Gospel Story Finder

I was born and raised in a small town in Korea. My father died when I was 10, leaving my 33-year-old mother a widow with five young children. Do you realize how people without the gospel knowledge feel about death? We thought this was the ultimate end of our father. As far as we knew, we’d never see him again—he had simply vanished into pure emptiness.

After Father’s death, the only work Mother could find with her fourth-grade education was as a day laborer doing any odd jobs available from sunup to sundown and beyond. There was no welfare program of any sort at the time, nor was there anyone capable or willing to help us in that small farming town. Without going into much detail, we struggled with hunger, sadness, and affliction for most of our growing years. Even so, my mother was my moral compass and is still the kindest, wisest soul you’ll ever meet. She would always tell us to wipe the sink after we washed our hands so the next person could have a clean sink. Sometimes, on a rare occasion, she would get paid for her labor with a chicken. As you can imagine, one little chicken could hardly be enough for a family of six, so she would watch her five children eat. While devouring the chicken, one of us would offer her some meat, but she would refuse and assure us that she loved the bones the most. So she waited until we had finished to get to her favorite part. My remarkable mother and her immeasurable sacrifice and kindness were my strength and anchor in my youth.

Looking back at those days, it is awesome to realize that even though we didn’t really know God, I know now that He knew and cared for us all along. Mother’s wise guidance helped me to prepare for a much larger change in my life.

When I was 17, one Saturday afternoon in August, I roamed the town with two of my friends. We were passing a large banner with a very long, strange church name located above a furniture store on a busy market street. A small, makeshift church was located there, and I asked my friends to go up with me. When we walked up those stairs, the missionaries were waiting for us.

One of the missionaries asked me if I believed in God. I told him I thought I did, but I didn’t know anything about Him. Then he said that there is a God in heaven who loves me, and He wants me to be happy and has prepared a plan of happiness for me. I am pretty sure I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but at that moment, I felt that heaven was opening up and a ray of sunshine was shining down over my head. I felt something that I had never felt before, and all I knew was that I had to be on that plan! That makeshift church became my refuge every day, and I was baptized exactly two weeks later. And a month later, my younger sister and my dear mother were both baptized. Life didn’t get magically easier, and my family’s hardships didn’t disappear, but I received strength to go on. For the first time, I knew I was destined to be happy by beating the odds.

