Gospel Story Finder

The Laurels of the West Weber First Ward, Ogden Utah Weber North Stake, were pleased to discover that they all, including their leader, received their Young Womanhood awards at the same time.
During the year, the girls learned to make quilts and gave four quilts to the bishop to distribute to members of the ward. They organized an adopt-a-grandmother program where the girls chose an elderly lady to visit, care about, and bake goodies for. The girls have learned skills, shared talents and hobbies, and learned more about life.

Just a few months after the restored Church of Jesus Christ was organized, the Saints learned about this important principle.
In August 1830 a member of the Church named Hiram Page claimed he had received revelations from God about “the upbuilding of Zion” and “the order of the Church.” Several Church members, including Oliver Cowdery, believed him.
The Prophet Joseph Smith was troubled because Hiram’s claims went against “the order of God’s house.” Joseph inquired of the Lord and received a revelation addressed to Oliver that is now recorded in Doctrine and Covenants 28.
The Lord said that Oliver Cowdery could “speak or teach” if he was “led at any time by the Comforter” to do so (Doctrine and Covenants 28:4). But the Lord also said, “No one shall be appointed to receive commandments and revelations in this church excepting my servant Joseph Smith” until the Lord appointed “another in his stead” (verses 2, 7).
In other words, all worthy seekers can be guided by the Holy Ghost for their personal responsibilities, Church callings, and families. But only the current prophet has the authority to receive commandments or revelations for the entire Church. “For all things must be done in order,” the Lord said (verse 13).

Another evidence of faith took place when I first visited the St. Thomas Branch of the mission, situated about 120 miles from Toronto. My wife and I had been invited to attend the branch sacrament meeting and to speak to the members there. As we drove along a fashionable street, we saw many church buildings and wondered which one was ours. None was. We located the address which had been provided and discovered it to be a decrepit lodge hall. Our branch met in the basement of the lodge hall and was composed of perhaps twenty-five members, twelve of whom were in attendance. The same individuals conducted the meeting, blessed and passed the sacrament, offered the prayers, and sang the songs.

At the conclusion of the services, the branch president, Irving Wilson, asked if he could meet with me. At this meeting, he handed to me a copy of the Improvement Era, forerunner of today’s Ensign. Pointing to a picture of one of our new chapels in Australia, President Wilson declared, “This is the building we need here in St. Thomas.”

I smiled and responded, “When we have enough members here to justify and to pay for such a building, I am sure we will have one.” At that time, the local members were required to raise 30 percent of the cost of the site and the building, in addition to the payment of tithing and other offerings.

He countered, “Our children are growing to maturity. We need that building, and we need it now!”

I provided encouragement for them to grow in numbers by their personal efforts to fellowship and teach. The outcome is a classic example of faith, coupled with effort and crowned with testimony.

President Wilson requested six additional missionaries to be assigned to St. Thomas. When this was accomplished, he called the missionaries to a meeting in the back room of his small jewelry store, where they knelt in prayer. He then asked one elder to hand to him the yellow-page telephone directory, which was on a nearby table. President Wilson took the book in hand and observed, “If we are ever to have our dream building in St. Thomas, we will need a Latter-day Saint to design it. Since we do not have a member who is an architect, we will simply have to convert one.” With his finger moving down the column of listed architects, he paused at one name and said, “This is the one we will invite to my home to hear the message of the Restoration.”

President Wilson followed the same procedure with regard to plumbers, electricians, and craftsmen of every description. Nor did he neglect other professions, feeling a desire for a well-balanced branch. The individuals were invited to his home to meet the missionaries, the truth was taught, testimonies were borne and conversion resulted. Those newly baptized then repeated the procedure themselves, inviting others to listen, week after week and month after month.

The St. Thomas Branch experienced marvelous growth. Within two and one-half years, a site was obtained, a beautiful building was constructed, and an inspired dream became a living reality. That branch is now a thriving ward in a stake of Zion.

When I reflect on the town of St. Thomas, I dwell not on the ward’s hundreds of members and many dozens of families; rather, in memory I return to that sparse sacrament meeting in the lodge-hall basement and the Lord’s promise, “Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them” (Matt. 18:20).

