Gospel Story Finder

Whenever Robert Norton got on a bike, he was a whole new person.
“Robert would go outside at eight in the morning and ride his bike in our driveway until ten at night. He got so good at it that he was the fastest Special Olympics cyclist in Connecticut,” says his younger brother Lee. “Before he got involved in Special Olympics, Robert was a loner. But when he came to Special Olympics, he opened up. He made friends, and kids at school started talking to him, though they hadn’t before.”
For nearly 30 years, the Special Olympics has been helping athletes with disabilities compete with one another on local, national, and international levels. Robert, who was mentally disabled, competed in many Special Olympics before he died in 1992. “I miss my brother, and I never put him out of my mind,” explains Lee. “The Special Olympics really fulfilled Robert’s life and was a great thing for him.”
Robert’s memory lived on when the Special Olympics became a great thing for a group of Latter-day Saint teenagers, too—including Lee.
During the summer of 1995, leaders of three stakes in the United States—in Connecticut and Rhode Island—were planning to combine three youth conferences into one. “The stake leaders were interested in youth conference ideas, and they asked kids what they felt like doing,” recalls Lee, 15, a teacher in the New Haven Stake’s Newtown Ward. “We talked about doing community service—you know, gardening and stuff like that.”
Then came the suggestion to help at the Ninth Special Olympic World Games, to be held in and around New Haven, Connecticut. The idea was met with great enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before more than 400 Latter-day Saint youth from the three stakes were signed up as volunteers.
The youth conference theme was “Ye Are the Light of the World.” And the LDS teens were just that. They served in a wide range of ways—from cheerleading to working in concession stands. “We really felt that we were like a candle and we could pass that light on to each other through caring about and serving these athletes. You really can do that by just being a great example,” says Lee, who couldn’t have asked for a better way to serve. The competitions were in his home state, and if there’s one thing Lee knows, it’s the Special Olympics.
Because of all the time he spent when his brother Robert was competing, and then in 1994 when Lee was a Special Olympics volunteer for Connecticut’s state games, Lee understood what volunteering at the World Games would involve. And he was able to watch other youth his age learn how much fun they could have through helping and serving special-needs athletes.
“I was really happy to see that all the kids were totally involved. They went up to the athletes and gave them hugs, high-fives, or whatever they needed,” says Lee.
Ben Johansen agrees. “We had a lot of fun. We wanted to serve, and everything was totally focused on serving. These athletes do their best with the abilities they’ve been given. I’ve learned that the winners in this life are the ones who do the most with what they have, not who crosses the finish line first.”
The first International Special Olympics was held in July 1968 in Chicago, Illinois. It involved 1,000 Special Olympians from Canada and the United States. It has grown to include more than 7,000 athletes from about 140 countries and to involve 45,000 volunteers. In 1993, for the first time, the winter Special Olympics were held outside North America, in Austria. European summer Special Olympics have been held in Belgium and Scotland.
At 1995’s track-and-field venue in Connecticut, the LDS youths gathered near where the athletes entered the track and shook hands, gave pats on the back, and offered encouragement. The athletes’ smiles got even bigger when their LDS helpers asked for their autographs.
“They are really happy when you smile or say congratulations to them. As soon as you start talking to them, they become cheerful and talkative,” says Stephanie Perry.
That attitude rubbed off on the LDS volunteers, too.
“At other youth conferences I’ve been to, we do service, and then one of our leaders gets a letter of thanks. Half the people who worked on the project don’t even realize what we did was appreciated. It’s so much better being interactive,” says Merilee Hales. “You could see the excitement these kids had when we would shake their hands and give high-fives.”
Says Ben Stratford, “The best thing about it was the time we spent with the Special Olympians and the example they provided for me.”
On a brutally hot day in New Haven, many of the young men and young women gathered in Yale University’s football stadium with brooms in hand. Their job was to sweep up debris in preparation for the Games’ closing ceremonies. While Lee swept piles of garbage into bags, he stopped to consider what they had been doing during their three days of service.
“Sweeping is just manual work. After you’re done sweeping, the stadium is not going to remember you sweeping it,” he says. “But these athletes will remember you. They’ll remember us. That’s what really means a lot to me. And I will remember them.”
When Lee was interacting with the Special Olympians, he had seen real joy and happiness, especially when the athletes would smile at him.
And as Lee smiled back, he couldn’t help but think of his brother Robert.

