Gospel Story Finder

Joseph Smith was a valiant servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. He was brave and courageous in standing for right. One time, the Prophet Joseph and several other brethren had been taken from their families and put into jail. They were chained together and had to sleep on the cold prison floor.

During one of the long, cold nights of their imprisonment, Joseph and his friends were unable to sleep. For hours the guards had been boasting about the horrible things they had done to Latter-day Saints. They bragged about robbing, shooting, and killing. They used loud voices to tell about the horrible things they had done to men, women, and even little children.

Suddenly Joseph, unarmed and in chains, stood up and spoke in a voice like thunder: “SILENCE, ye fiends [devils] of the infernal pit [hell]. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and bear such language. Cease [stop] such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!” (Autobiography of Parley P. Pratt, page 180.)

The guards shook, and some dropped their weapons. Some of the guards begged Joseph’s pardon. All of them remained quiet until a change of guards.

Andy stood on the outside of the circle of bigger boys. He tried to see what they were doing. He jumped up and down until the things in his pockets almost fell out.
If only he were taller. If only he were older. Oh, how he wanted to play baseball with them!
Soon the circle of boys broke up. They ran off to the park, and Andy and his little dog, Katy, were left standing alone on the sidewalk.
Andy and Katy ran along behind the bigger boys.
“Wait for me!” Andy called. “Please wait for me!”
But the boys did not hear him. They ran on ahead.
“Their legs are longer than ours, Katy,” Andy told his dog. “We’ll have to hurry to catch up.”
Andy and Katy ran until their legs were tired, and then they slowed down.
A girl on a bike passed them.
“She goes fast because she has wheels,” Andy explained.
A tall man passed them.
“Look how long his legs are,” Andy told Katy.
A big dog ran past them.
“Wow!” exclaimed Andy. “That dog can run fast!”
Andy and Katy kept going. They saw a red box kite up in the air. High over a house, they also saw a blue kite.
Then they saw a boy about Andy’s size sitting on the curb. His kite string was in a tangle, and a torn kite lay on the sidewalk beside him.
“What happened?” Andy asked the boy.
“My kite got caught in the wires and the paper tore,” the boy answered. “I bought this kite as a present for my brother. I was just trying it out to see if it would fly all right.”
“Did it fly all right?” Andy asked.
“Until it hit the wires, it flew very well,” the boy said. “I guess I shouldn’t have tried to fly it. I should have let my brother fly it himself.”
Andy sat down next to the boy. “I have somewhere very important to go,” Andy explained, “but maybe I can help you first.”
Andy reached into his pocket and pulled out some tape and a pair of tiny scissors with rounded points.
“My name is Andy, what’s your name?” Andy asked the boy.
“Chris.”
“Okay, Chris, hold this paper on the stick right here, and I’ll tape it for you,” Andy instructed.
Together the boys taped the kite so it had no holes.
“I think the kite will be all right now,” Andy explained.
“But I don’t think I should fly it anymore,” Chris answered sadly.
“I have two kites at home,” Andy said. “One is in the shape of a fish and the other is red. I’ll go get both of them.”
Andy and Katy ran home and soon came back with the kites. Chris was waiting for them on the curb.
“Here,” Andy offered, “you can fly my red kite.”
“I’ll fly it in the park,” Chris said. “Then it won’t get caught in any wires.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Andy exclaimed, “because that’s where I am headed.”
“What are you going to do in the park?” Chris asked.
“I’m going to play outfield for my brother and his friends,” Andy replied, “if they’ll let me. Sometimes when they don’t have enough big players, they let me play.”
“That’s how my brother is,” Chris said.
When they arrived at the park, Andy looked at the ball players. “See those boys over there? That’s my brother and his friends.”
“I can see my brother playing first base,” said Chris. “You go ahead, Andy. I know you want to play ball.”
“I’ll help you get the kites set up first,” Andy answered.
As they put the strings on the kites, Katy ran through the grass sniffing at all the smells of the park. The wind was stronger now.
“You don’t have to help me anymore, Andy,” Chris told him.
“I know,” Andy replied. “I just want to see how the fish flies in this wind.”
So Andy let out the string and ran with the fish kite.
Chris let out his string and ran with the red kite.
Andy’s fish climbed up into the air. Then the fish dived and dipped back down. Andy pulled on the string and ran faster.
The giant fish went up, up, up—higher than his head, higher than the trees.
Andy let out more and more string. The fish went up until it seemed to be as high as the little white clouds that the wind was pushing across the sky.
Andy looked around for Chris. He saw him not very far away with the red kite high in the air.
Andy heard his brother call, “Hey, Andy, do you want to play right field?”
“No, thanks,” Andy called back. “I can’t now. The wind is just right for flying kites.”
Chris smiled at Andy. “It’s a good day for flying kites,” he laughed.
“It’s perfect,” Andy agreed. “Let’s do this again tomorrow.”
Andy looked at his new friend. Chris was the same size as Andy. Just the right size!

