A Portrait Is More than a Picture
The reader is asked to picture a bishop after MIA when most have left. He listens to a coed in serious reflection, then leans forward to share what he feels, illustrating a quiet moment of ministering.
Think about your bishop. Not on Sunday, but after MIA when almost everyone has gone. He listens to one of the coeds in a moment of serious reflection and then leans forward to say what he feels W.
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👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Young Adults
Bishop
Ministering
Young Women
A Principle with a Promise
Early priesthood holders met in Bishop Newel K. Whitney’s home where many smoked and chewed tobacco. Brigham Young recounted that Joseph Smith often entered to find the room filled with smoke and heard his wife’s complaints about cleaning the floors. Concerned, Joseph inquired of the Lord, and the Word of Wisdom was revealed in the Whitney home.
My beloved brethren and sisters, one hundred and fifty years ago the Prophet Joseph Smith organized the School of the Prophets. The purpose of this school was to prepare selected members of the priesthood to preach the gospel of Jesus Christ to all the world.
In the absence of a temple, the first School of the Prophets was held in a small room in the home of Bishop Newel K. Whitney. Brigham Young was one of the early participants in this school, and he described a scene which frequently presented itself during meetings:
“The brethren came to that place for hundreds of miles to attend school in a little room probably no larger than eleven by fourteen. When they assembled together in this room after breakfast, the first they did was to light their pipes, and, while smoking, talk about the great things of the kingdom, … and as soon as the pipe was out of their mouths a large chew of tobacco would then be taken. Often when the Prophet entered the room to give the school instructions he would find himself in a cloud of tobacco smoke. This, and the complaints of his wife at having to clean [the] floor, made the Prophet think upon the matter, and he inquired of the Lord relating to the conduct of the Elders in using tobacco.” (Journal of Discourses, 12:158.)
In response to this inquiry by the Prophet, the Lord gave him a revelation in the Whitney home. This revelation is known as the Word of Wisdom.
In the absence of a temple, the first School of the Prophets was held in a small room in the home of Bishop Newel K. Whitney. Brigham Young was one of the early participants in this school, and he described a scene which frequently presented itself during meetings:
“The brethren came to that place for hundreds of miles to attend school in a little room probably no larger than eleven by fourteen. When they assembled together in this room after breakfast, the first they did was to light their pipes, and, while smoking, talk about the great things of the kingdom, … and as soon as the pipe was out of their mouths a large chew of tobacco would then be taken. Often when the Prophet entered the room to give the school instructions he would find himself in a cloud of tobacco smoke. This, and the complaints of his wife at having to clean [the] floor, made the Prophet think upon the matter, and he inquired of the Lord relating to the conduct of the Elders in using tobacco.” (Journal of Discourses, 12:158.)
In response to this inquiry by the Prophet, the Lord gave him a revelation in the Whitney home. This revelation is known as the Word of Wisdom.
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👤 Joseph Smith
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Early Saints
Health
Joseph Smith
Missionary Work
Priesthood
Revelation
Word of Wisdom
Our Refined Heavenly Home
Ralph Waldo Emerson was invited to speak at Shakespeare’s 300th birthday commemoration. After approaching the pulpit, he realized he had forgotten his notes and chose to sit down rather than speak unprepared. Some considered this restraint one of his most eloquent moments.
In his biography on Ralph Waldo Emerson, Van Wyck Brooks relates that Emerson was invited to speak at the commemoration of the 300th anniversary of the great poet Shakespeare’s birth. After proper introduction Emerson presented himself at the pulpit and then sat down. He had forgotten his notes. He preferred to say nothing rather than words not well measured. For some, it was Emerson in one of his most eloquent hours.4
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👤 Other
Humility
Reverence
To That Man
As a child, the narrator sneaks into a man's room when he is gone and looks through his many pairs of shoes. They try on different pairs, clomp around, and then carefully put them back to avoid being discovered. The experience leads the child to daydream about growing up to be like him.
Sneaking into his room when he was gone
And opening up the cardboard box
and suit-and-tie closet
Was what I used to do
When I was small.
I would stare at all the shoes.
There were so many of them,
All lined up,
Black and mahogany and sneakers.
The worn-out workshoes
With no tread on the bottom,
Instead, sanded flat by the gravel
and pavement,
And the shiny ones
(That he called wing tips)
Polished and proud next to
The ones with dried mud, car grease,
and dingy dirty laces.
I would put my feet in them,
One pair after another,
Clomp around the room,
And put them back carefully
So that he wouldn’t notice.
And daydream of being him
And filling them.
And opening up the cardboard box
and suit-and-tie closet
Was what I used to do
When I was small.
I would stare at all the shoes.
There were so many of them,
All lined up,
Black and mahogany and sneakers.
The worn-out workshoes
With no tread on the bottom,
Instead, sanded flat by the gravel
and pavement,
And the shiny ones
(That he called wing tips)
Polished and proud next to
The ones with dried mud, car grease,
and dingy dirty laces.
I would put my feet in them,
One pair after another,
Clomp around the room,
And put them back carefully
So that he wouldn’t notice.
And daydream of being him
And filling them.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Family
Spiritual Whirlwinds
While the speaker visited family in Florida, a tornado struck nearby. A woman took shelter in her bathroom and then heard her neighbor's voice. She emerged to find her mobile home had been lifted and set perfectly atop her neighbor's home. The story illustrates how powerful whirlwinds can move us unexpectedly.
Many years ago while we were visiting our family in Florida, a tornado touched down not too far from us. One woman living in a mobile home went into her bathroom for safety. The mobile home began to shake. A few moments passed. Then she heard her neighbor’s voice: “I am here in the front room.” Coming out of the bathroom, to her great astonishment, she discovered that the tornado had lifted and carried her mobile home through the air, landing it perfectly upright on the top of her neighbor’s mobile home.
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👤 Other
Adversity
Emergency Preparedness
Miracles
These, Our Little Ones
Growing up, the author disliked a neighbor who beat his children for slight provocations. He contrasts this with his own father, who disciplined without instruments of punishment. Later, he realized that the abusive neighbor represented many child abusers whose violence harms children.
The neighborhood in which I grew up was a microcosm of the world, with many varieties of people. They were a close-knit group, and I think we knew them all. I think also we loved them all—that is, except for one man. I must make a confession: I detested that man. I have since repented of that emotion, but as I look back, I can sense again the intensity of my feeling. Why this strong antipathy? Because he whipped his children with strap or stick or whatever came to hand as his vicious anger flared on the slightest provocation.
Perhaps it was because of the home in which I lived, where there was a father who, by some quiet magic, was able to discipline his children without the use of any instrument of punishment, though on occasion they may have deserved it.
I have since discovered that the man I disliked was one of that very substantial body of parents who seem incapable of anything but harshness toward those for whose coming into the world they are responsible. I have also come to realize that this man, who walks in the memories of my childhood, is but an example of uncounted thousands across the world who are known as child abusers. Every social worker, every duty officer in the emergency room of a large hospital, every police officer and judge in a large city can tell you of them. The whole tragic picture is one of beating, kicking, slamming, and even of sexual assault on small children. And akin to these violent child abusers are those vicious men and women who exploit children for pornographic purposes.
Perhaps it was because of the home in which I lived, where there was a father who, by some quiet magic, was able to discipline his children without the use of any instrument of punishment, though on occasion they may have deserved it.
I have since discovered that the man I disliked was one of that very substantial body of parents who seem incapable of anything but harshness toward those for whose coming into the world they are responsible. I have also come to realize that this man, who walks in the memories of my childhood, is but an example of uncounted thousands across the world who are known as child abusers. Every social worker, every duty officer in the emergency room of a large hospital, every police officer and judge in a large city can tell you of them. The whole tragic picture is one of beating, kicking, slamming, and even of sexual assault on small children. And akin to these violent child abusers are those vicious men and women who exploit children for pornographic purposes.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Abuse
Children
Family
Judging Others
Parenting
Pornography
Repentance
Miracle of the Fishes
Young Rhoda prays for protection and provision while her father is away in England. When a neighbor diverts the canal, the children rush to gather water, only to find the canal bed forming shallow pools filled with fish. They gather the fish, and their mother recognizes it as a miracle providing food for the family. That night, Rhoda thanks Heavenly Father for answering her prayer.
