Gospel Story Finder

The air was chilly as my friends and I walked around the playground. We stopped at the red swing set. Usually, I loved to swing high and feel the wind blow through my hair. But when I sat down this time, I didn’t move. Ruth and Amruta sat in the swings next to me and didn’t swing either.
“I’m scared,” Amruta said. “Are you?”
I kicked the sand under my feet. “Yeah. Especially when I watch the news.”
“Me too,” Ruth said. “I’ve slept in my mom’s bed all week.”
Last week there had been a terrorist attack. Everyone was talking about it. Mom told me a terrorist attack was when bad people hurt other people who haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t understand everything that had happened, but it made me want to cry.
After Mom tucked me into bed that night, I couldn’t fall asleep. I kept thinking about the people who had died or been hurt. How did their families feel? I wanted to help them, but I didn’t know how.
When I got home from school the next day, Mom looked a little more cheerful. “Our neighborhood is going to have a lemonade stand. We’ll raise money for the firefighters who helped during the attack. Do you want to help?”
“Yes! How will the money help the firefighters?” I asked.
“Well, it could help them pay for doctor visits. Or it could help their families,” Mom said.
“Let’s do it,” I said. Finally, something I could do!
On Saturday, Mom, my brother, and I spent all morning baking Mom’s special triple-chocolate-chip cookies to sell at the lemonade stand.
That afternoon we carried trays of cookies to the street corner. Our neighbors were waiting for us with pitchers of lemonade and plastic cups. A boy from school waved at me.
“Hey, Aaron!” I said. “Are you helping sell stuff too?”
“Yeah! This lemonade stand was my mom’s idea.”
“Cool! Want to try a cookie?” I asked.
After eating chocolatey cookies and sipping sweet lemonade, Aaron and I hung up signs that said, “Lemonade Stand” and “Help the Firefighters!” All afternoon Aaron and I waved at cars, poured lemonade, and traded delicious cookies for crisp dollar bills.
Even when people didn’t stop, they honked their car horns and waved as they drove by. Mom said it meant they thought we were doing a good thing.
Then Aaron’s mom passed around a card to send to the firefighters. It had pink and red hearts on it. I signed my name and wrote, “Thank you for saving lives!” I drew a heart and a smiley face too.
By the end of the day, I was tired, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
“I feel better now,” I told Mom as we walked home.
“I’m so glad. When you help others, you are being like Jesus. And the Holy Ghost can help you feel safe and happy.”
When I went to bed that night, I thought about how happy the firefighters would be when they got the money and card. And I thought about how happy Heavenly Father is when we serve others. I snuggled up in my blankets and smiled. I wasn’t scared anymore.

Another priesthood calling that I have been thinking about came to me many years later, when I had my own family. We had moved back to Frankfurt, Germany, and I had just received a promotion at work that would require a great deal of my time and attention. During this busy season of my life, Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin extended a call to me to serve as stake president.
During my interview with him, many thoughts raced through my mind, not the least of which was the unsettling worry that I might not have the time this calling would require. Although I felt humbled and honored by the call, I briefly wondered if I could accept it. But it was only a fleeting thought because I knew that Elder Wirthlin was called of God and that he was doing the Lord’s work. What could I do but accept?
There are times when we have to step into the darkness in faith, confident that God will place solid ground beneath our feet once we do. And so I accepted gladly, knowing that God would provide.
In the early days of this assignment, we were privileged as a stake to receive training from some of the greatest teachers and leaders in the Church—men like Elder Russell M. Nelson and President Thomas S. Monson came to our area. Their teaching was like the dew from heaven and an inspiration for us. I still have the notes I took during these training sessions. These Brethren gave us the vision of what it means to establish the kingdom of God by building personal testimonies and strengthening families. They helped us see how to apply gospel truth and principles to our specific circumstances and for our specific time. To put it another way, inspired leaders helped us to see the why of the gospel, and then we had to roll up our sleeves and go to work.
It wasn’t long before we realized that there were a lot of things a stake presidency could do—so many, in fact, that if we didn’t set inspired priorities, we might miss doing the important ones. Competing priorities began to arise, deflecting our focus from the vision shared by the Brethren. There were many “good” things to do, but not all of them mattered most.
We learned an important lesson: the fact that something is good is not always reason enough to require our time and resources. Our activities, initiatives, and plans should be inspired by and grounded upon the why of our priesthood service and not by any flashy trend or interest of the moment. Otherwise, they can distract our efforts, dilute our energy, and get us caught up in our own hobbies, spiritual or temporal, that are not at the center of discipleship.

