Gospel Story Finder

The young women of the Stevensville Montana Stake wanted to do more than just camp at their last girls’ camp; they also wanted to do some good. Reaching out to needy children around the world, the young women put together 72 hygiene kits and gathered around 250 toys and stuffed animals to be distributed by LDS Humanitarian Services.
This project helped the girls realize how blessed they are to have what they have. Many talked of wanting to do more and said they were grateful that the Church has the ability to send these items to people who are truly in need.

Dirk crossed the cobblestone street. Only ten more vranken, he thought, and I’ll have enough. He turned the corner at Kerkstraat and looked down the row of houses and the black iron fences enclosing the small front yards. The terrace houses behind them were typical of many other Belgian houses. They were three and four stories high, all joined together to form one long building.
Dirk opened the gate of house number 27 and rang the bell. Last year when he was here he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach it. But now that he had grown some, he could ring it easily.
The bell tinkled softly inside. A window opened overhead and an old woman called down. “Oh, good afternoon, Dirk. Kom binnen (come in).”
“Good afternoon, Mevrouw Peeters,” he greeted her when he had climbed to the third floor. She handed him a shopping list and some money.
Dirk ran many errands for Mevrouw Peeters to the groentemarkt (vegetable market), to the bakkerij (bakery) and to many other shops. Each week she gave him five vranken. On his errands Dirk usually passed his favorite store, a sports shop, where he stopped to gaze intently in the window.
The shiny, white soccer ball was still there—the one he’d been saving for all year. Winter would soon come to the northern Belgian town where he lived, but that would not stop him from playing his favorite sport. Each time he passed the store he was a little afraid to look for fear the ball might have been sold.
After my errand today I’ll only need five more vranken, he thought.
Dirk delivered the aardappelen (potatoes) and bloemkool (cauliflower), to Mevrouw Peeters. Looking at the coin in his hand, he imagined himself kicking his soccer ball high in the air for a goal.
He rushed home to count his money. Sure enough, two hundred vranken. “Surely waiting until next week to pay tithing won’t make that much difference,” Dirk told himself. He ran down the stairs and out the front door. The soccer ball would soon be his!
But as Dirk skipped along, he remembered how careful Mama and Papa were to pay their tithing the first thing whenever they received any money. “We always manage,” Mama often said. And Papa truly meant it when he said, “We have been blessed in many ways, and we have a good feeling in our hearts when we do as the Lord commands us. We are grateful to be able to contribute our share to help with the Lord’s work.”
Dirk stopped. The sporting goods store was just around the corner. In his imagination he already held the soccer ball. But a feeling even stronger than his longing for the soccer ball made him turn quickly around and run home. He counted out the tithing he owed and put it in an envelope to give to the branch president on Sunday.
Several days later Dirk’s errand for Mevrouw Peeters took him in a different direction from his usual route, so he didn’t pass the sports shop. The following day when he went to Mevrouw Peeters’, she said, “I’ll need some more aardappelen today, Dirk. Will you get them for me?”
Dirk nodded and hurried off to the vegetable market.
Mijnheer Vandecasteele wrapped the two pounds of potatoes in some newspaper. “Do you have enough money saved for your soccer ball yet?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” replied Dirk with a wide grin, “I’ll have the five vranken I need.”
On the way back with the potatoes, he stopped to look in again at the sports shop window.
The soccer ball was gone!
Tears filled his eyes as he turned away from the shop in disappointment.
When Dirk reached Mevrouw Peeters’ house, she said, “Oh, Dirk, I forgot to have you get me three pompelmoezen (grapefruits). Could you go back to the market for me and I’ll pay you now instead of tomorrow?”
Dirk took the five vranken and started down the stairs. What good is the money now? The soccer ball is gone, he thought as he walked slowly back to the market.
As Dirk neared the sports shop his pace quickened. He started to turn his head away but something caught his eye. There was another soccer ball, a better one than he had ever seen before. And the price marked on it was not much more than the ball he’d been saving for. Before long he would have enough money to buy it.
He was glad now that he had paid his tithing instead of buying the other ball. But best of all was the good feeling he had.
Dirk ran up Kerkstraat so fast that he was almost out of breath when he handed the grapefruit to Mevrouw Peeters. “Boy! I’m glad I waited,” he said, half talking to himself.
“What?” asked the old woman, a puzzled look on her face.
“I have a good feeling just like Papa said,” Dirk explained. And he ran happily down the stairs.

Just as a simple picture allowed Christ to enter into one family’s Christmas traditions, a few notes of music have strengthened another family’s feelings about Christmas.
The Pikes, of Holladay, Utah, have made music an integral part of their lives, and of their Christmases, by producing an annual concert for friends and families in the East Millcreek (Utah) Eleventh Ward.
“Music has a very strong part in my life,” says 18-year-old Emily Pike, who has been helping her family put on the concert for two years. “We think of the Christmas program as a gift that shows the people in the ward how much we love them.”
Emily has found that singing and listening to the words of a hymn or choral music invite the Spirit to dwell inside her. She says that her family tries to bring this feeling into everyone’s heart as they prepare their Christmas program.
“I have always felt the Spirit more strongly when I sing,” Emily says. “I’m able to get into the music more when I’m thinking of the words and what they mean to me. It brings out the life of Christ and helps me to remember what Christmas is really about.”
“You learn to love the music, and you just feel so much happiness, and you feel Christ’s love with you [when you sing].”
As Emily joins her family this season to sing hymns about our Savior, she knows she will be blessed. She also knows that her Christmas will be more meaningful. Most of all, she knows that a short verse in the Doctrine and Covenants is true in her own life. “The song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12).

