Gospel Story Finder

All this talk caused a great curiosity about the Church and the Book of Mormon. Twelve-year-old Mary Elizabeth Rollins, a recently baptized member, wanted to see the Book of Mormon, but at that time there were very few copies of it available. When she heard that a neighbor, Isaac Morley, had one, she went to his home to see it. When she first glimpsed at the book, an overwhelming desire came over her to read it. Gathering her courage, she asked if she could take the book home and read it while Brother Morley attended a missionary meeting that evening. Brother Morley hesitated but finally said, “Child, if you will bring this book back before breakfast tomorrow morning, you may take it.” Mary hurried home with the book, threw open the door, and exclaimed to her uncle and aunt, “Here is the ‘Golden Bible!’” Immediately her aunt and uncle sat down with her and began taking turns reading until late at night. Mary got up the next morning as soon as it was light enough to see and memorized the first verse. Then she hurried to Brother Morley’s house to return the book. Upon greeting her, Brother Morley said, “I guess you did not read much in it.” When Mary showed him how far they had read, he was surprised. “I don’t believe you can tell me one word of it,” he said. Mary repeated the verse she had memorized and told him the story of Nephi. At that, Brother Morley gazed at her and said, “Child, take this book home and finish it. I can wait.”

It’s time for another family gathering in Hooper, Utah. All the cousins scramble onto the big hay wagon, drawn by a team of Grandpa Parker’s Clydesdale horses, for a ride around the small farming community. During the ride Grandpa says, “This isn’t much different from the way the pioneers traveled across the plains.” The children smile because they know that Grandpa’s bay horses aren’t much like oxen.

Now the horses are ready to take the family for a ride. They trot as though they love to pull in their harnesses, and they are lucky to have someone who loves to train them.

After an enjoyable ride over to the park and back, Grandpa pulls on the right rein for the horses to turn into the area by the corral where he can unhitch them by reversing the harnessing process.

The children slide off the wagon, already looking forward to the next time that they come for a visit to Grandpa’s farm. It was a fun ride, but they are glad that they don’t have to ride on a wagon day after day or walk all the way across the plains as many pioneers did.

