Gospel Story Finder

“It will be all right,” she soothed. She continued her rhythmic weaving for a few moments, then stopped. “How long has it been since I told you about the time I saw the Savior?”
“Many months.”
“Then listen again.” After a pause, she quietly began her story. “When I was a small child, word reached us that a great man was coming to preach in our city. Soon a crowd of people gathered right below the temple.
“My parents thought that I was too young to be in such crowds, so they left me home with my brother, Jesse.”
Johanan nodded in understanding. His parents left him home with his little sisters on market day.
“Jesse wanted to go,” Grandmother continued, “so he swore me to secrecy and we walked toward the crowds. We wriggled our way through the people until we could see Him. We stood still, just staring at Him.”
“What was He like?” Johanan asked earnestly.
“He was like other men—He had two eyes and one nose—yet He was very different. I knew when I saw Him that He loved me and everyone there. I felt something special, a kind of reverence.”
Johanan sighed, “I wish I could have seen Him.”
Grandmother nodded. “One by one He took the children from the multitude and blessed them. Jesse and I walked forward. Soon His arms were around me, and He talked to me. I don’t remember what He said. I remember that I knew that He was the Savior.”
They sat quietly thinking for several minutes before Grandmother looked down at her weaving and picked up the shuttle again. “Don’t worry, my son. He told us what to do.”
Johanan, too, knew the prophecies. When the signs were right, they would leave their home and flee Jerusalem. He looked at the bags and goatskins stacked in the corner. His family was ready to leave whenever the time came.
That afternoon he was herding the goats into the corral when his father walked swiftly up the path, calling to him. “Come, Johanan! Hurry!”
Johanan ran toward his father.
Father gathered the family together. “It is time. I don’t understand why, but Gallus has removed his men from the walls. If we go quietly, I think that he will let us leave. You all know what to do,” Father said. “Now hurry.”
Johanan ran to all their Christian neighbors to make sure that they knew that it was time to leave.
People laden with bags and baskets began streaming out of their houses.
“Where are you going?” one man called out. “You’re not leaving? You cannot. The soldiers will kill you. It’s safer to stay here behind the walls.”
His father stopped and called to him, “Come with us. It’s the only safe thing to do!”
The neighbor waved his hand in disgust. “You Christians—you’re all crazy!”
“Please come!” Father pleaded again, but the man just turned his back.
Johanan remembered how hard his father had worked the past few months to warn everyone that the time to flee was close at hand. Few had listened to him.
“We can do no more,” Father now said sadly. He gathered the family together and joined the rest of the Saints as they poured out through the gates of the city.
They walked as rapidly as they could. Grandmother was having trouble keeping up, so they slowed their pace. It was growing dark by the time they climbed a small rise above Jerusalem. Stopping to rest, they turned to look at their city one last time. Johanan had thought he’d feel sadness to leave his home. Instead, he felt a great joy because his family was safe and all together.
As they watched, the armies of Gallus closed ranks and Jerusalem was encircled once again.
Silently the family turned and began to walk. Johanan stayed close to his grandmother in case she needed him. His heart felt very full. He felt his testimony of Jesus Christ growing. His family had been saved because they had listened to and believed His message.
Grandmother had seen and touched Him. Johanan knew, without seeing, that Jesus was the Christ. He knew because the Holy Ghost whispered it to him.

The excitement and anticipation were almost unbearable as I and 77 other American students boarded our flight to Frankfurt. We were on our way to spend a month in Nuremberg, West Germany. We would be attending a German high school (Gymnasium) and traveling within Germany. Most exciting of all was knowing that 78 German families, as nervous and excited as we were, anxiously awaited our arrival. I wished desperately that the New York to Frankfurt flight could be made in less than eight hours!
With my hand luggage held high to avoid any collisions, I made my way to the back of the plane, where I found my seat on the next to the last row. I quickly stowed my bags into the overhead compartment and plopped into my seat with a sigh. I found myself sitting next to a delightful lady from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, who had moved from Germany 18 years previous. She was going to Munich to visit family. We conversed partly in German, partly in English, until our dinner was served.
As we ate, I asked her what Germans usually drink at mealtime.
“Beer or wine,” was her immediate response.
“Oh,” I said. “I don’t drink alcohol.”
“You’ll learn to, once you’re there,” she said with a chuckle.
“But, it’s against my religion,” I replied.
“Are you Mormon?”
“Yes, I am. Do you know any Mormons?” I queried, hoping to start a discussion.
“Well, some young men came to our house one time.”
“Missionaries?” I asked.
“They wore white shirts and dark suits.”
“Yes, missionaries,” I assured her.
“They were very kind,” she said.
“What do you know about them?”
“Well, they pay their own way, and they cannot have girl friends. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” I replied.
Soon she was asking questions, and I was thoroughly absorbed in answering them. Our dinner plates were taken away, the lights were dimmed, and a movie projected onto the screen. Neither of us seemed to mind that we were missing it, and we continued our conversation in earnest.
Very quickly, it seemed, we were discussing tithing, eternal marriage, ordinances for the dead, the Word of Wisdom, and other gospel principles. She did not question anything I told her. She simply nodded. When I had finished one subject, she asked a question about another.
Her questions inevitably led to the Book of Mormon. I found myself telling her about the Nephites and the Lamanites and explaining with pride about the important role Moroni played concerning the Book of Mormon. All this led into the Joseph Smith story. I felt so warm inside, knowing that I was sharing truth with her.
After an hour or more I had finished answering her questions, and she didn’t seem to have another one just then. I sat back for a moment and felt overwhelmed with what had just happened to me. I silently thanked my Father in Heaven for letting me be in that seat at that time and especially for helping me know what to say.
Not wanting to simply end things where they were, I offered a copy of the Book of Mormon, feeling sure she would accept. But she didn’t. She said simply “No, thank you.” It took a second for her reply to sink in, but when it did, I was crushed. However, she continued, “I have a very hard time reading English and would not be able to understand most of it.”
Excitedly, I reached into my bag and pulled out a blue book, which I handed to her. “Das Buch Mormon” it read. “Here it is in German,” I said, trying not to sound as triumphant as I felt. Obviously very surprised, she thanked me and leafed through it. “Oh, and here’s a special promise to readers,” I exclaimed, pointing out Moroni 10:3–5.
After a few minutes’ silence she said, “I’ll read a little bit of it and then give it back to you before the flight is over.”
“Oh, but it’s for you to keep,” I quickly stated. “I have my own.” Her eyes shining, she thanked me and began to read. Not long after that, she gave me her address so I could have the missionaries sent to her.
With a prayer of gratitude, I opened my journal and began to write down the experience I could hardly believe had happened. Before I realized it, the flight was over. As I said good-bye to my friend, she thanked me again.
When I returned from Germany, I sent her address to the Pennsylvania Pittsburgh Mission. I haven’t heard if she has joined the Church, but I feel confident that someday she will.