Six-year-old Catherine sang as she followed Joseph and his plow down the long brown furrows, dropping yellow kernels of corn into the newly turned soil.
Joseph called over his shoulder, “If Alvin doesn’t get back with some money, all that corn will go to the land agents. And from what I hear, they won’t share it with a cutworm or a crow or anything else.”
Catherine had heard her father talk about land agents, but she wasn’t sure just what they were. “What are land agents, Joseph?” she asked.
Her brother pulled the ox to a halt and explained, “They’re men who sell property. If there is a drought or your crops don’t sell and you can’t pay the mortgage money, they come and take the farm back.” Then he paused for a moment, remembering his father’s dawn-to-dark labor when they’d first cleared the land of trees to plant crops.
The whole family had helped tap the thousand sugar maple trees in the spring. Joseph also remembered the split-wood chairs and baskets and the straw brooms his father had made to sell to help pay for the farm. His father had even worked for other farmers to earn money. But still there wasn’t enough.
Catherine brought her brother back from his recollecting. “Are they going to take our farm, Joseph?”
“It looks like it, unless we can raise some more money. We’ve all helped. But it hasn’t been enough.” Joseph sighed as he slapped the reins against the rump of the ox. “I wish I could do something more.”
“You’ve been helping to clear trees and plowing and planting the corn and pumpkins. That’s a big help.
“Sure. But we need money. And we need it right away.”
Catherine let out a deep breath and sat down on the broken black earth. “Will we have to let the land agents take our farm?” she asked.
“ If we can’t pay all the mortgage money, we will. And the law supports them. But it just doesn’t seem right after we’ve spent two years clearing trees from 24 hectares of land and planting crops and building a four-room log house besides. They’d only turn around and sell it again for a lot of money, and we wouldn’t get anything for all the improvements we’ve made.”
Catherine understood now why some folks said the land agents were really land robbers.
Young Joseph looked into the open window of the house. His mother was just lifting the lid on the cooking pot in the fireplace. She left the stew sputtering against the pot lid as she called to her family, “Supper’s ready!”
Later after supper, Joseph’s father, as always, felt for his spectacles. When his hand found the lower right-hand pocket of his vest, that was the signal for a reading from the Bible and for family prayer.
That night the family had an extra long prayer. Father Smith thanked Heavenly Father for his “mercy which endureth forever.” Then he pleaded for help in somehow obtaining the money that was needed. When all members of the family had added their amen, they sang the usual hymn:
The song was interrupted by a loud knock. Mr. Smith opened the door and invited a neighbor from down the road to come in.
“Thank you, Joseph. I came to ask if you’d let me hire one of your boys for a few days. I need to dig a well.”
Alvin was away working and young Joseph knew his father needed Hyrum to help cut trees. “I could do it, sir,” he said eagerly.
His father smiled. “Joseph’s able. He’ll give you a good day’s work for a day’s pay.”
“I know your boys are good workers. They’ve worked alongside their father until they’re better than most men. That’s why I’m here. Young Joseph will be fine.”
Joseph was so happy that he had to take a big breath to keep from shouting out loud: “The Lord is surely opening up the way. We will get the money we need. I’m sure of it.” He was so sure that he wasn’t a bit surprised when Alvin arrived home a few days later with the money he had earned. Just the same, it was a tense moment when the whole family gathered to count their savings. Is it enough? they wondered.
Joseph held his breath as the money was counted. It was enough; they had enough. Tears and laughter mingled as they realized that Alvin’s earnings added to what Joseph and the others had been able to raise would save their farm!

First, how can we teach our families to sacrifice? My grandfather Isaac Jacob was a great example to me. Grandpa was a sheep rancher who sent four sons on missions. During the Depression, it became my mother’s opportunity to serve, and she received her call to Canada.

Grandpa’s situation became critical when he was called in by his bank and asked just what was the $50 a month going out for Mom’s mission. He had taken out a loan and was paying a high rate of 12 percent interest. The bankers were not satisfied and told him to bring Mom home from her mission.

The following day Grandpa gave his answer: “If that girl comes home, the sheep are yours—and I’ll bring them right up to your door.” This caught the bankers by surprise. They were already using Grandpa to care for other sheep outfits which they had acquired, and they would have no one else to take care of all those sheep. Mom completed her mission, and Grandpa’s example taught his family the importance of sacrifice.

A dance festival? Sharon Leo had never seen one, and now she was invited to dance in one. An 18-year-old nonmember living in central Utah, Sharon had been around Mormons all of her life. Now her friend Jolynne Taylor of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake had asked Sharon to join her in a five-stake dance festival to be held in the huge BYU Marriott Center. With reservations, Sharon accepted.

Rehearsals occupied every Saturday morning for months as Sharon found herself practicing square dances, Swiss polkas, disco numbers, karate exercise numbers, Greek line dances, the English quadrille (her specialty), and many other dances with 600 fathers, mothers, young adults, teens, and children. Sharon’s view of Mormonism began to expand as she met new people and made more friends.