I celebrated a birthday last month. For my birthday present, my wife, Mary, gave me a CD containing songs of hope and faith performed by a famous British singer named Vera Lynn, who inspired her listeners during the dark days of the Second World War.
There is a little history as to why my wife would give me this gift. The bombing of London in September 1940 commenced the day before I was born. My mother, listening to the account of the London Blitz on the radio in her hospital room, decided to name me after the radio announcer, whose first name was Quentin.
The vocalist Vera Lynn is now 93 years old. Last year some of her wartime songs were rereleased and immediately climbed to the top of the music charts in Britain. Those of you who are a little older will remember some of the songs like “The White Cliffs of Dover.”
One song, titled “When the Lights Go on Again (All over the World),” deeply touched me. The song brought two thoughts to my mind—first, the prophetic words by a British statesman: “The lamps are going out all over Europe, and we shall not see them lit again in our lifetime”; and second, the bombing raids conducted over British cities like London. To make it harder for the attacking bombers to find a target, blackouts were instituted. Lights were turned out, and windows were draped.
The song reflected an optimistic hope that freedom and light would be restored. For those of us who understand the role of the Savior and the Light of Christ in the ongoing conflict between good and evil, the analogy between that world war and the moral conflict today is clear. It is by the Light of Christ that all mankind “may know good from evil.”
Freedom and light have never been easy to attain or maintain. Since the War in Heaven, the forces of evil have used every means possible to destroy agency and extinguish light. The assault on moral principles and religious freedom has never been stronger.
As Latter-day Saints, we need to do our best to preserve light and protect our families and communities from this assault on morality and religious freedom.
An ever-present danger to the family is the onslaught of evil forces that seem to come from every direction. While our primary effort must be to seek light and truth, we would be wise to black out from our homes the lethal bombs that destroy spiritual development and growth. Pornography, in particular, is a weapon of mass moral destruction. Its impact is at the forefront in eroding moral values. Some TV programs and Internet sites are equally lethal. These evil forces remove light and hope from the world. The level of decadence is accelerating. If we do not black out evil from our homes and lives, do not be surprised if devastating moral explosions shatter the peace which is the reward for righteous living. Our responsibility is to be in the world but not of the world.
In addition, we need to greatly increase religious observance in the home. Weekly family home evening and daily family prayer and scripture study are essential. We need to introduce into our homes content that is “virtuous, lovely, or of good report or praiseworthy.” If we make of our homes holy places that shelter us from evil, we will be protected from the adverse consequences that the scriptures have foretold.
In addition to protecting our own families, we should be a source of light in protecting our communities. The Savior said, “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.”
Our day has been described as “a time of plenty and an age of doubt.” Basic belief in the power and authority of God is not only questioned but also denigrated. How under these circumstances can we promote values in a way that will resonate with the nonbelievers and the apathetic and help abate the spiraling descent into violence and evil?
This question is of monumental importance. Think of the prophet Mormon and his anguish when he declared, “How could ye have rejected that Jesus, who stood with open arms to receive you!” Mormon’s anguish was justified, and his son, Moroni, was left to describe “the sad tale of the destruction of [his] people.”
My personal experience of living and interacting with people all over the world has caused me to be optimistic. I believe that light and truth will be preserved in our time. In all nations there are large numbers who worship God and feel accountable to Him for their conduct. Some observers believe there is actually a global revival of faith. As Church leaders, we have met with leaders of other faiths and have found that there is a common moral foundation that transcends theological differences and unites us in our aspirations for a better society.
We also find the majority of people are still respectful of basic moral values. But make no mistake: there are also people who are determined to both destroy faith and reject any religious influence in society. Other evil people exploit, manipulate, and tear down society with drugs, pornography, sexual exploitation, human trafficking, robbery, and dishonest business practices. The power and influence of these people is very large, even if they are relatively small in number.
There has always been an ongoing battle between people of faith and those who would purge religion and God from public life. Many opinion leaders today reject a moral view of the world based on Judeo-Christian values. In their view there is no objective moral order. They believe no preference should be given to moral goals.
Still, the majority of people aspire to be good and honorable. The Light of Christ, which is distinct from the Holy Ghost, informs their conscience. We know from the scriptures that the Light of Christ is “the Spirit [which] giveth light to every man that cometh into the world.” This light is given “for the sake of the whole world.” President Boyd K. Packer has taught that this is a “source of inspiration, which each of us possesses in common with all other members of the human family.” This is why many will accept moral values even when founded on religious convictions which they do not personally support. As we read in Mosiah in the Book of Mormon, “It is not common that the voice of the people desireth anything contrary to that which is right; but it is common for the lesser part of the people to desire that which is not right.” Mosiah then warns, “If the time comes that the voice of the people doth choose iniquity, then is the time that the judgments of God will come.”
In our increasingly unrighteous world, it is essential that values based on religious belief be part of the public discourse. Moral positions informed by a religious conscience must be accorded equal access to the public square. Under the constitutions of most countries, a religious conscience may not be given preference, but neither should it be disregarded.
Religious faith is a store of light, knowledge, and wisdom and benefits society in a dramatic way when adherents engage in moral conduct because they feel accountable to God.
Two religious principles will illustrate this point.
The thirteenth article of faith begins, “We believe in being honest.” Honesty is a principle founded in religious belief and is one of God’s basic laws.
Many years ago when I was practicing law in California, a friend and client who was not a member of our faith came in to see me and with great enthusiasm showed me a letter he had received from an LDS bishop of a nearby ward. The bishop wrote that a member of his congregation, a former employee of my client, had taken materials from my client’s work site and had rationalized that they were surplus. But after becoming a committed Latter-day Saint and attempting to follow Jesus Christ, this employee recognized that what he had done was dishonest. Enclosed in the letter was a sum of money from the man to cover not only the cost of the materials but also interest. My client was impressed that the Church through lay leadership would assist this man in his effort to be reconciled to God.
Think about the light and truth that the shared value of honesty has in the Judeo-Christian world. Think about the impact on society if youth didn’t cheat in school, if adults were honest in the workplace and were faithful to their marriage vows. For us the concept of basic honesty is grounded in the life and teachings of the Savior. Honesty is also a valued attribute in many other faiths and in historic literature. The poet Robert Burns said, “An honest man’s the noblest work of God.” In almost every instance, people of faith feel accountable to God for being honest. This was the reason the man in California was repenting from his earlier act of dishonesty.
In a commencement address last year, Clayton Christensen, a Harvard professor and Church leader, shared the true account of a professional colleague from another country who had studied democracy. This friend was surprised at how critically important religion is to democracy. He pointed out that in societies where the citizens are taught from a young age to feel accountable to God for honesty and integrity, they will abide by rules and practices that, while unenforceable, promote democratic ideals. In societies where this is not true, there cannot be enough policemen to enforce honest behavior.
Clearly, moral values with respect to honesty can play a significant role in establishing light and truth and improving society and should be valued by those who do not have faith.
A second example of how religious faith benefits society and contributes light to the world is the role of religion in treating all of God’s children as brothers and sisters.
Many faith-based institutions in the last two centuries have been at the forefront in reaching out and rescuing those subjected to cruel circumstances, because their members believe that all men are made in the image and likeness of God. William Wilberforce, the great British statesman who was instrumental in outlawing the slave trade in Great Britain, is an excellent example. “Amazing Grace,” the touching hymn, and the inspiring movie of the same name capture the feeling of the early 1800s and describe the account of his heroic effort. Wilberforce’s untiring efforts were among the first steps in eliminating this terrible, oppressive, cruel, and venal practice. As part of that effort he, together with other leaders, set out to reform public morality. He believed that education and government had to be morally based. “His … vision of moral and spiritual enrichment was what he lived for, whether in defending the institution of marriage, attacking the practices of the slave trade or emphatically defending the Sabbath day.” With great energy he helped mobilize the country’s moral and social leaders in a nationwide struggle against vice.
In our early Church history, the vast majority of our members were opposed to slavery. This was a significant reason, along with their religious beliefs, for the hostility and mob violence they experienced, culminating in the extermination order issued by Governor Boggs in Missouri. In 1833 Joseph Smith received a revelation stating, “It is not right that any man should be in bondage one to another.” Our commitment to freedom of religion and treating all people as sons and daughters of God is central to our doctrine.
These are just two examples of how faith-based values undergird principles that greatly bless society. There are many more. We should both participate ourselves and support people of character and integrity to help reestablish moral values that will bless the entire community.
Let me be clear that all voices need to be heard in the public square. Neither religious nor secular voices should be silenced. Furthermore, we should not expect that because some of our views emanate from religious principles, they will automatically be accepted or given preferential status. But it is also clear such views and values are entitled to be reviewed on their merits.
The moral foundation of our doctrine can be a beacon light to the world and can be a unifying force for both morality and faith in Jesus Christ. We need to protect our families and be at the forefront together with all people of goodwill in doing everything we can to preserve light, hope, and morality in our communities.
If we both live and proclaim these principles, we will be following Jesus Christ, who is the true Light of the World. We can be a force for righteousness in preparing for the Second Coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We look forward to that beautiful day when “free hearts will sing, when the lights go on again all over the world.” In the sacred name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Today was the Primary program, and Brayden was nervous. He had practiced and practiced his part. But he was scared to talk in front of so many people.
“I don’t want to go to church today!” Brayden said. “It’s too scary to say my part.”
Mom gave him a big hug. “I know it can be scary to talk in church. But you have practiced a lot. I know you can do it.”
“Should we say a prayer?” Dad asked. “We can ask Heavenly Father to help you be brave.”
Brayden nodded.
Mom, Dad, and Brayden knelt down and folded their arms.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” Mom prayed, “please help Brayden be brave. Help him to be able to say his part.”
After the prayer, Brayden got into the car, and they all drove to church.
Brayden was scared as he sat on the stand with the other kids. But he remembered the prayer. It helped him feel a little better.
Soon it was Brayden’s turn to talk. He looked out at the people smiling up at him. There were Mom and Dad! He took a deep breath. Then he said his part loud and clear. He even remembered all the words.
“You did such a good job,” Mom said after church. “It looks like our prayer was answered.”
Brayden smiled. “Heavenly Father helped me!”
They walked back to the car together. “How did you feel inside?” Dad asked.
“I was still scared, but it was OK,” Brayden said. “And I felt good after I said my part.”
“Do you know what that good feeling was?” asked Mom.
Brayden thought for a moment. “I think it was the Holy Ghost.”
“I think so too,” Mom said. “And even though you were scared, the Holy Ghost helped you be brave.”

