Gospel Story Finder

As a young boy, I had great aspirations. One day after school, I asked, “Mom, what should I be when I grow up: a professional basketball player or a rock star?” Unfortunately, Clark “the toothless wonder” showed no signs of future athletic or musical glory. And despite multiple efforts, I was repeatedly denied admission to my school’s advanced academic program. My teachers finally suggested I should just stick to the standard classroom. Over time, I developed compensating study habits. But it wasn’t until my mission to Japan that I felt my intellectual and spiritual possibilities begin to emerge. I continued to work hard. But for the first time in my life, I systematically involved the Lord in my development, and it made all the difference.

An experience related by Bruce Gardner, a blind attorney in Phoenix, Arizona, illustrates both of these beliefs. When Bruce moved into his ward, he met a teenage boy, blind from birth, who was intelligent and friendly. But ward members treated him as though he were helpless: they led him everywhere. “When the people in the ward saw how independent I was, they thought I was unusual,” says Bruce.
“When I was called to be this boy’s home teacher, I immediately bought him a cane. One Saturday morning, we walked the short distance to the chapel together, something he had never done before, and then we walked all over the building getting him acquainted with the hallways and the rooms. After two short sessions he could find his way anywhere in the building independently. The only problem was that some people found it difficult to change their attitude toward him. He is now serving a full-time mission and plans to earn a college degree when he returns.”

At some point during her drive to become a ballerina, Mavi realized that dancing was not the only goal she had or the only worthwhile thing she would need to sacrifice for.

Along the way, she gained a desire to follow Jesus Christ, and she realized that what ballet had taught her about discipline applies to gospel discipleship as well. Just as her friends had wondered why she would do what she did for dance, they asked why she lived such restrictive gospel principles.

“I explained that we have the liberty to choose, and I chose to accept this lifestyle in order to be free from sin and have the Holy Ghost with me,” she says.

Or as the Savior said it, a disciple must “take up his cross,” meaning to deny oneself all ungodliness and every worldly lust and to keep God’s commandments (see Joseph Smith Translation, Matthew 16:26). Such self-discipline brings us to “liberty and eternal life, through the great Mediator,” while trying to live outside the commandments leads to “captivity and death, according to the captivity and power of the devil” (2 Nephi 2:27).

“Obedience brings greater freedom and peace than anything,” Mavi says. “My goals aren’t limited to this earthly life but include eternity.”

The gospel parallel is important. Following Christ takes strength. And the rewards are sweet.

“The rewards from so many sacrifices are that I can dance,” Mavi says. “I feel strong, and I feel the guidance of the Holy Ghost in every step I take—on stage and off.”

Because of financial struggles, one sister had to move from her beloved home and ward after living there for 22 years. That was painful. Of her first Sunday in her new ward, she said: “I felt very alone, even though I knew a few people. I was one of the first to Relief Society that morning. I sat there and watched the sisters file in and take their seats. They all seemed to need their own row, not just their own seat. They didn’t sit by each other and they didn’t sit by me. I felt like an island.” Sisters, why do we do that to each other?! The sister continued: “Then Lisa came in. Her face lit up when she saw me and she charged over to me, popped down beside me, put her arm around me and gave me a big hug. It’s amazing how much a small gesture like that can mean. Her warmth”—and I would add, her love—“washed away my loneliness.”

On the week that Elder Perry passed away, he attended our meeting on Tuesday. On Tuesday night, as recorded by his son, Lee, he had a spiritual experience that let him know his time was soon.1

With Elder Russell M. Nelson on assignment in eastern Europe, Elder Perry, on Wednesday morning, called Elder Oaks and Elder Ballard to his apartment. He told them his time was short and that he would not be coming back into the office. He recorded a six-minute message for the Quorum of the Twelve, telling us he loved us, encouraging us in the work ahead, and bearing his sure witness of the Savior. We were sobered as that recording was played for us Thursday morning in the temple.

