Gospel Story Finder

I spoke at a devotional a couple of years ago at Ricks College, and a girl came up afterwards and said, “Brother Covey, what is the difference between a heartburn and a burning in the heart?” She was really asking, “How do I really know how God answers prayers? How do I know it’s not just me projecting my own wish and want onto God, feeling good about it, and calling it his answer?” That’s what she was asking, and I believe many of us have asked that question of ourselves.

I said to her, “When we had this little listening exercise, sister, did you feel or sense anything?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, “I know so many things I need to do to be a better person.”
“Then, sister, I suggest that you forget that question. Just do those things. If you do, you’ll become acquainted with the voice, and that will be the answer to your question. You didn’t like that answer, did you, sister?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
She said, “I have no excuse anymore.”

A year later I spoke at another Ricks devotional on another subject. She came up afterwards and said, “Brother Covey, do you remember me?”
“I can’t quite place you.”
“I was the one that asked you about the heartburn.”
“Oh yes, whatever happened to you?”
She said, “I did those things. I took it seriously. I know very clearly the difference now between the true voice and the many other voices within and without.”

I said, “For instance, what did you do?”
“I really began to study the scriptures in a serious way. My prayers were most earnest and sincere and deep. I made reconciliation with certain individuals who I had thought I could just forget because I didn’t like them. I was more cooperative at home, more helpful. I stopped procrastinating as a student, practicing self-management by crisis. I used to put off studying all the time, but I became more conscientious. I realized this was a stewardship. I started doing genealogy work. I was more pleasant with my brothers and sisters. I didn’t speak back to my parents. I just became a less defensive person.”

On a Know-Your-Religion circuit in California this last year, this same girl came up to me and said, “Would you be interested in the third installment?”
I said, “I would.”
“I can’t believe the difference in my life once I started to realize that the Holy Ghost is my own guide if I will listen to him. I can receive personal guidance and revelation, and as long as I am true to it all things will work together for my good.” She bore her testimony. There was no confusion in her mind anymore.

Ephraim Hanks was one of those early pioneers, but his pioneering continued long after his arrival in the valley. On a fall morning in 1848, President Brigham Young drove to where Ephraim was building an adobe house inside the old fort in Salt Lake City. Looking over the completed foundation, Brigham quizzed Ephraim concerning the thickness of the rock wall.

“Eight inches,” replied Brother Hanks.

“Tear it down and build it twice that thick,” Brigham declared and then promptly drove away before Ephraim could respond. To do as President Young requested would mean hauling in more rock and doing twice as much work as Ephraim thought necessary. Nevertheless, Ephraim widened the foundation to 16 inches, as the prophet had suggested. A month later a heavy rainstorm caused widespread flooding in the valley, resulting in considerable damage. Hanks’ reinforced foundation and walls, however, stood firm against this deluge, preventing a possible collapse of the entire structure. Many other homes in the valley were not so fortunate. From this experience Ephraim learned that when the prophet spoke, he would listen.

Not long after this incident, Ephraim once again received unsolicited counsel from President Young. At a dance in Salt Lake City, Brother Brigham saw Ephraim and told him to go home and shave his face. Ephraim, like most of the men of his day, had worn a beard virtually his entire adult life. His beard extended almost down to his waist. Somewhat puzzled by this strange request, he left the social and rode home, where he shaved off his beard. Ephraim returned to the dance wearing a newly trimmed moustache. When Brigham saw him, he brushed his hand across Ephraim’s face and said he had meant a clean shave. Excusing himself a second time, Brother Hanks complied with the prophet’s strange command and shaved off the moustache as well. It was perhaps this type of obedience to counsel that prompted President Brigham Young to later say of Ephraim Hanks, “Here was a man always ready to lay down his life for the authorities of the Church as well as for the cause of Zion and her people.”

