Gospel Story Finder

“Matt, let’s go to the Colorado River,” Dad suggested. I was seven years old, and my family was visiting both sets of grandparents in St. George, Utah. Eager to see the mighty Colorado, I yelled, “Great! Let me get my skipping stones.”
Little did I know that he meant we were going to the Grand Canyon traveling over cow trails. Yes, we would see the Colorado River, but we would be on a cliff about a mile (1.5 km) above it. There would be no skipping of stones.
Grandpa Holland loaned us his truck and gave us a homemade map and a set of directions to help us find our way on a little-used dusty path along the back roads of the Utah-Arizona border. As we turned off the paved road, lumbered through the desert, climbed a set of hills, crossed another desert, went up another set of hills, I wondered how Grandpa or anyone else ever found this place.
We reached the overlook of the Grand Canyon late in the afternoon. After looking at the spectacular view and launching a few stones as far as I could throw, we got back into Grandpa’s old truck and started the trek home.
It was dusk, and we had only gone a bumpy mile or two when we came to a fork in the road. We stopped. Dad was not certain which trail we had come in on. He knew he had to make the right decision. There wasn’t much light left, light he desperately needed to ensure he could make the correct turns the rest of the way home.
Wasting time on a wrong road now meant we would face the difficult task of making our way home in the dark.
As we did whenever we had a family problem or concern, we prayed. After we both said amen, Dad turned and asked me what I thought we should do. I answered and said, “All during the prayer, I just kept feeling, ‘Go to the left.’”
Dad responded, “I had the exact same impression.”
This was my first experience receiving and recognizing revelation.
We started down the dirt road to the left. We had traveled only about 10 minutes when our road came to a sudden dead-end. My father promptly whipped the truck around, roared back to that fork in the path, and started down the road to the right. Fortunately, there was still just enough light to help us navigate the web of dirt roads that would take us home.
We were almost back to St. George, now on roads my father knew well, and the thick darkness of the night was lit by pinholes of thousands of stars.
I was troubled. With my head resting on my dad’s leg and my legs stretched across the seat, I asked, “Dad, why did we both feel like Heavenly Father told us to go down the road to the left when it was the wrong road?”
My dad said, “Matty, I’ve been thinking and silently praying about that same thing all the way home, because I really did feel a very distinct impression to take the road to the left.”
I was relieved that my first experience with revelation had a “second witness.”
He continued, “The Lord has taught us an important lesson today. Because we were prompted to take the road to the left, we quickly discovered which one was the right one. When we turned around and got on the right road, I was able to travel along its many unfamiliar twists and turnoffs perfectly confident I was headed in the right direction.
“If we had started on the right road, we might have driven for 30 minutes or so, become uneasy with the unfamiliar surroundings, and been tempted to turn back. If we had done that, we would have discovered the dead-end so late that it would have been too dark to find our way back in totally unfamiliar territory.”
I understood and have never forgotten the lesson my Heavenly Father and earthly father taught me that afternoon. Sometimes in response to prayers, the Lord may guide us down what seems to be the wrong road—or at least a road we don’t understand—so, in due time, He can get us firmly and without question on the right road. Of course, He would never lead us down a path of sin, but He might lead us down a road of valuable experience. Sometimes in our journey through life we can get from point A to point C only by taking a short side road to point B. We had prayed that we could make it safely home that day, and we did.

My mom gave a family home evening lesson on loving our enemies. She taught me and my brothers and sisters what it means to love those who “despitefully use you, and persecute you” (Matt. 5:44).
I remembered that lesson the next day at school when I noticed that a bigger boy who was always trying to bully or tease me didn’t have a lunch. My sister had helped me pack a huge lunch the night before, and I had two sandwiches. So I took my extra sandwich and some other things in my lunch and offered them to the boy. I was happy that he took the extra food, and he seemed glad that I had offered it to him. He is not mean to me anymore, and I am much happier at school.
I am glad that I listened to the family home evening lesson. My mom and dad are, too. They said that they are proud of me for listening to the Spirit and doing a kind and brave thing even though it seemed a little scary.