One spring I received three sunflower seeds. The instructions for their planting were very clear: place the seeds in soil with the pointed top down, cover completely with soil, and then water regularly. I carefully followed the instructions and placed my new sunflower pot on the windowsill. After a few days I noticed two sprouts; I figured the third sprout would soon follow.
A week later it was time to replant the growing stems in my small porch garden. The third seed had never sprouted; I thought it must have been defective. As I began to dig around the sunflower pot, I discovered that my careful planting had not been so careful. The third seed was not defective—I had just planted it upside down. The seed had grown—it just hadn’t grown upward. It had pushed itself down through the dirt to the bottom of the pot. As a result, the sunflower’s stem had become badly twisted. I wondered if I should even replant the flower outside. Would it ever grow well with such a bad start?
My sunflower had tried to grow properly—had tried to reach the light of the sun—but my carelessness prevented it from doing so. I realized this sunflower bore a remarkable resemblance to my own life.
Back in my garden, I decided to replant my sunflower and hope for the best. After a few weeks, my sunflower made an amazing recovery. It was beginning to grow just as tall and straight as the others. A poor beginning had just slightly stalled the sunflower’s eventual growth and potential, and I knew that it would continue to thrive and reach toward the sun, a beautiful reminder for me to do the same.

As a new convert to the Church, I experienced a spiritual rescue through the saving hands of a faithful member of the Church. I grew up in Matsumoto, Japan, close to where the Nagano Winter Olympics were held. My hometown looks very much like Salt Lake City, a valley surrounded by beautiful mountains. When I was 17 years old, I met two American missionaries, Elder Carter and Elder Hayashi. Though our ages were only two or three years apart, the elders had something wonderful that I had never felt before. They were diligent, cheerful, and filled with love and light. I was deeply impressed by their qualities, and I wanted to become like them. I listened to their message and decided to be baptized. My parents, who were Buddhist, strongly opposed my baptism. Through the help of the missionaries and the Lord, I received permission and miraculously was baptized.

The next year I entered the university in Yokohama. Living alone, far from my hometown and the people I knew, I became lonely and strayed from the Church. One day I received a postcard from a Church member back home. She wrote that she had heard I was not attending Church meetings. She quoted a scripture and invited me to return to church. I was overwhelmed by the words of the scripture. This helped me realize that maybe I had lost something important, and I pondered and struggled for many days. This also caused me to remember a promise the missionaries had made to me: “If you read the Book of Mormon and ask in fervent prayer if the promise found in Moroni is true, you will know the truth through the power of the Holy Ghost.”

I realized that I was not praying with all of my heart and decided to do so. One morning I woke up early, knelt in my small apartment, and prayed sincerely. To my surprise, the confirmation of the Holy Ghost came upon me as promised. My heart burned, my body shook, and I was filled with joy. Through the power of the Holy Ghost, I learned that God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, live and that They truly appeared to Joseph Smith. I made a commitment in my heart to repent and faithfully follow Jesus Christ for the rest of my life.

