Gospel Story Finder

I had always wanted a horse, and I shared that desire with my father as we worked together on the farm. One day, Dad took me to a horse auction with him to buy a pony. We sat and watched as different horses were brought into the arena. Before long, four foals were shown. Dad started to bid and eventually was the highest bidder for a sum of eleven dollars. As highest bidder, he had first choice to buy any one of the foals.

He turned to me and said, “OK, Son, which one do you want?” I was so excited! My dream had come true. There were three healthy foals and one that was scrawny and thin. I picked the scrawny one. I felt sorry for her and told my dad, “She needs me.”

We didn’t have any way to get my new foal home, so we took the backseat out of the car, and my father sat in the back of the car, holding the colt while my uncle drove us home.

I named my new friend Lady. She was very tiny and young; I had to feed her from a bottle three times a day. She followed me around and was almost like a member of the family! She mimicked everything I did. If I squealed, she squealed. When I ran, she ran right behind me. I enjoyed graham crackers, and that was her favorite treat as well. She grew into one of the most beautiful, award-winning, and well-mannered riding horses I have ever seen.

I had been on my mission in my home country of Peru for several months when I met Santiago. He attended a Sunday School class for new members, but he had not been baptized. Nor had he taken the missionary discussions. I learned that he had a speech impediment that made him feel insecure because he had difficulty communicating.
For most of his life, Santiago had been able to speak clearly and had been blessed with a beautiful singing voice. But then he suffered a stroke. After a long time in a rehabilitation center, he had learned to walk again, but he still had trouble speaking.
We were thrilled when Santiago decided to meet with us. During our first visit, he tried to talk, and we tried to understand. He especially enjoyed reading aloud from the Book of Mormon. We loved and admired him.
One day while we were discussing gospel ordinances, Santiago said he was ready for baptism and confirmation. After we had finished the discussion, he stood up, eyes shining, and with great difficulty asked, “Elders, after I’m baptized, will I be able to talk normally again?”
I was taken aback for a moment and at first didn’t know how to answer. But responding to the influence of the Spirit, I said confidently, “Yes, if you have enough faith, the Lord will grant your desire.”
On the day of his baptism, I remembered Santiago’s question when he was asked to bear his testimony. Realizing that some of the Lord’s promises aren’t fulfilled immediately, I wondered if Santiago would feel disappointed if his ability to speak didn’t immediately improve. In the days that followed, he still struggled to talk, but he didn’t seem to be concerned.
I was soon transferred and didn’t see Santiago again until the end of my mission, when I went to say good-bye before returning home. My companion and I didn’t find him home and started to leave, when suddenly we heard a strong voice calling to us. It was Santiago!
We entered his house, and he talked about how happy he had been as a member of the Church. After a few minutes I realized that he was speaking almost perfectly. Surprised, I said, “Santiago, you talk fine now!”
He said he knew the Lord would grant his desire. So he showed faith and did his part, reading aloud from the Book of Mormon and doing exercises his doctor had recommended. “The Lord has seen my efforts and has given my voice back to me,” he said. “And it won’t be long before He blesses me with the ability to sing again.”
I could not hold back my tears. That day Santiago taught me a great lesson. The promises of the Lord aren’t always fulfilled quickly, but they are fulfilled nonetheless.

When I served as a member of the Europe Area Presidency, I was in Ireland for a mission tour and district conference. At that conference President John O‘Farrell, the first counselor in the Ireland Dublin Mission presidency, spoke and asked a most interesting question:
“Where would I be without the Church?”
He asked the congregation, “Where would you be without the gospel in your life?” He proposed that, “Here in Ireland, without the gospel we would likely be down at the local bar, drinking beer, and telling inappropriate stories.”
Each of us might well ask that question: “Where would I be without the Church?”
What a blessing it is to have the gospel in our lives and to enjoy its saving power.
My dear young friends, may I share with you from the experience of others and from personal testimony my conviction that the gospel has a dramatic power to change lives. The scriptures are full of stories of men and women whose lives were changed by its influence.
Think of Matthew, a despised tax collector who followed the Savior. Where would he have been had he not met the Master and had continued to seek earthly rather than heavenly wealth? (See Matt. 9:9.)
Think of Saul, the tent maker of Tarsus, and his dramatic confrontation with God on that fateful day near Damascus. He held the coats of those who martyred Stephen, and he went “breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1). Where would Saul have been—what would he have become—had not the Lord taken charge and turned anger and hatred into desire and dedication?
Peter and Andrew, James and John heeded the call to leave their nets and become “fishers of men” (see Matt. 4:18–22). It wasn’t easy for these men, it wasn’t convenient—it seldom is, in purely worldly terms—but the Savior’s call was answered, and they were never the same again.
But what of today? Are there still such stories? Definitely, yes!
Let me take you to Huddlesfield, England, for a personal testimony of a sweet sister named Mina Kreslins. She was born in Amsterdam, Holland, into the Jewish faith. She had lost her parents and brothers and sisters during the wartime occupation of that country.
She tells in the testimony of her conversion, “I was bitter, and although I prayed, I just could not forgive.”
Then in early October 1983, her daughter Karla came into contact with the missionaries. Karla became interested in the gospel and was converted. She invited her mother, Mina Kreslins, to attend her baptism.
“It was at Karla’s baptism I felt the Spirit. It was so strong. I had never felt anything so beautiful in my whole life. I felt so elated and so wonderful, and I wanted to become part of it.”
The missionaries began teaching Sister Kreslins, and the Spirit bore witness to her of what they said. “When they told me about Joseph Smith and the Restoration, the Spirit was so strong, from my head to my feet. I knew then, with all my heart, that the Church was true and that I had to be part of it.”
“My baptism was beautiful. No words can describe the feeling I had as I came out of the water. I felt so clean—almost holy. When I received the Holy Ghost, I felt wonderful. I wanted to shout for joy. Finally, there was rest and relief from the horrors and the hating of those war-torn years.
“Now, since I have become a member of this beautiful Church, I have forgiven and I have no bitterness in my heart.”
Where would Mina Kreslins be today without the gospel?
I have asked that serious question of myself: “Where would I be without the gospel?”
It was that gospel testimony that helped me to say no to my Navy friends when our first leave came while I was in training camp in early 1944. My naval colleagues invited me to share in their worldly activities; to prove that I was a “man” by getting a tattoo, and then going after drink and women.
I was the only Latter-day Saint in that group, and, yes, I felt a little lonely as I left them to go by myself to the servicemen’s recreation center and then to a movie. The following day I found Church services and Church friends who strengthened and reinforced a lonely Mormon boy from Provo, Utah.
To have come home from the service in world War II still living a virtuous life has held eternal rewards for me.
The power of Satan is increasing. You see it all about you in books, in magazines, in movies, and on television. You can resist that evil only by putting on the whole armor of God (see Eph. 6:13–17). Put on God’s spiritual armor, for it will protect all who wear it against the deadly weapons of evil and wickedness.
Without the gospel, we would not have available to us the whole armor of God, which is a shield of faith and truly a breastplate of righteousness.
You, in your youth, can have the blessings that come with living a righteous life. You don’t have to wait until you are an old man or an old woman. There is much you can do to build the kingdom—much, indeed, that a priest or a Laurel, a teacher or a Mia Maid, or a deacon or a Beehive can do. Remember that it was through a fifteen-year-old Joseph Smith that the gospel light was given back to the world.
Only Satan would have you underestimate your worth; those who truly follow God know well the worth of souls (see D&C 18:10).
Let us learn our lessons well so that we might be profitable servants. Make full use of the educational opportunities the world offers, but support them with the spiritual strength that comes through seminary classes. Seeking then serving, and learning then living is the process.
I testify to you that the gospel can change lives and that we have a loving and caring Heavenly Father who knows each of us and our hopes and desires, our strengths and weaknesses.

