Gospel Story Finder

Stake conferences are usually pretty routine. A visiting General Authority can add excitement; but otherwise there’s just the established procedure of talks and music and (for me at least) trying to pay attention and not become distracted by crying children and my own daydreaming.
Daydreaming in stake conference can be dangerous, for Dad usually quizzes us about the talks on the way home. But this Sunday he seemed unusually quiet and thoughtful. Not until we were halfway to Newton did he speak up.
“Did any of you kids pay attention to President Betts’s talk?”
What kind of question was that? Ammon, Jennie, and I exchanged glances.
“He said a bunch of stuff about priorities and goals,” Ammon finally remarked.
“And, as usual, he talked about missionary work,” Jennie added with a flip of her blonde ponytail.
Somehow I didn’t think that was what Dad wanted to hear. I leaned back and let my mind replay the stake president’s talk.
“He mentioned that his health had been poor lately and apologized for any inconveniences it might cause.”
Dad nodded, looking rather somber. “And?”
Mom came to our rescue. “Poor Lester. He even managed a joke about not being able to get any gardening done this spring. He’s always loved gardening so much—it must be hard for him to let it go.” She sighed. “I’d hate to have to give up my gardening because of bad health.”
We were all very quiet, even Fred and Willy. I couldn’t get a visual image of President Betts out of my mind: tall, thin, gray haired, slightly stooped. He’d always looked that way, it seemed, in the years and years he’d been stake president. But lately, now that I thought about it, he appeared much thinner, much grayer, much more bent over, much older. I shivered a little. I couldn’t imagine a stake conference without him on the stand.
Mom frowned at our gloomy faces. “Now, now, it’s not that bad! He’s not in the best of health, but he’s not dying either!”
Dad, stopping for a light, glanced over his shoulder at us. “What could we all do to help President Betts?”
“Pray,” Fred said instantly.
“Yes, we can always do that,” Mom agreed cheerfully, rubbing Fred’s short brown hair. “What else?”
Ammon and Jennie lit up simultaneously. “Do his gardening for him!” Mom and Dad nodded, all smiles, and I silently groaned. I hate gardening. It’s the one family activity I automatically excuse myself from. Gardening makes my whole body sore and strains my eyes. Besides, I can’t tell a flower (or vegetable) from a weed, and I usually kill everything I touch.
“Let’s go over to his house tomorrow, for family night,” Ammon said excitedly.
How much homework did I have? Or maybe I could wangle an invitation from Ahna to watch a TV special, or a request from the Nickles to baby-sit.
“Should we tell President Betts first or just show up?” Jennie asked. She was really thrilled about this.
“Oh, let’s keep it a surprise,” Ammon quickly replied. “It will be twice as fun.”
“It’s all settled then,” Dad said, and, as if he could read my mind, continued in a rather stern voice, “right, Stephie?”
“Right,” I agreed weakly. But I had one last defense.
“What if President Betts doesn’t want anyone to do his gardening? Some people get kind of fussy about things like that, you know.”
Mom gave me a penetrating look. Could she read my mind too? “I don’t think you need to worry about that, dear,” she said in a no-nonsense manner.
I shut up. I obviously wasn’t going to get anywhere with my excuses. Secretly, I was a little relieved that I was being forced to participate. If I didn’t, I knew from prior experience that I’d have guilt feelings for weeks. But that didn’t mean I had to enjoy myself.
The next evening, after the usual quibbling and teasing, we finally managed to get all of us and all our gardening equipment (just in case President Betts had his tucked away) into the car and drove across town to his home. Perhaps I could be nice and chat to Sister Betts while everyone else was working.
Dad led us around the garage and into the garden while Mom rang the doorbell to explain what we were up to. Maybe, despite Mom’s reassurances, President Betts would be offended or upset and tell us to go away.
When President Betts came out onto the patio with Mom, he was beaming like a little kid. “You wonderful people! I never expected—” He broke off, his eyes damp.
Dad put his arm around the president’s shoulder. “We’re glad to help,” he said gently. “Just tell us what you want done.”
“That’s right,” Ammon said, pushing forward a lawn chair. “You can sit here and direct the troops.”
President Betts laughed. “If you insist—I’ll be delighted to take advantage of all these willing hands.”
He was so happy and pleased that I felt ashamed of my negative attitude. I followed Dad over to a stretch of yard.
“You’d better keep an eagle eye on me so I don’t ruin everything,” I warned.
Dad agreeably guided me through the various steps. With Ammon and Jennie on their own and Mom watching over Fred and Willy, we were soon busy at work, digging, planting and watering under President Betts’ direction.
After what seemed an eternity but was actually only 30 minutes, I straightened up and rubbed my back. Oh, how I hurt! My muscles were sore, my clothes were damp and dirty, my fingernails were black, and my glasses were dusty. I took them off and rubbed my eyes.
We had made a little progress. But there was so much left to do! We couldn’t possibly finish the whole yard in one night.
At that moment, voices—strangely familiar voices—sounded from the driveway. Feet tramped around the garage. We all waited curiously.
“Good heavens!” Brother Giberson stood stock still, his wife and children all holding gardening tools behind him, and stared at Dad. Dad stared back, and then he and Brother Giberson burst into laughter.
“Two minds with but a single thought,” Brother Giberson said jovially. He walked over to President Betts, who was open-mouthed with amazement, and shook his hand. “I’m surprised the whole stake isn’t here!”
The Gibersons set to work immediately, and between all 13 of us we were able to get the whole yard in shipshape order—and have fun while doing it! As Dale Giberson and I dug, he told me corny jokes culled from Boy’s Life. As Jana Giberson and I planted, we compared notes on school teachers and assignments. As Sister Giberson and I watered, she sang children’s songs and hymns with such verve that I couldn’t help joining in. The whole yard resounded with music as Mom, Lenna Giberson, and I tidied up and as Jennie, Ammon, and I set our gardening tools back in the car. When we finished with one last chorus of “I Am a Child of God,” the next-door neighbors leaned over the fence and applauded.
“What’s family night without a treat?” Sister Betts called as she set up a card table and brought out bowls, spoons, and several containers of ice cream.
“Mint chocolate chip, my favorite!” Tommy Giberson exclaimed. “Did you know we were coming?”
“No, but I guess it pays to stock up on certain foods,” Sister Betts said with a smile which faded a bit as she looked at our grubby hands. “Why don’t you use the bathroom first to clean up? Two at a time, one in the kitchen and one in the basement.”
Hot water and soap never felt so good. I not only scrubbed my hands, I washed my face and polished my glasses. Ah! At last I could see!
“Hurry up!” Willy called plaintively. “The ice cream’ll be all gone!” I let him in and boosted him up to the sink. He energetically splashed, soaped, and rinsed.
“This was fun, huh, Stephie?” he asked as he dried off. Without waiting for an answer, he dashed up the stairs.
Fun? I trudged, very slowly, up the stairs. I felt totally exhausted; my whole body complained with every step I took; my jeans would never be the same. I hated gardening even more passionately than I had the day before.
The patio was bustling with people talking, laughing, giggling, teasing. The feeling of caring and affection was so strong I could literally sense it. President Betts seemed vigorous and glowing, and the garden looked fantastic.
“Yeah,” I said to myself. “It was fun.”

