Gospel Story Finder

James Henry Rollins, a refugee from the mobs in Missouri, moved his family to Nauvoo and sought the Prophet’s help: “I went with him to his store and he asked Newell K. Whitney if he had any work for me to do. He replied nothing that he knew of then, that he had sufficient help at present. Joseph said to me, ‘I have work for you’ and he took me thro in the back of the store and showed me about the cords of hickory wood. He asked me if I were a good hand with the axe. I laughed and said, ‘Well, some little.’ He said the clerks here were too shiftless to cut their own wood. I asked him if he had a sharp ax. He turned to Lorin Walker and said, ‘Get the ax for him. I want him to chop up this wood,’ which I did and piled it up the same day. The next day he came to the store and unbarred the outside cellar door and he would unlock it from the outside. When the doors were opened and then asked me if I thot I could straighten up things and I told him I would try and see what I could do.
“He was pleased with the change I had made with the appearance of the cellar. …
“… At this time a good deal of work was being done on the Temple which the workmen received orders for their labor on the store.
“It was very much crowded for two or three days, and as I stood in the counting room door looking at the faces in the house, there were a great many very familiar with me, and they came to me as they were waiting for their pay, asked me if I could wait on them. Joseph being in the store at the time said to me, ‘Why don’t you wait on these people.’ I told him when I was ordered I would do so with pleasure. He then said, ‘go and wait on them.’ I then went to work behind the counter on the grocery side and payed off many orders this day and the next, the store being crowded constantly and at least 50 to 100 people to be waited on from morning until night and being so very close with so many present was very oppressive to us all.
“When Joseph came in, and saw us looking tired and pale, he told us to shut up the store that night and not open again for two or three days, which we did until we got rested. Then opened again for business” (“A Sketch of the Life of James Henry Rollins,” Archives of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, Salt Lake City, 1888, pp. 11–12).

In looking back over his life, Elder Kent Dee Watson has always felt he was a believer and that he always had a testimony, but there was one event that had a profound effect on him.
“The decision I made as a young man to go on a mission has affected all facets of my life,” says Elder Watson, recently called to the Second Quorum of the Seventy.
He received a call to the Southern Far East Mission and served in Taiwan. “As a result of my mission I changed from being a mediocre student to a good student,” he continues. “It was because of my mission that I met my wife. I was introduced to her by a former mission companion. It was because of my mission that I studied Chinese. It was because of my mission that I found a profession in which I had an enjoyable career. It was because of my mission that our family has had the opportunity to live in several cities.”

Since I was little, I always wanted to make my Heavenly Father and my present and future family proud. I wanted to get all the education I could to improve myself and my life.
In my country, Peru, quality education is very expensive and, in some areas, totally inaccessible. My family didn’t have all the resources to support my education either. But my parents taught me that working hard, being diligent, and asking Heavenly Father for help can help make our righteous desires come true. And I planned to work hard.
In elementary and high school, I was diligent in my studies to be able to improve myself each year. After high school, I was admitted to Peru’s top-ranked university and received a good scholarship. While there, I worked with several organizations, including an internship with a global organization, and had opportunities to lead many different types of projects.
During that internship, I felt like it would be a great opportunity for me to gain an education in English. So I decided to transfer to Brigham Young University–Idaho. It felt daunting, but I knew that Heavenly Father would help me to achieve this goal—I just needed to trust Him and do my part.
I was set to go to BYU–Idaho, but during the application process, I felt a strong prompting that I should serve a mission before transferring there. So I followed Heavenly Father’s will and was called to serve in Trujillo, Peru. When I returned home, I planned to go back to the university in Peru because I felt like I could get a degree there quickly. However, I found out that my scholarships there were revoked because I had left my studies for more than a year to serve my mission.
I was devastated and lost. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know why I had felt prompted to serve a mission if it meant losing my opportunity to get a college degree.
But one day, I remembered my mission president telling us about BYU-Pathway Worldwide. He had invited us to improve our English and to pursue this opportunity when we came back home—and I did!
I knew that my mission president telling me about BYU-Pathway was not a coincidence. When I began the Pathway program, it required me to travel almost three hours each week to meet with my group. I sacrificed a lot, but I knew that getting an education was both important to me and to the Lord. And those sacrifices led to many blessings.
BYU-Pathway Worldwide was the window of opportunity I was looking for. It gave me access to education at an affordable cost, allowed me time to hold a job, and helped me get an education in English. And through it all, I found great friends who encouraged me to be brave and continue working toward my goals. I feel spiritually stronger and have become a better disciple of Jesus Christ.
Eventually, I was the first international student to receive a bachelor’s degree through BYU-Pathway Worldwide. Education has opened amazing opportunities for me. I am now a welfare and self-reliance specialist for the South America Northwest Area of the Church, and I’m also a volunteer missionary for BYU-Pathway in Peru. I see so much light in each student, and I encourage them to move forward just as I was encouraged by my friends during school. Through this journey, I’ve realized that Heavenly Father has been with me every step of the way.

