Gospel Story Finder

Problem: “The Black Students Union has been propagandized into giving us opposition. How can we help them to better understand our true position?”
Nothing melts friction so quickly as does getting together to discuss so-called problems. One group of Latter-day Saints asked for a private, informal meeting with black organizational leaders, at which time mutual needs were discussed. The atmosphere was constructive and polite, and the result was greater understanding and even cooperative friendship.

President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, told about a time when he followed prophetic counsel. During one general conference, President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) urged members to get out of debt—specifically mortgage debt.
President Eyring said: “I turned to my wife after the meeting and asked, ‘Do you think there is any way we could do that?’ At first we couldn’t.” But by that evening he thought of a property they had unsuccessfully tried to sell for years. “We trusted God and … His servant’s message, [so] we placed a phone call. … I heard an answer that to this day strengthens my trust in God and His servants.” That same day a man had placed an offer on the Eyrings’ property for an amount just greater than their mortgage. The Eyrings soon became free of debt (see “Trust in God, Then Go and Do,” Liahona, Nov. 2010, 72–73).

About twelve years ago I had a call early in the morning from a beloved friend who is a physician. He asked me to come to the hospital to administer with him to his infant son, just born and fighting for his life. We reached our hands into the incubator and laid them on this tiny boy and prayed, and then sat and waited with Larry’s mother while he took a turn for the better. We were there when the pediatrician came to announce that he was going to make it. He came through that difficult ordeal with a fine mind and a strong, indomitable spirit. Only a pair of legs that are not quite as strong as they one day will be remain to remind Larry how blessed he is to be alive.

Recently this little boy’s big brother returned from having served an honorable mission for the Lord abroad. A perceptive uncle, observing the reunion at the airport, wrote a letter to Larry that I had the privilege of reading. I asked if I might have permission to quote it and have been given that permission. I would like you to know about a Latter-day Saint boy just ordained a deacon who tries to practice what we preach.

“Dear Larry,” the letter said. “Yesterday I got a lump in my throat without even swallowing a frog; and I got a tear in my eye without even inhaling a hippy’s breath! More than that, I got a picture tattooed on my memory that I’ll never forget.

“It’s only right that I thank you for the lump, the tears, and the picture, for a handsome boy named Larry Ellsworth gave me all three of them … and he didn’t even know it or ask me for a receipt.

“It started when he stood waiting for his brother to return from serving our Heavenly Father as a missionary for two years in a far-off land named Chile. You could see that the two years had been longer for this boy than for anyone else. He was so intense, so pale, so absorbed with just watching and waiting.

“Then to see his face light up when he saw his brother again! It was like a flashlight in a dark room.

“Someone whispered that this wonderful boy had been saving his nickels, dimes, and quarters for two years to buy his big brother a basketball … a more than $30 ‘best there is’ basketball because he loved him! He wouldn’t let anyone else contribute. It was his idea and his gift … the best way, out of money he could have spent for himself but chose not to because he loved someone else so much!

“Then I watched this fine boy stand, without saying a word, at the side of his brother, happy just to look way up at his face, hold on to his leg, and see him home again.

“I have a special love and admiration for both of those boys: the giant who went far away all alone to do what was right and the little brother who waited and planned and remembered.

“Larry, you’re a fine boy. I’m sure that you’ll be a great man … for you have a big heart and a tender conscience. Some can run faster, jump higher, walk farther, play longer just because they had an easier time getting born into this world. That’s no credit to them. But you have more than most to be thankful for, because Heavenly Father sent one of his favorite sons to live in your body … and it’s who lives in a house that makes all the difference. Thanks, Larry, for the lesson an old dumb uncle learned yesterday just by watching. Love, Uncle Dick.”

Valentina Aranda, 33 years old, feels blessed to have lived all her life in the same neighborhood in Rome, a city loved throughout the world for its history and art. Her family comes from many different parts of Italy, which enriches her life with varied traditions. She had a promising career in marketing that she set aside to be a full-time mother to her two daughters. Below she shares the story of her conversion at age 21.
It all started with the Book of Mormon, which I saw in my friend’s library. The book made me very curious, and I felt drawn to it. One day I picked it up and began reading it—but it didn’t make sense to me. I told this to my friend’s mother, who said that I should pray before I read it.
The next evening, I prayed and started reading at the beginning of the book. It seemed to be a different book from what I had read the day previous, and I felt something I had never felt before. I talked about it with my friend and told her I would like to go with her family to church the next Sunday.
When I arrived at the church, I immediately felt at home. It was fast and testimony Sunday, and a very strong spirit descended upon me. I’ll never forget that Sunday. That morning I met the missionaries, who began helping me to know the truth. Those two angels were a great gift, and they are still dear friends today.
But my belief in Joseph Smith as a prophet was the greatest, strongest, and firmest testimony I had. I knew right away that he was a prophet of God and that a great mission was entrusted to him, and after the lesson with the missionaries where I learned about the Restoration, I decided to be baptized. Five weeks after my first time attending church, I entered the waters of baptism. How exciting it was!
The Church gave me a new life. I am happy and secure in my decision; I am sealed to my husband and daughters; I have new friends, the truth, the scriptures, the temple, and knees that now know how to kneel to pray.
I await with anticipation the temple here in Rome. I know that it will be a great blessing for me and for many, many brothers and sisters who are waiting for it.

