Gospel Story Finder

My wife Susan once interviewed a fine father. This father loved and was proud of each of his children. This included a talented and hard-working son who was raising a good family while serving as a young bishop.
One day his son was brutally murdered.
The father said if the courts don’t nail my son’s murderer, I’ll see to it myself that murderer gets what he deserves.
One day the father and his family were arriving at the courthouse for a pre-trial hearing. A reporter pushed a microphone into one of their faces. Upset, the family member reacted aggressively.
It was then the father realized hate was starting to consume his family. He loved his family. He did not want hate to consume them. Perhaps he could not let go of hate for his own sake, but he would let it go for his family’s stake. He would let go of hate to hold onto love.
The father came to see his son’s murderer was himself a son, whose parents were faithful and devout community members. The murdering son had shattered not only his life, but also the lives of his now grief-stricken parents.
The father who had lost his son reached out to the parents who had lost their son.
In reaching out and letting go, the father again found faith and hope onto which he could hold in even the darkest hours.

It’s early Saturday morning. You have lots to do—hang out with friends, maybe catch up on your homework. Then the phone rings and you remember that this Saturday is your ward’s youth serve-a-thon. You groan and think about getting in one more hour of sleep, right?
Of course not. Getting up is easy if you’re in the Richmond Ward, Richmond Virginia Stake, and today much of your service will be for those who aren’t members of the Church. Today you get to join with the missionaries and meet a lot of new people.
This Saturday morning, youth from the Richmond Ward are spread out in five different locations around the city. The first stop is a small house in the middle of Richmond. Fourteen-year-old Zack Harton and his friend Will Jones are stationed here, raking leaves, pulling weeds, and having fun.
Zack doesn’t personally know the family his group is helping, but he does know that this family is investigating the Church. Therefore, he knows that he’s also setting an example. “It makes me feel good because I’m helping someone in need—just as I would help my own brother and sister if they needed help,” Zack says.
His friend Will is also investigating the Church and is glad that Zack invited him to come along today. Will has already caught on to the wonderful feeling that comes from service. “I feel that I have an obligation toward other people,” Will says. “I started coming with Zack to Scouts and never knew it was going to get into this. But I just think it’s wonderful that somebody would care enough to do this. While we were working in the yard, everyone would help one another. You didn’t even have to ask. I could feel God around me.”
Will’s enthusiasm for service touches Cary Fleming as she, too, helps clean up at this stop. “The house looked pretty bad when we got there,” Cary says. “I wondered how we were going to clean all this. But then Will started singing nonstop, and I kept on pulling weeds, and we had a blast.”
Cary found out that what her mom said last night was right. “I did not want to go, but she told me it would strengthen my testimony if I really prayed about going and asked to have a good time. So I knelt down and prayed, and I’ve had the best time.”
A couple of kilometers away, Charity Holderness is cleaning bedrooms and bathrooms for a part-member family in the Richmond Ward. For Charity, this is a little out of the ordinary. “When I clean my own room, my mom thinks I’m sick,” she says.
Today she’s feeling something different. “I can’t even explain this feeling. I know that I haven’t done even a fraction of the work some people do. But I feel so much better knowing that I can keep doing small things. Maybe I’ll sweep the kitchen floor when I get home.”
Thirteen-year-old Caity Ingles is also here. She is not a member of the Church but came when her friend April Lacy invited her. April asked Caity to come because, she says, “I want her to know that I like to serve and help other people.”
The two missionaries at this stop like April’s idea about setting an example. Elder Jeffrey Mortensen, from Visalia, California, says: “We’re just the missionaries serving in this area for a short time. But when a ward member can make a connection with a nonmember, that is awesome.”
Building relationships—as well as cutting down some unwanted trees—is in full swing where a third group of youth are stationed. Todd Swenson, age 17, is here, and he’s a little tired from pulling up roots and clearing leaves. But his attitude is not the least bit tiresome. “This is my first time doing anything like this, but I want to do it again. I think it makes the people we are helping feel that they have friends, that someone is looking out for them,” Todd says.
Ben Mullins, age 14, agrees. “I hope it makes them feel that Church members like to help other people. It also gives me a better attitude about serving.”
Besides, according to Heather Swenson, there’s not much better to do on a Saturday. “I can spare one Saturday. I’ve got a lot of time left in my life to help other people. I need to use that time well.”
Across town at a less-active ward member’s home, Chris Odell knows all about using his time well. “I know this is the best thing I could do today,” Chris says. “When I serve, I feel close to heaven.”
Lindsay Lansing, age 14, nods in agreement and says, “Service shows that you love and respect others.” She is helping the sister missionaries gather leaves and stuff them into a garbage bag. This is not the first time she has joined them to provide service for her neighbors and less-active ward members. “I do this whenever I get the chance.”
Lindsay, Chris, and the rest of the group here finish quickly, but they don’t want to quit yet. So each of them jumps into a leader’s van to find another group that may need some extra hands.
By lunchtime, the last group of Richmond Ward youth are putting finishing touches on a wall at Svetlana Iskiyayev’s Village Shoe Shop. They have spent the morning tidying and painting the back room of the shop.
Svetlana and her husband left careers as a doctor and a lawyer when they came to Virginia from Russia several years ago. Now they are building their dreams here. And Helen Capehart, age 16, is happy she can help them. She has invited two nonmember friends to help her today and hopes that they, as well as the Iskiyayevs, will see the light of the gospel through her service.
After all, examples of service are what drew Helen herself to the gospel just a short time ago. She says: “I’m so grateful that the Lord led me to this Church and for the awesome examples my friends here have been to me. My biggest example now is Jesus Christ, and I find so much joy in serving him. I hope I always have this feeling in me.”
Most likely, that feeling will stay with Helen because she has found an important key to sharing the gospel—service.
As youth from the Richmond Ward close their day of service with a testimony meeting, Helen once again captures the essence of this activity. “I don’t think I ever feel the Spirit as strong in my life as when I am serving the Lord,” Helen says. “Look at all the magazines with beautiful people on the covers. The world says that’s beauty. But when I was working today, I got paint and dirt all over me. And I think that is the Lord’s true definition of beauty.”
She is probably right. What could be more beautiful than a child of God who has found happiness in following the example of the Savior?