While visiting with a young man a few years ago, he told me that when he was twelve, his father, the ward bishop, upon finishing his Aaronic Priesthood interview, said, “Son, I have talked with you as your bishop. Now I want to visit with you as your father. I can honestly tell you that I have never smoked or drunk or touched tea or coffee. And I want you to know how good it makes me feel to be able to say that to you. Now I would like you to covenant with me that when your own son or daughter is twelve years old, you will be able to tell him or her the same thing.” The covenant was made. Just one year after this, this same man, still the bishop, still a prominent dentist, was just finishing his dissertation prior to receiving another doctors degree, this time in education; he went to his medical doctor for a physical and was told he was in perfect health. Yet that night he cancelled all of his appointments for the next day and arranged to take his wife to the temple. On the way he discussed with her many family financial matters. Upon returning home he went into my friend’s bedroom, reminded him of the covenant they had made a year earlier and then told him that if anything should happen to him that he (my friend) was the man of the house and that he should take care of his mother. Concluding, he bore his testimony that he knew Jesus was the Christ and that the Church was led by prophets, and then he left the room. A little later, hearing a scream, my friend rushed to his parents’ room, and finding his father lying on the floor, he administered mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He heard his dad pronounced dead when the ambulance arrived. As he told me of this experience, tears came to his eyes, and as he looked at his own three-month-old son, whom he held in his arms, he said, “When he is twelve years old, I will be able to tell him that I have never tasted tea or coffee, liquor or tobacco, and how good that makes me feel.”

As I stepped over the concrete and rebar jutting out of the ground, I thought this had to be the strangest family home evening ever. Mom and Dad had loaded all five of us kids into the van and driven us to where our future home was being built. We were excited about our new house and often visited the site to see the progress.
At this stage, however, the progress wasn’t very exciting—just long rows of poured cement that looked more like buried walls with iron rebar running through them.
“Sit down,” Dad said, and we all looked around to find a comfortable spot to sit. “This is the foundation of our house,” he explained. “Our home will be supported by all of this concrete and metal. This foundation will keep our house safe during storms. It will even keep our house standing strong during an earthquake.”
This got my attention. Living in California, we were all used to earthquakes, both big and small. We’d seen what earthquakes could do to homes.
“Normally, builders don’t make foundations go this deep into the ground for a house this size,” my dad gestured into the trench holding the underground concrete. “And once the house is built, we won’t even see it. Some people told me I was wasting money to build a deep foundation for our home, but I wanted to make sure our home was as safe as I could make it.”
The building of our home was a big part of our lives, but my dad had taken to talking about it at every opportunity. Now he was giving us a family home evening lesson on overbuilt slabs of concrete and iron that no one would ever see after a few more weeks.
Of course, Dad wasn’t done with his lesson.
“There is another kind of foundation we need to build as well.” We all looked at him expectantly. “Each of us needs as his or her own foundation a testimony of our Savior, Jesus Christ. Just like our home’s foundation will keep us physically safe during storms and earthquakes, a testimony will keep us spiritually safe when we face trials and challenges.”
Dad continued, “I challenge each of you to build strong foundations by learning about our Savior and praying for help and ways to know Him better. Follow His example and keep His commandments, and you will be blessed with a strong testimony of Him.”
Since that family home evening lesson, set amid the crucial beginnings of our new home, I have learned just how important it is to have a strong, deep testimony of Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ as my own personal foundation. When adversity comes, I can always rely on what I know to be true. My testimony keeps me strong and makes it possible for me to weather the many storms of life.

Sister Yee with two sisters in Micronesia who are raising children abandoned by parents.
As I’ve been reflecting on the blessings of the covenant bond we have with God, I thought about my assignment to visit the Asia North Area.
I had the privilege of traveling to the small islands of Chuuk in Micronesia, about 1,500 miles (2,400 km) southeast of Japan. Two of the sisters on Weno, Chuuk, have given their lives to raise children who have been abandoned by their parents. These two sisters felt it was important to raise these children in the gospel. One of these sisters is single and working full-time as a school counselor.
I shared with them President Nelson’s message to the sisters of the Church, which is that you sisters are loved, necessary, and precious.
The beautiful single sister who is raising her nieces and nephews broke down in tears and said she had not felt precious lately; she had felt forgotten. But she testified she felt of God’s love and awareness for her in the prophet’s words that she was indeed “precious,” and she knew it was true. She felt God’s healing love; she felt relief.
The Lord has said, “Know ye not that I, the Lord your God, have created all men, and that I remember those who are upon the isles of the sea?” (2 Nephi 29:7).
These sisters are known to their Heavenly Father and Savior. They are not alone. And neither are you and I in our trials and challenges. The Lord sent me roughly 8,500 miles (13,700 km) by plane, train, car, and boat to bring God’s love and relief to “the one” on the isles of the sea. And so He will find you and me on our personal islands where we might feel alone in the concerns and the burdens we carry in our hearts. He is present and prepared to bless, guide, and comfort us.

