Gospel Story Finder

While talking to a friend going through a difficult time, I asked how he was surviving financially. In tears, he replied that his bishop was helping him using fast-offering funds. He added, “I don’t know where my family and I would be if it wasn’t for the Church.” I replied, “The Church is the members. They are the ones who willingly and joyfully give fast offerings to help those of us in need. You are receiving the fruits of their faith and determination to follow Jesus Christ.”

When Alice’s mother and sisters decided to become members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Alice was only six and too young to be baptized with the rest of her family in Bahnhofstr, Germany. Because they often talked of the wonderful experience of baptism and the joy their membership in the Church had brought them, Alice could hardly wait to be eight so she could be baptized too.
Alice planned and dreamed how she would be baptized on her birthday. “Not sometime after,” she insisted, “but on that very day.”
However, three days before Alice turned eight, she awoke with a severe headache, and the next day she was too ill to go to school.
The doctor who was called said she would have to stay home and in bed for at least a week. Alice’s big eyes filled with tears of disappointment.
The next day Alice was even more miserable, and her temperature was higher despite the medicine the doctor had prescribed. Mother was puzzled and concerned, but Alice felt worse about not being baptized on the very day of her birthday than she did about all her aches and pains and fever.
The afternoon before Alice’s birthday, her mother started into the sickroom. But she stopped at the door when she saw Alice kneeling in fervent prayer on her bed. This little girl was pleading with Heavenly Father for fulfillment of her great desire to become a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
On the morning of her birthday, Alice got up, dressed, and prepared for baptism. Her fever was gone and she felt well and happy. Some hours later her mother checked Alice’s temperature again and it still registered normal.
God had answered Alice’s sincere prayer. That evening she was baptized!

In response to counsel from Parley P. Pratt, Wilford Woodruff traveled to Kirtland, Ohio, in April 1834 to join Zion’s Camp. Brother Woodruff’s account of his first meeting with the Prophet Joseph Smith is instructive for all of us:
“Here for the first time in my life I met and had an interview with our beloved Prophet Joseph Smith, the man whom God had chosen to bring forth His revelations in these last days. My first introduction was not of a kind to satisfy the preconceived notions of the sectarian mind as to what a prophet ought to be, and how he should appear. It might have shocked the faith of some men. I found him and his brother Hyrum out shooting at a mark with a brace of pistols. When they stopped shooting, I was introduced to Brother Joseph, and he shook hands with me most heartily. He invited me to make his habitation my home while I tarried in Kirtland. This invitation I most eagerly accepted, and was greatly edified and blest during my stay with him.”9

Perhaps the most fervent prayer Tamía Moreta, 13, has uttered was when her mother was having problems delivering a new baby. “I prayed,” she said, “and Heavenly Father answered my prayer. My mother had a cesarean section. My little brother is now one year old, and he and my mother are healthy.”

President David O. McKay spoke about his horse Dandy, who wanted complete freedom and no restraints. President McKay said:
“Under the saddle he was as willing, responsive, and cooperative as a horse could be. …
“But Dandy resented restraint. He was ill-contented when tied and would nibble at the tie-rope until he was free. He would not run away—he just wanted to be free. Thinking other horses felt the same, he would proceed to untie their ropes. …
“… His curiosity and desire to explore the neighborhood led him and me into trouble. Once on the highway he was hit by an automobile. …
“Recovering from that, and still impelled with a feeling of wanderlust, he inspected the fence throughout the entire boundary. He even found the gates wired. …
“One day, however, somebody left the gate unwired. Detecting this, Dandy unlatched it and took another horse … with him, and together they … went to an old house used for storage. Dandy’s curiosity prompted him to push open the door. … There was a sack of grain. What a find! Yes, and what a tragedy. The grain was bait for rodents! In a few minutes Dandy and the other horse were in spasmodic pain, and shortly afterwards both were dead.”
President McKay continued: “How like Dandy are many of our youth! … They are impulsive, full of life, full of curiosity. … They, too, are restive under restraint, but if they are kept busy, guided carefully and rightly, they prove to be responsive and capable; but if left to wander unguided, they all too frequently violate principles of right which often lead[s] to snares of evil, disaster, and even death.”

