Gospel Story Finder

After I had completed my contract, I was offered a permanent position, but I knew it was time to be baptized into the Church. It was time to begin a new chapter in my journey of discipleship.
When I told members of my family, they were not happy—at first. But three months after I joined the Church, I baptized my mother and two of my siblings. After serving a full-time mission in the Oklahoma Oklahoma City Mission, I baptized my younger sister.

“Before I was a member, I’d always notice Belle. She wasn’t lazy. Every Sunday she’d get up and go to church,” says Simon, who was baptized in 1992. “When Belle was a missionary, she was a good example to my family and she helped us.”
Rambo also talked about the gospel with Simon and helped him with his decision to be baptized. Simon’s now a priest in the Tuen Mun Second Ward.
Simon likes to think back to the time when he began seriously investigating the gospel. He remembers praying for the first time. “I really didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to pray or what I should say,” he remembers. “But I always felt good when I prayed.”
Before Simon joined the Church, Sundays were reserved for rest and relaxation. He would generally sleep in, then get up and play soccer with his friends. These days, his friends don’t even bother asking him to play games on the Sabbath. “They know now that I won’t play on Sunday. I’ve already told them I don’t do that, and they understand why I don’t and what I do instead,” he says. Sundays for Simon generally consist of church meetings and scripture reading. “I love studying in the Book of Mormon—especially about Lehi and the faith he had. My own faith isn’t great so it’s good for me to read about someone who was so strong.”

When they were married, Sister Abrea recalls, he was a counselor in the Mutual presidency for the mission. (His call as branch president came three months later.) It is the Argentine custom for the bride and groom to meet relatives and well-wishers in their home the evening of their wedding. But he was involved in planning an upcoming Mutual conference, and there was a key meeting that night. So he excused himself to go to the meeting, and she met the guests alone.

“The thing that has always impressed me most has been his faithfulness, his consecration to the work. Always the Lord has come first. And I have been content with that,” she says.

One example of her mother’s faith left an indelible impression on nine-year-old Alexandria. Her father, who had been working hard in the field one day, came home early with a burning fever. Hannah immediately gathered the children, asked them to remain quiet, and then knelt beside her husband’s bed and said a silent prayer. When she arose, she smiled at her concerned children. “Your papa will be well soon,” she said. That very day his fever subsided, and he was able to return to work. Alexandria never forgot that experience.

Then, in words of soberness, he told me this story. When he was quite a young man, the Prince of Wales Colliery was the pride of the valley. Almost every family in the village had someone who worked there. But one spring day an explosion occurred deep underground, and a fire broke out in the passages where the coal was mined. Rescue teams tried to reach the trapped men, but each time the fire drove them back. So, in a desperate attempt to save the mine, the owners ordered the canal that ran close-by to be turned into the mine.

One hundred and eighty-four men and boys were trapped in the bowels of the earth. Those who were not burned by the explosion were drowned by the water that came pouring in. Hundreds of the villagers gathered around the mine, waiting to see if any were rescued. But as the hours passed, hope turned to despair. The rescue team that went down returned with saddened faces.

“No one,” they said, “could possibly have lived through those awful conditions.”

Still the villagers waited, for down below in the earth were their loved ones, and they did not wish to return home without them.

It was when the sun had touched the hilltop and the first shadows had settled on the village that it happened. Someone cried out, and a pair of hands could be seen climbing the cables that raised and lowered the cage. Eager hands assisted the man from those awful cables. The flesh was hanging in shreds from his hands, his clothing almost burned from his body. Tenderly they laid him down, and the doctor ministered to him as best he could. The man was near to death, but the courage that caused him to climb from the darkness of the mine to the day above would help him to live again. The man was Jimmy Drew.

The question on everyone’s lips was, “How could a man live through explosion, fire, and water and then climb those hundreds of feet on a steel cable and still live?”

That question was never answered, for God in his mercy had closed the mind of Jimmy Drew so that he would never tell of his terrible ordeal. I remember still how my father put his arm around me and pulled me close to him and together we shed tears.