One of the matters that had been discussed in the stake welfare meeting was how the needs of ward members could be relayed to stake leaders if telephone communications were not functioning. Don McNeece, the high priests group leader in Coalinga and a ham radio operator, had been designated as the primary communication link with stake leaders in Hanford, 45 miles away. The evening of the earthquake, he was able to get the information to stake president Gerald Thompson that most members had been accounted for and, while many suffered extensive property damage, there were no deaths or injuries.
Early the next morning President Thompson visited Coalinga to help ward leaders assess the damage and determine how the stake could help.
The greatest immediate need, especially for the elderly, was for help in getting their homes back in order. For 79-year-old Veda Cooper, who was crippled from a bone disease, the experience was traumatic, and the love and service offered by ward and stake members were badly needed.
“I was standing in the kitchen doorway when everything started falling down,” she explained. “I couldn’t get backward and I couldn’t get forward. It felt like the house was going to come tumbling down. But I couldn’t get out and run. I’m crippled. Everything that could fall fell. Jams and jellies, pickles, clothes, suitcases, goblets and glasses, a whole set of china for 12—everything was all mixed together. Water was squirting all over the bathroom.
“Later when I thought about all the mess I started feeling sorry for myself. I thought, now look, I’m not afraid to work. And it’s all right for the Lord to take my husband, and it’s all right to have my three sons so far away. But I felt like it was just adding insult to injury to be crippled and alone and then to have a mess like this. The tears were running down, and I thought, I’ll be all summer getting this mess picked up.
“Then here came somebody knocking on the door, somebody from Hanford to help me clean up, and I didn’t feel sorry anymore. But for a little while I thought this is too much—just too much—until help came. Then in no time they had the water turned off, and the plumbing fixed, and the mess cleaned up, and I was just doing fine.”
Shari Vanlandingham, 14, and a convert of eight months, said she feels that being a member of the Church makes a big difference during a time of calamity. “I don’t know what we would do if we didn’t have all this help. After the quake they had a meeting at the Church and asked what everybody needed. Whatever you needed, they would help you get. Everybody was helping everybody.”
Janel Woolsey, 14, agreed. “The Church made a lot of difference. The evening of the quake the church was opened for anybody who needed food or a place to sleep. People just came by to see if they could help.”
The meetinghouse quickly became a center for coordinating relief efforts. Several families whose homes were unsafe to live in set up tents and trailers in the parking lot. The bulletin board in the foyer was divided into headings—Carpentry, Plumbing, Brickwork, etc.—with listings of those who needed help in each area. Local radio stations announced that anyone who needed help cleaning up could contact the LDS church.
The Church organization was able to respond quickly to individual needs largely because of preparations that had been made before the earthquake. Even before the Tuesday planning meeting in Hanford, ward leaders had compiled a list of supplies that ward members could provide in the event of a disaster. They knew who had campers, tents, cooking equipment, and first-aid supplies. They knew what members were trained in medical, plumbing, and construction skills. And members of the ward welfare committee had been assigned specific responsibilities in the event of a disaster—communications, child care, food preparation, sanitation, emotional problems, etc.
While most members had plenty of food, cooking it with the power off was a problem. And since everyone was so busy trying to clean up their homes, the evening meals provided by different wards in the stake were extremely welcome. For two weeks after the quake, meals were prepared by the Relief Society sisters in the stake and transported over long distances to Coalinga.
Even more important than the food was the emotional support and closeness derived from ward and stake members coming together to talk and share concerns. “Coalinga is about the farthest ward from the stake center,” explained Sister Millie Netherton. “We used to see these people at meetings and work with them, but we didn’t really know them very well. Now we fall into each other’s arms we’re so glad to see each other.”
About a month before the earthquake, the Relief Society had shown a film to the ward about the 1971 San Fernando earthquake. As a result of that film, many families had taken their own precautions.
James and Shirley Sirman had prepared small emergency backpacks for their whole family. The packs contained identification cards (in case the children got separated), a three-day supply of food, a change of clothing, flashlights, water purification tablets, and other emergency supplies. Although their children are young (ages 3 through 9), they knew the places in their house that are safest in an earthquake, and they knew where in the yard to meet after the quake.
