Much missionary work will be brought about by the Hong Kong Temple. Family, friends neighbors, and co-workers ask members about the majestic granite building that bears the name of their church.
Indeed, much was accomplished even while the temple was being built. “Initially the construction workers had no concept of this project,” observes Carl Champagnie, assistant project manager. “It was just a job to them. But as the building progressed, we saw the attitude of the workers change. They knew this was a building they could be proud of.”
Hong Kong Mission President John Aki says that a few workers even started investigating the Church, partly as a result of a luncheon for the construction workers hosted by young men and young women from the Hong Kong Kowloon East Stake. “Those men were impressed by the feelings they felt,” President Aki reports. “They knew the temple was a building of importance.”
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A Dream Come True in Hong Kong
Summary: The temple was designed not only as a place of worship but also as a means of influencing those around it. As construction progressed, workers came to view the building with pride, and some even began investigating the Church after a luncheon hosted by local youth. Mission leaders saw these experiences as evidence that the temple was already having missionary effects before it was even finished.
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👤 Youth
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Other
Conversion
Missionary Work
Temples
Young Men
Young Women
The Balm of Gilead
Summary: The speaker compares a vacant lot that gradually becomes a junkyard to the mind, which can be cluttered by small, harmful thoughts until it becomes spiritually unhealthy. He urges listeners to set boundaries, cleanse the mind, and replace harmful thoughts with edifying ones.
The story then turns to a friend whose bitterness after his wife’s death nearly ruined his life, until a wise leader counseled him, “John, leave it alone.” Years later he realized that forgiving and letting go had spared him and others, and the message concludes by urging forgiveness, prayer, and peace through Christ.
Somewhere near your home there is a vacant corner lot. Although adjoining yards may be well tended, a vacant corner lot somehow is always full of weeds.
There is a footpath across it, a bicycle trail, and ordinarily it is a collecting place for junk. First someone threw a few lawn clippings there. They would not hurt anything. Someone added a few sticks and limbs from a nearby yard. Then came a few papers and a plastic bag, and finally some tin cans and old bottles were included.
And there it was—a junkyard.
The neighbors did not intend it to be that. But little contributions from here and there made it so.
This corner lot is like, so very much like, the minds of many of us. We leave our minds vacant and empty and open to trespass by anyone. Whatever is dumped there we keep.
We would not consciously permit anyone to dump junk into our minds, not old cans and bottles. But after lawn clippings and papers, the other things just don’t seem all that much worse.
Our minds can become veritable junk heaps with dirty, cast-off ideas that accumulate there little by little.
Years ago I put up some signs in my mind. They are very clearly printed and simply read: “No trespassing.” “No dumping allowed.” On occasions it has been necessary to show them very plainly to others.
I do not want anything coming into my mind that does not have some useful purpose or some value that makes it worth keeping. I have enough trouble keeping the weeds down that sprout there on their own without permitting someone else to clutter my mind with things that do not edify.
I’ve hauled a few of these away in my lifetime. Occasionally I’ve tossed these thoughts back over the fence where they came from, when it could be done in a friendly manner.
I’ve had to evict some thoughts a hundred times before they would stay out. I have never been successful until I have put something edifying in their place.
I do not want my mind to be a dumping place for shabby ideas or thoughts, for disappointments, bitterness, envy, shame, hatred, worry, grief, or jealousy.
If you are fretting over such things, it’s time to clean the yard. Get rid of all that junk! Get rid of it!
Put up a “no trespassing” sign, a “no dumping” sign, and take control of yourself. Don’t keep anything that will not edify you.
The first thing a doctor does with a wound is to clean it out. He gets rid of all foreign matter and drains off infection—however much it hurts.
Once you do that spiritually, you will have a different perspective. You will have much less to worry about. It is easy to get all mixed up about worry.
Somewhere there is a message in the protest of a man who said: “You can’t tell me worry doesn’t help. The things I worry about never happen.”
Many years ago I was taught a lesson by a man I admired very much. He was as saintly a man as I have ever known. He was steady and serene, with a deep spiritual strength that many drew upon.
He knew just how to minister to others who were suffering. On a number of occasions I was present when he gave blessings to those who were sick or otherwise afflicted.
His life had been a life of service, both in the Church and in the community.
He had presided over one of the missions of the Church and looked forward to the annual missionary reunion. When he was older he was not able to drive at night, and I offered to take him to the reunions.
This modest gesture was repaid a thousandfold.
On one occasion when we were alone and the spirit was right, he gave me a lesson for my life from an experience in his. Although I thought I had known him, he told me things I would not have supposed.
He grew up in a little community. Somehow in his youth he had a desire to make something of himself and struggled successfully to get an education.
He married a lovely young woman, and presently everything in his life was just right. He was well employed, with a bright future. They were deeply in love, and she was expecting their first child.
The night the baby was to be born there were complications. The only doctor was somewhere in the countryside tending to the sick. They were not able to find him. After many hours of labor the condition of the mother-to-be became desperate.
Finally the doctor arrived. He sensed the emergency, acted quickly, and soon had things in order. The baby was born and the crisis, it appeared, was over.
Some days later the young mother died from the very infection that the doctor had been treating at the other home that night.
My friend’s world was shattered. Everything was not right now; everything was all wrong. He had lost his wife, his sweetheart. He had no way to take care of a tiny baby and at once tend to his work.
As the weeks wore on his grief festered. “That doctor should not be allowed to practice,” he would say. “He brought that infection to my wife; if he had been careful she would be alive today.” He thought of little else, and in his bitterness he became threatening.
Then one night a knock came at his door. A little youngster said, simply, “Daddy wants you to come over. He wants to talk to you.”
“Daddy” was the stake president. A grieving, heartbroken young man went to see his spiritual leader. This spiritual shepherd had been watching his flock and had something to say to him.
The counsel from this wise servant was simply: “John, leave it alone. Nothing you do about it will bring her back. Anything you do will make it worse. John, leave it alone.”
My friend told me then that this had been his trial, his Gethsemane.
How could he leave it alone? Right was right! A terrible wrong had been committed, and somebody must pay for it.
He struggled in agony to get hold of himself. It did not happen at once. Finally he determined that whatever else the issues were, he should be obedient.
Obedience is a powerful spiritual medicine. It comes close to being a cure-all.
He determined to follow the counsel of that wise spiritual leader. He would leave it alone.
Then he told me, “I was an old man before I finally understood. It was not until I was an old man that I could finally see a poor country doctor—over-worked, underpaid, run ragged from patient to patient, with little proper medicine, no hospital, few instruments. He struggled to save lives, and succeeded for the most part.
“He had come in a moment of crisis when two lives hung in the balance and had acted without delay.
“I was an old man,” he repeated, “before finally I understood. I would have ruined my life,” he said, “and the lives of others.”
Many times he had thanked the Lord on his knees for a wise spiritual leader who counseled simply, “John, leave it alone.”
And that is my counsel to you. If you have festering sores, a grudge, some bitterness, disappointment, or jealousy, get hold of yourself. You may not be able to control things out there with others, but you can control things here, inside of you.
I say, therefore: John, leave it alone. Mary, leave it alone.
You may need a transfusion of spiritual strength to be able to do this. Then just ask for it. We call that prayer. Prayer is powerful, spiritual medicine. The instructions for its use are found in the scriptures.
One of our sacred hymns carries this message:
Ere you left your room this morning,
Did you think to pray? …
When your soul was full of sorrow,
Balm of Gilead did you borrow
At the gates of day?
O how praying rests the weary!
Prayer will change the night to day;
So when life gets dark and dreary,
Don’t forget to pray.
(Hymns, no. 31.)
All of us carry excess baggage around from time to time, but the wisest ones among us don’t carry it for very long. They get rid of it.
Some of it you have to get rid of without really solving the problem. Some things that ought to be put in order are not put in order because you can’t control them.
Often, however, the things we carry are petty, even stupid. If you are still upset after all these years because Aunt Clara didn’t come to your wedding reception, why don’t you grow up? Forget it.
If you brood constantly over some past mistake, settle it—look ahead.
If the bishop didn’t call you right—or release you right—forget it.
If you resent someone for something he has done—or failed to do—forget it.
We call that forgiveness. It is powerful, spiritual medicine. The instructions for its use are found in the scriptures.
I repeat: John, leave it alone. Mary, leave it alone. Purge and cleanse and soothe your soul and your heart and your mind.
It will then be as though a cloudy, dirty film has been erased from the world around you; and though the problem may remain, the sun will come out. The beam will have been lifted from your eyes. There will come a peace that surpasseth understanding.
A great significant message of the gospel of Jesus Christ is exemplified by the title given to Him: the Prince of Peace. If we follow Him, we can have that individually and collectively.
He has said: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27.)
If you, my brother or sister, are troubled, there is at hand, not just in Gilead, a soothing, healing balm.
Consider this:
“If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.
“If ye love me, keep my commandments.
“And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever;
“Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.
“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” (John 14:14–18.)
