Gospel Story Finder

A few days later, Sarah and I were in the bone marrow transplant clinic, where she would receive a red blood cell transfusion. She had been premedicated for the procedure and was peacefully sleeping in my arms. I began to think intently about Sarah and how her situation was so dire: she was getting sicker and sicker by the day. Parts of her body had quit functioning altogether. Her red blood count had fallen drastically; she had no white blood count to speak of and would also be receiving a platelet transfusion before the day was finished. She was lethargic and weaker than normal, and her appearance was paler. Without new red blood cells to revive her body, life would eventually slip away.
But gratefully, I watched as precious red blood cells slowly dripped from a tiny bag and flowed through the IV tubing directly into Sarah’s body through her central line, literally offering her new life. I observed a physical transformation as Sarah’s cheeks and hands became a beautiful pink hue again. She even seemed to be breathing a little easier. Peace filled my mind as I knew that, once again, her body would be receiving its vital nourishment through the circulation of the new red blood cells. Life would continue.

The salesman said, “It’s rather interesting that you should ask those questions. A few nights ago I was at the airport in Salt Lake City and it was extremely crowded. I hadn’t been there very long when your ‘boss’ came in. The only empty seat was right next to me, and there I was smoking a cigarette. As he sat by me I turned away from him and blew the smoke in the opposite direction. He then put his arm around me and said, ‘Never mind, young man. We know that not all of the people in the state of Utah are members of the Church.’”
Then the salesman told me that the man, President David O. McKay, my “boss,” had asked him basically the same questions that l had.

One such example is the Faanunus from the Vava’u North Stake. Neither of the Faanunus had ever touched a computer but after some instruction, they spent an hour adding photo memories to their family history website. It was clear that Brother Faanunu was proud of his newfound talent in navigating the site. The Faanunus were able to add pictures of each of their children and their recently born grandchild.

This story happened in Bolivia.
“Ha! You don’t know anything!” Fabricio pointed his finger at José and laughed.
Adam frowned. José had just asked the teacher a question. It wasn’t nice of Fabricio to tease him for that.
“Fabricio, that’s enough,” the teacher said.
Adam looked over at José. He was staring down at his notebook, like he hadn’t even heard Fabricio.
José was new to their school. At first, no one talked to him. Then some of the other kids started to tease him. They always called him names and laughed at him. Adam felt like he should help José, but he never knew what to say.
Besides, José looked just fine. It seemed like the teasing didn’t even bother him.
Adam turned back to his book. They had a big math test soon, and he had to focus.
On the day of the test, Adam did his best, but it was hard! He was nervous about his grade. What if he had failed?
The next day, their teacher stood at the front of the room with a stack of papers.
“I have your test grades,” she told them. “Many of you have room to improve, but some of you did very well.”
She began to read each student’s grade out loud. Most of the grades were pretty low. Adam waited anxiously for his name.
“Adam,” the teacher said. “Eighty.”
Adam couldn’t believe it. He had passed! He smiled big.
Then the teacher read José’s grade.
“One hundred,” she said, loud and clear. “A perfect grade.”
Fabricio stood up. “No way!” he shouted. “José cheated!”
“Yeah!” said another boy. “He doesn’t know anything. He must have copied someone.”
Other students joined in. José tried to tell them that he didn’t cheat, but they didn’t listen. The teacher tried to tell them to be quiet, but they wouldn’t listen to her either.
“Cheater!” someone yelled.
“Liar!” said someone else.
Adam’s heart was beating fast. He didn’t know what to do. He looked over at José. He would be OK, right? José was always calm.
José stared down at his desk like he always did. Then he started to cry.
The other kids stopped shouting, and the room went silent. All Adam could hear was the sound of José crying. He knew he couldn’t just stay still this time. He had to be brave. The Holy Ghost was telling him to help José.
Adam stood up. The other kids watched him as he walked over to José. He still didn’t know what to say. So he just leaned down and gave José a tight hug.
“It’s OK,” he whispered as he patted José on the back. “It’s OK.”
Soon other kids came to hug José too. Even Fabricio came over and said sorry. Before long the whole class was standing around José to say sorry and cheer him up.
“We love you, José!” someone said.
“You’re the best at math!” said another.
José wiped away his tears and smiled. Adam smiled too. Being kind took courage, but it was worth it.
Illustration by Shawna J. C. Tenney

