Gospel Story Finder

We all had great faith. We had initiative too and soon decided we needed a means of transport. Winter was approaching and our little group of pioneers had no wagons or oxen. We decided on the modern day equivalent… a minibus. We already had a willing driver, Sidney Kitt. Now we needed money. All of us sisters could sew and had sewing machines, so we decided to sew us a bus!
We found the best places to buy cheap fabric and simple patterns for children’s clothes, but most of all we sewed peg bags - novelty bags that looked like little dresses on a hanger. We sewed what seemed like hundreds of them! We got our menfolk selling them and got many orders as our fame spread.
We were beginning to get a little weary, and sales were beginning to drop off, but we were still short of our target when our prayers were answered. Someone sent us a sum of money anonymously, just enough to make up the balance we needed.
We named our old minibus Peggy because of all the peg bags. Peggy wasn’t the most beautiful or the most functional minibus, but she got us over our Welsh mountain. There was always a spot near the top where she stalled, but all except the little ones would get out and push Peggy the rest of the way to the summit. We would then all scrambled back in and Peggy would sail down the other side.
One day, the inevitable happened. Peggy died on the mountain! It was a sad day for us when Peggy expired and was left to an unmarked grave at a car dealership. However Heavenly Father saw the plight of the Caerphilly pioneers and prompted Merthyr Tydfil Stake to start a Caerphilly Branch, renting rooms in Caerphilly, with Brother Kitt as branch president.
We were shortly joined by more members - all pioneers of faith and humour. We had so much between us – it was the golden thread that kept us going through difficult times and increased the love between us.
Our wards and branches have grown now and so have our families. From one seed can come a whole forest of oaks and every member is a seed. We are all pioneers in some way, in some wilderness, are we not? And Peggy had helped us over our not-so-rocky mountain.

I accepted a mission call to Scotland and had a wonderful experience. A few weeks after I returned home, I met my future wife at a Church meeting. We dated, and I proposed marriage. We were married in the Salt Lake Temple.
One sentence in my patriarchal blessing indicates that I would be permitted to live in mortality with an angel. At the time the patriarch gave me that blessing, I didn’t know what an angel was, let alone the meaning of the phrase. As I left the temple the day my wife and I were sealed, I knew what it meant. She has been the light of my life. Thanks to her, I have been permitted to live in an environment of light. She has brought joy and happiness to our 8 children, 25 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren. My children have all come to call her blessed. I give thanks to God for the blessings of the gospel and the eternal blessings of the covenants and ordinances of the holy temple.

Q: What do you do to get in shape mentally before a game?
Freed: Everyone is different in that respect. Pressure is an intense thing and hard to actually define. Let me give you an example.
I remember reading about a recent tennis superstar who was going to play in the finals at Wimbledon. He woke up at three or four o’clock in the morning when someone came into his room. “Well,” he said, “I’ve got to go back to sleep for three or four more hours,” and he turned over and went back to sleep. With me, that would have been impossible.
When I was preparing for a match the next day, I’d be tired enough so that I could usually get to sleep; but once I’d get to sleep, if I ever woke up, then my mind would start operating and I’d start mentally playing the match, and I just had no hope of further rest. In fact, many nights I’ve lain in bed before a big match and never slept. I figured I got my rest by just lying down. I’ve seen kids who were the same way. As I got older, I got a little bit better, but I was still excitable. I remember playing in the senior finals at Forest Hills. The fellow I was playing was the defending champ, and he was pretty smart. He won the toss but chose to receive, so I had to serve. When I threw the ball up, my hand was actually shaking so hard I couldn’t let go of the ball. Finally, somehow, I got control of myself and managed to play a pretty fair game.
Many times players lose points by getting what we call the “elbow,” the “steel elbow.” It’s really funny, because I don’t know whether you’re afraid to win or afraid to lose; but you get so scared you’re going to make a mistake that your elbow just won’t let you go. It happens to the greatest players; everybody gets it, to a degree, one time or another.
Q: Experience has a lot to do with that also, doesn’t it?
Freed: Yes, that’s a good point. At one point in my career I said to myself, “Well, I’ve lost plenty of matches by underhitting the ball; from now on, when the big point comes up, I’m going to lose it by overhitting. I’m really going to sock the ball.” So I started losing them by socking the ball! But I really did better in the long run by hitting hard. I lost some good points when I did that, but it loosened me up, and later I won a lot more because I was a little more cool.
Q: What should you do if you get the “elbow”?
Freed: In talking to players and coaches, I’ve found they all agree that it’s a good thing to talk about it and expose it and say, “Maybe I’ll get the ‘elbow.’” It’s better to face it and then get it out of your mind; and, of course, that’s a good rule of psychology anyway.
Q: How important is physical training for a big game? I’ve heard coaches talk about trying to outrun your opponent in a game.
Freed: That’s what I used to do when I was young. I tried to beat people by outrunning them, and I did win many matches that way; but when I played a big hitter who could control a big serve and follow it to the net, he would always beat me. Then I got older and started doing the same thing myself, and I won more than I did when I was trying to outrun my opponents. Today the top college teams do roadwork in addition to their tennis playing. When I was with the Davis Cup team, I had our kids do some running whenever I could. Rope-jumping is another good exercise for tennis players.
Q: What makes the difference between a great champion and an ordinary player?
Freed: The physical equipment that you were born with has as much to do with it as anything. Then you combine that with the right mental attitude and the great determination that you need so much and always see in great champions.
Q: It’s so quiet when you’re watching a match. Can you feel the tension?
Freed: Well, I built up pressure within myself. I always did. So I guess it didn’t matter whether anyone was watching or not. If there were a million people watching, I don’t think the tension level would have gone up. This inner pressure was one of my biggest faults, and it was one of the things I was always fighting.
Q: Do left-handers have an advantage or a disadvantage?
Freed: I’ve always thought they had an advantage, and yet when you look at the records, there have been very few great stars who were left-handed, probably because most people are right-handed. But left-handers can sure make it miserable for right-handers if they know how to curve the ball in to them or slice it in to them.
Q: What should a player do when he comes up against a good left-hander?
Freed: A left-hander always seems to hit into your backhand or hit the ball so that it curves in to you. I got used to playing against left-handers, and I always did pretty well against them, just because I had the right kind of mental attitude. That’s very important. Tennis is quite an emotional game. What you think you can do, you often can. You need confidence and concentration and a good mental attitude.
Q: What about control on the tennis court? I’ve seen friends occasionally lose control and throw their racket on the ground.
Freed: A lot of potentially great tennis players don’t make it because they can’t control their emotions on the court. You know you are under close scrutiny when you are playing tennis. A lot can happen on a football field that the fans never see, but spectators can even tell what a tennis player is saying under his breath.
I think they should and will eventually have technical fouls in tennis, just as they do in basketball, for losing control. I’ve seen some kids start out to be great tennis players, but they never became champions because they couldn’t learn to lose—they couldn’t take the pressure. Thank goodness I was able to teach my children to lose. If they lost a match, okay. It was over; forget about it and go on to the next one.
I think that’s one of life’s great lessons that you can learn from sports. I say can learn because obviously everybody doesn’t learn it.
Q: What would you say to a Mormon who wanted to really get involved in the game?
Freed: Living your religion could only help you be a better tennis player. And, of course, if you ever became good enough and wanted to join the tennis circuit, you wouldn’t have the big problem of playing on Sunday as you do in other sports. One other thing—remember that the Word of Wisdom is a great asset. Living it will not only help a person be a better tennis player, but it is also essential if you are going to be a healthy person.

