Gospel Story Finder

1. Talya sat in the back of the Primary room and watched the other children prepare for their program next Sunday. Because she was only visiting her grandma for a week, she was not going to be in the Primary program.
2. Talya liked watching the other boys and girls practice their scriptures and talks.
3. One little girl, Rachel, stepped to the microphone. She stood there silently. She could not remember what to say.
4. Rachel burst into tears. She was scared to stand and speak in front of so many children.
5. Talya knew Rachel needed a friend. Even though she did not know Rachel very well, Talya went to the front of the room and gave her a big hug.
6. After Primary, Talya told her grandma about Rachel. “Is Rachel one of your friends?” Grandma asked.
7. “No, but she looked so sad,” Talya said. “I wanted to help her feel better.”
8. Grandma gave Talya a big hug and a smile. “I’m glad you could help Rachel,” she said.

For centuries, righteous women have been stepping forward to join the cause of Christ. Many of you have only recently been baptized; your covenants are fresh in your hearts, your sacrifices still tender. As I think about you, I am reminded of Priscilla Staines from Wiltshire, England. Nineteen-year-old Priscilla joined the Church in 1843. Alone. She had to steal away in the night to be baptized, because of the persecutions of her neighbors and the displeasure of her family. She wrote: “We waited until midnight … and then repaired to a stream of water a quarter of a mile away. Here we found the water … frozen over, and the elder had to chop a hole in the ice large enough for the purpose of baptism. … None but God and his angels, and the few witnesses who stood on the bank with us, heard my covenant; but in the solemnity of that midnight hour it seemed as though all nature were listening, and the recording angel writing our words in the book of the Lord.”
When young Priscilla, our British convert of 1843, crossed the Atlantic, she was befriended by a woman the age of her mother. This older sister also felt the fire of covenants she had made. When they docked at the wharf in Nauvoo, she was by Priscilla’s side. Together, bold and believing, they joined with the Saints of God.
Holiness prompts the words “Here am I; send me.” When Priscilla Staines made her midnight covenant in those icy waters, she stepped forward into a new life, clothes nearly frozen yet heart warmed with joy. “There was no turning back,” she said. “I … set out for the reward of everlasting life, trusting in God.”

Recently I went on a soccer recruiting trip to an out-of-state university. I went to check out the school, the campus, the team, and the environment.
While I was there some of the girls on the team decided they would show the recruits what college life was like, so they took us to a party. This party was not the kind I was used to. Everyone there was drinking and smoking.
One guy at the party announced that all the recruits had to get in the middle of a circle and he would pass around a bottle of liquor for us to drink.
When I wouldn’t even touch the bottle, he said to me, “You’re not even going to taste it?”
“No thanks,” I told him.
He continued to harass me for a few minutes and then finally left.
Throughout the party I was very uncomfortable and wished we could leave. Finally we did.
The following day as I listened to general conference, I heard Elder Richard G. Scott say, “Be grateful that your righteous life molds you so that you don’t fit where you don’t belong” (Ensign, Nov. 1998, 70). I am thankful that I have lived my life in such a way that I was uncomfortable at the party. I felt that I was the odd one there, and I am glad I was. I am also grateful that I decided long ago that I was never going to drink, and that decision helped me in my time of need.

Youth in the Danville California Stake spent an entire summer getting to know more about the Restoration of the gospel when they performed Brother Joseph, a play about the life of Joseph Smith.
A few weeks prior to the performance, the youth took a three-part challenge to only say kind and positive things to others, to pray at least morning and night, and to keep the commandments and read their scriptures. This extra effort, in addition to their hours of rehearsals, made this a play to remember for both the audience and the cast.

The youngest of four children, Robert was born in Idaho Falls, Idaho, on 25 December 1936 to Jack and Blanche Wood. After graduating from high school, he began studies at Stanford University, where he met Dixie Leigh Jones. He then served in the French Mission from 1957 to 1959. When Robert returned to complete his degree in history, he and Dixie began dating. He recalls, “Probably the most significant question she asked after we had been dating for a while was when she looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Robert, are you going to stay active?’” His answer was clear, and they were married in the Idaho Falls Temple on 27 March 1961.
The Woods are parents of four daughters and have eight grandchildren. “Two things explain our family,” says Elder Wood. “First, Heavenly Father just sent us four terrific kids. And second, their mother … I would never have been able to do anything that I’ve done professionally or in the Church had I not married the right woman who asked the question, ‘Are you going to stay active?’”

