Gospel Story Finder

Maggie loved things that matched. She wore her dark hair in two matching braids almost every day. Her purple backpack matched her purple notebook perfectly. And she carefully sorted her food into matching colors at lunchtime.
One day after lunch, Maggie walked out to the playground. She was about to join her friends when she saw someone sitting alone by the slide. It was a girl with long blonde hair.
Maggie sat down next to the girl. “What’s your name?” she asked.
“Anna,” the girl whispered. She sniffed and wiped her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie asked.
“No one will play with me,” Anna said, looking up sadly at Maggie.
Then Maggie saw that Anna had pretty green eyes. Maggie knew another girl who also had green eyes and blonde hair. The two girls would match perfectly!
“I know someone who can play with you!” Maggie told Anna.
“You do?” Anna asked with a hopeful smile.
“Yes! Sarah from my class.” Maggie pointed to a girl jumping rope. “See her over there? She would probably play with you.”
“Oh,” Anna said. Her face melted back into a frown.
Maggie didn’t know what to do next. “Well, I’ll see you later,” she said, standing up and walking over to her friends.
But Maggie couldn’t forget Anna’s sad eyes. That night at dinner, she told her family about what happened.
“She needed someone to play with?” Mom asked.
“Yeah,” Maggie said, “but she wouldn’t go ask Sarah to play, even though they both have blonde hair and green eyes.”
Dad looked over at Maggie. “Why didn’t you play with Anna?”
Maggie’s mouth fell open. “Because—because—Sarah and the girl matched!”
“Hmm,” Mom said as she wiped the baby’s face. “Do you remember what Jesus says about how we should treat other people?”
“We should love them?” Maggie said. Mom smiled and nodded.
“It doesn’t matter whether our body looks the same as someone else’s,” Dad said. “It doesn’t even really matter if they think the same way we do, or believe in the same things. The most important thing is that our actions match what Jesus taught.”
Maggie felt a warm tingling in her body, and she knew that Dad was right. “I’ll remember that,” she said.
The next day at recess, Maggie looked for Anna. She found her sitting alone by the sandbox.
“Hi,” Maggie said.
“Hello,” Anna said quietly.
“Do you want to come play with my friends and me?”
Now Anna looked up! Her green eyes sparkled brightly as a smile spread across her face.
“Really?” she asked.
“Really!” Maggie said, helping Anna stand.
This feels like a perfect match, Maggie thought as the two ran off to play.

Plan surprise activities. If Dad comes home from work tired and worn out, falls into his chair, and doesn’t get up until dinner, we know it’s time to plan another surprise activity. We love to kidnap Dad when he leaves from work or steps out of the car at home and take him on a family outing. Our activity might be as simple as going to a park for a picnic dinner. Sometimes we make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, throw in a bag of chips, kidnap Dad, and drive to a local point of interest. Even though they aren’t elaborate, our activities are always fun and spontaneous—and Dad loves being the center of everyone’s kidnapping scheme.

