Gospel Story Finder

Ramón jingled the coins in his pocket as he finished selling his chickens’ eggs at the village market. He thought about the jar at home that held his tithing coins. On Sunday he was going to give the coins to the bishop. Ramón had a warm feeling inside. He was glad to pay tithing.
The market stalls were full of things for sale. Ramón saw a colorful shirt with the logo of his favorite football team. He pictured himself wearing the shirt, running down the field, and scoring the winning goal. Ramón looked at the price tag. He could buy the shirt if he spent all his egg money plus his tithing coins.
Ramón noticed the warm feeling was gone. He really wanted the shirt, but he knew Heavenly Father wouldn’t want him to spend his tithing coins. Ramón started walking home. He decided to pay his tithing first. Then he could earn more money selling eggs until he could buy the shirt and pay his tithing like the Lord wanted him to.

When Papa went fishing, he took Caroline’s brothers, Ned and Albert. Caroline stayed home and helped Mama bake bread.
When Papa went woodcutting in the hills, he took Albert and Ned. Caroline stayed home and helped Mama braid rugs.
When Papa went in the wagon to the feed store, he took Albert and Ned. Caroline stayed home and helped Mama can tomatoes.
“I wish Papa would take me sometime,” Caroline said.
Mama smiled and patted her on the head.
Then one chilly night, Caroline was nestled deep in her feather bed when something woke her. Papa was kneeling beside her bed. “Come, little one,” he whispered. “Wake up.”
He wrapped a quilt around Caroline and carried her outside. As he softly closed the door behind them, the big grandfather clock in the hall began to chime midnight.
The cold nipped at Caroline’s nose and ears.
Papa carried her out of the yard, around the barn to the old meadow pond. “Be very still,” he whispered, “and look.”
On the pond were hundreds of geese.
“Wild geese,” Papa said very quietly. “They stopped to rest at our pond on their way south to their winter home.”
Wide-eyed, Caroline watched, snuggling against Papa’s big, warm chest.
Then, after several moments, with a flutter of wings and a honking so loud that Caroline had to cover her ears, the geese rose into the air.
Outlined against the full moon, the V-shaped flock slowly disappeared from sight.
As Papa tucked Caroline back into bed, he said, “In the morning be sure to tell your brothers what we saw”—he smiled in the almost-dark—“while they were sound asleep.”
Caroline smiled back. “I will, Papa.”
She would tell them. She would tell them about the most wonderful moment of her life that happened at midnight with Papa.

Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac aren’t the only brothers in the Clarkson family. There are four more: Levi (9), Eli (7), Sam (4), and Titus (2), and a baby on the way.
When President Nelson invited the women of the Church in October 2018 general conference to read the Book of Mormon before the end of the year, Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac, along with their father and younger brothers, decided to offer Mom their support. “We’ll read it with you!” they said. Every morning before seminary, they woke up to read together.
“When we took on this challenge, I thought it was going to take a lot of time,” Andrew says. “I worried that I wouldn’t have enough time to do everything I wanted to do, like play the guitar or hang out with my friends. But I realized that it just doesn’t work like that. The more I was into reading the Book of Mormon, the more time I actually seemed to have. I realized that if I keep up on reading the scriptures as much as possible, my life is balanced. I have more time in the day.”
Matthew was going through a hard time when the family started reading every morning. He says, “I wasn’t doing well in school. I struggled with my personal scripture study and my relationship with Heavenly Father, and I kept it all to myself. I didn’t talk about it with my parents.”
However, as Matthew spent more time reading the Book of Mormon, the gospel began to take first priority in his life. He also put more effort into school. He worked hard and got his grades up.
“I also realized how much Heavenly Father and my parents love me and how much they help me. And I have a greater testimony of Jesus Christ. He has helped me overcome bad habits and helped me get my life headed in the right direction. I’m so glad we took President Nelson’s challenge as a family. It changed my life.”
Accepting President Nelson’s invitation also strengthened Isaac’s testimony. “We circled the words God, Lord, Redeemer, Savior, and Christ every time we found them,” he says. “On the day we finished, I flipped through the Book of Mormon and saw all the words I had circled. I thought, ‘Man, that’s a lot!’ I had never noticed how many there were. I felt much more spiritual reading the Book of Mormon. I’m glad we did it.”
Matthew, Andrew, and Isaac are amazed that their family finished the Book of Mormon in just two months. “It usually takes us a year,” Isaac says. Together, they discovered the blessings of following the prophet’s invitation.
“If you do what you’re supposed to do,” Andrew says, “like building a relationship with Heavenly Father through prayer, scripture study, and staying fully active in the Church, life is so much better.”
These three brothers have helped each other progress in the gospel. They follow the prophet, who has called on members “to increase their faith in our Lord Jesus Christ and in His Atonement, to … [make] and [keep] their covenants with God, and to strengthen … their families.”1