There is a particular challenge we face as Latter-day Saints in establishing and maintaining friendships. Because our commitment to marriage, family, and the Church is so strong, we often feel challenged by constraints of time and energy in reaching out in friendship to others beyond that core group. I experienced this dilemma personally in recent days as I tried to steal a few moments at home to prepare this talk. Twice, friends from my past, whom I love dearly but see only occasionally, dropped in to visit. During what ought to have been choice times of reunion and reminiscence, I ironically found myself growing inwardly impatient for the visits to end so that I could get back to writing my talk about friendship!

I have since felt ashamed. How selfish we can be. How unwilling to be inconvenienced, to give, to bless and be blessed. What kind of parents or neighbors or servants of the Lord Jesus Christ can we be without being a friend? In this information age, is not friendship still the best technology for sharing the truths and way of life we cherish? Is not our reluctance voluntarily to reach out to others in friendship a significant obstacle to helping God accomplish His eternal purposes?

Years ago when I was serving as a bishop, a recently converted family moved into our rural Utah community. These good people had joined the Church in the eastern United States and had been warmly fellowshipped and put to work in a small branch there. When they came to our larger, more-established ward, they somehow slipped through the cracks. Some of the family members, particularly the father, became disenchanted with the Church and its members.

One Sunday morning when I noticed the father was missing from priesthood meeting, I left the meetinghouse and drove to his home. He invited me in, and we had a very honest conversation about the struggle he was having with his new faith and neighbors. After exploring various possibilities for responding to his concerns, none of which seemed to appeal to him very much, I asked him with a tone of frustration in my voice just what we could do to help him. I’ve never forgotten his reply:

“Well, bishop,” he said (and I will need to paraphrase here slightly), “for heaven’s sake, whatever you do, please don’t assign me a friend.”

I learned a great lesson that day. No one wants to become a “project”; we all want spontaneously to be loved. And, if we are to have friends, we want them to be genuine and sincere, not “assigned.”

Brothers and sisters, my message today is very simple: if we truly want to be tools in the hands of our Heavenly Father in bringing to pass His eternal purposes, we need only to be a friend. Consider the power of each one of us, 10 million strong, of our own free will and choice reaching out to those not yet of our faith in unconditional friendship. We would no longer be accused of offering warm bread and a cold shoulder. Imagine the consequences for good if each active family in the Church offered consistent concern and genuine friendship to a less-active family or a new-member family. The power is in each one of us to be a friend. Old and young, rich and poor, educated and humble, in every language and country, we all have the capacity to be a friend.

Our Savior, shortly before His Crucifixion, said to His disciples: “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. Ye are my friends.” Having been so richly blessed by Christ’s friendship, I pray that we will now be to others what He is to us: a true friend. At no time will we be more Christlike than when we are a friend. I testify of the inestimable value of friends in my own life and express my gratitude to all of them this morning. I know that when we offer ourselves in friendship, we make a most significant contribution to God’s work and to the happiness and progress of His children. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I never appreciated the strength of my sons more than last year, when my husband was dying. All three of us sustained each other and consulted with each other, but I saw Ken take the lead in working with the doctors and the hospital. Then when Ed died, Bob took the lead in making funeral arrangements and dealing with the legal procedures that had to be followed. In planning the funeral service, I took the lead. As each of us passed through different stages in our shock and grief, we had the others for support. When one of us needed to rise to an occasion, we could. When we needed to withdraw with our sorrow, we could because one of the others could step forward and be the leader.