At church, Trent heard about some families that needed help for Christmas. They didn’t have money to buy presents. Trent wanted to help them have a happy Christmas! He wanted to help them, like Jesus would.
When they got home from church, Trent told Mom his idea. “I want to make a box. All of us can put a little money in it. Then we can give the money to people who need it.”
“I think that’s a great idea!” Mom said.
Trent wrapped an empty shoebox in bright paper. He cut a hole in the lid. Then he dropped in three coins. Plunk, plunk, plunk. It wasn’t very much, but it was all he had.
Then his brother and sister put in their coins too. Now they had more coins.
That night Trent prayed that Heavenly Father could help him buy presents for the other families. He wanted to help lots of people.
The next day, Trent’s aunt came to visit. He told her his plan. She wanted to help too! She dropped some coins in the Christmas box.
Soon friends and neighbors learned about Trent’s Christmas box. Each one said, “I can give a little too.” They handed Trent jars of coins they had saved up. Trent and his family were so happy. Trent loved adding the coins to the box.
Finally the box was full. It was heavy. Mom said there was enough money to help four families! Trent’s eyes got big. Heavenly Father had helped him. And now Trent could help lots of people. Together, everyone’s little coins made a big difference!

Two or three weeks ago this great teacher gave me motivation to try even harder to follow his example. Each Thursday morning after the Twelve have met for two hours, we are joined by the First Presidency to take care of our joint business. When President Kimball comes into the room on the fourth floor of the temple, one by one we go by and shake his hand.
President Kimball, now worn from long years of service, has a difficult time seeing, hearing, and speaking, so when it was my turn, I said, “President Kimball, I am Marvin Ashton.” He took my hand, paused, and then finally said softly, “Marv Ashton, I love you.” That is all he said to me. What else do I need? I can now go into the world and accomplish all of my assignments more effectively when I realize President Kimball trusts me and loves me.
When I am asked, “What does President Kimball say when he is with you and the others in the temple?” I say, “That is not too important. The thing that is important is that he is there. Despite pain, discomfort, and a tired, worn body, he is there. From him we learn what enduring and persistence are all about.

