers would say, ‘What kind of restaurant is this?’ and walk off! But we had a good family atmosphere and reached a different market.”

A few years later, they sold the restaurant for a profit. Jovencio was hired as manager of the Church’s distribution center in Manila. He later worked with membership and statistical records and in data processing. Now he is area manager of materials management.

“The gospel brought a complete turnaround in my husband,” says Sister Ilagan. “It brought a peace I had never known before. And it came into our lives just in time for our children.” Several of them have served missions and have been married in the temple.

Petey didn’t want to be a Sunbeam. I knew because I sat on the row behind the little chairs. At first they were empty. Then, one by one, the new Sunbeam class walked in.
I nudged my friend Ryan. “Hey, there’s your little sister Maggie!”
He shrugged, but I could tell by his smile that he was proud to be a big brother in Primary now.
I knew some other Sunbeams, too. There was Ralph’s little brother Jakey and Caitlyn’s little sister Ashley. The only one I didn’t know very well was the boy with the wild brown hair—Petey. His hair stuck out all over the place like a bird’s nest.
The bishop had introduced Petey’s family to the ward during sacrament meeting just last week. I’d turned around to see if they had a boy I could play with, but the only names he announced were the parents’ names and “Peter Alexander.” Petey didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Maybe if he’d had a brother or sister, he wouldn’t have been so scared.
As soon as the Sunbeams walked to their chairs in front of the whole Primary, Petey started to cry—loud. Sister Evans tried to make him feel better by holding him on her lap and showing him her happy/sad-face puppets, but it didn’t do any good. He sucked in big gulps of air and cried even louder. Finally, Sister Evans carried him out.
Some of the children giggled when they could still hear him bawling in the hallway, but I felt sorry for him. I remembered going to a friend’s birthday party once. There must have been 20 children there who I’d never seen before. It was scary being around a bunch of people I didn’t know, but at least I knew my friend and his parents.
Petey probably didn’t know anybody at Primary. That’s when I got an idea—what if I wrote him a letter? I could draw him some pictures and tell him that I’d be his Primary buddy if he wanted. I was so happy with my idea that I didn’t even mind when Janice kept kicking the back of my chair or when my brother took my favorite spot on the bench during sacrament meeting.
With Mom’s help, I wrote my letter that night. It was fun! I told Petey he’d learn a bunch of neat songs in Primary. And I told him about the Primary talent show that was coming up. Maybe he’d get to hear me sing with my brothers and sisters. Then I drew a picture of Nephi shooting an arrow and my remote-control monster car racing another car. I figured if I liked those things, then maybe he did, too. I signed my name and asked Mom to help me find his address. Then, at the last minute, I cut out one of my school pictures and dropped it in the envelope so he’d recognize me at church. Mom mailed it for me the next day.
I got so busy at school that week I forgot I’d even sent the letter—until Sunday! After we arrived at church, I hurried to the Primary room and waited for him to come in. That’s when my stomach started doing flip-flops. The longer I waited, the more I wondered. Had he gotten my letter? What if sending it had been a really bad idea? What if he didn’t like it? What if he didn’t want a Primary buddy? What if he didn’t want to come back to Primary at all?
Then I saw him! He trudged in behind Sister Evans and slid onto the little chair right in front of me.
“Hi, Petey!” I said, but he must not have heard me because he didn’t turn around or say “hi.”
I could tell he still didn’t want to be a Sunbeam because he sat really close to his teacher and stared down at his lap. “At least he’s not crying,” I thought hopefully.
Then disaster struck!
“Peter, would you please come up front so we can sing you a welcome song?” Sister Peterson asked. She hadn’t been at church last week, so she didn’t know that Petey was shy.
I held my breath.
“Come on up, Peter,” she said with a smile. “Don’t you want to hear our welcome song?”
Petey shook his head, clutching his teacher’s arm even tighter.
All the other children were waiting for Petey to burst out crying. And maybe he would have. His chin was already trembling, and his eyes were wide like a frightened rabbit’s.
That’s when I surprised myself. “I’ll go up with you, Petey,” I heard myself say.
Petey switched from looking at all the children to looking at just me. Did he recognize me from my picture? I guess he did, because a tiny smile crept across his face.
“OK,” he said quietly.
He held my hand really tight as we stood in front of the whole Primary. They sang the welcome song nice and loud like they did every time they welcomed someone new.
“Way to go!” I whispered when I took him back to his seat.
He grinned and waved at me.
And that’s when I knew—Petey was going to like being a Sunbeam after all.