Gospel Story Finder

Just past midnight on December 23, 1972, when she was nine years old, an earthquake struck Managua. “I was saved because there was a piece of furniture behind me, but my legs were trapped.” Hearing her and her mother’s screams, neighbors came to pull them from the destroyed adobe house. In the wreckage, they found the body of her older brother in the bed next to hers. “Material possessions are just so temporary, but the important thing is our family,” she said.

Sister Batson, our Blazer leader, was preparing us to become deacons. She faithfully took us on monthly hikes. One hike was down a dry desert wash toward Lake Mead. Sister Batson stayed with the stragglers while five or six of us forged ahead. We were quite a distance ahead when we heard something. It was a baby rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike. Rather than giving it plenty of room, we found some sticks and began poking at it. The snake took off across the desert. Naturally we took off after it, running as fast as our legs would carry us, chasing that snake. We cornered it against the side of a gulch where it coiled with its one rattle making as much noise as it could. We formed a semicircle around the snake, and on the count of three, we rushed it.
The first guy in and at the bottom of the pile was Malcolm. Suddenly he exploded out of the pile, throwing us everywhere, and started a panic run across the desert with the snake attached to his hand. We took off after him and succeeded in ankle tackling him. He was screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs, “I’m going to die! I’m going to die!”
We each took a leg and arm to pin him down so we could save his life. We then took out our trusty snakebite kits (which aren’t at all like the ones used today and not to be recommended). They consisted of several suction cups, a shoestring tourniquet, some antibacterial iodine, and a razor blade. The shoestring tourniquet didn’t seem big enough, so we whipped off our Scout belts and placed half a dozen tourniquets up his arm. We then stained his arm brown with the iodine. We decided that the suction cups were not good enough, and we would have to suck the poison out. We were arguing about who got to do the sucking and who got to cut him when Sister Batson arrived. She grabbed Malcolm, threw him over her shoulder, ran back to the van with us right behind her, and got Malcolm to the hospital in time to save his hand.
By the time I got home, my father had found out what happened. He took me to my room, sat me on the end of the bed, and said three words of profound meaning, “Son,” he said, “DON’T CHASE SNAKES!”

After Peter M. Johnson, the son of a facility supervisor and taxi driver, had accepted a basketball scholarship at Brigham Young University–Hawaii, he found himself standing before an institute teacher.
“You will [either] join the Church right away, or it will take you a while,” the teacher predicted.
The teacher was correct. More than a year later, Peter “fasted and prayed and received an answer.” He was baptized on August 16, 1986.

When our three children were small, my husband and I experienced an economic crisis. We had done all we could, but we had run out of money—and there seemed to be no help available anywhere. One morning, I fed the children the last of the food in the house for breakfast. There was not even a drop of oil to cook them something for lunch. My husband left for work, hoping to get at least enough money to buy food for that day.
I began to ask myself why I was being given this trial. What was I doing wrong? Then I realized that even if I were guilty of something, my children certainly were not! Where was my faith? If Heavenly Father’s eye was on the sparrow, would He not take care of us? I offered a prayer that He would help us find some food. Then, exercising my faith, I went on about my work.
At mid-morning, a neighbor lady knocked on the door and began to tell me about the approaching visit of her mother-in-law. She mentioned that she had prepared a big noon meal of chicken, rice, and many other delicious things. Then she left in order to be home when her mother-in-law arrived.
A short while later she returned and said that her plans had changed. Her guest would not be coming after all. Instead, their family would be accompanying the mother-in-law on a two-week vacation. But now she had a problem. What could she do with all the food she had prepared? A bit embarrassed, she asked me if I would be offended if she gave it to me.
I had told her nothing of my situation. Now I told her not to worry, that I appreciated her offer very much. I knew that this was the answer to my prayer. My neighbor was pleased that I would take the food and then asked, “Can I leave you the food in the refrigerator, too? We’ll be gone so long that everything will go bad.”
When my husband arrived that day, he had had no success in getting money. Nevertheless, we ate well, and the refrigerator was filled to capacity.

