Gospel Story Finder

Thanks to my dear wife, Ruth, I can say that our home has been a place where we have sought to honor the spirit of holiness to the Lord. We did not always succeed. Of course not. But we tried. When I was overwhelmed as a young father with the responsibility of providing temporally for my family, taking care of my Church callings and many other civic duties, Ruth would lovingly and gently bring me back to my parental responsibility in our home.
For example, she would remind me when it was time for home evening and then tenderly suggest what we might appropriately study in our home evenings. She would also help me keep track of important family events such as birthdays and activities of the children when they needed my time and support. She still does that important and appreciated service. If we really want our homes to be places of holiness, we will try harder to do those things that are conducive to the Spirit of the Lord.

“It’s snowing! It’s snowing!” Heather called to her mother, who looked up from feeding her little sister Beth. When Peter comes home, maybe I can go out and play in the snow with him, Heather thought.
Heather remembered last year when everyone told her she was too little to help build a snowman. But not this year! she decided. Heather eagerly looked out the window, waiting for her brother to come home.
Seeing him coming down the driveway, she opened the door. “Let’s build a snowman,” she shouted as he ran inside.
“Sounds great to me,” said Peter with a smile. “Go get your coat and boots on.”
Peter’s friends Sharon and David came over to help, but they didn’t let Heather join the fun. Even when she tried to stick a piece of coal on the head for the snowman’s eyes, Peter said, “No, Heather, you can’t reach. Let me do it.”
Dad brought Beth outside to see the snowman. “Dad, they won’t let me help,” complained Heather.
“Well, I’m sorry, dear, but it looks like the snowman’s finished.”
After supper Dad tried to explain to Peter that Heather was growing bigger every year and that he needed to include her in doing some things. And he tried to explain to Heather that other people forget sometimes when little brothers or sisters are getting old enough to play with older ones.
Heather went to bed right after supper. She listened to the wind blowing outside and watched the snowflakes swirl through the air wherever the wind took them. Soon she was fast asleep.
The next morning, Heather and Peter went to join their friends outside. They soon discovered that during the night the wind had blown the snowman’s hat away!
“Every snowman needs a hat,” Sharon said. “It’s just not a snowman without a hat.”
The children looked everywhere for the hat, but it was not in sight. “We’ll have to spread out,” said Peter. “Each one take a different direction.”
Heather thought about the snowflakes she had watched last night. Although they had made circles of all sizes as they swirled up and around, they seemed to blow mostly in one direction, toward David’s house. She headed that way. I have to find that hat! she decided. If I do, maybe Peter will see how big I am.
Heather walked for a long time. She even went past David’s house, before she saw Mr. Snowman’s hat hanging high on a limb in the oak tree.
How can I get it down? she wondered. Then she had an idea. A snowball!
Heather made a snowball and threw it at the hat. After four tries the hat fell. Heather picked it up and ran to find Peter.
Peter, Sharon, and David were back at the snowman. They were looking sad. “Maybe we could get another hat or something,” suggested David.
“We don’t have to,” Heather called as she held the hat up for them to see.
Sharon started to take the hat from Heather, but Peter stopped her. “If Heather’s big enough to find the hat, she’s big enough to put it on.”
And that’s exactly what she did!

I want to share two more examples of integrity and honesty involving students at Brigham Young University–Idaho. I believe the simplicity and seemingly ordinary nature of these events make them extraordinary.
The second example comes from a letter I received from a student.
“I recently attended an outdoor dance. Just before the dance, my friends and I were sitting on the grounds eating pizza. I took my wallet out of my pocket to show my friends some pictures, and then I forgot to put my wallet back as we got up and left for the dance.
“Later that evening I realized what had happened. I proceeded toward what I thought should be the location of my wallet. I quickly realized that my wallet was no longer there. I knelt down right there in the grass and began to pray to my Father in Heaven to help me find my wallet.
“I then returned to my dorm room with a very optimistic attitude. I walked into my room fully expecting the wallet to be sitting right there, but it wasn’t. So I proceeded to check my telephone messages. And there was a message from the Lost and Found saying that someone had returned my wallet and I could pick it up any time.
“I am so grateful to be here at a university where I can trust my fellow students. I never found out who returned my wallet, but I have thanked him or her many times in my prayers. I have thanked them for helping me to have a spiritual experience, one that I will never forget.”
The unknown person at BYU–Idaho who returned this young man’s wallet is an example of integrity and honesty with God, of integrity and honesty with herself or himself, and of integrity and honesty with other people.