“A Good Sense of Humor” by Chris Crowe in the May 1986 New Era was a good and much-needed topic. While reading it, I recalled times when I was the brunt of jokes and ridicule. But I also remembered times when my careless words really hurt.
One such time I had the opportunity to repent but never did. Now I have even forgotten the name of the person I hurt. Could you help me reach out to her?
The incident occurred in 1966 at a bus stop in Salt Lake City following a state FFA Convention. The Dixie and Hurricane chapters traveled together and cheered for the Hurricane Harvest Queen. She didn’t even place. As she boarded the bus, the losing queen had a formal gown in one hand and a suitcase in the other. She held a spray bottle of hair spray in her mouth. A few of us rowdy boys made fun of her situation. “No wonder she lost the contest!” I jeered. We had wanted her to win and were just having fun.
She cried most of the way home. Though there was an empty seat beside her, I was too fearful to go apologize for my mistake.
The years have flown. Many a time I would have relived that night, would have apologized, would have held my tongue. But that cannot be. I did learn from it, and I don’t point jokes at others anymore.
Jay BeachamIvins, Utah

Some young people want to rebel against restraints. Some of you think it isn’t “cool” to be obedient to your parents or to follow the counsel of your bishop or quorum president. Bishop Richard C. Edgley shared an experience he had as a young boy about the consequences of being reckless and disobedient:
“When I was a young boy, our garage and the neighbor’s garage were about five feet apart. The neighbor’s garage was very old and dilapidated, and some of the boards were breaking. I, on occasion, would climb onto our garage and jump from one garage to the other and play on top of them. My father had told me, ‘Stay off the garages,’ but I didn’t. One time when I was playing on them, I jumped from our garage and fell through the roof of the neighbor’s garage, scraping my back and legs badly. Because I had been disobedient, I foolishly decided not to tell anyone that I had hurt myself. I went in the house and washed the scrapes and scratches as well as I could, but I couldn’t reach the ones on my back to put antiseptic on them or even wash them clean. I bore the burden of pain, worry over infection setting in, and guilt for several days while the healing process took place.”