I bear witness of Him who is the Great Comforter and as one authorized to bear that witness testify that He lives. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
There is a footpath across it, a bicycle trail, and ordinarily it is a collecting place for junk. First someone threw a few lawn clippings there. They would not hurt anything. Someone added a few sticks and limbs from a nearby yard. Then came a few papers and a plastic bag, and finally some tin cans and old bottles were included.
And there it was—a junkyard.
The neighbors did not intend it to be that. But little contributions from here and there made it so.
This corner lot is like, so very much like, the minds of many of us. We leave our minds vacant and empty and open to trespass by anyone. Whatever is dumped there we keep.
We would not consciously permit anyone to dump junk into our minds, not old cans and bottles. But after lawn clippings and papers, the other things just don’t seem all that much worse.
Our minds can become veritable junk heaps with dirty, cast-off ideas that accumulate there little by little.
Years ago I put up some signs in my mind. They are very clearly printed and simply read: “No trespassing.” “No dumping allowed.” On occasions it has been necessary to show them very plainly to others.
I do not want anything coming into my mind that does not have some useful purpose or some value that makes it worth keeping. I have enough trouble keeping the weeds down that sprout there on their own without permitting someone else to clutter my mind with things that do not edify.
I’ve hauled a few of these away in my lifetime. Occasionally I’ve tossed these thoughts back over the fence where they came from, when it could be done in a friendly manner.
I’ve had to evict some thoughts a hundred times before they would stay out. I have never been successful until I have put something edifying in their place.
I do not want my mind to be a dumping place for shabby ideas or thoughts, for disappointments, bitterness, envy, shame, hatred, worry, grief, or jealousy.
If you are fretting over such things, it’s time to clean the yard. Get rid of all that junk! Get rid of it!
Put up a “no trespassing” sign, a “no dumping” sign, and take control of yourself. Don’t keep anything that will not edify you.
The first thing a doctor does with a wound is to clean it out. He gets rid of all foreign matter and drains off infection—however much it hurts.
Once you do that spiritually, you will have a different perspective. You will have much less to worry about. It is easy to get all mixed up about worry.
Somewhere there is a message in the protest of a man who said: “You can’t tell me worry doesn’t help. The things I worry about never happen.”
Many years ago I was taught a lesson by a man I admired very much. He was as saintly a man as I have ever known. He was steady and serene, with a deep spiritual strength that many drew upon.
He knew just how to minister to others who were suffering. On a number of occasions I was present when he gave blessings to those who were sick or otherwise afflicted.
His life had been a life of service, both in the Church and in the community.
He had presided over one of the missions of the Church and looked forward to the annual missionary reunion. When he was older he was not able to drive at night, and I offered to take him to the reunions.
This modest gesture was repaid a thousandfold.
On one occasion when we were alone and the spirit was right, he gave me a lesson for my life from an experience in his. Although I thought I had known him, he told me things I would not have supposed.
He grew up in a little community. Somehow in his youth he had a desire to make something of himself and struggled successfully to get an education.
He married a lovely young woman, and presently everything in his life was just right. He was well employed, with a bright future. They were deeply in love, and she was expecting their first child.
The night the baby was to be born there were complications. The only doctor was somewhere in the countryside tending to the sick. They were not able to find him. After many hours of labor the condition of the mother-to-be became desperate.
Finally the doctor arrived. He sensed the emergency, acted quickly, and soon had things in order. The baby was born and the crisis, it appeared, was over.
Some days later the young mother died from the very infection that the doctor had been treating at the other home that night.
My friend’s world was shattered. Everything was not right now; everything was all wrong. He had lost his wife, his sweetheart. He had no way to take care of a tiny baby and at once tend to his work.
As the weeks wore on his grief festered. “That doctor should not be allowed to practice,” he would say. “He brought that infection to my wife; if he had been careful she would be alive today.” He thought of little else, and in his bitterness he became threatening.
Then one night a knock came at his door. A little youngster said, simply, “Daddy wants you to come over. He wants to talk to you.”
“Daddy” was the stake president. A grieving, heartbroken young man went to see his spiritual leader. This spiritual shepherd had been watching his flock and had something to say to him.
The counsel from this wise servant was simply: “John, leave it alone. Nothing you do about it will bring her back. Anything you do will make it worse. John, leave it alone.”
My friend told me then that this had been his trial, his Gethsemane.
How could he leave it alone? Right was right! A terrible wrong had been committed, and somebody must pay for it.
He struggled in agony to get hold of himself. It did not happen at once. Finally he determined that whatever else the issues were, he should be obedient.
Obedience is a powerful spiritual medicine. It comes close to being a cure-all.
He determined to follow the counsel of that wise spiritual leader. He would leave it alone.
Then he told me, “I was an old man before I finally understood. It was not until I was an old man that I could finally see a poor country doctor—over-worked, underpaid, run ragged from patient to patient, with little proper medicine, no hospital, few instruments. He struggled to save lives, and succeeded for the most part.
“He had come in a moment of crisis when two lives hung in the balance and had acted without delay.
“I was an old man,” he repeated, “before finally I understood. I would have ruined my life,” he said, “and the lives of others.”
Many times he had thanked the Lord on his knees for a wise spiritual leader who counseled simply, “John, leave it alone.”
And that is my counsel to you. If you have festering sores, a grudge, some bitterness, disappointment, or jealousy, get hold of yourself. You may not be able to control things out there with others, but you can control things here, inside of you.
I say, therefore: John, leave it alone. Mary, leave it alone.
You may need a transfusion of spiritual strength to be able to do this. Then just ask for it. We call that prayer. Prayer is powerful, spiritual medicine. The instructions for its use are found in the scriptures.
One of our sacred hymns carries this message:
Ere you left your room this morning,
Did you think to pray? …
When your soul was full of sorrow,
Balm of Gilead did you borrow
At the gates of day?
O how praying rests the weary!
Prayer will change the night to day;
So when life gets dark and dreary,
Don’t forget to pray.
(Hymns, no. 31.)
All of us carry excess baggage around from time to time, but the wisest ones among us don’t carry it for very long. They get rid of it.
Some of it you have to get rid of without really solving the problem. Some things that ought to be put in order are not put in order because you can’t control them.
Often, however, the things we carry are petty, even stupid. If you are still upset after all these years because Aunt Clara didn’t come to your wedding reception, why don’t you grow up? Forget it.
If you brood constantly over some past mistake, settle it—look ahead.
If the bishop didn’t call you right—or release you right—forget it.
If you resent someone for something he has done—or failed to do—forget it.
We call that forgiveness. It is powerful, spiritual medicine. The instructions for its use are found in the scriptures.
I repeat: John, leave it alone. Mary, leave it alone. Purge and cleanse and soothe your soul and your heart and your mind.
It will then be as though a cloudy, dirty film has been erased from the world around you; and though the problem may remain, the sun will come out. The beam will have been lifted from your eyes. There will come a peace that surpasseth understanding.
A great significant message of the gospel of Jesus Christ is exemplified by the title given to Him: the Prince of Peace. If we follow Him, we can have that individually and collectively.
He has said: “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” (John 14:27.)
If you, my brother or sister, are troubled, there is at hand, not just in Gilead, a soothing, healing balm.
Consider this:
“If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.
“If ye love me, keep my commandments.
“And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you for ever;
“Even the Spirit of truth; whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth him not, neither knoweth him: but ye know him; for he dwelleth with you, and shall be in you.
“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” (John 14:14–18.)
I bear witness of Him who is the Great Comforter and as one authorized to bear that witness testify that He lives. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
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👤 Other
Agency and Accountability
Temptation
Truth
Virtue
Harmonica Hassle
Summary: A boy receives a new harmonica, which his friend angrily throws into a muddy irrigation ditch. Furious, the boy sets out to report his friend to the city marshall but meets a kindly man, Brother Allred, who cleans the harmonica and gently counsels him to go home. The boy later discovers that the man is the city marshall, and with time his anger subsides. He learns to play the harmonica, and he and his friend reconcile within a week.
One lunchtime in the fall before my sixth birthday, Dad came home and presented me with a beautiful, shiny-new harmonica. The wooden part was painted a bright red. A gleaming, nickel-plated metal guard on both sides protected the delicate reeds. The harmonica came in a small cardboard box lined with dark red velvet. It was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen!
I knew nothing about playing the harmonica, so I just blew and drew air through it as I had seen other people do. Somehow, I expected it to make music. I tried again and again, but nary a tune came out. “It doesn’t work,” I told my dad.
“Oh yes it does,” he responded. “Here. Let me have it a minute.” He tapped it in the palm of his hand a couple of times to release the moisture, then played an old Danish dance. It sounded smooth and happy.
“Can you play ‘Yankee Doodle’?” I begged.
He immediately switched tunes, and “Yankee Doodle” came out sharp and crisp.
I tried again, but all I got was that same monotonous, discordant sound.
“When I get home tonight,” Dad said, “I’ll teach you how to play some tunes. In the meantime, keep trying to play it. You may learn something by yourself.”
