Gospel Story Finder

A bishop, no matter how skilled in administrative matters, must be a friend to children, youth, and adults if he is to help them reach their spiritual potential. I was touched once when a young woman I knew went to her bishop to confess a serious transgression. She had been worried about how the bishop might react to her deviation from the gospel path and had only gone to him after considerable urging. When I asked her afterward what his response had been, she told me with great emotion that her bishop had wept with her and that in working with him to gain the Lord’s forgiveness, she now considered her bishop to be one of her best friends.

When I was a newly called counselor in our stake presidency, one of my assignments were the youth. One of the first major activities I helped organize and execute was the Stake Youth Camp. It was held in a campground in Mt. Makiling Los Baños, Laguna in October 2012.
At that time, I have only been a member of the Church for 4 years. Prior to the activity, I never had any experience in camping much more lead a 3-day youth camping activity. On day 1, we were welcomed by unexpected heavy rains.
I was the only member of the stake presidency present that morning. All youth were drenched in rain while setting up their tents. Their lips were purple from the cold when we started our opening exercise. The bishops and youth leaders approached me and with a deep sense of concern for the welfare of the youth asked me what we were to do. I did not have an answer.
I tried my best to call the other members of the stake presidency to counsel with them, but the spotty signal and the heavy rains made it difficult for me to reach them. I was afraid of being judged as an inconsiderate church leader.
I felt the need to seek guidance from the Lord Jesus Christ through prayer. As I was walking around and thinking of possible solutions, I turned my thoughts to Him and asked for guidance and inspiration. I also pleaded for strength for myself and for all the participants of the Youth Camp so we won’t get sick from the rain.
I was impressed to seek the assistance of the campground officer. He said he completely understood our situation and he would allow us to transfer to a covered hall with minimal additional charges. It was an answered prayer.
But challenges were not yet over. All day one plans were scrapped. The entire day was spent moving all of our camping gear from under the rain into the hall. We tried our best to dry all the wet items.
Now, the next question was what were we going to do the following day if the rain did not stop? That evening, all members of the stake presidency were already there. Our stake president decided that if the rain continues, we will cancel the camp and just go back to our homes.
Despite all the difficulty in day one, which we consider as character building experiences, most of the young men and young women still had a lot of fun and wanted to continue the camp. This desire prompted them to kneel down in groups and pray for better weather the following day.
Next day, everyone rose to a very beautiful sunny morning in Mt. Makiling. We were astonished by the power of faithful prayer. We were excited to continue with the activities!
The day two activity for young men was river trekking. They were asked to wear white shirts and neckerchiefs. Since there was a very recent downpour, the river was filled with ankle to knee-high deep water. Young Men leaders were situated in front, in the middle, and at the back of the pack. We were having a great time appreciating the Lord’s creation in the company of fellow priesthood holders.
We began feeling the heat of the sun as proceeded with the trek. Most young men took their neckerchiefs off. Many of them dropped their neckerchiefs just about anywhere. I was prompted to pick up every neckerchief I saw along the riverbank.
After about two hours of trekking, our stake president instructed the leaders in front to start our way out of the riverbanks. Thirty minutes have passed, and we still could not find a safe exit.
Finally, the leaders found an opening, but the climb was quite steep. We tried the suggested route but found out that it was too slippery and that it was almost impossible for us to climb up and out of the riverbank. We figured we needed to hold on to something to pull ourselves up the hill and out. Going back or finding another route was too tedious and was going to take longer. We each said a prayer in our hearts for a miracle to happen.
I was reminded of the neckerchiefs I collected. We tied each end together until we were able to create a strong enough rope where the young men could hold on to and pull themselves out. With everyone helping each other, we were all able to get out safely. That was the miracle of the neckerchief!
In Doctrine and Covenants 6:36, Jesus said, “look unto me in every thought, doubt not, fear not.” I learned in our experiences that doubts and fears are replaced by trust and faith when we look unto our Savior Jesus Christ. Looking unto Christ brings blessings of guidance and peace in our lives. In our pursuit to be lifelong disciples of Jesus Christ, my invitation to everyone, especially to our Rising Generation, is to look unto Christ.
As you perform the work that Jesus has prepared for you to do, He will strengthen and guide you. As you choose to do what is right, He will bless you with the spirit of discernment that will let you know right from wrong. As you prepare to serve full-time missions, He will help you better understand the gospel and develop love and compassion towards others. As you covenant with Him in the Temple, He will open great mysteries unto you. As you deepen your conversion in the gospel of Jesus Christ, He will help you gain your personal testimony of Him and His Atonement and how you can apply its blessings in your life. I testify of the divinity of our Savior Jesus Christ and of His love for us. I love Him and I love serving Him. In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