The Fowkes family had been having emergency drills during family home evenings for several years. This training helped them instinctively do the right things when the quake hit. Nathan, 13, who was studying in the library, immediately dove under a table that protected him from being hit by a tall cabinet of books. His younger brother and sister ducked under the kitchen table at home and missed being hit by falling china. just three weeks before the quake, Sister Fowkes had shown her son Kendall, 9, how to turn off the gas, electricity, and water in the house, so he could earn a Cub Scout achievement. This knowledge saved the family from a flooded basement, since the quake caused a water pipe to break.
Ten years earlier the Fowkes had made some other preparations. Following two consecutive dreams about being in an earthquake, Sister Fowkes insisted that her husband string wire in front of the shelves in their fruit room before they left on vacation. Eventually their foresight paid off. While they had over 200 bottles stacked seven shelves high, none were broken.
But perhaps even more important to the Latter-day Saints in Coalinga than the disaster plans, the emergency supplies, and the stored food were the reserves of faith, testimony, and gospel knowledge that grow naturally when people are obedient to the Lord and try to follow the counsel of his leaders—reserves that can turn a calamity into a chance for spiritual growth.
A lot of members in Coalinga would agree with President Joseph F. Smith’s observation that the Lord allows natural calamities “for the good of his children, to quicken their devotion to others, and to bring out their better natures, that they may love and serve him” (Gospel Doctrine, Deseret Book, 1919, p. 55). It’s not hard to find examples in Coalinga these days of people’s “devotion to others” or to see evidence of their “better natures.”
Brother Lawrence Richie, retired for ten years and living alone since his wife’s death, had his home paid for. The quake caused severe structural damage, requiring him to move into a trailer until the house could be made safe. But none of this has dampened his good spirits. “We were flooded out one time, and we were burned out one time. Now we’ve been shook out. That’s just the way it goes,” he added good naturedly. And he didn’t find it hard to see a positive side to these experiences. “You know how people draw apart? When there’s a disaster they unite. They get together, and they work together. When that quake hit, the town was just like this,” he said, clasping his palms together.
Fifteen-year-old Tracy Boucher agreed. “Everybody worked together. All my neighbors helped us out, and we helped them out. Before, hardly anyone helped each other, but in this situation everyone was helping.”
Many members found that the earthquake brought their priorities into much sharper focus. “I always take it for granted that the world is just gonna keep going and nothing is going to happen while I’m alive,” Denise explained. “So when it hit I thought, this is the end of the world. Oh man, I need to repent.”
“I realized that in a few minutes you could lose everything—your whole house and everything in it—but you’re still the same person,” said Dan McNeece, 18. “You get worried about all your stuff, but if you really think about it, it’s just here, and after you die you’re not going to have it. I think more now about the things that really matter.”
There are others, too, who are thinking more now about the things that really matter. “My wife had gone through I don’t know how many houses and helped clean up,” explained Brother Roy Vanlandingham. “And after she looked at all that broken fine china and cut glass, we realized what Christ meant when he said not to store up your treasures on earth. No matter what you’ve got, it can be taken away from you in less than 32 seconds. Your family is the only thing that matters. During the aftershocks, we sat in the middle of the street and watched our house rock three feet in each direction. But once I had found out my family was all right the panic was over.”
“I was pretty weak in the Church, and I wasn’t planning on going on a mission,” said Cary Scherer, a 19-year-old college student. “But because of this I feel I need to straighten out my life and get closer to the Lord, because when these kinds of things happen I’m going to need his help.”
Sister Netherton is confident that her family is receiving the Lord’s help. With her home destroyed and the family’s food storage inaccessible in the basement, she is full of faith in the Lord. “My husband is two years from retiring, and we have three teenagers. I don’t know how we can start over this late in life. But I feel so calm. The Lord says he is bound when we do what he commands us to do—not that the Church is going to come in and take over—but we’re going to be able to manage. The gospel gives total purpose to life and helps you put value on the things that are of most worth. Material things are just not important. This is what’s comforting us—the gospel—so there’s no fear.”