Dad wanted me to eventually learn to play a more difficult instrument. He reasoned that if I learned to play the harmonica well, it might be easier for me to learn a more complicated instrument.
When my friend Arthur Schultz came over later, I showed him the harmonica, and we decided to show it to some of our other friends. Hans Larsen was the first one we met. He was about a year younger than me, and we played together often.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s a brand new harmonica that my dad gave me,” I answered. “Isn’t it a beauty?”
Hans looked skeptical. “Can you play it?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“Play ‘Yankee Doodle.’”
I began to play. It was that same monotonous sound.
“I bet I can play it better than that,” he bragged. “Here—let me try it.”
I gave him the harmonica. His “tune” sounded exactly like mine.
“This harmonica’s no good,” he said, and he threw it as hard as he could. I let out a yelp when I saw that it had landed in an irrigation ditch. We’d had a big rainstorm the day before, and the water in the ditch was so muddy that the harmonica instantly sank out of sight.
I ran to the water, got down on my hands and knees, and began probing around. I thought that I knew exactly where the harmonica had landed, but it wasn’t there. I searched for ten minutes before I finally located it. When I waded out of the ditch, my pants were wet from my thighs down. My shirt was wet up to my elbows, and the harmonica was all covered with mud and dirty brown water.
After Hans had thrown my harmonica into the irrigation ditch, he had run away as fast as he could. I was really angry. In fact, I was furious! I couldn’t believe that Hans would do such a terrible thing. Hans deserves some awful punishment, I decided. Looking at that mud-streaked harmonica only increased my anger. I had to figure out a punishment equal to his terrible crime.
Arthur walked with me over to Hans’s house. I imagined that he was hiding somewhere inside. “Hans,” I yelled, standing on his front porch, “you’re going to get it! I’m going downtown and tell the city marshall on you. He’ll come and arrest you and take you to jail. He’ll put you in a cell all by yourself. At night it will be dark and cold. No one will talk to you, you’ll have to eat miserable jail food, and everybody will hate you. I won’t come to see you. They’ll make you do all kinds of hard work!” The list became longer and longer.
Then Arthur and I started downtown. I didn’t exactly know where the city marshall might be, but surely I would find him there. As we walked along talking, my voice became louder and louder. Pretty soon I was shouting about what was going to happen to Hans Larsen.
“What’s going on, boys?” a man sitting on his front porch asked. He was wearing a business suit, with his coat and vest unbuttoned. I explained to him about Hans’s terrible deed and told him that I was on my way to tell the city marshall to arrest him.
“Why don’t you come up on the porch so that we can talk about it some more,” the man suggested.
We climbed the man’s steps.
“My name is Brother Allred,” the man said. “What’s yours?”
I told him that my name was Christian Jensen and that my friend was Arthur Schultz. I showed him the muddy harmonica, and he agreed that it looked pretty shabby.
“His dad paid fifteen cents for it at the Co-op,” Arthur explained.
“It looks like a very fine instrument,” Brother Allred remarked. “Let me have it for a minute, and I’ll see if I can clean it up a bit.” He took the harmonica and went into the house. In a few minutes he returned. The harmonica looked brand-new. “It’s all cleaned up now,” he said, “inside and out. By evening the reeds will be dry enough that you can play it again.” Then he asked, “Can you play it yet?”
“I can play it, but I can’t play any tunes on it yet,” I answered.
“Do you know where you live from here?”
I pointed in a south-easterly direction.
“Don’t you think that your folks might be wondering where you are and that they might be worrying about you because you’ve been away so long?”
In all my excitement I hadn’t given a thought to my folks. “I guess that you’re right, but I still have to go downtown and tell the city marshall about Hans.”
“I can take care of that for you,” he answered.
“Do you know the city marshall?” I asked.
“Well, yes,” he replied. “You might say so. Now listen, I’ll walk with you boys up to the corner, and then I think that you’d better get home as fast as you can.” Pointing to me, he added, “You’re going to need to get into some dry clothes.”
The three of us walked to the corner, and Brother Allred said, “Well, boys, it was good to visit with you, but now I must get to work.”
As he was talking, he began buttoning up his vest. Under his left armpit was a holster with a revolver in it! On his buttoned vest was a star!
Then it dawned on me. “You’re the—” I couldn’t bring out the words.
“Yes,” he said, “I’m the city marshall. I’ll leave you boys now. I have to do my job.”
Does he mean that he’s going over to Hans Larsen’s house to arrest him right now? I agonized as Arthur and I headed for home. Suddenly I panicked. I had told the city marshall about Hans, and now he’d arrest Hans and put him in jail! Deep down in my heart I didn’t want Hans arrested, even though I had made those threats against him. I must stop the city marshall right now, I decided.
When we caught up with the marshall, I said, “Marshall Allred, about Hans—”
The marshall put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me from saying anything more. “I understand,” he said. “You were angry because he threw your brand-new harmonica into the dirty water, and you had a right to be angry. I’m sure that Hans is sorry for what he did. He’s probably worrying now about what he can do to make things right with you so that you can be friends again. I want you to go straight home and get on some dry clothes. Things will work out.”
I said good-bye to him, and Arthur and I hurried home. While I was getting on some dry clothing, I told my mother about the entire incident.
As Marshall Allred had predicted, after supper the harmonica was dry enough for my dad to begin teaching me how to play it.
The marshall was right about Hans, too—in a little over a week, Hans and I were playing together again.
I knew nothing about playing the harmonica, so I just blew and drew air through it as I had seen other people do. Somehow, I expected it to make music. I tried again and again, but nary a tune came out. “It doesn’t work,” I told my dad.
“Oh yes it does,” he responded. “Here. Let me have it a minute.” He tapped it in the palm of his hand a couple of times to release the moisture, then played an old Danish dance. It sounded smooth and happy.
“Can you play ‘Yankee Doodle’?” I begged.
He immediately switched tunes, and “Yankee Doodle” came out sharp and crisp.
I tried again, but all I got was that same monotonous, discordant sound.
“When I get home tonight,” Dad said, “I’ll teach you how to play some tunes. In the meantime, keep trying to play it. You may learn something by yourself.”
Dad wanted me to eventually learn to play a more difficult instrument. He reasoned that if I learned to play the harmonica well, it might be easier for me to learn a more complicated instrument.
When my friend Arthur Schultz came over later, I showed him the harmonica, and we decided to show it to some of our other friends. Hans Larsen was the first one we met. He was about a year younger than me, and we played together often.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s a brand new harmonica that my dad gave me,” I answered. “Isn’t it a beauty?”
Hans looked skeptical. “Can you play it?”
“Sure,” I replied.
“Play ‘Yankee Doodle.’”
I began to play. It was that same monotonous sound.
“I bet I can play it better than that,” he bragged. “Here—let me try it.”
I gave him the harmonica. His “tune” sounded exactly like mine.
“This harmonica’s no good,” he said, and he threw it as hard as he could. I let out a yelp when I saw that it had landed in an irrigation ditch. We’d had a big rainstorm the day before, and the water in the ditch was so muddy that the harmonica instantly sank out of sight.
I ran to the water, got down on my hands and knees, and began probing around. I thought that I knew exactly where the harmonica had landed, but it wasn’t there. I searched for ten minutes before I finally located it. When I waded out of the ditch, my pants were wet from my thighs down. My shirt was wet up to my elbows, and the harmonica was all covered with mud and dirty brown water.
After Hans had thrown my harmonica into the irrigation ditch, he had run away as fast as he could. I was really angry. In fact, I was furious! I couldn’t believe that Hans would do such a terrible thing. Hans deserves some awful punishment, I decided. Looking at that mud-streaked harmonica only increased my anger. I had to figure out a punishment equal to his terrible crime.
Arthur walked with me over to Hans’s house. I imagined that he was hiding somewhere inside. “Hans,” I yelled, standing on his front porch, “you’re going to get it! I’m going downtown and tell the city marshall on you. He’ll come and arrest you and take you to jail. He’ll put you in a cell all by yourself. At night it will be dark and cold. No one will talk to you, you’ll have to eat miserable jail food, and everybody will hate you. I won’t come to see you. They’ll make you do all kinds of hard work!” The list became longer and longer.
Then Arthur and I started downtown. I didn’t exactly know where the city marshall might be, but surely I would find him there. As we walked along talking, my voice became louder and louder. Pretty soon I was shouting about what was going to happen to Hans Larsen.
“What’s going on, boys?” a man sitting on his front porch asked. He was wearing a business suit, with his coat and vest unbuttoned. I explained to him about Hans’s terrible deed and told him that I was on my way to tell the city marshall to arrest him.
“Why don’t you come up on the porch so that we can talk about it some more,” the man suggested.
We climbed the man’s steps.
“My name is Brother Allred,” the man said. “What’s yours?”
I told him that my name was Christian Jensen and that my friend was Arthur Schultz. I showed him the muddy harmonica, and he agreed that it looked pretty shabby.