They couldn’t hold another quorum meeting without Bill. So, with cooperation from Bill’s mother, Brother Perry and the young men he led entered Bill’s bedroom one Sunday morning.
“We started the meeting with a spirited opening hymn,” said Elder L. Tom Perry of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles. “Bill came up out of those sheets like he had been shot out of a gun.” By meeting’s end, however, Bill knew he was valued and appreciated.1

Erin Woodward’s sixth great-grandfather walked across the plains. Erin, from Westminster, Colorado, thought of this grandfather and his family as she participated in the trek with her stake.

“Now I feel like the silliest girl in the whole world,” she said. “I mean, I have been so into my materialistic things. Seriously, I have a curling iron in my pocket. I even have makeup and everything. I feel horrible because the real pioneers didn’t live as well as I do. Before this I never really understood how blessed I am.”

“Why do I have to be here?” Lindsay whined.
“You need to support your brother,” Mom said.
“But it’s so boring,” Lindsay said. “Most of the time I don’t even watch him.”
Lindsay’s little brother, Michael, had joined a Little League baseball team, and Mom took Lindsay to every practice and every game. Lindsay was bored the whole time. While Michael struggled to hit the baseball, Lindsay listened to music, read books, and drew pictures for her little sister.
Lindsay sighed and watched her brother stand in the outfield with his teammates. She watched him as he ran to catch a ball, missed it, and then threw it to the wrong person.
“Keep going, Michael!” Mom called. “You’re doing great!”
“But, Mom,” Lindsay said, “he’s not doing great.”
“That’s why we’re here, Lindsay,” Mom said. “To cheer Michael on, especially when he does badly. If we weren’t here and Michael felt like he was failing, he might stop trying. I want him to always try. Just like how I want you to always try with your art.”
“No one has to cheer me on in art class,” Lindsay said. “Michael doesn’t come with me and shout, ‘Great job!’ when I mix the colors right.”
“No, but he always compliments your art when you show it to us,” Mom said.
Lindsay thought about that. She remembered how Mom had driven her to art classes and how sometimes Michael had to ride in the car, even when he wanted to play with his friends. She watched Michael in the outfield. The other team’s batter had just hit the ball. It was going straight toward him!
“Come on, Michael!” Lindsay cheered. “You can catch it!”
Michael ran toward the ball and stretched out his mitt. He caught the ball!
Lindsay and Mom both stood up and cheered. “Great job, Michael! You’re my favorite brother!” Lindsay shouted.
“I’m your only brother!” Michael shouted back with a huge grin on his face.
Lindsay sat back down, smiling from ear to ear.
“Maybe I should pay attention and cheer Michael on,” she thought. “Watching him catch that ball was the most interesting thing that has happened all day. And he looked like he really cared that I was watching. I’m so proud of him.”
“Mom, I think you’re right,” Lindsay said. “We should support Michael.”
Mom smiled. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“Let’s cheer some more!” Lindsay said.
“Go, Michael!” cheered Lindsay and Mom. “You can do it!”

I felt so behind in everything. I had been having trouble with my algebra class. I wasn’t turning in my homework, and I was doing poorly on tests. I was not used to failing at anything, so I didn’t understand why I just couldn’t get the hang of math. My discouragement was affecting my attitude in my other classes as well. I was starting to become really lazy, which was a total change in me. Just the year before, I was attentive in all my classes, and I asked for help if I didn’t understand.
I finally decided I needed to do something about it, so I did something I had never done before: I sat down without any distractions and said a heartfelt prayer to my Heavenly Father. I asked Him to help me understand the work and to help me feel the Spirit as well. I then went into my brother’s old room, put on some Church music, and started to do my homework.
The easier problems went quickly, but when they got harder and harder, I was still able to answer them. I felt as if I were on a cloud. I was so relieved and overjoyed. I had never said a prayer for something and received the answer so quickly. From then on I started doing better in all of my classes.
When fast and testimony meeting came on Sunday, I felt my heart try to leap out of my chest, and my hands became clammy. I finally got the courage to share my testimony. For the first time, I said the Church was true and really meant it in my heart. I still have a lot to learn about the Church—and about math—but I will gladly take anything that comes my way. Although it took a lot of time and effort, that one class taught me a lot about prayer and helped strengthen my testimony.