When Damien walked into the park, he heard happy music playing. His grandmother was taking him and his little sister, Adele, to ride his favorite carousel. It had a fun game with rings. Damien was excited to show Adele how to play.
Soon they were in line. The carousel was big and colorful, with lots of carved ponies. Smiling kids sat on the ponies and waved as they rode around and around.
“If you pick a pony on the edge, you can play the ring game!” Damien told Adele. “See the sticks the kids are holding? And see the man with the rings?”
Damien pointed to the worker. He stood near the carousel holding out a ring. As they rode by on the carousel, the children tried to put their stick through the ring to catch it. Each time they caught a ring, the worker held out a new one.
Adele clapped her hands. “I want to catch all the rings!” she said.
At last they reached the front of the line. But there was only one more horse left on the carousel.
“Damien,” Grand-mère said, “why don’t we let Adele take this last spot since she’s never ridden it before? You can ride on the next turn.”
“All right,” Damien muttered. He watched the worker help Adele onto the shiny brown pony. Then the worker handed Adele a stick to catch rings.
The music began, and the carousel started to turn. Damien watched Adele from the side with Grand-mère. But Adele was holding the stick backwards! Instead of holding the stick by the big handle, she held it by the long, skinny end used to catch the rings.
“Adele, turn your stick around!” he yelled. But Adele didn’t seem to hear him over the noise. When she passed the ring, her stick tapped it. But the handle was too big to fit inside the ring.
“Adele, your stick!” Damien tried again. “You won’t be able to catch rings if you hold it like that!”
But Adele didn’t hear him. She just smiled and laughed as the carousel spun. Her stick tapped the ring again and again. She didn’t catch a single one.
Damien groaned. Adele was wasting her turn! If he were on the carousel, he would catch all the rings.
When the ride ended, he ran up to Adele.
“I told you how to hold the stick!” he shouted. “Why didn’t you listen to me? You did it all wrong!”
Adele didn’t yell back at Damien. She didn’t cry. She just stood there and looked small, small, small.
Damien’s heart pounded, and his face felt hot. It made him angry to watch Adele miss all those rings! But it was only her first time. Besides, she’d looked like she was having fun. Until now.
Damien felt terrible. He wished he hadn’t yelled at Adele.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That wasn’t nice of me.”
Adele looked up.
“How about if I give you some tips for catching rings?” Damien said. “I’ll sit next to you on the carousel and help you.”
Adele nodded her head.
Then Damien turned to Grand-mère. “May we have two tickets so Adele can try again?”
Grand-mère smiled. “Of course.”
This story took place in France.
Illustrations by Violet Lemay

