Gospel Story Finder

During a stake conference assignment a few years ago while serving in South America, I met a couple that was grieving the recent death of their infant son.
It was in an interview during the course of the conference that I first met with Brother Tumiri and learned of his loss. As we spoke, he shared that not only was he deeply saddened by the death of his son, but he was also devastated at the thought of never seeing him again. He explained that as relatively new members of the Church, they had saved enough money to attend the temple just one time, prior to the birth of their little boy, where they had been sealed as a couple and had their two daughters sealed to them. He then described how they had been saving money for a return trip to the temple but hadn’t yet been able to take their little boy in order to be sealed to him as well.
Recognizing a possible misunderstanding, I explained that he would indeed see his son again, if he remained faithful, because the sealing ordinance that had bound him to his wife and daughters was also sufficient to bind him to his son, who had been born in the covenant.
Amazed, he asked if this was really true, and when I confirmed that it was, he then asked if I would be willing to speak with his wife, who had been inconsolable during the two weeks since their son’s death.
Sunday afternoon, following the conference, I met with Sister Tumiri and explained this glorious doctrine to her as well. With the pain of her loss still fresh, but now with a glimmer of hope, she tearfully asked, “Will I really be able to hold my little boy in my arms again? Is he really mine forever?” I assured her that as she kept her covenants, the sealing power found in the temple, effective because of the authority of Jesus Christ, would indeed allow her to be with her son again and hold him in her arms.
Sister Tumiri, though heartbroken by the death of her son, left our meeting with tears of gratitude and filled with peace because of the sacred ordinances of the temple, made possible by our Savior and Redeemer.

About four years after the First Vision, the angel Moroni appeared to young Joseph several times, telling him about the book written on gold plates and preparing him for the work that lay ahead. Lucy Mack Smith tells how her 18-year-old prophet-son shared the wondrous news of the Book of Mormon and the Restoration with the Smith family.
By sunset … , we were all seated, and Joseph commenced telling us the great and glorious things which God had manifested to him. …
He proceeded to relate … particulars concerning the work which he was appointed to do, and we received them joyfully. …
From this time forth, Joseph continued to receive instructions from the Lord, and we continued to get the children together every evening for the purpose of listening while he gave us a relation of the same. I presume our family presented an aspect as singular as any that ever lived upon the face of the earth—all seated in a circle, father, mother, sons and daughters, and giving the most profound attention to a boy, eighteen years of age, who had never read the Bible through in his life: he seemed much less inclined to the perusal of books than any of the rest of our children, but far more given to meditation and deep study.
We were now confirmed in the opinion that God was about to bring to light something upon which we could stay our minds, or that would give us a more perfect knowledge of the plan of salvation and the redemption of the human family. This caused us greatly to rejoice, the sweetest union and happiness pervaded our house, and tranquility reigned in our midst.
During our evening conversations, Joseph would occasionally give us some of the most amusing recitals that could be imagined. He would describe the ancient inhabitants of [the American] continent, their dress, mode of traveling, and the animals upon which they rode; their cities, their buildings, with every particular; their mode of warfare; and also their religious worship. This he would do with as much ease, seemingly, as if he had spent his whole life among them.

One day my older brother, Lynn, came hurrying home from high school basketball practice, bringing a teammate with him. Upon entering the house, both made a dash for the kitchen to satisfy their hungry appetites. My brother’s friend loudly described his feeling of hunger by using a few vulgar and profane words to accent his anxious mood. Lynn quickly, quietly, but firmly said, “Hey, don’t talk like that. My little brothers might hear you. I don’t want them to learn words like that. Besides, they might think less of you than they ought to.”

Unknown to my brother, my friend and I did hear that conversation, but the profane words were quickly erased from my mind by the thoughtful concern and courage shown by my older brother. That experience made a positive, lasting impression on my young mind. At the risk of sacrificing a friendship, his kindly chastisement of his friend taught me a lesson of love and concern for others and of courage to uphold the right.