A modern apostle spoke before thousands of university students at Christmastime, sharing his spiritual deepening through retracing the Lord’s steps in Israel. He gave his audience vivid glimpses of the scenes of Christ’s birth, ministry, death, and resurrection. Yet four years later the apostle stood in the same pulpit and traced in a more meaningful way “the paths and the lanes we had traveled in that Holy Land where the Master had traveled.”1 He now felt “how short-sighted then was my view of the path where Jesus walked.”2 Seven years later Harold B. Lee became president of the Church, and his growing experience suggests a deeper meaning for walking in the steps of Jesus.
The paths of Palestine quickly tell visitors that Jesus did not come to a gentle environment. With the same arid climate as Utah, Israel is generally fractured by hills and jutting layers of rock. Sentimental illustrators drew the Savior on grassy slopes with brooks and shade. Irrigation or spring rains may change the land, but its reality is otherwise. Eliza R. Snow rode horseback into Jerusalem in 1873 and wrote of the “uneven” country;3 in the same group, George A. Smith mentioned leaving Jerusalem for Galilee in the midst of “a rocky, barren and almost desolate country.”4
A few years before, waspish Mark Twain sought to deglamorize the Galilean hillsides as “these unpeopled deserts, these rusty mounds of barrenness, that never, never, never do shake the glare from their harsh outlines.”5
He looked across the Sea of Galilee on a blistering day to imagine the New Testament swine running into the sea; in Twain’s unauthorized version they “doubtless thought it was better to swallow a devil or two and get drowned into the bargain than have to live longer in such a place.”6
Still earlier than Mark Twain (and with more reverence) Orson Hyde came to the land of Israel to dedicate it for the prophesied gathering of its people. Elder Hyde circled Jerusalem with spiritual thoughts in mind but could not escape the physical cost of walking there, commenting with mild humor: “After returning to the city, I found my feet and legs completely coated with dust; for the whole face of the country was like an ash bed in consequence of the great length of the dry season. I then thought how very convenient it must have been for the ancient disciples to fulfill one injunction of the Savior, ‘shake off the dust of your feet.’”7
In Israel one does not simply walk in the paths of Jesus, for that ignores the vertical dimension—often the path must be climbed. Jesus was born in the “hill country of Judea.” (Luke 1:65, 39.) He was likewise reared in Nazareth, which today slants steeply on hilly ridges. Luke noted the danger of the Lord being cast over “the brow of the hill” where the city was built. (Luke 4:29.) From his childhood Jesus attended Jerusalem feasts, descending on uneven roads, via the Sea of Galilee, where the Jordan route began. On occasion he might wind through the Samarian valleys. In both cases there was the final rocky ascent to the Holy City. In the Gospels travelers from Galilee (see John 2:13) or Jews from abroad (see John 12:20) correctly “go up” (anabaino) to Jerusalem, set high on Israel’s central spine. Jesus’ final journey was from Jericho (below sea level) to Jerusalem (elevation 2,500). He led the way through wastelands, “ascending up to Jerusalem.” (Luke 19:28.) Trudging up the backside of the Mount of Olives, Jesus next surveyed the city across the deep, eastern ravine. Then he mounted his donkey for “the descent of the Mount of Olives” (Luke 19:37), answering his detractors that if his followers would cease their praise, “the stones would immediately cry out” (Luke 19:40). This was but the latest journey of climbing and descending, normally through dust and rocks. Such physical travel becomes a powerful symbol of the great spiritual challenges that Jesus faced.
The Savior himself made this comparison in the Sermon on the Mount (see Matt. 7:13–14), stressing that men walk the “way” of salvation or destruction.
This word means literally “road” (hodos) and is used variously for path, street, or highway in the New Testament. The broad and well-traveled road is worn down and easy to walk on. But the path of salvation attracts comparatively few. It is “narrow,” a Greek term meaning “compressed” or “restricted.” Many translators make this the “hard road,” the “difficult road,” or the “rough road.” These are correct meanings, although they oversimplify the Lord’s figurative language. Jesus’ “way” is like a lightly traveled country trail. Because it is not well-worn, it remains rocky and uneven; because it is narrow, briars and thistles crowd close to whoever walks on it. The traveler of that path must be determined, for he advances through obstacles.
Jesus’ audience had climbed such footways to the mount of his sermon. A little experience with that countryside—or a glance at photographs of it—gives the picture plainly. In simple association, the Lord said that his path was the steep path; the way of sacrifice and effort. He lived such a life in the physical poetry of his land. He climbed the parched hills of temptation; he climbed to many mountains of prayer; he climbed the “high mountain apart” for his magnificent transfiguration. Since his saving mission was filled with steady exertion, no one follows him by giving less. Jesus’ challenge on the mount is well captured in a common saying: “You can always tell when you’re on the right road—it’s uphill all the way.”
President Lee knew all of this as a seasoned apostle touring the Holy Land. But he did not then envision greater trials to come, particularly the death of his beloved wife, whom he both cherished and relied upon. He had come home from his first experiences in Israel “never to feel the same again about the mission of our Lord and Savior and to have impressed upon me as I have never had it impressed before what it means to be a special witness.”8 Yet there was a trying Gethsemane of grief following the loss of his companion. What might have been despair became a deepened spiritual perception, which he could share before a second Brigham Young University audience. His earlier pictures of Jesus’ paths were “shortsighted” only because the real way to follow the Lord is to experience the trials that he surmounted. Thus a stronger Elder Lee could share a special companionship with Jesus:
“I have come to learn that only through heartbreak and a lonely walk through the valley of the shadow of death do we really begin to glimpse the path that Jesus walked. Only then can we come to claim kinship with Him who gave his life that men might be.”9
Jesus spoke of the “narrow way,” but also said that he himself was “the way.” (John 14:6.) He grew through years of obedience to his parents, of patience with brothers and sisters. For years he worked with his hands, his mind and spirit, in preparation for his mission. He knew joys but many sorrows, for scripture records his tears. His prayers express gratitude for success, but especially seek courage in great trials. His greatest success was not a materially rewarding life, but unswerving faith in the Father in every aspect of life. In a higher light, the land of the Lord becomes a parable more than a pilgrimage as modern disciples seek his way in every land of the earth.

