Gospel Story Finder

I testify that I know victims of serious abuse who have successfully made the difficult journey to full healing through the power of the Atonement. After her own concerns were resolved by her faith in the healing power of the Atonement, one young woman who had been severely abused by her father requested another interview with me. She returned with an older couple. I could sense that she loved the two very deeply. Her face radiated happiness. She began, “Elder Scott, this is my father. I love him. He’s concerned about some things that happened in my early childhood. They are no longer a problem for me. Could you help him?” What a powerful confirmation of the Savior’s capacity to heal! She no longer suffered from the consequences of abuse, because she had adequate understanding of His Atonement, sufficient faith, and was obedient to His law. As you conscientiously study the Atonement and exercise your faith that Jesus Christ has the power to heal, you can receive the same blessed relief. During your journey of recovery, accept His invitation to let Him share your burden until you have sufficient time and strength to be healed.

Illustrated by Sal Velluto and Eugenio Mattozzi
When Wilford Woodruff became the prophet, many Church members did not have enough money. Wilford especially worried about some of the farmers.
President Woodruff: What can the Church do to help the people?
After hearing a report on sugar, President Woodruff felt the Church should begin growing sugar beets. He appointed a committee to learn more.
President Woodruff: The Church needs to know if sugar beets would be a good business.
Committee member: We will find out for you, President.
When the committee decided that growing sugar would not be a good idea, President Woodruff asked a second group to look into it again.
Committee member: This group agrees with the first. We do not think sugar beet manufacturing would be a good business for the Church.
President Woodruff: Never mind this report. I feel inspired to start the sugar beet industry.
Just as the new company began planning to build a factory, Utah began to have serious money trouble. It was not a good time to begin a business.
Committee member: President Woodruff, it is just as we feared. The Utah Sugar Company will never survive!
Committee member: We recommend that you get out of the business while you still can.
President Woodruff would not agree.
President Woodruff: The Lord has inspired me to have us work with sugar beets, and we will. Every time I think of abandoning it, there is darkness; and every time I think of building it, there is light.We will build the factory even if it busts the Church!
As the prophet, President Woodruff always tried to lead the Church through the inspiration of the Holy Ghost. The sugar company eventually helped many struggling farmers.

I have felt impressed to share a personal witness of how life's greatest test, task and commandment blend together to bless and develop us.

On Saturday, December 20, 2008, it was a busy day in the Miyasaki home. My wife helped with the finishing touches of our local High School's Operation Merry Christmas. We then cooked breakfast for the basketball team, and after running several more errands, she was getting ready to go score keep at the upcoming basketball games when she complained of chest pains. I deducted it was probably just her fast paced morning, and instructed her to just lie down and rest for a bit. My daughter came and told me that the pain still persisted and I called my sister, a nurse for counsel. She suggested I take her to the Community Care Center for examination. On the way to Rexburg from our home in Sugar City, my wife said in a tearful voice, "I'm too young to die". I scolded her for even thinking that she would die, but little did I know, that in less than one minute, she would state, "I feel like I'm going to faint", and then she went into cardiac arrest. As she went limp, I reached over and placed one hand on her head, offering a short priesthood blessing. I maneuvered my way to the hospital, steering with one arm down the center of the road, and with my other arm headlocking my sweetheart's limp body to keep her upright, until we arrived at the Emergency Room. I ran in and shouted, my wife is not breathing, and quickly the medical personnel rushed her to the emergency room.

I heard the overhead address system call out repeatedly, "Code Blue, Emergency Room". I watched the flat line on the heart monitor, fear overcame me and I called my daughter to tell the family their mother was not breathing nor had a heartbeat. Just as I hung up the phone, in the next miraculous moment, they revived her life.

She was transferred to the hospital in Idaho Falls underwent successful surgery, but still unconscious, the physicians warned me that they did not know how much damage was left by the minutes she was without oxygen before she was brought back to life. For 24 hours they reduced her body temperature to the high 80's to keep the swelling in her brain to a minimum.

I recall sitting by her side during that time, holding her cold hand, wondering what might our future be. Would she be less than what she had been? Would she be able to walk, talk, and think? How would our life now be changed?

I remember wondering what I should pray for. A blessing was given, could I pray for more than what she was blessed? What was the will of the Father? Did He want her to be here or did He need her in the next life? Or if she were to survive and be less than normal, did God desire me to live a life of serving my sweetheart?

On Monday morning, some 40 hours since hearing those words, "I'm too young to die", my Darla opened her eyes. During the next two days, she showed remarkable progress, and it looked as if all was well and normal. She was talking, walking, eating, making jokes, and began stating her worries. The doctors were enthused, and reported Darla would be moved to the rehab floor on Wednesday, which meant we were close to release, possibly on Christmas day. It was now Tuesday night, and after the visitors and family all left, Darla and I were alone in the room, holding hands, I offered a prayer of thanks.

After the prayer, Darla asked me, "Why did this happen to me?"
I responded, "Probably to learn some important lessons."
After a moment, Darla said, "I don't know of any lessons I have learned," then she asked, "what have you learned?"
I then rehearsed to her many lessons that I had learned, but one of the great lessons I rehearsed was from the teachings of Paul found in Ephesians 5:25: "Husbands, love your wives even as Christ also loved the church."