“Rhoda, will you offer the blessing on the food?” Mama asked.
Rhoda looked at the small potato on her plate. “But there is still so much plate showing around my dinner,” she wanted to say but didn’t. “Yes, Mama,” she said.
Bowing her head, she began, “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for the food, and please bless it. Watch over Daddy in England that he will find those who are looking for the truth. And please provide food and safety for us while he is away. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Rhoda opened her eyes and noticed her sister, Louisa, staring at Mama’s empty plate.
“Mama, where’s your food?” Louisa asked.
“Willard is out working in the fields,” Mama replied. “When he comes in, he’s going to want more than just water to drink.”
Rhoda could see worry lines around her sister’s eyes. “Are there no more potatoes?” Louisa asked.
Mama shook her head. “Those are the last ones. So eat up before they get cold.”
Rhoda stared at Mama. “But Mama, what will we do for breakfast in the morning?”
“Well, in your prayer you asked the Lord to provide for us while Daddy is away,” Mama replied. “I trust He will answer your prayer.”
“Mama!” Willard burst through the door. “Quick! The Judds have turned the canal water into their ditches!”
“Hurry, girls,” Mama said. “Buckets are outside!”
Rhoda jumped from the table, following Willard and Louisa outdoors. Each one grabbed a large, wooden bucket and raced down the dusty path to the canal.
Even though Rhoda was only eight years old, she understood about the canal. Like a man-made river, the canal was the source of water for all the homesteads in the area. The canal also provided water for irrigating crops. Farmers would turn some of the water from the canal into ditches lining their crops. Then the water would flow out of the ditches and flood the land. But once in a while, a farmer would turn all the canal water into his ditches, leaving the homesteads downstream without water until he finished irrigating his crops. And Rhoda knew that even one day without water in this scorching heat would be dangerous.
When the children arrived at the canal, the water flow had already stopped, leaving a still bed of water resting in the bottom. Rhoda filled her bucket with water, carried it back to the house, and poured it into the large rain barrel beside the front door. Back and forth the children ran, trying to fill the barrel before the water dried up.
“One more bucket each ought to do it,” Mama called.
Even though the sun hung low, almost touching the horizon, the dirt felt hot and gritty on the bottoms of Rhoda’s feet. Reaching the canal, they found that the stream was now dried up, leaving a muddy bed pocked with small, shallow pools. Rhoda jumped down into the damp streambed, mud spurting between her toes. Reaching the edge of one of the shallow pools, she leaned over to dip her bucket into the water. Suddenly she lost her balance and fell, splashing into the pool.
Willard and Louisa laughed as Rhoda stood up. Her dress clung to her back and belly, and warm water dripped down her arms and legs. When she reached down to grab her bucket, something slippery slithered past her ankles. “Snake!” Rhoda screeched, scrambling out of the pool.
Willard raced over, peering at the small pool.
“There!” Rhoda cried, pointing a finger at the water.
Willard’s eyes scanned the murky water. His hand circled the surface, then suddenly he thrust his arm into the water and grabbed at something.
“It’s a fish!” Willard shouted, holding a small, wriggling fish in his palm. “I caught a fish!”
“Look! There must be more in that pool over there!” Rhoda pointed.
“And over there,” Louisa shouted, pointing at another. All the small pools of water rippled with life.
“Let’s fill our buckets and take them to Mama,” Louisa suggested.
There was little water left in the pools and the fish swarmed in tight bunches, making it easy for the children to snatch them up. Soon their buckets were filled and the children carried them back to the cabin.
“Mama! Look what we found in the canal!” Rhoda called as they reached the cabin door.
“Fish? In the canal?” Mama looked confused. “There aren’t any fish in that canal.”
“There are tonight. The shallow pools are full of them,” Louisa said.
“But there have never been fish in that canal,” Mama said quietly, staring at the full buckets of fish. “Children, this is a miracle. Just as He sent manna to the hungry Israelites, the Lord has sent fish for us to eat.”
Reaching for Rhoda’s bucket, she continued, “And just like the children of Israel, we must gather all we can while there are fish to catch. Go and see if there are any more, and I will begin cleaning these and packing them in salt.”
The sun sank into the prairie grasses and a full moon lit the night as the children returned to search for more fish. As Rhoda knelt down in the mud, she closed her eyes and spoke softly. “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for answering my prayer and for taking care of us. Thank Thee for sending us the miracle of the fishes.”
Rhoda looked at the small potato on her plate. “But there is still so much plate showing around my dinner,” she wanted to say but didn’t. “Yes, Mama,” she said.
Bowing her head, she began, “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for the food, and please bless it. Watch over Daddy in England that he will find those who are looking for the truth. And please provide food and safety for us while he is away. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.”
Rhoda opened her eyes and noticed her sister, Louisa, staring at Mama’s empty plate.
“Mama, where’s your food?” Louisa asked.
“Willard is out working in the fields,” Mama replied. “When he comes in, he’s going to want more than just water to drink.”
Rhoda could see worry lines around her sister’s eyes. “Are there no more potatoes?” Louisa asked.
Mama shook her head. “Those are the last ones. So eat up before they get cold.”
Rhoda stared at Mama. “But Mama, what will we do for breakfast in the morning?”
“Well, in your prayer you asked the Lord to provide for us while Daddy is away,” Mama replied. “I trust He will answer your prayer.”
“Mama!” Willard burst through the door. “Quick! The Judds have turned the canal water into their ditches!”
“Hurry, girls,” Mama said. “Buckets are outside!”
Rhoda jumped from the table, following Willard and Louisa outdoors. Each one grabbed a large, wooden bucket and raced down the dusty path to the canal.
Even though Rhoda was only eight years old, she understood about the canal. Like a man-made river, the canal was the source of water for all the homesteads in the area. The canal also provided water for irrigating crops. Farmers would turn some of the water from the canal into ditches lining their crops. Then the water would flow out of the ditches and flood the land. But once in a while, a farmer would turn all the canal water into his ditches, leaving the homesteads downstream without water until he finished irrigating his crops. And Rhoda knew that even one day without water in this scorching heat would be dangerous.
When the children arrived at the canal, the water flow had already stopped, leaving a still bed of water resting in the bottom. Rhoda filled her bucket with water, carried it back to the house, and poured it into the large rain barrel beside the front door. Back and forth the children ran, trying to fill the barrel before the water dried up.
“One more bucket each ought to do it,” Mama called.
Even though the sun hung low, almost touching the horizon, the dirt felt hot and gritty on the bottoms of Rhoda’s feet. Reaching the canal, they found that the stream was now dried up, leaving a muddy bed pocked with small, shallow pools. Rhoda jumped down into the damp streambed, mud spurting between her toes. Reaching the edge of one of the shallow pools, she leaned over to dip her bucket into the water. Suddenly she lost her balance and fell, splashing into the pool.
Willard and Louisa laughed as Rhoda stood up. Her dress clung to her back and belly, and warm water dripped down her arms and legs. When she reached down to grab her bucket, something slippery slithered past her ankles. “Snake!” Rhoda screeched, scrambling out of the pool.
Willard raced over, peering at the small pool.
“There!” Rhoda cried, pointing a finger at the water.
Willard’s eyes scanned the murky water. His hand circled the surface, then suddenly he thrust his arm into the water and grabbed at something.
“It’s a fish!” Willard shouted, holding a small, wriggling fish in his palm. “I caught a fish!”
