Gospel Story Finder

When Cheryl suddenly lost her husband, Mick, she was devastated. As her first Christmas without him drew closer, the loneliness grew. Thankfully, her ministering sister Shauna was there. Shauna and her husband, Jim, invited Cheryl on many holiday outings. They noticed Cheryl’s worn coat and decided to do something about it. A few days before Christmas, Shauna and Jim brought Cheryl a Christmas present: a beautiful new coat. They were aware of Cheryl’s physical needs for a warm coat but also of her emotional needs for comfort and company. They stepped up to fulfill those needs as best they could and set a beautiful example of how we too can keep watch over our flocks.3

I finally finished reading First Nephi when I was fourteen years old. Perhaps I did it partly so that I could say in Sunday School class “yes, I’ve read the Book of Mormon.” But beyond that, I felt within me that this was an important book that would have a significant impact on my life. My parents and others spoke of how they loved the book. I wanted to feel the same way and sensed that I’d feel that way sooner through my own reading than through listening to others.
For several “readings” I got a new copy each time, and was probably as interested in marking passages in red as I was in just reading. I loved opening it when someone was looking—in a couple of copies the passages that weren’t red stood out. Gradually, I found my pride in marking being replaced by a love for what was in this sacred book. I felt I knew some of the people, and I enjoyed going back again and again to be with them and to learn from them.

Yes. The last item is correct. That’s what the young men from the Canyon Ward, Spanish Fork Utah Stake, learned last year. Not only did they get to hike in some of the most scenic mountains in Wyoming and Montana, but they scaled even higher heights by including daily scripture study as the focus of their wilderness experience.
“We’ve been on great hikes before,” says John Oldham, 16, past captain of the ward’s Varsity Scout team. “But this time we really emphasized the spiritual side in our planning.”
For example, the trek began with a testimony meeting. “It was great,” says Joshua Christensen, 18. “We sat and looked at the Teton Mountains as the sun went down. We talked about the gospel, about each other, about the Savior. The Spirit was there. It set a great mood for the entire trip.”
That’s not all. The group held devotionals and firesides every day. And each day they studied a scriptural theme.
“We’d read a scripture together in the morning, ask some questions about it, then we’d try to think about it or put it into practice during the day,” explains Doug Thompson, 15. “Then at night we’d talk about our answers.”
The result was that everyone was talking about, thinking about, and acting upon the scriptures.
“We read about prayer,” Doug continues, “and while we were hiking there was a time for everyone to ask for something, like praying for strength when the backpacks seemed too heavy, or for a little extra boost to make it through the rain.”
Joe Oldham, 16, says he appreciated one day’s devotional that talked about helping others.
“That same day, my cousin John and I were the first ones up to the top lake. I stayed there to watch our packs, and John went down to help my younger brother, Mike (14), with his pack because it was so heavy. Everyone helped each other out.”
“One day when our firewood was all wet,” says Alex Wright, 19 (now on a mission in Brazil), “a bunch of guys came and brought us dry firewood. That was on the same day we’d been reading about service.”
“There were tons of waterfalls,” Ryan Steadman, 14, remembers. “They’re huge and they cascade down the rocks and make all this mist. It’s so beautiful you have to believe someone made it. It made me think of the scripture (Moses 6:63) that says, ‘All things bear record of me.’”
And there were other lessons learned while hiking and camping:
“I gained an appreciation for the blessings we take for granted at home,” says Joe Elliott, 16. “In the wild you can’t just go get a drink of water; you have to pump for 20 minutes to purify it.”
“You think you need all these things to survive,” John adds. “You think you need to play basketball, to go on dates, to listen to music all the time. But out there, you can live without the worldly things. And when you read the scriptures, you can concentrate more closely on what the Lord wants you to hear.”
“Our first devotional was on prayer, on being able to pray at any time about anything,” Joshua says. “I think we all did that throughout the trip. And it taught us how to walk with the Spirit. I thought a lot about Proverbs 3:5–6 [Prov. 3:5–6], ‘Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’ I thought as we were hiking along the mountain trails physically, that spiritually we were also hiking some trails.”
Talk with these young men today, and there’s no question last year’s trip left enduring memories. They speak of how the rains came every day, right on schedule, and how that taught them the value of being prepared in advance. They talk of deepened respect for plants and animals. They express a desire to learn more and more. They laugh about diving into ice-cold water, enduring mosquito bites, and returning down the trail in search of stragglers. They even speak reverently about specific answers to prayer.
But threaded into almost every comment, and tied forever with their summer activity, is a deepened love and appreciation for the word of the Lord.
Mike may express it best when he says, “Anybody can go out and go backpacking. But we had a different kind of experience because we oriented it toward the scriptures.”
It’s an adventure that left them, literally, on top of the world.