“His dad paid fifteen cents for it at the Co-op,” Arthur explained.
“It looks like a very fine instrument,” Brother Allred remarked. “Let me have it for a minute, and I’ll see if I can clean it up a bit.” He took the harmonica and went into the house. In a few minutes he returned. The harmonica looked brand-new. “It’s all cleaned up now,” he said, “inside and out. By evening the reeds will be dry enough that you can play it again.” Then he asked, “Can you play it yet?”
“I can play it, but I can’t play any tunes on it yet,” I answered.
“Do you know where you live from here?”
I pointed in a south-easterly direction.
“Don’t you think that your folks might be wondering where you are and that they might be worrying about you because you’ve been away so long?”
In all my excitement I hadn’t given a thought to my folks. “I guess that you’re right, but I still have to go downtown and tell the city marshall about Hans.”
“I can take care of that for you,” he answered.
“Do you know the city marshall?” I asked.
“Well, yes,” he replied. “You might say so. Now listen, I’ll walk with you boys up to the corner, and then I think that you’d better get home as fast as you can.” Pointing to me, he added, “You’re going to need to get into some dry clothes.”
The three of us walked to the corner, and Brother Allred said, “Well, boys, it was good to visit with you, but now I must get to work.”
As he was talking, he began buttoning up his vest. Under his left armpit was a holster with a revolver in it! On his buttoned vest was a star!
Then it dawned on me. “You’re the—” I couldn’t bring out the words.
“Yes,” he said, “I’m the city marshall. I’ll leave you boys now. I have to do my job.”
Does he mean that he’s going over to Hans Larsen’s house to arrest him right now? I agonized as Arthur and I headed for home. Suddenly I panicked. I had told the city marshall about Hans, and now he’d arrest Hans and put him in jail! Deep down in my heart I didn’t want Hans arrested, even though I had made those threats against him. I must stop the city marshall right now, I decided.
When we caught up with the marshall, I said, “Marshall Allred, about Hans—”
The marshall put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me from saying anything more. “I understand,” he said. “You were angry because he threw your brand-new harmonica into the dirty water, and you had a right to be angry. I’m sure that Hans is sorry for what he did. He’s probably worrying now about what he can do to make things right with you so that you can be friends again. I want you to go straight home and get on some dry clothes. Things will work out.”
I said good-bye to him, and Arthur and I hurried home. While I was getting on some dry clothing, I told my mother about the entire incident.
As Marshall Allred had predicted, after supper the harmonica was dry enough for my dad to begin teaching me how to play it.
The marshall was right about Hans, too—in a little over a week, Hans and I were playing together again.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Children
Forgiveness
Friendship
Kindness
Music
Jeremiah:
Summary: While visiting New Caledonia, a mission president met Olivier Pecqueux, a 24-year-old inactive member serving in the military. After discussing his patriarchal blessing, Olivier chose to repent and submit to the Lord. He was called on a full-time mission, became a capable elder, and later attended college and married in the Tahiti Temple.
During my service as mission president, I met many young people who also demonstrated this kind of pliability. I first met Olivier Pecqueux on a visit to New Caledonia. He was 24 years old and in the military service. He was not active in the Church, pursuing instead a life of worldliness. But the Lord had other plans for him. At his request we met and discussed his patriarchal blessing. He decided to humble himself, repent, and let the Lord mold his life. Soon he was called on a full-time mission, and he became one of my most capable elders. He is now attending college and was recently married in the Tahiti temple.
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👤 Young Adults
👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Conversion
Education
Humility
Marriage
Missionary Work
Patriarchal Blessings
Repentance
Sealing
Temples
Just Be Kind
Summary: When Kendall was ill, the girls would leave home to paint signs because it was hard to see her suffering, and painting lifted their load. After Kendall passed away at age 16, they found comfort in believing families are forever and felt their efforts helped them feel closer to Kendall and Kallen.
Painting the signs has helped Raegan and Rylyn through challenges. “When Kendall was sick, there were times we didn’t really want to be in the house because it was hard for us to see. So we decided to go and paint, and that lifted the load a lot,” Raegan says.
Kendall eventually passed away at age 16. Raegan says, “It was hard, but we knew that families are forever. We knew that even if we didn’t have much time with her, if we do our part, it’ll help us be closer to being with Kendall and Kallen again.”
Kendall eventually passed away at age 16. Raegan says, “It was hard, but we knew that families are forever. We knew that even if we didn’t have much time with her, if we do our part, it’ll help us be closer to being with Kendall and Kallen again.”
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👤 Youth
👤 Other
Adversity
Death
Faith
Family
Grief
Hope
Plan of Salvation
Sealing
The Story Quilt
Summary: Grandma shares how her grandmother Nellie longed for a lace wedding dress but could not afford it. Nellie’s mother secretly learned lace-making over two years and finished only the veil in time for the wedding. Nellie treasured the veil for decades and later added a piece to the Story Quilt to remember her mother’s sacrifice.
Now it was Michael who reached out and pointed to a square. This one was solid white.
“What about this one, Grandma?” he asked. “What’s the story behind it?”
“That,” she said, noticing that Jesse had fallen asleep in her arms, “is a piece of cloth from my grandmother’s wedding veil.
“My grandmother Nellie was the daughter of a farmer. Money was scarce for farmers in those days, and things like fancy wedding dresses were for the rich. But when Nellie became engaged to her beau of three years, she was determined to have a white lace dress.
“Not far from their farm lived an Italian woman who made the most beautiful lace that Nellie had ever seen. Now, because lace-making is a time-consuming and delicate work, it is quite expensive. When Nellie learned the cost of making an entire dress of lace, it seemed that she would have to give up her heart’s desire. Even though she had scrimped and saved for three years, the amount that she had was not nearly enough for the dress. In fact, it wasn’t even enough for the veil!
“Nellie was heartbroken. She lay in her room and cried for hours. Finally facing reality, she dried her eyes and went to talk to her mother. Together, she knew, they could make a pretty dress for her wedding day.
“With the money that she had saved, Nellie bought the material for her dress and some fancy beads to sew onto it. When it was finished, she was pleased. It was pretty and fit well.
“But as it turned out, Nellie was in for a surprise. Her mother, knowing how badly her daughter wanted a lace wedding dress, had been secretly learning to make lace. The Italian woman was her teacher.
“It had taken her over two years to learn the art of lace-making well enough to begin work on the dress. She worked late each night after her family had gone to bed and was still up before them each morning to prepare breakfast. She worked each chance she got, but, because it was such painstaking and delicate work, she had only been able to complete the veil before the wedding.
“Nellie was so touched by her mother’s sacrifice that she saved the veil for over sixty years. When she was very old, she cut a square of lace and sewed it onto a piece of material she had saved from her wedding dress, and added it to the Story Quilt.”
“So the story of her mother’s sacrifice will always be remembered by our family.” Jenna pointed out.
“That’s right,” Grandma told him. “And over the years I added many pieces of cloth to this quilt before I finished it.”
“What about this one, Grandma?” he asked. “What’s the story behind it?”
“That,” she said, noticing that Jesse had fallen asleep in her arms, “is a piece of cloth from my grandmother’s wedding veil.
“My grandmother Nellie was the daughter of a farmer. Money was scarce for farmers in those days, and things like fancy wedding dresses were for the rich. But when Nellie became engaged to her beau of three years, she was determined to have a white lace dress.
“Not far from their farm lived an Italian woman who made the most beautiful lace that Nellie had ever seen. Now, because lace-making is a time-consuming and delicate work, it is quite expensive. When Nellie learned the cost of making an entire dress of lace, it seemed that she would have to give up her heart’s desire. Even though she had scrimped and saved for three years, the amount that she had was not nearly enough for the dress. In fact, it wasn’t even enough for the veil!
“Nellie was heartbroken. She lay in her room and cried for hours. Finally facing reality, she dried her eyes and went to talk to her mother. Together, she knew, they could make a pretty dress for her wedding day.
“With the money that she had saved, Nellie bought the material for her dress and some fancy beads to sew onto it. When it was finished, she was pleased. It was pretty and fit well.
“But as it turned out, Nellie was in for a surprise. Her mother, knowing how badly her daughter wanted a lace wedding dress, had been secretly learning to make lace. The Italian woman was her teacher.
“It had taken her over two years to learn the art of lace-making well enough to begin work on the dress. She worked late each night after her family had gone to bed and was still up before them each morning to prepare breakfast. She worked each chance she got, but, because it was such painstaking and delicate work, she had only been able to complete the veil before the wedding.
“Nellie was so touched by her mother’s sacrifice that she saved the veil for over sixty years. When she was very old, she cut a square of lace and sewed it onto a piece of material she had saved from her wedding dress, and added it to the Story Quilt.”
“So the story of her mother’s sacrifice will always be remembered by our family.” Jenna pointed out.
“That’s right,” Grandma told him. “And over the years I added many pieces of cloth to this quilt before I finished it.”