One of the exciting opportunities which comes from the general conference for me is to arrive a little early and have the privilege of walking through the aisles of this great Tabernacle, greeting the conference visitors as they are here assembled. You discover that this is truly a world conference.
Even though some speak a different language, there is another way to communicate, for quickly you discover, as you shake a hand, look into the eye of someone from a different land, there is a common bond, there is a brotherhood and a sisterhood which knows no national boundaries.
We have frequently addressed ourselves in this conference to the country in which the headquarters of this church is located. When this occurs, I watch with interest the faces of those who hear this message through an interpreter. I have detected more than just a courteous attention. There is a genuine interest and understanding. And I guess this is right, for as I study history, there appears to be a common theme, which is played over and over.
We love our great country and we love yours—because it is your home. I have been given an exciting assignment to assist in planning the United States of America’s bicentennial celebration. I have never had an assignment which has given me a clearer vision of history and an opportunity to observe the operations of government.
Some months ago I was asked to assist in inviting many of the religious leaders of America to a special meeting for the purpose of increasing the participation of religious congregations in our nation’s bicentennial celebration. About 400 of us assembled in Washington, D.C., and spent two days together discussing ways in which we could make a contribution to this exciting celebration.
While I found myself having a deep respect and admiration for many of the religious leaders in attendance, I also found myself having some grave concerns over a number whom I guess you would describe as the liberal element.
Part of the program covering this two-day period was to divide ourselves into small discussion groups of about twenty in number to examine the role the churches would play during this celebration.
As we concluded the first day I discussed the possibility, with a bright young colleague I had invited to attend this assembly with me, of preparing a declaration for the churches of this land to jointly proclaim to our countrymen, a reaffirmation of our need for divine guidance, an expression of gratitude for the Lord’s hand in directing the formation of the government of the United States of America. I don’t know how late this young man stayed up that night but when I met him for breakfast the following morning he had an excellent draft of the proposed declaration.
I was excited with the possibility of presenting it to our small discussion group as we assembled together that morning. However, my enthusiasm rapidly dissipated. We soon discovered it was the consensus of this small group of religious leaders that any declaration referring to the Lord our God would not be acceptable. They reasoned such a declaration would be offensive to the atheist. After all, they stated, the atheist has a right to his belief, also. Of course, I completely agree that all men must have their right of free agency but I argued vigorously against locking up our own firm convictions just because they could not be accepted by everyone. The more we argued, the more the opposition united against us. We were not able to get ours or any other declaration out of committee.
I was so shocked with the outcome and obvious futility of our efforts that I had to seek out the religious leader who opposed our declaration. In talking to him I found myself suffering from even a greater shock. Here was a man with divinity degrees listed in a long string of letters behind his name, a leader of a Christian congregation, giving these kinds of answers to my questions:
Question: “Do you not believe that God inspired the early leaders of this country in the formation of this great nation?”
Answer: “I find no evidence in my studies of God’s hand directing the affairs of mankind in any age.”
Question: “With such a philosophy, how do you stand in front of your congregation each week and teach Christian doctrine?”
Answer: “Oh, it is not difficult. I gather together a representative group of the congregation and whatever is the consensus of this group, this is what I preach.”
Once again, I repeat that while in Washington, D.C., attending this gathering I met many devout and wonderful church leaders, but I must say as I returned home from this trip I had a growing concern that from the pulpits of many of our churches in this land as well as in the world in general there is an increasing tendency to teach the doctrines of man rather than that which God has directed.
As the meeting concluded I had great disappointment that a declaration of gratitude to our Eternal Father had not been pronounced or produced by this great body of religious leaders. However, I came away with the firm resolve that I would at least let my voice be heard on two issues during this bicentennial year.
First, I will develop within me the courage to stand up and defend that which I believe to be right. I will declare my personal witness that the heavens are not closed. The Lord continues to guide and direct all of his children on earth if they will but heed his voice. I will teach my firm conviction that the foundation of any righteous government is the law that has been received from the Lord to guide and direct man’s efforts. Righteous government receives direction from the Lord. The scripture President Tanner quoted bears this out, in our country, in the establishment of this government. “And for this purpose have I established the Constitution of this land, by the hands of wise men whom I raised up unto this very purpose, and redeemed the land by the shedding of blood.” (D&C 101:80.)
I have resolved to do all that is within my power to keep alive the same faith which existed in the hearts and souls of our early founding fathers.
It was George Washington who declared, “The people know it is impossible to rightly govern without God and the Bible.”
Again from Andrew Jackson the declaration: “The Bible is the rock on which this Republic rests.”
I reaffirm before you here today of my faith that the Lord God continues to govern the affairs of his children. His law must be the foundation on which all law is based. We must be willing to support, defend, and live in harmony with his divine law.
Now second, I want to publicly profess my opposition to those who are so caught up in their own learning they believe with their enlightened minds they can change the laws of God. A consensus of mankind is not and never will be empowered to change these divine laws.
Let me cite just one example of how these seemingly enlightened minds are trying to destroy the sacred institution of marriage with their erroneous doctrines and teachings. A quotation from a recent publication, which is just one of many I have recently received from concerned citizens, is as follows:
“On the basis of this and other such evidence, some observers suggest that the institution of marriage which had necessarily been changed over the centuries to accommodate the needs of a changing society now faces a future in which it may gradually become obsolete. In their judgment, marriage will ultimately manifest itself, not as a religious sacrament or a legal certification but simply as a sociological fact.” (William H. Masters and Virginia E. Johnson, The Pleasure Bond, Toronto and Boston, Little, Brown and Co., p. 179.) They are calling for a new Christian approach to marriage. They state that dogmatism is being forced to yield to humanism no matter how slowly or how grudgingly. They call attention to studies they claim are on the verge of revealing with assurance that having extramarital relations may serve as a vehicle to faithfulness to God.
I find that such teachings are absolutely contrary to the instructions of the Lord to mankind. As I examine the physical order in the Lord’s divine plan, I find no evidence that he has ever found it necessary to make a correction. The earth continues to rotate in the same direction. The angle of its axis is unchanged. The circulation of moisture continues from sea to cloud to earth to river to sea with its same beneficial effect without alteration.
I find the same consistency in the divine law he has established for mankind. In the very beginning he declared:
“And the Lord God said, It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him an help meet for him.
“And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam and he slept: and he took one of his ribs, …
“And the rib, which the Lord God had taken from man, made he a woman, and brought her unto the man.
“And Adam said, This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh: she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.
“Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife: and they shall be one flesh.” (Gen. 2:18, 21–24.)
The union between husband and wife is sacred to the Lord, something not to be trifled with. The marriage covenant was essential to the Lord God to accomplish his mission and purposes for which he created the heavens and the earth.
In all periods of time, he has declared his divine law is to safeguard and protect this holy union between husband and wife. When Moses found need for laws to govern the children of Israel, one of the pronouncements by the Lord to him was, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” (Ex. 20:14.)
In another age when the only Begotten Son was on the earth, he reaffirmed with added emphasis this eternal law: “Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery:
“But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.” (Matt. 5:27–28.)
The Lord in his dealings on the American continent, as contained in the Book of Mormon, declares again the same consistent teaching, “Thou shalt not commit adultery.” (Mosiah 13:22.)
He has not left us without that same instruction in our modern scriptures. For again in this day he has declared, “Thou shalt not commit adultery; and he that committeth adultery, and repenteth not, shall be cast out.” (D&C 42:24.)
There has not been and never will be contradiction in the divine laws of God. Scripture after scripture in all ages of time declare his divine message that does not change and cannot be changed by man.
It is comforting to me that the early founders of this country had the same conviction of the powers of the Almighty. Thomas Paine said, “What is it we want to know? Does not the creation, the universe we behold, preach to us the existence of an Almighty power, that governs and regulates the whole? And is not the evidence that this creation holds out to our senses infinitely stronger than anything we can read in a book that any imposter might make or call the word of God? As for morality, the knowledge of it exists in every man’s conscience.” (In God We Trust, ed. Norman Cousins, New York, Harper and Brothers, 1958, p. 1.)
And so today, I sound the same words of warning as Paul the Apostle of old: “For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears;
“And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables.” (2 Tim. 4:3–4.)
I leave you my witness that there is a consistency in the laws of God that will not change. When we conform our lives to his laws we will find a rewarding joy, a fulfillment, and a peace as we live here on earth. When we would pervert or change his laws or disregard them, we must stand the judgments of God, and as surely as that occurs, misery, sorrow, and heartache will be the result.
Let us catch the spirit of the Psalmist who wrote, “The earth is the Lord’s, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.” (Ps. 24:1.)
May God grant that we may have the courage to stand up and be counted for that which we know to be right, I humbly pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