“Matthew,” sighed Mom, “you promised to clean your room right after school. Now it’s time for your den meeting, and you haven’t done a thing.”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I forgot,” said Matthew contritely. “I promise I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“I hope so,” she replied.
The den meeting was especially good. They made plastic skeletons with bones that actually moved.
“Please pass in your dues now,” said the den mother.
“Oh, no!” declared Matthew. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll bring mine next time.”
“Please do, Matthew,” she said.
Matthew awoke the next morning to the sound of the garbage truck rumbling past his house.
“Matthew,” called Mom, “did you put the garbage out last night?”
“Oh, no!” he groaned. “I’m sorry. I forgot. I’ll do it next week, I promise.”
“But the cans are full now,” said Mom.
The next afternoon, Matthew’s teacher said, “Pass in your math homework, please. This assignment is worth one hundred points.”
“Oh, no!” wailed Matthew, hitting his forehead with his hand. “I forgot.”
“There will be no makeups,” said the teacher firmly.
On Sunday Matthew was startled to hear the Primary president say, “Matthew Lewis will give us a talk now.”
“Oh, no,” he whispered as he walked to the microphone. His face got very red. “I—I,” he stammered, “I’m sorry. I don’t have a talk ready. I forgot.”
He sat down, hunching over so that no one could see his face.
“You can give a talk next month, Matthew,” the Primary president said kindly.
“Hey, Matthew,” said Tom, poking him in the ribs as they entered their classroom, “that was a great talk. Why don’t you give the same one next month?” The boys around Matthew broke out in laughter. During the class, Matthew struggled to hold his tears back. He was the first one out the door after the closing prayer.
At home Matthew quickly changed into jeans and a T-shirt, then went into the backyard. Crawling under the low-hanging branches of a huge bush, he settled himself against the heavy, main stem and let the tears come freely.
What can I do? he wondered, miserable. I forget everything! Other people remember. What’s the matter with me? He tore at a leaf. Maybe I should pray, he thought. It seemed like such a good idea that Matthew immediately bowed his head. “Heavenly Father,” he said earnestly, “I forget everything. I want to stop. Please help me to remember.”
Matthew felt so good after his prayer that he couldn’t sit still another second. Bursting out from under the bush, he somersaulted all the way to the house. “I’m never going to forget another thing!” he bragged at dinner.
“I’m glad to hear that,” said Mom.
On Monday morning, Matthew’s teacher asked for his book order. “Today is the last day,” she said.
Matthew was astonished as the truth sunk in. “I—I forgot,” he stammered. How did I forget? he wondered. I was sure it wouldn’t happen again!
On Tuesday morning Matthew awoke from a deep sleep and sat bolt upright. The garbage truck was rumbling around the corner. He felt cold all over. “I forgot again!” He whispered. “What’s wrong with me?” He felt very ashamed when he saw the empty cans sitting by the curb. Dad must have put them out before he left for work.
On Wednesday his den mother phoned. “We missed you at this week’s meeting, Matthew. Were you sick?”
“Sick?” said Matthew. “No.” But he was beginning to feel sick. “I guess I forgot.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. We passed off our physical fitness requirements. Maybe you can do yours with your dad.”
“OK,” said Matthew.
But Matthew knew that getting his physical fitness badge was only part of his problem. “Dad,” he asked after dinner, “can you help me?”
“I’ll try, Matthew. Let’s talk about it while we do the dishes,” answered Dad. “What’s the matter?”
“I forget everything. I don’t mean to, but it just keeps happening,” explained Matthew, dumping dirty silverware into the sudsy water.
“What have you done to stop forgetting?” asked Dad.
“I prayed,” said Matthew. “I asked Heavenly Father to help me remember.”
“Did He?” asked Dad.
“No,” said Matthew, “and I don’t understand. You always say He answers prayers.”
“He does, Matthew, but in His way. Once Oliver Cowdery had trouble trying to translate. Why don’t you read section nine of the Doctrine and Covenants and find out why he had trouble and decide if something similar is happening to you. Then come back and we’ll work out a plan to help you, OK?”
After the dishes were finished, Matthew went to his room and read about Oliver Cowdery. Matthew looked thoughtful as he finished reading.
On Sunday morning three weeks later Matthew stood behind the microphone in Primary. His hair was neatly combed, his shoes freshly polished, and his face scrubbed and shining. “When Sister Jordan asked me to give a talk last month, I promised that I would,” he began. “You probably remember what happened.”
Several boys on the back row snickered.
“I was pretty embarrassed about forgetting it. I was forgetting a lot of other things too. I wanted to stop, so I prayed and asked Heavenly Father to help me remember.
“What happened really surprised me. We’ve all been taught that Heavenly Father answers prayers. I was sure that He would answer mine, but I just kept right on forgetting everything.
“Then I read in the Doctrine and Covenants about Oliver Cowdery. He wanted to translate some records, but he couldn’t seem to do it. In section nine, verses seven and eight, the Lord told him why: ‘Behold, you have not understood; you have supposed that I would give it unto you, when you took no thought save it was to ask me.
“‘But, behold, I say unto you, that you must study it out in your mind.’ [D&C 9:7–8]
“I knew I had acted just like Oliver Cowdery. I expected the Lord to do all my work for me. Well, Dad helped me ‘study out’ my problem. I got a calendar, and Heavenly Father helped me remember to write my promises on it. I still have to read it and do all the things I promised to do, but I don’t forget very much anymore, and I feel a lot better about myself now.”
Matthew felt happy when he finished his talk. And there were Mom and Dad in the back of the room, smiling proudly.

