Gospel Story Finder

It was a beautiful day, so I decided to ride my bike to the ward barbecue. I wouldn’t be able to stay long because I had cross-country practice. As I was getting ready to go, the idea of taking some peanut butter crackers crossed my mind. How silly, I thought, I’m going to a ward barbecue. I don’t need to take any food.
As I pedaled to the barbecue, I again thought I should’ve packed some peanut butter crackers. Too late now. Soon I was at the park waiting for the food to be ready. I waited and waited and waited. By now my stomach was growling, and I was getting hungrier by the minute. But I couldn’t wait any longer; it was time for practice, and I had to leave. I wished I had those crackers.
When practice was over, I pedaled back to the barbecue, wanting desperately to eat. I made it to the park just as people were driving off. Please let there be food left! I scrambled trying to find leftovers. Hamburgers! Yes, there were some left! I slapped some meat on a bun and devoured my cold burger.
As I took another a bite, I had a new thought: Heavenly Father cares about me. He was trying to send a message that would have helped me. It’s miraculous, really, all the ways we are watched over. To have the Spirit’s guidance is an amazing blessing, even if it’s a simple thought like taking peanut butter crackers.
Angela T., Washington, USA

“I forever am amazed by nature and its beauty,” says Marlies Hammerl, Laurel class president from the Salt Ash Branch, Newcastle Australia Stake. “One aspect of nature I especially enjoy is the night sky and the glorious stars.” Marlies will now get to study those glorious stars more in depth after being awarded one of only 12 Stellar Astronomy Scholarships offered to young women in New South Wales, Australia.
“It is easy to be grateful for all the blessings I have and realize that I, like the stars, need to let my light shine even though my two sisters and I are the only members at my school.” Marlies travelled to Sydney last April, where she was awarded her scholarship by the Governor General of Australia.
Marlies adds, “I am just so grateful that I have taken heed of our prophets’ counsel, to gain the best education that we can. It’s definitely important to strive in all you do.” In other words, we should reach for the stars.

One brother who had once been a prisoner of war had to withdraw money from his savings account—money which had been set aside for another special purpose. Then he learned of a pension for Canadian prisoners of war and found that he qualified. In fact, he was awarded the pension retroactively, and the cumulative amount was slightly in excess of the amount he had withdrawn to pay his building assessment.

I remember a fine minister, visiting Salt Lake City from South Africa, who came to my office inquiring:
“What is the basis for your doctrine of baptism for the dead?”
“Is baptism essential?” I asked.
“Yes,” he responded.
“Do you believe God is just?”
“Of course,” he replied.
“Then what of those who died without baptism?” I inquired, and he indicated that he had often wondered about that. I asked whether he had overlooked Paul’s teaching: “Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29.) The minister looked at me and quietly said: “Thank you for explaining that doctrine.” I was glad he had been enlightened but sad that he and so many others had failed to see before. Yes, our Father in Heaven loves all of his children and has provided a way for every one of them to return to him.

As years passed and my life experiences piled up, I began to see evidence of God’s love for everyone around me, but I did not always expect or recognize His love for myself. I questioned my worth as an individual.
In July of 2008, I felt strongly impressed to leave a job that was no longer good for me. I didn’t have another job, but it was early in my career and options seemed limitless. Also, because of my prompting, I was confident that Heavenly Father would help me find the right opportunity.
Weeks later, the world entered a financial crisis and unemployment rates soared. As weeks and then months passed, I began to panic. I heard heartbreaking stories of fathers and mothers losing their jobs. I was single and had no one depending on me, so I wondered if others needed and deserved employment more than me.
One night, I took my concerns to the Lord. I told Him I needed a job to take care of myself but that I could see there were families in greater need. It was as if I were imagining everyone getting in line to receive the blessings of the Lord, and because I was single, I was expected to allow families to cut in front of me.
As I prayed, the Spirit taught me that this was not what was expected of me. There is no line to get to our Heavenly Father. He invites all of His children to come to Him because “all are alike unto [Him]” (2 Nephi 26:33). The thought came very clearly to my mind that Heavenly Father is not limited by any circumstance of our world and that He will help every individual who comes to Him and Jesus Christ.
In that moment, I was reminded that there is no class system among Heavenly Father’s children. He blesses us as we choose to make and keep covenants with Him and Jesus Christ. We are all loved and important to Him, regardless of where we are on the covenant path.
Shortly after that, I was offered a job that put my career on the path it is on now.