I have been a Beehive for about one and a half years and had never read the New Era. I had heard others talk about how much they loved it, but I never took much thought about it. Thanks to the Young Men–Young Women activity this month, I read the New Era for the first time. After reading it cover to cover, I realized what I had been missing out on. I felt the Spirit so strongly as I read those articles, and even though there had recently been contention in my house, the New Era somehow managed to help take all the feelings of anger away. I will never not read another issue again.
Michelle R., Utah

Kate T., in California, USA, is like most other high school students. She spends a lot of time studying for her classes and playing sports. “High school, by design, is a lot of thinking about yourself,” she says. But she’s learned it’s important to take time to think outside yourself. So she decided to start a service club at her school.
Kate applied to the school administration for a Just Serve Club (linked with the website JustServe.org and the Just Serve app). But she got some pushback, and the club application was rejected. It took more effort, but Kate and some friends were able to get the club started.
At first the club had about 25 people and were able to do about 15 projects a year. They meet regularly at school during a lunch hour, and they do at least one service project a month. For example, they have cleaned up a beach, packed boxes at the local food bank, and decorated a youth shelter for Christmas.
Now Kate works together with her friend Anna Q. and a club council to plan projects. Council members are recruited from the high school and represent a diverse group of different faiths.
“Our projects usually come from the Just Serve app,” says Anna. Once the council chooses a project, the details are planned and shared with club members during a meeting and on the club’s social media page.
The club has grown, and now the group is able to work on many more projects to benefit the community.
Something Kate and Anna have discovered is the personal benefit of service. “The more you do to give back to your community, the closer you are going to feel to the Savior,” says Kate. “When you can look outside yourself and think about the Savior, you will feel His Spirit because that is what His whole life was about.”
Anna has found there is more happiness in serving others. “My love for those around me increases every time I serve alongside or for someone,” she says. And service has helped strengthen her relationship with Heavenly Father and the Savior. “The more I serve like Christ did, the more I become like Him and feel His love.”

A second experience in the branch dealt with a kind and conscientious woman who faithfully turned in envelopes containing a few coins for payment of her tithing. One day as she came to church, she was also holding in her hand a plastic sandwich bag with a piece of dried-up bread in it. She handed the plastic bag to us and said: “If you are going to belong to a church, you ought to contribute. I can’t contribute much, but I can contribute the sacrament bread.”
As we used her bread for the sacrament, the whole experience carried an additional meaning that day. Going through my mind was the verse that reads: “And Jesus sat over against the treasury, and beheld how the people cast money into the treasury: and many that were rich cast in much.
“And there came a certain poor widow, and she threw in two mites, which make a farthing.
“And he called unto him his disciples, and saith unto them, Verily I say unto you, That this poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury:
“For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living” (Mark 12:41–44).

I had been trying hard, and yet I wanted to know: “Isn’t there something more I can do?” And Elder Tuttle told me there was and that I would need the Atonement of Jesus Christ working in my life to go where I wanted to go. Elder Tuttle said he had taken a trip to South America on assignment with Joseph Fielding Smith, then a member of the Council of the Twelve. That was in the days when you went to South America by ship. Elder Smith could have used the time to rest. And he could have let Elder Tuttle rest. But he didn’t. He organized daily scripture study, sitting on the deck in those wooden slat chairs most of you have only seen in old movies. They read their scriptures together, and they discussed them, and they marked them. And so what I have written on this page, in the margins, was written by Elder Tuttle in his Doctrine and Covenants on the ship’s deck as Elder Smith taught it to him. I can only imagine who passed it to Elder Smith. And now I’m passing it on to you.

For some people, like Emily Nielsen, 16, the temple brought special blessings.

“For me personally, the temple is very important,” said Emily. “My choicest memories have been made there. Our family adopted a baby, Matthew Kimball, and he was sealed to our family in the Los Angeles temple. As my brother and I followed our parents in their beautiful temple clothes into the temple, I knew that we’d be together forever.

“During the Atlanta Temple open house, I had a personal tour and was able to see rooms in the temple that weren’t shown on the regular tour. I had been very concerned about my mother’s health and was afraid. When we got to one of the sealing rooms, I asked if I could be left alone for a moment to pray. As I prayed, the Spirit came upon me, and I knew that everything would be all right and that the Lord loved me. And even though my mother died five months ago, everything is all right, just like the Lord promised me.

“The temple and its ordinances are special to me because, I know that through them I will be with my best friend, my mom, again, and that our relationship will last forever. I also know that if I live worthily, I’ll be able to be married in the temple to my eternal mate, and my mother will be there because she promised me.”