Kali walked into the lunchroom and looked around. All the other kids were running straight to their friends and gathering at tables. The room was noisy with excited voices and happy laughter. It was only the second day of school, but it seemed like everyone had someone to sit with but Kali.
She squeezed the handle of her lunchbox and walked to one of the tables. “Can I sit by you?” Kali asked.
A girl with a long, brown braid looked up. She huffed and shook her head. “No. It’s taken,” she said.
“OK.” Kali moved to another empty seat and set down her lunchbox.
“You can’t sit here! I’m saving that seat,” a boy in a green-striped shirt said. He pushed Kali’s lunchbox onto the floor. His friends all laughed.
Kali bent down and picked up her lunchbox again. She walked across the lunchroom and sat at an empty table. She saw someone from her neighborhood and tried to wave, but he looked the other way. Kali frowned. Why didn’t anyone want to be her friend?
Kali looked down at her food. She didn’t feel like eating anymore. She wiped her eyes, closed her lunchbox, and walked outside.
Everyone was already playing with their friends. Kali sat by herself on a bench and watched the other kids having fun without her. Then Kali noticed a boy about her age sitting alone on the grass. He was wearing a stained yellow shirt, and his hair stood up in the back.
Kali looked away. She saw a group of girls from her class playing foursquare. She wished they would invite her to play with them.
Kali looked at the boy again. His head was hanging down, and he was picking the grass around his feet. Kali remembered something Mom sometimes said: Look for the kids who are lonely.
Kali frowned. She was lonely too. Nobody was trying to be her friend!
But then Kali thought about when she got baptized last year. She promised to listen to the Holy Ghost. Maybe the Holy Ghost was helping her remember what Mom told her. Maybe the Holy Ghost was trying to tell her to play with the boy in the yellow shirt.
Kali sighed and got to her feet. A warm feeling spread in her heart. She walked over and sat next to the boy in the grass.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi,” he mumbled back.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Um … green.”
“That’s cool. I like pink,” said Kali. “Do you have a favorite animal?”
The boy sat up a little straighter and looked at her. “Yeah. I really like dinosaurs.”
“Oh, me too. My favorite is a triceratops.”
The boy smiled.
Then the bell rang. Kali got to her feet and waved goodbye to the boy. She smiled as she walked back to her classroom alone. She might not have a best friend, but she felt happy knowing she had made someone else’s recess a little better.

When I was 12, my dad lost his job. Money was tight, and I was embarrassed that my family was poor, and I was jealous of my friends’ clothes and toys.
I was really stressed out and even depressed at times because I let jealousy get the best of me. Our family fasted and prayed so my dad could find another job. Our family began to change, especially my dad. He wasn’t stressed. He was happy and spent more time with us, and he read his scriptures more. It changed the whole mood in our home, and my dad became more in tune with the Spirit.
Sometimes it takes a trial for someone to become a better person. If you take trials the right way, you will be greatly blessed. It took about a year for my dad to find a new job, but we were so grateful Heavenly Father answered our prayers.

In 1895 my great-grandfather, Abinadi Olsen, was called on a mission to the Samoan Islands. Obedient to the call of the prophet, he left his wife and four small children, including my maternal grandmother, Chasty Magdalene, in the town of Castle Dale, Utah. He traveled by train and ship to the mission headquarters in Apia, Samoa, a journey of 26 days. His first assignment was to labor on the island of Tutuila.

After many weeks of living in what he called a grass hut, eating strange food, suffering severe illnesses, and struggling to learn the Samoan language, he seemed to be making no progress in his missionary work. Homesick and discouraged, he seriously considered getting on board a boat back to Apia and telling the mission president he didn’t want to waste any more time in Samoa. The obstacles to the accomplishment of his mission seemed insurmountable, and he wished to return to his wife and children, who were struggling to support him in the mission field.