Now a second story . . . the August 2006 Ensign provides a touching story of Liz Shropshire, who was a single adult member of the Church living in California. Liz was also a music teacher and composer. She decided to “visit Austria because of its rich musical heritage.” “Shortly after Liz purchased her ticket to Europe, she heard a heartbreaking radio account about the ‘ethnic cleansing’ of minority groups then taking place in Kosovo. Liz says that as she heard of the suffering of these people, her heart became so filled that she felt that she needed to be there”. To make a most touching story short, she did go to Kosovo to share her musical gifts with the suffering. Her music brought a glimmer of joy to hundreds and then thousands of people who had so little joy in their lives. Over time she spread her message of hope through music to other countries—benefiting now over 8,000 people. Liz says, “I knew that what I’d been doing in Kosovo felt more right than anything else I’d done in years. Before I came, I felt I’d just been living for myself. Looking at various experiences I’d had in my life, I felt that this was something I’d been prepared to do. I used to think that being rich simply meant having money. But I have realized that being rich means being able to share whatever it is we’re blessed with. Although I have never had less of the things of the world than I have now, I have never been so rich.”

The Norwich England Stake decided to depart from their usual routine for their annual youth conference. After their Saturday activity, the youth came back to the Lowestoft Ward meetinghouse to find that some of their leaders had organized a “quilt factory” and chosen some team leaders and a factory manager from among the youth. Stations were set up for cutting, pinning, sewing, and tying, and dinner was served in shifts. After watching a Church-produced video about humanitarian aid, the youth got to work.

Their goal was to make 100 quilts from scratch. Three and a half hours later, they had completed 106 quilts, ready to be donated. The Norwich youth had a great time and felt the Spirit as they partook of the atmosphere of service at their youth conference.

Seminary student Girly Mbuli explains how her faith and love of the scriptures saved her from a terrible situation.
“One day my friend Tiny Gugu and I had to go to Zondi to take some books to another girl. On our way back we saw a gang of boys. Gangs here rape girls, steal cars, do everything horrible. We started to run, but it was too late.
“The boys faced us. They had weapons. They made us go up on a hill and meant to do awful things to us. On the way up the hill, I was saying a prayer to my Heavenly Father. I don’t remember which scriptures I tried to say, but I kept thinking of them. I asked for help to be calm and not afraid. I felt peace come into my heart.
“When you are on top of that hill, you can see everything. The boys looked down and asked where I was staying. I pointed to Jabulane, and something told me to say I was staying with my grandmother and my friend Lindiwe.
“The leader looked at me and said, ‘You are not afraid. Let them go!’ I later found out that the brother of my friend Lindiwe is the boss of this gang, and he stays in the house of my grandmother. That is why they let us go free.
“When I tell this story to people, they refuse to believe we survived. But I did, and I know why. It was because of my faith in Heavenly Father. I know that Isaiah 1:18 [Isa. 1:18] can be true for those guilty gang boys, if they will repent: ‘Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white as snow.’”

Lorenzo Snow was a great early missionary. He had been a member of the Church for less than a year when he set out on his first mission in 1837. He tells about his first experiences preaching the gospel in the following words:
“I … traveled about thirty miles [48 kilometers], and just as the sun was setting I made my first call for a night’s lodging, as a ‘Mormon’ Elder, and was refused; then another, and so on, until the eighth call, when I was admitted to a night’s lodging—going to bed supperless, and leaving in the morning, minus a breakfast.
“The first meeting I held was in the neighborhood of my uncle, by the name of Goddard, near the county seat of Medina County, Ohio. The people were notified and a respectable congregation assembled. It was a sore trial to face that audience in the capacity of a preacher, but I believed and felt an assurance that a Spirit of inspiration would prompt and give me utterance. … [It did, for] I baptized and confirmed into the Church my uncle, aunt and several of my cousins” (quoted in Eliza R. Snow Smith, Biography and Family Record of Lorenzo Snow [1884], 16).