Anna Waschuck flicked her blond braids back over her shoulders and picked up another cabbage leaf. As she spooned rice filling into the cabbage cup, she glanced anxiously at her mother working beside her. How am I going to ask her? she wondered. Mama will be disappointed. She always likes the family around her for Svyata Vechera (holy supper that many Ukrainian families have on Christmas Eve).
“Why must we have our Christmas in January!” Anna complained, as she folded the leaf and rolled it into a neat little bundle.
“Because in the Ukraine some still use the Julian calendar and Christmas there falls on a different day than here,” Mama replied.
“But it makes life so difficult!” exclaimed Anna. “Everything happens when we are celebrating. I miss all the fun!”
“Ah—h, that’s why you’ve been so quiet. Is there something special tonight that you want to do?”
“Oh, Mama! Kathy is having a skating party this afternoon, and she’s invited me to go.”
“When we finish making the pirohy, you may go. But be back in time for Svyata Vechera.”
“She’s having pizza after the skating. If I go, I won’t be home in time for the supper.”
“Anna, it won’t be quite the same unless the whole family is together for the feast. But I won’t forbid you to go to the party. You are old enough to make your own decision.”
They worked in silence, while Anna wondered what to do. At last in annoyance she snapped, “Why do we have to keep Ukrainian customs? We’re Canadian now!”
“Some of the old familiar ways are a comfort to your father and me in this new land,” Mama replied quietly.
As Anna rolled the last of the cabbage leaves, she was undecided about what to tell Kathy. She thought of the fun it would be to play crack-the-whip on the ice and laugh with her friends. At home there was only her eight-year-old brother Steve, and just playing with him wouldn’t be much fun. But Mama would be unhappy with an empty place at the table for Svyata Vechera. There will be another Svyata Vechera next year but there might not be another party for me so I must go! Anna finally decided.
Anna lay the last holubtsi in the pot, and looked at the clock. It is one o’clock! The party begins at two. We’ll never finish making the pirohy in time! she thought. I must work faster.”
Mother began rolling and cutting the pastry for the pirohy. Anna filled each square with a small ball of potato and cheese mixture. Quickly she folded the pastry over, squeezed the edges together, and dropped the dumpling onto the pile. Mother would boil them just before supper.
While she worked, Anna kept peeking at the clock. The hands seemed to race. It’s quarter to two already! I’ll never make it, she worried.
“I see you’re watching the clock. You’ve decided to go,” her mother said. “Run along. I’ll finish.”
“Thanks, Mama,” Anna called, as she hurried to get her skates and into her heavy clothes.
Before running out the back door, she turned to say good-bye. But even though Mama waved and smiled Anna could see the hurt in her face. The uncomfortable thought that Mama still had several foods to prepare nagged at Anna. There had to be twelve meatless dishes, one for each of the apostles.
“But she can manage,” Anna murmured reassuringly. “She had to do it all alone when I was little.”
As Anna walked along, a cold gust of wind blew icy flakes from a snowbank over her. It’s a good thing I have these warm mittens, she thought, looking with pride at the exquisitely embroidered flowers on them. Mama had made them and no one else at school had such a beautiful pair. The memory of the many things her mother did for her came crowding into Anna’s mind, mingled with a picture of her mother’s sad face when she had waved good-bye. Mama had prepared and looked forward happily to the holy supper. It would be disappointing to all the family if there were an empty chair at the table.
Anna stopped a moment while she decided what to do. She hoped Kathy would understand. She would be sorry to miss her skating party but there would be others they could attend together before spring.
Anna turned and ran back toward home. And when she opened the door, the pleasure she saw on Mama’s face made Anna glow inside.
“Come, Annushka, let us set the table,” was all Mama said.
Before spreading their best embroidered tablecloth, Anna strewed a handful of hay in memory of the Christ Child. Then she placed three braided loaves of bread on top of each other in the center of the table. Next Anna inserted a white candle in the top loaf, and encircled the bottom one with twigs of evergreen. As she worked, Anna recalled her excitement when Mama had first let her prepare the table for Svyata Vechera.
Soon Father arrived home from the mine, and while he washed up, Anna and Mama changed into their snowy white Ukrainian blouses covered with embroidery. When Father and Steve had on their high-necked shirts, her mother declared everything ready. Mama brought in the steaming dishes, and they sat down at the table. Little Steve watched out the window for the first star to appear to signal the beginning of the meal.
As they waited, Anna looked at their happy faces. Mama beamed with joy. It’s lovely to be with my family on such an occasion, Anna thought. And it is good to be able to enjoy old customs as well as new ones!