The First Presidency went Thursday afternoon to say their good-byes to their dear friend. Elder Nelson called Elder Perry from Bulgaria Thursday evening. On Friday morning President Packer rose from his feeble ­condition and traveled to Elder Perry’s apartment to say good-bye. They reflected on their many years together. President Packer reminded him that Elder Perry had always said that he wanted to go through the veil at least one day before President Packer. They rejoiced that they would soon see each other on the other side.

On Friday afternoon, just after 4:00 p.m., Kathy and I had the chance to visit with Elder and Sister Perry. Elder Perry was sitting in a comfortable chair, weak but conversant. He asked us, as he did all the members of the Twelve, to watch over and care for his dear Barbara. He expressed his love for us and we expressed our love for him. I told him that in a few years, as I followed him out of this earthly experience, I hoped he would be there to greet me. He promised that, if given permission, he would. He told us he would do all that he could to bless our work from the other side of the veil.

Less than twenty-four hours later he stepped through the veil. Thirty-four days later President Packer followed him. I, with you, revere these two disciples of Christ. I confirm to you that they were honest men, holy men—devoted to the callings that they had received and full of the pure love of Christ. I testify that we will yet see them again.

Julie B. Beck, Relief Society general president, explains that “providing for ourselves and others is evidence that we are disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ. … When [my mother-in-law] passed away suddenly last year, she left evidence of her self-reliant life. She had a current temple recommend and well-used scriptures and gospel study manuals. We lovingly divided up the pots, pans, and dishes with which she had prepared thousands of meals. She left us quilts she had made from old clothing. She believed in the old adage ‘Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without.’ We saw the supply of food she had grown, preserved, and stored. Particularly touching were her little account books in which she faithfully recorded her expenditures over many years. Because she lived providently, she left some money she had saved for emergencies, and she left no debts! Most importantly, she had taught and inspired many others with the skills she had acquired during her faithful life.”2

Some time later, in a small schoolhouse, 26-year-old Wilford Woodruff stood to speak in another meeting. This time he spoke in response to the testimonies of Elders Zera Pulsipher and Elijah Cheney, missionaries for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He later recounted: “[Elder Pulsipher] opened the door for any remarks to be made. The house was crowded. The first thing I knew I stood on top of a bench before the people, not knowing what I got up for. But I said to my neighbors and friends, ‘I want you to be careful what you say as touching these men … and their testimony, for they are servants of God, and they have testified unto us the truth—principles that I have been looking for from my childhood.’”4 Wilford Woodruff was baptized and confirmed two days later, on December 31, 1833.

