Gospel Story Finder

Much like another young man, whom I will mention later, I was 14 when I started to question religion and my faith. I attended the church of another denomination close to my house, but I felt the desire to visit many different churches.
One afternoon, I noticed two young men in dark suits and white shirts entering my neighbor’s home. These young men looked—special.
The next day I met my neighbor, Leonor Lopez, and asked her about those two men. Leonor explained that they were missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. She joyfully told me that her family was baptized into the Church a year earlier. Seeing my interest, Leonor invited me to meet the missionaries and learn about the Church.
Two days later, I joined the Lopez family to meet the missionaries. They introduced themselves as Elder John Messerly from Ogden, Utah, and Elder Christopher Osorio from Walnut Creek, California. I will never forget them.
Since I was only 14, Elder Messerly insisted we go next door to my home so that my mother could know what they were teaching me. There, he kindly explained that they came to share a message about Jesus Christ and asked for her permission to teach me. Mother agreed and even joined us while they taught me.
The missionaries first asked Leonor to offer a prayer. This touched me very deeply because her prayer was not a repetition of memorized words but an expression from her heart. I felt she was really talking to her Heavenly Father.
The missionaries then taught us about Jesus Christ. They showed a picture of Him that impressed me because it was a picture of the resurrected, living Christ.
They continued, teaching us how Jesus established His Church in ancient times, with Him at the head joined by twelve Apostles. They taught us about the Apostasy—how truth and Christ’s authority had been taken from the earth after His Apostles died.
They told us of a young 14-year-old boy named Joseph Smith who, during the early 1800s, visited different churches searching for truth. As time went on, Joseph became even more confused. After reading in the Bible that we can “ask of God” for wisdom, Joseph, acting in faith, retired to a grove of trees to pray and ask which church he should join.
One of the missionaries read Joseph’s account of what happened as he prayed:
“I saw a pillar of light exactly over my head, above the brightness of the sun, which descended gradually until it fell upon me.
“… When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!”
During that lesson, the Spirit confirmed to me several truths.
First, God listens to all His children’s sincere prayers, and heaven is open to all—not just a few.
Second, God the Father, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Ghost are three separate beings, united in Their purpose “to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.”
Third, we are created in the image of God. Our Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, have bodies of flesh and bones like us, but They are glorified and perfected, and the Holy Ghost is a personage of spirit.
Fourth, through Joseph Smith, Jesus Christ restored His gospel and true Church to the earth. The priesthood authority conferred on Christ’s Apostles 2,000 years ago is the same priesthood conferred upon Joseph Smith and Oliver Cowdery by Peter, James, and John.
Finally, we learned about another testament of Jesus Christ: the Book of Mormon. Written by ancient prophets, it tells of the people who lived in the Americas before, during, and after the birth of Jesus. From it we learn of how they knew, loved, and worshipped Christ, who appeared to them as the resurrected Savior.
The Spirit moved me profoundly as I learned of the Savior’s declaration to them: “Behold, I am Jesus Christ, whom the prophets testified shall come into the world.”
The missionaries gave us our own copy of the Book of Mormon. We read and accepted the invitation found at the end of the Book of Mormon, which reads:
“And when ye shall receive these things, I would exhort you that ye would ask God, the Eternal Father, in the name of Christ, if these things are not true; and if ye shall ask with a sincere heart, with real intent, having faith in Christ, he will manifest the truth of it unto you, by the power of the Holy Ghost.
“And by the power of the Holy Ghost ye may know the truth of all things.”
It has been almost 45 years since my mother and I first learned the joy and power of having faith in Christ. It was because of their faith in Christ that the Lopez family shared their new faith with me. It was because of their faith in Christ that these two missionaries left their homes in the United States to find my mother and me. It was the faith of all these dear friends that planted a mustard seed of faith in us that has since grown into a mighty tree of eternal blessings.
During these blessed years, we have known, as President Russell M. Nelson declared: “Everything good in life—every potential blessing of eternal significance—begins with faith. Allowing God to prevail in our lives begins with faith that He is willing to guide us. True repentance begins with faith that Jesus Christ has the power to cleanse, heal, and strengthen us.”