Having her grandmother living with her, Jassy Ramirez, 14, of the Manhattan 4th Ward, has the perfect opportunity to learn about her family. “My grandmother takes a lot of care with me,” says Jassy. “She has taught me how to clean house and how to wash clothes and fix my bed. She teaches me how to do all my chores.”
Jassy’s grandmother also tells her stories about growing up in the Dominican Republic. “My grandmother had 10 brothers and sisters. They were so poor. They suffered a lot. They didn’t have lights or running water. They couldn’t go to school,” says Jassy. “She tells me that it’s very important to get my education. Hearing these things makes me appreciate the things I have.”
Being with her grandmother every day has helped Jassy learn the value of working hard. Jassy has also learned to appreciate her mother, Eridania, who joined the Church when Jassy was seven. Because of her mother’s decision, Jassy has had the blessing of being raised in the Church. And now that she is old enough to be in Young Women, Jassy says, “When I started in Young Women, it helped me a lot. It helped me grow spiritually.”

I once saw, at close range, the face of a faithful father who had just learned that his handsome and promising young son had violated the law of chastity and that the boy’s immature young girlfriend was pregnant. I’ll never forget the look in that man’s eyes as it dawned on him that his child of promise had willfully rejected what his parents had taught and what they wanted him to be. The father just sat in stunned silence, staring sadly at the rain outside his window in a grief that knew no comfort. As the tears ran freely down his face, he asked himself out loud: “Why? Why would he turn his back on all he knows to be right?” There came no answer but the gentle sound of the falling rain.

A Mia Maid in the Philippines expressed the same thought like this:
“I used to ask myself, ‘Am I one of the chosen daughters of our Heavenly Father?’ and ‘Did God create all people?’ These questions prompted me to read the scriptures with the hope of receiving immediate answers. But the answers took long in coming. I became involved in the Young Women organization, and through the promptings of the Holy Ghost, I developed a strong faith that I am indeed a daughter of God, who created all of us.”

It is said that “to care for those who once cared for us is one of the highest honors”.
The primary of New Delhi Ward IV visited an Old age home situated in a lush green landscaped farmhouse where more than a dozen of senior citizens are experiencing their second innings. The children were excited to meet these wonderful people whom they did as they entered the premises and saw most of them sitting outside on a cold winter morning and teaching a few under privileged children. What a beautiful sight it was to see these old yet firm individuals serving notwithstanding their infirmities.
To begin with the Primary sang Christmas carols and distributed cards and warm clothes to all and took out time to talk to these senior citizens. The interaction with them seemed to be lengthy as they had so much to talk about. Hearing them was a privilege and serving them was an opportunity to imitate the Savior’s example. The words of Isaiah rehearsed in my mind which say:
“Strengthen ye the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees.
“Say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not: behold, your God will come with vengeance, even God with a recompence; he will come and save you”. (Isaiah 35:3–4)
All of us will have to pass through a stage in our lives where we will be weak and would need strength. This experience helped us to share the love of Christ and helped us in turn to reflect on our lives to be more like Him who once walked on this earth and experienced all the pain and suffering that we go through. The Savior knows how to succor those in need and this visit was an added privilege for these young children to deposit a memorable experience in their mortal account to cherish for the rest of their lives.

Because my school has only six members of the Church, it was extremely hard for me to find friends with the same values. I felt lost and confused. The youth in my ward were nice people, but we never really hung out. I didn’t know the other youth in my stake very well because it was so spread out.
At the peak of my confusion, my stake put on a dance festival. I love to dance, so I immediately signed up for the dance team. I think that was the best thing I ever did. I got to know most of the youth in my stake that I never would have known otherwise. These people have been welcoming and friendly, and best of all, they have the same values I do.
Since making these friends, I have been so much happier. The people I hung out with before didn’t have my values, and I felt so trapped and weak. The people in my stake have made me a stronger person, and I’m grateful for them.