A friend who heard Abinadi Olsen describe the experience some years after his return, quoted him as follows:
“Then one night, as I lay on my mat on the floor of my hut, a strange man entered and in my own language told me to get up and follow him. His manner was such that I had to obey. He led me out through the village and directly up against the face of a perpendicular solid rock cliff. ‘That’s strange,’ thought I. ‘I’ve never seen that here before,’ and just then the stranger said, ‘I want you to climb that cliff.’
“I took another look and then in bewilderment said, ‘I can’t. It’s impossible!’
“‘How do you know you can’t? You haven’t tried,’ said my guide.
“‘But anyone can see’—I started to say in objecting. But he cut in with, ‘Begin climbing. Reach up with your hand—now with your foot.’
“As I reached, under orders that I dared not disobey, a niche seemed to open in the solid rock cliff and I caught hold. Then with my one foot I caught a toe hold.
“‘Now go ahead,’ he ordered. ‘Reach with your other hand,’ and as I did so another place opened up, and to my surprise the cliff began to recede; climbing became easier, and I continued the climb without difficulty until, suddenly, I found myself lying on my pallet back in my hut. The stranger was gone!
“‘Why has this experience come to me?’ I asked myself. The answer came quickly. I had been up against an imaginary cliff for those three months. I had not reached out my hand to begin the climb. I hadn’t really made the effort I should have made to learn the language and overcome my other problems” (Fenton L. Williams, “On Doing the Impossible,” Improvement Era, August 1957, p. 554).

It is hardly necessary to add that Abinadi Olsen did not leave the mission. He labored for three and a half years, until released by appropriate authority. He was an exceptionally effective missionary, and he was a faithful member of the Church for the rest of his life.