While the entire cast struggled to learn dances together, the rehearsals didn’t all go smoothly. Mary Kay Kelly, 14, of the Orem Utah South Central Stake, remembered, “We never could get the Danish dance to work right—but the last night we had a prayer and it went perfectly.”

Then there were the costumes to make. While Sharon was struggling to put in a zipper and get the length of her costume correct, others were also sewing like crazy—especially where whole families were participating. Cori Dawn Anderson, 16, of the Orem Utah Sharon West Stake, commented, “Being in the dance festival as a whole family was a good experience. The hardest part was making seven costumes in two weeks. But with everyone helping and sewing in their spare time, we got them all finished. It was really fun, and despite all the work, it was worth it.”

During the rush of practices and costume making, Sharon Leo began taking the missionary discussions.

As Sharon grew in gospel knowledge, the dance festival grew in excitement among its participants. Bishops, stake presidents, and high council members responded to the challenge to participate and brought their families. Miriam Abegg, 17, whose father is on the Orem Utah West Central Stake high council said, “The dance festival was fantastic! I could feel that the Lord’s Spirit was with us during our performance. And I enjoyed practicing with my family. It helped me to see my dad with different eyes—enjoying square dancing, whirling and throwing my mom and us kids up in the air. It was a lot of work, but it was fun to work with other people—especially my own family, even though my brother did drop me on the floor one time.”

Suddenly, the day of the performance was upon them. Between the final dress rehearsal and the evening performance, a different kind of event took place. As Sharon’s family, friends, missionaries, teachers, and priesthood administrators watched, she stepped into the waters of baptism. Jolynne’s father performed the baptism, and Jolynne’s mother accompanied the hymns at the piano. Jolynne waited at the top of the baptismal steps to be the first to give Sharon a hug of fellowship. It was a beautiful time of reverence in an exciting day.

The dance performance filled the evening. As the Marriott Center darkened, over 6,000 spectators sat waiting. Suddenly the lights flashed on to the throb of Star Wars music, and the youth and their families began a spectacular show complete with bright lights, colorful costumes, and exciting dances. The dance numbers that had been such stumbling blocks—difficult to learn, difficult to find music for—suddenly were magnificent. The costumes, made mostly from donated materials, looked professional. The organization and technical details, so ragged in rehearsal, suddenly ran smoothly and professionally.

As Joycelynn Demaree, the costume chairman, remarked, “There were so many little miracles and acts of faith that took place during the putting on of the festival. It was a lot of hard work, but to see the whole thing come together was worth every minute of the thousands of hours involved.”

As a friend and I were completing the virtue value project for Personal Progress, we read the Book of Mormon at school during breaks. Our teacher and our classmates began to make fun of us. At times I wanted to stop reading, but I simply could not leave my scriptures at home. We continued to read at school, and over time we weren’t made fun of anymore. One of our friends became interested in the gospel and in Personal Progress. We gave her the booklet and a triple combination, and since then we have been telling her about the gospel. Her brother also became interested in the gospel. They are both reading the Book of Mormon.
Kimberly A., age 16, Brazil

When she was younger, Céline would go to summer camp, as most French children do. “They would offer a week of training in first aid, and I would always sign up,” she remembers. The classes were usually held at the local Red Cross. “At the end of the course, the monitors would always ask if anyone would like to attend some Red Cross meetings and see a little bit how it works,” Céline continues. “So I went for about two months to see what it was like, and I joined. I started getting more and more training and passing more and more tests.”

Now she’s as qualified in first aid as the sapeurs-pompiers, firefighters the French call when there’s an emergency.

“My desire from the first was to be able to help other people, to bless Heavenly Father’s children, to be prepared in case of an accident,” Céline says. Her Personal Progress program helped her refine that desire. “I set the goal to learn first aid before I turned 19,” she says. She met her goal and found she wanted to share what she was learning.

“I didn’t think of it as a talent until I got into it and saw that it comes quite naturally to me,” she continues. “Before, I had asked myself, ‘What can I do to help others?’ For me, first aid is a way of doing that.”

Not only does she help by being trained herself; she is also training others. She has taught first aid at Mutual activities, youth conferences, and girls’ camps. She also volunteers at a small Red Cross center in the basement of a local housing complex. There she teaches cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR), answers the phone, and attends to cuts and bruises of neighborhood children. They come to her as much for a hug as for a bandage.

“I’m in my final year of high school,” Céline says. “And first aid is helpful there, too. Even in school, people fall down, break a bone, or have some kind of sickness. Someone might even have epilepsy and go into a seizure. A lot of people don’t know how to react. But I know what to do. I’ve developed my skills for exactly that reason.”

Through the Red Cross, Céline is also deeply involved in feeding and caring for the homeless. “Government agencies, shelters, churches, and charities often refer people to the Red Cross,” Céline explains. “People who drink too much or have other problems don’t nourish themselves well, and so they often become weak, especially during cold weather. We dress them, nurse them, try to give them another chance.”

That may sound ambitious, but for Céline helping others is more than a desire—it’s a way of life. “They are Heavenly Father’s children,” she says. “That means they’re our brothers and sisters. If we can make an effort to get them back on their feet, we ought to.”