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👤 Parents
👤 Young Adults
👤 Other
Family
Family History
Gratitude
Sacrifice
A Letter from My Father
Summary: A 16-year-old exchange student in Germany struggled spiritually without regular Church support and became desensitized to worldly behaviors during a fun week in Berlin. Returning home lonely and unsettled, she received an inspired letter from her father encouraging her to live Church standards despite what was legal around her. She then turned to her patriarchal blessing as a personal letter from Heavenly Father and felt renewed joy and closeness to God, recognizing that gospel living brings lasting happiness.
It had always been my dream to live in Germany, and at age 16 I left home for a year to be an exchange student abroad. Although my host family would not be Latter-day Saints, I didn’t think it would have a big effect on me and how I lived. It ended up being a little different than I had imagined.
My host family did not support my going to church on Sundays, and because I had to rely on other Church members for rides, I was only able to go to Church a few times during the first months that I was in Germany. I thought I could handle it, but with no seminary, no family home evenings, no home teachers, no family scripture study, and no family prayer, I felt myself slipping, and temptations became stronger.
I went to Berlin for a week to stay with some friends during the fall holidays. The week was packed full of fun and excitement, but I was sometimes with people who were smoking, drinking, and doing drugs. I never participated, but by the end of the week I had become accustomed to it all. I didn’t realize it at the time, but during that week I didn’t pray or read my scriptures. Instead, I let worldly things distract me, and I felt like there simply was not enough time for prayer and scripture study.
When I returned home there was a note from my host family informing me that they would be out of town for a few hours. I felt exhausted, confused, and alone. For the first time in my life no one understood how I felt, and there was no one I could talk to who could relate to how I was feeling. After such an amazing week in Berlin, how was it that I felt so unhappy?
When I went into my room, I noticed a letter from my dad had arrived earlier that day. I tore open the letter and began to cry as I read the message that he must have been inspired to write. He wrote about the Church, the value of living the standards, and that he had full confidence that I was making good decisions on my own. How could he have known what I was facing? The message was brief, but it was the perfect thing for me to read. The letter concluded with: “Interesting how 16-year-olds can legally drink in Germany. … Just remember that freedom to do something means freedom not to do it as well.”
Dad’s letter reminded me that just because something is “legal” doesn’t mean that it isn’t still wrong. It brings far more happiness to live the standards of the Church than to live the standards of the world.
After I read the letter, I realized my father knew me better than I thought he did. I was quickly reminded of another letter I had from my Heavenly Father. He had also written me a very personal letter in the form of my patriarchal blessing. It was, once again, exactly what I needed. My patriarchal blessing became more personal and special to me in that moment when I realized how it really was a “letter from my Father” as well.
Heavenly Father knows and understands our needs, and I am so grateful I had that letter to read, to remind me of who I am, and who my Father is. We are children of God, and although worldly things can be distracting at times, they don’t bring true happiness. The week I spent in Berlin was fun, but I still felt alone, and that fun was only temporary. When I read my patriarchal blessing, I felt a joy and a closeness to God that was far better than the short-lived pleasures of the world.
I know that God lives, that He knows us personally, and that He truly wants us to be happy because He loves us more than we can imagine. He is our Father.
My host family did not support my going to church on Sundays, and because I had to rely on other Church members for rides, I was only able to go to Church a few times during the first months that I was in Germany. I thought I could handle it, but with no seminary, no family home evenings, no home teachers, no family scripture study, and no family prayer, I felt myself slipping, and temptations became stronger.
I went to Berlin for a week to stay with some friends during the fall holidays. The week was packed full of fun and excitement, but I was sometimes with people who were smoking, drinking, and doing drugs. I never participated, but by the end of the week I had become accustomed to it all. I didn’t realize it at the time, but during that week I didn’t pray or read my scriptures. Instead, I let worldly things distract me, and I felt like there simply was not enough time for prayer and scripture study.
When I returned home there was a note from my host family informing me that they would be out of town for a few hours. I felt exhausted, confused, and alone. For the first time in my life no one understood how I felt, and there was no one I could talk to who could relate to how I was feeling. After such an amazing week in Berlin, how was it that I felt so unhappy?
When I went into my room, I noticed a letter from my dad had arrived earlier that day. I tore open the letter and began to cry as I read the message that he must have been inspired to write. He wrote about the Church, the value of living the standards, and that he had full confidence that I was making good decisions on my own. How could he have known what I was facing? The message was brief, but it was the perfect thing for me to read. The letter concluded with: “Interesting how 16-year-olds can legally drink in Germany. … Just remember that freedom to do something means freedom not to do it as well.”
Dad’s letter reminded me that just because something is “legal” doesn’t mean that it isn’t still wrong. It brings far more happiness to live the standards of the Church than to live the standards of the world.
After I read the letter, I realized my father knew me better than I thought he did. I was quickly reminded of another letter I had from my Heavenly Father. He had also written me a very personal letter in the form of my patriarchal blessing. It was, once again, exactly what I needed. My patriarchal blessing became more personal and special to me in that moment when I realized how it really was a “letter from my Father” as well.
Heavenly Father knows and understands our needs, and I am so grateful I had that letter to read, to remind me of who I am, and who my Father is. We are children of God, and although worldly things can be distracting at times, they don’t bring true happiness. The week I spent in Berlin was fun, but I still felt alone, and that fun was only temporary. When I read my patriarchal blessing, I felt a joy and a closeness to God that was far better than the short-lived pleasures of the world.
I know that God lives, that He knows us personally, and that He truly wants us to be happy because He loves us more than we can imagine. He is our Father.
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Adversity
Agency and Accountability
Family
Family Home Evening
Obedience
Patriarchal Blessings
Prayer
Sabbath Day
Scriptures
Temptation
Testimony
Word of Wisdom
Relief Society in Times of Transition
Summary: A visiting teacher initially sent Christmas cards without personal notes, then decided to send another card with a note after a suggestion in preparation meeting. An inactive sister kept the noted card on display for months to show friends that Church members go the second mile, and her home grew tidier over time. The visiting teacher realized how much small acts of kindness matter.
The Relief Society program can help us reach even the needs we may not know exist. I was told about one visiting teacher who, in a caring attitude, sent the sisters she visits a Christmas card. When she went to preparation meeting, the message teacher asked the visiting teachers to send a Christmas card to each of the sisters they visit and include their personal note with the card.
The visiting teacher was perplexed. She had already sent the cards, but she did not write the personal note. After debating with herself for some time she finally determined to send another card, this one with a personal note.
When she visited her assigned sisters in January, she went first to the home of an inactive member. When she entered the room, she could see that all evidences of Christmas had been put away—except for one card standing alone on a small table. It was the card with the note in it. The sister explained that she had left the card out to show her nonmember friends that members of her church go the second mile. She said that she had told them this before, but now she had some tangible evidence they could see.
When the visiting teacher went back the next month, the house was tidy, the furniture dusted, and the card still stood on the small table. The next month, the card was still there—and the next, and the next.
The visiting teacher had not realized that this inactive sister needed a positive manifestation of concern. She also learned how much even small acts of kindness do matter.
The visiting teacher was perplexed. She had already sent the cards, but she did not write the personal note. After debating with herself for some time she finally determined to send another card, this one with a personal note.
When she visited her assigned sisters in January, she went first to the home of an inactive member. When she entered the room, she could see that all evidences of Christmas had been put away—except for one card standing alone on a small table. It was the card with the note in it. The sister explained that she had left the card out to show her nonmember friends that members of her church go the second mile. She said that she had told them this before, but now she had some tangible evidence they could see.
When the visiting teacher went back the next month, the house was tidy, the furniture dusted, and the card still stood on the small table. The next month, the card was still there—and the next, and the next.
The visiting teacher had not realized that this inactive sister needed a positive manifestation of concern. She also learned how much even small acts of kindness do matter.
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👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Christmas
Kindness
Ministering
Relief Society
Service
“Behold, We Count Them Happy Which Endure”
Summary: A young woman, Elizabeth Merkley, suffered severe head injuries in a 1996 automobile accident. She described her long recovery, relearning basic functions like swallowing and walking over months, and discovering inner strength. Through prayer, family fasting, and perseverance, she gained confidence and saw her trials as “spendable currency” for growth.
One young woman wrote about the lessons she has learned in her struggle to recover from an automobile accident in which she received severe head injuries.
“I didn’t know how strong I was until the spring of 1996. The incidents of one afternoon completely changed my expectations of how my education would proceed. One minute I was on a path to my future, much like every other high school student. The next minute life was no longer ordinary for me. I was on my way to strengthening myself in ways I would never have guessed. … I was on a road to relearning instead of learning. … I relearned how to eat; swallowing the food in my mouth was a hard task that I had to relearn. I went from the bed to a wheelchair to standing and walking in over a five-month period. … I have learned many great truths from my diverse trials this past year. Prayers are really answered. Fasting is a power in my family. Love has kept me alive. … I have learned what I can tolerate. … Throughout all of this I have learned that I am a lot stronger than I thought. I have learned that if you need help, it is OK to ask for it; we all have our limits, strengths, and weaknesses. … All knowledge … is ‘spendable currency’ for me. Like a baby bird broken from its shell, I am learning to fly again” (letter from Elizabeth Merkley).
