Gospel Story Finder

When Dad suggested we go tubing, I was excited. I had never gone floating down a river on an inner tube, and it sounded like fun. Dad said that it would be fun but that we also needed to be careful and watch out for logs and other hidden dangers. He said that the river is a lot like life—if we follow the wrong path, even unknowingly, we are in danger of getting hurt. We all promised to be careful and to watch out for each other.
After we had inflated our inner tubes, Mom dropped us off at the river. The water was muddy and moving fast. Dad told me to sit back in the tube with my legs and arms hanging out. When I did, I gave a little screech, both because the water was cold and because I started floating away from my family. My big sister soon caught up with me and reached out to hold my hand. Soon we were floating down the river together beneath the big trees that grew along the banks.
After about an hour, my sister and I decided to share one inner tube, and we hand-paddled over to very shallow water so we could do it safely. We had fun grabbing the vines that hung into the water, watching the birds, and reaching up to pick leaves from low tree branches. The water didn’t seem very deep, and sometimes my sister, who is very tall, would slide off the tube and push us around sandbars so that we wouldn’t get stuck.
We were trying to avoid two sandbars when she discovered that she couldn’t reach the bottom. Suddenly we were both caught up by a swift current and pushed into some fallen branches. The inner tube flipped over. I fell into the river. Thanks to my life jacket, I stayed afloat, but I couldn’t get out of the strong current. I was being scratched by the branches as I struggled and called out for help. My sister tried to reach me, but she was also caught in the current. She was hanging onto a big branch so that she wouldn’t get pushed under the water.
Dad immediately saw us and came to our rescue. He had to move carefully because he could barely touch bottom and didn’t want to get caught in the current like we were. He climbed over some branches and reached out for me. As soon as he was close enough, I grabbed onto his neck, and he held me tight. Then he put me on the inner tube and pushed me toward my brother. My brother grabbed the inner tube and pulled me to safety. Then Dad helped my sister. Finally we were all safe on a sandbar.
After a brief rest, we continued to float down the river. This time I was sitting in Dad’s lap. I was still a little scared, but after a while, I closed my eyes and relaxed. When I opened my eyes, I saw some hawks. Then I saw Mom waving from a bridge, and I knew that we had come to the end of our journey. I was very grateful that we had arrived safely.
That night Mom asked me what I had learned from my experience. I told her that even though I’d done what Dad had told us to do, I still had needed help. I said that whenever I need help, I’ll think of the river and remember that my family will always be there to help me.
Mom said that those were good things to remember. She also said that Heavenly Father is watching out for me and that I should remember to thank Him for that when I prayed. I did. I know that Heavenly Father watched out for me on the river. And I know that He watches out for me every day and wants to protect me from life’s hidden dangers.

As a child, I became less-active in the Church, but as a teenager I was considering coming back. Before making this important decision, I prayed and pondered what it would mean to come back to the Church and the responsibilities it would entail.
That is when I decided to read some old issues of the Liahona. I was reading to find stories that would encourage me and reinforce my desire to return to church.
Through reading articles about people who had experiences similar to mine, I received a lot of encouragement. Most of all, the articles helped me understand that nobody at church is perfect and that I have my faults as well and need to do something to correct them.
I have now come back to church. I realize that the meetings are like they were before, but now I have a more positive vision, partly due to ideas that I found in the Liahona about how to enjoy classes and sacrament meeting.
Every time I read the Liahona, I feel satisfied as I find answers to my questions.María Pilar Santana, Dominican Republic

It was a cold, rainy day, and my friends and I were playing kickball. One of the players was a girl who gets teased a lot and does not have many friends. She didn’t have a coat although it was raining hard. She was soaked! It looked as if she had just jumped into a swimming pool! Her nose was red and she was shivering. I felt sorry for her, so I took off my coat and let her borrow it until recess was over. Even though I was cold on the outside, I felt warm and cozy inside.