Of course, if there were a major natural disaster—a flood or an earthquake, for example—the Red Cross would be there, too. “Not long ago in Paris, terrorist bombs were exploding,” Céline remembers. “The Red Cross was there, helping take care of those with minor injuries and getting others ready to go to the hospital.”

Doesn’t all that volunteering take a lot of time? “I suppose it does,” Céline says matter-of-factly. She’s busy with Church activities, school assignments, quizzes, finding time for friends—the usual stuff.

“But I would prefer to give up a little of my own time rather than see someone else suffer,” she says. “Besides, it helps me feel useful. I know I’m good for something, that I serve a purpose.”

That’s the real reason why nearly everyone says bonjour when Céline walks down the street. She isn’t a Pied Piper; she’s a people person. She helps children of all ages overcome the skinned knees of life. She’s popular because she cares, because people know of her good works, and because, since all are children of God, she loves everyone. That love, quite clearly, flows back to her.

Valeria Pontelli of Río Gallegos, Santa Cruz, Argentina, didn’t set out to convert her friend. She simply lived her standards with conviction. Because she is a member of the Church, there were certain things she did and certain things she didn’t do, and all her friends knew it. One of those friends was Paula Alvarez, who always watched Valeria closely and was impressed with how faithfully and consistently she lived her beliefs.
Paula had a wonderful family, but they didn’t have the gospel—at least not until Valeria came on the scene. Paula remembers, “Valeria was not ashamed of the testimony she had. She knew who she was. She knew she was a daughter of a royal and eternal King, a daughter of God.”
That knowledge and confidence impressed Paula’s uncle, Moises. He began investigating the Church and meeting with the missionaries. The day he announced he was getting baptized, Paula was a little shocked. She hadn’t expected her uncle to be willing to make such big changes in his life.
The whole family was invited to the baptism, but Paula was hesitant to attend. She didn’t know what to expect. Finally, her family convinced her to accompany them to her uncle’s baptism. Paula remembers, “As we witnessed my uncle entering the waters of baptism, the Spirit touched my heart. The impact was deep, even undeniable. In that moment I also wanted to commit myself to God and do whatever He might ask of me.”
“May I speak to you?” Paula said, pulling Valeria aside. “I felt something special at my uncle’s baptism,” she explained quietly.
Valeria told her friend she had felt the promptings of the Spirit. “He’s telling you that you need to follow your uncle’s example.”
“But I can’t do it alone,” said Paula.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you,” assured her friend. Before long, Paula and her whole family were meeting with the missionaries and accepting the invitation to be baptized. Their lives changed forever.

While serving as a mission president in Ghana, Elder Robert C. Gay received an impression one day to stop and help a crying boy. Initially, he ignored that impression but later sent a Church member to find and bring the boy to him.
Elder Gay, sustained a member of the Presidency of the Seventy on March 31, 2018, learned that the boy sold dried fish for his caretaker. That day the boy had lost his earnings through a hole in his pocket.
“If he returned without the money, he would be called a liar, most likely beaten, and then cast out onto the street,” Elder Gay said. “We calmed his fear, replaced his loss, and took him home to his caretaker.”
As he explained in the October 2012 general conference, that experience taught Elder Gay two great truths: “First, I knew as never before that God is mindful of each of us and will never forsake us; and second, I knew that we must always hearken to the voice of the Spirit within us and go ‘straightway’ wherever it takes us, regardless of our fears or any inconvenience.”