May I share with you a letter from a young man which reflects the spirit of love and which helped to make firm a testimony of the gospel:
“Dear President Monson:
“Thank you for speaking to us at the National Scouting Jamboree held at Fort A. P. Hill, Virginia. On the tour that we took we saw a lot of famous places like Niagara Falls, the Statue of Liberty, the Liberty Bell, and many other places. The one I enjoyed the most was the Sacred Grove. Our parents had written us all letters to read by ourselves while in the grove. After I had finished the letter my parents had written to me, I knelt in prayer. I asked if the Church was really true and if Joseph Smith really did see a vision and is a true prophet of God, and also if President Hinckley is a true prophet of God. Right after I was done praying I felt this feeling of the Spirit that these things were indeed true. I had prayed before about the same things but never received such a powerful answer. There was no way that I could deny that this Church is true or that President Hinckley is a prophet of God.
“I feel so blessed to be a member of this Church. Thanks again for attending the Jamboree.
“Sincerely,
“Chad D. Olson
“P.S. We gave our tour guide and our bus driver a copy of the Book of Mormon with our testimonies in it. They are the greatest! I want to be a missionary.”
Like Joseph Smith, this young man had retired to a sacred grove and prayed for answers to questions phrased by his inquiring mind. Once more a prayer was answered and a confirmation of the truth was gained.