At age 25, I found myself in a verbally abusive relationship. I’d become less active in the Church, but when I finally left my boyfriend, I decided to go back to attending church regularly. I wanted to be on the straight and narrow path again. Little did I know, though, that when I made that decision, I was already pregnant.
I decided to stay true to my choice to be active again in the Church, but I didn’t really want to be pregnant and go to church where I lived. I wanted to attend a ward in a different city, so I went there one Sunday. It was the day of the Primary sacrament meeting presentation. As the children talked about how Heavenly Father always loves us, I felt His love too. That message was a great blessing for me that day.
After the meeting, I asked the bishop if I could attend that ward given my situation. He advised me to go to the ward within my boundaries. I didn’t want to, but he assured me I’d be OK, and I was.
When I told my bishop about my pregnancy, he was so helpful. It was a blessing to meet with him regularly. As I talked with him about my options for the baby, he wanted me to know that he was there to represent the Lord in my repentance process but would not tell me what decision to make about raising or placing my baby. As we were studying Doctrine and Covenants 9:8–9, my bishop asked me to pray and tell Heavenly Father what I really wanted—he encouraged me to make a decision and seek confirmation from the Lord.
So I went home and prayed. I told Heavenly Father all the amazing reasons why I would be the best mom for this baby, and I asked to know if that decision was right. The next day, everything in life felt like it was falling apart. For instance, I lost my medical insurance, and my car broke down.
At church the following Sunday, I told my bishop how life seemed to fall apart after I prayed about my decision. Because of what had happened after my prayer, my bishop suggested that I consider a different decision and seek confirmation about it instead.
While working with my bishop, I had considered placing the baby for adoption and had narrowed down the potential adoptive families to two couples. The bishop suggested that I select one of the two couples and pray about that decision to ask if this little guy needed to go with them.
I went home and reluctantly prayed, asking Heavenly Father if the couple I had chosen were the ones my child needed. The next morning, a connection my sister made led to a miracle solution for my insurance. I felt this was a confirmation that adoption was the right path for me, and I remember thinking this child could have so much more with a different family.
I knew that Heavenly Father would help me with this decision. Part of me hoped this choice would be like the story of Abraham and Isaac (see Genesis 22)—that when it came time for me to place my son for adoption, God would tell me I didn’t need to do it anymore. But He didn’t. I needed to place my son with a wonderful family.
As I sat in the hospital with my new little bundle of joy, I turned on the TV. General conference happened to be on. I heard a talk by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles entitled “None Were with Him.” He taught that “because Jesus walked such a long, lonely path utterly alone, we do not have to do so.”1 I closed my eyes and told Heavenly Father that I felt so alone, and then I felt so much love from Him.
After the placement, I felt completely empty. But in the back of my mind, I still knew I wasn’t alone. I knew Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ were with me, as Elder Holland had taught. I prepared for the temple and received my endowment. I was obeying the commandments, and I was determined I would never let myself be deceived into wrong choices again.
But years later, I was deceived again and ended up in another abusive relationship. When I broke away, I found out I was pregnant again. I didn’t want to place the baby. I was older than before, and I felt like I could be a good mom. I met with my bishop and a social worker. I started following the same process that I had before in praying about adoption, but nothing ever seemed to click. It always felt difficult.
I still went to church. Sometimes ward members would say they were surprised to see me there pregnant, which hurt a little. But I still went every week. I wanted people to see that what I had done reflected a choice I had made but that it didn’t define who I was. I worked with my bishop to move forward.
As my due date grew closer, I started to panic. With my first baby, I’d had a plan, but this one was so different. I didn’t feel like I was receiving a strong answer regarding any option for my baby. I let the couple whom I had placed my first baby with know that I was pregnant but unsure of whether I would place, and that if I did place, I would want them to raise this baby as well.
After I had the baby, I still felt unsure. Then my doctor came in to check on us and said, “I don’t know if you’ll be able to have children again, so love this little one.” While that may not be the answer for everyone, I felt the Spirit confirm that this was the right choice for me. After panicking for nine months, I felt peace. I let the couple know that I had decided to parent my daughter.
I wanted to be the best mom I could be, and I knew that the only way to do that was staying close to family and the Lord’s Church. I knew that what I had learned in the gospel of Jesus Christ would help her like it had helped me.
With my pregnancies, was one decision easier than the other? No. Both options were hard—just different kinds of hard, as were the joys. With my daughter, she is an incredible delight to me. Yet being a single mother is hard. With the son I placed, I still think about him and hope he’s happy throughout his life, but I am not as involved in his day-to-day happenings. When I was pregnant with him, I couldn’t see what Heavenly Father had in mind for him. But now I can see it, and I know he’s where he needs to be.
We can’t know beforehand what placing or single parenting will be like. But we can always trust in the Lord.
As part of my repentance, I remember hearing my bishop say, “Your sins are forgiven.” I felt such great relief, and I realized that the Atonement of Jesus Christ is real. I would remember my sin, but from that moment on, my Savior, Jesus Christ, would remember it no more (see Doctrine and Covenants 58:42). I knew that He wanted me to move forward to become a better person, to become what He sees I can be. That’s what I strive to do every day—to become even closer to Him and to hold ever tighter to the iron rod (see 1 Nephi 15:23–24; see also 1 Nephi 11:25).
One of my favorite scriptures reads, “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16). I am grateful for Heavenly Father’s plan of redemption.
I currently serve as my ward’s Young Women president. One principle I try to help the young women learn is that regardless of any choices they make, there is no place where they are out of Heavenly Father’s reach. As Elder Holland taught: “However many mistakes you feel you have made or talents you think you don’t have, or however far from home and family and God you feel you have traveled, I testify that you have not traveled beyond the reach of divine love. It is not possible for you to sink lower than the infinite light of Christ’s Atonement shines.”2
I hope that the young women in my ward—and everyone—remember that truth. It has blessed my life immeasurably, and the joys I now feel in living the gospel have become an even greater strength to me.