This spiritual experience changed my life completely! I decided to serve a mission out of gratitude to the Lord and to the Church member who rescued me. Following my mission, I was sealed in the temple to a wonderful girl, and we have been blessed with four children. Not coincidentally, this is the same girl who saved me by sending a postcard to that lonely apartment in Yokohama many years ago. I remain ever grateful for the mercy of the Lord and the help of this Church member, who invited me to once again come unto Christ.

I didn’t really mean to bring the cow to Primary that Sunday morning. I didn’t even know who the cow belonged to. On my way to Primary, this silly Holstein cow suddenly lumbered up behind me, mooing at the top of her lungs.
“Go home!” I shouted, trying to shoo her away. “Go home!” Not that I knew where her home could be. Cows usually didn’t just wander around our small town.
I ducked my head and started jogging, hoping that none of my friends would see or hear the noisy cow following right on my heels. But things only got worse. Rounding the corner, I saw Sister Allred, my Primary teacher, sitting on the church steps, crying.
Now I’ve really done it, I thought. Sister Allred is already a nervous wreck because of our class’s behavior. And now I’ve brought a cow to Primary! I thought about last week’s Primary class. It had been so bad that I’d even told my dad about it. Tony and Jimmy had been throwing chalk, tipping over chairs, and snickering whenever Sister Allred asked a question.
“In my day,” Dad had said, fuming, “those boys would have gotten a good whipping with a willow branch for not respecting their elders.”
I could almost feel the sting as he spoke. But I hadn’t told him the complete story. Scott and I had been in on those pranks too. Sure, I wanted to be nice to Sister Allred, but being part of the group was even more important to me.
“Hello, Phillip,” Sister Allred called, wiping her eyes with a tissue.
“Hello,” I murmured, hoping that she would mistake the cow for an extraordinarily large Dalmatian.
With her eyes all teary and puffy, Sister Allred didn’t look as pretty as she usually did. I had always thought that widows were supposed to be ancient. But Sister Allred wasn’t much older than Mom.
“Is something wrong?” I asked, hoping that her tears had blocked out the sight of the cow.
“Oh, nothing, really,” she said, starting to sniffle again. “I’ve just been thinking that maybe I’m not the right person to teach your Primary class.”
“I know how you feel,” I said. “The last teacher who resigned from our class dubbed us the ‘Frightful Four and Sweet Emily Clawson.’” I squirmed when I said “Frightful Four,” because there were only five boys in our class and Brian Tennyson never came. That meant that I was one of the Frightful Four, and right then I wasn’t particularly proud of it.
Suddenly the cow planted her forelegs on the step right beside Sister Allred and mooed loudly in her ear.
I was aghast, but Sister Allred didn’t seem to mind. “Phillip,” she said, “you never told me that you had a cow.”
Just then I saw Sister Parkin, the Primary president, and a redheaded boy heading toward us. Where can I hide the cow? I agonized.
But Sister Parkin looked right past the cow and shouted to Sister Allred above the cow’s mooing. “I want you to meet another member of your class.”
I looked at the redheaded boy, who was staring at the ground.
“This is Brian Tennyson,” said Sister Parkin. Then she fled.
My heart seemed to skip a beat. So this is Brian—the boy Mom and Dad are always telling me I should fellowship. While I was staring at him, a rubber band whopped the side of my head. I turned and saw Tony and Jimmy gleefully loping toward me.
Now I was in real trouble. I was caught between an obnoxious cow, a crying teacher, a shy boy who needed my example, and the two worst terrors of the Primary. To make matters worse, Emily Clawson came bouncing up to Sister Allred and smugly announced, “I read all the scriptures that you talked about last week.”
“Say, Emily,” taunted Tony, “we’ve finally found another girl to read scriptures with you.” He jerked his thumb toward the cow. “Want to ride her into class?”
Sister Allred cleared her throat and said, “I think that we can manage without the cow.”
After opening exercises, the lesson started with no major catastrophes, but only because Scott’s dad stood just outside the door for a while. The loudest sound came from Emily answering questions. I wondered how long it would last. It didn’t last long. Suddenly there was a terrible bellowing outside our window. The cow had found us. She was stamping her hooves and mooing louder than ever.
“I know what’s wrong with that cow!” Sister Allred exclaimed. “It’s past her milking time. The poor thing’s in pain.” She started gathering up her lesson materials.
My eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Why, I’m going to milk her,” Sister Allred replied. “I can just as well teach a lesson outside while I’m milking.”
“You know how to milk a cow?” chortled Tony.
“I used to do it all the time when we had the farm,” she answered.
Tony wrinkled his nose and gave one of his “Oh, sure” looks to Jimmy.
“But I need your help. Would you and Jimmy please find me some pans in the meetinghouse kitchen?” she said.
“Who, me?” said Tony, pointing at himself unbelievingly.
“Yes, you!”
Grumbling, Tony and Jimmy shuffled down the hall.
Brian tugged hopefully on Sister Allred’s sleeve. “May I help too?”
She smiled. “You and Phillip can find me some paper towels and a pan of warm water.”
The bellowing cow was dripping milk in a puddle by the time we gathered around her. Sister Allred stroked the cow gently. “Don’t worry, Bossie. We’ll take care of you.”
Tony and Jimmy brought half a dozen pans from the kitchen, and I brought warm water in the biggest bowl I could find. We thought that we had lost Brian until we saw a cowlick of red hair sticking up behind a tremendous moving pile of paper towels.
“It looks as if we’re well stocked,” laughed Sister Allred. “Now, does anyone know what we do first?”
Brian was standing beyond the circle of the group. Finally he cleared his throat. “I know,” he offered shyly. “You need to wash the cow’s udder with that warm water.”
“That’s right,” said Sister Allred. “Have you milked cows before?”
“No,” replied Brian. “But my grandpa used to have cows, and I watched him.”
Soon everyone was helping to wash and dry the cow’s udder—everyone except Tony. I could see him hanging back, watching us silently.
“What’s next?” asked our teacher.
“Milking!” we exclaimed in unison.
Expertly, Sister Allred began to squeeze the cow’s teats with both her hands. Thick, warm milk squirted into a pan. Soon she pushed back her chair. “Anybody else want to try?”
“I do!” Brian piped up. A freckled grin creased his face as he squeezed a trickle of milk into the pan.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tony edging closer. He began patting the cow’s neck. He cleared his throat again. “Before he died, my grandpa told me about milking cows too. He said that it’s important to always be gentle and kind to them.”
Sister Allred smiled. “Tony, I’m certainly glad that you’re here today. You’ve just taught my Primary lesson. It’s about being gentle and kind.” She chuckled. “Well, it doesn’t exactly talk about cows. But it does say that we should be gentle and kind to everyone, and that must include cows.”
“Does that also include Primary teachers?” blurted out Brian.
Sister Allred looked at Brian in surprise. “Yes, I suppose it does.”
“Of course, it’s easy to be kind to you. You’re the best Primary teacher I’ve ever had!” He lowered his voice. “You know what else? You’re the best cow milker I’ve ever seen.”
Sister Allred leaned down. Her smiling blue eyes looked prettier than I’d ever seen them. “You know what, Brian? I bet you can all learn to be great cow milkers.”
Soon we were all taking turns milking, even Emily. We must have lined up a dozen times.
“Wow,” said Tony, “I wish my grandpa could see me now.”
Suddenly we heard a voice behind us. “Anybody want a job? I never guessed that I was going to find my cow in the hands of such good milkers.”
We all looked up. A stooped old man was gazing at the pans filled with warm, creamy milk.
“I heard that my cow had headed in this direction, but I never thought that she’d get this far.” He paused and rubbed his gray chin. “I’m serious about that job offer. I can’t even get this much milk out of her myself. Oh, you wouldn’t have to milk very often—only when my wife and I want to get away for a day or two. Betsy here is our last cow, and we don’t want to give her up. She’s mostly a pet.”
“I’d love to milk her,” said Brian.
Tony ground the toe of his shoe into the dirt and motioned toward Sister Allred. “I wouldn’t mind doing it if our teacher helps us. She’s real good at milking. I’m sure that you could trust us to be gentle and kind to Betsy.”
Sister Allred smiled and put her arm around Tony. “I think that my five boys, Emily, and I could handle a job like that.”
I patted the black and white cow, and Betsy gave a final, contented moo.