Assembly Instructions: Cut scenery along solid black lines on pages 30 and 31. Glue scene to cardboard and trim.
Cut out objects on floor along solid black outline and then fold up on broken lines.
Glue figures and props to cardboard and cut out. On the back of each figure glue a Popsicle stick. Place a piece of masking tape on the back of the props so they can be positioned in the scene. If the scenery is set on the forward edge of a table, the figures can be moved around in front of it.
Characters: Mother, Ezra, Susan, Elizabeth, and Thomas
Setting: Kitchen of a pioneer cabin with table, chairs, coal stove, and a hearth.
Scene opens: Mother is churning butter. Susan is working on a rag rug. Ezra is sanding a stool he has made in preparation for the Primary fair. Elizabeth kneels on the floor watching Ezra and his stool.
NOTE: Instead of using puppets, this play could be given by boys and girls in a family home evening.
Elizabeth: (in a discouraged voice) What can a five-year-old make to show at the Primary fair?
Mother: Why, Elizabeth, you’re going to play in the rhythm band at the fair. And, I might say, you do a good job on the triangle.
Elizabeth: I know, but I want something to put on the display table with my name on it!
Ezra: You can help me paint this stool and we can put both our names on it.
Elizabeth: No! That wouldn’t be the same as making something all by myself.
Susan: Do you want me to show you how to make a rug?
Elizabeth: No, that’s what you’re doing; besides, there isn’t time for me to finish one.
Mother: (holding out jar of butter) Here, Elizabeth, please take this butter outside and put it in a cool safe place by the stream.
Ezra: On your way back, Elizabeth, would you do me a favor? Bring in the bucket of corn inside the barn for Mother. I forgot. That way I can keep sanding till I’m through.
Thomas: (calling from outside) Elizabeth, come quick! That pesky raccoon’s in the cornfield again! Help me catch him.
Elizabeth: All right! I’m coming! (Elizabeth runs out, carrying the butter. The other family members run to peer out the window.)
Susan: How can little Elizabeth help?
Ezra: Elizabeth is small and quick enough to run through the cornfield to head him off. (Mother, Susan, and Ezra go back to their work.)
Mother: Susan, will you help me clean out this big heavy kettle so I can make soup in it? (The kettle is on the floor by the hearth.)
Susan: I’ll be glad to, Mother. (Helps mother clean kettle.) This kettle will sure hold a lot of soup!
Mother: Yes, it has to. We’re going to have a soup kitchen at the fair, and I told the sisters I would make a big pot of our favorite vegetable soup.
(After a time Thomas and Elizabeth return. Elizabeth is carrying the bucket of corn. Mother and Susan have finished cleaning the kettle and are getting ready to peel the vegetables on the table.)
Elizabeth: Where do you want this corn, Mother?
Mother: Put it in the kettle on the hearth, dear. (Elizabeth puts corn in kettle.)
Thomas: That pesky raccoon got away. If I ever catch him, I’ll have his tail!
Ezra: Then you can have a raccoon hat (family laughs).
Susan: Maybe we could make the raccoon a family pet. The Cole family has a pet raccoon.
Thomas: No thank you! Then he would eat all our crops.
Mother: Elizabeth, did you find a good place by the stream for the butter?
Elizabeth: (looks alarmed) Oh, Mother, in my hurry to help Thomas catch the raccoon I left the butter outside on the porch. I’ll go get it right now. (She leaves.)
Mother: Thomas, if you’ll lift that large kettle from the hearth to the stove, Susan and I will soon have other vegetables ready to put in it.
Thomas: All right, Mother (lifts pan).
Elizabeth: (enters carrying the butter jar) I’m sorry, Mother. I left the butter in the sun and it’s almost all melted. Is it ruined?
Mother: (walks over and looks in butter jar) Oh, dear! No, it’s not ruined, Elizabeth, but it has to be used right away. What can we do with so much melted butter?
Ezra: We could make pancakes (looks in butter jar) but wow! We’d sure have to eat a lot of them!
Mother: (begins to sniff) Say, what can I smell? Oh dear, I forgot to put some water in the kettle for the corn.
Ezra: But what’s that noise? (everyone sniffs and listens.)
Thomas: It smells and sounds like corn popping. (Everyone looks at the stove.)
Ezra: Oh no! Elizabeth must have brought in my popcorn that I was saving for tithing.
Elizabeth: I’m sorry, Ezra.
Ezra: That’s all right. I wonder if the bishop will take popped corn for tithing (family laughs).
Mother: You’ll have to take some more from your supply for your tithing, Ezra.
Susan: Hey! All that popcorn solves the problem of what to do with all the melted butter.
Thomas: That’s right. We can pour it over the popcorn!
Mother: And that’s what Elizabeth can take to the Primary fair and put on the display table with a big sign that reads BUTTERED POPCORN MADE BY ELIZABETH, age 5.
Elizabeth: Yippee!

