Gospel Story Finder

While my husband and I were serving in the Asia Area, we would often walk up Wan Chai Gap, a trail near our home in Hong Kong. The ascent is steep and difficult to climb, particularly on hot, humid summer days.
One Saturday I noticed that I wasn’t enjoying our walk, which seemed more like punishment than exercise. Looking down at the pavement for nearly the entire walk, I felt as though we were never going to reach the top.
I made an interesting discovery that day. When I looked down, my vision was limited to a narrow stretch of pavement. Trudging along, I saw the same narrow view of pavement, pavement, pavement. But when I looked up, I had a gorgeous view ahead of me. I saw trees with bright yellow flowers. I saw birds flying and singing melodious songs. I saw Tai Chi students rhythmically opening colorful fans as part of their exercise routine. Soon we reached our goal, Stubbs Road, and beyond that I saw bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds.

A friend of ours was hospitalized following an accident. A neighbor remarked, “I’ve got to bake something for Sally’s family,” but she didn’t. Then she said, “I’ve got to visit Sally while she is still in bed.” But she didn’t. On another occasion she told us, “I’ve just got to get a card off to Sally,” but she never did. These are examples of wanting to be a good neighbor but kind of faking it, though there probably were extenuating circumstances and good excuses.

A couple of months before my sophomore year in high school, my mom took me shopping for school clothes. While I was trying on a shirt that was probably a couple of sizes too small for me, I decided to model it for my mom and act like I wanted it. When I opened the dressing room door, my mom’s reaction was not what I had imagined.
“What’s that hump on your back?”
“What hump? It’s just a shirt.”
My mom studied my back then immediately called and scheduled an appointment for me to see a specialist. The look of concern on her face scared me.
Days later, in the specialist’s office, we learned that I had a severe case of scoliosis, extreme curvature of the spine. There are four levels of scoliosis, and mine was a level three. If I could decrease the curve to level two, then I wouldn’t need surgery. We began doing everything we could, but the curve of my spine was increasing. The next step was to try a back brace. My first day of school was the day I was fitted.
The brace was very uncomfortable. I had to wear a layer underneath, or the brace would leave a nasty rash. I also wore a layer over the brace so it wouldn’t rub holes in my nice school shirts. Wearing that many layers in Arizona wasn’t the easiest thing to do. There were days I left school early because of heat exhaustion. Other days I came home feeling hideous and gross. At times I would lie on the floor for hours because it hurt to move. I tried to be brave, but I often cried myself to sleep. It all seemed too much for me to handle.
Classes were hard. I remember days I would pray the seminary hymn was one I knew, since I was unable to reach the hymnbook from under my desk. In traffic safety class, my brace kept me from driving in reverse because I couldn’t turn around. I dropped my pencil during tests and couldn’t pick it up. Dance used to be my favorite class, but it became my hardest. My mom helped me dress every morning. She even tied my shoes for me.
Through all this I persisted in studying my scriptures. Every night I prayed with a fervent heart for a miracle. In my journal I described days where the pain was unbearable, but I always, on every page, reminded myself of my Savior. “I know He’ll help me get through this,” I would write. “Someday He’ll give me my miracle.”
Halfway through the year, things began looking up. I was preparing to receive my patriarchal blessing, and I had a strong feeling that somehow this blessing could be my miracle. I attentively listened as the patriarch said, “Remember, Nicole, faith works miracles.” An overwhelming sensation burned inside of me. I had been praying for a miracle since day one. I thought for sure my miracle was coming.
For once, I couldn’t wait for my next doctor’s appointment. I just knew that the X-rays would be good. But when the day arrived and the doctor walked in and posted my X-rays, I felt complete shock. The curvature of my spine was worse than ever. I didn’t understand. I was praying, reading my scriptures, keeping a journal, and fasting. I was doing everything to keep my faith and my testimony strong. What was I doing wrong?
That night I knelt by my bed and poured out all my thoughts and feelings to my Father in Heaven. I told Him of the pain I was in and how confused I was. I asked to have the faith I needed for a miracle to take place in my life.
After many prayers, we found a different doctor. The X-rays in his office were, unfortunately, the same. His first words to me were, “So, I bet you were expecting a miracle.”
I just nodded my head.
The doctor began explaining his procedure for surgery, then he said exactly what I needed to hear. “Surgery,” he said, “is the miracle.” That overwhelming sensation began to burn inside me once more.
I accepted the option of surgery. Of course, there were still challenges, but I recovered faster than any of my doctor’s other patients. I knew my Father in Heaven blessed me and answered my prayers. Surgery may not have been the miracle I was expecting, or even hoping for, but it was the one I needed. It was the one I learned the most from.
Words can’t explain in full detail all this experience brought me. Words can’t describe the pain, the heartache, or the daily challenges. Most of all, words can’t describe the closeness I felt to my Savior.
It doesn’t matter how many things you’re doing right; adversity will still come. Just think of everything our Savior went through, and He was absolutely perfect. Thinking of my Savior is what got me through my hardship. It was the most painful time in my life, but because of Him, I was happy.