A sister wrote me about her feelings toward a relative who had abused her as a child, leaving her with a painful physical condition. In her words, “I have to live with the pain and try to function around it.” She wrote, “At times I [felt] angry and wonder[ed] why I had to suffer the abuse in the first place and why must I continue to pay a price now.”

One day, as she listened to a talk in church, her heart was touched. The Spirit bore witness that she should forgive the man who had wronged her and that she could do so with the help of our Lord Jesus Christ. Her letter explained: “The price for that sin has already been paid by Him in Gethsemane. I have no right to hold on to it and demand justice, so I gladly hand it back to Him and rejoice in His love and mercy.”

Her letter described the result of her decision: “My heart is so full of joy, peace, and gratitude and love! Isn’t His work glorious? How I do love Him! Words cannot express my feelings.”

During the 2016 Christmas season, Africa Southeast Area leaders encouraged members and friends of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to participate in the “Light the World in 25 Ways in 25 Days” initiative. We had decided to follow the program in our family. We prayerfully strove to adapt the ideas of the proposed activities to our situation and environment.
During the same period, many in Kinshasa began to feel pessimistic and fearful because the impending December 19th election deadline was expected to be violent. In contrast to the alarm felt in the neighborhood, we remained positive and confident in our Heavenly Father. A few days before that fateful date, my 6-year-old son Ryan and his nanny escaped an attempted abduction during their return from school while I was testifying about peace to my neighbors. The week before, my husband gave a talk in church about the Savior calming the storm (see Mark 4:36–41).
We knew that this “Light the World” theme for December 19th—“Jesus calmed the storm, you can do the same”—was not a mere coincidence. The Lord had offered to calm the political storm in Kinshasa, and He had done so.
Each year, we are invited to “Light the World.” If we follow the suggested calendar of scriptures with prayer, our light will shine and miracles will continue to take place (see 3 Nephi 18:15).

It was a blind man who helped me understand a principle of leadership in a way that I will never forget. It happened one day on the Eagle Gate corner in Salt Lake City. I had arrived at the intersection at the same time as a blind man (I later learned his name was Jim Ganski) with his Seeing Eye dog. As the signal changed, the dog hesitated because a bus stopped at the curb was blocking his vision and he was not sure it was safe to cross. Desiring to be helpful, I grasped the blind man’s arm and started him across the street. As we walked, I explained the reason for the dog’s hesitation. By the time I completed my explanation, we had reached the middle of the street and the dog had already turned and looked at me several times and then inquiringly at his master. The twist of the dog’s harness no doubt signaled his concern to his master. It was then that the blind man thanked me courteously for the explanation and then said firmly. “Now, if you would please let go of my arm, my dog doesn’t like people taking over his job.”
What a great lesson! Once you have delegated a job, do not take it over again.

Ronny was not just shy; he was downright backward. As a 17-year-old high school senior, Ronny had never really had a close friend or done anything that included other people. He was famous for his shyness. He never said anything to anybody, not even a teacher. One look at him told you a great deal of the story—inferiority complex. He slumped over as if to hide his face and seemed to be always looking at his feet. He always sat in the back of the class and would never participate. He was such a novelty, it became kind of a school joke.
One thing you could say about him—he came by his complex honestly. His parents were the same way. People right next door went months without even seeing them. Ronny’s father was a night custodian for a small business building. He left for work late at night, worked alone, and came home just as others were getting up. Neighbors used to joke that they never ate because they were afraid to go to the store—afraid someone might talk to them.
It was because of Ronny’s shyness that I was so astonished when he started coming to my Sunday School class. He was a member of the Church. I vaguely remembered when a relative from out of town came to baptize him. Ronny was 14 then, and so shy that a special baptismal service had to be arranged. Just Ronny, his uncle, the bishop, and the missionaries. It must have about killed him being the center of attention.
His attendance in my class was the result of the personal efforts of a classmember, Brandon Craig, who had recently befriended Ronny. Boy, if there had ever been a mismatch, this was it. Brandon was “Mr. Social.” A good head taller than Ronny, he was undisputedly the number one star of our high school athletics program. Brandon was involved in everything and successful at everything. You had to smile whenever you looked at him. He was just a neat kid.
Well, Brandon took to little Ronny like glue. Class was obviously painful for Ronny, but Brandon protected him like the king’s guard. I played a low profile—no questions, just a quick smile and once a pat on the back. Time seemed to be helping, but I often wondered if Brandon and company (the rest of the class certainly played it right) would ever be able to break the ice. That’s why I was so shocked when Brian, the class president, stood before our Sunday School class one Sunday afternoon and boldly announced that Ronny would offer the opening prayer.
There was a moment of hesitation; then Ronny slowly came to his feet. Still looking at his shoes, he walked to the front of the room. He folded his arms (his head was already bowed). The class was frozen solid. I thought to myself, “If he does it, we’ll all be translated.”
Then almost at a whisper I heard, “Our Father in Heaven, thank you for our Sunday School class.” Then silence—long, loud silence! I could feel poor Ronny suffering. Then came a few sniffles and a muffled sob.
“Oh, no,” I thought, “I should be up front where I can help or something.”
I hurt for him; we all did. I opened an eye and looked up to make my way to Ronny. But Brandon beat me to it. With an eye still open I watched six-foot-four Brandon put his arm around his friend, bend down and put his chin on Ronny’s shoulder, then whisper the words of a short, sweet prayer. Ronny struggled for composure, then repeated the prayer.
But when the prayer was over, Ronny kept his head bowed and added: “Thank you for Brandon, amen.” He then turned and looked up at his big buddy and said clear enough for all to hear, “I love you, Brandon.”
Brandon, who still had his arm around him, responded, “I love you too, Ronny. And that was fun.”
And it was, for all of us.