Be careful; your blessings may come in unexpected ways.

Seven years ago, Kathy and I met Diego Gomez and his beautiful family in Salt Lake City. They attended a temple open house with us but graciously declined our invitation to learn more about the Church. This past May, I received a surprising telephone call from Diego. Events in his life had led him to his knees. He had found the missionaries on his own, taken the discussions, and was ready for baptism. This past June 11, I walked into the waters of baptism with my friend and fellow disciple Diego Gomez. His conversion had its own timetable and came with the help and support of many who reached out to him as “witnesses of God.”

One year, nearly 25 years after Baur Dee’s death, I realized that I would be away on Memorial Day and decided to visit Baur Dee’s grave a few days early. On the Thursday evening before Memorial Day, I had gathered some flowers, tied them with a ribbon, attached the card, and was putting on my jacket when the doorbell rang. I opened the door and was greeted by Colleen Fuller, one of my visiting teachers. As I invited her in, she noticed my jacket and the flowers and apologized for interrupting my plans.
“No problem,” I said. “I’m just on my way to the cemetery to put flowers on the grave of the woman who was my Beehive teacher and softball coach.”
An expression difficult to describe came over Colleen’s face. She asked, “Could your teacher’s name have been Baur Dee?”
Bewildered, I answered, “Yes. How did you know?”
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “Baur Dee was my mother’s sister. Every Memorial Day since she died, my family has found flowers and a card saying, “To Baur Dee from your girls,” on her grave. They’ve always wanted to know who these “girls” were so they could thank them for remembering Baur Dee. You obviously are one of them.”

