Gospel Story Finder

“My mom likes to sew a lot, so I decided to make a quilt to see how I would like it,” says 16-year-old David Rowse. “I’ll use it on my bed after the competition is over.”
A 16-year-old boy tying a quilt of his own free will and choice? Isn’t that just a little strange?
Not in Glendale. In fact, he faces stiff competition from the other boys who have sewn throw pillows and other useful household items.
Even more important than learning how to bake a perfect cake, run faster, or play a piano piece, are the relationships that are formed through participation in the competition. In addition to individual events, each ward earns points for every event a member participates or places in.
“Even if you don’t ever win anything,” says Natalie Garrard, “every entry is important and counts for something.”
Every person is important as well. The competition is a vital part of what makes the Glendale youth such good friends. Friendships formed at the competition are often the springboard that strengthens testimonies, gets the less-active coming to church again, and makes everyone feel that they are an important part of the stake.
Adrian Juchau says, “The competition is so much fun because everyone shows so much support. I was a little afraid to compete, until I actually tried it and found out that people are really having a good time.” In fact, Adrian had so much fun that he decided he would be at every event whether he was participating or not.
“At the Ping-Pong tournament, I was more nervous than the people who were playing,” he admits.
Because the competition takes place over a three-week period, the youth spend a lot of time together, working out, rehearsing, competing, and just “hanging out” waiting for the next event.
“My friends and I wanted to enter the group vocal-music competition. We just couldn’t find a song we liked, so we spent five hours looking together. Finally, we turned on the radio and heard the perfect song. We joked that it must be true inspiration,” says Mia Maid Marlowe Ziegler.
Cheering on your competitors in other wards, spending five hours to find the perfect piece of music, or traveling back and forth to different church buildings for three weeks every year, might seem like a lot of effort, and it is. But in Glendale, most everyone says, “It’s all worth it.”
When the contest finally ends for another year, ribbons and medals are given in every competition, with separate categories for boys and girls. Nearly everyone wins at least one award, and lots of people have several. Yet no one really seems to notice. Everyone has won other things that seem much more important: friendship built on a gospel foundation, love for fellow competitors, and an appreciation for the talents of others.
“I wanted to learn how to play the piano blindfolded, and now I can,” says Adrian, a skill that, by all accounts, is a new one in the stake.
“I would never have learned how to build that cabinet without the competition as a goal,” adds Jared Hall.
Paul Jenkins competed with a good friend. “There aren’t any bad feelings,” he says. “We both knew we’d do well, and we did.”
Those sentiments are echoed by many other participants and can be seen in the way everyone gets along throughout the various competitions. On performing and fine arts night, while one girl is being congratulated on an exemplary piano performance, another is being cheered up by friends who realize she wanted to do better on her vocal solo. Boys good-naturedly tease each other about who is going to win the art competition, but then wish each other good luck. On track-and-field day, several girls laugh about deciding to cross the finish line together in a race so they can all come in first. The list goes on.
And although the competition has been going on for longer than any of these participants can remember, no one really remembers past winners.
Jessica Forsberg, a 16-year-old whose talents shine brightest on track-and-field events, sums it up best. Still breathless from a race, she says, “When you cross that finish line, even if you didn’t win, you feel like you’ve succeeded. Winning isn’t everything; it’s just for fun.”
Competing just for fun? Focusing on people rather than achievements? Using competition as an incentive to excel without hurting people’s feelings? Some might think those things are too good to be true. But if you live in the Glendale Arizona Stake, it’s just how things are done.

Sometimes that love comes in unexpected ways. Kristen was finishing a graduate degree and had recently given birth to her second child. She felt the other graduates had accomplished so much more and was reluctant to attend the graduation dinner. Her fears were confirmed when, at the dinner, the students were asked to list their professional accomplishments. Kristen recalled: “I suddenly felt embarrassed and ashamed. I had nothing to call myself, no lofty position, no impressive job title.” To make matters worse, the professor read the lists as he presented a diploma to each student. The woman ahead of Kristen had many accomplishments: she already had a PhD, was receiving a second master’s degree, and she’d even been a mayor! The woman received grand applause.