Dawn turned the sky a rosy red above the Idaho mountains as Toby helped Pa load the last of the wheat into the wagon. There was still room for Ma’s crocks of butter and the small basket of eggs packed in straw. Pa shook his head as he limped around the side of the wagon and pulled the canvas tarp down tightly over the load.
“I was counting on our winter wheat to make the mortgage payment,” Pa told Toby. “But since that storm ruined most of the crop, I hope that the cow will bring enough to keep the bank happy.” Pa tied down the tarp and added, “I know that you wanted to come along, Toby, but somebody has to stay home and tend the stock. Maybe your ma can trade her butter and eggs for a few supplies and enough material to make you a new shirt.”
Toby swallowed hard, and vigorously scratched Shep’s ears to hide his disappointment. The dog wagged his tail and followed Toby and Pa as they walked back to the cabin for breakfast.
When the meal was over, Pa led the brindled cow from the barn and tied her to the back of the wagon. Ma stopped and stroked the cow.
“Now that her calf is weaned, I’ve been hoping to sell her milk and butter to the miners.” Ma sighed and climbed aboard the wagon. “Mr. Pauley says that they’ve been asking for fresh milk and eggs and butter.”
“We’ll be home around nightfall,” Pa said to Toby, picking up the reins. “You take good care of things while we’re gone.”
“And see to it that my hens are safe,” Ma cautioned. “We need what few eggs they lay to get us through till the crops are harvested.”
Toby hung his head and dug his toe into the dirt, remembering that the fix they were in with the hens was partly his fault. It was his job each evening to close the little door that the chickens used to go into and out of the coop. But one night last month there had been a terrible thunderstorm, and he’d been too scared to go out and close the door. That night a fox had gotten into the coop and killed half the flock. Worst of all, it had carried off Biddie, Ma’s only setting hen, before Pa could run him off. Now there were only four hens and a rooster left.
“Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll take good care of the chickens,” Toby promised as he waved good-bye to them. Slowly the wagon disappeared around the bend at the edge of the clearing.
Toby went to the barn to feed the calf and pigs; then he fed the chickens. It was past noon before he finished the list of other chores that Ma and Pa had left for him. He made himself a sandwich and sat out on the porch in the sun while he ate. Shep sat down beside him, hoping for a piece of crust.
“We have time to go fishing before evening chores,” Toby told Shep. “We’ll surprise Ma and catch her a nice mess of trout for supper.” He tossed Shep the last bite of his sandwich and got his fishing pole from the barn.
With Shep at his heels, Toby was halfway across the clearing before he remembered the chickens. He stopped and looked back. The hens were pecking contentedly around the barnyard. “I guess no old fox is going to bother them while we’re gone,” he told the dog. Shep wagged his tail and plodded along beside Toby as they went down the path to the fishing hole.
Toby settled himself on the bank of the creek and dropped his line into the water. “I bet we catch a big one,” he said. But Shep just turned and wandered off through the bushes along the creek.
Toby pushed his hat back and leaned back on his elbows to look up at the blue, cloudless sky. He watched a black speck grow bigger and take shape. The bird glided gracefully through the air on motionless wings. An eagle, Toby thought idly. He watched and admired the bird as it made wide, lazy circles overhead. Suddenly Toby sat straight up. “That’s not an eagle,” he said aloud. “That’s a chicken hawk after Ma’s hens!” Toby dropped the fishing pole and took off running. He didn’t even wait to call Shep. He pounded up the path from the creek. The chickens were squawking fearfully by the time he burst into the clearing.
The hawk swooped down, just missing a red hen. Still too far away to scare away the hawk, Toby prayed, “Please, Heavenly Father, help me to get there in time.” Still running, he scooped up a handful of stones. “Get out of here, you old hawk!” he yelled, peppering the air with stones. The hawk gave a startled cry and excitedly flapped its wings. It screamed its anger as it swooped down one last time, then flew away.
By the time Toby reached the barnyard, all the hens had disappeared. Only the bedraggled rooster was hiding in the chicken coop. Toby sat down on the chopping block and held his head in his hands. “Now I’ve lost all the hens. What will we do without eggs?”
Just then a speckled hen stepped cautiously from the bushes. She took several jerky steps, then ran for the chicken coop. Toby rushed to close the little door behind her.
The rest of the hens must be out there, too, he thought. Maybe I can find them all before Ma comes home. He ran to the barn for a burlap sack to drop over the chickens in case they were still too excited to be caught with his hands.
By sundown Toby had found all but the red hen. He circled deeper into the woods, hoping to drive her into the clearing. It had grown almost dark under the trees. If the hen were still there, she would be roosting by now. Toby peered into the lower branches of the trees and under the bushes, watching for her dark shape. He saw nothing at first, then just ahead in a patch of tall grass, he saw several birds.
They must be quail or grouse, Toby thought as he crept closer. If I can catch them for Ma, it will make up a little for losing the hen. Toby took off his hat and sneaked up on the birds. As he slipped his hat over the first bird, he was startled to see that it was a hen with eight half-grown chicks. Slipping the hen from his hat into the burlap sack, he reached for one of her chicks.
It was fully dark when Ma and Pa came home. Toby grabbed his lantern and rushed from the cabin to meet them. “You brought the cow back!” he cried. “I thought that you were going to sell her.”
Ma smiled and climbed down from the wagon before Pa drove the team into the barn. “Pa got a hauling job up at the mine. It’s only two days a week, but it will pay enough to make the mortgage payment. Did you close the chicken coop?”
“Yes, Ma, but you’d better come have a look at the hens.” On the way to the chicken coop he told her about the hawk. Inside he held his lantern high and moved toward the roost.
“My goodness!” Ma cried. “Where did all these chickens come from?”
Toby grinned. “It’s Biddie’s brood, Ma. See—there’s Biddie too. I found them roosting in the woods while I was searching for the red hen. The young ones will soon be laying size, Ma. You can sell eggs to the miners after all. I’m just sorry that I never found the red hen.”
“That’s all right Toby. You did the best that you could, and I’m very proud of you.”
Toby and Ma both turned when they heard scratching noises at the coop door. Toby cautiously opened the door, then stood back as the lost red hen jerk-stepped into the coop.
Ma put her arms around Toby and hugged him tightly. “Heavenly Father certainly has been watching over us this day. With His help we’re going to make it just fine.”