During one of those hunting seasons in Wyoming, I had an experience that taught me an important lesson—one that I have always remembered. It occurred in a year when the weather had been rather unusual. The early snows that generally fall in the high country by late September had not come. The days remained warm and sunny even into mid-October when the big game season opened. The deer and elk stayed in the more remote high country, making it very difficult for the hunters to get to them.
Finally, late in the season, the snows came, and I made plans with a friend to go into the Big Horn Mountains close to the border between Montana and Wyoming for a last try at finding an elk. We traveled in his four-wheel drive vehicle to a spot at an elevation of about 9,000 feet where the Little Big Horn River has its beginning. A new blanket of snow almost one foot in depth covered the ground. We began our hunt just as the first daylight showed over the eastern ridges. We decided to separate from one another, designating a point of the mountain at some distance where we would meet later in the day.
As I crossed over the small stream near which we had left our vehicle and started into the timber on the opposite slope, I came to some fresh tracks in the new snow. They were bear tracks—big ones! The tracks came as something of a surprise to me. Bear are not uncommon in much of the mountain country of Wyoming, and they are numerous enough that they are considered legal game. However, bear were not common in the Big Horn Mountains, and this sudden encounter with the fresh tracks filled my mind with some interesting possibilities. I had never hunted for a bear; in fact, I had never had the inclination to do so. The meat would have been of no use to me.
This bear was no immediate threat to my companion or to me. If he were still in the area and aware of our presence, he was likely trying to remove himself from any confrontation with us. Still, as I studied the tracks and discovered how fresh they were, my thoughts continued to stir me. I confess that I began to have visions of a bearskin rug for our home. Since the tracks were going in about the same direction I had intended to go, I decided to follow them.
Within a hundred yards or so I came to a place where the snow was scattered about among traces of blood and deer hair. I could tell that one way or another, the bear had taken a deer in that place that morning. The trail that was left was easy to follow as the bear had partly carried and partly dragged the deer through the brush and into a thicket of pines and spruce. There I found the deer. Its head and horns had caught in the juncture of some limbs of a fallen tree, and the bear had not stayed to dislodge it. Perhaps my coming on the scene had affected that decision.
As I continued to follow the trail of the bear, I climbed up a steep slope where the going was made more difficult by the dense underbrush. I put my rifle with its leather sling over my shoulder and used my hands as well as my feet to force my way up the incline. Every few yards I stopped to catch my breath and rest a moment.
During one of these pauses I looked about me and assessed my situation. Because of the density of the undergrowth, I was aware that it would be impossible for me to get a clear shot at anything more than eight or ten yards away. I began to wonder who would have the greater advantage if I were to come upon the bear.
As these thoughts went through my mind, I felt a most interesting sensation come over me. I experienced a tingling in my skin, and I could feel the hair rise on the back of my neck. I had the strong impression that I was in grave danger and that I should leave the area immediately. The impression was so powerful that I got to my feet, went back down the slope to where the country was more open, and there felt that I was in better control of things. Any further desire to pursue the bear evaporated, and I went about the business for which my friend and I had gone into the mountains that day.

When I joined the Church, I was eager to get involved in family history work. I began visiting local archives to search for my ancestors’ information in public records.
I found the work fulfilling, but it was not always easy. The old handwriting was often difficult to read, and some of the books were moldy, which agitated my asthma. Still, I continued researching as best I could.
One day I was researching about my grandfather, looking for his date of birth. I found a 1,500-page book that might be helpful. But what if it didn’t have the answer I needed? I dreaded having to look through more big, dusty books.
I began skimming the book’s contents, hoping a familiar name would catch my eye. Suddenly, I thought I heard someone say, “The last page.” I looked around, but it did not appear that anyone had spoken to me. I continued and read several more pages. Then I heard the same words again: “The last page.” Somewhat hesitantly, I decided to check the last page. I found the text that is usually written there: a summary of children born and the total number of pages. Just in case, I checked the page that preceded the last one but found nothing helpful there, so I turned back to the page I had been reading before.
My thoughts were soon interrupted once more by the soft but persistent voice: “The last page!” I decided to try the last page again and read the now-familiar text several times.
Then I noticed something I had missed before: an extra page pasted inside the back cover. As I read the handwriting scribbled across the page, I saw the names of children born near the end of December. There I recognized my grandfather’s name and saw that it stated where and when he was born and baptized. I was astonished but filled with gratitude that I had been led to the information I needed.