Then it was Kristen’s turn. She handed the professor her blank sheet, trying to hold back the tears. The professor had been one of her teachers and had praised her performance. He looked at her blank paper. Without missing a beat he announced, “Kristen holds the most critical role in all of society.” He was quiet for a few seconds, then declared in a powerful voice, “She is the mother of her children.” Instead of a few courteous claps, people rose to their feet. There was just one standing ovation that night; it was for the mother in the room.

In 1968 when I made my first visit to the German Democratic Republic, tensions were high. Trust and understanding did not exist. No diplomatic relations had been established. On a cloudy and rain-filled day I journeyed to the city of Görlitz, situated deep in the German Democratic Republic near the Polish and Czech borders. I attended my first meeting with the Saints. We assembled in a small and ancient building. As the members sang the hymns of Zion, they literally filled the hall with their faith and devotion.
My heart was filled with sorrow when I realized the members had no patriarch, no wards or stakes—just branches. They could not receive temple blessings—either endowment or sealing. No official visitor had come from Church headquarters in a long time. The members could not leave their country. Yet they trusted in the Lord with all their hearts.
I stood at the pulpit, and with tear-filled eyes and a voice choked with emotion, I made a promise to the people: “If you will remain true and faithful to the commandments of God, every blessing any member of the Church enjoys in any other country will be yours.” Then I realized what I had said. That night, I dropped to my knees and pleaded with my Heavenly Father, “Father, I’m on Thy errand; this is Thy Church. I have spoken words that came not from me but from Thee and Thy Son. Wilt Thou fulfill the promise in the lives of this noble people.” Thus concluded my first visit to the German Democratic Republic.

Image from Getty Images
When my husband and I decided to start our own business, the first three years were difficult. We were failing to make a profit and falling into debt. We worked hard, but unimaginable problems made that time the most difficult of our lives.
It became worse when my mother-in-law passed away the day after Christmas and just a week later, on New Year’s Eve, I became extremely ill. At the time, we were broke, we had lost our car, and worst of all, we had lost our health insurance.
Eventually, I was diagnosed with an aggressive type of cancer that had been developing for at least five years. It was serious and required immediate surgery. I was running out of time, and we had no money for the expensive medical care I needed.
My husband and I met with our bishop and asked for help. We explained that this was literally a case of life or death. The bishop was concerned, but he told us that he felt prompted to wait a little longer before giving assistance to see if another way might be opened to us. He assured us that if our faith was sufficient, the Lord would provide a way for me to get the help I needed.
At first, the bishop’s response made me angry and resentful. I felt that both he and the Lord had forsaken me. But I had a testimony of the gospel, and I believed that our bishop was called of God. Despite my heartache, I prayed that Heavenly Father would help me continue to love, respect, and support my bishop. When I prayed for this, I was comforted and felt that the Lord would help me in some way.
My husband and I moved forward with faith, and I received needed medical tests and scheduled my surgery, despite our lack of money. The day before my surgery, we sold our business for a good price, which allowed us to pay all my medical bills.
It now became clear why my bishop had hesitated to help. He had acted on inspiration in order for me to have a valuable spiritual experience. That experience taught me to trust the Savior, even when the path seems frustrating and scary. I am grateful for the counsel I did not want to hear from my bishop. I know now that God is a God of miracles and that He never forsakes us.