Illustration by Rafael López
Where did I come from? What am I doing here? Where do I go after this life?
When I was 29, these questions kept coming back to me. My parents had passed away. I grieved for the loss of my firstborn infant son. I had three other children to raise and a life full of challenges.
The Lord began to answer my questions when He guided two young missionaries to my home. When I welcomed them inside, they asked if there was anything I felt was missing in my life. I told them about my parents and my son. I told them I thought it would be unfair to have children and to form families if everything just ended with death. I asked if I would ever see my parents and my son again.
“Marta,” they said, “you can have your family forever.”
Joy filled my heart. I wanted to know more. At their next visit, they taught me more about the gospel of Jesus Christ. They gave me a Book of Mormon and challenged me to read it and ask God if it is His word. I accepted their challenge. When I prayed, God’s answer came clear as sunshine. I knew in my heart it was true.
Unfortunately, when I took a new job, I lost contact with the missionaries. In the months that followed, my marriage ended and I tried to start a new life with my children.
Eventually, I remarried. One day my husband said he missed having God in his life. We decided to attend the church he once attended. When we entered the building, I saw a Book of Mormon on a table in the foyer. This was the same church I had been introduced to before! I loved the Spirit I felt there. When we left, I asked my husband how I could be baptized.
“You need to be taught by the missionaries,” he said.
“I was taught five years ago!” I replied.
My children and I were taught the lessons. Our baptism day was the happiest day of our lives.
Several years later, I felt that I should tell the sisters who first taught me that I had joined the Church. On Facebook, I found a group of returned missionaries from the Brazil Santa Maria Mission. It included one of the sisters who had taught me. I sent her a friend request and told her who I was, how I became a member of the Church, that our family was sealed in the temple, and that my son was serving a full-time mission. I told her all this was possible because she and her companion had planted the seed of the restored gospel in my heart.