I was blessed to have a mentor who modeled this combination for me when I was at Stanford. Elder Robert M. Daines, a General Authority Seventy who was then a professor at Stanford Law School, was the bishop of my young single adult ward. As his executive secretary, I saw that he walked the walk in his Church service and in his responsibilities as a father and husband.

I also worked as a research assistant for Elder Daines and took a class from him, and I saw the positive impact of his research in the academic and policy realms. In effect, even though Elder Daines was not at BYU, he was taking a double-heritage approach in teaching me—he showed me what it meant to “speak with authority and excellence” in his academic discipline while also modeling literacy “in the language of spiritual things.”

Watching this example at a pivotal time in my life had a powerful impact on my vision of who I wanted to become. Not only did Elder Daines’s life provide me with examples of laudable goals worth shooting for, but I also felt more confident setting challenging goals for myself because I had a mentor who believed in me and who had a track record of achieving excellent things himself. I felt more inspired to aim high in my academic and professional goals—and to keep my spiritual foundation strong—with someone like Elder Daines in my camp.

Sarah had a similarly influential mentor in her life when she attended BYU. As she navigated through a history major, graduate school, and her early career, Dr. Paul Kerry inspired her to seek her highest potential both in her studies and in her discipleship. Dr. Kerry—who has appointments in the BYU History Department and the International Center for Law and Religion Studies and who has held visiting fellowships at schools including Princeton, Cambridge, the London School of Economics, and Oxford—has spent much of his career seeking to build bridges for the Church and BYU in the world and creating opportunities for BYU students to excel.