I guess I had my first run-in with a bee on a hot summer day when I was about five years old. I was minding my own business when suddenly an angry bee flew into my shirt and stung me on the stomach. At least that’s what I told my mom. Actually, I was pulling the petals off of her yellow roses. You know, “She loves me not.” Pluck. “She loves me—ooh, yuck.”
I was just getting ready to prove once and for all that no yucky girl loved me when apparently I found a rose that was already in use. A bee came buzzing out and crawled through a tiny hole in my shirt. I tried holding still, something I’d always been told to do by my brave and more experienced brothers. But I panicked and frantically tried to brush the bee out from under my shirt. Unfortunately, the bee panicked too and stung me.
Inside, as Mom pulled out the stinger and dried my tears, she said, “I know you feel bad. But you should feel sorry for the bee. Once a bee has stung somebody it dies.” As I sniffled and thought about her words, I decided that maybe the score was about even. But nearly ten years later I wasn’t so sure.
When I was 14, I began working for a neighbor who raised bees as a hobby. My job was to take care of his horses, paint fences, mow the lawn, and weed the garden.
The beehives were located in the field behind the garden, and it seemed like every time I was there I’d end up getting stung or chased by some angry bee. I was beginning to wonder if the bees were trying to avenge the death of their long-lost ancestor.
I told my neighbor I was going to need combat pay if he wanted his garden weeded. He told me what I really needed was the right equipment. We went into his basement and he got out his bee suit: thick gloves with sleeves that went all the way up my arms, white pants and shirt because white tends to pacify bees, boots, a hat, and a screen mask that covered my face and head.
Feeling protected, I journeyed outside. Unfortunately it didn’t take long before I felt something crawling around on my head. There was a hole on the top of the mask. I’m not sure who panicked first, the bee or me. I took off running for the house, but before I got very far it was too late.
I guess you could say I got the point that day. But I really got it later when I was reading in Doctrine and Covenants 27:15 [D&C 27:15] where it says, “Wherefore, lift up your hearts and rejoice, and gird up your loins, and take upon you my whole armor, that ye may be able to withstand the evil day, having done all, that ye may be able to stand.”
In my spiritual life, I have learned the whole armor of God is essential to our salvation. We need to check our armor daily to see that it’s in place and in good repair—and that it doesn’t have holes in it. Prayer, daily scripture study, and repentance are just a few of the things that will help us win the spiritual battles we face.
It’s been a while since I’ve been stung by a bee, but I suppose if it happens again it will serve as a pointed reminder of the importance of putting on the whole armor of God.

“I’m glad I’m not a pioneer,” Amelia said. “Aren’t you, Nanny?”

Nanny thought for a moment. “I know I wasn’t born in the olden days, and I wasn’t born in another country. Nor did I go on a long walk like some other pioneers. But I’m still a pioneer.”

Amelia was amazed. “A pioneer? Why are you a pioneer?”

“Because when the missionaries taught me the gospel, I decided to join the Church, just like the early Church pioneers did,” Nanny explained. “Some of my family and friends were angry that I chose to obey Heavenly Father. Like other pioneers, I had to leave my home and go somewhere else to live.”

“Were you sad?” Amelia asked.

“Yes, I felt very sad,” Nanny said. “But I’m glad I was a pioneer, because Poppy and our children—including your mum—are all members of Jesus Christ’s true Church. And I’m also happy, Amelia, because you too are learning about Heavenly Father and Jesus and the right way to live.”

Not long ago, I met a couple during a stake conference in Nashville, Tennessee, USA. The wife had been a member of the Church all her life. The husband was not a member.
They came up to me, and the husband said, “I am ready to be baptized.”
I was happy to hear that! I asked him, “What has changed?”
He told me, “When I heard President Nelson’s message in general conference, it touched me so much. I knew then that he was a prophet. I gained a testimony, and now I’m ready to be baptized.”
I also know a woman in Cape Coast, Ghana, who somehow tuned into general conference. She had never heard of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but she became glued to what she saw and heard from prophets, seers, and revelators. Afterward, she looked for the Church. She found a chapel and met the missionaries. Eventually she was baptized. Recently, she sent me pictures of herself at the temple to receive her endowment.
These two instances show how powerful the prophet’s message is to the world! If all would heed his message, the world would be so peaceful. We would all focus on what matters most, including developing a relationship with Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, and building strong, eternal families. We would also be our best selves because we would keep the two great commandments: loving God and loving our neighbor (see Matthew 22:37–39). We would bring forth Zion, a society where love, righteousness, and harmony prevail, reflecting the spirit of discipleship (see Doctrine and Covenants 82:14).
When we follow the prophet, we can be confident that we are doing what God would have us do because the prophet follows—and helps us follow—Jesus Christ. Because of Jesus Christ, everything in life becomes meaningful. “We can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.” By following the prophet, we can truly make the world a better place.