This time, as I opened my mouth, I felt a peace that I hadn’t felt since I was a kid. “At church once, some old guy told a story,” I began. “It’s about a kid who’s 18 and goes to work on a fishing boat out of St. John’s. And sometime in the summer of his first year on the boat it hits a sandbar and sinks. Most of the crew climbs aboard the lifeboat, but this guy and the captain get caught by a current and pulled away.
“They don’t have life jackets or anything, and for a long time they just tread water—hoping for someone to find ’em.”
“Wow,” from Lanny, who had been on enough fishing boats to know how big the ocean was, and how impossible it would be to find anyone swimming in it.
“Anyway, finally the captain realizes that the water’s too cold for them to last much longer, so he swims over to the kid and says ‘We’re not gonna make it.’ And he asks the kid if he’s religious. Well, the kid is just like me. He’s a Mormon, but he’s been kind of goofing off and it’s been a while since he’s been active. But he says he’ll say a prayer for ’em.”
“And what happened?”
“He and the captain close their eyes, and the kid says a prayer out loud … And when they open their eyes they see the light of a buoy. They swim over and hang on, and a few hours later they are found.”
Lanny smiled. “And the guy telling the story turns out to be the 18-year-old kid, right?”
“Uh, no. The guy telling the story was the captain. He joined the Church.”