It felt like just a regular morning as I walked to school. But this seemingly unremarkable day in my 13-year-old life turned into something quite different once I got there.
“Did you hear the news?” my friend asked.
“No,” I replied. “What’s going on?”
When we walked into our first class, the teacher had a TV on. That’s when I saw news about the terrible events of the morning of September 11, 2001, in the United States. Hijacked airplanes had been flown into the World Trade Center in New York City and the Pentagon near Washington, D.C. Another plane had crashed in a field in Pennsylvania. Thousands were killed or injured. It was a frightening and tragic day.
At this time, my dad was a fighter pilot aboard an aircraft carrier on a routine six-month deployment for the United States Navy. In the days that followed, I continued to see news about the attacks. I also heard classmates express fear and anger. All this made me anxious about the future and what might happen to my dad.
Hal Murdock, Captain, United States Navy, in the cockpit of an F/A-18F Super Hornet at Naval Air Station in 2008.
General conference was held three weeks later. As I listened, the prophet, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910–2008), said that we lived in perilous times, but “the God in whom I believe … is a God of mercy. He is a God of love. He is a God of peace and reassurance, and I look to Him in times such as this as a comfort and a source of strength.”1
In the last session, President Hinckley closed his address with a prayer. He prayed for blessings of faith, love, charity, and “a spirit of perseverance to root out the terrible evils that are in this world.” He prayed that God would give “protection and guidance to those who are engaged actively in carrying forth the things of battle. Bless them; preserve their lives; save them from harm and evil. Hear the prayers of their loved ones for their safety.” He also prayed for God to “spare us and help us to walk with faith ever in Thee and ever in Thy Beloved Son.”2
President Gordon B. Hinckley offering a prayer during the October 2001 general conference.
I had often heard the prophet say that he prays for many things, but this was a unique experience. I had never heard the prophet say an actual prayer in general conference. Hearing the prophet pray brought me comfort I had not felt in weeks. He prayed about my concerns. I felt that he had prayed for my family. While his prayer was for the world, I was amazed that a prophet’s prayer could also be for me.
Several months later, our family received a letter from my dad. He wrote that on the day of President Hinckley’s prayer, he and everyone aboard the aircraft carrier had begun a mission to stop further attacks from those who had attacked America.
“As I have reflected on the prayer offered by the prophet,” my dad wrote, “I have realized several remarkable things. We suffered no injuries or losses during the entire operation. At times, my fellow pilots and I found ourselves many miles away from the carrier, flying over hostile territory on 12-hour missions. When we would return to the aircraft carrier to land our fighter jets at night, the seas and weather remained calm long past the time the weather normally turns poor in that part of the world. To bring everyone home is a miraculous blessing. I know from personal experience that the prayer offered by the prophet in our behalf was answered.”
When I read my dad’s witness of an answer to the prophet’s prayer, the Spirit filled my heart and these words came to my mind: “Look to the prophet, and you will be OK.”
Commander Murdock and his family the day he safely returned home from deployment.

Although Talica has fun at school, she is also a dedicated student. In class, her hand goes up almost automatically when the teacher asks a question. Once when she scored seventh in her class on an exam, she decided that next time she would finish first or second. She studied hard during and after school, and on the next exam she finished second. She receives a well-rounded education in return for her devotion. Students not only learn academic subjects but begin each day with a prayer, attend religion class, and tend a garden plot.