This story took place in the USA.
Annie rubbed the fabric of her dress. She tried to listen to the speakers. But she had a nervous, fluttery feeling in her stomach.
Today was the day Annie would start going to Young Women. She’d go to class right after sacrament meeting was over. Everyone told Annie she should be excited, but instead, she was scared.
She looked over at Tami, her older sister. Tami had been in Young Women for three years, and she loved it. She always told Annie how great it was. “You’ll make so many friends,” Tami said. “It’s different from Primary. It’s almost like you’re a grown-up.”
But Annie wasn’t like her sister. Tami liked to meet new people, and it was easy for her to make friends. Annie was quiet and would rather read or draw than talk to others.
Annie also had acne, and she felt shy about how she looked. She used special cream, which helped. But the red bumps on her skin just wouldn’t go away.
After sacrament meeting, Annie dragged her feet in the hallway. “I can’t go to Young Women today,” she told Mom and Tami.
Mom looked worried. “I thought you were excited about going to Young Women. What happened?”
“I don’t know any of the older girls.” Annie touched her face. “And they’ll probably laugh when they see me.”
Mom gave Annie a hug. “Remember that Tami will be there too.”
“I’m not like Tami,” Annie said. She looked at her sister. “You’re good at talking to people.”
“I know it’s hard to go to a new class,” Tami said. “But we’ll do this together. I felt scared when I started Young Women too.”
Annie stared at Tami with wide eyes. Tami always seemed so brave! She’d even tried out for her school musical and gotten the lead part. Annie didn’t do things like that. She just tried not to be noticed.
“But you’re never scared,” Annie said.
Tami smiled. “Of course I get scared! I was scared when I tried out for the musical. You know what I did?”
Annie shook her head.
“I prayed and did my best. And I helped other kids too. It seemed that a lot of them were scared just like me. Helping others be brave helped me be brave.”
Annie thought about that. Could she do what Tami did and help other girls in her class not be scared?
“Do you think you can go to Young Women today?” Mom asked.
Annie breathed deeply. Then she nodded. She could do it.
Annie and Tami walked to the Young Women classroom. Annie looked at the other girls. Some of them looked nervous like she was. Julie twisted a strand of hair around her finger while Erica chewed on her fingernails.
Annie thought about how she could help them. She went over to sit by Julie. “Are you nervous too?” Annie whispered. “It’ll be OK.”
Julie smiled, and Annie smiled back. Annie felt less scared now. Maybe Young Women really could be great.