I have used the example of my own family, because I have seen for myself that it is to our families that we first turn in such crises. But whatever your family circumstances, I believe the strength we need can always be there because it comes from the Savior and his love. Sometimes our own faith enables us to draw on that love. Sometimes it is the faith and love of others that strengthen us.

“The bus is coming! Get your coat on!” Jacob’s mother called. Opening the closet, Jacob looked for his red, black, and blue coat. He had been given the coat for Christmas, and his mother had written his name on the inside of one of the sleeves with a marker.

“Hurry, Jake!” Mom called again.

“I can’t find my coat!” Jacob cried. “Where is it?”

Mom hurried to the closet. “Just put this jacket on,” she told him. “We’ll find your coat tomorrow. There’s no time now.”

Jacob wished the jacket would somehow magically turn into his coat as he slid his arms into the sleeves. He looked down at the blue jacket with disappointment. It wasn’t nearly as awesome as his Christmas coat.

“Don’t worry,” Mom said, as she smiled with encouragement. “We’ll find it later.”

Jacob tried to smile back, but he couldn’t. His heart felt tight and heavy. He hated to lose things that he really liked.

The next day, Jacob woke up earlier and went through the coat closet. He lifted the vacuum out, picked up the coats and jackets that had fallen on the floor, and checked every hanger, but couldn’t find the missing Christmas coat.

He frowned as he reached for the blue jacket again. Where could his coat be? He had looked everywhere. It was as if it had been swallowed by an invisible snow monster.

As Jacob walked to the bus with his head hanging, a thought occurred to him: What if it wasn’t lost? What if it was stolen? Had he left it at school and forgotten? He thought hard and decided that the possibility of his coat being stolen was very likely.

During the next few days, Jacob stopped looking for his coat and instead started looking for who the thief might be. Everyone became a suspect, and it wasn’t long before he found someone to blame. When Mom picked him up from school, he noticed a boy his age walking to the bus with his Christmas coat on!

“There’s my coat!” he cried, pointing an accusing finger at the boy heading for the bus. “Let’s go get it!” Jacob reached for the door.

“Wait a minute,” Mom said. “Maybe it’s just a coat that looks like yours.”

Jacob shook his head. “I’ve never seen anyone wear a coat like mine until today. There’s no way it could be anyone else’s coat but mine.” He turned around and looked at the boy who was boarding the bus. “He’s the same size as me. I’ll take it and turn the sleeve inside out, and my name will be there. You’ll see.”

Mom shook her head. “I don’t know, Jake. I would hate to find out that it really isn’t yours. We better go home and check really thoroughly one more time.”

As the van pulled away, Jacob’s heart sank. He had looked everywhere thoroughly. He knew his Christmas coat wasn’t at home. His coat was on that boy!

When they arrived home, Mom went with him to the coat closet. Together, they systematically began removing everything inside—the vacuum, the coats on the floor, and boxes. At the back of the closet was a box that Jacob hadn’t seen since Christmas. It was filled with Christmas decorations and still smelled like cinnamon sticks and pinecones.

After Mom lifted the box out, she asked, “Jake, would you crawl in there and see if you can see anything else?”

Jacob crawled into the closet on his hands and knees. “My coat!” he cried. “I found my coat!” It had been well hidden by the box. As he emerged from the closet, he turned the sleeve inside out, just to be sure. His name was clearly printed on the inside. Jacob held it up for Mom to see.

She nodded her head. “I am so glad that you didn’t accuse that boy. Can you imagine how awful you would have felt, and how awful you would have made the other boy feel?”

Jacob’s smiling face changed to a quiet, thoughtful one. He hadn’t worried about what might happen if he accused someone falsely. His only worry had been finding the coat or the person who took it. As he looked at his mom, relief spread through his body. He was glad she had insisted that they check the closet one more time.

“Thanks, Mom,” Jacob said.

“I’m glad you found your coat, and I think you found something else too,” she replied.

“What?”

“You found that it’s best to be sure you’re right before accusing someone of doing wrong.”

Jacob nodded. “And that’s something worth finding!”