Photographs by Richard M. Romney
For a time, Leonard Singer lived in desperate circumstances. Today he serves as first counselor in a branch presidency. In this interview with David Olsen, a Church-service missionary who serves as his branch president, Leonard shares his story.
Leonard: I had become an alcoholic. I didn’t have a home. I wore the same clothes day in and day out. I slept in the bushes and ate out of trash cans. I didn’t have anything or anybody.
Elder Olsen: How did you change?
Leonard: I decided to pray. I asked the Lord for help, and somehow I found the strength to stop drinking. I kept thinking about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I had felt at home there before. I thought I might find hope there again.
Elder Olsen: You’ve told me you started feeling urges.
Leonard: Yes, the Lord brought me along, and when I followed Him, He started blessing me.
Elder Olsen: How did local Church leaders help you?
Leonard: I had been excommunicated, but they helped me understand what I needed to do, and to do what I needed to do in order to come back to full fellowship. Little by little, I made my way there. The day I was rebaptized was the happiest day of my life.
Elder Olsen: Today you live just down the hill from our chapel [the Dennehotso Branch meetinghouse in Kayenta, Arizona, USA]. Your home is a small trailer, with no electricity and no running water, but you say you consider yourself fortunate?
Leonard: The Lord takes care of my needs. He has blessed me with this home and everything in it. I love having a quiet place where I can study the scriptures and pray. My sister lives nearby, and that’s where I get water. Sometimes when I need electricity, she lets me run an extension cord over from her house.
Elder Olsen: How else has the gospel blessed you?
Leonard: The Lord showed me there is meaning in this life. That’s something I had been missing for years. Now I want to help other people, just as He has helped me.
Elder Olsen: I see you helping people all the time. The other day, you helped a woman whose car got stuck in the sand.
Leonard: I just got a couple of other Church members and a couple of shovels. We started digging and pushing. Pretty soon she was on her way again.
Elder Olsen: What about that time you kept feeling an urge to visit your niece, who lives miles away in Farmington, New Mexico?
Leonard: I wasn’t sure why I was supposed to go, but I knew the Lord wanted me there.
Elder Olsen: So, you acted on the prompting, you found a way to get there, and you arrived just in time to give her some urgently needed assistance.
Leonard: The Lord knew she needed help, and He knew I could help her.
Elder Olsen: In your calling in the branch presidency, you help me with ministering assignments, meetings, branch activities, and the Church’s addiction recovery program. What would you say if someone asked you, “How do you love your neighbor?”
Leonard: With all my heart.
Elder Olsen: How do you show that love?
Leonard: I just give back to them what the Lord has given to me. People need to feel loved. They need to feel comforted. They need guidance. They need to understand what the Lord can give them. When you’re at the bottom of the pit, you need to feel that if you reach out, someone will be there.
Elder Olsen: You live in a little trailer, but your heart is as big as the great outdoors. You live humbly, without worldly possessions. But you are Christlike, always helping those in need.
Leonard: That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? To help each other.