I had 467 full-time missionaries given to me over a period of three years. What a glorious experience. I remember I hadn’t been in New England more than an hour when the telephone rang. On the line was an elder I hadn’t met yet, an elder who had been in the mission field just one week. He had some concerns, as sometimes missionaries do, and he wanted to go home. He didn’t just say, “I want to go home.” He announced he was going. He was a small young man in stature, quite good-looking, and a sharp athlete; but he was born with a handicap, and this was one of his barriers. He had only half a larynx. When he spoke he spoke with a harsh voice, and people often made fun of him. He announced on the phone, “President Dunn, I just called to tell you I’m going home tonight, so don’t try to stop me.”
I said, “Well, at least pay me the courtesy of coming over and getting acquainted and saying good-bye.”
“All right, I’ll come by on my way to the airport.”
He came over. In the meantime, I checked his file and found among other things one thing in my favor—he wanted to be an athlete. He was a good one. He wanted to make a career out of sports. I sat him down. He said, “Now, President, you’re not going to talk me into staying.”
I said, “Didn’t intend to. Tell me your problem.”
He said, “It’s very simple. I don’t have a testimony. I don’t believe in the Lord. Furthermore, and you’ll learn sometime, my home life hasn’t been what it ought to be. I hate my dad, I hate my mother, I hate this Church, I hate this mission, and I already hate you.”
I thought, “Well, this is a thrilling challenge; first day on your mission and you’ve got a young man thinking like this.” I said, “I don’t know what all the circumstances are, but let me tell you something. The Lord lives, and he loves you. Your parents, for reasons you can’t fully comprehend, love you. This Church loves you, this mission loves you, and I like you a little bit. Now,” I said, “you can walk out of this mission anytime you want; but I don’t think you’re going to and let me tell you why. You’re not a quitter. You may have a lot of hang-ups and problems, but you’re not a quitter. I noticed from your athletic record that you don’t quit. Let me tell you something you may not know. I played professional baseball for a number of years and found myself behind in early and middle innings of many a ball game. If you were my coach, and we were behind five to two in the seventh inning, and I came to you and said, ‘Coach, let’s get out of here while we can and save face,’ what would you say?”
He said, “We’ve got two more innings to catch up and win.”
I said, “Exactly, and a mission is no different!”
“Well,” he said, “that’s baseball.”
I said, “No, it isn’t. The game of life plays by the same rules and principles. I just don’t think you’re going to quit because you’re not that kind of player. There’s the door. You can go if you must, but I don’t think you will.”
“Well,” he said, “I’ll try it one more week.”
“Fine. One more week. You call me next week, and we’ll talk about it.”
He called me the next week, and he gave me the same dialogue. He didn’t even miss a line. He had it out again, and would you believe for the next 103 weeks. Every week, through the mail, in person, on the phone, “I’m going, President!”
“So long, Elder; but I don’t think you are.”
And then it happened, the 104th week. Another phone call and he said, “I’ve got to tell you. It happened. I got the spirit!” And he told me of some very special experiences he had had that week, how the Lord had answered his prayers and how he received a testimony. Through real hardship and prayers he got an answer.
The following Sunday he came into the mission home for his last evening prior to his departure home. We used to have a simple ceremony when a group departed; and when it came time for him to speak he said, “Can I say something, President?”
I said, “You haven’t hesitated up to now. What do you want to tell us?”
He said, “You know what I found out this week? I’ve found what a testimony is. I believe in the Lord. He lives, and I love him. I love my mom and dad. I love this Church. I love this mission, and I kind of like you.”

I would like to introduce you to the Vargas family. Christine and I met them on a mission tour in San Antonio, Texas, last fall. Andrea was serving as a Primary president. Luis was not a member. The missionaries scheduled an exterior tour of the temple, and the mission president shared with me that one of the factors holding Brother Vargas back was his fear of trying to be perfect.
At the start of the tour, I said, “Brother Vargas, can I first make it clear that no one in this Church is perfect save Jesus Christ? We all are just trying to do our best to become something more in Christ.”
The missionaries gave a great tour, and at the end of the evening, they said, “Brother Vargas, how are you feeling?”
Brother Vargas turned to his wife and said, “Honey, I’ve been coming with you to Church for five years. I want to join this Church so that I can become a better father and a better husband.”
Sister Vargas jumped into his arms. Their daughter wasn’t sure what was happening, but she rushed in and began hugging them as well.
Brothers and sisters, you don’t need to be perfect to be in this Church. You just need to do your best—which includes repentance—as you strive to become something more in Christ.