A true story from the USA.
William ripped open the package and held up his shiny new watch. It was finally here! He was so excited. He had worked hard to earn the money to buy it, and it was worth it.
He strapped the watch onto his wrist and started scrolling through its screen. There were so many cool games! He tapped on a dinosaur game and started to play.
The next day at recess, William showed his watch to his friend Liam. “Whoa, cool!” Liam said. He watched William play games on it for a while. Then he asked, “Want to play kickball now?”
“Maybe later,” said William. Liam ran off to play, and William sat under a tree to play the dinosaur game.
At recess the next day, William played with his watch again. Liam ran up to him. “Are you going to come play?”
William looked up from his watch. “No, I want to keep playing this game. Maybe later.”
Liam frowned. “But we always play kickball at recess!”
“I just want to finish this game,” William said.
Liam turned and walked away.
The same thing happened the next day. And the next day. On the bus ride home, Liam sat next to William. “Why didn’t you play with us today?”
“I was just playing a quick game on my watch,” William said. “I’m so close to passing the next level.”
Liam folded his arms. “You always play on your watch. You never play with us anymore!”
William felt his face get hot. “Recess is the only time at school that I can play my game,” he said. His voice was getting louder. “I can do whatever I want during recess!”
Liam looked upset. “Well, then we aren’t friends anymore!”
William didn’t say anything after that. He turned to the window so Liam couldn’t see his face. His eyes stung with tears.
When the bus got to William’s stop, he ran home as fast as he could. He plopped onto the couch and started to cry. He wished he’d never bought his watch.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
William sniffed. “Liam said we can’t be friends because I always play on my watch.”
Mom sat next to him. “It sounds like he thinks you care more about your watch than you care about him.”
“That’s not true!”
“I know you care about Liam.” Mom gave him a hug. “But the way we spend our time can show what we think is most important.”
William thought for a moment. “People are more important. But can’t I play on my watch too?”
“Can you think of a way to do that?” Mom asked.
William nodded. “Maybe I can play kickball with Liam at recess, and only play with my watch for a little while when I get home from school.”
“That’s a great idea.”
The next day at school, William found Liam at recess. “I’m sorry I played too much on my watch,” he said. “Can I play kickball with you again?”
Liam grinned. “Sure!”
When it was his turn, William kicked the ball and ran as fast as he could. He could hear Liam cheering.
His watch could wait. It felt good to be with his friend.

Here’s a fun puzzle game called Chinese Writing.
Trevor carefully eyed the odd collection of a dozen kitchen utensils on the floor.
“Who drew this picture?” he asked.
“I’m the artist,” volunteered Ken. Trevor looked carefully at Ken sitting cross-legged with head in hands. Trevor walked cautiously around the strange piece of artwork somewhat resembling a stick person.
“Well, judging from the cheese grater used for hair I suspect this is a drawing of a girl.” He carefully examined the large group of people surrounding him in the circle. “Because of the potato masher used for the mouth it must be someone with a pretty smile.” He glanced at Carol intently sitting cross-legged and head in hands. “I say it is none other than Carol Parkins.”
The group gasped in amazement. “How did you know?”
“I think I know how he did it,” boasted Cheri. “I’ll leave the room next and try.”
Do you know how Trevor did it? Did you catch the trick? That’s right. The artist gave away who the subject was by simply sitting in the same pose in which the subject was sitting. Trevor had only to see who in the room was sitting exactly like Ken. It was obviously Carol. Obvious? Well, only if you know the trick. You’ll be surprised how long it will take your friends to figure it out. Try it on them at the next birthday party you go to.

Years later, he and his brother and two sisters packed a wagon full of vegetables, bottled fruit, flour, pots and pans, and clothing and moved to Salt Lake City to attend the University of Utah.
Mother: Good luck! We’re so proud of you all.
David: Thank you, Mother. We’ll write often.
David made time for both studying and having fun. He joined the university’s first football team.
Coach: Nice play, McKay!
He ran for class president.
Student: Congratulations, David! You won the election.
And when he graduated, he was the valedictorian—an award given to the person with the highest grades.
School president: Congratulations, David. You’ve worked hard.
David: Thank you.

Another night someone preparing for a dance noticed that hotel waiters were behind schedule replacing tablecloths and refilling saltshakers for the next day. Despite the language barrier, he made it clear that he and his friends would like to help, and soon the chore was completed. “We’re all brothers,” one of the volunteers told the headwaiter. “We should help each other.”
“Brüder (brothers),” the waiter said, nodding his head in agreement, and he smiled as he reached over to shake hands.