May I conclude with a heart-tugging account of one small boy, a Cub Scout whose love of Scouting brought him and those who knew him and loved him closer to God as he reached upward and stepped over the limits of mortality and entered the broad expanse of eternity, clad in the uniform he loved and wearing the honor he had won—in Scouting.
In October 1992, nine-year-old Jared Barney passed away as a result of brain cancer. He had, in his short life, endured multiple surgeries, along with radiation and chemotherapy treatments. His last surgery was August 9, 1992. A month after that, an MRI picked up six new tumors, two of which were already quite large.
The radiation and chemotherapy made Jared very ill. The surgeries were difficult, but he always bounced back very quickly. Although he suffered much pain, the Lord blessed and sustained him.
Jared had a special spirit that drew others to him. He never complained about how he felt or about having to be sick or about the treatments he had to have. When asked how he was doing, he always said, “Good,” no matter how he felt. He was ever known for his contagious smile. The Light of Christ was in his eyes.
May I quote from Jared’s mother, Olivia, who wrote concerning his last days: “Our many prayers were answered in behalf of our little son. We prayed that he would be able to walk, talk, and see until the end, and then that the Lord would take him quickly. He was able to do all of these things, and we are so thankful to the Lord for answering our prayers. Jared loved life so much, and we wanted him to be able to enjoy it fully until the end.
“Jared had earned some Cub Scout awards three weeks prior to his passing. He had earned his Bear badge, his Faith in God, a Gold Arrow Point, and two Silver Arrow Points. We know that he loved to get those awards. He was failing quickly, and he wouldn’t even let himself sleep until he could attend the pack meeting held on October 14, 1992, to achieve his awards. At the pack meeting, he raised his hand three times and told everyone how long he had waited for these awards and how happy he was to get them. When we returned home, he asked me to sew his badges on that very night. I did. Then he prayed that Heavenly Father would let him sleep because he was so tired. He said that three times. He went to sleep and never moved all night. From then on he slept most of the time until his passing.
“We buried him in his Cub Scout shirt with those long-awaited emblems sewn and pinned on the front. He had a beautiful service. Many were present, for he had made so many friends in the community through his example of courage and faith.”
Such was the influence of an inspired program in the life of a tiny boy and his family.

Even when our faith is weak, the Lord’s hand will always be stretched out. Years ago I received the assignment to reorganize a stake in Nigeria. At the last minute, there was a change in the date. There was a man in the stake who had decided to skip town for the first conference date. He did not want to risk being called as the stake president.
While he was away, he was in a terrible accident, but he was unharmed. This caused him to consider why his life had been spared. He revisited the decision he had made. He repented and humbly attended the new conference date. And yes, he was called to be the new stake president.

When the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted my work as an immigration consultant, I sought to dedicate my time to the Lord. I applied to serve as a service missionary and temple worker. During this time, I also prayed for my daughter, who wanted to study in Canada. In the celestial room of the temple, I received the clear inspiration: “Everything is ready; go with faith.”
God provided miracles. My ex-husband agreed to pay my daughter’s school fees, and a missionary helped us find a place to live in Canada. I learned that as I drew near to God, He truly drew near to me (Doctrine and Covenants 88:63).

This story about the Aaronic Priesthood begins with a young woman, 16-year-old Lauren DellAquila of the Cary Second Ward, Apex North Carolina Stake. Lauren hadn’t come to Church for years. She had never been baptized and confirmed, “but I just knew in my heart that the Church was true.”
She also knew David Christison, 16, and Andrew Hill, 15, who attend the same school, are Latter-day Saints. “I’m in marching band with David and had a couple of classes with Andrew last year,” she says. And she knew they stood by their beliefs. “It meant a lot to see their example, because most teens at our school don’t have values like they do,” Lauren explains.
Then one day after band, some other classmates were making unkind comments about the Church. Lauren told them if they really wanted to know the truth, they shouldn’t repeat rumors; they should find out for themselves. Afterward, David thanked her and asked how she knew so much about the Church. “She said that when she was really young she went to Church, but then her parents divorced and she stopped coming,” David says. “So I invited her to come again.”
“People had tried to get me to come back before, but for one reason or another it had never happened,” Lauren explains. “But when I told David and Andrew that I did want to try again, they were excited. I started coming to meetings, and they introduced me to the bishop, the missionaries, and the young women in the ward. They helped me feel at home.”
Soon Lauren was baptized and confirmed, and today she’s a happy, confident Laurel who recently gave a sacrament meeting talk about the importance of the priesthood. “If the gospel had not been restored,” she says, “I wouldn’t have seen two young men honoring their priesthood. And I wouldn’t have had the opportunities I have had to make covenants and to draw close to the Savior.”