Seth lay in the dark, wondering what had awakened him. His ears strained to hear a noise, and his heart began to pound. There it was again! He jumped, then sighed with relief. It was the new telephone. They had bought it through a mail-order catalog. His dad and their neighbors, the Smiths, used the top strand of the barbed-wire fence that separated their ranches to string a telephone wire on. Then they used old rubber tires as fence connectors so that the lines wouldn’t short out. When the phone was first connected, Seth had listened to Mrs. Smith’s voice describing their new Appaloosa colt. He was so astonished that he couldn’t say a word.
All the neighbors had clamored to be part of the line. Everywhere the barbed-wire fences stretched, neighbor was soon connected to neighbor. Mrs. Bowers even put a switchboard in her house so that callers could be switched from one line to another. Now Seth’s family was even linked by the prairie line to Grandpa and Grandma.
Seth sat up in bed. Grandpa and Grandma! Had something happened to them? Who was calling in the wee hours of the morning? He pulled on his jeans and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
His father was still talking on the telephone. “I’m sure he’ll do it for you. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take him over later today.” He hung the earpiece on its hook, then turned slowly around. “What are you doing up?” he asked Seth in surprise. Dad looked awful.
“What’s happened?” Seth whispered.
His mother stood in the doorway, with baby Janet in her arms. She, too, waited for the answer.
“Grandpa’s had a heart attack,” Father said quietly. “They’re taking him to the hospital in Gillette.”
“Oh, no!” Mother cried. “Is it very bad?”
“He’ll be fine. He just needs rest. He’ll be in the hospital for a couple of weeks. Then he’ll be able to come home.”
Seth felt a little of the worry ease, but he still wished that he could see Grandpa or do something for him. Grandpa was like a best friend. He’d always been there when Seth needed someone to talk to.
“Until he gets strong again, he wants Seth to take care of the farm,” Father added.
“No,” Mother protested. “Seth’s too young to be in charge of a dairy farm.”
“Now, Grace,” Father reassured her, “Dad has already sold most of his cows, and Seth has helped him before. I think that he can do it for a short time. And when I get the roundup and haying finished, I’ll go over every day and give him a hand.”
“But some of those cows are about to calve,” Mother said. “What if something happens?”
Seth tried to think of a way to help persuade her. “I could call you,” he suggested. “The Smith’s have that Model T. Maybe Dad could borrow it in an emergency.” He stood straight and tall. “I want to do this for Grandpa and Grandma, Mom. Please let me.”
She looked lovingly at him. “I forgot about the telephone. Yes, you can go. They’ll need your help until Grandpa can be up and around again, and you’re not so far away, after all, if you can telephone.”
Seth hugged her. Then he ran back to his porch bedroom to pack his bag. He was going to Grandpa’s!
At Grandpa’s farm, Seth found himself faced with a bigger responsibility than he had ever imagined. He worked from before sunup each morning till the last of the milk was separated at night. Tired as he was, he still enjoyed turning the handle on the separator and watching the milk pour out into one bucket while the thick cream came out another spout. Oh how good that cream was on hot oatmeal!
Every night he called his parents just after supper. He felt very important as he cranked the handle around and around until Mrs. Bowers answered. “Good evening, Mrs. Bowers,” he greeted her formally. “Would you switch me to the King home, please?”
“Hello there, Seth,” she answered. “How’s your grandpa?”
He’d chat with her for a few moments while she switched him onto his parents’ line.
Everything was fine until Sweetie decided to be difficult. She’s the most contrary Guernsey cow ever born, Seth thought. Guernseys were known for their placid nature—but not Sweetie. She’d rather kick you than look at you. And now she was calving.
Seth went out to the barn and looked at her. He didn’t know much about it, but he could tell that she was in trouble. Carefully he walked into her stall, talking softly to soothe her. She whirled around and kicked at him. He jumped back, but her hoof grazed his shin.
“Ow!” he yelled and ducked back behind the stall. He rubbed the sore spot, then limped a little on his way back to the house. He cranked the handle on the phone and waited impatiently to talk to his mother. “Mom, Sweetie’s having trouble calving. Is Dad around?”
“Oh, Seth,” Mother said worriedly, “he’s out at roundup and won’t be back till tomorrow.” There was a pause, then she added resolutely, “You’ll just have to do the best you can.”
He felt so alone. “But I don’t know what to do.”
In the silence that followed, Mrs. Bowers spoke up. “Just do what you’ve seen your pa do and then pray!”
When Seth hung up the phone, he didn’t know if he should laugh because Mrs. Bowers had been listening in or cry because he couldn’t do what his dad had done. He was too small. And as for praying, he didn’t even know how. He’d never even been inside a church. He went outside and headed slowly toward the barn.
“Hello there!” a voice called out.
He whirled around and saw two men walking toward him. A tall man in a black coat asked, “Are your folks home?”
He shook his head, too miserable to say anything.
“What’s the matter, son?” the other man asked kindly.
Seth looked up and saw a face full of wrinkles, the kind you get from years of squinting in the sun. It was a face like Grandpa’s—weather-beaten and comfortable.
“Grandpa’s in the hospital, and Sweetie’s calf is turned and can’t be born. She won’t let me near her, and even if she did, I couldn’t help her. Mrs. Bowers said to pray, but I don’t know how. Do you?”
The man’s eyes began to twinkle as the whole sad story tumbled out. “Well,” he said, “first things first. I do know how to pray, and I’ll teach you, but for now let’s look at that cow.”
The man headed for the barn at a brisk walk while stripping off his coat. Taken by surprise, Seth ran along beside him, trying to keep up.
The man knew just what he was doing. When Sweetie lashed a hoof at him, he just chuckled. “Kinda bad tempered for a Guernsey, aren’t you?” He looped a rope on that hoof and tied it down, then patted her and began to work.
Seth couldn’t believe how easy it seemed. In just a short time a little calf lay at their feet, too weak yet to get up. He stared at the new little creature and wondered again at the miracle of birth. Would it live? The man handed him some clean straw. “Rub that calf down with this and dry her off. Then we’ll bring her around to her mama. As soon as she gets some warm milk inside her, she’ll be just fine.”
Seth worked carefully over the calf, then carried her to where Sweetie stood, still tethered, in the corner. The calf bumped her udder and, with tail swishing, drank the strengthening milk.
The man brushed his clothes off. “Do you have a pump I can wash off at?”
“Sure. By the back door,” Seth answered. “Say, thanks, mister. Sweetie is Grandpa’s best milker. That’s how she got her name—for her good cream. He’ll be pleased that she’s all right.”
“You’re welcome, son.” He clapped Seth on the back. “I’m a rancher myself.”
Seth looked up at him, puzzled. “Do you live around here?”
“No. My ranch is on a high desert plateau in Arizona.”
“What are you doing in Wyoming?”
“We’re missionaries of the Lord’s church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.”
“Oh, so that’s why you know how to pray.”
The man smiled and began to wash. After he washed and put his jacket on, he turned to the boy. “Now it’s time for that first lesson in prayer.” He bowed his head and addressed Heavenly Father. After he thanked Him for the new little heifer and the young boy who was caring for the farm, he asked for help for Seth and strength for his grandpa.
Seth listened in astonishment. It was so easy! Not much harder than talking to Mother on the prairie line. But did God really listen?
The men left then, promising to return the next day to help with the chores. When Seth reported the day’s events that night on the prairie line, he felt thankful. Then he went into his room, knelt by his bed, and tried to talk to Heavenly Father.
The next morning, he found that the missionaries had returned as promised. They helped him with the milking and other chores, and each day Seth prayed for his grandpa and for help to do the things he had to do. Before long Grandpa came home from the hospital and was feeling much better. Seth was happy to see him, and he told him all about the men who had helped him and taught him how to pray.
Grandpa listened carefully, then said, “I think it’s time you learned more about the Lord’s church.”
Soon after that, Seth and his family went to church with the missionaries, and Seth learned that Heavenly Father really was listening. He never forgot the lesson of the prairie line, the calf, and the two missionaries who had stopped to help. From then on, he knew he could pray whenever he needed help.

