Gospel Story Finder

I had suffered through the policeman issuing the speeding ticket, endured traffic school, and now faced my final punishment: standing in line at the courthouse to pay my fine.
My mom had asked me to take my 10-year-old brother, Blake, with me on my errands. As I looked around the courthouse, I noticed several unsavory characters. I was trying to appear confident and grown-up, but I wondered if this might not be the best place to have brought an impressionable kid. I continued to scan the room, lost in my own thoughts, when I felt a tug on my arm. I looked down at Blake, who worriedly whispered, “That lady can’t pay!”
The woman in front of us was discussing her financial situation with the clerk. Apparently, she had already received several extensions on a fine incurred the year before that she hadn’t been able to pay. From their conversation I learned that she was a single mother of several children, working as a substitute teacher. Her fine was substantial for her, and she had no means to pay it.
I dismissed the situation with the thought: “What a shame. Too bad it’s none of my business” and tried to think of something to block out the conversation.
“We should help pay the fine,” my conscience seemed to say. No, wait, it wasn’t my conscience; it was my little brother. “Do you have that much money?” he asked.
I gritted my teeth. I actually did have that much money. I had just received some gift money from relatives and was fortunate to be working a well-paying job. I could easily afford to help the lady. It wasn’t the money though. I tried to explain to Blake that some people don’t like it when others try to solve their problems.
“But she’s a substitute teacher, and it’s June! She won’t have work again until September!” Blake was giving me the look my mom gives me when she knows I am making a dumb excuse. “What do you think Jesus would do?” he asked.
That was the clincher.
With cheeks burning and voice squeaking, I tapped the lady on the shoulder and offered to pay her fine. It didn’t take too much explaining before the woman’s eyes filled with tears. My self-consciousness turned to outright embarrassment as she thanked me profusely. Other people in the line commented that they had wanted to do something but were too uncomfortable to say anything. The clerks behind the counter waived my $7 processing fee. As my face grew redder, Blake seemed to stand a little taller.
I tried to explain to the employees at the counter that it wasn’t I who had decided to step out of social norms and help someone in need. It was the child next to me who had seen a person in trouble and remembered the stories of Jesus among the poor and afflicted. I decided that day I would worry less about appearing grown-up and try harder to be more like a little child, “for of such is the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 19:14).

Craig Hannah, 17, has been a pioneer in his own family. “I first got involved with the Church at sports night. I got talking to the missionaries and they persuaded me to come to church on Sunday. It felt good, so I kept coming. They started teaching me the discussions; then they asked me to get baptised. I prayed about it and felt really good about it. So I said yes. And when I got baptised, a few more of my family followed.”

Alice wanted to watch the men who were helping Father cut big blocks of ice out on the pond. Instead she was in the kitchen, setting the table for Mother, Father, and the men.
Mother set a pan of biscuits in the oven. “You’ve been a good helper,” she said. “Would you please go call the men for dinner?”
“Oh, yes!” Alice said. Now she could see the ice being cut!
“Bundle up,” said Mother. “It’s cold.”
Alice got her coat and headed for the pond. She loved to skate there, but it was more than a playground. Father and the other men cut ice from the pond. They stored it in a shed called an icehouse. When the weather warmed up, people bought the ice and used it to keep their food fresh.
Alice climbed down the hill toward the pond. She saw Father with his horses, pulling a claw-shaped tool to mark the ice. Some of the men followed behind. They used the marks to guide them as they cut blocks. Others used poles to pull the blocks out of the water.
Alice called out. “Dinner! Hot stew and biscuits!”
Father was deaf, but he could guess why she had come. “Go on in,” he told the men. “I’m going to stay and lift my marker out so it won’t get stuck in the ice.”
Alice waited while Father finished. Three big blocks floated nearby. She picked up a pole. She pulled in one block, then two. But the last block was just out of reach.
Then Alice noticed another block near her. It had been cut on the sides but not on the end. The men had left it attached to ice that touched the shore. It seemed like the perfect place to stand and reach the block still floating in the water. Alice stepped onto it. As she stretched out her arm, the ice broke.
Crack! With a splash, she fell into the water.
Alice screamed. She tried to keep her head above the water and saw Father turn toward her. He couldn’t hear her, but he must have seen the splash! Just as her head dipped below the freezing water, she felt something tugging her toward shore. It was Father, using an ice pole. He picked Alice up and ran for home.
Alice could feel her body shivering. She knew a bad chill could make people very sick. The winter air was freezing her wet clothes. She was becoming stiff and cold, like a block of ice.
Finally they were home. Father pushed the door open. The workers stood up. Mother ran to the door. “What happened?” she asked.
“Get the oil,” Father said. Mother brought a small bottle of oil that had been blessed by the priesthood.
Father spoke to the men. “If you hold the priesthood and are worthy, please help me give Alice a blessing.” Several men stepped forward. Alice felt Father put a drop of oil on her head. She closed her eyes. He said something about authority and priesthood. Then the others put their hands on her head too. Father spoke. “In the name of Jesus Christ, we bless you that you will have a speedy recovery.” Alice could feel her body relax. Her fear was melting away.
Father finished the blessing. Alice opened her eyes and smiled. She stretched her fingers and wiggled her toes.
“You’re like a cat with nine lives,” one man joked.
“No,” said Mother. “She’s the faithful daughter of a faithful father.”
Father could understand Mother by watching her lips. “I think Alice has a faithful mother too,” he said. “And good neighbors. Heavenly Father will bless her. She will be fine.”
Alice never even caught a cold that winter. She remembered her father’s blessing and lived to tell this story to her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren.