We were assigned to a small branch of about sixty members, most of whom were inactive. On our first Sunday there, Ben and the branch president were the only two in priesthood meeting. Fourteen attended Sunday School and sacrament meeting. Nevertheless, it was a thrill to see my husband once again able to bless the sacrament and give an opening prayer.
We began our labors by seeking out all of the members the branch had records for and trying to stimulate a desire in them to become active. This was not easy. They were scattered in many directions living on country roads that had no identifying signs or names. Some of the members had been out of touch with the Church for many years. Each Sunday morning we watched anxiously for those we had contacted, but we were successful in getting only a few out.
The branch president was discouraged and recommended that the branch be closed. We knew that if this happened, all those who were inactive would be lost and the gospel would cease to be spread in that area. The bishop under whose direction the branch was operating called a meeting and announced that there were two alternatives: to close the branch, or to sustain Ben as branch president and give it another try. Ben was sustained and set apart.
This was a most humbling experience for us. With so many obstacles in the way, there was only one course to take: to rely completely on our Heavenly Father for help and guidance and work with all the strength we could muster. Night after night, Ben asked the Lord for strength, wisdom, and direction, often praying in the quiet chapel next to the two rooms where we lived and held classes on Sunday.
One night he came back from the chapel and said, “I think I have the answer. It is through the young people that the branch will grow.”
It was at this point that things began to happen. We taught the gospel to a thirteen-year-old girl whom we baptized. She brought her nonmember friends. I feel sure she was sent to us. We organized the youth programs, and served refreshments at every meeting in a recreation center we set up in the back yard. We used the missionary discussions for lessons.
Then the Lord sent us a family of new converts—an active father and mother with three children—who moved into the area. This gave us another child for Primary and two teenagers to add to the MIA. It also gave me a counselor (I was Relief Society president), and Ben now had a counselor to assist him. The new family’s sixteen-year-old son was unresponsive to the gospel message and hadn’t been baptized, but the young elders worked with him and soon he, too, joined the Church. Then we had a priest to bless the sacrament.
When we organized a genealogy class, particularly for a group of nonmembers in town who were doing genealogy as a hobby, we asked Heavenly Father for help in finding a teacher. He sent us another family; the wife was a genealogy expert. She agreed to teach the class every Tuesday night. She was also an excellent pianist and an expert in arts and crafts, which was a big asset to the branch. Her husband became the Sunday School president, and we had another child for Primary.
Through this family we heard of a young couple who had become curious about the Church. They were teaching a Sunday School class in another church and had heard so much negative commentary about the Mormons that they were curious. We drove the young elders to their home to give them the missionary lessons while we worked with another family. Both families became active members of the branch, giving us a Sunday School teacher, a branch clerk, a teacher for the Relief Society, and another child for Primary.
In our search for families, this story is typical. For several months we had been searching and praying to find a Latter-day Saint family we had heard lived somewhere in our town. One morning my husband had a sudden inspiration to ask a man who worked for the town water supply department if he knew anyone by that name. “Sure, I know him,” the man said, and told us where the “missing” member worked. Ben found the man and learned that he had joined the Church several years before but had been inactive for the past four years. His wife and three children were attending another church. When we invited him to come to church, he was reluctant because he smoked and liked to drink. But Ben did not give up. He contacted him several times at his work and assured him that we would love him even if he did smoke and drink. We visited his family and got the eight-year-old and the thirteen-year-old to join us at church. Soon this man stopped smoking and drinking, and his family attended all our meetings faithfully. His two children were baptized. Several months later he was ordained an elder and became the teacher of the investigator class.
As these experiences continued, the little branch grew. By the end of the year, all the auxiliaries were fully organized and attendance at Sunday School and sacrament meeting averaged about fifty. By the following May, the building was full to the point of overflowing and we were looking for a new place to meet and for land on which to build a chapel.
There were more baptisms, more new families moved into the area, and more members were activated. In June the branch was made an independent branch, and land had been selected for the chapel. The first man the Lord sent to us those many months before became the branch president.
We stayed in this area for another two months, and then it was time for us to move on to a new location. This was a heartbreaking day. We had found great joy in our service there, and those brothers and sisters and children had become like family to us. The heartwarming telephone calls and letters we still receive from time to time are a constant source of joy to us.
One of the choice blessings we gained from our mission was the ability to love all kinds of people, no matter who they are or how distressing their situation.
One day we got a call from a woman who was an alcoholic. She had joined the Church in her early married years and had been active as a Sunday School teacher. But when we found her she was lying sick in a tiny two-room trailer home.
After we took her to the hospital, we assumed the task of cleaning up the trailer, where she and her two boys, ages eleven and fifteen, had been living in unbelievable conditions. As I stood washing dishes in the midst of empty whisky bottles, beer cans, and dirty clothes, with the sun beating down on the tin roof and sweat running down my face, with roaches crawling on my legs, and with an almost unbearable stench permeating the air—somehow it didn’t seem to matter that much. One of God’s children needed help. Over and over again, the scripture came to me: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” (Matt. 25:40.)
We worked with this woman for the next ten months, and the boys started coming to their Church meetings. Each time we would visit, she would put her arms around me and tell me how much she loved me.
In our second location, we were again assigned to work with the many inactive families in the branch. In the remaining four months of our mission, we were able to visit about sixty-five of these families, some of them several times. We were only able to activate about ten families, but we made many friends and had many heartwarming experiences. We hoped to have sown seeds that would eventually sprout and grow.
Three baptisms the night before we left brought our mission to a beautiful close. These were children of part-member families, and teaching them the gospel was one of the greatest spiritual experiences of our mission. During the lessons the children seemed to hang on every word with wide-eyed wonder, and I felt as though we were surrounded by angels. There was a large crowd at the baptism, and again the Spirit was very strong in our midst. Afterwards there was a time of tears, embracing, and good-byes.
It is remarkable and marvelous how the Lord is able to work through human beings as weak and simple as my husband and me to accomplish his purposes. Ben often said to people, “I don’t do much. My wife has to do most of the talking.” But this was not so. In spite of his handicaps, he had very special talents and qualifications that were needed for our work. It was his patience, long-suffering, and persistence, his selflessness and generosity, his faith, his ability to reach the down-and-out and backsliding, that made it possible for the Lord to work through him and pull us through the difficult parts of our mission.
As we reflected on our mission, we came to an important and surprising realization: that every experience of our lives, even the seemingly ordinary things, seemed to have been part of the preparation for our mission. Ben’s many years of experience in working with the youth in Scouting, MIA, and Sunday School paid off greatly. His experience in organizing and directing men at work helped him. His ability as a handyman was also very useful. Little children loved and idolized him because he loved them dearly and could relate to them.
As it was with Ben, so it was with me. Almost every experience I had had in my life seemed to be a preparation for the work I needed to do on my mission. Bits of wisdom tucked away even in childhood, my experience in music and drama, secretarial work, and nursing, my training in psychology and work in a mental hospital, my homemaking skills, my years through the Depression, my seminary work, my experience with raising a large family, my positions in the Church—all proved to be useful. It was amazing how the Spirit of the Lord opened to my use many of my most hidden resources.
All in all, our eighteen months in the mission field was a glorious experience. The blessings we received and the answers to our prayers—both for help in our personal lives and in the lives of those we sought to reach—are too numerous to relate. The Lord was with us every step of the way and every hour of the day. The love and experiences we shared with those kind and loving people gave us some of the most beautiful moments in our lives. The sweet relationship we had with the young elders is also a treasured memory. Our wonderful zone conferences each month, which gave us such spiritual uplift and inspiration, are unforgettable moments.
To those couples who are timid and feel inadequate or incapable of a mission, I would say this: If we could do it, you can too. Don’t be reluctant or afraid. If you are willing, and if you trust in the Lord, he will give you the needed strength.