The reason? Instead of being sponsored by a local high school, this prom is being held at the Grand Blanc Michigan Stake Center and is sponsored by five stakes in the area.
While there is a lot of good in the whole idea of going to a prom where everyone is dressed up, using their best manners, and learning how to dance properly, what isn’t so great is what many proms sponsored by the public schools have become.
The solution: put on your own prom, but with Church standards as the guide.
Five stakes in Michigan got together and went all out to plan and pull off the best prom ever, where LDS teens didn’t have to worry about anything but who they wanted to dance with next.
The stake prom used plenty of volunteers including adult leaders and the youth committees from all the stakes to decorate, fix food, and even act as photographers and coat-check attendants. Volunteers also manned the doors as security, patrolled parked cars in the parking lot, and created and distributed party favors. And, of course, because it was held at the stake center, there was no location rental fee.
At the end of the night, the teens in Michigan went home with some nice dance photos, a few treats to eat in the car, and memories of a fun evening. This prom was a night to remember, not a night to regret.
Faran Clark of the Lansing Holt Ward said, “A lot more people came than in past multi-stake dances. I guess it’s about dressing up and having a nice night out. You get to primp and look nice.”
And, as her friend Andrea Brown of the Lansing Owosso Ward added, “It’s a good chance for us to realize that we can have fun together and still keep our standards.”

It wasn’t easy, but Jon Kirkham, who plays the part of Hyrum Smith in the presentation, says that sometimes the things that require the most sacrifice also become the most valuable.

“I’m so busy with school and everything that lately things have just been nuts. Last week I came home from my job and discovered neither of the cars were home, so I had to ride my bike to the church. It’s about half an hour by bike, but once I got there I didn’t care how tired I was. It’s just incredible being there with everyone and learning about the Prophet and the Church,” says Jon.

While residing at [Long Beach, California, he wrote], I received a telephone call from Brother Rich. “Jim,” he said, “will you come and administer to my wife? And bring a partner.”
I felt impressed to go alone and use him as my partner, as he held the Melchizedek Priesthood but was not active in the Church and did not keep the Word of Wisdom. When I rang the bell, he answered the door, looked over my shoulder, and said, “Where is your partner?”
I pointed my finger at him and said, “You are my partner.”
“Oh, no, Jim,” he said. “You know I smoke and I drink an occasional glass of beer.”
“I know that,” I said. “When you called awhile ago did you say, ‘I want a perfect man to come and give my wife a blessing’? If you did, I will go home, for I am not perfect.” So I went in and asked him to anoint his wife’s head with oil.
“I don’t know how,” he said.
“I will show you how,” I said.
And so he proceeded to anoint her head, and I gave her a blessing. She recovered the next day.
I had quite a talk with him, and he promised to stop his smoking and drinking. Two weeks went by and I got a call. “Jim,” he said, “I have stopped smoking and I am working on my other problem.”
Two more weeks went by and he called again. “I have overcome my problems completely,” he said.
So I took him to see the bishop for a temple recommend, and the bishop was happy to find him worthy to go to the temple. He and his wife took charge of the temple assignments in the ward and both were faithful workers in the temple. He died in 1969.
I often think back on what would have happened if I had thought he was not worthy to help me bless his wife. If we listen to the promptings of the Spirit, and follow the direction of our leaders, we get results.

After I finished high school in California, I went to the University of Utah. I joined a fraternity, which is a kind of club for college students. Some of my fellow fraternity members kept Heavenly Father’s commandments. Others did not. It was clear to me that the ones who kept the commandments were the ones who were going to have happy lives. I knew that I, too, needed to keep the commandments if I wanted to be happy.
After my first year of college, I went on a mission to Peru. I met lots of wonderful people who were happy even though they had very few things that money can buy. They had great joy in the gospel and in the love of their families.
When I returned to the University of Utah after my mission, I began to date Kathy Kipp. Her father was a good man but not a member of the Church, and her parents were divorced. Kathy and her sister faithfully attended Primary together as young girls. Sometimes Kathy’s father wanted the family to do things on Sunday that were not appropriate on the Sabbath Day. Kathy knew that she needed to obey her father, but she went to church when she could.
When we began dating, I learned how strongly Kathy felt about keeping the Sabbath Day holy. Because of her devotion, our family has always tried hard to make Sunday a special day. We don’t watch TV on Sunday or go to sporting events. We listen to sacred music, write letters, and spend lots of time talking together. Our younger children liked to read stories from the Friend and from scripture readers. As a result, we have enjoyed a spirit of peace in our home on the Sabbath.
Heavenly Father loves all children and wants them to be happy. He designed the gospel to make us happy. One of my pioneer ancestors, William Clayton, wrote the hymn “Come, Come, Ye Saints” (Hymns, no. 30). He wrote it when the Saints had been driven out of their beautiful city of Nauvoo and were looking for safety. The chorus of that song reminds us that when we do what is right, “all is well.” That does not mean we will not have any problems. But when we follow our Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness, all will eventually be well.