Gus German is only 17 years old, but he cannot remember a time when he wasn’t visiting Church members with his father. In Delaware, members are spread out in different directions and in many cases they’re miles away from one another. With that in mind, members try to check up on each other. Of course, Gus didn’t become a home teacher until age 12, when he received the Aaronic Priesthood and was assigned by his bishop to be his father’s companion. But he’d already learned a lot about caring for people and about preparing and presenting meaningful lessons, so he stepped right into his home teaching role.
“Scripture stories were my staple home teaching lessons,” says Gus, a priest who grew up in the Wilmington (Delaware) West Ward. “I’d studied them in story books from the time I was five, so I knew those stories cold. Some people wonder who Nebuchadnezzar is. I know who he is.”
Over the years, Gus and his father regularly visited Sister Joyce Miller, at the time a less-active member of the Church who was battling cancer.
“The thing I remember most about Gus as a young boy was that whenever I asked him to say a prayer, he would stand up and do it,” Sister Miller says. “A lot of young boys and girls roll their eyes when you ask them to do something like praying. Not Gus.”
Now the young man who stopped by was a deacon with a priesthood responsibility. “I wasn’t active when they first started visiting me,” Sister Miller continues, “but their visits meant everything. I wanted to come back to church, but I was smoking and didn’t want to go because I was afraid people would smell the smoke on me.”
“All I knew is we always went to Sister Miller’s house and had fun when we home-taught her. I didn’t think any different of her when I found out she smoked because we were already really good friends,” says Gus. “I was pretty impressed and proud of her when she did stop smoking because I have heard how tough it is to quit.”
When she did stop smoking, Sister Miller began going to church again. “I was so glad because I liked seeing her. I would be able to see a smile on her face and be able to tell she really liked being at church,” Gus adds.
When Gus turned 16 and got his driver’s license, he was able to see that smile more and more. As her condition worsened, Sister Miller was unable to drive. Gus happily volunteered to pick her up and take her to church. “Sometimes she couldn’t stay past the sacrament in sacrament meeting so I would take her home.” Now, other ward members pick up Sister Miller when she’s able to go to church. And when she wasn’t, guess who went to her house to take her the sacrament.
“Sometimes I went with my dad, and sometimes I went with the Young Men president or one of the guys from my quorum,” explains Gus. “It’s something I did that helped her out. I liked doing it.”
Something else he did to help her out: Gus and his dad took Sister Miller to receive her patriarchal blessing.
“When we went for my blessing, Jack (Gus’s dad) took us in his car, the hot rod (a Chevy Nova). We laughed all the way down there. Gus was in the backseat laughing, and my face hurt from laughing,” Sister Miller remembers. “When I had my blessing, Jack and Gus were as quiet as church mice. After all that laughing we did on our way down, it was pretty quiet on the trip back. That is very memorable. We always have a good time, the three of us.”