On my dad’s side, my paternal grandfather suffered verbal abuse from his father (who also struggled with substance abuse), so he was prone to anger and violence. My grandfather was also a single parent for a time, which led to my dad being displaced in foster homes as a child. Ultimately, my dad struggled for a long time to build a good relationship with my grandpa and to communicate his emotions effectively.
Why am I telling you these difficult family stories? Well, I recently learned it’s helpful to acknowledge difficulties that occurred in our family’s history. It’s helpful because the effects of challenges in our ancestors’ lives can influence how our current families function in mortality.
Our ancestors may have suffered many types of traumatic events, such as grief, war, abuse, crimes, financial instability, natural disasters, etc. And the effects can show up in later generations of families through common issues:
Communication problems
Unhealthy coping mechanisms
Attachment issues
Or more serious issues, including:
Mental health issues
Abuse
Addiction
When the negative psychological effects of traumatic experiences are transferred from one generation to another, experts call this phenomenon “generational trauma.”1 The purpose of identifying generational trauma isn’t to place blame on an ancestor for your issues. But becoming aware of generational trauma can help us understand some of the influences behind our own unhelpful habits, create new healthy behaviors, and invite peace into our homes.
Elder Gerrit W. Gong of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles taught:
“Just as joys come in families, so can sorrows. No individual is perfect, nor is any family … Yet, with heaven’s help, we can come to understand our family and make peace with each other.
“… The promise … always is that, in and through Jesus Christ, we can become our best story and our families can become happy and forever.”2
Here are a few ways I was able to heal my own heart and family relationships after learning about the generational trauma that affected my family:
Strive to become aware of negative habits in your life. Seek guidance from Heavenly Father. He wants us to rise above the conflicts in our lives, and He is more than ready to help us become “new creature[s]” (see 2 Corinthians 5:17). Attend the temple, search the scriptures, and consider counseling with Heavenly Father about working with a mental health professional or finding and reading self-help books that can offer helpful perspectives.
In my case, I denied that I had communication problems until I hit a dark point in my life and realized I needed help addressing some of my behavioral and thinking patterns.
So, after seeking guidance from Heavenly Father, I felt prompted to start meeting with a therapist. We put pieces of the puzzle of my heart together and discovered that the sources of many of my behaviors like masking pain with humor, burying emotions, and struggling to communicate effectively could possibly be traced back to a few generations before mine.
At first, I was scared by what this discovery meant for me. How could I possibly change habits that had been ingrained in me and my family? I even started to fear for my future family. Would I pass my issues on to them?
With these thoughts weighing on my mind, I didn’t think I could muster the effort to face these feelings and change these behavior cycles. But the Lord has counseled us to “be not afraid, only believe” (Mark 5:36).
As I prayed, God showed me that if I had a willing heart, He could change my heart and help me alter the behaviors that were preventing me from having healthy relationships and from growing emotionally and spiritually.
Through trials, we are given a choice to come unto Christ for hope, growth, and healing—whatever that healing may entail.
Ultimately, my healing involved the Savior. With Him, I was able to have difficult yet healing conversations with my family members, to take steps forward, to love more deeply and build greater relationships, to take uncomfortable steps forward, to forgive, and to find hope in the future. Believing in what Jesus Christ could do for me was the first step toward inviting His healing balm into my life through temple worship, prayer, and exercising faith.
As I combined these powerful spiritual tools with therapy and self-help books that helped me develop my communication skills, learn to feel and process my emotions, and understand the underlying reasons behind my behaviors, I have been able to see miraculous results of involving the Savior and Heavenly Father in this journey.
Some of us may struggle with serious repercussions from our family’s past like abuse, addiction, or other traumatic challenges, which can take time, faith, and professional help to heal. But as Elder Patrick Kearon of the Seventy taught, “Courage, patience, and faithful focus on [the Savior]” will help you “let go of your pain and leave it at His feet.”3 Through Him, we can mend bonds, set boundaries, break negative cycles, and build beautiful, charity-filled homes and relationships.
Elder Gong also counseled:
“Genetics and family patterns influence but do not determine us.
“... Learn and acknowledge with gratitude and honesty your family heritage. Celebrate and become the positive and, where needed, humbly do everything possible not to pass on the negative. Let good things begin with you.”4
I am still a work in progress, but I am so grateful for my resilient ancestors and family members who inspire me. I am awed by Heavenly Father and our Savior, who can help us build up the relationships we cherish and endure and grow. Truly, it is through Him that I can help spread goodness in my family and fill our homes with joy.

Patience is an important part of missionary work. Both Cindy, 15, and her sister Tina Doxstater, 14, were involved in Church activities for two years before they were baptized. Cindy explained that she was impressed by the closeness of Mormon families and by the Church activities that her friends took her to. But she wasn’t ready or sure about making a commitment.

“The members of the Church accepted us for what we were,” she said. “They didn’t push, and that helped.” Cindy’s friends didn’t give up on her. When one of them said, “Why don’t you take the missionary discussion?” She said, “Yes.” With the encouragement of their friends and a science teacher at school, Cindy and Tina were baptized this year. The science teacher, Larry Anderson, baptized them.

Exactly one year ago this week—January 15, 2009—US Airways Flight 1549 took off from LaGuardia Airport in New York City and lifted quickly into the sky on what was expected to be an uneventful trip to Charlotte, North Carolina, along the eastern coast of the United States. The airplane captain was Captain Chesley B. “Sully” Sullenberger. He had more than 19,000 hours of flying behind him, and he expected the next hour and a half would be very routine.