Aaron Story, a priest from Baldwin, Kansas, is a talented artist. On a recent school trip with his art class to Spring Hill, Kansas, Aaron teamed up with three other artists to participate in a chalk-drawing contest. Although the other three members of the team are not LDS, they were so taken with the image of the St. Louis Missouri Temple which Aaron had in his sketch book, they insisted on including it in their drawing.
The judges loved the image, too. They awarded Aaron and his fellow artists first place for the boldness and originality of their drawing.

One of the most serious deterrents to any success is that we spend too much time practicing those things that we don’t want to be. We might learn a great many important lessons from the story told many years ago by Dr. Harry Emerson Fosdick entitled “On the Wrong Bus.” It tells of a man who got on a bus with the intention and desire of going to Detroit. But when he arrived at the end of a long trip, he found himself in Kansas City. At first he would not believe it. When he asked for Woodward Avenue and was told there was no Woodward Avenue, he was indignant—he knew there was. It was some time before he could face the fact that in spite of his good intentions and his earnest desire, he was not in Detroit at all but in Kansas City. Everything was fine except for one little detail; he had just caught the wrong bus.

In my own lifetime I have been a witness to the miracle of the restored gospel. When I was a young girl my family moved to São Paulo, Brazil, where my father had been called to preside over the Brazilian Mission. It was an exciting time for me and a great place to grow up. A favorite game for my brothers and me was to dress up and pretend to be missionaries. We spent hours scribbling our own missionary pamphlets and “preaching” and “transferring” all over the yard. For five years the nightly conversations around our dinner table centered on missionary work, and I listened intently to stories of faith told by missionaries. Even at that age I knew I was part of a great work.
There were only about 3,000 members of the Church in Brazil when we arrived there. I remember being in a very small Primary with a few other children, singing the same five songs every week, as those were the only ones translated into Portuguese. Two of my favorite songs were “A Luz Divina,” or “The Light Divine” (Hymns, no. 305), and something about a bunny in the middle of the woods (see “The Little Rabbit,” Children’s Friend, June 1955, 257).
In many ways our experience was similar to the early pioneers. We had no hymnbooks or pictures or lesson manuals sent from the headquarters of the Church. Everything that was needed to teach the gospel in Portuguese was written and printed in our mission home. All of us, even the children, were pressed into service to help assemble mission newsletters and lessons. No one shipped the Church to us. The prophet did not send us stake presidents or bishops. He did not send Relief Society presidents or youth programs. The Church in Brazil was made from the same material that the pioneers started with. The material to build the Church was in the people.
During our years in Brazil, we saw great growth come to the Church. Thousands became Latter-day Saints. Soon the mission was divided, districts and branches were organized, and new chapels were built. The new members were enthusiastic, and they grew in faith and became more experienced in the manner of the gospel.
A lot of years passed, and then last year I returned to Brazil to attend the rededication of the São Paulo temple. At that time I learned that there were 187 stakes in Brazil. There are now 26 missions, 4 temples, and almost 1 million members. Imagine my surprise when I walked into a stadium filled with over 60,000 members who had gathered to hear President Gordon B. Hinckley and celebrate the temple dedication. To me it was a miracle to see thousands of youth dancing and singing together. As I watched that joyful celebration, I kept saying to myself, “This is amazing! This is a miracle! How did this miracle happen?”
I marveled all that night at what I had seen. Then, the next morning at the temple dedication, I had a reunion with my Primary teacher, Sister Gloria Silveira. That was when I knew how the miracle had come about. As a new convert with no prior Church experience, Sister Silveira had come to Primary prepared to share her simple testimony and teach me the Articles of Faith in Portuguese. She and her husband, Humberto, are still faithful. They have served in many Church callings over the years, and they are still serving. When I saw Sister Silveira, I realized that the Church in Brazil had grown because of her and thousands like her. She and Brother Silveira represent people everywhere who have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and His gospel. They have grown in knowledge and skill, and they have served in the Church (see D&C 88:80). They have shared the gospel with friends (see D&C 30:5). They work in the temple (see D&C 138:48). They taught their five children correct principles (see D&C 68:28). Of their 43 descendants, 15 have served full-time missions. Their grandchildren are now marrying in the temple, and their great-grandchildren are the fourth generation of Silveiras who are part of the marvelous work that was started by Joseph Smith. Because of them, faith has increased in the earth. They are an example of the miracle the Lord spoke about when He said that His gospel would be proclaimed by the weak and the simple (see D&C 1:23) and that by small and simple means great things are brought to pass (see 1 Nephi 16:29).

Later, the bishop met with me again to let me know that the disciplinary council would be reconvened. I felt nervous and a little scared, but I knew it was worth going through. Since I had met with the bishop the first time, I had been feeling joy like never before. My perceptions had started to change, and I found myself loving life, family, and friends so much more. I had experienced some difficult days when I wondered how I could ever spend the rest of my life without beer, but on most days I could feel hope building inside me.
I was nervous partly because one of the bishop’s counselors was the father of my son’s friend, and I feared that after hearing about my sinful past, he would not want his son to play at my house again. I resolved that if he did feel that way, I would respect his wishes. No obstacle would stand in the way of what had become the most important thing in my life: coming back into full fellowship in the Church.
The night for my disciplinary council finally came. As I knelt in prayer with the members of the bishopric, I felt strongly the influence of the Spirit, as well as an indescribable brotherly love. Those men hadn’t known me long, but I knew they cared about me and loved me. Nevertheless, when my son’s friend’s father hesitated before speaking, I thought he was trying to find a way to say his son couldn’t play with my son anymore. Instead, he said: “I just want you to know how impressed I have been with your son and your family. You must be good parents to raise such a boy.”
At the end of the meeting, the bishop said, “You are a worthy member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” I felt great joy upon hearing those words.
When I returned home, I wanted to laugh and cry and tell my family everything, but everyone was asleep. So I prayed to Heavenly Father, thanking him for his love and kindness, for honorable men who act as righteous judges, for family and friends who helped me along the way, and for all the other blessings I have in my life.