Kelly wanted another piece. She knew that it was wrong. She knew that she had promised not to take any. But butter toffee was her favorite candy, and since it was too expensive for her allowance and too hard for her to make by herself, she just couldn’t think of another way to get any more.
She watched her sister, Sondra, back out of the driveway and head down the street. Sondra wouldn’t be back from her job until late.
Kelly shut out of her mind everything but the heavenly taste of butter toffee. Stealthily she opened her bedroom door, peered down the hall, then slipped quickly across the hall and into her sister’s room. Sondra had told Kelly that she was going to trust her to keep her promise to not take any more candy. But quickly, and as quietly as she could, Kelly opened Sondra’s drawer and lifted up the pile of sweaters. There it was, the pretty gold box with elegant, raised black letters: “Maxworth’s Famous Butter Toffee.” Kelly lifted the lid. The smell overwhelmed her, making her mouth water.
I’ll just take one piece, she told herself, choosing the biggest piece that she could find, then rearranging the others to hide the empty spot. Putting everything back as she had found it, Kelly tiptoed to her room and shut the door.
Sighing contentedly, Kelly settled onto her bed, her legs folded under her. She bit off a piece of the rich candy and savored it, her eyes closed. It tasted even better than she remembered. She ate it slowly to make it last as long as possible.
“Kelly, hurry down, dear. It’s time to go to the church,” Mother called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Oh no,” Kelly whispered. She had forgotten her baptismal interview. Luckily she was already wearing a blouse and skirt, so she wouldn’t have to change. She shoved the rest of the toffee into her mouth and chewed fast.
“Kelly, did you hear me?” her mother called again, starting up the stairs.
Swallowing hard, Kelly cleared her throat and yelled, “OK, Mom. I’m coming.” Without thinking, she licked off her fingers, then wiped them on her blouse. She jumped off the bed, slipped on her sandals, and grabbed her hairbrush.
“Oh no,” she moaned, looking at herself in the mirror. Chocolate ringed her mouth and had smeared her blouse. She pulled off the blouse, wadded it up, and stuffed it under her pillow. Then she washed her face, grabbed a clean blouse and put it on, and raced downstairs and outside, where Mom sat waiting in the station wagon.
Kelly slid in beside Mom and closed the door. Mom smiled and reached over to pat her shoulder.
“I’m proud of you, Kelly,” she said. “It’s a very special thing to be baptized.”
Kelly nodded and smiled back, but her face felt stiff and awkward.
Bishop Barton shook their hands warmly and invited Kelly into his office. “This is an important occasion, young lady,” he said, sitting down at his desk across from Kelly.
Kelly ran her tongue across her teeth before answering, “Yes, sir.”
Bishop Barton began asking her questions about faith and repentance and about what baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost meant. Kelly had practiced the answers with Dad, so she answered every one correctly.
“Very good,” said Bishop Barton. “Now that you’re eight, Kelly, Heavenly Father is trusting you to be able to make and keep promises. Sometimes it will be hard. That is when we find out how much we really want to be righteous. The promises that you make when you are baptized are sacred. It is important that you take them seriously. Kelly, are you determined to keep those promises all your life?”
“Oh yes,” said Kelly. “How could anyone make a promise to Heavenly Father and not keep it?”
“Good,” said Bishop Barton, and he signed her baptismal recommend. “It is very important to prepare yourself for baptism by being as righteous as you can. If there is anything that you have done wrong, try to make it right before you are baptized so that you will be prepared to receive the Holy Ghost for your friend and guide.”
As they were leaving, Bishop Barton put his arm across her shoulders. “Remember, Kelly,” he said, looking right into her eyes, “being honest is a very important part of keeping your baptismal promises.” He smiled and squeezed her. “See you on Saturday—all in white!”
Mom chattered happily all the way home, but Kelly didn’t say much. She was already thinking about butter toffee and the fact that she hadn’t really been able to enjoy the piece that she’d eaten before. Telling her mother that she wanted to read by herself before bedtime, she took one more piece of Sondra’s candy. That piece was so good that she had two more. Then she remembered her blouse. She pulled it out and locked herself in the bathroom with it.
Now, how does Mom do this? she wondered. She put hot water into the sink, wet her blouse, and began rubbing the bar of soap across the stains. Then she scrubbed. A lot of lather bubbled up, covering the stains. She rinsed it off, but the chocolate was still there. For a long time Kelly scrubbed. Her arms ached and her fingers felt raw, but the chocolate still showed plainly.
“I give up!” she flung the sopping shirt into the sink. Water dripped down the cabinet, puddles of soapy water spotted the floor, and Kelly was soaked all down the front. What’ll I do? she wailed silently.
“Hide it,” said a little voice inside her. Kelly listened and did what the voice said: She put the wet shirt into a plastic bag and hid it in a garbage can.
As the days slipped by, Kelly ate more and more of the butter toffee. By Thursday night, only one small piece was left. “I’ll save it for tomorrow,” she thought, slipping the box back under Sondra’s sweaters.
“Kelly, what are you doing?”
Kelly whirled around and looked up into Sondra’s angry face. Without thinking, she ran toward the door.
But Sondra caught her arm and pulled her back. “I didn’t want to believe it about you,” said Sondra, “but I guess that it’s true. My little sister is a liar and a thief.”
Kelly’s face turned red. “No, I’m not!” she shouted. She wrenched her arm free, burst into sobs, and ran from the room. She slammed her bedroom door and, flinging herself onto her bed, cried, “I’m not! I’m not! I’m not!” But a little voice inside her asked, “Then why did you lie and steal?”
Kelly sat up, surprised. She wiped her hand across her eyes and blew her nose on a tissue. For a long time she sat thinking. Then she knelt to pray.
“I have to do it,” she said, getting up. “It’ll be hard, but I have to do it.” Kelly went to the phone in her parents’ bedroom, got out the ward directory, and dialed Bishop Barton’s number. “Hello, Bishop Barton. This is Kelly Fife. May I come and see you?”
They made an appointment for half an hour later. Kelly washed and dressed carefully, then walked to the bishop’s house. After the interview, Kelly was very sober. She shook Bishop Barton’s hand, looked hard into his eyes, and said, “I promise, and this time I really mean it!”
“Good,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m proud of your decision. It took a lot of courage to tell me what you did. I’ll tell your parents why we are postponing your baptism. They will agree that you are doing the right thing. I’m sure that you’ll be ready by next month.”
Kelly walked home slowly, thinking about what the bishop had taught her about repentance.
On Saturday no one mentioned baptism. Kelly worked for Sister Roberts all afternoon, weeding her flowers and planting little seedlings. Coming home, she was exhausted, but she had three dollars in her pocket.
On the way home from school the next Wednesday, Kelly ignored a little doll lying on the curb. “It isn’t mine,” she said, “even if it is lost.”
Kelly stayed out of Sondra’s room. Every morning she prayed for help to be honest, and every night she told Heavenly Father how she had done. On Saturday she worked for Sister Roberts again and came home with three more dollars.
The days passed quickly. Soon Kelly was seated once more in Bishop Barton’s office. “You have worked hard to repent, Kelly,” he said kindly. “I think that you are ready to be baptized this Saturday. And I think that your plan for making restitution to Sondra is admirable.”
On Saturday morning Kelly rode her bike to the shopping center near her home, made a purchase, had it gift-wrapped, and tucked it inside her backpack.
Dressed in white and with her hand in Dad’s that evening, Kelly felt peaceful and good. When her turn came, Dad took her hands, helped her into the water, and said the baptismal prayer: “Kelly Sue Fife, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, amen.”
The water closed over Kelly. She felt light and free, and when she came up into the air, she was so filled with happiness that she hugged her dad right there in the font.
After she was dry and dressed again, Kelly slipped her package out of her backpack and went to find Sondra.
“Congratulations, Kelly! I—“
“Oh, Sondra,” Kelly blurted, “it feels so good to be baptized! I really am sorry that I lied to you and stole your candy. I won’t ever do it again. Thank you for helping me repent. Here!” Kelly thrust out her package.
Sondra was speechless for a moment, then said, “Here!” and took a package from behind her back.
Kelly’s eyes were wide as she and Sondra unwrapped identical gold boxes of Maxworth’s Famous Butter Toffee!
The sisters began to laugh as they threw their arms around each other.