“I want to tell you about a couple of things that happened to me,” Mother began. “When your dad and I were first married, we went on a trip to Yellowstone National Park. Even though it was getting late in the day, your father wanted to push on to the next town before stopping for the night. But I had a strong feeling that we should stop right where we were. I couldn’t explain why I felt that way, but I did. I told your father, and he said, ‘If that’s what you feel we should do, we’ll do it.’ Now, to this day, I don’t know why I felt that way, but I’m glad that we didn’t drive any farther until the next morning.
“One more thing,” Mother continued. “The night your dad died—before I got the phone call telling me what had happened—I already knew. All that night I had had a feeling that something was terribly wrong.
“In both cases, I am absolutely certain that it was the Holy Ghost speaking to me.”
“And that’s how you feel about the silo?” Lance asked.
“That’s right. I can’t give you any other reason except that I strongly feel you shouldn’t play there anymore.”
Later that night, when they were both in bed, Mike asked, “Lance, do you really believe what Mom said about the Holy Ghost?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“How come?”
“I’ve never told anyone this, but do you know Bobby Morrison?”
“The tall kid with red hair?”
“That’s the one. Well, last year he and I planned how to cheat on a history test. I’m not going to tell you what the plan was, because I don’t want you trying a dumb stunt like that.”
“If it’s so dumb, why did you do it?”
“Well, I’m getting to that part. When the test started, it was like I could feel this voice. And it was really strong. It said, ‘You know it’s wrong to cheat.’ After that, I just couldn’t go through with it.”
“And that voice was the Holy Ghost?”
“Yeah. So I know that there is a Holy Ghost. If Mom says that He spoke to her, I believe her.”
“So you’re not even going to sneak over to the silo?”
“No.”
“Well,” Mike said reluctantly, “I guess I won’t either.”
The next few days were hard for the boys. They had to think of new games to play that didn’t involve the silo. One afternoon Lance said, “Let’s put a puzzle together.”
“Ah, who wants to do that?” Mike groaned.
“Do you have any better ideas?”
Since Mike didn’t, they set up a table on the porch and started working on a puzzle. But Mike had a hard time concentrating—his eyes kept wandering in the direction of the silo. The good old silo. “Too bad we can’t play there anymore,” he thought miserably.
“Hey, stop daydreaming,” Lance said.
Before Mike could reply, Mother came out with a pitcher of cool lemonade.
As the three of them drank from frosty glasses, they heard a low rumble. The ground trembled, and the puzzle pieces on the table started doing a crazy dance.
“Look!” Mike pointed at the silo.
It wobbled and leaned to one side. The rumble grew louder while another sound filled the air—the sound of metal scraping, grinding, and ripping. A great cloud of dust rose up as the silo crashed to the ground.
Grandpa came running out of the house. “What in the world?” Then he saw the silo. “Oh! Oh, my!”
That night Mike lay in bed awake. Mother really had been prompted by the Holy Ghost. He was glad that he and Lance had listened to her. He promised himself and Heavenly Father that he would live the kind of life that would allow him to hear for himself the Holy Ghost’s still, small voice.
“Obey the inner feelings that come as promptings from the Holy Ghost.”Elder Richard G. Scott of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, “The Joy of Living the Great Plan of Happiness,” Ensign, Nov. 1996, 75.

I love playing soccer and making stop-motion videos. Last summer, I turned 11 and was so excited that I could be ordained to the priesthood in a year. I decided to prepare. I became more sensitive to the Spirit and repented regularly. Soon after, President Nelson announced changes that meant I could be ordained before I turned 12! I was grateful I had prepared so that I could be ordained at the beginning of this year.
Atticus P., 13, Utah, USA

Some time ago a couple came to my office with very heavy hearts. They had a priest-age son who was an Eagle Scout, a Duty to God Award winner, a good student who had been conscientious in school and on his part-time job. Then one night he just walked away from home and didn’t return. He had been gone for several weeks, and they were heartsick.
I asked them if they had pleaded with the Lord to know where their son was. They assured me they had. “Have you pleaded with all your strength?” “Yes, we have.” “Have you pleaded with every particle of your being?” “Well,” they said, “maybe not every particle.” I said, “You go home and pray again—this time with every particle of energy and strength of your being.” They said they would.
That afternoon the couple knelt down and pleaded with the Lord. At six o’clock the phone rang. It was their son, calling from Banff, Alberta, Canada. After talking to him for a few minutes and finding that he was safe and in no danger, they asked why he had called at that particular time. He replied, “The bishop this evening had the strongest impression to have me call home. He came over to my apartment and said he would not leave until I called home.”