I remember a few years ago going on a business trip to eastern Canada in company with a broad range of business and community leaders. After the business of the day, we had dinner together; and during the course of the evening, as everyone began to relax and get better acquainted, one of those present, for no apparent reason, began to tell about his son, a boy whom obviously he loved very much. Yet there was conflict and even some alienation and he wasn’t quite sure what to do, if indeed he should do anything.
That comment prompted a similar response from the others seated around the table. You could tell it was something they were not used to talking about, but each was personally concerned about some aspect of his family life, and this was primarily associated with his children.
Although we live in an era of transition and change, I believe parents are as anxious and concerned about their children as they have ever been. If the family, then, is the foundation unit in society, perhaps there is need to reaffirm some basic principles.
First is that parents recognize they have the right to structure the attitudes and conduct of their children—not only the right but the responsibility.
Second, that the principle of work, the work ethic if you please, be taught by the parents in the family setting. Where else is the dignity of work to be taught if not in the home?
And, third, parents have a right to establish the moral and spiritual tone in the family to help family members to realize the importance of living divine principles as a means of accomplishment and of peace of mind.
First, then, the right of parents to structure the attitudes and conduct of their children. Fundamentally this is divine right. God says of Abraham that he “shall surely become a great and mighty nation, … for I know him, that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment.” (Gen. 18:18–19.) God could make Abraham head of a numerous posterity because of his faithfulness in teaching his children.
There are some in the world who might say that such parental influence is repressive and robs the child of its freedom, but quite the opposite is true. A group of young girls was overheard talking about the parents of one of their friends. Showing maturity beyond her years, one of the girls said, “Her parents don’t love her; they let her do anything she wants.” The others agreed.
In a New York Times Magazine article, later condensed in Reader’s Digest, William V. Shannon makes the following points: “American children … are suffering from widespread parent failure. By their words and actions [he says] many fathers and mothers make it clear that they are almost paralyzed by uncertainty. … Many parents are in conflict as to what their own values are. Others think they know, but lack the confidence to impose discipline in behalf of their values. …”
What is lacking, he says, is not more information on child development, but conviction. Although heredity plays some role in the development of a child, the greater influence “depends on whether parents care enough about their children to assert and defend the necessary values.” The author also says that both mother and father need to put family and home responsibilities first. “Rearing our children is by far the most important task that most of us will ever undertake.”
He also states that “parents who do not persevere in rearing their children according to their own convictions are not leaving them ‘free’ to develop on their own. Instead, they are letting other children and the media, principally television and the movies, do the job.” (William V. Shannon, “What Code of Values Can We Teach Our Children?” Reader’s Digest, May 1972, pp. 187–88.)
The greatest principle to be learned in the family setting is love. If parents will influence and direct and persevere with love, then members of the family will also make that principle a part of all they do. The principle of love can overcome many parental mistakes in the raising of their children. But love should not be confused with lack of conviction.
Secondly, that the principle of work be taught in the family and home setting. There is evidence to support that at least in the United States the problems of stress and tension might be linked to a gradually decreasing average number of hours worked by the labor force. The suggestion is that free time, not work, might be a major cause of stress and tension in individuals.
While we were growing up in a small community, my father saw the need for my brother and me to learn the principle of work. As a result, he put us to work on a small farm on the edge of town where he had been raised. He ran the local newspaper, so he could not spend much time with us except early in the morning and in the evening. That was quite a responsibility for two young teenagers, and sometimes we made mistakes.
Our small farm was surrounded by other farms, and one of the farmers went in to see my father one day to tell him the things he thought we were doing wrong. My father listened to him carefully and then said, “Jim, you don’t understand. You see, I’m raising boys and not cows.” After my father’s death, Jim told us his story. How grateful I was for a father who decided to raise boys, and not cows. In spite of the mistakes, we learned how to work on that little farm, and I guess, although they didn’t say it in so many words, we always knew we were more important to Mother and Father than the cows or, for that matter, anything else.
Certainly in every home all family members can be given responsibilities that will fall within their ability to accomplish and, at the same time, teach them the satisfaction and dignity of work.
The third point is that parents have the right to teach moral and spiritual principles to their children. In that regard let me quote the following from modern scripture:
“And again, inasmuch as parents have children in Zion, or in any of her stakes which are organized, that teach them not to understand the doctrine of repentance, faith in Christ the Son of the living God, and of baptism and the gift of the Holy Ghost by the laying on of the hands, when eight years old, the sin be upon the heads of the parents.” (D&C 68:25.)
In his first address to the United States Congress, President Gerald Ford stated this universal truth: “If we can make effective … use of the moral and ethical wisdom of the centuries in today’s complex society, we will prevent more crime and corruption than all the policemen and prosecutors … can ever deter.” And he added: “This is a job that must begin at home, not in Washington.” (Christian Science Monitor, 28 Aug. 1974.)
In the article previously mentioned, Mr. Shannon says, “Nothing has invalidated the hard-earned moral wisdom that mankind has accumulated since Biblical times. To kill, to steal, to lie, or to covet another person’s possessions still leads to varying degrees of misery for the victim and the perpetrator. … ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’ may sound old-fashioned, but restated in contemporary terms—‘Do not smash up another person’s family life’—still carries a worthwhile message.”
He also points out the virtues of self-denial and anticipation. As older teenagers learn the facts about sex, it would do no harm, he says, to use self-control.
“A certain amount of frustration and tension can be endured—and with good effect. Only modern Americans,” he says, “regard frustration as ranking higher than cholera in the scale of human afflictions.” (Reader’s Digest, May 1972, pp. 189–90.)
These are but three of many principles that should be emphasized in the setting of family and home.
The next question is, How do parents get this accomplished? For members of the Church, the point at which training and communication begin in the family is family home evening. Monday night is set aside for the family and nothing interferes. The father takes the lead but also has other members of the family make preparation and participate. What is said and done depends on the needs of that particular family. The Church publishes some guidelines to help parents teach moral and religious principles to the family and to make them apply in everyday life.
To the nonmember parent who is interested in establishing some kind of similar activity the Church also offers some special help. Living near you are both full-time and part-time missionaries who have been trained in how to hold a family home evening. They will be happy to demonstrate this program in your home at no obligation. This is a service of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints which it is prepared to offer families everywhere. The only thing we ask is that the whole family is present, especially the father or head of the home, since he is the key to the program.
Of course, these young missionaries are also prepared to teach your family the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ in subsequent visits. But if you do not want to continue, that will be your decision. At least you will be left with a program that many outside this Church have already adopted as being beneficial for the family and the home.
Some business leaders have also looked at the family home evening program and recommended it to their employees. Employees do better work when things are going well at home.
May the Lord bless us as parents to realize our right to help formulate the lives of our children, to teach the dignity of work, and to establish moral and religious principles in our homes, I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Long ago, the renowned author Charles Dickens wrote of opportunities that await. In his classic volume entitled Great Expectations, Dickens described a boy by the name of Philip Pirrip, more commonly known as “Pip.” Pip was born in unusual circumstances. He was an orphan. He never met his mother or father. He never saw a picture of them. Yet he had all the normal desires of a boy. He wished with all his heart that he were a scholar. He wished that he were a gentleman. He wished that he were less ignorant. Yet all of his ambitions and all of his hopes seemed doomed to failure. Do you young men sometimes feel that way? Do those of us who are older entertain these same thoughts?