In 1965 I headed to Vietnam for my third tour of duty with the U.S. Air Force. We were flying combat missions just about every day, with our squadron’s F-100 Super Sabers taking small arms hits regularly. In this environment, I easily developed faithful habits of prayer, and I found strength in knowing that my family back home was praying regularly for my safe and speedy return.
Looking back, I can see clearly that these prayers helped build a protective shield around me. I felt this protection especially on the morning of March 30, 1966. About halfway through a mission, I noticed that my fire warning light had lit up. I had been hit! I was in trouble, so I headed east toward the nearest friendly airfield.
I was feeling pretty good about things until my wingman told me that I was burning badly, with flames trailing several feet behind the aircraft. A moment later, the aircraft quit responding to the control stick. It was time to bail out. I squeezed the trigger, firing the ejection seat charge. It fired much more violently than I had expected, but at least I was separated from the burning F-100.
As soon as I ejected, things quickly went from bad to worse. The jolt of the ejection put me into a rapid, head-over-heels tumble. The tumble was so violent that I couldn’t think through the remainder of my memorized emergency procedures. My only clear thought at the time was that the human body was not built to withstand such violence. I expected an arm or a leg to be torn off at any minute!
I finally calmed down enough to recall a parachute free-fall training film I had seen just before my deployment to Vietnam. An image soon became crystal clear in my mind: Spread eagle to slow down and stabilize. As I responded to the image, which I knew was an answer to the many prayers that had been offered in my behalf, I immediately stopped spinning and tumbling. I was then able to concentrate on other pressing matters—like opening my parachute! If it had opened automatically, I wouldn’t have found myself tumbling with such violence.
My mind then cleared further, as if a small TV screen had appeared before me, outlining the rest of the critical emergency procedures I needed to remember. Check chute. I didn’t have one. If no chute, pull D-ring. The D-ring is the rip cord, which I quickly pulled. Immediately the parachute popped out and filled with air to break my fall. Deploy seat kit. I pulled the lanyard to release the heavy, hard-shelled survival kit that was strapped to my seat. No luck. The kit stayed attached, hanging dangerously behind my thighs.
Later, in my debrief of the ejection, a flight surgeon told me that in every case he knew of, an undeployed seat kit had resulted in a crushed pelvis. I was thankful I was not aware of this grim statistic as I floated toward the earth.
I hadn’t realized that Vietnam was in its dry season, and the soft rice field I expected when I landed was concrete hard. I hit my head on the ground and was briefly knocked unconscious. Fortunately, I had kept my helmet on throughout the ejection.
When I recovered, I unstrapped myself from my parachute and took a quick inventory. I had no broken bones and saw no enemy troops, but I knew I had landed in hostile territory controlled by the Vietcong. Within 30 minutes an Army helicopter arrived, picked me up, and flew me to my intended destination.
When I finally came down from my adrenalin high and could focus on all that had happened, I became immediately aware of the divine intervention that had occurred in my life. I had experienced major equipment problems: neither the automatic feature on my parachute nor the survival kit release system had worked. My spinning had prevented me from thinking clearly until mind-clearing images came to me. And I had landed safely and been rescued from hostile, Vietcong-held territory. In short, it was clear that my prayers and those of my family had been answered in a remarkable fashion.

One summer’s day, whilst sitting outside having lunch with some work colleagues, the beginning of a new insight came. I was asked why I always had a soft drink with my meal, rather than a beer like the rest of the group. I answered that it was a life choice, hoping that would suffice. But on this occasion, my interrogator would not let the matter go. The conversation continued, and it wasn’t long before I was being asked questions about what I believed as a member of the Church. My contract was coming to an end that week, so I took confidence that I could weather the inevitable storm of questions for a few more days. I gave them deep meaningful answers to all the questions they asked.

While giving an answer, the penny dropped for me. All my colleagues wanted empirical evidence to be able to believe in God, and I was offering all the evidence I had learned, to help convince them I was right—but it wasn’t enough. I then bore my testimony about what I believed, but that wasn’t enough for them either. I pointed out that proof and faith are on opposite sides of a scale. If you are looking for proof, you are not exercising faith. If you are exercising faith, you don’t necessarily need proof. I realised that if you want to look for reasons to prove or disprove your belief in the gospel, you will find both, but neither one will build your faith. The more proof I found that challenged my belief in the gospel, the more faith I would require to continue believing it is true. “For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things” (2 Nephi 2:11).

When I was in fifth grade, I wasn’t what you would call “popular.” I was just known as a smart kid. I had a talent for cartooning, so one day I started drawing pictures of kids at school. I showed some people my drawings, and I was instantly popular. This was a dream come true! I couldn’t wait until lunch to draw more pictures. Then I remembered that I had promised to watch over the younger children on the playground during lunch break. But I still wanted to hang out with my new cool friends. What could I do? I prayed to Heavenly Father to ask. The answer didn’t come until lunchtime. I was eating and was about to choose to stay with my friends when I had a feeling that I should go do my job. I knew that the Holy Ghost had given me my answer. I watched over the children and knew in my heart that I had made the right choice.

When Anna’s joy over her conversion wasn’t shared by friends and relatives and when she couldn’t persuade them to accept the gospel, she decided to emigrate to the United States with a group of Norwegian Saints intent on going to Zion. It was 1883, and in the fall of that year she arrived in Logan, Utah. She was determined that her family’s first obligation should be to Heavenly Father because of His many blessings to them. Her next obligation was to see that her boys received the best education possible.

Most of us at one time or another have been in a situation that was new to us, where we felt strange and insecure. This situation happened to our family about five years ago after President Thomas S. Monson extended the call to me to serve as a General Authority of the Church. This call necessitated our family’s move from the beautiful place we had enjoyed for more than two decades. My wife and I still remember the instant reaction of our children when they learned about the change. Our 16-year-old son exclaimed, “It is not a problem at all. You may go; I will stay!”
He then quickly resolved to accompany us and faithfully embraced this new opportunity in his life. Living in new environments over the past few years has turned out to be an enjoyable learning experience for our family, especially due to the warm reception and goodness of the Latter-day Saints. As we have lived in different countries, we have come to appreciate that the unity of the people of God throughout the earth is something real and tangible.