Fourteen days is not very long. But two weeks was all we had as cast members of the Hill Cumorah Pageant to read the Book of Mormon cover to cover.
I knew that reading the 531-page script would make it easier to bear my testimony to the thousands of investigators that came to see the show. The reasons to read were obvious; however, the ways to find time to read were not so obvious.
The cast of 600 came to the Hill Cumorah from around the U.S. and Canada to perform this annual pageant. Not quite a vacation, daily practices started before sunrise and ended as late as 2:00 A.M. Every day was filled with learning our parts, attending classes, and having as many as four devotionals a day. There was no personal study time set aside. I snatched bites of the book during meals, on the bus rides, and during visits to the Sacred Grove.
The sacrifice to read became greater as each day and performance passed. Although I was tired and sore, my spirit was awake and eager to finish the sacred book. The characters were becoming my friends—partly because I was reading so much about them in such a short time, and partly because my friends literally were those characters in the pageant.
The couple playing Nephi and his wife, for example, made their characters real for me. I watched as she supported Nephi, making sure he arrived at rehearsal on time. I saw her straighten his headband and clothes, preparing him for his part. Laman, although a contentious character, was played by a sociable, popular guy. It made me wonder if perhaps the real Laman had a likable side—he just never caught on to the gospel message. Before the actors who played Jesus and his Twelve Apostles took their turn on stage, they gathered in prayer in a grove of trees near the stage. They took their parts seriously, as I’m sure the real men did. By having people dressed as these well-known characters, we realized that these scriptural people were human beings with individual personalities.
I headed for dinner just before our last performance. But then I saw Moroni walk by, which reminded me that I hadn’t finished the last few chapters of his book.
I wanted to meet the challenge and finish the Book of Mormon before our final performance. So I skipped dinner and climbed to the top of Hill Cumorah in my Nephite outfit. Although tourists and costumed cast members were on the hill, I found a private place away from the beaten path.
As I read the last words of Moroni, I looked into the woods and imagined what Moroni must have felt as he buried the plates. “I wander withersoever I can for the safety of mine own life” (Moro. 1:3).
I was getting to know Moroni as I read his words and sat where he may have been when he wrote them. It almost seemed as if he were reading aloud the last few chapters of the book.
“If ye have faith ye can do all things which are expedient unto me” (Moro. 10:23). I thought of all the hard things I had done, such as read the book in 14 days, and all of the hard things yet to come, such as standing up to peer pressure, fulfilling my church callings, and doing well in school. But Moroni reminded me that with faith we can accomplish what the Lord would have us do. He was becoming a real person to me.
I finished the last few verses of Moroni on his historic hill. I felt as if Moroni and I were sharing this moment together. I knew I wouldn’t forget the friendship I felt between us that night.

The Develis’ moved from Brazil to New Zealand in 2018, a year after they married. Andressa’s English was limited to a few phrases like “good morning” and “thank you.” Fortunately, Andre had more exposure to English due to his mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, helping them settle in their new environment.
Andressa said, “I was raised by my grandparents in a small town in Brazil, and we were really poor. Public universities are reserved for the best students, and I was just an average student, so I didn’t get that opportunity.”
She found an affordable nursing course but wasn’t interested in it—she just wanted to further her education. After graduating, Andressa and Andre decided to move to New Zealand for greater opportunities.
Upon arriving, Andressa looked for ways to improve her English. She attended language classes and worked for several families tending their children, which helped her English progress significantly. “Language immersion is key!” she said.
Yearning for more professional growth, Andressa was accepted into the BYU-Pathway program in 2020, where she completed her general proficiencies in English and mathematics before earning a teaching English as a foreign language certification under the professional studies degree, which opened many opportunities for her.
“That’s what I love about BYU-Pathway. It’s a pathway to marketable skills,” she said. “It’s a flexible pathway to a bachelor’s degree, and you can work and achieve certificates along the way.”
After completing her certificate, Andressa took online courses in communications through Ensign College and completed a certificate in social media marketing. She knew she was on the right pathway when she helped with the social media efforts for Auckland’s Light the World giving machine in December 2023.
“Social media can be quite a challenging space, but I think it can be used in positive ways,” she said. “That experience helped me see how I could make a positive difference in others’ lives.”
“BYU-Pathway has blessed me with a constant drive to seek better opportunities,” Andressa said. “That’s a lesson I will carry with me the rest of my life.”

The Primary children of the Nauvoo First Ward eagerly watched as the temple rose from a large hole in the ground. They wanted to help in building this house of the Lord, but they couldn’t do any actual physical work, such as cutting the stones or carpentry or electrical work. They decided to answer President Hinckley’s call for Church members to make donations for this special temple. But how? Their Primary leaders found the answer in a story* about the original temple there:
A penny fund would be the perfect way for the Primary children of the Nauvoo First Ward to help! Every child could find a way to contribute pennies, and the money would be used to buy a tree to plant on the temple grounds. That way, each time the children went there, they would see a reminder of their sacrifices and contributions. And as the tree was growing, they would also be growing and preparing to enter the temple and make sacred covenants there.
To start the project, the Primary leaders created a special tree on which each class placed a colorful leaf on Sundays when they put their pennies in the Penny by Penny jar. Children brought pennies they earned by doing things like extra chores and recycling cans. Soon the pennies were pouring in, and the special tree branches were filled with colorful leaves. Even children who visited Nauvoo during the busy tourist season put pennies into the jar.
In November 2001, the temple was almost finished, and it was time to prepare the grounds so that they would be beautiful for the open house in the spring. On a cold Saturday morning, the Primary children and their parents gathered in front of the temple to plant their Penny by Penny tree.
First, they sang “I Love to See the Temple.”† The bishop gave a talk, then the children gave their pennies to Brother Ron Prince, the temple project administrator. The tree was placed in the hole prepared for it, a canister containing the written and drawn testimonies of the children was placed among the tree’s roots, then the children took turns shoveling dirt to fill in around the tree. They were very happy to have helped make the Savior’s house in Nauvoo more beautiful, and they look forward to the day when each of them may enter it.