A forlorn cry of sea gulls accompanied Susie’s thoughts as she lay, fully clothed in jeans and thick red sweater, on Millington Beach. She’d found a sheltered place by a sea break wall and was glad of the chance to be alone with her problem.
A flock of wheeling gulls had blocked the sun. She brushed her hand across her closed eyes, attempting to wipe them away, wishing the same could be done with last night’s memories.
James, with his expensive image, had not been his usual, light-hearted self. Despite trendy gear and his stylishly cut black hair, he really hadn’t acted like a gentleman.
“You and your standards,” he shouted, as they were saying good night in the car. “I’m tired of them. We’ve been going out for five months now, and you might as well know you won’t change me. Either you love me or you don’t. I’ve even asked you to marry me, though I can’t for the life of me see why we shouldn’t live together like the rest of the world. I’ve had enough. I expect an answer by tomorrow.” She barely had time to close the car door before he accelerated away.
Rising to her feet, Susie walked down the shore. She rubbed sea spray from her face, determined not to let tears join the salty taste. “All my Church life it seems I’ve been hearing of this sort of mess,” she thought, sniffing hard at the seaweed smell blowing up from the tide line. “But I never thought it would happen to me.”
“Please, Mum, I’m 18 now, so can’t I make up my own mind?” she begged. “Can I go just this once? The rest of the sixth form will be there. At least I stay away from those places normally.”
Mum looked perplexed. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Susie. I know you have high standards. It’s just that … ”
“I know, I know—the atmosphere’s wrong, and I meet the wrong people,” she replied wearily. “But Mum, they accept that I don’t drink, and there’s not much going on at church in our small ward. I mean, Chris and John are fine, but not to date. So what if I do get asked out tonight? Actually, James Johnson wanted to know if I was going.” She hesitated, looking down. “But what’s the harm in that?”
“Susie, there will be opportunities to meet other Church youth around the country. And there’s an old saying about you marry who you date, so datewho you might marry—remember?”
“Oh, Mum, come off it. As if I’m ready for marriage. I’m ready for a good time, you know, a date here, a date there. Please understand, Mum.”
Mother had given in.
Moving close to the sea edge, Susie idly watched sea gulls dodging the swishing back and forth of the waves. As worm holes appeared, full of bubbles, the birds poked their beaks down, grabbing at the juicy creatures, sucking them forth with triumphant jerks. “I know how you feel,” Susie sympathized with the worms, “being pulled out of safety like that.”
“It’s not that I don’t like your Church friends, Susie,” James said. “They’re just too goody-goody for me. You know, all that mixed fun and games, dancing, road shows—it’s not my scene—just too religious.”
Susie flushed, “But don’t you enjoy … ”
He interrupted “They’re not adult enough for you and me. There’s a big wide world out there, you know. Fun of a different kind, all ready for experimenting.”
Susie turned, bending to remove her trainers. She began trailing along the beach, her feet pushing uncomfortably against rippling ridges left by the waves. “What was it Dad used to say when we were small?” she wondered. “Copy the crabs. Walk sideways and your feet won’t feel the bumps.”
It had been like that at home for a while, walking sideways to avoid bumping her growing feelings for James against Mum and Dad. But eventually they collided.
“Susie, Susie,” James murmured against her hair as they embraced on her doorstep. A kiss was beginning when the door opened.
“Ah, Susie, you’re home. I was getting uneasy, dear,” Dad said, standing there in his pajamas.
“Sorry, Mr. Blake. We meant to be back by 11:30, but the … er … traffic was bad,” lied James. He pushed Susie forward with a laugh. “See you tomorrow, Sue. I’ll pick you up at 7:00. My mate’sgetting a video. We’re invited to his flat.” He jumped down all three steps at once, then stopped. “Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Blake, I’ll have her back by 11:00 this time.” With a boyish grin, he dived into his silver mini, revved the engine, tooted the horn, and was gone.
Susie tried to move with equal swiftness upstairs, but Dad was faster. “Er, one moment, young lady,” he said over his shoulder, locking the front door. “Into the lounge, please. I’d like a few words.”
They sat on the sofa. “It’s not what you think, Dad,” Susie was guarded. “James is a gentleman. He’d never harm me. He’s just a friend. We’re … ”
“Susie, love, I’m sure that’s so, or at least, I’m sure that’s how you wish things to be, but at this time of night you’re letting temptation have full power. Don’t you think you ought to put this ‘friendship’ in the fridge for a while, perhaps see less of each other?” Dad looked troubled.
Susie moved nearer. Her dad had always been special to her. From a tiny age, she’d known how close to the Lord he lived. Scriptures and Dad seemed to go together like sea gulls and webbed feet.
“Listen,” he pulled Susie round to face him. “Will you do me and your Mum a favour? Start coming to church again more often? You’re really missed. Share us a little with James, will you please?”
He gave a yawn and helping her to stand, added, “Oh, and by the way, when you get a minute, look up D&C 132:15–16, will you?”
She smiled. “All right, Dad. I’m sorry to keep you up so late. I’ll begin work on all this tomorrow.”
But tomorrow never seemed to come.
She turned again to the sea, dabbling her feet in the water. As wavelets curled round cold toes, her feet arched against the icy tingle. She squirmed both heels deep into the sand, then, pulling out each foot in turn, felt a sucking squelch which left the ground wobbly, no longer secure. Susie watched, fascinated at the time it took to regain sure footing.
“If I leave James now, I’ll feel like that,” she decided. “I can’t do it. I can’t. We’re too close, too comfortable, with too much shared. And he’s so attractive. Maybe marriage is the answer. Perhaps Dad’s scripture doesn’t mean me. Maybe I’m different.”