Two weeks ago, I learned a powerful lesson from a colleague, who without hesitating agreed to accompany a young student home to her family after becoming too ill to continue her studies. It was inconvenient, and there was no hoopla over the decision to make a quick round-trip over a weekend to the mainland and back. This is one of countless acts of kindness and service on campus motivated by genuine care and evidence of true discipleship, as we strive to do our part.

William Law had first wept at the Prophet’s announcement of the principle of plural marriage, and with his arms around Joseph’s neck had pleaded that he not teach it.

His son Richard, who said this took place about 1842 and who was present at the time, later related the incident to Joseph W. McMurrin, who summarized his remarks as follows:

William Law, with his arms around the neck of the Prophet, was pleading with him to withdraw the doctrine of plural marriage. Mr. Law predicting that if Joseph would abandon the doctrine, ‘Mormonism’ would, in fifty or one hundred years, dominate the Christian world.

Mr. Law pleaded for this . . . with tears streaming from his eyes. The Prophet was also in tears, but he informed the gentleman that he could not withdraw the doctrine, for God had commanded him to teach it, and condemnation would come upon him if he was not obedient to the commandment.

Over that William Law became bitter, and soon he was excommunicated. Then Law attempted to organize his own church and began to fight back.

One who received and welcomed the gift of peace was Joseph Millett, an early missionary to the Maritime Provinces of Canada, who learned while there and in his later experiences in life of the need to rely on heavenly help. An experience which he recalled in his journal is a beautiful illustration of simple yet profound faith:
“One of my children came in and said that Brother Newton Hall’s folks was out of bread, had none that day.
“I divided our flour in a sack to send up to Brother Hall. Just then Brother Hall came.
“Says I, ‘Brother Hall, are you out of flour?’
“‘Brother Millett, we have none.’
“‘Well, Brother Hall, there is some in that sack. I have divided and was going to send it to you. Your children told mine that you was out.’
“Brother Hall began to cry. He said he had tried others, but could not get any. He went to the cedars and prayed to the Lord, and the Lord told him to go to Joseph Millett.
“‘Well Brother Hall, you needn’t bring this back. If the Lord sent you for it you don’t owe me for it.’
“You can’t tell me how good it made me feel to know that the Lord knew there was such a person as Joseph Millett.”
Prayer brought the gift of peace to Newton Hall and to Joseph Millett.

I’m also still in contact with my father. One day, we had an argument. I was really struggling with it, but suddenly there was a chance to go on a youth temple trip. While I was in the temple, I felt peace. I did not think about the problems at home. I did not think about the anger I had for my father. I thought of things that I could do to help him. I thought about being a good example. I thought about eternal things, about getting sealed with my parents in the temple someday. I decided to say sorry to my father for fighting with him.

Savior with Children, by Michael Malm

I’ve learned to always focus on Jesus Christ and Heavenly Father. I get my strength from Them, and I remember that They have my back.

Understanding the plan of salvation, especially the Savior’s Atonement, helped me overcome my thoughts of suicide. It helps me feel peace in living. It gives me hope that I can meet my grandmother on the other side of the veil again someday.

Jesus Christ is the hope to continue my life even though I have a lot of challenges. His love for me is never-ending. He’s the sunlight in my life. When it’s stormy or raining, He is there. He is my Savior. He is my home. He is my life. He keeps me going. He’s one of the reasons I love living.

The author lives in Iloilo, Philippines.

If you are experiencing thoughts of suicide, get help from a trusted adult now. Also check out resources, including crisis help lines, at suicide.ChurchofJesusChrist.org.