Henry Drummond, in his classic writing on the subject of Christ’s love, tells of a man who went to see a dying boy. He put his hand on the boy’s head to comfort him and said, “‘My boy, God loves you.’” The boy soon arose “from his bed, and called out to the people in the house, ‘God loves me! God loves me!’ One word! It changed that boy. The sense that God loved him overpowered him, melted him down, and began the creating of a new heart in him. And that is how the love of God melts down the unlovely heart in man, and begets in him the new creature, who is patient and humble and gentle and unselfish. And there is no other way to get it. There is no mystery about it. We love others, we love everybody, we love our enemies, because He first loved us.” (The Greatest Thing in the World, Old Tappon, N.J.: Fleming H. Revell Co., n.d., pp. 47–48.)

When I was diagnosed with juvenile diabetes, it was very hard for me. I had to prick my finger every two hours and get a lot of shots from my mom every day. Sometimes it hurt.
Then last year my mom and I decided to start looking for the good side of having diabetes. First, I have made new friends who also have diabetes. They help me a lot. I can help others who have diabetes by babysitting for their families or by talking and listening.
My brothers have also been blessed by learning to have patience and to be loving when I don’t feel well. The school nurse is my friend, and I’ve been blessed with Primary teachers who understand and help me. In our family we hug and support each other more.
The blessings of diabetes are all around me. I am thankful that my parents teach me to seek and find these special blessings. I know my Heavenly Father always blesses me and always will.Heidi Millett, age 8, and her mom, Queen Creek, Arizona

Illustration by Allen Garns
I had an assignment in my physics class to build a CO2 (carbon dioxide)-powered race car. We started with a block of wood, and with careful planning, instruction, and eventual approval from our teacher, we were able to construct our cars.
On day one of construction, I was kind of nervous. I had never tried to carve anything out of wood and had never seen or even heard of the big machines we were supposed to use. After the teacher helped me for the first little bit, I gained the confidence to move forward by myself, and I was surprised at how simple, easy, and fun the machines were to use. After cutting out the main design and drilling the holes for the axle, I began sanding. I helped a few others sand their cars too.
I spent the next two class periods painting my car. I don’t have the best painting or art skills, but I did the best I could. It took me a long time, and I made sure that each stroke was perfect and that the color flow from lighter to darker was smooth and made sense. Some of my friends complimented me on the design when I was finished.
Race day caught me by surprise, as I still had not put in the axles and wheels, and I had close to zero time to finish everything I needed to do before the race. In a panic, I realized that the axle would not fit into the hole I drilled on the first day because the paint covered it. I quickly drilled new holes, but my aim was just slightly askew, making the axles wonky and unbalanced. The back wheels didn’t spin freely, and one of the front wheels didn’t even touch the racing surface. I replaced that wheel with a larger one to compensate. It looked ridiculous.
I made the final adjustments to my car while watching everybody else in the class race their creations. Some cars flew super fast, sometimes even crash-landing into the box designated as the finish line and losing wheels. For the most part, everyone’s car made it to the finish.
Then it came time for me to race, and I knew my car was going to have trouble. When the button was pressed and the car launched, it pathetically lost its big wheel and stopped about 10 feet from where it started. I glanced at it with a cringe of disappointment. I thought to myself, “Just one mistake messed it up. If it weren’t for that one mistake, it probably would have reached the finish line.”
It was an utter flop. I was anguished by my lack of success.
But toward the end of class I realized something that changed everything.
In spite of what had happened, I had actually made that car—it was still my own work. I had had fun learning how to use those machines, sanding, and painting. I had done the work and learned from my mistakes, and that was what really mattered.
I may not have had the best woodworking or painting skills. I might not have even gotten an A on the project, but I walked happily down the hallway anyway, knowing that I have my own abilities and inabilities, and that I can learn. I am grateful for that knowledge. Just as long as I keep learning and trying, I will always have an A+ in the class of life, where Heavenly Father is the teacher and provider. I’m so grateful for the knowledge of a loving Heavenly Father who knows us and has blessed each of us with diverse traits and the ability to learn.