When Rebecca B. was 15, she was happy for her sister Elizabeth, 19, who was leaving on a mission. But Rebecca was feeling pretty sorry for herself. The family had just dropped Elizabeth off at the Missionary Training Center in Provo, Utah, USA. Rebecca felt like she was losing not only her sister but also her best friend.
We’re talking about sisters so close that even though their parents’ home had a separate room for each of them, they still shared a room—because they preferred it that way. Rebecca and Elizabeth knew that by sticking together, they could weather the storms of life. Most of the time they were like flowers and sunshine, bright and happy. They were always talking, always together. And now Elizabeth would be far away.
Rebecca remembers thinking as the family drove away from the MTC, “Who will be my best friend now?”
“Not long after Elizabeth left,” Rebecca says, “we had a family home evening where Mom asked: ‘How can you create a relationship with your siblings that will last throughout eternity?’ That night, I decided that while Elizabeth was gone, Matthew [13 at the time] was going to be my new best friend.”
“She reached out to me,” Matthew recalls. “We just started doing more and more things together.”
“Part of it was just talking—on the way to school, during school, after school,” Rebecca says. “We talked about what kind of day we were having, about whatever was going on.”
They created what they call a safe relationship: “We’re not mean and we don’t hurt each other,” Matthew says.
“That means we can talk about the good, the bad, the pretty, and the ugly,” Rebecca adds. “We have the same kind of relationship with our parents—we talk to them about everything. We’re open and candid, and that builds trust.”
“I’ve grown up with two sisters who pretty much always got along, so it was easy for me to follow their example,” Matthew says. Their friendship continued into high school. They rode to school together, said hi in the hallways, went to each other’s activities, introduced each other to friends, and talked about little things that don’t matter much. But sometimes they talked long and deep about things that really do, like how to recognize answers to prayer.
But it was more than just talking that helped Rebecca and Matthew become closer as siblings. A big part of their friendship is about supporting each other and having fun together. For example:
Rebecca likes to jog. Matthew rides a unicycle. So they work out together anyway. Rebecca runs as Matthew pedals beside her.
Matthew loves Ultimate, a non-contact sport played with a flying plastic disc. So Rebecca helps Matthew practice at home. “If you can catch my throws, you can catch anything!” she says.
Rebecca loves music and ballroom dancing. Actually, Matthew loves music, too, and they often sing and play piano together. But ballroom dancing? More on that later.
Matthew loves hiking. “So he goes hiking with Dad,” Rebecca says. “You don’t have to do everything together all the time. I go along sometimes, but they hike much faster than I do.”
Of course, they don’t always agree. Occasionally they argue or feelings get hurt, but they’ve learned ways to work through it.
“Sometimes you need to talk to each other and work it out, and sometimes you need to go to your parents,” Rebecca says. “But when I’m with my friends, I don’t talk negatively about my parents or my siblings. When friends tell me, ‘I admire how close you guys are,’ I know it’s not because we’re perfect; it’s because we’re loyal to each other.”
“When siblings annoy you,” says Matthew, “don’t sweat the small stuff, and don’t sweat the big stuff, either. Talk to each other with kindness, and get the feeling of love back into your family as quickly as you can. It’s more fun to be happy.”
“Remember,” Rebecca says, “friends come and go. But your relationships with your family are eternal, so those are relationships you should be motivated to keep working on.”
“You don’t have to have the same likes and dislikes,” Rebecca says, “But when I go to Matthew’s Ultimate games, I know enough to say, ‘Wow, that was really cool how you caught that.’ And when I’m sewing quilts, he knows enough to say, ‘Wow, that’s a really hard block that you made.’ You support them in what they’re interested in.”
Remember the ballroom dancing mentioned above? That’s where Matthew may have set the gold standard for sibling support. Not only did he practice ballroom dancing at home with Rebecca, he also learned a routine so that he could perform with another girl on a song Rebecca choreographed. When the ballroom dance club needed an extra member, Matthew joined. Now Rebecca relies on him when she tests routines: “I ask him if it will work or not, and together we figure it out.”
Not long ago, members of the club staged a workshop for the youth in Rebecca’s and Matthew’s ward. Rebecca took charge and got everyone involved. “And Matthew got to dance with all the girls!” Rebecca teases. Matthew just grins.
As you talk to Rebecca and Matthew, it becomes apparent that they are always cheering each other on. Rebecca explains: “If I ever say anything negative about myself, Matthew will say, ‘Three good things about yourself or 10 push-ups!’ And he’ll wait until I say good things. It means a lot that he helps me see the positive in myself.”
And Rebecca reciprocates. “Everybody loves Matthew,” she says. “My job is to ward off all his fans!”
About a year and a half ago, Elizabeth returned from her mission. She was soon back in college, living away from home again. But now she’s getting a new roommate, a freshman who just graduated from high school—Rebecca. They’ll be sharing a room again, just like they did at home.
And who will be Matthew’s best friend now?
“He’s going to have two best friends,” Rebecca says. “Mom and Dad.”

“I remember being called into the bishop’s office for an interview,” said Elder Steve Lloyd of the Casper (Wyoming) Fifth Ward and the Switzerland Geneva Mission, “and realizing that I’d been thinking about the same things the bishop had. He said the Lord had called me to be the first assistant in the priests quorum, and I realized the Spirit had been preparing me to accept the call. It would be tough to be a missionary and not have had experiences like that with the Holy Ghost. You might not recognize what it was when it tried to prompt you.”

Carey saw a bag sitting on the counter. She looked inside. She saw a whole package of stickers! Spacemen. Astronauts. Rockets. Stars.
Carey loved stickers! She opened the package and peeled all the stickers off the paper. She put one sticker on the countertop. She put one on the wall. And one by the light switch. Soon stickers were everywhere.
Then Carey went outside to play.
A few minutes later, Carey heard Mom calling her. “Come here,” Mom said. She didn’t sound very happy.
Carey came inside.
Mom pointed at the stickers. “Do you know who did this?” Mom asked.
Carey was a little worried. Would she get in trouble if Mom knew she used the stickers?
Carey took a deep breath. “I did,” she said.
“Those were for your brother’s birthday party,” Mom said. “Now we don’t have any stickers.”
Carey felt like crying. She hadn’t meant to do something wrong. She hoped Mom wasn’t too mad at her.
“I’m sorry,” Carey said.
“Next time, be sure to ask,” Mom said. “And don’t stick stickers around the house.”
Carey nodded.
“And there’s one more thing,” Mom said. “It’s very important.”
Carey looked up at her.
“Thank you for telling me the truth,” Mom said. “I’m proud of you.” She gave Carey a hug. “I hope you’ll always tell me the truth.”
Carey didn’t feel good about using up all the stickers. But she did feel good about telling the truth.
“Thanks, Mom,” Carey said. “I will.”