My discovery that night, was the answer to the question, "how do we take hold of the good root?"
We do it by following the example of our Savior. We taste of the sweetness of the blessings of the atonement when we abide by his invitation of "...that which ye have seen me do even that shall ye do."[12]

During the night after that sacred conversation, my Sweetheart suffered a severe stroke. The doctors after examining the MRI results reported that the bleeding in her brain was so severe, that Darla had lost her ability to speak, think, and be mobile. They posed a possible surgical intervention that at best preserve a vegetative state, but even at that stated her chance to survive the surgery was 50/50. Without surgery, they speculated she would die within a few hours.

As patriarch, I gathered our family into a hospital room. There I announced to them the state of my wife, their mother, their sister, and grandmother. The scene was heart wrenching. We had to make a quick decision. Should it be surgery with the best possible results a vegetative state, or let fate take its course and have Darla with us only a few more hours. A beautiful, heart searching family prayer was offered by my son, Jared, and the will of the Lord was revealed. Darla's mortal mission was complete, and we must submit to the will of the Father.

Brothers and Sisters, submission to the Father's will in all things is a pattern of love. It is the essential characteristic of the atonement and receiving the blessings of the atonement. It shows we trust in Him, that we love Him most, and in turn we can love others best. He then can bless us in ways that we cannot see nor comprehend. We then can produce fruit that we and He can lay up against the season.

Six days had now passed since we made the decision, and Darla was in an unconscious state throughout this time, her body hanging on to mortality, but day by day growing closer to death. On this sixth night, we had a dinner of take out Chinese food, which of course included the fortune cookies. We joked about how lame the messages of fortune had become, my message echoed this as it read, "the evening promises romantic interests". We all shared a laugh about my untimely message of fortune. For when one envisions romance, certain images appear of a night out, possibly going to a nice dinner, having wonderful caring conversations, and then cuddling and loving each other. That was certainly not in my cards that night.

I discovered that night what true romance really is. That last night of being together in this mortality was filled with pure love and romance. After my family had left, and it was just my sweetheart and I in the hospital room, I told my unconscious Darla that this would most likely be our last night together. I shared with her that I was ready to let her go and asked if she was ready. I noticed her eyes twitching, something that I had not seen for a week. I asked her if she could to respond by squinting her eyes once for yes and twice for no. She responded with a squint. It was evident her spirit was alive and was able to communicate with me. She responded that she was also ready to go on.

We then started the night with a prayer. I then read scriptures to her from sections 130, 132, and 138 from the Doctrine and Covenants, Alma 7, 42, and 43, and from the 5th book of Ephesians. I shared with her my testimony and lessons I had learned from each of those scriptures. We prayed again. During the time in the hospital, I tried very hard not to counsel the Lord, and not ask for things that were contrary to His will. I tried to really pray in the name of Christ, and to have the mind of Christ. That night as we prayed, I felt the feeling that anything I asked that night would be granted, and so I offered my sweetheart, pure, clean, and ready for service in the next life. I then laid my hands on my eternal companion's head and gave her the last priesthood blessing in this mortality. Then, after this most beautiful night, positioning chairs so I could lay down next to Darla, we then held hands the remainder of the night, all night long.

That, my friends, was truly a night of romance and pure love. Not a penny was spent, there was no fancy dressing up, no expensive dinners, not one dependency on outside entertainment. Yet, our spirits were molded into one, our hearts were bound, we were one in purpose though soon our paths would be temporarily separated, never would our eternal destiny differ.

As I went through this ordeal, there was nothing more I desired than for my sweetheart to live. We had a future with plans of serving in the temple, going on missions, and enjoying our family. Because of loving God first, I was able to love my Sweetheart the best. Because of submitting our will to the will of the Lord, we were blessed with so many miracles and continue to be blessed.

About six years ago, while in a weekly ward meeting, we received news that one of the sisters had been hit by a car. Though she was taken to the hospital immediately, she died a short while later.
The bishop asked one of his counselors and me to visit her immediate family to offer comfort and our help in arranging for the funeral. We went to the only relatives she had—a married sister, Maria Gerez, and her family, who were not members of the Church.
The family welcomed us and accepted our help. We had the opportunity to discuss the plan of salvation as well as make arrangements for the funeral services. Two weeks later, the entire family came to church to thank the members for the help and support they had received.
The family was introduced to the missionaries and, in a short time, the mother, Maria, and one of the daughters, Karina, were baptized. As the years passed, they were both active. The father, Ramon, would come at the end of Sunday meetings to pick up his family and he always participated in the recreational activities.
One Sunday afternoon, my wife and I were talking about missionary work. We both agreed that Ramon Gerez was in many ways a member of the Church; he just hadn’t been baptized.
We decided to arrange an evening together with both of our families. We did so and also invited the missionaries. Since we didn’t know each other well, the visit began with casual conversation. But, almost immediately, something inside of me was saying, “Ask him NOW, NOW!”
I realized that this was the key. All I had to do was ask him. So I looked Brother Gerez straight in the eye and said, “As you might imagine, we are here for a very special reason. My wife and I have noticed the good relationship you have with your family and that is why we would like to ask you a few questions.”
“Do you believe in God and in his Son Jesus Christ?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Do you love your wife and your daughters?” I continued.
“Yes,” he said again, showing a definite interest.
“Do you love your family enough that you would like to be with them after death and throughout eternity?” I asked.
Again he said, “Yes.”
“You are a good man,” I told him. “You love your family and there is no reason to postpone receiving the blessings of the priesthood and the temple any longer.” My wife then bore her testimony and we arranged for Ramon to receive the missionary discussions.
One month later, Ramon Gerez was baptized. He has since served in many positions in his ward and stake in Argentina.
I learned something from this experience: All we have to do is ask. If we are worthy of the blessings that come from asking with a “sincere heart and with real intent,” the Lord will answer our prayers by touching others with his Spirit. If the question is asked with the Spirit, the answer will also come in that manner, especially if we have the courage to ask.