I had finally come to know myself. I remember a day when, 15 and confused, I borrowed Sandy’s jeans. Sandy was everything I wished I was—cute, popular, self-confident. Somehow I guess I thought that if I wore her jeans, I’d be more like her. But her body, shapely for 15, was about three sizes bigger than my wiry one. I guess I looked pretty silly with her pants hanging on me like a bag, held tight around my waist with a belt, then ballooning out like a clown’s costume. I remember Grandpa’s face, so serious, so gentle: “Honey, why do you wear Sandy’s clothes? Why do you talk like her and laugh like her?” Embarrassed I looked to the floor, at the pants that hung inches past my feet.
“Why not be yourself?” he said.
“Oh, Grandpa,” I sobbed. “How can I be myself? I don’t even know who I am.”
Grandpa held me on his lap as if I were a child again, quietly, till the crying stopped and the tears dried. With a smile he looked into my eyes. “You used to know,” he said. “But we all forget sometimes. Take Sandy’s pants back to her. Together we’ll rediscover you. Then you can be yourself.”

One time the missionaries in our area gave a lesson in Primary. At the end of the lesson they gave us pass-along cards and invited us to give them to our friends. At school the next day I gave the cards to four of my friends. I was a little nervous, but afterward I felt really good. I was excited to spread the gospel! I know I don’t have to wait to go on a mission to be a good missionary!
Lincoln A., age 9, California

About four hours after arriving at the ward building, the three boys are in Melbourne, a central Florida city that Hurricane Jeanne hit hard. They’re part of a huge group of Latter-day Saints who arrived in the city to provide hurricane relief. As they’re getting their assignments from a local bishop who is steering the volunteer effort, they look around at the destruction. Trees are down, roof shingles are scattered, and debris is everywhere. The job looks overwhelming, especially after hearing that the young men’s assignment is to work on houses at a trailer park.
“It’s interesting to see what the hurricane has done,” says Jake. “We didn’t have much damage in Jacksonville. But to see these houses that had been blown apart, I realize that, wow, this was where somebody lived.”
As they begin to haul siding and insulation to the curb, they notice an older man standing amid the rubble that had been a portion of his house before it collapsed. “Just get rid of everything,” the man says. “None of it is worth saving.” The boys introduce themselves, and the man, named Leo, looks around. “You’re saying this isn’t going to cost me anything? Now who are you again?”
Well, since he asked, they’re Aaronic Priesthood holders, giving up a weekend to help people in need.
“The biggest thing I’ve learned is that there is always somebody worse off than you are,” says Travis. “It is sad to see what the hurricane did. I’m glad I can help.”
About a half-hour after they had arrived at Leo’s house, everything is cleared from what used to be the south side of his home. All the wet carpeting has been torn up, and the ruined furniture is piled on the curb. “I can’t believe it,” Leo says. “I didn’t know what to do. I could have never done all this, and you guys did in 30 minutes what would have taken me weeks.”
“That was a highlight,” says Austin as he walks away after shaking Leo’s hand. “He was so appreciative of what we did.”
“We didn’t need to get credit. But it was fun to meet Leo and see the look on his face and see how what we were doing was affecting him,” says Jake. “Maybe we left him with good feelings about the Church.”

