Soon after I graduated from Primary, the bishop called on me to bear my testimony during ward conference. In my talk, I mentioned that I liked the Book of Mormon stories that I knew. I also said that I wanted to read the Book of Mormon all the way through someday.
Someday came sooner than I expected. The day after ward conference, I didn’t feel well and was diagnosed with German measles. I had to lie in bed, so I decided to read the Book of Mormon. I read it from beginning to end in four days. That was a wonderful way to read the Book of Mormon because I gained a feeling for the entire book.
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Learning Gospel Principles
Summary: After speaking in ward conference, the narrator hoped someday to read the Book of Mormon all the way through. When she soon came down with German measles and had to stay in bed, she used the time to read it from beginning to end in four days. She says this gave her a feeling for the entire book.
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The Caretaker
Summary: David, a young Latter-day Saint in New York City, prepares to give a sacrament meeting talk while caring for his sick mother and his dog, Lobo. Along the way, he reflects on how the Church and its members have given him hope, including the possibility of serving a mission someday. At the end, he begins his talk by explaining what he is doing now to prepare for that future service.
It must be close to freezing this morning. David can tell, even though the apartment is still draped in shadow, and he is still lying in a tangle of bedding on the sofa that passes for his bed. It must be 20 degrees outside, David is thinking. He can imagine flowers of ice spreading on the window panes. His mother snuffles and shifts in her sleep. She is nearly always cold, so yesterday David helped her shove her bed closer to the radiator, beneath the window at the front of the studio apartment that the two of them share. It is already late January, but today is the first day it has dipped below freezing. It’s an unusual winter for New York City.
“Morning, Lobo,” David whispers to the warm nose nuzzling his neck. “You ready for your walk?” He scratches his Siberian husky under his chin, then slides out of bed and kneels in his sweat pants at the side of the sofa. While Lobo paces the floor, his toenails clicking on the hardwood, David says his prayers. He prays silently, so as not to disturb his mother, and he prays for what he has been praying for ever since he joined the Church over a year ago. The words are familiar by now. They tumble together in his head like a well-rehearsed hymn.
“Please,” he murmurs into his pillow, “please, let me be able to go.”
It can’t hurt, David figures, to ask for something he doesn’t need for five more years. This ought to give Heavenly Father enough time to work something out.
“David?” his mother’s voice is barely a rasp.
“I’m here, Mom.”
“What are you doing?”
“Taking the dog out in a minute. Why? You need something? Some breakfast, maybe? I could make oatmeal—oatmeal with butter and brown sugar.”
His mother’s eyelids are swollen. She rubs her palm over her forehead and clutches her quilt tighter. “No, baby,” she whispers. “No, that’s all right. You go on.” She waves him away with a flick of her fingers.
On regular mornings, David walks his dog Lobo all the way to Riverside Park. But this is not a regular morning. This is Sunday, and it is not even a regular Sunday because David still has some finishing touches to do on the talk Bishop Wendall asked him to give in sacrament meeting today. Light is just beginning to creep over the horizon, but cars and people are already bustling along the streets. Steam boils from manhole covers as David makes his way up the street, sidestepping the potholes that yawn in the sidewalk. He waves to old Mr. Gerard, who is busy stocking Snickers bars in his newsstand on the corner.
“Whoa, boy,” David says to his dog, which is straining at his leash, wanting to go all the way to the park. David feels bad he has to pull him back. Finally, though, Lobo seems to catch on that they are only walking around the block this morning. Lobo stops and David carefully attends to his needs.
Mr. Gerard is watching. “You know,” he calls from his newsstand, “it’s refreshing to see a young man clean up after himself.” He hobbles over and slips a Snickers bar into David’s hand, grinning his gap-toothed grin at him.
David shrugs. “Thanks, Mr. Gerard, but it’s no big deal. It’s the law.”
Mr. Gerard lets out a half snort, half laugh. “Maybe you haven’t noticed,” he says, shaking his knobby finger at the cement walls surrounding them, “but a lot of people around here don’t care about the law.” The walls are smeared with paint, red and blue and green, pictures and words with sharp angles.
“Seems like a good boy is harder to find than a three-headed rooster these days.” Mr. Gerard chuckles to himself.
David nods, then clears his throat and says, “I’m a Latter-day Saint, you know.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Gerard is shuffling away. “Good for you,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ve seen those Mormon missionaries riding around here on their bikes. They look like good boys, those missionaries. You going to do that someday?”
“I hope so,” David says, but Mr. Gerard is now handing his first customer a newspaper and doesn’t hear. “I hope so,” David says again.
Back at the apartment David shakes dry food into his dog’s bowl and fills the water dish. He sprinkles plant food on the potted geraniums growing on the window sill. He toasts two pieces of bread and pours a glass of milk. Then he puts on his dress shirt. It is short-sleeved, and David knows he looks funny wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt in the dead of winter, but it’s his only one.
After he’s dressed, David goes around the apartment picking up empty liquor bottles and stuffing them into a trash bag so he can dump them down the chute in the hallway. Before he goes, he places the plate of toast and the milk next to his mother’s bed. “I’ll be back by lunchtime,” David says to the dog, who whines and rubs against his legs. Then he scoots out the open door but pauses when his mother starts making small hiccuping noises. He waits until she rolls onto her side, then pulls the door closed gently behind him.
Lobo is the reason David started going to church in the first place. He was out one morning when some boys from the neighborhood ran up and asked if they could pet his dog. They were three brothers, all younger than David, and they weren’t allowed to have a dog themselves. So David let them pet his dog. After that, the boys started coming around all the time to see Lobo, and eventually they told him they were LDS. Did David want to come to church with them some time?
That’s how it happened. The rest was simple. David prayed about it, and he gained a testimony of the gospel. Unfortunately, those three boys moved away.
Now David goes to church by himself. He takes the 7:45 one train to Lincoln Center, then walks across the street, skirting the construction at the corner of 65th and Columbus. It’s the seven-story building with the gold lettering above the door that says “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” “Visitors Welcome” is the sign on the corner, but David is not a visitor.
Two missionaries are relaxing in overstuffed armchairs when David pushes open the lobby doors. One, Elder Hindmarsh, is from Florida, and Elder Simmons is from California. Even though they are indoors now, they still have their trench coats buttoned up and their scarves wound tightly around their necks. They glance up from their worn copies of the Book of Mormon. “Hey, man,” Elder Hindmarsh says. He stands to slap David on the shoulder. “We heard you got roped into speaking today. Good luck.”
“Yeah,” Elder Simmons says. “Don’t choke.” He grabs his own throat with both hands and pretends that he can’t breathe.
“Cut it out,” David says, but he’s laughing. He fingers the two sheets of notebook paper that are folded neatly in his jacket. Please help me not to trip over my words, he pleads silently.
“Seriously, though, good luck,” Elder Hindmarsh says. He squeezes David’s arm for reassurance.
David steps into the elevator at the far end of the lobby and punches the button for level four. Level two is the Family History Library, and level three is the Relief Society room and the cultural hall and some classrooms. Level four is the chapel.
“Well, good morning,” Bishop Wendall greets as he puts his arm around David when he enters the chapel. “Nervous?” he asks. The chapel is nearly empty because David has arrived 45 minutes early to help prepare the sacrament.
David gives the “just a little bit” sign with his thumb and forefinger, and the bishop smiles and pats him on the back. Bishop Wendall says he will do fine, just fine.
After the sacrament is passed, and the bishop excuses the Aaronic Priesthood members to sit with their families, David slides into a seat next to Sister Greene on the stand. Sister Greene used to be a school teacher before she retired. She wears glasses and bright scarves with tropical birds printed on them, and she paints pictures in the air when she talks. David likes Sister Greene. She is one of the first people he ever heard speak in sacrament meeting after he was baptized. She talked about what it means to make a leap of faith.
David looks down and sees Sister Logan smiling up at him from where she’s sitting with her husband and two children. She wants to take David in as a foster child. “You’re only 14,” she told him the other day when he dropped in after school for some snickerdoodles and a glass of milk. David has stayed with Sister Logan and her family off and on for days at a time, when his mother has had to go to the hospital for treatment for her depression. Even when he’s not crashing on the Logans’ sofa, David likes to drop in every now and again.
But the other day, while he was munching his snickerdoodle and sipping his milk, Sister Logan had stood over him, her face a tight mask of concern. She had jiggled her baby on her hip and she said, “That neighborhood of yours …”
She had let her voice trail off, but David knew what she was thinking. She was scared David would never have a chance.
What Sister Logan doesn’t know is how very much David would like to be her foster son. He can picture himself tromping home from school in the afternoon and pushing open the slick glass doors of her building’s lobby. He’d stop and visit with the doorman for a while, then zip up to the 12th floor, where he’d sit at the spotless Formica table in Brother and Sister Logan’s white kitchen. He’d work on his math problems until it was time to help with dinner.
But this, David knows, is only a dream. It is like the dream he used to have about his father coming back to live with him and his mom. It is like the dream that one morning he will wake up and his mother will have stopped drinking. She will be standing in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of blueberry waffles and telling him it’s time to get ready for school. It is only a dream.
David returns Sister Logan’s smile.
Five years, David is thinking while the bishop announces who today’s youth speaker will be. A lot can change in five years. But, then again, a lot can stay the same. Before he knows it, it is time for him to speak. Sister Greene pats him on the knee as he stands up. A leap of faith, Sister Greene said in her last sacrament talk, is when the Lord asks you to walk to the edge of the light and step into the darkness, trusting that He will guide your steps.
While David walks to the microphone, he slips his talk out of his pocket. He spreads the wrinkled sheets of paper on the pulpit and stares at them. His own words, scrawled in a blue ballpoint pen, stare back at him. Please, David prays silently, I’m afraid I’ll never have a chance.
But then he looks out at the hodgepodge of faces in the audience. Dark and light, wrinkled and rosy. Pairs of eyes gaze back at him, young eyes and tired eyes and eyes with crow’s feet. Familiar eyes. You can do it, these eyes say. You can do anything. We’ll help you.
So David clears his throat. He grips the sides of the podium, and he opens his mouth. “I’d like to speak to you today,” he begins, “about what I am doing now to prepare to serve a mission.”
“Morning, Lobo,” David whispers to the warm nose nuzzling his neck. “You ready for your walk?” He scratches his Siberian husky under his chin, then slides out of bed and kneels in his sweat pants at the side of the sofa. While Lobo paces the floor, his toenails clicking on the hardwood, David says his prayers. He prays silently, so as not to disturb his mother, and he prays for what he has been praying for ever since he joined the Church over a year ago. The words are familiar by now. They tumble together in his head like a well-rehearsed hymn.