I was sitting at a lunch table with my friends when I noticed that a new boy named Michael had transferred into our lunch period. It seemed like he didn’t really know anyone but was willing to make some new friends. He decided to sit with a group of older boys, who pretended to be his friends for a while but ended up making a joke out of him. They constantly made fun of him until he started to cry. I watched this happen, and it really bothered me. I later learned that Michael has autism.
I decided to ask Michael if he wanted to sit by my friends and me. He said no, probably out of fear of people making fun of him again. He decided he’d rather sit alone.
The next day, I went up to him and introduced him to my friends. I could tell he was glad I hadn’t given up on him, and we started talking. I learned that he is a tic-tac-toe pro. He is almost undefeatable. I also learned how incredibly smart he is. He knows all of the U.S. presidents and can tell you what years they served. He is awesome, but not many people were willing to see past his disability. Some of the other students teased me for sitting with him, but I didn’t let them bother me. I liked hanging out with Michael.
Each day as we met for lunch, I could tell Michael was becoming a happier person. He looked forward to lunch every day, and so did I. What I thought was simply an act of service was really the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

My fears about commitment took another bad turn when my dad got divorced a second time.
I was heartbroken by the news. I had suppressed my feelings about my parents’ divorce for most of my life out of love for my dad, but this news made all my anger, sadness, resentment, abandonment, and pain come out.
As I prepared to leave on my mission soon after, I counseled with Heavenly Father to help me let go of the hurt and have hope for a future marriage. I learned that healing takes time and continually seeking the Savior.

“I found it! Here it is!” yelled Dan as he waved the small wooden stake in his hand. The team rushed to reassemble around him. “It was under this clump of rabbit brush,” he excitedly explained. “It only took us four minutes to find this one; we still have a chance to win. Let’s get moving.” With that Dan stationed himself on the exact location where he’d found the stake that was now securely lodged in his back pocket. He and the others examined their map and began looking for stake number four.
As they headed off in the correct direction, Nancy, one of several girls on this team, explained what they were doing. “We’re orienteering. The object is to follow a pre-set trail that has several checkpoints. We use a map and our compasses to find each checkpoint. We pick up the marker left at each point and try to make the best time possible on the whole course. We’ve got to beat four other teams to take first place … Hey! Watch out for that rabbit hole! You almost stepped in it. That’s part of the fun of this—we all have to stay alert because you never know what’s going to happen next.”

As a boy in Ogden, Utah, I loved to go to the movies with my brothers on Saturdays. We were each given a dime, and we walked to the nearby theater for a double-feature movie. One of our favorite stars was a cowboy actor named Tom Mix. After the movies, we walked home.
One Saturday, my brother Phil lagged behind, and I arrived home first. “Where’s your younger brother?” my mother asked. A little later, we found out that Phil had been hit by a car while he was crossing a street on the way home. He was hurt very seriously. His skull was fractured, and when we first saw him, his eyes were swollen to several times their normal size.
Our stake president came to the hospital, and he and my father gave Phil a blessing. Then we all prayed. As we did, a calm feeling came over my dad, and he knew that Phil would live. When the doctor arrived, he immediately told the nurses to lower my brother’s head. That decision went against how such injuries are treated, but it saved his life. Years later, we learned that his brain sac had ruptured—had his head not been lowered, he would have died. Although he was in a coma for months, one day he squeezed my dad’s hand and we knew that Phil could hear us. His recovery was very long and slow, but he had no lasting mental or physical problems from that terrible accident. I know that this happened because of the power of the priesthood.

As my husband and I participated in the ordinance of the sacrament in our home for the first time, I felt the Spirit so strongly that I had trouble singing the hymn we had chosen. In my 70-plus years of attending our worship services, I don’t remember appreciating so deeply the blessings we have received through our membership and participation in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
We have been taught how to worship and whom we worship. Yes, we miss the association with our fellow Saints and will be happy to return to “normal” as soon as possible, but I am grateful for the lessons we are learning in the meantime as we follow the prophet’s counsel in our “home-centered, Church-supported” worship.
Susan Preator, Montana, USA

About the time we began meeting with the missionaries, Monina’s energy began to decrease, and strange bumps started appearing all over her body. Her arthritis flared up as it never had before. We sought medical help, but none of the tests gave us any answers. As the months passed, her health deteriorated to the point that she needed additional medical attention. In December, Monina flew to the Philippines to meet with doctors there. I stayed in Saipan so I could continue to work and care for our teenage son.

Before she left, Monina told me that she wanted to be baptized when she returned to Saipan. She also asked me to continue meeting with the missionaries even though she would be missing some of the lessons. I promised her that Mark and I would do so.