In 1972 a couple and their six children were sealed in the temple. “I’ve never seen my mom and dad so happy as the day we went into the temple as a family. That day of joy was the culmination of more than twenty years of effort,” one daughter recalls. The wife explains: “I grew up in a strong LDS family but married a nonmember, thinking I could convert him. He joined the Church in 1953, but I learned before too long that he had done it just to get me to stop nagging him. He even started smoking and drinking after baptism, and he had never done either of those before. I guess I nagged him a lot in those years. I would self-righteously take the children to church and then come home and quarrel with him because he hadn’t gone too.”

What finally made the change? “I prayed so hard those years that I never took time to listen to the Lord’s answer. And when I heard it I ignored it. But finally I was so desperate that I felt I had no other choice than to do it His way: ‘You have to love him in,’ the Spirit would whisper to me. ‘Let him go at his own pace.’ So finally I did it and before too long we were at the temple.”

At the same time, the Lord was reaching out to this man in other ways. His colleagues at work had begun to ridicule Joseph Smith, and he felt he had to know if the things they were saying were true. If they were, he would leave the Church. “I started to read the Book of Mormon. I had never really tried to understand it before. It was a marvelous experience. And I learned how to defend the Church to the men at work and that it was defensible. I got so I really thirsted to know the truth. I went back to church. And all the while I was amazed at the quiet support my wife was giving me. Instead of nagging, instead of saying, ‘I told you so,’ like she once would have done when I started to go back, she simply took my hand and said she wanted to help me do whatever would make me happiest.”

Study and church attendance—even a thoughtful testimony borne on a fast Sunday—were followed by a review of the missionary discussions, giving up drinking, and having a difficult struggle to stop smoking. “I thought it would be easy for me to quit smoking, even though I had smoked for seven years—because I generally have good will power. But I tried and tried to quit and I couldn’t. Every time I definitely decided to quit, something would happen, and suddenly I would find myself with a cigarette in my hand and smoke coming out of my mouth. I had heard stories about the Lord taking the desire away from people when they sought him in prayer, but that didn’t work for me. Maybe I didn’t have strong enough faith, or maybe he wanted me to grow more from the struggle. I just knew that I couldn’t quit. Finally I went to the Lord in prayer and committed myself to him that I would never smoke again, even if it was difficult. It wasn’t easy—in fact, even now when I smell tobacco I have an urge to smoke again—but from that moment to this I have never broken my covenant.”

“I don’t think all these things would have happened if we hadn’t made a plan. Our home teachers taught us that the best thing we could do was to set specific goals for what we would have to do in our lives before we could go to the temple, and then of course to reach our goals by the designated time. First, we decided we would have to go to all our meetings. That was a hard one for me because I worked nights, and priesthood meeting started about an hour after my bedtime. But I went anyway. Second, I had to start living the Word of Wisdom; third, we had to pay tithing, and so on. Those goals really made the difference. They gave us a deadline for us to accomplish each step and a final date for when we wanted to be at the temple. That was the only approach that would have been effective for us.”

For Chelsea Baugh, going to college was never really a question. “Education has always been important in my home,” she says. “My parents have encouraged college since we were toddlers.” So from the time she learned what college was, Chelsea worked hard to achieve her dream of attending a university.

Now a student in a four-year university undergraduate program, Chelsea is realizing that the hard work has just begun. Between classes, homework, friends, and the LDS institute of religion council (of which she is the youngest member), she is busy all the time. But Chelsea loves her college experience and is excited about the education she is receiving. “Education is important because even if you don’t get a job—if you decide to be a stay-at-home mom for example—you’re going to use your education in every aspect of your life.”

Life in college has been challenging at times. At one point, Chelsea decided to change her major, which can be a frightening choice because it will affect your entire future. “My decision involved a lot of pondering, a lot of thinking about what I wanted in life, and a lot of praying,” she says.