Mum had brought up the same subject only last week, while they were preparing the evening meal.
“Susie, before matters get too serious between you and James, there’s one or two ideas I think you should consider.”
Susie felt familiar “here we go” signals creeping around her brain but decided to play interested rather than argue. Mum usually finished quicker that way.
“There’s more to marriage than dates and fun, you know.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“You need to pull together in all things, share goals, see eye-to-eye over child rearing and finance.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Do you know James’s views on children?”
“Yes, Mum.”
“Are they the same as yours?”
At this Susie put down her knife. Resting chin in hands, elbows on the table, and with a frown creasing her forehead, she exclaimed, “Mum, I know they’re not his thing at the moment. He has no time for them. But I’m sure when … I mean if we marry, we’ll think along the same lines. Don’t worry.”
“Susie, love, I’m sorryto be a pain, but these things are important. There’s nothing worse than being unequally yoked. You wanting babies and him not. You wanting to save for the future, him not; you wanting to attend church, him not—it’ll pull at your heartstrings.”
“But doesn’t love overcome all that?” Susie sounded less sure of herself.
Mother sighed. “For a while, maybe.” She stopped working and touched Susie’s arm. “For a while, but I’ve seen marriages break because of the strain. The worst part of all, for a Latter-day Saint married to a nonmember, is the lack of spiritual unity.”
Susie pouted. “Oh, come on, Mum, it’s not that bad. And how about the ones who get converted?”
Mum shook her head. “This may sound silly at your age, but the older you get, the more important the spiritual side of life becomes. To be forever tugging in different directions can be anguish. Not many conversions take place, and children are torn between you.”
She picked up a fresh carrot, briskly slicing again. “Think hard, Susie, think and pray hard about the future. If you can’t communicate about the important things now, you could be in for big trouble later.”
She returned to the still-quivering, waterlogged sand. A tame grey gull, with a black patch over one eye, resembling some cheeky pirate about to plunder, edged forward, expecting food. “But I love him,” she told the gull. “At least I think I do. I get this incredible feeling when he looks at me, when he’s next to me, but you wouldn’t begin to understand, would you?”
Slumping into the same sandy shelter as before, she hunched her knees and clasped them tight with both hands. As her head dropped forward, the words in her head were closer to prayer than they had been for a long time. “Father, help me, please.”
Susie sensed a shadow moving between herself and the sun. Her gasp of alarm soon turned to pleasure as she recognized the voice. It was soft and cajoling.
“Guessed I might find you here,” James said. “Here, your favorite.” He dropped two Mars Bars at her feet.
“Your Mum said you needed a change of scene.” His tone altered. Susie was conscious of a defensive note. “She said you’d gone for a think.” He kicked puffs of sand around the base of the sea break.
“Come on then, out with it. I need to know your answer sooner or later. May as well be sooner.”
Susie bit her lip. She took a deep breath. “I think I love you, James. And I do think it’s right to … to …” She was interrupted by an inquisitive sea gull sidling nearer and nearer the chocolate. It was Pirate.
In one smooth move, James bent, grabbed a pebble, and yelling harshly, aimed it straight at the trusting bird. “Get lost. Go find your own kind of food. There’s better fish in the sea.”
“Oh, James,” Susie begged, as Pirate gave a distressed cry, flapped his wings in panic. “Don’t hurt him. He … he’s sort of a friend,” she finished lamely, digging deep into the sand with her fingers, aware of his look of scornful disbelief.
“Friend! Grow up, Susie. You’ll be telling me next he brings you messages from heaven. Do you think I’m a wally or something? It’s only a stupid bird. Anyway, what were you saying?”
Susie rose to her feet and looked him in the eye. “I think it’s right to stop seeing each other from now on,” she finished in a rush, loudly.
Her voice softened when she saw the hurt amazement on James’s face. She hesitated, “This isn’t going to be easy, James. We’ve become close, comfortable … no, don’t stop me now,” she raised her hand as he moved forward. “Let me finish for once. This afternoon I’ve discovered eternal things are as important as the present, probably more so.”
“Okay, okay, cool it.” James raised his eyes skyward. He turned away, only to swing back abruptly. “Look, I’ll be baptised this weekend, especially for you. How about that?”
Susie wavered. He looked so hopeful, and it was hard to resist the way his mouth curved in that pleading smile. What was it a seminary teacher once said? Something about doing the right things for the wrong reasons can be as bad as not doing them at all for all the good it does you.
She shook her head. “It won’t work like that, James. I can’t explain properly. We’re on different wavelengths spiritually.”
Bending to pick up another stone, James strained as he flung it far out to sea. Marching away, he called over his shoulder, “Don’t bother ringing when you come to your senses. You’ve had your chance. You’ll not make a fool of this man twice.”
The crunching of his feet on the shingle faded, mingled with the noise of ebbing surf. Susie’s heart shared those wrenching tugs as each wave pulled at resolute grit. She shivered. The sun had disappeared behind clouds of rain.
Miserably picking up the chocolate bars, she was about to turn homeward, when a beating sound caught her attention. It was Pirate heading home too. Only this time he didn’t dip and swoop aimlessly. He was firmly on course, flying straight and fast, strong wings taking him in the direction he wanted to go.
Susie straightened, a slow smile touching her lips. “James was right about one thing, anyway,” she called after the bird. “There are better fish in the sea.”
Her step became light and quick. She turned her face to the rain as it poured from the clouds, washing and freshening her skin.