“Do I have to watch Bobby again?” Cindy asked.
“It’s just for a little while, dear. You know how he can get into things. You’re such a good helper.” Mother smiled at Cindy as she went out the apartment door with a basket of laundry in her arms.
Cindy sighed and shut the door. She turned and looked at her baby brother. Bobby banged two blocks together.
“Ah-bah, ah-bah, Mama!” Bobby yelled.
Cindy shook her head. “When are you going to really talk? When are you going to be a helper like me?”
“Me … bah.” Bobby laughed and started climbing up onto the couch.
“Oh no you don’t,” Cindy said as she picked up Bobby and put him on the floor by his toys.
“No, no?” asked Bobby.
“Right. Climbing onto the couch is a no-no. Let’s do something else. We can play Wonder Woman and Superman.”
“Dooper!” Bobby grinned happily.
Cindy ran to her bedroom to get her cape, but she couldn’t find it anywhere.
“I bet you lost it, Bobby. Tell me where you put my cape.”
“Bah-ma. Dooper?” said Bobby.
“I give up,” Cindy said. “If you’d just talk like the rest of us, that would be a big help.”
Cindy went into the bathroom and found two large towels. She tied one loosely around Bobby’s shoulders, then put the other one on herself. Cindy twirled on her toes, letting her cape fly out around her. Then she ran down the hallway. “Wheee!”
“Eeeeh!” Bobby echoed.
Cindy ran around the living room. Bobby ran too. Cindy leaped up and down. Bobby hopped the best that he could in imitation. Cindy jumped over the magazine rack. Bobby tried to do it, too, but he bumped his knee. He screamed. As Cindy turned around to see what had happened, her long cape flew out and hit a potted plant on the windowsill. The pot wobbled back and forth. Bobby stopped screaming. They both stood still and watched helplessly as the pot fell.
Crash!
“Oh, no!” cried Cindy, bending down to look at the mess. There was dirt all over the floor, but the plant didn’t look broken.
“No-no,” Bobby announced.
“It sure is a big no-no! Give me your towel. I’d better put them away and clean up this mess.”
While Cindy was in the bathroom, she heard her mother open the apartment door.
“Bobby!” she exclaimed. “What did you do?”
Cindy went back into the living room. Her mother was pulling Bobby away from the pile of dirt, where he was playing.
“Oh, Cindy,” Mother said, “I wish that you’d watched Bobby a little better.”
Bobby pointed at the floor and said, “No-no!” Then he ran out of the room.
Cindy knew that her mother thought that Bobby had broken the pot. It would be easy not to tell what had really happened. …
“Mom,” Cindy said at last, “I’m sorry.”
“I know, Cindy. It’s not your fault. Please get the dustpan and brush. I think that we can save the plant.”
Cindy didn’t move, even though she wanted to run away.
“Hurry up, dear.” Mother picked up the plant.
“I said that I was sorry,” Cindy said slowly, “because I knocked down the plant.”
“Oh, Cindy!” Mother looked at her and put down the plant. Then she hugged Cindy. “Thank you for telling me what really happened. Now we’ll clean this mess up together. You are a good helper.”
“Mama!” Bobby yelled. He had come back holding the dustpan and brush. He waved the pan in the air and said, “Me do.”
“Oh, Mom,” Cindy exclaimed happily, “Bobby is learning to talk better and to be a helper too.”

When rare king tides swept over isolated Parama Island in western Papua New Guinea on 22 October 2024, residents of the town’s only village had nowhere to turn for help. In only a few hours, the floods left many homes wrecked, subsistence farming plots destroyed, and community wells fouled by seawater.
About 400 people live on the beautiful but remote island in western Papua New Guinea. Nearly one-third of them are members of the Parama Branch of the Daru Papua New Guinea Stake.
When word of the disaster reached the stake center in Daru, Church leaders acted quickly to send immediate relief. Food, water, tarps, and water filters were shipped from Papua New Guinea’s capital city of Port Moresby to a waiting barge in Daru.
From Daru, the supplies, along with Church humanitarian missionaries skilled in disaster recovery, and local Church missionaries and leaders, traveled up the Gulf of Papua to the Fly River, and then inland to reach Parama Island.
On arrival, they found damaged homes and ruined community resources, but resilient and confident Saints already working to do their part to rebuild their damaged village.
When the barge and accompanying dinghies arrived during the late morning low tide on 29 October, the water was too shallow to allow them to bring their supplies into the village, so supplies were transferred to smaller dinghies, which moved closer to the shoreline.
But in the end, the dinghies could come no closer than a kilometer from shore, so the village came to them.
Throughout the afternoon, villagers combined with missionaries in walking back and forth through two kilometers of tidepools to collect the food, clean water, and water filters, and carry it all into shore.
In all, it took more than three hours to transfer the supplies from the dinghies into the village.
The relief supplies were stacked in the village square, as preparations were made for distribution to villagers.
Once all the supplies were brought into the village, families gratefully received their shares of the supplies that they had just carried across the water.
In Port Moresby, Johnny Leota, the country office manager, reflected on the blessings that often come from trials. “After the devastation of the king tides, the resilience and faith of the people of the Parama Island shine through as they joyfully receive temporary relief to aid them through this challenging time in their lives. Their gratitude and love of the Saviour has increased as they witness His love through emergency efforts from the Church. Continued relief efforts will include finding solutions with local leaders of the community to safeguard against future disasters.”
Restoring Parama Island to its pristine condition will not occur quickly. But the Parama Saints, with their friends and neighbors, know that they will not face their ordeal alone, and that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints stands ready to provide support, both temporal and spiritual, as these Saints of God and their neighbors work together to rebuild their beautiful but temporarily damaged remote island home.

