Gospel Story Finder

Heavenly Father has answered my prayers many times since then. When one of my own sons was about 10, Heavenly Father saved our lives. I had my pilot’s license and was flying some friends from St. George, Utah, to Grand Junction, Colorado, so they could visit their family. I invited my son Michael to come along for the ride.

To get to Grand Junction, we needed to fly over some very high mountains. We were flying 15,500 feet in the air in a twin-engine plane. We were a little more than halfway there when the propeller of my left engine started racing out of control, so I had to shut it down and boost maximum power to the other engine. But even after that we started losing altitude, heading downward at about 200 feet per minute, and we still had one last mountain range to fly over.

As we got closer, I could see that the plane was sinking below the top of the mountain, and that we weren’t going to make it over. In my heart I was praying that Heavenly Father would guide me through this. I started to look around for a place to make an emergency landing, but there was nowhere to land the plane safely.

Right then, words came into my mind that told me to start the damaged engine. At first I ignored them, because I was afraid that if I turned the engine on, it would race out of control again and maybe even blow apart. But the words kept coming back to me: “Start the engine!” I then realized that if I turned the engine on just a tiny bit, the wind would be able to easily pass through the propeller and not drag the plane down as much. The minute I turned on the engine, the plane started to climb. We cleared that last mountain pass with less than 50 feet between us and the treetops. We finally landed safely at the airport. That taught me a real lesson in life—to pay attention to what Heavenly Father is trying to tell you through the promptings of the Spirit.

While serving as a mission leader in Japan some years ago, I attended a weekend conference in a rural city in one of the far corners of our mission. The district president had arranged for me to conduct an interview with a man who had joined the Church a year earlier and was seeking to receive a temple recommend. He hoped to receive his own endowment on or close to the one-year anniversary of his baptism.
During our conversation, this new member described how deeply grateful he was for the bounteous blessings he had received in the year since he was baptized. He enjoyed attending weekly sacrament and other meetings. He became deeply involved in the activities of his branch. To me, he exuded a covenant confidence resulting from understanding his gospel purpose, which was now an integral part of him. He was a converted disciple of Christ who had experienced a mighty change of heart (see Mosiah 5:2).
The rest of our conversation followed a hopeful pattern. We discussed the ordinances and covenants that would be part of his temple experience. He affirmatively answered each of the standard questions associated with receiving a temple recommend.
Following the interview, I recall commenting to the district president how grateful I was to meet such an outstanding man. I told him how impressed I was that the missionaries and members had found, and spiritually nurtured, someone of such caliber and promise.
I was stunned when the district president shared that when this man began receiving lessons from the missionaries and attending church over a year earlier, he was homeless and in exceedingly difficult—near hopeless—circumstances. The district president then described how this brother’s study of the gospel and his conversion over a period of months led to his miraculous change, putting him on a path of both spiritual and temporal self-reliance and giving him a sense of purpose and joy.
I end where I began, recalling my experience years ago with a recent convert in Japan. Through his diligence and the diligence of missionaries and members, he found the restored gospel of Jesus Christ. In finding the gospel, he also discovered his purpose, which expanded his vision. He also found the great plan of happiness. Obedience to the plan’s gospel covenants brought him blessings and joy, lifting him temporally and spiritually.
His journey leading to membership in the Church of Jesus Christ allowed him to become a witness of Jesus Christ. Elder Patrick Kearon of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has described the joy that follows:
“Because of the loving plan of our Heavenly Father for each of His children, and because of the redeeming life and mission of our Saviour, Jesus Christ, we can—and should—be the most joyful people on earth! Even as the storms of life in an often-troubled world pound upon us, we can cultivate a growing and abiding sense of joy and inner peace because of our hope in Christ and our understanding of our own place in the beautiful plan of happiness.”