On Easter weekend in 2004, when I lived in Utah, a very special person in my ward passed away. It was Sister Marjorie Hinckley, President Hinckley’s wife. My mom was asked to make a dessert to take to the family dinner after the funeral. We decided to make my two favorite cookie recipes. I wanted to help my mom make the cookies, so we worked hard. While we were making them, I had a wonderful, warm, happy feeling inside. It was the Spirit letting me know that what I was doing was right. My mom and I talked about how Jesus taught that when we serve others, we are really serving God.
The next morning we put all the cookies on a platter to take to the dinner. I put on my white shirt and tie to deliver the cookies. I hope they helped make the Hinckley family feel better.

The Primary. How did it come about? Did not the Lord promise the Saints at Kirtland that if they would be patient and faithful, all things would work together for their good, and that as the gospel unfolded, they would be taught line upon line, precept upon precept? (See D&C 98:2, 3, 12.)
The inspiration for a children’s class came to Aurelia Rogers of Farmington, Utah, one hundred years ago. There was a need to teach children the principles of the gospel in children’s language along with good manners and dress.
In 1878 Farmington, Utah, was a cultured community with over 1,200 people and a beautiful stone chapel. They had a Relief Society, Young Men’s Literary Association, and a Young Ladies’ Mutual Improvement Association, along with a brass band.
But with all this spiritual and cultural influence, Farmington, like other communities, had its juvenile problems—little boys out late at night; darkness and mischief made the boys into a challenge.
Bishop John W. Hess, a Mormon Battalion veteran, called a meeting of parents and urged them to look after their children. These conditions also concerned Aurelia Rogers. She pondered and prayed.
In March 1878, Eliza R. Snow and others attended a Relief Society conference in Farmington. Aurelia Rogers later wrote:
“After the meeting, … when on their way to the depot, these sisters … stopped at my home. … The topic of our conversation was the young people, and the rough, careless ways of many of the young men and boys. … I asked the question, “What will our girls do for good husbands, if this state of things continues? … Could there not be an organization for little boys, and have them trained to make better men?” (Aurelia S. Rogers, Life Sketches, Salt Lake City: George Q. Cannon and Sons Co., 1898, pp. 207–8.)
Eliza R. Snow seemed deeply impressed with the question and indicated she would speak to the Brethren.
Brigham Young had died a few months before. The Twelve, with John Taylor as president of the council, presided over the Church.
Shortly, approval was received by Bishop Hess for a new organization of children. Bishop Hess asked Aurelia Rogers if she would be willing to preside over such an organization. She was willing.
Aurelia wrote that in contemplating the possibility of an organization for boys, “A fire seemed to burn within me. … The query then arose in my mind could there not be an organization for little boys wherein they could be taught everything good, and how to behave.” (Rogers, p. 207.)
Up until that time little girls had never been mentioned, but Aurelia felt the class would not be complete without them. The name Primary was suggested as “the first” or “original.”
On August 11, 1878, Aurelia Spencer Rogers was set apart to preside over that first Primary Association by Bishop Hess. At his suggestion, Aurelia Rogers and her new counselors, Louisa Haight and Helen Miller, visited all the homes to secure the names of the children and to see if their parents were willing to send them to Primary. Following this careful preparation, 115 boys and 100 girls came to the stone chapel on August 25, 1878, for the first meeting. Citizens passing the meetinghouse that eventful day heard the children’s voices singing:
In our lovely Deseret,
Where the Saints of God have met
There’s a multitude of children all around;
They are generous and brave,
They have precious souls to save,
They must listen and obey the gospel’s sound.
Hark! hark! hark, ’tis children’s music,
Children’s voices, O how sweet,
When in innocence and love
Like the angels up above,
They with happy hearts and cheerful faces meet.
(Sing with Me, B-24.)