“I had a great experience when I graduated from Primary. Back in those days we each had a green bandalo. I had lost mine. I looked everywhere, including under my bed and through everything in the closet. Finally my mother said, ‘Why don’t you pray about it. Ask Heavenly Father to help you find it.’ So I went to my room and prayed. Even as I was praying, a voice seemed to say, ‘In the dresser, caught underneath the drawer.’ The dresser was in the hall because there wasn’t enough room in my tiny bedroom. When I pulled out the drawer and reached up inside, there it was, caught on a silver! That was the first direct answer to prayer that I can remember receiving. I was proud that I could wear my bandalo when I stood next to Bishop Rulon Sperry as he nominated me to graduate from Primary and to be ordained to the office of a deacon.

The year before my mission, the bishop called me into his office and extended a call for me to teach the seven-year-old Primary children. I accepted the call, excited to teach. At the same time, I also had a good job at a local supermarket.
Not long after I was hired, the manager and assistant manager of the supermarket informed me that I would have to work on Sundays. The manager said, “I am not going to schedule around the Mormons or anyone else.” To keep my job, I would have to give up my calling and break the Lord’s commandment to keep the Sabbath day holy. My manager wouldn’t discuss it any further.
I explained the situation to my bishop. I wasn’t sure I would go on a mission. But if I did go, I would need a job to earn the money to pay for it. However, I also wanted to keep the Sabbath day holy, attend church, and teach Primary. After a long discussion with the bishop, I decided to quit my job. Not long after that, I found a job that gave me Sundays off. I kept my calling, and for the next several months I helped the children prepare for baptism.
One day I was looking at the missionary discussions, and it suddenly became clear to me why it had been so important for me to teach Primary. The discussions taught about Heavenly Father, Jesus Christ, the Book of Mormon, the First Vision, faith, repentance, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Ghost—the same principles I had been teaching my Primary class. I decided to pray about a mission. I was soon called as a full-time missionary.
Some people might wonder why I quit my job, especially when someone else could have easily taught that Primary class. But giving up my job in order to keep the Sabbath day holy and teach Primary helped me prepare for my mission and resulted in great blessings for me.

I was nervous because I couldn’t help but think about my friend Danny (name has been changed). For months Danny had been talking about how much he looked forward to serving a mission. But that changed after he met with the bishop.
Because Danny had engaged in unworthy behavior with several young women, he later told me, he had disqualified himself from full-time missionary service. He was no longer free to choose a mission.
Danny, in the words of President Boyd K. Packer, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, had fallen to Satan’s temptation “to misuse [his] moral agency.”1
True freedom, as For the Strength of Youth teaches, comes when we use our agency to choose obedience. Loss of freedom, as Danny learned, comes from choosing disobedience.
“While you are free to choose your course of action, you are not free to choose the consequences. Whether for good or bad, consequences follow as a natural result of the choices you make.”2
Because the scriptures teach that we are “free to choose,” “free to act,” and free to do things “of [our] own free will” (2 Nephi 2:27; 10:23; D&C 58:27; Helaman 14:30), we often use the term “free agency.”
But did you know that the phrase “free agency” does not appear in the scriptures? Instead, the scriptures teach “that every man may act in doctrine and principle … according to the moral agency which I have given unto him, that every man may be accountable for his own sins” (D&C 101:78; emphasis added).
Elder D. Todd Christofferson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles has taught: “The word agency appears [in scriptures] either by itself or with the modifier moral. … When we use the term moral agency, we are appropriately emphasizing the accountability that is an essential part of the divine gift of agency. We are moral beings and agents unto ourselves, free to choose but also responsible for our choices.”3
President Packer adds, “Agency is defined in the scriptures as ‘moral agency,’ which means that we can choose between good and evil.”4 This God-given gift means we are “free to choose liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator of all men, or to choose captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil” (2 Nephi 2:27).
Because moral agency plays an important role in the plan of salvation, Satan sought to destroy it in the premortal world. He was cast out for his rebellion and now seeks “to deceive and to blind men, and to lead them captive at his will” (Moses 4:3–4).
Satan wants us to make choices that limit our freedom, lead to bad habits and addictions, and leave us powerless to resist his temptations. The beauty of the gospel is that it makes us aware of our choices and the consequences of those choices. Wise use of agency keeps our choices open and improves our ability to choose correctly.
When the plan of salvation was presented in the Grand Council in Heaven, the Savior showed us how to use our moral agency correctly. He said, “Father, thy will be done, and the glory be thine forever” (Moses 4:2). Because He was willing to do the will of the Father then and later in the Garden of Gethsemane and on the cross (see Matthew 26:39; Luke 22:42), Jesus paid the price for our bad choices and provided a way for us to be forgiven through repentance.
If we follow the Savior’s example, instead of saying, “I do what I want,” we will declare, “I do what the Father wants.”5 Using our moral agency this way will bring us freedom and happiness.
As I went to see my bishop for my first mission interview, I was grateful I had made good choices. A few months later I was serving the Lord in Guatemala—teaching others the plan of salvation and the vital role moral agency plays in that plan.