If you think about it, it’s a bit strange for someone to put goodies in your old sock. But like many Christmas traditions, the tradition of Christmas stockings comes from an old legend. A long time ago (so the story goes), a poor man had three daughters and couldn’t afford to give them a dowry (money or goods given to the groom’s family by the bride’s family). In those days, it was very hard for a woman to get married without a dowry. A Christian bishop named Nicholas heard about the problem and wanted to help, but the man refused to accept money. One night, Nicholas threw three balls made of pure gold in through the open window of the man’s house. Each one landed in a stocking hung by the fire to dry. The next morning, each daughter found a gold ball in her stocking. With this bounty, they were all able to get married. Stockings can remind us of the importance of service. The greatest example of service is Jesus Christ. He always “went about doing good” (Acts 10:38). Take some time to think about the Savior’s selfless acts of service. How can you give Christlike service and show kindness to others?

In October 2020, President Nelson said, “Anytime we do anything that helps anyone—on either side of the veil—to make and keep their covenants with God, we are helping to gather Israel.”1
This message from our prophet came to my heart with so much power, and our family wanted to fill this purpose.
A few days before general conference, my youngest son, Tomas, had his dental evaluation for his mission papers. After some delays, he received his call to serve in the England Leeds Mission.
On Sunday 18 March 2021, he gave his farewell speech. He focused his message on loving the Lord and our neighbours, and how important this is in missionary work. Because of some COVID-19 restrictions, it was only Elder Tomas Flores, Daniel (my other son, who has Down syndrome), and me on the stand with the bishopric. My husband and my daughter stayed with the congregation.
Before Elder Tomas Flores started his talk, I told him that Daniel was probably going to follow him—and he did. He stood up behind Tomas. It was like Daniel was his guardian angel. In that moment, I had the feeling that Daniel also needed to serve a mission. After church, I shared my feeling with my husband, and he had had the exact feeling at the same time.
On 23 March 2022, Elder Daniel Flores was set apart to be a service missionary in the Leeds England, Manchester, and Scotland/Ireland missions. He loves to be a missionary. Although he is mostly nonverbal, we communicate with our eyes. He is always willing to help everyone. Most of his service is within service projects in the ward, but he also serves taking pictures for BillionGraves. Our whole family is having a spiritual time with him during this.
Elder Flores really loves to serve others, and he loves Jesus Christ.
Both brothers are serving the Lord at the same time, in different missions, but with the same purpose: to bring people to Christ by serving as the Saviour would.