March 1839Lyma, Illinois
Five-year-old Mary turned the flour sack upside down. She was helping her mother make bread. They needed one last cup of flour, but the sack was empty.
“We’ll just have to make as many loaves as we can,” Mother said.
Mary knew why their family was out of flour. Since the night the mob had made them leave their home in Adam-ondi-Ahman, life had been hard. They had been forced to leave behind everything they owned. Mary’s father and brothers had returned to Adam-ondi-Ahman with other Saints to get their chairs, rugs, and food, but when they tried to cross the river in their wagons, the mob started shooting at them. Mary’s father and brothers had barely made it back to camp safely.
Since that night, Father had been coughing. For the last couple of months, it seemed as if he could hardly breathe. He was too sick to get out of bed. And because he was too sick to work, Mary’s family had no money to buy food.
Using a borrowed horse, Mary and her mother and her eight brothers and sisters had worked from sunrise to sunset clearing trees from their new land to farm. They used the trees to build a new house. They had finished planting the corn the day before, but it would not be ready to eat for months.
That night the family knelt in prayer and thanked Heavenly Father for their new land and house. They thanked Him for their safety from the mob. Then Father prayed that they might find a way to earn enough money to buy food.
The next morning, Father asked everyone to gather around his bed. “Last night I stayed up late praying,” he said. “I asked Heavenly Father to help me find a way for us to earn enough money for food, even though I am sick. When I fell asleep, I had a dream.”
He explained that in his dream, he had seen the family gathering bark and logs in the forest. When they came home, they used the bark to make baskets. They used the wood from the logs to make boxes. “Everyone in our family was working together,” Father said. “When we finished, we loaded the baskets and boxes into the wagon and took them into town to sell.” He got tears in his eyes. “This dream is Heavenly Father’s answer to our prayers,” he said.
That very morning, Mary and her family went into the forest near their home and found the trees Father had seen. When the bark was soaked in water overnight, it was perfect for weaving baskets.
Mary’s mother taught her how to make pretty round baskets with handles while Mary’s brothers split some of the logs into planks to make boxes. Within a few days, they had enough baskets and boxes to fill their wagon and take into town.
When they arrived at the general store, the shopkeeper looked over the baskets and boxes. “They are very well made,” he said. “I’ll take all of them.”
In return for the items, he gave them sacks of flour and potatoes, and even a bolt of cloth.
“I’d take some more baskets and boxes in two weeks, if you can make them,” he said.
Mother smiled. “We will bring another wagonful.”
That evening, the family knelt in prayer. Father wept as he thanked Heavenly Father for helping the family get enough food to last until the autumn harvest.
And the next morning, Mary helped her mother make bread again.