In response to counsel from Parley P. Pratt, Wilford Woodruff traveled to Kirtland, Ohio, in April 1834 to join Zion’s Camp. Brother Woodruff’s account of his first meeting with the Prophet Joseph Smith is instructive for all of us:
“Here for the first time in my life I met and had an interview with our beloved Prophet Joseph Smith, the man whom God had chosen to bring forth His revelations in these last days. My first introduction was not of a kind to satisfy the preconceived notions of the sectarian mind as to what a prophet ought to be, and how he should appear. It might have shocked the faith of some men. I found him and his brother Hyrum out shooting at a mark with a brace of pistols. When they stopped shooting, I was introduced to Brother Joseph, and he shook hands with me most heartily. He invited me to make his habitation my home while I tarried in Kirtland. This invitation I most eagerly accepted, and was greatly edified and blest during my stay with him.”9

“This time it was on the Indian reservation. While most Navajo women seem to be prolific, this sweet Lamanite wife in their several years of marriage had not been blessed with children of her own. Her husband was well employed. These new converts to the Church were buying their weekend groceries. As we glanced at the purchases in the large, well-filled basket, it was evident that only wholesome food was there—no beer, no coffee, no cigarettes. ‘You like Postum, do you?’ we asked them, and their reply touched our hearts: ‘Yes, we have had coffee and beer all our lives, but since the Mormon missionaries told us about the Word of Wisdom we use Postum, and we know it is better for the children and they like it.’
“‘Children?’ we asked. ‘We thought you were a childless couple.’ This brought from them the explanation that they had filled their home with eighteen Navajo orphans of all ages. Their hogan was large but their hearts even larger. Unselfishness—the milk of human kindness! Love unfeigned! These good Indians could shame many of their contemporaries who live lives of selfishness and smugness.”
I said to the artist: “Heaven can be in a hogan or a tent, Brother Richards, for heaven is of our own making.” I was ready to return to the picture but apparently he was not so inclined. He stood and listened intently.

For Kelvin Gwala, the opportunity to serve on the Durban Temple Committee was a blessing that initially came with concern.
As a resident of Umlazi, South Africa, Brother Gwala had a round trip drive of about sixty kilometers each time he traveled to Berea for committee meetings, which were held for almost a year with increasing frequency. If it wasn’t a temple committee meeting, he needed to attend on a Sunday, he traveled to practice with one of the temple dedication choirs. He made additional mid-week trips to attend stake training meetings since he also serves as the Durban Stake clerk.
About the same time, he was asked to serve on the committee, the price of petrol began to rise dramatically, and food prices increased. Each time he needed to drive to Berea for a meeting, he would sit and wonder where he was going to get money for fuel. But, he says, somehow, someway, he would end up in Berea, the small amount of fuel he had in his car lasting longer than he thought it would.
“At first,” he says, “I felt like it was putting a strain on my budget. But at the end of the month, we would be fine. To my amazement, the Lord saw us through.”
Those first worries about his tight budget, Brother Gwala now believes, were just negative thoughts that could have stopped him from serving. Instead, he made a faithful effort and experienced what he calls “my own miracle.”
As he reflected on his experiences, he came to an important conclusion: “The Lord just wants us to start,” he says. “No matter how difficult a situation might look, if you start, then the Lord does meet you halfway. For me, those were the blessings. [We] were living on a tight budget, then you pay your fast offering and your tithing, but the Lord saw us through, and the family managed well. The Lord did bless us and continues to bless us.”

You’ve heard some of our young men say, “But I can’t find a job. No one will hire me.” May I suggest to you the example of one enterprising 13-year-old who has already produced some handbills that he is passing out in his neighborhood. The handbill reads: “When you’re on vacation and need someone to care for your yard, or if you want any odd jobs done, call Bill, because when you call me, I’ll be there.” He then signed his name and included his phone number. He already has his summer filled with work.