During her time in the Philippines, we talked regularly so that I could hear about her doctor visits and she could hear what we were learning about the gospel. My wife reported that she was feeling less and less pain every day, and I was glad that the medical attention was working. In early January 2008, I purchased a plane ticket so I could go visit her, but she felt certain that she would be back in Saipan soon and that there was no need to waste money on the trip. She told me she loved and missed our son and me but assured me everything would be all right.

Three days later she died suddenly. The cause: undetected leukemia. Mark and I were stunned—and heartbroken. We immediately traveled to the Philippines for the funeral and then returned to Saipan. This was the most difficult time of our lives.

The sorrow I felt was profound, so much so that I found it hard to get out of bed each morning. One particularly difficult day, Mark reminded me of something the missionaries had taught our family. He said, "Dad, don’t cry too much. Mom is in a place of God. She is in the spirit world." How grateful I felt that a just God had provided a way for Monina to continue to learn about the gospel, that everyone who has ever lived will have a chance to either accept or reject the gospel of Jesus Christ—either in this life or the next.

As I continued to learn the teachings of Jesus Christ, I realized that Heavenly Father had provided much more than that: He also made it possible for her to receive essential ordinances like baptism. Before my wife left for the Philippines, she and I had started talking about being baptized into The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Even though she wasn’t able to be baptized in this life, Heavenly Father had not left us without hope.

A humanitarian project by the Norwich England Stake came to the rescue of the Ukrainian Aid Centre in East Dereham.
The project involved assisting Ukrainian families and orphaned children with two major appeals in November 2023. First, to help 20 Ukrainian families with essential items needed in their homes. Second, the Ukrainian Aid Centre was appealing to the public to collect items for an orphanage in Ukraine needing warm winter clothing, which would bring Christmas comfort and joy to those children in need.
The project value was £8.5K and the money was used to buy the following items: 10 king size beds and mattresses, 6 single beds and mattresses, 20 pillows, 20 vacuum cleaners, 10 irons, 10 ironing boards, 20 liquidisers, 20 slow cookers, 20 microwaves, 20 blenders, 20 kettles, 20 stockpot pans, 10 toasters, 10 hair dryers, 10 clothes airers, 10 hand mixers and 10 food mixers.
For the orphanage, the following items were bought: 40 pyjama sets, 27 neck warmers, 10 hats, 100 pairs of socks, 30 pairs of gloves, and some stationery.
Ian Odgers is co-founder of the Dereham Ukraine Aid Centre and chairman of the trustees, and he works alongside 23 volunteers at the centre.
He stated, “The centre has been supporting Ukrainian families since the sixth May 2022. We are working with families that are wanting to move into their own accommodation; the donations will help enormously for those wanting to make a house a home. The donations for the orphanage will make the children both young and old know that someone, somewhere cares. I can’t thank the Church enough for helping us to help make a difference.”
Galina Russell, a volunteer and translator at the Ukrainian Aid Centre shared, “My father was brought up in an orphanage and I know from him how hard it was to live without parents. He often said to me, ‘I survived in the orphanage because of the kindness and donations of many people I never knew.’ Donations from your church reminded me of his words and I couldn’t hold back my tears. Your kindness will be remembered always.”
Members of the Norwich Stake continue forging friendships and links to the Ukrainian Aid Centre, offering service and donations to support those in need. Nuno Côrte-Real, communications director for the Church in Norfolk, said, “In the spirit of fulfilling the divine mandate of loving God and our neighbours, we all feel deeply grateful for the joyful privilege of blessing and helping those in need.”

When we choose the right, we are sometimes rewarded in our Primary by Officer Charles Theodore Rigatoni (his initials spell CTR!). He comes to Primary with a set of heart-shaped handcuffs and searches for the person who was “caught choosing the right” that week. He presents the person with a shiny gold or silver badge and then tells everyone about the good things he was caught doing. Sometimes it is making his bed, helping to fix dinner without being asked, or sharing toys with friends.
One day I was waiting to get my hair cut. A younger boy tried to knock the book I was reading out of my hand. I tried to ignore him, but he kept pushing me. Finally, I looked him right in the eye, pointed to my CTR ring, and said, “Choose the right!” He backed away and didn’t bother me again. Officer Rigatoni heard about this and gave me a badge. I am glad to have a friend like Officer Rigatoni to help me remember to choose the right.