“When I was six years old, I had an experience that is very important to me. I’m afraid that I didn’t come out of it as a hero—exactly the opposite. Most of the time we’re not heroes. We are learning, progressing, correcting our mistakes. This incident really taught me about the consequences of dishonesty. In Germany at that time, if teachers wanted to send information to parents, they sent home a letter. Such a letter was always sent in a blue envelope, and so it was nicknamed the ‘blue letter.’ A blue letter always contained bad news! I must have done something wrong at school, because I got a blue letter. I put it in my school bag, and when I got home, my mother asked, ‘What’s wrong with you?’

“I lied. ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’

“She said, ‘Well, I see by the tip of your nose that something’s wrong.’

“That made me angry and very defensive, so after lunch I went into the living room and opened up my school bag and put everything on the desk. I must have been careless, because the blue letter fell out. My mother immediately saw it and asked, ‘What’s that?’ I tried to grab the envelope and hide it, but Mother had already picked it up and was opening it.

“I will never forget the feelings of pain that came over me while she was reading that letter. To make a mistake is one thing, but it isn’t a really serious mistake if you admit it, ask for forgiveness, and make a commitment not to do it again. But to try to hide a mistake, hoping that nobody will find out, that’s a serious mistake.

“And so the lie caused me much more sorrow than the original mistake. I can’t even remember what was in that blue letter, but I still recall, in vivid detail, the awfulness of lying to my mother.”

A few months ago, I was at my neighbor’s house. We were having a lot of fun playing. Later in the day, he asked me if I wanted to watch a movie, and I said yes. As my friend got the movie ready to watch, I saw what it was rated and knew that it was one I should not watch. I offered a silent prayer to Heavenly Father about what I should do. I said to my friend, “I think I need to go home now.” As I walked home, I thought about what I had done. I had obeyed my parents and Heavenly Father. I knew that Heavenly Father had answered my prayer and helped me make a good choice.
Marshall Klein, age 9Trabuco Canyon, California

When my Beehive leader told us that we were going to the Ogden Utah Temple to do baptisms for the dead in a few days, I was suddenly both very excited and very nervous.
It would be my first time doing baptisms for the dead, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. For one thing, I couldn’t remember the special way you were supposed to hold the arm of the person baptizing you. It had been over four years since my own baptism. What if I did it wrong? And what if I couldn’t find my recommend that day? There were so many worries going through my head that I couldn’t concentrate on the lesson.
That night at dinner I told my family the news. My brother, who is 14 and has done baptisms for the dead before, told me I would love it. “It’s really cool,” he said.
My brother was right, it was cool, very cool!
There were a lot of things that made it special. The thing that I will always remember about that first time in the temple was feeling the Spirit. I’ve heard that the temple is a sacred place, but now I better understand what that means, because I felt that sacredness through the Spirit.
I loved how friendly the temple workers were. They made me feel welcome and showed me exactly what to do while I was there. I don’t know why I was worried about doing something wrong. They helped me do everything the right way.
While we waited for our turn, we watched the group ahead of us through the windows overlooking the font. I had seen pictures of temple fonts, but seeing one in real life was a lot different. I was surprised how big the 12 oxen figures were.
I had never thought about how the people on the other side of the veil feel when their work is done. The person who spoke to us before we did the baptisms said that those people have been waiting a long time for this day. We were also told that we might get to meet them in the next life because they would appreciate our doing their temple work. That made me want to take each baptism seriously, even if I knew I couldn’t possibly remember the name of every person.
Another thing that was especially memorable that day was that the person performing the baptisms and confirmations for our group was a returned missionary from our ward. He hadn’t even been home a week, and he came to the temple with us. He even provided the names. He had brought them home from France, and he pronounced each name with a perfect French accent.
Later, when I got home and walked through the door, I yelled, “That was so totally awesome!”
I didn’t quite know what to expect when I went to the temple for the first time, but I definitely didn’t expect to be so eager to go back. I now realize that while I was in the temple, I left the world behind. That’s why I could feel the Spirit so strongly. That must be why our bishop was so happy to know we went to the temple. He wants everyone to feel that Spirit.
My brother was right. I loved the temple, and I can’t wait to return!