If you’re planning on going to college, Chelsea has some good advice: “Plan early. Start disciplining yourself in junior high school to study. Get involved in high school with athletics, clubs, friends—whatever you’re interested in. And take seminary and gain a testimony of it so that when you go to college you’ll have a desire to go to institute. That gospel learning will help you keep your life in balance.”

The union of Brother Destiny Uyinmwen (stake YSA leader from the Benin City Nigeria New Benin Stake) and Sister Blessing Aigbokhan (YSA from the Benin City Nigeria Oregbeni Stake) was a long-awaited match made possible because both individuals chose to stay on the covenant path and to be in places where they could feel the Spirit of the Lord in their lives.
Their fairy tale romance was built upon the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. They met at a training meeting for stake YSA members serving on seminary committees from around the area. This training meeting occurred three weeks before their multi-stake YSA Summit in 2024.
Sister Blessing was undecided about attending the Summit, but Destiny invited her to be his date at one of the Summit events, and after some discussion, she agreed. During the Summit, they got to know each other and learned that they had both served missions and were committed to building a righteous family in the gospel.
Destiny said, “I wanted to marry someone humble, teachable, and with a desire to keep learning together.” Blessing noted that she followed Elder David A. Bednar’s counsel to not look for perfection in a spouse but to seek potential and develop oneself to embody the qualities one desires. Her favorite quote from Elder Bednar is, “You don’t find love for marriage; you create it.”
Destiny proposed at the YSA end-of-year party on December 27, 2024, and the two were married three months later, with the support and well-wishes of their family and friends.
They immediately set their goal to live as a team. Destiny learned a skill before his mission, working with diesel and gas generators. They built upon his skill set to establish a business. Blessing takes the lead in selling electrical and other machine parts, while Destiny repairs, sells, and installs new generators. Together, they support the needs of every customer. They’re not wasting any time in becoming self-reliant, both temporally and spiritually.
Their advice to other young single adults is to always “think celestial.” Brother Destiny says, “Now is the time to rely on your Savior, Jesus Christ, and include Him in everything you want in life. When you rely on Him, He will be there in your decision-making, and you’ll know when the time is right.” In the end, he said, “Fear not; I know He will direct your path as He has directed mine.”