I could always tell when it was going to happen. Before the leaves began to turn beautiful autumn colors of red and yellow, even before I had to wear a jacket to go out and play at night after school, I somehow just knew when Dad was going to say it.
“Autumn’s here,” Dad would announce on a cool September night as we all sat around the dinner table. “Soon it’ll be too cold for gardening, riding bicycles, and swimming.” Then he’d look at me, sitting right next to him because I was the oldest. “Danny, soon I’ll be cleaning out the shed,” he’d say, like it was a brand-new idea, even though we had done that every year for as long as I could remember. “Are you going to help me again this year?”
“Sure, Dad. You know I will,” I’d burst out excitedly, and the whole family—Mom, Dad, and my three sisters, Randi, Sherry, and Cathy—would laugh. Sometimes it seemed to me that Randi, who was a year younger than I and always trying to act like the oldest, was laughing extra loudly at me.
But I didn’t care, because Dad knew how much I enjoyed helping him clean out the shed for winter. It was a big old wooden shed that Dad had built a long time ago, with windows on two sides and in the door. It was white, with lots of rusty nailheads showing through the chipped paint. We used the shed to store everything from shovels and rakes to bicycles and barbecues. During the spring, summer, and fall, we were probably in the shed as much as we were anyplace else. But by the time winter came, Dad would have the whole shed cleaned and organized and ready for the next spring.
The reason that I liked cleaning the shed so much was that Dad and I would talk. He was so interesting that it wasn’t like a job at all. He’d tell me about the cold, bitter winters he remembered as a boy in Indiana and about how much sweeter the spring always seemed after a harsh winter. “But no matter how bad the winter is, Danny,” he’d say, “whether it’s here in New Jersey or back in Indiana, remember that winter is just God’s way of putting the world to sleep for a short time. And then, in the spring, God wakes the world up with beautiful flowers, green grass, warm sunshine, and the singing of birds. The beauty of spring is one of the miracles of life.”
And before I knew it, the shed was clean, everything inside was reorganized neatly, and a big sheet of plastic was fastened over the roof so that snow wouldn’t get inside. The day would be almost gone, and Dad would slap me on the back. Then we’d gather up the whole family and go down to Mr. Watson’s for ice cream.
Then one day last year, just after I had turned eleven, I came home from school and found Mom upstairs in her and Dad’s bedroom, sitting in a rocking chair with an open photo album in her lap. When she saw me, she started to cry.
“Danny, your father’s in the hospital,” she said through her tears. “He became ill at work. … I don’t know when he’ll be able to come home.”
During the next few weeks, as we visited Dad in the hospital, I knew that he wouldn’t be home soon. The doctor told us that he was getting better, but that it was a slow process and that it was best not to rush things. It made my heart ache to see him lying there, looking so tired.
On my way to see him one Friday after school, I noticed that Mrs. Simmons’s big old oak tree was ablaze with autumn colors. So I knew that it was time to clean out the shed. I also knew that Dad would not be there to do it and that it was up to me. I couldn’t let him down.
I was up early the next morning, and I ate breakfast so fast that the food barely touched my mouth on its way to my stomach. Once outside, I looked up at the sky; it was a gray day with a chilly breeze and thick dark clouds. The weather report was for rain later in the day, possibly changing to snow at night.
When I pulled open the shed door, a leaf rake came tumbling out and nearly hit me in the face; we hadn’t been too careful about how we had put things back lately. Suddenly I felt sad and lonely because Dad wasn’t there with me, so I said a prayer that Dad would get well soon and be back with us. While I was at it, I asked Heavenly Father for help to do the job. Afterward I didn’t feel quite so lonely.
I had never realized what a big job cleaning out the shed was. Dad’s stories had always made the time fly, and it had never even seemed like work. This time it was only me, with nobody to talk to, or ask questions of, or share a laugh.
It seemed like there had never been as much stuff inside the shed as there was this year. To make matters worse, the clouds were getting thicker and darker and the chilly breeze had turned into a cold wind. I knew that rain was on the way, and soon. I didn’t even have everything taken out of the shed, and I still had to clean it, reorganize everything back inside, and stretch the plastic over the roof. I’m never going to make it, I thought.
I tried to hurry, and that was a big mistake. In my haste to move everything outside, I dropped a shovel on my bicycle, scratching the fender that I had tried so hard to keep looking like new.
I felt tears rush into my eyes. “I’m never going to get this done,” I said aloud, past the lump in my throat. “Oh, Dad, I’m sorry that I let you down.”
Just then a voice called: “Can I help, Danny?”
It was Randi! My first reaction was to say no to her offer. I felt that it was my job because of a special bond between Dad and me and that by letting Randi help, I would somehow be breaking that bond. But I quickly realized that my real responsibility was to Dad and the rest of the family. “Sure, Randi,” I said. “I could use some help.”
Randi smiled a big smile and got right to work.
I learned a lot about my sister that day. She worked as hard and as fast as I did, and she listened to my instructions about where to put everything just as I had always listened to Dad’s. We worked most of the day, and, just as we hammered the last nail into place to secure the plastic to the roof, the rain began. We both ran to the house, feeling happy and satisfied.
Mom met us at the door with some exciting news. “Danny, Randi,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time, “Daddy’s coming home next week! Isn’t that wonderful?”
That night we had the happiest dinner that we’d had in a long time, and we went to Mr. Watson’s for ice cream! I couldn’t stop thinking about how helpful Randi had been, and how it had really been fun talking with her as we worked. I decided that I wanted to do something to show her my thanks. “Randi,” I asked, “has Dad ever told you about how cold the winters were in Indiana when he was a boy?”
“No,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “but I’d love to hear about it.”