No one knows when emergencies will strike. I am somewhat familiar with the case of a man who was highly successful in his profession. He lived in comfort. He built a large home. Then one day he was suddenly involved in a serious accident. Instantly, without warning, he almost lost his life. He was left a cripple. Destroyed was his earning power. He faced huge medical bills. He had other payments to make. He was helpless before his creditors. One moment he was rich, the next he was broke.

Since the beginnings of the Church, the Lord has spoken on this matter of debt. To Martin Harris through revelation He said: “Pay the debt thou hast contracted with the printer. Release thyself from bondage” (D&C 19:35).
President Heber J. Grant spoke repeatedly on this matter from this pulpit. He said: “If there is any one thing that will bring peace and contentment into the human heart, and into the family, it is to live within our means. And if there is any one thing that is grinding and discouraging and disheartening, it is to have debts and obligations that one cannot meet” (Gospel Standards, comp. G. Homer Durham [1941], 111).
We are carrying a message of self-reliance throughout the Church. Self-reliance cannot obtain when there is serious debt hanging over a household. One has neither independence nor freedom from bondage when he is obligated to others.
In managing the affairs of the Church, we have tried to set an example. We have, as a matter of policy, stringently followed the practice of setting aside each year a percentage of the income of the Church against a possible day of need.
I am grateful to be able to say that the Church in all its operations, in all its undertakings, in all of its departments, is able to function without borrowed money. If we cannot get along, we will curtail our programs. We will shrink expenditures to fit the income. We will not borrow.
One of the happiest days in the life of President Joseph F. Smith was the day the Church paid off its long-standing indebtedness.
What a wonderful feeling it is to be free of debt, to have a little money against a day of emergency put away where it can be retrieved when necessary.
President Faust would not tell you this himself. Perhaps I can tell it, and he can take it out on me afterward. He had a mortgage on his home drawing 4 percent interest. Many people would have told him he was foolish to pay off that mortgage when it carried so low a rate of interest. But the first opportunity he had to acquire some means, he and his wife determined they would pay off their mortgage. He has been free of debt since that day. That’s why he wears a smile on his face, and that’s why he whistles while he works.
I urge you, brethren, to look to the condition of your finances. I urge you to be modest in your expenditures; discipline yourselves in your purchases to avoid debt to the extent possible. Pay off debt as quickly as you can, and free yourselves from bondage.
This is a part of the temporal gospel in which we believe. May the Lord bless you, my beloved brethren, to set your houses in order. If you have paid your debts, if you have a reserve, even though it be small, then should storms howl about your head, you will have shelter for your wives and children and peace in your hearts. That’s all I have to say about it, but I wish to say it with all the emphasis of which I am capable.