Years ago, when I was only six, I became acquainted with my cousin, a six-year-old girl named Roxane. Some time before I saw Roxane, I was informed that I was getting a new sister. It was she. We were adopting my own cousin for reasons unknown to me at that time.
The first month of our sisterly relationship was quite peaceful. I suppose all new things take a little getting used to. I shared a room with my little sister Deanna and my new sister Roxane. Things were different for Deanna and me, as we had to get used to sharing a bedroom with another person. This created hassles over such issues as who got which bed and who got the most closet space.
In a short time I developed a rage of jealousy towards my new sister. She had fit nicely between Deanna and me; and as the saying goes, “two was company, three’s a crowd.” Constant arguments arose, and sides were being taken. Hardly a day went by that the three of us didn’t get into some kind of argument. And I can recall that most of my arguments were with my new sister.
Not only did I forever argue with her, but I condemned her for coming to live with my family, especially when she started to call our mother, “mom” instead of “auntie.”
Many times I would go out of my way to make sure she did not use anything of mine. If she did, it meant immediate war. Any time she would do something I thought challenging, I would instantly prove that I could do what she was doing and do it even better. For years I diminished her self-image with rude remarks and strained to outdo her at everything.
About four years ago I started to wonder why I had such feelings towards Roxane. My only conclusion was that I was jealous of the attention she had taken from me when she came to live with us. At that time I also realized the damage I had done to Roxane’s self-confidence and pride. I felt so ashamed and am still ashamed of the actions of my younger years. Never once did I put myself in her shoes and try to experience what I was making her go through. What pain she must have suffered. What a feeling of not belonging I must have given her. It would have been difficult enough for her to come live in a house of strangers without having me on her back. Now the problem was how to let her know that I loved her and was so sorry.
Roxane, Deanna, and I were all at girls’ camp that year. It was the night for testimony meeting, a beautiful night, and the Spirit of the Lord was so strong that almost every girl was in tears. Wanting to bear my testimony but being the type of person to break down crying at the first word, I bravely stood and started to speak. I bore my testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel, of the love I have for the Lord, and of the growth I had received during the week at camp. At this point I had shed many tears and was ready to sit and try to settle down a bit. But suddenly I felt an urge to express my love for my sisters. It felt awkward saying “I love you,” since I had never said those words to them before. But it felt so good. It was as if I had unloaded a barrel of bricks that I had been carrying around for so long. I felt free from a burden that had been there for many years. Satisfied, I sat down. Moments after I sat down I felt two arms around my neck and heard a familiar voice say, “I love you.” Seconds later I felt two more arms around my neck and heard another familiar voice say, “I love you.” It was beautiful. I was full of love for both of them and was so thankful I was inspired to express my love for them that special night.
Now, 11 years after I first set eyes on my cousin, I am eternally grateful to my Heavenly Father for giving me another sister. Roxane has helped me to grow and understand so many things. We are now both 17 years old and are the best of friends. Today we went to a softball game and cheered for all the guys. Yesterday we went to the movies and spilled popcorn all over the people in front of us. Tonight we will go to the dance. And where there was once a crowd, there is now a circle of love.

As a young child, Kavira V. couldn’t communicate with anyone. But now she’s found ways to connect with others, including her Heavenly Father.
Sixteen-year-old Kavira V. from Florida, USA, knows the value of communication. Whether with family, with friends, or with God, Kavira is glad to be able to talk to them.
Part of the reason she values that connection so much is that she knows what it’s like not to have it.
Before moving to Florida, Kavira’s family originally lived in Uganda. Kavira is deaf and didn’t have access to sign language as a child, so she couldn’t really communicate with people around her.
That communication barrier affected many aspects of her life. Regarding school, she says, “Math was hard for me. I didn’t learn English, and I was bullied. There was a lot of discrimination.”
Church was hard too. At that time her family belonged to a different faith. “I didn’t have language access, so I didn’t understand what was going on,” Kavira says. She would sit through the services and go through the rituals without knowing what they meant. “There weren’t many opportunities for Deaf people,” she says.
The barrier also affected her connection to her family. “I’m the only Deaf person in my family, so sometimes I would feel unequal to them.”
When Kavira was around eight or nine years old, her family moved to Florida. Since she was young and couldn’t communicate with them, she didn’t know exactly why they chose to move. But it could have been to find better opportunities for her and the whole family.
When Kavira’s family moved to Florida, they found a deaf school she could attend. “Being able to have that education is amazing,” she says. “I’ve been able to learn things like math, communication, life skills like finding a job, and study skills.” She now uses American Sign Language (ASL).
She also enjoys extracurricular activities. “I like any kind of sports,” she says. “Growing up, I always played soccer, and I found out they have it here [in the U.S.] too.” She’s also learned volleyball, flag football, basketball, and swimming. “It’s been fun learning these new sports.”
And since Kavira was little she’s always loved art. She hopes to improve and maybe even continue studying art in college. “I want to keep studying to learn more,” she says. “I really enjoy school and learning.”
Kavira’s parents encourage her in her education. “They say to do what you can to learn everything,” she says. She’s very grateful that her family found a deaf school for her.
After learning more, Kavira doesn’t feel unequal in her family anymore, because she has realized she’s the same as them. She talks to her parents and siblings a lot. “I know sometimes as youth, we don’t really value our family—maybe sometimes we value our friends more than our family,” says Kavira. “But my family is what has made me strong. My parents have taught me the things I should value. They’ve helped me to be a good and kind person.”
“My family is what has made me strong,” says Kavira.

Leoncio Cauzon Alegre (the Spanish word “alegre” means happy or merry) has plenty of reasons to be a happy man, the foremost of which is that nine years ago, the truth was unfolded to him in, of all places, a grocery store located about 200 meters away from the former site of the Manila Distribution Center and Seminaries & Institutes offices of the Church.
The year was 1968. Bro. Alegre decided on buying some refreshment items from the grocery store after wasting the whole morning looking for an acquaintance in the Reposo area of Makati from whom he was to receive a reference book.
Two young missionaries were also in the store and in a few moments, he found himself conversing with the pair. One of them asked two golden questions. And the day, far from being wasted, suddenly turned into an eventful one that led this elderly man into greater and more enlightening doorways to the truth than he ever thought of in six decades of his life. The 7th of July that year, at the age of 61, he was baptized.

The first thing Zayne Callahan can remember is living in the basement of an orphanage in China. He had been there since he was a baby. Zayne later learned that he was kept in the basement so people who came to the orphanage to adopt children wouldn’t see him.

“I was considered an embarrassment because I was born with spina bifida,” Zayne says. Spina bifida is a birth defect that made his legs weak and prevented him from walking normally. “I wasn’t able to go to school or hardly even learn the Chinese language because the people at the orphanage didn’t think it was important to teach a child with a disability.”

Zayne was seven years old when John and Wendy Callahan—his future parents—first saw him on a videotape of Chinese children waiting to be adopted. When the photographer passed the camera over Zayne briefly, he smiled and waved. That action won the hearts of his future parents who recognized his brave, strong, intelligent spirit.

That was five years ago. Now, Zayne is a deacon in the Lolo Ward of the Stevensville Montana Stake. When he turned 12, he wanted to fulfill his priesthood responsibilities by passing the sacrament. That was a big challenge for a boy who must use crutches to walk.