Right from the start it looked like a bad day for Stanley Wilcox: He wasn’t ready for the spelling test. He’d have to pay for his library book if it didn’t turn up by Monday. And his mother reminded him as he left, “Grandpa will take you to the eye doctor after school.”
Stanley moaned. He didn’t want glasses.
“Hey, kid!”
“You calling me, Mr. Crouch?” Stanley loped across the yard and followed his neighbor’s pointing finger. He supposed that he had let a few leaves land on Mr. Crouch’s spotless lawn when he raked his own.
But Mr. Crouch was pointing toward the fence at the back of the Crouches’ property and to the woods beyond. Not the fort! He couldn’t complain about that! thought Stanley.
“Take a look back there. You’ve dug clear under my fence and thrown debris onto my grass. I want you and your friend to get that cleaned up first thing after school, or I’ll call your parents.”
“I have to go to the eye doctor after school,” Stanley mumbled.
“First thing tomorrow morning then!”
When he got to school, Stanley made out the blurred letters of an announcement on the chalkboard:
SATURDAY
Floor Hockey Championships
3rd & 4th Grade Finals
8:00 A.M.
Just then his friend Roger ran over, shouting, “The men’s club is taking the winning team to a real ice hockey game at the arena!”
Stanley flashed a wide grin. It was the first thing he’d had to smile about that morning.
At lunchtime Stanley told Roger the bad news. “Mr. Crouch says that we have to clean up his yard.”
“How come?”
“He says that we got junk all over it from digging behind the fence.”
“But we didn’t! We were extra careful because you said he’d yell.”
“I know. But he won’t listen. If he talks to my dad, he’ll say to stop playing there because we should be ‘good neighbors.’”
“Well—right after school, then, OK?”
“I can’t,” said Stanley. “I have to get my dumb glasses. He said to come tomorrow morning, but—”
“The hockey game!” Roger’s eyes widened in horror.
“I know, I know.” Stanley stuffed his sandwich wrappers into his lunch bag. “Maybe it won’t take long at the eye doctor.”
Grandpa was his usual jovial self when Stanley climbed into his car after school. “Did you have a good day?” he boomed.
“Awful,” Stanley answered shortly, slumping down by the window.
“Hmmm.”
One thing about Grandpa: He always knew when you didn’t feel like talking. Stanley stared at the signs gliding by that he could never quite make out until they were almost upon him. “What do you always find to be so cheerful about, Grandpa?” he asked.
Grandpa tapped the gold rim of his glasses. “Must be these rose-colored glasses of mine.”
“Rose-colored? They look like ordinary glasses to me,” said Stanley.
“Don’t you believe it. These glasses help me see through the dark side of things to the rosy-colored good part on the other side.”
“What if there isn’t any good part?”
“There always is,” said Grandpa. “Sometimes you have to look harder and have more faith. That’s where these old specs are a big help.”
Stanley perked up a little. It would be nice to have Grandpa’s kind of faith in God. Stanley didn’t think it came from his glasses, though.
Half an hour later Stanley stood on the steps outside the doctor’s office, his new glasses hooked firmly over his ears. The letters on the billboard across the street were so sharp that they seemed to bounce right out of their background. The colors on the drugstore’s neon sign were dazzling. An airplane flew overhead, and Stanley could see it clearly. “Wow!” he said.
“What did they do, Stanley, slip you a pair of those rose-colored glasses, too?” Grandpa asked.
Stanley grinned. Look for the good part, eh? It would be hard to find anything good about having Mr. Crouch for a neighbor, but he would start by doing what Mr. Crouch had demanded. Stanley would be going the second mile, as Jesus had said.
When he got home, he called Roger. “Can you come now? We have an hour to work before dark.”
Roger was there in five minutes. Stanley waited for him to start laughing about the glasses, but he only said, “They aren’t so bad.”
Then off they marched, like two soldiers going into battle.
Mrs. Crouch answered the doorbell. “My husband isn’t home yet, but I’ll show you what he wants you to do.”
The yard was a mess. There were gaping holes under the fence with rocks and sticks and dirt scattered on both sides. They were to pick up the debris, rake the yard, and carry any trash to the front. “We’ll never finish by dark,” Roger moaned. “And we can’t come tomorrow morning.”
Stanley just set to work. A few minutes later he stopped. When he pulled his glasses down over his nose, he saw only a dark blob moving near the Joneses’ fence, but when he pushed them up again, he saw a dark, scruffy-looking dog, nose to the ground, feet flying, and dirt spraying out behind.
“The Joneses’ dog sure can dig, can’t he?” said Stanley.
“Rufus!” Mrs. Jones came running out. “Rufus, you bad dog! Come here!” Rufus stopped and hung his head and scooted apprehensively up to Mrs. Jones, the tip of his tail barely wagging.
“Shame on you! Look at that mess!” She saw Stanley and Roger. “Hello. You earning some spending money?”
“Not exactly. We’re sort of paying Mr. Crouch for these holes in his yard,” Roger explained.
Mrs. Jones walked closer. “You made those holes?”
“Uh—we’re not sure. But we were digging back there by our fort, so …”
Mrs. Jones looked at the holes. She looked at the scattered dirt by her own fence. She looked at Rufus. Rufus wagged his tail.
“Don’t smile at me, you bad dog,” said Mrs. Jones. Then she laughed. “You boys didn’t make those holes.”
Mr. Crouch came into the yard. “Looks like you have a lot of work to do yet,” he said to the boys. “You’ll have to finish up in the morning.”
Mrs. Jones spoke up. “No, Mr. Crouch. These boys didn’t dig up your yard.” She pointed to Rufus. “There’s the guilty one.”
Mr. Crouch looked at Rufus. “Well, Mrs. Jones, am I to suppose that that animal is going to repair my lawn?”
Mrs. Jones’s laugh was so jolly that even Mr. Crouch smiled. “This dog is going to be tied up for a while. I’ll send my son over to clean up your yard for you.”
“That was pretty nice of Mr. Grouch—I mean, Mr. Crouch,” said Roger as they walked home. “Besides apologizing, he gave us each a dollar for raking his yard, and we didn’t even finish.”
But Stanley wasn’t listening. He was looking at the sky over the garage roof. It was bathed in a rosy glow. “Wow!” he breathed. “Grandpa was right. Rose-colored glasses!”
“What’s the matter with you? You don’t have rose-colored glasses. You’re looking at the sunset.”
Stanley laughed sheepishly. He pulled his glasses down and peered over them. The rosy color was still there, only duller, the way he had seen sunsets all his life until then.
It hadn’t been such a bad day after all. Even if they didn’t win the tournament tomorrow, they’d make a good try for it. And say! If he really got busy and searched, maybe his new rose-colored glasses would help him find his library book!