Pam Carpenter must be a storybook princess. She is pretty, petite, and always smiling. She reigns over a huge kingdom complete with castles, lakes, islands, ships, and spacespaces. And she is entertained by flights of fantasy from Peter Pan, rides with Alice in Wonderland and her friends and Captain Nemo, and pirate cruises. Her special friends include Dumbo, Goofy, Donald Duck, Chip and Dale, Mickey Mouse, and hosts of other delightful storybook characters.
Unlike most other storybook princesses, Pam works very hard at being a princess. She always looks nice, is always on the alert for people who need her special help, and graciously welcomes thousands of visitors to her kingdom each day. Such royal responsibilities seem to belong quite naturally to Pam Carpenter, a young Latter-day Saint convert from Orlando, Florida. This pretty young lady possesses a delightful combination of charm, wit, and an encyclopedic knowledge of her kingdom, and she is a person who loves helping others.
No wonder she was chosen to be the official ambassador for Walt Disney World in Florida, chosen for her special responsibilities from the more than 13,000 employees at Disney World. Because many people try out for this position, applying for it involved a series of taxing tests and interviews.
“I really wanted this, but it is so much more than just a job,” said Pam. “During the year you are an ambassador, you have to devote most of your time to it. I always come in early and stay late, and travel much of the time.
“I knew I wanted the job and felt I had something to offer and so I tried out four different years. At first I thought that if I had to try out more than once then maybe I should forget it. But then I realized that was my false pride talking, not me. I finally realized that I did not get the position to begin with because I was not ready for it—I did not know enough about what I was doing.
“The first time I tried out I felt knew all there was to know about Disney. I walked into that room and there were five managers there for the first interview. I was so scared I could hardly talk to them—my voice kind of squeaked out, I gave them all the wrong answers, and I didn’t say anything I wanted to say. I am basically a shy person, and I knew I would have to work harder at being able to get up and speak to groups and being able to present my thoughts in a clear way. So I studied and learned all the facts I could about Disney World. I learned how many acres there are in Bay Lake, how many beams were laid beneath the contemporary hotel, and how many leaves are growing on the Swiss Family tree house. And I tried to develop my poise. I transferred into tour guiding, and this helped me in talking to people and becoming more outgoing.
“I prepared in every way that I could, and then I gave it my big try. Now I am so glad that I did not give up earlier because I have had so many great experiences and met so many wonderful people. After I became ambassador, I even joined Toastmasters International where I learned more about addressing large audiences,” she added.
During the early part of her reign, Pam investigated and joined the Church.
“I had dated a Mormon, and was interested in his great family life. His family members are wonderful together, and I enjoyed spending time with them. I could see they had the key to something important that I wanted in my life. The gospel helps me to appreciate all the people I meet, but it really showed me the importance of the family unit. I love my own family even more since I joined the Church.
“I really feel that I was introduced to the Church for a reason. Meeting other Mormons reading, and talking to the missionaries all felt so right to me. I agreed with everything they taught me. It seemed so natural for me to be baptized. To me it was a very simple process; it wasn’t a big ‘do I or don’t I’ situation. I was learning things I already believed in before I ever heard of the Church. I hadn’t picked up any bad habits to overcome, so I feel like a very natural Mormon.”
Being an example for the Church comes naturally for Pam because of her experience as an ambassador. She was told when she became an ambassador that she represented all 13,000 employees and the whole Disney organization. She was chosen because she was the kind of person that her employer felt good about representing their image.
“To me there is a very specific tie-in between my job and the Church. For Disney I represent the clean, wholesome, all-American look. This is almost more of an attitude than a fashion style. You can’t really look one way and feel the other way inside. Clean, wholesome goodness is something that will never go out of style. That is one of the reasons there are strict dress codes for all of the employees here. We do not even allow men in the park without their shirts and women have to be in modest clothing. I think all young Latter-day Saints ought to try and set this kind of an example. We should be on our toes and demonstrate by the way we look and act what the gospel can do for our lives. It just is not that much trouble to be well-groomed. Combing your hair, dressing cleanly and neatly, and being generally pleasant is the kind of example I think we all should set. What a powerful influence we would be on the world if all members of the Church would be this way. And as long as I am ambassador here, it is expected that I be this kind of good example. I was always taught at home that if something is worth doing, it is worth doing right, and that is one reason I got this position in the first place. It is also one of the reasons I am having such a good year as an ambassador. I am sure not planning on changing my outlook after I leave,” she said.
Of course, Pam’s duties include more than walking around Disney World in a clean uniform. She travels widely in the U.S. and Canada, appears on many television shows and radio interviews, gives VIP tours through her kingdom, and in the company of Mickey and some of her other fantastic friends appears at children’s hospitals and schools for handicapped children.
“We take the Magic Kingdom to people who can’t get out to see it on their own. This is the most exciting and fulfilling part of my ambassador duties. There is a special warmth associated with our hospital visits because we know that many of the people we visit will never come to Disney World in person. You should see the delighted children’s faces when Mickey and the other characters walk into a hospital ward. It puts a very bright spot in the normal daily hospital routine where everything is sort of gray and white. I’ve seen patients smile who the nurses say hadn’t smiled for months. One little girl had been in a coma, and when she came out of it, they could get no response from her. She just lay there. We walked in, and she said, ‘Mickey Mouse.’ Then she smiled. The nurses thought this was incredible because they hadn’t got any kind of a response out of her for months,” Pam said.
In addition to heads of state, royalty, and entertainment and movie stars, Pam was able to show President and Sister Kimball through the Magic Kingdom.
“At the time I had only been a member of the Church for a few months, and I felt honored. I enjoyed being in the presence of this warm, wonderful, great man. Meeting President and Sister Kimball was a tremendous privilege for me because I realize how few people, some who have been in the Church all their lives, ever get this opportunity.
“I’ve had other great experiences this year as well. I met Great Britain’s Queen Mother in Toronto and many other special people who have taught me important things about life. On one of our programs in Washington, D.C., there was a young singer who was blind. He told how when he was young his parents thought he should be sheltered and kept apart from the rest of the world, so they fenced him into the backyard. He didn’t go to school; he didn’t have any friends. He was totally shut away. Yet he had learned to sing, and here he was on this program with national political figures and entertainers. This young man gave us all goosebumps with his singing. He sang ‘The Impossible Dream’ and showed us that being blind doesn’t need to be such a bad thing after all,” she said.
Pam’s work at hospitals and children’s schools has given her a special interest in the handicapped. She is learning sign language and now regularly assists the visitors to Disney World who are hearing impaired.
“I’ve been able to sign for our arts festival and recently at the Ohio and Pennsylvania schools for the deaf. You can’t imagine how excited these kids are when they learn that I am from Disney World and that I can communicate with them in sign language,” Pam said.
Before she got her job, Pam never realized how demanding or fulfilling the life of a storybook princess could be, but to her the rewards are more than worth the effort, for her job and her joys are in bringing happiness and laughter to others.
“Life is wonderful for me. I am having such a great year.* I joined the Church and I like doing all of the Church things—being around Mormons, attending meetings, and especially going to family home evenings. I love helping others, and get a special joy out of helping handicapped people. These experiences make me humble and give me a great appreciation for the things that I have, including the great privilege it is to be able to help make other people happy,” Pam said.