One day in early winter, the boys planned to go hunting with their father. Charlie was so excited that he could hardly eat the spice cake Mrs. Thorpe had made for supper. “Do you feel all right?” she asked, feeling his forehead. “Why, Hiram, he has a fever!”
Charlie had to stay home. Jimmy could see that he was shivering under his pile of blankets. “I wish you could go,” he said awkwardly. His heart was heavy, for the twins had never been separated.
“Me, too,” Charlie whispered.
In two days Mr. Thorpe brought down three deer and a small bear. The third day he loaded the gun and handed it to Jimmy. “It’s your turn, son.”
Only once had Jimmy shot the big gun at a target. Although the recoil had knocked him over, he hadn’t missed! Now they were hiding in the brush near a little stream. When a big stag came to drink, Jimmy quietly sighted along the barrel. For Charlie, he thought as he squeezed the trigger. Boooom! Jimmy reeled backward, but the deer lay on the ground.
“Good work!” his father praised him. They loaded the horses, and Mr. Thorpe shouldered two deer himself for the long hike home.
“You must be as strong as Black Hawk!”
“Your eye is keen, your thinking straight, and your speed great,” his father returned the compliment. “Already you follow the path of Black Hawk.”
Jimmy thought about his Indian name, Wa-Tho-Huck (Bright Path). He hoped that whatever his “bright path” might be, it would be honorable, like Black Hawk’s.
Mrs. Thorpe met them at the door, but in spite of the great good luck of so much meat, tears streaked her face. “It’s Charlie,” she mourned. “He had pneumonia. He’s gone.”
Blindly Jimmy turned away. How could it be time for Charlie to go to the spirit world? If only he had let Charlie beat him just one time! He felt father’s strong arms around him.

Some years ago I had an acquaintance who had allowed himself to become a compulsive user of alcohol. He drank before he had dinner, and he would have what he called a “bracer” before involving himself in major business decisions. During a routine physical examination one day, a doctor told him that, for the good of his health, he should break the drinking habit. When I asked him what he intended to do, he said, “That’s easy. I’ll just change doctors.”

I was so excited! I had turned 12 about two weeks ago and had received my first temple recommend on Sunday. My dad was going to take me to the Spokane Washington Temple for the first time as a birthday present.
On the day of our trip, I was ready to go an hour early! I was just so eager to go! We finally got into the car and listened to hymns on the trip there, which really brought in the Spirit that day.
My mom had prepared some family names for me and my dad to take to the temple. While I was entering the font I had expected this huge spiritual experience, but that didn’t happen. What did happen was that I was baptized for one of my deceased relatives, and I felt a still, small voice whisper to me, “You are doing the right thing.”
On the way home I really thought about what had happened at the temple. I realized I didn’t need the huge spiritual experience I had been expecting. I was so glad I had the Holy Ghost with me that day so that I could hear the still, small voice.
I’m so thankful for the temple and all of its blessings! The temple has brought me and my family great blessings, happiness, and experiences with the still, small voice.

In November 1998, a lady named Miss Sugimoto came to our school to teach us about Japan. She told us that they have tea ceremonies in Japan and that we were going to have one, too. I know that I’m not supposed to drink tea, and I started to feel scared inside. I said a prayer to Heavenly Father and asked for help. I then remembered a story that I had read in the Friend magazine about a girl who had to make the same decision I had to make. When the day came for the tea ceremony and they put the cup in front of me, I explained that I didn’t want to taste it.
After I had made my decision not to drink the tea, a friend tried to make me change my mind. She said that if I didn’t drink it, she wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Even though she said that, I didn’t drink it. I know that I made the right decision and that Heavenly Father knows it, too.