By candle glow and fireplace glare, 13-year-old Erastus Snow scrutinized the two overnight guests in his Vermont home. Orson Pratt and Lyman Johnson, both about age 21, told about a new church barely two years old. Erastus’s parents listened intently, knowing that two of their married sons had already converted to the LDS church. Erastus, familiar with the Bible despite his youth, liked what he heard and then experienced something powerful: “They bore their testimonies, which I readily received,” he said; “the Holy Ghost descended upon me, bearing witness that it was true, and that they were messengers of God.”

However, no war is won in a single battle, and Lorenzo Snow, just like everyone else, had to continue to struggle in order to grow spiritually. His next struggle fits a pattern known and appreciated by many who have served as missionaries.

Sidney Rigdon, a member of the First Presidency and a former minister himself, recognizing the importance of education, encouraged Lorenzo to continue with his schooling. However, the former Oberlin student had other goals in mind. Though he said he was extremely shy and the thought of preaching to others concerned him deeply, he was still consumed by a desire to share the gospel with others. To him it was the most important thing he could do.

About that time a proclamation from the First Presidency was issued, inviting those who wanted to become members of the elders quorum to submit their names. If approved by the Presidency, they would be ordained. Lorenzo submitted his name, “which is the only time in my life,” he commented later, “that have offered my name for or solicited an office or calling.”

In the spring of 1837 he set out alone to preach without purse or scrip, with the intent of doing missionary work in Ohio. This was to be one of the hardest ordeals of his life, personality-wise.

“It was, however, a severe trial to my natural feelings of independence to go without purse or scrip—especially the purse; for, from the time I was old enough to work, the feeling that I ‘paid my way’ always seemed a necessary adjunct to self respect, and nothing but a positive knowledge that God required it now, as He did anciently of His servants, the Disciples of Jesus, could induce me to go forth dependent on my fellow creatures for the common necessaries of life. But my duty in this respect was clearly made known to me, and I determined to do it.”

With concern in his heart and trust in his Lord, Elder Snow embarked on his first mission. He visited an aunt and then traveled for about thirty miles. Just as the sun was setting, he made his first official call as a Mormon elder and was refused a night’s lodging. Eight calls he made that night before being admitted for the night—“going to bed supperless, and leaving in the morning, minus a breakfast.” This was his first introduction to missionary work, but he refused to let discouragement get him down, and he served a faithful mission in his home state before moving with the Saints to Missouri.

Last year I went on a hike with my dad and brother. We hiked deep into the canyon. We soon started exploring a side trail. We found large caves and great lookout points. We climbed higher and higher over loose rocks and steep hills.
After a while we were completely lost. We didn’t know which way to go to get to the bottom of the canyon. We got stuck in thick brush, losing sight of both the top and bottom of the canyon. I started to get really frustrated. I did not know where to go, and neither did my dad!
It was getting dark and cold, and we were far from getting out of the canyon. I knew that Heavenly Father knew which way to go.
I said, “If we want to get out of here, we need to pray!” So the three of us knelt down in prayer, asking Heavenly Father to lead us out of the canyon.
As we started to walk, a feeling told me that when I saw a straight tall tree, we should turn left. After we turned left, I saw our car. I knew that Heavenly Father helped us get out of the canyon. Heavenly Father answered our prayer, and we made it out safely—just as the sun was setting.
I am so thankful for the power of prayer and for Heavenly Father’s listening ear.

Sometime, either before, during, or after the call, the Lord confirms to the man being called that his call is of God. One young stake president reported his confirmation this way:
“When I was interviewed, I was 32 years old and had served about four years as bishop. One of those conducting the interviews asked two poignant questions: (1) How did you gain your testimony? and (2) Would you share with us your testimony of the Savior? I shared my experience as a teenager, shortly after my mother passed away, when I learned for myself the truthfulness of the restored gospel, specifically with regard to the Book of Mormon.
“As I shared my testimony of the Savior, I received a witness that I would be called as the next stake president. I drove home and told my wife about my experience. When I told her that I thought I could be called as the next stake president, she responded, ‘You’re good, but you’re not that good.’ The phone rang two hours later, and I was invited to return with my wife, and the call was extended.”