“I find that for a lot of my friends it’s difficult to get in front of a classroom to give an oral report,” Lily said. “I have to do it in front of the whole student body, but it hasn’t been hard. At first I didn’t know why. Then I realized what training I have had. I’ve been giving 2 1/2-minute talks all my life. Forget about the religious part of the Church programs and just look at their positive influence. Then add in the truthfulness of the gospel, too, and you have the best thing on earth.”

And President Harold B. Lee related: “Someone asked [a great opera singer who had a large family] which of her children was her favorite. Her reply revealed the depth of her true motherhood: ‘My favorite child is the one who is sick until he gets well or the one who is absent until he returns.’” (In Church News, 13 June 1964, p. 14.)

Young Women in the Shelley First Ward, Shelley Idaho Stake, wanted to learn a useful skill. They also wanted to let their bishop know how much they loved him. So they decided to learn how to crochet to make him an afghan. After weeks of hard work, fun, and some frustration, the girls presented their beautiful gift.
“The blanket will remind the bishop of how much we love him every time he uses it,” said one girl.

I felt a great responsibility when I was called to be secretary of my deacons quorum. I prepared most conscientiously the records I kept, for I wanted to do the very best I knew how to do in that calling. I took great pride in my work. Doing all I can, to the very best of my ability, has been my goal in any position I have ever held.

“I’m bored,” Danny said as Mom put a batch of cinnamon rolls into the oven. “What are we going to do now?”
Before Mom could answer, Elizabeth asked, “Mom, when will Christmas be here? I want to open my presents.”
Mom sighed as she shut the oven door and set the timer. “There’s a lot we can do, Danny. And Elizabeth, there’s much, much more to Christmas than opening presents.” Mom sat down. “Let’s see—how about a game?”
The children nodded their heads enthusiastically.
“Elizabeth, please bring the Baby Jesus from the Nativity set in the family room.”
Elizabeth ran into the family room and quickly returned with the Baby Jesus.
“Now, Danny, close your eyes while Elizabeth hides the Baby Jesus. She’ll tell you when you can open them. Then you will look for Him. If you’re far away, she’ll say you’re cold or colder. But if you’re getting closer to the hiding place, she’ll say you’re warm or warmer. Do you understand?”
When Danny nodded, Mom said, “All right, close your eyes.”
Danny covered his eyes with his hands. Elizabeth quickly put the Baby Jesus on the piano. She looked at Mom and silently mouthed, “Is that OK?”
Mom smiled and nodded.
Elizabeth moved next to Mom. “You can open your eyes now, Danny.”
Danny uncovered his eyes and took several steps toward the couch.
“You’re cold,” Elizabeth said.
“Colder,” Danny heard as he looked under the table. “Colder. Oh, Danny, you’re as cold as you can get over there by the fireplace!” declared Elizabeth.
Danny slumped his shoulders in frustration and said, “I don’t like this game.”
“Don’t give up,” urged Mom. “Now that you know where the Baby Jesus isn’t, you should have a better idea about where He is.”
Danny thought for a minute, then turned around.
Elizabeth cried out, “Hooray! You’re getting warmer.”
Then, instead of looking down, Danny looked up at the piano. He smiled and stood tall as he walked toward the piano.
“Warm, warmer, warmest!” cheered Elizabeth as Danny reached out his hand and picked up the Baby Jesus.
“Danny wins the game!” Mom announced.
Danny had a great big grin on his face, and so did Elizabeth. Mom gathered them both in her arms and explained, “You see, the real purpose of Christmas is like our little game. It’s to try to get closer to Jesus. When we do, we feel warm. If you get that good, warm feeling, the Spirit is telling you you’re doing the kinds of things that make Jesus happy.”
Bzzzz!
“The cinnamon rolls are done,” shouted Elizabeth and Danny.
“Why don’t you two put on your coats while I frost the rolls? Then you can deliver some to Mrs. Simms while they’re still hot,” Mom said.
After delivering the rolls, Elizabeth and Danny rushed into the house. “Mom! Mom! Mrs. Simms was so happy to get the rolls she had tears in her eyes!” reported Danny.
“I think Jesus liked us giving her the rolls, because I feel warm inside,” said Elizabeth. “And if you’re warm, you’re getting closer.”