Originally, Zayne tried to pass the sacrament while balancing on his crutches. When that didn’t work, he decided to use his wheelchair instead. Now Zayne passes the sacrament by placing the trays on his lap and wheeling down the aisles.

Zayne works hard to fulfill his other priesthood duties too. An older member in his ward says she was impressed when the young men went to her home to pick up rocks as a service project. She found Zayne sitting on the ground putting rocks into a wheelbarrow. He had laid his crutches down because they were in the way, but his disability didn’t stop him from serving just like the other boys.

According to his father, Zayne doesn’t waste time feeling sorry for himself. If he wants to do something, he figures out a way to do it. He played a lead part in the school production of Red Riding Hood. He was the head wolf and led a pack of wolves onstage, his crutches keeping time to the music. He is also an accomplished violinist and pianist. While playing his violin, he has to sit on a high stool rather than stand like most violinists, but that doesn’t distract from the beauty of his music.

No matter where Zayne goes or what he does, people notice his good example. One classmate summed it up by saying, “He’s that boy with the big smile.”

I have seen the law of the harvest fulfilled in my own family.
Some years ago I was visiting family, when the bishop asked me to conclude the sacrament service. As I was coming down from the stand, a woman approached me with her seven children and introduced herself as Sister Rebecca Guzman.
She asked, “Elder Rasband, do you know Rulon and Verda Rasband?”
I beamed and replied, “They are my parents.”
You can see where this is going. With Rebecca’s permission, who is here with family in the Conference Center, I share her family’s story.
My parents, Elder Rulon and Sister Verda Rasband, were serving as a senior couple in the Florida Fort Lauderdale Mission. They were proselyting and by divine guidance knocked on the door of Rebecca’s home. She was just a teenager and loved listening to the music of the Osmonds, in particular our friend Donny—who is here with us today. She had listened to their media interviews and learned they were members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She felt there was something different about them, and thinking it might be their religion, Rebecca spent two years researching the Church’s beliefs in the school library. So, when a kindly-looking couple knocked on her family’s door and introduced themselves as Latter-day Saint missionaries, she was taken back.
“My mother told me to get rid of them,” Rebecca later wrote, “but my heart said, ‘No.’ I looked into their faces, and I felt so much warmth and love. The memory still brings tears to my eyes and deep emotion to my heart.”
Rebecca invited them in, and my missionary parents shared a message with her, her two younger sisters, and, despite her objections, her mother.
Rebecca described to me: “Both your parents were wonderful in explaining any questions we had. I can still see their faces as if there was light surrounding them. We always hugged your mother when she left, and she always made a point of helping my mother feel comfortable and respected. Your father always had a sparkle in his eyes as he was teaching us about Jesus Christ. He tried to include my father in discussions and eventually won him over. My father was a chef at a local country club and started cooking dinners for your parents, including making your father’s favorite, key lime pie.”
When Elder and Sister Rasband asked Rebecca and her family to read the Book of Mormon, Rebecca did so in five days. She wanted to be baptized immediately, but the other members of her family were not ready. After four months, Rebecca insisted she be baptized and join the true Church. She recalled, “Every fiber of my soul knew it was true.” On April 5, 1979, missionaries baptized 19-year-old Rebecca, her mother, and two sisters. My father was a witness at the baptism.
When I met Rebecca and her family at church, we took a photograph of her family with me. I took it home to my elderly mother, and she held it close to her heart. Then she said to me, “Ronnie, this is one of the happiest days of my life.”

The young single adults in the Benin City Nigeria Ikpokpan Stake decided to take President Dallin H. Oaks’s challenge to heart and make the Easter season more memorable and representative of our Savior’s love.
The YSA stake leaders, Felicia Samuel and Ejodamen Macaulay Jr., kicked off the week with an act of service on Good Friday. The young single adults came together and created bags of rice with spices and other ingredients to provide a delicious meal. They tied these bags with an Easter message of hope in Jesus Christ and an invitation to learn more from the missionaries. Then they prayed to ask our Heavenly Father to guide them to those who most needed His message of love. Many wore The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints vests, identifying themselves as they walked to the market and began to share their message of Jesus Christ with those they met. Everyone was uplifted by the small act of charity that day.
The young single adults demonstrated that as we come together to become one in Christ, we can magnify His gospel in simple ways that strengthen God’s children wherever they are.
See their highlight video created by the talented videographer Emmanuel Otumbari, from the Ugbor First Ward, at youtube.com/shorts/q43c9BayCTg.

His house key is in the lock. He’s home from work and about to step inside. In the kitchen, real life is scattered all around. The baby is crying. The three-year-old just poured milk—not in a glass but all over the counter. The seven-year-old needs some daddy attention. And dinner isn’t ready.
With a deadline at work tomorrow, a head buzzing from rush-hour traffic, and a Church meeting tonight, he’s hoping she will greet him with some relief.
Hearing him come in, she is glad a relief party has arrived! But when she sees his face fall as he looks around, she defends herself: “Look—I work all day too. I’ve been with these kids nonstop, and I really need a break. Will you please fix this macaroni and cheese and help with the kids?”
In the heat of her request, his hope evaporates into exasperation, and he is about to react.
At this crossroads of their busy day, these two have some choices. Will they use this moment to practice being the kind of companion each has covenanted to become? Or will each one default to past conditioning—familial and cultural? Certain attitudes and ideas have crept into the very air they breathe, challenging them as they try to work with each other rather than against each other.
That couple we saw at the kitchen threshold share a commitment to the promise of eternal family unity. But equal partnerships are not made in heaven—they are made on earth, one choice at a time, one conversation at a time, one threshold crossing at a time. And getting there is hard work—like patiently working through differing assumptions about who was bringing relief to whom that night or any of thousands of nights like it.
As milk drips from the counter, she holds a box of macaroni and cheese in her hand, he faces a deadline and a meeting, and both feel the pull of weariness on their faces. How would people in a covenant, balanced relationship handle such a moment, and how could the next few moments help create an equal partnership?
Young wife, do you see in him someone who has worked all day to bring sustenance to your table? Young husband, do you see in her someone who has worked all day to make nourishment of that sustenance? Can you both see beyond the doing of the day and remember the inestimable worth of the being to whom you are married?