Let me illustrate this with a story from the Church News:
“A group of religion instructors [were] taking a summer course on the life of the Savior and focusing particularly on the parables.
“When the final exam time came, … the students arrived at the classroom to find a note that the exam would be given in another building across campus. Moreover, the note said, it must be finished within the two-hour time period that was starting almost at that moment.
“The students hurried across campus. On the way they passed a little girl crying over a flat tire on her new bike. An old man hobbled painfully toward the library with a cane in one hand, spilling books from a stack he was trying to manage with the other. On a bench by the union building sat a shabbily dressed, bearded man [in obvious distress].
“Rushing into the other classroom, the students were met by the professor, who announced they had all flunked the final exam.
“The only true test of whether they understood the Savior’s life and teaching, he said, was how they treated people in need.
“Their weeks of study at the feet of a capable professor had taught them a great deal of what Christ had said and done.” In their haste to finish the technicalities of the course, however, they failed to recognize the application represented by the three scenes that had been deliberately staged. They learned the letter but not the spirit. Their neglect of the little girl and the two men showed that the profound message of the course had not entered into their inward parts.

In the summertime, Elder Asay and his brothers spent some time with their father on the mountain range. He was a forest guard with the U.S. Forest Service each summer, and the boys loved to go with him. This was another ideal time for teaching and training. “We spent a lot of time in the canyons and the parks, repairing, painting, clearing trails, and doing other things for the Forest Service. It was great to be together out in nature,” Elder Asay recalled.
One such learning opportunity took place one day in a park where they were all working together, repairing some tables and benches at one of the camp picnic facilities. “My brother, who was about twelve at the time, found a full pack of cigarettes. And Dad must have seen him stealthily put it into his pocket. He called us together and asked him what he had picked up. My brother pulled the cigarettes out of his pocket. Dad said, ‘Open the pack.’
“Dad instructed each one of us to take one, saying, ‘Put it in your mouth and see how it tastes.’ Very quickly he had four spitting boys on his hands. Dad asked if any of us had liked the taste. We all said no. Then he told us to remember this experience, and added, ‘Tobacco doesn’t taste good, it isn’t good for you, and it isn’t in accord with God’s law.’
“We made a pact then and there that we would never touch cigarettes again.”

An example of this comes in the context of Joseph Smith’s gift of the interpretation of tongues needed for the translation of the Book of Mormon. David Whitmer recounted: “One morning when [Joseph Smith] was getting ready to continue the translation, something went wrong about the house and he was put out about it. Something that Emma, his wife, had done. Oliver and I went up stairs, and Joseph came up soon after to continue the translation, but he could not do anything. He could not translate a single syllable. He went down stairs, out in to the orchard and made supplication to the Lord; was gone about an hour – came back to the house, asked Emma’s forgiveness and then came up stairs where we were and the translation went on all right.”9

One of my first experiences in being restrained by the Spirit came soon after I was called as a counselor in a stake presidency in Chicago. In one of our first stake presidency meetings our stake president made a proposal that our new stake center be built in a particular location. I immediately saw four or five good reasons why that was the wrong location. When asked for my counsel, I opposed the proposal, giving each of those reasons. The stake president wisely proposed that each of us consider the matter prayerfully for a week and discuss it further in our next meeting. Almost perfunctorily I prayed about the subject and immediately received a strong impression that I was wrong, that I was standing in the way of the Lord’s will, and that I should remove myself from opposition to it. Needless to say, I was restrained and promptly gave my approval to the proposed construction. Incidentally, the wisdom of constructing the stake center at that location was soon evident, even to me. My reasons to the contrary turned out to be shortsighted, and I was soon grateful to have been restrained from relying on them.