As the Airbus A320 climbed to 3,000 feet, the unexpected was suddenly right in front of him. A flock of mammoth Canadian geese with six-foot wingspans was directly in the path of the airplane. The large birds hit the plane. Worse still, the giant engines on the two wings, drawing air into their turbines with enormous force, drew in as well the geese in the path of the plane. There was a terrible grinding sound as the birds were sucked into the engines. Then, a deafening silence—the engines had stopped.

Captain Sullenberger immediately began determining how he could safely land the plane. He first considered returning to the airport, and then to a different airport not far away. The dangers and risks were enormous. He did not know how long he could glide the plane without engine power. He had only a moment to decide. Captain Sullenberger determined his best chance was to land the plane in the Hudson River, a river that runs close to New York City. In those few seconds all his training as an airline captain, all his judgment, his instincts, and his talents were brought to bear on the emergency landing ahead of him.

With skyscrapers outside the windows, the plane dropped quickly, flying only 900 feet above the George Washington Bridge. Then, with the plane flying as slowly as possible and with the wings perfectly straight across the water, he pulled the nose up and glided the belly of the plane onto the water. The plane, weighing 120 tons, skipped across the water and then safely stopped fully intact.

Winter weather was well below freezing, and the captain knew the plane would begin sinking. The passengers were quickly assisted out the emergency exits onto the wings. The plane’s life rafts were inflated, and boats from the shore moved quickly to rescue the passengers. The news was almost unbelievable. While a $60-million plane had been lost, Captain Sullenberger had landed safely, and all of the 154 passengers and crew were safe, as well as Captain Sullenberger.

Anyone who has had the experience of opening a mission call knows what a thrilling and spiritual experience it can be. When Joel Hiller of Taylorsville, Utah, saw the white call packet his mother had placed on the kitchen table, his heart jumped, and he could hardly wait until his family and two close friends were able to join him at his home a few hours later to open it.

After what seemed like the longest three hours of Joel’s life, major excitement erupted as everyone gathered together, talking, laughing, and speculating. But a spiritual calm suddenly filled the room as Joel opened the envelope and began to read aloud the words of the prophet: “Dear Elder Hiller, you are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”

Joel describes what he experienced as he continued reading the letter, “I felt honored to be called, and the Spirit bore an immediate witness that this was the right thing and the right mission for me. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

Picture with me a little six-year-old orphan girl traveling across the plains of America. Her name is Elsie Ann. Her mother died when she was two. Her father remarried, and so for a time she had a stepmother. Then her father died at Winter Quarters when she was five. Her stepmother remarried and moved away, leaving this little orphan behind with Peter and Selina Robison, who were related to her stepmother. Elsie Ann left Winter Quarters with the Robisons in July of 1849 to come west. As she watched Selina care for her 10-month-old baby girl, she no doubt ached for the love of her own mother. Sometimes she would even ask, “Where is my mother?”
My heart goes out to this little girl when I think of her facing her uncertain future with no blood relatives to comfort and help her. Elsie Ann was my great-grandmother, and only recently did we find out who her mother really was. For years we thought Elsie Ann was Jane Robison’s daughter. Careful research discovered her true parentage, and after all these years Elsie Ann now has been sealed to her father, John Akerley, and her mother, Mary Moore.

I actually had a horse who helped me appreciate the amazing process of change. When our children were young, my wife and I looked for a gentle, well-broke children’s horse. Our neighbor had such a horse, but he would sell us kind and gentle Bob only if we also bought his other horse, Stubby. The names alone describe the horses. Eventually we decided to purchase both horses in order to acquire Bob.

Sure enough, Bob was wonderful, and Stubby ended up being, as expected, a stubborn, strong-willed, obnoxious animal who consistently acted up and caused trouble with the other horses. Because of our limited number of horses, I usually ended up riding Stubby during our family rides. He was defiant. When I tried to turn right, Stubby fought to go left. If I wanted to gallop, he would buck or crow-hop.