As they translated, Joseph and Oliver were struck by these teachings. Like his brother Alvin, Joseph had never been baptized, and he wanted to know more about the ordinance and the authority necessary to perform it.8
On May 15, 1829, the rains cleared and Joseph and Oliver walked into the woods near the Susquehanna River. Kneeling, they asked God about baptism and the remission of sins. As they prayed, the voice of the Redeemer spoke peace to them, and an angel appeared in a cloud of light. He introduced himself as John the Baptist and placed his hands on their heads. Joy filled their hearts as God’s love surrounded them.
Illustrations by Ben Sowards
“Upon you my fellow servants,” John declared, “in the name of Messiah I confer the Priesthood of Aaron, which holds the keys of the ministering of angels, and of the gospel of repentance, and of baptism by immersion for the remission of sins.”9
The angel’s voice was mild, but it seemed to pierce Joseph and Oliver to the core.10 He explained that the Aaronic Priesthood authorized them to perform baptisms, and he commanded them to baptize each other after he departed. He also said they would receive additional priesthood power later, which would give them authority to confer the gift of the Holy Ghost on each other and on those they baptized.
After John the Baptist left, Joseph and Oliver walked to the river and waded in. Joseph baptized Oliver first, and as soon as he came out of the water, Oliver began to prophesy about things that would soon happen. Oliver then baptized Joseph, who rose from the river prophesying about the rise of Christ’s Church, which the Lord had promised to establish among them.11
Following John the Baptist’s instructions, they returned to the woods and ordained each other to the Aaronic Priesthood. In their study of the Bible, as well as their translation of the ancient record, Joseph and Oliver had often read about the authority to act in God’s name. Now they carried that authority themselves.
After their baptism, Joseph and Oliver found that scriptures that once seemed dense and mysterious suddenly became clearer. Truth and understanding flooded their minds.12

Dad leaned back in his chair. “Do you remember a few years ago, when our family went backpacking in the mountains?”
“I think so.”
“You were very little then, but you wanted to carry your own pack. I’m afraid that it got pretty heavy long before we reached our campsite.”
“I remember now.” Katie’s face brightened. “I was tired, so we sat down to rest beside a stream. And then, when we started out again, you walked right beside me. The pack seemed much lighter then, and I was able to carry it all the way to camp.”
“Did you know that I was helping you?” Dad asked quietly.
“You mean by walking beside me and singing with me?”
“Yes. And also as we walked side by side, I was reaching out my hand and lifting the pack up off your back.”
“You were?” Katie looked at him in surprise. “And I didn’t even know it. No wonder my pack felt lighter—it was!”

Mollie Sorensen of Napa, California, remembers seeking the gift of charity. One day she and her teenage son had a serious argument. Upset by her behavior, Sister Sorensen pleaded with Heavenly Father for help in controlling her temper. Under the pressure of a similar moment, she knew she would probably lose control again.

After praying and meditating for several hours, she says, “an answer came into my mind. I finally understood that if I were to strive to have a greater endowment of spiritual power in my life, on a day-to-day basis, the inclination to hurt would leave … even in moments of stress.”

Since then, as Mollie maintains a program of spiritual enrichment, she is able to enjoy love, peace, and the other fruits of the Spirit she desires (Ensign, September 1989, 30).

Zoe and Michael are a couple with two young children. Before the fires, they were living in a small town in the Bega Valley called Cobargo. They had purchased a remote rural property complete with house and an orchard and were about to move in when the fires destroyed both their rural property and their house in Cobargo. Since the fires they have been living rough, camping in a borrowed caravan on the rural property. They received a water tank, a shed (donated by another group) and a bathroom pod built into the shed and connected to the water tank (which will be added to their house when it is rebuilt).
Even though the location of the shed and tank is quite a distance from their current camp, they are very appreciative as they can now bathe their children properly—one of whom had been regularly ill, and one who’d had a broken leg. They say that the newly donated infrastructure has helped to reduce their anxiety levels.
Mark and Denise noted, “During the inspection weekend, we were shown properties, such as Zoe and Michael’s, which had not only received one of our tanks, but the households had also received a bathroom pod and shed donated by another organisation that were willing to provide the pods because we had provided the tanks.”

My niece Mariela was only eight years old when her mother died. Afterward, her father—my brother—took her, her brother, and the children’s grandmother and moved to another part of the country.
At about the same time, I dreamed of my niece’s mother. Because of the dream, I felt impressed to pay special attention to Mariela. I determined to do so; however, it was difficult because she lived far away. We usually saw each other only during vacations, but at those times, I told her about the Church, about gospel standards, and about the love God has for His children.
As the years passed and Mariela became a young woman, I grew to feel a mother’s love for her. Eventually she finished her university studies and began working. The missionaries visited her several times, and I fervently hoped she would be baptized. Then she was transferred in her employment, and she moved farther away. I continued to pray for her.
Not long after this, Mariela suffered over the deaths of three people she loved very much. Her grandmother, who had raised her, died. Later her boyfriend was killed in an automobile accident. This loss was followed shortly by the death of her father. These events plunged my niece into despair, and she lost much of her interest in life. I continued to try to encourage and comfort her and to explain that she could endure even these sad experiences.
A year after her father’s death, I arranged for his temple ordinances to be performed. His wife and a daughter who had died in infancy were sealed to him, and both he and his wife were sealed to their parents.
The next time Mariela came to see me, I showed her the family group records. I told her what temple ordinances we had done for her family members. Then I explained that they would have the opportunity to accept the gospel and these ordinances that had been performed in their behalf, and I assured my niece that families can be together eternally. She was deeply moved and asked to borrow some past issues of the Liahona (Spanish). After that she began visiting me more regularly, and we often spoke about the gospel.
One day Mariela told me the missionaries had taught her the discussions and she had accepted the gospel. She said she was convinced of the truthfulness of the gospel because of the importance it places on families. I wept with happiness.
I give thanks to my Father in Heaven. I believe this is what He desired all along—the bringing of the gospel to family members on both sides of the veil.