The Millers’ most unusual family home evening started out very much as usual. Mom and Dad sat together holding hands. Twelve-year-old Jeramie looked bored. Nine-year-old Charlie tapped his toes impatiently. Eight-year-old Jimmy made faces at six-year-old Jenny, who glared back at him. It was four-year-old Billie Jo’s turn to lead the opening song, and she waved her hands wildly to “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam”—as usual.
After the opening prayer, Dad began the lesson by hanging a picture of Jesus on the wall and telling the children that they should always remember Him.
Just then there was a knock at the door, and the man Dad invited in was anything but usual. He had a brown beard and long brown hair that hung to his shoulders. He wore a tan robe that came down to the brown sandals on his feet. A dark blue cloak hung across one shoulder. He looked just like the people in most of the paintings they had seen of the Savior’s time.
The children were very quiet when the stranger spoke. He said his name was James and that he was going to tell them some stories about his special Friend, Jesus Christ.
The first story was about a young man who died. The man’s mother had been very sad. She needed her son. She had asked Jesus to help her. He spoke to her son, and the young man awakened. (See Luke 7:12–14.)
James’s next story was about when Jesus had been teaching a large crowd of people on a mountain by the sea. No one had brought anything to eat, except a boy who had five loaves of bread and two small fish. The boy had been willing to share his food, so Jesus blessed it. After it had been blessed, it fed all five thousand people, with some left over. (See John 6:1–14.)
The stranger, who called himself James, talked to the Millers a long time. They had heard his stories before, but when he told them, they seemed to have just happened. There was an even more wonderful feeling in the room as James told them how much the Savior loved the people He had taught and how much He loved them. He told them that they would be happier if they remembered to love one another as much as Jesus Christ loved them.
Mom had begun to lead the closing song, “Love One Another,” before the children recognized the stranger. When he began to sing, they all knew that it was Brother Park, the man who led the singing in sacrament meeting each week. Long hair and a beard couldn’t disguise his singing voice. His first name really was James, he said, and the Savior really was his special Friend.
Brother Park stayed to eat ice cream and cookies with them. Before he left, he looked at the picture of Jesus that Dad had hung up and said, “You know, this is just how an artist thinks Jesus looks, but when you look at it, I hope that you will remember Him. Remember that He cares about what you do, and He loves you.”
The next Tuesday after school, when Jimmy took Jenny’s doll to drive his dump truck, Jenny became angry and grabbed it back. When she looked up to call her mom and tell on Jimmy, she saw the picture of Jesus. She remembered that Brother Park had said they would be happier by remembering to love one another. She knew how to show love for Jimmy. She said, “I guess I’m not going to use this now. You can play with it, but please ask next time.” Jimmy was so surprised that he almost forgot to say thanks.
On Wednesday, Charlie was hurrying past the picture on the wall when he ran smack into Billie Jo and knocked her down. She began to cry. Charlie was about to say something like, “You big baby, watch where you’re going next time.” But his eyes looked right into the eyes in the picture, and he remembered Brother Park telling them about the people who had hurt Jesus. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, especially Billie Jo. He knelt down and put his arm around his little sister. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Billie Jo quit crying and smiled. “I’m OK,” she said and went off to play. Charlie was glad that he had taken the time to show love for Billie Jo.
Thursday was a terrible day for Jeramie. She was in junior high school, and her homework was hard. When she got home from school, the calculator she used in math was missing, and she was sure that one of the little kids had gone into her room and grabbed it. She was about to yell at her mother to punish “the little brats,” when she looked up and saw the picture of Jesus. She was still plenty mad, but she just didn’t feel like yelling anymore. She went quietly to find Mom, who reminded her that she had done her homework in the den last night. Sure enough, her calculator was in her father’s desk, where she had left it.
A little later, Billie Jo came home from a friend’s birthday party with a sack of candy. Jimmy and Jenny were sitting underneath the picture of Jesus. “What’s in the bag?” Jimmy asked. Billie Jo didn’t know if she had enough candy to share with all her brothers and sisters. But she saw the picture on the wall and remembered Brother Parks telling about the little boy who had shared his bread and fish with five thousand people.
“Come into the kitchen,” Billie Jo said. “I have something to share.” She called Jeramie and Charlie in too. The rest of the day Billie Jo imagined that she could see the picture smiling at her. In her heart she knew that Jesus was proud of her.
On Friday, Jimmy came home from school tired. He dumped his books on the floor and tossed his jacket onto the couch. But it seemed to him that the picture of Jesus was looking directly at his books on the floor. Jimmy knew that the picture couldn’t really see anything, but he remembered how he had felt before they recognized Brother Park. If Jesus were to come into his home, he wouldn’t want his books to be on the floor. So Jimmy put them away and hung his jacket in the closet. As he munched on an apple and relaxed, he was glad that his house looked neat and clean. He knew that his mom would be glad too.
When the Millers gathered for dinner Saturday night, they were surprised to see flowers on the table and the best dishes set at each place. Dinner was especially nice, and when Mom brought out a fancy cake for dessert, Billie Jo wondered who was having a birthday.
Dad took a piece of cake. “What’s the occasion?” he asked.
“I don’t really know,” Mom said. “I just felt like celebrating. Maybe it’s the happy feeling we’ve had in this house all week without any fights. Or maybe I was remembering our family home evening and wanted to be prepared in case Jesus decided to come for dinner tonight.”
Everyone laughed, but when they bowed their heads for family prayer that night, they all felt in their hearts as if Jesus really had come to visit their home that week.

Several years ago Sister Packer and I determined that we should get our records in order. However, under the pressure of Church responsibilities with my travels about the world, and the obligations with our large family and a home to keep up both indoors and outdoors, there just was not enough time. But we were restless about this family history responsibility, and finally we determined that somehow we would have to make more time in the day.
During the Christmas holidays when we had a little extra time, we started. Then as we moved back to a regular schedule after the holidays, we adopted the practice of getting up an hour or two earlier each day.
We gathered together everything we had, and in the course of a few weeks we were amazed at what we were able to accomplish. The thing that was most impressive, however, was the fact that we began to have experiences that told us somehow that we were being guided, that there were those beyond the veil who were interested in what we were doing. Things began to fall into place.
As I have traveled about the Church and paid particular attention to this subject, many testimonies have come to light. Others who assemble their records together are likewise having similar experiences. It was as though the Lord was waiting for us to begin.
We found things we had wondered about for a long time. It seemed as though they came to us almost too easily. More than this, things that we never dreamed existed began to show up. We began to learn by personal experience that this research into our families is an inspired work. We came to know that an inspiration will follow those who move into it. It is just a matter of getting started.
Once we started, we found the time. Somehow we were able to carry on all of the other responsibilities. There seemed to be an increased inspiration in our lives because of this work.
The Lord will bless you once you begin this work. This has been very evident to my family. Since the time we decided that we would start where we were, with what we had, many things have opened to us.