Malo e lelei! I’m Lui, and I shine my light by sharing what I have with others.
I live on a big island in Tonga. I have six sisters and four brothers, and I live close to the Nuku’alofa Tonga Temple.
We have many beautiful plants and animals on our island. I’m in class four at the Ocean of Light Primary School, and science is my favorite subject.
My father grows crops, so we have plenty to eat. But many widows (women whose husbands have died) and other families don’t have their own crops. So my parents take them some of ours. I like going along to help!
The widows we visit use coconut husks to make fires to cook their food. When we take food to them, I always remind my parents to take coconut husks too. I help load the husks into the van and unload them when we get to the widows’ houses.
Heavenly Father gives me great blessings when I help others—not blessings of money but blessings of wisdom and knowledge. I always want to help and share what I have with others.

One of the most difficult times in my life was during my sophomore year in high school. My brother Sid was the greatest big brother. We were really close even though he was seven years older. I basically lived to be with my dad and older brother, and Sid served the big-brother role perfectly. I was just a tagalong, and he didn’t mind at all.
Sid had quit high school so he could work to help put food on our table and help Mom and Dad with the bills. To show you what kind of brother Sid was, he would work these long days on his construction job, then come home and work out with me. He would be wearing his big heavy boots from his job and still run patterns while I played quarterback and threw the ball to him. Here was my brother playing receiver for me after a long day at work when he probably would have rather gone in and relaxed. But that’s the kind of brother Sid was.
One weekend in November during my sophomore year, my family went to a small family reunion in Washington. Sid and I stayed behind to work around the farm. We spent the whole weekend together and had a really good time.
When my family returned, Sid left to take a friend to Sun Valley (Idaho). On his way back from dropping his friend off, he had a head-on collision and was killed. I’ll always remember sleeping on the floor of our trailer home when a knock came at the door at two in the morning and the most terrible feeling coming over me. An off-duty policeman had come to tell us Sid had been killed in an accident.
That was the hardest thing to have to go through. And it was tougher for my parents because they had already had their two-year-old daughter die because of a bronchial problem, and a baby boy die of crib death before I was even born.
And although there is pain for the loss of a loved one, I understood. I understood the plan of salvation and the eternal perspective. When I lost Sid, I asked why it had to happen. I also asked Heavenly Father, Why me? How could things get any harder in my life? Sid had always told me I would make it in the National Football League, and his death made me more determined to do that.
Within two years, I had grown to six-foot-three which made me attractive as a football player. I had always hoped to be a quarterback and was named the starter as a sophomore. This caused a lot of resentment among the juniors and seniors, and I ended up playing on a team with a bunch of guys who hated me. It made it very hard to succeed. I knew if I was going to play college football, I had to get out of that town.
After my junior year, I moved to St. Anthony (Idaho) to live with my sister and attend high school there. I knew I would be living in a Mormon community, where a lot of the kids at school were Mormon. I thought all my problems were finally behind me. It didn’t work out that way. Again I was the new kid on the block. I immediately tried out for the football team and was named the starting quarterback. That was great for me, but I beat out the guy who had started at that position the year before.
Nobody seemed happy about the new competition, and hardly anybody was friendly to me during the football season. When I finally broke into their circle and made friends, the season was over.
Since St. Anthony is close to Rexburg, home of Ricks College, I decided I would try to walk on Ricks’s football team. The coaches there wouldn’t give me a scholarship, so I practiced with them for a couple of weeks hoping to prove myself. When they still wouldn’t give me a scholarship, I had to quit. I just didn’t have enough money to pay tuition.
I now had a decision to make. Some guys I knew from St. Anthony told me about a good-paying job up in the woods cutting trees. Instead, I told them I was going to stay in Rexburg and get a job there so I could lift weights every night at the college. I told them I was going to play football the next year. They just laughed and thought I was crazy. After making the decision to stay, I never regretted not going with my friends.
During that year, I worked at a job throwing 50- and 100-pound grain sacks for nine hours a day. My pay was $3.60 an hour. After I got off work, I’d go down to the weight room and lift weights until ten at night. Everybody kept telling me I was crazy, and even my family questioned what I was doing. My family still supported me, but I think I was the only person in the world who thought I could make it—well, besides my girlfriend, Roxi, whom I later married.
That next year I earned a scholarship and played for Ricks. By this time I weighed 230 pounds and had switched from quarterback to defensive lineman. After Ricks, I had coaches from Ohio State, Alabama, Georgia Tech, Arizona, Kansas, Texas, Texas Tech, and BYU recruiting me. I chose BYU, and I’m glad I did.
After my senior season with the Cougars, I knew I was going to be drafted by an NFL team, and it turned out to be the Cincinnati Bengals. By the end of my second season I was starting in the Super Bowl. In my third year with the Bengals, I led the team in sacks. Everything seemed great. But for some reason, at the beginning of my fourth year, I was sitting on the bench.
It seemed the coaches wanted bigger guys playing the defensive line positions, leaving me to stand on the sidelines. I knew I wasn’t in Cincinnati’s long-range plans, and sure enough I was cut toward the end of fall camp. The 1991 season was about ready to begin and I was out of football. All the other NFL teams had their rosters finalized, so I had to wait and hope a team would pick me up.
This was another terrible period in my life. I knew I was still good enough to play, yet I wasn’t being given the chance. A few weeks into the season the Seattle Seahawks seemed interested in signing me to a contract. Instead, they took another guy, which was one of the hardest blows of my career.
I came back to my home in Utah not knowing what to do or what was going to happen. I wasn’t giving up, but I was really down. To take my mind off my situation, I went to play golf by myself. It was fall, in the middle of the week, and nobody was there playing. I was out on the back nine all by myself crying and thinking about what I was going to do. I stopped my cart and had a word of prayer.
When I finished, I went from tears and this distraught feeling to the most wonderful, calm feeling that told me everything was going to be okay. That Sunday, I got a phone call from the Washington Redskins. They told me they had some injured players and needed a replacement.
It was amazing. One day I was crying, and the next thing I knew I was playing for one of the best organizations in the NFL. I left behind the Cincinnati Bengals, who finished 3–13 in 1991, and went to the Redskins, who went on to win the Super Bowl. I finished my first Redskin season with 12 tackles, three quarterback hurries, and one and a half quarterback sacks. Plus I earned a Super Bowl ring. Things couldn’t have turned out better.
I’ve learned much in my life through all these experiences. The greatest lesson is that in order to know happiness, you have to know sorrow and pain. That’s why Nephi’s testimony means a lot to me. If you always put God first, work hard, and hold up your end, you’ll be led through those difficult times.
It’s sure worked for me.