Brother Dalebe Martin Goury of Nigeria shares the following personal experience:
“In April 1993, I was a new convert to the Church, living in a foreign country, working every hour possible while attending university. I was studying mechanical engineering. Having been taught the law of tithing, I started paying a full and honest tithe from the day I received the lesson. I had been a member of the Church for three weeks when we were asked to come to our courses with a programmable engineering calculator. With my little resources, I realized that I needed to save a certain amount each week for 12 weeks without paying my tithing to be able to afford the materials required. If I did not purchase them, I would struggle to be on the same level as other student.
“Usually, I would give my tithing envelope to the bishop or to any of his counsellors as soon as I arrived at the chapel, but that Sunday I kept the envelope till the end—as I was debating what to do. I was so tempted to return home with the tithing money and start saving. As my mind was racing with what to do at the end of the third hours, I receive this strong feeling that I had made a covenant. I felt overwhelmed by the feeling and went to the bishop’s office and handed in my tithing envelope. I never explained why I was late handing in my tithing this time. Then I went home.
“The following week, my resolve was strong this time and I handed in my tithing as soon as I arrived at the chapel. The following Sunday, I did the same thing. Even though things were a bit difficult at the university, I was happy and peaceful because I had paid a full and honest tithe every week.
“At the end of the second week, the first counsellor of the bishopric, who studied engineering, requested to see me. I do not know how he knew that I was in a desperate need of a programmable calculator. However, these were his words: ‘I heard you are doing a degree in mechanical engineering. I completed an engineering degree a few years ago and still have the calculator I had to purchase. I no longer have need of it. Would you like it?’
“When he brought the calculator out, I noticed that it was 10 times better than the one I would have purchased after 12 weeks of saving money. How did he know my needs? Only my Father in Heaven knew. This confirmed for me the promises of the Lord in Malachi 3:10.”
Brother Goury passed the test of whether he loved and trusted our Father in Heaven over all other things. He did this by living the law of the tithe when it seemed that doing so would frustrate his goals. After some patience and persistence in obeying the commandment, he received help sent by our loving Heavenly Father. Those who follow Brother Goury’s example will learn by their own experience that “if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them” (1 Nephi 17:3).

My friend Max was baptized when he was eight years old. His father was not a member of any church, and Max could go to church or not go.

As a teenager, after not attending for several months, Max had the feeling that he needed to go back to church and determined one Sunday morning that he would return. But his resolve weakened as he approached the front door of the church; his stomach tightened.

There, standing at the door, was the new bishop. Max didn’t know him, and he felt sure the bishop didn’t know Max. As Max approached, the bishop’s face lit up, and he put his hand out and said, “Max, it’s so good to see you!”

“As he spoke those words,” Max said, “a warm feeling came over me and I knew I had done the right thing.”

Knowing someone’s name can make a difference.

Before my mission, I attended Dixie College in St. George, Utah. I completed a year of school before and enjoyed the experience and the many friends I made while at the university. Following my mission, I was living at home with my parents and three of my younger sisters. I had a good job working in a uranium mill and I also worked as a substitute teacher for the school district. One Thursday evening after returning from work, I told my mom that I needed to drive to St. George the next day, a trip of about 350 miles or 560 kilometers. She asked me why and I told her I wasn’t sure; maybe I needed to see my friends that had returned from their missions. Even though I was supposed to work on that Friday, I still felt strongly that I had to go.