Since 1929 the government in Mexico has been trying to improve the lives of children through what is currently known as the National System for the Integral Development of the Family (DIF). Operated on federal, state, and city levels, DIF has been instrumental in strengthening families and helping low-income individuals. Now the Church has teamed up with DIF to continue improving the lives of children.
Luis Camarillo, area welfare manager for the Mexico North Area, has seen the problems children in his area face and wanted to help those children. He and others started to look at problems children faced in the area and found that many suffered from two things.
“Nuevo Leon State has no street children; however, it has children suffering from abuse or who are abandoned,” Brother Camarillo said.
Brother Camarillo and other members found out about DIF’s efforts to help the children through a local foster-care program and decided that they would like to assist DIF. He contacted Dr. Alejandro Alberto Morton Martínez, the child and family protection director at DIF, and offered to partner with the group to help the program. Since then, members have been working with Dr. Morton on the foster-care program.
Thanks to offers from the Church and the State of Utah’s foster-care system, the DIF and others involved have been able to receive valuable training on the topic of foster-care.
“A couple of service missionaries came down here to Monterrey from Utah and provided basic training to about 50 potential trainers,” Brother Camarillo said.
Through Humanitarian Services, Brother Camarillo, Dr. Morton, and several others have been able to travel to Utah to receive intensive training from the Utah Department of Children and Family Services. The training covered the basics of how to set up and keep a foster-care system functioning and also offered participants field experience. While in Utah, the participants visited with the Church Welfare Department and LDS Family Services.
Although the foster-care program in Nuevo Leon is still progressing, the training Brother Camarillo and others have received thus far has already started to pay off.
“Because of the training, DIF has improved the recruiting and selection process of potential foster families,” Brother Camarillo said. “The children are expected to have better experiences … than others placed in families who were not recruited applying the new process learned through the Church.”
Thus far the experience of working with DIF has been a good one for everyone involved, including Brother Camarillo. “It is hard to find an organization whose members are as committed to doing good as are those working for DIF,” Brother Camarillo said. “It has been a wonderful experience working with such an organization.”
In addition to helping start the foster-care program, Brother Camarillo has helped orchestrate several humanitarian and service projects with DIF, in which wheelchairs, medical equipment, and furniture were donated.

Their story began years earlier when Darmande Legbanon joined the Church. He had a desire to read the Book of Mormon and learn more about the Church, but was limited because he only spoke Fon, the traditional language in Benin. French is the official language of Benin, and what is spoken at Church. Through his institute teacher, Lionel Missigbeto, he was able to learn French and eventually served a French-speaking mission. Darmande is now the bishop of the Fidjrosse Ward in the Cococodji Benin Stake, and Lionel is the stake president. Bishop Legbanon has also built a successful welding business in Cotonou with 10 to 12 apprentices working under his tutelage.

One day my family went sledding with my grammy and papa. We walked to an open area that was covered with several feet of fresh snow. It was really hard to walk in! My sister had a hard time walking in the snow, so my papa said, “Just walk in my footsteps.”
My sister and I started stepping in his footsteps. After a while I wanted to try to walk on my own for a bit. When I walked by myself in the snow, it was way harder!
Walking in my papa’s footsteps was easier because he already did the hard part of walking in the snow. I have a testimony that Jesus Christ already did the hardest part. If you walk in Jesus’s footsteps, your life will be easier too.

Reader 3: My dad and I used to fight all the time. Anytime I wanted anything or wanted to do something, I’d always give all my reasons because I was afraid dad would say no. And he always did. Then once, when I argued with dad and he said no, I went to mom. All she said was:
Reader D: “Why didn’t you ask him?”
Reader 3: “I did ask him, mom. I just told you what happened.”
Reader D: “You told me you argued with him. But you didn’t ask him. If you treat your father as if he’ll argue, he’ll argue. Next time, simply ask him.”
Reader 3: It sounded so simple it seemed stupid. But I tried. I stopped defending myself as if I didn’t deserve it, and he was more positive, too.

At 10 years of age, he read all 16 volumes of the family’s illustrated Book of Mormon and Church history stories and decided to follow Joseph Smith’s example. Sneaking into a grove of trees across the road from his home, he knelt, prayed, and received a confirmation from the Holy Ghost that Jesus Christ is his Savior, Joseph Smith was a true prophet, and the Book of Mormon is true.
That conviction has spurred a lifetime of dedicated service in the Church, including as an Area Seventy, stake president, and president of the Utah Orem Mission. At the time of his call, Elder Evanson was serving as a Valiant activity leader in his ward in Lethbridge.