Then one day a London lawyer by the name of Jaggers approached little Pip and told him that an unknown benefactor had bequeathed to him a fortune. The lawyer put his arm around the shoulder of Pip and said to him, “My boy, you have great expectations.”
Tonight, as I look at you young men and realize who you are and what you may become, I say to you, as that lawyer said to Pip, “My boy, you have great expectations”—not as the result of an unknown benefactor, but as the result of a known Benefactor, even our Heavenly Father, and great things are expected of you.

Beth Lancaster, a Mia Maid, had been going to church for years with her member friends before she was baptized. One day, when Beth was 13, she asked her friend, Megan Rasmussen, if she could take the discussions. Beth says, “I wouldn’t have asked her if it hadn’t been for all my friends’ examples and the joy they had in their lives.”
“I saw the examples of the Rasmussen family and the Bromley family and how happy they were and how much love they had in their lives,” Beth says. “I decided I wanted some of that.”
Sixteen-year-old Jake Bromley, one of Beth’s good friends, says, “You never know when somebody will be looking at you, wondering why members of the Church are so good and what makes them so happy. Be a good example 100 percent of the time.”

In his sophomore year Wilbanks tried out for the high school basketball team and made it. On the first day of practice his coach had him play one-on-one while the team observed. When he missed an easy shot, he became angry and stomped and whined. The coach walked over to him and said, “You pull a stunt like that again and you’ll never play for my team.” For the next three years he never lost control again. Years later, as he reflected back on this incident, he realized that the coach had taught him a life-changing principle that day: anger can be controlled (see “The New Obscenity,” 24).