Her marriage to John Mavimbela was happy and provided both with opportunities for personal growth. “We felt that if we could work together, there would be progress,” she says. “So I gave up my teaching and went to help my husband run a little butcher and grocery shop. My husband was a very special man, one out of one hundred. He gave me a salary, and the money was my own. When I was with my friends, he would go to the kitchen and wash up the dishes. When there was a baby, he would help me wash the diapers.” The two were very much in love.

John had two children from a previous marriage, so Julia built a loving relationship with her husband’s former wife and raised the two children as her own. Her first child died at birth. She later had six children.

In 1955, when Julia was two months pregnant with her last child, her husband was tragically killed in a head-on automobile collision. He was on a business trip, with a large amount of cash, when a drunken white driver crashed into his car. After the police investigated the accident, she asked for her husband’s belongings. They gave her only a small portion of the money she knew he had been carrying and ruled that her husband was at fault for the accident, even though the other driver was on the wrong side of the road. Julia became very bitter.

Some time later, Julia found enlightenment in the scriptures. “I was touched by what the Lord said: ‘Forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ I began to feel that I should never throw a stone at other people and that I should have forgiveness. But I was not yet in a church that could really help me forgive.”

As early as 1945 Julia had become involved in community service. Long before she heard of the Church’s homemaking meetings, she started a women’s club called Homemakers that encouraged women to teach each other different homemaking skills. She later started another club to encourage thrift. After John’s death, she began focusing even more of her energy into helping others.

Some of her greatest contributions to her community began in 1976, when riots erupted in Soweto. It was a dangerous time to be out and about in the community, but Julia was concerned about the hatred expressed by the youth. “I knew what it was like to feel isolated because of your own confusion. So I started a project in Soweto to bring young people into doing things, trying to find a message in what they did.”

Her project was to involve the youth in organic gardening—a passion she had developed a decade earlier while using natural foods to help her daughter heal from a congenital heart defect. As most families did not have enough ground for even a tiny garden, she arranged to clean up a rodent-infested plot of land. “As others watched us struggle with the overgrowth of stubborn weeds,” Julia recalls, “they too became involved, and we moved from corner to corner of Soweto replacing the useless and the ugly with the beneficial and beautiful.”

Part of the beauty Julia planted was in the hearts of the young. “When I was planting with them, I would say, ‘Now look, boys and girls, as we see this soil down here, it is solid and hard; but if we push down a spade or a fork, we will crack it and come out with lumps. And then if we break those lumps and throw in a seed, the seed will grow.
“This message is my message to young people. They should have it in their hearts. Let us dig the soil of bitterness, throw in a seed, show love, and see what fruits it can give. Love will not come without forgiving others. Where there has been a blood stain, a beautiful flower must grow.” Her efforts helped repair not only the physical damage but also the moral damage caused by the riots.

In the same year as these terrible riots, Julia began working with women’s groups. Feeling an urgent need for all races to unite in solving the present and future problems, she helped found Women for Peace, an organization devoted to protecting her people and helping her nation avoid civil war. She currently serves on the organization’s national executive committee. She has also repeatedly been elected the president of the National Council of African Women.

Julia has often served as a liaison between her community and the South African government in safeguarding her neighbors’ rights. Recently, she became concerned about pensioners who failed to receive their pension checks, sometimes for many months. Taking the subject on the air during a radio talk show she was invited to, Julia rallied community support and brought the issue to the attention of the new government.

Another work that she loves is literacy. For more than a decade, Julia, who is fluent in seven languages, has worked to establish more than 780 branches of an organization committed to eliminating illiteracy among the women of South Africa.

Julia is an eloquent exponent of the causes she champions. But with all of her achievements and associations, none has meant as much to her as meeting two missionaries in October 1981.

One day Julia was asked to help lead a project to repair a library destroyed in one of the Soweto riots. Her first reaction was to refuse. What? she asked herself. Do they think I’m Cinderella? If we rebuild that building, they’ll just burn it down again. But as she thought about the request, her heart softened. She went down to the site to see what she could do to help. There, she was shocked to see two young white men working in the dust and heat. Seeing white men in Soweto was rare, but seeing them do manual labor for blacks was sheer fantasy. Curious, Julia approached them. They identified themselves as missionaries of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and invited her to hear their message.

Accepting their invitation was not easy. Her home was in disarray—but more important, it would be very dangerous to have white people in her home. It could mean trouble for them as well as for the family hosting them. “But something bent in me,” Julia says, “and I couldn’t turn them away. I asked them to give me three days to clean up my cobwebs.”

At their first meeting, she was polite but not impressed. On their second visit, however, they saw a picture of Julia’s wedding and asked about her husband. When she told them he was dead, they explained that baptism could be performed for him. At that moment, “Something opened in my mind,” Julia recalls. “‘Take baptism for him?’ I asked. ‘In what way?’” They explained how.