Wanting to recognize his far-reaching influence, Sarah calligraphed a quote for Dr. Kerry on her graduation that reads, “There comes that mysterious meeting in Life when someone acknowledges who we are and what we can be, igniting the circuits of our highest potential.” This piece still hangs in Dr. Kerry’s office today.

I am grateful that Elder Daines and Dr. Kerry are both still part of our lives, providing counsel, support, and friendship many years later.

When I was born I had a number of physical challenges, the most serious being a deformity of the heart. At the age of nine I had open-heart surgery, which at the time was in an early experimental stage. I was given a 50/50 chance of surviving the surgery and a chance that the surgery would be successful. Obviously I survived the surgery, and I have had no heart problems since.

Looking back at that time, there were two truths I knew then, and I still know today. The first was that the Lord knew me individually and was watching over me. I knew He loved me, and because of that everything would be okay—regardless of what I had to go through. That knowledge has been a tremendous blessing as I have faced the various challenges in my life.

The second was that I had been given many blessings and my life has a purpose. I also knew that with these blessings came a tremendous responsibility to do all I could to be worthy of that which I had been given.

According to The Journal of Pacific History, in 1780 the Spanish captain Francisco Antonio Mourelle set sail aboard La Princesa from the Philippines to Mexico. The voyage across the Pacific Ocean was perilous—the crew suffered severe food and water shortages, and the ship desperately needed repairs as they battled infestations and deteriorating equipment.
In March 1781, “they first sighted Fonualei and after finding it barren called it Amargura (bitterness). They proceeded to Late but were unable to locate anchorage, so they sailed on to Vava‘u and anchored near the present village of Longomapu on 1 March 1781. Captain Mourelle called the harbor Puerto del Refugio—Port of Refuge—because of their desperate state and the warm hospitality they were shown. During their three weeks stay the Spaniards were able to reprovision and to repair their ship. They left Vava‘u on the 19 March 1781 . . . sailing to San Blas to complete their mission.”

A new girl joined our school class in the middle of the year. She looked and spoke differently than the other students. She had moved around a lot and had a hard time making friends. She had sad things happening in her family and came to school crying on some days. I knew I wanted to try to help this girl, but I wasn’t exactly sure what I should do because she did not always like to talk with other children. I prayed about what I should do and could feel the Holy Ghost whisper that I should just try to be her friend.
I helped her with her schoolwork and told her that our Heavenly Father gave her special talents for her to use and share with others. I invited her to play with me and other students at recess. A few months later, she said I was the first friend she ever had.
She had to move again, and I felt really sad. I asked the school secretary to send a letter to her at her new address. In the letter, I told my friend I would miss her and that she would always be my friend. I drew pictures of us playing together and reminded her of some of her talents. I told her she should be brave and try to make a new friend because she could help someone else. I prayed that she would find a friend in her new school and that the other children would be nice to her.
I know that Heavenly Father loves all of His children, and I am thankful that He helps us to help each of them.

One night when the elders came to the Cantos home, Pedrito was unusually ill. The elders felt prompted to discuss the principle of priesthood administrations. The family eagerly sought a blessing for Pedrito, who was so thin you could see the bones under his skin. Up until then, he had been unable to tolerate any food except milk. He could neither walk nor talk, and he rarely slept more than an hour or two at a time.

The elders administered to the child and left the house with a strong feeling that he would recover.

From that time on, Pedrito began to improve. The Cantos family were baptized, and the welfare services missionaries helped Sister Cantos get Pedrito started on solid foods. He began to gain weight, and for the first time in his life, he slept through the night. He also learned to walk and talk. The frequent, costly trips to Guayaquil were no longer necessary.