“Look! There must be more in that pool over there!” Rhoda pointed.
“And over there,” Louisa shouted, pointing at another. All the small pools of water rippled with life.
“Let’s fill our buckets and take them to Mama,” Louisa suggested.
There was little water left in the pools and the fish swarmed in tight bunches, making it easy for the children to snatch them up. Soon their buckets were filled and the children carried them back to the cabin.
“Mama! Look what we found in the canal!” Rhoda called as they reached the cabin door.
“Fish? In the canal?” Mama looked confused. “There aren’t any fish in that canal.”
“There are tonight. The shallow pools are full of them,” Louisa said.
“But there have never been fish in that canal,” Mama said quietly, staring at the full buckets of fish. “Children, this is a miracle. Just as He sent manna to the hungry Israelites, the Lord has sent fish for us to eat.”
Reaching for Rhoda’s bucket, she continued, “And just like the children of Israel, we must gather all we can while there are fish to catch. Go and see if there are any more, and I will begin cleaning these and packing them in salt.”
The sun sank into the prairie grasses and a full moon lit the night as the children returned to search for more fish. As Rhoda knelt down in the mud, she closed her eyes and spoke softly. “Heavenly Father, thank Thee for answering my prayer and for taking care of us. Thank Thee for sending us the miracle of the fishes.”
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Adversity
Children
Faith
Family
Gratitude
Miracles
Missionary Work
Prayer
Church Still Offering Aid to Flooding, Quake Victims
After a 7.9-magnitude earthquake struck Sumatra in September 2007, LDS Charities quickly assessed the damage and delivered emergency supplies to devastated villages. Volunteers distributed food, lanterns, and tarps, then returned with enough food for 500 families and supported local Muslim and Christian aid organizations. A damaged hospital evacuated patients to tents and performed surgeries on a covered sidewalk.
The Church continues to provide humanitarian aid to the victims of the 7.9-magnitude earthquake that violently shook Sumatra on the evening of September 12, 2007. The quake damaged some 30,000 homes and buildings in the Bengkulu area in southern Sumatra.
All missionaries were safe after the quake, and none of the 25 members living in the impacted area were reported injured. The villages that were most devastated were Laise, Argamakmur, and Mukomuko. LDS Charities, under the direction of the Asia Area Presidency, began providing aid soon after the earthquake hit. A group of volunteers sent out to evaluate the situation provided early relief by distributing cooking oil, rice and other food items, kerosene lanterns, and tarps.
LDS Charities staff members who arrived in Bengkuly, Laise, and Argamakmur two days after the earthquake found extensive damage, with many people living outside their damaged homes under tarps strung up to protect them from the sun and rainstorms. Some residents, fearful of ongoing earthquake activity, stayed in similar shelters although their homes were undamaged.
Three days after the earthquake struck, LDS Charities returned to Laise and Argamakmur with enough food to assist some 500 families. The staff delivered food to several other villages along the way.
LDS Charities also provided a truckload of rice and other food to Muhammadiya, a local Muslim organization with 29 million members, and made a large donation to an independent Christian association that provides aid to the area of Bengkulu City.
The local hospital in Argamakmur was damaged, requiring the hospital staff to temporarily evacuate patients to large army tents set up in the parking lot and on the sidewalks. Emergencies were received and surgery performed on a covered sidewalk just outside the damaged hospital building.
Adapted from Church News, October 6, 2007.
All missionaries were safe after the quake, and none of the 25 members living in the impacted area were reported injured. The villages that were most devastated were Laise, Argamakmur, and Mukomuko. LDS Charities, under the direction of the Asia Area Presidency, began providing aid soon after the earthquake hit. A group of volunteers sent out to evaluate the situation provided early relief by distributing cooking oil, rice and other food items, kerosene lanterns, and tarps.
LDS Charities staff members who arrived in Bengkuly, Laise, and Argamakmur two days after the earthquake found extensive damage, with many people living outside their damaged homes under tarps strung up to protect them from the sun and rainstorms. Some residents, fearful of ongoing earthquake activity, stayed in similar shelters although their homes were undamaged.
Three days after the earthquake struck, LDS Charities returned to Laise and Argamakmur with enough food to assist some 500 families. The staff delivered food to several other villages along the way.
LDS Charities also provided a truckload of rice and other food to Muhammadiya, a local Muslim organization with 29 million members, and made a large donation to an independent Christian association that provides aid to the area of Bengkulu City.
The local hospital in Argamakmur was damaged, requiring the hospital staff to temporarily evacuate patients to large army tents set up in the parking lot and on the sidewalks. Emergencies were received and surgery performed on a covered sidewalk just outside the damaged hospital building.
Adapted from Church News, October 6, 2007.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Adversity
Charity
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Emergency Response
Service
Holiness to the Lord, the House of the Lord
The author met missionaries in the early 1990s and developed a deep desire to attend the temple, even carrying a picture of the Salt Lake Temple during his mission in Haiti and resolving to marry in the temple. After the Santo Domingo Temple was dedicated in 2000, he was sealed to his wife. He later rejoiced when President Thomas S. Monson announced the Port-au-Prince Haiti Temple, and the temple’s open house and dedication profoundly impacted him. Visitors, including a journalist, shared powerful impressions of their temple experience.
In the early 1990s when I met the missionaries, I was interested by all that they taught me. However, I was particularly fascinated by the teachings about the temple. I used my best efforts to deepen my knowledge of the house of the Lord on earth. I shared with the missionaries my desire to go to the temple, and they taught me how to prepare myself for this goal. At that time, there were no temples yet in the Caribbean Area.
Thus, I began my full-time mission in Haiti without having had the opportunity to receive my endowment in the house of the Lord. I found a picture of the Salt Lake Temple in a Church magazine, and I carried it with me wherever I served in the mission field. I always put it in front of my desk and wrote under it, “I want to get married in the temple.”
I was filled with joy when the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple was dedicated in 2000. I have been given the opportunity to be sealed with my wife in the house of the Lord. Later in the April 2015 general conference, I felt even more blessed when President Thomas S. Monson (1927-2018) announced the Port-au-Prince Haiti Temple. The public open house and the dedication of the Port-au-Prince Haiti Temple has marked my life and deepened my understanding of the importance of the temple on earth. In response to my question “How would you describe your experience in the temple?” a visitor said, “I have no words to describe it, I certainly have been in a celestial location,” and a journalist replied, “I don’t know what to say, but in the celestial room, I had a strange feeling that I have never had before.”
Thus, I began my full-time mission in Haiti without having had the opportunity to receive my endowment in the house of the Lord. I found a picture of the Salt Lake Temple in a Church magazine, and I carried it with me wherever I served in the mission field. I always put it in front of my desk and wrote under it, “I want to get married in the temple.”
I was filled with joy when the Santo Domingo Dominican Republic Temple was dedicated in 2000. I have been given the opportunity to be sealed with my wife in the house of the Lord. Later in the April 2015 general conference, I felt even more blessed when President Thomas S. Monson (1927-2018) announced the Port-au-Prince Haiti Temple. The public open house and the dedication of the Port-au-Prince Haiti Temple has marked my life and deepened my understanding of the importance of the temple on earth. In response to my question “How would you describe your experience in the temple?” a visitor said, “I have no words to describe it, I certainly have been in a celestial location,” and a journalist replied, “I don’t know what to say, but in the celestial room, I had a strange feeling that I have never had before.”
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👤 Missionaries
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Conversion
Marriage
Missionary Work
Sealing
Temples
Testimony
Melissa’s Decision
Nine-year-old Melissa decides to fast and pray for her friend Misha, who is in a coma after a serious family accident. She resists her favorite breakfast and skips lunch at school despite questions from classmates and staff. Finding a quiet spot, she prays and feels a comforting assurance that God has heard her. Her hunger and worries subside as she feels the Spirit and peace.