On the surface, life for Axel V., 18, seems pretty perfect. “My whole family are members of the Church,” he says. “We like to do a lot of things together, like play baseball and serve. It is a marvelous thing. I am so thankful to have been born in the gospel.”

But when you look a little deeper, Axel says, “We all have difficult times. My parents are converts, but there was a time when my dad wasn’t active in the Church. I told him that I wanted him to come back, but he didn’t.

“Then back in 2013, my dad attended Primary where my sister was conducting. It was very inspiring, and because of those testimonies of those children, my dad came back to the Church.”

Even though they’ve been active ever since, “We have not been sealed yet as a family.” That’s hard for Axel, because, as he says, “The family is essential to the plan that the Savior has for each one of us. My parents made a goal for us to attend the temple as a family to be sealed for this life and the eternities. We would be very blessed to attend the temple together.”

In that same inner-city ward, I observed a similar type of faith in the gentle, loving care of a bishop who wasted no time despairing over the vast needs of an ever-growing number of new converts. Rather, he pressed forward by rallying the more experienced members of the Aaronic and Melchizedek Priesthood quorums to help prepare new converts from Africa and Latin America for their priesthood responsibilities. The newer brethren were taught how to hold the trays while passing the sacrament, how to kneel and reverently bless the bread and water. Their more seasoned, often younger brethren, practiced along with them the words of the sacramental prayers so they would feel confident in giving them. Then, together, all the brethren discussed the sacred nature of this important priesthood ordinance.

I understand now why I had those feelings. It is not because we worship the prophet. We don’t. It is because he is the mouthpiece of the Lord. The prophet is a channel, and through him the Savior’s love is projected to the whole world. That channel is open today. After I was called to be a General Authority, I came early to one of the special meetings in the upper room of the temple. President Ezra Taft Benson was sitting in his place, and as I walked into the room, I looked at him and he looked at me. I wanted to take him in my arms and tell him how much I loved him, because I could feel his love. It was the same kind of love I had felt from President Smith as a twelve-year-old boy. That is why the Saints in South America embrace me and tell me to please give their love to the prophet. They can feel his love even far away. It transcends, or goes beyond, mere miles.

“Give it back!”
“No, it’s mine!”
The kids sitting alone behind Jadyn had been pretty quiet during the sacrament, but now they kept distracting him.
“Mom, will you make them stop?” Jadyn whispered.
Mom turned and smiled at the kids. Then she looked around the chapel. “I think their parents are our speakers today,” she whispered back. Mom and Jadyn were visiting, so they knew hardly anyone in the ward.
Jadyn looked at the mom and dad sitting on the stand. They looked a little embarrassed. The kids were still fighting behind him.
Jadyn couldn’t concentrate. How would he even hear the talks? Then he remembered it was sometimes easier to listen when his hands stayed busy. Sometimes he drew pictures of what the speakers were talking about. Two years ago Dad had taught him how to fold colorful square papers into Japanese origami. Now he could make lots of things, like animals and fancy boxes, without even looking at instructions.
Jadyn took a bright red piece of paper from his scripture bag and carefully folded it in half. But before he could continue, he heard more fighting behind him. He looked at Mom. She glanced back at the kids. Jadyn’s forehead wrinkled as he thought about what to do. He couldn’t think of anything. Then Mom leaned over and whispered something in Jadyn’s ear. His eyes widened with surprise.
Jadyn looked back at the arguing kids. He didn’t even know them! He felt butterflies fill his stomach. Would Mom’s idea actually work?
He grabbed some extra paper. Then he took a deep breath and went to work. His fingers moved quickly to fold the bright colors.
Soon he had turned the flat pieces of paper into a colorful flapping bird and a jumping bunny. He turned around and shyly handed the bunny to the boy and the bird to the girl. Their eyes got big as they stared at their new treasures.
“Cool!” the boy whispered.
“Thanks!” said the girl.
The fighting ended as quickly as it had started. Jadyn’s mom turned and smiled at him. The kids played happily and quietly with their origami for the rest of the meeting.
“Your talent made all the difference!” Mom said as they left the chapel. “You used your hands to serve someone. That’s one reason God gives us all talents.”
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story!
Jadyn looked over and saw the kids showing the origami animals to their parents. He was glad he’d helped.
He grinned. “I wonder what else I can do with my talents!”
The most important part of sacrament meeting is the sacrament. It’s a time to put away toys, books, and other things and quietly think about Jesus. Here’s a scripture bookmark to help you remember why the sacrament is so important.
I renew my baptismal covenants each week when I TAKE the sacrament.
T—Take His name upon me
A—Always remember Him
K—Keep His commandments
E—Endure to the end