The first steps on the road to walking again actually took place in the water.
At 23 years old, Victor Penafiel watched others swim while he clung to a corner of the pool. His friend, Arturo Espinoza, saw his desire to swim and offered to teach him. But Victor had a great fear of water. Even before his accident, he didn’t know how to swim. Swimming wouldn’t be easy, especially with only one arm. After a year of struggling with Victor’s fear, Arturo guided Victor into the middle of the pool and removed the life vest he wore during lessons.
“Let’s see how you get out of this,” Arturo said, leaving him there.
Victor got out of it, and the challenge helped him see he could swim. After that, Victor never used a life vest. Now he loves swimming, he said, because when he is in the water, he feels free.

Dr. Heyerdahl—Well, that was what caused me to take Ra II. I discovered that there were actually some people, the extreme isolationists, who still said it couldn’t be done—and they were measuring those last hundreds of yards. They said those were the most important: unless you really get to the other end, you haven’t proven that it can be done. Also, my own curiosity about reed boats continued to build. By continuing to research, I learned that the Aymara Indians of Lake Titicaca in Bolivia build boats much like those in ancient Egypt—more so than those in central Africa. I felt it was worth a second experiment because of the way they build the stern; also, the way they tie the papyrus together in bundles is much different. So I brought four Aymara Indians over to Morocco to build Ra II. We built a boat forty feet long, ten feet shorter than Ra I, and of different design. We set sail May 17, 1970, and after 57 days of sailing—3,270 miles—we reached Bridgetown, Barbados Islands. Ra I had left on May 25, 1969, and we had abandoned her July 18, about 600 miles from Barbados.

Over the years I have had problems that I have not been able to overcome by myself. Once when I had such a problem, I remembered President Benson’s challenge to read the Book of Mormon. I took the book from the shelf and began to read. I was surprised! The answers to my problems were there in the scriptures.
From that time on, the scriptures have become very special to me, and I have learned to consult the scriptures whenever I have a problem. The Lord gave us the scriptures for our instruction and to comfort us when we are feeling low. They guide us along the right path.
Gilbert F. Ceniza, 19Tetuan Ward, Zamboanga StakePhilippines

I always looked forward to Primary activity day because it meant exciting activities, great games, and tasty treats. Sometimes the activities were serious and spiritual, and I liked those too, because I learned so much. But of all the great activities I went to, I remember one more than any other.
At 10:00 on the dot that Saturday, I showed up at church, along with the rest of the Primary-age children in my ward. After an opening prayer, a song, and a few instructions, we split into groups. I followed my group into a classroom and was surprised to find a large piece of green-and-white-checked fabric and a piece of solid green fabric, with a layer of fluffy stuff in between. It was all stretched out and tacked to some boards. Nearby were yarn and big needles. “A quilt,” I thought. “Who would be tying a quilt right in the middle of our Primary activity?”
“We are all going to help tie this quilt for someone in the ward who isn’t feeling well,” one of our Primary leaders explained. “After it’s finished, we’ll give it to her.”
“What a great idea!” I thought. When I’m having a hard time, I enjoy wrapping up in a nice warm blanket. But I wondered how well it would turn out since I had never tied a quilt and was pretty sure the rest of the Primary hadn’t either.
Then the Primary president announced who would receive the quilt—my own lucky mom! I was even more excited to try my hardest so the quilt would look nice.
My mom had been very ill all month. In fact, Grandma had to stay with us for a while because Mom was so sick she couldn’t take care of us. She had to be released from her Primary calling too. Even though Mom’s illness wasn’t easy for our family, something good was going to happen. I would have a baby brother!
With the help of our leaders, we set to work. Even though I wondered if we could really do it, we tied that quilt. Everyone made a stitch or two. Then we each wrote a message, signed our name, or drew a picture in a book that went along with the quilt. I knew what we were doing would mean a lot to Mom because she told me how much she loved and missed all the children in Primary. And the person who bought the fabric must have been inspired, because green is Mom’s favorite color.
Tying the quilt wasn’t hard, but keeping quiet about it sure was. A few weeks later, the secret was finally revealed. On a sunny Sunday morning during singing time, we all walked a block from the church and around the corner to my backyard. We sat on the lawn and waited while one of our leaders knocked on the door.
You can probably guess that when Mom stepped outside and saw all the children gathered, she cried. She cried even more when we sang some of our favorite Primary songs in our best voices. Then the Primary president presented the finished quilt and the book of messages.
“Your singing was beautiful,” Mom said through her tears. “This is one of the nicest things that has ever happened to me.” I knew she meant it. She smiled and cried some more and said that she was going to go inside, wrap up in the quilt, and read every message we had written.
Mom still has that quilt, and I know she always will. It has a few extra long loops of yarn on the back where some of the stitches weren’t pulled all the way through. Mom says that makes it even more special. To this day, when someone in the family is sick or has a bad day, nothing makes us feel better than wrapping up in the memories and warmth of what we affectionately call the “Primary quilt.”