Logan had turned eight years old last week. Today was a special day—he was going to be baptized. He and his father dressed in white clothes and took their seats near the baptismal font.
Logan’s brother-in-law, Ryan, was asked to give a talk at the baptism. After the opening song and prayer, Ryan read the fourth article of faith: “‘We believe that the first principles and ordinances of the Gospel are: first, Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ; second, Repentance; third, Baptism by immersion for the remission of sins; fourth, Laying on of hands for the gift of the Holy Ghost.’”
Then Ryan placed a blue paper square on the floor at one side of the room and a white paper square at the other side. “Logan, come stand on this blue square,” he said. “Can you get from the blue square to the white square without stepping on the carpet?”
Logan looked across the room and shook his head. “It’s too far.”
Ryan nodded. “It’s too far for you to get there by yourself. And do you think you can return to Heavenly Father without help?”
Logan shook his head again.
Ryan placed six more squares on the floor, each square a different color. “Heavenly Father has given us steps to bring us back to Him. Do you know what they are?”
Logan thought of the article of faith Ryan had just read. “The first one is faith.” Ryan nodded as Logan stepped onto the red square. “And the second one is repentance.” Logan moved to the yellow square.
Ryan pointed to the green square. “This one represents one of the steps you’re taking today.”
Smiling, Logan stepped onto the green square.
“Baptism,” he said. He was much closer to the white square now, but there were still three more in between.
“The orange square represents receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost,” Ryan said, “another step you’ll take today.”
Logan stepped onto the orange square.
“What do you think the last two squares represent?” Ryan asked.
Logan thought for a moment. The fourth article of faith included only the first four principles and ordinances of the gospel. He had learned in Primary that baptism was the first of many covenants he would make. “Does the next square stand for the temple?” he asked.
“Right!” Ryan beamed. “After your baptism and confirmation, you’ll prepare to receive the priesthood and temple ordinances. What do you think the last square stands for?”
Logan couldn’t remember any more steps. Then it dawned on him—it was the simple truth taught by prophets and scriptures. “Stay righteous,” he said.
“Exactly,” Ryan said. “After making all of these covenants, we must stay faithful.”
Logan sat down and Ryan finished his talk. Then Logan and his father entered the baptismal font. With the authority of the priesthood, Logan’s father baptized him. After they had changed into dry clothes, Logan was confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
“Remember the Spirit you feel right now,” Ryan said afterward as he hugged Logan. “Try to keep it with you for the rest of your life.”
Logan knew he would never forget this special day—a day he had taken two important steps toward his heavenly home.

When their friends or family members play sports, Stephen’s and Richard’s participation is limited. But the two boys don’t see themselves as handicapped. They always give everything their best shot.
For example, when Richard (whose reflexes are better than Stephen’s) got a skateboard, Stephen wanted to ride it too. He didn’t give up until he had learned to balance and roll slowly down the street.
“He’s got real stick-to-itiveness,” Brother Frustaci says. “Neither of them gives up.”

My second story centers around Great-Uncle Grover, who lived in a house out in the country, far from the city. Uncle Grover was getting very old. We thought our sons should meet him before he died. So, one afternoon, we took a long drive to his humble house. We sat together to visit and introduce him to our sons. Not long into the conversation, our two young boys, maybe five and six years old, wanted to go outside and play.
Uncle Grover, hearing their request, bent over with his face in theirs. His face was so weathered and unfamiliar that the boys were a little scared of him. He said to them, in his gravelly voice, “Be careful—there are a lot of skunks out there.” Hearing this, Lesa and I were more than startled; we were worried that they might get sprayed by a skunk! The boys soon went outside to play as we continued to visit.
Later, when we got in the car to go home, I inquired of the boys, “Did you see a skunk?” One of them replied, “No, we didn’t see any skunks, but we did see a black kitty cat with a white stripe on its back!”
In the second account, the boys were blissfully unaware of the unsavory threat they faced from a skunk. Unable to properly identify what they had actually encountered, they ran the risk of suffering some unfortunate consequences. These are stories of mistaken identity—presuming the real thing to be something else. In each case, the consequences were minor.

Many years ago it was my privilege to provide a blessing to a beautiful 12-year-old young lady, Jami Palmer. She had just been diagnosed with cancer. She learned that her leg where the cancer was would require multiple surgeries. A long-planned hike with her Young Women class up a rugged trail was out of the question, she thought.

Jami told her friends they would have to hike without her. I’m confident there was disappointment in her heart.

But then the other young women responded emphatically, “No, Jami, you are going with us!”

“But I can’t walk,” came the reply.

“Then we’ll carry you to the top!” And they did.

None of those precious young women will ever forget that memorable day when a loving Heavenly Father looked down with a smile of approval and was well pleased.