The other day I spoke at the funeral of a 12-year-old boy. Jared had recently been ordained a deacon. He was a fine boy, and his friends came from everywhere to attend the funeral. More than half of them were nonmembers who went to school with him, played soccer with him, or worked in civic projects with him. Jared also had an older brother and a younger brother.
When death comes to an adolescent, it is usually unexpected. We may not be even remotely warned of it. Jared was suffocated in a freak sand cave-in at the oceanside in Coos Bay, Oregon. His cousins and other peers had frantically tried to dig him out. It was a horribly tragic experience for all of them, including his older brother, who had also been partially buried. You can imagine the shock and trauma their parents experienced.
As Jared’s family and close friends gathered beside the casket at the viewing, one particular young friend was having an extremely difficult time saying good-bye to his buddy. I discovered that Ryan and Jared had been soccer friends for about three years. Ryan was not a member of the Church, but he was from a fine Christian home. At 13, he had never before had to face the reality of death that comes when you lose a close friend or loved one.
Ryan cried audibly. He had lost a very close friend. He was comforted by his own father, who held him close and rubbed his shoulders. Jared’s father also offered some comfort to Ryan, all to no avail. The loss was simply more than he could bear.
This incident made my mind race back nearly 30 years to a similar experience in my own life. Evan had been my closest friend. We had shared almost everything together, including pollywogs, toads, lizards, stick horses, dogs, and food.
He and I were quite different in many ways. He was blond and short, like his father. I was lankier and skinny and dark, like my dad. He liked vanilla, I liked chocolate. He had the most beautiful palomino stinkwood stick horse I had ever seen. Dried and stiff, it was the envy of every kid in town.
Evan’s grandmother was my first-grade teacher, back in the days when the first, second, and third grades were all in one room. She was strict and demanding, but she loved us and helped us do the very best we could.
Once when another boy fell asleep in class, Evan and I tried to get her to let us awaken him by pouring water on his head.
“Oh, we couldn’t do that!” she said. “You wouldn’t want him to do that to you, would you?”
I did not know that she was teaching me the Golden Rule. But Evan did. “She was right, you know,” he said to me that afternoon as we walked home from school. Maybe his clearer understanding of truth was one of many reasons the Lord needed him so early.
Evan and I created a great “hut” down in the rocks and sand of Ash Creek. That was a small tributary to the Virgin River in southern Utah. It was the perfect place for catching little blue-bellied racing lizards. When it came to catching those, Evan and I had no peers. That was one thing we could do better than even my two older brothers.
I did not know until we were about ten years old that Evan had been born with a heart defect. He had asthma and often coughed and wheezed from that, but it did not interfere with our play. One reason I did not know that his health problems were serious was that he never once complained.
All along, his parents had been waiting for him to reach an age when he was strong enough to survive surgery. Finally, the doctors felt that they could wait no longer, so off to Salt Lake went Evan and his parents.
He wrote to me saying that he had taken an advance tour of the hospital to see everything, including the operating and recovery rooms. The doctors wanted him to see them in detail, so that when he awoke, he would not be frightened. To me, it seemed that he took that all in stride.
Several days later Evan underwent eight or ten hours of major surgery. Unbelievably to me, he died on the operating table.
I was crushed. I had prayed faithfully and fervently that he would survive. I thought my prayers had gone unanswered. Brokenhearted, I went back to our river hut one last time after the funeral. I stayed only long enough to push some of the rocks aside and destroy the fort that we had built. I guess I thought if I could destroy what represented Evan, I could destroy the horrible feelings of grief that I was experiencing.
Later I would learn that those feelings were normal. I loved Evan. I would miss him. That is a natural instinct, and there is nothing wrong with it.
We will miss Jared too. That is simply part of life. God would never want us to forget someone who has touched us for good. The scriptures tell us, “Thou shalt live together in love, insomuch that thou shalt weep for the loss of them that die” (D&C 42:45).
I thought about Evan every day for a month or so. Then I began to get busy with other friends, and soon I was just thinking about him every now and then. After about ten years, I found that I would go months at a time and never think of the closeness that we had shared. I noticed, however, that when I started thinking about him, all of the good feelings that I had felt with him so many times would come rushing back into my mind and heart.
Then a year or two ago, almost 30 years after Evan’s death, I dreamed that I was driving my car on a business trip up old Highway 101 in northern California, near the Oregon border.
I was traveling along admiring the beautiful coastal view. I had the radio on, and I was just driving along in the dream.
Suddenly, I took my car into a rather sharp bend. As I did so, coming toward me on the ocean’s side of the road, on a packed ten-speed bicycle, was Evan. He was a full-grown adult, but I recognized him immediately.
Quickly I found a wide spot in the road where I could turn around, and I went back. He had seen me too and had stopped, hoping that I would turn around.
I jumped out of the car and raced to him, and we hugged and danced like two little boys who had just captured their first pollywogs. Then we stood arm-in-arm, face-to-face, with the mighty Pacific Ocean as a backdrop and visited eagerly for about 15 minutes.
Never mentioning death, or “it’s good to see you after all of these years,” or anything like that, he 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 headed?”
“To take care of some business,” he stated 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 Jared also.
I still remember how wonderful it felt in that dream to see Evan again, to hug and talk with him after all those years since he died. The Spirit bore witness to me that Evan and I will meet again someday and that meeting will be as sweet and natural as it was in that wonderful dream.
As I stood at the pulpit in the stake center, the Spirit prompted me to tell Ryan that death is not the end of our associations and that our feelings of love and friendship will endure beyond the grave.
I thought Ryan sat up a little straighter on the bench. His eyes became a little drier, and I even thought I saw him nod his head, as if to agree. I thought my spiritual eyes saw Ryan touched by the Spirit.
It is never easy to lose a friend to death. But the understanding which the gospel provides can be a great comfort to us. We know that life continues beyond the grave and that there is important work to be done by those who have gone on. And time will soften the pain of those who are left behind.
About 80 years before the birth of Christ, the Book of Mormon prophet Ammon taught, “Now when our hearts were depressed, and we were about to turn back, behold, the Lord comforted us, and said: Go amongst thy brethren … and bear with patience thine afflictions, and I will give unto you success” (Alma 26:27).
Remain faithful, young people. Do what is right and be prayerful. You will see your friend again. It will be sooner than you think. Your loss will not be easy, but God will comfort you and the hurt will eventually go away. One day soon, the memories will be happy and joyful as you reflect on the good times spent together sharing your lives. That is the promise of the plan of salvation.