New in school, Janet is an obnoxious, outspoken bully. When Sister Card asks her Merrie Miss class to help fellowship Janet, they’re surprised to learn that she is a member of the Church but reluctantly agree to help. They decide to secretly leave surprises for Janet on her front porch for a week. On Saturday, the class personally delivers a beautifully wrapped gold heart necklace to her. Questioning their motives, she accuses them of trying to bribe her, thanks them for the unopened gift, then shuts the door in their faces.
I felt like someone had just slapped me across the face. “Boy,” I said. “She’s a real creep. We were only trying to do something nice.”
“She didn’t even open our present,” Amy said.
“I knew this wasn’t going to work,” Jill said.
“Now, just a minute,” said Sister Card, as we all got into her van. “Maybe Janet was right. Maybe we were just trying to bribe her.”
We were quiet for a minute. Then Mandi said, “How can we like someone who acts like that?”
“I’m not sure I want her to come if she’s going to treat us that way,” Christina said.
“Girls, I can see that this isn’t going to be as easy as we thought,” Sister Card said. “Perhaps we need to ask ourselves what the Savior would do if Janet were in His Primary class.”
Well, she had us stumped. None of us could think of something that Jesus Christ might do in a situation like this one. We looked at Sister Card expectantly, waiting to hear the answer. Instead, she smiled at us and said, “I challenge each of you to find out, then do it.”
The next day at lunch recess, I saw Janet across the playground. She saw me and yelled, “Hey, there’s Redhead-Wet-the-Bed!”
All the kids around me laughed, and I could feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Why does she have to say things like that? I wondered, walking away to find Jill. How can anyone be nice to a girl who acts that way?
I was still thinking about Janet when I found Jill. “I don’t know what Sister Card expects us to do about Janet. She hates me. I don’t like her very much, either,” I said.
“I know what you mean,” Jill answered. “Can you imagine what our Primary class would be like if she did come?”
I hadn’t thought about that, and the visions that ran through my mind as I thought about it were not pleasant. “She’d ruin everything!”
Later that evening, I was still thinking about Janet. I couldn’t get her off my mind. “Mom,” I said, “Sister Card wants us to come up with an idea to get Janet Willard to come to Primary. You know we already tried being pixies to her for a week, and I told you how that didn’t work. She’s so mean to everybody that I’m not sure I really want her to come.”
Mom thought for a few minutes, then said, “Maybe the first thing you should do is pray for the ability to like Janet.”
I was mystified. “But how will that help Janet want to come to Primary?”
“Well, it’s pretty hard to help someone you don’t like. Your efforts won’t be very enthusiastic, and she’ll know that you aren’t sincere. You need to pray for Heavenly Father’s help, then try being nice to Janet even if she isn’t nice to you.”
“That’s going to be hard,” I said.
“I know,” said Mom. “That’s why it’s so important to ask for Heavenly Father’s help.”
On Sunday when Sister Card asked us if we had decided what Jesus would do about Janet, I told everyone what Mom had said to me. Sister Card smiled and said, “You have a very wise mother, Esther. If you’ll all open the New Testament to Matthew 5:44, you’ll see that the Savior said the same thing: ‘But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.’”
We were all very quiet as we thought about what this really meant in our relationship with Janet.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Christina said, breaking the silence.
“You’re right. It isn’t going to be easy,” Sister Card said. “But then not many things that are really worthwhile are.”
We decided we were going to be so nice to Janet that she wouldn’t know what to think. Sister Card cautioned that we should be very patient and not get discouraged if she didn’t respond positively right away. “Janet has had ten years to learn and practice the behavior she has now, so don’t expect her to change overnight.”
The next day when I went into our classroom, I heard Janet’s familiar greeting before I even saw her. “Hey, there’s Redhead-Wet-the-Bed!”
Instead of ignoring her and walking away, I went over to her and said, “Hi, Janet. Do you want to play kickball with us at lunchtime?”
She was so surprised that she didn’t answer at first. Then she said, “Not me! That’s a sissy game,” and walked off.

I recently read the account of a man who, just after the passing of his wife, opened her dresser drawer and found there an item of clothing she had purchased when they visited the eastern part of the United States nine years earlier. She had not worn it but was saving it for a special occasion. Now, of course, that occasion would never come.
In relating the experience to a friend, the husband said, “Don’t save something only for a special occasion. Every day in your life is a special occasion.”
That friend later said those words changed her life. They helped her to cease putting off the things most important to her. Said she: “Now I spend more time with my family. I use crystal glasses every day. I’ll wear new clothes to go to the supermarket if I feel like it. The words ‘someday’ and ‘one day’ are fading from my vocabulary. Now I take the time to call my relatives and closest friends. I’ve called old friends to make peace over past quarrels. I tell my family members how much I love them. I try not to delay or postpone anything that could bring laughter and joy into our lives. And each morning, I say to myself that this could be a special day. Each day, each hour, each minute is special.”