Moroni gave Joseph possession of the plates, breastplate, and interpreters on September 22, 1827. When Joseph Smith first put on the spectacles, “his entire past history [was] revealed to him,” David Whitmer recounted. This experience, Whitmer believed, helped Joseph recognize the greater supernatural power God had now given him. Joseph Knight Sr., who was at the Smith home in Palmyra when Joseph returned from the Hill Cumorah, remembered conversing with Joseph about the sacred relics the morning after he gained possession of them. “It is ten times Better than I expected,” he remembered Joseph saying. He recalled further the Prophet’s particular fascination with the spectacles. “He seamed to think more of the glasses or the urim and thummim then [than] he Did of the Plates,” wrote Knight, “for, says he, ‘I can see any thing; they are Marvelus.’” Indeed they were, for as the Prophet’s mother, Lucy Mack Smith, recalled, by means of the instrument “the angel showed him many things which he saw in vision.” One major purpose of the spectacles (and also the seer stone) was to help protect the plates and Joseph’s life. Lucy said her son “always kept the Urim and Thummim about his person” so “he could also ascertain, at any time, the approach of danger, either to himself or the Record.”

When Brother Newry returned to the Bahamas, he found a very small branch that had been formed while he was gone. The little branch met in homes and rented buildings until they built their own chapel. He remained faithful through the years and eventually received his endowment in the temple. Along the way his friend, Antoinette Russell, asked to attend church with him. She was impressed by the members’ warmth, and without telling Clarence, she began meeting with the missionaries. She says: “I knew we were each someone special. When the missionaries told me where we had come from, I knew it was true. I felt peace.”
Antoinette and Clarence Newry were married in March 1997 in the Orlando Florida Temple. Several other Bahamian couples have had their marriages sealed in the temple, but the Newrys were the first to be married in the temple.

My husband and I had been married for nine years when we heard these words from the doctor: “You are not going to keep this one.”
As parents we looked at the wee baby who so recently had left his heavenly home. We did the only thing we could do. He was named and given a father’s blessing. We prayed, had faith, and said aloud, “Thy will be done.” Hours passed, and then days, in our very small community hospital. Doctors and nurses continued to work with our son. At last, we heard the words from the doctor, “I believe you will keep this one.” During this experience, we as parents grew in understanding and strength and drew closer to the Lord.

In a much larger hospital thirteen years later, this exact experience was repeated with our tenth child. He was named and given a father’s blessing. We prayed, had faith, and once again said aloud, “Thy will be done.” Hours crept slowly by. Once again we were greatly blessed. He would live. The lessons learned years before had been repeated.

Many years later, in pursuit of my business career, I was invited by a client to provide insurance coverage for a new venture he was launching. When I arrived at the location, I learned that it was to be a nightclub.
As we passed through reception, entering the main area, I was impressed by the decor. The furnishings and fittings, curtains and carpeting were well coordinated, providing a most pleasing setting. This was not what I had expected to find after having been told the purpose for which the venue was to be used. As I sat with the proprietor, noting the necessary information, an employee approached and asked if he could test the systems.
My client gave his approval. Suddenly the serene setting was transformed as the room lighting faded to be replaced by flashing lights of multiple colors and excessively loud music. The scene of tranquility was immediately shattered.
It was impossible to communicate under such circumstances, so we walked back to the reception area. Following further discussion and because of what I had ex-perienced, I did not feel comfortable to proceed, so I referred my client to a specialist in this field of insurance. To this day I vividly recall the dramatic transformation that occurred with shafts of light and the pulsating beat of loud music penetrating the darkened room.

When I was first called as a General Authority nearly 50 years ago, we lived on a very small plot of ground in Utah Valley that we called our farm. We had a cow and a horse and chickens and lots of children.
One Saturday, I was to drive to the airport for a flight to a stake conference in California. But the cow was expecting a calf and in trouble. The calf was born, but the cow could not get up. We called the veterinarian, who soon came. He said the cow had swallowed a wire and would not live through the day.
I copied the telephone number of the animal by-products company so my wife could call them to come and get the cow as soon as she died.
Before I left, we had our family prayer. Our little boy said our prayer. After he had asked Heavenly Father to “bless Daddy in his travels and bless us all,” he then started an earnest plea. He said, “Heavenly Father, please bless Bossy cow so that she will get to be all right.”
In California, I told of the incident and said, “He must learn that we do not get everything we pray for just that easily.”
There was a lesson to be learned, but it was I who learned it, not my son. When I returned Sunday night, Bossy had “got to be all right.”