It began as an ordinary day, for the most part. Dad, who was a professor at Texas Tech University, was coming home from California, where he had been for a conference. He called Mother to come and pick him up at the airport. So she loaded my two littlest brothers and me into the little Volkswagen and headed to the airport. It was about a half-hour drive, so it didn’t take us very long to get there.
Once we were there, Mother sent me in to find Daddy. She gave me specific instructions as to where my father would be. But being ten years old, my mind was on other things, and I didn’t listen very well. I went into the airport searching very diligently for the walking sidewalk my friend had told me was there. Of course I wanted to see my father, but how often do you get to ride a walking sidewalk? After about 15 minutes, I decided I had better find Daddy so Mother wouldn’t be angry; I abandoned the walking sidewalk. My memory did not come to my rescue, and I couldn’t remember where Mother had said to find Daddy. I looked and looked but all to no avail, no Daddy. I returned to the car to tell Mother of my bad fortune, which she was not very happy about. She gave me a quarter and told me to go call home to see if Daddy had gone home in a cab. I let the phone ring about three times, and then I spotted him. I ran to him calling, “Daddy-ye-ye-ye-ye-ye!” He picked me up and twirled me around. I told him about all the things that had gone on while he had been away. When we got to the car, we faced a not so happy mother, who had waited for an hour in the passenger loading zone and did not feel very well. Daddy was an even-tempered man, and as we drove home he tried to settle Mother down enough to talk. Meanwhile, I felt very responsible for starting the whole thing. I began to say something, but I never finished my sentence. I was interrupted by Mother’s scream, and I turned to see a car headed straight for ours.
I woke to find myself covered with blood, sitting in two or three inches of broken glass. David and Russell were trying to awaken my parents. I warned them not to shake them, as I was afraid they would be injured further. The scene was too much for me to handle and I passed out.
I don’t remember how I got out of the car. One side was smashed in, and the windows were too little for me to fit through. I sat in the middle of the street with my brothers standing by my side and what seemed like a hundred people gathered around me. People trying to stop the bleeding, people trying to calm us down, people taking pictures, and people just standing there watching us. All of this was very annoying to me. Where were my parents? Who was helping them?
Before long two ambulances arrived. I was put into the front seat, and the attendant tried to console me. That ride to the hospital was the longest ride I had ever made. When we finally got to the hospital, I had lost a great amount of blood and I passed out going through the emergency doors.
I was living a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up. I kept wanting to shut off the T.V. or change the channel. I couldn’t make sense of the whole situation. I didn’t understand what was happening to me.
I lay in a bed for three days, quietly wondering if I was going to live. I constantly asked about my parents, but no one seemed to know how they were. I had several visitors, including my grandparents and my dad’s sister from California. I wondered why they had all come. How serious was the accident? Then I realized they had come for a reason. The reason wasn’t me but my parents. Finally, I pulled as much courage together as I could and asked about my parents one more time. This time, I got my answer.
My grandparents were in my room when I asked, and instead of the pause I usually received after the question, they began to cry. Slowly and carefully they told me that my parents were dead. They had been warned not to tell me because of my serious physical condition. Any word about the death might have had a great impact on me psychologically. I cried very quietly, for I think I had known long before it was verbalized.
I missed the funeral in Texas because my condition was too unstable for the doctor to allow my release. My grandmother and I flew to Utah for the final services and burial. The doctor had released me on condition I would be very careful in my activities. My relatives made sure I was very careful. I missed several outings and I felt very alone.
When things finally began to settle, we all had to take a step back and look at our lives. Five children without parents. We all wondered how we would survive the terrible ordeal. We had so many questions and so few answers. We were lost without our guides. Even our loving grandparents could not take away the pain. It was something we would have to deal with each in our own way.
As I look back, I realize my life has gone in stages: first of living without them, then of anger towards my Heavenly Father, then of accepting their death, then of coping by myself without looking continually to them. I look at it, not so much as a very tragic time in my life but as a learning time.
I have learned that I am loved by my Heavenly Father, for he has given me many blessings in my life. Even the death of my parents has been a blessing in a way. I had never realized how much I really loved them until they were gone. Now I try to be appreciative of the things I have instead of waiting until I don’t have them.
I live each day of my life wondering if I am good enough to be with them again. So I strive for excellence, as though it were possible. Then maybe someday I will be able to run to my dad calling, “Daddy-ye-ye-ye-ye!”

Recently a friend of mine lay in bed on Christmas morning, overcome with sorrow. Her children begged her to get up; however, she was filled with the pain of her pending divorce. Lying in bed sobbing, she poured out her soul in prayer to her Heavenly Father, telling Him of her despair.
As she concluded her prayer, the Spirit whispered to her that God knew her pain. She was filled with His compassion for her. This sacred experience validated her emotions and gave her hope that she was not grieving alone. She got up, went outside, and built a snowman with her children, replacing the heaviness of the morning with laughter and joy.

Elder Orson Hyde, who became a member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, wrote:
“I attended the Saints’ meeting in Kirtland, Sunday, October 30, 1831, and offered myself a candidate for baptism, which was administered to me by the hands of Elder Sidney Rigdon; was confirmed and ordained an elder in the Church on the same day under the hands of Joseph Smith, the Prophet, and Sidney Rigdon. Not until about three days after did I receive any internal evidence of the special approbation of Heaven of the course I had taken. When one evening behind the counter, the Spirit of the Lord came upon me in so powerful a manner, that I felt like waiting upon no one, and withdrew in private to enjoy the feast alone. This, to me, was a precious season, long to be remembered” (Millennial Star, 26 [1864]: 761).