A little over 34 years ago, when yet a high school student, I was first contacted by the missionaries—who invited me to attend MIA and join their basketball team. Not knowing anything about the Church, but being very interested in basketball, I attended MIA. Later I attended Sunday School, then sacrament meeting.
After a year of attendance and studying the gospel with the missionaries, and having read the story of Joseph Smith’s first vision, I accepted the invitation to be baptized into the Church. That evening, I returned home, having committed myself to baptism, to ask my widowed mother for permission to be baptized.
Suddenly I saw tears in her eyes. I asked her why was she shedding tears. And she answered, saying, “These are not tears of joy, but of sadness”—for she had just lost another son. In her widowhood she had lost a son—my brother—and so she said she had just lost another son to a Christian church.
She later explained that at my father’s deathbed she had promised and covenanted with him to raise the children honorably in the Buddhist faith. I quickly assured my mother that in the year that I had been associating with the missionaries, I had always been lifted up and had learned nothing but good things from them.
I promised her that if she would permit me to be baptized and later found that through my behavior I had caused her any embarrassment—or committed some shameful or dishonorable act—then all she had to do was ask me to stop going to church, and I would, without question, obey her will.
However, on the other hand, if I became a better person—more attentive to her needs as a widow, more kind toward the demands of home, brothers, and sisters—then, I said, “Would you permit me to continue to go to church? Because I know that this is the place where I can gain an education for an eternal life.”
It is my testimony today that I never had to leave the Church nor cause my mother any concern about my behavior. As I lived the gospel principles taught by the missionaries, and as I studied the principles myself, I had the assurance from my Father in heaven that my future outcome would be one that I would never have to worry about.

“Are you a Christian?” It was a headline for an advertisement soliciting community service volunteers, and it attracted Roger Freeman’s attention. Brother Freeman is a faithful member of the Church—a Sunday School teacher, home teacher, and father of nine. Surely no one could accuse him of not serving his fellow man in a Christian way. Still, the question concerned him.
Brother Freeman contacted the community service agency that had placed the advertisement and asked how he could help. The agency gave him the names of several elderly people who needed someone to do various tasks around their homes.
Since that day several years ago, Brother Freeman has mowed lawns, repaired furniture, cleaned yards, and done odd jobs in many of the older sections of his city—often taking along a few of his children to help. Every few months, he calls the agency for more names. Sometimes he has cried, seeing people who are so poor and so lonely. Occasionally, he can befriend a person he serves and maintain some personal contact. He wishes he could do more.
Where does he find the time to reach beyond his circle of family and Church associations? “It doesn’t take much time,” says Brother Freeman. And what motivates him? He explains, “It’s mostly a matter of reaching beyond my own needs. Sometimes I think of the Savior walking down the dusty roads he traveled. He was aware of people’s needs.”
Serving those around us is not merely something added to the gospel. In fact, the Lord equates serving each other with serving Him. (See Mosiah 2:17.) Brother Lowell Bennion, who runs the community service agency in Salt Lake City that Brother Freeman called, feels that Saints should go to church not to be satisfied, but to “be motivated to go out and serve our neighbors in need.”

I ended up in the Orient, flying the same kind of bombers that my brother flew in England. My mission, as it turned out, was in teaching the gospel in Japan as a serviceman.
Perhaps the hardest challenge of war is living with uncertainties, not knowing how it will end or if we can go ahead with our lives.
I was issued a small serviceman’s Book of Mormon that would fit into my pocket. I carried it everywhere; I read it; and it became part of me. Things that had been a question became certain to me.
The certainties of the gospel, the truth, once you understand it, will see you through these difficult times.
It was four years before we could return to our lives. But I had learned and had a sure testimony that God is our Father, that we are His children, and that the restored gospel of Jesus Christ is true.