I grew up in Monterrey, Mexico, in the state of Nuevo León. My parents were faithful Latter-day Saints, and I can’t remember a single time when we failed to attend church. When I was five or six years old, my father owned an old dump truck that he used to haul construction materials and garden soil. Each Sunday my sisters and I climbed up into the bed of that truck while my father and mother climbed into the cab. Then we drove to the home of my cousins, where their family climbed up to join us. Next we picked up the Gonzales family, then the Solanos family, and so on. By the time we arrived at the chapel, the dump truck was filled not with soil, but with Saints.
Some people who lived nearby thought it was most entertaining to watch more than 20 men, women, and children in white shirts and ties or Sunday dresses come pouring out of a dusty dump truck. Neighbors came outside each Sunday just to enjoy the spectacle. They laughed at us, but we weren’t a bit embarrassed. We were happy to be going to church. We repeated that performance twice each Sunday all through the 1960s.
When the truck wasn’t available, my family walked. Even if it was raining or cold or sizzling hot, we walked just the same, though it took at least an hour going and an hour coming back. And in those days there were Church services in the morning and the afternoon. We always attended both.
When I returned to Monterrey after many years, every one of my fellow dump truck passengers was still active in the Church. That experience united us and made us strong. I still attend all my meetings. How can I do less now than I did then?

Elder Peyton Burke of Idaho, USA, stands in a trailer piled high with sandbags. He and his companion have been filling them and carrying them all day, placing thousands in front of homes and businesses in their mission area in North Carolina to protect against the flooding of Hurricane Matthew.
A little over a year earlier, this kind of work would have been impossible for Peyton. At that time he was battling a dangerous infection that threatened to paralyze him. On top of that, his family had just moved to Idaho from Oregon, USA, and during the months he was stuck in bed and making daily hospital trips, he relied on his new friends and his trust in God to get him through.
The following March, Peyton began his mission in North Carolina. One month later, Hurricane Matthew ravaged the eastern coast of the United States, and North Carolina was in emergency status. Although he had to be careful, Peyton and the other missionaries helped fill and place thousands of sandbags to protect businesses and homes from the floods.
Peyton reflects: “All of my experiences in Idaho prepared me in different ways for my mission. All of my experiences made me physically, mentally, or spiritually stronger, and I’ve needed all those in helping the people here in North Carolina.
“I’ve realized that God gave me that trial to humble me and to give me more compassion for other people. This experience also made me a lot more grateful for all the things that I take for granted. There was a reason the Lord preserved me and that I wasn’t paralyzed or dead. That’s when it really hit me that I was here to help and bless others.”

Sometimes we feel that we don’t have any particularly important gifts. One day, a discouraged sister pleaded, “Lord, what is my personal ministry?” He answered, “Notice others.” It was a spiritual gift! Since then, she has found joy in noticing those who are regularly forgotten, and God has worked through her to bless many. While some spiritual gifts may not be prominent by the world’s standards, they are essential to God and His work.7

When we face serious challenges, sometimes we find it difficult to trust in the Lord. But trusting in Him brings us the hope we need in order to face our challenges.
That’s what happened with members of the Gatrell family, who live in Sister Jean A. Stevens’s ward. Sister Stevens, first counselor in the Primary general presidency, said the family held tight to the gospel and to their temple covenants after Brother Gatrell was diagnosed with cancer. Doing so gave them hope in God’s promises that they would be together again after this life.
Through the difficult days before her husband passed away, Sister Gatrell said, “I knew the Lord was watching over us. If you trust in the Lord, truly you can overcome any of life’s challenges.”5

It’s too bad when true friendships are ruined. Consider this example: Two close friends had a lot of interests in common. Unfortunately one of their common interests was a boy. One friend got angry because the boy paid more attention to the other one. After that fight, they never had anything more to do with each other. Each one refused to make the first move to apologize, so they avoided each other all through their high school years.

Five years later, they met at a party. They started talking and discovered they still had many things in common. They became close friends again, and a few months later, one asked the other to be her maid of honor at her upcoming wedding. They were grateful to have rediscovered their friendship, but they were both unhappy that they wasted five years when they could have been enjoying each other’s company. Maybe you can help your friends discover that they really would still like to be friends (see James 3:16–18).