I had a 16-page research paper to finish. Even though my cousins also had the same assignment to finish, they still planned to go to the movies. I really wanted to go too, but I thought of the consequences of going to school the next day without my paper being finished. I chose to stay home and work on my paper. The next day I turned in my paper while my cousins were busy finishing their research by the deadline. They were stressed, but I felt good about choosing to do my homework first.

In closing I’d like to share a missionary story that took place in the 1920s, while my father was serving his mission.

Two young missionaries traveling without purse or scrip walked down a dry and dusty country road in the back country of Ohio.

They were in their third day of a trek to an isolated branch some 80 miles east of Columbus, Ohio. The first night they had a bed in a farmhouse and a 4:00 a.m. breakfast the next morning. That next night they were not as fortunate. The best offer they were able to get was a farmer’s haystack that came without breakfast. They were now into their third day, and it had been a long time since breakfast the day before.

It was August. The humidity was high. The weather was hot. As the sun bore down on these two young elders, they began to become weary. They had been sent out earlier that week to tract without funds, as was the custom in those times. It was now late afternoon, and they were feeling the pangs of hunger. Their efforts for breakfast or lunch had been unsuccessful.

As they rounded a bend in the road, they saw what they thought must be a mirage—a huge sign that read: The Biggest Little Country Store in the World. They thought they needed a store about that size to match their hunger. But they had no money. They talked briefly and decided it would be appropriate to step inside the store and ask if there was any stale bread or broken sacks of crackers or cookies or something they might get to ease their hunger pangs.

As they entered the store, they were immediately met by a clerk, who scrutinized them suspiciously. As they explained their plight and asked about stale food or damaged merchandise, they observed a man on a balcony at the rear of the store stand up and peer over the rail. He left his desk, came down a short flight of stairs, and walked toward the elders.

They were uneasy as he approached them. They explained that they were elders in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, fulfilling missions and traveling without funds. The man listened intently. Then, to their surprise, he excused himself and picked up the telephone behind the counter. They thought he was going to call the sheriff. Instead, the call was to his wife. He indicated he was bringing two young men home. He asked her to put a roast of beef in the oven and prepare a nice meal for them and then see to it that they had hot baths and a place to stay for the night.

Well, after hearing that, you couldn’t tell these young elders that prayers aren’t answered. They had a prayer in their hearts all afternoon that the Lord might provide for them.

As the elders completed a wonderful meal that evening, they heard the story explaining why the store owner was almost expecting and waiting for them. A few years earlier he and his wife had traveled to Salt Lake City to attend a grocers convention. He told how he had made reservations at the Hotel Utah, but as they arrived at the hotel, they were surprised and disappointed when the desk clerk indicated they had no record of any reservation. Since the hotel was filled to capacity, there was simply nothing the clerk could do. He also advised them that with the national convention in town, all of the other hotels were also full.

The couple stepped away from the desk. As they stood in the lobby pondering their predicament, a tall, slender, stately man approached. He asked if he could be of assistance. They indicated they were in Salt Lake City from Ohio to attend a grocers convention, and they had been told their reservations were lost, and they were without a place to stay. The gentleman warmly indicated that they had no problem. He invited them to use his home as their headquarters and stay as long as they needed.

