Gospel Story Finder

About a year after the death of our baby, we moved and I was assigned to minister to a young couple with two children. The older daughter had contracted an infection while in the womb and was born with a severe mental disability. Although she was nine years old at the time, she was like an infant developmentally. It was a struggle for the young family, who had limited means.
One day I received a phone call telling me she had died during the night. No member of the bishopric was available to visit just then, so I was asked to visit until they could get there. I arrived as her body was being removed, and I had a chance to talk with the father. The wife’s ministering sister arrived and did an amazing job comforting the family and taking care of the home.
I went with the father to the funeral home to make the arrangements. I suppose I was able to render some service because of my prior experiences. I don’t consider myself a great ministering brother, but I was glad I wasn’t a stranger in that home.

Brian R.

Twelve-year-old Brian R. of Arizona, USA, was preparing to pass the sacrament for the first time. He didn’t want to make a mistake, so he asked the other Aaronic Priesthood holders in his ward to explain things to him.

“They were great,” he says. “They told me where to stand, where to go, and how to pass the trays.”

But even more important, they reminded him to be reverent. “We need to remember the Savior as we pass the sacrament,” Brian says. “If we are reverent, it helps others to remember Him too.”

Brian learned that others are happy to help him to understand his duties and to learn to do them well. “Just ask,” he says. “Moving from Primary into the Aaronic Priesthood is easier than you think.”