When Church leaders told Jirí in 1988 that renewed effort on his part could change the government’s decision to grant the Church official recognition, he did not hesitate. Although he was putting at risk his family’s safety, his job, his freedom—possibly even his life—he said, “I will go! I will do it!” Embracing his wife, he said, “We will do whatever is needed. This is for the Lord, and his work is more important than our freedom or life.”

After Brother Snederfler submitted that request, the suspicion and persecution he and other Church members had endured for so long became even more severe. However, “the Saints continued in courage and faith,” says Elder Russell M. Nelson of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, who, accompanied by Elder Hans B. Ringger of the Seventy, had made repeated requests over several years for formal recognition. Elder Nelson adds, “Ultimately, after periodic fasting and prayer and complete compliance with all requirements, that glorious announcement of recognition came. How I admire the Snederflers and all these stalwart members who endured so much interrogation and risk!” (Tambuli, May 1992, 14–15).

Over the next few years, Jirí renewed efforts to gain official recognition for the Church. And all active Church members in Czechoslovakia contributed their faith, fasting, and prayers. For two years, the Czechoslovak Saints had two monthly fast Sundays: they fasted on the first Sunday of each month, along with Church members worldwide—and they also fasted on the third Sunday of every month for freedom of religion.

During a visit with the Communist government’s secretariat of religious affairs in 1987, Elder Russell M. Nelson was informed that the official leader of the Church in Czechoslovakia—the Church’s official liaison with the government had to be a Czech citizen. Elder Nelson and Elder Hans B. Ringger called Jirí Snederfler to be that Czech leader.

Of course, Jirí was more than willing to accept the assignment; he had already made countless petitions to the government over the years and had been regarded as a troublemaker and an enemy of the state. Now, by the secretariat’s own decree, he—a Czech citizen—would officially represent the Church in the eyes of the Communist government.

When accompanied by Elder Nelson and Elder Ringger, Jirí was received kindly. But when he was invited to come alone to a meeting in December 1988, “the officials of the secretariat showed their true faces,” he says. “They tried to intimidate me into withdrawing the Church’s petition for official recognition. They even used threats, telling me what might happen to the Church members if we continued to pursue it.”

At that moment, Brother Snederfler fearlessly opened his mouth and expressed his outrage at the way the Church had been treated during the preceding four decades. “I lost my patience and told them they had only two alternatives in order to get rid of us: either grant us official recognition and permission to worship publicly—or eliminate, lock up, or kick all of us out. I knew I could have landed straight in jail for saying that! But surprisingly they started to treat me with courtesy. Perhaps they were afraid the Church would publish in the free world how the Communist regime in Czechoslovakia was illegally oppressing religiously inclined citizens. Be it as it may, I know I was under the protection of God.”

For the next year, Jirí found himself near the top of the secret police’s list of people dangerous to the state. “I had grown used to that for the past 40 years anyway,” he says. But although he was interrogated monthly by the secret police, he now also dealt monthly with the secretariat for religious affairs. He used those frequent opportunities “to let them get used to the idea that we would not withdraw our cause.” On 17 May 1989, he submitted a renewed official request for recognition. When he received no reply, he wrote letters of complaint and began making weekly visits to the secretariat.

Then came that remarkable day of 17 November 1989—the beginning of the nationwide “velvet revolution” against the Communist regime in Czechoslovakia. “That was a signal to us to intensify even more the pressure regarding our petition. The secretariat for religious affairs referred me to the ministry of culture, who referred me to the state department, who claimed not to be able to do anything without a decision of the cabinet. There was chaos. Nobody knew anything; nobody was responsible for anything. Then the secret police ceased to exist, the secretariat for religious affairs was eliminated, and the power of the Communists was broken.”

In January 1990, Brother Snederfler submitted the Church’s petition to the new administration’s minister of culture, who was overseeing the registration of churches and religious societies. After hearing Jirí’s account and reading the documents, the minister of culture “immediately wrote a petition recommending that the government grant the Church official recognition and permission for public activity as soon as possible. He wrote that the new government had a moral duty to rectify the injustice done to our Church by the Communist regime, which had ‘illegally and criminally abolished the activity thereof.’”

On 6 February 1990, Elder Russell M. Nelson, Elder Hans B. Ringger, and Brother Snederfler met with the vice chairman of the new government; that afternoon they retraced Elder John A. Widtsoe’s steps up Priests Hill near Karlstejn Castle, and Elder Nelson reaffirmed the dedication of Czechoslovakia for the preaching of the restored gospel.