I decided to do all I could to help bring about a change in Stubby’s disposition. I gave him consequences for bad behavior and rewarded him for good behavior. I rode him side by side our well-behaved horses. I rode him frequently and groomed him often. Over time, after many rides—and somewhat to my surprise—Stubby began to soften. He submitted more readily to the saddle and bridle, and he was less determined to have his own way. He began allowing me to guide and control him without resistance. At times he even seemed to enjoy our time together.

As Stubby’s disposition improved, he surprisingly became my horse of choice. He was energetic and had good stamina. He was not at all hesitant or fearful in challenging situations, and in a group of other horses, he led out without needing to be urged on. Over a period of ten to fifteen years, Stubby developed into an exceptional lead horse. I was very grateful that I hadn’t given up on him during those earlier challenging years. In fact, Stubby made such a turnaround that we changed his name to Spinner.

When I walked to the pasture, Spinner was quick to come to me. He recognized me and seemed eager to please. He responded to the ­gentlest commands. I could ride him easily without a saddle or even a bit in his mouth. We spent many pleasurable hours together. He was very gentle and became a favorite horse of our grandchildren. He took care of our granddaughters, and he tolerated our grandsons. We would say, in horse lingo, that he was well broke. Spinner gave up his wild nature and aligned his will with his owner’s—or his master’s—will.

Spinner underwent a major change or transformation, but it took time, patience, and a lot of work. Through this process of change, Spinner’s life improved immensely, and so did mine! It broke my heart when he passed away this past spring. We buried him in a place of honor, marked with a hitching post and his halter.

When I first entered public life, I was under considerable pressure and suffered from migraine headaches. Inner tension contributed to this condition, and by learning how to relax mentally and physically, I overcame my problem. When I became exercised over a matter, I reminded myself that I must take it easy, that it would probably all be the same one hundred years from now, and that there were many persons in the cemetery who had thought that they were indispensable.

As I came across pictures that would remind me to take it easy, I would cut them out and paste them in my work books and other places where I could have ready access to them when I sensed I was becoming tense. When such occasions arose, I would glance at one of these pictures, relax a second, and go on benefited by this change of pace.

For example, I found a magazine photograph of some pigs sleeping in the sun. One had a particularly blissful expression on his face. The caption read, “Life is a dream.” I have carried this picture with me for years. I never look at it without feeling relaxed.

In order to maintain maximum efficiency, I feel that one must learn to change the tempo–or shall we say “pace” oneself.

What I noticed immediately as we entered the ice cave was how cold it was. And the farther we went into the cave, the darker and spookier it got. Surprisingly, despite the darkness and gloom of the cave, the time I spent there during a girls’ camp hike gave me a chance to think about the direction my life was taking. And I decided there were some things I wanted to change.
We soon reached an area where we had to climb over boulders to reach our destination. I thought about how those boulders are like my own personal obstacles. I found myself asking whether I climbed confidently and carefully over my problems, or if I struggle, as I was now doing, to get to the other side.
Lagging behind, I looked up and saw the lights of the girls in front of me, moving forward almost as if the rocks weren’t there. It seemed their faith was so strong that I felt a new burst of strength that carried me on.
When we reached the end of the cave, one of the leaders had us turn our flashlights off. When all was dark, it struck me that this cave might be like the place where Satan lives—cold and dark. I decided right then and there that I would set new goals to return to my Father in Heaven and live with my family for all eternity.
The lights came back on, and we all headed out. Toward the beginning of the cave, there was a hand-painted sign that read, “Remember This Place.” That, I decided, I would always do, for it had helped me want to do what’s right.