In the following excerpt, Sharon Lynn Glasser does more than tell her readers she received a call to serve in the Relief Society; she takes them into her world and shows them.
“Saturday night, Bonnie Hall, Relief Society president of our branch, called me and asked if I would give the Relief Society lesson in the morning. I said, ‘Okay (gulp),’ and she said to come over and she’d help make visual aids since it was such late notice. When I asked her why she wanted to ask me, she said she’d said a prayer, and my name came to her head. Suddenly I felt peaceful, and I knew that I could give the lesson.
“The lesson was on diseases. A health lesson—how boring, I thought! I really didn’t know what I was going to say. I underlined things in the manual. Bonnie made some adorable looking germs to represent the diseases, and I made signs with the names on them until 2:00 A.M.
“So there I was in front of a roomful of people my own age. (The last class I taught was in Junior Sunday School.) And it was so neat! I know the Lord helped me with that lesson. I was calm and peaceful like I’ve never been before. It seemed so easy.
“I discovered in sacrament meeting that night that all the Relief Society teachers had been called. There was no chance for me now, but I’d get another neat job, I assured myself.
“Sunday night, I was sitting reading, determined I was going to bed early for a change; in fact, I was ready for bed, when the phone rang.
“‘President Kinghorn would like to see you in his office; can you come down?’
“‘Now?’
“‘Yes, now.’
“‘Okay, but it’ll be a little while.’ …
“I flew down the hill. And there I was in President Kinghorn’s office.
“We talked a little bit about me, and then he said, ‘You did the wrong thing in Relief Society this morning.’
“I’m sure my eyes got an inch wider. What … what could I have done wrong? I scanned my memory.
“‘You impressed some people.’
“I visibly relaxed.
“‘So we’ve decided to try a new system; our classes are too large, so we’ve decided to call you to be the other Health and Family Living teacher.’
“I was overjoyed! I ran so fast on the way home, I was too out of breath to explain what happened and just plopped myself on Jill’s bed.”

Lindy, Charleston, hustle, Latin, and swing. If you guessed those were all dances, give yourself a big pat on the back. But can you guess what those dances have to do with strengthening families and friendships?
“We wanted to recognize the family and have the youth find the job of modern-day families, and we wanted to do it through dance,” says Bruce Bassett, a youth leader. Doctrine and Covenants 136:28 states, “If thou art merry, praise the Lord with singing, with music, with dancing, and with a prayer of praise and thanksgiving.” Five stakes in Washington took that scripture and ran with it—actually they danced with it.
The Bothell, Snohomish, Everett, Lynnwood, and Mount Vernon Stakes spent two years planning their dance festival in Marysville, and one and a half of those years working on it intensely. It was the first dance festival in that area in more than 20 years. “It teaches us how much effort and responsibility it takes to put on one of these festivals,” says Morgan Thatcher, 16, of the Everett Stake. “And also how much fun it can be.”
For the last five months of those two years, the youth learned all the dance moves they would need to pull off this spectacular event. Hours and hours of practice and some great choreography, not to mention raw talent, meant the final product was a big hit.
But the show wasn’t all dancing. Those who weren’t inclined to dance were able to perform in other ways. There were lights to run, sound checks to do, and banners to carry. There was also a play which brought all the dances together into a performance with a story line.
Picture it. A family reunion, complete with Grandma, uncles and aunts, and all the cousins you can handle. And memories. Lots of memories. The actors in the family reunion played their parts on a stage in the middle of a large gymnasium. One by one, the family members tell stories of dancing with their first love, or about cheerleading tryouts, or they read from their great-grandpa’s journal. The stories were then brought to life by hundreds of youth, doing dances ranging from a square dance to hip-hop, depending on the story. The family’s South African neighbor even stops by to tell one of his stories about dancing.
Early on the morning of the big performance, the youth are rushing around frantically trying to find lost hats and canes, or even the whereabouts of their stakes. But the chaos dies down as soon as the nearly 1,000 young people gather in perfect rows in the gym to say an opening prayer and begin practice. It is their first time practicing as a complete group. Previously, the stake groups had practiced on their own. A lot of organization and teamwork made it possible to integrate all the stakes and their dances. The youth practice all morning, but instead of being tired, by early afternoon they are excited to give the day’s first performance.