By contrast, we know a family who took a different approach. The parents were inspired by J. C. Penney’s experience where his father told him when he turned eight years old that he was on his own financially. They came up with their own version: as their children graduated from high school, they were on their own financially—for further education (college, graduate school) and for their financial maintenance (truly self-reliant) (see D&C 83:4). Happily, the children reacted wisely. All of them are college graduates, and several also completed graduate school—all on their own. It wasn’t easy, but they did it. They did it with hard work and faith.

Nathan Wakefield could hardly wait for dawn to break across the paddock. Today was his eleventh birthday, and Father had told him last night that in the morning the big flintlock rifle that hung over the cabin door would be his. “I have the Winchester,” Father said, “and you’ve been carrying a man’s load around here for some time now. You’ve earned Grandpa’s flintlock.” Then he looked deep into the lad’s eyes and added, “But be wise, my son. These are God’s mountains.”
Nathan sat in his rumpled nightshirt in the small, upstairs log bedroom, staring out into the predawn chill and dreaming about the big rifle. It had first been used by Grandpa Ephram as he, along with other frontiersmen, blazed trails through the wilderness for those who would follow. There were few primitive woodlands that had not heard the crack of the old musket as it spit fire and smoke—felling great beasts, warding off hostiles, and echoing the sound of brave men moving west.
Nathan’s father inherited the long gun and had used it all these years to keep his family in meat and to safeguard their stay in the rugged Montana mountains.
Perhaps, more than anything else, it had been the tales told about the old gun that had whetted Nathan’s yearning for the ruggedly handsome piece—tales told and retold around the fire-warmed hearth on cold, howly winter nights.
Nathan held his breath and his eyes widened in anticipation when the first rays of frosted light finally slanted across the top of the gray woods and lit a place on the paddock.
The young farm boy hardly tasted his breakfast that morning. Quickly wiping the goat’s milk off his chin, he bounded out the door with a leather pouch of homemade bullets strapped on his waist, a powder horn bouncing over his shoulder, and the long musket held firmly in his arms.
The woods were still more dark than light as Nathan waded through the high drifts of snow that bordered the icy white, mist-wrapped timberline. He tingled with a strange new sense of power as he pushed deeper into the eerie wooded silence. Nathan longed to become a part of the history of the big Wakefield flintlock, and these woods were full of opportunities!
Suddenly, a snow rabbit hopped into a clearing a short distance away. The animal paused to lift its head toward a myriad of silver slivers of light, shining like tinsel on the ice-coated branches above. Nathan hurried to load the musket, but in his excitement he hit the butt of his rifle against one of the great spider-leg roots, and the rabbit disappeared at the sound into the gray morning light.
Next time I’ll be more careful. And I’ll make a kill, he promised himself as he pressed deeper into the hush and haunting grandness of the living wood.
Nathan suddenly stopped dead still. Through a tangle of brushwood he spied a fawn in a patch of cold sunlight, nibbling on the leaves of a low-hanging limb. The young hunter lifted the flintlock, rested it across the bow of a small tree, and cocked the hammer. The fawn raised its head, pricked its ears, and its soft brown eyes stared into the brushwood and at the boy beyond. Nathan’s heart pounded and his eyes stung. His lips became summer-creek dry as his finger began to squeeze the trigger. His face twitched with excitement at the anticipation of a kill. Then his finger seemed to freeze in position. Was it from the cold? No—from somewhere his father’s voice came. “Be wise, my son. These are God’s mountains.”
The boy slowly lowered the rifle. And for a long moment the young deer and the young hunter traded looks.
The sun was high in the sky when Nathan emerged from the woods and crossed the frozen field toward home. Father paused in his woodchopping as the boy, toting the long rifle across his shoulder, stopped by the woodpile. “Well, son, what did you find?” he asked, leaning on his axe.
Nathan’s eyes shone. “Wisdom, Pa. I hope I found a little bit of wisdom.”
Nathan walked into the cabin and got a chair. But before he stepped up onto it to replace the flintlock over the door, he took out his pocketknife and carefully carved a small NW on the stock of the gun next to his father’s and Grandpa Ephram’s initials. Then he went outside to help his father cut wood.

Something momentarily caught the light when Grandmother Jo showed Christopher a miniature Eagle Scout pin that she had received from Christopher’s dad when he became on Eagle Scout. “Oh, I was proud of him as he stood so straight and tall to accept the award. Then he gave me the pin and kissed me.”
How happy Grandmother Jo looks, Christopher thought. When pirates found their treasures, they were very happy, but not in the same way that Grandmother Jo is right now.