My family sat in father’s hospital room in a hospital in Boise, Idaho, and waited anxiously. The doctors hadn’t yet diagnosed father’s sickness, but we all knew he was terribly ill. After father had been sick for a month, mother called my brother Rich home from Brigham Young University to give father a blessing. We had done everything medically possible to help father, and this was our only hope.
We were all gathered together, and I had my own prayer in my heart. I had been on my knees more in that last month than I ever had in my entire life. I hadn’t slept much and didn’t feel physically well. My nerves were worn, and I was always restless. Although I did not know the nature of father’s illness, I had this horrible feeling that he was going to die.
After a few minutes, Rich laid his hands on father’s head and began the blessing. We were all hoping that Rich would promise a restoration of father’s health; however, Rich never once promised father that he would recover. He did tell father that peace would be with him and his family and that we would be comforted.
I left the room with tears in my eyes. My brother Keith drove me home. I went to my bedroom to be by myself and think. While sitting there I felt something good come over me, and I knew that I would be okay. I still felt that father wouldn’t live, but I felt a reassurance that I hadn’t experienced before.
Within the next week the doctors discovered that father’s illness was bone cancer. I again felt nervous and afraid. The months that followed were like a horrible nightmare. I cried myself to sleep at nights and wondered if the pain from the whole ordeal would ever go away.
Six months after the blessing, father died in his hospital bed. I was at home when he died, and my brother Steve called from the hospital to tell me of his passing. I went to my room and began to cry. I didn’t know how to feel. I only felt empty.
As I lay on my bed thinking of what my future would be like without my father, I began to feel cheated. I was only 14 years old at the time, and I didn’t think it seemed fair that I should have to give up my father when I was so young. I felt a deep sense of loss.
Then a peaceful, calm feeling came over me. It was similar to the feeling I had experienced the day of father’s blessing months before. This peacefulness was accompanied by a sense of relief. I felt father’s spirit, and I knew his love was still with me and always would be. I realized that night that although my father could be taken away physically, his spirit and love would never be taken from me. I knew that my father wasn’t gone forever. His inspiration and guidance would continue to be with me throughout my life.
Now, five years later, I realize even more the love that both my Heavenly Father and my earthly father have for me. I have often felt my earthly father near. I have felt the reassuring comfort of his spirit many times and know he has not left me alone.

Several years ago when we were living in California, our two oldest sons, ages 6 and 7, took one of their friends with them to church one Sunday. When we got there, it happened Fast and Testimony day. And so, of course this young friend watched everybody jump up and go to the stand and he soon got the Spirit and we saw him get up and go to the stand.
When his turn came, he stood and said a few things; we forget totally what he said, except when he finished, he had forgotten to listen carefully to learn how to finish his testimony. He paused there for a moment and stood at the pulpit and smiled brightly, our hearts were pounding for this little 7-year-old boy. And finally he put a big grin on his face and he said, "Holy Moses, Amen."
Whenever I get in a situation like this, of any kind, I think of this story because it reflects how I feel about standing here. This really is a "Holy Moses" situation, and I appreciate the chance to stand here.