The family finally arrived at the refugee camp in Batdambang, but because it was located in Cambodia, Brother Thach requested that they be transferred to safer refuge at Panat Nikom, Thailand, where they arrived in May, two months after leaving Vietnam. From Thailand, they relocated to the United States where Minhdan Thach was baptized. She now serves as a Relief Society counselor in the Taylorsville 40th (Vietnamese) Branch, Taylorsville Utah Central Stake. Brother Thach, second counselor in the branch elders quorum presidency, is now an electronic test technician with a national engineering and research company with a manufacturing plant and offices in Utah.

As the memory slowly faded from her mind, Kari returned to the reality of the swing and the broad oak tree that spread overhead. For some reason she thought of the first time she had sat there. Her brother Thomas had hung the swing for her before he left on his mission. Thomas called her his “shadow,” and they shared many secrets as they were growing up. He left her one last secret the day they said good-bye.
He was dressed up in his new brown suit, ready to leave for the MTC. He leaned over her as she sat on the swing. The smell of his cologne mixed pleasantly with the aroma of the freshly cut hay that lined the fence across the lane.
“Kari,” Thomas said, looking intently at her, “There is nothing like swinging to put life into perspective.”
He spoke with the new authority his voice seemed to hold since the mission call.
“Tom, there you go again, talking way over my head. My ‘Dear Abby’ is going on his mission and leaving me with only a swing to talk to.”
Thomas held his tears of good-bye back as he stopped the swing and took Kari’s hands in his. Kari was surprised that his hands had grown as large as Father’s. He pulled her off the swing and gave her a hug. Kari could feel the newness of the brown suit.
“Just remember, little Sis—the higher you swing, the farther you see. Things look different when you can get above them.”

One day I went to my neighbor’s house to play with my friends. When one of them came out, I noticed that she had two piercings in each ear. I got kind of jealous. Then her sister came out, and she also had two piercings in each ear. I got even more jealous, and I almost said I wished I could get more piercings too. Then I remembered that Heavenly Father and Jesus want us to follow the prophet. Even though I already have a piercing in each ear, I won’t get any more. I will always try to be like Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father.

An incident reported to me recently illustrates the cooperative action of the Relief Society and the priesthood in laboring together in the Church family for the benefit of the sons and daughters of the Lord here upon the earth.
One cold January day, two visiting teachers called at the home of a family that had recently moved into the ward. There was no immediate response to their knock, but, feeling impressed to try again, the visiting teachers knocked a second time and a third.
The door finally opened a few inches, revealing a woman and a child bundled in coats and pajamas. The visiting teachers were reluctantly invited into the icy-cold house. In answer to their questions, framed with understanding and care, the woman tearfully revealed the family situation.
The student husband was desperately ill and in an intensive-care unit of the hospital. The doctor and hospital bills would take all the money the couple had saved for years to allow him to obtain additional schooling.
When their supply of fuel had been exhausted, the young wife and the child stayed in bed to keep warm, and the mother was trying to make one quart of milk and half a loaf of bread last for the remainder of the month.
When the visiting teachers offered help, the sister said, “My husband is proud. He wouldn’t want us to accept charity.”
The visiting teachers wisely explained that the Lord’s program of welfare is not one that robs the receiver of his pride or independence, but rather contributes to it. By gentle, loving persuasion the young wife finally gave permission for a call to be made to the Relief Society president.
Within a short time both the Relief Society president and the bishop arrived at the home. Soon fuel was delivered, the furnace was started, warm food was provided, and a food list was prepared. Then the bishop visited the husband in the hospital where encouragement was given to the sick man that his family was well taken care of. An administration followed in which the young man was reassured concerning his own condition. From that point on, he began to improve. The Relief Society education counselor who was assigned to personal welfare gave the wife suggestions of ways she could better manage the family’s limited resources and give service for commodities received.