Minnie Petersen, in Kamas Valley, was just a small child when she was asked to weed a neighbor’s flower bed. Not receiving proper instruction, she simply went out and pulled up all the plants that didn’t have blossoms on them. One day her father sent her over to Brother Olsen, the blacksmith, to borrow a monkey wrench. To help her remember the name of the tool, her father told her to think of a little animal. When she asked for the wrench, she asked for a “mouse wrench.” From that time forward, she was Mouse Wrench Minnie. When she was a little older, she and other young people were instructed to clear some land for cultivation. They chopped down willows and sagebrush, picked up rocks and hauled them off, and in the evening had a big bonfire of all the brush. All the young people in the village were there. They roasted potatoes to eat with salt and hung over the fire pieces of fresh meat. They played games and exchanged ghost stories. When they went out to gather wild strawberries, currants, and gooseberries that grew along the streams, they combined it with swimming in the creeks. In most groups there was nearly always one person who played the concertina, harmonica, or violin, and so they often had accompaniment for group singing and dancing.

I recall tests to my own faith. I went to the 9th through 12th grades of school in Bloomington, Indiana, and the nonmember students constantly challenged my beliefs. At the time, my only defense was to do what Moses and Aaron did—draw closer to the Lord. I reasoned that God must exist since I couldn’t prove that he didn’t. I also assumed that he could and would communicate with me. With these ideas in mind, and with the faith that my parent’s testimony had to be based on something real, I prayed fervently. Out of that intense struggle, I received my own witness of God’s existence.

When I was just a young girl, I became seriously ill. Each day the illness became increasingly severe. Nothing the doctor recommended helped. At that time the dreaded disease of polio was raging in almost epidemic proportions in the land. It was taking the lives of many, and those who didn’t die were often left crippled.
One night my illness became critical, and my father and grandfather administered to me using consecrated oil, and through the power of the holy Melchizedek Priesthood, which they held worthily, they called upon God for healing, help, guidance, and comfort. And then my parents took me to a doctor in another town who immediately sent us to the hospital—two and one-half hours away—with the admonition to hurry. I overheard the doctor whisper that he was certain it was polio.
When we finally arrived at the hospital in Salt Lake, there were medical personnel waiting for us. They grabbed me from my parents’ arms and whisked me away. Without a word of good-bye or explanation, we were separated. I was all alone, and I thought I was going to die.
Following the painful diagnostic procedures, including a spinal tap, they took me to a hospital isolation room, where I would stay by myself with the hope that I would not infect anyone else, for indeed I did have polio.
I remember how very frightened I was. It was dark, and I was so sick and so alone. But my parents had taught me to pray. I got on my knees, and I knelt beside the railing in the criblike bed and asked Heavenly Father to bless me. I was crying, I remember. Heavenly Father heard my prayer and sent His comforting power, which enveloped me in quiet love. I felt the power of the Holy Ghost, and I was not alone.
You too are loved by the Lord. You are loved more than you will ever know. He wants you to be successful in your life’s mission! You don’t have to face the experiences of this life alone, nor have you been sent here to fail.

Pam’s work at hospitals and children’s schools has given her a special interest in the handicapped. She is learning sign language and now regularly assists the visitors to Disney World who are hearing impaired.

“I’ve been able to sign for our arts festival and recently at the Ohio and Pennsylvania schools for the deaf. You can’t imagine how excited these kids are when they learn that I am from Disney World and that I can communicate with them in sign language,” Pam said.