I loved Primary and had many wonderful teachers who taught me the gospel. One, though, was very special to me. Sister Mary Stevenson taught Primary in the LeGrand Ward in Salt Lake City. One summer she taught our class to play the harmonica. She told us that by summer’s end we would play for George Albert Smith, who was then the President of the Church.
We worked hard, and the important evening finally came. Before we left for President Smith’s house, Sister Stevenson told us that we were going to shake the hand of a prophet, that it would be a special experience, and that we would always remember it. What a thrill to be so close to a prophet!
To such a little boy as I was, President Smith looked very tall. He greeted us with a friendly smile. We played two or three of his favorite songs on our harmonicas. When we finished, he shook hands with each of us and thanked us for our visit. Sister Stevenson was right—I never forgot that experience. I shall always be grateful to my Primary teacher for such an opportunity.

Before their move to Broken Hill, the Kowalski family lived in Ipswich, Queensland, on Australia’s east coast. It’s a nearly tropical area, green and lush and close to some of the finest beaches in the world.
Then Jared’s dad took a job as a dentist for one of the mining companies, and the Kowalskis moved to Broken Hill. In the middle of nowhere. Or at least on the edge of nowhere. And Jared couldn’t be happier.
To some, the red, sandy soil of the outback may be a poor trade for the golden beaches near Ipswich. But to Jared, the snakes and odd lizards and other creatures of the outback are fascinating. In addition to the dogs and fish and other pets that any family might have, Jared has a small backyard menagerie with a bearded dragon lizard, a shingle-back lizard, turtles, finches, and quails—oh, and his carpet python, Monty.
Jared’s interest in animals goes even further. On some Saturdays, he helps the local veterinarian in his surgery, handing him instruments. “I thought it would be interesting,” he says, “so I asked if I could help.”
And if Jared could travel, where would he go? He doesn’t have to think that one over for long. “The Amazon rain forest,” he says. “There’s all those interesting plants and animals. That’s where I’d like to serve my mission, too. I think the people there would be interesting as well.” As much as Jared likes animals, you find when you talk to him that his greatest appreciation is for people.
A good prospector must look beyond the surface of the rocks to see the treasures they might hide. Jared’s that way with people. When you ask him if he feels isolated here in Broken Hill, he says, “I like it. There are some good members here. The best ones are old. They’ve got a lot to tell you. Most of them are really spiritual.”
The branch in Broken Hill is small, and Jared is the oldest Aaronic Priesthood bearer. He’s conscious of the example he has to set for the younger boys, to show his brothers and the other boys “the right things to do.” And the priesthood itself? “It just feels good. You feel special—a lot more confident when you have to do hard things, like tests at school.”
One of those right things to do is home teaching. “I like to home teach,” Jared says. With his senior companion, Lee Robertson, Jared visits five families, offering the prayer when asked. Jared likes people, and home teaching helps him get to know these families better. (It doesn’t hurt that Brother Robertson is also an outdoorsman. He and Jared sometimes talk about hunting wild pigs in the bush, and Jared is looking forward to getting his own compound bow, maybe doing some hunting himself.)
Jared has struck it rich in Broken Hill, all right, but he would also be the first to admit that he brought his greatest treasure with him. The Kowalski home on Cobalt Street is modest, but it’s filled with family and love. As Jared puts it, “We have heaps of fun. We have family home evening, go to the movies. I go camping with my dad.”
The family also reads the Book of Mormon together. Sometimes it makes Jared feel inspired; sometimes it’s hard to understand. But it does help contribute to his growing testimony. “I’ve already got a big testimony of prayer,” he says.
When Jared’s mission call comes a few years from now, it may not be to the jungles of the Amazon. But you know that wherever he goes, he’s going to be happy and successful.
Some people look at a place and think of it as nowhere. Then a guy like Jared comes along and turns it into his own personal somewhere. Like those first prospectors, Jared has found a vein of treasure. He’s rich in the best possible way.