A few years ago in Italy, LDS missionaries were harassed by some Italian youths. Among the group on two occasions was a young man named Felice Lotito. He was challenged by a bold elder to come to the local LDS branch so that he could judge for himself. It was a dare which Felice accepted. He came. He heard. He studied. He believed. He was baptized. Later he was sent on a mission to England where he increased his faith and his facility with English. He served honorably, came home, married a lovely Italian girl in the Bern Switzerland Temple, and became one of the directors of the seminary and institute program in Italy.
In July of 1980, Felice Lotito left at age 32 to be the mission president in the Italy Padova Mission of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints! God saw in Felice possibilities that Felice did not see in himself. When the gospel was presented to him, Felice had the integrity of heart and intellect to believe it, even though he had been hassling the missionaries just days before.

President Kimball was a great and active missionary himself. Brother Udall tells this story of President Kimball’s mission in the Central States.
“While tracting in St. Louis one day he saw through the partly opened door a new piano and said to the woman who was in the act of closing the door in his face, ‘I see that you have a new piano.’
“‘Yes, we’ve just bought it,’ she replied with pride.
“‘It is a “Kimball” isn’t it? That is my name also,’ he said, as the door opened wider. ‘Would you like me to sing and play for you?’
“‘Surely, come in,’ she answered.
“Walking to the piano he played and sang ‘O, My Father.’ This pleasant introduction led to many subsequent gospel conversations.” (“The Apostle from Arizona,” Improvement Era, October 1943, p. 591.)

One day when President Hinckley was about five years old, he was sitting on his front porch with some friends. A family of another race walked down the street in front of the house. Young Gordon and his friends made some unkind remarks about the people. His mother heard what they said, and she took them inside to talk with them. She told them that all people are sons and daughters of God. That day he learned that we must respect and help one another, regardless of race, religion, wealth, or anything else.

My high school had always had a boys’ golf team, and traditionally they did quite well. But for some reason there weren’t many girls in our town who liked to golf so there had never been a girls’ team.
During my sophomore year school officials decided the lack of a girls’ team was a violation of equal opportunity rules, and the golf coach was told to get a girls’ team together. That’s how my friends and I made the team—not because we were any good, but because we were needed.
The boys on the varsity squad promised not to laugh at us while we were learning how to play the game, but that turned out to be a difficult promise for them to keep. One of us missed hitting the ball off the tee four times in a row. We took out huge divots with each swing. When the season started we were still not very good. In fact, the photographer from the local paper tried to get a good shot of our game for the sports section. He followed us around the course for nine holes, but there just wasn’t a good shot to get.
We had a fun although occasionally embarrassing season, and near the end we all could say our golf games had improved immensely.
Our district tournament was to be held at a course we had never played before. A few days before the Monday tournament the coach called us together and announced a special team practice at the course so everyone could become familiar with the terrain. The practice would be on Sunday afternoon.
I was sick about the announcement. I was the only LDS girl on the team, and I didn’t want to practice on Sunday. I thought about telling the coach I was sick (after all, I wasn’t that sure I wanted to embarrass myself in front of the best golfers in the district). I thought about going to my morning church meetings and then to the course. I thought about a lot of things, but I knew I was going to somehow tell my coach I wouldn’t be at that Sunday practice.
At home I talked to my mom. I told her how I felt, but added I didn’t want to disappoint the coach and team by not practicing. Even LDS golfers need to practice. My mother had a great solution. We would go and play the course on Saturday.
The next morning I had a hard time getting enough nerve to talk to my coach. Finally I just blurted it out. To my surprise he didn’t get mad or roll his eyes and think I was a religious fanatic. He said it would be fine for me to go on Saturday. Later that day, to my surprise, he handed me a check to cover our greens fees which my mother and I were prepared to pay ourselves.
My mom and I had a wonderful time on Saturday, and I played the best golf of my life at district on Monday. Even though I did not place high in the tournament, I felt good about the season. I had made a good choice and had been able to not let my team down.

The Phelps presented an evening concert in a new chapel in Holland, where it was requested that there be no applause. Melissa remembered: “After the concert, everyone just rose, almost as a body. We could feel the whole room vibrating, and then the presiding officer told us, ‘This is a silent standing ovation.’ Afterwards every person in the audience came through the receiving line and spoke one or two words in English to us, even if it was just good or enjoy. I’ll never forget that.”