At the conclusion of the convention, they attempted to pay their gracious hosts, but, of course, their offers were refused. Instead, then Elder George Albert Smith, later to be President George Albert Smith, indicated to his guests that he certainly would not want to take any money, but he did say, “We have missionaries serving in many parts of the world. They are young people who serve at their own expense and who many times must rely on the goodness of the people they labor among to provide them with food and shelter.” Elder Smith went on, “If you ever have an opportunity to assist any of our missionaries, that will be payment enough for what we have provided here.”

The next morning the missionaries arose early to a wonderful country breakfast and then bade good-bye to their hosts. They were given a supply of roast beef sandwiches to take with them on their trek. They, of course, had an opportunity to bear their testimonies before moving down that country road.

I know that is a true story because my father was one of those young missionaries.

On the night of July 4, 2002, my friend and I attended our Book of Mormon institute class. We stayed after class talking until we noticed that it had gotten late. We began walking home around 10:15, and when we got to the place where we were to split up, we stopped and continued to talk.
Two men passed by and asked us what time it was, but we were so involved in our conversation that we barely heard them. Suddenly they came back. One of them threw his arms around me, putting a knife to my neck. Then he let me go and threatened my friend. The other man asked us for money, and when we said we didn’t have any, they were furious. They demanded our jackets and backpacks.
I had wanted this jacket for a long time and had finally been able to buy it a month before. And I loved my backpack, which my older brother had given me. My friend had homework assignments in her backpack that she needed to turn in. I was really scared—almost frozen in place. It was the first time I had ever been robbed.
Without hesitation we gave them our things. But suddenly I said, “Wait! Please let me take out my Book of Mormon! It’s the only thing of value I have.” The thief gave me a strange look and let me take it out. Then they fled.
I hugged the book and didn’t care about anything else. I felt peace because I had rescued this precious book from two criminals.

I began college at age 18. After a short time, however, I transferred to another university and changed my major. My new university was only a couple of hours from my home, but I found myself terribly homesick and discouraged, wanting to give up and return to my family. Yet I knew if I did, I would be abandoning my chance to earn a degree.
One weekend not long after the school year began, all of my roommates went home for a visit. I knew that if I went home too, I would not return. I couldn’t even call and speak to my family for fear I would break down and not be able to focus on my studies. I had been praying for the strength to overcome my homesickness, but now I was praying to know whether I should even remain at school and complete a degree.
Early that Sunday morning as I walked slowly across the quiet campus on my way to church, I wondered how I could stay at school when I missed my home and family so deeply and couldn’t overcome my loneliness. But what would I do if I left school?
When I arrived at church, the previous ward had just left the chapel. I entered, hoping for a moment to pray for direction. As I found a place to sit and slowly moved onto the wooden pew, I noticed a printed program from the previous sacrament meeting. There on the front of the folded paper were the following words: “Perhaps the most valuable result of all education is the ability to make yourself do the thing you have to do, when it ought to be done, whether you like it or not.”1
At that moment I knew what I needed to do. The Lord had answered my prayers in such a simple way, but I could not deny that it was an answer just the same.
It wasn’t long after that Sunday that my loneliness and discouragement left. As a result, I enjoyed my remaining years in school. I gained a degree, lifelong friends, and a stronger testimony by following the promptings of the Spirit.
Now, more than 25 years later, I still recall that answer to my prayer, and I use those same words from that sacrament meeting program to commit myself to difficult tasks. I have shared my experience with close friends and family in hopes that they too might gain strength in difficult times.
I know the Lord cares about our feelings and everyday choices, and I know He answers our sincere prayers.

For one Latter-day Saint family, “wholesome recreational activities”… mean parents bonding with their children by finding out what they love.
In the Proclamation on the Family, latter-day prophets have taught that “successful marriages and families are established and maintained on principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love, compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.”
For one Latter-day Saint family, “wholesome recreational activities” can be more than just going out together, having a special meal, or playing games. It can also mean parents bonding with their children by finding out what they love—with a whole lot of singing, swaying, and even TikToking!
On a particular night at the home of the Escritor family of Kapitolyo Ward, Pasig Stake, you’ll hear some lively strumming and drumming. First, Darwin, the family head, croons a hit from the 70s rock band America. Then, the beat changes and this time 15-year-old Cyrus leads with a song from Pinoy pop sensation Callalily. Then everybody, including younger sister Arianne, 13, and mother Anna all sing a familiar 90s chartbuster. It’s jammin’ time again!
“Even if we didn’t have gadgets before or instruments, we trained our children to sing together as a family,” Darwin says. “Before we would pray with them and go to sleep,” he adds, “we would sing Primary songs to them.” Darwin and Anna also strove to be close with each child, by trying to like what they liked. “We really wanted to be real friends with them,” Anna shares.
The Escritors actively share their jamming sessions on Facebook, with family members adjusting to each one’s likes and preferences. Now that many pandemic-related restrictions are being lifted and face-to-face meetings are gradually resuming, Simon and Cyrus look forward to actively associating with their age groups as they follow the Children and Youth Program, which focuses on gospel learning, service and activities, and personal development.
Just recently, younger son Simon needed to do a Tiktok video as a school project. “I was too shy to dance alone, so I was really very happy when Daddy helped by dancing along with me,” he reveals. In the video, viewers can see both father and son grooving, doing some hilarious but delightful moves.
“We want our children to be strong socially, physically, emotionally, and spiritually,” Anna sums up. “Heavenly Father entrusted them to us, so we do everything to raise them up in a way that the Lord wants them to, and then have fun doing it!”