“I didn’t know how strong I was until the spring of 1996. The incidents of one afternoon completely changed my expectations of how my education would proceed. One minute I was on a path to my future, much like every other high school student. The next minute life was no longer ordinary for me. I was on my way to strengthening myself in ways I would never have guessed. … I was on a road to relearning instead of learning. … I relearned how to eat; swallowing the food in my mouth was a hard task that I had to relearn. I went from the bed to a wheelchair to standing and walking in over a five-month period. … I have learned many great truths from my diverse trials this past year. Prayers are really answered. Fasting is a power in my family. Love has kept me alive. … I have learned what I can tolerate. … Throughout all of this I have learned that I am a lot stronger than I thought. I have learned that if you need help, it is OK to ask for it; we all have our limits, strengths, and weaknesses. … All knowledge … is ‘spendable currency’ for me. Like a baby bird broken from its shell, I am learning to fly again” (letter from Elizabeth Merkley).
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👤 Youth
👤 Parents
Adversity
Disabilities
Faith
Family
Fasting and Fast Offerings
Health
Love
Prayer
Dedication of the Durban South Africa Temple
Summary: In the 1970s, the Bricknell family saved money to be sealed in a temple. When Church leaders requested donations to help build the São Paulo Brazil Temple, they donated their savings, and within a year they had the means to take all five of their children to the Salt Lake Temple.
In the 1970s, the Bricknells had saved enough money to take their family to the temple to be sealed. But when Church leaders asked for donations from South African members to help fund the building of the Sao Paulo temple, the family sacrificed their travel savings.
“We contributed all we had saved for that family trip,” said Jennifer Bricknell. “And within a year, we had the money to take all five of our children to the Salt Lake Temple.”
“We contributed all we had saved for that family trip,” said Jennifer Bricknell. “And within a year, we had the money to take all five of our children to the Salt Lake Temple.”
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Church Members (General)
Consecration
Family
Sacrifice
Sealing
Temples
Christian’s Conversion
Summary: As Christian learned English and attended Sunday School, his teacher read Christian’s verse when it was his turn so there was no awkward pause. Though he didn’t understand yet, he grew to enjoy Sunday School until his employer’s wife died, ending his schooling for a time.
That coming winter I started to go to school so I could learn a little English. I had also gone with Mons Andersen’s boys to Sunday School. Eischa Pack was the teacher at that time. They were reading in turns out of the Bible; but when it came my turn to read, Brother Pack would read my verse, and there was not even a gap. I was glad although I could not understand what they said. Yet I got to enjoying Sunday School. Sister Karen Larsen Petersen took sick and died on February 7, 1873, and that ended my schooling at that time. But I learned enough so I got into the Third Reader.
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👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Youth
Bible
Children
Death
Education
Teaching the Gospel
Inside’s What Counts
Summary: A young woman from Peter’s ward faithfully read to him after school during his hospitalization. Realizing he likely wouldn’t have done the same for her, he felt deep shame and gratitude. He made a personal covenant to serve others as she had served him, later finding that service helped him overcome self-pity and value inner qualities.
Another friend, a girl in his ward, stopped by after school to read to him. Although they had not been particularly close before his accident, now she was willing to give her time to help him. He often felt ashamed because he knew that if their roles had been reversed, he would not have been there reading to her.
What if she had been burned and was in thehospital? This horrible thought kept rushing through my mind. Would I be found at her bedside? I don’t think I was a bad young man. I had a job to earn money for my car and my clothes. What made me cry inside was that I knew I wouldn’t have been there with her. And yet such a great personal service she was giving to me! I could never tell her what I felt inside, so to pay her back I made this one great commitment: when I got out of the hospital, when I could walk, when I could see, when I could do things, I would try to give of myself through service to other people as she had done to me.
When I got out of the hospital and tried to find people who had problems and tried to help them, I got away from my own problems and stopped dwelling on myself and wallowing in self-pity. I started learning that great lesson—what is on the inside really is most important. Beauty comes from within, not from without.
What if she had been burned and was in thehospital? This horrible thought kept rushing through my mind. Would I be found at her bedside? I don’t think I was a bad young man. I had a job to earn money for my car and my clothes. What made me cry inside was that I knew I wouldn’t have been there with her. And yet such a great personal service she was giving to me! I could never tell her what I felt inside, so to pay her back I made this one great commitment: when I got out of the hospital, when I could walk, when I could see, when I could do things, I would try to give of myself through service to other people as she had done to me.
When I got out of the hospital and tried to find people who had problems and tried to help them, I got away from my own problems and stopped dwelling on myself and wallowing in self-pity. I started learning that great lesson—what is on the inside really is most important. Beauty comes from within, not from without.
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👤 Other
👤 Friends
👤 Church Members (General)
Adversity
Charity
Disabilities
Friendship
Humility
Kindness
Service
Not One Hair
Summary: Beth struggles to sleep alone after her sister moves downstairs. Her dad reads scriptures, teaches that Heavenly Father knows and loves her, and shares a related story. Comforted by the scriptures and her father's counsel, Beth relaxes and promises to remember God’s help.
“Just one more story,” Beth pleaded.
“One more?” Dad closed the picture book he had just finished reading and laughed.
“I can’t go to sleep yet. I’m not a bit tired.” Beth hated to go to bed—especially since her older sister had moved into the newly finished basement bedroom, leaving Beth alone in the room upstairs. Before, Beth hadn’t really noticed the shadowy figures and whispering noises of the night.
“Hmmm …” Dad stroked his chin. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, it’s because something is bothering me. When that happens, I can always find something in the scriptures that helps me or comforts me.” He reached over to Beth’s nightstand and picked up a worn set of scriptures that used to belong to her mother. “Is anything bothering you, sweetie?”
“Not exactly.” Beth didn’t want to admit that she was scared.
Dad nodded understandingly. “It’s kind of lonely in here, isn’t it? And dark.” He flipped through the pages of the New Testament. “I think that we might just find something in here to help you feel better. Let’s see. …”
After finding the passage he wanted, he stretched his long legs and smiled at Beth. “In the scriptures, it says that Heavenly Father knows everything about each one of us, even how many hairs we have. In Luke 12:7, Jesus tells us, ‘But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore.’”
“Wow!” Beth’s eyes opened wide.
Dad gently touched the tip of Beth’s nose. “And, because He knows you so well, He loves you very, very much.” He thumbed through the pages again. “Here’s another scripture that was written a very long time ago but still sounds as if it’s talking just to you. This one is in the Old Testament, in Deuteronomy 31:6. ‘Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.’” [Deut. 31:6]
“What does forsake mean?”
“It means that He will never leave you alone. He will always watch out for you and take care of you and do whatever He knows is best for you. You are tremendously important to Heavenly Father. Let’s go back to the first scripture that we read. Let me start with verse six: ‘Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?
“‘But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.’”
Beth was puzzled. “How can Heavenly Father know about and take care of all the little animals and birds and us too?”
“I don’t know, but I know that He does. I remember reading a story several months ago in the Ensign. It was a true story about a little sparrow that flew into the Tabernacle while the doors were open.”*
“You mean that big building on Temple Square where they hold general conference?”
Dad nodded. “The workers at the Tabernacle opened all the doors, hoping that the bird would fly out.”
“Did it?”
“No. They tried calling animal control, who brought some nets with real long handles so that they could try to catch the bird.”
Beth remembered how tall the ceiling in the Tabernacle was. Her mother and father had taken her there for a Christmas program last December. The handles on those nets must have been very, very, very long!
Dad continued. “The people ran from one end of the Tabernacle to the other, trying to catch the bird, but that just frightened the poor thing. Terrified, it flew back and forth from the pipe organ to the balcony. The people who worked in the Tabernacle were getting worried because there was an important concert scheduled for that evening and they were running out of time. They had to get the bird out.”
“What did they do?” Beth whispered.
“The animal control people couldn’t think of anything else, so they suggested that they use a pellet gun to shoot the bird.”
“Oh, no!”
“Or they thought they could put out some poisoned food that the bird would eat.”
“Oh, Daddy, they didn’t, did they?”
“Well,” Dad continued, “Brother John, the manager, wouldn’t let them hurt the bird. He thought about how important this little bird was to Heavenly Father and knew that Heavenly Father would know how to take care of the bird. So he turned around and said a quiet, simple prayer. Right away the Holy Ghost helped Brother John know what to do. He quickly gave instructions to the other workers to turn off all the lights; close the blinds, and close all but one of the doors. Soon light poured through that one single door, and the bird was finally able to find its freedom. Out it flew, safe at last.”
“I’m glad Heavenly Father helped the bird.”
Dad leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “He’s always there to help you, too, sweetie. All you need to do is ask. Promise me that you’ll always remember that.”
“I promise.” Beth smiled and snuggled down farther in her bed.