Illustration by Dan Burr
My siblings and I always wanted a horse. When I was about 9 or 10 years old, my dad bought a beautiful black mare. We named her Yancy. We were so excited to have this horse, but she hadn’t been trained to be ridden. We were too young to do all the hard work it takes to train a horse, so my dad asked a friend who knew a lot about horses to help train Yancy.
We often went to the pasture to see Yancy. We couldn’t wait for the day we could ride her. But no matter how hard anyone tried, no one could train Yancy. She was too stubborn. We were never able to ride her.
One day my dad’s friend tried to ride her in a parade. As Yancy and her rider were going down the road, Yancy bucked the rider off and started to run through the city. Yancy ran so wildly that she cut her leg on a fire hydrant. I chased after Yancy and found her lying in the street in pain.
I was sad. We loved Yancy. If she had been obedient to the trainer, she could have become a happy horse with a wonderful life. But Yancy wouldn’t listen to and follow her master. Instead she was now injured and lying in the street.
Yancy’s story taught me of the blessings that come when we follow the Master, our Savior Jesus Christ. When we are kind and gentle and humble, we can be happy as we let the Savior lead us.

My dad is 6?8? (203 cm) and is a great basketball player! His interest in sports started when he was young. Every chance he got he was out playing with neighborhood and school friends. There was always a ball in his hands or a ball at his feet.
In high school, he made the basketball team all three years, always working super hard. Because of his efforts, he was offered basketball scholarships to several colleges. He accepted one from a junior college and played for two years.
He was then offered basketball scholarships to some major colleges. That’s when he had to make one of the hardest decisions of his life—either to accept one of the scholarships or to go on a mission. He tells us he decided that he could always play basketball, but if he didn’t go on a mission then, he would probably never go. So he turned in his mission papers and was called to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. He worked hard for the Lord and loved it.
When he returned he played for BYU–Hawaii for one year, then decided that he wanted to move back home. He met and married my mother, Caroline, and our family now consists of four children. He loves us dearly and is happy about the choice he made. He still loves to play basketball with his children.
My dad is my hero. If it weren’t for the choices he made, our family might not be the same. He had the chance of a lifetime but chose the route that would lead to eternal happiness. I love my dad, and I am so happy he went on a mission and got married in the temple. He will always be an all-star in my eyes.