Fourteen-year-old Clara Lacy and her niece could have been killed.
“I was taking her to school in a Blackstone neighborhood,” Clara says. “This boy was throwing gang signs across the street, and some other boys were throwing them back. He ran right in front of me just as they started shooting at him. He got shot in the leg. I almost got shot. Then another boy got a gun he’d hidden in a garbage can in the alley and started shooting back at the boys across the street. I put my little niece on my back and started running.”
Unfortunately, Clara’s experience isn’t that unusual for a teenager growing up in Chicago’s inner city. It is a place of danger, drugs, violence, and fear. Each day is filled with uncertainty. There are few incentives to do well in school. Unwed parents and nonfunctioning families are commonplace. Everyone seems to have been the victim of, or knows someone close who has been the victim of, serious crime.
Of course it’s not that bad everywhere all the time. There are quiet neighborhoods. There are good friends, strong families, and honest efforts to improve. Life goes on. But it is often life in the shadow of fear, the sort of shadow that can make the future seem bleak.
If only someone could open a window and let Clara glimpse a better life. Maybe then hope could grow in place of despair.
Such a window is being opened, thanks to a nonprofit foundation called the Inner City Youth Charitable Trust. Each summer, two groups of 20 boys each, one ages 9–11 and one ages 12–14, attend a three-week camp called Summer Quarters. Facilities are located in farm country 50 miles north of Chicago, and students from Ricks College of Rexburg, Idaho, serve as counselors. Twenty girls ages 12–18 attend the three-week Lucy Mack Smith Summer Jam—Yes I Can day camp, held at the Hyde Park/Ryan Woods chapel but with field trips to various locations. Again, students from Ricks’ Urban Discovery program serve as counselors.
The inner-city youth participants are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, or relatives or friends of members. Clara, for example, is a member of the Ryan Woods Ward, Chicago Heights Illinois Stake. Each participant must be interviewed and recommended by a bishop and agree to abide by Church standards. A number of the inner-city youth are repeat participants, having benefitted from the program several summers in a row.
The trust (which was founded five years ago by Church members but involves other business and professional people) also sponsors Career Adventure, a program for about 20 inner-city youth ages 14–18. It includes a one-week exploration of career opportunities and tours of businesses with student counselors who have come to Chicago from Brigham Young University. And it teams up participants with mentors who will help the teenagers acquire job skills and employment opportunities.
The overall program isn’t huge. But it is an effort that is teaching a lot to both streetwise kids and previously sheltered students.
“I think the whole purpose is for the boys to realize that there’s more in life than the violence and the gangs,” says Summer Quarters counselor Hans “Maddy” Madsen. “It’s also to help us as counselors to realize that there are people in need.

“It’s hard for me to imagine the kind of society where you never feel safe,” he continues. “I come from a stable home with both parents. Most of these kids only have one parent or they’re living with their grandma or a cousin or someone else.

“One boy told me of at least 25 incidents where he had seen people shot, stabbed, or killed. Those were just the ones he could remember at the moment. Another boy had his cousin die in his arms.”
Statistics show that 80 percent of inner-city children have witnessed violence first-hand by the time they are four years old, according to statistics the Ricks students receive in their sociology classes.
“They are very mature in some ways,” Maddy says. “But they have witnessed so much that they’re calloused. They’re not used to trusting people. That’s one of the things we try to teach them—that there are people you can trust.”
That trust is built in a variety of ways. Boys and counselors go on bike rides or go swimming together. With adult volunteers from the Buffalo Grove and Naperville Illinois Stakes, they work on school skills, like math and spelling. They sing songs and put on skits. They visit a dairy and a toolbox manufacturer. The boys work one-on-one with counselors on simple projects, like building model planes and toy boats.
“Some of the things we do at camp, like making boats and planes, are good things to do at home when you’re alone or bored and there’s nothing to do,” says Chris Woods, 12, who is investigating the Church. “They’ll keep us off the streets, keep us from getting physical and threatening somebody.”
The girls’ field trips take them to a construction site, a radio station, a bank, and a hotel. During workshops at the chapel, they learn to play songs on the piano and lead music; act in plays; write journals; and sew quilts, pillows, and curtains. They play sports and rehearse for job interviews.
“We learn a lot of practical things,” says Qawi Wafford, 12, of the Chicago First Ward, Wilmette Illinois Stake.
And whether it’s at the chapel in town or at camp in the country, there is also a spiritual level of trust that’s growing.
“Because of the gospel we feel a kinship,” says Elisa McConkie, a Summer Jam counselor. “But a lot of them don’t understand what the Church is all about and what it has to offer them. So we try to explain that. And a lot of them are lacking love, which is something we as counselors can give. We give them moral support, verbal support, a lot of guidance. And we try to encourage them to think about their future, things like, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’”
“Our lives are centered around eternity, getting married, raising a family, getting an education,” says Summer Jam Counselor Brandi McCoy. “A lot of those ideas are foreign to them. They never think about tomorrow, just today. Making it past the eighth grade is a monumental feat for some of them. One of the girls asked me what it was like to have a peaceful night’s rest, because every night in the city she hears gunshots and sirens. Another asked me if I was always scared in high school, if I’d ever had to run home from school, or if anyone had tried to beat me up.