From the time I was thirteen I knew that I wanted to live a life of service in my church. Brought up as one of eleven children in a good Catholic family, I had their support as I trained in a convent for six years and then took my final vows as a nun. My first field of service was Perth, Australia, and after four years there I was transferred to Sydney. I found the work very rewarding, and I had many wonderful experiences in the service of others. I will never forget those years, for in that time I feel I was being prepared for an experience that changed the course of my life.
It started out to be a normal day. I was on my way to the home of an elderly lady who lived about two blocks from the convent when I saw walking towards me two young men in dark suits. The tall one stopped in front of me, introduced himself, and asked me what I knew about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I replied that I knew all I wanted to know about Jesus Christ. He then said, “If Christ visited some people and spoke to them, wouldn’t you want to read what he said?”
I pondered that for a few seconds and replied, “Yes, I would.”
He pulled a Book of Mormon from his pocket and said, “This book tells of a visit that Jesus Christ made to the ancient people of America. All God wants you to do is read thirty-four pages and pray and ask him if it is true. Would you do that for Him?”
I replied that I could see his religion meant as much to him as mine did to me, so I would read the thirty-four pages and pray about it. We agreed to meet the next morning, and I would return the book to them. Then I put the Book of Mormon in my purse and went on my way.
I still can’t describe the feeling I had as I read those thirty-four pages (3 Ne. 11–28) that evening. I didn’t have to pray to know that the message was true. The words of the Savior were absolutely beautiful; they rang true with every word that passed before my eyes. I went to bed feeling better than I ever had in my life. It was a feeling of having found truth.
The next morning I wanted to tell someone that I had found something true, but with reluctance I said to myself, “No, it can’t be true.” I arose and prepared to meet the elders; but as the time approached, I was very nervous. I arrived ten minutes early, and those minutes seemed to tick away like hours. At last I saw them coming, right on time.
The first thing I did was to hand back the Book of Mormon. I told them I didn’t want the book anymore, although deep down inside I knew I did. But instead of taking the book, one of them asked me if I had prayed about what I read. “No, I didn’t,” I replied.
Then he said, “You’ll never know it’s true until you do.”
I wanted to say that the book wasn’t true, but I didn’t. The elders knew I was disquieted about something, but they didn’t know what.
Then one elder said, “You read those pages last night. Why didn’t you pray?”
I had no answer to that question, so at last I told them how I felt when I was reading the Book of Mormon.
Then they said, “You know the Book of Mormon is true, and that means Joseph Smith was a prophet of God, and we have God’s authority to baptize. And that means you know you must be baptized to be obedient to these truths and follow God. Will you be baptized by one holding God’s authority?”
I knew right then that I must do as they said, but I answered, “No.” I knew I was wrong in saying it, but I thought they would leave me alone. They didn’t.
They said, “If God told you from your own prayer to be baptized Sunday [only three days away!], would you follow him and do it?”
What else could I say, but “yes, I would?”
So they said, “Let’s go where we can pray.”
When we were alone, they explained to me how I should pray. As I prayed and asked God if I should be baptized, the same feeling came to me that I had when I read the Book of Mormon. When I opened my eyes, we looked at each other without speaking, for what seemed a long time. I was afraid to speak, so finally one of the elders said, “Wasn’t that a wonderful feeling?”
“Yes, it was,” I replied.
“Will you follow God and keep his commandment to repent and be baptized by one holding authority? Will you do it this Sunday?”
I hesitated for a long time, but finally I said, “Yes, I will follow God and be baptized.”
When Sunday came, the elders had taught me many wonderful truths from the Bible—truths that were as plain as day, yet I had never heard or read them before. I hadn’t told any of the other sisters what I was going to do. As I left the convent that morning to meet the elders, I was very nervous but excited too. The church service was a beautiful experience. And I spent the time after the service waiting for my baptism at a wonderful member’s home.
As the time for my baptism approached, I became nervous; but I knew it was what God wanted for me, so I was baptized and confirmed a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Back at the convent that night, many sweet memories and emotions passed through my mind as I packed my belongings. A few of the sisters came and asked me what I was doing, and I simply replied, “I am leaving. I found where God wants me to go. I’ve become a Mormon. I was baptized tonight.”
They were alarmed, but I just kept packing; and when I said good-bye, I gave each of them a copy of the Book of Mormon. “Please read it with an open mind and heart,” I said.

I would like to thank you and tell you how much I enjoyed the story “I Didn’t Want to Die” (Jan. 2004). Just a few weeks before, I was struggling with a problem like the one described in the article. When I opened the magazine, I turned right to the story and felt like I needed to read it. For a few days I read it and studied it, and then I prayed. I poured my heart out, and the next day I felt an answer come. I felt a smile immediately come to my face, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I felt warmth and love, and I knew my worries about this problem were over. I know I can always turn to that article to remember the power of prayer and that Heavenly Father truly does love us. Thank you so much.Brynn Pehrson, Slate Canyon Third Ward, Provo Utah Stake

But, in a strange way, Joseph Ott’s missionary work in this life was not yet over.
In 1908, a woman named Maria Strauch made regular visits to the Dresden cemetery to tend a relative’s grave.
On one of these visits, Maria saw what appeared to be a light shining on one of the tombstones. She was curious and decided to investigate. Approaching the tombstone, she discovered that it marked the grave of a missionary named Joseph Ott.
Maria wondered about what she had seen. What did it mean? Who was this man? Why had her attention been directed to his tombstone? The answer came to her that she must learn more about the church named on the stone.
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints had few members in Germany at the beginning of the century. However, careful inquiry soon led Maria Strauch to the local branch of the Church. She accepted the gospel message gladly and was baptized. A year later her husband Herman joined her, and eventually many of their thirteen children were baptized.
Since that time, Maria’s descendants have contributed to the growth of the Church in Germany. For example, one of her sons, Herman Karl Strauch, served a mission in his homeland in the 1920s. The gospel light has burned brightly in the Strauch family through two wars and the division of Germany into two nations.