Then a year or two ago, almost thirty years after Peter’s death, I dreamed that I was on a business trip, driving my car on a highway that ran alongside the ocean. I think I was supposed to be in northern California.
In my dream I was admiring the beautiful coastal scenery and listening to the car radio.
Suddenly, in my dream, coming toward me on the other side of the road was Peter. He was a full-grown adult, but I recognized him immediately.
Quickly I stopped the car, got out, and ran to him. We hugged and danced like two happy little boys. Then we stood arm-in-arm, face-to-face, with the mighty ocean as a backdrop and talked eagerly for about fifteen minutes.
Never mentioning death, or saying “it’s good to see you after all of these years,” or anything like that, Peter finally said to me, “Well, I’ve got to be going.”
Knowing and feeling that to be true, I said to him, “Where are you going?”
“To take care of some business,” he said simply. I knew better than to ask any more. He was about his Father’s business. My heart told me so. I know that to be true of Andrew also.
I still remember how wonderful it felt in that dream to see Peter again, to hug him and talk with him after all those years since he died. The Spirit bore witness to me that Peter and I will meet again someday and that meeting will be as sweet and natural as it was in that wonderful dream.

Is this guy completely crazy?
That’s what I asked myself as I talked to Darrin Shamo at his family’s home in Hurricane, Utah.
Sure, he looks pretty normal: tall, skinny, with short blond hair. He wears glasses. You wouldn’t know from looking at him that he has an artificial leg.
But that’s not the strange part. What’s strange is that Darrin is happy. I mean extremely cheerful. His right leg is gone, but he laughs, he jokes, and he tells stories about his artificial leg while holding it in his lap.
How does he do it?
Darrin lost his right leg to cancer in June of 1991. But he hasn’t let his loss hold him back. His only regret is having to interrupt his mission to Chile, where his condition was diagnosed.
“I never wanted to leave,” he says. “I enjoyed every single day.”
But it was decided that Darrin should go home for further tests. Within an hour or two after arriving in Salt Lake City, doctors told him he definitely had a cancerous tumor on his knee.
Surely he was worried, right?
“I was a little bit scared about cancer because I didn’t know what it was,” Darrin says. “When you hear cancer, you think something really scary.”
What helped Darrin’s outlook was a little scripture reading on his plane ride to the United States from Chile. He had been reading in Alma about the Anti-Nephi-Lehis, and how they didn’t fear for their lives when the Lamanites came to attack them.
“I looked at that and I said, ‘I’m not going to fear for my life.’ I told that to people on the plane.”
After getting home, Darrin decided to maintain a positive attitude. “We had some long discussions,” says Darrin’s dad, Ronald Shamo, “and Darrin said, ‘I can approach this one of two ways. I can accept it and make the most of it, or I can be bitter. People don’t like to be around people who are complaining and unhappy. But when you’re positive and can look forward to getting better, people enjoy helping you along the way. They enjoy being with you.’”
And that has made all the difference. Darrin admits chemotherapy sickness had him depressed at times, but he even managed to conquer that. “I made sure no matter what I was doing in the hospital, I was happy. I especially enjoyed going to the fourth floor from three to five in the morning and looking at the babies.”
But Darrin’s condition required more than chemotherapy. His knee had to be removed, and doctors let him choose between joint replacement surgery and amputation just above the knee. Joint replacement would let him keep his leg, but it might leave him with little or no control over that leg because the muscles running through the joint would be cut.
With amputation, however, Darrin could get an artificial leg and soon be back to his old hobbies, like basketball, volleyball, bowling, and rappeling. Yes, rappeling. Having fun with his friends was important to Darrin, so the decision to amputate was not overly difficult. His bowling scores are down since the operation, but he’s confident that will change with practice.
What made Darrin most happy was when he learned he would be able to complete his mission. He was sent to the California Sacramento Mission and returned home this fall.
“Whenever we have a trial, there’s always something we can learn if we’re looking for it. There’s always some blessing,” Darrin says. “Cancer just made me look harder for the blessings, but they’re still always there.”
Hmmm. Maybe I exaggerated about Darrin. Maybe he’s not so crazy after all.