“Too many times people forget they have souls,” she continues. “But when we were here singing ‘Walk Tall, You’re a Daughter of God,’ I saw the light shining in their eyes. And when we talk about the temple and about eternal families, even though you can tell it’s hard for them to grasp, you can tell it’s something they want to live for.”
“At Summer Quarters we read the scriptures every night,” explains counselor Dan Kolilis. “Just last night we went out to the tents where the boys stay and had pop and chips with them. Then we read in the Book of Mormon about Jesus Christ blessing the little children. All of this year’s male counselors are returned missionaries, so we talked about our missions. Then we read the verse that says: ‘Therefore, go ye unto your homes, and ponder upon the things which I have said, and ask of the Father, in my name, that ye may understand’ (3 Ne. 17:3). It was the last night of the camp. We wanted them to go home, as we will go home, to think about how, with the gospel in their lives, the Lord will help them and guide them.”
The inner-city youth, like a lot of teens, don’t talk at length about what they feel in their hearts. Ask about Summer Jam or Summer Quarters, and their phrases are mainly short ones, like, “I feel safe here” or “I wish we could stay forever.”
But they do say they hope their counselors will write to them. And they do have a very hard time, after the farewell picnic, letting go of the hugs and saying good-bye.
The programs are short, and the inner city is strong. But through an open window comes air and light, enough to keep hope alive.

Lest anyone believe I am announcing or planning dramatic changes in the university, let me promise you that I am not doing so. But let me also assure you that as our circumstances change and the needs of our students and community differentiate, so must the way in which the university conducts its teaching, learning, and other businesses be responsive to our current environment. As I make this observation, I am reminded of an experience President Henry B. Eyring shared with some of us a few years ago.

President Henry B. Eyring in his early years in Church Educational System leadership was asked by President Spencer W. Kimball to chair a committee of educators to think about and report on the distant future of education in the Church. As he visited with the prophet, President Eyring opined that universities would likely not exist in the Millennium as we know them today. He was stopped by President Kimball, who disagreed and made the case to Brother Eyring that universities had developed in ways that had resulted in great good over many years and likely would be found in recognizable ways for a very long time. I believe President Kimball convinced young Brother Eyring of this likelihood, and I know he and the other presiding Brethren feel the same today.

On September 2, 2015, at 1:00 am, our son Zach came into our room to tell us there was someone at the door we needed to talk to. It was a woman from the Clark County Coroner's office. She told us that our youngest son David had been killed in an accident on his way home from the gym earlier that evening. Her words shot through me, pain, sadness, and desperation washed over me in a way I did not know was possible. Our sweet 20-year-old baby boy was gone.

From the very hour of our receiving the news the tender mercies of the Lord began. To this very day, our family has been the recipients of some of the most remarkable and personal tender mercies. I want to relate a story that highlights the love a merciful Father has for his children. As I tell the story pay attention to how many times the Lord intervened all for the good of a few of his children.

George Hubert Robinson served as a wireless operator and rear gunner in the Royal Air Force with the rank of Sergeant. He was born a middle child in a large family of nine children and raised in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His father was a coal miner, so money was scarce, particularly during times of worker strikes, which were common in 1923 Nottingham when George was born.
While still a baby, his siblings were frequently charged with his care and entertainment. When his older siblings forgot about him one day, we might expect a disaster to ensue, but not so. George was found, his pram righted and he returned home unhurt. That set the pattern for his somewhat accident-prone formative years. No matter the fall, scrape or bump, George emerged unscathed. His pleasing personality, coupled with a big, wide grin, made him popular with the girls as well as with his buddies.
The Robinson children were all expected to take the scholarship examination and continue their education, but that wasn’t the route George wanted to take. In fact, the family contended that George deliberately failed the exams so that he could attend the Technical School where he wanted to go. While there, his favourite reading included novels by Robert Louis Stevenson such as Kidnapped and Black Beauty, which he would then narrate to his siblings at night before bedtime.
On the day of his 18th birthday, George who loved his country, took his good-natured, peace-loving self to register for the Royal Air Force. Of course, he was required to join the Home Guard while waiting for his Call of Duty. But at age 20 he was posted overseas in Italy as a wireless operator and rear gunner. At the same time he was promoted to the rank of Sergeant.
He had only a few missions left to fly before his tour of duty ended, but welcomed his leave time, which he spent in Naples, Italy. While there, he sent a package and a letter home to his mother, which promised that “he knew the Gospel was true and that he was going to live it and was going to share it with his friends. He also sent his tithing home which included everything he owed, to bring it up to date.” Post was slow and uncertain during war time, so it would be weeks before his family received the letter and package.
In the meantime, on 7th July 1944, George H. Robinson’s plane was shot down over Klagenfurt, Austria, where he and his comrades were subsequently buried. The inscription on his gravestone reads: “Now he’s in the Lord’s safe keeping and wanted on the other side. Sadly missed."