“I said to them, ‘Look here, elders. You have shocked me. I am a black, and we are not allowed to speak about the dead in other churches. Now you come and tell me about my dead. You’ve got a different message. Come again.’ Their words had touched a very delicate place in my heart.
“So they returned, and I listened to them. I said to myself that there could be no better, truer church, for I had always had much love for my parents. I could never understand why I was taught to forget about them and not mention them. I guess there was a fear that people would go back to ancestor worship.
“I was also deeply impressed by the First Vision of the Prophet Joseph Smith—how he talked directly with God. Reading the Book of Mormon changed my whole life. That was what really brought me to my knees. I started to realize that we are but one family.”

Julia was baptized on 28 November 1981, less than two months after meeting the missionaries. Of her baptism, she says: “When the door opened and I walked into the waters of baptism, I could really feel the cleansing power. I felt real joy.”

Ever since her conversion, she has been an active member missionary, encouraging neighbors to attend church with her and handing out copies of the Book of Mormon to government leaders. Two of Julia’s daughters and several of her grandchildren have joined the Church.

One of Julia’s favorite missionary tools is gardening. She uses her love of the earth to expose her neighbors to the Lord’s love. Recently, she helped a grandmother with no pension who was trying to rear her grandchildren. One of the boys had finished school and, failing to find employment, was bored and getting into mischief. Julia donated some vegetable seeds to the family and taught them how to plant, weed, and tend a garden. As the garden grew stronger, so did the family relationships. And now one of the girls is attending sacrament meeting, where she is discovering the abundant fruits of the gospel.

Julia has been both branch and stake Relief Society president, has taught the Gospel Doctrine class, and now serves as the Church public affairs director in Soweto. She is also active in the youth programs in her branch. But the most satisfying moments of her life come every Saturday morning as she serves in the house of the Lord.

In September 1985, Julia received her endowment in the Johannesburg South Africa Temple. “When I first came into the temple,” she remembers, “I felt that I belonged. Before I joined the Church, when I would read the word Israel, I would throw the book aside and say, ‘It is for the whites. It is not for us. We are not chosen.’ Today, I know I belong to a royal family if I live righteously. I am an Israelite. When I was doing my ordinances in the temple, I captured the feeling that we are all on earth as one.

“Being sealed to my husband and my parents was one of the most touching experiences of my life. I feel that my parents are grateful that I have done their temple work for them. The Holy Spirit witnessed this to me.”

Julia continues to serve in the temple as often as she can. Within those walls she finds in joyful abundance the peace and love, the beauty and oneness of spirit she has cultivated in one corner or another of the Lord’s vineyard all of her life.*

I have just received my March New Era and I had to write and say “thanks” for the article by Elder Sill, “The Miracle of Personality.” It really helped me; I have just recently begun saving for a mission and today went to see my bishop. After he had told me all that was expected of me, I felt a little discouraged, but after reading this article, it really motivated me and made me realize that the harder I have to work, the better I can become. The Era has really helped me since I joined the Church last year, and I thank you for this.
Mike TaylorNewton Aycliff, Durham, England

One of Heavenly Father’s most beloved tools in guiding His children is righteous grandparents. My father’s mother was such a woman. On an occasion that took place when I was too young to remember, my father was disciplining me. Observing this correction, my grandmother said, “Monte, I believe you are correcting him too harshly.”
My father replied, “Mother, I will correct my children as I want.”
And my wise grandmother softly stated, “And so will I.”
I’m pretty sure my father heard the wise guidance of his mother that day.

Lynn didn’t chatter through breakfast, she didn’t kiss her mother good-bye, and she didn’t bounce out the door and clatter down the front steps. When she saw her friends waiting, she didn’t toss her black curls and smile.
“You have it, don’t you, Lynn?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, I have it.”
“It’ll be great to see Anne’s face when she realizes she’s the only one who wasn’t at the party!” Mary laughed.
Lynn smiled outside, but inside she winced. You’re new in town, she told herself. Don’t blow it!
Lynn, Mary, and Betty walked to school, carrying their show-and-tell items—prizes they’d won at Betty’s birthday party. Everyone in class was bringing one. Anne was the only person in third grade who hadn’t been invited—and she didn’t even know it!
At school, Anne leaned across the aisle to Lynn.
“Hey, Lynn, what did you bring for show and tell?”
Lynn’s heart sank. “Nothing much, just some doll clothes.”
“I’m so excited—I found a cocoon! I’m going to put it in a jar and watch the butterfly come out!”
“That’s great.” Lynn’s voice sounded hollow. She felt awful. But Mary and Betty were the prettiest, most popular girls in class. Anne was, well … different. Not a snob, as Betty’d said—just shy. She was really smart and read a lot of books. And even though her family had money, Anne didn’t even dress in expensive clothes. She cared about books, and nature, and other people. Maybe Betty and Mary are jealous, Lynn thought now.
Jealous? Of Anne? But it kind of made sense. They probably wished that they had all that money—they’d spend it on clothes and stuff. And they probably wished that they were as good in school as Anne.
“Show-and-tell time,” announced Mrs. Sears. Books slapped shut, desk tops squeaked, and kids got out their treasures.
“Tina?” called Mrs. Sears.
Tina rose and went to the front. She looked straight ahead. “I brought this horse, which I won at Betty’s birthday party for pinning the tail on the donkey.”
“How nice,” said Mrs. Sears. “Tim?”
Tim showed his prize from Betty’s party. Lynn glanced sideways at Anne. She looked a little sad. She probably doesn’t really mind, Lynn thought. But her hands started to feel cold and clammy.
One by one, the children showed off their prizes. Now Anne’s chin trembled and her face started to crumple. She bowed her head a little, to hide her face with her blond hair.
Finally it was Anne’s turn.
Anne tossed her head and stood up. The class was completely silent. Lynn thought that Anne was going to be OK, but tears formed in Anne’s eyes. She took a deep breath and said shakily, “Mrs. Sears, I’m sorry—I don’t want to share anything today,” then slumped into her seat.
“Lynn?”
Lynn looked across the aisle. Anne didn’t look at her. Lynn looked at Mary, who hissed, “Go on!” Taking a deep breath herself, Lynn stood. “Uh, I don’t have anything I want to share today, either.”
Betty glared angrily from her desk.
“Sam?”
“Me, either, Mrs. Sears,” Sam said apologetically.
A few more kids took their turns, and Anne still sat looking down. Then it was time for recess.
Outside, Anne sat alone. Lynn slowly walked up to her. “Anne, I’m really sorry.”
“You knew all about it, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m really sorry, though. I just wanted to be part of the group. It was dumb.”
“Yeah, well, thanks … for not showing your prize.”
“Did you notice that Sam didn’t do it, either?” Lynn asked.
They looked around the schoolyard until they spotted Sam. He looked over, smiled, and started toward them.
Lynn linked arms with Anne and thought that maybe she would be part of a group—a group she could be truly happy in—after all.