We establish the Church in the hearts of our brothers and sisters when we minister properly. One day, while serving as the Lubumbashi Stake president, the Spirit of the Lord prompted me to give a ring to a friend from the Lubumbashi Second Ward. I had these promptings all day long, and I finally resolved to call him as I arrived at work. Here is what happened: “He shouted, ‘President, I am surprised that you call me at this very moment! I have just had a discussion with a Protestant pastor who appeared to be convincing me! Your phone call has fortified me. This is a proof that we are in the true Church of the Lord.’ I answered him: ‘My brother, we are members of the Church of the Lord; it is his Church, we need to stand fast in spite of all hardships we may be experiencing in life. We are from the Church of the Lord, no one can separate us from His love, and no one can change that’.”
This phone call helped my brother to stand firm with an increasing faith in the Lord, since he had only been a member of the Church for two years.

It had just started to rain when seven-year-old Angela stepped into the tent. Her two older brothers, Michael and Mark, were already inside. Mom and Dad had their own tent set up not far away.
“Let’s say our prayers before we get into our sleeping bags,” Michael said.
The three children knelt in prayer. Angela thanked Heavenly Father for her many blessings, and she asked Him to keep them safe from the storm and to help them sleep well.
After her prayer, she slid into her sleeping bag. For a long time all was quiet except for the plomp, plomp, plomp of the rain against the roof of their tent. Then she heard Michael’s voice. “Hey, Angela, wasn’t Mount Rushmore cool?”
“Yes,” she answered with a yawn.
“So were the animals in the park,” said Mark.
“I liked them too,” Angela agreed. She pictured the buffalo calves grazing so close to the road that she could see their eyes watching the slow-moving cars.
Flash! Boooooom!
Angela squeezed her eyes tight. “Go to sleep,” she told herself. “It’s just thunder.” It had rained almost every day that her family had been on vacation. Every time it rained, lightning shot across the sky like hot arrows, and thunder echoed on and on like beating drums.
Flash! Boooooom!
Angela pulled the sleeping bag over her head. “Go to sleep,” she told herself again.
“Mark, are you awake?” Michael whispered into the darkness.
“Hmmm?” Mark’s voice was heavy with sleep.
“Are you awake?”
Flash!
Mark opened his eyes. “I am now,” he said.
Boooom!
“Angela, are you awake?” Michael asked.
“Yes,” Angela whimpered. “I’m scared. I want to go to Mom and Dad’s tent.”
“It’s raining too hard,” Michael said. “You’ll get soaking wet. Besides, it’s not safe to go out in the lightning.”
Angela frowned. “But I’m really scared.”
Flash! Flash!
“You don’t need to be scared,” Mark said. “The lightning is really cool! It’s just a bunch of static electricity in the clouds.”
Boooom!
“And the thunder sounds like a big whip!” he added.
Angela shuddered. “I don’t like it!”
Flash! Boooom!
“Well, then think of things that make you happy,” Mark suggested. “That might help.”
Angela closed her eyes and thought about a field of yellow flowers. She imagined herself running down a hill into the field, laughing.
Flash! Boom! Flash! Flash! Booooom!
“It’s not working,” Angela said, shaking. “I’m still scared.”
Suddenly, rain began pelting their tent. Angela scrunched deep within her sleeping bag. What could she do to stop feeling scared? Then a quiet thought entered her mind. “Why don’t we sing?” she shouted, hoping her brothers could hear her above the noise. “My Primary teacher said that singing Primary songs can help us feel better.”
“OK,” Mark said loudly. “What should we sing?”
“How about ‘I Am a Child of God’?” Michael suggested.
Slowly, quietly, Angela started to sing.
“I am a child of God,
And he has sent me here …”
Angela stopped. Her brothers weren’t singing with her. “They must not be able to hear me,” she thought. So she sang louder.
“Has given me an earthly home
With parents kind and dear.”
Her brothers were singing now.
“Lead me, guide me, walk beside me,
Help me find the way.
Teach me all that I must do
To live with him someday.”
(Children’s Songbook, 2–3)
Flash! Boom!
“Now what should we sing?” Angela asked.
“Let’s sing that one again,” Michael said.
Over and over, Angela, Michael, and Mark sang “I Am a Child of God” until the storm passed and peace returned to their tent.
“It worked!” Angela told herself as she snuggled into the warmth of her sleeping bag. “Finally I can go to sleep.” As she closed her eyes, another thought gently filled her mind. “I am a child of God, and I know He will help me find the way.”

Thursday was a terrible day for Jeramie. She was in junior high school, and her homework was hard. When she got home from school, the calculator she used in math was missing, and she was sure that one of the little kids had gone into her room and grabbed it. She was about to yell at her mother to punish “the little brats,” when she looked up and saw the picture of Jesus. She was still plenty mad, but she just didn’t feel like yelling anymore. She went quietly to find Mom, who reminded her that she had done her homework in the den last night. Sure enough, her calculator was in her father’s desk, where she had left it.