I left early in the morning and arrived in St. George about noon. I met a couple of my friends who were getting ready to go to class. It was a performance group we all sang with prior to our missions so I knew the songs, and they invited me to join them which I did. Following the class, while walking across campus, my friend mentioned that it was the last day to register for classes for the spring semester. Again, I felt prompted to go to the registrar and I registered for school. There was an opening in the apartment where my friends were living so I had a place to live. The next morning, one of my friends and I made the 350 mile (560 kilometer) drive back to my home, loaded my things in the car and then drove another 6 hours back to St. George. We arrived in time to sing at the program with the performance group that night where I met this cute girl named Linda Williams. She was vibrant and bubbly and I was immediately attracted to her. I asked my friends who she was and they informed me that I shouldn’t waste my time because she had a missionary returning soon and she had made it very clear to everyone that she was waiting for him. I took heed of what I thought was wise council from my friends and I decided not to ask her out.

Over the next few weeks, I kept running into her around campus and each time I saw her, my desire to ask her on a date increased, but remembering the advice of my friends, I still didn’t do it. After about six weeks had passed, I finally decided that I didn’t care what my friends told me, I was going to ask her out.

So I started planning how I would ask her out. As she said, I wrote a series of poems describing different professors and friends around campus that we both kne. I put them in separate envelopes along with a few letters of my name. I put the first envelope on the windshield of her car where I knew she would find it. It took her three days to figure out who all the people were, find them, collect the envelopes, and then piece my name together. As I went to my car one day after my classes, I found a plate of brownies she had left with a note saying she would love to go out with me.

We had a lot of fun getting to know each other over the next 5½ weeks at which time, we went out on an unforgettable date that she described. The details of that date are a story for another day, but it should be noted that the date ended with a bouquet of twelve red roses and one white rose with a scroll attached to it asking her to marry me. We had been dating for 5½ weeks. As she said, I was ready and she was not, but three days later on the grounds of the St. George temple she said yes. There're a lot more to this story but the important part for now is this; that was Linda’s last semester at Dixie College before graduating and moving on. She had a missionary coming home, and everyone, including their families, expected them to get married. Had I not followed the prompting I received that day to go to St. George or the prompting to register for school, I would not have met her and her last name would likely not have been Black today. Following that prompting brought eternal happiness into my life as we were sealed in the St. George Temple five months later for time and all eternity.

The story doesn't end there. About a year later, we were both working full time and I was trying to finish my school. Things were tight, but one day as I was talking with her uncle, who had recently retired from the United States Air Force, he suggested I look into the Air Force as a career and said they would help me with my education. I had never even considered joining the military but with his help, I was able to get into the computer programming career field I desired and I joined the Air Force. Financially, the Air Force helped pay for my school expenses and I was able to get a Bachelors and a Master’s degree. If I hadn’t followed the prompting to go to St. George, I wouldn’t have married Linda and wouldn’t have met her uncle and my career would likely have taken a different pathway. One never knows when this type of story will become their own happy story. We all receive promptings every day.

Doug’s rise from neighborhood “also ran” to world-class runner didn’t happen overnight, of course. It took some fifth quarter effort along the way. Even when he was still the slowest kid around, Doug always ran in every race he could. Finally, in junior high school he got on the track team.
At last, all the running and fifth-quarter determination started paying off. Doug’s speed and endurance began to soar. His time in the two mile improved from 11:50 his freshman year to 9:17 his senior year, when he went undefeated in cross-country and won the league meet. He went all the way to state in the two mile, finishing 13th with a personal record of 9:15.4.