With the truth of God’s love in mind, I still wanted to know why I experience same-sex attraction.
I pondered God’s love for me, studied my patriarchal blessing, kept going to church, read my scriptures, and pored over every gospel resource on same-sex attraction. I prayed and prayed some more to learn more about why I was experiencing something that seemed so contrary to Heavenly Father’s plan. I wanted to know what it could mean for my discipleship.
Not all of us may have a clear answer to our deep, heartfelt questions until the next life. I may never know the exact answer of why I’m attracted to women, but the Spirit has whispered to me that just like any experience we have in mortality, this specific experience could help me learn, grow, deepen my faith in Jesus Christ, and help others on their unique mortal journeys.
I felt like all my unanswerable questions about my experiences and the gospel snapped into place. I’m not saying it instantly became easy to follow all of God’s commandments and that everything made sense, but I realized that all of our experiences in mortality can contribute to helping us gain greater faith in Jesus Christ.

The youth of the Malta Second Ward, Declo Idaho Stake, challenged the adult members of the ward to read the Book of Mormon in three months. Many of the ward adults took the challenge. The youth established some rules for the challenge. Team members could only count what they read from that time on. They couldn’t just listen to records or tapes unless there was a special situation.
The youth team consisted of all young people in the ward over 12, including single Young Adults. Everyone married and in the adult classes made up the adult team. At the end of the three months, the losing team would prepare a dinner and dance for the winners.
It was interesting to see the enthusiasm build as the ward caught the spirit of the reading. The following comments from ward members were typical: “This has helped my family so much. We have the most wonderful spirit in our home now.” “I didn’t know the Book of Mormon was so interesting. I could hardly put it down.” “I understood the book better this time than I ever have before.”
As the final day arrived, it was announced that one-third of the adults finished within the deadline, and over half the youth. The youth were ecstatic about their success.
The celebration was held with a great dinner and a family dance.