Jeremy rocked the porch swing while his sister, Meg, fanned herself with one hand. “It’s hot enough to fry eggs on the sidewalk,” she said.
Jeremy shrugged. “Mom and Dad still want us to find a summer job. If we don’t, they’ll find one for us.”
Both children looked glum. Their parents’ job ideas tended to be long on service, short on cash.
“Baby-sitting?” Meg suggested.
“And be stuck all summer with someone’s kids? I don’t think so. How about yard work?”
“And be stuck all summer with someone’s yard? I don’t think so,” Meg mimicked. She paused, her eyes growing large. “That’s it! We’ll combine the two ideas!”
“Too much sun, Sis?”
She ignored him. “Remember last year when we got back from vacation? The tomatoes were dead, and the grass was knee-high.”
“Yeah, so?”
“So let’s start a yard-sitting business for people on vacation! We’d only have to spend a couple of weeks on any one yard, and we’d probably only have one or two yards at a time. We could work in the early morning, when it’s cooler, and spend the afternoons at the movies. Mom and Dad will go for it. You know how they like ‘initiative.’ Besides, this will keep us too busy for those service projects they always plan.”
“Like working in the soup kitchen,” Jeremy said.
“Or cleaning litter out of the park.”
“Or delivering meals to the elderly.”
Finally! An excuse to get out of being nice. They hurried inside.
“What a wonderful idea,” their mother said.
“Shows a lot of initiative,” their father agreed, “but. …”
Meg looked at Jeremy. “But what?”
Their parents consulted in whispers for a few moments.
“You can set up your yard-sitting business,” their father finally said. “But we hope you’ll also help someone, unpaid. We’ve always planned service projects for you, but we think that at eleven and twelve years of age, you’re ready to come up with one on your own.”
“I hate helping other people,” Meg said. “It’s just a lot of hard work for nothing.”
“Not if you do it right,” Mother insisted.
“They’re always trying to teach us great moral lessons,” Meg said later. “Still, I suppose we could find some really quick thing we could do to satisfy them.”
The next day they made posters advertising their yard-sitting service.
To their amazement, the phone was soon ringing. It seemed everyone had vacations planned and wanted someone to take in the mail, mow the lawn, and keep the garden watered.
“This is a gold mine!” Jeremy said.
Meg looked at their schedule. “We can still get everything done in the morning, if we push it. We’ll make a fortune!”
Their parents’ request that they come up with a service project completely slipped their minds.
It was hard work, but profitable. Sitting on the porch, Meg and Jeremy rattled the change in their pockets and smiled.
“Maybe we could expand,” Jeremy suggested.
“I thought you didn’t like work.”
Jeremy grinned. “Nope, but I like money. Besides, lots of yards around here could use a little extra work. Look at Mrs. Mahoney’s for example.”
Mrs. Mahoney lived only a few doors away.
“Yeah,” Meg agreed. “The grass is high, and the hedge is overgrown. She has planted a garden, but it hasn’t been weeded, and I think she’s expecting dandelions to inherit the earth!”
“It’s an eyesore,” Jeremy agreed, “but that’s life, I guess. She may be getting too old to take good care of her yard. She can’t afford to pay us, though, so it’s not our problem.”
“Maybe the neighborhood could help,” Meg offered.
Jeremy laughed. “She’d never accept charity. Last Thanksgiving we practically had to force that pie on her. There’s no way she’d ever let someone else clean up her yard.”
They dropped the subject, but Meg couldn’t get Mrs. Mahoney’s yard out of her mind.
The next morning Jeremy was surprised to see Meg up already, when he went down to breakfast. Her shoes were damp, and the knees of her jeans were dirty.
“What’ve you been doing?” he asked.
“Nothing much,” she replied. But as they passed Mrs. Mahoney’s yard, Jeremy noticed the garden had recently been weeded.
During the next week the dandelions began to disappear from Mrs. Mahoney’s lawn. Jeremy didn’t say anything. At first he was afraid Meg would rope him into it. Then he got a little peeved when she didn’t even try.
Finally, one morning, he got up earlier than usual. When Meg headed out the door, gardening tools in hand, he was waiting.
“So, what are you doing today?” he asked, falling into step beside her.
Meg hesitated. “I’m weeding the garden again, and starting to trim the hedge.”
“Mrs. Mahoney must have noticed what you’re doing,” Jeremy said. “What about when she catches you?”
“She doesn’t get up until ten o’clock. I’m long gone by then.”
“Give me the hedge clippers,” Jeremy said gruffly. “I don’t want us to be late to our first job this morning.”
Meg smiled.
Over the next few weeks, Mrs. Mahoney’s yard bloomed. She woke up earlier and earlier, hoping to catch sight of the mysterious gardeners. Finally one morning she heard low voices outside her window and quickly flung it open. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”
Two open-mouthed faces stared at her.
“This is trespassing,” Mrs. Mahoney said firmly. “Besides, you know how I feel about charity. I appreciate what you’ve done, and I’ll find a way to pay you, but I wish you’d stop. I’ve never owed anyone in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.”
Meg tried to speak, but Jeremy beat her to the punch.
“Charity?” he said. “Charity? I don’t like charity, either. That’s why we’re sneaking around like this. We didn’t want to admit that we owed you something.”
“You owe me?”
“Sure,” Jeremy said. “You know about our yard-sitting business?”
Mrs. Mahoney nodded. “I’ve seen the posters.”
“Well, our parents told us we had to do one yard free, or we couldn’t open the business. Your yard is perfect. It’s close, and it’s small. But we were afraid you wouldn’t understand.”
Mrs. Mahoney looked doubtful, but finally smiled. “Well, if you need my yard, it’s yours for the summer,” she finally said, “but only if you’re sure it’s not a bother.”
“It isn’t,” Jeremy said, surprised to find that it was true. “We really like doing it. Besides, it’s good for business.”
Meg grinned. “Thank heavens we got that settled. Now we can mow the lawn without worrying about waking you up!”
They all laughed.
September came, and school began again. The yard-sitting business closed. Still, Meg and Jeremy found time to rake Mrs. Mahoney’s leaves. In the winter they shoveled her walks.
Their parents watched and smiled.
“See?” their father said. “Helping others is great, if you do it the right way.”
“We’re not ‘helping others,’” Jeremy and Meg insisted. “We’re doing a favor for a friend.”
“Exactly!” their parents said together.