Melissa whistled happily as she made her bed. Today was the day. Last night she had felt a little nervous about her decision until she said her prayers. After that, she knew that she was doing the right thing, even if she was only nine years old.
She thought of Misha, and the whistle died on her lips. Melissa had been in church when she first heard of the terrible accident. Brother and Sister Barton were in one hospital with broken bones and surgeries. Tanna and Brian were in another in traction. Misha was all by herself with a head injury in still another—and in a deep coma. Melissa didn’t understand everything about it, but she did know that it meant Misha might never wake up.
Melissa was smoothing out the bedspread when her mom called. “You’d better hurry. You don’t want to be late for school.”
Melissa smiled again. This was one morning she wouldn’t have to hurry.
“What’s taking you so long this morning?” Mom asked as Melissa came out of her room. “You should have finished breakfast by now. It’s almost time for scriptures.”
Melissa smelled the yummy aroma of orange biscuits fresh from the oven. “Oh, Mom!” she cried. “I didn’t know we were having biscuits today.”
“I know they’re your favorite,” Mom said. “I decided to surprise you.”
Melissa looked into the kitchen at the yummy biscuits and sighed. Then she walked into the living room and picked up her scriptures from the end table by the flowered couch.
“What’s going on, Melissa?” Mom asked. “You know you have to eat before we read.”
I have to tell her now, Melissa thought. I wish I could do it in secret like the scriptures teach, but I’ll have to explain to Mom. No one else, though.
“Mom,” she said, “I’m not going to eat today.”
“You certainly are!” Mom exclaimed. “You need a nutritious breakfast to do well in school.”
“I’m not just going without food,” Melissa said. “I’m fasting today for Misha. We’ve learned in family home evening and at church that we should do everything we can to help one another. Well, I’ve been praying for Misha, and I thought that that was all I could do. But then I remembered that I could fast for her, too, so I decided that today I would. Mom, I just have to do this! I know I’ll get hungry, but I know that Heavenly Father will help me. Please.”
Tears welled up in Mom’s eyes. “Oh, Melissa,” she whispered, “I’m sure that Heavenly Father will bless you and Misha both.”
By eleven thirty, Melissa began to feel really hungry. Morning recess had helped take her mind off food, but back in class, the hunger pains started to bother her again. Soon it was time for the class to line up for the cafeteria.
“Melissa, where is your lunch?” Jennifer asked. “I thought you hated the cafeteria food.”
Melissa looked at the floor. “I’m not eating today.”
“Not eating!” Jason squeaked. “Are you nuts?”
Ignoring him, Melissa hurried forward with the rest of the class. When they arrived at the cafeteria, she quickly washed her hands and moved toward their class table.
“Miss Black, are you on a diet?” the school principal teased. “Your lunch looks a little on the light side.”
“Oh, ah …” Melissa stammered, but the principal’s attention had turned to a commotion in the snack-bar line. Whew! Melissa thought. That was a close one. She walked quickly to her table and sat at the end of the bench.
“May I sit by you?” Tiffany asked.
“Sure.”
“I see you’re not eating today. Do you feel OK?”
“Oh sure, it’s just that … well, I’m just not eating.” It sure would be easier if I could just explain. I hope no one else asks me about this.
“Melissa,” said Megan, “why—”
Melissa stood up. “Excuse me.” She started toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
Melissa’s heart jumped. She turned and saw Mr. Winterton.
“Mr. Winterton,” she began. “I need to … to …” She didn’t want to lie, but she needed to be alone for a few minutes. “I need to go someplace quiet,” she finally blurted.
Mr. Winterton’s face crinkled in puzzlement. This was indeed an unusual request—one that he had never heard in three years of cafeteria duty. He studied Melissa a long moment, then surprised himself by saying, “All right, I think we can work that out. Come sit quietly outside this side door. No one should bother you there.”
Grateful, Melissa slipped through the doorway and sat down against the wall. The coolness of the cement blocks felt good against her hot back. She bowed her head and began a silent prayer. Dear Heavenly Father, please help Misha and her family get better. I know that Thou lovest me and that Thou lovest Misha. Please help her to get better and wake up. Please!
As Melissa ended the prayer in Jesus’ name, and sat quietly, a comforting warmth filled her, and she felt peaceful and happy. She knew in her heart that Heavenly Father had heard her prayer, and she was glad that she’d done everything she could to help Misha get better. She no longer felt hungry. She wasn’t worried about what to say to her friends, either. The Spirit was with her, and right now she didn’t need anything else.
She thought of Misha, and the whistle died on her lips. Melissa had been in church when she first heard of the terrible accident. Brother and Sister Barton were in one hospital with broken bones and surgeries. Tanna and Brian were in another in traction. Misha was all by herself with a head injury in still another—and in a deep coma. Melissa didn’t understand everything about it, but she did know that it meant Misha might never wake up.
Melissa was smoothing out the bedspread when her mom called. “You’d better hurry. You don’t want to be late for school.”
Melissa smiled again. This was one morning she wouldn’t have to hurry.
“What’s taking you so long this morning?” Mom asked as Melissa came out of her room. “You should have finished breakfast by now. It’s almost time for scriptures.”
Melissa smelled the yummy aroma of orange biscuits fresh from the oven. “Oh, Mom!” she cried. “I didn’t know we were having biscuits today.”
“I know they’re your favorite,” Mom said. “I decided to surprise you.”
Melissa looked into the kitchen at the yummy biscuits and sighed. Then she walked into the living room and picked up her scriptures from the end table by the flowered couch.
“What’s going on, Melissa?” Mom asked. “You know you have to eat before we read.”
I have to tell her now, Melissa thought. I wish I could do it in secret like the scriptures teach, but I’ll have to explain to Mom. No one else, though.
“Mom,” she said, “I’m not going to eat today.”
“You certainly are!” Mom exclaimed. “You need a nutritious breakfast to do well in school.”
“I’m not just going without food,” Melissa said. “I’m fasting today for Misha. We’ve learned in family home evening and at church that we should do everything we can to help one another. Well, I’ve been praying for Misha, and I thought that that was all I could do. But then I remembered that I could fast for her, too, so I decided that today I would. Mom, I just have to do this! I know I’ll get hungry, but I know that Heavenly Father will help me. Please.”
Tears welled up in Mom’s eyes. “Oh, Melissa,” she whispered, “I’m sure that Heavenly Father will bless you and Misha both.”
By eleven thirty, Melissa began to feel really hungry. Morning recess had helped take her mind off food, but back in class, the hunger pains started to bother her again. Soon it was time for the class to line up for the cafeteria.
“Melissa, where is your lunch?” Jennifer asked. “I thought you hated the cafeteria food.”
Melissa looked at the floor. “I’m not eating today.”
“Not eating!” Jason squeaked. “Are you nuts?”
Ignoring him, Melissa hurried forward with the rest of the class. When they arrived at the cafeteria, she quickly washed her hands and moved toward their class table.
“Miss Black, are you on a diet?” the school principal teased. “Your lunch looks a little on the light side.”
“Oh, ah …” Melissa stammered, but the principal’s attention had turned to a commotion in the snack-bar line. Whew! Melissa thought. That was a close one. She walked quickly to her table and sat at the end of the bench.
“May I sit by you?” Tiffany asked.
“Sure.”
“I see you’re not eating today. Do you feel OK?”
“Oh sure, it’s just that … well, I’m just not eating.” It sure would be easier if I could just explain. I hope no one else asks me about this.
“Melissa,” said Megan, “why—”
Melissa stood up. “Excuse me.” She started toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?”
Melissa’s heart jumped. She turned and saw Mr. Winterton.
“Mr. Winterton,” she began. “I need to … to …” She didn’t want to lie, but she needed to be alone for a few minutes. “I need to go someplace quiet,” she finally blurted.