[President Monson, reflecting on the teachings of President J. Reuben Clark Jr. (1871–1961), who served as a counselor in the First Presidency with three presidents of the Church:]
“It was my great privilege to know President Clark rather well. I was his printer. On occasion, he would share with me some of his most intimate thoughts, even those scriptures around which he tailored his teachings and lived his life. Late one evening I delivered some press proofs to his office situated in his home at 80 D Street here in Salt Lake City. President Clark was reading from Ecclesiastes. He was in a quiet and reflective mood. He sat back from his large desk, which was stacked with books and papers. He held the scriptures in his hand, lifted his eyes from the printed page, and read aloud to me: ‘Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man.’ (Eccl. 12:13.) He exclaimed, ‘A treasured truth! A profound philosophy!’ Through the years that conversation has remained bright in my memory. I love, I cherish the noble word duty.”1

by Craig Manscill
During the spring, when much of the Northern Hemisphere is recovering from the grips of winter, the Southern Hemisphere, particularly the South Pacific, is soaking up the warm rays of the sun.

That’s when the youth in the Fiji Suva District retreat to their own secluded, tropical island for three glorious days in search of their destiny.

As the chartered boat, the Noolooloo, departed from the jetty, 57 youth and 16 leaders, one live pig (Friday’s dinner), and assorted camping gear were about to make history in the third annual youth conference. The sea cruise to Nukulau Island was only the beginning of a beautiful experience.

“Determine Your Destiny” was the theme for the conference. The theme song, “Morning of Your Life,” was taken from the October 1980 New Era. It was the objective of each youth to plan and set goals for his or her immediate future and distant tomorrows. “We are charting our own destiny,” said Elizabeth from Suva Sixth Branch, “rather than allowing fate or outside circumstances to dictate to us.”

Once camp was established, the Young Men president called a general assembly. Journals were handed out to each youth with instructions that while in search of their destiny, the recording of thoughts and goals would greatly increase the chances of successfully accomplishing those goals. One girl recorded in her journal, “I never thought three days could make the difference for me in sorting out my course toward my destiny.”

The following three days were filled with activities and seminars. Seminars were conducted in first aid, lifesaving and swimming, pioneering, tie-dyeing, and goal setting.

“Campfire is burning, campfire is burning,” was signal enough from the campfire mistress, Cheryl Bukarau, for all to gather on the beach for mimes, skits, singing, and stories. The charismatic mood of the South Pacific seemed to mesmerize everyone. The reflection of the tall palm trees, silhouetted by the fire, cast interesting shadows on the beach. The mood was amplified by the lapping of the waves on the shore as if it were the sound of Fijian drums in the distance.

The highlight of the conference was when the mission president, Wilford E. Smith, ferried across from the mainland to be guest of honor for dinner and to deliver the keynote address. President Smith encouraged all to consult with the Lord in prayer, refer to patriarchal blessings, and listen to the prophet’s counsel.

Saturday morning dawned clear and crisp as the fasting youth gathered for separate Young Men and Young Women meetings followed by a joint testimony meeting, where the testimonies of youth and leaders brought the youth conference to another spiritual high.

It was with regret that camp was broken. During the final moments a special ceremony, unseen by most, was held at the base of a large tree, where a time capsule was buried. The capsule held the history of the conference and the written goals of 57 youth and 16 leaders. One year later, the capsule will be opened for those who return to the next youth conference to evaluate how well they have shaped their own destiny.

An eight-year-old girl, reared in a good home with parents who did not believe in God, on her own initiative learned the Lord’s Prayer and recited that prayer privately every day. Eventually she added her own words and finally began offering her personal prayers to her Heavenly Father. She knew He lived, even though her parents did not. A few days ago I had the honor of officiating at her marriage and sealing in the temple. Her mother was with her—the result of her daughter’s example.

When teaching the young women about the importance of personal revelation, Estefani Melero from the Lima Peru Surco Stake was prompted to share her experience seeking a testimony at age 14. She testified to the young women that as she fervently prayed to know the truth of the gospel, a voice seemed to whisper to her heart words she has never forgotten: “You know it is true, Estefani. You’ve always known.”

Late in 2018, I was diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, better known as ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease—a rare, terminal, neurological disease. ALS kills the motor neurons connecting my brain to my muscles. My mind still runs at the normal rate, and I understand everything people say to me, but I can no longer control muscles except my eyes. Communicating is hard and slow for me, now that I must use my eyes to type on a device what I want to say.

ALS has left me a quadriplegic, depending on a machine to breathe and on my wife, Tiffany, for everything else. My disease will likely take my life before I see my children grow up. I published a book of my lessons and talks for them and others to read after I am gone.