I knew right away who had left the homemade card in my mailbox with a simple outline of a girl’s unhappy face on it. Underneath the caption read, “Color me sorry!” I had been upset with Judy for something she had said. But how could I be angry with her now, especially when I read the kind words inside the card stating how much our friendship meant to her. It was just like Judy to say “I’m sorry” so quickly, thoughtfully, and creatively. I called to thank her for the card, and our friendship was strengthened because of her apology.

Wilford Woodruff was a very influential missionary, bringing thousands of people into the Church. While serving in England in 1840, he met the Benbow family. After hearing his message, the Benbows talked with Elder Woodruff about the gospel until 2 a.m.
Brother Benbow: I thank the Lord that you have found us! We, and hundreds of our friends, have been searching for the true gospel of Jesus Christ.
Mr. Benbow told his friends about the missionary who would be preaching at his house.
On the first day, six people—including the Benbows—were baptized. On the second day, Elder Woodruff baptized 600 people!
Among those baptized were 45 preachers, who owned chapels and houses that could be used for teaching the gospel.
Wilford Woodruff: The Lord has truly prepared this place to receive His word.

For as long as I can remember, every time my mother came back from the temple, she would tell us about the peace she felt there. Throughout my teenage years, we had visited the temple in Johannesburg, South Africa, to do baptisms. Finally the time came for me to receive my endowment just before I left to serve a mission.
We traveled 900 miles (1,400 km) that day to get to the temple, and my mother spent much of the journey telling me about her experiences there. She talked about the things she felt and of her closeness to Heavenly Father. By the time we arrived at the temple, it was getting dark. The sky’s blue color faded into pink, then red, and finally black. The lights came on and lit up the temple’s beautiful white spires. As we walked around the temple in the cold night air, the golden statue of the angel Moroni glistened under a spotlight. The temple grounds were quiet and restful, undisturbed by the buzz of the city.
During the endowment session, I marveled at the incredible beauty of the Creation and the amazing plan of salvation. It made me long to see my Heavenly Father again. Now I understood what my mother had talked about so often—I felt completely at peace, as if I had come home. The session ended, and it was time to leave.
We were staying with my grandparents, and as we drove home with them, we saw that there had been a storm that evening while we were in the temple. I was amazed that I had not heard the thunder, rain, or wind while I was in the temple. In disbelief I stared through the car window at all the damage: electricity poles and trees had fallen down, road surfaces had been broken up or were flooded with water, and a few roofs had been blown off.
As I pondered the events of the evening, words came into my mind as the Spirit spoke to me: “Go to the temple often. It will be a refuge from the storm.”
I have been to the temple several times since then, and every time I go, I leave behind the troubles and difficulties of this stormy world and take shelter in the peace and comfort of my Heavenly Father’s love (see Isa. 4:6; D&C 115:6).

I spent my early childhood in Pocatello, Idaho. The most significant event at that time was World War II. My first memory in life is of being at the train station in Pocatello one night with my mother and three brothers, watching a troop train with my dad onboard pull out of the city. I felt a powerful sense of loss and sadness.
My dad was away serving in the navy for two years. During that period, my mother was raising four little boys at a time when shoes, tin, gasoline, and anything made of rubber were rationed. Even if you had money, you still needed coupons to buy anything. It was a tough time, yet I think as little boys we didn’t really notice any losses, except for our dad.