Illustrations by Alyssa Tallent
“Estas son las mañanitas …”
The sound of Mamá’s singing woke Ingrid up. She opened her eyes and saw Mamá coming into her room. Mamá always sang her a special birthday song on her birthday.
“Feliz cumpleaños!” Mamá said. “Let’s get ready for your party.”
Ingrid could smell a chocolate cake baking in the oven. I wonder what presents I’ll get! she thought. She climbed out of bed and looked out the window. The jacaranda tree outside was full of purple flowers.
Ingrid helped push the sofa into Mamá’s room so there was lots of space in the living room. She helped frost the cake and stuck seven candles on top. Soon it was time for the party!
Ingrid’s friends from school and Primary came. They played games and ate cake. Then came Ingrid’s favorite part—presents! She got a new book, a stuffed tiger, and a charm bracelet.
After everyone left, Ingrid gave Mamá a hug. “Thank you, Mamá. That was the best birthday ever!”
“It’s not over yet,” Mamá said. “I have a special surprise for you.” She handed Ingrid a slip of paper. It said, “Time for bed!”
“It’s a clue,” Mamá explained. “You have to find the next one.”
Ingrid hurried to her bedroom. She found another slip of paper under her pillow. It said, “Laundry day.”
Ingrid ran to the kitchen and opened the washing machine. Another clue!
Ingrid found more clues behind the TV, inside her favorite book, and under the bathroom rug. The last clue led to her closet. Up on the shelf was a wrapped box. Ingrid wasn’t tall enough, so Mamá got it down for her.
Ingrid tore off the paper and lifted the lid. Inside the box was some folded white fabric and a big copy of the Book of Mormon.
“Next year, you can be baptized,” Mamá said. “This is a special gift to help you get ready.” Mamá touched the white fabric. “This is what I’ll use to make your baptism dress. And this”—she picked up the Book of Mormon—“is for you to read.”
Ingrid looked up at Mamá. “I’ve never read the whole Book of Mormon.”
“I know you can do it.” Mamá flipped the book open. “Look. The letters are extra big. I thought that might make it easier.”
Mamá closed the book again and handed it to Ingrid. Ingrid ran her fingers over the smooth cover.
“It’s important that you find out for yourself if the Book of Mormon is true,” Mamá said. “I promise that if you read and pray with all your heart, Heavenly Father will help you know.”
That night Ingrid read the first chapter of the Book of Mormon. It wasn’t as hard as she thought it would be. She liked reading the scriptures.
She read her Book of Mormon again the next day. And the next. She read it every day. After a few weeks, she decided she didn’t want to wait till the end of the book to pray about it.
Ingrid knelt by her bed. She prayed with all her heart and asked Heavenly Father to help her know that the Book of Mormon was true. Then she waited. She thought she might hear a voice, but she didn’t. Instead, a happy feeling grew in her heart. She knew Heavenly Father was answering her prayer.
Almost a year later, Ingrid finished reading the Book of Mormon. She knew that no matter what she got for her eighth birthday, the Book of Mormon would always be one of her favorite gifts!
This story took place in Mexico. Go to page 14 to learn more about that country!

When a fire swept through Santa Barbara, California, and destroyed over 500 homes and businesses, the Young Women in the stake were on hand to help clean up the ashes.
At least 14 LDS homes burned, including that of Young Women president Bobbi Boden. In the six inches of rubble that had once been her two-story home, the young women donned air masks and gloves, then with shovels and sifters began searching for Sister Boden’s wedding ring. They found an heirloom ring that had been in the family for over a century.
The young women spent many hours helping LDS and non-LDS members alike rebuild their lives and homes. “It really makes you realize that earthly things aren’t very permanent,” they agreed.