He was only sixty-eight, but he looked much older. His feeble body lay strapped to a narrow hospital bed. His breathing was shallow; his vital signs were failing. This was Charlie, one of twenty patients on the medical-surgical ward in the mental hospital where I was working as a nurse.
When I went on duty that night, his doctor told me Charlie was dying. But it was medically impossible to tell if his death would take a few hours or a few days. As night nurse, I would have to decide whether or not to call his family.
In a normal situation at a general hospital, I wouldn’t have hesitated to call the family, but here things were different. Here most of the patients had been hospitalized for a number of years. Families had learned to live without them; some had given up caring. Calling a family in the middle of the night without being certain whether a patient was actually dying was against hospital policy.
As I stood at Charlie’s bedside, wondering what to do, I tried to imagine him differently—no longer aged beyond his years and with poor physical health or without mental faculties including memory. I imagined him as a young husband with a happy wife and laughing children. I was filled with compassion for Charlie and his wife. They still loved each other, I was sure. They would want to be together at the time of his death—-but I stood between them because I didn’t know when that would be.
I bowed my head and prayed aloud to know if I should call Charlie’s wife or not. Words came forcefully to my mind and heart: “Contact Charlie’s wife right away; he will die before daybreak.” I knew that Charlie had less than six hours to live and that it would take his wife an hour to get here.
Immediately I phoned her, explaining that Charlie’s condition had worsened, and suggested that she come in. To my surprise, she was reluctant.
“I have a class to attend tomorrow,” she explained, “and I need to sleep.”
“But his condition is worsening,” I emphasized. “It might be a good idea if you were here.”
“What good would it do?” she said painfully. “He hasn’t recognized me in months. It’s hard to see him this way.” She sighed heavily. “All right,” she said, softening, “I’ll come in. I’ll be there between 7:00 and 8:00 in the morning.”
But that would be too late! Frantically, I tried to say the right thing. “I think you should come in sooner than that!” I said, “—like right away!”
“Why?” she asked.
I wanted to tell her what I’d heard in answer to prayer, but could not. “Ma’am,” I began slowly, “your husband is dying, and I think it would be a good idea for you to come in soon.” I paused. “But you need to decide.”
“Then I’ll come in first thing in the morning,” she replied, and hung up.
I was disappointed in her response, but I knew that the decision was hers to make. I tried not to think about it as I checked the other patients, but silently I prayed that she’d change her mind. Fifteen minutes later she called back.
“Do you really think he’s dying?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you think he’ll die before morning ?”
I paused briefly before answering. “Medically speaking, I can’t say for sure. But I feel that he will die before morning.”
“Then I’ll come in,” she said. “I’ll be there in an hour.”
I was elated about her decision to come, but as I thought about it, I became concerned. How sad it was that her dying husband wouldn’t be able to recognize her or realize the effort she was making to be with him.
I went about my duties pondering the situation. At 1:00 A.M. I again felt the need to pray. So, going to a linen closet where I could be alone, I once again asked our Father in Heaven for help—that Charlie would at least be able to recognize his wife, that this one last time there might be love between them—if not in words, at least in tenderness and shared feelings.
It was 3:00 A.M. when she arrived. I was surprised at how young she looked. Her graying hair was neatly styled; she was slim and petite. She looked a youthful fifty, while Charlie looked an ancient eighty. She introduced me to a lovely young woman who had come with her—her daughter.
I walked with them to Charlie’s room. As they went to his bedside, a light seemed to pass through Charlie’s vacant blue eyes. His clenched fists relaxed and he tried to speak. His wife sat in the chair beside him, gently stroking his arm. Then Charlie smiled.
“I think he recognizes me!” she cried. There were tears in her eyes. And in Charlie’s. And in mine.
“I know he does,” I answered, and quietly left the room.
Periodically I checked Charlie’s vital signs. They were slowly worsening, but Charlie continued to be calm and gentle—contrary to his usual erratic behavior. He responded to his wife’s touch and soft-spoken words of love. He did not speak, but they communicated; love flowed between them.
At 5:00 A.M. Charlie was still alive. Sunrise was less than forty-five minutes away; I began to worry about Charlie’s death—not if he would die, but how. He and his wife had spent such a beautiful, special time together! I hoped the memory would not be spoiled by a difficult struggle with death.
Quickly I returned to the linen closet for the third time that night and prayed that when the time came, his life might end quietly. As I knelt there, a feeling of calmness surrounded me, and I felt certain that everything would be all right.
As I was checking my other patients, an attendant came to find me. “It’s Charlie,” he said. “I don’t know if he’s gone or not.” I reached for a stethoscope from the nurses’ station as we walked by to listen for his heartbeat.
Charlie was lying still on the bed. His eyes were closed; a look of serene peace was on his face.
“He closed his eyes as I spoke to him,” his wife said. “Is he asleep?”
I placed the stethoscope on his still chest, knowing I wouldn’t hear anything. I turned to them and said, “Charlie has gone home.”
They wept quietly. Later I walked them to the door, letting my arms around them convey what words could not.
“Thanks for calling me,” Charlie’s wife whispered, squeezing my arm. “These few hours with Charlie were very precious!”