“I had been inactive for at least six years when my husband and I moved to a new town. My new Relief Society president visited me, asking if she could send a sister to visit me. With some trepidation, I agreed. This sister visited me every month, despite her allergy to dogs—and I have a very affectionate dog! Her ministering continued for two years, and it had an enormous impact on me.
“Though her visits were usually purely social, occasionally she asked me questions that led us to spiritual conversations. These made me a little uncomfortable, but they prompted me to decide whether to go forward in the gospel or stay where I was. This decision was a struggle for me, but I chose to visit with the sister missionaries.
“On the day I went to attend sacrament meeting for the first time in six years, I was scared to go inside. When I walked into the church, my ministering sister was waiting for me, and she walked with me into the chapel. Afterward, she walked me back to my car, asking me what she could do to help me best as I grew closer to the Savior.
“My ministering sister’s time and love helped guide me back to activity, and I hold her efforts as one of the greatest gifts ever given to me. I’m so grateful she was there at my side on my journey back to the Savior’s Church.”
Name withheld, British Columbia, Canada

As Liriel grew, her dream of becoming a singer took shape—but not as quickly as she would have liked, partly because of her family’s financial struggles. “I cried and I cried and I cried about this,” she says. “I was impatient. But a voice would come to my mind saying, ‘Be calm. It isn’t your time yet.’”

She continued to work toward her dream while working to help her family financially. It was a hard time. “God will try us, but all these things are for our growth,” she explains.

Through it all, Liriel has learned a lot—about herself and about her Heavenly Father. “I know Heavenly Father loves me,” she says. “As long as I am humble He will hear my prayers and will help me overcome my problems. I know that He hears our prayers, listens, and answers—not always as we would like, but I don’t have the least doubt that He does answer.”

We can set objectives, if we will, to help guide us and to help us achieve something worthwhile in life. I would like to tell you about another letter I received during the hottest fighting in the Pacific. A young man in California wrote: “Brother Richards, there have been so many Mormon boys here in uniform and they have been such outstanding young fellows that it has literally changed the attitude of the people of this town toward the Mormon Church.” Then he told this specific story. He said that one of the women’s clubs in that town had sponsored a luncheon at a hotel. The lady in charge had had an extra plate placed at the table. She said, “We’ll invite the first soldier who comes along to occupy this place.” The first soldier happened to be a Mormon, and he did not hide his light under a bushel. When they tried to serve him coffee, he did not accept it. They offered to get him tea, and he did not want that.
This experience opened the door for that soldier to do missionary work. The women in the club wanted to know why he did not drink coffee or tea. This gave him a chance to tell them how he was raised. One woman at that table said right there that if the Mormon elders ever knocked at her door, she would let them in. She wanted to know more about a people who could raise a boy like that young man.
I told that story in the Assembly Hall one day at a conference. At the close of the meeting, a young man came up and he said, “Bishop (I was Presiding Bishop then), I am that young man.” I said, “No kidding.” He said, “No, sir.” And I asked, “Did I tell the story correctly?” He said, “Just exactly.” Then I asked, “What are you doing in the Church today?” Oh,” he answered, “I am bishop of such and such ward.” You see, the Lord knows who can be trusted. As President McKay has said, “It is better to be trusted than to be loved.”

It was during Janet 5, after I had written a thoughtless letter that hurt a friend, that I wrote in my journal: “Through the many confusing voices that ring through my mind, one calming voice pervades and tells me the whole matter will be of no consequence.” After writing about that “calming voice,” I listened to it more carefully. The “voice” was right; when I later asked the friend to forgive me, he said he already had.