On 21 February 1990, the new administration passed a resolution granting the Church’s request, effective 1 March 1990. The news was broadcast nationwide in newspapers and on radio and television. “Finally, 40 long years of struggle for official recognition and public activity in Czechoslovakia had come to an end!” says Brother Snederfler.

“Oh, I’m chock-full of tales about my sister,” he said. “I remember her first date with your Grandpa.”
Date? It had never occurred to me that someone would actually remember Grandma going on a date.
“To be honest, I remember her second date better. It was almost the last. Her first date was kind of normal. She came home with this goofy smile on her face and walked past me like I didn’t exist. But on her second date, she came home scratching like a hen in the barnyard. I thought she must have fleas. She kept yelling, ‘I can’t stand it,’ all the while yanking at her clothes and peeling down her socks. Come to find out, Harry’s old Plymouth also served as a truck. He’d forgotten to take the chicken feed sacks out in time for his date. Harry and Annie got covered with chicken mites. They were scratching like a couple of dogs all night and didn’t dare say a word to each other. Luckily, chicken mites would rather be on chickens than people, so Annie got over it quick. But it took a few weeks for her and Harry to get back together.”
Uncle Al and my dad were laughing so hard tears were running down their cheeks.

“One time in seminary we prayed together that more students would come. After this prayer, three more of our friends came—we knew it was an answer to our prayer!”—Eva Analia Arce

I have often related that in the early days of the missionary work in Brazil, where we now have over half a million members of the Church, we did not have the Book of Mormon, the Pearl of Great Price, or the Doctrine and Covenants translated into the Portuguese language. All we had were the Bible, a few tracts, our personal testimonies concerning the Restoration of the gospel and the Joseph Smith story, and our testimony of the living prophet. The harvest was not great. However, some of those who were baptized have for three generations remained faithful because they were touched by the powerful testimonies of humble missionaries almost 60 years ago. Now, you cannot be responsible for whether or not those you teach will accept your testimony and join the Church. Do not feel that you must obtain a quota of baptisms to be successful. An old saying teaches that you can count the number of seeds in a single apple, but you can’t count the number of apples in a single seed. The harvest is the Lord’s. Your responsibility is to thrust in the sickle.