I’m thinking of another missionary, who said, “Two weeks before I was going to see my bishop and tell him I was ready to go in the mission field, I had some doubts. I had some questions about the future and even about the Church. I walked into the living room and interrupted my father, who was watching TV, and said, ‘Dad, I’m not so sure about Joseph Smith. I’m not so sure I know this Church is true. I’m not so sure I want to go out and represent it. I have a lot of questions and I have a lot of misgivings.’ When I said that to my father, he walked over and turned the television off, took the cigarette he had in his hand and smashed it in the ashtray, took the can of beer he had in his other hand and put it down on the table, and said, ‘Son, I want you to know that I don’t do very much about it, but I know that the church of Jesus Christ is true and that Joseph Smith is a prophet. I want you to hear me say it, because I know that better than anything in the world.’” This young man stood up and said, “I want my father to know, even though he probably can’t hear me, that I appreciate him. He has some habits that he’s not proud of. He has some habits that I’m not proud of. But he’s my father and has a testimony and I love him.” That kind of appreciation, that kind of maturity, will not only help a missionary to grow and develop to become more purposeful in life, but will also be a great anchor in life’s paths.

Eight feet dragged downstairs to Mom’s sewing room. “Mom,” said Johnny, as he, Benjamin, Katie, and Miriam opened the door, “we’re bored. What can we do?”
“Go swimming?” Mom answered.
“We did that yesterday,” said Katie.
“Why don’t you ride your bikes?” suggested Mom.
“We did that this morning,” Johnny answered.
Mom smiled. “Then catch some monkeys.”
“What?” Benjamin jumped.
Mom laughed. “I just wanted to see if you were listening.”
“Sure we’re listening,” said Benjamin. “We don’t have anything else to do.”
“OK,” said Mom, “how about having a Popsicle race?”
“A Popsicle race?” Miriam asked.
“You mean, see who can eat one the fastest?” asked Katie. “We always race each other in everything. We want to do something different.”
“Oh, this is different,” Mom said. “Eating the Popsicles is just the first part. The fun part comes when all you have left are the sticks.”
The children frowned. “What do you mean?” asked Benjamin.
“Here’s how it works,” Mom explained. “Everybody gets a Popsicle and goes in a different direction. Then you have to think of an unusual and interesting thing to do with your Popsicle or its stick. It’s a race because you have to be back here within an hour.”
“You mean, we try to do something with a Popsicle or the stick that we’ve never done before?” asked Johnny.
“That’s right.” Mom nodded. “And there’s one more rule. Whatever you do must make someone else happy. Whoever comes up with the best idea wins. How does that sound?”
The children looked at each other for a moment. “I think that it sounds like fun,” Benjamin said.
“Me, too,” Miriam and Johnny agreed.
“Let’s go!” shouted Katie, and eight feet pounded up the stairs toward the freezer.
A few minutes later Mom looked through the window and smiled at four excited children with four brightly colored Popsicles dashing off in four different directions.
Nearly an hour had passed before Benjamin came running downstairs, grinning. “Hi, Mom,” he said. “Anyone else back yet?”
“You’re the first,” Mom answered, looking out the window. “But here comes Johnny, and Katie is right behind him. And I see Miriam down the street.”
Within minutes the children all gathered in the sewing room. The girls were laughing, and Johnny was so excited that he could hardly stand still. “I did it!” he said. “Let me tell first!”
“No!” shouted the girls. “We want to tell!”
“Hush, now,” Mom said. “You can tell your Popsicle stories in the order of your return. Benjamin, that means that you’re first.”
“OK,” said Benjamin, jumping up. “Well, I ate my Popsicle while walking down the sidewalk and trying to think of something to do. When it was gone, I sat down on the curb to think some more. I was sitting across from Mrs. Taylor’s house. I remembered about Mr. Taylor dying last year and about Mom and Dad saying what a hard time Mrs. Taylor’s been having trying to do everything by herself. I wished that I could help her. Then I noticed that her garden patch was full of weeds—and I got my idea. I went over and asked Mrs. Taylor if it was all right, then used my stick as a tool to dig weeds out of her garden!”
Mom hugged Benjamin. “I’m proud of you,” she said. “What a great idea! I know that it made Mrs. Taylor very happy.”
“My turn!” Johnny called, jumping up and down.
“Yes, Johnny,” said Mom. “What did you do with your Popsicle?”
“First I ate it.” Johnny giggled, showing his red tongue. “And I had to think for a while to get an idea too. As I was thinking, somebody called to me. It was Jeffrey—the boy in my class who has to stay in a wheelchair. He was on the porch of his house and asked me to come over. He seemed pretty sad. I thought that if summer vacation gets boring for me, it must really get boring for him: no bike riding, no baseball, no swimming. So when I went over to his house, I knew what I was going to do with my stick. His mom got me a piece of heavy paper and a pin, and I folded a paper airplane. Then I worked the pin through the middle of the Popsicle stick and stuck it into the nose of the airplane to make a propeller. I gave it to Jeffrey, and do you know what? Even though he has some pretty neat toys, he thought the airplane was great.”
“And you’re pretty great, too,” said Mom. “Good job!”
“I came back next,” said Katie. “Does my idea count even if the someone I made happy wasn’t a person?”
“I don’t see why not,” answered Mom.
“OK. Then I can tell you. After I ate my Popsicle, I ran over to Mrs. King’s house. Her yard is full of things for birds, and I wanted to see if there were any hummingbirds at her feeder. There weren’t, but I saw two sparrows having trouble eating from the seed bell that hangs in the tree. There weren’t any branches close enough for them to sit on while they ate, and they were too small to reach the bell from the branch it hung on. So I asked Mrs. King for two pieces of string. I tied a piece to each end of my Popsicle stick and tied the other ends of the strings to a branch. Now the stick hangs next to the seed bell, and it’s a perch for the birds to sit on while they eat!”
“Terrific!” exclaimed Mom. “But I know someone you made happy besides the birds: Mrs. King. Now there will be more birds for her to watch. You did very well.” Mom turned to Miriam. “Now it’s your turn, honey.”
Miriam looked at the floor. “I think I goofed,” she said. “I didn’t come up with a good idea like the others.”
“I’m sure you did fine,” Mom said. “Please tell us what you did.”
“Well, I didn’t eat my Popsicle,” began Miriam. “I saw Tony on his front porch. I said, ‘Hi,’ but he didn’t say anything. Then I remembered that he had his tonsils taken out Monday. That really makes your throat hurt. So I gave my Popsicle to him, and I sat by him and told him stories and jokes until I saw everyone else coming back here. When I left, he still didn’t say anything, but he smiled.”
“Miriam,” said Mom, kissing her, “that was a good idea. You made someone just as happy as Benjamin and Johnny and Katie did. In fact, now we have a problem.”
“What?” asked the children.
“I don’t think I can decide which idea was best. They were all wonderful.”
The children looked at each other. They were smiling. “That doesn’t matter, Mom,” answered Benjamin. “I think we each got a prize anyway. We all feel great!”
And eight feet skipped up the stairs and outside to play.