May I offer two ideas that have been helpful to me when I have felt fearful? The first one came in the form of advice from Sister Michaelene Grassli, Primary general president. I served under her on the Primary General Board. We were on a training assignment together when a local leader began to describe in glowing details the auxiliary leaders who had come to that area the year before. As she told about the wonderful things they had done and expressed her hopes that we would do the same, a sick feeling began to settle in my stomach. That night after our hostess had left, I expressed to Sister Grassli my fears: I was afraid my performance would be far less than those who had come before, and I would certainly be a disappointment to everyone and probably an embarrassment to her and the Church. She said, “I have had those same feelings, but it is comforting to me to know that I need only be concerned that what I do and say is acceptable and pleasing to the Lord.” Her words brought such immediate peace to my mind that I have repeated them over and over to myself in countless situations.
As women, we like very much to please others—sometimes seeking approval so frantically that we become torn and confused by the conflicting needs of those around us. Concentrating on pleasing Heavenly Father brings peace, a respite from fear and anxiety. Think of that, young women, the next time you are asked to perform in church, or visit an inactive member of your class, or plan an activity: “I only need to worry about pleasing the Lord.” I think some of your fears will evaporate. The prophet David said: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Ps. 27:1.)
The second idea that has been helpful to me was reportedly expressed by Vincent van Gogh, a famous painter. He said, “I am always doing what I can’t do yet in order to learn how to do it.” A large part of conquering daily fear is simply doing things that we don’t know how to do—yet.
Are there things you don’t know how to do yet, that you are doing anyway? What about trying to make conversation with a young man at Mutual even though you feel very awkward? What about working hard in school even though it feels discouraging? I have often heard Sister Janette Hales, our Young Women general president, tell young people to work hard. She has said, “Working increases our abilities, and as you feel your abilities increase, you will feel more secure.”
I’ve just finished reading Eleanor Roosevelt’s biography. She was the wife of a president of the United States, but her influence went far beyond politics and position. Her life stands as a beacon to all women as someone who magnificently developed her own gifts through her service to others. This was a woman whose early life was ruled by fear and self-doubt. She described herself as an awkward adolescent, unattractively tall, with protruding teeth, dressed inappropriately, and so ill at ease with others her own age that parties and dances were dreaded occasions. How did she move from that to the kind of confidence that allowed her to contribute so widely?
She said, “You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.” (Karen McAuley, Eleanor Roosevelt, New York: Chelsea House Publishers, 1987, p. 105.)
As we concentrate on pleasing the Lord rather than others and continue to work hard, doing the things we don’t know how to do yet, we will experience personal growth. We will increase our confidence in Heavenly Father and his Son, Jesus Christ. This faith assures us that in the end, we will not only survive but we will know great joy and happiness.
After the death of Christ, Paul was converted and became a great missionary. He had a junior companion, whom he loved as a father loves his own son. When we pick up their story in 2 Timothy, they are separated in their service. Timothy is lonely and afraid—being a missionary can be a fearful business. Paul is in prison in Rome. He writes Timothy a letter: “To Timothy, my dearly beloved son. …
“I thank God … that without ceasing I have remembrance of thee in my prayers night and day;
“Greatly desiring to see thee, being mindful of thy tears.” (2 Tim. 1:2–4.)
Isn’t that a tender letter? Pretend it is coming to you from one who is mindful of your tears.
Paul then goes on to remind Timothy of his strengths: “I call to remembrance the unfeigned faith that is in thee.” (2 Tim. 1:5.) He reminds Timothy that both his grandmother and his mother were women of faith.
Think of some of the strengths that your grandmothers and mother have passed on to you.
Then Paul asks Timothy to remember to use the gift of the Holy Ghost: “I put thee in remembrance that thou stir up the gift of God, which is in thee by the putting on of my hands.” (2 Tim. 1:6.)
Are you remembering that you have had hands laid on your head—that you have been given a gift? Use that gift to conquer your fears!
And then my favorite part of the letter: “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” (2 Tim. 1:7.)
Are those just the things you want when you are fearful—power, love, the ability to think clearly?
Paul ends one of his letters: “All that are with me salute thee. Greet them that love us in the faith. Grace be with you all. Amen.” (Titus 3:15.)
All that are with me salute you. We love you and are aware of your fears and your faith. I bear you my witness that Jesus Christ is our Savior, that he loves me, that he loves each of you, and that he will help us to replace our fears with faith. I say these things in his name, amen.