Not long ago I interviewed a young man who desired to fill a mission, but he had been guilty of some very serious transgressions during his teen years. He was a member of an active Latter-day Saint family, and he himself had been an actively participating member of the Church, even during the time of his transgressions. Ultimately he had gone to his bishop and confessed his wrongdoings. Now, for more than a year, his life had been free of the earlier difficulties, and he was anxious to serve a mission.
As we talked about his situation and the decisions he had made earlier in his life that led to his questionable standing in the Church, he said, “Oh, I knew that what I was doing was wrong, and I was sure that one day I would put things back in order and go on a mission.”
While I was pleased with this young man’s desire to reorder his life and serve the Lord as a missionary, I was troubled by the apparent premeditated, calculated way in which he had allowed himself to move off the proper course to engage in some destructive, immoral behavior, and then, almost as if he were following a timetable set by himself, he had begun to reconstruct his resolve to be obedient.
If my experience with this young man had been the only one of this kind, it would not be worthy of note here; unfortunately, however, it is not unique. There appears to be an increasing tendency and temptation for young people to sample the forbidden things of the world, not with the intent to embrace them permanently, but with the knowing decision to indulge in them momentarily as though they held a value of some kind too important or exciting to pass by. It is one of the great tests of our time.
While many recover from these excursions into forbidden territory, an increasing number of tragedies are occurring that reach out to bring a blight and a despair to many lives and that have long-lasting consequences. There is no such thing as private sin. Although its commission can be calculated and predetermined, its effects cannot be regulated by the person guilty of the misbehavior. To believe otherwise is to become gullible to one of the most insidious lies ever perpetrated by the father of lies.
Recently I attended a graduation ceremony at a local high school. The students who had been invited to speak for their classmates expressed themselves in terms of the grand and noble challenges that lay before them as they stepped across the threshold into adult life. The adult speakers extolled the virtues and potential of today’s youth and spoke of the horizons to be conquered in future years, the new scientific frontiers to be opened by members of the graduating class, the dread diseases for which cures would be found, and the breakthroughs in diplomacy and human relations that would bring lasting peace to the earth. It was a stimulating, inspiring service.
As I listened to the impressive addresses on this occasion, I found myself framing in my own mind the things I would have liked to say to this group of young people. I knew that most of them were Latter-day Saints. I knew they came from families where there was a shared pride in their accomplishments. I also knew about the experiences some of these young people had planned for themselves in the hours and days immediately following the graduation service. I found myself wanting to plead with this graduating class, not about the glorious, obscure years of the dim future when they would hopefully accomplish so much for mankind, but about the here and now. I wanted to say to them, “I am not so much concerned about what you do next year or in the next generation; I am worried about what you are going to do tonight and tomorrow. What have you planned? Where will you go? What will you do tonight?”
I know now, as I record these thoughts, that there were those in the graduating class, as well as some other in similar groups, who willfully, with calculated premeditation, placed themselves in circumstances following their graduation services where they dishonored themselves, their families, their Church, and their Heavenly Father. Their behavior was not intended to become a permanent thing in their lives. It was done just for fun, a momentary thrill, a dare. But its cumulative effect is devastating. The results will influence their lives, and the lives of those who loved and trusted them, in unfortunate and unforeseen ways for indefinite periods of time. Humanity will have slipped inexorably to a lower level. Some will never completely recover, and all mankind will inevitably feel the loss.
For those who were faithful to the trust placed in them and did not yield to the pattern of the times, I have the most profound admiration and gratitude. You are our shining hope. I owe you a great debt. You will make a significant difference in the final outcome of things. You are the last great counter-force against the evil that is engulfing the earth. You demonstrated that you are incorruptible. You are untainted. God bless you for this!
I tremble as I read the words of the Lord to his people of this dispensation. “For this is a day of warning, and not a day of many words. For I, the Lord, am not to be mocked in the last days” (D&C 63:58).
As I view the days that lie ahead of us, I am hopeful because of the Lord’s promise. But I am frightened by his warnings to us as I see compromises being made.
Young people, let’s be faithful to the trust the Lord has given us. Let’s do what we should and fulfill the expectations placed in us. It will made a difference.

Jeff and his wife, Melissa, were attending general conference for his first time. Jeff played professional baseball (he was a catcher) and is now a physician anesthesiologist. He told me, “Much to my surprise, I am moving toward baptism because it feels like the most authentic and honest way to live.”

Earlier, Melissa had apologized to Jeff’s assigned ministering brother, “Jeff does not want ‘white shirts’ in our house.” The ministering brother said, “I’ll find a way.” Now he and Jeff are good friends. At Jeff’s baptism, I met a congregation of Latter-day Saints whom Jeff, Melissa, and their daughter, Charlotte, love.

David Arellano was 13 years old when he shyly entered the room full of people and stood behind everyone to take his first piano lesson by memorizing the cardboard keyboard. Within three weeks after David began practicing on a teclado, he was accompanying the congregation of his Cotama Ward with simplified versions of the hymns. He was so overjoyed, he wept.
During the next summer, David traveled with his father to New York City, New York, on a trip for the family merchandising business. David’s shyness did not interfere with his desire to play the piano in front of strangers. In fact, at the ward they were visiting, he bravely made himself acquainted with the organist and, as a result, he was given opportunities to play while he was there. Later, he was also asked to share his talents at a ward in Las Vegas, Nevada. However, the most thrilling moment came when David was invited to play the organ in the tabernacle in St. George, Utah. He returned home with wonderful memories of sharing his budding talent.