Lying in her bed, staring up at the darkness in the room she shared with her older sister, Elizabeth kept thinking, I just can’t do it. Any other night she would have been fast asleep by now, but tonight was different.
“Why do I have to be the angel?” she had asked earlier that evening after she had said her prayers and while her mother was tucking her in. “Why can’t Alyson do it?”
Mama had smiled down at her. “I already told you, dear. Alyson’s white dress doesn’t fit her any more. But it will fit you. And it will make a perfect angel costume.”
“But I don’t want to be an angel!”
“Nonsense. You’ll make a beautiful angel,” her mother assured her. “And besides, Elizabeth, you’re the only one who can do it. We need you.”
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Alyson piped up. “I have to be a shepherd! Whoever heard of a girl shepherd?” She moaned, wrinkling her freckled nose.
Elizabeth’s mother chuckled. “You girls sure are hard to please. I thought you would be excited to do the manger scene for the branch Christmas program. Don’t you think we should be proud and honored to take part in such a special program?”
The girls lowered their eyes guiltily, and Elizabeth whispered, “Yes, Mama.”
The two weeks until the program passed by swiftly, and Elizabeth had grudgingly practiced the song they were to sing as a family. Several times she had found herself in her room, staring dejectedly at the mirror. Her sad blue eyes stared back at her through thick lenses. “Whoever saw an angel with glasses?” she groaned.
Elizabeth had a hard time concentrating on her schoolwork the day of the branch program. When the final bell sounded, she slowly rose from her seat and walked halfheartedly to the hallway to put on her coat and boots.
Although Elizabeth lived only four blocks from school, she hadn’t arrived home by 4:30. Her mother phoned several of Elizabeth’s friends to ask if they had seen her. None of them had. Finally Mother saw Elizabeth trudging up the walk.
Elizabeth jumped as the door suddenly opened. Looking up, she saw her mother frowning at her.
“Elizabeth Anne!” she scolded gently. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick!”
Then Mama noticed the red, swollen eyes.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did something happen to you on the way home from school?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“What is it, then? Come in and tell me.”
Elizabeth went inside and took off her coat and boots.
“Now,” Mama coaxed as they sat down on the sofa, “tell me what’s wrong, dear.” Elizabeth’s face sank. “Mama,” she said softly, “I can’t be an angel tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because … well, just because, that’s all.”
“Elizabeth, surely you have a better reason than that. Please tell me.”
“Mama,” she began, then sighed heavily. “Angels are perfect, aren’t they? In Primary our teacher told us that when we go to heaven our bodies will be perfect.”
“That’s true, dear, they will be. But what does that have to do with your not wanting to be an angel tonight?”
Elizabeth frowned. “Mama, did you ever see an angel with glasses?”
“Oh.” Her mother nodded understandingly. “So that’s what’s been bothering you.”
Elizabeth frowned again as her head bobbed up and down.
“Sweetheart, nobody is perfect in this life. We all have our faults. You’re very fortunate that you are able to wear glasses and see well with them. Some people can’t see at all.”
“I know, Mama.”
Mama squeezed Elizabeth’s arm. “Cheer up, honey. I’m very excited about the program tonight. Christmas is always my favorite time of year. You know why, don’t you?”
“Yes, Mama. Because that’s when Jesus was born.”
“That’s right.” Then Mama added softly, “Elizabeth, when it’s all over, you won’t be sorry you were the angel.” She bent over and kissed Elizabeth gently on her cheek.
Suddenly the phone rang, and Elizabeth was left alone in the living room with her baby brother, Alex. He wriggled in his sleep as he lay in the infant seat on the floor by the Christmas tree. She walked over to the tree and knelt beside it. Beneath the tree was the little nativity scene her grandmother had given her the year before. A beautiful white angel hovered over the humble stable.
Later that night the family climbed into the car and drove to the meetinghouse. They carried their costumes in paper bags. In the dressing room Elizabeth opened her bag and jerked out her sister’s white dress.
“Elizabeth!” Alyson cautioned. “Please be careful with my dress. I want to keep it.”
“What for?” Elizabeth asked. “It’s too small for you now.”
“I know, but it’s a special dress,” Alyson told her. “I remember wearing it in the temple the day our family was sealed forever. And Grandma made it for me. That makes it even more special.”
Elizabeth very carefully slipped the long white dress over her head and peered into the mirror. “I still don’t look like an angel, Mama.”
“You will, dear. Check in your bag. I made something special for you.”
Elizabeth’s eyes grew large. Quickly she opened the bag again and saw something shining at the bottom. She reached in and pulled out a bright gold tinsel headband.
Mama put it on top of Elizabeth’s brown, curly hair. “Now look in the mirror, Elizabeth,” she said.
Elizabeth blinked as the lights danced back and forth on the golden tinsel. “It’s beautiful, Mama! And when the stage lights shine on it, it will be even more beautiful.”
The curtains on the stage were closed as Elizabeth and her family quietly took their places for the manger scene. Elizabeth’s father lifted her up onto a table draped with a white cloth to make it look like Elizabeth was standing on a cloud.
The family could hear people on the other side of the curtains shuffling around as they laughed and visited. But a hush came over the audience as the pianist began playing “Away in a Manager.” The curtains slowly opened, and a bright light shone down on Elizabeth’s head.
Elizabeth couldn’t see anything except her own family. As she stood above them looking down, she heard her family begin to sing. Suddenly Elizabeth was frightened and couldn’t remember the words. She stood frozen, gazing down at her tiny brother wrapped in a soft white blanket. He seemed to see her standing above him, and he smiled up at her. She listened to the words of the song being sung by her mother, father, and Alyson as though it was the first time she had ever heard them.
“The little Lord Jesus”—Elizabeth repeated the words to herself with awe. Then as her mother began to sing the second verse alone, Elizabeth’s eyes blurred, and tears spilled slowly down her cheeks. The words of the song returned to her as her family’s voices rose once again in the last verse. This time Elizabeth joined in the singing.
Now Elizabeth was actually glad she was the angel. Looking down on her family and listening as they had sung was something she would remember the rest of her life.

Later, the bishop met with me again to let me know that the disciplinary council would be reconvened. I felt nervous and a little scared, but I knew it was worth going through. Since I had met with the bishop the first time, I had been feeling joy like never before. My perceptions had started to change, and I found myself loving life, family, and friends so much more. I had experienced some difficult days when I wondered how I could ever spend the rest of my life without beer, but on most days I could feel hope building inside me.
I was nervous partly because one of the bishop’s counselors was the father of my son’s friend, and I feared that after hearing about my sinful past, he would not want his son to play at my house again. I resolved that if he did feel that way, I would respect his wishes. No obstacle would stand in the way of what had become the most important thing in my life: coming back into full fellowship in the Church.
The night for my disciplinary council finally came. As I knelt in prayer with the members of the bishopric, I felt strongly the influence of the Spirit, as well as an indescribable brotherly love. Those men hadn’t known me long, but I knew they cared about me and loved me. Nevertheless, when my son’s friend’s father hesitated before speaking, I thought he was trying to find a way to say his son couldn’t play with my son anymore. Instead, he said: “I just want you to know how impressed I have been with your son and your family. You must be good parents to raise such a boy.”
At the end of the meeting, the bishop said, “You are a worthy member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” I felt great joy upon hearing those words.
When I returned home, I wanted to laugh and cry and tell my family everything, but everyone was asleep. So I prayed to Heavenly Father, thanking him for his love and kindness, for honorable men who act as righteous judges, for family and friends who helped me along the way, and for all the other blessings I have in my life.