Once there was an old man who lived with his three young sons in a small village in Vietnam. Though they all loved each other very much, the boys seemed to always be fighting and quarreling.
One day the father called them to him. “My sons,” he said, “I want each of you to bring me a chopstick.”
“Yes, Father,” they said, and each ran to get a chopstick.
When they stood before him again, he said to his oldest son, Ta, “Can you break your chopstick?”
“Yes, Father. That’s easy.” He snapped his chopstick in two.
The father asked his middle son, Hai, “Can you break your chopstick?”
“Yes, Father. That’s easy.” Hai snapped his chopstick in two.
“Can you break your chopstick?” the father asked his youngest son, Thu.
“Yes, Father. That’s easy.” It was harder for him, but he was able to break his chopstick in two.
“Now,” the father said to his youngest son, “bring me three unbroken chopsticks.”
Thu ran to get them.
“When you hold them together, can you break them?” asked the father.
Thu tried as hard as he could, but he could not break the three together. Hai also tried, but he couldn’t break them.
Ta, being the oldest, thought he might break the three, but try as he would, he could not do it.
“I hope you have learned from the chopsticks,” said their father.
One day soon after that, Thu was taking his new ball to a friend’s house to play. At the end of his street, a bully, much bigger than Thu, jumped out and took the ball away from him.
“Please give it back,” Thu begged. But the bully would not. Thu went home and told his brothers what had happened.
Ta and Hai looked at each other. “Chopsticks?” they said, and they went to find the bully. “What are you doing with our brother’s ball?” they asked.
“Aw, I just borrowed it,” said the bully, looking nervously at the brothers. He gave it back at once and didn’t borrow it again.
Some time later, Hai got sick and had to stay in bed for a while. He became cross and restless. “My sons,” said the father. “Have you noticed that Hai is getting very tired of having to stay in bed day and night? I wonder what can be done about that.”
“Chopsticks,” said Ta and Thu, and they began bringing things to their brother and entertaining him while he was sick. Soon he was feeling much better.
Years passed, and the boys had grown into fine young men. Each had a farm and a family of his own.
One spring a terrible rain lasted so long that the river flooded. Hai and Thu lived on high ground, but Ta lived near the river, and his entire rice field was swept away by the flood.
Hai and Thu got together to talk about their brother’s loss.
“Chopsticks?” asked Hai.
“Chopsticks,” answered Thu. And until the next rice harvest, a bag of rice appeared on Ta’s doorstep every week so that he and his family never went hungry.
When the old father, who was very old by this time, heard of it, he was sitting in front of his house in the sun. “Chopsticks,” he said, and he smiled a very happy smile.