I think of that great immortal athlete, Babe Ruth, when I talk about the principle of success and particularly failure. Let me just share a little experience from his life.

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in the summer of 1927, and 35,000 wildly excited baseball fans packed Shibe Park. They were giving Babe Ruth the “razzberry”—and good! Lefty (Bob) Grove, one of the greatest left-handed pitchers of all time, had just struck out Babe Ruth on three consecutive pitched balls for the second successive time. Two runners were stranded on the bases.

As the great slugger returned to the bench, amidst wild and abusive jeering, he looked up into the stands with an unruffled smile, just as he did the first time, gave his cap a polite little tip from his perspiring brow, stepped down into the dugout, and calmly took a drink of water.

In the eighth inning, when he came up for his third time at bat, the situation was critical. The Athletics were leading the Yankees, 3–1. The bases were full and two were out. As Babe selected his favorite bat and started toward the plate, the crowd rose in a body, as if by signal. The excitement was tremendous!

“Strike ’im out again!” pleaded the fans to Grove. Strutting around the pitcher’s box, it was easy to see that the big southpaw believed he was just going to do that.

As the mighty batter took his position, the crowd became hysterical. There was a pause. Mickey Cochrane, the A’s great catcher, crouched to give the signal. Grove threw one with lightning speed. Ruth swung; it was a foul tip. “Str—ike one!” roared the umpire. Again the signal, and the pitch was too fast to follow. Again, Babe took that magnificent swing—and missed. “Stri—i-i-ke two!” was the call.

Ruth staggered and went down. He had literally swung himself off his feet. There was a cloud of dust as the big fellow sprawled on the ground. The crowd was going mad. Finally, regaining his feet, the “Bambino” brushed the dust off his trousers, dried his hands, and got set for the next pitch. Grove delivered the ball so fast not a single fan could see it. Babe swung—but this time he connected! It was only a split second before everybody seemed to realize what had happened. That ball was never coming back.

It disappeared over the scoreboard and cleared the houses across the street—one of the longest hits ever recorded.

As Babe Ruth trotted around the bases and across the plate behind the other runners—with what proved to be the winning run—he received a wild ovation from the crowd.

Ruth doffed his cap with that little smile, and the expression on his face was exactly like the one he wore on his first two trips, when he had gone down swinging.

Later in the season, after the Yanks clinched the American League pennant, Grantland Rice, interviewing the Babe, asked, “What do you do when you get in a batting slump?”

Babe replied: “I just keep goin’ up there and keep swingin’. I know the old law of averages will hold good for me the same as it does for anybody else, if I keep havin’ my healthy swings. If I strike out two or three times in a game, or fail to get a hit for a week, why should I worry? Let the pitchers worry; they’re the guys who’re gonna have to pay for it later on.”

This unshakable faith in making the law of averages work for him enabled Babe Ruth to accept his bad breaks and failures with a smile. This simple philosophy had much to do with making him baseball’s greatest slugger. His attitude of taking both good and bad in stride made him one of the game’s greatest heroes.

Why is it, when we read about great athletes or men in other professions, we are seldom told about their failures? For example, we now read of the amazing record of the immortal Babe Ruth, with his total of 714 home runs; but another unapproached world’s record of his is carefully buried, and that is that he struck out more times than any other player in history—1,330 times!

One thousand three hundred and thirty times he suffered the humiliation of walking back to the bench amidst jeers and ridicule. But he never allowed fear or discouragement or failure to keep him down.

Another motivation came when the ward sponsored a program called “Something Great in ’78,” and Allan decided to make a stained glass window as his “Something Great” project. (Each ward member was to choose a personal project to be accomplished during the year.) “We had a big dinner and everyone displayed their projects. My window was one of the displays,” he says. Now the window hangs in his room, filtering the sunlight as it enters.

Sarah and George Benson were excited when they learned that Sarah was to have a baby. This would be their first child.
When Sarah’s labor started on 4 August 1899, both her mother and George’s mother were there with the doctor to help. Sarah was grateful for their support.
It wasn’t an easy delivery. The baby boy weighed more than eleven pounds! He wasn’t breathing when he was born, and the doctor didn’t think that the infant would live.
But the grandmothers refused to give up. They each offered a silent prayer. Over and over, they dipped the baby in cold water, then in warm water.
Imagine how excited they were when the baby gulped his first breath of air and let out a cry! Their prayers had been answered.
The infant was named Ezra Taft Benson, and he grew up to be a great man. When he was eighty-six years old, he became the thirteenth President of the Church.