Harold B. Lee served as a stake president during the 1930s. Times were hard—many people had lost their jobs. Worried about the 4,800 families in his stake whose fathers had no work, he called a meeting of all the bishops.
Harold: Every needy family in your wards must be given food and a few small gifts for Christmas. Visit them on Christmas Eve, and when you have finished, report back to me.
On Christmas Eve morning, he was driving to work. He saw a small boy walking in the snow without a coat or gloves.
Harold: Where are you going?
Boy: I’m going uptown to a free picture show.
Harold: Well, hop in. I’m going uptown, too.
Harold: Son, are you ready for Christmas?
Boy: We aren’t going to have any Christmas at our house. Daddy died three months ago and left Mama and me and a little brother and sister.
Harold: Give me your name and tell me where you live. You will have a Christmas. I promise that you won’t be forgotten.
That night, when the last bishop came to report, Harold realized that he had forgotten his promise.
Harold: Bishop, do you have enough to make one more visit? There is another family who needs our help.
Bishop: Yes, I have enough. Give me the address, and I’ll make the delivery.
President Lee went home. He was grateful that the little boy’s family was provided for but felt sad to have nearly forgotten them.
On Christmas morning, President Lee made a promise to himself.
Harold: From now on, I will be more aware of others’ needs. I will know my people better, and I will find out how I can help them.
He developed a welfare program to store food and other necessities for the members of his stake. When the leaders of the Church saw what he was doing, they called him to expand the program for the whole Church. The Church welfare program continues to provide for needy Latter-day Saints today.

Last March, as you remember, devastating rock and mud slides engulfed six small towns in the mountains east of Lima, Peru. All of these towns were within the Lima Peru San Luis Stake. The slide left 25,000 people homeless. Eighteen LDS families lost their homes completely, and 198 other families were left in dire need of food, clothing, and medical supplies.
The day after the slides, one member of the stake presidency and two other Church members waded through waist-high mud and debris for five kilometers to assess the damage. They found that more than three hundred people, members and nonmembers, had taken refuge in the Chosica chapel.
The following day, the stake presidency called a meeting of their eleven bishops and branch presidents. They made many assignments to furnish needed supplies. They asked each ward and branch to furnish work teams to go to the homes of members and help them clean up.
The stake presidency resolved to handle the problem without seeking help from outside stakes. They soon found that they could not handle it all alone. They went to their Regional Representative and asked him to coordinate economic help from other stakes in the region. The Saints of Peru rallied together.
As an example, the Iquitos stake sent thirteen crates of clothing, each weighing thirty kilos (about sixty-six pounds). Other stakes and wards donated food, bedding, and mattresses.
Selling quilts and refreshments, young women raised more than three hundred dollars. One young priest, a senior at his high school in Lima, led a group of twenty-eight of his classmates, all nonmembers, to Chosica to help with the cleanup.
The stake Relief Society presidency visited the area frequently and instructed the sisters in classes on hygiene, sanitation, nutrition, and “how to organize family living in a tent.”
The stakes did not intend to seek assistance from the general welfare funds of the Church. Stake leaders called in all fast-offering reserves from their wards and branches. They asked stake members to participate in a special fast on 29 March 1987 to raise funds that would help cover the expenses.
Some bore tender testimonies. Let me share just two. Sister Guadalupe, a nonmember, lost everything. Then in the shelter of a little room in our chapel, she gave birth to a baby boy. She stated that the Lord had helped her escape. She learned that everything of the world is temporary and can be lost. She thanked the branch and the Church for opening its doors to her and for the assistance she received.
Sister Leonora de Contreras, a Relief Society president, said she knew the gospel was true. She expressed thanks for her husband, who holds the priesthood and is a pillar of strength. The catastrophe destroyed the fruits of their lifetime of labor in less than thirty minutes. She recalled the words of their son who is serving in the Peru Trujillo Mission. As he left home, he said to her, “Mami, whatever happens, if you need help, ask the Lord, and stay close to the Brethren.” She expressed appreciation to stake leaders for their assistance.

As a young married couple, my wife and I were expecting the birth of our first child. I was studying law at the university and working nights in a gasoline station. We had very little money. We had furnished our small basement apartment with some used furniture and many wooden boxes.
As the time of the birth approached, we had assembled everything we would need, except we had no bed for the baby and no money to buy one.
It was our practice at that time to pay our tithing each month on fast Sunday. As that day approached, we discussed the possibility of postponing the paying of our tithing so that we could make an initial payment on a baby bed. In the spirit of the fast, and after praying, we decided to pay the tithing and trust our Heavenly Father.
A few days later, I was walking in the business district of the city and unexpectedly met my former mission president, who asked if I was in school or working at a job. I replied that I was doing both.
Was I married? “Yes!”
Did we have children? “No, but our first child will be born in just a few weeks.”
“Do you have a bed for the baby?” he asked. “No,” I replied reluctantly, startled by the direct question.
“Well,” he said, “I am now in the furniture business, and it would please me to have a baby bed delivered to your apartment as a gift.”
A great feeling of relief, gratitude, and testimony came over me.
The gift filled a temporal need but is still a poignant reminder of the spiritual experience that accompanied it, confirming again that the law of tithing is a commandment with a promise.