When I was about nine, I wanted to grow a mustache. I thought I could do this by shaving my face every day. For several days I used my father’s razor to shave. One day my father saw me shaving. He warned me not to do it because I could cut myself.
I am sorry to say I disobeyed my dad. The next day I shaved again. As I was shaving, the razor slipped from my soapy fingers. It made a deep gash above my lip. I was pretty scared as I bandaged my lip. But I was even more afraid of what my father would say.
When he came home that night and saw my cut, he was surprised and worried. He asked how it happened.
“Well,” I said, “I was running down the sidewalk, and I fell on my face.”
I had lied! First I had disobeyed, and now I had been dishonest! That night I couldn’t sleep. It was late, but I had to tell Dad the truth. I found him in the living room.
“Dad, I lied to you,” I said. “I didn’t fall down. I cut myself shaving with the razor. I’m sorry.”
My dad was quiet for a moment. Then he gently said, “You did disobey, Son. That is not a good thing. But I’m proud that you decided to tell the truth.”
That lesson—and the actual scar—has stayed with me every day since then.

Maxine Grimm stands out in my mind as an honored pioneer. I met her in the Philippines in 1964, when there was only one branch of the Church and fewer than one hundred members. With her husband, Peter Grimm (we called him “Grimm-pa”), this remarkable woman helped unfurl the flag of truth in that beautiful island nation.

Sister Grimm had been a Red Cross volunteer during World War II and had remained in the Philippines after the war to help the new Church members there. I clearly remember her arriving at our small place at 7-D Kamias Road to help us begin the first Relief Society in Quezon City. She would always bring copies of the Relief Society Magazine for the sisters to borrow, as well as her portable pump organ so we could sing the hymns together—all six of us.

Many beautiful faces among those first few Latter-day Saints in the Philippines will be etched in my memory forever. One of many that could represent them all is the face of Salud Dizon Jimenez, the first convert to be baptized in Quezon City. She later became the Relief Society president when a branch was organized in that huge city near the Philippine capital of Manila. Sister Jimenez and many like her would often travel for hours on jeepneys and buses to Taft Avenue in Pasay, where we held all our Church meetings. Others followed in the footsteps of those great pioneers, and today the Philippines is blessed by nearly 300,000 members in forty-seven stakes. A temple graces the city of Manila.

I see in my mind another pioneer woman who helped the families in a Monclova, Mexico, branch make their homes learning centers. I met her on a Sunday in September 1975. Adelita happily showed me the things she had done in her own home to motivate her children to study, then told of things she was doing to help the other sisters in the branch teach their children better study habits. Adelita herself was illiterate, yet she placed great value on education. Humble and gracious, she desired only to serve.

I think of the Saints in the little village of Bermejillo, Mexico, where I went with some health missionaries in 1975. As we walked along a dusty road with the branch president and his wife, we were taught how to pick out the homes of Church members. Their fences and homes were painted, and vegetable and flower gardens accented their neat and tidy yards. As we passed several homes, the branch president’s wife told us, “These people are not active right now, so you can’t tell they’re Latter-day Saints. But soon they’ll be back with us, and on your next visit you can pick them out, too.” Eventually the members in this branch built their own chapel.

The beautiful face of Sister Pai on the Altiplano in Bolivia fills my memory with a warm glow. I visited her and her family in January 1975. They had been members of the Church for only three months, but in that time they had learned that President Spencer W. Kimball had encouraged Church members to have gardens. I was thrilled to see their two small vegetable gardens and a flower garden. Each night they covered their three gardens with plastic sheets to protect their treasures from freezing.