Gage stared at the empty old bottle and turned it over in his hands. It was small and misty green, with a cork stopper in the top. Grandpa Russell had given it to him after his baptism.
“What is it?” Gage asked. “I know it’s a bottle—but there’s nothing in it.”
“Oh, it’s full,” Grandpa said.
Gage shook the bottle. “Well, it looks empty to me.”
Grandpa laughed. He pulled out the cork and held the little bottle near Gage’s ear. “Can you hear it?” he whispered.
“Hear what?” Gage whispered back.
Grandpa smiled. “Silence,” he said. Then he put the cork back in the bottle. “In today’s world, silence is pretty hard to find. It’s like medicine, and each drop is as precious as gold.”
Gage said thank you and took Grandpa’s strange gift home. But he didn’t think about it much.
A few weeks later, Gage’s uncle Vince passed away. After the funeral, lots of relatives crowded into the front room at Gage’s house to visit. Gage escaped to his bedroom and closed the door. He could hear the muffled voices of his parents and relatives down the hall.
Gage saw the old green bottle sitting on his desk and picked it up. He turned it over in his hands. Grandpa had said silence was like medicine. Gage needed to find some peace and comfort after Uncle Vince’s funeral.
Gage pulled the cork loose from the bottle and tipped it over his head, pretending to let a little silence pour out. He knew the bottle wasn’t really full of silence. But he knew he needed some quiet time to feel close to God.
He felt tears build up in his eyes. Uncle Vince wouldn’t be there anymore—no more silly jokes, no more wrestling with him. Gage’s heart hurt from missing him.
Then in the silence, Gage felt something warm grow in his heart and soften the pain. He remembered that Uncle Vince wasn’t gone forever; he had just moved on to the next world. Because of Jesus Christ and the plan of salvation, everyone would live forever. Gage was still sad, but he knew that someday he could see Uncle Vince again.
As he held the bottle in his hands, Gage felt peaceful inside. He knew it was because of the Holy Ghost and not the bottle. The bottle had just reminded him to be quiet so he could feel the Holy Ghost. He corked the bottle and set it down.
Go to “Family Night Fun” for an activity to go with this story.
Then he went back to the front room to be with his family. He could carry the peace and comfort of the Holy Ghost inside of him even outside his quiet room.