Let’s go back and change a few things. Let’s go back to the time when Jim first picked up his friends. Thinking of his promise, he was very careful to keep within the speed limits. One of his friends chided him, “How fast will this pile of junk go, anyway?”
“Probably not over 90 miles an hour,” responded the other friend. “What do you say, Jim? Let’s see how fast it can go.”
Jim’s answer was quiet but firm. “I promised my father I wouldn’t hot rod the car.”
“You’re chicken,” said one of his friends.
“No one will see us out here,” said the other friend.
“I’m sorry,” Jim replied, “but a promise is a promise. I wouldn’t break a promise to you, and I won’t break my promise to my father.”
The boys went to the ball game. Afterwards, when they were heading home, they met some girls at a stoplight. One of Jim’s friends said to the giggling girls.,“Ya wanna drag?”
“Sure, why not?” was the reply.
“Come on, Jim. If you want to be counted as one of my friends, you’ll open this baby up when the light changes!”
“That goes for me, too,” said the other friend. “Let’s see how fast we can jump ahead of the girls.”
The light changed, and the car full of girls shot off down the street, tires squealing. Jim eased forward, kept within the speed limit, and dropped his friends off.
“You’re no fun at all, Jim,” one of his friends said.
Jim drove off and returned the car to the family garage. Coming into the kitchen he found his father having a midnight snack. His father asked him, “How did you treat the car, son?”
“Fine, dad.”
“Goodnight, son.”
“Goodnight, dad.”
The following Sunday the two men who had witnessed Jim’s courage in not buckling under to social pressure approached his father and said, “I wish we had more boys like Jim in the ward. You can really be proud of your son.” They reported all that they witnessed on the street corner after the ball game the previous Friday. Jim’s father was proud of his son.
That evening Jim came to his father and asked for permission to use the family car to attend a fireside. “Here are the keys to the car, son, the house, the boat, and everything that I have. I can trust you.”

Melinda Moody, 17, of Tempe, Arizona, won the 1972 Piano Concerto Contest sponsored by the Phoenix Symphony Guild and was honored by performing the Prokofiev Piano Concerto #1 with the Phoenix Symphony Orchestra.
As a winner, she was eligible to compete in another guild contest in which she won a full scholarship for the summer to the Music Academy of the West in Santa Barbara, California. There she studied piano with Jerome Lowenthal, noted concert artist. Melinda hopes to be a concert pianist herself.

A knowing smile touched his lips. “I bet you’re a Latter-day Saint, aren’t you?” His question sounded like a compliment! “You’re just like Andy Frazier!” He glanced across the parking lot with a far-off look in his eyes. “Andy and I were in the Marines together. The first time I met him was a Sunday morning. We talked and hit it right off. I asked him if he wanted to drive into town and catch a movie. He turned me down. He said that he was headed for church. That’s when I found out that he was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
Mr. Santos turned back to me. “We became good friends. He didn’t drink anything stronger than orange soda. He didn’t cuss. He didn’t smoke.” Mr. Santos smiled at me. “But there were a lot of things he did do. Nobody worked harder than Andy Frazier. And he could shoot!” Mr. Santos wagged his head. “Nobody in the whole battalion could shoot like him. I don’t think there was a better member of the entire Marine Corp. At first some of the guys kidded him about his religion, but he didn’t let it get to him.
“One day we were on parade, marching around the parade field. When we marched, we sang out different cadences. Some of them are pretty funny. Some of them are …” He paused and shook his head. “Well, some of them have some pretty bad words in them. They aren’t the approved cadences, but at times we used them. Well, Andy had complained to the sergeant a number of times, but he just said that Andy needed to toughen up a bit.
“One day we were using a cadence that was downright dirty. Andy broke ranks and headed right to the major, who was off to the side of the field. When I saw him go, I thought, Andy, you’re one dead duck. You’re going to get booted right out of the Marines.”
Mr. Santos smiled at the memory. “He didn’t get thrown out. He saluted the Major and told him that he was a Marine and proud of it but that he had been taught not to use filthy language and didn’t expect to have to use it or listen to it to be a good Marine.” Mr. Santos smiled again. “The major told the sergeant that from then on Andy was to choose the marching cadence. Now that took courage! I’ll never forget Andy Frazier. I think you’re like him.”