The teacher nurses a knife wound in her back. Gladys Saiah is not much older than her students. She was running an errand for her mother in an unfamiliar part of town, when she was attacked and stabbed by a group of men. She and her sister were allowed to go without further injury.
“As my sister and I walked home,” she says, “I told Ellen we must first thank Heavenly Father for sparing our lives. We did, and then, arising from our knees, I asked Ellen, ‘Now will you please clean my back?’”

Mary Ann Stearns, step-daughter of Elder Parley P. Pratt, in her unpublished autobiography, relates an experience that her family had with the Prophet Joseph that also illustrates his great capacity for kindness. Returning from his mission to England with his family and a group of immigrants by way of St. Louis, Missouri the group was detained four weeks because of cold weather and the great chunks of ice that floated on the a!most frozen Mississippi River. When they finally did arrive in Nauvoo the anxiety of the Britons to see the Prophet Joseph was only exceeded by the anxiety of the Saints in Nauvoo concerning the safety of the immigrants. Thus Joseph and Hyrum and a large company of people were at the landing to greet the newcomers. Elder Pratt introduced the company to the two illustrious leaders and when all except the Pratts had disembarked and had gone to their homes, the Prophet came into the cabin of the boat where the Pratts were.
“After a cordial greeting, he took a seat and taking the little boys, Parley and Nathan, upon his knees, seemed much affected, Brother Pratt remarking, ‘We took away three children and have brought back five.’ Then Brother Joseph said, “Well, well, Brother Parley, you have returned bringing your sheaves with you,” the tears streaming down his face. Brother Pratt, seeing the general emotion this caused, said, ‘If you feel so bad about our coming home, I guess we will have to go back again,’ tears of joy filling his own eyes.”
Elder Pratt’s remark seemed to break the spell, smiles returned and joy continued to fill all their hearts. Then Joseph, arising, said, “Come, Brother Parley, bring your folks right up to my house; it is only a little way, and you can be more comfortable after your long journey.” Sister Pratt, very ill, was placed in a large comfortable chair and carried by Brother Hodge and others of Joseph’s bodyguards to the Prophet’s home where a really special evening was enjoyed by the entire family.

When he was fourteen years old, Elder Kikuchi was attending night school and arising before four o’clock in the morning to make tofu at a nearby factory. Tofu or bean curd is a staple of the Japanese diet, and he had to prepare the tofu and have it ready by 6:00–7:00 A.M. so that customers could buy it for their breakfast. Finally, he fell ill from exhaustion. While he was resting, and trying to recuperate at his uncle’s house in Muroran, two Mormon missionaries knocked at the door. Elder Kikuchi, in recalling the occasion, said, “In those days missionaries wore hats, heavy rubber boots, and overcoats. They seemed so big compared to me, and yet their eyes were sparkling and pure. I was very impressed by their courtesy and invited them in for a few minutes.”

After this brief introduction to the Church, Elder Kikuchi was baptized thirteen days later. “It was manifest to my spirit” he said, “that the story of Joseph Smith was true. I had really searched for the truth through all the years of my boyhood, but I never had any knowledge about the true church.”