“Please,” he murmurs into his pillow, “please, let me be able to go.”
It can’t hurt, David figures, to ask for something he doesn’t need for five more years. This ought to give Heavenly Father enough time to work something out.
“David?” his mother’s voice is barely a rasp.
“I’m here, Mom.”
“What are you doing?”
“Taking the dog out in a minute. Why? You need something? Some breakfast, maybe? I could make oatmeal—oatmeal with butter and brown sugar.”
His mother’s eyelids are swollen. She rubs her palm over her forehead and clutches her quilt tighter. “No, baby,” she whispers. “No, that’s all right. You go on.” She waves him away with a flick of her fingers.
On regular mornings, David walks his dog Lobo all the way to Riverside Park. But this is not a regular morning. This is Sunday, and it is not even a regular Sunday because David still has some finishing touches to do on the talk Bishop Wendall asked him to give in sacrament meeting today. Light is just beginning to creep over the horizon, but cars and people are already bustling along the streets. Steam boils from manhole covers as David makes his way up the street, sidestepping the potholes that yawn in the sidewalk. He waves to old Mr. Gerard, who is busy stocking Snickers bars in his newsstand on the corner.
“Whoa, boy,” David says to his dog, which is straining at his leash, wanting to go all the way to the park. David feels bad he has to pull him back. Finally, though, Lobo seems to catch on that they are only walking around the block this morning. Lobo stops and David carefully attends to his needs.
Mr. Gerard is watching. “You know,” he calls from his newsstand, “it’s refreshing to see a young man clean up after himself.” He hobbles over and slips a Snickers bar into David’s hand, grinning his gap-toothed grin at him.
David shrugs. “Thanks, Mr. Gerard, but it’s no big deal. It’s the law.”
Mr. Gerard lets out a half snort, half laugh. “Maybe you haven’t noticed,” he says, shaking his knobby finger at the cement walls surrounding them, “but a lot of people around here don’t care about the law.” The walls are smeared with paint, red and blue and green, pictures and words with sharp angles.
“Seems like a good boy is harder to find than a three-headed rooster these days.” Mr. Gerard chuckles to himself.
David nods, then clears his throat and says, “I’m a Latter-day Saint, you know.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Gerard is shuffling away. “Good for you,” he calls over his shoulder. “I’ve seen those Mormon missionaries riding around here on their bikes. They look like good boys, those missionaries. You going to do that someday?”
“I hope so,” David says, but Mr. Gerard is now handing his first customer a newspaper and doesn’t hear. “I hope so,” David says again.
Back at the apartment David shakes dry food into his dog’s bowl and fills the water dish. He sprinkles plant food on the potted geraniums growing on the window sill. He toasts two pieces of bread and pours a glass of milk. Then he puts on his dress shirt. It is short-sleeved, and David knows he looks funny wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt in the dead of winter, but it’s his only one.
After he’s dressed, David goes around the apartment picking up empty liquor bottles and stuffing them into a trash bag so he can dump them down the chute in the hallway. Before he goes, he places the plate of toast and the milk next to his mother’s bed. “I’ll be back by lunchtime,” David says to the dog, who whines and rubs against his legs. Then he scoots out the open door but pauses when his mother starts making small hiccuping noises. He waits until she rolls onto her side, then pulls the door closed gently behind him.
Lobo is the reason David started going to church in the first place. He was out one morning when some boys from the neighborhood ran up and asked if they could pet his dog. They were three brothers, all younger than David, and they weren’t allowed to have a dog themselves. So David let them pet his dog. After that, the boys started coming around all the time to see Lobo, and eventually they told him they were LDS. Did David want to come to church with them some time?
That’s how it happened. The rest was simple. David prayed about it, and he gained a testimony of the gospel. Unfortunately, those three boys moved away.
Now David goes to church by himself. He takes the 7:45 one train to Lincoln Center, then walks across the street, skirting the construction at the corner of 65th and Columbus. It’s the seven-story building with the gold lettering above the door that says “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” “Visitors Welcome” is the sign on the corner, but David is not a visitor.
Two missionaries are relaxing in overstuffed armchairs when David pushes open the lobby doors. One, Elder Hindmarsh, is from Florida, and Elder Simmons is from California. Even though they are indoors now, they still have their trench coats buttoned up and their scarves wound tightly around their necks. They glance up from their worn copies of the Book of Mormon. “Hey, man,” Elder Hindmarsh says. He stands to slap David on the shoulder. “We heard you got roped into speaking today. Good luck.”
“Yeah,” Elder Simmons says. “Don’t choke.” He grabs his own throat with both hands and pretends that he can’t breathe.
“Cut it out,” David says, but he’s laughing. He fingers the two sheets of notebook paper that are folded neatly in his jacket. Please help me not to trip over my words, he pleads silently.
“Seriously, though, good luck,” Elder Hindmarsh says. He squeezes David’s arm for reassurance.
David steps into the elevator at the far end of the lobby and punches the button for level four. Level two is the Family History Library, and level three is the Relief Society room and the cultural hall and some classrooms. Level four is the chapel.
“Well, good morning,” Bishop Wendall greets as he puts his arm around David when he enters the chapel. “Nervous?” he asks. The chapel is nearly empty because David has arrived 45 minutes early to help prepare the sacrament.
David gives the “just a little bit” sign with his thumb and forefinger, and the bishop smiles and pats him on the back. Bishop Wendall says he will do fine, just fine.
After the sacrament is passed, and the bishop excuses the Aaronic Priesthood members to sit with their families, David slides into a seat next to Sister Greene on the stand. Sister Greene used to be a school teacher before she retired. She wears glasses and bright scarves with tropical birds printed on them, and she paints pictures in the air when she talks. David likes Sister Greene. She is one of the first people he ever heard speak in sacrament meeting after he was baptized. She talked about what it means to make a leap of faith.
David looks down and sees Sister Logan smiling up at him from where she’s sitting with her husband and two children. She wants to take David in as a foster child. “You’re only 14,” she told him the other day when he dropped in after school for some snickerdoodles and a glass of milk. David has stayed with Sister Logan and her family off and on for days at a time, when his mother has had to go to the hospital for treatment for her depression. Even when he’s not crashing on the Logans’ sofa, David likes to drop in every now and again.
But the other day, while he was munching his snickerdoodle and sipping his milk, Sister Logan had stood over him, her face a tight mask of concern. She had jiggled her baby on her hip and she said, “That neighborhood of yours …”
She had let her voice trail off, but David knew what she was thinking. She was scared David would never have a chance.
What Sister Logan doesn’t know is how very much David would like to be her foster son. He can picture himself tromping home from school in the afternoon and pushing open the slick glass doors of her building’s lobby. He’d stop and visit with the doorman for a while, then zip up to the 12th floor, where he’d sit at the spotless Formica table in Brother and Sister Logan’s white kitchen. He’d work on his math problems until it was time to help with dinner.
But this, David knows, is only a dream. It is like the dream he used to have about his father coming back to live with him and his mom. It is like the dream that one morning he will wake up and his mother will have stopped drinking. She will be standing in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of blueberry waffles and telling him it’s time to get ready for school. It is only a dream.
David returns Sister Logan’s smile.
Five years, David is thinking while the bishop announces who today’s youth speaker will be. A lot can change in five years. But, then again, a lot can stay the same. Before he knows it, it is time for him to speak. Sister Greene pats him on the knee as he stands up. A leap of faith, Sister Greene said in her last sacrament talk, is when the Lord asks you to walk to the edge of the light and step into the darkness, trusting that He will guide your steps.
While David walks to the microphone, he slips his talk out of his pocket. He spreads the wrinkled sheets of paper on the pulpit and stares at them. His own words, scrawled in a blue ballpoint pen, stare back at him. Please, David prays silently, I’m afraid I’ll never have a chance.
But then he looks out at the hodgepodge of faces in the audience. Dark and light, wrinkled and rosy. Pairs of eyes gaze back at him, young eyes and tired eyes and eyes with crow’s feet. Familiar eyes. You can do it, these eyes say. You can do anything. We’ll help you.
So David clears his throat. He grips the sides of the podium, and he opens his mouth. “I’d like to speak to you today,” he begins, “about what I am doing now to prepare to serve a mission.”
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Without Purse or Scrip:A 19-Year-Old Missionary in 1853
Summary: Joseph administered to a sick man in Boston who then rose and walked. Invited to be baptized, the man came on foot with clothes, and Joseph baptized him in a bay where the ice cracked open just enough to perform the ordinance. A fellow Saint confirmed him and preached a discourse.
Jan. 26, 1854 A woman came from River Street, Boston, after me to go and see a sick man. … I went. He said he had faith. I administered to him and got him up.
Jan. 27, 1854 I went again (took my bottle of oil). After performing the Ordinance, he got up, walked around the house. I told him to come to South Boston on Sunday and be baptized, expecting him to take a cab.
Jan. 29, 1854 My friend Brother Joseph Bull of the Steamship Niagara was a welcome visitor with me every time they made port (in East Boston pier). The ship was in Saturday night. I gave Brother Bull an invite to the meeting. We were expecting to see a cab, but to our surprise the man came afoot with a bundle of clothes. We then went to the Bay near the Asylum. The ice cracked and opened wide enough (scarce) to perform the ordinance and the water was deep enough above the second layer of ice, and I baptized George H. Pay. Brother Bull confirmed him; then Brother Bull gave us a good discourse.
Jan. 27, 1854 I went again (took my bottle of oil). After performing the Ordinance, he got up, walked around the house. I told him to come to South Boston on Sunday and be baptized, expecting him to take a cab.
Jan. 29, 1854 My friend Brother Joseph Bull of the Steamship Niagara was a welcome visitor with me every time they made port (in East Boston pier). The ship was in Saturday night. I gave Brother Bull an invite to the meeting. We were expecting to see a cab, but to our surprise the man came afoot with a bundle of clothes. We then went to the Bay near the Asylum. The ice cracked and opened wide enough (scarce) to perform the ordinance and the water was deep enough above the second layer of ice, and I baptized George H. Pay. Brother Bull confirmed him; then Brother Bull gave us a good discourse.
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Holy Ghost
Miracles
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Ordinances
Priesthood
Priesthood Blessing
Your Greatest Challenge, Mother
Summary: Elder Robert Harbertson told a story about an Indian boy who found a cold rattlesnake on a mountain. The snake begged to be carried to warmth, and the boy relented and brought it down. Once warmed, the snake bit the boy, saying the boy knew what it was when he picked it up. The story warns against heeding enticing but dangerous influences.
I have never forgotten a story that Elder Robert Harbertson told at this Tabernacle pulpit. He spoke of an Indian boy who climbed a high mountain. It was cold up there. At his feet was a snake, a rattlesnake. The snake was cold and pleaded with the young man to pick it up and take it down where it was warmer.