Michael was going to Suzanne’s and Sara’s baptisms with Sister Ferguson. She always invited her Primary class to the baptisms of their classmates. Michael was glad that his family wasn’t going. Suzanne and Sara would be baptized by their fathers, and his family there would remind him that his father would not be baptizing him.
He was going to be eight soon, but he felt more worried than excited about his birthday. Sometimes that made him angry. Wasn’t a birthday supposed to be all fun? The ride to church was nice because Sister Ferguson didn’t mention his birthday. She talked about school and friends, his bike, and his cat.
Lots of people were at the baptism. Some were from the ward; others seemed to be relatives of Suzanne or Sara. Among those he recognized were Primary leaders, home teachers, bishopric members, friends, and even the missionaries with some investigators.
It is nice they are all here, he thought. I wonder if they came just because it is partof their job. It seemed to Michael that the parents cared the most about a kid’s baptism. And if one or both of your parents didn’t care, you were all alone.
Michael listened to a sister talk about baptism. She said that Suzanne and Sara were making promises to Heavenly Father and that Heavenly Father was making promises to them. The sister said that it was comforting to have a Father who always kept His promises. That made Michael feel a little better, but he was still sad and worried.
He got up close to the font to watch the baptisms. Afterward, he watched Sara and then Suzanne receive the gift of the Holy Ghost and wondered if Suzanne and Sara liked having all those hands on their heads. Did they know all those men?
After the service, Sister Ferguson approached him. “Did you like being at the baptism?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Are you thinking about your own baptism?” she asked him gently.
“Yes.”
“Why are you looking so worried?”
Michael stared at the floor. “Because I don’t have anyone to baptize me.”
Sister Ferguson gave Michael a hug and led him away. They walked over to a quiet place away from the others. “Do you remember in the baptism prayer hearing the words ‘Having been commissioned of Jesus Christ’?” she asked.
Michael thought a moment. “I think so.”
Sister Ferguson explained, “Being commissioned of Jesus Christ means acting for Him, using His power to do His will. Whoever baptizes must have His power, which is the priesthood. It doesn’t matter who actually puts you down into the waters of baptism, because that person is acting for Jesus Christ, not for himself.
“We are all brothers and sisters, children of Heavenly Father. We’re family. All the people at this baptism are here because they are happy to see Suzanne and Sara following the Savior’s commandment to be baptized and making a promise to follow Him. All the men who helped confirm them want to share the love and happiness they feel as members of Christ’s church. Any one of them would be honored to be a representative of Jesus Christ and baptize you. The important thing is for you to obey the commandment to be baptized and receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.”
Michael understood, but tears came to his eyes, anyway. “But I want my dad to baptize me.”
“I know,” Sister Ferguson said. “I wish he could too. All I can do is tell you how much I love you and how much more Heavenly Father loves you. And you won’t be the only one who didn’t get baptized by his father. The Savior Himself was baptized by John the Baptist. New members are often baptized by missionaries. Sometimes older brothers baptize their younger brothers or sisters. You can ask any worthy priesthood holder who has been ordained a priest or received the Melchizedek Priesthood. Why don’t you talk to your mother about it when you get home?”
Michael nodded. Then he went to get a drink and talk to his friends. It felt good to know that so many people really did care.

I wanted to stand up in testimony meeting and tell everyone I knew the Church was true too, but when I tried to stand up, Mama and Daddy held me down.
“The children will laugh at you, Cindy,” they said. I would cry until Mama had to take me out.
Every testimony day I tried to stand up, and Mama kept taking me out. One Sunday night after fast meeting, after I had cried all afternoon, Mama said she didn’t know what to do about me; maybe they shouldn’t take me to fast meeting anymore. No one seemed to understand. The turmoil inside me was more than I could stand, and I didn’t know what to do about it, but I knew I had to stand up and bear my testimony. Then all of a sudden there was a light in my room, but I knew Mama had turned out the lights. I got up to see if the moon was shining. I felt so strange; the light around me was warm and I got on my knees and prayed. Then I felt a hand touch mine, soft and warm like the light in my room.
“Cindy, Cindy, what is it?” I heard Mama’s voice. She helped me up, and Daddy put his arms around me because I was crying. For a long time Daddy and Mama sat on the bed talking about how they could help me; I wanted to tell them about the light and the hand that touched mine.
“If Cindy feels that deeply about bearing her testimony,” Daddy said, “then next month she must stand up. We surely can’t deny her the right or privilege to share her testimony with others.”
I felt calm inside and went to sleep.
It seemed like a long long time before testimony meeting came around again, and I sat there calm and listened. Then Mama handed me the microphone and smiled. I stood up.
“I love my Daddy. I love my Mother and I love my brothers and sisters. In the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”
I said it just like I’d heard the other children say it. No one laughed. It was quiet for a long time. Mama was crying. Daddy too. Then a man stood up in front.
“These spirits are special in God’s eyes,” he said. “They are sent to earth for their mortal bodies in such a way they can’t be tempted by this world. Cindy will return to God as pure as she came. We don’t know how deep their emotions run, but we do know these special children hold hands with God.”
I felt a warm soft hand close over mine. This time is was my daddy’s hand.