As Dad and I walked home, I thought again how weird Latter-day Saints were. Who else would leave cookies and stuff at people’s houses without being seen? Crazy!
The next Monday night our doorbell rang. Mom, Dad, and Tina were all watching TV, so I went to see who was there.
Nobody was there! At first I thought it was somebody’s idea of a dumb joke. Then I looked down. The Blanchards had phantomed us! They’d left a plate of brownies and a silly drawing of a ghost.
Nutty, right? Absolutely nutty. But I must say, the brownies were delicious. Maybe family night phantoms aren’t so weird after all.

A few months ago, my secretary said that there was a man out in the hall who wanted to talk to me. He brought in his seven-year-old boy, who was going to have a birthday in a few weeks. The father said he was concerned because his son wanted to be baptized but not when he was eight. He wanted his brother who was serving a mission to baptize him, and that meant waiting another year.
I asked the little boy to read some scriptures with me about baptism. Then I asked him what he thought Jesus Christ would want him to do. He said, “Well, He would want me to be baptized.” I asked him if he wanted to let his father baptize him on his birthday. I told him to go home and pray about it. On the night of his birthday, I called and asked him if he had been baptized, and he said yes. He had thought about it and prayed about it and realized that that was the right thing to do. So he had had the faith to be baptized. Reading the scriptures was an important part of that experience because as he read the scriptures, he thought about what Jesus wanted him to do.