A young person who “just loves music” or is “simply wild about acting” can easily mistake a hunger for applause as the presence of talent. Recently a young man came to my office and said that he was going to organize a rock band, make a hit record, and acquire fame and fortune within the next year. I asked him what success he had already achieved in other people’s bands. “None.” How expert was he on an instrument? “I’m just learning the guitar.” I advised him not to risk the savings of friends or parents on a rock-band venture but to learn basic musical skills, join someone else’s band, and when he felt that he could surpass his mentor, then embark on a solo career. As he left, I suggested that he return in a year with his bank book, and we could compare notes, receivable and payable.

The bell rang on Friday afternoon, and everyone quickly filed out of the school. Finally, my school week was over, and it was time to have some fun with my friends. We threw our backpacks into the trunk of my car and hopped in.
I was the first of my group of friends to have access to a car, so I was usually the driver. I was also the only Latter-day Saint in the group and, even though I had good friends, their standards were sometimes different from mine.
As we drove that day, my friends used swear words to dress up their stories. As in times past, it bothered me. So I thought about how I could cut down on the swearing and make the language of our group better. I knew my friends were aware and respectful of my values, but would they get mad if I expected them to uphold one of those values? I decided to try an idea.
“Hey, I’m trying out this new rule in my car where there’s no swearing allowed,” I said. They all gave me funny looks, but they went along with it. The result was amazing! Our conversations were hilarious because, instead of using swear words to express strong emotions, everyone found funnier ways to say things. It made our experiences in the car so much more enjoyable, and our friendships were strengthened as we kept the rule during car rides together.
I was so glad my friends were receptive to that no-swearing rule and were willing to uphold it in my car. It made me feel good to know I could stand up for my values and have my friends respect them. Best of all, it really made a difference in our friendships and helped us all to better appreciate the effects good language can have on people’s lives.

The Coopers have been reading in the Book of Mormon as they study Come, Follow Me.
How come the people kept getting wicked again and again after they were blessed so much?
Yeah. It’s like they just kept forgetting.
A little later, over ice-cream sundaes …
Heavenly Father gives us lots of blessings. What if we started writing them in journals? So we won’t forget.
We could write down the extra-nice things people do for us too.
Like me letting you have the rest of the whipped cream.
That night …
Hmmm. I’m having trouble deciding how to start my journal.
Just say, “I, Matt, having goodly parents and a great sister …”
“… goodly parents and a funny sister …”
Keeping a blessings journal is a great idea. I’d do it myself if I could hold a pen!

That same day, the Martin company was still 325 miles (523 km) back on the trail, continuing to suffer from cold and inadequate food. A few days earlier, they had crossed the Sweetwater River to reach what is now called Martin’s Cove, where they hoped to find protection from the elements. One of the pioneers said, “It was the worst river crossing of the expedition.” Some of the rescuers—like my great-grandfather David Patten Kimball, who was just 17 years old, along with his young friends “George W. Grant, Allen Huntington, Stephen Taylor, and Ira Nebeker—spent hours in the frigid water,” heroically helping the company make the Sweetwater crossing.