I shall never forget their family home evening, held in the warmest spot in the home—on their bed. Of that experience I wrote in my journal: “The rain and the cold, the walk and the mud were all well worth it. I would have walked one hundred miles to visit with this family and have the privilege of feeling their spirit and their enthusiasm in being members of the Church and learning principles which help them to be healthier and happier.” Blessed, honored pioneers.

I think of the woman I met in the Dominican Republic right after Christmas in 1983. Some missionaries and I were sitting in her San Francisco home as she told us of the dramatic changes Church membership had brought into her life. I was impressed with her courage in blazing trails through habits and traditions she felt needed to be changed. My faith was strengthened as this great pioneer soul spoke of her deepest feelings about Jesus Christ and her joy in discovering the gospel.

I cried as I had to leave. We had been together for only a short while, yet I felt as if I had known her forever. As my companions and I walked down the street, I kept looking back to wave. She was still waving back as we turned a corner and lost sight of her radiant face.

Many of the pioneer faces in my mind are the faces of friends in Nigeria, West Africa. When I first arrived there in January 1984, I met Cecilia and learned of her creative pioneering in what seemed to me the overwhelming task of day-to-day living. I said, “You are my teacher.”

She responded, “I will be your teacher.”

I told her that I didn’t know if I could learn very fast, because she had so much to teach me. She smiled gently and said, “I will teach slowly.”

And she did. I lived as Cecilia’s neighbor for several months, and I will be grateful all my life for the things she helped me learn. I am a better pioneer because of this great soul and others in our neighborhood who allowed me to follow in their footsteps for a little while.

One of the most important lessons I learned in Africa was to examine my priorities and values. In one of our Relief Society lessons there, the manual recommended that children should be helped to keep their drawers clean and neat. One of the sisters asked, “What is a drawer?”

So many great Latter-day Saints, honored pioneers, will be exalted without ever having seen a drawer, owned a new dress, used a time planner, or gazed into a mirror. They will rejoice in the celestial kingdom having never walked through Temple Square or visited Relief Society headquarters in Salt Lake City.

It still amuses me that my companion, Ann, and I were sent to teach Cecilia and others about self-reliance. While I hope we were able to share some information about health and sanitation that made a difference for them, I know that I personally learned the greatest lessons. Most of those lessons I learned from them had to do with self-reliance. I’m convinced that Cecilia and her sisters can handle any emergency. Forging onward, ever onward, they are indeed blessed, honored pioneers.

I first met Sally Pilobello in the Philippines in 1972 when I was sent there as a health missionary. I learned that she and her husband had lost their first baby when the baby was five months old. Sally had other children, but she now was pregnant with another and asked me, “What can I do to have a healthy Mormon baby?” I thought of her courage and faith as she responded to truth and adopted some new habits and traditions. Soon people in the neighborhood were sharing the news: “Mormon baby is coming!”

On 20 January 1973, Sarah Pilobello was born—a healthy, beautiful “Mormon baby.” Her mother’s pioneer spirit had enabled her to do things she had not done before—to add more truth to what she already knew. Sally used to smile at me and say, “Sister, you can never teach an old dog new tricks.” Then she’d pause and add: “But Sister, I am not a dog!”

In 1984 I received a letter from eleven-year-old Sarah—“Little Melon” to her family and friends: “I’m sorry that I have not written for a long time because every time I’m going to start my letter my playmates are insisting me to play with them. Now I firmly decided to write to you. We are glad that Mommy is doing what the family preparedness program of the welfare missionaries taught them. We now purify our water and have a balanced diet. That is why we grow faster than the other children. The temple is now being made and I hope I’ll see you there. I love you. Little Melon.”

I also received a letter from her mother, my dear friend Sally: “I want to express my gratitude for the things I have learned which are making such a difference in my family. I realize now that some of the things my mother taught me—things her mother taught her—were not correct. But the truths I’m learning will now be taught to my children, and to their children, and to the generations to come. We will not be damned any longer by ignorance. ‘Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free!’ As they say, it is never too late to learn and change. God must love us dearly to allow us to have so much truth.”