Peace McBride placed a “closed” sign in the window and carefully shut the curtains. Then she packed the blue silk ball gown into the brown box to be delivered to Mrs. Farren for a ball that very night. As she folded the dress, she admired the shimmering silk. Her employer, Mrs. Root, was very particular, and Peace had learned to be a good seamstress. Some of my own stitches are in this beautiful dress, Peace thought happily.
Mrs. Root had already gone for the evening, leaving Peace to deliver the dress. She was pleased that Mrs. Root trusted her now. As she hurried out into the cold December evening of 1839, she pulled her pelisse close and bowed her head against the chill wind. Glancing ahead, she saw a long line of people winding toward the church on the corner. Her curiosity made her stop. “Excuse me,” she said to a young woman with a pink feather curled around her hat, “could you tell me what’s happening tonight?”
“There’s a new preacher speaking,” the woman answered. “His name is Joseph Smith, and he claims to have seen an angel who gave him a golden Bible.”
“A golden Bible!” Peace exclaimed. “I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
“Stand thee in line with us,” a matronly Quaker woman said. “It costs nothing, and thee mayest learn something.”
Peace looked down at the box. “I would like to, but I promised my mistress that I would deliver this.”
The older woman nodded. “Then thee must do as thee hast promised.”
As Peace made her way through the crowd to the corner, a carriage pulled up beside her. A man leaped lightly from the carriage, followed by his companions. Peace studied his face. It was a fine face with good, clean lines. The eyes were clear and straightforward. She felt that he was a special person. As she watched, people shook his hand and greeted him. She decided that he must be Joseph Smith.
The crowd surged into the church as the doors opened to admit the men. Peace found herself pulled along with them. She couldn’t fight her way out, so she took a seat near the middle of the church and sat down. The man who she had assumed was Joseph Smith was now at the pulpit, shaking hands with those around him. Settling herself, she saw Mrs. Root seated two rows ahead of her!
Peace slumped down behind a tall man dressed in quiet Quaker garb. He was tall enough to hide her if Mrs. Root turned around. She knew that her employer would not be pleased to see her at a meeting when she should be working.
People continued to pour into the building. Peace knew that over two thousand people could be seated comfortably in the building, and although it was one of Philadelphia’s largest, people were crammed onto the benches. There must be over three thousand people squeezed in here, she thought.
A hush stilled the audience as Joseph Smith stood to speak. He spoke in a voice that all could hear. He spoke with great power about visions that he had seen and of an angel who had told him where to find scriptures written on gold plates. He told of translating those plates by the power of God.
Peace felt something flow through her as he spoke. It was like some of old Ben Franklin’s electricity had passed right through her. She sensed that the people around her were having the same reaction to the speaker’s words. When he bore his testimony to them, Peace felt a burning inside her. She believed that it was the burning of the Holy Ghost, which she had heard about in church.
She didn’t know how long the sermon lasted. She only remembered feeling that at last she had found truth. When Joseph Smith challenged all within his hearing to be baptized and join The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, she knew that she needed to do so.
Clutching the forgotten brown box in her arms, she followed the crowd out of the church and into the chill evening air. She edged her way to the front of the group, where several men surrounding Joseph Smith were talking to the people and telling them where the baptism would be held. “Please, good sir,” Peace said to a nice-looking man. “I desire to be baptized. Do you baptize children?”
“How old are you, my child?” he asked.
“I’m twelve.”
“Do you truly believe what Joseph Smith the Prophet has said this evening?”
“I know that it’s true,” she answered simply. “I must do as he said and join his church.”
“It’s not Joseph’s church,” the man reminded her gently. “It’s the Church of Jesus Christ.”
“I know it. Please let me join!”
With the knowledge that the baptism would be the next day, Peace slowly retraced her steps back to the shop. At the doorway, she looked in horror at the brown box in her hands! “Mrs. Farren!” she gasped.
With the box bumping against her legs, she ran as fast as she could past the crowd at the church and across the street to the Farren mansion. Lights blazed from all the rooms, and her heart sank as she realized the lateness of the hour. Hurrying to the back door, she knocked timidly. The door was thrown open, and a maid stood impatiently at the door. “Is that the mistress’s dress?”
“Yes, if it pleases you, Miss,” Peace replied, curtsying.
“You’re late. She almost had to make do without it. She’ll have something to say about this to Mrs. Root!” She slammed the door in Peace’s face.
It seemed a long way back to the shop. Peace suddenly felt very tired, and she still had to face her employer and tell her what had happened. Mrs. Root was in the front parlor when Peace climbed the stairs to the living quarters above the shop. She put her bonnet and pelisse away, then stood in front of her mistress. “Mistress Root,” she began with her head down, “Mrs. Farren is angry tonight. I didn’t get the dress to her when I should have.” She expected an angry retort or maybe even a slap as Mistress Root was wont to inflict at times. When nothing happened, Peace looked up.
A beautiful smile covered Mrs. Root’s face. “What caused you to be so late?” she asked. “I’ve never known you to offend like this.”
“I started out in plenty of time,” Peace began, “but there was a large crowd in front of the church, and I followed them inside and listened to the speaker.” Again she remembered the burning feeling and tried to explain it. “There was a prophet of God there,” she declared, even though she knew that her mistress had heard him too. “He told of a new church that had the restored gospel of Jesus Christ—”
“I know,” Mrs. Root interrupted gently. “I, too, was there. It was a special evening, wasn’t it?” She smiled, then picked up a book from her lap. In the light of the lamp, Peace could see the name on the cover—The Book of Mormon.
It was the book that Joseph Smith had translated through the power of God. He had said that it had been delivered by an angel. Reverently Peace took it in her hands. “Would you let me try to read some of it?” she asked. She had never had an opportunity to go to school, but she had learned to read a little in her spare time.
“Sit down, my dear,” Mrs. Root replied. “You still have that collar to sew for Patience Black. The night’s still early, and idle hands are not good for young girls.”
Peace sighed. It had been a long day, and she wanted to go to the solitude of her room to think over what had happened that evening. But she obediently picked up the collar and began to place small, even stitches around the lace edging.
“There,” Mrs. Root said in satisfaction. “While you’re sewing, I’ll just read a little of the book to you.”
Peace looked up in surprise. Mrs. Root was smiling kindly at her, and Peace felt a keen joy. It will be good to hear what is in this important book, she decided. It will be good to hear more of the word of God.
(To be continued)

“Dad was on his first mission and was the mission secretary in charge of the travel preparations for the missionaries in Europe. When it came time for him and his companions to leave, he booked their passage on the big “unsinkable” ocean liner, the Titanic. However, one of the boys could not go then so Dad changed their departure date. When the boys heard that the Titanic had sunk, they all knelt down and thanked the Lord for preserving them.”