“Tonight for our family home evening activity, we’re going to weed Sister Lee’s garden,” Dad announced at dinner.
Preston liked going to Sister Lee’s house. She had chickens and roosters and yummy berries growing in her garden.
After dinner Preston helped his family load shovels and rakes in the back of the van.
On the drive to Sister Lee’s house, Mom asked, “Why is service so important?”
Preston thought for a moment. He wasn’t quite sure.
“It makes you feel good,” Preston’s older brother said.
“That’s true,” Mom said. “Any other ideas? Does anyone remember the scripture we just memorized together? ‘When ye are in the service of your fellow beings …’”
The rest of the family joined in. “‘Ye are only in the service of your God’” (Mosiah 2:17).
“That’s right,” Mom said. “It’s from King Benjamin’s speech to his people. Preston, can you think of any other reasons why we serve?”
Preston thought of the comic book he had read that morning, the one about the boy dressed in a cape, saving the world. Superheroes did good things for other people. “Serving is like being a superhero!” he said.
Dad smiled. “You’re right. It is like being a superhero. You’re saving the day when you serve.”
They arrived at Sister Lee’s house. Preston liked the idea of being a superhero. He flew out of the car, grabbed a pair of gloves, and super-sprinted toward the garden.
First Sister Lee showed everyone the new baby chicks. Then the family got to work. There were hundreds and hundreds of weeds. They were the biggest weeds Preston had ever seen!
He imagined those weeds as evil forces, attacking the innocent tomato plants. Using his super strength, it was easy to pull the weeds out of the ground. He could feel his muscles getting stronger as he shook the dirt loose from the roots and threw the weeds in a pile.
Some of the weeds were too tough to pull by hand. Preston pulled out his super-power shovel, the one with the red blade. He jumped on the back with both his feet. The blade sunk deep into the dirt, and weeds came out even faster. The pile of pulled weeds grew until it was almost as tall as Preston!
Finally Sister Lee said, “That’s great! Come pick some berries, and then we’ll have a treat.”
Preston’s superhero strength was almost gone. With the last of his energy, he helped pick gooseberries, raspberries, and currants. Then Sister Lee brought out three different ice-cream flavors. Preston chose chocolate.
They were tired, but Preston felt good inside.
“Thank you so much for your service,” Sister Lee said. “You did in one hour what would have taken me a whole week.”
Preston smiled and licked his ice-cream cone.
Having super powers not only felt great. It tasted great too!

Image from Getty Images
Christmas wasn’t Christmas. Although I tried to be merry with carols playing in the background, I pulled out the storage bins with a heavy heart. The snowman cookie jar only reminded me that there was no one to bake with. The Santa figurine seemed to say that there was little reason to hang stockings, and the peppermint-striped wrapping paper reminded me that morning wouldn’t bring the voices of excited children.
This year our youngest had left for college, and our house felt lonely and quiet. I chose only the non-Santa type decorations and placed everything else back in their boxes.
With my husband out of town, I decorated the tree alone. My daughter-in-law posted pictures online of my grandchildren hanging ornaments on their tree, and my heart yearned for yesterday. I wondered how time had slipped by so quickly. How had my children grow so fast? Lost in my thoughts, I looked down at the light bulb in my hand. It was a single red bulb.
I examined the color, a deep red. Crimson. I looked around at the simplicity of what was left of the decorations: a few nativities, a manger built from popsicle sticks, and a decoration that spelled out NOEL in gold letters. My eyes were wet. The bulb was red—red like the atoning blood of the Savior.
I thought about how I had always equated decorations, cookie cutouts, and children’s glee on Christmas morning with what made me happy at Christmastime. Then I thought about my children and their eternal families. I thought about all the joy I had in my family and the joy they had in their own. I pondered how the babe lying in the manger made that possible. A sweetness of warmth sprung in my heart as I contemplated the gift of the Savior—not just for me but for all mankind.
“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people” (Luke 2:10; emphasis added).
As I continued decorating the tree, I meditated on the humble birth and life of Jesus Christ. He came to mend the broken, build the downtrodden, comfort the lonely, bring peace in imperfection, and give compassion for suffering. He was born and died that we might live with Him in our Father’s kingdom once more. He came that man might know true happiness. My heart swelled and I found joy in Christ because Christ is Christmas.

Marcus Robb, 15, Perth. For Marcus, seminary and the scriptures were the key to educational freedom. When he was diagnosed with dyslexia a few years ago, he was four years behind in his reading level. Fortunately, that’s when he began seminary, where his teacher emphasized the scriptures. “I decided I’d read them,” he says simply. He began waking at 4:50 each morning to read for 40 minutes. It was tough at first. But now, after one year, he’s reading on a level with his peers.