For as long as I can remember, I have always looked up to my big sister, DeNeece. I will never forget those cold winter mornings when the snow seemed to rise above my waist but never reached her knees. She would boldly take a clump of snow and roll it over the ground to create a snowman. I would gather up some snow and follow directly behind her, rolling my tiny snowball in her footsteps. I would follow her around for what seemed to be hours. Then she would abruptly halt and announce her ball finished. So naturally, I declared the same. Would my ball ever be as large or as skillfully round as hers? I pondered the situation, and finally it occurred to me to start my snowball alongside her, not behind. Then they both would be large and we could create a huge snowman. But we never rolled snowballs again.

A tiny sunbeam shining bravely through a crack between the logs in her bedroom played across Louisa’s face. She stretched lazily and listened to the shrieking of the sea gulls outside her small window. They seemed to be calling to her to come and play. Louisa knew they had come for their usual breakfast of worms and insects and perhaps an occasional mouse from the fields surrounding the growing settlement. She had come to think of the gulls as her own, because each morning as the sun rose over the mountains they settled first in the field next to her window and then moved to other fields.
Quietly she slipped from her bed onto the rough floor and down the stairs to the door of the cabin. She smiled as she slipped outside. Father had built one of the few two-story log houses. He planned to cover it with stucco later when he wasn’t so busy.
Louisa chose her favorite spot on the porch by the corner post to sit quietly without moving to watch the sea gulls. She arranged her flannel nightgown around her bare toes to keep out the morning chill. Her soft, brown hair fell gently over her shoulders and her clear, blue eyes seemed to shine as brightly as the sunbeams.
With a soft sound the door opened again and her little brother Thomas crept quietly to her side. The sharp sound of her father’s ax in the woods across the field and her mother’s gentle singing in the garden broke the stillness of the beautiful morning. Thomas yawned sleepily and gazed at the birds in the field.
“Father’s chopping wood for winter and Mother’s weeding the garden so the vegetables will grow,” Louisa almost whispered so she wouldn’t frighten the sea gulls. The birds continued to eat as though Louisa and Thomas were not even there.
“Tell me again about the sea gulls, Louisa,” Thomas said sleepily. “Please.”
He was too young to remember when they had crossed the plains in the covered wagon to Utah. Louisa remembered, though.
“Mother and Father packed our clothes, quilts, pots and pans, dishes, food, and everything else they could into the wagon. I put in my doll and helped with some of the smaller things. Father hitched the oxen to the wagon and we started on our long journey. I’d never seen oxen before. They looked like big brown cows to me.”
“What about the sea gulls, Louisa?” Thomas didn’t like to hear about the times they had traveling to their new home in the mountains.
“When we first came to Utah, I helped Father and Mother plant the seeds in the ground. It took Father two days to break the hard ground before we could plant the seeds. All day we worked and dropped a seed at a time on the ground.”
“Where was I?” asked Thomas.
“You wouldn’t remember because you were only a baby then and had just learned to walk,” Louisa answered quietly. “Anyway, when the new plants were just coming up, about this high,” Louisa measured with her fingers, “some crickets came and began eating them. More and more crickets came.”
“What are crickets?”
“Thomas, you know what crickets are. They are those shiny black bugs. They scrape their wings together to make a squeaky sound at night,” Louisa answered.
“Oh. Tell me about the sea gulls.”
Louisa continued her story. “Everyone got sticks and shovels and whatever they could find and began beating the crickets. But more crickets came. Finally, the people gave up. They couldn’t kill all the crickets. They were going to eat up all the food we planted.”
Tears came to Louisa’s eyes remembering how hard she had cried. She had only been four. Now Louisa was eight and too big to cry. But sometimes she did when she was hurt or afraid.
“When did the sea gulls come?” Thomas asked.
“Father and Mother and the rest of the people prayed to our Heavenly Father that the crops would be saved from the hungry crickets. And it wasn’t long until we were surprised to hear a noise in the sky. I looked up and saw sea gulls. At first they looked like more crickets. I hadn’t seen any sea gulls here before, although I used to watch them on the ocean before we came west in the wagon.”
Louisa waited for Thomas to encourage her to go on with the story. But he just lay quietly beside her. The sky was dark blue with streaks of white clouds high in the sky. Most of the sea gulls were quiet, but once in a while one would call.
“The sea gulls came to the ground and ate up the crickets,” Louisa continued. “No one had really noticed them in the valley before. Some people say they were here all the time. But I think Heavenly Father sent them to us when the people prayed. What do you think, Thomas?”
But Thomas didn’t answer. He had fallen asleep in the warm sunshine.