We challenge parents, home teachers, elders quorum presidents, and bishops that from today you show your concern for these young people. Flood them with affection, letters, tapes, cards, packages, birthday and holiday greetings of all types. Give your Young Adults, teenagers, and others in your ward a stimulating project. Sixteen-year-old Debbie Trujillo wrote a serviceman, “Hi. My name is Debbie Trujillo, and I’ve just been baptized in the Church. I don’t know much about you, but our class is doing this project, and I think it’s neat.” The serviceman said, “I hope my reply can be as sweet and uplifting as her letter.”

This story teaches this principle well.
A frail old man went to live with his son, daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his steps faltered. The family ate together at the table.
But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor. When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.
The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess. "We must do something about father," said the son. "I've had enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor."
So the husband and wife set a small table in the corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed dinner. Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in a wooden bowl!
When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction, sometime he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four-year old watched it all in silence.
One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, "What are you making?"
Just as sweetly, the boy responded, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up." The four-year old smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.
That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.

A few months later, things indeed became more painful for the Saints in Missouri. Mobs were starting to attack more frequently. They were even destroying crops and buildings.
One day Mary Elizabeth and her younger sister Caroline were near Brother Phelps’s printing office when a mob began destroying the press and dumping large piles of printed paper out the window. Mary Elizabeth recognized the paper right away. The men were destroying the Book of Commandments!
“Caroline, we must save those papers,” Mary Elizabeth whispered. “Follow me.”
“They will kill us,” Caroline said. “But I will come.”
Waiting until the men had turned away from the girls, each sister grabbed a large armful of papers and began running toward a cornfield. The men saw the girls and began to chase them, yelling at them to stop. The girls ran into the tall corn, laid the papers on the ground, and lay on top of them to protect them. The sisters could hear the men crashing through the corn stalks nearby. Mary Elizabeth and Caroline’s hearts pounded, but to their relief, the girls were not found.
After waiting in the corn for a long time, the sisters carried the papers back to the printing office. They were grateful to be safe and that they had helped the Lord’s work.

I moved away from home and went to college when I was 18 years old. I was not raised in the church. I felt like a stranger in the world. I felt the world was cruel and growing evermore increasingly wicked. I became anti-social and felt I could not trust anyone. I felt alone. I began to study4 at the university. It was there that I began to search5 diligently6 for answers about life: Where did we come from? Where are we going? Why are we here? I took classes in psychology, philosophy, science, and religion, looking for answers. I asked everyone I knew to explain the meaning of life. Some people would entertain my questions while others thought that I was strange for wanting to know, saying, "You think too much!"7

I was not satisfied with the answers I encountered among the philosophies of men.8 I wanted to know the truth9, and I began to look inside10 myself to find the answers. I began to trust the whisperings of my own conscience11even though it contradicted what the world12 had taught me. My father had taught me to trust my intuition and to listen inside13, that it would always guide me to truth. My father told me, as good fathers do, that I was unusual14, and that I was gifted15. My father told me that many people do not seek to know16 the meaning or the mysteries of life.

But, I also quickly became tempted by the adversary hearing him say things like "Surely there is no God17; that doesn't make any sense18; those are the things of a child19. You are not a child; you are a man20; men prosper by their own strength21, and when they die that is the end thereof22." And being deceived23, I decided not to believe in God24. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life25began to seduce me; and I was ignorant in unbelief26. Wherefore men are free to choose liberty and eternal life, or to choose captivity and death, according to the power and captivity of the devil27.

And I chose sin. And the wages of sin is death28. The great dark abyss29 of the adversary had blinded my mind30.