Tom Bown has learned to let his voice be heard. He took first place in the Voice of Democracy speech contest for the state of Ohio. He went on to compete on the national level in Washington, D.C., where he delivered his speech at a Congressional banquet.

Of his victory on the state level, Tom said, “This speechmaker is left speechless. I’ve learned a lot of things in competitive speaking, and I use a lot of the things I’ve learned.”

Tom is a priest in the Centerville Ward, Dayton Ohio Stake.

I was taught about vertigo when my Air Force instructor took me up in an airplane with the cockpit covered by a canopy so I could not see outside. I would have to rely on the instruments. Unknown to me, he gradually turned the airplane upside down, keeping positive gravitational forces. My ear did not detect the slow rollover. He told me to take control of the airplane. Of course, I did what every other student did. I pulled backwards because I was losing altitude, and, of course, I started a dive toward the earth because I did not know I was upside down.
As I started to regain control of the airplane, I could see the little marks on the landing gear were upside down. My instructor taught me the principle that you can take human beings at a two- or three-degree turn while keeping positive gravitational forces and turn them upside down without their knowing they have left the straight and level flight. The motion is imperceptible.

When Billy Jackson sees a need, he looks for ways to fill it. And the need for service is all around Billy in his home of Pretoria, South Africa.
When Billy arrived in South Africa he decided that he wanted to make a difference in his new home. Today a mother-child nutrition center and a well that brings water to thousands of people has been constructed as a result of the plans Billy proposed. Billy also recently organized a clothing drive which distributed 40,000 pounds of clothing to those in need.
Billy, a teacher in the Sunnyside Ward, Pretoria Stake, has also helped in assisting a local homeless shelter, a cancer hospice, and a women’s health center. He was recently recognized for his service as the recipient of the Foreign Service Youth Award. The award, which is given by the U.S. government, goes to one student each year who is living overseas and shows dedication to community service.

Cory stared at the clock in the Primary room. “When will this be over?” he wondered.
Now that Cory was in middle school, Primary didn’t seem as fun anymore. He knew all the scripture stories and the answers to all the questions. He thought the games and songs were for little kids.
Cory slumped in his chair. Then he remembered something he wanted to ask Austin about his new computer game. “I need your help on this one level,” he whispered.
Sister Evans tapped Cory on his shoulder. “Please sing,” she said. Cory waited for Sister Evans to look away and then finished talking to Austin.
On the drive home from church, Mom asked, “How was Primary?”
“Fine,” Cory said. He didn’t remember much about it.
“Sister Evans asked me if she could come over for a visit tomorrow after school,” Mom said.
Cory swallowed hard. “Um, OK.”
The next day at school, Cory worried about what Sister Evans would say. “She probably wants to remind me that I shouldn’t talk during Primary,” he thought.
That afternoon, Cory was playing his new game when the doorbell rang. He looked up to see Mom inviting Sister Evans in.
“Hi, Cory,” Sister Evans said. She sat down and got right to the point. “How can I help make Primary a place you want to be?”
Cory started to say he liked Primary fine, but it seemed like Sister Evans wanted to hear what he really thought. So he told her everything—how he knew all the stories and how the games and songs were for younger kids.
“I think I understand,” Sister Evans said. “You’ve been in Primary a long time. Sometimes when we do the same things over again, it can seem boring.” Cory nodded. “Well,” Sister Evans said, “I don’t want Primary to be boring. I brought a scripture to share with you. I think it might help.”
Sister Evans opened her scriptures. “This was written by the Apostle Paul,” she said. “See if you can tell what he’s talking about.” Then she read, “‘But now are they many members, yet but one body.
“‘And the eye cannot say unto the hand, I have no need of thee: nor again the head to the feet, I have no need of you. …
“‘Now ye are the body of Christ, and members in particular’” (1 Corinthians 12:20–21, 27).
Cory asked, “When it says ‘members,’ is that like members of the Church?”
“Exactly,” Sister Evans said. “Just like every part of the body is important, every person is needed at church. In Primary, you can be like one of those hands that Paul wrote about—a helping hand.”
“But I don’t teach the lesson or lead the songs,” Cory said.
“But when you answer questions, it helps others learn,” Sister Evans said. “And when you sing your best, the younger children feel more confident.”
“I’ll try,” Cory said. “Maybe you can call me your ‘right-hand man,’” he said, smiling.
On Sunday, Cory felt more excited to go to Primary than he had for a long time. He answered questions, and he tried to sing well so that the younger kids could hear the words.
Later, Sister Evans pointed to a boy in the Sunbeam class who was crying. “Would you mind sitting by Steven today?” Sister Evans asked Cory.
Cory sat next to Steven and helped him sing the songs. When Cory folded his arms for the prayer, Steven did too.
On the way home, Cory felt a little more grown-up. He had always known he was important to Heavenly Father. But now that he was a “right-hand man” in Primary, he knew he was also an important part of Heavenly Father’s Church.