Just as parents often teach their children to swim, so does the sea otter’s mother prepare her baby for life in the water.
A mother sea otter teaches her baby, called a pup, everything. She must teach him how to swim, because even though he is born in the kelp beds surrounded by water, the sea otter is not a natural swimmer. Sometimes he can float quite well, but swimming is another matter. A mother puts her pup’s face down in the water, then swims a short distance away from him. He tries to follow her but cannot go forward even an inch, so he begins to make a crying sound.
She always returns to her baby, swims around him, then draws away. In a gentle voice she urges him to follow her. He tries, fails, and cries. Over and over again, for days and days, she helps him until at last he can haltingly swim after her. But he cannot dive, so this is another thing he must be taught.
A pup cannot seem to get the idea that when he dives he should stay down and forage for food around the kelp roots at the bottom of the ocean. When he dives he immediately pops up to the surface again. But as he grows stronger, and with much patience, he finally can swim and dive too. Then he follows his mother everywhere, searching for food and playing.

One day, when I was 13 or 14 years old, I went to the grocery store that was a couple of blocks from my school. The store had spectacular ice cream, and my classmates and I went there often during our lunch hour to get ice-cream cones.
One day when we had our ice-cream cones, I looked down at my feet and saw a $10 bill lying on the floor. A U.S. $10 bill more than 50 years ago was really something to a young man. Satan tried to tempt me with: “Think what you could do with this $10 bill.”
Because of the teachings of my parents, I didn’t listen. I took the money over to the cashier and told her I found it on the floor. She said, “Well, you are an honest young man. Let me write your name on this note, and if someone doesn’t claim this $10 bill, I will see that you get it back.”
I left it with her. That afternoon a young man came in to see if she had seen a $10 bill. She said, “Yes, and here is the fellow’s name who found the money.”
This boy looked me up to thank me, and we became close friends.
But that is just the start of the story. Because of our friendship and his good feeling toward me, he introduced me to his family. As the children in the family grew up and married, I became a good friend with their families as well. And over a lifetime, I have been a close friend to 10 or 12 families just because of that $10 bill. I have been in their homes. As a bishop, I have interviewed some of their children. I have been invited to temple weddings and other family occasions during the past 50 years. I have enjoyed great friendships, not only with those kids but also with their parents over that time. They are a wonderful family.
I am grateful that I wasn’t really tempted to keep that $10 bill, because my wonderful father and mother taught me the principle of honesty. I am grateful for the blessings that have come to me throughout my life from being honest—honesty has opened many doors. It is a wonderful feeling to be able to look people in the eye and say, “I have always tried to be honest.”
I have talked to my own nine children about being honest. I told them that when you see a $10 bill, you really don’t know how much it is worth. It has a face value, but my friendship with that family is worth more than a fortune. They are such a blessing in my life.

Rebecca B., 15, of Leicestershire, England, played the role of Mary Alice Cannon, a young woman who was converted to the gospel and traveled to America with her family in the early history of the Church. During her time acting in the pageant, Rebecca had many chances to share the gospel. After one performance, Rebecca saw a young woman who was standing alone and decided to talk with her. “I discovered that she was not a Church member and that she came to the pageant because her friend was in it,” Rebecca said. Rebecca talked with her more and found out that she was attending some Church activities.
“A couple days later, I was able to get a Book of Mormon for her,” Rebecca said. “I wrote a note in it and then gave it to her friend to give to her. That was the first Book of Mormon I’ve given away, and the experience has helped me know that Heavenly Father will prepare a way for all of His children to receive the truth of the gospel someday.”

I remember a story about cows that was told many years ago by one of our church leaders. He said that he had a city cousin who came to their farm to stay with them. This city cousin didn’t know where milk actually came from. He thought it just came in bottles. When the family told the boy that milk came from cows, he didn’t believe it. Then when he saw the cows eating green grass, he felt sure that they couldn’t turn it into white milk! But when milking time came and he saw streams of white milk coming right from the cow, he was confused.

After the cows were all milked, it was time to feed the calves. He watched in amazement as one of the boys put two of his fingers in a calf’s mouth so it would start sucking. Then the boy put his hand and the calf’s nose right down into a bucket of warm milk. The calf got its milk by sucking on the fingers submerged in the milk bucket.

About this time it suddenly dawned on the city cousin what was happening. “Hey, now I understand!” he said excitedly. “You put it into them when they are little, and you take it out of them when they are big!”