De Witt J. Paul, who is now serving as a mission president in California and who was an executive of one of the nation’s largest financial institutions, states:
“… Adhering to gospel standards has never stood in my way. Quite to the contrary, doing so has been an asset rather than a liability. Moreover, it has not been difficult or embarrassing.
“In a world of rather wishy-washy convictions, one who believes in something and lives in accordance with his beliefs is usually admired and respected. I never appreciated this so much as when the chairman of the board of directors of my company one day said to the board members: ‘I am retiring, and I propose Mr. Paul as my successor. As you know, Mr. Paul is a Mormon. Mormons have rather high standards to live by, and among other things they do not smoke or drink. I have kept an eye on this fellow for many years now, and never once have I seen him make a slip. I recommend him to you as a man of integrity. …’
“It is my experience that there are a lot of very fine people in the world. Just because they do not have my outlook on life has never given me reason to alienate them through prudish self-righteousness. Perhaps herein lies the secret of ‘living in the world without being a part of the world.’” (“Living in the World without Being a Part of the World,” De Witt J. Paul, Improvement Era, September 1965, p. 838.)

Have you ever had to ask yourself, “What’s more important, my friend or our friendship?” I faced that problem when a note fell out of my friend Kate’s* pencil pouch. I read it and realized that my friend was using drugs. I was devastated. I tried desperately to talk to her, but she ignored me.
Kate was my friend, and I realized that no matter what she said or did, her safety was most important to me. Every time I thought of it, I wanted to cry. I knew that Kate might never forgive me if I told on her, and she might tell my other friends that I wasn’t trustworthy. I asked my mom to help me, and we prayed, talked, and read the scriptures. I was looking for something to help me help my friend. We found a scripture that gave me courage to do whatever I had to do and to live with the consequences: “For I do know that whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions” (Alma 36:3). I knew that if I did what was right, God would support me.
I decided to tell the resource officer about Kate’s drug problem. Later that afternoon Kate was called to the office. When we changed classes, she was with her guidance counselor and a police officer. Kate caught my eye, and I could tell she knew I had told on her.
Several weeks went by before Kate would talk to me. I dreaded what she would say, but I was surprised that she wasn’t angry anymore. Our friendship had changed, but in some ways, it was better than before. She seemed to understand that I had done it for her sake. I never wanted to lose her friendship, but it was more important to love her enough to try to stop her from hurting herself and the people who love and care for her.
Yes, this experience was painful, but I learned that if we “trust in the Lord with all [our] heart; and lean not unto [our] own understanding” (Proverbs 3:5), anything is possible.