The Indian boy listened to the enticings of the serpent. He gave in. He gathered it up into his arms and covered it with his shirt. He carried it down the mountain to where it was warm. He gently put it on the grass. When the snake was warm it raised its head and struck the boy with its poisonous fangs.
The boy cursed at the snake for striking him as an answer to his kindness. The snake replied, “You knew what I was when you picked me up” (“Restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood,” Ensign, July 1989, 77).
The Indian boy listened to the enticings of the serpent. He gave in. He gathered it up into his arms and covered it with his shirt. He carried it down the mountain to where it was warm. He gently put it on the grass. When the snake was warm it raised its head and struck the boy with its poisonous fangs.
The boy cursed at the snake for striking him as an answer to his kindness. The snake replied, “You knew what I was when you picked me up” (“Restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood,” Ensign, July 1989, 77).
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Adversity
Agency and Accountability
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Small and Simple Things
Summary: Martha told the speaker’s wife and her visiting teaching companion never to return, but agreed to sing one last hymn. As they sang, the Spirit filled the room and Martha’s heart softened, leading her to welcome future visits. Over time, she and her family returned to church activity, and she and her husband later served faithfully in callings.
During a visiting teaching visit, Martha, a member of our ward, told my wife and her companion never to come back again. She had decided to stop coming to church. One of the visiting teachers asked Martha if they could sing a hymn together this one last time, and she agreed. As they sang, something special happened. Little by little, the Spirit began to fill the room. Each of them felt it. Martha’s heart began to soften. With her eyes filled with tears, she expressed to her visiting teachers the feelings of her heart. At that moment, she realized that she knew that the gospel was true. She now thanked her visiting teachers and expressed a desire for them to return. From that day forward, she received them with joy.
Martha began to attend church with her young daughter. For years they attended regularly, with Martha never losing hope that her husband might eventually choose to join them. At last the day came when the Lord touched his heart, and he began to attend with them, as did their other daughter soon thereafter. This family began to feel the true joy that comes from having gospel blessings in their home. Martha has since served faithfully as our ward Relief Society president, and her husband has served well in several callings within the stake. All this began with the singing of a hymn, a small and simple thing that touched Martha’s heart.
Martha began to attend church with her young daughter. For years they attended regularly, with Martha never losing hope that her husband might eventually choose to join them. At last the day came when the Lord touched his heart, and he began to attend with them, as did their other daughter soon thereafter. This family began to feel the true joy that comes from having gospel blessings in their home. Martha has since served faithfully as our ward Relief Society president, and her husband has served well in several callings within the stake. All this began with the singing of a hymn, a small and simple thing that touched Martha’s heart.
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👤 Church Members (General)
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Apostasy
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Family
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Testimony
Millicent Won’t Move!
Summary: At a circus, an elephant named Millicent blocks the sideshow entrance and refuses to move. Strong men with ropes, a clown with a cannon, and a lion tamer with a whip all fail. Freddie, a small boy, quietly leads Millicent away by dropping peanuts she follows step by step. The crowd cheers as the elephant returns to the field, and Freddie earns newfound respect.
“Millicent’s escaped!” “The elephant is loose!” The cries filled the circus grounds.
Freddie peered anxiously out of the red and gold trailer where he lived. He saw Randolph, the roustabout, running past. A thick coil of rope hung over his shoulder. “Millicent pulled her stake out of the ground!” the tall young man explained as he stopped to talk to Freddie. “Our customers are going to be unhappy if they can’t see the sideshow, and she’s blocking the entrance. I’m going to tie this rope around her and try to lead her back to the field where she belongs.”
“That won’t work,” Freddie said, earnestly, “but I know how to make Millicent move.”
Randolph chuckled. “You? Why, you’re the smallest boy in the circus. How can you move an elephant?” And he hurried on.
Freddie just smiled and scampered off toward the sideshow. Before long he came upon Chester, the oldest and wisest clown in the circus. He was wearing knobby shoes and was pushing a big black cannon ahead of him. At his side trotted Phil, his fluffy pink poodle.
“Millicent’s loose!” shouted Chester. “I’m on my way to fire my cannon. When she hears the explosion, she’ll move out of the way! Come along and watch.”
“I don’t think that’ll work,” said Freddie, walking alongside the clown. “But I know how to make Millicent move.”
Chester stopped. “You? You can’t make that pesky pachyderm move an inch. You can’t even make Phil roll over, so how do you intend to make an elephant move?” Chester asked as he hurried away without waiting for a reply.
Freddie just smiled.
Shortly, Freddie came upon a great crowd of circus performers—jugglers, fire-eaters, and lovely bareback riders. They were all talking about the elephant that wouldn’t move.
Alonzo, the lion tamer, boasted, “I’m going to wave my chair and crack my whip in front of Millicent. That’ll make that stubborn elephant move!”
“I don’t think it’ll work,” said Freddie solemnly. “But I know how to make Millicent move.”
“You?” The lion tamer snorted. “You know nothing about handling wild animals. How could you move that blissful behemoth!”
Freddie simply smiled again.
“Everybody stand back, please,” said Mr. Bertelli, the circus owner.
Freddie watched Randolph loop his thick rope around the great elephant. She towered above them, and her legs were thick as tree trunks.
Randolph pulled and pulled. His muscles bulged, and glistening perspiration streamed down his face. The fire-eater and the juggler joined the roustabout and, with stern faces, tugged on the rope. Still, the elephant refused to move.
“That’s the most immovable mastodon I’ve ever encountered,” Randolph declared disgustedly. “I think Millicent has taken root.” He gathered up his rope and walked away.
Freddie approached Mr. Bertelli. “Please, sir, I can make Millicent move,” he said.
“Stay out of the way, Freddie,” Mr. Bertelli replied, but not unkindly. “This is a job for men.”
Next, Chester touched a flame to the touchhole of his cannon. Freddie put his fingers in his ears and shut his eyes tightly. There was a moment of silence and then a loud BOOOOOOM! The sawdust-filled circus grounds shook with the sound. Freddie opened his eyes. Millicent heard that sound twice a day while Chester was performing. Cool as custard, she stood where she was.
“She must be going deaf,” Chester said disgustedly. The clown flop-flopped away, sadly wheeling his cannon.
Freddie tugged at Mr. Bertelli’s sleeve. “I can make Millicent move,” he insisted.
“If Randolph and Chester couldn’t do it, how could you?” asked the circus owner, patting Freddie on the shoulder.
It was Alonzo’s turn to try. The lion tamer twisted the ends of his long moustache and waggled his chair under Millicent’s trunk. His long black whip snapped an earsplitting KER-WHACK! Millicent blinked her little round eyes. She softly wrapped her trunk around the chair, set it to one side, and picked up Alonzo. The lion tamer helplessly waved his legs in the air. Abruptly, Millicent dropped him into the chair and, with a great snort, mussed his carefully combed hair.
“That stupid elephant! She doesn’t have any respect for me. Me! The finest lion tamer in the world!” Alonzo stalked off.
After that it was plain to see nobody else had an idea how to make Millicent move. A crowd was beginning to line up at the entrance. If Millicent didn’t get out of the way, no one could get by to see the sideshow!
Freddie strode confidently up to the peanut vendor. “One bag, please,” he said.
The boy took his sack of peanuts and approached the towering elephant. Freddie placed a peanut on the ground in front of Millicent. The elephant slowly lowered her long gray trunk and picked it up. She curled it gently into her mouth and stared at Freddie.
Freddie dropped another peanut a few feet away. The elephant took one large step and picked it up. The circus folk cheered! Millicent was moving!
Freddie backed his way toward the grassy field, dropping peanuts as he went. The big elephant followed, eating every peanut in her path!
Before long, Millicent had followed the trail of peanuts and had joined the other elephants in the meadow. She was back where she belonged!
“Hooray for Freddie!” proclaimed Chester. “He really did know how to make Millicent move!”
And from that day on, Freddie’s circus friends asked him questions about all sorts of things. When Freddie said he knew the answer, they all believed him.
Freddie peered anxiously out of the red and gold trailer where he lived. He saw Randolph, the roustabout, running past. A thick coil of rope hung over his shoulder. “Millicent pulled her stake out of the ground!” the tall young man explained as he stopped to talk to Freddie. “Our customers are going to be unhappy if they can’t see the sideshow, and she’s blocking the entrance. I’m going to tie this rope around her and try to lead her back to the field where she belongs.”
“That won’t work,” Freddie said, earnestly, “but I know how to make Millicent move.”
Randolph chuckled. “You? Why, you’re the smallest boy in the circus. How can you move an elephant?” And he hurried on.
Freddie just smiled and scampered off toward the sideshow. Before long he came upon Chester, the oldest and wisest clown in the circus. He was wearing knobby shoes and was pushing a big black cannon ahead of him. At his side trotted Phil, his fluffy pink poodle.
“Millicent’s loose!” shouted Chester. “I’m on my way to fire my cannon. When she hears the explosion, she’ll move out of the way! Come along and watch.”
“I don’t think that’ll work,” said Freddie, walking alongside the clown. “But I know how to make Millicent move.”
Chester stopped. “You? You can’t make that pesky pachyderm move an inch. You can’t even make Phil roll over, so how do you intend to make an elephant move?” Chester asked as he hurried away without waiting for a reply.
Freddie just smiled.
Shortly, Freddie came upon a great crowd of circus performers—jugglers, fire-eaters, and lovely bareback riders. They were all talking about the elephant that wouldn’t move.
Alonzo, the lion tamer, boasted, “I’m going to wave my chair and crack my whip in front of Millicent. That’ll make that stubborn elephant move!”
“I don’t think it’ll work,” said Freddie solemnly. “But I know how to make Millicent move.”
“You?” The lion tamer snorted. “You know nothing about handling wild animals. How could you move that blissful behemoth!”
Freddie simply smiled again.
“Everybody stand back, please,” said Mr. Bertelli, the circus owner.
Freddie watched Randolph loop his thick rope around the great elephant. She towered above them, and her legs were thick as tree trunks.
Randolph pulled and pulled. His muscles bulged, and glistening perspiration streamed down his face. The fire-eater and the juggler joined the roustabout and, with stern faces, tugged on the rope. Still, the elephant refused to move.
“That’s the most immovable mastodon I’ve ever encountered,” Randolph declared disgustedly. “I think Millicent has taken root.” He gathered up his rope and walked away.
Freddie approached Mr. Bertelli. “Please, sir, I can make Millicent move,” he said.
“Stay out of the way, Freddie,” Mr. Bertelli replied, but not unkindly. “This is a job for men.”