Ever since Marcus got his CTR ring, he was determined to choose the right. It wasn’t always easy. A hard choice came when his mother told him he was going to get to see his grandmother. Marcus’s grandmother lived far away, so he didn’t get to see her very often.
When he saw his best friend, Ramon, at school, Marcus said, “I’ve got some great news!”
“I do too,” Ramon said. He handed Marcus an envelope. “Open it!”
“First let me tell you my news,” Marcus said. “My grandmother is coming from England! We get to see her!”
“That’s super!” Ramon said. “When is she coming?”
“Friday night. But we can only visit her at the airport because she’s on her way to help my aunt with her new baby.”
Marcus quickly opened Ramon’s envelope. “You’re having a party!” he exclaimed. “I can’t wait. When is it?” Marcus read the invitation, and his face fell. “Oh no! It’s Friday.”
Ramon shrugged. “That’s OK. I understand why you can’t come.”
“But I want to come. What should I do?” Marcus asked.
“I guess you need to make a choice,” Ramon said. “Let me know what you decide.” Ramon waved and ran to class.
When Marcus got home from school, he sat on the front step, flipping a coin.
“What are you doing?” Mom asked, sitting down beside him. Marcus handed her the party invitation.
“I’m sure Grandmother will understand if you can’t come to the airport,” Mom said.
“But I want to see her,” Marcus said. He looked at his CTR ring. “What do you think is the right thing to do?” he asked.
“They are both good things to do,” Mom said. “In this case, it’s a matter of which is the best thing to do. But I don’t think flipping a coin is going to help. Have you prayed about it?”
“Yes. I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to tell me what to do, but He didn’t. Why won’t He just tell me?”
“Maybe He wants you to figure it out for yourself first,” Mom said. “Then He will tell you through the Holy Ghost if you’ve made a good decision.”
“But how can I figure it out?”
“Follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost. He can help you make the choice between two good things.”
The next day at school Marcus told Ramon what his mother had said. “Won’t you feel sad if I don’t come to your party?” Marcus asked.
“Of course,” Ramon said. “But won’t you feel sad if you miss seeing your grandmother? If you came to my party, you might wish you were at the airport.”
“And if I go to the airport, I might wish I was at the party.” Marcus sighed. “I guess I need to think about it more.”
That night Marcus stood on Ramon’s front porch, holding a present. He rang the doorbell. Ramon answered the door.
“What’s this?” Ramon asked. “My party isn’t until tomorrow.”
Marcus took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m sorry that I won’t be able to come to your party, Ramon. I brought your gift early. Happy birthday!”
Ramon smiled and took the gift. “Thanks! I’m glad you’ll get to see your grandmother.”
“Me too,” Marcus said.
“Can you stay for a while?” Ramon asked. “We’re frosting cupcakes, and we could use your help.”
“Now that’s an easy choice to make,” Marcus said, and headed straight for the kitchen.

I’m 12 now! My birthday was pretty crazy because it was also the last performance for the play. I only forgot one line! So today was Sunday, and I had my first meeting as part of the Beehive presidency. We talked about what we can do to help Sara feel comfortable at church. I had no idea. Then I remembered what the bishop said when he set me apart for my new calling. He said that God would help me know the needs of the girls in my class. When I remembered that, I had an idea of an activity that Sara might like.
Sara loved our activity on Wednesday and even came to church today! Travis and Luke are both passing the sacrament now. I think I understand what Dad meant about all of us having different jobs. We use priesthood power in different ways, but we all serve each other.

Elizabeth Fetzer Bates, a piano teacher and the mother of six children, became totally blind in 1951. She accepted her blindness as a challenge and decided that she would learn to do everything that she could. She said, “I wrote ‘Pioneer Children’ because we are all pioneers—we’ve never been in today before.”
In 1969, she wrote “Book of Mormon Stories” because she loves the Book of Mormon and is grateful for America.
She thinks that children like this song because it is simple and true.
Sister Bates still teaches piano lessons, and she believes that everyone should write a song. “Heavenly Father has created so many lovely things that we should sing as we walk along! We can always be happy if we remember to be grateful.”

At one of the stake conferences to which I was assigned, a home teacher was invited to be a speaker at the general session on Sunday morning. He began by telling about a man who accidentally fell into the waters of the Niagara River some distance above the falls. As he was carried downstream by the current, he called out repeatedly, “Which way to shore? Which way to shore?” There were people along the banks on both sides of the river who saw and heard this man but they were slow to act. They noticed that he could swim and was keeping himself afloat, so they concluded that he was engaged in some kind of a publicity stunt and gave him no further attention. However, when he reached the point where he was precariously close to the falls some of the people along the banks went into action and tried to get ropes to him to pull him from the water. But they had waited too long and he went over the brink of the falls and was killed. When his body was recovered and identification made, the horizons of those along the banks of the river were pushed back and their understandings improved and increased. Yes, the man could swim, but he could not swim with purpose or direction because he was blind.

Hal nevertheless completed his degree in physics in 1955 before entering the U.S. Air Force. The Korean War had recently ended, and the number of young men called as full-time missionaries from each ward had been restricted. For a period of time the Mission Home in Salt Lake City was closed, and no missionaries went into the field. In a blessing, however, his bishop promised him that his military service would be his mission. Two weeks after arriving at the Sandia Base near Albuquerque, New Mexico, Hal was called as a district missionary in the Western States Mission—a calling he fulfilled in evenings and on weekends during the two years he was in the military.