By 1:00 P.M., everyone is costumed and waiting in the wings for their cues. The stage for the opening number is set when the family reunion begins. “Celebration,” a 1984 song, is the first dance number, and all the stakes participate. Hula-hoops fly, streamers wave, and each stake performs its unique number while coordinating with the other stakes.
Prompted by the memories and stories of the on-stage family, the youth keep dancing. A hat and cane number, a Latin dance, and a classic disco hustle. Then it was on to a pioneer square dance.
The youth are reliving the legacy of the early Saints. Since pioneer days, the Saints have praised the Lord with dance. Brigham Young said, “If you want to dance … do it, and exercise your bodies, and let your minds rest,” and, “If you wish to dance, dance; and you are just as much prepared for a prayer meeting after dancing as ever you were, if you are Saints” (in Journal of Discourses, 6:149, 148).
The last song, which was also part of the opening number, has a prayerful quality. The score is an original, written by Ann Bailey, the event’s music director. The song title, “A Time to Dance,” is taken from Ecclesiastes 3:4. The spirit filling the gymnasium was one of praise and worship, thanks to the dedicated youth of Washington, who were congratulated with a standing ovation and many tear-filled eyes. The youth performed the whole show again a few hours later to another packed gymnasium.
Although the dance festival turned out to be a big success, it seemed like a gamble at first to many of the youth who opted not to have youth conferences so they could participate in the festival. The practices were long and hard, and most of the youth had never done any of the dances before.
The festival also required a lot of stretching, physically and socially. Besides the exertion of dancing for hours, many had to dance with partners they’d never met before. It was difficult at first, says Erin Bingham, 15, of Mount Vernon, “but it’s just neat seeing a lot of Mormons together.” Most of the youth said the closeness to their families and to other young people they have met was more rewarding than they could have imagined.
Shaler Mortensen’s whole family was involved in the dance festival, doing everything from making costumes to actually dancing. “It wasn’t like youth conference,” he says, “but to compare the two is like apples and oranges. This is a lot more work.”
But all their hard work paid off. Not only did the youth get to enjoy the company of many other Latter-day Saints they might not have met otherwise, but they also learned skills they can put into practice. “Stake dances are going to be a lot of fun now,” says Erin. One of the stakes has already requested Latin music at the next stake dance.
Another blessing of bringing Latter-day Saint youth together is the fellowshipping and missionary work that happens when they are together. “It’s a chance to show nonmembers that we aren’t weird people and we can have fun,” says Richard Horne, 17, of the Bothell Stake.
Of the five friends the youth brought with them to dance in the festival, two have joined the Church, and two are taking the missionary discussions. “They like the fellowshipping, and they know the Church is true,” Erin says.
Keoni Barney, 16, is a recent Church convert in the Mount Vernon Stake. “All the kids were just so nice,” he says. He found out about the Church when he moved in with his aunt and uncle and started dancing with the youth at their practices. He says his friends’ examples helped him gain a testimony. “I’ve never seen so much energy out of a group of youth in my entire life,” Keoni laughs. He says he can’t keep up with them, but maybe it’s the over-sized collar on his disco outfit that’s holding him back, he jokes. “I love having the opportunity to be in the dance festival.”
Like Keoni, Jimmy Fisher and Sharon Kwan also investigated the Church because of their friends’ examples. Jimmy decided he was going to be baptized before he decided to participate in the dance festival, and Sharon, an exchange student from Hong Kong, took the missionary discussions and was baptized shortly after the festival.
Underlying the costumes, ultra-cool dance moves, and camaraderie is a special spirit. Everyone felt it—Sharon included. She says she found out “it’s possible to praise the Lord through dance.”
Alison Herron, a choreography director from the Everett Stake, says, “I never would have stuck with it if not for the many sweet moments when the Spirit bore witness to me that we were doing something wonderful.”
The youth felt something special that day—and not just on that day, but through the entire process—and that they will never forget. It wasn’t just about the dancing. It was about dancing with a purpose. It was glorifying the family and praising the Lord.