Shortly before President Heber J. Grant passed away, one of the Brethren visited his home. Before he left, President Grant prayed, “O God, bless me that I shall not lose my testimony and keep faithful to the end!”1 After nearly 27 years as President of the Church, this was his fervent prayer. His example is a striking reminder that no one, at any age, is immune from Satan’s influence. Two of Satan’s most powerful tools are distraction and deception.

Wendy wants her family to be a forever family. Her favorite video is Families Are Forever. If her parents happen to forget family home evening, Wendy reminds them. She then helps by conducting, leading the music, saying a prayer, or giving the lesson.

I remember vividly an experience I had as a small boy. One day while playing with my friends, I accidentally broke a window in a store near our home. As the glass shattered and the security alarm blared, a paralyzing fear filled my heart and mind. I realized immediately I was doomed to spend the remainder of my life in prison. My parents eventually coaxed me out from a hiding place under my bed and helped me to make amends with the store owner. Fortunately, my jail sentence was commuted.

When the youth in the Bellingham Washington Stake expressed concerns about the inappropriate music and dancing they might encounter at their high school prom, bishops and youth leaders responded. A youth committee, parent committee, and youth leaders all added their ideas to help organize the first-ever formal spring dance at the stake center.
The formal was held the same night as the high school prom, and youth from three neighboring stakes were also invited. With beautiful decorations, prom pictures, great refreshments, and music with clean lyrics, the dance was a smashing success. The youth say they appreciated the opportunity to attend a dance that was in line with their standards.
“There is no comparison between this dance and school dances I’ve been to,” said Sarai Dodge. “Our dance was so much better. I hope this becomes a tradition!”