With this perspective of gratitude, how could I not be happy? ALS is not fun, and it is clearly the low point of my life. But it is not low enough to counter my happiness.

I have come to see ALS as a calling, and I am trying to magnify it. In fact, I expect to look back on this disease and laugh—grateful for what this challenge has helped me become. And if that is how I will see things later, why not see them that way now?

I don’t want to give the impression that this challenge is easy. It took me a long time to get my emotions and fear under control. I have learned a lot as my physical body has faded away.

I have learned about how God sometimes gives us blessings. At first, we are called to do something that seems hard—or even impossible! Then the Lord teaches us and lifts us through His grace, or the “enabling power” made possible by His Atonement. Only after we get to the other side of the task do we see His hand and His blessings in our lives. As President Thomas S. Monson (1927–2018) taught: “Do not pray for tasks equal to your abilities, but pray for abilities equal to your tasks. Then the performance of your tasks will be no miracle, but you will be the miracle.”

That pattern has happened to me over and over. So, I have faith that ALS will turn out the same way for me.

My disease will likely take my life before I see my children grow up. I published a book of my lessons and talks for them and others to read after I am gone. Until the end comes for me, I am trying to magnify my calling and be more like Jesus.

Thanks to technology that lets me type with my eyes, I will continue to share my testimony and my faith in God’s plan of happiness until He calls me home.

Sister Roper nodded. “A few years ago, when my son Micah was your age, we had a similar lesson in Sharing Time. We were talking about how we can follow Heavenly Father. The counselor in the Primary presidency had a big banner in front of the Primary room. She told the children to raise their hands when they thought of a way to follow Heavenly Father. Then she would write their answers on the banner.
“The children began giving wonderful answers, like ‘Read your scriptures’ and ‘Say your prayers’ and ‘Be a good example.’ Micah raised his hand, and when the counselor called on him, he said, ‘Brush your teeth.’”
Sister Roper was laughing, too. “You know, I think we all wondered that. I thought that Micah hadn’t been paying attention. Poor Micah! Everyone was laughing, and I could tell that he was really embarrassed. He looked like he was ready to cry. I know that he was sorry that he had raised his hand.”
“Well,” Sister Roper went on, “there were still a few snickers, but almost everyone stopped. The great lesson that I learned that day came when the counselor said, ‘Very good, Micah. We do show Heavenly Father that we love Him when we take care of the bodies that He has blessed us with. I’m glad you thought of that.’
“No one was laughing while she wrote ‘Brush your teeth’ on the banner. I looked at Micah, and he was happily beaming. I was glad the counselor had helped both him and the rest of us see that his answer really was correct.”

Young manhood came to Boyd Packer about the time World War II began. After graduation from high school, he worked for a time on construction of an army hospital in his hometown. Like many young LDS men of his generation, he was unable to serve a full-time mission because of the war. In the spring of 1943, he enlisted in the Army Air Force, graduating as a pilot the following year, a few days before his twentieth birthday. He was ordered to the Pacific, and was stationed in Japan for nearly a year after the end of the war.

While in the military, he found plenty of time to study the scriptures. He read the Book of Mormon several times; today he refers to the book as “the single most powerful influence in my life.” In the spirit of the book, he also found motivation to preach the gospel of peace to the Japanese. Among those who learned of the gospel from servicemen were Tatsui Sato and his wife Chio. When the time came for their baptism, it was Boyd Packer’s privilege to perform the ordinance for Sister Sato. C. Elliot Richards, now a physician in Salt Lake City baptized Brother Sato. Later, Brother Sato’s translation work would make it possible for many Japanese to enjoy the scriptures and the temple ceremonies in their own language.