It was 14 February when I knelt across the altar in the Mesa Arizona Temple with my sister, Jennifer; my dad; and my mom. I was 15 years old and had been a member of the Church for a year. What had been only a goal a year before was now a reality. We were about to be sealed as a family for time and eternity.
Twenty-one years earlier, my parents, who were not yet members, married in a religious ceremony. The minister said the marriage was “until death do you part,” but my parents thought marriage should last forever. They signed letters to each other, and later to Jen and me, “Love for forever and three days.” It was their way of saying they hoped we would always be together.
It wasn’t until my dad started having back problems that we met a member of the Church. A therapist who helped my dad with back exercises began talking to my parents about the gospel. Slowly, they became interested and asked to meet the missionaries.
The first meeting we attended was a stake conference. Its theme was strengthening the family. For my mom, who had been searching for ways to make our family closer, the conference was an answer to prayer.
My prayers were answered too. After the missionaries invited us to be baptized, I began praying to know if the Church was true. As I read in John 14:26–27 about having the Holy Ghost and not being afraid, I knew it was true.
On 11 February 1996, my entire family was baptized. We had been attending the ward for only a few weeks, so we were shocked when dozens of people came to the baptism to show their support.
My family made a goal to be sealed in the temple as soon as we could. We began preparing to attend the temple, focusing on our relationships with each other and with the Savior. Our relationship as a family became more spiritual as we studied the scriptures and prayed together.
I tried to read everything the prophets had written about going to the temple. I also followed my Young Women leader’s suggestion and began saying “thank you” prayers. Instead of just asking Heavenly Father for things I wanted, I concentrated on thanking Him.
On the day of our sealing, we awoke excited. Today was the day! When we arrived at the temple, Jen and I walked around outside while my parents received their endowments. The weather was perfect. It was as if the flowers had bloomed for us.
Finally it was time for Jen and me, dressed in white, to join our parents in the sealing room. I remember being struck by how bright and pure and beautiful everything looked. As we knelt at the altar, I glanced in the mirrors and saw images of our family extending endlessly. I felt the Spirit bear witness that our family could be together forever.
When we walked outside after the sealing, we were again surprised at the number of people who had come to support us.
It wasn’t until a few days later that we realized we had been sealed exactly a year and three days after our baptism. Suddenly my parents’ signature, “Love for forever and three days,” took on a whole new meaning. Their wish had come true—we could now be a forever family.

A true story from Australia.
“Hurry, Pae!” Keola said to his little brother. “You can do it!”
Keola and his family were at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. They were playing Candy Grab with their cousins—their favorite game to play on Christmas Day. Pae was wearing a blindfold. He was trying to scoop up candy with a spatula and put it in a bucket.
“You have five seconds left!” their older brother, Tauinaola, said. He was holding the timer.
“This is hard!” Pae laughed and pushed his spatula around, spreading the candy all over the floor.
“Time!” Tauinaola called.
Pae pulled off his blindfold. “At least I got a few! Let’s play Ring Toss now.”
Pae, Tauinaola, and their cousins went to another room. Keola was about to follow them, but then he heard Grandma’s voice.
“How’s your Christmas been, Keola?” Grandma stepped over the candy and wrapping paper on the floor and gave Keola a big hug.
“It’s been great!” Keola said.
Earlier, Keola’s grandma, great-grandma, and aunties had made delicious Filipino food for dinner. Keola’s favorite was called pancit, made with rice noodles, chicken, and vegetables fried in a pan.
After dinner, everyone had gathered to read Luke 2. Keola and Pae used their Nativity set to help tell the story. It was nice to remember the birth of Jesus Christ together.
But now Christmas was almost over. Keola frowned. “I wish it didn’t have to end.”
“Me too. But I’m grateful we could spend the day together.” Grandma gave Keola another tight squeeze. “I should go help clean up. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
As Keola watched her go, he saw his parents helping his aunties and uncles clean up the kitchen. They were washing and drying the dishes. Keola didn’t really like cleaning, but he knew there was still a lot to do around the house.
Maybe I should help, he thought to himself.
There were still candy wrappers and wrapping paper on the ground. Keola grabbed a garbage bag from the kitchen. He stuffed all the papers in the bag. Then he walked around and picked up dirty napkins and other trash. After a few minutes, the room already looked cleaner!
Keola wondered what he could do next. His baby cousins had been playing with some books and toys that were still on the floor. He gathered them up and put them away. Then he cleaned up the games that had been left out.
A warm feeling filled Keola’s heart. He knew that the Holy Ghost was telling him he was doing something good. He was happy to be helping!
The good feeling stayed with him as he carried plates and glasses to the kitchen sink. Mom smiled at him as she scrubbed the dishes.
“Thanks for your help, Keola,” she said.
Keola smiled back. “You’re welcome!”
Next, he helped his uncle mop the kitchen floor and put the leftover food away. After that, the house was practically sparkling!
Soon it was time to go home.
Keola waved goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa, then walked down the street with Dad, Mom, and his brothers. Crickets were chirping, and Keola saw the stars shining in the sky. He smiled. It had been a good Christmas. He was happy he had helped his family clean up. And he knew Jesus Christ was happy too.
“The spirit of Christmas brings out the best in us. The warmth and light of Christmas is the Light of Christ.”
President Dallin H. Oaks, “Celebrating Christmas” (First Presidency Christmas devotional, Dec. 8, 2024), Gospel Library.
Illustrations by Mattia Lo Russo