As a young person I also learned that it was easier to follow the Savior if I had a good attitude. My father set the example for me. From as early as I can remember, I knew that my father trusted me and had confidence in me. He was a road builder and timberman. I started to run large construction equipment for him when I was a teenager. Once I happened to turn one of his trucks upside down. When my father saw it, instead of scolding me, he said, “Jack, since you’ve got it upside down, you might as well get it greased.” He used a little humor to put me at ease and then, over time, taught me how to keep better control of the equipment. What could have been a bad experience turned into a good one because he loved me and wanted to teach me.

Recently I met an intelligent young man with great potential. He was undecided about a mission. He has decided not to attend a university now. In his free time he only does what he likes to do. He doesn’t work because he doesn’t have to, and it would take time from pleasure. He passed seminary classes without much thought of personally applying the knowledge gained. I noted: “You are making choices today that appear to give you what you want: an easy life, abundant enjoyment, and not much sacrifice. You can do that for a while, yet every decision you make narrows your future. You are eliminating possibilities and options. There will come a time, and it won’t be too distant, when you are going to spend the rest of your life doing things you don’t want to do, in places you don’t want to be, because you have not prepared yourself. You are not taking advantage of your opportunities.”
I mentioned how everything I treasure today began to mature in the mission field. Missionary service is not something we do for ourselves, yet great growth and preparation for the future are gained from a mission. Missionaries focus outside of themselves on other people. They draw close to the Lord and really learn His teachings. They find individuals who are interested in the message but not sure of its worth. Missionaries try with every capacity—prayer, fasting, and testifying—to help individuals embrace the truth. A mission teaches one to be led by the Spirit, to understand our purpose for being on earth and how to accomplish it. I gave him a blessing. As he left, I prayed earnestly that the Lord would help him choose the right priorities. Otherwise, he will fail in life’s purpose.

Niya was playing in front of her home when her aunt called her inside. “Niya, will you go to the greengrocer’s shop and buy some carrots for dinner?” her aunt asked.
“Yes!” Niya said happily. She liked going to the shop, and she liked helping her aunt.
Niya took the money her aunt gave her and walked down the road to the nearby shop.
“I need to buy some carrots for dinner,” Niya told the shopkeeper.
The shopkeeper put the carrots in Niya’s bag and told her how much they cost. Niya handed him the money.
“Here’s your change,” the shopkeeper said as he handed her back some money.
Niya thanked him and started walking home. As she walked, she looked at the money the shopkeeper had given her. “He gave me too much change,” she thought. “Now I can have this money for myself!”
But then Niya stopped walking. “Heavenly Father won’t be happy with me if I keep this money,” she thought. “I must be honest in my words and actions.”
Niya turned around and went back to the shop. “You gave me too much money back,” she told the shopkeeper as she handed him the extra money.
The shopkeeper took the money. “You are a good girl,” he said. Then he put some apples in a bag and gave them to Niya. “Thank you for being honest. Please take these apples and enjoy them with your family.”
Niya felt warm and happy inside as she walked home. She knew Heavenly Father was pleased that she had chosen to be honest.

“When I was younger, I was struggling with letting go of an issue with one of my siblings, which could have ruined our family unity for years, but my dear mother lovingly and swiftly corrected me and asked me to do what the Lord had counselled the Nephites to do when He appeared to them in the Americas.
“In 3rd Nephi it says (and she made me read this even when I was angry):
“But behold I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them who despitefully use you and persecute you (3 Nephi 12:44).
“It was hard for me to do, at first . . . Who knew that kind of grudge can affect you, not just spiritually, but also physically and mentally? Yet, as Mum shared, the other person with whom I held a grudge against, is living their best life, unaware of my personal turmoil because life progresses for those who learn to let it go quickly.
“She said, ‘Don’t you let Satan win!’
“I am grateful for the Atonement of my Saviour Jesus Christ that allows me, an imperfect daughter of God, a striving covenant-keeper and disciple of Christ to repent daily as I practice being meek. The power of His Atonement strengthens me to keep trying and I know He will be there for all of us in our daily efforts to be meek and lowly in heart.”