At our wedding shower, she gave me the strings she had cut from her kitchen apron, symbolizing that she would let him go. And she did. She didn’t bring pots of hot soup regularly to our house to make sure that he had a good, nutritious meal. She didn’t arrange his dental appointments for him.
She didn’t always remember my birthday, but she did better than that: She remembered me kindly and gave me the most precious gift of all—her confidence that I could handle my life with her son and her grandchildren.

Pablo wasn’t much different from any other investigator I had taught as a missionary in Paraguay, except for one thing: he couldn’t hear. That sometimes made it difficult to communicate. Because he didn’t know sign language, our discussions were usually a mix between lip reading and writing notes back and forth.
During the week, Pablo lived alone. His wife worked as a housekeeper and could only come home on weekends. He really enjoyed our company but was becoming less and less interested in the Church. My companion and I wondered what we could do to help Pablo progress. One day my companion said: “You know, Pablo’s birthday is next week. Maybe we should get him a card.”
It sounded like a good idea, so on Pablo’s birthday we headed to his house with the card. He saw us crossing the lawn and came out to welcome us. “Happy birthday, Pablo,” we said, exaggerating our lip movements and showing him the card. For a moment he didn’t seem to know how to respond. A tear came to his eye.
As we stood there on Pablo’s front patio, something changed in him. With his wife gone for the week, we were the only people who had remembered his birthday. Though no real conversation took place, we came to an understanding we hadn’t had before. Pablo started “listening” more closely to our messages, and he even went to church the next Sunday. He couldn’t hear the words spoken there, but he felt the Spirit testify of the truth of it.
Within a short time, Pablo was baptized and later ordained to the priesthood. The Church has made such a big difference in his life. His wife joined the Church, and they are now preparing to be sealed together in the temple.
I never would have guessed what a difference that card would make. Simple love and kindness had helped a man who couldn’t hear to accept the gospel. Sometimes it’s by the simplest means that the greatest things are brought to pass (see Alma 37:6).

8 When you become 12 years of age, attend the temple to do baptisms for the dead whenever you can. We live in a blessed day when 124 temples dot the earth. Many of you can attend the temple as youth groups and as families. But even if you do not have a temple near you, you can enjoy the blessings of the temple by learning more about the temple and always being worthy to hold a temple recommend. When I was a mission president, our mission did not have a temple, so our missionaries were not able to attend the temple during their missions. At first I did not think to encourage them to keep a current temple recommend. Then in late 1994 President Howard W. Hunter (1907–95) counseled adult members of the Church to have a current temple recommend—even if they did not live near a temple. During the next interviews with our missionaries, I taught this principle and conducted a temple recommend interview for each of our missionaries. What a blessing that was for our mission and our missionaries!

The wind was whistling in from Darlington Bay as the boys tried to put up their tents. They struggled alone and in pairs until they quickly learned that it required more help and cooperation than pairs could muster. With many hands and backs bent to the task the tents came up, one by one, and now they stayed up. Pegged tight against the Tasmanian soil, they withstood the stiff sea breezes that are not all that far from Antarctica.

In November 2019, I listened to Elder Gong’s Face to Face event about the Children and Youth program with my family. Afterward, my bishop gave us booklets to help work toward our goals.
My first goal was to finish reading the Book of Mormon before my eighth birthday to prepare for my baptism. I had already started reading it but without much enthusiasm. But that day I made a plan with my dad. We figured out how many chapters I had to read each day to finish the Book of Mormon before my baptism. I started reading every day and marked when I finished reading each section.
As I read, I wanted to do more good things. So I joined the worldwide fast President Nelson announced to help control COVID-19. I was glad that I could do a full fast. My parents encouraged me to also pray and fast to gain my own testimony of the Book of Mormon and of baptism.
On the first Sunday in May, I prayed and fasted. Soon after, I finished reading the whole Book of Mormon. I was excited for my baptism—on my birthday. I felt ready to make this covenant with God! I know the Book of Mormon is true. I liked reading it, and I am happy I achieved this goal with the help of my family.