A few months after his mission, Elder J. Kimo Esplin was in a car accident that killed his father. Just a few months later, with his mother sitting beside him, his car was struck from behind. The car rolled, and his mother and niece were killed.
Despite the tragedies and grief he has experienced, Elder Esplin considers himself blessed. He attributes that feeling to the Lord and His goodness and tender mercies.
“Life’s been good,” he said.
One of his favorite sayings is “The Lord isn’t doing it to you; He’s doing it for you.”

Merry Christmas, Grandma and Grandpa, my two favorite missionaries!
Love, Abby
Abby underlined the word love as her brother, Zac, marched into the living room.
“What are you doing?” Zac asked as he peered over Abby’s shoulder.
“Finishing my Christmas card for Grandma and Grandpa. Are you done with yours?” Abby looked up at Zac as he dropped a fistful of crayons onto the table.
Zac shook his head. “I don’t really want to make a card for them.”
“Why?” Abby asked, surprised.
Zac shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems strange not having Grandma and Grandpa come to visit us. I miss hearing Grandpa’s great stories, and it doesn’t seem the same without Grandma serving her secret-recipe pumpkin pie.”
Abby nodded. “It’s been three months since Grandpa and Grandma left on their mission. We’ve never gone that long without seeing them. I miss them too.”
“I always thought if people loved you, they wouldn’t want to leave you.”
Abby glanced around the living room at the four red knit stockings hung on the mantelpiece, the garland strung around the kitchen doorway, and the colored lights blinking brightly on the Christmas tree. Suddenly her gaze became fixed on the Nativity scene placed on a small wooden table in the corner of the room.
“Come with me,” Abby said, gently tugging Zac’s sleeve. She led him over to the table. “Isn’t this beautiful?”
“Sure,” Zac said with a puzzled look on his face.
Abby carefully picked up two shepherd figures and three small white sheep from the manger scene. She set them on the floor beside her. “Zac, what if an angel hadn’t appeared to the shepherds, telling them Jesus was born?”
“Abby,” Zac said, upset, “the manger doesn’t look right without the shepherds and the sheep.”
“I know,” Abby said softly. “Help me put these back in place.”
She pressed the shepherds into his hands. “The shepherds knew about Jesus because somebody told them. But, Zac,” she said as he placed the shepherds close to the manger, “there are a lot of people who don’t know about Jesus.”
Zac was quiet as he ran his fingers over the top of the stable. “And Grandma and Grandpa are going to find them and teach them about Him.”
“That’s right. Think what a special Christmas this will be for the families Grandma and Grandpa are teaching the gospel to.”
“I still miss them,” Zac said, almost in a whisper.
“Me, too,” Abby agreed.
Zac scooped up his crayons. “See you later,” he said.
“Where are you going?” Abby asked.
“I have to make a Christmas card for Grandma and Grandpa.”
“Show it to me when you’re finished, OK?” Abby called as her brother disappeared around the corner. Her gaze returned to the Nativity scene. She smiled as she gently touched the small star above the manger. “Merry Christmas, Grandma and Grandpa.”