We’re Sam and Anastasia, and we try to SHINE OUR LIGHT by sharing with others!
Where we live, in Florida, USA, we see lots of people who are homeless. We wondered how we could help them. Jesus fed people who were hungry, and everyone needs to eat! So we decided to make emergency snack kits.
Our friend Joa helped us shop for supplies at the dollar store.
We put granola bars, bread sticks with cheese, and other yummy snacks in our kits. Sam even tried one!
Sharing our kits made us smile. Some people said, “Thank you!” and “Awesome!”
Our mom put the project online, and the young single adult branch found out about it. They made 100 more snack kits for our local homeless shelter. The shelter used them to invite people to sign up for a program to help them get homes. That made us really happy!

I had a great chance to qualify for the London Olympics in 2012, but in the most important competition, I fell off the apparatus. My chance at the Olympics was gone. I was halfway around the world, and my dreams were shattered.

Shortly after that failure, I decided I wanted to go on a mission. I might not have gone if I had made it into the Olympics, but my mission was one miracle after another. I was so grateful for that opportunity.

The gospel has helped me make right decisions, especially at times when it’s difficult to keep my standards. It shapes who I am and all the values that I have.

One day I remember I met in the grocery store some old friends of mine, and this woman had just paid eighty dollars for a small supply of food that she was carrying out of the grocery store. And I came in and bought one or two small things, and she said to me, “How can you do it? How can you do it?” And I said, “Well, I have a wife who is careful and she doesn’t waste anything. She doesn’t throw anything away. She just makes it over, uses it again. And we buy only what we need. And instead of buying the prepared things we can buy as many potatoes probably for a dollar that it would take many, many dollars to put into chips and in other preparations.” I have heard my mother-in-law, who was a very careful cook in her home, say many times, “That woman throws more waste from the kitchen than I would use in a month.” And I have seen that in many homes. And so I think that we need to be very, very careful.

“In the hospital one day I was wheeled out of the operating room by an attendant who stumbled, and there issued from his angry lips vicious cursing with a combination of the names of the Savior. Even half-conscious, I recoiled and implored: ‘Please! Please! That is my Lord whose names you revile.’ There was a deathly silence; then a subdued voice whispered, ‘I am sorry.’ … You don’t ever use any indecent language, do you, my young friends? That would be a disgrace. … We do not use foul language. We do not curse or defame. We do not use the Lord’s name in vain” (“President Kimball Speaks Out on Profanity,” Jan.–Feb. 1981, pp. 4, 6).