Next, Chester touched a flame to the touchhole of his cannon. Freddie put his fingers in his ears and shut his eyes tightly. There was a moment of silence and then a loud BOOOOOOM! The sawdust-filled circus grounds shook with the sound. Freddie opened his eyes. Millicent heard that sound twice a day while Chester was performing. Cool as custard, she stood where she was.
“She must be going deaf,” Chester said disgustedly. The clown flop-flopped away, sadly wheeling his cannon.
Freddie tugged at Mr. Bertelli’s sleeve. “I can make Millicent move,” he insisted.
“If Randolph and Chester couldn’t do it, how could you?” asked the circus owner, patting Freddie on the shoulder.
It was Alonzo’s turn to try. The lion tamer twisted the ends of his long moustache and waggled his chair under Millicent’s trunk. His long black whip snapped an earsplitting KER-WHACK! Millicent blinked her little round eyes. She softly wrapped her trunk around the chair, set it to one side, and picked up Alonzo. The lion tamer helplessly waved his legs in the air. Abruptly, Millicent dropped him into the chair and, with a great snort, mussed his carefully combed hair.
“That stupid elephant! She doesn’t have any respect for me. Me! The finest lion tamer in the world!” Alonzo stalked off.
After that it was plain to see nobody else had an idea how to make Millicent move. A crowd was beginning to line up at the entrance. If Millicent didn’t get out of the way, no one could get by to see the sideshow!
Freddie strode confidently up to the peanut vendor. “One bag, please,” he said.
The boy took his sack of peanuts and approached the towering elephant. Freddie placed a peanut on the ground in front of Millicent. The elephant slowly lowered her long gray trunk and picked it up. She curled it gently into her mouth and stared at Freddie.
Freddie dropped another peanut a few feet away. The elephant took one large step and picked it up. The circus folk cheered! Millicent was moving!
Freddie backed his way toward the grassy field, dropping peanuts as he went. The big elephant followed, eating every peanut in her path!
Before long, Millicent had followed the trail of peanuts and had joined the other elephants in the meadow. She was back where she belonged!
“Hooray for Freddie!” proclaimed Chester. “He really did know how to make Millicent move!”
And from that day on, Freddie’s circus friends asked him questions about all sorts of things. When Freddie said he knew the answer, they all believed him.
Read more →
👤 Children
👤 Other
Children
Friendship
Humility
Kindness
Bob and Lori Thurston
Summary: While serving in Cambodia, Bob and Lori worked with Public Affairs missionaries to visit the Ministry of Cults and Religion and establish the Church as trustworthy. They developed rapport, and ministry officials began calling them quickly for help during crises like floods. The Church responded rapidly to deliver needed aid.
Lori:
No two days were the same on our mission. Some days we were out in the bush, knee-deep in water or mud. Other days were spent in the mission office. With Public Affairs missionaries, we visited the Ministry of Cults and Religion. In Cambodia, the term “cult” isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The official religion is Buddhism—everything else is considered a cult. We visited the Ministry to help set the precedent that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a good organization and can be trusted.
We developed a good rapport with them, and they were quick to call for help. They’d call and say, “We’ve had a flood, and we need food for 200 families who have been displaced.” They knew they could rely on the Church to get stuff to where it was needed fast and supplement the things they didn’t have.
No two days were the same on our mission. Some days we were out in the bush, knee-deep in water or mud. Other days were spent in the mission office. With Public Affairs missionaries, we visited the Ministry of Cults and Religion. In Cambodia, the term “cult” isn’t necessarily a bad thing. The official religion is Buddhism—everything else is considered a cult. We visited the Ministry to help set the precedent that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is a good organization and can be trusted.
We developed a good rapport with them, and they were quick to call for help. They’d call and say, “We’ve had a flood, and we need food for 200 families who have been displaced.” They knew they could rely on the Church to get stuff to where it was needed fast and supplement the things they didn’t have.
Read more →
👤 Missionaries
👤 Other
Charity
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Emergency Response
Missionary Work
Religious Freedom
Service
“Whosoever Will Save His Life”
Summary: On a college campus, the speaker heard students complain about school pressures, housing, and food. He counseled them to set aside their books for a few hours and visit the lonely, sick, or discouraged. He taught that such service reduces self-centered complaining.
I recall visiting a college campus where I heard the usual, commonplace complaining of youth: complaints about the pressures of school—as if it were a burden rather than an opportunity to partake of the knowledge of the earth—complaints about housing and about food.
I counseled those youth that if the pressures of school were too heavy, if they felt to complain about their housing and their food, then I could suggest a cure for their problems. I suggested that they lay their books aside for a few hours, leave their rooms, and go visit someone who is old and lonely, or someone sick and discouraged. By and large, I have come to see that if we complain about life, it is because we are thinking only of ourselves.
I counseled those youth that if the pressures of school were too heavy, if they felt to complain about their housing and their food, then I could suggest a cure for their problems. I suggested that they lay their books aside for a few hours, leave their rooms, and go visit someone who is old and lonely, or someone sick and discouraged. By and large, I have come to see that if we complain about life, it is because we are thinking only of ourselves.
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👤 Young Adults
Charity
Education
Humility
Ministering
Service
Sheena’s Keys to Success
Summary: Sheena Rosander, a talented pianist from Hurricane, Utah, was born with only a partial thumb and no fingers on her left hand, but she has refused to let that limit her. After overcoming a serious blood disorder and finding faith through prayer and EFY, she and her friend Leisel Bennion entered the Miss Hurricane pageant, where Sheena earned first attendant and awards for talent and interview. The story highlights her determination, optimism, and reliance on the Spirit in both music and life.
Sitting on the stand of the St. George (Utah) Tabernacle, waiting for her performance to begin, Sheena Rosander couldn’t help remembering the year before when she had been waiting to perform at a high school talent show.
“It was one of the only times I really had the jitters before a performance,” says Sheena. “I followed a rock group and knew immediately that the classical song I loved to play on the piano wasn’t really what kids wanted to hear. I depend so much on the Spirit to help me play, and that Spirit just wasn’t there.”
But this night, things were different. Thankfully, the Spirit was in abundance as her six functioning fingers flew over the keyboard of the grand piano creating music, the kind that brings a lump to the throat.
Sheena Rosander, 18, from Hurricane, Utah, was born with what some people consider a disability. But to Sheena, having only a partial thumb and no fingers on her left hand is a gift. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have all 10 fingers, like how much easier keyboarding would be,” says Sheena. “But I usually just find a way to go around it. My mom wanted me to peel potatoes, and I was really struggling with that potato peeler. So I decided when I have my own family I’ll just have baked potatoes. There’s always a way to do things.”
And that’s pretty much how Sheena has been able to enjoy her favorite activities, like playing and teaching tennis, playing the violin, teaching piano lessons, and competing at performing-arts festivals.
In fact, she’s used her good attitude as a springboard to propel her into positive social situations. On her first day of kindergarten, when Sheena proudly displayed her hand at “show and tell,” one child told her it looked like a Cabbage Patch doll’s hand. Delighted, she added several Cabbage Patch dolls to her already thriving collection. Her favorite had red hair and blue eyes, just like Sheena.
That kind of confidence comes naturally. Even before she was born, her mother, Toni, decided all her children would learn to play piano. Sheena began lessons at age five.
“She was determined to play the piano,” recalls her teacher, Tammy Drake. “Her hand was never an obstacle. She would compensate with her right hand to achieve a full sound. Then one day, she began playing with her left hand, using her thumb and pinky stub. Sheena has shown all of us a new kind of courage and determination. Some listeners never even know about her hand. She plays beautifully.”
But piano wasn’t Sheena’s only interest. She developed a love for sports, particularly basketball. Just before ninth-grade tryouts, however, Sheena experienced what she would term the greatest challenge of her life so far. She developed immune thrombocytopenic purpura, or ITP, a blood disorder which causes bleeding under the skin. Her disease prevented her from playing basketball since even an accidental bump on her head could cause a major brain hemorrhage.
After a year of transfusions, cortisone, and other medications, Sheena faced the decision of whether or not to have her spleen removed. As she had done since she was a small girl, Sheena turned to the Lord in prayer for a confirmation of her decision. After her surgery, she continued to worry. What if the ITP returned and kept her from her normal activities?
“I kept asking Heavenly Father if I was done with it,” she says, “but I never felt like I was getting an answer. Then my friend Liesel Bennion and I went to EFY [Especially for Youth] at BYU—Idaho. I had a wonderful counselor there who gave a devotional about the woman who had suffered with an issue of blood for 12 years and touched the hem of the Savior’s garment. When she read the words, ‘Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace’ (Luke 8:48) and sang a song called ‘Close Enough to Touch,’ my heart started pounding and tears sprang to my eyes. I knew at that moment I was done with the ITP. In a way I felt I also had touched the Savior’s hem by exercising faith in having the surgery.”
Not long after, the two friends decided to enter the Miss Hurricane pageant. This was not new to Sheena. She had tried out the previous year and had won the talent award but bombed the interview. So, in her typical style, she practiced with anyone who would interview her and tried out again. “I was so excited when I got first attendant, with talent and interview awards. And I was so happy for Leisel to be chosen queen. We’ve had a lot of fun together.”
“It was one of the only times I really had the jitters before a performance,” says Sheena. “I followed a rock group and knew immediately that the classical song I loved to play on the piano wasn’t really what kids wanted to hear. I depend so much on the Spirit to help me play, and that Spirit just wasn’t there.”
But this night, things were different. Thankfully, the Spirit was in abundance as her six functioning fingers flew over the keyboard of the grand piano creating music, the kind that brings a lump to the throat.
Sheena Rosander, 18, from Hurricane, Utah, was born with what some people consider a disability. But to Sheena, having only a partial thumb and no fingers on her left hand is a gift. “Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have all 10 fingers, like how much easier keyboarding would be,” says Sheena. “But I usually just find a way to go around it. My mom wanted me to peel potatoes, and I was really struggling with that potato peeler. So I decided when I have my own family I’ll just have baked potatoes. There’s always a way to do things.”
And that’s pretty much how Sheena has been able to enjoy her favorite activities, like playing and teaching tennis, playing the violin, teaching piano lessons, and competing at performing-arts festivals.
In fact, she’s used her good attitude as a springboard to propel her into positive social situations. On her first day of kindergarten, when Sheena proudly displayed her hand at “show and tell,” one child told her it looked like a Cabbage Patch doll’s hand. Delighted, she added several Cabbage Patch dolls to her already thriving collection. Her favorite had red hair and blue eyes, just like Sheena.
That kind of confidence comes naturally. Even before she was born, her mother, Toni, decided all her children would learn to play piano. Sheena began lessons at age five.