One Christmas, our 13-year-old granddaughter, Allie, received a special gift from one of her friends. It was a temple recommend cover. Allie was thrilled. She had just had her interview with her bishop for her temple recommend to do baptisms for the dead. She discovered how preparing for the temple and attending regularly can positively and spiritually change your life.
At the beginning of the summer, Allie and a close friend decided to visit each of the temples in and around Salt Lake City, Utah, to participate in baptisms and confirmations for the dead. This experience has increased their faith and brought them joy and spiritual enrichment.
Allie told me that the feeling in the temple is totally different from the feeling in her junior high school. She said, “It’s a feeling that you want with you always. It feels peaceful and happy. There is no pressure. I feel the Spirit trying to teach me there, and it makes me want to be better. I love being able to serve others. When I go home, I feel even greater love for my brothers and sisters and for my mom and dad.”

Our stake, the San Cristóbal Venezuela Stake, decided to organize a football tournament for the Aaronic Priesthood youth. This activity had more than one purpose, including building friendships and strengthening the various priesthood quorums.
The stake leaders said that only the young men of each ward or branch were allowed to participate and they were to encourage new members and less-active members to join them so they would have full teams for each age group. In our ward, the Táriba Ward, there were only two deacons, one teacher, and a few priests.
My son, José Francisco, whom we lovingly call “Junior,” was part of the deacons quorum, with his good friend Oscar Alejandro. It was obvious that there were not enough boys to participate in the football tournament. So they worked with the missionaries and ward leaders to find all of the less-active youth. They spent time each week seeking out these young men, encouraging them and gaining their trust. Because of the efforts of this pair of 12-year-old boys, they were able to get enough young men for a team. One of the miracles that resulted from their efforts was that our ward gained several more active youth!
During the week they would pick up their new friends and then practice on a community field. It was a lot of work, and they were always tired. They had little coaching or strategy, but the young men didn’t let that stop them. They were happy with what they were doing.
At last, the first day of the competition arrived. Our valiant team of deacons arrived at the stake center. They didn’t have much of a crowd to cheer them on, nor did they have a coach to help them or uniforms like most of the other teams. But they played with enthusiasm, unity, and love.
They lost the first game by a landslide. But they didn’t give up, and the entire stake began to encourage them, saying that the boys from the Táriba Ward were such good examples.
Junior was the goalkeeper. He defended the goal with such fervor that the balls he blocked left marks on his hands. That night at home, he told me that his hands really hurt and that he needed some gloves. We got out our savings so we could buy him a pair of gloves. But the gloves at the store were more than we could afford, so we had to buy some fabric gardening gloves. He took them with much gratitude.
I don’t know where his team got the motivation to continue. They were last in the rankings, but they kept playing.
Finally it was time for the elimination rounds. Due to the lack of deacons in the stake, this valiant group was able to play in the finals, but they played against a practiced team whose coach was a very good player. He had spent a lot of time working with his team. They were the top team; they had matching uniforms and exhibited the discipline that came from training. Their coach likely felt confident about winning the game because my son’s team was not very good.
My husband had just returned from a trip, so he decided to help the deacons. He encouraged them, gave them some pointers, and surprisingly they won. So they were able to face the other stake team. Our young men won again!
When the game ended, everyone applauded. The crowd could hardly believe that those young men were able to win first place in the deacon’s category and third place in the stake for the entire Aaronic Priesthood.
This experience taught us about principles and eternal truths that would serve us here in this life. The young men of the stake were examples of love, activation, perseverance, enthusiasm, and working together as a team. They demonstrated the true objective of the activity. They built bonds of friendship with others.