Right after I was married, I was called as home teacher to four families. The father of one was active but not spiritually converted. The young husband in another wasn’t a member of the Church and wouldn’t attend with his new bride, who was a member. The third couple was inactive—even though the husband was formerly in a stake presidency and the wife had been a stake Primary president. The fourth family, the Smiths, was happily very active in the Church: the father was on the stake high council, and the mother was the ward Relief Society president.
As my home teaching companion and I considered our assignment, our immediate reaction was to concentrate on the three families that needed obvious encouragement and fellowshipping. The Smiths, we reasoned, would get along fine with just a short social visit from us once a month.
But after our initial visit with each family, and after praying about how to be effective home teachers, we began to realize that every family needs—and deserves—a great home teacher, and that the Smiths needed just as much attention, prayerful consideration, and love as any of the other families.
During the first year, we tried to develop a good rapport with the Smiths. Devoting part of every month’s visit directly to the three children, we became fully aware of their progress in Primary, Scouting, Aaronic Priesthood, and school. When the boy received his (highest award a boy can earn in scouting in the U.S.), I was asked to be the speaker at the meeting where he received his award.
Sometimes we went out for ice cream with them. At ward parties, we socialized with every member of the family.
The friendship worked both ways. For example, when our first baby was born no one was more excited than the Smiths. In fact, Sister Smith gave a party for my wife.
One day Brother Smith called to tell me that he was going to be operated on shortly: the doctor had just found a tumor. I helped administer to him.
The surgery was successful—the cancer was removed. We felt that our role was to encourage the family during their father’s recuperation.
About a year later, another tumor appeared. Again the Smiths needed spiritual strength and support, and again the cancer was removed.
However, several months later they found another tumor. We appreciated many times the comforting power of the Spirit as blessings were pronounced in Brother Smith’s behalf. As home teachers, we discussed with the family the importance of combining faith with submissiveness to the Lord’s will.
When this last tumor appeared, it was so extensive that the doctors couldn’t operate. We were all disheartened—yet we still hoped that Brother Smith would live.
I frequently stopped to spend some time with him on my way home from work. Many times he was in so much pain—his pain relievers were ineffective by then—that he would ask me for a blessing. Those experiences became a highlight of my life. Each day I tried to live so that I could receive inspiration that would encourage my ailing friend.
One Saturday morning, as my wife and I were leaving home to do some shopping, I said to her, “I have a feeling that we should go see how Brother Smith endured the night.” We had seen him the night before, and everything seemed fine.
“All right,” she said. “If you feel we should go over, let’s do it.”
We found him in bed—doing about the same as the night before; there had been no major decline in his strength during the past week. I couldn’t help wondering why I had felt impressed to visit them that morning. So I decided that maybe we should share some faith-promoting experiences with them. The children sat around the bed and listened, and the Spirit of the Lord was there in rich abundance. Suddenly, as we talked, Brother Smith died in the arms of his wife.
My wife took the children into another bedroom and spent the next little while talking to them and answering their questions. She indicated to them that their father would be a source of strength to them all their lives and that someday, because of the Savior’s atonement and resurrection, they could have a beautiful reunion with him.
I helped by calling the doctor, the bishop, and the mortician. Later during the day we ran errands for Sister Smith.
The funeral was the following Monday. When the bishop was making the arrangements, Sister Smith indicated that her husband had planned the funeral in great detail, and that I, his home teacher, was to give the spiritual message.
I was overwhelmed. Brother Smith was close to many stake and general leaders in the Church, but instead, he had asked for me to speak at his funeral. And the printed program was to indicate that I was his home teacher.
Afterward, we did what we could to help the family adjust. We arranged for an accountant in our ward to help set up a budget for them and to get the family finances back in order. We asked another ward member, a carpenter/handyman, to help us inspect the house to determine what needed to be done to maintain the value of the home. The priesthood quorums in the ward then came in and did the needed work to get the home back to its normal condition.
We also helped Sister Smith evaluate various job opportunities. And we tried to be even closer to the children.

In closing I want to share with you a personal experience. One day when circumstances made it necessary for me to be at home at an unusual time, I witnessed from another room how our eleven-year-old son, just returning from school, was directing ugly words towards his younger sister. They were words that offended me—words that I had never thought our son would use. My first natural reaction in my anger was to get up and go after him. Fortunately, I had to walk across the room and open a door before I could reach him, and I remember in those few seconds I fervently prayed to my Heavenly Father to help me to handle the situation. Peace came over me. I was no longer angry.

Our son, being shocked to see me home, was filled with fear when I approached him. To my surprise I heard myself saying, “Welcome home, son!” and I extended my hand as a greeting. And then in a formal style I invited him to sit close to me in the living room for a personal talk. I heard myself expressing my love for him. I talked with him about the battle that every one of us has to fight each day within ourselves.

As I expressed my confidence in him, he broke into tears, confessing his unworthiness and condemning himself beyond measure. Now it was my role to put his transgression in the proper perspective and to comfort him. A wonderful spirit came over us, and we ended up crying together, hugging each other in love and finally in joy. What could have been a disastrous confrontation between father and son became, through the help from the powers above, one of the most beautiful experiences of our relationship that we both have never forgotten.