We see some of the same attitudes today. Some act as if a man’s highest goal should be his own pleasure. Permissive social mores have “let men off the hook,” as it were, so that many think it acceptable to father children out of wedlock and to cohabit rather than marry. Dodging commitments is considered smart, but sacrificing for the good of others, naive. For some, a life of work and achievement is optional. A psychologist studying the growing phenomenon of what he calls “young men stuck in neutral” describes this scenario:
“Justin goes off to college for a year or two, wastes thousands of dollars of his parents’ money, then gets bored and comes home to take up residence in his old room, the same bedroom where he lived when he was in high school. Now he’s working 16 hours a week at Kinko’s or part time at Starbucks.
“His parents are pulling their hair out. ‘Justin, you’re 26 years old. You’re not in school. You don’t have a career. You don’t even have a girlfriend. What’s the plan? When are you going to get a life?’
“‘What’s the problem?’ Justin asks. ‘I haven’t gotten arrested for anything, I haven’t asked you guys for money. Why can’t you just chill?’”
How’s that for ambition?

In my youth, I experienced the joy of coming closer to the Savior—and of His coming closer to me—through simple acts of obedience to the commandments. When I was young, the sacrament was offered during an evening meeting. I can still remember one specific night, more than 75 years ago, when it was dark and cold outside. I remember a feeling of light and warmth as I realized that I had kept the commandment to gather with the Saints to partake of the sacrament, covenanting with our Heavenly Father to always remember His Son and keep His commandments.
At the end of the meeting that night, we sang the hymn “Abide with Me; ’Tis Eventide,” with the memorable words “O Savior, stay this night with me.”
These words brought an overwhelming sense of the Spirit to me, even as a young boy. I felt the Savior’s love and closeness that evening through the comfort of the Holy Ghost.

When Elder Richard G. Scott was young, his father was not a member of the Church. His mother was a member, but she didn’t go to church very often. When Richard turned eight years old, he didn’t get baptized. Then his Grandma Whittle came to visit.
Grandma Whittle was a very good example. She helped Richard and his brothers learn how important it is to be baptized and go to church. Soon Richard and his older brother were baptized.

“Did you say your prayer tonight?”
Every night, Jesse’s older brother Ben came into Jesse’s room and asked him that same question.
Jesse could put on his pajamas and brush his teeth without help. He was proud that he could get ready for bed all by himself. But every night he forgot to pray until Ben reminded him. It made Jesse so mad. How was he supposed to feel good about praying when his brother made it a chore?
“No,” Jesse grumbled. “I haven’t said it yet.”
“Remember, you’re supposed to pray every day so Heavenly Father knows you always remember Him,” Ben said.
“I know!” Jesse said.
“Ben must think he is so smart because he is two years older than me,” Jesse thought as he knelt beside his bed. “In two years I’ll remember my prayers every day too, and Ben won’t be able to bug me anymore.”
Jesse said a prayer and then scrambled back into bed. How could he remember to say his prayers? He was tired of Ben reminding him every night.
Then Jesse had an idea. What if he prayed for a reminder? He whispered a quick prayer: “Heavenly Father, please help me remember to say my prayers tomorrow night.”
Feeling much better, he turned over and fell asleep.
The next night, Jesse put on his pajamas and brushed his teeth like he always did. Then, as he climbed into bed, he suddenly remembered he hadn’t prayed yet. He leaped up and knelt next to his bed. He thanked Heavenly Father for reminding him to pray and asked Him to continue helping him every day.
Just as Jesse was getting back into bed, Ben came into his room.
“Did you say your prayers tonight?” Ben asked.
“Yes!” Jesse said with a smile. “Heavenly Father helped me remember!”
“Good job, little brother,” Ben said. “I knew you could do it.”
Jesse felt warm and happy. And he was excited to say his prayers the next day.