Mr. Winterton’s face crinkled in puzzlement. This was indeed an unusual request—one that he had never heard in three years of cafeteria duty. He studied Melissa a long moment, then surprised himself by saying, “All right, I think we can work that out. Come sit quietly outside this side door. No one should bother you there.”
Grateful, Melissa slipped through the doorway and sat down against the wall. The coolness of the cement blocks felt good against her hot back. She bowed her head and began a silent prayer. Dear Heavenly Father, please help Misha and her family get better. I know that Thou lovest me and that Thou lovest Misha. Please help her to get better and wake up. Please!
As Melissa ended the prayer in Jesus’ name, and sat quietly, a comforting warmth filled her, and she felt peaceful and happy. She knew in her heart that Heavenly Father had heard her prayer, and she was glad that she’d done everything she could to help Misha get better. She no longer felt hungry. She wasn’t worried about what to say to her friends, either. The Spirit was with her, and right now she didn’t need anything else.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Children
Faith
Family Home Evening
Fasting and Fast Offerings
Friendship
Holy Ghost
Prayer
Service
We’ve Got Mail
A youth sees a picture of Kacey McCallister, a young man without legs who knows he is a child of God. Because her sister also cannot walk, the story resonates with her. She expresses gratitude for the strength she felt from the article.
In the June 2004 New Era, I saw a picture of a young man who has no legs. His name is Kacey McCallister. He knows that he is a child of God. My sister also can’t walk. Thank you for writing that story (“Standing on Faith”). It helps me.Ho Youn Ellision, Rivanna Ward, Waynesboro Virginia Stake
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👤 Youth
👤 Other
Adversity
Children
Disabilities
Faith
Peggy of the Cove
A girl named Peggy in Peggy’s Cove resents a newcomer with the same name and even hides a package meant for her in a lobster pot. During a lobstering trip with her father, the hidden package is discovered, and the new Peggy returns a birthday gift she had mistakenly received. As they sing “I Am a Child of God” together, the two girls become friends and later perform at church and community events as the Peggys of Peggy’s Cove.
I’d always been proud to live in Peggy’s Cove. Then she came. Each evening I stood in my backyard among the jumbled boulders and lapping seawater, watching the fishing boats come home. “How’s our own Peggy today?” the fishermen called as they unloaded their baskets of lobsters. “Waiting for your dad, aye?”
Then the other Peggy arrived. I knew something was up when Mom came bustling in, grinning as if Dad had caught a record lobster. “You know that lady from Saskatchewan who bought the gift shop?” she exclaimed. “She has a daughter your age named Peggy!”
“Peg—!” My swallow felt as long as a giraffe’s.
“You should get acquainted. What fun it will be to have a pair of Peggys in town!”
“Peggy’s Cove isn’t big enough for two Peggys,” I muttered.
Still, I walked into the gift shop a few minutes later and found the new owner bending over a box of Peggy’s Cove sweatshirts. She looked up. “Oh, you must be the other Peggy I’ve been hearing about.”
“I’m the Peggy,” I replied.
As if on cue, the owner’s daughter emerged from the back room, carrying a box of Peggy’s Cove stationery. I grimaced. Wasn’t it bad enough having another Peggy in town? Did she have to be beautiful as well?
She smiled sweetly at me with perfect white teeth. “I’m glad to meet you,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if there would be anyone my age here. I’ve never lived in such a small town.”
“Well, you and your mother might push the population past eighty. That’s almost too big for me.”
“You wouldn’t want it to get too big,” she agreed. “It’s such a beautiful place.” She flipped her long black hair toward the window. “The ocean is really spectacular.”
“Oh, it isn’t usually this nice,” I said, flipping my stiff brown hair that hardly moved. “Often it’s terribly foggy and cold.”
She laughed. “Probably not as cold as Saskatchewan. Have you lived here all your life?”
“All my life.”
Her deep blue eyes opened wide with interest. “Have you ever been lobster fishing?”
My dull, sort-of-brown eyes narrowed in contempt. “Of course. My father’s a lobster fisherman.”
“Wow! I’ve never even seen a lobster.”
How revolting! I thought. How could anybody even think about moving to Peggy’s Cove to sell Peggy’s Cove sweatshirts and stationery and knickknacks and never have seen a lobster?
That afternoon I took some plain white stationery and sat on the massive granite rocks between the lighthouse and the cove. The thrashing Atlantic Ocean groaned with me. “The most awful thing has happened,” I wrote to my best friend, Melissa, who had moved to New Brunswick. I told her the whole sad story, then added, “P.S. The next thing I know, she’ll be taking your place next to me in the church choir.”
On the outside of the envelope I quickly scrawled Melissa’s address and my return address—Peggy, Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia. That was all I needed.
I mailed the letter inside the lighthouse. The redheaded lighthouse—that’s what I call it because of its red top and white body—is no longer an operating lighthouse. In the summer it serves as the Peggy’s Cove Post Office.
On Sunday I was walking to the little white church on the hill, when the other Peggy and her mother drove by, smiling and waving. “Here comes my next choir partner,” I grumbled. But she never showed up. I guess our church isn’t good enough for her, I thought.
When I saw her washing the gift shop window the next day, I tried to sidle past without being seen.
“Peggy,” she called, “I saw my first lobster the other day. They’re interesting creatures, aren’t they?”
“I suppose. I didn’t see you in church.”
“Our church is in Halifax. But it must be nice to walk. Our Primary’s going to have an activity day here at the cove sometime. You’re welcome to come.”
“Primary?”
“It’s like a children’s Sunday School.”
“Oh.” Another strange thing from Saskatchewan. “Our church is having its own picnic soon.”
“Sounds fun,” she said. “I’d love to come. When is it?”
“I’m not sure,” I hedged. “I’d better go. There’s a letter I need to mail.”
The lighthouse was crowded with tourists when I walked in. The postmistress glanced up quickly. “Oh, Peggy, there’s a package for you.”
I leaped across the granite rocks toward home. My birthday present from Melissa, at last! I was passing Dad’s dory before I noticed the front of the package. The handwriting didn’t look like Melissa’s. Suddenly I prickled in a cold shiver. It wasn’t to me! It was addressed to the other Peggy. I stiffened in hot anger. How dare another Peggy get mail at the Peggy’s Cove Post Office! Why hadn’t Melissa sent me a present?
I crawled into Dad’s dory and moped. Peggy of Saskatchewan didn’t deserve to get mail here. She had no right to even live in Peggy’s Cove. Suddenly I opened the latch of a lobster pot and stashed the package inside. I would give it to her when I was good and ready. Or maybe I wouldn’t give it to her at all. She would never miss it.
The next night at dinner, Dad announced, “I’ve decided to do something different tomorrow for the last day of lobster season. That new Peggy down at the gift shop has never had a chance to go lobstering.” He looked at me. “She’s a cute little thing, aye?”
I shoved more potatoes into my mouth. “I’ve never noticed.”
“Well, anyway, I thought I’d take both of you out with me.”
I almost choked on my potatoes. “I doubt that she’d want to go.”
When the other Peggy arrived at the boat early the next morning, her usual cheery “hi” sounded a bit shaky. Her eyes darted nervously. She’s not used to being around smelly lobster bait, I thought smugly.
But suddenly she was fumbling with her small red backpack. “I need to give you something. I opened it by accident and thought it was so beautiful that I almost kept it for myself.”
She withdrew a small package. I grabbed it. Inside was a beautiful necklace. “I was right!” I said triumphantly. “Melissa wouldn’t forget my birthday.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, hunching her shoulders and looking down. “I should have given it to you sooner.”
By the time the boat had chugged out of the cove, she seemed her usual self again. She was asking Dad a stream of questions. I was more nervous than a lobster in a seafood restaurant.
“See that string of purple and white buoys?” Dad shouted above the wind. “Those are mine. They have my own color pattern to mark where I’ve dropped my lobster pots. We’ll haul up the line and see how many lobsters we’ve caught. Then we’ll rebait the traps with herring and drop them again.”