I shall now call attention to some circumstances in which this matter of integrity is involved. Here is an account that you bearers of the Aaronic Priesthood might think about:
“Four Latter-day Saint boys set out from a Utah city on a cross-country trip. They had saved all their money during the last year of high school for this purpose, and now that graduation was over, they packed their suitcases into the trunk of their car and said good-byes to worrying parents and envious friends. It was a matter of considerable celebration when they crossed the Utah State line and entered into another state. They pulled up alongside the highway and got out to see how it felt to be in new surroundings. A certain thrill of excitement was noted by each of the young travelers and a sense of adventure led them to great speculation.
“They had agreed to send their parents a postcard every other day to indicate their whereabouts, and had promised to send a collect telegram if they ran into any trouble. One of the boys commented that it felt real good to be on his own and not be under the necessity of getting advance approval from someone for every move he made. Another suggested that they must act like seasoned travelers and not impress others as country boys on their first junket away from home. As a follow-up, this same boy proposed to his friends that they forget all about being Mormons for the duration of their adventure. Asked why by the other three puzzled boys, he said that they could now afford to ‘let their hair down’ and sample some of the excitement enjoyed by other people, not of the Mormon Church. ‘Anyway,’ he argued, ‘what difference will it make? Nobody out here in the world knows us or cares anything about our church connections.’
“The thrill of the new experience weighted their judgment, and the group made an agreement to give it a try. They decided to announce themselves to the world as students from the East who had been to school in Utah for a short time. Their Utah license plates made this necessary.
“Nightfall on the first day of the journey found them at a famous tourist attraction spot, and they made arrangements for camping near the resort. After the evening meal they gathered at the large hotel for the night’s entertainment. No sooner had they arrived when the ringleader of the boys suggested that they begin here and now sampling the things they had so long been denied by strict parents and teachers. The first thing that caught their eyes was a large neon sign at the far end of the lounge. It read, ‘Bar—beer, cocktails.’ Thinking it a moderate nod in the direction of ‘sinning just a little bit,’ they agreed to go into the bar and order a glass of beer for each one. There was a nervous air about them as they entered the gaudily lighted bar and surveyed the counters loaded with intriguing bottles of liquor. The boy who had been delegated to give the order lost his voice on the first try and had to swallow hard to get out an understandable, ‘Four glasses of beer, please.’
“What the beer lacked in palatability, the atmosphere and thrill more than made up. They grew bolder and began to talk of the next adventure they would undertake. The talk was growing racy when suddenly a well-dressed man entered the bar and walked straight toward their table. The look on the stranger’s face and the determined pace at which he walked toward them left the boys completely unnerved.
“When the man reached the table at which the boys were sitting, he extended his hand to one of them and said, ‘I beg your pardon, but aren’t you George Redford’s son from Utah?’ The boy was speechless and terrified. His fingers froze around the base of the glass of beer and he answered in a wavering voice, ‘Why, yes, sir, I am.’ ‘I thought I recognized you when you came in the lobby of the hotel,’ the stranger continued. ‘I am Henry Paulsen, vice-president of the company your dad works for, and I met you and your mother last winter at a company dinner at the Hotel Utah. I have never forgotten how you explained your Mormon priesthood to one of the other executives of our company who asked you what it meant to be a Mormon boy. I must say I was a little surprised to see you head for the bar, but I suppose that with Mormons as well as non-Mormons, boys will be boys when they’re off the roost.’
“These boys had heard a sermon they would never hear duplicated in the pulpit. They were sick, ashamed, and crestfallen. As they left their half-filled glasses and walked out through the hotel lobby, they had the feeling that everyone was looking at them. The cover of darkness was kind as they made their way to their camp. ‘You just can’t win,’ said the boy who had proposed their dropping their true identity, trying to ease the tension. ‘I’m not so sure,’ replied the boy to who the stranger had spoken. ‘If we have any sense left, we can make this experience into the most winning lesson of our lives.’”

Zoe was baptised more than two years earlier, after meeting missionaries on the street, taking the discussions, and learning for herself the truth of the gospel.

When our children were approaching dating age, my husband’s company transferred him to Atlanta, Georgia. I wept as we signed our house deed over to the new owners. Our lawyer hugged me and tenderly said, “No one can ever say the Mormons haven’t been here.”

The second brother told his story. “One day I was fishing in a river, and for many hours there was not a single bite. I knew something was wrong. So I dove into the river, and to my surprise I found a large fish eating up all the other fishes. I was so angry that I caught the large fish. Then I made a fire under the water and had a delicious meal before coming up to the surface of the river.”

This is the case of a 17-year-old unwed mother. This young lady came from a good, active Mormon family. The lines of communication had broken down between parents and daughter. She was in serious trouble from a pregnancy and was on the verge of compounding the problem in such a way as to further jeopardize any possibility of a happy, successful life when one of the dedicated staff workers became involved. Through extra effort and wise counseling, he was instrumental in saving her from falling off the precipice. He helped open the channel of communication between mother and daughter, and now, a few years later, this same young woman, through repentance and forgiveness and wise counsel, is happily married to a fine husband and is doing her part to help her neighbors. Instead of failure, she is now experiencing joy and peace of mind through living a worthwhile, fulfilling life.