The message of the restored gospel appealed to my heart, though born Anglican to humble parents and, as the tradition of the Anglican Church, was given infant baptism with my other siblings in 1973. The Book of Mormon changed all that as the copy I was given in the investigators class and with marked portions to read, I tried my best in reading it not with a desire to obtain a testimony but with my student legal mind. I was searching for faults because nothing compares to my Holy Bible. I had been doing critical Bible study before coming to the Church. I finished the Book of Mormon in no time and diverted my love for secular books to love of scriptures, particularly the Book of Mormon.
My bishop extended a call to me the Sunday after my ordination in the Aaronic Priesthood as a Sunday School teacher. I was also called as a seminary teacher, and I enrolled in an Institute of Religion class. While I taught the Old Testament in seminary, I studied the Book of Mormon in the institute class. This connection to the scriptures changed my life as that was the beginning of a lifelong love for the standard works of the Church and other writings that I have accumulated over the years a large library of Church literatures and scriptures. I even went on to teach institute classes for years even as a stake president.
While I was in Lagos, Nigeria, where I did my National Youth Service, I received the strong feeling that I had a mission to establish the Church in my hometown. I felt inspired and decided to fulfill the mission. I began with my wife, who was not a member at the time. With her unique testimony, she joined the Church and I baptized her like I did our five children.
We went to church in Port Harcourt from Omoku, our hometown. It was about two-hour drive. We did this every Sunday until sometime in 2001 when the Port Harcourt West Stake Presidency authorized me and family to stay back and worship in Omoku under the supervision of the Rumueme Ward. We reactivated some members of the Church who resided in our town and surrounding towns, two of whom were old schoolmates at the university. We started worshipping in my one-room apartment and later moved into a three-rooms flat in the city center where, on the 9th of January 2005, the Church was officially organized with me as the first branch president and my wife as first counsellor in the Relief Society. We had 36 members of our branch.
Missionaries who taught us the gospel of Restoration and eternal families inspired us tremendously and helped to inspire our infant children to love missionary work.
The gospel of Jesus Christ means everything to me and my family. The principles of the gospel are true and life-changing when we apply every word therein. As a branch president in a new place, it naturally imposed a new life on me. They must see the change in me to believe and follow. This is a religion with everlasting promise, hope, and blessings.
The Aba Nigeria Temple was dedicated on August 7, 2005, by President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008). Our family of five then—me, my wife, Justina, and our children (Joy, Daniel, and Gabriel)—were overjoyed. We got sealed as a family on September 22, 2005. Our sons John and Joseph were born in the covenant. My life is about family, Church, and community.

Another time when I learned the importance of prayer was when I was preparing for my first piano recital. I was about seven years old, and I was very nervous. I was afraid I would forget the piece, and I was also worried that my hands would shake so badly that I couldn’t play.
My mother knew I was scared, and she suggested that before I go on stage to play, I bow my head and ask Heavenly Father to help me feel calm and remember what I had practiced. I followed Mother’s advice, taking a moment to pray right before I performed.
He answered my prayers, and I learned that Heavenly Father could help me at all times in my life, even during piano recitals! I started to realize that He could help me in school. I prayed and asked Him to help me study and learn and take tests.
A few years later, when I was ten, my family visited the Hill Cumorah and the Sacred Grove. I remember standing on the Hill Cumorah and listening to Daddy explaining exactly what happened there. Then we went to the Sacred Grove, and Daddy told us about Joseph Smith praying to Heavenly Father for the truth. Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ appeared to young Joseph, blessing him with the answer to his prayer. I knew that if Joseph could get answers, so could I.
Throughout my life, I have talked to Heavenly Father regularly through prayer. I am very grateful to my parents for teaching me that Heavenly Father lives and that He always listens to us. He listens to me, and He listens to you. I know that He will always be there for you.

To the west of our home was our garden plot. Part of the garden was in potatoes. One day my father said to my sister and me, “There are more potatoes than we can use. If you would like to sell some, you may do so.” My sister Alice and I dug some up and hauled them down to a hotel and sold them. When we showed the money to our father, he asked what we were going to do with it. We said we would divide it before buying some things we wanted. Then he questioned, “What about your tithing?” He said, “The Lord has been good to us. We planted and cultivated and harvested, but the earth is the Lord’s. He sent the moisture and the sunshine. One-tenth we always give back to the Lord for his part.” My father made no requirement; he merely explained it so convincingly that we felt it an honor and privilege to pay tithing.