Kate McColgan, mother of six and member of the Bridgend Ward, Cardiff Stake, is the chair of the Interfaith Council for Wales. Here she describes her work as chair, with some background:
As a child, I can remember asking why our Church was not a member of the Council of Churches, and why all the faiths could not work together? I never received a satisfactory answer. When I married my Northern Irish husband, we visited family during the troubles and heard some prejudices firsthand.
I keenly felt the need for talking, understanding, and compassion. After so much heartache, it was only the peace talks, not the bombs, that eventually brought the country to rest.
Professionally, I am a family solicitor but, about 12 years ago, a miscarriage set me back. I wanted to give up work, change my life, and do something completely different. However, I felt there was something more important that I was supposed to do with my life, and I needed to stay put. It was not especially what I wanted, but I waited and waited with anticipation. Eight years went by. I wondered whether a change was ever going to happen, or whether I had just imagined it would happen.
When I started my search for my important work, I came across these words by Orson F. Whitney (1855-1931), which profoundly affected me:
“God is using more than one people for the accomplishment of his great and marvellous work. The Latter-day Saints cannot do it all. It is too vast, too arduous, for any one people. Our part in it is the greatest. We have the gospel and the priesthood, with a mission to gather Israel, build the New Jerusalem, and prepare the way for the advent of the King of kings. And this duty has been laid upon us because we belong to the house of Israel. It is the God of Israel who is coming to reign, and we are the right people to prepare the way before him. …
“We have no quarrel with the Gentiles. They are our partners in a certain sense. The name Gentile is not with us a term of reproach. … It simply means, with us, one who does not belong to the Church. We need the Gentiles, and they need us, but they don’t know it, and we do. They are wiser than we are in material things—the things of Earth and Time. But when it comes to spiritual things—the things of Heaven and Eternity, we can teach them. We need their wealth and worldly wisdom, their wonderful skill in managing and manipulating temporalities. And they need the Gospel and the Priesthood. They need us, for we hold in our hands the Key to their eternal salvation.
“Again, I say, the Lord’s Work has need of auxiliaries outside as well as inside, to help it along. Because of their worldly influence—which would depart if they connected themselves with the Church—many are kept where they are, where the Lord has placed them, and can best use them for the good of all.”1
Towards the end of those eight years, I was surprised to receive a telephone call asking me to meet with the stake president. As I fretted and pondered, I suddenly knew that this was it. I was about to start my important work. I knew I was going to be called into public affairs. To be honest, this terrified me, but also exhilarated me. I was finally going to get started. I knew I was going to love the expected interfaith work, and I did!
After two years as stake director of public affairs, I was given the opportunity to join the Interfaith Council as a second to Julie Jones who represented the Church. I made it my mission to go to as many other faiths’ places of worship and activity as I could, working around my own church attendance. In reaching out, I came to experience some ‘holy envy’, to see some of the inspiring and faithful worship practices of others that could enrich me; by stepping into their places of worship, it was possible to meld hearts.
I made so many friends among the other faiths, found such goodness out there, that my life has been blessed enormously. It has given me so much hope and optimism for the future. It reminds me that the world is a good place, despite much wickedness and confusion. We know that come the Millennium, good people of all faiths will be there, making the Zion communities for which we all long. I have found many of them here in Wales; they can be found wherever you live.
Fortunately for me, Julie Jones had been the interfaith specialist for the adjoining Merthyr Stake and had done a great job in representing the Church and getting the Interfaith Council for Wales (a voluntary body of faith leaders, chaplains, and representatives of local interfaith bodies) to meet for more than their annual administrative meetings, and to start learning about each other. There were now several activities that I was invited to attend with her, several put on by the Interfaith Council and others put on by the faiths themselves.
It was during this time that I felt inspired to start a Welsh Interfaith Choir, with our stake choir director, Lisa Pengilley, as chorister. It was popular and attracted around 50 people for regular monthly practices. Being involved in this choir and learning to sing the words of MP Jo Cox, who died in 2016, “We have far more in common than that which divides us,” led to many moist eyes in the room, not to mention mine.
I was keen to get as many people as possible at grass roots involved in this work and started a program of events known as Faiths in Focus, where the different faiths invited others to celebrate a festival with them. This was a great chance for members of different faiths and cultures to mix, from which further friendship developed.
These activities culminated in a big event during Interfaith Week in November 2019. (The organisation of this was personally stressful, due to the chair having resigned just three weeks earlier.) The choir sang at our chapel in Cardiff at the end of a wonderful torchlit walk between three other places of worship, supported by around 150 people of different faiths and including an MP, a Welsh Assembly member and its deputy minister. I had spent a lot of time praying for the success of the event and was powerfully reminded that this was His Church and work, and not mine—and I should not worry quite as much.
Then to my immense surprise and shock, after only a year of sitting on the Council, I was elected its chair (Julie had by now been called to important work elsewhere). I was consumed for a short time with many doubts and worries that I would sink amidst all the many things I needed to do, and how could I possibly balance my life? However, in the middle of my anxiety, I found myself reading an Ensign article which touched me, this section in particular:
“In the midst of your personal and diverse needs, to balance life’s pursuits and challenges with your spirituality, you will come to realise that balance is achievable. The Lord does not require you to do something you cannot accomplish …
“As daunting as keeping this balance may seem, I promise that one of the greatest miracles of your mortal existence will be your ability to find balance between your spirituality and other important life roles. This can take place in a way that will allow you not just to maintain your spirituality and life’s important roles at status quo, but also to grow and develop in both of these important areas.”2
Remarkably, it has proved true, and most of the time I manage to keep all the balls in the air. Curiously, ever since being chair, due to COVID-19, the Council has never met in person and yet I would say that we are much closer than ever, as we have met more often using Zoom to try and deal with the needs of people, organising service, encouraging members to take the vaccine, supporting each other’s activities, and so on. And now I am blessed with two able interfaith specialists, one from each stake.
In conclusion, my latest musings follow from recent readings in Come Follow Me (relating how some were commanded to go to Missouri, some to stay, some to sell, some to go on missions, some to teach in their locality, and so on), that we all have different life journeys, different roles to play, and we are all much needed in these roles. There is little point in comparing ourselves.
We each just need to do the best we can in the role we have been given. For me it is interesting that I was placed in my solicitor job, but there is little doubt that it has assisted my path in interfaith work; particularly in the small country Wales, where we have regular opportunity to rub shoulders with politicians, mayors, and their like. But each of our journeys is different. And sometimes God does not reveal the future all at once. And sometimes, things take longer than we think, but He has it all in hand if we just make ourselves available and listen.
Knowing that He is on our side helps us do things that we might never have the courage to do without Him. And it is our job, just like those early Saints who were asked to create Zion out of the wild, wild West, which must have seemed impossible to them, as it may be to us to build Zion here, in our own communities, particularly in troubled times.