Toby looked down at the ring Jerome had slipped onto his third finger. “It will keep us close while I am on my mission,” Jerome had said, smiling down at his 10-year-old brother.
Toby knew how special this ring was to Jerome. Their great-uncle had made it and given it to him when he was ordained to the priesthood. The band was silver, and Uncle had painstakingly carved “LDS” out of turquoise and attached it to the band. Toby had never seen the ring off Jerome’s finger. “I won’t take it off my finger until I return it to you in two years,” he had promised his handsome missionary brother.
“Get up, Wind Wolf,” Grandfather called early the next morning. He used Toby’s Indian name only when he wanted him to hurry. “Today we must plant the corn, and old Grandfather Sun will scorch our backs if we do not begin soon.”
Toby quickly dressed, ate a biscuit, drank a glass of milk, and hurried outside. He loved helping Grandfather plant the corn, and he knew that if he kept busy, he wouldn’t miss Jerome as much.
Grandfather dug holes with the narrow, wooden spade that he had made himself. Toby crawled along the rows, dropping two kernels of corn into each hole from the leather pouch he wore around his neck. The sun caused bright sparkles to dance across the silver band on Jerome’s ring, making Toby squint at times.
When all the corn had been planted, Toby and Grandfather looked around at the large plot, pleased with their work.
Still on his knees, Toby reached up to wipe his forehead. He gasped, “Jerome’s ring! It’s gone!” He jumped up, looking frantically.
Grandfather placed his hand on Toby’s shoulder. “Nothing will be accomplished by acting like a chicken with its head cut off. You walk up and down these rows and look for the ring. I will do the same on the rows over there.”
But they did not find the ring.
“Oh, Grandfather, what can I do? The ring means so much to Jerome.”
“There is One who knows where the ring is,” Grandfather said, kneeling on the ground.
Of course! Heavenly Father knew where the ring was. He would help them find it. Toby knelt beside his wise grandfather.
“Now I am sure that I will find it,” Toby said. He got up and began to slowly walk up and down each row again.
But the ring still couldn’t be found.
“Why doesn’t Heavenly Father show me where the ring is?” Toby asked impatiently. “He knows that Jerome is serving him.”
“We will ask again tonight and look again tomorrow,” Grandfather said.
The next morning Toby was on his hands and knees when the sun cast its first beams across the field. He crawled along each row, looking desperately for the ring. Grandfather found him slumped against the hogan.
“Grandfather, I have prayed many times and have gone over every inch of the cornfield. Why doesn’t Heavenly Father show me where it is?”
“Heavenly Father knows where the ring is, Toby. If he wants us to find it, we will—but in his own time.”
“Why wouldn’t he want me to find it right now?”
“Maybe there is something you need to find even more than the ring,” Grandfather answered.
“What would I need to find more than Jerome’s ring?”
“That is something you must find out for yourself.”
Sometimes Grandfather doesn’t make any sense, Toby thought. If my prayer isn’t answered right now, the ring will be lost forever.
But it was not found that day, either.
Each morning Toby got up early and made his way slowly and carefully through the cornfield, hoping to find at last the turquoise and silver ring. But he found nothing. He was very discouraged, but he continued to ask Heavenly Father to help him.
“Why don’t you fast about it?” suggested his good friend Vincent.
Toby remembered the lesson his Primary teacher had given on fasting and on how miracles may happen when fasting and prayer are used together. He had thought that fasting was just for grown-ups. The more he thought about it now, however, the more he liked the idea.
It was hard going to school without breakfast, and even harder when all his friends brought out their lunches. But at the end of the school day, he felt good inside. He did not find the ring as he went through the cornfield that evening, but he did find peace. He felt very close to Heavenly Father.
One early morning a few weeks later, Toby heard his grandfather call, “Wind Wolf, come quickly!”
Toby ran outside wondering what was wrong. “Where are you, Grandfather?”
“Here in the cornfield.”
“What is it? Is something wrong?”
Grandfather pointed at a small, green plant sticking up through the brown soil.
“Jerome’s ring!” Toby fell on his hands and knees to see better. The bright, green cornstalk had grown through the silver band and lifted the ring right out of the ground. “It is as if the cornstalk is handing it to me.” Toby carefully lifted it from the tender seedling.
That evening when Grandfather was hoeing in the cornfield, Toby wanted to be near him. “Grandfather, you are very wise.”
“Many years make much experience; much experience makes much wisdom.” Grandfather smiled at Toby.
“I think I know now what it was that I needed to find more than Jerome’s ring.”
Grandfather sat down and leaned against a fence post. “Tell me,” he said, motioning for Toby to sit beside him.
“Well, if I had found Jerome’s ring right away, I would never have prayed all the times I did. I knew that I really needed Heavenly Father’s help, so I prayed differently than I usually do. I really talked to him. And when I fasted, I felt really good.”
“So what did you find, my grandson?”
“I found Heavenly Father’s love for me, Grandfather.” Neither Toby nor Grandfather said anything for a time. Then Grandfather said, “Tomorrow you must write to your brother about his first convert.”

Members of the Rochdale Ward, Ashton Stake, supported by sisters of the Ashton 1st Ward, for the last few years have adopted Francis House Children’s Hospice as one of their reach-out community projects.
Prepandemic and during the build-up to Easter, sisters have knitted Easter chicks, into which chocolate cream eggs donated by members have been inserted. The completed Easter chicks were then donated to the hospice for them to sell as part of their ongoing fundraising activities.
Easter 2021 brought new challenges! Would the project be able to continue?
It was decided to go ahead despite the challenges, but with the added invitation to not only supply the chocolate cream eggs and knit the chicks but also to sell the finished goods to family, friends, work colleagues, and others.
The response was overwhelming and the best to date. A total of £1,567 was raised and donated. In response, the hospice sent a letter of thanks, and a certificate. One of the lines from the letter read:
“A heartfelt thank you for taking part in our Easter Chick Appeal and raising an absolutely fantastic £1,567 for Francis House Children’s Hospice through the sale of your own knitted eggs. The support means more than words can say. I’m truly grateful you took the time and energy to support us during this difficult year for our appeal.”
In a time of adversity and with limitations caused by COVID-19, there are still opportunities to serve others within local communities, whose needs are greater than ever before.