When Kieth Merrill accepted the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature of the year for his film, The Great American Cowboy, he expressed thanks to “my mother, who taught me to believe in God; my father, who taught me to believe in myself; and my wife, who helped me do what they taught me.” Though they had never met him, Latter-day Saints throughout the world heard his speech and knew that Kieth Merrill was one of them.
Such a straightforward statement is consistent with Brother Merrill’s philosophy of really putting the gospel at the working center of his everyday life. He knows what he wants, he has decided what he will do in specific situations, and he works and prays very hard to accomplish his purposes. Kieth has confidence in himself, and yet it is a confidence built on a history of individual success.
One of his first industrial films was made for Kaiser Steel Corporation. He told the Kaiser executives that he planned to shoot part of the film in their mines, and they said, “It can’t be done.” Kieth, who claims “he wasn’t smart enough to know it couldn’t be done,” made the film anyway. Kaiser loved it, Kieth won some awards (as he has on most of his subsequent films), and he was on his way in the film business. That was five years ago.
Now he has also won an Oscar, and it is a remarkable achievement for several reasons. Kieth is young (33 when he won the award). The Great American Cowboy was his first feature-length film. And in addition, he directed and edited the entire film, and he also photographed much of the spectacular footage.
The Oscar vindicated to the motion picture industry Kieth’s peculiar way of life and his artistic integrity. When he was criticized about the cowboys in his film seeming extra clean-cut, Kieth responded, “I have every right to be as selective in my interpretation of what is life and reality as the next man does. Some filmmakers feel they have the right to portray the sordid side of life. I have the right to find the heroism in man, and to help reflect his divine origin, and to tell people we are children of God.
“I was told the film couldn’t be done. I was told that a movie with a prayer in it wouldn’t make it. ‘They’ said a movie with a patriotic flavor wouldn’t be popular. But we went into filmmaking with a determination never to compromise our principles. And it paid off, because we have proved that we were right,” Kieth said.
Kieth is very positive and idealistic by nature. He really believed that he was smart enough and resourceful enough to make a good film, and that is the way he sold the cowboy film. The backers said, “How do you know if it is going to be any good?”
“Good is not the question. It will be a good film. The question is whether or not it will make any money,” Kieth answered.
Kieth constantly holds his business life in front of a mirror to make sure that the reflection he sees fits well with his personal feelings about the gospel. Those feelings, of course, include his family. He has offices, studio space, and a small theater in the lower level of his home. When his four children want to talk to Dad or show him their latest finger paintings, he takes a few minutes to renew his friendship with them.
Even on location he is close to his family. In talking about the experience of living with his family during the filming of Cowboy, he said, “We looked like a band of gypsies with everything but the chickens hanging on the side of our truck. We needed mobility, so we modified a motor home to be both production center and living quarters. There is something almost purifying about putting everything of real importance—wife, kids, and cameras (in that order, Honey!)—in a big box with wheels and criss-crossing the heartland of America, pursuing a dream together.
“When I get involved in a project, I become totally consumed with filming, and all my filmmaking equipment and camera gear were right there in the truck. We were totally self-contained, and it was a great feeling of freedom, but only because my family was there. It gave us tremendous perspective of the real values. We have a lovely home in California, and many good friends, and a lot of nice things, but none of them really mattered in comparison.”