Elder Perry had a lifelong gift for making friends. When he worked in New York, USA, as a retail executive, he thought his fellow commuters seemed unfriendly. So he decided to shake things up.
One man always stood on the same platform location to wait for the train. He also picked the same seat on the train every day.
To build a friendship, Elder Perry showed up early several days in a row to grab those spots before the man could. At first the man was irritated, but before long, the two were laughing and it turned into a game—a game the whole train station eventually enjoyed as more and more commuters joined in. In time they all grew so close that they sang Christmas carols together at the station. “It livened up the whole platform,” Elder Perry remembered.

In September 2004 I traveled to the Netherlands with two of my grandchildren, Jim and Arianne, to commemorate the 60th anniversary of Dutch liberation during World War II. We had been invited by the Dutch Historical Group to participate in the commemoration because my brother Evan, a co-pilot of a B-24 bomber, had died while helping with the liberation in 1944.
While there we traveled to Hommersum, just over the border into Germany, to attend a ceremony dedicating a plaque where my brother’s plane had crashed. Father Gerard Thuring, one of the event organizers, and I spoke during the ceremony, after which 17-year-old Arianne sang the U.S. national anthem, “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and Jim, 15, helped raise the U.S. flag.
Afterward I told Father Thuring that we would like to attend the special liberation Mass the following day at his church in Oosterhaus. He welcomed our interest and invited us to attend. I then summoned the courage to suggest that Arianne, with whom I had consulted earlier, would be willing to sing at the meeting.
Surprised, he asked, “What will she sing?”
“ ‘I Am a Child of God,’ ” I told him.
This good and kind man thought for a moment and then said, “We are all children of God. Let’s do it.”
When we arrived for the liberation Mass early the next morning, the church was full. Partway through the program, Father Thuring invited Arianne to come up and sing. After escorting her to the front, he said, “We will now hear a song from a Mormon girl from Utah.”
Without the benefit of music or accompaniment, Arianne began. As her voice echoed from the church’s high ceilings, tears began to flow as parishioners comprehended the hymn’s comforting message.
At the close of the meeting, many in the congregation expressed appreciation and love to Arianne for singing the hymn. The experience was a powerful reminder that all of us—regardless of race, religion, or language—are children of God.