“One more?” Dad closed the picture book he had just finished reading and laughed.
“I can’t go to sleep yet. I’m not a bit tired.” Beth hated to go to bed—especially since her older sister had moved into the newly finished basement bedroom, leaving Beth alone in the room upstairs. Before, Beth hadn’t really noticed the shadowy figures and whispering noises of the night.
“Hmmm …” Dad stroked his chin. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, it’s because something is bothering me. When that happens, I can always find something in the scriptures that helps me or comforts me.” He reached over to Beth’s nightstand and picked up a worn set of scriptures that used to belong to her mother. “Is anything bothering you, sweetie?”
“Not exactly.” Beth didn’t want to admit that she was scared.
Dad nodded understandingly. “It’s kind of lonely in here, isn’t it? And dark.” He flipped through the pages of the New Testament. “I think that we might just find something in here to help you feel better. Let’s see. …”
After finding the passage he wanted, he stretched his long legs and smiled at Beth. “In the scriptures, it says that Heavenly Father knows everything about each one of us, even how many hairs we have. In Luke 12:7, Jesus tells us, ‘But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore.’”
“Wow!” Beth’s eyes opened wide.
Dad gently touched the tip of Beth’s nose. “And, because He knows you so well, He loves you very, very much.” He thumbed through the pages again. “Here’s another scripture that was written a very long time ago but still sounds as if it’s talking just to you. This one is in the Old Testament, in Deuteronomy 31:6. ‘Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee.’” [Deut. 31:6]
“What does forsake mean?”
“It means that He will never leave you alone. He will always watch out for you and take care of you and do whatever He knows is best for you. You are tremendously important to Heavenly Father. Let’s go back to the first scripture that we read. Let me start with verse six: ‘Are not five sparrows sold for two farthings, and not one of them is forgotten before God?
“‘But even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not therefore: ye are of more value than many sparrows.’”
Beth was puzzled. “How can Heavenly Father know about and take care of all the little animals and birds and us too?”
“I don’t know, but I know that He does. I remember reading a story several months ago in the Ensign. It was a true story about a little sparrow that flew into the Tabernacle while the doors were open.”*
“You mean that big building on Temple Square where they hold general conference?”
Dad nodded. “The workers at the Tabernacle opened all the doors, hoping that the bird would fly out.”
“Did it?”
“No. They tried calling animal control, who brought some nets with real long handles so that they could try to catch the bird.”
Beth remembered how tall the ceiling in the Tabernacle was. Her mother and father had taken her there for a Christmas program last December. The handles on those nets must have been very, very, very long!
Dad continued. “The people ran from one end of the Tabernacle to the other, trying to catch the bird, but that just frightened the poor thing. Terrified, it flew back and forth from the pipe organ to the balcony. The people who worked in the Tabernacle were getting worried because there was an important concert scheduled for that evening and they were running out of time. They had to get the bird out.”
“What did they do?” Beth whispered.
“The animal control people couldn’t think of anything else, so they suggested that they use a pellet gun to shoot the bird.”
“Oh, no!”
“Or they thought they could put out some poisoned food that the bird would eat.”
“Oh, Daddy, they didn’t, did they?”
“Well,” Dad continued, “Brother John, the manager, wouldn’t let them hurt the bird. He thought about how important this little bird was to Heavenly Father and knew that Heavenly Father would know how to take care of the bird. So he turned around and said a quiet, simple prayer. Right away the Holy Ghost helped Brother John know what to do. He quickly gave instructions to the other workers to turn off all the lights; close the blinds, and close all but one of the doors. Soon light poured through that one single door, and the bird was finally able to find its freedom. Out it flew, safe at last.”
“I’m glad Heavenly Father helped the bird.”
Dad leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “He’s always there to help you, too, sweetie. All you need to do is ask. Promise me that you’ll always remember that.”
“I promise.” Beth smiled and snuggled down farther in her bed.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Bible
Children
Faith
Family
Holy Ghost
Love
Miracles
Parenting
Prayer
Revelation
Scriptures
FYI:For Your Information
Summary: A regional Young Adult conference with the theme “Ye Shall Find Me” combined desert recreation with workshops and a devotional. Participants attended classes on service, communication, teaching children, and personal potential, followed by square dancing and a Mexican feast. The conference concluded with Church meetings and a testimony meeting where many shared their testimonies and the importance of youth programs.
The El Centro California Stake hosted a regional Young Adult conference stressing the theme “Ye Shall Find Me.” With the whole desert as a backdrop, the young people got together for some fun on the sandy hills. They enjoyed exploring; playing volleyball, football, and frisbee; as well as trying an impromptu game of golf in one big sand trap.
The group met at the stake center for a series of workshops and a devotional. The workshops stressed such topics as coming to know Christ through service, learning to communicate, teaching children, and learning more about their own potential.
The workshops were followed by an evening of square dancing with the local police chief calling the dance. They feasted on Mexican food and used up their excess energy.
The conference concluded with Relief Society and Priesthood meetings and a testimony meeting in which many of the young adults talked about their testimonies and the importance of the youth programs in their lives.
The group met at the stake center for a series of workshops and a devotional. The workshops stressed such topics as coming to know Christ through service, learning to communicate, teaching children, and learning more about their own potential.
The workshops were followed by an evening of square dancing with the local police chief calling the dance. They feasted on Mexican food and used up their excess energy.
The conference concluded with Relief Society and Priesthood meetings and a testimony meeting in which many of the young adults talked about their testimonies and the importance of the youth programs in their lives.
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👤 Young Adults
👤 Church Members (General)
Children
Jesus Christ
Priesthood
Relief Society
Service
Teaching the Gospel
Testimony
Tony Finau: A Golfer Grounded in Faith and Service
Summary: Tony Finau’s story begins with his humble upbringing in Salt Lake City, where his father built a garage driving range to help him and his brother practice golf. Despite many obstacles on the road to the PGA Tour, Tony persevered and found success through hard work and faith.
He also shared how faith in Jesus Christ helped him through personal trials, including his son’s medical challenges and his mother’s death. Tony and his wife now use their success to serve others through the Tony Finau Foundation, and he credits faith, family, and determination for his journey.
Born in Salt Lake City, Tony Finau is the third of ten children. Despite the financial challenges of his large family, Tony’s passion for golf was ignited at a young age, inspired by Tiger Woods’ historic win in 1997.
That same summer, Tony started playing golf, with his father ingeniously building an indoor driving range in their garage using a mattress and netting to catch the balls. This unique setup allowed Tony and his brother to practice relentlessly, laying a foundation of hard work and determination.
Tony’s path to professional golf was not without its hardships. Turning pro at the age of 17 in 2007, he faced numerous obstacles, including six attempts to qualify for the PGA Tour. It wasn’t until 2014 that he finally made it. These years of perseverance and sacrifice prepared him for the success he enjoys today, illustrating his belief that faith is tested and strengthened through experience.
At the fireside, Tony shared several principles from the 4th Article of Faith, particularly emphasising the first principle, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. He spoke about how his faith has guided him through life’s storms, drawing parallels to the biblical story of Christ calming the storm. Tony recounted personal trials, such as the complicated pregnancy and surgery of his son, Sage, and the tragic loss of his mother in a car accident in 2011. Despite these challenges, Tony’s faith remained unwavering, attributing miracles in his life to his efforts to put the Lord first.
During the fireside, Tony remarked, “Hard work, like building a testimony, requires effort and sacrifice.” He also shared, “Trying to put the Lord first has allowed miracles to occur in my life.” These insights offer a glimpse into the character and conviction that underpin his career.
Beyond his achievements in golf, Tony and Alayna run the Tony Finau Foundation, which is dedicated to empowering youth and their families in the local community. The foundation focuses on providing educational opportunities, promoting health and wellness, and encouraging community service. Through this work, Tony continues to give back, reflecting his commitment to service and his belief in the potential of every individual.
Tony’s dedication to his faith, family and community is evident in every aspect of his life. He and Alayna are committed to raising their children with the same values, ensuring that their faith remains a central focus. Tony’s testimony and experiences serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of perseverance, hard work and faith.
As Tony Finau continues to make his mark on the golfing world, he remains grounded by his faith in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and his heritage. His journey from a garage driving range to the PGA Tour is a testament to his belief that, with faith and determination, any dream can become a reality.
That same summer, Tony started playing golf, with his father ingeniously building an indoor driving range in their garage using a mattress and netting to catch the balls. This unique setup allowed Tony and his brother to practice relentlessly, laying a foundation of hard work and determination.
Tony’s path to professional golf was not without its hardships. Turning pro at the age of 17 in 2007, he faced numerous obstacles, including six attempts to qualify for the PGA Tour. It wasn’t until 2014 that he finally made it. These years of perseverance and sacrifice prepared him for the success he enjoys today, illustrating his belief that faith is tested and strengthened through experience.