Aurelia stood on the bank of the Mississippi River and looked back across it. Never before in her eleven-and-a-half years had she been west of the wide river, and now here she was in Iowa.
She shivered in the February cold and tucked one hand into her coat. With the other, she held George’s hand. He was only six and was her responsibility. Ellen, thirteen, and nine-year-old Catherine walked ahead with seven-year-old Howard; little Lucy rode in the wagon with Mama, who was still very sick. But Aurelia and George stood and looked back across the river to Nauvoo.
Nauvoo! How could they bear to leave their beautiful home? All was cold and gray across the river, but Aurelia remembered how the city had looked when she first saw it.
It was already a bustling, growing city when the Spencer family arrived. Thousands of people lived there, and more were coming every day. There were hundreds of log cabins and many brick homes. People were building, buying and selling, planting, working everywhere! Aurelia had never seen so many people—and most of them were Latter-day Saints.
Her family had rented a room until Papa could build a house for them. He had chosen a lot on a hill above the town, a little northeast of where the temple was being built.
Their lot, like most in Nauvoo, was big enough to plant a large garden and some fruit trees. Ellen and Aurelia had helped Papa plant the trees that first spring—peach and apple trees, Papa said, although they looked like twigs to Aurelia. She had asked Papa why he planted the tiny trees so far apart.
“They are small now,” he had said, “but if we want them to grow large and give fruit, they will need space to grow.” Aurelia had watched them grow until last year they had finally blossomed and borne fruit!
All of Nauvoo blossomed in the spring. The mud in the streets was deep enough to suck the boots right off your feet, but flowers and fruit trees bloomed in every yard. Aurelia wished she could see spring come to Nauvoo again. But the Prophet Joseph was dead, and soon his beautiful city would be deserted.
George had been too young to remember the first time he and Aurelia met the Prophet. Aurelia remembered it clearly. She had met a real, living prophet! He had come to their home to visit, and he limped very slightly when he walked, just like Papa! Papa told her later it was caused by the same illness that had caused his limp—typhus fever, which had settled in his leg.
Lucy was born there, and when Joseph saw her, he exclaimed, “Oh, what a little black head!” Even as a baby, Lucy’s hair was thick and dark. Joseph had laid his hand on Lucy’s head and blessed her. Aurelia had loved the Prophet from that moment. He was God’s own prophet and the most important man in Nauvoo, yet he loved little children and liked to be with them.
Aurelia shivered as she remembered the terrible day two years later, when Joseph and his brother Hyrum were killed by a mob in the nearby town of Carthage. Aurelia could scarcely believe that anyone could be so wicked as to kill a kind man like the Prophet.
Aurelia’s Papa had taken her to the Mansion House to see Joseph’s body. A great crowd was there, all crying and crowding to look. Aurelia couldn’t see, so Papa had lifted her up to the window from where she could see Brother Joseph one last time. That had been nearly two years ago.
Things had been hard since Joseph’s death. Nauvoo wasn’t allowed to use its police force, so bad men did what they wanted. They burned farms outside town and caused trouble in Nauvoo. Then some of the Latter-day Saint boys formed the “Whittling and Whistling Brigade.” When one of the bad men came to town, the boys followed him everywhere, whistling and whittling pieces of wood with their pocketknives. There were too many boys for the man to fight, and they wouldn’t let him out of their sight long enough for him to do anything bad, so finally he would leave and look for mischief someplace else. Howard and George couldn’t wait to join the brigade, but they were only six and four then, and Mama wouldn’t let them use her knives to learn to whittle. They practiced whistling, however. Finally, though, even the brave boys couldn’t keep the bad men away.
Aurelia squeezed George’s hand and pointed to show him the temple across the river. Even on this cold, gray day, the tall building seemed to shine on the hill. She remembered when its roof had caught fire one day. She lived only a block away and had run with a bucket of water to help fight the fire. It had been put out, and work on the temple had continued. Just two months ago, Mama and Papa had gone to the temple to be sealed together. Mama said that that was the hardest part of leaving Nauvoo—leaving the temple they’d worked so hard to build. It still wasn’t quite finished. “Heaven only knows when we’ll have a temple again,” Mama had said. “We’ve been blessed to have this one.”
Aurelia looked to the left of the temple to see if their house was visible from here. She couldn’t see it. But she did see Mary Ann Stearn’s house. Mary Ann and her cousin Ellen Pratt were Aurelia’s best friends. They had gone to school together and played together. Aurelia stared at Mary Ann’s house, but she knew that Mary Ann wasn’t there. She, too, was going west with her family. Aurelia wondered if they’d meet again on the way to the Rocky Mountains. Oh, she hoped so! It was hard leaving everything and everyone to travel to a strange land. Why shouldn’t the bad men have to leave instead? It wasn’t fair to be forced to leave friends, homes, gardens, orchards, the temple!
Thinking of Mary Ann made Aurelia remember something else. At the last general conference, in October, Mary Ann’s stepfather, Parley P. Pratt had spoken to the Saints. People had crowded into the temple to listen. Elder Pratt spoke about how hard the Saints had worked to build a beautiful city and temple and how hard it was to leave it all behind. But the Lord had other plans for this people, Elder Pratt had said. He explained that a small nursery could produce many thousands of fruit trees, but that as they grew, they must be transplanted. They need room to grow if they are to produce fruit. He promised that the Lord had a place for the Saints to grow, where they wouldn’t be crowded and where they would enjoy liberty and equal rights.
Aurelia knew that it was true. She thought of those tiny twigs of fruit trees she and Ellen and Papa had planted. She had seen them grow and blossom and produce sweet fruit. It was hard to leave Nauvoo, but it was time to be transplanted to a place where she and her family and all the Saints could grow strong and bloom.
Aurelia murmured, “Farewell, Nauvoo,” and turned with George to face the west. It would be a long journey to the Rockies, but she had her family and the true gospel. She was ready.