Thus we see how subtly31 and carefully32 the devil does lead away the hearts of the children of men. For behold, he shall rage in the hearts of the children of men, and stir them up to anger against that which is good. And others will he pacify, and lull them away into carnal security—and thus he cheats their souls, and leads them away carefully down to hell. And behold, others he flatters away, and tells them there is no hell; and he says unto them: I am no devil, for there is none—and thus he whispers in their ears, until he grasps them with his awful chains, from whence there is no deliverance.33

During that depressing period of my life I truly mourned34. My sorrow had made me meek35, humble, and teachable. As a result, I diligently hungered and thirsted after righteousness36. If I had never suffered, I would never have had the desire to find a better way. My trials prepared me to look for God. So, as it happened one day, as on many other occasions, I lay flat on my back and stared at the ceiling while considering my miserable state37. For so long, I had been buried under the oppressive weight of a guilty conscience. With no one to turn to, I poured out my whole soul to God38. I wept, and being in an agony, I prayed more earnestly. I begged God for forgiveness and pleaded with him over and over again to save my soul from hell40, saying, “God, save me¬—please God, save me.”

For a man sometimes, if he is compelled to be humble, seeks repentance. And whosoever repents shall find mercy; and he that finds mercy and endures to the end the same shall be saved.41

I was proselyted by many faiths. I briefly attended a number of different churches. I remember the pastor in a certain church was friendly and gave me a Bible. He outlined the passages of scripture that I should read to begin to establish a relationship with the Lord. The pastor invited me to read and pray on my own, privately, to know whether or not the things of the gospel were true42. The pastor explained the function of the Holy Spirit43, that it is a witness for the truth. He explained, "The Holy Spirit is like a light44 that is born at the very center of your heart45 ." I began to feel the burning sensations in my heart46 when we would discuss the gospel of Jesus Christ. I felt overwhelmed and inspired by the Holy Spirit47 as I read the scriptures. I prayed sincerely48 to ask God about Jesus Christ49. Is Jesus Christ the Savior of the world? “Never man spake like this man.”50 As I humbled myself to pray, I felt like a little child51 who was asking his father about the world for the first time. To whom shall we go?52 And Father in Heaven53 revealed54 the truth to me55. “Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leads unto life, and few there be that find it.”56

During that period while I was struggling to find my way in life, my father told me that the way he overcame his difficult times was through practicing the teachings of certain self-help books. My father had given me many of the same books to read in an attempt to help and inspire me. Out of all the books that my father had given me to read regarding self-help and success, one stood out above the rest: you guessed it,
"The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People." I read the book several times and also listened to it on tape and compact disc. The first time I read the book and finished it, something touched my heart.57 I knew it was true. There was something different about the book. It gave me hope that there were upright and honest people in the world who wanted good for others and lived by principles. I wanted to know more about Stephen Covey, who he was and where he got his information for his book. I would go to the Franklin Covey store to buy new books. While there, I inquired of the employees and manager about who Stephen Covey was, where he was from, and what he was like. I wanted to find the source58 of the information.

I discovered that Stephen Covey was from Utah and that he was an active member of the Mormon Church. I knew nothing about the Mormons. I had heard the word Mormon59 but didn't know what it meant. I figured that Stephen Covey must have gathered a lot of the information from his religion to write the book, even though the author makes no direct reference to the Church. Consequently, I thought that if Stephen Covey was any good representation of who a Mormon is, then I wanted to know more about the Mormon religion, deducing that it must teach similar values. Wherefore, by their fruits ye shall know them.60 All of the employees that worked in the Franklin Covey store were members of the Church, and I became friends with them. One day during a religious discussion in the Franklin Covey store, my new friends invited me to attend church. I said that I would consider it. After an hour of contemplation, I returned to accept the invitation to attend the Mormon church for the first time the coming Sunday. “Thus we see that by small and simple means great things are brought to pass.”61

On March 7, 1999, I attended the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for the first time. One month later on April 4, I was baptized. I received the gift of the Holy Ghost and was confirmed a member of the Church. On May 8, 1999, I was ordained to the office of priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. On March 5, 2000, I was ordained to the office of elder in the Melchizedek Priesthood. One month later, I received my patriarchal blessing. I completed the yearlong membership requirement and submitted my mission papers. Three weeks later, I received my own temple endowments. And a week after that, I received my mission call to serve in the Panama City, Panama – Spanish-speaking Mission. On July 5, 2000, after one year and three months of membership in the church, I entered the MTC in Provo. In 2002, I returned home honorably from my mission. In 2005, I was sealed to my wife for time and all eternity in the San Diego Temple. On September 2, 2009, I became a father to my son Wyatt. On August 28, 2011, my wife gave birth to our daughter Saatchi, and we are expecting our third child in January. There is no greater joy in life than having your own children.

If Heavenly Father through his infinite mercy was willing to make something out of my life, he will certainly make something out of you. You are so much further ahead than I was at your age. “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

When I was a teenager, I got really sick. My parents didn’t have enough money to send me to the hospital, so we went from church to church looking for someone to help, but no one could. After a while we gave up, and I was left suffering both physically and emotionally.
I remember asking, “What is the purpose of life? Why am I here? Are miracles even real?”
When I had a little bit of strength during this sickness, I would read religious books from different denominations, trying to find answers and peace. One day I silently prayed to God, telling Him the desire I had to join a church—but I didn’t know which one!
A year later I recovered physically but still had many questions. One day I saw my brother talking to two young men wearing white shirts. They invited me and the rest of my siblings to join their conversation.
This was the first time I heard about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and the Book of Mormon.
That same week, we were invited to attend a church service, and soon I was invited to be baptized. I accepted without hesitation. I’ve been a member ever since and eventually had the privilege of serving a full-time mission.