In the last half of 1833 Missourians drove the Saints, including the Knight clan, from Jackson County. Mobbers shot Philo Dibble, whom Newel Knight saved from death through a remarkable priesthood blessing.1 Fearing for their lives, the Knights braved the cold weather and rushed to the Missouri River ferries. Joseph Knight, Jr., told of women and children walking with bare feet on frozen ground. The Knights lost all their property, including a gristmill. Of that awful winter, Sally Knight’s sister, Emily Colburn Slade, recalled, “We lived in tents until winter set in, and did our cooking out in the wind and storms.”2 Suffering from poor food and shelter, many Saints became victims of fever and what was called ague (probably malaria). Sally was one of them. She gave birth to a son, who died, and then she died herself. “Truly she died as a martyr to the gospel,” her husband, Newel, eulogized.

After church one Sunday, I took home some pass-along cards. I had some friends at school who weren’t LDS, and I wanted to give them a card the next day. That night I started to feel nervous, so I got on my knees and said a prayer. I felt better and braver, and the next day I gave the cards to my friends. They really liked them, and I felt very happy that I gave the cards to them.
Ava M., age 8, Utah, USA

Sugar Creek was the first camp the pioneers made after they left their warm, comfortable homes in Nauvoo. Within two weeks it was filled with five thousand people, who were waiting for the signal from Brigham Young before going forward on their journey “out west.”
To Tommy and Betsy it was like living in a city, for the tents and wagons were placed along streets as their houses had been in Nauvoo. Between each was a space roofed over with brush to protect it from the weather. There the meals were prepared, and there the children played.
In the center of the camp was a big square, something like a park. On one side of it Tommy and Betsy lived in their covered wagon. Anytime during the day or night they could look out onto the square and see campfires burning and people standing nearby trying to get warm.
One morning, very early, Tommy saw Brigham Young on a wagon box in the center of the square. A moment later his voice boomed out over the camp like a giant cannon: “Attention, Camp of Israel!” And Tommy knew that within minutes everyone in camp would come to the square to hear what Brigham Young would say.
“I hope he tells us that it is time to move on out west,” said Tommy.
“I hope so, too,” said Mother.
But Brigham Young said nothing about going out west. Instead, he said that during the past few days eight hundred men had arrived at Sugar Creek without enough food to last a week, and he asked those who had food to divide with those in need. He promised that if the Saints would do this, the Lord would bless them with all the food they needed.
President Young urged the men to go to the towns on the north and on the south to ask for work building roads, building bridges, or putting up fences; he also suggested that pay be made in food. He reported that featherbeds, watches, dishes, shawls, silverware, and furniture could be traded for corn and wheat.
Tommy and Betsy were especially interested when he told the children they could help by gathering willows from the creek bed to weave into bushel and half-bushel baskets that could be traded for food.
Immediately following Brigham Young’s “Amen,” and even before there was talking or moving around, the people heard the faraway sound of a bell ringing.
“It’s the bell in the temple tower at Nauvoo,” Tommy whispered to Betsy, and to him it was as if the Lord were giving his own “Amen” to the words his prophet had spoken. In the quiet of his own heart, Tommy promised that he would try to do all Brigham Young wanted him to do.
When the meeting was over, Tommy’s father gathered his family around him and said, “We’re beginning a long journey. We’re not even sure where it will end. We only know that the Lord will lead us there. We know also that all we’ll have is what we take with us. Now the problem is, shall we give the food we brought with us to those in need, or shall we save it for ourselves so we can be sure of having enough?”
Tommy remembered the quiet promise he had made. “President Young has asked us to share,” he said, “and I think that is what the Lord wants us to do.”
“I know the Lord will help us get more when we need it,” added Betsy.
Tommy’s father smiled. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “We can’t blame the Saints for coming here without enough food. No one was really ready to leave Nauvoo now, for everyone expected not to leave until spring. Some had money to buy food and equipment, but most of them didn’t, so they had to trade their farms and houses for whatever they could get for them. Brother Johnson, for example, traded his house for only a covered wagon and a yoke of oxen. There was no money to buy food, so they just brought what they had, and I’m sure it will be gone in a few days.”
“He’ll go to a nearby town to find work to buy food,” added mother.
“Are you going, Father?” asked Tommy.
“Yes, Brother Johnson and I are going together,” Father answered. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
“You can take my silver spoons with you,” Mother offered. “I think you can trade them for a wagonload of corn to keep our animals alive and strong until the grass starts to grow.”
“You can take our featherbed,” said Betsy. “I know someone will want that.”
“I’ll gather willows in the creek bed and weave them into baskets, like President Young asked us to do,” said Tommy.
All were so interested in listening to each other that no one noticed Sister Johnson, who had been standing just outside of the covered wagon. They were surprised when she spoke. “You can take my shawl,” she said quietly, “and the little sugar bowl my grandmother gave me.”
As she brought the items inside the wagon, she teetered as if she were going to fall. Tommy’s father jumped off the wagon to help her. “Are you ill?” he asked.
“No,” she answered, “but I am hungry. We haven’t had much to eat the last two days.”
Tommy’s mother hurried to help Sister Johnson lie down. “Munch on this sea biscuit,” she insisted, “while I fix you some hot mush.”
Later Tommy and Betsy and their father went back with Sister Johnson to her wagon. Tommy carried some potatoes, his father some flour, and Betsy a pail of milk.
As she carried the milk, Betsy thought of her kitten she had left in Nauvoo. In her mind she again heard her mother ask, “You wouldn’t want anyone to go hungry just so you could have you kitten along, would you?”
Betsy smiled and said, “No,” very quietly to herself. And this time she meant it for sure!