The January night was cold and dark. Six-year-old Brigitte huddled next to her nine-year-old sister, Wanda, both of them trying to stay close to the wood-burning stove. Black paper covered the windows so that not even a bit of light would show through to show enemy planes where to bomb. Papa held out a paper, straining to read it by the light of one tiny candle.
“I am to report to Augsburg (Germany) for military training by February first,” he said. “I have been drafted.”
To be without Papa? It was unthinkable! Papa with his funny stories. Papa, who had always kept the family safe. Brigitte looked at the shadowy faces of Mama, Papa, and Wanda. They were sad faces, but without tears.
Papa’s voice was calm. “Over three-fourths of Nuremberg has already been bombed. We ourselves had to find a new home when a bomb tore the hole in our kitchen. Elizabeth, I think that after I am gone, you and the children should try to find a place to stay away from here. It will be safer in the country.”
Mama nodded her head. “My sister Margarete is already looking for a place for us.”
Shuddering, Brigitte remembered the bombs hitting the top floor of their apartment building before they could escape to the shelter. She remembered burning mattresses being flung out of windows. And she remembered being pulled along to the bunkers by her father’s strong hand as they ran through the street in terror, the upper part of it engulfed in flames. That time there had been no warning.
As though reading her mind, Papa said, “Gitte, remember the time Mama covered you with blankets in the shelter to try to block out the noise and screaming? You had been crying. I know that you were very much afraid. Then you heard one of our neighbors say, ‘I want to sit by Mrs. Baier—she has such strong faith, nothing ever happens to her.’ You pushed the blanket off and looked at Oma (Grandmother), who was sitting quietly. Do you remember what you did then?”
“Yes, Papa. I crawled into Oma’s lap, and I stopped crying.” Brigitte smiled. “I always want to be just like Oma.”
“We must all have faith like Oma,” Papa agreed. “Ever since I was baptized when I was fifteen years old, I have never doubted the truthfulness of the gospel. This war will be over soon, but I will never have peace in my heart until I can move us to America and we are sealed in the temple. I have to leave you for a little while now, but we will be together again, and then, somehow, we will get to America.”
Mama smiled. “Yes, George, I’m sure that your dream will come true when you come back to us. You could have gone there after your mission in 1931. I’m glad you stayed here to marry me, instead.”
Papa grinned back at her. “I thought we could go in 1936, after Wanda was born—we even gave her an American name—but by then the government wouldn’t let us out of the country.”
“You were the branch president, however—perhaps you were needed here for a while. I was really frightened, though, when the police came to our home to search for Church books.”
“I was, too, Elizabeth, but no harm came to us.” Papa looked at his two little girls. “I want to give you each a father’s blessing before I leave. And don’t ever doubt that Heavenly Father will take care of you. He won’t ever leave you.”
Brigitte felt comforted after she was given the blessing. Somehow it made her feel like Papa was always close by, even after he had to go away.
Aunt Margarete found a place for them to stay in the country with a kind farmer and his family. Brigitte started school in the nearby village. There was no word from Papa since he had written that he was being transferred. Every day Mama faithfully wrote to him.
“Mama! Mama!” Wanda cried one day as she hurried home. “The Americans have come. The war is over! Surely Papa will be home soon.”
Mama looked up from the stove where she was cooking potato pancakes, wiped her brow with her apron, and sighed. “I hope so, Wanda. I wish we would have some word of him.”
Although the long war was over and there were no more alarms, no more hurrying through the streets to get to the underground shelter when the bombs came, there was no word yet from Papa. Was he alive? Mama still wrote to him. But it had been two years. …
When she came home from the post office with a letter one day, Brigitte and Wanda both ran to her crying, “Is it from Papa?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Oma needs us to come back to Nuremberg. Opa (Grandfather) is very sick. She needs help taking care of him. We must leave right away.”
What about school? Brigitte wanted to ask. But she kept silent. Oma needed them. They walked over an hour, and then two American soldiers gave them a ride in a jeep to Nuremberg. All of the American soldiers treated the people with kindness.
“Oma, let me sweep this floor for you,” Brigitte said, hurrying to take the broom from her grandmother. Opa did not have much longer to live, and Oma looked worn out. Brigitte watched for every chance to help her.
Mama had been called to be Relief Society president. “I don’t know what we’d do without this help from the Saints in America,” she said, opening a big box of food to distribute to people in need.
Brigitte loved the powdered milk that came in some of the boxes. How she loved to put a bit of the white powder on the end of her spoon and lick it off. Mmmm!
Spring came. Opa died in March, and Mama, Wanda, and Brigitte planted a garden where he had always planted one. He had always been so proud of his garden. In the years before he got sick, he had risen at five o’clock each morning and hurried to it, a small part of a shared lot about a twenty minute walk from their apartment.
The garden wasn’t doing very well, though, and Mama was discouraged. “Throw these plants away, Brigitte. They’re so scraggly and the soil is very poor. I don’t think they’re worth bothering with.”
Brigitte looked at the plants with their drooping leaves. They looked dead already. She started to pull them up, then stopped. Opa always worked hard in his garden, she thought. I can’t give up on these plants. I know he wouldn’t. She carefully loosened the dirt around each one and gave them a drink of water. “Please help them to grow, Heavenly Father,” she prayed. Every day she came to the garden and watered it or pulled weeds or both.
One day after she had worked in the garden, she returned home to find her mother sitting and rocking back and forth with tears chasing each other down her cheeks, clutching a letter. “Papa’s alive! This letter is from him. He is a prisoner of war in France and has been clearing the forests there. He didn’t get any of my letters, so he wrote to our friend Peter Loscher in America to see if he could find out if we were all right. Peter sent him our address.” She started to read from Papa’s letter:
“I am so happy to finally know how to reach you and to find that you are safe and well. I am too. My biggest problem is lack of food. Sometimes I have been so hungry that I have had to eat insects. But my faith remains strong. Once when I was clearing a forest, I climbed to the top of a high mountain, where I was able to be alone for a few minutes. I asked the Lord for renewed strength to endure it here. I haven’t forgotten our dream—surely we will be together soon!”
(To be continued)