When the Saints left Nauvoo in February 1846, they carefully packed up their historical records for the trek across the plains. Two years later, the historical materials were placed in a “record wagon” that traveled to the Salt Lake Valley as part of a large wagon company led by President Brigham Young. At that point, the Church’s sacred historical records could fit in one wagon. [9]
Not anymore! The Church opened a new, state-of-the-art Church History Library in 2009. The library contains a tremendous variety of materials. The records range in age and type from fragments of papyrus created before the birth of Jesus Christ (which came into the possession of Joseph Smith in Kirtland) to bits of information entered recently into any of the Church’s electronic systems for tracking missionaries or temple ordinances.

While we do not know for certain what effect the sharing of the magazines and our testimonies had on those individuals or teams, we do know that through competing at college nationals over several years we were able to inspire one young woman who had also felt something from our performances. She was not a member of the Church at that time, but she wanted to come to BYU because of what she had seen the Cougarettes do at competition.

She applied for and was accepted to BYU. That led to her investigation of the Church and her baptism shortly thereafter. She then auditioned for and became a member of the BYU Cougarettes 2013 national championship team—during the year the team won in both jazz and hip-hop for the very first time.

I am so grateful to a loving Heavenly Father who provided a way for us to share a message and our light through our talents.

Another time I had a great learning experience. It was a very busy day when all of our ten children were living at home. Somehow my day had gotten away from me. The dinner hour was near, and I recalled some sound advice my mother had given me: “You plan ahead, and you get your simple nutritious meals going early in the day. You know the children will be hungry before the dinner hour. Use some common sense. Sometimes you may have to feed them early.” This advice had been overlooked that day.
I hastily moved into action. The assigned children on meal preparation came to my aid, and soon dinner was underway. I heard the hum of a busy household and then an unusual sound in another room. I found two of the younger children having a difference of opinion. I suggested that each could sit on a chair and think things over. The younger one looked at me in defiance and said, “You not in charge of me!” I was a bit taken aback, but I just quietly drew him aside and calmly explained that Heavenly Father had temporarily assigned me to love and to care for him. It took only a few more sentences, and he climbed up on the chair to think.
Soon the dinner bell rang, and we all sat up to the table. I learned the value of prompt meals. I had been part of the problem that day. Yes, the crisis was over but the learning was not. As I recall, our next family home evening lesson was on obedience.

Claw Foot was pushed into the wigwam of Chief Broken Wing. His two captors held him rigidly as the great chief glared at him.
“This brave hunts our buffalo,” one of the captors said. “His name is Claw Foot.”
Claw Foot winced. He disliked having his name spoken before strangers.
“The herds in this valley are ours,” the chief said.
“But my people are near starvation,” Claw Foot pleaded. “Our herds are gone. We have journeyed many moons in search of new hunting grounds. We must have fertile land on which to grow our crops.”
“This land is ours. You go!” Broken Wing commanded.
Then the chief’s intelligent eyes lingered for several moments on Claw Foot’s left foot, the clawlike shape that even the brave’s carefully made deerskin moccasin could not disguise. As Broken Wing stared at the moccasin, his left hand went instinctively to his own right arm, which Claw Foot saw was twisted like a gnarled branch.
Broken Wing spoke, “You too have a lame body.”
“I was born with a foot like a claw,” Claw Foot explained.
“My arm was not always this way,” Broken Wing said sadly. “When I was a small boy, I fell from my horse.” He paused and then spoke, “You may have one buffalo, Claw Foot.”
“Only one buffalo!” protested Claw Foot, hastening to speak before Broken Wing had a chance to draw the blanket of silence about himself. “One buffalo will supply food for my people for only a few days.”
“One buffalo!” repeated Broken Wing impatiently.
Claw Foot felt the darkness of defeat as he turned to leave. Then out of the darkness came the light of an idea.
He turned to face Broken Wing once more. “And may we have the land that this one buffalo hide will cover?” he asked.
The chief laughed. “Even if you take the largest buffalo, its hide would not cover enough ground for a single wigwam.”
“Perhaps I can stretch the hide,” suggested Claw Foot.
Broken Wing looked at Claw Foot’s left moccasin again. “You may have the land one hide will cover,” he agreed.
At sunup Claw Foot mounted his pinto and rode into the valley. With the help of his scouts, he separated the biggest and finest cow from the herd of buffalo. With strong, sure aim, his arrow hit the heart of the beast and felled it.
There was great happiness and feasting that night among his people, but Claw Foot did not partake of the food. He was too concerned with tanning the hide. All through the next day he was busy cutting the hide into little pieces and conferring with his scouts, who afterward were sent out in different directions.
When they returned, Claw Foot sought admittance to the wigwam of Chief Broken Wing. “I am here for my land,” he told the chief. “Come, I will show you.”
Broken Wing mounted his buckskin while Claw Foot took the lead on his pinto. As they rode through the valley and over the ridges, Claw Foot pointed out the small pieces of buffalo hide his scouts had scattered over the land.
“The one buffalo hide covers enough ground for many wigwams, much hunting, and fine crops,” Claw Foot explained.
Broken Wing’s eyes looked like darting black clouds. He did not reply, but instead he slapped his horse and galloped away.
Claw Foot urged his pinto to follow, and his mind raced as rapidly as his horse’s hoofs.
Back at Broken Wing’s wigwam, Claw Foot stood once more before the chief, who sat cross-legged before the fire.
Broken Wing seemed thoughtful. Looking up at Claw Foot, he finally said, “Only your body is lame, not your thoughts. You have outwitted me fairly. You may have the land.”
Claw Foot made the sign of gratitude.
Then Broken Wing continued speaking. “From this day on you will not be known as Claw Foot. Your name is He Who Thinks.
And so it was.