When I first arrived in Indonesia in 1976 I met a group of pioneers in central Java who helped me understand much, much more about the meaning of words such as relief, compassion, and service. These Relief Society sisters, led by their president, Ibu Subowo, were giant souls in small bodies. Every morning before they began their cooking, each sister would hold back a spoonful of rice. They kept the rice in plastic bags that they brought to Relief Society each week. After the meeting, they would gather and prayerfully consider who needed a visit. All would then go together to visit those in need, taking the bags of rice with them to share with those who had less than they did.

Consecration. The Lord’s storehouse. A society of interdependent Saints. I learned much about sacrifice, wondering what my equivalent of a spoonful of rice would be.

I’ve thought a lot about Enos’s comment toward the end of his short narrative in the Book of Mormon. He felt sure that he would someday meet the Lord and “see his face with pleasure” (Enos 1:27). There are many faces on this earth that I hope someday to see with pleasure again. Among them are those of the women who have taught me much about pioneering—about having service as a watchword and love as a guiding star.

We’re all pioneers. Across the years, and across the miles, we blaze our trails through our personal wild frontiers. In a wide variety of circumstances, we cross our plains, sing our songs, bury our dead, deal with our personal sorrows, bear one another’s burdens, visit, comfort, and show compassion. Blessed, honored pioneers!

As his traveling companion in the mission field, I received instructions from him to keep my briefcase packed with a couple of clean shirts, clean socks, and clean underwear. Then he said, “When I say, ‘We’re going,’ you grab your bag, beat me to the car, and don’t ask any questions.” When that would happen, I would grab my bag and go to the car. Being a young, eager missionary, I would wonder, “Where are we going now?” But I didn’t ask.

Once, after we had driven a few miles, he asked, “Would you like to know where we’re going?” I said, “Yes.” Then he said, “So would I! I’m not sure just where we’re going, but we’ll keep going. And when the Lord tells us to turn, we’ll turn, and we’ll end up where he wants us to be.”

The Maori people used to pray for President Cowley to come to them. One day he drove up to the front of a post office in a rather distant city in New Zealand. There were two sisters standing by the post office waiting. When he got out of the car, one said to the other, “See, I told you he would be here soon.” President Cowley said, “Hey, what’s going on here?” One of the sisters said, “We needed you and we’ve been praying. We knew you would be coming, and you always go directly to the post office, so we decided to wait here until you arrived.” It was just that simple. People would tell the Lord what they wanted, and somehow or other President Cowley was led by the Spirit to go where they were. Now, he wasn’t totally disorganized, but I have never known anyone who planned less and accomplished more, simply by doing the things he felt impressed to do.

In early November 2020, it came to light that a project in the Burnley area of the Chorley England Stake needed some help putting together hygiene packs for vulnerable women. Stake and ward leaders banded together to find a solution and quickly got approval to make a large donation from LDS Charities.
The project organisers were very grateful for the donation to help purchase items to go into the bags but had a cost issue when buying the bags themselves. Carol Cryer, Relief Society president in the Burnley Ward, put her sewing skills to good use and created a video tutorial on making a drawstring hygiene pack. Along with her daughter, Emily, they got materials out to the sisters in the stake to share the load. The sisters worked tirelessly sewing 5,000 bags in just a few weeks, hoping the packs would be ready for Christmas.
In all, 5,000 bags were sewn and filled with hygiene products to be given to women in need. It was a wonderful experience for each sister who served and truly brought the light of Christ into their lives during a difficult time.

[A man arrived] home from work to find a very small girl sitting on the curb in front of his house, crying. He asked if he could help. Through her sobs she explained that she was lost. He told her that this was his house and his wife was inside. He told her he knew she shouldn’t go with strangers, but if she felt comfortable going inside, he and his wife would try to find her home. They went into his house, and his wife, Linda, began to console the little girl. “I’m sure you must be very frightened,” she said.
“I was frightened,” the girl responded, “until I saw the picture of Jesus hanging on your wall. Then I knew I would be safe.”

One night my mom and I were reading the Friend. I was feeling sad because we had to move for Dad’s new job. Then we read “Moving” in the May 2012 Friend. I felt happy because the family in the story had to move too. Then we kept reading and found out that the grandparents in the story were going on a mission, and the family was staying in their house. I was surprised because we were going to live in my grandparents’ house while they went on a mission too! I’m glad we read that story. It made me feel much better about moving.