The word winner flashed across the TV screen. Ava had lost. Again.
Ava frowned at her brother Skyler and hit the start button on her video game controller. “Let’s play again.”
The game quickly started a new level. This time they were in an abandoned warehouse. Bad guys would be hiding everywhere. Ava shivered with delight and gripped her controller tightly.
But Skyler set his controller down. “I’m done playing,” he said.
Ava tried to hand his controller back. “You’re just saying that because you won,” she said. “Come on. One more level.”
Skyler shook his head. “I don’t think we should play it anymore.”
Ava watched Skyler pull the game from the console. Her mouth dropped open in shock. “Ever?”
Skyler shrugged. “It doesn’t make me feel good when I play it.”
“But Mom and Dad say it’s OK!” Ava said. “And we’ve been playing it forever!”
“I think we should get rid of it so we don’t play it again.”
Ava grabbed the game from him. “You can’t decide for the rest of us!” she said. “It has to be fair!” She turned to the couch where their little sister Betsy sat watching. “Betsy, what do you think?”
“It’s kind of scary,” she said.
Ava couldn’t believe Betsy was choosing Skyler’s side.
Skyler gently took the game from her hand. “OK, I’ll just hide it for a while,” he said. “We have lots of good games to play instead. Maybe we won’t even miss it.”
Ava just glared and watched him put the game into his pocket.
The next day Ava went to the family room to play the game. Then she remembered. Skyler had hidden it. I’ll just find it then, Ava thought. She checked under Skyler’s bed. She checked between the couch cushions. She even checked the chicken coop!
But weeks went by and the game was still missing. Skyler had hidden it really well. Some days, Ava completely forgot about the game.
One afternoon it was Ava’s turn to do laundry. She opened Skyler’s dresser drawer and started putting his clothes away.
Something poked out at the back of a drawer. It didn’t look like clothes. Ava slowly pulled it out.
It was the game! It had been here the whole time! Ava grinned. She couldn’t wait to play it again. She was sure Skyler would play it too once he remembered how fun it was.
Except … it was a little scary, like Betsy had said. Suddenly Ava wasn’t so sure. It was more violent than their other games—even if Mom and Dad hadn’t noticed.
Skyler said it didn’t make him feel good. Ava thought about it. Maybe he was right. Sometimes after playing the game, she would argue with Betsy more or be angry at Skyler for winning. She hadn’t felt good either. She just hadn’t noticed until now. Ava put the game back in the drawer and set a stack of shirts on top.
“Ava!” Skyler called. He leaned into the room, smiling. “Dad says we can’t beat him at basketball. Want to prove him wrong?”
Watching movies or playing games that make you feel bad … is like eating worms just because they’re there!
Ava glanced down at the drawer. She thought a moment. The video game was fun. But it didn’t make her or her siblings feel good.
Ava smiled. “Yeah!” she said. She closed the drawer, and the two raced out of the bedroom, leaving the game behind.

We heard of the passing away of sister Rebecca’s father at their native place, Tiruchi. Members of the ward visited to offer their condolences to them and to their extended family.
As ministering brethren, Brother Raja Ganapathy and I were able to offer a small prayer of comfort and safe travel for their family who were traveling to Trichy. During the same day, Brother Karthikeyan, and Brother Raja Ganapathi, and I decided to travel to Trichy to represent our ward and offer our silent comfort to the family. This sudden travel arrangement had to be made without any bus or train reservations. We made our way to reach Trichy by travelling in various trains and buses. After many hours of travel, we joined their family around midnight.
This travel was purely to give moral support to their family members at their time of need. The next day in the early morning, even much before their family made their traditional funeral service at an Roman Catholic Church, we members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints gathered together and were able to comfort Sister Rebecca’s family by singing our Church hymns, and a wonderful prayer was offered in Tamil by Brother Raja Ganapathy.
“Ministering is always needed. We may not know when, but we must always be prepared to minister to others.”

There was an increase in use of social media as leaders and members shared messages of events, activities, and inspirational messages to the community. Stake Light the World Facebook groups were used to encourage more to share how they were lighting up the world. To help encourage all members to get involved in the Light the World initiative this year, Rebecca Ballard (special media specialist in the Belfast Northern Ireland Stake) took on the task of posting one item per day on their stake social media featuring a member or missionary serving from the stake and sharing one of their favourite ways to serve.

When the McCanns first saw it set amongst acres of pine trees on idyllic Kangaroo Island, they knew they had to secure the holiday home. Evonne and David Sandelin McCann envisioned retreats here with their five children and youth camps for their stake in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
In the years since, all their dreams became reality. The McCanns generously opened their home to friends and the Church’s youth groups, who have wonderful memories of staying there—experiencing dusk surrounded by kangaroos, wallabies, possums, and spotting koalas snuggled in the boughs of the eucalyptus trees.

When Ashlee Broadbent and Carolyn Betz found out that two of their special-needs friends, Claudia and Liz, would be attending the school’s spring prom, they wanted to help. They helped Claudia and Liz design their own prom dresses, which were custom-made by a friend. Then they organized a group of 20 friends and rented a bus to travel to the dance together. The night of the prom, Carolyn’s sister gave Claudia and Liz a full-blown makeover, doing their hair, nails, and make-up. Ashlee took photos and waved good-bye as Carolyn, Claudia, and Liz left for dinner and the dance with the rest of the group. At age 15, Ashlee wasn’t yet old enough to date.
“We wanted to give them an extra special time. It started out as a simple project,” Carolyn says. “We came away with two new friends.”