“She was determined to play the piano,” recalls her teacher, Tammy Drake. “Her hand was never an obstacle. She would compensate with her right hand to achieve a full sound. Then one day, she began playing with her left hand, using her thumb and pinky stub. Sheena has shown all of us a new kind of courage and determination. Some listeners never even know about her hand. She plays beautifully.”
But piano wasn’t Sheena’s only interest. She developed a love for sports, particularly basketball. Just before ninth-grade tryouts, however, Sheena experienced what she would term the greatest challenge of her life so far. She developed immune thrombocytopenic purpura, or ITP, a blood disorder which causes bleeding under the skin. Her disease prevented her from playing basketball since even an accidental bump on her head could cause a major brain hemorrhage.
After a year of transfusions, cortisone, and other medications, Sheena faced the decision of whether or not to have her spleen removed. As she had done since she was a small girl, Sheena turned to the Lord in prayer for a confirmation of her decision. After her surgery, she continued to worry. What if the ITP returned and kept her from her normal activities?
“I kept asking Heavenly Father if I was done with it,” she says, “but I never felt like I was getting an answer. Then my friend Liesel Bennion and I went to EFY [Especially for Youth] at BYU—Idaho. I had a wonderful counselor there who gave a devotional about the woman who had suffered with an issue of blood for 12 years and touched the hem of the Savior’s garment. When she read the words, ‘Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace’ (Luke 8:48) and sang a song called ‘Close Enough to Touch,’ my heart started pounding and tears sprang to my eyes. I knew at that moment I was done with the ITP. In a way I felt I also had touched the Savior’s hem by exercising faith in having the surgery.”
Not long after, the two friends decided to enter the Miss Hurricane pageant. This was not new to Sheena. She had tried out the previous year and had won the talent award but bombed the interview. So, in her typical style, she practiced with anyone who would interview her and tried out again. “I was so excited when I got first attendant, with talent and interview awards. And I was so happy for Leisel to be chosen queen. We’ve had a lot of fun together.”
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Friends
Courage
Friendship
Happiness
Young Women
Learning to Serve Others
Summary: When eight-year-old Tommy Monson sat with his grandfather, an elderly widower named Robert “Old Bob” Dicks shared that his adobe home would be torn down and he had nowhere to go. Tommy’s grandfather immediately gave him a key to an empty house next door, inviting him to live there at no cost and assuring him he would not be put out again.
One day when Tommy was about eight years old, he and his grandfather were sitting on the front-porch swing. An elderly man from England lived on the same street. His name was Robert Dicks, but most of the neighbors just called him “Old Bob.” He was widowed and poor.
Old Bob came over and sat down on the porch swing with Tommy and his grandfather. He said that the small adobe house where he lived was going to be torn down. He had no family, no money, and nowhere to go.
Tommy wondered how his grandfather would respond to the sad story. His grandfather reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather change purse. He took out a key and put it in Old Bob’s hand. “Mr. Dicks,” he said kindly, “you can move your things into that empty house of mine next door. It won’t cost you a cent, and you can stay there as long as you like. And remember, nobody is ever going to put you out again.” Tears filled Old Bob’s eyes.
Old Bob came over and sat down on the porch swing with Tommy and his grandfather. He said that the small adobe house where he lived was going to be torn down. He had no family, no money, and nowhere to go.
Tommy wondered how his grandfather would respond to the sad story. His grandfather reached into his pocket and pulled out a small leather change purse. He took out a key and put it in Old Bob’s hand. “Mr. Dicks,” he said kindly, “you can move your things into that empty house of mine next door. It won’t cost you a cent, and you can stay there as long as you like. And remember, nobody is ever going to put you out again.” Tears filled Old Bob’s eyes.
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Children
👤 Other
Charity
Kindness
Love
Ministering
Service
Experiencing a Change of Heart
Summary: In Zimbabwe, the author’s mother offered a protective amulet for their newborn, but he and his wife declined. When the baby later became seriously ill and they couldn’t afford a doctor, he briefly doubted but followed a prompting to give a priesthood blessing. The child quickly slept peacefully and recovered, strengthening his faith and prompting reflection about choosing faith over appearances and missed opportunities to share the gospel.
Rosemary, our firstborn child, was a new pretty baby when my mother visited us from her village in central Zimbabwe. As brand-new parents, my wife, Naume, and I were so excited for my mother’s visit. We were eager to learn everything we needed to know about raising a child.
Upon arriving, my mother brought out a round cloth necklace. Wrapped in the cloth, she explained, was a magical object. She held out the necklace to Naume to put on Rosemary’s neck. Sensing Naume’s hesitation, my mother immediately said: “From an early age my mother and maternal grandmother gave me this magical object, which has protected me and all my children, including your husband. This amulet will protect your daughter from diseases and from all sorts of spells that might befall her, and she will overcome any difficult situation in life. She will need to wear this until she is five years old.”
At that time I was serving as branch president, and I immediately thought, “What will the members of my branch think when they see this ‘magical’ necklace on our baby’s neck?” Then I thought, “Maybe we could cover it so that it will not be so visible.” I looked at Naume; her expression told me that we should not accept this gift. I asked my mother if she could make a small, thin necklace, one that might not be so visible. She responded that it was not possible, and that the magical object worked best in the format she had prepared it.
Again, Naume gave me a look that clearly expressed her disapproval. I turned to my mother and explained that as a branch president in our local congregation, I would not be comfortable placing the necklace on our child. My mother replied with a warning: she told us that without the necklace our baby would die.
A few weeks after this incident, our little Rosemary fell very ill. We did not have money to take her to the doctor. It was at night, and at that moment I started thinking about what my mother had said in her warning. I began wishing I had accepted the necklace. I would have taken it and put it on Rosemary’s neck. At this moment of panic, I heard a still, small voice urging me to exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. I immediately got dressed in my Sunday best. I took our baby in my arms and pronounced a priesthood blessing. I felt peace and comfort, and I sensed that my wife felt the same way. Almost immediately both Naume and little Rosemary fell into a peaceful sleep. Our daughter Rosemary was healed. In the proceeding days she slowly recovered and regained her full health. What a miracle we witnessed! The Lord in His tender mercies reached out to me and strengthened my faith in Him.
I was grateful but also a little ashamed. Here I was, a returned missionary serving as a branch president, but I was more concerned about what people would say rather than believing in God (see Mosiah 4:9). Yes, even my mother, whom I love and admire so much, could not comprehend all things. I needed to be something more than just a returned missionary; something more than a branch president; I needed to change—to experience what Alma experienced.
When my mother offered me a necklace of protection to put on my baby’s neck, I based my concern on outward appearance. I was worried about what the members of our branch would think of me. Apparently, I had not yet fully experienced that “mighty change of heart.” I have since come to realize that our success and happiness is based on how fully we are willing to take the gospel into our hearts. In order for us to find true happiness, joy, and peace, “the pure gospel of Jesus Christ must go down into [our] hearts … by the power of the Holy Ghost.”1
Can you see how I missed an opportunity to share the gospel with my mother when she offered us that magical object, which she believed had always protected her and her children? I could have been an instrument in the hands of the Lord—just like Alma—who preached the gospel of Jesus Christ and “changed their hearts; yea, he awakened them out of a deep sleep, and they awoke unto God” (Alma 5:7).
As I reflect on that occasion with my mother, I wonder what would have happened had I responded more like Alma. My mother may have been awakened unto God, and her change could have had a positive impact upon my siblings. This change could then have had a great impact in the lives of my siblings’ children and on to their posterity.
What if our baby Rosemary had not survived her illness—even after the priesthood blessing I pronounced upon her? The Lord’s admonition is a great strength to me: “He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it” (Matthew 10:39).
Upon arriving, my mother brought out a round cloth necklace. Wrapped in the cloth, she explained, was a magical object. She held out the necklace to Naume to put on Rosemary’s neck. Sensing Naume’s hesitation, my mother immediately said: “From an early age my mother and maternal grandmother gave me this magical object, which has protected me and all my children, including your husband. This amulet will protect your daughter from diseases and from all sorts of spells that might befall her, and she will overcome any difficult situation in life. She will need to wear this until she is five years old.”
At that time I was serving as branch president, and I immediately thought, “What will the members of my branch think when they see this ‘magical’ necklace on our baby’s neck?” Then I thought, “Maybe we could cover it so that it will not be so visible.” I looked at Naume; her expression told me that we should not accept this gift. I asked my mother if she could make a small, thin necklace, one that might not be so visible. She responded that it was not possible, and that the magical object worked best in the format she had prepared it.
Again, Naume gave me a look that clearly expressed her disapproval. I turned to my mother and explained that as a branch president in our local congregation, I would not be comfortable placing the necklace on our child. My mother replied with a warning: she told us that without the necklace our baby would die.
A few weeks after this incident, our little Rosemary fell very ill. We did not have money to take her to the doctor. It was at night, and at that moment I started thinking about what my mother had said in her warning. I began wishing I had accepted the necklace. I would have taken it and put it on Rosemary’s neck. At this moment of panic, I heard a still, small voice urging me to exercise faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. I immediately got dressed in my Sunday best. I took our baby in my arms and pronounced a priesthood blessing. I felt peace and comfort, and I sensed that my wife felt the same way. Almost immediately both Naume and little Rosemary fell into a peaceful sleep. Our daughter Rosemary was healed. In the proceeding days she slowly recovered and regained her full health. What a miracle we witnessed! The Lord in His tender mercies reached out to me and strengthened my faith in Him.
I was grateful but also a little ashamed. Here I was, a returned missionary serving as a branch president, but I was more concerned about what people would say rather than believing in God (see Mosiah 4:9). Yes, even my mother, whom I love and admire so much, could not comprehend all things. I needed to be something more than just a returned missionary; something more than a branch president; I needed to change—to experience what Alma experienced.
When my mother offered me a necklace of protection to put on my baby’s neck, I based my concern on outward appearance. I was worried about what the members of our branch would think of me. Apparently, I had not yet fully experienced that “mighty change of heart.” I have since come to realize that our success and happiness is based on how fully we are willing to take the gospel into our hearts. In order for us to find true happiness, joy, and peace, “the pure gospel of Jesus Christ must go down into [our] hearts … by the power of the Holy Ghost.”1
Can you see how I missed an opportunity to share the gospel with my mother when she offered us that magical object, which she believed had always protected her and her children? I could have been an instrument in the hands of the Lord—just like Alma—who preached the gospel of Jesus Christ and “changed their hearts; yea, he awakened them out of a deep sleep, and they awoke unto God” (Alma 5:7).