A few weeks ago our youngest son and his wife and family stopped to see us. The first one out of the car was our two-year-old grandson. He came running to me with his arms outstretched, shouting, “Gwampa! Gwampa! Gwampa!”
He hugged my legs, and I looked down at that smiling face and those big, innocent eyes and thought, “What kind of a world awaits him?”
For a moment I had that feeling of anxiety, that fear of the future that so many parents express to us. Everywhere we go fathers and mothers worry about the future of their children in this very troubled world.
But then a feeling of assurance came over me. My fear of the future faded.
That guiding, comforting Spirit, with which we in the Church are so familiar, brought to my remembrance what I already knew. The fear of the future was gone. That bright-eyed, little two-year-old can have a good life—a very good life—and so can his children and his grandchildren, even though they will live in a world where there is much of wickedness.

This past week I received a letter from our daughter concerning our 14 year old granddaughter, Zoe, and the impact on her life of starting at a new school with an outstanding group of teachers. Let me just share a portion of that letter

"As you know, we've been very worried about Zoe. Last year she didn't seem to learn much at school, never seemed to have homework, and didn't feel challenged at school. We were afraid that she might just be turning into a lazy teenager. So this fall we put her in a new school, and wow, what a difference. They have incredible teachers who are focused on teaching not just the disciplines but ethics and community as well. And now all of the sudden, Zoe loves going to school, she's learning a ton, she's doing hours of homework every day without any complaining, and she's turned into a responsible, grown-up, careful student. It's an incredible transformation. I think you'll notice when you see her."

This same sensitivity he enhanced manyfold through mixing with all types of people and through coming to know their problems. When he was twenty years old, George Albert Smith was engaged as a salesman for Zion’s Cooperative Mercantile Institution, traveling through Southern Utah with a companion known to history only as Jim.
One is impressed with the ability of the future prophet even then to mix well with all types of company. He entertained on occasion with his harmonica and guitar and kept himself in good physical shape by exercising with Indian clubs and dumbbells (occasionally giving an exhibition of his prowess with the same in some of the villages).
His sense of humor, which helped him open many hearts, was evidenced from time to time. A demonstration of this is shown in an incident on the journey involving a jug of whiskey that Jim had brought on the trip to share with his customers. This fact bothered George, when he discovered it, because of his own commitment to the principles of the Word of Wisdom. However, there was no sermon preached by him to his companion, no chastisement—just an idea for a great practical joke somewhere along the route of the journey. The chance came before the two left Provo, about fifty miles south of Salt Lake City. While Jim was away from the wagon, the jug was located and carried off secretly to a friend with instructions for him to empty the whiskey and to fill the jug with water. Then the jug was put back in its original place. Several nights later it was brought out by Jim and the secret was revealed: no whiskey, just a jug full of foul-smelling sulphur water—much to the amusement of President Smith, who often loved to retell this story and others when he himself was the victim of a practical joke.