The Browns are a traveling family. Each summer they take a big trip. They camp along the way, and they always take David’s hand-powered tricycle. David has ridden his trike in many wonderful places: the Lincoln Memorial and the Capitol in Washington, D.C.; the Grand Canyon; Niagara Falls; Disney World; and even across the Royal Gorge Bridge. But David and his family agree that the best trips they have ever taken are the two trips they made to the Hill Cumorah Pageant. Every member of the family had a costume and a part in the pageant. David’s dad even played the part of Lehi one year.
David has many friends in Primary. His favorite Primary song is “I Want to Be a Missionary Now.” He hopes to go on a mission to Germany one day because his dad went there on his mission. David’s big smiles and hugs make Sunday a special day for lots of people.
David says, “I just want to be treated like any other kid.” But his happiness and his love for others make him one of a kind.

As the Church continues to expand throughout the world, many members live where we have no chapels—and may not for the foreseeable future. I remember a family who, because of such circumstances, was required to meet in their home. I asked the mother how she liked going to church in her own home. She replied, “I like it! My husband uses better language at home now, knowing that he will bless the sacrament here each Sunday.”

There was an experience in my life which has often reminded me of the joy resulting from asking the question “What would the Savior do in this situation?”
I was among the first wave of Marines to go ashore in Japan after the signing of the peace treaty following World War II. Entering the devastated city of Nagasaki was one of the saddest experiences of my life. A large part of the city had been totally destroyed. Some of the dead had not yet been buried. As occupation troops, we set up headquarters and went to work.
The situation was very bleak, and a few of us wanted to give more. We went to our division chaplain and requested permission to help rebuild the Christian churches. Because of government restrictions during the war, these churches had almost ceased to function. Their few buildings were badly damaged. A group of us volunteered to repair and replaster these chapels during our off-duty time so they would be available for the holding of Christian services again.
We had no command of the language. All we could accomplish was the physical labor of repairing the buildings. We found the ministers who had been unable to serve during the war years and encouraged them to return to their pulpits. We had a tremendous experience with these people as they again experienced the freedom to practice their Christian beliefs.
An event occurred as we were leaving Nagasaki to return home that I will always remember. As we were boarding the train that would take us to our ships to return home, we were teased by a lot of the other Marines. They had their girlfriends with them saying good-bye to them. They laughed at us and indicated that we had missed the fun of being in Japan. We had just wasted our time laboring and plastering walls.
Just as they were at the height of their teasing, up over a little rise near the train station came about 200 of these great Japanese Christians from the churches we had repaired, singing “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” They came down and showered us with gifts. Then they all lined up along the railroad track, and as the train started down the tracks, we reached out and just touched their fingers as we left. We couldn’t speak; our emotions were too strong. But we were grateful that we could help in some small way in reestablishing Christianity in a nation after the war.

I have been drawing pictures for my whole life. When I was little, I drew all the time. My mom asked me to tell her the story for each picture I drew. I told her the stories, and she wrote them down for me.
From a young age, I wanted to become an artist. I loved watching animated movies. I wanted to be part of making something like that. My mom always believed in me, and she helped me believe that I could do it.
To get better at art, I practiced a lot. I volunteered for things. I drew posters for community events. I painted store windows. I painted banners. One time I helped paint sets at an opera house.
These experiences taught me that art was a way that I could serve. I had fun using my talents to help others. I felt more motivated because I was making something beautiful for someone else.
When I grew up, I became an artist for Disney. I tried new things and developed talents I didn’t know I had. Heavenly Father led and guided me to where I needed to be.

When my ballet teacher showed us what our costume would look like for the spring recital, my sister and I knew it wasn’t modest. We decided to talk to our ballet teacher and explain that we were not comfortable wearing that costume. We told her we would not be able to be in the recital unless the costume was modest. My ballet teacher agreed to change the costume so it would be modest. I was glad I talked to my teacher about it and that she was willing to make the changes to the costume so my sister and I could be in the recital. I know it was the right thing to do.

This next example shows you do not have to be wealthy or old to be an instrument for good. Eighteen-year-old Marie “Djadjou” Jacques is from the Cavaillon Branch in Haiti. When the devastating earthquake struck near her town in August, her family’s house was one of tens of thousands of buildings that collapsed. It’s almost impossible to imagine the despair of losing your home. But rather than giving in to that despair, Djadjou—incredibly—turned outward.

Associated Press

She saw an elderly neighbor struggling and began taking care of her. She helped others clear away debris. Despite her exhaustion, she joined other Church members to distribute food and hygiene kits to others. Djadjou’s story is just one of many powerful examples of service carried out by youth and young adults as they strive to follow the example of Jesus Christ.