As I reflect on that occasion with my mother, I wonder what would have happened had I responded more like Alma. My mother may have been awakened unto God, and her change could have had a positive impact upon my siblings. This change could then have had a great impact in the lives of my siblings’ children and on to their posterity.
What if our baby Rosemary had not survived her illness—even after the priesthood blessing I pronounced upon her? The Lord’s admonition is a great strength to me: “He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it” (Matthew 10:39).
Read more →
👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Conversion
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Faith
Family
Holy Ghost
Humility
Judging Others
Miracles
Parenting
Priesthood Blessing
Revelation
Teaching the Gospel
Rescue
Summary: After a tropical storm blocked their usual path home, two brothers tried to cross a high drainage pipe over a raging stream. The older brother froze in fear midway, then screamed for help. Their aunt heard, came quickly, and guided him safely across, leading both boys home.
I especially remember the time my brother and I were returning from school after a severe tropical storm. The trail that we usually followed had been covered by a mud slide. On a nearby steep hillside, high above the rocky ground, was a drainage pipe. If we were to get to our village, we would need to walk along that pipe.
The pipe was suspended over a stream, which, although normally small, had turned into a rushing torrent of mud and water. Carrying our school bags, we went up the hill and began cautiously treading along the narrow, slippery pipe. As I approached the other side, I looked back to see how my brother was doing.
He had stopped halfway. Being older and wiser, he had realized what a precarious perch we were on and had frozen in his tracks. It was a terrifying moment for us as we realized the danger he was in.
Then I heard the loudest scream for help I have ever heard. My brother’s bellow echoed through the hills and valleys. Luckily Aunt Gu Ma was working in the fields below and heard us. She came quickly to his rescue, lovingly guided him along, and led us both home to safety.
The pipe was suspended over a stream, which, although normally small, had turned into a rushing torrent of mud and water. Carrying our school bags, we went up the hill and began cautiously treading along the narrow, slippery pipe. As I approached the other side, I looked back to see how my brother was doing.
He had stopped halfway. Being older and wiser, he had realized what a precarious perch we were on and had frozen in his tracks. It was a terrifying moment for us as we realized the danger he was in.
Then I heard the loudest scream for help I have ever heard. My brother’s bellow echoed through the hills and valleys. Luckily Aunt Gu Ma was working in the fields below and heard us. She came quickly to his rescue, lovingly guided him along, and led us both home to safety.
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👤 Children
👤 Other
Adversity
Children
Emergency Response
Family
Kindness
Service
A Letter to Girls about Lady Missionaries
Summary: The speaker describes a time on her mission when heavy rain made it nearly impossible to look presentable for an interview with the mission president. She and the other missionaries arrived on motorbikes wearing drab rain ponchos and looked amusingly bedraggled.
The point of the story is that a sister missionary should do her best to maintain her appearance when possible, but also be able to laugh at the times when it is impossible. By doing so, she can better feel, look, and serve as a pure and holy vessel for the Spirit.
I realize very well the obstacles faced. Many are the times when it seems absolutely impossible to maintain the proper standard of appearance.
In the mission field where I labored, we were normally interviewed by the president at conference time. In most cases, we traveled to the conference and did not do normal missionary work at this time. Thus, it was easier to make a presentable appearance, and, of course, we always tried to look our very best.
One particular time, however, the president made a tour of all the cities to interview each missionary. It happened that our interviews were to be early in the morning. We did our best to get ready and then realized that it was raining heavily outside. I will never forget the shocked look on the face of the president and his assistant as we drove up to the small meeting hall on our motor bikes. I have to admit that we must have presented an amusing sight, emerging out of the early morning darkness, draped completely in our drab, shapeless, rain ponchos, hunched over our bikes, with rain dripping off our noses and chins.
If a sister can laugh at those times when a radiant appearance is impossible and work smartly behind the scenes to look her best when it is possible, she will feel better herself, she will look better to others, and the Spirit will be better able to work through her, for she will be a pure and holy vessel, inside and out.
In the mission field where I labored, we were normally interviewed by the president at conference time. In most cases, we traveled to the conference and did not do normal missionary work at this time. Thus, it was easier to make a presentable appearance, and, of course, we always tried to look our very best.
One particular time, however, the president made a tour of all the cities to interview each missionary. It happened that our interviews were to be early in the morning. We did our best to get ready and then realized that it was raining heavily outside. I will never forget the shocked look on the face of the president and his assistant as we drove up to the small meeting hall on our motor bikes. I have to admit that we must have presented an amusing sight, emerging out of the early morning darkness, draped completely in our drab, shapeless, rain ponchos, hunched over our bikes, with rain dripping off our noses and chins.
If a sister can laugh at those times when a radiant appearance is impossible and work smartly behind the scenes to look her best when it is possible, she will feel better herself, she will look better to others, and the Spirit will be better able to work through her, for she will be a pure and holy vessel, inside and out.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Adversity
Missionary Work
A Promised Blessing for Attending the Temple
Summary: When the bus was late again, Chad and a friend decided to take Max Para home themselves in a large truck. A group of priests arrived and helped lift the wheelchair, carry Max into the truck, and secure him safely. The unexpected ride became a joyful experience for Max.
Once when Chad was at the temple with one of our friends, Brother Gonzales, he again saw Brother Para at the temple waiting for a van to come get him. Brother Para had been waiting for a long time. Chad and Brother Gonzales decided to take Brother Para home themselves. Brother Gonzales had a big black truck. Just then, a carload of priests from our stake pulled up, and they helped put the heavy wheelchair in the back of the truck. Then they carried Brother Para into the truck, buckled him up, and held on to him so he would not fall over. I bet that day was awesome for Brother Para—how could he even imagine that he would be riding home from the temple in his dream truck!
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👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
Disabilities
Friendship
Kindness
Ministering
Priesthood
Service
Temples
The Home Teachers Who Wouldn’t Quit
Summary: The author drifted from Church activity due to work demands and doubts sparked by nonmember friends. Faithful home teachers persistently ministered, and when his son was born they encouraged a baby blessing. As Brother Des Gorman pronounced the blessing, the author felt the Spirit, recognized his pride, repented, and returned to full activity. He remained active thereafter, and his son later served a mission and married in the temple.
As our family grew in the gospel, the sales management position I held became more and more demanding, often requiring me to be away from home two or three nights a week. I also had found some new friends not of our faith who caused me to start to have doubts about some aspects of Church doctrine.
I enjoyed discussions with these new intellectual friends. They tried to use the scriptures to prove that the Church was not following some basic concepts given as commandments since the time of Adam. I should have borne testimony of the restored gospel and turned away. Instead, I began to listen to them, and my little doubts about doctrine started to grow. Soon I stopped paying tithing and going to the temple. When I stopped attending church, my wife protested, as did our daughters when we ceased holding family home evening.
During this time, two people from the Church never gave up on me. Our home teachers invited me to church every Sunday, sometimes in person and other times by a phone call. They visited our home at least once and sometimes twice each month. They even knew when we needed something. I especially remember the time I ordered a garden shed that was delivered unassembled during my absence. Upon returning home, I found our home teachers had already assembled the shed.
I particularly admired our senior home teacher, Des Gorman, an Irish Canadian. He was a genuine person who truly cared for people. To me he represented the Church, and I felt the Church must be a good organization, even if I wasn’t attending.
Eventually we were blessed with a baby boy. Our home teachers reminded me that it is a priesthood practice to name and bless a baby at fast and testimony meeting. I did not want to participate, though I finally agreed to allow our baby to be blessed by others.
Brother Gorman stood in my place and was the mouthpiece for a beautiful blessing on our son, Ronan. As I listened I received a powerful witness from the Spirit. I had been proud. I had made some big mistakes. I had nearly lost my testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. I still had my family, but I had almost lost the sweet peace the gospel brings. Many tears flowed while my wife, Brother Gorman, and the bishopric supported me as I repented.
From that time on I have been active in the Church. Our home teachers have continued to support me. Our baby boy is now a returned missionary, married in the temple, and raising a family of his own. I feel his life is a tribute to the man who gave him a name and a blessing.
I enjoyed discussions with these new intellectual friends. They tried to use the scriptures to prove that the Church was not following some basic concepts given as commandments since the time of Adam. I should have borne testimony of the restored gospel and turned away. Instead, I began to listen to them, and my little doubts about doctrine started to grow. Soon I stopped paying tithing and going to the temple. When I stopped attending church, my wife protested, as did our daughters when we ceased holding family home evening.
During this time, two people from the Church never gave up on me. Our home teachers invited me to church every Sunday, sometimes in person and other times by a phone call. They visited our home at least once and sometimes twice each month. They even knew when we needed something. I especially remember the time I ordered a garden shed that was delivered unassembled during my absence. Upon returning home, I found our home teachers had already assembled the shed.
I particularly admired our senior home teacher, Des Gorman, an Irish Canadian. He was a genuine person who truly cared for people. To me he represented the Church, and I felt the Church must be a good organization, even if I wasn’t attending.
Eventually we were blessed with a baby boy. Our home teachers reminded me that it is a priesthood practice to name and bless a baby at fast and testimony meeting. I did not want to participate, though I finally agreed to allow our baby to be blessed by others.
Brother Gorman stood in my place and was the mouthpiece for a beautiful blessing on our son, Ronan. As I listened I received a powerful witness from the Spirit. I had been proud. I had made some big mistakes. I had nearly lost my testimony of the truthfulness of the restored gospel. I still had my family, but I had almost lost the sweet peace the gospel brings. Many tears flowed while my wife, Brother Gorman, and the bishopric supported me as I repented.
From that time on I have been active in the Church. Our home teachers have continued to support me. Our baby boy is now a returned missionary, married in the temple, and raising a family of his own. I feel his life is a tribute to the man who gave him a name and a blessing.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Other
Apostasy
Bishop
Children
Doubt
Family
Family Home Evening
Fasting and Fast Offerings
Holy Ghost
Kindness
Ministering
Missionary Work
Parenting
Pride
Priesthood Blessing
Repentance
Service
Temples
Testimony
Tithing
“Pray for Your Enemies”
Summary: As a high school student in Mexico, the narrator and friends clashed with Isabel after she spread rumors, leading to fights and a five-day expulsion. Introduced to the Church by her friend Rosi, she read an article about praying for enemies and later attended church. That night she prayed for Isabel and, to her surprise, felt her feelings change. The next day she saw Isabel as a friend again, reconciled, and recognized the power of praying for enemies.
This brief statement has been with me for many years. When I was 15 years old, I found it in the first issue of the Liahona to ever come into my hands. The name of the article was “Please Bless Kathy” (see Tambuli, September 1990, 44). I still remember that article well because of the role it played in my conversion to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
When I was in high school, three of my friends and I were expelled from school for a week. At that time I had a friend named Isabel, whom I had long considered one of my best friends. But now she had become my worst enemy and the person I held responsible for all the problems Mukuy, Janet, Juana, and I were having. It all started when Isabel spread some rumors behind our backs. She criticized us and made comments about me and my friends.