Caleb rolled over in bed and sighed. He thought about his favorite online game. That castle I built yesterday was awesome—if I ever get the chance to finish it! But I can’t keep playing when everyone’s using bad words. Maybe Henry and their other friends were playing online together right now.
Just then Mom knocked on his door and saw Caleb still in bed. “Why aren’t you getting ready for church?”
“I don’t want to go,” Caleb said. He turned and stared at the wall.
“Are you still thinking about the message board yesterday? I talked to Henry’s mom like you asked.”
“But it didn’t even make a difference.”
“I’m sorry about the game,” Mom said. “For now, can you get ready so we’re not late?”
“I’m tired of feeling different!” said Caleb. “I just want to do what my friends are doing. They’re not going to church today.”
Mom nodded. “Sometimes choosing the right is lonely, but that’s one reason we go to church.”
“To feel lonely?”
“No, to feel the Holy Ghost. When we feel lonely, the Holy Ghost can comfort us.”
Caleb didn’t say anything. But why am I the only one who has to make good choices? he thought. No one else stopped playing when they saw the bad words.
“Can we talk about this more after church?” Mom asked.
“OK.” Caleb slowly got dressed and grabbed his scriptures.
During sacrament meeting, Mom asked Caleb how he was feeling.
“Bored. I want to go home.”
Mom put her arm around Caleb. “Are you listening to the talks? This is a good one.”
Caleb looked up. Bishop Marsh was talking about commandments. Caleb started listening. After a while, a peaceful feeling started to push out his grumpy feelings. He kept listening. The feeling grew stronger until it seemed to fill him all the way up.
“How are you feeling now?” Mom whispered.
“Pretty good.”
In Primary they talked about how the Holy Ghost can guide and direct us. When Caleb came home, he felt like everything would be OK. He was actually glad he’d gone to church.
On Wednesday, Caleb was doing his homework in the kitchen. Mom came and sat by him.
“By the way,” she said, “Henry’s mom found out who was using the bad words and asked him to stop. It turns out some other kids were uncomfortable too. She started monitoring the message board, and everyone’s using better language.”
Caleb nodded and twirled his pencil. “Well, Henry and I decided we were getting too addicted to the game, so we’re taking a break. It’s nice to not always be thinking about it. But I’m glad the guys are using good language.”
“Sounds like you helped your friends make better choices,” Mom said. “Remember how you said you felt different from your friends? Well, there’s something that does make you different, but in a good way. Do you know what it is?”
Caleb thought. “I have the gift of the Holy Ghost?”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “The Holy Ghost helps you notice and avoid things that can hurt your spirit. I think He also prompted you to have me talk to Henry’s mom. Sometimes you’ll be the only one making a good choice. But when you follow the Holy Ghost, you’ll be happier in the long run.”
Caleb smiled. He did like having the Holy Ghost with him—even if it meant being different.

Monday, October 11
Dear Grandma and Grandpa, (Oops! I mean Elder and Sister Wall. I keep forgetting!)
How do you like Nigeria? Mom showed me where it is on the map. It’s very far away! But I’m glad you got to go on your mission. You always said you’d serve wherever Heavenly Father wanted you to go. Remember? But I still wish you weren’t so far away.
Love,Vera
Monday, November 1
Dear Vera,
Yes, Nigeria is far away from where you live, but we are so glad we’re here. The people are so warm and loving, and Heavenly Father has blessed us so much.
On Sunday, four children were confirmed. We met in a tiny chapel with a concrete floor, and the Spirit was so strong. It was beautiful!
Love,Elder and Sister Wall
P.S. We love the Primary children so much that we want to give them a special Christmas present. Do you have any ideas?
Monday, November 22
Dear Elder and Sister Wall, (See? I remembered!)
I’ve got a great Christmas present idea! And I’ve even talked to Mom and the Primary president about it. But I’m not going to tell you what it is because I know how much you like surprises. (Remember the surprise birthday party Mom gave you, Grandma? You were so funny!)
I will give you a hint. It starts with the letter P, and we’ll be sending it in a couple of weeks.
Love,Vera
P.S. Can you guess what it is?
Friday, December 3
Dear Vera,
What could it be? Grandpa and I have been thinking about what you might be sending for the Primary children. We can hardly wait to find out!
There are lots of things that start with P in Africa—like pigs, parrots, and potholes! But I don’t think that’s the surprise you’re talking about.
Love,Sister Wall
Monday, December 13
Dear Vera,
Dalu and Merry Christmas! Dalu means “thank you” in Igbo (a language spoken in Nigeria). P stands for “pictures,” doesn’t it?
All the children here in our Primary liked the Christmas pictures you and your friends drew for them at the Primary activity.
We wish you could have seen them! All the children were smiling and laughing and saying how wonderful it was to hear from faraway Primary friends who love Jesus just like they do.
Thanks so much for your Christmas present. It was perfect! (That starts with P too!)
Love,Elder and Sister Wall
P.S. The Nigerian Primary children like to send surprises too!
Friday, December 31
Dear Elder and Sister Wall,
Please tell the Primary children in Nigeria dalu for their pictures! All the kids in my Primary liked them! We especially enjoyed the pictures with the palm trees, fans, and baskets.
Love,Vera
P.S. Even though I still miss you, ever since we sent you the special present for your Primary children, Nigeria doesn’t seem far away at all!