Near the end of my senior year of high school, I knew it would be time to move to Relief Society. I loved Young Women, and the thought of spending Sunday mornings with a group of older ladies just didn’t sound appealing. Relief Society was for mothers and grandmothers, I thought.
The day came. The Relief Society sisters were halfway through the opening hymn when I slipped in the back of the room. At the time, my mother was serving in the Primary, and my married sister had just been called to the Young Women presidency. My grandma was ward librarian, so she would be a little late. I was all alone. After the opening prayer, a counselor in the presidency stood to give the announcements, but I only half-listened as she read off what I considered useless information about cannery dates and ward temple night. My mind wandered during the lesson about a topic that surely didn’t pertain to me.
I went to Relief Society faithfully each week but with the same not-for-me attitude. The sisters in my ward were nice people, but they were so much older and led such totally different lives. I was excited when the summer ended, and I could go away to college and attend Church meetings with people my own age.
As we settled in the chapel that first Sunday, I was surprised when the bishop of my student ward announced that after sacrament meeting and Sunday School we would separate for priesthood and Relief Society. Relief Society? I thought I had left that back home.
I was even more surprised to discover that the form wasn’t all that different from what I had observed in my home ward. Instead of my friend’s grandma leading the music, it was a sophomore who lived in the apartment across the street. My roommate, rather than my old Primary teacher, offered the opening prayer, and I recognized the sister who gave the lesson from my biology class.
Once again I attended Relief Society every Sunday. However, it wasn’t until the second semester that I truly began to appreciate what Relief Society had to offer. I decided to get more involved. I began to really pay attention to the lessons and was amazed when I got so much out of them. My companion and I set a goal for 100-percent visiting teaching, and we accomplished it, forming lasting friendships along the way. As the year progressed, I could feel us drawing closer as ward members and friends but more importantly as sisters in the Lord’s Church.
When the school year ended, I was a little reluctant to return home for the summer. I had grown to love Relief Society at college, and I was hesitant to return to my home Relief Society where I felt I didn’t fit in. But I was surprised to feel the Spirit—the same familiar, comfortable feeling I had felt so many times in Relief Society in my student ward—engulf me as I walked in the door. I took a look around. Instead of seeing distant mothers and grandmothers, I saw fellow sisters. At college, I had learned to love and appreciate sisters of all different personalities, backgrounds, and circumstances. I realized the sisters in my home ward were no different; they were just at different stages in their lives—stages that I, too, would eventually experience. I know Relief Society was divinely organized for all women, young and old, married and single. We may lead different lives, but we are united in the gospel. We are all sisters in Zion.

The Primary children of the Nauvoo First Ward eagerly watched as the temple rose from a large hole in the ground. They wanted to help in building this house of the Lord, but they couldn’t do any actual physical work, such as cutting the stones or carpentry or electrical work. They decided to answer President Hinckley’s call for Church members to make donations for this special temple. But how? Their Primary leaders found the answer in a story* about the original temple there:
A penny fund would be the perfect way for the Primary children of the Nauvoo First Ward to help! Every child could find a way to contribute pennies, and the money would be used to buy a tree to plant on the temple grounds. That way, each time the children went there, they would see a reminder of their sacrifices and contributions. And as the tree was growing, they would also be growing and preparing to enter the temple and make sacred covenants there.
To start the project, the Primary leaders created a special tree on which each class placed a colorful leaf on Sundays when they put their pennies in the Penny by Penny jar. Children brought pennies they earned by doing things like extra chores and recycling cans. Soon the pennies were pouring in, and the special tree branches were filled with colorful leaves. Even children who visited Nauvoo during the busy tourist season put pennies into the jar.
In November 2001, the temple was almost finished, and it was time to prepare the grounds so that they would be beautiful for the open house in the spring. On a cold Saturday morning, the Primary children and their parents gathered in front of the temple to plant their Penny by Penny tree.
First, they sang “I Love to See the Temple.”† The bishop gave a talk, then the children gave their pennies to Brother Ron Prince, the temple project administrator. The tree was placed in the hole prepared for it, a canister containing the written and drawn testimonies of the children was placed among the tree’s roots, then the children took turns shoveling dirt to fill in around the tree. They were very happy to have helped make the Savior’s house in Nauvoo more beautiful, and they look forward to the day when each of them may enter it.