Just as in graphic design, sometimes in life a visual, tangible pattern replaces a mental one. We often learn from the service of others. I still remember the first time as ward executive secretary that I couldn’t completely fill the bishop’s interview schedule. The bishop, however, reminded me that the Lord was in charge and He knew who needed to see the bishop that day—even if we didn’t. And sure enough, every time we had this “problem,” the phone would ring or someone would stop in to ask if the bishop had any time. And because of his inspired leadership, he did have time.

Mindy Bradley of Farmington, Utah, likes to dance.
Mindy’s spirits were high as she looked forward to her first regional youth dance. She and her friends spent time carefully getting ready and approached the dance anticipating the possibility of meeting new people, making new friends, and having a great time. She didn’t let the fact that she is confined to a wheelchair dampen her enthusiasm.
“Sometimes people don’t realize that, just because I’m in a wheelchair it doesn’t mean I can’t do these things,” she says. “Usually people just stand in front of me and we hold hands and sort of sway back and forth.”
Still, Mindy’s wheelchair can make it difficult for her to mingle with other people, especially ones she doesn’t know. Several people at the dance realized that and decided they would approach her instead of waiting for her to talk with them.
“Just as we finished a fun line dance, I noticed a group of kids on the other side of the room walking up to me.
I was sitting there thinking it was a little odd, but before I could do much, there they were, placing their chairs in a semicircle in front of me.”
The group of guys and girls asked her where she was from, what school she attended, and what she liked to do for fun. After several minutes of conversation, one of the boys asked her to dance.
“It was really fun, and it sort of got the ball rolling,” says Mindy. “After that, a bunch of other people asked me to dance. Before, I don’t think they knew I could.”
Being a friend can sometimes be difficult, requiring lots of time and energy. Sometimes, though, being a friend can be as simple as saying, “Would you like to dance?”

An older granddaughter stated, “I have been considering marriage in the near future and have been making some tentative preparations. When Grandfather heard of my plans, he and Grandmother came down to see me, gave me some possible temple dates, offered other suggestions, and in an hour the entire thing was coming together. He said that evening, ‘You need a plan; if it doesn’t happen, you’re out nothing. You can cancel, but you can’t just materialize a wedding. Things just won’t fall into place if you don’t plan ahead.’”

We, too, can choose whether to forgive those who have hurt or offended us, or to remain angry with them. Eight-year-old Nils Evensen from South Jordan, Utah, has learned to follow Nephi’s example of being forgiving. When Nils turned eight, he saved all his birthday money and bought a toy that he really wanted. He was always very careful to put it away after playing with it so that it would not get broken. One day, a friend accidentally sat on the toy and broke it. Nils’ eleven-year-old sister, Linnea, said that instead of getting angry with his friend, Nils told him, “It’s OK—we can glue the pieces back on.” Because Nils chose to be forgiving, he was able to keep a friendship that might have been badly hurt if he had chosen to get angry.