One of my Faith in God goals is to learn more about the sacrament. So I asked my bishop if I could make the bread for the sacrament. He said it sounded like a wonderful idea. I learned to make bread, and I made the sacrament bread each week for five weeks. As I made the bread, I felt Jesus’s love for me. I felt different about the sacrament. I was more reverent in sacrament meeting, and I realized that the bread is just bread before it is blessed. But after it is blessed by the priesthood, it becomes the sacrament.
I could feel the Spirit telling me that Jesus really died for me and that He loves me. I am glad that we can partake of the sacrament each week and remember Jesus and the promises we have made.Nikelle Susan L., age 10, Utah

My quorum means a lot to me, but I don’t tell people this very often. I like doing things for the quorum, like the time we went camping at Three Mile Lake and I was in charge of the food. Everything went okay except the corn bread. I thought if chocolate was good and corn bread was good, they’d be terrific together. They weren’t. The quorum hasn’t quite forgotten that little episode, and I’ve been banned for some time from all cooking. Oh, well. Then about two weeks ago the quorum president called to ask me to visit the deacon who’d moved into our ward. “Sure,” I said, “what’s his name?”
“Jerry Snook.”
“The Jerry Snook at Chief Joseph? The Jerry Snook who is the terror of the classroom?”
“You got it.”
“But I’m sure he’s not a member.”
“Sorry. He’s just moved in from the Third Ward. He’s been inactive most of his life, I guess.”
I wasn’t surprised. Jerry wasn’t the kind of kid you’d expect to meet at church. “Do I have to do this alone?”
“Nope, we’ve asked Paul David to help you.”
“Thanks, he’ll be a big help.” I mean Paul’s a nice kid, but he’s a little different. Most of his classes at school are for students who don’t learn very fast. Still, he’s a deacon, passes the sacrament with us, and participates in the lessons. And he likes to tease me about the chocolate corn bread. But for Jerry Snook I wanted somebody strong.
“And don’t worry,” said the quorum president. “He’s already agreed to work with you.”
“Wonderful,” I said. And then I spoke very rapidly. “I can’t go see Jerry. He hates me. It’s true. Once when I said in English that I’d like to race a stock car, Jerry said real loud, ‘Dwayne, you could be the stock car.’ Even my teacher, Mr. Robertson, laughed.”
“You’ll do great. Just try to see him soon. Invite him to church.”
“You’re sure he’s a member?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Good luck.”

I hung up the phone. At first I planned to call and see when Paul would want to go out. But I decided to wait until that evening because I wanted to be sure to catch him. I told my dad about the phone call, and he said he’d be glad to help in any way. That night he helped by asking if I’d been able to reach Paul. It was a little after nine, and I didn’t want to wake him. He might have been asleep. So I decided to wait until Monday. Jerry wasn’t in my English class, which was a relief. And I didn’t see Paul. I didn’t call him that night either because I didn’t want to interrupt his family home evening. My dad must have asked about ten times if I’d set up a time with Paul. Each time I promised I’d try real soon.

Tuesday I concluded it was time to give Paul a ring, but when I wasn’t sure which David family to call, I thought I’d wait a day or so. When my dad found out I didn’t know the correct phone number, he looked it up. “Paul’s father is named Emory,” he said, “and the number is 754–3961.”

The next day in English I found out why I hadn’t seen Jerry for a few days. Evidently, he had broken his leg playing touch football. I didn’t feel very bad about it, but at least I kept my feelings to myself. I also figured I’d wait a week before visiting him so he’d have time to recuperate.

That night I was surprised when Paul called me on the phone. “Dwayne,” he said slowly.
“Yes?”
“We need to see Jerry.”
“I know. I’ve been trying to call, but your phone is always busy.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, he’s got a broken leg, and I think we ought to let him get up and about before we go see him. Don’t you agree?”
“I think we ought to go see him tomorrow.”
“Well, Paul,” I explained, “we can’t do that because we’ve got to let him know we’re coming, and it’s too late to do that now.”
“I know.”
“Great. Well, I’ll call him tomorrow or so and set up a day.”
“I already talked to him.”
“You what?”
“I called him, and he said to come on over.”
“Did you say I was coming?”
“I just said that a friend and I would be over tomorrow.”
“Hmm, tomorrow. You know, I’m pretty busy most days, and I’ve got things to do tomorrow.”
“I told him tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow after school?”
“Yeah.”
“All right, all right. We’ll go tomorrow.” I paused for a second. “Hey, Paul, we don’t know where he lives.”
“I do. You come here, and we’ll walk over together.”
“Fine, fine.” I told my dad that we had an appointment with Jerry, and he seemed happy.