Several years ago, we lived in the suburbs of Brisbane in Queensland, Australia. On one beautiful Sunday afternoon, we decided to take our family out to a known footpath that would lead up to the Brisbane Temple. We drove with our five young children to the Brisbane CBD where the large Brisbane River winds through its center. At one point, the river has carved out beautiful and dramatic cliffs. Wonderful for rappelling and climbing, the Kangaroo Point Cliffs are a famous attraction right in Brisbane’s busy downtown waterway.
We drove down the hill toward the water’s edge and parked near the base of these cliffs. Then we pleasantly strolled through a park over to the side of the cliffs where a paved footpath was built to lead those from the bottom of the cliffs to the top. As we made our way there, our eyes wandered to what lay across the wide river: a stunning view of skyscrapers and high rises. We followed those along with our eyes until the buildings dipped down and gave way to a brush of trees and bamboo directly opposite us. We knew that brush made up the Brisbane Botanical Gardens.
Taking in deep breaths of the vegetation drenched in a recent shower, we turned to our object, and maneuvered around the railing of the path to begin what we anticipated to be a spiritual and happy time together.
We had taken only a few steps onto the trail when a blaring electric guitar, and muffled talking over a microphone, sounded. Startled, we looked back in the direction of the sound, only to see the dense brush of the botanical gardens across the river. It occurred to us that in the amphitheater of the gardens, hidden from view, a concert was starting.
As we took more steps, drums and yells echoed across the water and bounced loudly off the nearby cliffs. Rounding a bend, we slowly ascended the first switchback. Deep screams and growls from the amphitheater began to cloud our thinking and made it difficult to have conversation. But, with good faith and optimism we determined to cheerfully go on—perhaps, wishfully thinking the heavy metal concert would end soon.
On we pressed, but as we did, so did the concert. We continued through several more switchbacks. The deafening sounds of the concert continued. I began to feel annoyance, even frustration. Why was this happening? How could other’s choices have this much influence and distraction over mine?
The trail was now getting steeper and we gripped the metal railing for support. As we went up, the volume of the concert also seemed to climb. It now became difficult to think of anything else. Occasionally, after traversing steep sections, we would pause to catch our breath and have a look at the views. The skyline was beginning to grey against the lowering sun.
Our eyes penetrated the dark and deep water that was now so far below. A memory came to my mind: another day we had floated that river together on a hot afternoon. The guide of our tour boat had taught us about the danger of the river due to bull sharks that swam up from the nearby harbor. Because of the ocean’s backflows, that dark river water was actually salty.
Up again we went. Tired from both the climbing and the jarring music, our optimism was fading. We tried to enjoy each other and the hike, but the screams and language worsened with each of the rock band’s numbers. Now, unable to hear each other, we quietly hiked along with our children. The views were beautiful, but the noises seemed to block the Spirit and any feelings of peace. Our pleasant time together was being ruined.
Presently, a thought came to me: “Isn’t this life? Is this not the vision of Lehi?” I considered the screeching heavy metal which seemed to be mocking us all the way. I looked again at the deep and dangerous river and glanced up at the “great and spacious” buildings on the other side. I felt the “rod” there, cold in my hands, protecting me and my family from a great fall (see 1 Nephi 8).
Several more minutes went by. I guess these thoughts were consoling me. Life is not meant to be perfect. Maybe its imperfections are the very things we need to become perfect.
I watched my tennis shoes plant on each narrow step. And then one of the most empowering, and loving impressions came over me: this music may be annoying, the yells were too, but they were not stopping us from putting one foot in front of another. Nor were the voices and sways of the world. They, in themselves had absolutely no power, because we were giving them none. We were free to act for ourselves!
I began to hike with a new determination.
How many times since have I heard the screams of close family members and friends walking and laughing away from the Church and into forbidden roads, beckoning me to follow? How many temptations, burdens, or feelings have I experienced which made the way difficult to see or the gospel extremely hard to focus on? At times, these noises have even blocked my ability to feel the Spirit.
But no matter the racket, how heavy the burden, or how dark or confusing the feeling, nothing has been successful in stopping me from walking step-by-step with the Lord back to His house. Exercising faith and repentance, we constantly move forward.
As dusk settled on us that evening in Brisbane, we all smiled together for a photo while shouts and guitars swirled in our ears. But in the background of that photo stood the temple. We had made it!

On one occasion, I was with President Marion G. Romney. He spoke to a large gathering of young people. Afterwards, a returned missionary came up to shake his hand. As he did he said,
“Brother Romney, when I was a missionary I had a question that no one knew the answer to. Let me take advantage of your time for a moment and ask you.”
He then asked a rather complicated question, the answer to which could have been found in the scriptures.
President Romney listened attentively for a few moments and then replied, “That is a very good question. When you find the answer, let me know, will you please?”
As we left the hall he commented to me, obviously referring to the young man and his question,
“As a boy my father always taught me that when I wanted a drink I should go to where the spring flowed out of the ground and not downstream where the cattle had been muddying the water. He’ll be better off if he finds the answer for himself.”