A-Pui’s face was bruised and swollen. He had three teeth missing and a bandage on his chin. Four days before Fast Sunday, he fell off a bicycle. But during the meeting he stood and bore his testimony that he knew that God lives and answers prayers. His beautiful spirit touched the hearts of many others that day.
Even before A-Pui joined the Church, he was always eager to help the missionaries in Hong Kong. His older brother and two older sisters were baptized first and then A-Pui became a member.
Now A-Pui and his brother and sisters have accepted the challenge of helping their parents learn more about the gospel so that they too might become members of the Church. The missionaries in Hong Kong feel sure they will be successful!

I learned this lesson from my father. My father was smarter than I was when I was seven years old. Of course, I was smarter than he was when I was seventeen. And then he was smarter than I was when I was twenty-one. We went back and forth for years, my dad and I.

One time my father said to me, “You are not big enough to milk the cows.” And I knew that I was. I was seven years old; of course I was big enough to milk. So I proved to my dad that I could milk. If you are going to milk, you have to get up early in the morning, like four o’clock. Now, that is early. You have to get your bucket, go out and clean and feed the cows, then you have to sit under them, and you have to pull and tug and squeeze. I did that until I could get the milk. I can make the foam stand up three inches in the bucket. I still have a milkin’ muscle. Can you see that? There are no city boys with one of those.

My dad said, “You know, I believe you can milk. You’ve got the job.” For the next ten years I milked from eight to twelve cows morning and night. You may rest assured that I got to the place where I did not want to milk. I said, “Dad, I don’t want to milk.” He said, “That’s okay, you don’t have to want to—as long as you do it.”

I guess that is what the Lord says to us at times.

When I first got to know the Church in 2016, it was a strange thing for me to have received the gospel through my two classmates, who today also serve in the same mission as I do. I waited a year to be baptized since my family was Catholic and it was a difficult thing for me, but thanks to prayer, the Lord supported me, and I was baptized in July 2017. I was in fifth grade, and I was the only member of the Church in my family, and in my neighborhood. I had to walk at least nine kilometers every Sunday to attend sacrament meeting, which from the start was difficult for me.
After my baptism, I lost the job that I had, and I began to go through a difficult moment. I applied the advice given in Deuteronomy 31:6, only if I was not afraid, the Lord was going to help me, and with His help I brought one of my best friends to Church who was the second person in my neighborhood to join the Church, and who also serves a mission today in Liberia.
After I graduated, I decided to do a full-time mission, which was difficult as my family initially disagreed, and I decided to apply Alma’s advice in 37:37, and I prayed to the Lord to help me, and I began to prepare for my mission by saving a little money from my odd teaching jobs to fund my mission.
In 2018 when I submitted my mission papers, President Alfred Kyungu of the Democratic Republic of the Congo Mbuji Mayi Mission explained to me the importance of doing a full-time mission and helped me with some advice to get there. I applied his advice, and it took me at least two years to get there and I saw other missionaries leaving on missions. It pained me at times, with everything, the sacrifice of cycling over 68 kilometers to get some documents I needed for my mission with other brothers with whom we were preparing together.
When we had submitted our papers, the COVID-19 pandemic had already started and foreign missionaries were forced to return home, and we were uncertain if we would serve a full-time mission. Two weeks later the prophet declared that we had to close the doors of the meetinghouses and 30 days later I received my call to serve a mission in the Kinshasa East mission with six months of preparation and saw the increase in the number of cases related to COVID-19.
I was still in a state of uncertainty, and I knelt down and asked the Lord if He wanted me to be a full-time missionary as I knew personally that He knew the situation perfectly, and my MTC date was postponed three more weeks. On Oct. 15, 2020 I started my training at Accra Ghana Missionary Training Center through technology and I experienced a most memorable experience of my life, spending the training on Zoom every day for three weeks made my faith grow and increase my trust in the Lord because He knew that He had prepared me to serve Him in this moment of technology in His work to learn the best ways to use technology and to help others to come to Him through this medium.
I am happy to serve Him in this time, I know that our Heavenly Father knows us personally and prepares us with the means to serve Him in his time by the tools He himself prepares to help us get there. Fervent prayer is the only way that can bring us closer to Him and help us prepare to become more like the Savior Jesus Christ.