Becky edged closer to her father on the hard seat of the buckboard, trying to convince herself she was not afraid. As they rounded a bend in the road, the trees hid even the tall church spire. It was as though Jacksonville no longer existed.
Pa seemed unaware of her fears. His tanned face creased into familiar lines as he smiled down at her. “Sure is nice having company,” he said.
“Do you think Mrs. Arnold will be all right?”
“With your Ma watching her?” Pa laughed. “Isn’t a better nurse this side of the Cascades.”
Silence fell between them. The only sounds were those made by the rumbling wheels and the clanking harness chains.
If only Ma hadn’t gone to nurse Mrs. Arnold, Becky thought. Then I would be home now, safe behind the walls of our log cabin, instead of going with Pa on his daily trip to pan for gold.
It was early in the day, but Becky pulled at the brim of her calico sunbonnet. The summer sun was hot in southern Oregon, and Ma had warned her not to get sunburned. She stared ahead at the road that became rough as they left the town behind. Trees lined one side, their branches stretching like hungry arms toward the shallow creek that glittered to her right.
Becky jumped as a shadow passed overhead, then shielded her eyes to watch a hawk swoop low over the trees. She wished she could be as brave and proud as the hawk. There was nothing to be afraid of, she assured herself once more. After all, there hadn’t been any trouble with Indians for almost two years now, and she was foolish to fear anything else with her father beside her. Still, she felt uneasy.
They had traveled for nearly two hours when Pa pulled the buckboard to the side of the road. He jumped to the ground, and his strong arms swung her down beside him. He pulled a pick and shovel from the back of the wagon and handed Becky the battered pan he used for gold panning. “Will you carry the pan?” he asked.
Becky nodded, pleased to be helpful, then followed close behind as her father pushed through the bushes that lined the creek bed. Loose stones rolled beneath Becky’s feet, but she fought to keep up with him. She didn’t want to be left behind. They walked a few yards upstream until they reached a point where the rushing water curved in its course, creating a tiny cove. “Why don’t you sit over there on that big rock?” Pa suggested. “Can’t have you falling in. Your mother would skin us both alive if I brought you home soaking wet.”
Obediently Becky perched on the flat gray rock. She touched the velvety texture of the moss growing in the crevices of the stone—how soft it felt!
Pa crouched beside the stream and patiently swirled the pan, letting water spill over its side. He poked at the sand in the bottom of the pan before he scooped up another shovelful of gravel and began the process again.
Becky stretched her cramped muscles and wiggled her toes. The rock was hard, and she wished she had brought a book to read. Occasionally her father turned to smile at her, and once he showed her a tiny glimmer of color he found in the bottom of the pan.
At last he glanced at the sky and rose from his crouched position. “Why don’t you run back to the wagon,” he suggested, “and fetch the lunch pails? It’s time we had something to eat.”
Becky hesitated. Surely he doesn’t expect me to go back to the wagon all by myself, she worried.
A slight frown of irritation wrinkled Pa’s forehead. “Well, go on,” he urged. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
She took a deep breath and slid off her rock. She couldn’t admit how frightened she felt. He would never understand. She moved downstream, picking her way carefully, her skirt held up to the top of her sturdy boots. Her father waved once and turned back to his work.
When Becky rounded a bend, she knew she had almost reached the wagon. She quickened her steps and tried not to think of anything except getting back to Pa.
A rustle in the bushes made her stop, and a flicker of movement caught her eye. A snake! Is it a rattlesnake coiled there, ready to spring? she wondered. Becky’s heart seemed to stop beating and she was unable to move. Then she saw a patch of brown fur and forced herself to edge closer. Cautiously she pushed the bushes aside. A small brown and black animal crouched on the ground, its foot caught in a snare. Its dark eyes were wide with fear as it stared at the girl.
Becky knew it was a river otter. She had seen their hides stretched to dry behind Parker’s Store and knew a lot of the townspeople trapped them for their pelts. But she had never seen a live one before. “Poor thing,” she crooned, and crouched down and extended her hand carefully.
The animal backed away as far as the snare would allow, and its lip quivered in a weak snarl.
“I won’t hurt you,” Becky said quietly as she reached for the vine that held the otter’s foot. Perhaps she should get Pa to set it free. But she knew he would tell her this was someone else’s trap and that they had no right to release the animal. Yet she couldn’t bear to leave it here like this.
As Becky grasped the snare, she worried that the otter would try to sink its teeth into her hand. Instead, the animal cringed against the rocky ground, shivering with fear. Her fingers trembled as she fought to loosen the loop from the otter’s foot. At last she pulled it free and waited for the animal to run away, but it continued to cower in the bushes.
A rock shifted behind her and Becky whirled around. She looked up into the black eyes of an Indian. Maybe it’s one of his traps, she thought. The man’s scowling face made her catch her breath, but she rose to her feet and stood between him and the injured otter. Run, little otter! she thought fiercely. Run, before he catches you again.
The man’s gaze fell on the snare Becky held in her hands, then moved to the animal she attempted to shield. “You set him free.” It was a statement, rather than a question, but Becky nodded, unable to speak.
Slowly the scowl faded from the man’s face. He took the snare from Becky’s lifeless fingers and studied it for a moment. Then he hurled it into the stream where the current quickly carried it out of sight.
“It is good,” the Indian said abruptly. “The otter is my brother. I am named for him—Swift Otter.”
Becky watched him, uncertain what he would do next. She heard the rustle of leaves behind her and saw the otter disappear into the bushes.
“You have saved his life,” Swift Otter said. “He will be wiser now.” He studied her for a moment in silence, then said, “You are brave for so small a girl.”
The Indian turned and walked away from Becky. She stared after him. She wanted to call out, to ask him where he came from, but he was gone.
At last Becky moved toward the wagon. Swift Otter had called her brave. All her fears were still there, but he hadn’t seen them. She suddenly realized that in her concern for the trapped animal she had forgotten to be afraid. Perhaps in time she could learn to be brave—as brave as Swift Otter thought she was.
A shadow passed overhead, and this time Becky didn’t jump. She raised her face and watched the hawk swoop across the clear blue sky.