Gary*—a young, single man—was feeling out of place in his ward, which consisted mostly of families. He was unemployed and without a car when Mike* became his home teacher. “Looking back, I don’t remember Mike ever giving me a formal lesson,” Gary says. “Instead, he would pick me up each Sunday, and since Mike was on the high council, he would take me along on his speaking assignments. With six children, Mike didn’t have much time, but he always had time for me. Often our visits in the car would extend long after each meeting as we exchanged the highs and the lows of the past week.
“When I did get a car, Mike still gave me rides because we enjoyed our long talks,” continues Gary. “One weekend he took me with his family to a college football game. Another weekend we worked together putting in his mailbox. Although Mike has since moved, we still keep in touch. We are truly eternal friends.”

Sometime ago a wife sat with her husband in my office. He had been unfaithful and had submitted himself to the loving influence of Church discipline. I had seen them several times, and the damage to the “heart” of their relationship was slowly healing. He had made much progress with help from his bishop and stake president, and their relationship was perhaps better than it had been in a long time. With tears running down her cheeks, she looked deeply into my eyes and asked, “I know I need to forgive, but how do I do it? My heart does not seem to let go. I think I can learn to forgive my husband, but I feel damaged as though I can never possibly forgive the other woman.”

I gave an inadequate, inconsequential answer to her question, but her words have remained in my mind and surfaced on many different occasions since that time: “I know I need to forgive, but how do I do it?” She needed a transformation of her heart, and she wanted it to be immediate. Her husband wanted badly to be forgiven. She felt that she had made some progress, but when she slipped, he became upset. For him he was either forgiven or not, and it was difficult for him to see that she was making considerable progress on a continuum toward being more forgiving.

One Sunday after returning home from church, I fell asleep for most of the afternoon.
It was dark when I woke up. I started my weekly planning with a prayer to ask how I could best serve the Lord. I felt impressed to go home teaching. It was already 8:00 p.m., so I told myself that I would go the following Tuesday, but the impression to go that night became stronger.
I was reminded of the counsel I heard Elder Ronald A. Rasband of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles give at the missionary training center in Lima, Peru, while I was a teacher there: “Follow the first impression.” I immediately called my home teaching companion, but he did not answer. I decided to go anyway.
I left the house and noticed a young priest in my ward walking down the street. I approached him and asked if he would accompany me. He agreed. At the first home, the brother opened the door. I told him I felt I needed to see him. He smiled and told us he was having an operation the next day and would appreciate a blessing. I gave him a blessing, and we left for our next visit.
It was 8:40 p.m. when we arrived at the next family’s house. They were surprised to see us because it was so late. We entered their home and noticed that the father was sick. I offered to give him a blessing.
As we returned home, I shared Moroni 7:13 with my young companion: “Every thing which inviteth and enticeth to do good, and to love God, and to serve him, is inspired of God.”
I told him that what had just happened was no accident because I had received a prompting. He said he believed it because before I approached him, he had prayed to know how to recognize the Spirit.
I don’t know if the impression to go home teaching was more for my families or for this young priest, but I am grateful I listened. I know great blessings come as we follow the first impression of the Spirit.

The closest temple for the saints in Brazzaville is currently in Kinshasa, in the DRC. Getting there has not always been easy.
“We organized massive trips to the temple in Kinshasa, which meant we had to brave the challenge of crossing the turbulent river with our families,” said President Gayouele. “It was also during a time when our country was going through a severe recession. Families were destitute, but for these trips, members made enormous sacrifices to pay for the tickets for crossing the river, meals, and accommodation. There were so many of us leaving for the temple that very often there was no more room for us in the Kinshasa temple. Some brothers and sisters had to stay outside the temple and wait for their turn. These trips were sometimes trials of faith and determination for temple ordinances. Eventually, these trips have enabled us to bring the spirit of the temple into the hearts of Church members.”