One beautiful night in April 1972, Elders McIntire and Richards knocked on my door. At that time my wife and I were searching for answers to many questions that confused and troubled us.
The powerful testimonies of those two representatives of the Lord deeply touched our souls. A marvelous new feeling filled our hearts. We received our answers.
Our first visit to church helped our testimonies grow because of the Spirit there and the love those people showed us. Their messages and testimonies confirmed that we had found the true Church.
We attended the meetings with respect and reverence, but we postponed baptism because we feared a negative reaction from our families.
During that time, the district of Rio de Janeíro held its quarterly conference. A strong spirit filled the hall. Brother Val Carter, a counselor to the mission president, spoke, declaring his complete dependence on Christ for salvation and exaltation.
A miracle occurred in that moment. The Holy Ghost reconfirmed the truthfulness of the gospel, and our fears vanished. On July 2, 1972, my wife and I and our eldest son, Marcus, entered the fold through the gates of baptism.
Since then, our families and friends have come to respect the Church. My sister Ivette and some of our best friends have accepted baptism.
What made these miracles possible? The testimonies of faithful Saints upon which I was temporarily dependent. They prepared my mind and heart to receive a full confirmation of the Holy Ghost.

“Yippee!” Andrew yelled when he saw the batch of cookie dough that his mother was putting into the refrigerator. “That means that tomorrow is ‘Cookie Sunday!’”
“Yes,” replied his mother. “Do you remember what you must do to earn these cookies?”
“I remember. I just need to tell you one thing that I learned in sacrament meeting. That’s easy.”
“You’re right, Andrew. It’s too easy for a big boy like you. This time I want you to tell me three things that you learned.”
“Three!” Andrew took a closer look at the cookie dough. “Is it chocolate chip?”
His mother nodded. “You know, Andrew, listening longer will help you be reverent longer too.”
When the bishop stood up at church after the sacrament had been passed the next day, Andrew forgot to listen. He was busy looking at his favorite book about Jesus. He especially liked the picture of Jesus with the children. He liked to imagine that he was one of those children and that Jesus was smiling at him.
Mother tapped Andrew on the arm as the first speaker stood up. It was Samuel Jenkins, a friend of Andrew’s big brother. Andrew liked Samuel because he sometimes let Andrew play with his basketball. He gave Samuel a big smile, and Samuel smiled back! Then he started his talk. Andrew listened hard. Samuel said that he was saving his money to go on a mission. I’m saving my money, too, Andrew thought. He had a bank that had a place for his tithing, his missionary savings, and his spending money. He was saving his spending money to buy a red fire engine just like the one Toby had. Where is Toby today? he wondered. Andrew saw Toby’s dad and baby brother sitting in front of them, but Toby wasn’t there. Toby was his best friend, and he had taught Andrew how to tie his shoes. Andrew was leaning down to see if his shoes needed tying, when his mother tapped him on the back. Oh—oh, thought Andrew, I’m not listening any more.
Andrew looked up just in time to see Samuel sit down and another man take his place. The man’s name was Jethro Williams. He and his family had just moved into the ward. Andrew thought that Brother Williams had kind eyes. Brother Williams was introducing his family, so Andrew turned around to locate them. He didn’t see any boys his age in the family, but there was a little girl with pigtails. Andrew also looked around for Toby, but he didn’t see him. He did see his friend Jacob, though, and gave him a little wave. Andrew felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, so he quietly turned around and saw Brother Williams opening his scriptures.
One day I’ll have my own scriptures too, Andrew daydreamed. My scriptures will be black like Dad’s, with gold pages that whisper when you turn them. He leaned over and saw that a lot of words in Dad’s scriptures had red-pencil lines under them. That meant that the words were extra special.
Brother Williams was reading something about the Lamanites, so Andrew opened his Book of Mormon Storybook and turned to his favorite story about Samuel the Lamanite. He was still busy looking at the pictures when he heard the organ start to play. Is the meeting over already? Andrew wondered. No, it’s just a rest hymn, he decided as the congregation sang “The Spirit of God.” Andrew sang especially loud on the chorus. In Primary the chorister had said that when the children sang the chorus, they sounded like angels.
After the song, Sister Williams stood up. She had a soft voice that reminded Andrew of his Primary teacher. His Primary teacher often said, “Bless your heart.” Andrew listened hard to hear if Sister Williams would say that, too, but she didn’t. Instead she said another word a lot. She said, “thankful.” Andrew listened, and he counted on his fingers that she said it five times! She really is thankful. Andrew thought.
Then Sister Williams began to cry a little. Andrew used to feel funny when grown-ups cried in church, but his mother told him that people sometimes cry when they feel very happy inside because of their blessings. Andrew decided to count his own blessings. He thought of his new bike that he was learning to ride and of his pet gerbil, Blacky. Then he thought of Amanda, his baby sister, who was asleep on Dad’s lap. Andrew was reaching over to pat Amanda’s curly head when the organ began to play again. The meeting was almost over! This time it was a hymn that Andrew didn’t know, but he helped hold the book for his mother and hummed softly.
After dinner that afternoon, Andrew’s mother got out the bowl of cookie dough. “Well, Andrew,” she said, “Tell me what you learned today.”
Andrew thought hard. “Samuel Jenkins talked about saving for his mission. He told me that when he goes on his mission, he’ll give me his basketball! Isn’t that great?” Mother nodded. “Yes, that’s great. And I’m glad that you were listening when he talked about being a missionary. What else did you learn?”
“I learned that we have a new girl named Sarah Williams in our Primary class. Her father had her stand up in sacrament meeting. In Primary I found out that she likes chocolate chip cookies, just like me!”
Mother smiled. “OK, Andrew. That counts. Shall we take her some cookies to share with her family today?”
“OK, Mom.” Andrew’s eyes lit up. “And could we take some to Toby too? He wasn’t at church today because he’s sick.”
“That’s a good idea,” said Mother. “But first you need to tell me one more thing that you learned today.”
Andrew spoke slowly, “Well, Sister Williams was thankful for five things, and in church I could only think of three things that I was thankful for. But now I’ve thought of two more.”
“What are they?”
“I’m thankful for all my friends and for chocolate chip cookies to share with them!”