“Bookworm! Bookworm!”
Katie pretended she didn’t hear Brian and Matt yelling. She hugged her books to her chest and walked faster, but the taunts still rang down the hall. “Bookworm! Bookworm!”
She felt her face getting hot, and she wanted to turn around and scream at them. Instead she half ran, half walked the rest of the way to the school library door, pulled it open, and slipped inside. She could still hear Brian and Matt laughing.
“Hi, Katie,” said Mrs. Reid. Katie thought it was funny for the librarian to be named Mrs. Reid.
“Hi,” said Katie softly, looking at the floor.
“What’s the matter, Katie?”
“Oh, just Brian and Matt. They were being mean again and calling me dumb names like ‘bookworm.’”
Mrs. Reid began to laugh. Katie looked up at her in surprise, and a sick feeling started in her stomach. “It isn’t funny!”
“Sure it is,” said Mrs. Reid, trying to stop her laughter. “I thought a bookworm was a squiggly bug that eats novels. And I have never ever seen you with your mouth full of pages!”
Katie looked down at the books in her arms and started to smile a little as she thought, What would those boys think if they saw me chewing up books and spitting out the covers? Aloud she said, “Mrs. Reid, you are the silliest grown-up I’ve ever met!”
“Sure,” said Mrs. Reid. “That’s one reason you like me. Now, can I show you my favorite book for this week? Or are you still reading the Black Stallion?”
“No, I finished it. It was as good as you said it would be!”
While Mrs. Reid went to get the book she had saved, Katie sat by one of the desks and looked at the new bulletin board. It said, BE KIND TO YOUR BOOKS.
Just last week Katie’s dad had said almost the same thing. Katie’s brother, Sam, had dropped his scriptures on the lawn after church. Dad had put his hands on his hips and said, “Samuel Jacob Rotheree, please take better care of my favorite books!”
Katie knew why they were Dad’s favorite books, even though they didn’t have shiny pictures on the covers like Mrs. Reid’s did. It was because they told about Jesus.
Mrs. Reid came back waving a new novel. “Wait until you read this, Katie!”
While Mrs. Reid was checking out the new book, Katie leaned against the desk. “Mrs. Reid,” she asked, “do you know about Jesus?”
Mrs. Reid looked surprised. “Well, sure. But I don’t think about Him much. Why?”
“Oh,” said Katie. “I just wondered.” She took the book and left the library. How could anyone not think about Jesus much?
That night when Katie was ready for bed, Dad came in to hear her say her prayers and tuck her in.
“Dad, Mrs. Reid says she doesn’t think about Jesus very much.”
Dad sat down on the edge of her bed. “Who is Mrs. Reid?”
“The school librarian. She’s really nice. She always saves her favorite books for me, and they’re good ones too. But she said she doesn’t think about Jesus. I thought everyone thought about Him.”
“Do you think about Jesus?”
“Yes.” Katie looked at the picture of Jesus she had hung on the wall. “I love Him because He is so kind.”
Dad squeezed her hand and smiled. “Why else do you love Jesus?”
Katie squinted her eyes and thought. “Well,” she said slowly, “because I like to read stories about Him—like when He went to see the Nephites and blessed all the little children.”
“I wonder if Mrs. Reid knows that story.”
Suddenly Katie felt excited. She sat straight up in bed. “Yeah, Dad! What if she doesn’t know that story? Can I take her a Book of Mormon?”
Dad was really smiling now. “Sure—that’s a good idea. I’ll tell you what, Katie. I have a brand new copy of the Book of Mormon that you can give her. I’ll get it for you.” In a few minutes he came back with a blue Book of Mormon that had a picture of the Angel Moroni on the cover. He suggested that Katie write her testimony in the front of it.
For a long time Katie chewed on the end of her pencil and tried to think of what to write. Finally she carefully wrote:
Dear Mrs. Reid,
This is my favorite book because it tells about Jesus. Jesus is Heavenly Father’s Son, and I love Him. I hope you love Him too. I love you, Mrs. Reid.
Your friend, Katie Rotheree.
When she finished writing, she felt warm, happy, and sleepy. Dad hugged her tight and said, “I’ll wrap it for you.”
The next morning Katie walked slowly to the library. She wondered if Mrs. Reid would like her present. Katie was so nervous that she almost didn’t want to give it to her anymore.
Brian and Matt came around the corner and saw her. “Hey! It’s the bookworm!” Matt sang out.
Katie ran to the library. Taking a deep breath, she walked right up to Mrs. Reid and held out the Book of Mormon.
“Good morning, Katie,” said Mrs. Reid. “What’s this?”
“My favorite book,” said Katie. “I want to give it to you so you can read it too.”
The librarian unwrapped the package, opened the book, and read what Katie had written. Then she closed the book and looked into Katie’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ll read it. And, Katie, I love you too.”
The warm feeling Katie had had the night before came back, only stronger. She felt as if she could hug the whole world.
The warning bell was ringing as Katie waved good-bye to Mrs. Reid and went back out into the hall.
“Hi, bookworm,” said Brian as he and Matt walked past her.
Katie felt so good that she just giggled. Brian and Matt looked surprised. “I am a bookworm!” she said. “Do you want to see me eat books?”
Brian and Matt looked at her, then at each other. Suddenly all three of them were laughing and hurrying together down the hall to class.