Because of her betrayal and our response to it, we were always arguing and fighting. The teachers in our school in Lerdo de Tejada, México, had to call us to order repeatedly. Things got so bad we were eventually punished with a five-day expulsion.
During those five days, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Isabel had treated us and how she had brought this upon us. As I thought about how much she had hurt me, I felt great anger and resentment against her.
One afternoon I decided to go to my friend Rosi’s house. Rosi had recently been baptized into a church I knew as the Mormon Church. For some time now, she had been inviting me over to talk about the things she believed in. She had even read to me out of a book she called the Book of Mormon.
This time Rosi invited me to attend church with her, and I felt a genuine interest in learning more. She gave me a copy of the Liahona (Spanish), and I promised her I would take time to read it.
But I didn’t read the magazine until some days later. My mind was too occupied with my resentment toward Isabel. When at last I began, I thumbed through the pages and found an article that caught my attention. The article was about a girl my own age who had gone through something similar to what I was going through with Isabel. She had experienced the same feelings of hatred and bitterness. The only difference between that girl and me was that I was sure I wouldn’t be able to do what she did. I believed I would never be able to stop feeling the way I felt toward Isabel. I believed I would never be able to forgive her. And there was no way I would ever be able to pray for my enemy as the author of that article had.
I kept thinking about the article in the Liahona. Finding a story about something so similar to my own experience seemed strange to me. It never entered my mind to put into practice the idea of praying for my enemy. It might have worked for that girl, but I was sure it wouldn’t work for me. My feelings wouldn’t change.
The next Sunday I went to church with Rosi. I had almost succeeded in not thinking about the article anymore. But as I listened to the sacrament meeting talks, I started to think about it more intensely. For the rest of the day I found it impossible to stop thinking about it. Pray for your enemies, echoed in my mind.
That Sunday night, without even thinking about it, I started to pray. I prayed just as the girl in the article had—just as Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount. I prayed for Isabel, and with each word I uttered, I felt my heart beat louder and I couldn’t stop the tears.
When I finished my prayer, I was surprised at what I had done. But I also felt sure that when I saw Isabel the next day, I would still hate her and wouldn’t be able to remember what I had prayed for that night. My feelings wouldn’t have changed.
When I went back to school on Monday, my friends were waiting for me at the front door so we could plan our revenge. We had to do something to hurt Isabel and make her feel as bad as she had made us feel. She had to be taught a lesson.
But when I saw Isabel that morning, I no longer saw an enemy. I no longer saw a person I hated. Instead I saw my old friend. And I saw myself praying the night before. With tears in my eyes I wondered, How can I think about hurting her when last night I was asking God to bless her? And then I realized I was the one who had been taught a lesson. I had learned for myself the wisdom of the counsel to pray for our enemies.
Isabel and I became friends again as we had been before. My Heavenly Father answered my prayer and helped me change the bitterness and hatred in my heart. He helped me transform those feelings into feelings of love.
This experience has always been very special to me; it is the way the gospel of Jesus Christ came into my life.
When I was in high school, three of my friends and I were expelled from school for a week. At that time I had a friend named Isabel, whom I had long considered one of my best friends. But now she had become my worst enemy and the person I held responsible for all the problems Mukuy, Janet, Juana, and I were having. It all started when Isabel spread some rumors behind our backs. She criticized us and made comments about me and my friends.
Because of her betrayal and our response to it, we were always arguing and fighting. The teachers in our school in Lerdo de Tejada, México, had to call us to order repeatedly. Things got so bad we were eventually punished with a five-day expulsion.
During those five days, I couldn’t stop thinking about how Isabel had treated us and how she had brought this upon us. As I thought about how much she had hurt me, I felt great anger and resentment against her.
One afternoon I decided to go to my friend Rosi’s house. Rosi had recently been baptized into a church I knew as the Mormon Church. For some time now, she had been inviting me over to talk about the things she believed in. She had even read to me out of a book she called the Book of Mormon.
This time Rosi invited me to attend church with her, and I felt a genuine interest in learning more. She gave me a copy of the Liahona (Spanish), and I promised her I would take time to read it.
But I didn’t read the magazine until some days later. My mind was too occupied with my resentment toward Isabel. When at last I began, I thumbed through the pages and found an article that caught my attention. The article was about a girl my own age who had gone through something similar to what I was going through with Isabel. She had experienced the same feelings of hatred and bitterness. The only difference between that girl and me was that I was sure I wouldn’t be able to do what she did. I believed I would never be able to stop feeling the way I felt toward Isabel. I believed I would never be able to forgive her. And there was no way I would ever be able to pray for my enemy as the author of that article had.
I kept thinking about the article in the Liahona. Finding a story about something so similar to my own experience seemed strange to me. It never entered my mind to put into practice the idea of praying for my enemy. It might have worked for that girl, but I was sure it wouldn’t work for me. My feelings wouldn’t change.
The next Sunday I went to church with Rosi. I had almost succeeded in not thinking about the article anymore. But as I listened to the sacrament meeting talks, I started to think about it more intensely. For the rest of the day I found it impossible to stop thinking about it. Pray for your enemies, echoed in my mind.
That Sunday night, without even thinking about it, I started to pray. I prayed just as the girl in the article had—just as Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount. I prayed for Isabel, and with each word I uttered, I felt my heart beat louder and I couldn’t stop the tears.
When I finished my prayer, I was surprised at what I had done. But I also felt sure that when I saw Isabel the next day, I would still hate her and wouldn’t be able to remember what I had prayed for that night. My feelings wouldn’t have changed.
When I went back to school on Monday, my friends were waiting for me at the front door so we could plan our revenge. We had to do something to hurt Isabel and make her feel as bad as she had made us feel. She had to be taught a lesson.
But when I saw Isabel that morning, I no longer saw an enemy. I no longer saw a person I hated. Instead I saw my old friend. And I saw myself praying the night before. With tears in my eyes I wondered, How can I think about hurting her when last night I was asking God to bless her? And then I realized I was the one who had been taught a lesson. I had learned for myself the wisdom of the counsel to pray for our enemies.
Isabel and I became friends again as we had been before. My Heavenly Father answered my prayer and helped me change the bitterness and hatred in my heart. He helped me transform those feelings into feelings of love.
This experience has always been very special to me; it is the way the gospel of Jesus Christ came into my life.
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Book of Mormon
Conversion
Faith
Forgiveness
Friendship
Jesus Christ
Love
Missionary Work
Prayer
Sacrament Meeting
Testimony
Grin and Share It
Summary: Devan Griner, a youth volunteer and school club organizer for Operation Smile, helped raise funds and bring awareness to the cause at Skyline High School. After serving on a mission in Vietnam, he was deeply moved by the children he met and by the life-changing impact of cleft palate and facial reconstruction surgery. The story also highlights other young Church members who supported Operation Smile through donations and handmade puppets.
What is more amazing than seeing a child smile for the first time?
Nothing, as Devan Griner found out personally when he served as a youth volunteer on a two-week mission with Operation Smile to Vietnam. There he helped very young patients overcome their fears about doctors as they waited for their turns to have cleft palates or other facial deformities repaired. Devan also started a Smile Club in Skyline High School in his hometown of Salt Lake City, Utah.
Devan is the first to tell that he is not the only LDS teen working long and hard for Operation Smile. When he was elected to serve on the national youth council, he met Amanda Fairbourne, also on the national council, who is a member of the Church from Plymouth, Minnesota.
The chapter Devan helped organize at his high school is also not the first in Utah. The Bountiful High School chapter was organized first, but the members unselfishly helped him get a chapter going at his high school.
But sometimes that’s what it takes to be an everyday hero, not the person who is doing the most, or even the one who is doing it first, just the one who is doing all he can to serve in a good cause. And Devan is doing just that. He persuaded his school to donate the proceeds from their annual Millions of Pennies charity drive to Operation Smile. Because Operation Smile was such a good cause, the school responded with unprecedented enthusiasm. The thought of putting a smile on a child’s face was enough to melt the toughest hearts. Their donation became the biggest youth chapter donation ever received at the national headquarters.
Operation Smile started 15 years ago when a plastic surgeon and his wife, who also served as his nurse, went to the Philippines and donated their time to repairing cleft palates for several weeks. So many children were turned away that they were determined to come again. And they did, this time bringing other volunteer doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologists.
The good work spread. Soon doctors from all over the United States were donating their time on surgical teams visiting countries where cosmetic surgery to repair deformities was too expensive or nonexistent.
Teenagers wanted to get involved. They started forming clubs to raise money for the supplies the doctors and nurses needed to take with them. The surgeons and medical personnel donated their time, airlines often donated the flight tickets, but money was still needed to fly all the equipment needed to set up operating rooms in countries around the world. The surgical teams would sometimes operate 16 hours a day, each doctor handling as many as 30 little patients. “That’s the cool thing,” says Devan. “In a matter of 30 minutes in cleft palate surgery, a child’s life is changed forever. Before, the kids have big huge holes. Sometimes they wear bandannas because they feel disgraced. They often aren’t allowed to attend school, and some are even abandoned by their parents. A 30-minute operation changes that.”
Devan got his club involved in fund-raising. His friends and fellow club officers Travis Nilsson, Jared Ellsworth, and Ruth Ann Romney were soon as enthusiastic as Devan about seeing healthy smiles on the faces of children. The Skyline Club used video presentations and plenty of talk to spread the word. Also, Devan was trained to be one of two youth volunteers to go on a mission with one of the surgical teams. Sent to Vietnam, Devan was not entirely prepared for what he would see.
“I met a kid about 14 who had a bad burn contracture. A contracture is when the scar pulls as it heals. He fell on a lamp when he was six months old. His burn was on his face and neck, and it pulled his head to the side and pulled his eye down. It kind of surprised me. I didn’t know how to react.
“I was juggling for the kids and blowing bubbles to entertain them as they waited for their turn in surgery. Every time I looked at him, he was watching me. He liked the bubbles. His chin was pulled down so far by the scar that he couldn’t bring his lips together enough to blow bubbles. I gave him the bubble wand, and he started making huge bubbles, putting on a show for everyone. It kind of hit me. He looks horrible, but inside he was great. I could tell he was trying to smile because he was having fun.
“I saw him after his operation. The surgeons released the burn scar and removed a lot of scar tissue. His eye went back to normal. His mouth came back up. He had some skin grafts. After the operation, I went over and shook his hand. He could actually smile. It was cool.”