In July 2013, Jesse B., 19, of Hampshire, England, was practicing for the first British Pageant with hundreds of Church members near the Preston England Temple. While he was excited for the pageant to begin, Jesse’s attention was divided between learning his part and thinking about a mailbox nearly 200 miles away where his mission call would soon be delivered.
It wasn’t long before Jesse’s family texted him a picture of his missionary envelope, and he learned that his dad would bring it to him a few days later. During an afternoon rehearsal, Jesse’s dad walked in, call in hand. Rehearsal stopped and Jesse opened his mission call in front of the whole cast. When he read the words, “You are assigned to labor in the Korea Seoul Mission,” he was ecstatic.
Jesse knew the truth of the gospel, so he was willing to spend two years in Korea sharing it. “I wouldn’t serve a mission without the compass of truth,” he said. “Truth is truth. It isn’t necessarily the easy way, but it’s the right way.”
That’s a message he’d heard a lot about in preparing for the pageant, which tells the story of the early Saints in the British Isles. In the opening scene, two of the first missionaries to go to Britain see a banner that reads, “Truth will prevail,” and this becomes their missionary motto. That motto resonated with Jesse too, and it’s a message he’s anxious to share as a missionary.

The Develis’ moved from Brazil to New Zealand in 2018, a year after they married. Andressa’s English was limited to a few phrases like “good morning” and “thank you.” Fortunately, Andre had more exposure to English due to his mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, helping them settle in their new environment.
Andressa said, “I was raised by my grandparents in a small town in Brazil, and we were really poor. Public universities are reserved for the best students, and I was just an average student, so I didn’t get that opportunity.”
She found an affordable nursing course but wasn’t interested in it—she just wanted to further her education. After graduating, Andressa and Andre decided to move to New Zealand for greater opportunities.
Upon arriving, Andressa looked for ways to improve her English. She attended language classes and worked for several families tending their children, which helped her English progress significantly. “Language immersion is key!” she said.
Yearning for more professional growth, Andressa was accepted into the BYU-Pathway program in 2020, where she completed her general proficiencies in English and mathematics before earning a teaching English as a foreign language certification under the professional studies degree, which opened many opportunities for her.
“That’s what I love about BYU-Pathway. It’s a pathway to marketable skills,” she said. “It’s a flexible pathway to a bachelor’s degree, and you can work and achieve certificates along the way.”
After completing her certificate, Andressa took online courses in communications through Ensign College and completed a certificate in social media marketing. She knew she was on the right pathway when she helped with the social media efforts for Auckland’s Light the World giving machine in December 2023.
“Social media can be quite a challenging space, but I think it can be used in positive ways,” she said. “That experience helped me see how I could make a positive difference in others’ lives.”
“BYU-Pathway has blessed me with a constant drive to seek better opportunities,” Andressa said. “That’s a lesson I will carry with me the rest of my life.”

“I was safe, and the stupid umpire called me out,” Billy seethed. “That would’ve been the first home run I’ve ever hit.”
“Lighten up, Billy,” his friend Eric said. “You’ll hit another one someday. Besides, you ought to be happy we won.”
“But I can’t believe he called me out. It wasn’t even close.”
“You’re lucky he didn’t throw you out of the game. Come on, it’s almost time for the other game to start.”
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be ready.” Billy walked slowly to the parking lot. He sat for a moment in the privacy of his mom’s car and closed his eyes. “Dear Heavenly Father,” he prayed, “help me get over my anger. I know it’s not right to be hateful. Help me to not think bad of the umpire.”
The play was still vivid in Billy’s mind. The ball had exploded off his bat, splitting the right and center fielders.
“Tag all the bases!” the coach bellowed over the cheers of the crowd.
Billy never hesitated as he raced around the bases. As he approached home plate, he could hear the coach screaming, “Get down! Slide!”
As he went into a headfirst slide, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. He saw the ball go into the catcher’s mitt. He saw his hand skim across home plate. He felt the catcher tag his left shoulder, clearly after he touched the plate.
“You’re out!”
Billy pounded the dirt with both fists. Then he jumped up and screamed at the umpire. Eric was right—the umpire could easily have thrown him out of the game.
Rejoining Eric at the diamond, Billy muttered, “Well, at least these guys have a good umpire—Dad’s calling their game.”
For as long as Billy could remember, his dad had been an umpire. He had no doubt his dad was the best umpire in the league.
“Boy, some of the parents at our game were really getting upset about the call on you,” said Eric.
“Yeah,” said Billy. “I was too. Did you notice how fast the umpire left after the game was over?” He spotted his mom in the bleachers, and the two boys went up and sat beside her.
“Where have you boys been?” she asked. “The game’s about to begin.”
“We went for a walk so he could blow off a little steam,” Eric said.
“I thought that you were safe,” Billy’s mom told him, “but your antics were uncalled for. The umpires have a tough job; they’re not always going to make the right call. We’ll discuss your actions later.”
“Dad always makes the right call,” Billy mumbled to himself.
The game was 1–0 going into the bottom of the sixth. The Eagles were behind and down to their last out. The crowd was on its feet. Charlie Gibson, the best hitter in the league, stepped to the plate. Billy was a little surprised that the Aces didn’t walk him.
Crack! The ball sailed over the left fielder’s head.
“Tag ’em all, tag ’em all,” screamed Charlie’s coach.
Charlie rounded third and raced towards home. The left fielder threw the ball to the shortstop; the shortstop fired it to home plate.
“Get down! Slide! Slide!” yelled the batter on deck.
Charlie’s foot touched home plate at the same instant the catcher tagged him. Amid the swirling dust, Billy could see his dad waiting to make the call.
Billy saw Dad raise a clinched fist above his head. Down came the fist as he shouted, “You’re out!”
Charlie was outraged. He jumped up and started screaming at the umpire.
The game was over, and Billy’s dad tried to leave the field. A number of fans were yelling angrily at him.
“You’re worthless!” “How can you make an idiotic call like that?” “That’s the worst call I’ve ever seen!”
Some parents had run down to the fence to scream at Billy’s dad. Fortunately a policeman was nearby and escorted him to his car. Billy’s mom decided to wait until the crowd calmed down before leaving.
Billy saw Charlie walking toward the bleachers.
“You were safe, son,” said Charlie’s mom.
Charlie threw his glove down in disgust. “That stupid idiot lost the game for us and cost me a home run! That’s the third time we’ve had that bum this year, and he’s been horrible every time.”
“Did you hear what he called Dad?” Billy said to his morn. “We have to do something.”
“What do you want to do?” she asked.
“These people are terribly upset. If you say something, you’re liable to cause a fight.”
After the crowd thinned out, Billy and his mom went to the car. On the way home, Billy’s mom pulled into a service station. As she was pumping gas into the car, Billy noticed a man at another pump. It was the umpire of his ball game.
As Billy watched, a couple of small children poked their heads out a window of the man’s car and laughed. The man laughed back at them. He’s just like any other person, Billy realized with a start. In fact, he’s a lot like Dad. He began to feel guilty for acting as he had.
“Mom, if I apologize to the umpire, will we still have a discussion when we get home?”
“If you apologize,” said Billy’s mom, “we won’t need to discuss anything.”
As Billy walked toward the man’s car, he realized that Heavenly Father had answered his prayer to remove the anger from his heart. He hoped Charlie would offer the same prayer too.