One thing that I learnt from my mission experience is, “one’s life cannot be both faith-filled and stress-free.”2 During my mission I was so happy to have so many families who love me. On the other hand, I was getting weak as I had health issues which affected me a lot. I was expecting the Lord to give me a stress-free and faith-filled life.
Elder Neal A. Maxwell said, “How can you and I really expect to glide naively through life, as if to say, ‘Lord give me experience, but not grief, not sorrow, not pain, not opposition, not betrayal, and certainly not to be forsaken. Keep from me, Lord, all those experiences which made Thee what Thou art!’”3
When I read this quote, I felt peace in my heart even when I’m suffering physically. It has given me a strong assurance that if we want to be Christ’s disciple, we need to go through challenges as He did. Challenges can appear to be things we can’t bear.
It was a great challenge for me to get a mission call, to serve, for only 14 months, not 18 months which made me sad. But through God’s grace I can still feel the peace and happiness.
Sometimes we choose good and expect God to bless us in a way we want. But a true disciple of Christ needs to accept the God’s will rather than our desires.
I know that as we serve Him in the time given to us, whether it’s 18 months or 2 years, with all our heart, might, mind and strength, we will be blessed according to His will and His timing. I know that Jesus is the Christ and He atoned for us. I know he loves us unconditionally. And all he asks us to do is to keep His commandments.

A true story from Taiwan
Yi-Hsun loves drawing in her art class.
When art time is over, everyone goes outside to run and play. Yi-Hsun wants to run to catch up with her friends.
But then she sees Yi-Ruei trip on a rock and hit her knee. “Are you OK?” Yi-Hsun asks.
Yi-Ruei shakes her head and starts to cry.
Yi-Hsun helps her friend go to the school nurse. The nurse cleans up Yi-Ruei’s knee and tells her to rest.
Yi-Hsun helps Yi-Ruei back to the classroom.
Yi-Hsun is happy that she followed Jesus’s example and helped Yi-Ruei. They finish their pictures together.