I remember a number of years ago, one of our children was shooting his bow and arrow in the back yard. As parents, we had told him several times not to get his bow and arrow out unless we were in the mountains, especially when we were not at home. He had some friends and a younger brother with him and they started messing around. He got his fancy new bow out. He thought he was aiming at the target, but instead, he shot the arrow over our fence, across the road and right through our neighbor’s new garage door. This happened early in the day. He asked his friends and brother not to say anything about what happened. He lived with the guilt until about 10:00 p.m. that night when he could no longer stand it. Finally, he came into our bedroom crying and admitted what he had done. I immediately got out of bed and got dressed and, hand-in-hand, we went to the neighbor’s home and he told him what he had done and we offered to pay for a new garage door, which we did. While our son still felt badly about doing something he was told not to do, he was a lot happier facing the consequences of his actions because he didn’t have to harbor that guilt and know that until he told his parents and the neighbor, inside himself, he was a liar with a guilty conscience and he had even made his younger brother and friends be dishonest too.

The temple is the most still and quiet place on earth, right? Well, maybe not for someone like me with Tourette’s syndrome. This neurological condition causes me to make constant movements and noises against my will. My Tourette’s can make people uncomfortable when I’m near them in a quiet place.
One day during an endowment session in the Washington D.C. Temple, I worried that I might bother or distract others. It takes all of my focus to control my tics, which prevents me from concentrating on anything else. So, as I tried to concentrate on the endowment, it was impossible for me to completely control my tics, though I did my best. I struggled more than usual during the session.
Afterward, as I was leaving the celestial room, I heard a comforting voice behind me say, “Please come back. Please keep coming to the temple.”
The voice came from a couple who had seen me struggling. They wanted to assure me that I was always welcome in the temple no matter what noises or movements I made. Their words made me feel that I was just as welcome and needed there as anyone else.
As they hugged me, the Holy Ghost blessed me with peace and joy. God had sent me a tender mercy in the form of those two angels, who comforted me and showed me that He cares. Because of them, I felt the peaceful, still, quiet feeling I had hoped to feel in the temple that day.

The last story is about Christina (not her real name), who had been baptized and sealed to her family when she was a young girl, but somewhere along the way the family stopped living the gospel. Now she was in her late teens, and she had been making some wrong choices and was very unhappy.
One day I gave her a Personal Progress book and said, “This book will help you incorporate qualities of Christ in your life so you can make the changes you desire. I invite you to begin to work in your book today and then bring it with you to the youth fireside tonight and share with me what you have learned.” That night she said with tears in her eyes, “Today I started my personal progress.” She has written to me a few times since that day. She began going back to Sunday meetings, Mutual, and seminary. In a couple of weeks her sister and mother attended church with her. Later the father joined them, and now the entire family has been back to the temple together.

Isabelle’s father was a physician in the French armed forces, which gave him opportunities to serve in foreign lands. Consequently, several of Isabelle’s childhood years were spent in Djibouti, New Caledonia and Algeria. The Church was not established in some of those countries. Worship and gospel living were thus family centered with no supporting Church organization. Family prayer and family scripture study were regular practices in the home, as were weekly sacrament meetings.

In the late 1970s the Mauclairs moved back to metropolitan France, first to Auch (pronounced Osh) near Toulouse. In 1978, they moved to the Versailles ward, where the Mauclair and Giraud-Carrier families became good friends, and a young Christophe met an even younger Isabelle. That childhood friendship grew into dating, courtship, engagement, and marriage. After some time in the same ward and stake, the families moved apart, but Christophe’s and Isabelle’s developing romance continued to grow as they courted by regular letters, occasional phone calls and quarterly in-person connections.

In July 1986 Christophe commenced full-time missionary service in the Canada Montreal Mission. While he was in Canada, Isabelle’s father was her district president in Cholet, France. Her father called her as a district missionary, fulfilling a promise in her patriarchal blessing. She arranged her work schedule to work three days a week and all evenings with the full-time missionaries. During her service, she became a key part of bringing about 20 new converts into the Church.

Just weeks after Christophe returned from the Canada Montreal Mission, the two, who had met as children 10 years before, became husband and wife on July 16, 1988 in Cholet, France. Three days later, at the Bern Switzerland Temple, they became a forever union. Christophe was 22 and Isabelle was 21.

Shortly after their marriage, Christophe was drafted into the French military. He served in the air force for one year. After his military service, Christophe transferred two years of college credit to Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. There he earned a bachelor’s degree, a master’s degree, and a PhD in computer science.

After earning his PhD, the family moved to Bristol, England, where Christophe worked as a computer science professor for six years. He left academia for a time to accept a manager position at ELCA Informatique in Lausanne, Switzerland. In Switzerland, they were just two hours from family for the first time in nearly 13 years. They loved living in Switzerland.

BYU had regularly asked Dr. Giraud-Carrier if he would consider accepting a professorship at the Provo campus. The answer was always no. When the Giraud-Carriers traveled to Utah in 2004, the Computer Science department chair asked them again, “What would make you stay in Utah?” Both Christophe and Isabelle had a strong impression that they should accept a professorship at BYU. They said yes and moved resolutely forward with the direction the Lord was revealing to them.

The Giraud-Carriers have eight children, four sons and four daughters. Four of the children were born after they left Provo. Today, six of their children are married. And they are grandparents to 18 beautiful grandchildren.