“Sounds like fun,” Peggy said.
“It’s a lot of work,” I shouted, pacing the deck.
“Two lobsters in this pot,” Dad called, winding up the line on a pulley.
The other Peggy wasn’t a bit squeamish about handling the lobsters. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. “Look at how many we’re getting!” she shouted.
Dad was hauling up another pot. “No lobsters in this one. Looks like the trap’s broken up pretty badly.” He quickly found another pot to replace it. Opening the wooden trap door to hang the bait bag, he stopped short. “What’s this?” he exclaimed.
Peggy peered curiously inside the pot. “It looks like a package. Oh, my, it’s my package.” She grabbed it out of the pot. “This is what I’ve been waiting for to give Mom on her birthday. How did it …”
I turned. “I’m sorry. I got it by mistake. I was going to give it to you.”
“Lobster pot and all?” Dad asked sternly. He was giving me his “we have some serious talking to do” look while she ripped open the package.
I stared over her shoulder. “A hymnbook?”
“Yes,” she said. “Mom loves to sing, and there’s one song in here she’s always asking me to sing to her.”
As Dad dropped another lobster pot overboard, the other Peggy began to sing:
“‘I am a child of God,
And he has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home
With parents kind and dear …’”*
Sounds like something those Saskatchewan people would make up, I thought, trying hard not to like it. But the truth was, I did.
She looked up at me. “Do you sing, Peggy?”
“Well, yes. In the church choir.”
“You must have a beautiful voice,” she said. “Will you sing it with me?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” But I was already humming the tune under my breath.
As it turned out, we not only sang the song while Dad lobstered, but we sang it for our church picnic, her Primary Activity Day, and several church and community functions in neighboring coves. We even sang it at the lobster festival. We were billed as the Peggys of Peggy’s Cove. I rather liked the sound of it.
She’s going to teach me more of her songs.
Then the other Peggy arrived. I knew something was up when Mom came bustling in, grinning as if Dad had caught a record lobster. “You know that lady from Saskatchewan who bought the gift shop?” she exclaimed. “She has a daughter your age named Peggy!”
“Peg—!” My swallow felt as long as a giraffe’s.
“You should get acquainted. What fun it will be to have a pair of Peggys in town!”
“Peggy’s Cove isn’t big enough for two Peggys,” I muttered.
Still, I walked into the gift shop a few minutes later and found the new owner bending over a box of Peggy’s Cove sweatshirts. She looked up. “Oh, you must be the other Peggy I’ve been hearing about.”
“I’m the Peggy,” I replied.
As if on cue, the owner’s daughter emerged from the back room, carrying a box of Peggy’s Cove stationery. I grimaced. Wasn’t it bad enough having another Peggy in town? Did she have to be beautiful as well?
She smiled sweetly at me with perfect white teeth. “I’m glad to meet you,” she said. “I wasn’t sure if there would be anyone my age here. I’ve never lived in such a small town.”
“Well, you and your mother might push the population past eighty. That’s almost too big for me.”
“You wouldn’t want it to get too big,” she agreed. “It’s such a beautiful place.” She flipped her long black hair toward the window. “The ocean is really spectacular.”
“Oh, it isn’t usually this nice,” I said, flipping my stiff brown hair that hardly moved. “Often it’s terribly foggy and cold.”
She laughed. “Probably not as cold as Saskatchewan. Have you lived here all your life?”
“All my life.”
Her deep blue eyes opened wide with interest. “Have you ever been lobster fishing?”
My dull, sort-of-brown eyes narrowed in contempt. “Of course. My father’s a lobster fisherman.”
“Wow! I’ve never even seen a lobster.”
How revolting! I thought. How could anybody even think about moving to Peggy’s Cove to sell Peggy’s Cove sweatshirts and stationery and knickknacks and never have seen a lobster?
That afternoon I took some plain white stationery and sat on the massive granite rocks between the lighthouse and the cove. The thrashing Atlantic Ocean groaned with me. “The most awful thing has happened,” I wrote to my best friend, Melissa, who had moved to New Brunswick. I told her the whole sad story, then added, “P.S. The next thing I know, she’ll be taking your place next to me in the church choir.”
On the outside of the envelope I quickly scrawled Melissa’s address and my return address—Peggy, Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia. That was all I needed.
I mailed the letter inside the lighthouse. The redheaded lighthouse—that’s what I call it because of its red top and white body—is no longer an operating lighthouse. In the summer it serves as the Peggy’s Cove Post Office.
On Sunday I was walking to the little white church on the hill, when the other Peggy and her mother drove by, smiling and waving. “Here comes my next choir partner,” I grumbled. But she never showed up. I guess our church isn’t good enough for her, I thought.
When I saw her washing the gift shop window the next day, I tried to sidle past without being seen.
“Peggy,” she called, “I saw my first lobster the other day. They’re interesting creatures, aren’t they?”
“I suppose. I didn’t see you in church.”
“Our church is in Halifax. But it must be nice to walk. Our Primary’s going to have an activity day here at the cove sometime. You’re welcome to come.”
“Primary?”
“It’s like a children’s Sunday School.”
“Oh.” Another strange thing from Saskatchewan. “Our church is having its own picnic soon.”
“Sounds fun,” she said. “I’d love to come. When is it?”
“I’m not sure,” I hedged. “I’d better go. There’s a letter I need to mail.”
The lighthouse was crowded with tourists when I walked in. The postmistress glanced up quickly. “Oh, Peggy, there’s a package for you.”
I leaped across the granite rocks toward home. My birthday present from Melissa, at last! I was passing Dad’s dory before I noticed the front of the package. The handwriting didn’t look like Melissa’s. Suddenly I prickled in a cold shiver. It wasn’t to me! It was addressed to the other Peggy. I stiffened in hot anger. How dare another Peggy get mail at the Peggy’s Cove Post Office! Why hadn’t Melissa sent me a present?
I crawled into Dad’s dory and moped. Peggy of Saskatchewan didn’t deserve to get mail here. She had no right to even live in Peggy’s Cove. Suddenly I opened the latch of a lobster pot and stashed the package inside. I would give it to her when I was good and ready. Or maybe I wouldn’t give it to her at all. She would never miss it.
The next night at dinner, Dad announced, “I’ve decided to do something different tomorrow for the last day of lobster season. That new Peggy down at the gift shop has never had a chance to go lobstering.” He looked at me. “She’s a cute little thing, aye?”
I shoved more potatoes into my mouth. “I’ve never noticed.”
“Well, anyway, I thought I’d take both of you out with me.”
I almost choked on my potatoes. “I doubt that she’d want to go.”
When the other Peggy arrived at the boat early the next morning, her usual cheery “hi” sounded a bit shaky. Her eyes darted nervously. She’s not used to being around smelly lobster bait, I thought smugly.
But suddenly she was fumbling with her small red backpack. “I need to give you something. I opened it by accident and thought it was so beautiful that I almost kept it for myself.”
She withdrew a small package. I grabbed it. Inside was a beautiful necklace. “I was right!” I said triumphantly. “Melissa wouldn’t forget my birthday.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, hunching her shoulders and looking down. “I should have given it to you sooner.”
By the time the boat had chugged out of the cove, she seemed her usual self again. She was asking Dad a stream of questions. I was more nervous than a lobster in a seafood restaurant.
“See that string of purple and white buoys?” Dad shouted above the wind. “Those are mine. They have my own color pattern to mark where I’ve dropped my lobster pots. We’ll haul up the line and see how many lobsters we’ve caught. Then we’ll rebait the traps with herring and drop them again.”
“Sounds like fun,” Peggy said.
“It’s a lot of work,” I shouted, pacing the deck.
“Two lobsters in this pot,” Dad called, winding up the line on a pulley.