Illustration by Adam Howling
“Hey, Trace, where did Mom go tonight?” I called out as I walked through the dirty kitchen. It looked like a tornado had blown through—dirty dishes were all over the place.
“I don’t know. She and Dad went to a dinner party with some friends,” replied the youngest of my 11 brothers and sisters as he watched a basketball game.
“So, is this food up for grabs?” I asked, hoping to find something in the pots and pans.
Wesley, number 10 of the 11, came bounding down the old, battered stairs, and as he ran to see the latest basketball score, he said, “Mom made it for us and left for the party. She said she’ll be back late and to not make too much of a mess.”
“Too late for that,” I mumbled. “Man. Good thing it’s not my night to clean up.”
The Christmas season was in full swing, and having our whole family in town made for a heavy amount of stress that seemed to wind up in Mom’s shoulder muscles. That’s when the idea came to me. It had been a while since I’d done anything but dirty the house—so why not surprise Mom and make it less dirty for a change?
After having a bite to eat, I tried for a miracle. “Wes, Trace, what do you think about cleaning this place up for Mom?”
“You can do what you want. I’m watching the game,” Trace said. He sounded bugged by the mere thought of trading dishes for the game.
“I knew it was pointless to ask you two,” I grumbled, feeling annoyed. The giant mound of dirty dishes was daunting, but someone had to do the job.
Usually when Mom asks me to clean the kitchen I whine for at least five minutes before grudgingly carrying out her wish. I typically react to her pleas for help with pride and selfishness. So this time, at first I started cleaning because I was looking for her praise. But soon I felt a joy that I can’t explain in doing the work without being asked.
As I began to slosh dishes around in the sink and squeeze the pineapple-scented dish soap into the steaming water, something unexpected began to happen.
Slowly, as if trying to hide the fact that he was even thinking of helping, Wesley wandered in and said, “I’ll dry if you wash.” Not wanting to scare him off, I nodded without looking at him.
“OK,” I said, “but the element of surprise is everything, so let’s move fast.”
Two minutes later, Trace walked sheepishly into the kitchen and said, “I’ll wipe the counters and sweep, but that’s it. And if I miss anything cool in the game, I’m going to be mad.”
“No prob,” I answered. “The faster we go, the faster we’ll be done. If Mom could only see us now, I think she’d have a heart attack.”
“Yeah,” they both said in unison.
“I was just thinking. What if we did the math?” Wes said. “There are 365 days in a year, times 13 of us, and then add three meals a day. I can’t even work those numbers. I’m just glad I’m not Mom.”
“It’s 14,235,” declared Trace triumphantly.
“Oh, and then times it by each utensil and cup on the table. I’m beginning to feel depressed. I don’t even know how Mom handles us all.”
“Hurry, here they come!” Trace yelled just as we caught sight of the car’s headlights. “Quick, hide!” I ran to my position at the top of the stairs, just out of eyesight, listening intently for Mom’s response to the sparkling countertops. As I waited, I sat thinking about what had just happened. We’d sacrificed half an hour that would have been wasted in front of the TV. How simple it was to give so little and have it mean so much.
The hum of the car’s motor cut out. The car doors opened and thumped shut. As the kitchen door swung open with a burst of icy winter air, we heard these rewarding words, “Oh! Heavenly angels have been at work!”

Last summer when I was away from home, a fierce wind and rainstorm blew through our neighborhood. A huge tree had fallen from my neighbor’s yard, filling my yard and knocking down power lines. The tree needed to be removed before the damage could be repaired and power restored to my home.
Early in the morning I called my brother, who planned to find some equipment and come as soon as he could. I also called my bishop. Within minutes my bishop, home teacher, former stake president, and 10 men from my ward were there with their chain saws and made quick work of this disaster. My visiting teachers brought in dinner that evening. Many more men from the high priests group, the elders quorum, and the neighborhood came on subsequent evenings to assist me and my family in cleaning up the mess.
I was needy on that occasion. I needed help from others. My discouragement turned into joy and gratitude. I felt loved and cared for. These people were quick to recognize one in need. They lived their testimony and demonstrated the reality of their covenants.

Ben Twigger loves good things. Even from a young age, he received good grades in school, attended early morning seminary in his hometown in Northampton, England, and enjoyed studying the Book of Mormon. He also loved sports and became the 800- and 400-meter racing champion for his county, despite not taking part in the Sunday league trials.
Having been raised in the Church, Ben always planned on serving a full-time mission. “When I saw missionaries serving in our ward and visiting in our home, I knew deep down that being a missionary was what I wanted to become,” he says.
However, it wasn’t until Ben started planning for college that everything he loved collided. Ben decided at an early age that he would like to attend Cambridge University, one of the world’s foremost universities. Ben achieved A levels in six subjects—well above the minimum requirement for admission to Cambridge. In fact, Ben was the top-performing student in his city the year he applied. Yet despite his eagerness to learn from world-class scientists, Ben resolved early on to request a two-year deferment so that he could serve a mission. However, when he checked out the university prospectus for maths and maths-based subjects, he discovered that even a one-year deferment was strongly discouraged.
“I was not daunted and applied anyway,” Ben says. He received an interview, even though he was informed that the university application system does not allow for such a deferment.
Despite his hopeful attitude, Ben was denied admission. Although the reason for the denial was not specifically stated in the letter, his tutor assumed it was a result of the two-year deferment he had requested and the subsequent loss of skills the university felt it would cause.
“When I received a letter from Cambridge informing me of their decision, I felt very disappointed, as it had been a long-term goal, but I felt determined to serve the Lord regardless of the sacrifices it would require.”
Ben was called to serve in the France Toulouse Mission. He had a wonderful experience, bringing souls unto Christ and serving with other spiritually prepared missionaries. During his mission, Ben admits, he learned a valuable lesson about faith and about putting that faith into practice.
“However much God wants to help us, unless we believe and act accordingly, He cannot help us,” Ben says. “But when we act in faith and put in the necessary works, small and great miracles can occur.”
Toward the end of his mission Ben started thinking about his future studies. He was initially nervous to reapply for admission to Cambridge after his mission. But he was reminded of the invaluable lessons he had learned on his mission, as well as a scripture he had learned as a child. “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart” (Proverbs 3:5). Even though Ben could have applied to go straight to another university, he decided to take the time necessary to study and prepare so that he could apply again to Cambridge. Within two weeks of returning home, he was studying full-time to refresh his skills.
After successfully completing the verbal and written tests required for the interview, Ben received an offer to study natural sciences, specializing in physics, a four-year master’s degree program at Cambridge starting exactly one year after his return from his mission.
“I do consider my acceptance as a direct result of putting the Lord first and obeying His commandments,” Ben says. “I know that because I trusted in the Lord, I was blessed with the righteous desires of my heart.”