Well, most people understand that it isn’t quite that simple, but this story serves as an example from which you can learn. Your parents and teachers put a lot of training, teaching, and helping into you, and the day will come when the Church and the schools and the businesses and the government will need to get it all back out of you.

Upon graduating from high school, I decided to move to Utah, USA, where my two older brothers had settled after returning from their missions. They had started their own construction companies and extended to me the opportunity to work for them while I tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.
Both of them tried to persuade me to serve a mission. I had always felt impressed to serve a mission but failed to prepare. Rather than make the necessary preparations to serve a mission, I chose to serve in a different capacity. At the age of 20, I enlisted as a medic in the US Army.
Despite my joining the army, the impression to serve a mission never left. As I entered the last year of my enlistment, I pondered what was next.
“Do I re-enlist? Do I finish my bachelor’s degree? Or do I go out and make the necessary changes in my life, repent, and prepare to serve a mission? Even if I do want to serve, am I too old?” These were some of the questions that crossed my mind.
As I considered whether to serve a mission, I felt strongly that there were people waiting for me to invite them to come unto Christ. This impression was the catalyst for my decision to prepare to serve a mission. I decided that even if I had only a slight chance of being able to serve a mission at my age, I had to try.
I think for most prospective missionaries, the flood of emotion and the power of the Holy Ghost hits them upon opening and reading their mission call. However, for me, that happened the day I was informed that I was still eligible to apply to serve a mission.
As I had repented and prepared myself to serve, I felt an immense gratitude toward my Savior, Jesus Christ, and my Heavenly Father. I felt like They wrapped Their arms around me and said: “We forgive you. We accept your repentance and the changes you have made and who you have become. You are worthy to serve.” I felt triumphant.
Eventually I received my call to serve in the Philippines Quezon City Mission.
Entering the missionary training center at the age of 25 was a unique experience. Most of the other missionaries were much younger. Many had recently graduated from high school or had completed their first year of college. Several were experiencing their first time away from home and family. As for me, I had just finished spending four years in the US Army and was already acclimated to many of the sacrifices and adjustments that the other missionaries were only about to encounter. My experience afforded me the opportunity to focus less on myself and more on extending empathy and encouragement to others. My age and experience also gave me insight into the value of time and provided motivation to serve with focus, intention, and diligence.
My mission will always be one of the most important experiences of—and for—my life. It solidified and sealed my foundation built on the rock of my Redeemer (see Helaman 5:12). I am immensely thankful that I had the opportunity to serve.

One summer at Aspen Grove Family Camp, I observed a mother patiently feeding a teenage daughter injured at birth and totally dependent upon Mother. Mother administered each spoonful of food, each swallow of water, while holding steady the head and neck of her daughter. Silently I thought to myself, For 17 years, Mother has provided this service and all others to her daughter, never thinking of her own comfort, her own pleasure, her own food. May God bless such mothers, such fathers, such children. And He will.

I was in the Pago Pago Stake in American Samoa. President Peters, the stake president, invited me to accompany him to one of the ward sacrament meetings. We arrived unannounced, so there were no special arrangements made.
It was a hot, humid day. As we approached the humble, one-room chapel with no air-conditioning, I suggested it might be appropriate to leave our jackets off. President Peters was quick to tell me that they wore jackets in sacrament meeting in their stake—no matter what the temperature—as a means of showing the Lord that they not only worshiped him but they also honored and respected him by being dressed in their very best.
As I took my place on the stand, there sat the priests and deacons at the sacrament table. Each had on a shirt, tie, and jacket. It was so hot and humid.
The normal dress of the islands is very casual, as you know, but in the eyes of these wonderful Samoan leaders and their Aaronic Priesthood boys, participating in the sacred sacrament service was not a casual experience. It was a sacred duty. They felt that their appearance helped show the respect and reverence they had for the Lord. I shall never forget their influence of reverence in that meeting. Surely their understanding of their relationship with Heavenly Father is an important step in magnifying their priesthood.