I was born in a tiny peninsula on an island south of India called Sri Lanka. Growing up there, I was fascinated with American football. I was five when I got my first football and learned how to play with the plushy ball. But my parents were not able to put me on a football team due to financial problems.
Years later, my family moved to New York, USA. Going into high school, I finally had a chance to get into an official team for free. There was one specific requirement: I had to go to football camp for a month, which meant no church for a month. On top of that, I had games on Sundays.
I was very upset and had no idea what to do. I prayed every day for an answer. One evening, I read a talk from President Ezra Taft Benson (1899–1994) where he said, “We must put God in the forefront of everything else in our lives” (“The Great Commandment: Love the Lord,” Apr. 1988 general conference). This struck me so hard that as soon as I read that, I knelt down and thanked the Lord for giving me an answer. I told my parents that I wasn’t going to play football. They supported me through everything. I still am grateful I made that decision.

On September 11, 2001, the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York City were hit by terrorist-controlled airliners that caused both towers to collapse. Thousands of people were killed. Out of this tragedy have come hundreds of stories of courageous, unselfish acts. One very poignant and heroic account is the Washington Post’s story of retired army Colonel Cyril “Rick” Rescorla, who was working as vice president for corporate security of Morgan Stanley Dean Witter.
Rick was a very experienced ex-military combat leader. He was in his office when “the first plane struck the north tower at 8:48 A.M. … He took a call from the 71st floor reporting the fireball in One World Trade Center, and he immediately ordered an evacuation of all 2,700 employees in Building Two,” as well as 1,000 more in Building Five. Using his bullhorn, he moved up the floors, working through a bottleneck on the 44th and going as high as the 72nd, helping to evacuate the people from each floor. One friend who saw Rick reassuring people in the 10th-floor stairwell told him, “Rick, you’ve got to get out, too.”
“As soon as I make sure everyone else is out,” he replied.
“He was not rattled at all. He was putting the lives of his colleagues ahead of his own.” He called headquarters to say he was going back up to search for stragglers.
His wife had watched the United Airlines jet go through his tower. “After a while, her phone rang. It was Rick.
“‘I don’t want you to cry,’ he said. ‘I have to evacuate my people now.’
“She kept sobbing.
“‘If something happens to me, I want you to know that you made my life.’
“The phone went dead.” Rick did not make it out.
“Morgan Stanley lost only six of its 2,700 employees in the south tower on Sept. 11, an isolated miracle amid the carnage. And company officials say Rescorla deserves most of the credit. He drew up the evacuation plan. He hustled his colleagues to safety. And then he apparently went back into the inferno to search for stragglers. He was the last man out of the south tower after the World Trade Center bombing in 1993, and no one seems to doubt that he would’ve been again last month if the skyscraper hadn’t collapsed on him first.”
Amid the great evil and carnage of September 11, 2001, Rick was not looking for what might be in it for him; instead he was unselfishly thinking about others and the danger they were in. Rick Rescorla was the “right man in the right place at the right time.” Rick, “a 62-year-old mountain of a man cooly [sacrificed] his life for others.” As the Savior Himself said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.”

Eva liked nursery. She liked her teachers and singing time. Her favorite song was “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” But now it was time for Eva to go to Primary. Many children were in the Primary room. A teacher said, “Hello, Eva! I am Sister Moya. I am glad you are in our Sunbeam class!” Eva smiled. She liked being a sunbeam. The piano started playing. Eva knew the song! She sang, “Jesus wants me for a sunbeam.” Eva knew she would like being a Sunbeam in Primary.