I ended up in the Orient, flying the same kind of bombers that my brother flew in England. My mission, as it turned out, was in teaching the gospel in Japan as a serviceman.
Perhaps the hardest challenge of war is living with uncertainties, not knowing how it will end or if we can go ahead with our lives.
I was issued a small serviceman’s Book of Mormon that would fit into my pocket. I carried it everywhere; I read it; and it became part of me. Things that had been a question became certain to me.
The certainties of the gospel, the truth, once you understand it, will see you through these difficult times.
It was four years before we could return to our lives. But I had learned and had a sure testimony that God is our Father, that we are His children, and that the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is true.

Several years ago in Osaka, Japan, I received a telephone call from one of the Japanese officers of the Church requesting an appointment. I invited him to my hotel room and there listened to one of the most intelligent and articulate young men I had ever met.
He was a college graduate. He had majored in a special field of science and was employed by a stable, conservative corporation. One of his classmates, who had been at the top of the graduating class in the same field, was employed by a young, progressive firm in Tokyo. Several times in recent months this classmate had tried to entice his friend to change jobs. One of the vice-presidents of the firm in Tokyo made contact with the Church member, saying he could set his own salary at three or four times what he was then making.
The response was, “If there is the slightest question in the minds of the officers of my church about my leaving Osaka, which would require my being released from my Church position, it doesn’t matter how much money you offer me, I will have no interest in your proposal.” The vice-president replied, “I am not a Christian. I know nothing about your religion, but you are the kind of man I want in my organization.”
Should he move from Osaka to Tokyo, which would require his release from his Church assignment? Of course, I assured him that he could serve the Lord in Tokyo as well as in Osaka.
He moved to Tokyo. Later, while visiting that city, I received another call from the same man. We visited for quite some time. He had become extremely successful. He had broadened his experiences and was now a consultant teaching top management personnel in major corporations how to operate their companies. His time was in great demand. He was earning a large income. But he was neglecting his Church work and his family responsibilities.
I told him I wouldn’t tell him what he should do, but that there was a scripture that would tell him if he truly was converted: “But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matt. 6:33.) I sensed that this scripture might have caused a little antagonism; however, we parted as good friends.
A few weeks after I returned home, I received a letter from him. He said he had his priorities straightened out. He had resigned from the company. His first priority now would be his family and the Church, and his second priority would be employment. Setting priorities and then reviewing them to see that we are not straying is one of the most valuable lessons we can learn.

As a young man just nineteen years old, Joseph F. Smith was traveling from California to Utah with a small group of Latter-day Saints. As they set up camp one evening, a group of drunken men rode into their camp on horseback. The men had guns, and they threatened to kill any Mormons who came across their path. Some of the Saints hid in the bushes by the creek. Joseph F. Smith, who had been gathering wood, boldly approached the fire. One of the drunken men, pointing his pistol at Joseph, said that it was his duty to kill every Mormon he met. He then demanded, “Are you a ‘Mormon’?”

Without a pause, Joseph F. Smith looked the ruffian in the eye and answered, “Yes, siree; dyed in the wool; true blue, through and through.” The angry man was so surprised by Joseph’s honest answer that he grabbed Joseph’s hand and said, “Well, you are the … pleasantest man I ever met! Shake, young fellow. I am glad to see a man that stands up for his convictions.” The drunken men then rode off and did not bother the Saints again. (Life of Joseph F. Smith, Joseph Fielding Smith, pages 188–189.)