“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes,” I stammered. I couldn’t believe it. Here I was sitting in front of four of my best friends and my high school biology teacher, and not one of them believed in God.
“But what about evolution?” my friends asked.
My biology teacher, who had a reputation for being stubborn and persistent, turned his head momentarily from his papers and said: “Now, let’s be logical here. Look at the facts. Where does the evidence point?”
I was tongue-tied. I have known the Church is true since I was very young. I felt it was true. However, at the same time, logic and reason were driving forces in my life.
As I sat there, trying to come up with an answer to their questions, the awkward silence gave them satisfaction. They thought I had hit a dead end in my reasoning, as they expected I would. Thinking of no arguments to counter their position, I silently said a quick prayer, pleading with God to direct my words toward these five people. Within seconds a thought crossed my mind: “It is not you who converts, but the Spirit.”
Upon hearing those simple words, I began to share my testimony with my friends. I said, “I know there is a God, and He has a Son who created the world and saved us all. Whether or not we have all the answers now doesn’t discredit the fact that there is a God. God works line upon line and precept upon precept. Until we prove our faith, God will not reveal more to us.” I finished by confirming my testimony of the Church and its leaders, forgetting to even address the original questions posed.
After I finished, they all sat in silence, staring at me. I could feel my face getting hot. Just then, the bell rang. I grabbed my bag, thankful for this escape route, and headed for the door. As I opened the door, my biology teacher swung his chair around and called my name.
I turned, anticipating a rebuttal and, to my shock, found a sincere face staring back at me. “Thank you,” he said.
My simple testimony had conveyed more convincing truth than any logical debate could have. I know that I did not dissolve their accusations and criticisms that day, but the Holy Spirit did.

—Sitting on the front row (reserved for honor graduates), David Scott is so excited he almost bounces. David will be announced as the Outstanding Cadet in Social Science, and the asterix printed on the program indicates he is receiving both military and scholastic recognition. But his excitement isn’t due totally to his accomplishments. He’s thinking of tomorrow morning when he will be married for time and eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.
“Jeri Willfong and I met when we had both just been assigned to the Eighth Squadron. We were sophomores. We talked once for about two hours when she was on detail answering the phones. Later, when the squadron was having a get-together at a melodrama, I asked her if she needed a ride. We started dating after that, and it wasn’t long before we started discussing the Church,” Dave explained.
Dave had become a member two years earlier while attending the preparatory school affiliated with the academy and was eager to share the gospel.
“But he wasn’t pushy,” Jeri said. “It was always me asking the questions, and he would just answer them. It took about six months before I got seriously interested.”
“After about a month I started praying to see if she was the right girl,” Dave said. “After about three weeks of praying, I got an answer that yes, she was. I didn’t know how it was going to work out, but I thought it would.”
While he was at Bergstrom Air Force Base outside Austin, Texas, for summer training, Dave got a call from Jeri. She had seen the examples of local member families and had talked to them extensively about the Church while Dave was gone. She had also attended church and received the missionary discussions.
“I’m going to be baptized the 15th of July,” she said.
As soon as Dave returned to the academy, he was sent to Argentina for additional training, so he missed the baptism. But Jeri continued to grow in testimony and activity, and soon the couple decided to make their relationship last forever. But because cadets aren’t allowed to marry until after graduation, they had to wait for Dave to finish school.
“I decided to leave the academy to prepare for marriage and to spend time with my family in Florida, helping them understand why I joined the Church,” Jeri explained. “Now both sets of parents will be here for our reception, and we’re going to have our bishop talk about temple marriage. It’s the first real exposure to the Church for our families.”

To make matters worse, in July 1866, a serious cholera epidemic reached England from the continent of Europe. London was hardest hit. Fifty-six hundred people died there in a matter of days.
The sight of hundreds of abandoned children roaming the streets, their parents having been victims of the epidemic, helped Thomas John Barnardo decide to establish homes for children who had no one to care for them and no place to live.