One hot summer day, Reesey and Cheyenne invited Zara over to play. Mum made a snack. The girls sat at the table to eat.
Mum sliced mangoes from their mango tree. She put apple slices and grapes on a plate. Reesey looked at the delicious food. She remembered to say a prayer before eating her snack. She asked Zara, “Do you pray at your house?”
“What’s that?” Zara asked.
“Like this,” said Cheyenne. She folded her arms and bowed her head. She asked a blessing on the food. When she was done, she said, “See? Like that. Easy!”
“We don’t do that at our house. We just eat,” said Zara.
Reesey had never thought about not praying. “Mum,” she said, “can we stop saying prayers?”
Mum smiled as she carried cups of ice water to the table. “We like thanking Heavenly Father for what He has given us. We’re going to keep saying prayers. But it’s OK if other people don’t.”
Reesey knew Mum was right. She was happy when her family prayed. Maybe praying would make Zara happy too. “You could try it,” she said to Zara. “Prayers are good.”
“I like it when we pray,” said Cheyenne.“It makes me feel like a smile all over me inside.”
Zara smiled. “Maybe I will,” she said and ate a slice of mango.
Reesey and Cheyenne were happy they could tell their friend about praying. They all finished their snacks and ran back outside to play.

As our family discussed our most memorable family home evening, what stuck out had nothing to do with a fun activity, clever object lesson, or special treat. It was a simple but profound experience that began with a lesson our 17-year-old son, Fielding, prepared about forgiveness.
After the lesson, everyone had an opportunity to express his or her feelings about what we liked about each other and what we wished we could improve in ourselves. We talked about the challenges we each faced and helped each other find solutions. We cried together, asked forgiveness of each other, and set goals to be better.
Family home evening has become one of our favorite times. We love how it allows our children to express themselves more freely and with confidence.

One time Bessie got tangled up in some barbwire and had deep, bleeding cuts on both hind legs when we found her.
Papa came out of the house with a curved needle and some black silk thread.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“To sew her up—like you do a tear in your dress,” he explained and showed me how to take a stitch, tie a knot, cut the thread, and take another stitch.
Quickly the wound was pulled together and Papa washed off the blood.
“It’ll soon be good as new,” he assured us.
After that, whenever an animal had a bad cut, I ran to get the curved needle and thread for Papa and watched while he sewed it up.

Camilla C., 14, remembers feeling excited when she turned 12 and entered the Young Women program. “Yes, I finally made it!” says Camilla, reflecting on that day. However, she soon became overwhelmed flipping through the pages of her new, pink Personal Progress booklet. “I realized I had an entire book to complete, and I had just completed Faith in God,” says Camilla.
Kalie G., a Mia Maid at the time, had earned her Young Womanhood Recognition and had decided to work on her Honor Bee, which can be earned after the Young Womanhood Recognition and involves mentoring another young woman with her Personal Progress. Kalie learned that Camilla needed help, and the two young women started meeting together weekly.
Camilla says Kalie “helped me with the scriptures that are listed in the different value experiences. She would assign me one scripture for each day of the week.”
Kalie says, “We would go over the value experience that she completed from the past week. We worked on it for a couple of months.”
Camilla discovered that having Kalie as a mentor was helpful. “I would have waited longer to do my Personal Progress had Kalie not helped,” says Camilla. “She was an inspiration to me. I have grown in my own strength because of her.”
Having these spiritual experiences together has strengthened their friendship. Plus, Camilla is close to earning her Young Womanhood Recognition, and Kalie earned her Honor Bee. But the two agree that something even better came as a result of working on Personal Progress.
“Reading my scriptures morning and night and praying morning and night” are two major habits that Camilla has continued since working on Personal Progress. The same is true for Kalie.
Kalie says, “One of the [Honor Bee requirements] is to read the Book of Mormon again, and I think that helped me keep the habit of reading it every single day.”