Dear Reed or Elder May,
I miss you. I miss you very much! I miss you very, very much! Do I have to call you Elder May, or can I still call you Reed? I’m glad that you got out of the empty sea. I was worried about you drowning or something. When I asked her, Mom laughed and said that you were fine there, but I was still worried.
I have something that I want to tell you. But maybe I’d better not tell you.
Please write a letter just to me.
Love,Brad
Dear Buddy,
I miss you, too—very much! When I think of how much you will grow and change in two years, sometimes it makes me a little sad that I can’t be there with you. But I know that I’m doing the right thing by going on a mission. Besides, the elders here who are almost ready to go home all say that two years zoom by so fast that you can hardly believe it.
To answer your question, yes, you can still call me Reed instead of Elder May. But do I have to start calling you Brad now, or can I still call you Buddy?
Buddy, I have to admit that I was puzzled for a long time about what you meant by the “empty sea.” Then yesterday I told Elder Watts, my companion, that you were worried about me in the empty sea, and all of a sudden it came to me! Where I was, was not the empty sea, but the MTC. That stands for Missionary Training Center. That’s where I learned about being a missionary and how to teach people the gospel.
The MTC was a good experience, but I’m glad to be in the mission field now. The members here are friendly, and some of them help us a lot. We are teaching some great families. Elder Watts is a hard worker, and we spend a lot of hours trying to find people who want to learn about the restoration of the gospel and the Church.
Write to me again soon. I want to keep in touch and know everything that happens to you, kind of like our talks in the dark across the bedroom as we were going to sleep. Only now we will have our talks by writing letters.
And remember, you can tell me anything, just like always.
Love,Reed

After Todd and I got engaged, my mom suggested that we go to the temple a lot as a way to prepare for our marriage. Todd and I decided it was a good suggestion. Sometimes Todd performed baptisms with me, and sometimes he went to an endowment session while I participated in baptisms.

Todd and I were sometimes so busy we thought we wouldn’t have time to go to the temple. We had work and school and wedding preparations, but we wanted to go to the temple. Once we went to the temple instead of a football game that we had tickets to because we didn’t have any other time to go.

The blessings have been amazing. When I do baptisms for the dead, I learn how the Spirit speaks to me. Being able to forget worldly things and focus on the Savior has been really good. Todd and I haven’t had struggles or felt tempted because we’ve been going to the temple so often.

A Church member gives a refugee mother a special quilt that belonged to her adopted son.
Photograph by Marc Marriott
To help you see the divine in each person, ask yourself, “If the individual were a family member or a loved one, how would my view of this person change?”
This question became very personal to one Latter-day Saint woman when her Relief Society held a baby shower for a refugee mother in their community.
Her Relief Society presidency contacted a local refugee resettlement agency to find a mother they could help. Once they had been connected with a mother and her family, the presidency visited the home to ask how they could be of the most help. (An important part of the principle of humanity is honoring a refugee’s agency by asking how they would like to be helped and then sincerely listening.)
The Relief Society president suggested a baby shower, explaining it as a way to celebrate a new child and give gifts that the baby and mother may need. The refugee family agreed that would be helpful to them.
As the ward began planning the shower, one sister found she had a special “soft spot” for those who must come to a new home after her experience adopting a baby from Guatemala. During the long process of adoption, this sister had kept busy by making a quilt for her new baby. As she compared the experience of her own adopted son to this new refugee baby, she wanted to connect with the family by giving them the quilt she had made.
At the baby shower, this woman explained her connection to the refugee mother, describing how her young son also had to come to a new home and how they had loved wrapping him in the quilt when he arrived. The woman gave the refugee mother the quilt and said, “I hope that your new baby will love it too.”

I play baseball. The coach had practices on Sundays. I remembered My Gospel Standards and told the coach I could not come. Unfortunately, my coach was not understanding. During the season I batted twelfth in the lineup because I missed Sunday practices. This made me sad, but my parents told me to work hard at the other practices and games. By the end of the season I was batting sixth in the lineup. I know Heavenly Father blessed me for keeping the Sabbath day holy. My team made it to the semifinals, but the game was on Sunday. I again chose to miss the game. My team lost, but I knew I had done the right thing because I felt good inside.
Joseph P., age 11, Alabama, USA