Hi, I’m Matej! (It’s pronounced ma-tay.)
Burma is a country in Southeast Asia. It’s also called Myanmar!
Our Primary learned about some kids in our city whose families are refugees from a country called Burma. Being a refugee means they had to leave their homes very quickly because of problems in their country. Many of these kids couldn’t bring any of their things when they left. We wanted to help!
The Plan
We made a plan to help our new friends from Burma. First we would collect things these kids needed, like warm clothes. Then we would invite them to come to an activity where we could play together and give them what we had collected.
Working Together
Kids in our Primary donated extra coats and scarves. Our families got a jar to help us save chore money. Every time we brought our scriptures to Primary, we put a nickel in our Primary jar. School and neighborhood kids got involved too.
Collecting Supplies
My family used our chore money to buy hairbrushes, socks, and 40 shampoos! I liked shopping to get the supplies. It made me really excited. We also collected warm coats, gloves, and hats.
The Day of Our Activity
When our Primary and the Burmese branch Primary had an activity together, we played games and learned about how Jesus Christ is like a shepherd. We made yummy treats and talked about His resurrection. We made new friends, and we’re excited to play together again!
Finally!
My favorite part of the activity was giving everything to our new friends. They loved their coats so much they didn’t want to take them off! I was so happy to see how happy they were. Helping others is how I can show Heavenly Father that I love His children and I love Him.

A sister in the United States was gone from the Church for many years. Her story of coming back includes powerful lessons for parents and family members who anguish over loved ones who step away. She wrote:
“I could list a myriad of reasons for why I walked away from the Church, the gospel, and in a way, my family. But they really don’t matter. I didn’t make one big decision to leave the Church—I probably made a thousand choices. But one thing I have always known is that my parents did make one big decision, and they stuck to it. They decided to love me.
“I couldn’t possibly know how many tears have been shed, how many sleepless nights, nor how many heartfelt pleading words of prayer have been uttered on my behalf. They didn’t call me out on my sins; rather, they called out to me in my sinfulness. They didn’t make me feel unwelcome in their home and at family gatherings; any of those feelings were of my own doing. Instead, they continued to welcome me. They must have seen my light dim over time. But they knew that the person I was back then was just a shadow of who I was yet to become.
“Just as my path away from the Church was complex, so was my way back. But one thing that was not hard about coming back was the feeling of being back home where I belong.”

The Brethren gathered in that meeting listened with anticipation, for a number of vacancies among the General Authorities were to be filled at the approaching conference. The First Presidency called a new member of the Quorum of the Twelve, Elder Boyd K. Packer, and then Joseph heard, to his amazement, his own name. The Lord had called him to serve as an Assistant to the Quorum of the Twelve. He looked up with surprise and wondered if he had heard correctly. All the Brethren were looking at him—the men whom he had felt it an honor to serve—and realized that he was now to be numbered with them. “Nothing was further from my mind,” he said later.