The other Peggy wasn’t a bit squeamish about handling the lobsters. In fact, she seemed to enjoy it. “Look at how many we’re getting!” she shouted.
Dad was hauling up another pot. “No lobsters in this one. Looks like the trap’s broken up pretty badly.” He quickly found another pot to replace it. Opening the wooden trap door to hang the bait bag, he stopped short. “What’s this?” he exclaimed.
Peggy peered curiously inside the pot. “It looks like a package. Oh, my, it’s my package.” She grabbed it out of the pot. “This is what I’ve been waiting for to give Mom on her birthday. How did it …”
I turned. “I’m sorry. I got it by mistake. I was going to give it to you.”
“Lobster pot and all?” Dad asked sternly. He was giving me his “we have some serious talking to do” look while she ripped open the package.
I stared over her shoulder. “A hymnbook?”
“Yes,” she said. “Mom loves to sing, and there’s one song in here she’s always asking me to sing to her.”
As Dad dropped another lobster pot overboard, the other Peggy began to sing:
“‘I am a child of God,
And he has sent me here,
Has given me an earthly home
With parents kind and dear …’”*
Sounds like something those Saskatchewan people would make up, I thought, trying hard not to like it. But the truth was, I did.
She looked up at me. “Do you sing, Peggy?”
“Well, yes. In the church choir.”
“You must have a beautiful voice,” she said. “Will you sing it with me?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” But I was already humming the tune under my breath.
As it turned out, we not only sang the song while Dad lobstered, but we sang it for our church picnic, her Primary Activity Day, and several church and community functions in neighboring coves. We even sang it at the lobster festival. We were billed as the Peggys of Peggy’s Cove. I rather liked the sound of it.
She’s going to teach me more of her songs.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
Children
Diversity and Unity in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
Friendship
Honesty
Humility
Judging Others
Kindness
Music
Feedback
A missionary teaching an investigator was asked why swearing is wrong if everyone does it. He remembered a line from the New Era article on profanity and shared it, which moved the investigator to tears.
I would like to thank you for the article “Profanity” (May 1992). I was teaching an investigator who asked me why the Church feels it’s wrong to swear when everyone does it. All that came to mind was this article and these lines: “It’s the same mouth you use to pray, bear testimony, and bless the sacrament.” That’s all I had to say, because tears fell from my investigator’s eyes.
Elder Dwayne VictorFlorida Tampa Mission
Elder Dwayne VictorFlorida Tampa Mission
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Other
Conversion
Missionary Work
Prayer
Reverence
Sacrament
Sin
Teaching the Gospel
Testimony
Friend to Friend
As a boy, President Hinckley’s family traveled by horse and buggy with a spirited horse named Prince. One day his father arrived home with a new 1916 Model T Ford, which replaced the buggy and brought great excitement to the family.
“When I was a little boy,” President Hinckley said, “we traveled by horse and buggy. We had a sorrel horse, Prince, who was a feisty animal. He had to be treated just right or he would get a little balky and mean. He was rather high-spirited but a fine-looking animal.
“Then one historic day in our family, my father came driving up to our home in a new 1916 Model T Ford. What an exciting day that was! That Ford took the place of Prince and the buggy, yet all the time that I was growing up, we had a saddle horse or two.”
“Then one historic day in our family, my father came driving up to our home in a new 1916 Model T Ford. What an exciting day that was! That Ford took the place of Prince and the buggy, yet all the time that I was growing up, we had a saddle horse or two.”
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Parents
👤 Children
Apostle
Children
Family
Joseph Knight—Friend to the Prophet
The Knight family repeatedly moved to remain with the Prophet, sacrificing homes and belongings as they went to Ohio, then Missouri, where Polly Knight died shortly after arriving. They endured rough conditions, such as sleeping in a chicken coop while building a home, later moved to Nauvoo, and then joined the westward trek, during which Joseph Knight died at Mt. Pisgah in 1847.
The Knights moved their family many times to stay with the Prophet, each time sacrificing home, farm, and belongings that they had worked hard to obtain. They moved to Ohio and then to Missouri. Joseph Knight’s wife, Polly, died just a few days after their arrival in Jackson County, Missouri. It has been reported that Knight and his son Newel slept in a chicken coop there while their home was being built. The Knights later moved to Illinois where they helped build the city of Nauvoo. A few years later they were forced to move again as the Saints began the trek across the plains to the Salt Lake Valley.
Joseph Knight died during that trek at Mt. Pisgah, Iowa, on February 3, 1847, at the age of seventy-four.
Joseph Knight died during that trek at Mt. Pisgah, Iowa, on February 3, 1847, at the age of seventy-four.
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👤 Pioneers
👤 Early Saints
Adversity
Death
Endure to the End
Family
Grief
Joseph Smith
Sacrifice
The Restoration
Spit and Mud and Kigatsuku
The Relief Society general board volunteered to clean a littered highway. They put on gloves and found that it didn’t take long to make a meaningful difference. The account illustrates effective, informal group service.
Kigatsuku means “an inner spirit to act without being told what to do.” First, we can do great good when we act as an organized group. One hundred and fifty years of Relief Society speaks for itself. One stake in Denver, Colorado, is making quilts—dozens of thick, warm, comforting quilts—which they will donate to the homeless and those in need. Second, we can do great good when we act in small, informal groups. The Relief Society general board volunteered to clean a littered highway, pulled on their gloves, and discovered that it doesn’t take a long time to make a big difference. And third, we can do great good on our own—just as individuals who care enough to serve. Think of Sister Julia Mavimbela in South Africa, teaching children who had never had a real home to tend the earth by planting gardens. It is the desire in individual hearts that powers not only small, individual acts of service, but also the great acts that become mass movements and even revolutions. You have that power, too.
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👤 Church Members (General)
Charity
Kindness
Relief Society
Service
Women in the Church
Conference Story Index
Neill F. Marriott prays and searches for God for a decade. She ultimately finds and embraces the Church.
After praying and searching 10 years for God, Neill F. Marriott finds and embraces the Church.
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👤 Church Members (General)
Conversion
Faith
Prayer
Revelation
Testimony
Clean Again!
Brian returns from his friend Jeremy’s baptism wishing he could be baptized again to feel clean. His mother explains that by sincerely repenting and partaking worthily of the sacrament, he renews his baptismal covenants and can be forgiven. Brian realizes he can be clean each week through the sacrament and expresses gratitude.
Nine-year-old Brian had just returned from the baptism of his friend Jeremy. “I wish I could be baptized again, Mom,” he said as he visited with his mother in the kitchen.
“Baptized again? Why?”
“Jeremy is lucky. He is clean because he hasn’t made any mistakes since he was baptized. I wish I could be baptized again.”
Mom was surprised. They had had a family home evening about baptism and renewing the baptismal covenants by partaking of the sacrament. Brian had also learned about baptism in Primary. But it seemed that he still didn’t understand some things. …
She sat down with him at the kitchen table. “Brian, you know that each time we partake of the sacrament, we renew our covenants with the Lord. I know that you listen carefully to the sacrament prayers. What are the sacred promises we make?”
“Well, we promise to take Jesus’ name upon us. I think that that means that we promise to not do anything that would bring shame or dishonor to His name.”
“That’s right. What else do we promise?”
Brian reviewed the words of the prayers in his mind. “That we will always remember Him and keep His commandments.”
“Good. What are some ways in which we can always remember Him?”
“Sister Cassler taught us in Primary that we can ask ourselves, ‘What would Jesus want me to do?’ whenever we have a choice to make. I know that that works, because it helped me to be patient with Jenny when she broke my toy car the other day.”
“I’m pleased that you were such a loving big brother. When you are kind and patient, you show that you remember Jesus and are keeping His commandments. He taught that we should partake of the sacrament in remembrance of Him. And as we do, we gain a remission of our sins. Remission is a big word. In this case, it means that we are forgiven for the mistakes we make, if we are truly sorry for them and sincerely try to not repeat them. Before we partake of the sacrament, we should prepare ourselves spiritually. We can do that by correcting the mistakes we have made. That is called repentance.”