A spy? Seven-year-old Amanda couldn’t believe her eyes. She traced her finger over Mosiah 9:1 again, just to make sure. “I, Zeniff, having been taught in all the language of the Nephites, and having had a knowledge of the land of Nephi, or of the land of our fathers’ first inheritance, and having been sent as a spy among the Lamanites …” A spy! There it was. Amanda closed her Book of Mormon. She knew she should have been listening to Brother Anderson’s talk during sacrament meeting, but she couldn’t help but giggle in surprise. She knew lots of Book of Mormon stories, but she never knew there was one with a spy in it.
She sank down in the pew and peeked at the page again. Zeniff the Spy. It sounded mysterious. And important.
I could be a spy! she thought excitedly. She knew all about spies. Spies noticed everything. Spies used secret codes. Spies wrote down important information with special pens.
Amanda knew some secret codes. And she had a special pen—well, a very special pencil. She rummaged through her scripture-carrying bag and pulled out the yellow pencil she’d earned in Sister Wooster’s class for perfect attendance.
Then, from her coat pocket, she pulled out her little purple notepad. It had pages and pages of straight lines just waiting to be filled with important information.
Amanda the Spy! she thought. It sounds mysterious and important!
The closing song and prayer captured her attention. She loved to sing the hymns, and she always wanted to mean it when she added her own “Amen.”
Normally Amanda would have hurried straight to Primary. This time she peered over the back of the bench and watched.
Brian Fisher tripped on his shoelaces. Three babies were crying. And … and … something small and gray was under the last bench.
It was an envelope. A heavy envelope that jingled.
It sounds like money, she thought. She peeked inside. It was money! Five dollars and twenty-five cents!
Amanda hugged it to her chest and spun around on her heel. Wow! she thought. I could buy a doll. Or a new book. Or tons of gummy bears! She pulled out her notepad and pencil and wrote, “Found $5.25.”
Then she wondered, It’s all right to keep it, isn’t it? After all, it isn’t that much money. If she’d found a million dollars, that would be different. But this was just a little over five dollars. Whoever had lost it probably wouldn’t even miss it.
Amanda gave the envelope a quick kiss—then gasped. The letters seemed to jump right off the paper: “Bishop Johansen, Creek Ward.”
It was a tithing envelope!
She plopped down on the bench, feeling like she’d been punched in the stomach. It wasn’t fair! She had already planned what she was going to buy.
It was hers! Wasn’t it?
She looked at her notepad. What would Zeniff do? she asked herself. Spies were supposed to be experts at staying out of trouble. Amanda thought she knew what he would do.
She glanced around. Brother Campbell was just leaving the chapel. He was a member of the bishopric.
Stuffing her notepad into her pocket and dashing toward the double doors, she called to him, “Brother Campbell, I found this envelope here in the chapel.”
Brother Campbell shook Amanda’s hand. “Thank you, Sister Pratt,” he said with a wink. “I’ll make sure that the bishop gets it.”
Turning toward the Primary room, she thought, Amanda the Spy knows how to stay out of trouble, too! She got out her notepad and wrote, “Turned money over to Brother Campbell.”
“Oh, no!”
Amanda looked up to see the bucket in Sister Kelly’s hand bounce onto the floor, spilling crayons over the carpet like colorful fireworks.
“What next?” Sister Kelly despaired as she hoisted her crying baby onto her hip and desperately grabbed at pictures slipping from her fingers.
Without even thinking, Amanda dashed down the hall toward her CTR teacher. “Don’t worry, Sister Kelly,” she said as she started to pick up crayons and drop them into the bucket. “I’ll help.”
“I can help, too,” said her friend Melanie, who’d been with her mom in the library.
Amanda and Melanie quickly refilled the bucket.
“Thanks so much,” Sister Kelly told them with a grateful smile. “Everything’s been going wrong today.”
“No problem,” they said together.
“Come on, girls,” Sister Kelly whispered, glancing towards the Primary door. “We’d better hurry.”
Amanda and Melanie slipped quietly into Primary and sat with their class. Amanda quickly wrote, “Helped Sister Kelly pick up crayons,” in her notepad.
“Sister Kelly,” the Primary President said, interrupting Amanda’s thoughts, “Randy could not come today. Would someone else in your class like to give the scripture and prayer?”
Sister Kelly glanced at the four children in her row.
Amanda did, too. She knew Jared wouldn’t do it. He was too shy. And she knew Wayne wouldn’t do it—he never volunteered for anything. That left Melanie and her. But Melanie was holding Sister Kelly’s baby.
“I’ll do it,” Amanda volunteered. She walked quietly to the podium. When she sat down again, she wrote in her notepad, “Said opening prayer for Primary,” and drew a smiling face.
“What’s that?” Melanie asked as they walked to class.
“It’s my spy book. I’m writing down important information.”
“Oh. I thought maybe it was a CTR book or something.”
Amanda read all the things she’d written. “Found $5.25,” “Turned money over to Brother Campbell,” “Helped Sister Kelly pick up crayons,” and “Said opening prayer for Primary.” It was like a CTR book. The entries showed that she had “Chosen The Right.”
She wrote “CTR” in large letters on the cover of her notepad. It’s like a secret code, too, she thought happily. Amanda the CTR Spy! Being this kind of spy really is wonderful and important.