In the early years of the Church, the Book of Mormon was printed only in English. President Brigham Young called two missionaries to preach the gospel in Mexico and translate the Book of Mormon into Spanish. But they needed more help to do it. Little did they know that across the ocean, God had prepared a man who could give them exactly the help they needed.
Meliton Gonzalez Trejo came from a wealthy family in Spain. He studied hard in school and became an officer in the Spanish Army. He was always interested in religion, but nothing he found felt quite right. One day he heard another officer talk about a group of people who called themselves “Saints.” They belonged to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and a prophet of God had led them to the Rocky Mountains in the United States. Meliton felt a strong desire to meet them. He joined a military expedition to the Philippines, hoping he could get to the United States later. But Meliton got so busy with his work that visiting the Saints started to feel less important.
Then Meliton became very sick. He remembered why he had come to the Philippines and prayed to God about what he should do. That night, Meliton had a special dream. He knew he was supposed to leave for the Rocky Mountains.
Once Meliton recovered from his illness, he continued his journey to the United States. He arrived in California on July 4, 1874, and headed toward Salt Lake City.
When Meliton arrived in Salt Lake, he ran into a problem. He could read English but had never spoken it. He couldn’t communicate with anyone! But he decided that if he couldn’t talk to people, he would get their attention another way. Meliton put on his Spanish Army uniform and marched up and down the city streets. Just as he hoped, many people noticed him! Finally he was spotted by a member of the Church named Brother Blanchard, a university professor who spoke Spanish. Brother Blanchard helped Meliton get settled in Salt Lake and taught him the gospel. Soon Meliton was baptized.
Brother Blanchard also introduced Meliton to President Brigham Young. Meliton told President Young that more than anything, he wanted to translate the Book of Mormon into Spanish.
President Young asked Meliton to help the missionaries who were going to Mexico translate parts of the Book of Mormon into Spanish. Meliton spent many weeks translating the English words into Spanish. Each night he reviewed his translation with the missionaries. They spoke some Spanish but felt this important translation needed a native Spanish speaker. They knew Meliton was an answer to their prayers.
In 1875 the translation was published. It was called Trozos Selectos del Libro de Mormon (Selected Passages from the Book of Mormon).
The missionaries were now ready to go to Mexico. They loaded 1,500 copies of the translated scripture onto horseback and started on their journey. For the first time, Spanish speakers were able to read the Book of Mormon in their own language! Even though Meliton had lived thousands of miles away in Spain, Heavenly Father led him to exactly where he needed to be. Because of Meliton’s courage and faith, he helped bring the word of God to countless people.
Meliton Gonzalez Trejo (1844–1917) served several missions in Mexico and baptized some of the first members of the Church there. In 1886 Meliton helped finish translating the entire Book of Mormon into Spanish.

This Sunday I was sitting in Young Women listening to a lesson on revelations and how to get them.
Earlier that week I had been praying and asking Heavenly Father for help in being a better person and daughter. I expected a big wow feeling, but I never got one. I got thoughts in my head, saying, “Is that what Jesus would do?” or “Do this for your mom,” and I thought that was me thinking.
But in church I realized God doesn’t always give you a loud answer. Sitting there listening, I felt the Spirit so much—the biggest, warmest feeling ever. I almost started crying. I now know that God doesn’t talk to you loudly or publicly. Sometimes it is just a quiet answer in your mind that you should follow.

The first Christmas I experienced on my mission in France was very enjoyable. We were invited to celebrate with a wonderful member family, and I felt comfortable and at home. But the second Christmas stands out in my memory and will always be precious to me.
The thrill of the holiday season was in the air in the small French town where I was serving: Christmas music in the stores, advertisements everywhere, and Christmas cards in the mail.
A few days before Christmas the missionaries in our zone went caroling in the buses, metro stations, and shopping malls. We tried to share the joy of Christmas with our French brothers and sisters by singing carols, handing out brochures, and presenting copies of the Book of Mormon wrapped in Christmas paper. We wished the people a very merry Christmas. Just like the previous year, we were planning to spend Christmas Eve at a member family’s home. My companion and I had received an invitation and were looking forward to a wonderful homemade Christmas dinner.
On 24 December we worked hard the entire morning. When we returned home for lunch, we received a call from the family who had invited us for dinner that evening. They had to cancel the appointment because of a death in the family. We couldn’t go to their home because of their family commitments, so we tried to comfort them as best we could over the telephone. After we hung up, I realized this was going to be a very lonely Christmas Eve. The other elders in our apartment had been invited elsewhere. We ate our lunch and left again to work.
The evening fell, and a cold wind blew. As I looked at the Christmas trees lit up in warm homes—homes filled with happy faces—my thoughts wandered home to my own family in the Netherlands. They would be sitting together, singing Christmas carols, and reading the story of the Nativity. Then they would listen to Christmas music while my dad lit the candles on our Christmas tree. All of a sudden I felt very homesick.
We returned to our apartment, and I sat down at my desk, feeling very sorry for myself. I turned on a Mormon Tabernacle Choir Christmas tape and started to write in my journal.
One of the many things I learned on my mission was that those I served with were always my companion for a reason. Such was the case with Elder Wagner. After a while he got up from his desk and said he had a plan. “Why don’t we take some of our wrapped copies of the Book of Mormon, go down to the metro station, and talk to those who also feel lonely on Christmas Eve?” he suggested. I said I would join him, although I was pretty reluctant about the whole idea. I just wanted to sit in my chair and feel sorry for myself.
We left our apartment and started walking toward the metro. The closer we got to the station, the more I felt this wasn’t such a bad idea and might possibly turn out to be a good experience. When we boarded the metro, it was nearly empty. A few people were scattered about. I approached a man who was sitting alone by a window. Introducing myself, I asked if we could join him. He agreed. We started talking about families—his family, my family—and Christmas. He told me he was a refugee and had had to leave his country and his family. He told me about his wife and child and how much he missed them. Though our situations weren’t the same, I could sympathize because my family was also far away. Then I started talking about Jesus Christ, how much He meant to me, and how much Christmas meant to me. “The Savior came to earth,” I testified.
Instantly there was a fire burning in my soul. I felt the same burning sensation later that evening while I talked and testified of Jesus Christ to other people on the metro. When my companion and I finally left to return to our apartment, I was filled with a wonderful sense of appreciation. As we discussed the events of that evening I learned that my companion was feeling the same thing. We had truly felt the spirit of Christmas, and I felt as if my heart would burst with joy. The Savior was born in Bethlehem for me and for the entire world! How blessed I felt to have the gospel in my life and to have felt His love for me that night.
It was a Christmas I will always cherish, for it was on that Christmas Eve I finally learned what Christmas is all about. It is about Christ and sharing my precious testimony of the living Son of God.