Kayden’s family life has also taught him to serve and care for others. During one tournament, a friend of Kayden’s became really upset about the competition. Kayden was in the middle of a match, though, so he couldn’t stop playing to help his friend. As he saw his friend storm away from the tournament with tears in his eyes, Kayden knew that the only thing he could do if he didn’t want to forfeit his game was to pray. So, during the middle of his chess match, Kayden silently prayed that the friend would find Kayden’s mom. Immediately the friend walked right by her, and she was able to help. By serving and praying for the well-being of his friend during a critical moment, Kayden realized that helping others is the true victory. This has helped him prepare to serve and learn that “the worth of souls is great in the sight of God” (D&C 18:10).

As my testimony grew while I was young, so did my love of music. That love began when I entered a Latter-day Saint chapel and saw a piano for the first time. I feel that the Lord had a plan for me because I felt drawn to the piano. I opened the piano bench, found a book on how to play piano, and began teaching myself.
Soon, I was playing the piano in my ward every Sunday and singing in the ward youth choir. When I turned 16, I began attending the National Conservatory of Music in Guatemala. The conservatory’s choir conductor, Beto Echeverria, urged me to become a professional. Since then, I have played the piano and conducted many choirs at Church events. Eventually, I became the Church’s music coordinator for the Central America Area. Today, I work as a piano technician and music teacher.
Carlos, singing with his daughter, Rocio, discovered his love of music after he entered a Latter-day Saint chapel, saw a piano for the first time, and taught himself to play.

Photograph courtesy of Odgerel Ochirjav
Last December a choir from the Ulaanbaatar Mongolia East and West Stakes reached the semi-finals of the nationally televised show Mongolia’s Got Talent. The choir—composed of seminary and institute students, half of whom are returned missionaries—never thought they would have this kind of opportunity to share their beliefs and talents.
In 2015 an Area Seventy visited Mongolia and provided training concerning the public affairs efforts of the Church. Odgerel Ochirjav, president of the Ulaanbaatar Mongolia West Stake, was unsure how to proceed. Then in January 2016 his brother-in-law called and said, “I was watching Mongolia’s Got Talent. … I had a strong impression that your Church choir should participate.”
President Ochirjav discussed the idea with the choir director, Sister Unurjargal Purev. She and the choir members were enthusiastic about the possibility. The choir became known as Zion, or “SION,” an acronym in Mongolian for spirit, faith, mind, and unity.
For the first round of the competition in March 2016, SION peformed a mash-up of two songs. One judge said, “I see your faces light up! … We need to put your video on YouTube to showcase this show to the world.”
Another judge asked the choir what they would do if they won the grand prize of U.S. $50,000. He was impressed when they said they wanted to donate it all, as a special Christmas gift, to an orphanage.
Of the 400 participants, SION was among the 200 who advanced to the second round, but their performance was scheduled for the same day as a multi-stake youth conference, which involved half of the 35 choir members. The choir decided to go to the second round, so they hired a bus and, following their performance, traveled eight hours to the youth conference.
Of the 200 acts, SION was among the 32 to advance to the semi-finals. The choir began to be featured on social media related to Mongolia’s Got Talent.
They practiced from June to September to prepare for the semi-finals. On the day of the performance, they woke up at 4:00 a.m. in -29 degrees F (-34 degrees C) weather. Sister Nomuungerel Enkhtuvshin, a choir member, said, “Many members of our group caught a cold. But they got better as we prayed for them.”
People throughout Mongolia viewed the show and texted in their votes.
Brother Shijir Purevdorj said, “As a result of this TV show, many people are cultivating a positive attitude toward the Church.”
Choir members themselves also received blessings. Brother Odgerel Tumursukh said, “We devoted our attention and time for a whole year while managing our jobs and other facets of our lives. Although it was difficult, we have received many blessings. I have learned to manage my time and make sacrifices for the Lord.”
In addition to increasing their faith, members of the choir gained self-confidence, developed friendships, and learned unity. “Singing in the choir has helped us to learn how to forgive and support one another,” said Brother Ganbaatar Ulziiduuren. “We have become more united.” Sister Bilguunzaya Tungalagtuul learned “that I should never doubt myself or think that I can’t do something.”
Brother Bayartsogt Lhagvajav said, “Singing in the choir has brought many blessings to my family, and it also helped me to receive the answers I was seeking for some time. Our leaders offered us solution[s]. … It has affirmed my testimony that our leaders are called of God.”
“When I participated in Mongolia’s Got Talent,” Sister Onon Dalaikhuu explained, “I learned that encouraging and supporting each other [was the] key to [our] success.” Sister Dalaikhuu’s responsibilities included organizing crew members, which helped strengthen her leadership abilities. She added, “We felt that [the] Lord guided and influenced us. Many of us were sick, busy, tired, and feeling overwhelmed. However, when we prayed together, somehow we would find more power and desire to endure.”
Although the choir didn’t receive enough votes to move on to the finals, their performances gave the Church significant exposure throughout Mongolia. President Ochirjav explains, “We were obedient to an assignment by our priesthood leaders, and the Lord prepared a way. … Now the whole city [Ulaanbaatar] talks about the Mormon choir’s participation in Mongolia’s Got Talent.”