An example of that happy, optimistic spirit is a 13-year-old girl I know named Elsa, whose family is moving to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 1,800 miles (2,900 km) away from her friends. It’s not very easy when you are 13 to move to a new place. Elsa was understandably unsure about the move, so her dad gave her a blessing. At the very moment of the blessing, her mom’s phone chimed with a text. The young women who live in Louisiana had sent this picture with the caption “Please move into our ward!”10
These young women were optimistic they would like Elsa without even meeting her. Their enthusiasm created optimism in Elsa about the upcoming move and answered her prayer about whether everything would be all right.

God will always be at the helm when we minister to His sons and daughters in need. I was in a meeting with the General Authorities of the Church when President Thomas S. Monson told the story of how he had failed to follow a prompting to leave a meeting early to minister to a friend who was in the hospital because he felt it would embarrass those conducting the meeting. Later when he went to the hospital, he was informed that his friend had passed away. He taught us that people are always more important than meetings. He then said, “Never ignore a prompting—go to the rescue.” Looking at each of us gathered there, with tears streaming from his eyes, he asked, “Have you rescued anyone lately?”

In a stake in Chile the young women did this at camp by keeping a book of each other’s virtuous qualities. Each day they got better acquainted and wrote down the intrinsic good they were learning about each person there. At the end of the camp, they shared their thoughts, helping each person to see more of the divinity within herself. Their leader said, “We were literally basking in this wonderful spirit of kindness and goodwill. I can honestly say that I never heard a word of complaint from the girls! They were flourishing in a sweet spirit of mutual acceptance that is not often present among teenage girls. There was no competition, no contention. Our camp had become a little bit of heaven” (personal correspondence). The girls recognized and reaffirmed the divine natures of each other, and the Spirit filled the camp as these virtuous thoughts were expressed.

One night his son was lying in the upper bunk bed as they read aloud alternate paragraphs from the last chapters of Second Nephi. President Romney heard his son’s voice break and thought he had a cold. As they finished, his son said, “Daddy, do you ever cry when you read the Book of Mormon?”
“Yes, son,” he answered, “sometimes the Spirit of the Lord so witnesses to my soul that the Book of Mormon is true that I do cry.”
“Well,” he said, “that is what happened to me tonight.”

There is a story about a young builder who had just gone into business for himself. A wealthy friend of his father came to him and said: “To get you started right, I am going to have you build a ranch house for me. Here are the plans. Don’t skimp on anything. I want the very finest materials used, and I want flawless workmanship. Forget the cost. Just send me the bills.”
The young builder became obsessed with the desire to enrich himself through this generous and unrestricted offer. Instead of employing top-grade labor and buying the finest materials, he shortchanged his benefactor in every way possible. Finally, the last secondhand nail was driven into the last flimsy wall, and the builder handed over the keys and bills, totaling over a hundred thousand dollars, to his father’s old friend. That gentleman wrote a check in full for the structure and then handed the keys back to the builder. “The home you have just built, my boy,” he said with a pleasant smile, “is my present to you. May you live in it in great happiness!”