Illustration by Allen Garns
I had searched everywhere. Twice I had driven from the office to the fabrication yard seeking the essential parts needed to complete a crane we were shipping to a military installation. It was scheduled to ship in two days—just in time to meet our contracted deadline. My company would face serious penalties if we did not meet our commitment.
I entered the office storeroom and once again looked for the missing parts. I inspected every box and reconfirmed that the parts had indeed been ordered. It was too late to reorder the parts and still meet the deadline. I was discouraged. I headed home, still trying to figure out how to resolve the problem.
I said a quick and empty-hearted prayer before bed and tried to get some sleep. In my mind I retraced the steps I took earlier that day, hoping I would remember something I missed. I tossed and turned until 3:00 a.m.
Finally I sat up. I looked down at the pillow I placed on the floor to remind myself to pray. I didn’t feel like praying. I had prayed all day but felt that nothing I said was making any difference. Had God forgotten me?
Having nowhere else to go, I slid to my knees and began to pray. I asked Heavenly Father if He was aware of my situation. “Heavenly Father,” I pleaded, “Thou knowest where the missing parts are. Couldst Thou let me know too—today?”
Later that morning, I walked to my office. I set my briefcase on my desk and felt that I should check the storeroom one last time. I entered the storeroom and looked over the boxes I had checked and rechecked the day before. A large box caught my eye. Something didn’t look right.
A closer look revealed that it wasn’t one box but two boxes nested together. I lifted the top box from the one below. In the bottom box, I found the parts! I said a prayer of gratitude and returned to my office to notify the fabricators that the missing parts had been found.
Suddenly, I realized that I had not just found the parts, but I had also discovered that Heavenly Father knew where I was and that I was important to Him. God had not forgotten me, and He never will.

My friends Wilford and Kathleen Andersen, who served as mission presidents in Guadalajara, Mexico, literally saw the spirit of the Book of Mormon at work. Sister Andersen felt impressed during the final year of their mission to educate her three sons at home rather than in a public school. However, she needed help in teaching them Spanish. She prayed to find a suitable tutor. She was led to Irma Encinas, who had been a teacher for 20 years and had just recently moved into this new city. Irma Encinas came twice a week to work with the boys.

Three weeks into the school year, Sister Andersen realized that she had hired someone who might be interested in learning more about our Church. So she told her about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. Sister Andersen then decided to have the Spanish curriculum for her boys be the Book of Mormon. The boys each read out loud in Spanish from the scriptures on every visit. Then the teacher was instructed to ask them questions about the reading, and the boys had to answer her in Spanish. While the boys were learning Spanish, Irma Encinas was learning about the Book of Mormon.

After Christmas, Irma Encinas came to Sister Andersen and started to cry. She needed to tell her what was happening. She said that every time the boys read from the Book of Mormon, she saw light around their faces. When they closed their books, the light immediately went away. She confessed that her sister who lived with her had received a copy of the Book of Mormon 11 years earlier but had not read it. This unusual experience caused them both to search their bookshelves to find that dusty book. They wanted to discover for themselves what this light was that emanated from this book. I’m sure you can figure out the rest of the story. They started reading the Book of Mormon and desired to have missionaries teach them. Two weeks after their first missionary discussion, they were baptized.

Tricia stared with wide, watery eyes at her bedroom closet. The door was broken and wouldn’t shut all the way. In the dark the clothes looked like huddled monsters waiting to jump from their hangers and rush at her. To make things worse, she could hear loud breathing that seemed to come from the closet.
She knew that there were bad people who sometimes hurt children. One of them could be hiding in the closet! She also remembered the story a boy in her kindergarten class had told about a nightmare. He had been chased by a snake with a very long tail. The snake caught him and tied him up with its tail!
Tricia’s sisters, MaryAnn and Rebecca, were sleeping in the bedroom too, but she didn’t call out to them. Whatever was hiding in the closet might attack. She heard the TV fall silent. That meant her parents had finished watching the news and were going to bed. But she couldn’t run to them—she couldn’t even move.
Tricia was so scared that she wanted to cry, but she didn’t dare make a sound. All she could do was stare at the dark, creepy closet, hoping that whatever lurked there wouldn’t get her.
As Tricia stared, a thought came quietly into her mind: “Why don’t you pray?” Immediately she felt a little better. Her mom had told her that she could pray anytime, anywhere. She didn’t even have to close her eyes! Tricia prayed silently. As soon as she said, “In the name of Jesus Christ,” a calm feeling came over her. She knew that Heavenly Father had heard her prayer.
With every breath she became calmer. The scary breathing wasn’t as loud anymore either. In fact, as her own breathing grew quieter and quieter, so did the breathing from the closet. Tricia held her breath. The breathing stopped entirely. Finally she understood—she had been afraid of her own breathing!
She felt a little foolish, but mostly she felt grateful. As soon as she had thought about Jesus, her scary thoughts had stopped being scary, and she could see how silly they really were. She remembered her father telling her that the opposite of fear was faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. “No wonder Satan likes people to be scared,” she thought. “They’re not thinking about Jesus when they’re afraid.”
Tricia snuggled into her covers and prayed again. This time she thanked her Heavenly Father for hearing her prayer and helping her overcome her fears. When she finished praying, she silently sang “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” Now she wasn’t afraid to close her eyes and let the music and words warm her. Before long, she was fast asleep.