Some years ago, Constance, a student nurse, was assigned to try and help a woman who had injured her leg in an accident. The woman refused medical help because she had had a negative experience with someone at the hospital. She was afraid and had become something of a recluse. The first time Constance dropped by, the injured woman ordered her out. On the second try, she did let Constance in. By now the woman’s leg was covered with large ulcers, and some of the flesh was rotting. But still she didn’t want to be treated.
Constance made it a matter of prayer, and in a day or two the answer came. She took some foaming hydrogen peroxide with her for the next visit. As this was painless, the old woman let her use it on her leg. Then they talked about more serious treatment at the hospital. Constance assured her the hospital would make her stay as pleasant as possible. In a day or two the woman did get the courage to enter the hospital. When Constance visited her, the woman smiled as she said, “You convinced me.” Then, quite unexpectedly, she asked Constance, “What church do you belong to?” Constance told her she was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The woman said, “I knew it. I knew you were sent to me from the first day that I saw you. There was a light in your face that I had noticed in others of your faith. I had to put my trust in you.”
In three months’ time that festering leg was completely healed. Members of the ward where the old woman lived remodeled her house and fixed up her yard. The missionaries met with her, and she was baptized soon after. All of this because she noticed the light in that young student nurse’s face.

Around this time of trial, my ward, Zimmerman, was split and I received a call to become the bishop of one of the two newly created wards. This was a very challenging moment for me, but I knew that God would provide a way to accomplish this immense task. I could juggle between my new calling, taking care of the three children at home—all of whom were still young—making regular visits to the hospital, and give honest labor to my employer.
From my past interactions with other bishops, it was evident that the calling of being a bishop was considered one of the most challenging callings in the church—feared and loved in equal measure. However, I confidently knew that whom the Lord calls He qualifies and that He would provide a way for me to be a successful bishop as well as fulfill all other responsibilities placed on my shoulders. As Nephi states: “And it came to pass that I, Nephi, said unto my father: I will go and do the things which the Lord hath commanded, for I know that the Lord giveth no commandments unto the children of men, save He shall prepare a way for them that they may accomplish the thing which He hath commandeth them” (1 Nephi 3:7).
Things went on well and our baby, David, was born weighing 1.5 kg (approximately 3.3 pounds). The doctors said he looked good for his age and that he was not in any extreme danger. He was placed in the neonatal intensive care unit and he responded very well to the care given by the doctors and nurses. Like many other times in the past, I saw the hand of the Lord and His choicest blessing in my wife’s and son’s lives. This experience helped me appreciate our great medical technology and the selfless acts of the hospital personnel. David is healthy and thriving now and has been a great addition to our family. He is a source of joy to us all. His siblings Payson, Precious, and Natasha love him dearly. He is a constant reminder of the greatness of God.
Joshua M. Njoroge currently serves as second counselor in the Nairobi Kenya East Stake.

I started reading the Book of Mormon for the first time when I became a Beehive. I read it from cover to cover and thought that would be the end. But I was so wrong. My life seemed to be missing something. So I decided to start reading it again, this time paying closer attention. As I did, my life was filled with the light that had dimmed since I had finished it. I understood more and came to really love it. Read it all the time, and you are ensuring yourself a life of goodness and light.
Kellie M., age 15, Utah, USA