Devan, Travis, Jared, Ruth and the rest of the club members have learned what it means to lose a little bit of themselves in the service of others. They have come to appreciate the blessings of their own lives and the good things that they sometimes take for granted.
It’s enough to make you smile.
After each child goes through surgery, he or she is given a Smile bag or Smile doll that has been made and donated by various organizations to help in the efforts to brighten the lives of children.
The Young Women of Logan First Ward, Logan Utah Stake (below), made 139 hand puppets which they donated to Operation Smile. The puppets were sent with a surgical team to the Philippines, where they were used to entertain the children and help them feel at ease prior to surgery. Dayna Conger, a Laurel whose brother is serving a mission in the Philippines, said, “This project was a lot of fun. It made me feel more connected to my brother and the people he is serving.”
Nothing, as Devan Griner found out personally when he served as a youth volunteer on a two-week mission with Operation Smile to Vietnam. There he helped very young patients overcome their fears about doctors as they waited for their turns to have cleft palates or other facial deformities repaired. Devan also started a Smile Club in Skyline High School in his hometown of Salt Lake City, Utah.
Devan is the first to tell that he is not the only LDS teen working long and hard for Operation Smile. When he was elected to serve on the national youth council, he met Amanda Fairbourne, also on the national council, who is a member of the Church from Plymouth, Minnesota.
The chapter Devan helped organize at his high school is also not the first in Utah. The Bountiful High School chapter was organized first, but the members unselfishly helped him get a chapter going at his high school.
But sometimes that’s what it takes to be an everyday hero, not the person who is doing the most, or even the one who is doing it first, just the one who is doing all he can to serve in a good cause. And Devan is doing just that. He persuaded his school to donate the proceeds from their annual Millions of Pennies charity drive to Operation Smile. Because Operation Smile was such a good cause, the school responded with unprecedented enthusiasm. The thought of putting a smile on a child’s face was enough to melt the toughest hearts. Their donation became the biggest youth chapter donation ever received at the national headquarters.
Operation Smile started 15 years ago when a plastic surgeon and his wife, who also served as his nurse, went to the Philippines and donated their time to repairing cleft palates for several weeks. So many children were turned away that they were determined to come again. And they did, this time bringing other volunteer doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologists.
The good work spread. Soon doctors from all over the United States were donating their time on surgical teams visiting countries where cosmetic surgery to repair deformities was too expensive or nonexistent.
Teenagers wanted to get involved. They started forming clubs to raise money for the supplies the doctors and nurses needed to take with them. The surgeons and medical personnel donated their time, airlines often donated the flight tickets, but money was still needed to fly all the equipment needed to set up operating rooms in countries around the world. The surgical teams would sometimes operate 16 hours a day, each doctor handling as many as 30 little patients. “That’s the cool thing,” says Devan. “In a matter of 30 minutes in cleft palate surgery, a child’s life is changed forever. Before, the kids have big huge holes. Sometimes they wear bandannas because they feel disgraced. They often aren’t allowed to attend school, and some are even abandoned by their parents. A 30-minute operation changes that.”
Devan got his club involved in fund-raising. His friends and fellow club officers Travis Nilsson, Jared Ellsworth, and Ruth Ann Romney were soon as enthusiastic as Devan about seeing healthy smiles on the faces of children. The Skyline Club used video presentations and plenty of talk to spread the word. Also, Devan was trained to be one of two youth volunteers to go on a mission with one of the surgical teams. Sent to Vietnam, Devan was not entirely prepared for what he would see.
“I met a kid about 14 who had a bad burn contracture. A contracture is when the scar pulls as it heals. He fell on a lamp when he was six months old. His burn was on his face and neck, and it pulled his head to the side and pulled his eye down. It kind of surprised me. I didn’t know how to react.
“I was juggling for the kids and blowing bubbles to entertain them as they waited for their turn in surgery. Every time I looked at him, he was watching me. He liked the bubbles. His chin was pulled down so far by the scar that he couldn’t bring his lips together enough to blow bubbles. I gave him the bubble wand, and he started making huge bubbles, putting on a show for everyone. It kind of hit me. He looks horrible, but inside he was great. I could tell he was trying to smile because he was having fun.
“I saw him after his operation. The surgeons released the burn scar and removed a lot of scar tissue. His eye went back to normal. His mouth came back up. He had some skin grafts. After the operation, I went over and shook his hand. He could actually smile. It was cool.”
Devan, Travis, Jared, Ruth and the rest of the club members have learned what it means to lose a little bit of themselves in the service of others. They have come to appreciate the blessings of their own lives and the good things that they sometimes take for granted.
It’s enough to make you smile.
After each child goes through surgery, he or she is given a Smile bag or Smile doll that has been made and donated by various organizations to help in the efforts to brighten the lives of children.
The Young Women of Logan First Ward, Logan Utah Stake (below), made 139 hand puppets which they donated to Operation Smile. The puppets were sent with a surgical team to the Philippines, where they were used to entertain the children and help them feel at ease prior to surgery. Dayna Conger, a Laurel whose brother is serving a mission in the Philippines, said, “This project was a lot of fun. It made me feel more connected to my brother and the people he is serving.”
Read more →
👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Charity
Children
Kindness
Service
Protecting the Prophet
Summary: William serves as Joseph Smith's bodyguard in Nauvoo, sleeping by the door to guard him from persecution. One night, Joseph gently awakens William and tells him to go home, explaining that the Lord revealed that little children are praying for his safety and that their faith will be honored. Reassured, William leaves, grateful for the added protection.
William eased onto the floor and carefully laid his gun at his side. “Good-night, Brother Joseph.”
“Sleep well,” the Prophet replied.
William doubted he’d be able to sleep at all. Even when he did rest here on the Smiths’ floor, he often slept fitfully, awakening in starts to watch and listen.
Lying on his back, he stared at the dark ceiling and strained to hear anything suspicious outside—footsteps approaching, horse hooves plodding closer, muffled voices. But the only sounds were chirping crickets and water lapping against the nearby riverbank. William only wished life in Nauvoo could be as peaceful as it seemed tonight.
Lately persecution against the Saints, especially Joseph Smith, had become so great that William now slept in the Nauvoo House as the Prophet’s bodyguard. He lay with his feet braced against the bedroom door, which swung inward. That way an intruder would have to awaken William before being able to reach Joseph.
Eventually William’s eyes drooped closed and he fell into an uneasy sleep, but not for long.
“William, are you awake?” Joseph whispered.
William’s eyes flew open to see the Prophet crouched next to him. He reached for his weapon, but Joseph placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest in your own bed tonight?”
William blinked in disbelief. “Will you be safe?”
Joseph smiled. “I should think so. The Lord has revealed to me that little children have been praying for my welfare, and He will honor their faith by protecting me. Your guard service will not be needed tonight.”
As William walked down the quiet Nauvoo streets toward home, he glanced up at the stars and grinned. He was grateful to know that he was not the only one helping to protect the Prophet.
“Sleep well,” the Prophet replied.
William doubted he’d be able to sleep at all. Even when he did rest here on the Smiths’ floor, he often slept fitfully, awakening in starts to watch and listen.
Lying on his back, he stared at the dark ceiling and strained to hear anything suspicious outside—footsteps approaching, horse hooves plodding closer, muffled voices. But the only sounds were chirping crickets and water lapping against the nearby riverbank. William only wished life in Nauvoo could be as peaceful as it seemed tonight.
Lately persecution against the Saints, especially Joseph Smith, had become so great that William now slept in the Nauvoo House as the Prophet’s bodyguard. He lay with his feet braced against the bedroom door, which swung inward. That way an intruder would have to awaken William before being able to reach Joseph.
Eventually William’s eyes drooped closed and he fell into an uneasy sleep, but not for long.
“William, are you awake?” Joseph whispered.
William’s eyes flew open to see the Prophet crouched next to him. He reached for his weapon, but Joseph placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest in your own bed tonight?”
William blinked in disbelief. “Will you be safe?”
Joseph smiled. “I should think so. The Lord has revealed to me that little children have been praying for my welfare, and He will honor their faith by protecting me. Your guard service will not be needed tonight.”
As William walked down the quiet Nauvoo streets toward home, he glanced up at the stars and grinned. He was grateful to know that he was not the only one helping to protect the Prophet.
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👤 Joseph Smith
👤 Early Saints
👤 Children
Adversity
Children
Faith
Joseph Smith
Prayer
Revelation
Elder Terence M. Vinson
Summary: In the early 1970s, Terence Vinson and Kay Anne Carden agreed to attend both his childhood church and a small Latter-day Saint branch each Sunday. After comparing the two, he began taking missionary discussions and had many questions. At a stake conference he felt a clear message that he needed to join the Church, after which he was baptized the next week.
Elder Terence M. Vinson, newly called to the Second Quorum of the Seventy, had never heard the term Mormon before meeting Kay Anne Carden in the early 1970s in Sydney, Australia. The pair talked about religion and ultimately came to an agreement. Each Sunday, they would attend both the church of Terence’s youth and a small branch of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. One group met in a large and beautiful building, the other in a small rented space that the few Latter-day Saints had been able to procure.
But after a while “the comparison was embarrassing,” and Terence began taking the missionary discussions. He had many questions. Then, while attending stake conference, he felt a message as clearly as if it had been spoken. “I needed to join the Church in order to progress. All the questions I had would have answers,” he said.
He was baptized the next week.
But after a while “the comparison was embarrassing,” and Terence began taking the missionary discussions. He had many questions. Then, while attending stake conference, he felt a message as clearly as if it had been spoken. “I needed to join the Church in order to progress. All the questions I had would have answers,” he said.
He was baptized the next week.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Baptism
Conversion
Missionary Work
Revelation
Testimony
The Whys of FSY
Summary: In 2023, a young adult attended FSY while struggling mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, following his mother’s counsel to go. He met a caring friend who listened without judgment, felt God’s love, and later accepted a calling as an FSY counselor to help others feel that love.
“FSY Conference can change lives of the youth and the leaders too. Last 2023 I attended my first and last FSY Conference as a participant, I wasn’t feeling well mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, but my mother still counselled that I should go. I didn’t know that it would really change my life. I met a friend that really cared and listened to me, to my heartaches and sorrows. She was there when I needed a friend who would listen to me without any judgment. I felt God’s love after we talked and that’s one of the reasons why I accepted the calling as an FSY Counselor, I want the rising generation to feel God’s love, that no matter what circumstances and challenges they go through God is always there for them and he would send an angel (like a friend) who would help them and uplift them.” – Joemerly Hular, 20, Bacoor Stake
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👤 Young Adults
👤 Parents
👤 Friends
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Friendship
Love
Mental Health
Ministering