A few years ago I received an anonymous letter from a kindhearted dentist who demonstrated brotherly love and goodwill. I’d like to share it with you:
“Dear President Monson:
“I feel remiss in that I should have sent you a thank-you note sooner. Last December I listened to your talk given during the Christmas devotional. You spoke of an older woman who could not afford to pay for the registration for an automobile she had recently purchased. Others came to her aid. All involved were touched.
“I am a dentist by profession. Not long after the devotional, my receptionist informed me that an acquaintance of hers was coming into my office. She had problems with two of her teeth. She knew this woman and told me of her circumstances. The woman carried many burdens. The family business, which she ran, was doing poorly, and the family was three months behind in paying rent. They had five children, many grown into adulthood, but all had moved back home because of difficult personal circumstances. By sheer force of will, she had kept her family together for some time. Now two teeth were broken.
“The woman arrived for her appointment and explained about her dental problem. She asked if I would allow her to pay her bill over time. She explained to me that her family had experienced several financial reversals and were just recently starting to pay some overdue bills.
“I assured her that her credit was good with me. She asked if I could repair just one of the two broken teeth at that time. I assured her that I could, and we began.
“Since I had the time, I repaired both teeth, for which she was grateful. When the work was completed, thinking of your talk, I told her that if she would not be offended, I should like to make a Christmas present of the dental work, for which there would be no bill. She was astonished. I could sense the depth of the stress and strain she had carried, as uncontrollable tears of gratitude gushed forth due to a small, simple act of kindness. It must have been years since someone showed her some little favor. Not able to speak, she made her way out.
“Both my assistant and receptionist were so moved by her reaction that they also [shed] tears and could hardly speak. I, on the other hand, was doubly glad. One part, in seeing such a simple act have such a happy effect on another. And the second part, for once in my life having a patient in my office crying for joy and not for pain!
“To you, my very best wishes.
“Sincerely,
“A brother in the gospel.”

A number of Joseph Smith’s earliest seeric visions were received by means of the seer stone. Joseph Knight Sr. remembered the Prophet sharing an incident regarding the seer stone that took place in September 1826 during the Prophet’s third annual visit to the Hill Cumorah. Knight indicated that during the 1826 interview with Moroni, Joseph was told that he would receive the plates the following year if he brought the right person with him to the hill.
Confused, Joseph asked Moroni, “‘Who is the right Person?’ The answer was you will know. Then he looked in his [stone] and found it was Emma Hale.”12 Joseph understood what he needed to do. A few weeks later he traveled to Harmony to request Emma’s hand in marriage from her father, Isaac Hale. However, Isaac opposed the marriage, and because of his opposition, Joseph and Emma eloped and were married in January 1827.
In accordance with Moroni’s instructions, the following September when the Prophet went to retrieve the plates at the hill, Emma accompanied her husband in the wagon. The account given by Knight illustrates that it was made known to Joseph Smith by means of a visionary experience using the seer stone that he was to marry Emma.

Later in my youth, my brother and I slept in an unheated bedroom in the winter. People thought that was good for you. Before falling into a warm bed, we knelt to say our prayers. There were expressions of simple gratitude. They concluded in the name of Jesus. The distinctive title of Christ was not used very much when we prayed in those days.

I recall jumping into my bed after I had said amen, pulling the covers up around my neck, and thinking of what I had just done in speaking to my Father in Heaven in the name of His Son. I did not have great knowledge of the gospel. But there was some kind of lingering peace and security in communing with the heavens in and through the Lord Jesus.

Trenton and his family were watching TV together. Trenton saw a boy on a commercial who did not look happy.
That boy looks very sad. Why is he so sad?
He’s sad because he doesn’t have food and clean water or other things he needs.
We should help him.
That’s a good idea. What do you think we should do?
We should make sure he has some food and clean water so he can be happy.
Good thinking. We could give some money to the bishop so he can use it to help somebody in need. What do you think?
Trenton was excited to help. He raced to his room and looked in his piggy bank. He poured out the coins and ran back to Dad.
Dad, I want to give this to the bishop so we can help somebody.
I want to help too.
Boys, that is a very kind thing to do. I think we all can share some of our money with those in need.
On Sunday, Trenton, Eric, and their parents each gave the bishop a donation envelope with some money in it. The bishop shook their hands. Trenton was happy to know that he was serving Jesus Christ and that he was helping someone in need.