At the fireside, Tony shared several principles from the 4th Article of Faith, particularly emphasising the first principle, faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. He spoke about how his faith has guided him through life’s storms, drawing parallels to the biblical story of Christ calming the storm. Tony recounted personal trials, such as the complicated pregnancy and surgery of his son, Sage, and the tragic loss of his mother in a car accident in 2011. Despite these challenges, Tony’s faith remained unwavering, attributing miracles in his life to his efforts to put the Lord first.
During the fireside, Tony remarked, “Hard work, like building a testimony, requires effort and sacrifice.” He also shared, “Trying to put the Lord first has allowed miracles to occur in my life.” These insights offer a glimpse into the character and conviction that underpin his career.
Beyond his achievements in golf, Tony and Alayna run the Tony Finau Foundation, which is dedicated to empowering youth and their families in the local community. The foundation focuses on providing educational opportunities, promoting health and wellness, and encouraging community service. Through this work, Tony continues to give back, reflecting his commitment to service and his belief in the potential of every individual.
Tony’s dedication to his faith, family and community is evident in every aspect of his life. He and Alayna are committed to raising their children with the same values, ensuring that their faith remains a central focus. Tony’s testimony and experiences serve as a powerful reminder of the importance of perseverance, hard work and faith.
As Tony Finau continues to make his mark on the golfing world, he remains grounded by his faith in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and his heritage. His journey from a garage driving range to the PGA Tour is a testament to his belief that, with faith and determination, any dream can become a reality.
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👤 Parents
👤 Youth
Adversity
Family
Parenting
Self-Reliance
Return with Honor
Summary: As a young Air Force pilot, the speaker trained extensively in a flight simulator to learn emergency procedures. A fellow trainee refused to attend the training, choosing leisure activities instead. Months later, their friend's plane caught fire over Texas; his copilot bailed out and survived, but the untrained friend died. The loss illustrated the consequences of ignoring preparation and counsel.
As a young man, I served in the U.S. Air Force as a jet-fighter pilot. We spent hours in a training device that simulated real flight. There, an instructor taught us about emergencies that could occur when flying at the speed of sound and about what we must do to avoid disaster.
One young man in my flight-training unit refused to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When it was time for him to go to the trainer and learn emergency procedures, he went to the swimming pool, pistol range, or golf course, instead.
A few months later, fire erupted in the quiet sky over Texas, and my friend’s plane went down in flames. The young pilot who was with him bailed out and survived. My friend did not. He had not learned the lessons that could have saved his life.
One young man in my flight-training unit refused to listen to those with more knowledge and experience. When it was time for him to go to the trainer and learn emergency procedures, he went to the swimming pool, pistol range, or golf course, instead.
A few months later, fire erupted in the quiet sky over Texas, and my friend’s plane went down in flames. The young pilot who was with him bailed out and survived. My friend did not. He had not learned the lessons that could have saved his life.
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👤 Young Adults
👤 Friends
👤 Other
Agency and Accountability
Death
Education
Emergency Preparedness
3 Helps for Being Your Happiest and Best Self
Summary: As a Young Men president in San Antonio, the author led priests to replace rotted steps for a woman whose husband was deployed. They worked through rain and finished quality steps. Years later, a priest said the service had blessed him even more than it blessed the sister’s family.
We please Heavenly Father when we look for ways to serve others. When I was Young Men president in a ward in San Antonio, Texas, the bishop suggested that the priests quorum help a woman whose husband was on military deployment. She lived in a trailer home with her small children. The steps to her trailer were rotted and damaged. She needed help replacing them.
We met at her home and got to work. Shortly after we started, it began to rain. The priests decided to work through the rain. Soon new steps were in place. They were high quality when we were done! Some years later I had an occasion to talk to one of those priests. I asked him what he remembered from our time in the priests quorum. He remembered that service project. He said he was sure that what the service did for him was much more important than what it did for this dear sister and her family.
We met at her home and got to work. Shortly after we started, it began to rain. The priests decided to work through the rain. Soon new steps were in place. They were high quality when we were done! Some years later I had an occasion to talk to one of those priests. I asked him what he remembered from our time in the priests quorum. He remembered that service project. He said he was sure that what the service did for him was much more important than what it did for this dear sister and her family.
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👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
Bishop
Charity
Family
Kindness
Ministering
Priesthood
Service
Young Men
Bearing Testimony to the Bishop
Summary: A 12-year-old girl, nervous for her first bishop's interview, is warmly welcomed by Bishop Morris. As they talk about her life and testimony, she begins to share her beliefs, including her faith in Joseph Smith and Jesus Christ. Moved to tears, she realizes for the first time that she truly has a personal testimony.
I smoothed my skirt and took a deep breath. It sounded like the meeting on the other side of the door was coming to an end. The bishop stood in the doorway and shook hands as people filed out. He turned to me as I sat in a chair outside of his office, and he smiled broadly.
“Come on in, Erica,” he said with his hand extended.
I stood and shook his hand, suddenly feeling older than 12 years old.
Bishop Morris was a kind man whose love you could always feel. I felt more at ease as soon as I saw him. I told myself to quit being nervous, to remember that interviews with the bishop are regular occurrences once you are in Young Women. Still, I just didn’t know what to expect.
Soon the bishop had me talking about my family, school, and friends. He asked about my goals. And then we talked about testimony.
He asked me to share what I believed with him.
Suddenly my nervousness returned. I had only shared my testimony once before. So I gripped the chair handles and started with the first thing that came to mind—Joseph Smith. I told Bishop Morris that I believed Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ. I said I believed that Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon. I expressed my belief in this book, my gratitude for my family, and my admiration of our current prophet.
Before I knew it I had tears in my eyes. Goosebumps began to spread from my toes upward as I started talking about the Savior. I told the bishop that maybe I didn’t know a lot yet but that I did know that Jesus Christ lived and died for me.
Until this moment, I hadn’t recognized my own testimony. I read my scriptures and said my prayers, and I knew I had felt the Spirit, but I didn’t know I had a testimony of my own. When I finally bore testimony, I knew.
“Come on in, Erica,” he said with his hand extended.
I stood and shook his hand, suddenly feeling older than 12 years old.
Bishop Morris was a kind man whose love you could always feel. I felt more at ease as soon as I saw him. I told myself to quit being nervous, to remember that interviews with the bishop are regular occurrences once you are in Young Women. Still, I just didn’t know what to expect.
Soon the bishop had me talking about my family, school, and friends. He asked about my goals. And then we talked about testimony.
He asked me to share what I believed with him.
Suddenly my nervousness returned. I had only shared my testimony once before. So I gripped the chair handles and started with the first thing that came to mind—Joseph Smith. I told Bishop Morris that I believed Joseph Smith saw God the Father and Jesus Christ. I said I believed that Joseph Smith translated the Book of Mormon. I expressed my belief in this book, my gratitude for my family, and my admiration of our current prophet.
Before I knew it I had tears in my eyes. Goosebumps began to spread from my toes upward as I started talking about the Savior. I told the bishop that maybe I didn’t know a lot yet but that I did know that Jesus Christ lived and died for me.
Until this moment, I hadn’t recognized my own testimony. I read my scriptures and said my prayers, and I knew I had felt the Spirit, but I didn’t know I had a testimony of my own. When I finally bore testimony, I knew.
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👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Youth
Bishop
Book of Mormon
Holy Ghost
Jesus Christ
Joseph Smith
Prayer
Scriptures
Testimony
Young Women
Controlling the Media’s Influence in Your Home
Summary: A woman who felt addicted to daytime soap operas chose to change her priorities and stop wasting time. She succeeded and later explained that she now deliberately selects only uplifting, informative programs for her family. She emphasized being the master of media in her home rather than passively consuming whatever is available.
Media—whether good or bad—can be habit-forming. But it is a habit that can be broken. One woman who was “addicted” to watching daytime soap operas decided to rearrange her priorities and to stop what she felt was a time- and mind-wasting practice. She succeeded and later wrote: “Sometimes our whole family watches shows together, and it’s fun. But now I’m the master. When I want to invite newsmen, actors, or entertainers into my home, I do so. But it’s because they have informative and/or morally, spiritually, and emotionally uplifting programs to offer—not just because they’re there” (LeRee Farrar, “How I Kicked the TV Habit,” Ensign, March 1977, 19).
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Addiction
Agency and Accountability
Family
Movies and Television
It seems like I hear swear words almost everywhere I go. I know these words are not good, but what can I do to keep from hearing them?
Summary: A boy at school tried to get Eden to swear after learning she doesn't swear. She refused and turned it into a humorous back-and-forth that made everyone laugh. The boy wasn't offended, and Eden maintained her standards.
There is a boy at school who found out I don’t swear. The day he found out, he made a game out of trying to get me to say bad words. But I didn’t swear the whole day at all. Today, it’s still kind of a game—and I’m winning! He’ll say something to try to get me to swear, but I’ll say something funny back and everybody will laugh. He’s not offended, and I’m not swearing. It works for everybody.
Eden S., age 11, New South Wales, Australia
Eden S., age 11, New South Wales, Australia
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👤 Children
Children
Friendship
Temptation