[In the evening, CATHERINE ANN and MATTHEW manage to get together down by the swings, where they talk of the Order, life on the “outside,” and what people really need.]
MATTHEW: Everything you really need you can get right out of the Order storehouse.
CATHERINE ANN: People need lots of things besides food and a roof over their heads. At least I do.
MATTHEW: Like what?
CATHERINE ANN: Like lots of things. Like—
[She sings.]
A little lace on the curtains,
A rug in every room,
Floors you can see your face in,
And soap that smells of perfume.
MATTHEW: Our soap don’t smell too bad—if you use it quick.
CATHERINE ANN:
A few lovely things
That belong just to her—
A girl can hardly do without.
Oh, I need—yes, I need—
A few things I don’t really need.
A music box in the bedroom,
Little pink flowers on the plates,
Plenty of sugar in the cellar,
And ivy growing up the gate.
MATTHEW: There’s pumpkin vines all over the vats at the tannery.
CATHERINE ANN:
People have got to be different at times;
They’re not just like cattle or sheep.
We each need a piece
Of something in this world,
To choose for ourself,
And use for ourself—
That’s our very own thing to keep.
I need some—
Shoes with silver buckles
That click and glitter and shine.
A bonnet with bows and ribbons,
And a dining room that’s all mine.
MATTHEW: If you go at five in the morning, there’s hardly anybody there.
CATHERINE ANN:
A few lovely things
That belong just to her—
A girl can hardly do without.
Oh, I need—yes, I need—
A few things I don’t really need.
And do you know what else I need, Matthew? Need so bad it hurts?
MATTHEW: What?
CATHERINE ANN: A piano. Oh, a piano! Ever since I was a little girl, I dreamed of having one. I remember there was a little place on our kitchen table that was broken. And when I’d plunk it, it was just like a piano key. I used to sit there for hours. Plunk. Plunk. Mama always said I could have one someday, but things kept getting worse. And then she died.
MATTHEW: I’m sorry.
CATHERINE ANN: That’s all right. Only, Matthew, a person needs a little beauty in his life.
MATTHEW [looking at her dreamily]: I hope you get it, Catherine Ann. Your piano. I hope you do. [The bugle sounds “O Ye Mountains High.”] Well—
CATHERINE ANN: Do they sound the bugle if you’re in the swings too long?
MATTHEW [laughing]: No.
CATHERINE ANN: Well, they do for everything else.
MATTHEW [as they start out]: Only for gettin’ up, going to prayer, eatin’ breakfast, going to work, eatin’ dinner, going to evenin’ prayer, and going to bed.
CATHERINE ANN: Oh. Is that all?
[As Act Two opens CATHERINE ANN has been placed in charge of setting the tables in the common dining hall. After seeing the condition of the old tablecloths, she has requested some new ones. MATTHEW’s father, EZRA, has just explained to her that the Order is low on funds and must go slow on purchases for awhile. MATTHEW is also present.]
CATHERINE ANN: But I didn’t ask for lace or even linen. Just something white and clean that doesn’t have years of stains and spots.
MATTHEW [hesitantly]: Maybe you could teach the girls to set the tables so as to cover up the spots?
CATHERINE ANN [exploding]: Matthew Cooper, you don’t know anything! You can’t just make do all your life.
EZRA: Now, Catherine Ann, coverings for a table can’t be all that important.
CATHERINE ANN: For some, no. For others, yes. That’s what’s wrong with the Order, Brother Cooper. It doesn’t make allowance for the fact that everybody is different. And the Lord must have meant them to be different. One person’ll have no use in the world for a thing, and without it the soul of the next person’ll just wither up. We’ve got to have some room to be different, some right to a little different step if we want. We’ve got to!
EZRA [after a moment’s pause]: I can’t say you’re wrong, Catherine Ann. But then I can’t say you’re entirely right, either. ’Scuse me. Think I’m needed inside. [He goes into the house.]
[MATTHEW goes to CATHERINE ANN.]
CATHERINE ANN [throwing her arms around him]: Oh, Matthew, let’s go away. Please.
MATTHEW: Leave the Order? Oh, I couldn’t.
CATHERINE ANN: It wouldn’t be a sin. There’s lots of good Saints that don’t have to live the United Order.
MATTHEW [seriously]: But I do, Catherine Ann. I have to.
CATHERINE ANN [turning away]: You’re just like your sheep!
You don’t even have a mind of your own.
MATTHEW: Yes, I do. I said I have to live the Order. But also, I want to.
CATHERINE ANN: Why?
MATTHEW: Catherine Ann, don’t you think I’d like for you to have a piano? I’d like it very much. But I believe in what we’re trying to do down here, even though there’s a lot of hurt goes along with it. It’s wonderful to know that you live where nobody takes advantage of his neighbor. And that if you’ve got enough to eat, then he does too. And that there’s nobody whose feet freeze ’cause he’s got no stockings. That’s something, Catherine Ann. It’s not a piano, but it is something.
CATHERINE ANN [desperately]:You can do it, Matthew. I—I can’t.
[CATHERINE ANN runs off.MATTHEW goes a few steps after her, then stops.] [Later on CATHERINE ANN and her father are alone.]
CATHERINE ANN: Oh, Papa! Papa, why do we love people that we shouldn’t love?
BROTHER RUSSELL: I don’t think that’s possible, Catherine Ann. Sometimes we love them in ways, maybe, that we shouldn’t—ways that hurt us and them too.
CATHERINE ANN: I embarrassed him awful, Papa. And in front of everybody.
BROTHER RUSSELL [stroking her hair]: Oh, oh.
CATHERINE ANN: I didn’t mean to. Yes I did. [She gets up.] And I told them I was leaving Orderville. Said I was never coming back.
BROTHER RUSSELL: Catherine Ann, I’ve been thinking. Maybe you ought to leave.
CATHERINE ANN: What?
BROTHER RUSSELL: For a while. Help you get your mind sorted out—and your heart.
CATHERINE ANN: But where?
BROTHER RUSSELL: Salt Lake City. In fact, I’ve written your Uncle Alfred about it. I know you’ve been unhappy here. And I don’t like to see that.
CATHERINE ANN: But I couldn’t leave you—not feeling well like you are.
BROTHER RUSSELL: I’m better. I am. And the thing that’d perk me up more’n anything would be knowing that my girl was happy.
CATHERINE ANN: What’d Uncle Alfred say?
BROTHER RUSSELL: Said they’d be pleased to have you. They got a nice home up there, you know.
CATHERINE ANN: I remember. And a beautiful parlor, with a—a piano.
BROTHER RUSSELL: Bet you’d have a wonderful time. Only once in a while, when you’re sitting there playing your piano, I’d like you to remember something.
CATHERINE ANN: What, Papa?
BROTHER RUSSELL: Eternity’s a long time. Bet it’s long enough to learn how to play the piano and the violin and the accordion, and a dozen other instruments if you wanted. But the Lord sort of earmarked this earth life for one special learning to come first. And that’s learning how to play yourself. How well you learn that, Catherine Ann, determines the kind of tunes you’ll be playin’ for a long, long time.
CATHERINE ANN [hugs him]: I’ll remember. I’ll miss you, Papa. But I’ll be back in the spring.
BROTHER RUSSELL: I’ll miss you too.
CATHERINE ANN: Oh, Papa. How come life hurts so much?
BROTHER RUSSELL: Don’t know. One hurt passes, then another comes. But so do the joys. Reckon the hurt you’ve got now is called growing up. That’s one of the worst.
CATHERINE ANN: Must be. It’s way down deep, where I never felt anything before. Guess you learn a lot in growing up. [She sings.]
So long ago I used to muse
Within a childish wonder deep,
And ask myself with great concern
Do weeping willows really weep?
And when I went to school to learn
Those things one learns to make one wise,
I thought, How foolish! Trees don’t weep,
For weeping things have tearful eyes.
But now that I have tasted more
Of learning than the wise men taught,
I sit again beneath my tree
With wisdom much more dearly bought.
My eyes are pale, blue-desert dry,
As with the swaying leaves I sigh:
Oh, foolish they who cannot see
The weeping of the willow tree—
The weeping of the tree—
And me.
[BROTHER RUSSELL goes to her, puts an arm around her, and together they go into the house.]