She met Frank Bennallack in school. He shared Leonie’s love of ballroom dancing and became her debutante partner when she was 18. Before long, the two were planning a future together.
Their married life got off to a great start. Leonie and Frank saved up to buy land and build a house, which they completed soon after their honeymoon. The newlyweds enjoyed taking long walks together, playing cards with friends and going to balls, and when they eventually welcomed five beautiful children into their family, Leonie cherished being a mother. “Throughout our childhood and our lives, we always felt loved,” says Lisa.
After some time, the family’s fortunes changed. They lost their home and had to move several times as Frank sought reliable work. Times were hard, but Leonie never complained. “Mum always demonstrated incredible patience,” said Lisa. She was an excellent cook who would brighten her children’s days with great food and fun activities. “I knew we weren’t all that well off, but thanks to Mum, I had no idea how poor we really were.”
It was around this time that Leonie joined the Church. Her growing faith and love of the gospel sustained her through even greater difficulties.
Only a few years after her baptism, she found herself a single parent with four children still at home and a mother-in-law in her care. For the first time since her wedding almost 30 years earlier, Leonie needed to find work.
All the while, Leonie’s testimony of Heavenly Father and the Saviour increased. She was a dedicated disciple of Jesus Christ and His restored gospel; and had faith in priesthood power and the wonderful blessings it brought to her and to her family.
In 1976, Leonie moved her family to Adelaide to be near her oldest (married) daughter, where Lisa said, “we were supported by a wonderful ward, a loving bishop and great home teachers.” Leonie accepted a calling there as the Relief Society president, which initially intimidated her. But “she exercised her faith and did a wonderful job,” recalled Lisa. Leonie’s testimony of the gospel was continually strengthened as she served many other callings in the ward before she was called as a temple worker at the Adelaide Australia Temple. Through the faith she had, Leonie was able to remember all she needed to remember for that sacred role. “She loved her years of working at the temple,” says Lisa, and her mum especially enjoyed when family members attended while she was serving.
Some of Leonie’s greatest successes were at home with her family. She set a wonderful example of daily prayer and scripture reading, and she kept a journal since 1981. Leonie delighted in witnessing her children and grandchildren serve missions, get sealed to their spouses in the temple, have their own children, and participate in the work of the Lord through various leadership callings. This reflected her favourite scripture, found in 3 John 1:4 “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.”
In her 50s she moved in with her daughter’s family, and Leonie faithfully continued to serve and to love. As one grandson remembers, “There was never a Christmas, an Easter or a birthday when all of the grandchildren [didn’t] received something from Nana. She never forgot . . . we all knew through her kindness and actions that she loved each and every one of us.”
In a final act of motherly devotion, just before she died, Leonie wrote special, personal letters to each of her five children and their families. The discovery of these letters after Leonie passed away was a wonderful and profound surprise that touched their hearts at a very tender time.
She was known by many names throughout her life: Leonie, Mum, Nana, Sister Bennallack . . . but perhaps her greatest triumph as a mother is that “her children [continue to] arise up and call her blessed.” (Proverbs 31:28)

Junius Burt of Salt Lake City, a longtime worker in the Streets Department, related a touching and inspirational experience. He declared that on a cold winter morning, the street cleaning-crew of which he was a member was removing large chunks of ice from the street gutters. The regular crew was assisted by temporary laborers who desperately needed the work. One such wore only a lightweight sweater and was suffering from the cold. A slender man with a well-groomed beard stopped by the crew and asked the worker, “You need more than that sweater on a morning like this. Where is your coat?” The man replied that he had no coat to wear. The visitor then removed his own overcoat, handed it to the man and said, “This coat is yours. It is heavy wool and will keep you warm. I just work across the street.” The street was South Temple. The good Samaritan who walked into the Church Administration Building to his daily work and without his coat was President George Albert Smith of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His selfless act of generosity revealed his tender heart. Surely he was his brother’s keeper.

Brother William and Sister Johanna Buckley are converts to the Church and live on the island of Aruba. Years ago, when they were investigating the Church, they became friends with Sister Ana St. Cyr and her four-year-old grandson, Ralph, who attended the Oranjestad, Aruba branch. These two were the only members of the Church in their family and the only Haitian members of the branch. As the Buckleys integrated into the branch they found special joy in watching young Ralph’s testimony and spirituality develop.
In John 4:13–14, Jesus says to the Samarian woman at the well, “Whosoever drinketh of this water shall thirst again:
“But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst; but the water that I shall give him shall be in him a well of water springing up into everlasting life.”
It was apparent that Sister St. Cyr and little Ralph had allowed those everlasting waters to spring up within them.
Like the Samarian women who went off to share the good news, Ralph did the same. In 2018, Ralph Desir was called to serve in the Vanuatu Port Vila Mission where he had the opportunity to share the everlasting waters of the Savior, Jesus Christ. He was blessed with many companions from diverse cultures, lived in eight different places, and learned Bislama, the native language of Vanuatu, which helped him to effectively create relationships with the people.
Elder Desir was blessed to see the gospel of Jesus Christ strengthen the people he taught as they overcame the challenges in their lives. Upon completion of his mission, he testifies of the truthfulness of the power of everlasting waters and knows how to allow those waters to continue to bless his own life and the lives of others.
Brother Desir testifies that “serving a mission was the best decision that I have made in my life. I have learned to be like the Savior and teach the gospel by example in all things. I love the gospel with all my heart, and I wouldn’t exchange my mission experiences for anything. One of the reasons I served a mission was because I knew how much it would bless my family and how much joy it would bring to my own life.”
Since returning from his mission, Brother Desir has served as first counselor in the San Nicolas Branch presidency, Aruba, and as a delegation leader for the Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao District that attended the youth conference in the Dominican Republic in 2022. He is now serving as branch secretary. He uses his proficiency in the Dutch, Spanish, English, Papiamento, and French Creole languages to continue to bless lives in Aruba and elsewhere.
Brother and Sister Buckley have followed Brother Desir’s example and are now serving in the ABC district as church communication directors. They continue to enjoy watching him grow and share the gospel.