She was a young girl. She had sacrificed her worldly plans to spend long, tedious hours in work in order to provide for and raise her younger orphan brother; but now she lay on her bed, dying of a sickness. She called for her bishop, and as she talked to him in her last moments, he held her rough, hard, work-calloused hand in his. Then she asked the question, “How will God know that I am his?” Gently he raised her wrist and answered, “Show him your hands.”

Consider that you are invited to a friend’s house for breakfast. On the table you see a large pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice from which your host fills his glass. But he offers you none. Finally, you ask, “Could I have a glass of orange juice?”

He replies, “Oh, I am sorry. I was afraid you might not like orange juice, and I didn’t want to offend you by offering you something you didn’t desire.”

Now, that sounds absurd, but it is not too different from the way we hesitate to offer up something far sweeter than orange juice. I have often worried how I would answer some friend about my hesitancy when I meet him beyond the veil.
A story related by Elder Christoffel Golden, of South Africa, refreshed my concerns. He was recently in Lusaka, Zambia, attending a meeting of new converts. A well-spoken, well-dressed stranger with a Book of Mormon in hand walked in. He stated he had driven past the chapel many times and had wondered what church met there and what they taught for doctrine.
At the conclusion of the meeting, this gentleman stood up, raised his copy of the Book of Mormon high in the air, and asked, “Why have you kept this book hidden from the people of Lusaka? Why have you kept it a secret?”
As I heard this story, I flinched that one day some friend might ask me, “Why have you kept this Book of Mormon, with its message of truth and salvation, a secret?”
My reply, “I was afraid I would damage our friendship,” will not be very satisfying to either me or my friend.
Brothers and sisters, I pray that we may put our fears and our hesitancy behind us and no more keep secret the great treasure that is ours.

After school I’d go to my dad’s bakery, stand on a can next to him, and learn about running a bakery. When I’d leave to go play with my friends, one of my Primary teachers would step out from where she worked as a dishwasher, take hold of my hand, and say, “Are you being a good boy?” It didn’t matter what I had on my mind, whether it was good or not. I would say, “Yes.” If I had been planning mischief, my plans would change. I knew that she loved me.

A few months ago I fell and cut myself. My mom and dad decided I needed to go to the doctor and get stitches. I was really scared and did not want to go because I knew the doctor was going to give me a shot.
Before we went to the doctor’s office, my dad gave me a blessing. The Holy Ghost comforted us and whispered to us that we should bring the Friend to read while we were waiting.
When we got to the doctor’s office, I was scared. I didn’t want to get stitches. I was crying a little bit. While the nurse was getting the doctor, I started to read from the Friend. It made me feel a lot better. I got six stitches, and it hurt a little, but I wasn’t scared anymore. I’m grateful that we listened to the Holy Ghost and took the Friend with us. I know that the Friend is my friend.Tanner Allred, age 7, with help from his familyLas Vegas, Nevada