My mother taught me an important lesson along these lines. For many years my father had a practice of trading for a new car every year. Then shortly after World War II when grain prices increased, we were surprised one day when Dad drove home in a more expensive car.
One morning my mother asked, “How much more did the new car cost than the other one?”
When Dad told her, my mother said, “Well, the other car has always been able to get me where I need to go. I think we ought to give the difference to someone who needs it more than we do.”
And so it was. The next year Dad returned to the less-expensive cars, and they continued their generous ways.

“Another recollection I have from childhood is memorable to me because it became a powerful lesson in my life. Pioneer Day is a time of great celebration in Salt Lake City. It is climaxed with a long parade on the morning of July 24th. When I was a preschooler, I was asked to be on the Primary Children’s Hospital float. Of course, this was very exciting to me. Mother bought me a new nightgown and fixed my hair with a ribbon. Father walked me down to where the parade was forming—and there was the float! The woman in charge of this float turned and looked at me. She said, ‘Look at her! We chose her because she looked sick and was skinny.’ She took hold of my hair ribbon and pulled it out of my hair. Then she took one of those big powder puffs and put white powder all over my face. I was crushed. I’d had visions of riding as a queen on the float.
“Before the parade began, my father took me into the hospital, which was then right across the street from the north gate of Temple Square, to talk to the children—wisely, I know now, because I was heart-broken. I was introduced to all the children as the one who was going to represent them in the hospital bed on the float. They banged their crutches and shook their metal cribs as their way of saying, ‘Hurray!’ I went back outside and quickly got up onto the float. The cover on the bed hid my new nightgown, and the hair ribbon was gone. All you could see was my little white face. But I was happy now. I was representing all the children in the hospital. I was just pretending to be sick—for them. It was a wonderful lesson to me, one that I shall never forget.

I think of my own grandfather, Nels Monson, who waited seven years for his sweetheart to become his bride. The first entry in his missionary journal expressed eloquently his gratitude: “Today, in the Salt Lake Temple, Maria Mace became my eternal wife.” The entry written three days later was more somber: “Tonight the bishop came to our house. I have been called to serve a two-year mission to Scandinavia. My dear wife will remain at home and sustain me.” I treasure such faith. I cherish such commitment.

The story was told of General Antigonus who was preparing to have his men attack the enemy. The plan was devised, the strategy decided, and the hour determined. General Antigonus’s men were outnumbered severely. The signal to attack was given. No one attacked. In fact, they were about ready to retreat ingloriously. General Antigonus asked what the problem was. The captains replied that they were outnumbered so severely that the men dared not attack. General Antigonus thought for a moment and then asked, “For how many then wilt thou reckon me?” This spirit spread through the ranks; they attacked and won a great battle.

Throughout my life I have learned that when we follow the teachings of our prophets, we receive promised blessings. In the April 1986 general conference, President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) promised that if families would read the scriptures together regularly, the Spirit would fill their homes.1
My dear wife and I decided to follow that counsel. We set a goal to read a chapter a day from the Book of Mormon with our three children—Jorge, 10; Susi, 9; and Luis, 3. We read every day, each of us reading one verse at a time. Even though Luis could not yet read, he wanted to participate. He sat on my lap, facing me, with the Book of Mormon between us. When it was my turn to read, we both followed my finger as I pointed to each word, and Luis repeated out loud every word I read while he looked at those words upside down.
Just before he turned five years old, Luis asked, “When is it my turn to read?”
We explained that when he was older, he would go to school and learn to read.
He responded, “I already know how to read!”
Astonished, I handed him a Book of Mormon. He opened the book upside down and began to read perfectly. He had learned to read by following along in the Book of Mormon!
Luis is now finishing his university studies and working full-time. No matter how late he gets home from work, school, or a Church assignment, he still reads a chapter from the Book of Mormon before he goes to bed. The prophet’s promise has truly been fulfilled: as a result of our reading this sacred book, our family has been richly blessed and we are more united.