I had the opportunity to visit my daughter Callie in Las Vegas, Nevada, USA, where she had recently moved with her husband and two children. Callie’s ward met at noon, so we had a nice leisurely morning to get ready and discuss some options for after church. Since Callie hadn’t had a chance to visit the temple yet, we decided to go and take some pictures of the children on the temple grounds.
As with all temples, the grounds of the Las Vegas Nevada Temple were beautiful and well kept with beautiful fountains and flowers.
After reading a story President Thomas S. Monson told, Callie was eager to take her children to the temple so they could touch it (see “Finding Peace,” Liahona, Mar. 2004, 5–6). The first thing she did was explain the sacredness and importance of the temple to her daughter, Stella.
Stella understood as well as any three-year-old would, and we urged her to touch the temple. We took several pictures of Stella and her three-month-old brother touching the temple.
When it was time to leave, Stella was especially reluctant to go. We thought we understood why; she was having a great time in a beautiful setting and was undoubtedly feeling the same spirit we were.
After getting her in the car and buckled up, we began to leave. I turned around, waved, and said to Stella, “Say bye-bye, temple.” She looked at the temple, waved, and said, “Bye-bye, temple. Bye-bye, Grandpa.” I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly, but when I turned to Callie and saw her eyes fill with tears, I knew we had both heard the same thing.
Stella’s grandfather—my husband, Tim—had passed away four years before Stella was born. She certainly had seen pictures of him and heard the family talk about him, but he hadn’t come up in our conversations that day.
When Tim passed away, we had only one grandchild. Now we have 12, and whenever I hold one of those precious new babies who so recently left our Heavenly Father’s presence, I want to ask, “Did you get to meet your grandpa? What words of advice did he send you off with?”
My testimony of the sacredness of temples was strengthened that day. We may not be able to take our young children inside with us, but we can take them right up to the doors and allow them to put their hands on the doors that countless worthy members have used to enter the house of the Lord.