In tracing our family names, we often find them spelled differently, depending on the source. This was the case of a university student in Provo, Utah, who caught the vision of this linking of generations. He was walking through the library one evening and remembered hearing someone in the Searing family tell about a town in New York State that had been named after an ancestor. So he decided to look up the town. He stumbled across a very old copy of a gazetteer of New York and read about a man named Simon Searing who helped settle Long Island in the mid-1600s. Could Simon be his ancestor? He had to know. He began research in earnest and traced his line back several generations. But still he needed to bridge the gap between the 1800s and the 1600s. Then a miracle occurred. He unexpectedly located a history of a Syring family. The families in the Syring book ended in the same generation he had reached in his own research. Not only was he able to connect many generations, but he also linked himself to the early settler Simon Searing.

We are reminded of a young boy whose home was threatened by a severe storm. All day there had been reports of it on the radio and when evening came, he and his mother heard frightening warnings. The boy grew more and more upset. Suddenly, with a loud crash, the power failed. The radio became silent and the house was plunged into darkness. Then the mother heard muffled sobs from her young son.

“Try not to be upset,” she told him. “We’ve prepared as well as we could. After all, we are together, and there’s nothing more we can do about it.”

“I know,” he answered. “I know there’s nothing we can do about it. But isn’t there something more we can do about us?”

So in the darkness the mother and the boy knelt together and prayed for courage and comfort and safety. The storm did not cease, but a sweet peace came to them and stayed in their hearts until help arrived.

Years ago our family had a little black dog, a toy poodle named Lady. Lady was smart, energetic, and great at fetching a ball. She was willing to retrieve a ball anytime, anyplace, and for as long as anyone was willing to throw one.
One day, after repeatedly throwing a ball for her to fetch, I decided to throw two balls at the same time, one blue and one yellow. Lady chased after the blue ball, picked it up, began running back to me, and then saw the yellow ball. She dropped the blue ball, dashed to the yellow ball, picked it up, and started back to me. Then she seemed to think of the blue ball, dropped the yellow ball, turned around, ran back to the blue ball, picked it up, and began returning. As she was passing the yellow ball, she stopped, dropped the blue ball, picked up the yellow ball, and resumed running back. Then she dropped the yellow ball, turned around, scampered back to the blue ball, picked it up, and began running to me. As Lady passed the yellow ball again, she came to a screeching halt. She dropped the blue ball, looked back and forth from the blue ball to the yellow ball. Then she gave up, walked to her basket, and lay down. For Lady, two balls were too many. She became confused, overwhelmed, and discouraged.

It wasn’t enough for Manila, Philippines, institute students to just learn the word—they wanted to go out and share it. So they put together a musical show, emphasizing the scriptures and education, that was designed to help parents and youth apply gospel principles in their lives.
The students gave up their summer free time to rehearse and perform, but said it was worth it to see the audience reaction—some were touched to tears. The group toured Metro Manila and the nearby provinces with their variety show. “All our efforts have been paid off by the wonderful feelings we’ve had,” said one participant.

In Popayán, Alfonso Tenorio is a doctor who also publishes a scholarly medical journal. In addition he works with his wife, Lucía, in their spacious garden behind his father’s house. They help in his aunts’ gardens. They check the work LDS young men are doing in gardens they’ve planted at a Catholic school. They speak to city groups and service clubs, promoting home gardens. Largely through the Tenorios’ efforts, gardens have become fashionable in many Popayán households. “We see our efforts as a way to help friends and neighbors become self-reliant so we will all be able to eat in times of trouble,” says Alfonso.

Becky Roller had cerebral palsy as an infant, and it left one leg twisted. At camp, that was all but forgotten. “It’s one place where everyone treats me as an equal,” she said.

This year Becky’s goal was to complete the fourth-level certificate. “The five-mile hike through the mountains was the biggest challenge,” she admits. “In a marshy spot I fell and couldn’t get up, but my friends came back. They wouldn’t leave me.

With the help of her friends, she made it. It was one more magic moment, and the magic of the moment was love.

Long ago, King invited all the animals to a party. Cat forgot when it was and asked his neighbor, Mouse, who wasn’t feeling well, just when the party was to be held. Mouse accidentally gave Cat the wrong date.
All the animals except Cat went to the party, and King decided to name the years after his twelve animal friends who were there. Since Cat was left out, he was very angry, and that is “why Cat and Mouse do not get along well to this day.”