Sarah listened as Mom talked on the phone. She was telling Dad how Sister Evans’ car had a flat tire, so Mom had given her, her baby, and her groceries a ride home. Sarah heard Mom say, “I did my good deed for the day.”
Sarah was puzzled. She wandered into the family room where her big brother, Christopher, was busy folding the laundry. “What’s a good deed?” she asked.
“A good deed is something helpful that you do for someone,” Christopher explained. “For example, if you helped me put away these clothes, you would be doing a good deed.”
“OK, I’ll help,” Sarah said. She scooped up a stack of towels and hurried to the bathroom to put them away. Before long, the job was done.
“Thank you, Sarah,” Christopher said.
Sarah smiled. “You’re welcome,” she said. “I guess I did my good deed for the day.” She went to tell Mom what she had done. On the way, she saw her baby brother, Adam. He was standing in front of Dad’s big easy chair, looking very unhappy. His ball was on the chair, just out of his reach.
“Oh, Adam,” Sarah exclaimed, “I’ll help you!” She ran to the chair, grabbed the ball, and handed it to Adam. He smiled, threw the ball, and toddled off after it.
“Now I’ve done two good deeds,” Sarah said to herself as she continued to search for Mom. She found her in the kitchen, fixing dinner. “May I set the table?” Sarah asked.
“Of course you may,” Mom answered. “I’m always happy to have you as my helper.”
“I’m doing good deeds today,” Sarah announced as she set the table. “I helped Christopher, then I helped Adam, and now I’m helping you.” She paused, then asked, “What’s a good deed that I can do for Dad?”
“When he gets home from work, you can give him a hug and tell him that you love him,” Mom suggested.
Sarah laughed. “I always do that,” she said. “That’s not a good deed.”
“It is a good deed,” Mom said. “Your dad looks forward to your hug and ‘I love you’ all day long.”
Just then they heard Dad opening the garage door. “Here I go!” Sarah said. She ran to Dad and jumped into his arms. “I love you, Dad!” she declared, giving him a great big hug.
“And I love you, Sarah,” he said, carrying her into the kitchen. “Tell me what you did today.”
Sarah beamed. “I did lots of good deeds.”
“Good for you!” Dad set Sarah down and gave Mom a kiss. “I called Sister Evans and told her that I would change her tire right after dinner.”
“That will be your good deed for the day, Dad!” Sarah declared. “It’s a good thing Sister Evans had a flat tire today or we wouldn’t have been able to do so many good deeds!”

Here is another example:
A single mother of two small children recently came down with chicken pox. Of course, it wasn’t long before her children got sick as well. The task of caring for herself and her little ones alone was almost too much for the young mother. And, as a result, the normally spotless house became cluttered and messy. Dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and laundry piled up everywhere else.
While she was struggling with crying children—and wanting to cry herself—a knock came at the door. It was her visiting teachers. They could see the young mother’s distress. They could see her house, her kitchen. They could hear the cries of the children.
Now, if these sisters had been concerned only with completing their assigned monthly visits, they might have handed the mother a plate of cookies, mentioned that they had missed her at Relief Society last week, and said something like, “Let us know if there is anything we can do!” Then they would have cheerfully been on their way, thankful that they had 100 percent for another month.
Fortunately, these sisters were true disciples of Christ. They noticed their sister’s needs and put their many talents and their experience to work. They cleared up the chaos, brought light and clarity into the home, and called a friend to bring over some much-needed groceries. When they at last finished their work and said their good-byes, they left that young mother in tears—tears of gratitude and love.
From that moment on, the young mother’s opinion of visiting teaching changed. “I know,” she said, “that I am not just a check mark on someone else’s to-do list.”

Anne Cody—the name struck me like a bolt of lightning. I had not seen Anne for years. Three decades before and a thousand miles away, Anne had been my childhood friend—and my link to the Church. My mother and sisters and I were members of the Church, but my father was not. No one in my family was active. Anne quietly and consistently took me with her to church and Young Women and included me in Church activities. During those crucial years I remained active more because of Anne’s friendship than because of my own testimony of the gospel.
That tenuous connection to the Church sustained me through my parents’ divorce. It inspired me to counsel my heartbroken father to start attending church and to listen to the missionary discussions. It was strengthened as my father joined the Church and my parents remarried. It was my guide through the turbulent teenage years.
Through it all Anne remained my friend and example. When she decided to go to Brigham Young University, I didn’t want to be left behind, so I went too. During that time good friends and full participation in the programs of the Church helped my testimony mature.
Then during my sophomore year, an unexpected tragedy befell my family. My oldest sister, who had suffered from emotional problems for years, took her own life. Our newly found testimonies comforted us through those difficult days.
I subsequently met a returned missionary and planned a temple marriage. The day before my wedding, my parents received their endowments, and we—my deceased sister included by proxy—were sealed as a family. Anne’s quiet influence had brought the blessings of the temple not only to me but to my family as well.