When a pair of shoes was put aside by a teenager because they “squeezed her toes,” they were taken to Sister Pongsuwan, mother of three young daughters. “Do you want to be Cinderella?” asked Brother Dang as he knelt before her and slipped the shoes on her tiny feet. The shoes fit perfectly. Sister Pongsuwan danced and twirled with happiness, telling everyone that she had never had a pair of shoes before!

From Florida:
“As I knelt in prayer, I expressed a sincere desire to share the gospel with someone and asked my Heavenly Father to please send someone to me.
“The very next morning there was a knock on my door, and it was a neighbor wanting to borrow a pan. Although she had lived by us for some time, we had not had much contact. Two days later both she and her husband came over to visit with us. During our conversation she mentioned that they had been looking for a church. I told her how my husband and I were once in that very same position and how our church filled that very special need we had. We invited them to church that Sunday, and they eagerly accepted. Afterward, we asked them if they would be interested in learning more by having the missionary lessons in our home. They told us that, indeed, they would be interested.
“On Christmas Day, my husband baptized and confirmed them members of the Church. They have grown so strong, and they set a shining example to all. They are looking forward to the day when they and their new baby girl can be sealed in the temple for time and eternity.”
Then, from far-off Buenos Aires:
“In our family prayers we began to include the names of nonmembers who had not yet joined the Church. My children prayed for them. Our prayers were different. We were changing our attitude toward missionary work from waiting for opportunities to share the gospel to asking the Lord to prepare specific people, by name, to receive the lessons.
“We have seen one person come into the Church who is now fully active. Three other families, chosen with the Lord’s help, have received the third discussion. All have been to church at least twice. All have been in our home for friendshipping and encouragement. They are receiving the opportunity to accept or reject the gospel message.”

Late in the afternoon of the second day at sea, the dreaded alarm “Man overboard” sounded. It became more ominous when the words “This is no drill” were added. The ship’s lookout believed he heard a splash and a cry for help. One adult leader recalls, “I was sitting in the officers’ wardroom, convincing myself I was going to become gloriously sick. But when the alarm sounded, I was no longer aware of anything except the fact that I had two sons out on deck somewhere.”
Fortunately, after a person-by-person muster was verified three times during search-at-sea procedures, there was a collective sigh of relief aboard when the ship’s captain announced all hands were present. The worried adult laughingly remembers, “That’s when it dawned on me that I was no longer seasick. I told the pediatrician who was with us that I thought I had discovered a sure cure for mal de mer—adrenalin!”