This story happened in Slovenia.
Maja sat on the steps of her house and rested her chin in her hands. The sun was shining bright, warm rays of light through the tall trees. The air smelled like fresh pine needles.
Mami came out and sat next to Maja. “What are you thinking about?”
“I’m supposed to share my favorite scripture in Primary,” Maja said. “But I don’t have a favorite. And I don’t know which one to pick.”
Mami nodded. “Choosing a favorite scripture is hard.” She looked out at the trees, then stood up. “I have an idea.”
Mami went back inside. When she came back, she was holding her scriptures. “Let’s start with a story. What’s your favorite scripture story?”
Maja thought about it. “I like when Jesus visited the Nephites.”
Mami flipped through the pages in the Book of Mormon. “That story starts in 3 Nephi.” She pointed to the page. “Let’s take turns reading and pick out verses we like.”
Maja nodded and listened as Mami read. She read about Jesus Christ calling His disciples. She read about peacemakers and prayer.
Then it was Maja’s turn. When she finished one of the verses, she paused. She felt like the sun was shining bright enough to fill her heart.
She looked up at Mami. “I like that one.”
“Me too. What do you like about it?” Mami asked.
Maja shrugged as a smile spread on her face. “It’s about Jesus. And it just makes me feel happy.”
Mami smiled back. “That’s a great way to know you’ve found a favorite scripture. Do you want to share that one in Primary?”
Maja nodded excitedly. “Will you help me learn it?”
“Of course!” Mami said.
Mami and Maja practiced one word at a time. While they worked, the birds chirped in the trees, like they were learning too.
All week, Maja kept practicing her new favorite scripture. On Sunday morning, she was a little nervous. She practiced saying her scripture on the long drive to church.
There were only a few kids in Maja’s Primary. But as she walked into the classroom, Maja felt like butterflies were flying around in her stomach.
When it was her turn to share, Maja stood and took a deep breath. “Behold, I am the law, and the light,” she said. “Look unto me, and endure to the end, and ye shall live; for unto him that endureth to the end will I give eternal life.”
When Maja was done, she sat down and smiled. She did it! The nervous butterflies were gone, and the warm, sunshiny feeling was back. She knew her favorite scripture would bring that feeling whenever she needed it.
The scripture Maja learned for Primary still brings her feelings of sunshine and comfort today! What’s your favorite scripture?
Illustrations by Chloe Dominique

While Josh Lowe was slogging through the mud in Novosibirsk, Russia, Nate Barber was en route to the Mexico Chihuahua Mission. Carl Agren was also Russia bound, and Artie Whiting was getting ready to go to the Dominican Republic. Josh and about 50 of his friends are either serving missions, going to college, or serving in the military, which makes life exciting for all of them. But it makes keeping in touch somewhat difficult—missionaries don’t have time to write to 50 of their closest friends every month!
So Josh’s mom, Penny, puts together a newsletter for all the boys (who are all from the Mesa, Arizona, area) and their families. The newsletter—which is called ‘Toros in the Real World’ after their high school mascot—contains letters from the boys, news reports from home, and an inspirational thought or two. A few of the boys who receive and contribute to the newsletter are nonmembers, so it’s also a great missionary tool.

One cool, crisp day we were scrimmaging on the football field at Granite High School in Salt Lake City. We were preparing for a big game on Friday afternoon. The farmers who had been harvesting their celery crops in the fields around the stadium came over to watch us. Earlier that afternoon the fastener on my helmet had broken, and I had difficulty keeping my helmet on. In every play as I was jostled, my helmet would fly off and go rolling away, and I would have to scurry around and find it before the next play. Coach Rex Sutherland would not let us play without helmets because it was too dangerous.
On one important play I received a slight jar and my helmet went rolling away, but the play was still moving and I was in the middle of it. I didn’t want to leave the action of the play and go find my helmet, so I continued to press hard to tackle the ball carrier on the other side. I put my head down to bore in and try to grab the ball carrier. One of the players who was running interference for the ball carrier hit me hard, and I went down and lost consciousness.
Imagine my embarrassment when I regained consciousness and found the players huddled around looking down at me while I was lying on my back on the ground. It seemed like not only the players, but also the spectators were wondering what was the matter with me. Coach Sutherland wanted to know, in a concerned voice, if I could move. I was a little sick to my stomach and unsteady, but I said in as strong a voice as I could muster that I was all right. Then I got up and found my helmet and headed for my position in the lineup for the next play.
That was the only time that I was ever knocked unconscious. It was my own fault. I had learned a great lesson—it is always important to keep your chin strap fastened so that your helmet is in place and you have protection.

Lakeview Fifth Ward
At a Primary activity in the Lakeview Fifth Ward, Orem Utah Lakeview Stake, the children learned about the importance of family history and temple work. Then they all helped build a model of a temple. They painted 150 boxes white and used them for the temple foundation and walls. They made windows and an angel Moroni figure to put on top. The children even made flowers out of pipe cleaners to add to the beauty of their temple.