This story happened in Denmark.
Amalie followed her parents through the church doors. The sound of the piano playing hymns filled the chapel. Amalie and her family found a bench and sat down.
Sacrament meeting started, and soon the whole branch was singing the opening hymn. While she sang, Amalie noticed their next-door neighbor, Sister Aisha, sitting nearby. But Sister Aisha wasn’t singing. She was frowning.
Sister Aisha was always so nice to Amalie. But she looked sad a lot. Amalie knew that she lived alone. Maybe she was lonely.
Amalie wished she could do something to help. But what?
The next week, Amalie went on a bike ride down a long road. She rode past big green fields. The sun warmed her skin.
Soon she came to a field of sunflowers. The bright yellow flowers waved slightly in the wind and stretched to the sun. They were so tall and so big!
A sign next to the field said, Free sunflowers! Take as many as you want.
Amalie stared at the field. The flowers looked like an ocean of yellow smiling at the sky.
She parked her bike and picked a bunch of flowers. She could give them to Mom! Mom loved flowers. But there were enough flowers that she could pick more for someone else too.
A name came to her mind: Sister Aisha. Maybe these flowers could help brighten her day.
“I hope she likes sunflowers,” Amalie said quietly to herself. But she was a little nervous. What if Sister Aisha thought it was weird?
Amalie stopped picking the flowers. She rubbed the soft petals between her fingers. Maybe she shouldn’t give flowers to Sister Aisha.
No, Amalie thought. She knew she should give them to Sister Aisha. They might not make everything better. But Amalie still wanted to help, even in a small way. She could give the flowers to Sister Aisha at church tomorrow.
Amalie spent a long time picking the best flowers. She put them together and placed them carefully in her bike basket. Then she hopped on her bike and rode home. The bright yellow of the flowers looked pretty with the deep green of the forest in the background.
When Amalie got home, she tied each bouquet with a ribbon. She gave one to Mom.
Mom smiled big when she saw it. “Thank you! They’re beautiful.” She put the flowers in a vase on the table.
The next day, Amalie took the other bouquet of sunflowers to church. She found Sister Aisha sitting alone on a bench.
“Hi,” Amalie said. “I picked some sunflowers for you.”
Amalie held the flowers out. When Sister Aisha saw them, she smiled. Amalie hadn’t seen her smile in a long time. Her eyes were filled with light.
“Thank you,” Sister Aisha said. She gave Amalie a hug. “These are my favorite flowers.”
Amalie smiled too. She hadn’t known they were Sister Aisha’s favorite flowers! But the Holy Ghost had prompted her to make a bouquet for Sister Aisha, and Amalie was grateful she had listened.

After I returned from my mission, I stayed with my family for three weeks before I had to leave to enter Brigham Young University. Before school started, my father visited me, meeting my friends and seeing Salt Lake City. When I took him to the airport, he embraced me and told me, “Out of all 46 years of my life, never ever have I felt more love or the Spirit of God in my home than when you were home the last few weeks. I know that we owe it to the service that you gave in Spain for two years.”

My bus ride home from work began like any other. Within five minutes, I had leaned my head against the window and soon the halting and starting of the bus was rocking me to sleep. I was still adjusting to all the new responsibilities that had come with my recent marriage while working and taking classes full-time. Some days I couldn’t help but sleep during the entire bus ride to work and back.
As I drifted in and out of sleep, I heard voices calling out directions. Soon I realized that the new bus driver had to be directed around every turn, down each street, and to every bus stop along the 50-mile (80 km) route.
Knowing that it would probably take even longer than the usual hour and a half to reach home, I immediately became irritated. Unkind thoughts about the driver’s competence crowded my mind. Voices calling out directions continued to cut into my attempts to sleep.
Before long, however, I noticed the yelling had stopped. I looked up to see a woman gently directing the bus driver from her seat two rows ahead of me. I watched as she sweetly and kindly gave the man directions and then, before getting off at her stop, told him about the next few stops down the road. Long after I arrived home, I was troubled by my reaction to criticize compared to that of this woman’s loving guidance.
I realized that I was like the bus driver—I don’t know my way through life any better than the bus driver knew his new route. Both of us were on an unfamiliar road. I’m sure he was grateful that someone who had been down that road before was willing to offer patient directions about what lay ahead.
Christ does the same for us. When we don’t know which way to turn, His example shows us the way. When we have questions, He lovingly supplies the answers. How many times would He, weary after traveling a long distance, seek to fulfill the needs of others?
Since that day, we’ve had a few new bus drivers. Occasionally they have needed some direction, and thanks to the example shown me by a loving woman and our Savior, I have been willing to give it.