Years ago I received a phone call from a distraught mother. She told me that her daughter had moved far from home. She sensed from the little contact she had with her daughter that something was terribly wrong. She pleaded with me to help.
I found out who the daughter’s home teacher was. You can tell by that name that it was a long time ago. I called him. He was young. Yet he told me that he and his companion both had been awakened in the night with not only concern for the daughter but with inspiration that she was about to make choices that would bring sadness and misery. With only that inspiration of the Spirit, they went to see her.
At first she did not want to tell them about her situation. Under inspiration, they pleaded with her to repent and choose the path the Lord had for her. She realized then, I believe by the Spirit, that the only way they could have known what they knew about her life was from God. A mother turned her loving concerns over to Heavenly Father and the Savior. The Holy Ghost had been sent to those home teachers because they were willing to serve the Lord. They had followed the counsel and promise found in the Doctrine and Covenants:
“Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God; and the doctrine of the priesthood shall distil upon thy soul as the dews from heaven.
“The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion, and thy scepter an unchanging scepter of righteousness and truth; and thy dominion shall be an everlasting dominion, and without compulsory means it shall flow unto thee forever and ever.”

“Ready to cut down the bananas?” Dad asked. Tadiana watched with her siblings, Alicia and Kavi. Dad used a knife to cut down the whole bunch of bananas.
The garden was growing well this year! But lots of other things were hard. There was a quarantine in New Zealand because of the coronavirus. Tadiana wasn’t able to see her friends or go to school. But she was happy she got to spend so much time with her family.
Kavi’s eyes got wide as he stared at all the fruit. “There’s no way we can eat that all by ourselves!” he said.
Mum nodded. “I bet Sister Banks would like some. She hasn’t been able to work in her garden since her husband died.”
“I know Sister Finau is lonely too,” Tadiana said. “I can take her some bananas!”
“Who else?” Dad said. They all sat down on the grass. They made a list of people who might need a little help.
The next day they filled sacks full of silverbeet (chard), kumara (sweet potatoes), and bananas. Mum and Dad drove around the neighbourhood. At each house on their list they dropped off a sack.
Tadiana peeked out the car window and watched Sister Banks open the door. Sister Banks used her cane to slowly walk toward the bag. Her smile was so big that Tadiana could see it even while they drove away.
Tadiana felt a warm, happy feeling. But she also felt a little sad. She got to spend quarantine with her family. But Sister Banks lived all alone. She probably hadn’t talked to anyone in weeks!
“I think there’s something else we can do for our neighbours,” Tadiana said. “Why don’t we invite them to a video call for our family scripture night?”
“That’s a great idea,” Dad said.
When they got home, Tadiana called Sister Banks. “Hi, Sister Banks! Our family is doing a scripture night tonight. Do you want to call into it?”
“I would love to!” Sister Banks said. After that call, Tadiana handed the phone to Alicia. They took turns calling people in the ward and inviting them.
That night Tadiana nervously waited at the computer. Would people show up? Then, one by one their neighbours’ faces popped up on the computer screen. Some of them had a hard time using the technology, so Mum helped them.
One lady held up a plate of hokey pokey (honeycomb toffee). “I know none of you can eat this,” she said. “But I was so excited for tonight that I cooked a special dessert! Maybe you can pretend to smell it through the screen!”
Everybody laughed and talked about how they were spending their days. Lots of people were struggling, but it made everyone happier to talk to each other.
When they were done talking, Tadiana shared a scripture, 2 Nephi 31:20: “Press forward with a steadfastness in Christ, having a perfect brightness of hope, and a love of God and of all men.”
They had a short lesson and took turns reading from the scriptures. Then Kavi said the prayer.
“Remember to come back next week!” Tadiana said. One by one people waved goodbye and left the call.
When the last person left, Mum and Dad gathered the family into a big group hug. Tadiana was glad she and her family could help their neighbours. They would all press forward together.