Mary anxiously shifted back and forth in her seat as she listened to the other children in her Primary class take turns reading from the scriptures. She hoped her turn would never come.
Mary had a learning disability called dyslexia. When she looked at letters on a page, they seemed to run around and switch places. When she read out loud, her words were slow and sometimes out of order. Often she read words that weren’t there at all.
The closer Mary’s turn came, the more scared she was. When it was finally her turn, Mary couldn’t stand it anymore.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said suddenly as she jumped up from her chair, sending her scriptures tumbling to the floor. Mary ran down the hallway to the bathroom. She was glad it was empty. She stood in the corner and began to cry.
A few minutes later, she heard Sister Smith call her name as she came into the bathroom. “Mary, what’s wrong?”
Mary didn’t know what to say. She was so embarrassed. None of the other children had this problem. “I can’t read!” she cried as she tucked her head into her folded arms.
“You can’t read?” Sister Smith asked, puzzled. “I’ve seen you give talks in Primary. I know you can read.”
Mary shook her head. “I memorize my talks. I practice them over and over so I don’t have to try to read them in front of people. I can’t read out loud, and when I do, I make lots of mistakes. I don’t want the other kids to laugh at me.”
“Oh, Mary, I’m sorry. I won’t call on you to read out loud until I know you’re ready,” Sister Smith said. “And I don’t believe anyone in our class will laugh at you. They are your friends.”
“Kids at school laugh at me,” Mary whispered.
Sister Smith wiped Mary’s tears away. “Come back to class. You’ll see,” she said.
They walked back to the classroom together. Mary’s friend Betsy sat in the chair next to Mary’s, smoothing the ruffled pages of Mary’s scriptures. Mary sat down, and Betsy handed her scriptures back to her.
“Who would like to read next?” Sister Smith asked.
“It’s Mary’s turn,” a boy in the class said.
Mary hesitated, but she looked around at her classmates and saw their kind smiles. Sister Smith nodded and smiled too. Mary was nervous, but she found her place and began to read.
Her words came slowly. She made some mistakes, but when she got stuck, Betsy quietly whispered the right word in Mary’s ear. Mary did not read as well as the other kids in her class, but no one laughed or made fun of her. Then it was someone else’s turn, and the lesson went on.
As they walked to the Primary room after class, Sister Smith whispered to Mary that she was proud of her. Mary was glad she didn’t have to try to hide her trouble reading anymore. “I’ll just keep practicing,” she thought. And she smiled, knowing she had good friends at church to support her along the way.

Before becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints at the age of 25, I had stopped attending my former church on Sundays. I had spent my teenage years visiting various churches in the towns where I grew up, where I was invited to play the guitar and sing. I accepted invitations from different churches each week, and I promised myself that when I found the “right” church—where they knew who God is and where I felt at home—I would stay. Depending on how many churches were in a town, I simply repeated the cycle after a few months.
Then one cold winter’s day, two missionaries knocked on my door. By then, I was married with two young children and living in a very small town. I seemed to be their only prospect, and the Elders came around to teach me on a daily basis. On the Friday, they invited me to attend church with them that Sunday. PANIC! In our discussions, they had mentioned the importance of the Sabbath: that members refrained from shopping and time-wasting frivolities and spent the day attending church (THREE hours?!?) and engaging in various activities that would build the family and bring them nearer to God. They had also discussed reverence and showing respect through our clothing choices—the expression ‘Sunday best’ was mentioned. Why the PANIC? I didn’t own a dress or a skirt!
There was only one dress shop in the town and I didn’t rate my chances of finding anything suitable too high. Sadly, I was right. The only option was a cream-coloured pleated skirt that my grandmother would have loved! I shuddered . . . and to add insult to injury, the price was exorbitant! But, I couldn’t walk away from the church that not only knew that Jesus Christ is the Son of the Father and a separate personage, but also showed reverence by dressing and behaving in an appropriate way. So I bought the hideous cream-coloured skirt—thinking I would at least blend in. The reality was that there were only three members in the branch and 12 missionaries—so I stood out anyway!
Decades later, I still remember the feeling that choice inspired: the opportunity to show my love and reverence for my Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, Jesus Christ, by choosing my ‘best’ clothes and going to learn more of Them. Of course it’s not actually about the clothes—Heavenly Father loves us every day, barefoot and wearing jeans. It’s about honouring Them and showing respect.