On 26 April 2022, Malachi Fullwood and Jas Flynn both opened their mission calls with family and friends. Excited at the chance to serve in the Armenia/Georgia Mission and the Finland Helsinki Mission, respectively, it was a joyous and emotional day.
It was also a day of celebration for the Meltham Ward of the Huddersfield Stake. Once Elder Fullwood and Elder Flynn left for the MTC in August and September, they became the eighth and ninth concurrent serving missionaries from the ward.
In the hills made famous by Last of the Summer Wine1, the villages that make up this rural ward support Elder Jacob Turner (Alpine-German Speaking Mission), Elder Joseph Flynn (Germany Berlin Mission), Elder Isaac Casper (England Manchester Mission), Sister Eva Cooper (England Manchester Mission), Sister Grace Cooper (England London Mission – Spanish speaking), Elder Luca Everson (Hungary Romania Mission), and Elder Ben Williams (France Paris Mission) —alongside Elder Fullwood and Elder Flynn.
Bishop Adam Quesne said, “With eight families having children serving missions, it is a great privilege and blessing for the rest of the ward to support and love those missionaries too.
“Adapted from a famous proverb: ‘it takes a [ward] to raise a [missionary]’. In the last year we have also had missionaries return from Brazil, Sweden, Russia and Ukraine. It has been an incredible experience to learn of the new cultures, hear the languages and see the growth in these young men and young women as they have served the Lord and their brothers and sisters across the world”.

Our little blue Volkswagen rolled down the country road, carrying us farther and farther away from the home we had grown to love so much during the past five years. Mom was driving the car that contained my two younger sisters and me, and Dad was ahead in a borrowed truck that was loaded high with beds and tables; our old upright piano; and boxes of dishes, dresses, and collected memories. Leaving our little town of Potlatch, Idaho (population 880), for the big city of Lewiston, Idaho (population 26,000), was traumatic. I was 12 years old, and I knew that the sidewalks, drive-ins, and paper mill of this strange new place I was moving to could never replace the fresh country air and close friendships I was leaving behind. I was sure the best part of life was over, and I tried to resign myself to my fate.

After we were settled in our new little home, I spent most of the hot summer days lying on my bed listening to records, reading, and writing letters to my friends. Yet, as August drew to a close, I began to get more excited about attending this big junior high school that had almost as many people as the whole town of Potlatch.

With a new dress and a nervous smile, I entered the building that September and went to first period English. I took a seat near the front of the room and was delighted when the girl in front of me turned around and introduced herself.

As the days continued, I found that, miracle of miracles, the students here were really not so different from my other friends. They also liked the Monkees, hamburgers with mustard, and football games. They also weren’t too excited about math tests, cold weather, or the rival junior high school. I began to feel a part of things and even quit plotting to return to Potlatch for my senior year. I played the clarinet in the school band and quickly found that being in that organization offered me the security of belonging to a group. I didn’t know then that there was an even greater group that was soon to enter my life.

Although I was a member of the Church, when we lived in Potlatch I had usually attended a Protestant church located just behind my house. (There was at that time no branch in Potlatch, and our family seldom traveled the half-hour distance to the nearest ward.) When we moved to Lewiston, however, we began attending Sunday School at the LDS church. It was large, and the people seemed quite friendly—I couldn’t believe how welcome they made me feel! I became good friends with a girl named Teresa, and one day she invited me to come to Mutual. I had no idea what that was, and even after she explained it to me, I figured it must be something like 4-H. What a surprise to find that both boys and girls attended and that we had interesting classes and fun activities! I became involved in Church activities and hardly ever missed Mutual. Mutual was the place where I felt the greatest warmth and acceptance. I didn’t have a testimony of the Church at that time, and the reason I attended was because of the love and friendship extended to me by my friends and leaders. I could feel a warmth there that influenced my life in a very positive manner.