Lawrence: When I was younger, I set a goal to be the best I could be no matter what subject I studied or what job I had. I always tried to learn and improve to give myself the best chance for success.
I currently work as a manager for a clothing company, but I want to join the police force. In Scotland, you have to live in the country for three consecutive years before applying for the police. Since I was outside the country for two years serving a mission, I have to wait a few more months before joining.
Although this has been a big roadblock, I haven’t given up. I have a good job to provide for my family, and I have worked hard to make sure I get a good reference for future jobs.

I had prepared long and hard for the entrance exams for a special school in my city of Chiclayo, Peru. I hoped to enter the elementary education program and learn to use my musical and dancing abilities to teach children. In fact, I was so determined, that I had spent my three-month vacation after high school graduation preparing for the exams.
Like all the best schools in Chiclayo, the school I was interested in was affiliated with the Catholic church. But this school, which offers courses from kindergarten through university age, had earlier accepted my five-year-old brother. So my mother and I assumed that I wouldn’t have a problem being accepted, even though I was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Finally, the day of the entrance exams arrived, and I took the talent portion of the exam—in which we sang, played, and danced with children.
Later, when the time came for my personal interview with a panel of judges, I prayed before going into the room. The three judges began asking about my talents and background. I told them that I belonged to the Municipal Ballet of Chiclayo, that I had finished twelve cycles on the piano, and that I had placed first in the Marinera and Huayno—folkloric dances.
Then they asked me what church I belonged to. I answered, “I am a Mormon.” The judges looked very surprised, but I felt peaceful inside. They asked me if I knew that no one outside of the Catholic religion could be admitted. I replied that I knew God and Jesus Christ lived—therefore, I was a Christian. I concluded by saying that I believed in free agency and knew that I had chosen the truth.
Looking me in the eyes, they told me that I could definitely not be admitted because of my religion, and they asked me if I wasn’t embarrassed for what I had said. Words of the Apostle Paul came into my mind: “I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ” (Rom. 1:16). Then they told me that I could leave the room.
All my dreams seemed to have shattered in front of me. I thought of how long I had waited for this opportunity and of all that my mother had sacrificed to help me achieve it. But still, my testimony of the Church was strong. I knew that it was worth far more than my entrance into a school.
When I arrived home and told my mother what had happened, she left for the school. There, she asked the assistant director why I was disqualified when my little brother had been allowed to enroll. The woman replied that five-year-old Luis Enrique wasn’t responsible for what he believed, but that I, a sixteen-year-old, was.
My mother then spoke to the judges. She told them about the Church and about our beliefs in God and in his Son, Jesus Christ. She told them some of our experiences since becoming members in 1983—and about the changes that had occurred in our home as a result. The judges told her, “Don’t worry. We will follow up on this.” Then my mother returned home.
She told me that we should trust in the Lord and that everything would be fine. She also suggested that we both begin a fast.
Later that afternoon, we discovered that I had passed the talent portion of the exams! Now I needed to pass the knowledge test the next day.
I stayed up all night studying. Before starting the test early the next morning, I prayed with great faith. The exam seemed easy. I was one of the first students to finish it, and I quickly went home to be with my mother and aunt. We waited all afternoon for the hours to pass—and for the results to be posted.
That evening, I left for school to see the results, praying all the way there. When I got to the office, I read through the acceptance list. My name was on it! The Lord had answered our fasting and prayers.
Now busy at my new school, I carry my scriptures with me all the time. One of my favorite verses is Matthew 5:16: “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.” [Matt. 5:16]
I know more than ever that I must never hide my testimony. I must always be proud to say “I am a Mormon.”