Twelve-year-old Caternia sat on the floor of the small, cluttered attic, rummaging through the old chest. The big, tattered coffer and its treasured contents had belonged to her great-great-uncle, Ephram Gage. The sweet, musty smell that floated out of the wooden box only added to the wonder and mystery of its contents. As soft, filtered light seeped through a small attic window, it washed across each object she touched.
Next week was Caternia’s turn to give the lesson in family home evening, and she wanted to do something different about families. “Maybe there’s something in Great-Great-Uncle Gage’s old wooden chest that might be of some help,” her father had suggested. The idea intrigued Caternia, so she’d climbed the steep stairway to the attic.
This wasn’t the first time she’d been there. In fact, it had become her secret place, where she could pray and think and read in private. Her parents had said that everyone should have such a place where they could go to pray and think things out.
Caternia shared a bedroom with her little sister, Ebony. It seemed like every time she tried to be alone, Ebony’s pet hamster, Bartholomew, would get loose, and Ebony always recruited two or three friends to assist in the hunt. By the time Bartholomew was back in his cage, the room was in total chaos—rummaged drawers, scattered school papers, and beds that looked more turbulent than her father’s just-plowed field!
After every successful capture, a victory party was held—in Caternia and Ebony’s bedroom, of course. The festivities were loud enough to out-noise, Caternia was sure, all the other sounds made since Adam, stacked together. Caternia had learned to seek refuge in the small, quiet attic.
The problem that had been most recently weighing on her mind was the big test coming up in her math class. In order to remain on the dance team at school, she had to maintain a grade of C or better. That wasn’t difficult in her other subjects, but math was especially hard for her. Her parents had helped her all they could, and so had her instructor at school, but she just wasn’t able to grasp it. If she scored well on this test, however, she would get a C for the term and be able to continue on the dance team. If she failed …
Two days earlier, one of her friends had found the test with the answers in their teacher’s desk drawer during recess and had copied it. She offered to give it to Caternia. Caternia knew that cheating was wrong, but she stood to lose her place on the team if she didn’t do well on the test.
As she sat now in the attic, mulling over what she should do, she withdrew an old World War I boot from the trunk. She pushed a fingernail into a crack and scraped out a trace of dirt, which floated like dust through the gilded light. “Dirt,” she uttered out loud. “Maybe it’s from the trenches where so many died.”
But not Uncle Gage. Somehow he had survived the bullets and the barbed wire and the gas. He had made the right moves. Dropped to the ground at the right time. “And prayed constantly,” she remembered her father having once told her, “that God would be mindful of him in his darkest hour. That he might be worthy of a loving Father’s saving grace in his time of greatest need.”
Replacing the shoe, she picked up a compass. It was old, like everything else in the chest, and scratched. But it still worked. It probably had helped Uncle Gage find his way when the smoke and fear of war clouded his judgment. Just like the gospel of Jesus Christ helps me find the way, she thought.
Her eyes faltered as guilt crept across her heart, stealing away her peace like clouds hiding the sun from the land. “But I just have to pass that test,” she protested out loud. “I just have to! I just …”
Her voice trailed suddenly as she pulled out a large tintype of a great castle. The photograph was faded and yellowed, but the castle’s walls were strong and appeared impenetrable. Like the gospel, she deduced, that fortifies one against any assault by the adversary if we keep the commandments.
“But I always do,” she defended herself aloud. “Well, almost always. Surely one wrong isn’t going to outweigh all the right I’ve done. Besides, everybody makes mistakes. I’ll repent after the test. Heavenly Father will understand.” But how much harder would her repentance be, she speculated, when she knew beforehand that what she was going to do was wrong?
As she started to replace the tintype in the chest, her eyes fell upon a hole in the bottom of one of the castle’s great walls. It was a small hole, but it went clear through the wall, and it was big enough for an enemy to slip through and do his dark work.
Caternia sat back against a large vertical timber and gazed at the picture. That’s all that the adversary needs to penetrate our spiritual walls, she reflected. Just one small hole. Just one small sin.
Her eyes lifted to the haze of light that seeped through the little window. Tears oozed down her cheeks. “Forgive me, Heavenly Father,” her lips trembled. “Please forgive me.” Her gaze returned to the old tintype. She stared at it for some time, then closed her eyes in prayer.
An hour later, she descended from the attic. She held the tintype close to her.
“Did you find something you can use in next week’s family home evening?” her mother asked.
Caternia nodded, wiping residual tears from her cheek. “Yes, I did,” she got out. “This old picture. I found it in Uncle Gage’s—”
“Is everything all right, honey?” her mother interrupted when she saw her daughter’s tear-red eyes.
“Yes, Mama. And I’m going to make sure it stays that way, no matter what!”
The following day at school, she told the girl who had offered to share the test questions with her that she had chosen not to cheat. Caternia explained why and encouraged her friend to do the same.
For the next few days, she studied diligently. It wasn’t easy, but she had committed to do all she could do, then ask Father in Heaven for His help. The day after the test, one of her friends saw her crying by her locker.
“Did you fail the math test?”
“No.” Caternia smiled. “I got a B-.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“Because I’m so happy!”
Following family home evening the next Monday, Caternia went to the attic to return the tintype to Uncle Gage’s chest. As she placed it atop the other contents, she gazed one last time at it in the amber glow of an old lamp. She again promised herself and Heavenly Father that she would work each day to keep her spiritual walls strong. She gently ran a finger across the castle’s walls and remembered with warmth the special feeling that had filled her halfway through the test—a feeling that told her in a quiet, whispered way that Someone was with her. She closed the lid of the trunk, leaned back against the timber, and expressed her gratitude to a loving Heavenly Father for helping her in her hour of need.

An anecdote about the Prophet Joseph, dear to the hearts of the Kirtland children who knew it, concerned some baby mice. Workmen leveling a steep hill uncovered a nest of the tiny creatures, and one of the men carried it over to the Prophet, who seemed fascinated by them. He told the workmen that the mice were “pretty little innocent things” and to “take them back and put them where their mother can find them.”