Throughout their lives, they have accepted and magnified each of their Church callings. Elder Giraud-Carrier has served as a bishop, ward and stake Young Men president, stake mission president, high councilor, stake president, and mission president. Sister Giraud-Carrier has been the president of her ward Primary, Young Women, and Relief Society, and served as Primary teacher, district missionary, mission leader, and an exceptional ministering sister. Of her, Elder Patrick Kearon has said: “If I had to cross the plains, I would want to be in her wagon.”

“Why can’t you keep your half of the room clean?” Alicia complained to her new stepsister. “It looks like a tornado just hit the place!”
“It isn’t that bad,” Megan answered. “Anyway, as soon as softball season ends, I’ll have more time to clean up. I may have to spend some extra time in practice for the next few days.” She folded a pair of jeans and put them into a drawer, threw her baseball mitt onto a chair, and put her pajamas under a pillow. “There—a start!”
Alicia sighed. She was glad to have Megan as a stepsister, but they were about as different as night and day. Megan was tall, slender, and very good at sports—but not very good at cleaning her room. Alicia was short, not-so-slender, and very good at cleaning her room—but her athletic skills were limited to being a substitute umpire in the junior girls softball league.
No wonder, then, that after Megan’s dad married Alicia’s mom, patience was in demand in their new home!
Actually it was a new home only for Alicia and her mom. After the marriage, they had moved into Megan’s dad’s house. “Welcome to my jungle!” Megan had said. “Here, let me push some of my junk out of the way. You can have this half of the room, OK?”
Alicia’s heart sank. Her old room had been as neat as a pin. Here, the clutter was unavoidable! On the floor were magazines, socks, baseball mitts, jeans, shoes, softball trophies, pillows, even orange peelings. Well, Mom told me there would be adjustments, she thought. I guess this is what she meant.
There were two more adjustments Alicia had to make. The first one came that weekend. Alicia’s old ward had been small enough that everyone knew everyone else’s first name. That’s where her dad’s funeral had been held three years ago. That’s where she had been baptized, had learned about Heavenly Father’s love, and had prayed for guidance when her mom said that she was going to remarry.
Her new ward was so big! So many people! After Megan had introduced her friends, she felt a little better. Singing the old familiar hymns was comforting too.
“You’ll get used to our new ward,” her mom told her that first Sunday. “Just remember, the important thing is not the building, but the reason for the building—to worship Heavenly Father and to learn to live the gospel.”
The next adjustment came when Alicia went to her new school. All the kids stared at her in her new classes.
Some of them giggled and whispered behind their hands to each other.
The teachers were all nice. And when Miss Younger found out that Alicia had been a substitute umpire at her old school, she asked her to umpire at the softball game that evening. “Megan’s team is playing for the school championship,” Miss Younger explained. “Our regular umpire is sick today. We could really use someone with your experience.”
Alicia wasn’t sure she was that experienced, but Megan had said, “Oh, come on, Alicia! You can do it! Just call them the way you see them.”
“OK,” Alicia had reluctantly agreed.
Now she reminded Megan as they headed out the door for the ballpark, “Remember that during the game I’m not your stepsister—I’m the umpire!”
“Fair enough!” Megan replied. “And you remember that if we win this game, we go to the city championship game next week.” She grinned. “I hope that won’t affect your decisions, Miss Umpire!”
“Why would it?” Alicia asked.
Megan laughed. “Because that means it would be another week before my half of the room gets cleaned!”
Alicia laughed too. “Well, if you win, I’ll clean your half of the room myself.” She quickly added, “But just for one week. And I don’t do orange peelings!”
* * * * * *
The stands were crowded. Alicia’s heart pounded as she took her place behind the catcher. “Play ball!” she called. She hoped that her voice sounded more confident than she felt.
As the game progressed, Alicia’s self-confidence returned. Finally it was the bottom of the last inning. Megan’s team, one run behind, was at bat.
The first batter flied out to the shortstop. The second batter drew a base on balls. After the next batter struck out swinging, Megan—the cleanup hitter—was up!
“Home run! Home run!” her team’s fans shouted.
“Strike out! Strike out!” the other team’s fans screamed.
“Strike one!” Alicia called as Megan let the first pitch go by without swinging.
Megan turned to look questioningly at Alicia but didn’t say a word. She tightened her grip on the bat, took a practice swing, then stepped back into the batter’s box.
The next pitch was right over the middle of the plate. Megan put all her strength into a smooth, level swing. The crack of the bat against the ball echoed over the field like a rifle shot. The ball arced high, headed for deep center field.
The center fielder took off like a small cyclone, but the ball landed just beyond her outstretched glove. Quickly scrambling after it, she wheeled and threw with all her might toward home plate.
The runner on first pounded around second, then third. The ball and the runner seemed to reach home plate at the same time.
“Out!” shouted Alicia, raising her thumb high in the air.
“What? No way!” Megan’s teammates shouted angrily, crowding around Alicia. Their shouting grew louder and angrier. Butterflies began doing flip-flops in her stomach.
Megan pushed her way through the crowd. “Leave her alone! If she called her out, that’s the way it was.” She led Alicia through the crowd. “Come on, Ump, let’s go home.”
Home! The word sounded like music to Alicia. She had a new ward, a new school, a new home—and a new family. She smiled gratefully at Megan. “You can stop calling me ‘umpire’ now. The game’s over. Now you can call me ‘sister!’” She laughed. “And even though your team didn’t win, I’ll still help you clean your half of the room!”