What goes on there? The usual joking around, making plans for after school, keeping track of friends, and a fair amount of sharing the gospel and fellowshipping. Susan Benefield can tell you about that.

Susan noticed the LDS youth at Lathrop and liked what she saw. “One thing I noticed when I first met these students is that they all smile. It’s like they know something you don’t. They walk through the halls with a smile on their faces, most of them. It makes you kind of wonder, why are they so happy all the time?”

Susan began to find her answer when Courtney Hull, Susan’s best friend, invited her to early-morning seminary. “It was just a going-with-my-friend sort of thing,” Susan explains. “Then I started going to Young Women and to church and everything else, and everyone was really friendly. Then I started listening to the things the teachers were teaching. And one day it just came to me that this is the thing I needed to do.” So she was baptized.

“I still have my friends that I had before I joined the Church,” Susan goes on, “and I have a lot of friends that aren’t in the Church. But I know when I’m with the LDS youth that there’s no peer pressure, no gossiping going on, no name calling, no drinking.” Now Susan knows why the LDS students seem so happy all the time: “I guess the gospel kind of does that to you.”

On the trail a loving attachment frequently developed between a pioneer and his ox team. Joseph F. Smith related: “My team leaders’ names were Thom and Joe—we raised them from calves, and they were both white. Thom was trim built, active, young, and more intelligent than many a man. Many times while traveling sandy or rough roads, on long, thirsty drives, my oxen were lowing with the heat and fatigue. I would put my arms around Thom’s neck and cry bitter tears! That was all I could do. Thom was my favorite and best and most willing and obedient servant and friend.”

On a dark, snowy Christmas night in 1776, the soldiers of Gen. George Washington’s army left their shelters and went down to the banks of the Delaware River. The men slipped and stumbled through ice and snow. Some of them had no boots. Others had clothing so thin that they were almost naked. All of them were hungry.
The 2,400 men in Washington’s command were soaked by an icy rain as they waited for the boats that had been assembled. This was the night that the “Old Fox” had planned to surprise the enemy forces across the river in Trenton, New Jersey. These soldiers were Hessian troops, well-trained German mercenaries hired by the British to put an end to the American Revolution.
The Delaware River was filled with fast-moving chunks of ice, but Washington had to take his small boats across anyway. In a few days the river would freeze solid again, and the Hessian soldiers would march across the ice to capture Philadelphia where the Declaration of Independence had been signed just six months earlier. The benefits gained by the brave words of that document were close to being lost.
As he watched his men, General Washington carefully reviewed his plans. It had only been a week since he had decided to try to surprise the enemy. Final plans for the crossing had been checked by his lieutenants the night before—Christmas Eve. He had kept his men parading around during the day to deceive any British spies who may have been watching. Now it was time to go.
Experienced sailor-fishermen from Marble Head, Massachusetts, used all of their skill to maneuver the boats that had been hidden behind some weed-covered islands. One of his officers wrote: “I have never seen Washington so determined as he is now. He stands on the bank of the river, wrapped in his cloak, superintending the loading of his troops.”
The men filed aboard the boats, but the snow was biting into their eyes and faces and the loading was going more slowly than planned. When the boats were ready, Washington took his place among his men, to lead them across the dangerous waters.
The swirling river and fast-moving pieces of ice threatened time and again to overturn the heavily laden boats as the sailors fought their way across. At long last, waiting patriots waded into the water to help pull the boats safely ashore on the New Jersey side of the river. The first crossing had been successful!
Back and forth the boats crossed the Delaware, bringing Washington’s men safely together, but the general was deeply troubled. If they were to surprise the enemy, they had to march out by midnight and the crossing was going to last much later than that.
It was after 2 A.M. when the troops began to march toward Trenton. Dawn was not far away and it would be broad daylight when the army reached Trenton. The element of surprise was in danger of being lost.
The snow changed to sleet and cut the men like a knife. General Greene, who was leading one column of troops, sent a message to Washington, “Muskets wet and can’t be fired.” Washington replied, “Use your bayonets then. The town must be taken.” But many of the men had no bayonets!
The troops arrived at Trenton at eight o’clock. No one tried to stop them. The Hessians had been celebrating the holiday far into the night and many still slept, some in a drunken state.
The surprise attack was entirely successful and the enemy soldiers quickly routed. In just two hours the Americans took control of the whole town. Twenty or thirty Hessians were killed and more than nine hundred prisoners were taken. The revolutionists had gained a complete victory without a single death in the battle!
The “Old Fox” had hit the enemy where they least expected it and so alarmed them that they fled from many outposts during the next few days. Most importantly, Washington had demonstrated that the cause of the colonies was far from finished. Confidence in the Continental army was restored among the colonies and their allies. It was with new hope and determination that the patriots went forth to fight—and win—the War of Independence.