Illustrations by Valerio Fabbretti
I was serving as a missionary, and a family in our ward unexpectedly invited my companion and me over for dinner.
When Christmas Eve finally came, we walked a few miles to their home, stomped off our snow-powdered boots, and eagerly rapped on the front door. Silence. After knocking again and ringing the doorbell, an adult daughter finally came to the door.
“Can you wait out here for a second?” she said. “We forgot you guys were coming.”
The door shut, and we looked at each other, confused, as we shivered on the porch.
When the door swung open again, we were guided to a small, well-loved couch in the corner of the living room. All 15 family members (seven of them small children) were also packed into the room. The older children raised their eyebrows in surprise at our appearance. The younger children wildly wrestled on the carpet. Apparently, the father, who was the only active Church member, had not told his family members that we were coming.
The same daughter who opened the front door announced that they hadn’t had time to prepare dinner, so she was going to see what restaurants were open for pickup. The father did his best to hush the children and direct their attention toward us, but they were pretty rowdy.
At first, my companion could barely utter a few words before a child would squeal or the family dog would jump on our laps. In all the chaos, I prayed for a way to help this family feel the peace of the Savior.
“Let’s imagine something together,” I said suddenly. “Can everyone close their eyes?”
I didn’t quite know where I was going with this, but I had a copy of an article by Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles that my mom had sent me. The question took the children off guard and they squeezed their eyes shut.
I unfolded the talk and began to read.
“Think about that baby [Jesus] in the manger. … Do not be too concerned or overwhelmed with what is coming in His life or in yours. … Just think about that little baby. Take a quiet, peaceful moment to ponder the beginning of His life ... when all of heaven rejoiced with the message ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men’ (Luke 2:14).”
At this point the children were all quiet and still; even the teenagers put their phones down. I read on.
“Just sit with the Lord and let Him warm you like a fire in winter. You don’t have to be perfect or the greatest person who ever graced the earth or the best of anything to be with Him.”1
I paused for a few moments to allow the Spirit to linger before telling the family to open their eyes. My companion and I bore our testimonies of the miracle of Christ’s birth and how we can always experience the peaceful feelings of Christmas as we cherish His life.
The atmosphere in the small living room was warm and light. I felt as though we had taken our own journey to Bethlehem to gather around the Christ child. One of the little girls sighed and said, “I love Jesus. Thank you for coming, Sisters.” Many of the other children nodded.
A few minutes later, the oldest daughter hobbled in the door, arms loaded with bags of fast food. We soon found ourselves munching on tacos, laughing, and sharing our favorite holiday memories.
Christmas has a way of bringing all kinds of people together. And just as Elder Christofferson taught, we don’t have to have the perfect family or the perfect holiday traditions to feel the Savior’s love; we just need to remember Him. On that Christmas Eve, I learned that sometimes a simple, heartfelt moment with Savior is all it takes to create a “silent night.”
The author lives in Utah, USA.

We know the Lord makes His servants bold. The young boy Joseph who saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, in a grove of trees was transformed into a spiritual giant. Parley P. Pratt saw that when the Prophet Joseph Smith rebuked the vile guards who held them captive. Elder Pratt recorded:
“On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’”
Of that experience, Elder Pratt wrote, “Dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri.”3

“I would advise that if a person has a chance to get a four-year bachelor’s degree, he should do it. The two-year hospital programs are good, but the baccalaureate degree lets you do more in the field, no matter how you may rationalize otherwise. However, everyone has to examine his own condition, because not every program is right for every person.
“A nurse sees many tragedies and sorrows. One time I took care of a young man who was dying. His wife was pregnant with their fourth child. I had the privilege of teaching her how to care for him and her children. Part of nursing is being able to teach others. I’ve learned that without the gospel in my life, my attitude might be callous. The saddest thing is to see so many people who could view things so differently if they only understood the gospel plan. I try to share what I can. I’ve had people say things that touch me deeply, such as, ‘Oh, you’re a Mormon. That’s why you’re so kind.’”—Marilyn