Years ago, I served as a local Church leader. One of our young men, Danny, was outstanding in every way. He was obedient, kind, good, and had a great heart. However, when he graduated from high school, he started to associate with a rough crowd. He got involved in drugs, specifically methamphetamine, and traveled down the slippery slope of addiction and destruction. Before long, his appearance completely changed. He was hardly recognizable. The most significant change was in his eyes—the light in his eyes had dimmed. Several times I reached out to him, but to no avail. He wasn’t interested.
It was difficult to see this incredible young man suffer and live a life that was not him! He was capable of so much more.
Then one day, his miracle began.
He attended a sacrament meeting where his younger brother shared his testimony prior to departing for a mission. During the meeting, Danny felt something he had not felt for a long time. He felt the love of the Lord. He finally had hope.
Although he had a desire to change, it was difficult for Danny. His addictions and the accompanying guilt were almost more than he could bear.
One particular afternoon, when I was out mowing our lawn, Danny pulled up in his car unannounced. He was struggling terribly. I turned off the mower, and we sat down together in the shade of the front porch. It was then that he shared the feelings of his heart. He truly wanted to come back. However, turning away from his addictions and lifestyle was extremely difficult. Adding to this, he felt so guilty, so ashamed for falling so far. He asked, “Can I really be forgiven? Is there really a way back?”
After he poured out his heart with these concerns, we read Alma chapter 36 together:
“Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities. …
“Yea, … the very thought of coming into the presence of my God did rack my soul with inexpressible horror” (verses 13–14).
After those verses, Danny said, “This is exactly how I feel!”
We continued:
“While I was harrowed up by the memory of my many sins, behold, I remembered also to have heard my father prophesy unto the people concerning the coming of one Jesus Christ, a Son of God, to atone for the sins of the world. …
“And oh, what joy, and what marvelous light I did behold” (verses 17, 20).
As we read these passages, tears began to flow. Alma’s joy was the joy he had been searching for!
We discussed that Alma had been exceptionally wicked. However, once he repented, he never looked back. He became a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ. He became a prophet! Danny’s eyes widened. “A prophet?” he said.
I simply responded, “Yes, a prophet. No pressure on you!”
We discussed that while his sins did not rise to the level of Alma’s, the same promise of complete and perfect forgiveness is made to everyone—in and through the infinite Atonement of Jesus Christ.
Danny now understood. He knew what he needed to do: he needed to begin his journey by trusting in the Lord and forgiving himself!
Danny’s mighty change of heart was nothing short of a miracle. Over time, his countenance changed, and the brightness in his eyes returned. He became temple worthy! He was finally back!
After several months, I asked Danny if he would like to submit an application to serve a full-time mission. His response was one of shock and awe.
He said, “I would love to serve a mission, but you know where I have been and the things I have done! I thought I was disqualified.”
I responded, “You may be right. However, there is nothing precluding us from making a request. If you are excused, at least you will know that you expressed a sincere desire to serve the Lord.” His eyes lit up. He was thrilled with this idea. To him this was a long shot, but it was a chance he was willing to take.
A few weeks later, and to his amazement, another miracle occurred. Danny received a call to serve a full-time mission.
A few months after Danny arrived in the mission field, I received a telephone call. His president simply said, “What is it with this young man? He is the most incredible missionary I have ever seen!” You see, this president had received a modern-day Alma the Younger.
Two years later, Danny returned home with honor, having served the Lord with all his heart, might, mind, and strength.
Following his missionary report in sacrament meeting, I returned home, only to hear a knock at the front door. There stood Danny with tears welling in his eyes. He said, “Can we talk for a minute?” We went outside to the same porch step.
He said, “President, do you think I have truly been forgiven?”
Now my tears accompanied his. Before me stood a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ who had given his all to teaching and testifying about the Savior. He was the embodiment of the healing and strengthening power of the Savior’s Atonement.
I said, “Danny! Have you looked in the mirror? Have you seen your eyes? They are filled with light, and you are beaming with the Spirit of the Lord. Of course you have been forgiven! You are amazing! Now what you need to do is move forward with your life. Don’t look back! Look forward with faith to the next ordinance.”
Danny’s miracle continues today. He married in the temple and returned to school, where he received a master’s degree. He continues to serve the Lord with honor and dignity in his callings. More important, he has become an incredible husband and a faithful father. He is a devoted disciple of Jesus Christ.
President Russell M. Nelson taught, “Without the [Savior’s] infinite Atonement, all mankind would be irretrievably lost.” Danny wasn’t lost, and neither are we to the Lord. He stands at the door to lift us, to strengthen us, and to forgive us. He always remembers to love us!

The youth of the Malta Second Ward, Declo Idaho Stake, challenged the adult members of the ward to read the Book of Mormon in three months. Many of the ward adults took the challenge. The youth established some rules for the challenge. Team members could only count what they read from that time on. They couldn’t just listen to records or tapes unless there was a special situation.
The youth team consisted of all young people in the ward over 12, including single Young Adults. Everyone married and in the adult classes made up the adult team. At the end of the three months, the losing team would prepare a dinner and dance for the winners.
It was interesting to see the enthusiasm build as the ward caught the spirit of the reading. The following comments from ward members were typical: “This has helped my family so much. We have the most wonderful spirit in our home now.” “I didn’t know the Book of Mormon was so interesting. I could hardly put it down.” “I understood the book better this time than I ever have before.”
As the final day arrived, it was announced that one-third of the adults finished within the deadline, and over half the youth. The youth were ecstatic about their success.
The celebration was held with a great dinner and a family dance.

Although to some it may seem like the Church leaders are taking away our agency, they are really giving us more freedom if we choose to do as they say. One day, my friend was talking to me about her complicated “love life.” She had to deal with a lot of unnecessary stress because she had chosen not to wait until age 16 before dating. She felt very restrained in many ways that she wouldn’t have if she had waited. This friend told me, “You guys are so blessed! At church, when they tell you to wait until you’re 16, they mean it!” The more I thought about this, the more I realized she was right. Sometimes we don’t see the reason for things, but people who have been through it know a lot of things we don’t.Name withheld