Then there was a Sunday School teacher—never to be forgotten, ever to be remembered. We met for the first time on a Sunday morning. She accompanied the Sunday School president into the classroom and was presented to us as a teacher who actually requested the opportunity to teach us. We learned that she had been a missionary and loved young people. Her name was Lucy Gertsch. She was beautiful, soft-spoken, and interested in us. She asked each class member to introduce himself or herself, and then she asked questions that gave her an understanding and an insight into the background of each boy, each girl. She told us of her childhood in Midway, Utah; and as she described that beautiful valley, she made its beauty live, and we desired to visit the green fields she loved so much. She never raised her voice. Somehow rudeness and boisterousness were incompatible with the beauty of her lessons. She taught us that the present is here and that we must live in it. She made the scriptures actually come to life. We became personally acquainted with Samuel, David, Jacob, Nephi, and the Lord Jesus Christ. Our gospel scholarship grew. Our deportment improved. Our love for Lucy Gertsch knew no bounds.
We undertook a project to save nickels and dimes for what was to be a gigantic party. Sister Gertsch kept a careful record of our progress. As boys and girls with typical appetites, we converted in our minds the monetary totals to cakes, cookies, pies, and ice cream. This was to be a glorious occasion—the biggest party ever. Never before had any of our teachers even suggested a social event like this one was going to be.
The summer months faded into autumn; autumn turned to winter. Our party goal had been achieved. The class had grown. A good spirit prevailed.
None of us will forget that gray morning in January when our beloved teacher announced to us that the mother of one of our classmates had passed away. We thought of our own mothers and how much they meant to us. We felt sorrow for Billy Devenport in his great loss.
The lesson that Sunday was from the book of Acts, chapter 20, verse 35: “Remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.” At the conclusion of the presentation of a well-prepared lesson, Lucy Gertsch commented on the economic situation of Billy’s family. These were depression times; money was scarce. With a twinkle in her eyes, she asked, “How would you like to follow this teaching of the Lord? How would you feel about taking your party fund and, as a class, giving it to the Devenports as an expression of our love?” The decision was unanimous. We counted very carefully each penny and placed the total sum in a large envelope.
Ever shall I remember the tiny band walking those three city blocks, entering Billy’s home, greeting him, his brother, sisters, and father. Noticeably absent was his mother. Always I shall treasure the tears which glistened in the eyes of each one present as the white envelope containing our precious party fund passed from the delicate hand of our teacher to the needy hand of a grief-stricken father. We fairly skipped our way back to the chapel. Our hearts were lighter than they had ever been, our joy more full, our understanding more profound. This simple act of kindness welded us together as one. We learned through our own experience that indeed it is more blessed to give than to receive.
The years have flown. The old chapel is gone, a victim of industrialization. The boys and girls who learned, who laughed, who grew under the direction of that inspired teacher of truth have never forgotten her love or her lessons.
Even today when we sing that old favorite—
Thanks for the Sabbath School. Hail to the day
When evil and error are fleeing away.
Thanks for our teachers who labor with care
That we in the light of the gospel may share.5
—we think of Lucy Gertsch, our Sunday School teacher, for we loved Lucy, and Lucy loved us.

Make a chronological list for your subject. My cousin Ginny helped with this. For my grandmother, Ginny filled in birth and marriage dates; then I spent a few hours with my grandmother gathering other important names, places, and dates, such as where she grew up, which schools she attended, when she graduated from those schools, where and when she worked, where and when she met my grandfather, where and when their children were born, where they lived, and when and where they retired. If the person you are writing about can’t help, ask a close friend or relative for this information.
Once you have the chronology in correct order, fill in the details. I asked my grandmother what her favorite subjects in school were and which subjects she did well in. Why did she work at certain jobs? Did she ever have any serious accidents or illnesses? We talked about her hobbies and her travels, and I asked about her best friends and what they meant to her. I also asked about the times in her life when she was happiest and saddest.