Since I consider family history a type of work, I decided to make my own family history book. So I made a compilation of all the pictures of the members of my family. I did that so that my kids and my great-grandchildren will be able to see how their ancestors looked. And while I was doing it, I felt so peaceful because I knew I wasn’t doing it for myself, but I was also doing it for generations to come.
Glory S., 18, Johannesburg, South Africa

Travis Hildebrand, 14, of the Etna Ward, Medford Oregon Stake, is one of the fastest milers in his area. He’s so fast, in fact, that in a regional meet sponsored by the Hershey Chocolate Company, he won a position and expenses to compete in a national meet in Hershey, Pennsylvania.

Travis’s parents wanted to support him at the national meet, but Pennsylvania was many miles and dollars away. That’s where a lot of hard family work and some community contributions came in. They were able to make the trip, and they stayed with a generous family in the Hershey area. Travis placed fourth in the meet, which featured some of the best runners in the country.

When Travis isn’t running, he’s studying to maintain his 4.0 GPA, working on becoming an Eagle Scout, and serving in his teachers quorum.

Her path to baptism was not easy. Born in Togo, she first encountered the Church as a young girl but was prevented from being baptized by family members. As she got older, she moved to Accra Ghana, and with a friend decided that together they needed to find a church. “We decided to go to church because we really wanted to find God,” she said. “I began praying and would go into the bush and talk to the trees.”
One day, her friend came to her and said that he had found a church he wanted them to attend. Josey asked him which church it was and he said, “it’s the people who wear white and black.” She told him that she had been in that church before. “I know that it is a good church.”
Josey attended the church and felt as if she was where she should be. She began meeting with the missionaries and was soon baptized. “I found the Church again, and I am here. I have a family again, people that I love.” She is now a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and she wants everyone to know!

When reverses come we need the Church and the gospel all the more. I’m satisfied that it’s possible for a man or woman who has a testimony of the divinity of this work to meet any possible reverses and still keep his spirit sweet and his faith strong. I saw members of this church in Europe right after World War II, the worst war so far as we know in the history of modern nations, when nations were fallen economically. I saw members of this church, some of them the only remaining members of once happy and prosperous families—with their homes destroyed and every member of the family killed in the war—and they stood alone as the one remaining person. I saw them and I heard them as they stood on their feet and bore testimony to the divinity of this work and thanked God for his blessings—the blessings of the eternity of the marriage covenant, the conviction that the family continues beyond the veil, that there is life after death, that there will be a happy reunion for those who live worthy.

But the need for mutual understanding also applies to Church members. For Brother Gerard Giraud-Carrier, getting to know others outside the Church was a primary reason for serving in his community. As a Regional Representative for the Brussels, Nice, and Paris regions, Brother Giraud-Carrier already had plenty to do. Then four years ago, he was elected to the city council in Lagny, France. His experience is teaching him to better appreciate his nonmember neighbors. “It gives me an opportunity to expand my understanding of others,” he explains.
Brother Giraud-Carrier makes no secret of his religious commitment. “Everyone on the council knows I am a Latter-day Saint, and they know I am in church every Sunday.” He also finds that principles of the gospel make him more effective in his work, which includes being a member of the public works and schools commission. “Before I go to council meetings, I pray,” he explains. “When I sense that I should interfere in a heated discussion, I raise my hand to ask permission to speak. I am always surprised that things quiet down and the group listens to me. Often they become calm, and even if they disagree with me, the discussion often takes a different turn.”
Serving on the city council is an unpaid position, and Brother Giraud-Carrier enjoys the satisfaction of serving his community. Equally important, he says, “It helps me to love people more, to appreciate them, even though they are not of the same opinion or even behave in a way that irritates me.”