Kieth, who appropriately calls himself a slogan hanger, has always collected quotations that succinctly express his own concepts. “It’s amazing how a simple little quotation can change a day that didn’t start as well as it should. It works for the rest of the family too. Sometimes a single quotation can set a beautiful mood for the whole day,” he said. Several of the Merrills’ favorite quotes are permanently displayed in handmade tiles on the kitchen countertop where the children eat every day.
Like his parents before him, Kieth and his wife Dagny (“Downey”) are constantly teaching their children that they are important and that they have a Heavenly Father who loves them. Several of the countertop quotes stress this. “They can’t daily eat and play and spill their milk on the counter without bringing these ideas into their own lives,” Kieth said.
Because he knows he has a destiny here, Kieth has a strong testimony that he was helped in the production of Cowboy, and of course, he wanted it to be good for the Church.
“Being committed to the gospel means that we were praying constantly for guidance and inspiration that we could be creative and able to put this film together and still be able to represent the ideals that are important. There is no question that we were guided, influenced, and helped. I am just committed to that as a way of life,” he said.
“The way things have fallen into place is unbelievable. The exposure the Church has had as a result of the Oscar in circles where it has not otherwise been exposed is inspirational. The award gave me credibility before the world, and with that I have been able to talk very matter-of-factly about the gospel to people who wouldn’t otherwise be interested. People who wouldn’t normally give me an autograph now say, ‘But you’re so young, and you handle yourself so well, and you do all these things. How do you handle it all?’
“‘Well, it is very simple,’ I say, ‘because I was raised in a little Utah town as a Mormon. Every quality or characteristic that I have is a product of my upbringing in the Church.’ And these people really are amazed at the things we take for granted—the fact that we don’t drink, or smoke, or swear, and that we actually believe in God and aren’t afraid to talk about it, and that I would spend 30 months in a foreign country on a mission at my own expense. It is overwhelming to these people. Now remember, these people are not the ones missionaries traditionally reach; they are quite isolated either by their fame or their wealth or both. They are really intrigued and often say, ‘Tell us about yourself.’ I have had many marvelous chances to tell them about the Church.
“Of course, my wife is a great help in telling people about the Church. She has a tender, almost naive ability to be very candid with people. She even told John Wayne’s son Pat that I didn’t like his dad’s movies. She never just says, ‘We wouldn’t care for coffee, thank you.’ With Dagny it’s, ‘We don’t drink coffee; we’re Mormons.’”
Both Kieth and Dagny admit that they think big, and “make plans, and put slogans on the walls,” and that even close friends and family members sometimes humor them, while thinking that one day they will come down to what is called reality. But reality to the Merrills is their own idealistic world of excellence, with the family first and the gospel a basic part of everything they are doing.
Kieth Merrill’s life demonstrates that the gospel will work at the epicenter of your whole existence, if you will give it a chance.
“I am a Latter-day Saint, and I make sure people know this not only by the way I act but also because I am very verbal about it. I have never had anything but totally positive experiences in presenting my beliefs to others; in fact, I have found acceptance and recognition, and the gospel has become a total asset in my work,” he said.
“I confess that at times my spirit has wavered, and I would occasionally get discouraged and feel like I was on a precipice above disaster because I had pursued such a hard line with the gospel and my family, and yet there was no turning back. And when everything seemed like it was going to crumble, new horizons would open up and blossom, and it all makes me resolve more firmly to live by the basic principles I know to be true. The gospel with the family first is what really matters, and everything else you do here is just something to take up the time until we reach the celestial kingdom.”