Eight-year-old Alicia-anne and her parents have had some very special spiritual experiences. In 1997, three sister missionaries knocked on their door. The missionaries taught them the discussions, and the family immediately knew that the gospel was true. On August 10, 1997, Alicia-anne saw her father, Gordon, and mother, Myrna, baptized members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Alicia-anne, who often goes by the nickname Ali, looked forward to her own baptism in three years.
On November 20, 1999, another important event happened. The Attridges were the first family sealed together in the newly dedicated Halifax Nova Scotia Temple. “I felt very happy and warm inside after I was sealed to my parents,” Ali said. “Now I know I can be with my mom and dad forever.”
“Looking in the mirrors in the sealing room, we saw our family going on forever,” Mother added. “Since Ali is adopted, this was the most wonderful day in our lives because we will be a family forever.”
When Ali’s eighth birthday drew near, she asked her parents if she could be baptized on her birthday—she was too excited to wait a day longer! They were able to schedule it, so on July 11, 2000, she was baptized a member of the Church. She was delighted to have her Grandma and Grandpa Balsor in attendance. “My grandparents were so touched by the Spirit that they cried,” she said. After the baptism, her mother felt inspired to give them a copy of the Book of Mormon.
Ali is a CTR in the Greenwood Branch Primary of the Dartmouth Nova Scotia Stake. A good missionary, she often invites her friends to Primary and its activity days so that they can learn about the Church. She also tries to set a good example at school by being kind, generous, and honest.
Some of her best missionary tools are her cats, Lehi, Nephi, and Fluffy. When she tells someone their names, she is often asked to explain where the names Lehi and Nephi come from. A discussion about the Book of Mormon and the Church soon follows.
Whether at church or at home, Ali enjoys singing. Her lovely voice often accompanies whatever activity she is doing at home. She likes to sing songs from Primary, movies, and operas. Someday, she would like to be a professional singer or dancer.
She is very active and likes to get her work done quickly in school so that she has plenty of time at recess. Swinging very high on the swings and playing on the monkey bars are what she likes best. “I can hang upside down, skip one or two bars, or do an ‘apple-turnover’ flip on the monkey bars. Once my hands were too slick, though, and I fell flat on my face and scratched it!”
Ali also enjoys doing activities with her family. “I like to go swimming at anytime, in any weather, in shallow or deep water—but if I see a fish, I scream. I don’t like fish; they scare me!”
Beachcombing is another enjoyable family activity. The Attridges like to collect ropes, buoys, driftwood, shells, and rocks. At home, Ali and her mom wash the rocks and then paint them. Ali is proud of the Noah’s Ark rock she designed and painted. “The rainbow I painted on it represents God’s promise to Noah.”
At family home evening, she is happy to read or listen to scripture stories. She has read the Book of Mormon Reader twice and also likes to read from a book of children’s Bible stories. The great faith shown by the brother of Jared is her favorite scripture story. She also enjoys learning about the Jaredites traveling to the promised land.
For a family home evening activity, she is always eager to go to the Kingston Family Fitness Trail. Walking along the trail, the family enjoys the beautiful forested scenery. Ali likes them to stop and participate in each of the fitness activities along the way. She enjoys climbing the fishnet, jumping like a frog over the short poles, balancing on the beam, running through the tire maze, and finally stopping at the end to watch the ducks in the pond.
Prayer is an important part of Ali’s life. She remembers to say her personal prayers, and she suggested that the family pray together both morning and night. A prayer before each meal is important, too. She reminds them if they forget.
Ali loves her family very much. She is grateful that they are members of the Church and have been able to enjoy the many blessings of the gospel.