“You mean that if I correct the wrong things I have done and try to always remember Jesus and keep His commandments, when I partake of the sacrament, I can be just as clean as when I was baptized?”
“Yes, indeed.” Mom smiled. “We can be washed clean through obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The sacrament is one of those ordinances. We don’t need to be perfect before partaking of the sacrament, but we must be sincerely repenting of the things we have done wrong. During the sacrament service, we think of the Savior and all that He has done for us. We sing a hymn before the sacrament is blessed, which helps us to feel reverent and to remember Him. As it is passed, we can review the things we have done in the past week and look for ways to improve. Partaking worthily of the sacrament brings the blessing that our Heavenly Father promises us at baptism—to always have His Spirit to be with us.”
“So I don’t need to be baptized again! I can be clean again each week as I worthily partake of the sacrament. The sacrament helps me remember my baptismal covenant. Thanks, Mom!”
With a big smile and a hug for Brian, Mom replied, “We can show our thanks to the Savior, Jesus Christ, by keeping our baptismal covenant and partaking worthily of the sacrament each week.”
“Baptized again? Why?”
“Jeremy is lucky. He is clean because he hasn’t made any mistakes since he was baptized. I wish I could be baptized again.”
Mom was surprised. They had had a family home evening about baptism and renewing the baptismal covenants by partaking of the sacrament. Brian had also learned about baptism in Primary. But it seemed that he still didn’t understand some things. …
She sat down with him at the kitchen table. “Brian, you know that each time we partake of the sacrament, we renew our covenants with the Lord. I know that you listen carefully to the sacrament prayers. What are the sacred promises we make?”
“Well, we promise to take Jesus’ name upon us. I think that that means that we promise to not do anything that would bring shame or dishonor to His name.”
“That’s right. What else do we promise?”
Brian reviewed the words of the prayers in his mind. “That we will always remember Him and keep His commandments.”
“Good. What are some ways in which we can always remember Him?”
“Sister Cassler taught us in Primary that we can ask ourselves, ‘What would Jesus want me to do?’ whenever we have a choice to make. I know that that works, because it helped me to be patient with Jenny when she broke my toy car the other day.”
“I’m pleased that you were such a loving big brother. When you are kind and patient, you show that you remember Jesus and are keeping His commandments. He taught that we should partake of the sacrament in remembrance of Him. And as we do, we gain a remission of our sins. Remission is a big word. In this case, it means that we are forgiven for the mistakes we make, if we are truly sorry for them and sincerely try to not repeat them. Before we partake of the sacrament, we should prepare ourselves spiritually. We can do that by correcting the mistakes we have made. That is called repentance.”
“You mean that if I correct the wrong things I have done and try to always remember Jesus and keep His commandments, when I partake of the sacrament, I can be just as clean as when I was baptized?”
“Yes, indeed.” Mom smiled. “We can be washed clean through obedience to the laws and ordinances of the gospel of Jesus Christ. The sacrament is one of those ordinances. We don’t need to be perfect before partaking of the sacrament, but we must be sincerely repenting of the things we have done wrong. During the sacrament service, we think of the Savior and all that He has done for us. We sing a hymn before the sacrament is blessed, which helps us to feel reverent and to remember Him. As it is passed, we can review the things we have done in the past week and look for ways to improve. Partaking worthily of the sacrament brings the blessing that our Heavenly Father promises us at baptism—to always have His Spirit to be with us.”
“So I don’t need to be baptized again! I can be clean again each week as I worthily partake of the sacrament. The sacrament helps me remember my baptismal covenant. Thanks, Mom!”
With a big smile and a hug for Brian, Mom replied, “We can show our thanks to the Savior, Jesus Christ, by keeping our baptismal covenant and partaking worthily of the sacrament each week.”
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Friends
Atonement of Jesus Christ
Baptism
Children
Commandments
Covenant
Family
Family Home Evening
Forgiveness
Holy Ghost
Jesus Christ
Obedience
Ordinances
Parenting
Repentance
Sacrament
Teaching the Gospel
Strengthening the Family—the Basic Unit of the Church
As a boy in Thatcher, Arizona, he frequented the community’s all-purpose Robinson Hall. One night the building caught fire, and townsmen and boys formed a bucket brigade from the Union Canal to fight the flames. Despite their united effort, the building burned, and years passed before a fire department was organized.
I have been trying to think of the ways in which my life has been influenced by the youth organizations. I cannot remember when I began, but it seems to me like I can remember going to the old Robinson Hall in Thatcher, Arizona, almost as early as I could walk. It was only two blocks from our home, and we could walk to and from it, and we crossed the Union Canal time and again. This big Robinson Hall was a brick building of rectangular shape, and an all-purpose building for the community dances, for the Sunday School and Primary, for all Church services, for the funerals, for celebrations, and for everything that went on in our little rural town.
One night this great building caught fire, and I remember the lighted sky and the columns of smoke and the consternation and excitement for all of us, for a big fire like this attracted the entire town and all came hurrying with their buckets to help put out the fire. We had no fire department, but all men and their sons rushed across the town at the earliest call of “fire.”
He who gave the leadership sent all the men and boys to the canal bank and lined them back to back toward the burning building. Standing on the bank of the canal, the first man drew a bucket full of water and handed the full bucket to another man and he to another and back to the crackling flames in the building. The last man doused the bucket of water on the flames. Many buckets of water were thrown on the fire, but the fire was gaining and finally the walls stood out as blackened sentinels, and we returned to our homes saddened and defeated. It was many years before the fire department was organized in our little town.
One night this great building caught fire, and I remember the lighted sky and the columns of smoke and the consternation and excitement for all of us, for a big fire like this attracted the entire town and all came hurrying with their buckets to help put out the fire. We had no fire department, but all men and their sons rushed across the town at the earliest call of “fire.”
He who gave the leadership sent all the men and boys to the canal bank and lined them back to back toward the burning building. Standing on the bank of the canal, the first man drew a bucket full of water and handed the full bucket to another man and he to another and back to the crackling flames in the building. The last man doused the bucket of water on the flames. Many buckets of water were thrown on the fire, but the fire was gaining and finally the walls stood out as blackened sentinels, and we returned to our homes saddened and defeated. It was many years before the fire department was organized in our little town.
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👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 General Authorities (Modern)
Adversity
Children
Emergency Response
Service
Unity
Young Men
Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery
An engaged couple sought a quiet place to talk and parked by a lake. Immediately they both felt a spiritual prompting to leave and did so. Though they never learned why, the experience taught them to recognize and follow the Spirit in their marriage and lives.
One young engaged couple learned a lasting lesson about how listening to the Spirit could help them make correct choices. Before their marriage, they sometimes needed time alone to talk, away from her roommates or the relatives with whom he lived. One night the couple found an attractive spot half a kilometer or so off a main highway, next to a lightly traveled road that ran by the edge of a lake. There was nothing but talk on their minds. Only a few seconds after he turned off the engine of his car, however, they both felt a strong witness of the Spirit that they should not stay there. He started the car, and they drove back to a more public area.
“We’ve never learned the reason why we were supposed to leave that place,” he says, “but we’ve always been glad that we obeyed the prompting. Whatever else it may have meant, it helped us learn to recognize the voice of the Spirit as we’ve sought direction in our marriage and our individual lives.”
“We’ve never learned the reason why we were supposed to leave that place,” he says, “but we’ve always been glad that we obeyed the prompting. Whatever else it may have meant, it helped us learn to recognize the voice of the Spirit as we’ve sought direction in our marriage and our individual lives.”
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👤 Young Adults
👤 Church Members (General)
Chastity
Dating and Courtship
Holy Ghost
Obedience
Revelation