There are many other opportunities to share the gospel. For example, just this summer I received a happy letter from a new member who learned about the restored gospel when an old classmate phoned her to inquire about an illness she was experiencing. She wrote: “I was enlightened by the way he presented himself to me. After [a] few months of learning from the missionaries, I was baptized. My life has improved since then.” We all know many whose lives would be improved by the restored gospel. Are we reaching out to them?

It seemed just like any other day to Mura as she turned over in bed and found her two sisters missing. Yet, there was a certain feeling of excitement in the air that caused everyone in the house to hurry.
Why would anyone want to rush around on such a beautiful Saturday? Mura wondered, trying to fight for those last few winks of sleep.
The warm morning breeze and crisp sunlight, along with the sound of busy people in the other room, told Mura it was time to get up.
Finally she sat up in bed and was stretching toward the ceiling when her mother came into the room. “So, you finally decided to wake up. Don’t you know we have a big day ahead of us, sleepy bones?”
Mother helped Mura put on her Sunday dress and they went into the kitchen where the rest of the family had already started eating. Porridge and Maori bread. Mmmmm! thought Mura as she quickly joined her family at the table for her favorite breakfast.
After their meal, father made a last-minute inspection of Mura’s brothers and sisters. Soon the whole family was on its way to the pa (native Maori village) where there is usually a meetinghouse, an eating house, and a sleeping house for overnight visitors.
As Mura walked along holding her mother’s hand, she looked around at the crowd. She had never seen this many people in their small village before, and they were all going to the marae (courtyard). She saw her very best friend Rangi, her cousins all the way from Tauranga, and even some pakehas (white people) she had never seen. It was very unusual for white people to attend such a meeting.
Soon Mura’s family arrived to find the marae already crowded with happy, excited people of all ages. There were far too many of them to fit into the meetinghouse, so chairs were set up on the porch of the beautifully carved building for those who were to speak at the huitau (conference). Many had brought blankets and chairs so that they could sit down when the meeting began.
Things seemed confusing to Mura as she looked around at the hundreds of moving legs, but then a smile came across her face as she spotted Rangi again through the crowd. The two met halfway and Rangi’s parents followed the pair back to Mura’s family.
The grownups stood and talked about grown-up things while Mura and Rangi played tag.
A whisper soon started rustling through the crowd. “Tumuki (president), the great Tumuki is coming, Tumuki Kauri. …” The crowd became very still as one of the elders of the tribe began chanting a welcome and Mura’s brother dressed in a traditional costume began hopping, gliding, and twirling his taiaha (spear) above his head. Slowly he approached the gate where several pakeha strangers stood.
Placing a fern branch on the ground, Mura’s brother backed away and a very distinguished-looking man picked it up to show that they were friends. The whole congregation began singing as the group walked toward the front of the meetinghouse.
After the opening song and prayer, the chief of Mura’s tribe began to speak. As he spoke, her mind began to drift to all the things she and Rangi could be doing instead of sitting in the hot sun listening to stuffy preachers, but her attention was drawn back to the speaker when she heard him say, “And now we will hear from Tumuki Matiu Kauri (President Matthew Cowley).”
With that the crowd was completely still. Not a whisper or breath could be heard from the hundreds of people as the stately man, who had picked up the fern leaf earlier, rose and began to speak in perfect Maori. If Mura had closed her eyes, she would have thought it was her grandfather speaking. Each word seemed to sink deeply into her heart as Tumuki Kauri spoke of love and peace and of Jesus’ life on earth.
For the first time in Mura’s life she knew what it was like to hear a man of God. He spoke for an hour and a half without losing one of his eager listeners.
When the meeting was over, Mura told her mother that she wanted to see President Cowley up close. Before her mother had a chance to reply, Mura disappeared through the crowd.
After working her way through the jungle of legs, Mura made it to the meetinghouse. There she saw him. As the people who were waiting to greet the great Tumuki approached, he would shake their hands, press noses in a Maori hongi, and say a few words in Maori to them. He called many of them by name.
Mura hesitated to approach the president; besides, the line was very long, so she stood back and watched him shaking hands. Then, suddenly, he left the line of people waiting to see him and started walking directly toward Mura.
With a big smile, he bent down and picked up the surprised girl. “What is your name?” he asked.
“Mura Tarawa,” she said shyly.
“Oh yes, Brother Tarawa’s little girl. I hear you are the prettiest little girl in town.”
Mura smiled and flung her arms around President Cowley’s neck. And as she hugged him, Mura felt more sure than ever that this man who had come to visit her people was truly an apostle of the Lord.

“Look,” Jessica said, pointing to the window. “It’s snowing.”
We ran to look outside. The tiny flakes started falling faster and faster. Then the flakes got bigger. They fell in swirls and swoops, and sometimes we could hardly see the barn through the curtain of white. By the time we finished lunch, the snow was three feet deep.
We watched from the window, feeling snug and warm inside the house. The cedar trees bent and swayed under their load, and the mailbox wore a thick white muff. Every now and then we heard a sharp crack as a limb broke under the weight of the snow.
Suddenly the lights blinked—once, twice. We held our breaths. Mom hurried about, setting out candles and filling the oil lamp on the mantel. The lights flickered again, then gave up.
“Listen to the quiet,” said Jessica. There was no television, no radio, no hum from the refrigerator. The only sound we heard was the tick of the grandfather clock by the front door.
David brought an armful of wood from the shed for the fireplace and soon had a blaze crackling and popping. We all gathered around the hearth, bundling into our warmest clothes. Our dog, Duke, crept closer to the fire and curled up for a nap.
The wind howled around the house, and I was glad to be inside. “What about the ponies?” asked Jessica. “Will they get cold?”
“They’re safe inside the barn,” said Dad. “I put extra straw in their stalls.”
For supper we roasted hot dogs in the fireplace and ate off of paper plates. It was just like a picnic. We toasted marshmallows for dessert. I let mine burn on the outside so that they were crisp and almost black. Inside they were gooey and hot.
“Mmmm,” said Jessica, licking her sticky fingers. “I wish the electricity would go off every day.”
“I’ll bet you’d soon get tired of that,” Mom said.
“Well, it’s time for family home evening,” Dad said and brought out his guitar. He played while we sang “I Am a Child of God.” David said an opening prayer. Then, by the light of the oil lamp, Mom read us the story of the brother of Jared. The flickering candles made spooky shadows against the walls. I sat close to Dad, glad to be by the fire.
Afterward, we sang “Over in the Meadow” all the way through, and “Bingo” and “Old MacDonald” and “Frosty the Snowman.”
“We can make a snowman tomorrow,” I said.
David turned Duke out. When he came back inside, he looked like a snow dog. Jessica dried him off with a towel.
We knelt together for family prayer, then went to bed early in our warmest pajamas and with extra blankets piled on our beds. “May we have waffles for breakfast tomorrow?” I asked as Mom tucked me in.
“We’ll have cold cereal if the power is still out,” Mom reminded me.
The moon was bright, and I could see its reflection on the snow from my window. Everything looked strange and different. The house sounded different too.
I woke up in the middle of the night. My nose was cold. Suddenly, I heard a click and a hum. The electricity was back on! I heard the furnace start, and I snuggled deeper into my blankets. The house would be warm again by morning. Maybe there would be waffles for breakfast, after all.