I guess the fish just aren’t hungry today,” Don sighed. “Anyway, not the big ones.” He propped his cane pole on the creek bank and sat down on a large flat boulder. Summer showers had turned the clay banks into mushy red mud. He picked up a stick and began to peel the thick layer of mud from his shoes.
“I wonder why the little bait-stealing fish are always hungry and always bite,” Gary complained. “Why not the big ones? I’ve lost track of how many little ones I’ve thrown back, and I’m running out of worms.”
“Me, too,” Don said. “In fact, I’m out of bait. That’s why I pulled in one of my lines. I only have a chunk of wiener on the other hook, but I doubt that even the little ones will try for it. With two empty stringers, I think we may as well quit for today and go home.”
Don threw away the stick. But as he stooped to pick up his pole, he gasped when the cork suddenly disappeared. The line sang and it whipped through the water. The limber pole bent in an arc and was almost yanked out of his hands. “I’ve got a big one!” he shouted.
Gary dropped the pole he was reeling in and raced over to watch. “Get him! Don’t let it get away!” he hollered as Don slipped and almost fell into the water.
Desperately holding onto the pole, Don twisted like a cat, got to his feet, and braced his muddy shoes against a boulder. “He’s still on the line. And what a fighter!” he exclaimed.
The dark-haired youth gingerly tested the pole, but it bent too much when he tried to pull the fish out. What a monster it must be! he thought. This was his newest and strongest pole, and he knew that the only way to land this fish would be to drag it onto the bank. Otherwise, the pole would break and the fish would get away. He carefully lowered the pole, keeping the line taut, and began to back away from the creek.
“Wow! I’ve never seen such a big catfish!” Gary cried. “He must weigh fifteen or twenty pounds!”
“The way my arms ache, it feels more like thirty,” Don said breathlessly. Awed, he stared at the fish he had dragged away from the edge of the creek so it wouldn’t flop back in if it threw the hook. “Gather up the equipment and come on,” he said jubilantly. “I can’t wait to show him to my dad. I’m sure this whopper weighs more than that big one he caught last summer!”
On the way home, Gary offered several times to carry the fish, but no matter how tired he was, Don wanted everyone to know he had caught it. He beamed with pride when people admired his catch and asked where he had caught it. They always laughed when he told them the bait he had used was part of a wiener.
“Let’s go in and ask Mr. Evans to weigh it for you,” Gary suggested as they neared the neighborhood grocery store. “I can’t wait to find out how much it weighs.”
Mr. Evans whistled in surprise when he put the catfish on the meat scales. “Seventeen and a half pounds, boys. And I didn’t weigh my thumbs!” he chuckled. “I’ve fished around here for twenty-five years, but I’ve never caught one that big. You’re some fisherman, Don.”
Don smiled. “It sure wasn’t easy, Mr. Evans. That rascal nearly jerked off my arms and did his best to pull me in. He seemed to think he was the one who had caught me!”
Three blocks from home, Don leaned against a tree to rest a moment. The big fish seemed to gain a pound for every block they walked. He was exhausted, but not too tired to cross the street when Mr. Andrews called out and asked to see his catch.
The frail old man in the wheelchair was delighted. “I’ve taken many a fish from that creek,” he sighed admiringly, “but not since I was crippled in a truck wreck ten years ago. There’s nothing tastes better than deep-fried catfish!” Then he added wistfully, “Makes me hungry just thinking about it.”
“I think he was hinting for you to give him your prize catch!” Gary whispered indignantly as they walked away. “By the way, what are you going to do with it? If I caught a winner like that, I wouldn’t just eat it. I think I’d have my picture taken and put it in the newspaper. Then I’d have the fish mounted and hang it in my room.”
“I’m going to show it to Dad first. Then I’m going to clean it and take it back to Mr. Andrews. He can freeze part of it in his refrigerator and it should last him a long time,” Don said quietly.
“You’re going to give it away to that old man! Why would you do anything so dumb? We can catch him a mess of fish anytime. Besides, people can buy fish. Your family likes to eat fish, too, so why would you want to give it to him?” Gary asked disgustedly.
“Because I just thought of a boy who gave away his fish hundreds of years ago,” Don said. “You remember. It ended up that the few fish he had were enough to feed a multitude. Mr. Andrews only gets a small pension each month. Maybe he can’t afford to buy fish, and he can’t go fishing anymore. I may never catch another one this big in my whole life, so I want to do something special with it—like giving it to Mr. Andrews.”
Gary thought it over and nodded. Mr. Andrews was a proud old gentleman.
Gary grinned at his friend. “You’re right, Don. I can’t think of anything better to do with such a special catfish!”

About six months before the end of the war, I was assigned to an outfit where incoming young people were trained on radar. We were stationed in the Harz Mountains, and I was about 17. One day we had to write a composition about Germany, and mine won. The officer had me stand in front of the whole outfit, and he said: “Congratulations for writing the best composition. I expect you to volunteer now to become an officer for the German Reich. We need people with your potential, and I expect your written application tonight.”

“I don’t have to wait until tonight,” I said. “I refuse.”
He got really furious and wanted to punish me. He said, “Tomorrow, I will ask you again, and the next day again.”
“Well, I’m not going,” I told him. I was not in tune with the spirit of national socialism. My father was a friend of the Jewish people, and we had always prayed for them in our home. I just wanted to get out of there with the others. He asked me what I wanted to do. “I want to go with the rest of the group,” I said. He told me if I didn’t want to volunteer I was ordered to stay behind and train the young people. There was no other choice.

Although I was forced to stay I felt very secure about it, like that was where I was supposed to be. All my friends were sent to Russia. Only one came back—all the others were killed.