Butch and Diana Alder, from Sandy, Utah, are serving as senior missionaries in the Australia Melbourne Mission. Warrnambool holds a special place in Elder Alder’s heart, as his great-great-grandparents, John and Charlotte Nye, joined the Church there.
The Nyes were introduced to the Church of Jesus Christ in 1856 by George Thomas Wilson, the local veterinarian, when he came to their home to treat their prized horse. Conversation turned to the gospel of Jesus Christ, and Brother Wilson invited the couple to learn more. At the time of their baptism, the nearest established congregation of the Church was in Sydney.
Elder Meurs told the story of his parents, who lived in the area, joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1958.
Fred and Lois Meurs, strong Christians from different faiths were actively searching for someone to answer their gospel questions. After carefully studying the New Testament, they began to search for a church that had teachings that were consistent with Jesus’s teachings.
They had questions about the purpose of life, priesthood authority, what happens when we die, ordinances like baptism, and the role of prophets and apostles. They had spoken to the religious leaders of the community, but no one could give them the answers they were searching for. They began to earnestly pray for someone to answer their questions.
That same week, two full-time missionaries, Elder Jones and Elder Erikson, knocked on their door and said they had a message about Jesus Christ to share with them. Fred and Lois asked them all their questions, and the missionaries answered every one. Three weeks later the Meurs were baptised and confirmed. Some other families joined soon after, and the first Warrnambool Branch was formed.
As the Church grew, new members moved in, and others moved out.
“Many wonderful people, over the years, have been touched by the wonderful association with the Warrnambool Branch and have very fond memories,” Elder Meurs said. “Faith has been strengthened, and people have become part of the Church of Jesus Christ here on the earth. They have felt the Saviour’s teachings and His presence in their lives.”
Elder Meurs, quoting President Russell M. Nelson’s remarks from the October 2024 general conference said, “My dear brothers and sisters, in a coming day, Jesus Christ will return to the earth as the millennial Messiah. So today I call upon you to rededicate your lives to Jesus Christ. I call upon you to help gather scattered Israel and to prepare the world for the Second Coming of the Lord. I call upon you to talk of Christ, testify of Christ, have faith in Christ, and rejoice in Christ!” (“The Lord Jesus Christ Will Come Again,” Liahona, Nov. 2024).
Elder Meurs concluded his remarks by saying, “I testify that Jesus Christ lives. He knows each of us. Dedicate yourselves to living the gospel of Jesus Christ.”
Also in attendance was Damon Page, Area Seventy. Speaking to the branch members, he said:
“What will we raise here in the Warrnambool Branch? By following our faith and the promptings of the Spirit, we will touch those around us. We will raise up strong sons and daughters that will become more like our Father in Heaven and His Son, Jesus Christ.”
“How do we become who we want to be? Work is the secret. We must be willing to work for those things that will bring us closer to Jesus Christ.”
Karen Jones, a branch member since 1990, said, “The members lift and strengthen each other. Many members have passed away, but the remaining members have put their shoulder to the wheel and have helped the branch to push along. Warrnambool has given me strength, love, and hope.”
President Suringa said, “What is happening today is a manifestation of the Lord’s power. There are so many great things ahead.”

Our friend Jasmine was a good example to us too. Jasmine was 12 years old. Her family became our good friends when we lived in the Middle East. In her country, Church members can’t talk about the gospel with others. It’s against the law. But Jasmine decided she could share the gospel by doing what Jesus did. She could show love and kindness to others. Wherever Jasmine went or whatever she did, she tried to be like Jesus. She was a bright example to others.

Even in rich nations little children and youth are impaired by neglect. Children growing up in poverty have inferior health care and inadequate educational opportunities. They are also exposed to dangerous environments in their physical and cultural surroundings and even from the neglect of their parents. Elder Jeffrey R. Holland recently shared the experience of an LDS police officer. In an investigation he found five young children huddled together and trying to sleep without bedding on a filthy floor in a dwelling where their mother and others were drinking and partying. The apartment had no food to relieve their hunger. After tucking the children into a makeshift bed, the officer knelt and prayed for their protection. As he walked toward the door, one of them, about six, pursued him, grabbed him by the hand, and pleaded, “Will you please adopt me?”8