Laura was having a lot of fun at the Primary activity. She liked being with her Primary friends.
But then Tyler came up to her and said, “Your dad is ugly. He wears glasses.”
Laura frowned and didn’t say anything.
“My brother said your dad is bad at basketball,” Tyler said. “He’s a geek!”
Laura felt tears coming to her eyes, so she ran out into the hall. She sat down, wrapped her arms around her knees, and cried.
Why was Tyler being so mean? she thought.
Laura looked up to see Sister Morris walking toward her.
“What’s the matter, Laura?” Sister Morris asked.
Laura took a deep breath and told Sister Morris what had happened. Sister Morris frowned.
“That was not very nice of Tyler to say those things,” Sister Morris said. “I will talk to him about treating others kindly.” She gave Laura a hug and held out a cookie. “Would you like a treat?” she asked.
Laura shook her head and wiped away her tears. “No, thanks.”
“How about if you come back to the activity and find someone else who would like a cookie?” Sister Morris said. She handed Laura the cookie.
Laura followed Sister Morris back to the Primary room. She liked to make other people happy. Laura looked around. She wondered who would want the cookie. Whitney, a new girl in Primary, was standing by the wall. She looked a little nervous.
Laura walked over to Whitney and held out the cookie.
“This is for you,” she said.
Whitney took the cookie and gave Laura a big smile.
Laura smiled back. Her tears were all gone. She felt much better.

“Elder Confer, teach me,” said the voice on the other end of the line, “but don’t teach me about the Book of Mormon.” Christine Yong, our new investigator, was wanting to know more about our religion.
As missionaries in the Singapore Mission, my companion and I were excited to have an investigator like Christine. She and her sister Sara seemed to be sincerely interested in the gospel. But during the weeks we had shared the gospel with them, they had some doubts about Joseph Smith and the Book of Mormon. We weren’t about to give up on them, though, so we set up another appointment.
I went with our branch mission leader, Patrick Lim, while my companion went with another member to other appointments. Brother Lim and I planned to teach Christine about repentance, baptism, and the gift of the Holy Ghost. We usually invited people to be baptized when we talked about baptism. But both of us wondered, given all the challenges she was facing, whether Christine would be ready for baptism. We prayed for the Spirit before meeting with her.
During the discussion, Christine seemed to understand repentance and baptism. But as Brother Lim taught about receiving the gift of the Holy Ghost, Christine voiced her concerns.
“Elders, I’m not sure if God is there and if He would really answer my prayer,” she hesitantly admitted.
We described to her the calm, peaceful feelings the Spirit brings, but she wasn’t familiar with the influence of the Holy Ghost. She had tried to pray and read the scriptures, but things just didn’t seem to be coming together.
For a moment, we were at a loss for answers. Then a scripture came to my mind, and I felt impressed to share it, even though it was in the Book of Mormon—the book she had requested us not to teach from. I asked Christine to read Ether 12:6: “I would show unto the world that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith.”
As I explained that our faith in the Lord is tested before we receive an answer from Heavenly Father, I felt the Spirit strongly in my heart. I prayed Christine would feel it too. And she did.
“I’m so touched. I’m really very touched,” Christine said, as tears flowed down her cheeks.
“This is the Spirit, Christine. This is what the Spirit feels like,” Brother Lim and I said as tears started to flow down our cheeks too.
After we had shared that verse with her and taught her further, Christine accepted our invitation and was soon baptized.

For us, those missionaries—Elders Reed Harris and Marty Kemsley—were like two angels. When they taught us how to hold a family home evening, they brought their whole zone. Somehow we managed to fit all those missionaries into our small home. The first hymn we sang was “Love at Home.” We’ve always remembered how that made us feel.
Later, Elder Harris asked us, “Do you know why we were so persistent to teach you and bring you to church?” Then he answered, “Because we know that you are going to be leaders in the Church.”
We never forgot that. Since our baptism, we have had many wonderful opportunities to try to emulate the Savior as we have served Heavenly Father’s children. I have served in many leadership positions, including as Relief Society president and Young Women president. Javier has served as elders quorum president, twice as bishop, and as stake president.
Recently we served a full-time humanitarian mission in Bolivia. That calling gave us the blessing of meeting many wonderful brothers and sisters, sharing our faith in Jesus Christ, and giving love, help, and humanitarian aid to some of our nation’s most vulnerable people and areas.