When Panda Greene tried out for the girls’ one-mile run, she didn’t think she had a chance. She’d been running all her life, but never in formal competition. It had always been just for fun. The students and teachers at Andrews School had been buzzing about the race ever since she’d enrolled there in the sixth grade three months ago, and she knew that the very best runners would be competing. She could hardly believe it when she finished well ahead of her classmates. And when everyone at school suddenly knew who she was, and even the teachers stopped to chat with her in the halls, she couldn’t help but be pleased.
“Go, Panda! Go! Go!” the students cheered as she crossed the finish line ahead of the other runners during practices.
Andrews School’s biggest rival was Washington School. Every year for the past five years the winner of their meet had finally been determined by the winner of the one-mile race, and each time, Washington had walked away with the trophy. But enthusiasm was running high at Andrews this year. And their hopes were set on Panda. Winning had never seemed important to Panda before, but now she wanted very much to win—not for herself, but for her classmates, for her teachers, for Andrews School!
When Panda’s parents heard about the meet, they were just as excited as she was.
“We’ll be sure to be there,” her mother said, giving her a big hug. “We’re so proud of you!”
“When Grandpa Greene hears about it,” her father added, “I bet he’ll be here on the next plane.”
Billy, Panda’s eight-year-old brother, looked at her through squinted eyes. “Well, I hope you win, but I saw Washington’s team last Saturday. Their runner looks tough, and she runs like a cougar.”
Billy’s warning only increased Panda’s determination to win. Every afternoon, right after school, she hurried to the big track at the neighboring high school and practiced running until her brown hair was damp with perspiration and the muscles of her legs cried out for rest.
Panda felt good the morning of the race. She stood at the top of the bleachers in the warm sun and looked down at the track. “You’d better go sit with Mom and Dad and Grandpa now,” she said to Billy, who had been tagging after her all morning. “I have to go to the girls’ locker room and get ready for the race.”
As she spoke, Marianne Harper, her rival from Washington School, came over to her. Billy was right. Marianne looked strong and fast. She also looked unfriendly.
“I just wanted a closer look at you,” she said to Panda. “Everyone’s been telling me that you’re quite a runner. But you don’t look like much to me.”
Billy scrambled up the bleacher seats until he was at face level with Marianne. He stuck out his chin and glared at her. “Well, that’s OK, because you’re going to see nothing but her dust once the race starts!”
Marianne merely looked past Billy at Panda. “You don’t stand a chance of winning,” she said coolly as she walked away. “You don’t need it badly enough.”
Billy turned to Panda. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t have time to figure it out now,” she said as she headed down the bleachers. Turning to wave to Billy, Panda caught the toe of her sneaker on an uneven step and pitched forward. She quickly regained her balance, but a sharp pain bit angrily into her right ankle. After testing it gingerly, she decided it wasn’t anything serious, and she hurried off to the locker room.
The race was four laps around the school’s quarter-mile track. Six girls, each one from a local grade school, were lined up across the track in starting position. Panda was in the inside lane, Marianne Harper in the lane next to her. The gun went off, and Marianne instantly shot ahead of the group.
Panda paced herself, concentrating on her breathing. Relax, she told herself. Take deep, even breaths.
At the end of the second lap, two girls were ahead of her: Marianne Harper, and Sue Winton from Longfellow School. Panda continued her steady pace. The whole school was counting on her, and she wasn’t planning to let them down. By the third lap, only Marianne stood between Panda and victory. But the mishap in the bleachers had been more damaging than Panda had suspected, and the pounding of her feet against the hard surface was taking its toll on her ankle. Each step filled her leg with fiery pain. Gotta win! she thought. Forget the pain. Run! Run! Run!
Panda saw her chance for victory midway in the last lap. Marianne was showing signs of fatigue. Panda increased her speed, closing the gap until the two girls were running side by side. Marianne glanced at Panda, her eyes hard and cold. It was clear that she would not take losing lightly.
There were only fifty yards to go when a bolt of pain ripped through Panda’s leg; she felt her ankle twist beneath her body as she plunged toward the ground. Her hands plowed up the track, scraping them raw. Blood trickled from her knees, and gritty sand filled her mouth as she saw Marianne sprint across the finish line.
A party had been planned at the high school auditorium for all the contestants, winners and losers alike, immediately following the meet. Panda really wanted to attend it, so despite her injuries, her parents drove her there directly from the doctor’s office and helped her into a chair. She was immediately surrounded by concerned friends, determined to console her and cheer her up. Billy stood at her side, while her parents and grandfather talked with several other parents and some teachers.
“Does your leg hurt a lot?” Billy asked when her classmates temporarily drifted away.
“No, not too much,” Panda said. “The doctor says it’ll be fine in a week or so. I just have to let it rest.”
Billy was the first to see Marianne Harper heading their way. “Oh, oh. Here comes trouble!” he muttered.
Panda expected a sneer from Marianne, but her face was serious. “I’m sorry about your fall,” she said. “I wanted to win awfully bad, but not that way.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Panda said. “You beat me fair and square. You’re the winner.”
“Am I? Look around.” Marianne motioned to the many parents, teachers, and students in the room. “Your whole family’s here … and so many friends! They don’t care that you lost. They’re still cheering for you.” She shook her head sadly. “I thought it might be different if I won, but it isn’t. My classmates only came because we’re getting the trophy, and my parents didn’t show up at all.”
Marianne turned to walk away, and Panda reached out and grasped her arm. “Wait,” she said. “You’ll be going to Jefferson Junior High next year, won’t you?”
Marianne nodded.
“I will, too,” Panda said. “Maybe we can be on a relay team together. We’d make great partners.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course,” Panda said.
“Then you have yourself a partner!” Marianne smiled a half-smile as she left, but her eyes were wet with tears.
“I don’t get it,” Billy said. “She’s the winner. Winners don’t cry.”
“Sometimes they do, Billy,” Panda said thoughtfully. “I guess there are lots of things more important than winning.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “Like having a brother.”
Panda put her arm around Billy’s shoulder. “Yes,” she agreed with a broad smile. “Like having a brother.”