Kendra liked her new home. She liked her new bedroom. And she liked her new Primary.
She liked everything about her new house except for one thing. She missed living near her grandma. Visiting Grandma didn’t happen very often now.
One day after lunch, Mommy brought in the mail.
Here’s a letter for you, Kendra.
Who sent me a letter?
She had never received a letter before.
It’s from your grandma. Let’s sit down and I’ll help you read it.
Dear Kendra,You are a good big sister to your baby brother. I love you very much, and I miss you. Remember that there is someone else who loves you and always watches over you.Love, Grandma
Grandma’s talking about Heavenly Father!
That’s right, Heavenly Father loves you.
I want to write a letter to Grandma.
Mommy found a piece of paper and a pencil. Kendra sat at the table and did her very best printing. Mommy helped her spell the words.
Dear Grandma,Thank you for the letter. I miss you too. I know Heavenly Father is watching over you.Love, Kendra
Kendra put the letter into an envelope and licked the flap. Mommy helped her write Grandma’s address on the envelope. Then Kendra put a stamp on it and put it in the mailbox.
I’m glad Grandma loves me even though we live far away now.
Grandma will always love you, no matter how far away you are.
Just like Heavenly Father will always love me!
Kendra felt warm and happy.

Thirty years ago, while I served as a missionary in the Near East, my companion and I were assigned to visit a branch that had been torn apart by apostasy. We approached our assignment humbly and prayerfully. A crucial meeting was scheduled involving the disaffected parties. After we had fasted and prayed earnestly, my companion stood with confidence and spoke with the tongue of an angel. That young, inexperienced elder’s words healed wounds festering in the hearts of men much older than he, prompted confessions, and literally saved a branch of the church.

Clarissa hurried from the Primary room when she was dismissed. She could hardly wait to show her mom what her Primary teacher had given her. She held the special card carefully as her eyes scanned the hallway for her mother.
“Maybe she is already in the chapel,” Clarissa thought. She walked in that direction and peeked into the chapel, which was filling with people for sacrament meeting. No, she wasn’t there yet. “Where could she be?” Clarissa wondered.
Then she remembered her sister Deseret in nursery. Maybe Mom was getting her. Clarissa went to the nursery room and smiled when she saw her mom. “How was Primary?” Mom asked.
“Great,” Clarissa said. “Mom, look what my teacher gave me!”
“That looks like a pass-along card,” Mom said. “What are you going to do with it?”
“My teacher said I should give it to someone who isn’t a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints,” Clarissa replied.
“That’s great, honey!” Mom said as they walked down the hall with Deseret to the chapel. “Who are you going to give it to? Do you know someone who isn’t a member of the Church?”
“Of course I do, Mom!” Clarissa said. “I want to give it to Margaret!”
Margaret was two years older than Clarissa. Clarissa saw her almost every week when her mom gave piano lessons to Margaret’s older brother and sister. Margaret would come with her mom to pick them up after the lesson. Clarissa liked Margaret a lot. She wanted her to know about the true Church of Jesus Christ.
“OK,” Mom said. “Why don’t we go to Margaret’s house after church and give her the card.”
During sacrament meeting, Clarissa carefully held the pass-along card in her hands. She looked at the pretty picture on the front. She knew the back gave instructions about how to order a free video that would tell more about Jesus Christ. She hoped Margaret’s family would order the video.
After church, Mom took Clarissa and Deseret to the car. They drove to Margaret’s house. Clarissa was so excited!
When they stopped at the house, they all walked to the front door. Mom rang the doorbell. Margaret’s mom answered. “Is Margaret here?” Clarissa asked.
“No, Clarissa,” Margaret’s mom said. “She is at a friend’s house. I’m sorry you missed her.”
Clarissa looked sadly at her mother. Margaret wasn’t there. She didn’t know what to say next. Luckily, Mom said, “Clarissa has a card that she wants to give to Margaret. It has a number that you can call to order a free video that tells about Jesus Christ. Is it OK if she gives it to Margaret?” Mom asked.
Margaret’s mother smiled warmly at Clarissa. “How nice of you, Clarissa. Do you want me to take the card and give it to Margaret for you?”
Clarissa nodded and handed the card to Margaret’s mom. As they walked back to the car, she had a warm and happy feeling inside. It felt good to be a missionary.