African Latter-day Saints are special people who openly show their love for the Savior. There is a unique spiritual nature about the African Saints. They love Christ. They love the scriptures. They love the prophet. They are obedient. They are eager to learn. They need only be taught to understand. They have been prepared for these last days in the Lord’s vineyard. I can remember going to a district conference in West Africa when it was extremely hot—110° F (43° C) and very humid. Everybody was suffering from the heat. Afterward the children came up to me with big smiles, offering me bananas, plantains (a type of banana), yams, and many other fruits of the season just because they love people. It touched my heart.

The File on Cindy
Cindy was a bright, hyperactive girl of fourteen who began, on occasion, to be quite emotional. It became increasingly hard for her to make and keep friends. She had a hard time getting along with others in school. She became unfriendly and hostile toward her parents. She started avoiding people and worried at great length about little day-to-day situations. She said she wanted to get out of the rat race. Her parents were fearful that she was experimenting with drugs.
The cases of Jerry and Cindy are true. They don’t know each other, but they do have something in common: Both of them are young Latter-day Saints who were having troubles. But today they are secure about themselves. Jerry has found new confidence in himself, which makes him feel good about his home life and school activities. He is planning on a mission. Cindy has developed a warm relationship with her family and even enjoys talking to her parents. In fact, she has helped some of her friends with their problems.
There is one other thing that Jerry and Cindy have in common. Both were helped tremendously in overcoming their problems by meeting with their bishops, who in turn through the stake president brought into the setting some professionals from the Church’s Social Services Department.

The Church in Ukraine is racing forward, and the youth are in the forefront. Last Christmas the youth organized a Christmas party for all the members in Kiev, reenacting the Christmas story on stage. They read scriptures, performed music, gave gifts, arranged for a visit from Father Frost (Ukrainian Santa Claus), and got everyone to join hands in a huge circle for the traditional dance around the Christmas tree.
Not long ago, they held their first youth conference in Kiev. Youth came from all the cities the Church has opened in the country, including Donetsk, Kharkov, and Gorlovka. The conference featured, not one, but three service projects: planting apple trees and rose bushes on the lawn in front of the building the Church rents on Sundays; taking toys and clothes donated by members to orphans at a government boarding school; and painting the fence around the boarding school.
Ukrainian youth enjoy spending time together studying scriptures and learning more about the gospel. “Best of all,” said one, “we know that if we all live worthily, we can all return to live with Heavenly Father again.”

Brother Jung Dae Pan was also among those who learned the gospel from the first missionaries to serve in Korea. He had dropped out of the Seoul National University to attend a theological college. His dream was to become a pastor and to lead the Christian community in Korea.
One day a friend gave him a copy of the Book of Mormon in English because a Korean translation hadn’t been published yet. He was drawn into reading the book. He even read it during a class. When his classmates asked him what it was, he said that it was a book like the Bible and recommended that they purchase one.
In the end Brother Jung got in trouble at the college. Administrators summoned him and said that he was succumbing to Satan’s temptation to fall into heresy, and they forced him to choose either the school or the Book of Mormon. The decision was not difficult for him because he already knew the Book of Mormon was true.
However, after Brother Jung joined the Church, he suffered social and economic difficulties. The scholarship from the college and the financial support from the previous church discontinued, and all his friends left him. Dr. Kim took good care of him. Later, Brother Jung contributed greatly to the growth of the Church in Korea by translating the Doctrine and Covenants and editing the hymns. The beautiful lyrics he translated still touch the hearts of Korean members.