Ron had no time for school sports once he reached high school because he always had a job, but he made time for loyal friendships that have lasted a lifetime.
“I’ve always admired Ron for who he is, but he wasn’t perfect,” says childhood friend Kraig McCleary. With a smile, he adds, “I’ve told him that if he gets to heaven, I’ll get there too because we did the same things growing up.”
Ron left on his mission in early 1970, but Kraig was thinking about postponing missionary service until after that fall’s hunting season. That’s when Ron called him from his mission.
“I don’t know how he got permission to call, but he chastised me for not being more excited about getting right out on my mission,” Brother McCleary says. “Of course, I didn’t postpone it.”

After losing her husband, Elder Bruce D. Porter, a General Authority Seventy, to a pulmonary infection in December 2016, Sister Susan Porter found herself alone at their home in Bountiful, Utah, USA.
For the nearly two years prior to his passing, she traveled and served alongside him as he served as president of the Europe East Area.
As a new widow, she prayed for guidance. One day she saw a painting of the Savior talking to the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well (see John 4:6–26). She felt the Spirit’s prompting to likewise “sit at the feet of the Savior and learn, and He will teach you.”
Sister Porter strived to draw closer to the Savior, and the Holy Ghost comforted her and led her forward.
“I know I was carried,” she said. “I had strength and peace beyond my own.”

That kind of unity among the Seventy and their wives has great power. I remember being on assignment in Japan and traveling between cities with Elder Yoon Hwan and Sister Bon Choi, then serving in the Asia North Area Presidency. I knew of a problem in their home country of Korea, and I brought it up. After I prodded her a little, Sister Choi told me of the serious nature of the problem. She then made suggestions that proved extremely helpful in finding a solution.