For a long time, it seemed like nothing was working out in my life.
I have attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and always struggled in school, so I didn’t know what to do next with my schooling or work. I’d also drifted away from The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and felt like I didn’t belong anywhere.
I often thought, “Why is nothing working? Everyone else seems to have their life figured out.”
At my lowest point, I turned to Jesus Christ. As I came to know Him better and experienced His love, I developed a deep desire to follow Him. I started to do things that brought me closer to Him, like reading the Book of Mormon daily, praying, and going to church every Sunday. I strived to live by higher standards, even when it took a lot of courage to live differently than my friends.
And when I decided to put Christ first, everything else began to fall into place.
For example, I discovered a course that taught me business management principles and gave me the courage to start my own business. My newly revived faith helped me have the strength to try a new path and overcome my fear of failure.
And Heavenly Father guided me in my relationships. I lost some friends, but I was blessed to make new friends in the Church. I grew closer to my parents and younger siblings, and I also had better dating experiences. I experienced the truth of the Lord’s promise: “Be believing, and all things shall work together for your good” (Doctrine and Covenants 90:24).
I felt like I was finally content with my life. My business was doing great. I found a good apartment to live in. My relationships were thriving.

Illustration by Red Hansen
While teaching and serving many wonderful people in the Texas Fort Worth Mission, I often reflected on my blessed life. I marveled particularly at seven of my experiences, which I consider to be miracles.
First, I survived my early life, which started out in the humblest of circumstances. I was born on the dirt floor of my mother’s hut in Dessie, Ethiopia. Mom was the only relative I ever knew, and she built our eight-foot (2.4 m) dome-shaped hut by herself, using sticks and mud that she covered with grass and leaves. Our community had no running water and no restroom facilities. Illness and death ran rampant in our kebele, or neighborhood. Food was very hard to find and impossible for us to purchase. My mother and I never knew a day without hunger.
When I was four, my mother became deathly ill. With her last bit of effort, we trudged to a hospital, where my beloved, weary mom died. The hospital staff saved me from life in the streets and death by starvation by arranging for me to live in an orphanage in the city of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia’s capital.
The second miracle came as my life changed dramatically. In this orphanage I lived in a clean building, slept in a real bed, and ate all the food I wanted. Other orphans had also experienced the loss of a loved one, and they taught me how to deal with the loss of my mother. In the evenings we gathered to sing songs in English and pray in Amharic, our mother tongue. We prayed for each other and asked God to bless us to be adopted into “nice, kind, loving homes.” Both the music and the prayers impacted my life in a huge way. I never quit praying.
Third, I was introduced to the missionaries and the Church when I was eight. I was invited to see the dedication of the first LDS Church building in Ethiopia on Sunday, November 30, 2003. At the dedication I felt the powerful influence of the Holy Spirit, and the missionaries in attendance radiated joy, happiness, and that same powerful spirit. I remember thinking that I wanted to be just like them. But I had no idea how I could ever reach this goal.
The fourth miracle came soon after. A family in the United States adopted me. My new father picked me up from the orphanage and took me home. We started the process of becoming acquainted, and I began to settle into my new environment.
Numerous challenges surfaced immediately upon my arrival. Everywhere I went people laughed at my English. My limited education caused problems in school. I prayed for help, and then I worked harder and smarter to close the knowledge gap, especially with English. Once again Heavenly Father answered my prayers. Two years later I proudly skipped a grade.
Then my home life fell apart. Prayers to the Lord, high personal goals, and a deep desire to succeed carried me through that extremely tough time. Finally, with a social worker’s help, my father and I agreed to terminate the adoption. This was a time for prayer, patience, faith, and help from Heavenly Father.
Now 15 years old, I went to live with a foster family for about a year. That was when the fifth miracle came. While sleigh riding with two friends, I met an LDS family with two nice daughters. During the ride home, one of the daughters spoke up, saying, “I think the Lord wants us to adopt Ephrem Smith.” Remarkably, the other three members of the family had also received the same inspiration. The father worked with the Department of Social Services, and soon I moved to my new home. From the very beginning my amazing new father gave me agency. For example, he explained that their family goes to church on Sundays. He allowed me to choose to join them or stay home; he said that they still would love me if I chose not to attend church. I chose to attend church, and I have since made many other righteous decisions.
Miracle six came as I received a testimony of the gospel. One Sunday I sat in sacrament meeting singing “I Stand All Amazed” (Hymns, no. 193). Huge tears began running down my cheeks as I received a personal testimony that Jesus is the Christ and that the Church is His Church.
Finally, nine years later, I knew how to become like those missionaries! The missionary age was now 18, but my adoption had not yet been finalized. I waited seven long months until my adoption was completed. Finally, my missionary papers could be submitted. Four days later I received my mission call. In just one week the Lord blessed me with final adoption papers and a mission call. I treasure both papers exceedingly! They are my seventh miracle. Yes, indeed, it took many miracles along the way from that mud hut in Ethiopia to my treasured mission.