I met Paul the next day at his house, kind of a small place with two big trees in the front. “It’s not far,” Paul said. “We can walk.” It wasn’t that close either, and I was puffing a bit when we stopped in front of a brand-new house in a recently developed area.

“This is Jerry’s address,” Paul said. My hands felt clammy, and my stomach twisted as it always does before I have to climb a rope in PE or give a talk at church or tell my folks I failed a test. We walked up the steps, and Paul knocked on the door.

A thin, tall woman with blond hair opened the door. “Yes?” she said, looking at Paul and me as if she had caught us trying to steal the cement steps we were standing on. “Can I help you?” she added.

“We came to see Jerry,” I said, “that is if he’s not asleep or busy or eating or anything, because we can always come back.” The woman leaned forward a bit, raised her eyebrows, and slightly pursed her lips.

Paul cleared his throat a little and said, “We’re friends of his. I called yesterday.”

“Oh yes, from the Church.” She continued to look at me. “You know, we don’t go to church very often. In fact I can’t remember the last time.” She looked at Paul. “Well, come in, come in.” She ushered us into the living room, where we sat on some hard, wooden chairs. “Jerry, oh Jerry,” she called down the hall, “the boys that called yesterday are here.”

“Okay,” he said, sounding bored. After a moment I could hear a thump, thump, thump that grew louder.

“He’s not used to the crutches yet,” his mother said. “His accident has got him down, I think.”

At that moment a cast-covered leg poked through the hallway door, followed by a very redfaced Jerry who struggled with his crutches. He stared at me a moment. “What are you doing here?” he said.

“Oh,” said his mother, “you really do know each other.”

“A little,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah. At school,” Jerry added with a hint of a smirk.

“Well, I’ll leave you boys for now,” said his mother as she went into the kitchen.

Jerry backed up to a chair and flopped down. “So you’re a Mormon,” he said.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice cracking a little. “Both of us are.” I looked quickly at Paul.

“Yeah, we’re Mormons, and we came by to invite you to come to church,” he said.

Slow down, I thought. Now he’ll really lay into us.

“To church?” Jerry said.

“Yes, to church. It’s a good place to go, and we have a good time.”

Jerry shifted his crutches to the side of his chair. “You guys want me to come to church, huh?” He glanced at me. “You want me to come even if I call you fatso and chubby?” He was smiling.

“Well,” I said, my eyes a little out of focus, “sure, we both do.”

“That’s kind of funny, you know,” Jerry said. “You guys want me to come to church. I haven’t been to church for a long, long time.”

“There’s always a first time,” Paul said.

“Yeah, there’s always a first time,” Jerry laughed for a second.

We were all quiet a moment.

“How’d you hurt your leg?” I asked.

“I was playing football and tripped.” He looked a little embarrassed. “I feel like a jerk.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, and he looked at me sharply. “That is, I’m clumsy all the time.”

“You mean like when you dropped your tray in the cafeteria?”

“Yeah, and it had everything on it.” Even I could laugh about that incident.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad. You should have seen me when I tripped. What a klutz.”

“When are you coming back to school?” Paul asked.

“I don’t know. Probably in a few more days. The doctor said it was a pretty bad break and that I ought to take it easy.”

“That’s too bad. We’re working on predicate nominatives in English. Believe me, they aren’t any fun. And Mr. Robertson is as hard to understand as ever.”

“I’ll probably have to work hard to catch up.”

We all started talking about our different classes, the ones we liked and didn’t like, the easy and hard ones. Jerry’s mom brought out some punch. When we finished, Paul and I said that we had to go. We thanked Sister Snook for giving us something to drink. Jerry came with us to the door, not an easy feat when you’re not used to crutches. “You know,” he said, “nobody ever asked me to go to church. I mean just me.”

“You should come.”

“Maybe. Maybe I will.” Jerry looked out into the street. “Is the church far?”

“No,” answered Paul, “just down the street a couple of blocks. We could come by and get you.”

“Give me a call, okay?”

Paul and I stepped outside. “Maybe we’ll come by one of these days,” Paul said.

“Sure,” said Jerry. “Why don’t both of you come?”

It was getting dark, so we waved good-bye and headed home.

After a moment or two Paul said, “Well, we made a start.”

I left Paul at his house and walked home. When I got there, I told my dad how things had gone. He seemed pretty pleased. I felt pretty good myself. And then I had to settle down and study my predicate nominatives. They still weren’t any fun.