Their family often goes camping and fishing. “We went camping a couple of weeks after they moved here,” Brother Campbell said.
“They didn’t know anything about mountains, camping, or sleeping in a tent,” Sister Campbell added. “But they adjusted really well. Both of them even caught a fish on their first try!”
“You didn’t catch it,” Jessa told James. “Daddy helped you.”
“Daddy helped you, too,” James said with a laugh.

Nik’s brown eyes sparkled with excitement as he thought about the trip that he and his father would take to Chiang Mai that evening.
There were many parasol makers in Thailand, and Nik’s father was the best in his village. Someday Nik would be a parasol maker too. He was already helping his father make parasols, and he’d practiced painting on some. And just last week his father had promised that one day soon Nik could paint some parasols to sell in the market.
“Tonight we will see loy krathong (a festival) in Chiang Mai,” Nik said, as he carefully opened an unpainted parasol for his father.
“That’s right. Tonight in the city you will see thousands of decorations with small candles on them floating down the river. It is a sight you will never forget.”
“I can hardly wait!” Nik said.
“You catch some fish for our lunch while I paint these parasols,” Nik’s father said. “A buyer is coming to see them late this afternoon. Then we will leave for the festival. Maybe we will see someone there making merit.”
“What does it mean to make merit?” Nik asked.
“To make merit is to do something good for the right reason,” Nik’s father explained.
“Do you think I will make merit?”
“You do already, Nik, and when you are a man, I am sure you will make much merit.”
“I saw a woman who bought a cage of birds and then let them fly free. She said she was making merit.”
“Each one must make merit in his own way.”
“I want to make much merit,” Nik said.
Nik’s father smiled. “You run along now and fish, or I will not get these parasols painted.”
Nik picked up his fishing net and headed toward the river. He splashed his way through the edge of the rice field, dipped his net, and gazed into the yellow green waters. He tried to imagine the festival he would see that night.
Before long the sun was overhead. Nik checked his net. He could tell by his growling stomach that it was time to kin kow (eat). He gathered in five fish. They would be tasty as the gup kow (any dish served with rice) for lunch.
As Nik neared his home, he was surprised. He had expected to see a great number of freshly painted parasols drying outside. Instead, there were only three or four.
Nik broke into a run. As he burst into the house, he saw his father with his arm in a makeshift sling.
“I was reaching for a bundle of bamboo and fell off a ladder,” Nik’s father explained. “I think it’s only a sprained wrist, but I’m so slow and awkward with only one good hand that I’ll never finish the parasols before the buyer comes.”
“Don’t worry about that now, Father. I can help you.” Nik stirred the paints until they were smooth, then, with his father helping him hold some of the pieces, Nik finished assembling and painting the parasols. Some were a soft yellow. Some were as pink as a cloud at sunset. A few were blue and red. By midafternoon, a rainbow of parasols stood drying in the sun.
Luckily the buyer was a little late when he came, so all the parasols were dry. “These are fine, indeed,” he said. “I will take them all.”
Nik’s father smiled. “I will have more for you next time. I now have an assistant.”
“Excellent!” the buyer said, and he went his way.
“I’m sorry it’s too late for us to get into the city to see the festival tonight,” Nik’s father said apologetically.
Nik saw the sorrow and disappointment in his father’s face. Nik was disappointed, too, but he was glad that he had been able to help his father and that the buyer had liked the parasols. “We can have our own festival by the river,” Nik said.
Nik and his father each put a small, flat candle onto a strip of bamboo. Then they knelt on the riverbank and sent the candle-lit floats downriver.
Nik watched the candles bob and blink. How could the Chiang Mai festival be more wonderful than this? he thought.
“Today you have made much merit,” Nik’s father said.
Nik and his father smiled at each other. Under the full moon they sat watching until the flickering lights disappeared into the night.

Probably all of us have experienced when we really needed someone to help us. I remember once as a small boy I surely did. While playing on a mountainside near our home, I fell into the middle of a huge, prickly cactus plant. It really hurt! The prickly spines of the cactus went through my canvas shoes, through my stockings, through my trousers, through my shirt—they went through everything! I felt like a human dart board.
Immediately I let out a cry that was loud enough to shake the mountains. I couldn’t move up, down, in, or out. Every movement I made seemed to send those needles deeper and deeper into my skin. I just stayed there and howled.
I was five years old at the time and my older brother, who immediately rushed to my rescue, was eight. He was overwhelmed at the sight of me and the complexity of my plight. Nevertheless, he began to pull out some of the spines, but they seemed to hurt more coming out than going in and I howled even louder. Furthermore, the pin-sized wounds bled so much when the spines were removed that after a few minutes I looked like an advertisement for Red Cross blood donations.
Finally my brother saw that his feeble plucking was hopeless. There were dozens of spines yet to pull, and I was still screaming as loud as I could. He did the only thing an eight-year-old brother could do. He ran down the mountain, got his small red wagon, and labored painfully to get it up the side of the hill to where I was awaiting death—I thought. With some tugging and hauling and lifting—and plenty of noise from me—he got me out of the cactus and into the wagon. Then in some miraculous way, known only to children and Providence, he brought me down off that steep mountain in his wagon.
The rest of the story is blurred in my memory. As I recall, my mother got me out of my clothes and the rest of the prickly spines out of me. What I do remember clearly and will never forget is the sight of my brother tugging that wagon and determinedly making his way toward me. He was so concerned that he worked wonderfully hard to get to me. If I live to be one hundred, I suppose no memory of my brother will be more vivid than the view I had of him that day. I needed him desperately. And there he was, coming to help!