Becky is a troubled girl who has become inactive, associates with the wrong people, and has strayed from her former standards. Whenever she makes a small attempt to come back she is rebuffed by the girls her age because she is now one of the “wrong people” herself. She doesn’t get along well with her father and shares few interests with other girls-except for dancing. She loves dancing. All things considered, she’s headed fast in the wrong direction and doesn’t show much promise of turning around. You’ve known people like Becky, and you know their stories may not have happy endings.
How do their stories end? It’s up to you—the young people of the Church.
It’s up to you because Mike’s deacon quorum presidency and quorum have the basic responsibility for his needs and activity. It’s up to you because Becky’s Laurel class presidency and class are responsible for her. And that doesn’t mean the adviser or teacher—that means the young people—that means you.
And that’s where Mike and Becky come in.
Perhaps Becky could be called as a specialist herself, to direct a dance festival or a roadshow. This would get her into a meaningful, fulfilling leadership contact with the other young people, and perhaps give her a start on the road back, even though the road may be a long one. It’s well worth the trouble of organizing two new projects if it will help two fine young people achieve their potential, and maybe give their stories happy endings. That’s the spirit of the program. Every youth serves and every youth benefits.

“You’re it!” Mandy said. She tagged her little brother and then swam away. Mandy’s family was staying in a motel until they could move to their new home. It was fun eating ravioli warmed up in the microwave for lunch. And they got to swim in the motel pool almost every day!
But there was one not-so-good part about the motel. The motel manager’s office was right under their room, and the manager thought Mandy and her brothers and sisters were too loud. “How can I rent rooms when it sounds like a herd of elephants are over my head?” he asked Dad.
After lunch Mandy’s little brother Aaron jumped off the bed and hit the floor with a thump. Mandy winced and looked up at Mom.
“No jumping. Tiptoe, please,” Mom said.
But it was too late. The phone rang.
“Uh oh,” thought Mandy.
Mom picked up the phone. Mandy could hear her apologizing to the manager.
Mom’s shoulders sagged as she hung up the phone. “Edward and Mandy,” she said, “I need to put Aaron and Emily down for a nap. Will you please take Kristine and Daniel for a walk?”
As they started across the motel parking lot, Mandy spotted something small and brown on the ground.
It was a wallet. And it had money in it!
“Look, Edward!” she said, holding the wallet up high.
“We need to take this to the manager’s office right away,” said Edward.
Mandy felt her stomach clench. Why did they have to take it right now? Couldn’t Mom or Dad return it later?
But Mandy knew the right thing to do.
The children opened the office door and timidly stepped inside. The manager frowned. “Um, we found this wallet in the parking lot,” Mandy said. Her hand shook as she set the wallet on the counter.
A man who was standing at the counter looked over. “That’s mine,” he said. He quickly looked through the wallet. “And everything’s here. Thank you, kids!”
Mandy looked up at the manager. His frown was gone, and his eyes were twinkling.
After they left the office, Daniel asked, “Was that wallet magic?”
“Why do you think it’s magic?” asked Edward.
“Because it made the grumpy man happy!”
Edward shook his head. “The wallet wasn’t magic,” he said. “He was happy because we did the right thing.”
Mandy had a special feeling inside. She never knew choosing the right could make people so happy.
A few days later, Mandy and Dad went to pay the week’s bill. The manager smiled at Mandy. He had only called once since they found the wallet, and just to thank them for being honest. Mandy felt like she’d made a new friend.
“Choosing the right really is magical,” Mandy thought. She waved goodbye, and the manager waved back. “And he really isn’t so grumpy after all.”

Joseph Smith was a boy of fourteen when he walked into a grove of trees on a beautiful spring day in 1820.
The First Vision, 1820. “When the light rested upon me I saw two Personages, whose brightness and glory defy all description, standing above me in the air. One of them spake unto me, calling me by name and said, pointing to the other—This is My Beloved Son. Hear Him!” (JS—H 1:17).

Desiree Wallace, 15, interviewed Virginia Gjevres about her life. Desiree found out about Virginia’s first teddy bear and her longing for a dog. And she learned that while Virginia was growing up she was so accident prone that everyone called her Calamity Jane.
“I didn’t really know Sister Gjevres before I interviewed her. I had only seen her at church. But now I just have this love for her, and I want to adopt her as my grandma,” says Desiree, who doesn’t have any grandparents living nearby.

The missionaries taught me the gospel when I was 10. When I asked my dad if I could be baptized, I was so sad when he said no. I prayed and had faith in the Lord. I asked my dad a couple more times. One night I asked, and he said yes. I was so excited! That night I prayed to Heavenly Father and said thank you. On Sunday I got baptized. So have faith and pray to the Lord.
Quirino S., age 11, Utah, USA