When I was growing up, I had a fantastic life. I remember thinking that life was perfect and nothing could ever go wrong. We were a happy family, and we lived the teachings of the gospel. I never thought anything bad would happen.
But then when I was 11 years old, it felt like disaster had struck. My dad brought us all into his bedroom and announced that my mom was having another baby, the eighth. I was so excited! But then he proceeded to tell us that he had just been diagnosed with a terminal cancer that may someday end his life.
It was hard to understand, and I really didn’t know what to do. Since then my dad has gone through many painful treatments and is now in remission. Through these difficult times, the Lord has helped and comforted me and my family countless times.
I also became closer to my dad through notes, calls, and walks. I used to leave little notes for my dad in his lunch box and on his desk. These little pieces of paper helped me more than I could ever dream. Now I call my dad almost every day during lunch and just talk. We also go on walks and talk about our day and our likes and dislikes. I’ve gotten to know my dad a lot better now, and I love to talk to him. He’s always interested in what I have to say.
My dad is not cured, and he probably never will be. But the simple gestures like little notes, a quick call, or a walk around the block have helped me understand, at least in part, why my family is going through this. I know that I’ve become closer to my dad, and so has my entire family. I love my Heavenly Father, and I know that He knows what’s best. My family’s love for the Savior has made me understand that I can keep going and that my family will be together forever. I know that this Church is true with all my heart.

OK, we’re only down one point with seven seconds left. Tanya, I want you to pass to Joyce and set a screen for Cathlyn on the left wing. Cathlyn, all you have to do is lose your man, catch the pass from Joyce, and bury the shot.
You did it, Cathlyn! We won!
Great game, Champ. That last play was awesome!
I just did what the coach told me, Dad.
Did he come out on the floor and make you do it?
Of course not!
Are you glad you chose to follow his plan anyway?
I guess so. Hey, this isn’t just about basketball, is it?
It isn’t?
Do they teach this stuff in dad school, or are you just a natural?

Some years ago a priests quorum decided to gather food for the needy as a service project. Jim, one of the priests, was excited to participate and was determined to collect more food than anyone else. The time arrived when the priests met at the chapel. They all went out at the same time and returned at a specified time later in the evening. To everyone’s surprise, Jim’s cart was empty. He seemed rather sober, and some of the boys made fun of him. Seeing this and knowing that Jim had an interest in cars, the adviser said, “Come outside, Jim. I want you to look at my car. It’s giving me some trouble.”
When they got outside, the adviser asked Jim if he was upset. Jim said, “No, not really. But when I went out to collect the food, I really got a lot. My cart was full. As I was returning to the chapel, I stopped at the home of a nonmember woman who is divorced and lives within our ward boundaries. I knocked on the door and explained what we were doing, and she invited me in. She began to look for something to give me. She opened the refrigerator, and I could see there was hardly anything in it. The cupboards were bare. Finally, she found a small can of peaches.
“I could hardly believe it. There were all these little kids running around that needed to be fed, and she handed me this can of peaches. I took it and put it in my cart and went on up the street. I got about halfway up the block when I just felt warm all over and knew I needed to go back to that house. I gave her all the food.”
The adviser said, “Jim, don’t you ever forget the way you feel tonight, because that’s what it is all about.” Jim had tasted the nutrient of selfless service.

“We were so scared. We didn’t know if you’d like us,” said an anglo leader.
“I’ve never known a lot of Lamanites before, and I am proud to be one,” said a Lamanite participant.
The thoughts were being voiced at a testimony meeting concluding a five-day girls camp for Lamanite girls from the Southwest Indian Mission. Also participating were Anglo girls and leaders.
“Sometimes brownskins and whiteskins in our area don’t have the nicest of feelings toward each other,” said a participant, “so we looked forward to this camp so that we could make sure bad feelings didn’t happen in the Church, where we have a real commitment to respect and love each other.”
Besides spirits’ being lifted—many Lamanite girls thrilled at being among the tall fir trees, mountain peaks, and cold streams outside of Farmington, New Mexico—some conversions occurred, and friendships flowered all over the place. It was a worthy goal—elimination of prejudice—and in this instance, a superb way to accomplish it.