The American Young Men and Young Women living in Bonn, Germany, hosted a night of Halloween activities for their German, Spanish, French, English, and Filipino friends.
“We gave a workshop called ‘How to Carve a Jack-o’-lantern,’” says Terri Lutz, a Laurel who helped to plan the activity.
Since carving pumpkins is an American tradition, most of the youth had never even heard of it, much less done it.
“As they plunged their hands inside the pumpkin to scoop the ‘goop’ out, you could tell that some of them were questioning this strange American tradition,” says Terri.
After the pumpkins were carved and everyone had a chance to clean up, they ate—what else?—pumpkin cookies and pumpkin bread!
The activity helped bring the youth closer together, says Terri. “We were able to overcome the language barrier and enjoy one another’s company.”

The morning of 18 May 1980 stands out vividly in Elder Shirley Dean Christensen’s memory. It began as a beautiful, sunny spring day. But by noon the skies over Royal City, Washington, were black, and the once-green fields and orchards were covered in ash. Mount Saint Helens, about 150 miles (240 km) west of Royal City, had erupted.
During the next few days, Elder Christensen watched in horror as the ash-laden trees in his orchards dropped much of their precious fruit. He thought the impact of the catastrophe on his apple-growing business would be devastating.
But the remaining apples were of excellent quality, and the thinning of the fruit had actually benefited his crop. “The Lord really did protect our crop,” he says. “That turned out to be one of the most productive years we’ve ever had.” He links that blessing to his family’s faithful payment of tithing and to their desire to obey the Lord’s commandments. The experience also taught him that adversity sometimes brings blessings in unexpected ways.