Today when I hear the names of inactive boys or girls, I try to remember that each of them is a potential active member. I am grateful to Teresa, a wonderful friend who kept inviting me to Mutual until I came, and for those open-hearted people in my ward who loved me into activity. I am grateful they did not say, “Oh, well, another inactive girl. I wonder what her problem is?” I’m glad that instead, they thought, “I wonder what her strengths are? We need her.”

Mutual gave me so much—firesides, girls’ camp, slumber parties, eternal friends. And perhaps most important, it gave me the beginnings of a testimony of the gospel and the understanding of what a tremendous influence Mutual can be in the lives of young men and women. For many years I was one of the many inactive little girls throughout the Church; how grateful I am that I wasn’t allowed to remain one forever! I wonder how many inactive members are waiting for us to invite them back into the Church? President Harold B. Lee once said, “What you have to give just may be enough.” From personal experience I know that sometimes that doesn’t have to be very much at all.

Peter Jeppson took the gasoline pump hose out of his tank and with a quick twist of his wrist, secured the tank cap. It was late Saturday night, and he had stopped for gasoline on his way home from his date. He was still thinking of his best friend’s news—a mission call. Peter, himself, would be sending in his own papers in just a few weeks.
As Peter drove through an intersection into the traffic on the main highway leading into Boise, Idaho, his car smashed head-on into another. On impact, the windshield of his car was knocked out and shattered on the street. The full gas tank located in the front of his rear-engined car burst.
Gas sloshed up the hood right through the open window catching me right in the eyes, covering me and the inside of the car completely. Somehow flames were ignited, and the car burst into a blazing fire. It was then that some people who were passing by saw the accident and quickly stopped. Three men were able to get close enough to my car to open the door. The flames were two times as high as the car. They couldn’t find me because the flames were so intense. They threw their coats in the open car door to cover the flames until they could see my hand. The three of them grabbed my hand and pulled me from the wreckage. They rolled me over and over to put out the fire.
Peter had borrowed his brother’s thick, Scottish wool sweater for his date that night. The trunk of his body and his arms down to the wrists, the areas covered by the sweater, were the only parts not burned. It was the fact that he was wearing this sweater that saved his life.
In 1965, Peter was living in his hometown of Boise, Idaho, preparing for a mission like many of his friends. The day of the accident changed all that. He was forced into an experience that would test him to the limit. And it was his triumph over adversity that changed his life.

Like so many young people do, when I was young I occasionally dreamed of being rich and famous. I am now grateful that that dream was not realized. My understanding of what success really is has changed over the years of my life. It began to change on my first mission to Brazil over 45 years ago.
One day, my companion and I went out to visit a poor sister who was widowed. In those days there were no stakes or wards in Brazil, only mission districts and branches. Sometimes missionaries looked after the members.
Finally, we arrived at a humble home in a very isolated area. This home had a dirt floor and open windows without any glass. The wind and the flies could come right through. Never before in my life had I been in a home where people live with open windows and a dirt floor. Despite this, the house was clean and neat, curtains were hung, and the boards on the inside of the house were whitewashed. Despite being primitive, the home had a cozy feeling about it. We asked after this poor widow’s health and well-being. She seemed quite happy and contented. We then began to have something of a gospel lesson. She participated freely. We thought that we were the teachers, but it soon became apparent that she knew more than we did. Her faith was deep, and her knowledge of the great eternal truths of where we came from, who we are, and where we are going was very profound.
I had my eyes opened. It was astonishing to hear this sister in these humble circumstances explain the great purposes of God in the grand scheme of the earth and its creation. I was reminded about what James said in his great epistle: “Hath not God chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom which he hath promised to them that love him?” (James 2:5).
In contrast to this experience, I have seen many who were wealthy who have wasted their talents and energy to a point where their spiritual understanding was dulled. Some were so preoccupied with money and things that they missed the grand purpose of life. I am sure that while poor people did not choose to be poor, often it is within their grasp to know, understand, and enjoy the really important things. So if one does not have all the things of this world one would wish, one can still have and enjoy the rich, satisfying gifts of life and the blessings of God, such as faith, family, and friends.
This poor widow on the outskirts of São Paulo made the most of her straitened circumstances—circumstances that could not easily be changed. She realized that she should not make her life miserable by wishing it were otherwise. We ought always to try to improve on the things that can be improved, but there are some circumstances that cannot be changed. This impoverished woman enjoyed her independence, and she owed no one any money. She was industrious and thrifty. She crocheted beautiful cloths which were sold in the city to satisfy her simple wants, but she was not poor in spirit. She was rich in the things that really matter.
From that experience many years ago, I learned much. I am persuaded that this humble widow who lived in a house with a dirt floor and no panes in the window is an heir to the exaltation of God.