Prodi sat up in bed with a jolt. His heart was beating fast.
Rain pattered on the roof as he sat in the darkness. He could hear water dripping from the African fig tree outside his window, and the air felt sticky and warm. Prodi took a deep breath and tried to relax. It was just a dream.
He crawled out of bed and peeked at his parents. Mama and Papa were sleeping peacefully. His little sister, Célia, was curled up in her bed too. Everything was OK. His family was safe.
Prodi climbed back into bed and tried to go back to sleep. He tossed and turned, then tossed and turned some more. He knew his dream wasn’t real, but it had been so scary! Even though he was tired, he was afraid to fall asleep again. What if he had another nightmare?
Prodi lay on his back and looked at the ceiling. He tried to think of happy thoughts. Heavenly Father, are you really there? And do you hear and answer every child’s prayer? A wave of warmth came over Prodi as he thought of the words of his favorite Primary song. Sister Kioska had taught them that Heavenly Father was always watching over them. They could pray to Him anytime, anywhere.
Prodi knew what to do. He got out of bed and knelt down to pray.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” he prayed, “I’m really scared. Please keep my family safe. And please help me to go to sleep and not have any more bad dreams.”
Prodi finished his prayer and climbed back in bed. His body relaxed, and his mind felt peaceful. Soon he was asleep.
When morning came, Prodi woke up to the warm sun shining through the window. He could hear pots clanging in the kitchen. Célia was at the table eating leftover cassava. Mama was warming some up for him to eat too.
“Bonjour,” Mama said. “How did you sleep?”
“I had a really scary nightmare,” Prodi said. “But then I said a prayer. Heavenly Father helped me feel safe.”
“I’m sorry you had a bad dream,” Mama said. She hugged Prodi close and didn’t let go for a long time. “But I’m so glad you said a prayer. It sounds like praying really helped you.”
“It did,” said Prodi. “I was able to fall asleep again, and I didn’t have any more bad dreams.” Prodi hugged Mama tight. He was glad to know that no matter how scared he felt, Heavenly Father was just a prayer away.
Go to page 15 to meet the boy from this story!

Didiya sat on the bank of the rising river, looking down into the murky water. It was the rainy season in Kenya, Africa, and the eight-year-old girl waited and watched for the danger she knew would come—danger to the women who came to dip water into their earthen jars and danger to the cattle the herd boys brought here to drink.
The valley people passing saw her and said, “Ah, Didiya is watching today. She’ll let us know when the danger comes.”
Now, as Didiya bent forward, watching the water intently, she thought of her father and the days when they had watched the water together.
The girl’s thoughts were interrupted when a neighbor came by with a bowl of hot gruel. “Morning greeting, Didiya. I’ve brought you some food. You must be hungry, for you’ve been watching since daybreak.”
“Morning greeting, Auntie,” she said. “Yes, I am hungry. Thank you. I’ll let you know when the danger comes.”
“Yes, I know you will,” the neighbor said and returned to her home.
A sudden shadow moved swiftly below the water’s surface. Didiya leaned over to look more closely. A second shadow followed, then a third.
One shadow rose to the surface and a snout appeared, then a scaly head. The danger was here!
Didiya scrambled to her feet and ran shouting, “The crocodiles have come! The crocodiles have come!”
A woman had started toward the river, carrying an empty water jar on her head. “Stop!” a neighbor called. “The crocodiles have come.”
The woman, a newcomer in the valley, shouted back, “How do you know?”
“Didiya has warned us. She saw them in the stream,” the neighbor said. “They come every year when the water is high.”
“Who’s Didiya?” the newcomer asked, ignoring the warning and continuing on toward the river, but more slowly.
“She’s the girl who has been watching for the crocodiles since daybreak,” the neighbor said, walking toward the woman. “Didn’t you hear her shout a warning as she ran by us?”
The newcomer stopped now and put her water jar on the ground. “If I can’t dip water here, where can I fill my jar?”
“You’ll have to go up the valley to the nearest well.”
“But that’s a mile from here,” she objected. “How long will I have to carry water from there?”
“Until Didiya tells us that the crocodiles have gone. They won’t stay after the water goes down,” the neighbor explained.
“Why does Didiya watch for the crocodiles?” the woman asked.
“Her father began watching years ago, after crocodiles had dragged most of his cattle into the water. He didn’t want to lose any more cattle, and he wanted to protect his neighbors’ herds too. When Didiya was big enough, she sat with him to watch. Two years ago he went to Lagos, Nigeria, to find work, hoping to save enough money to come home and buy more cattle. When her father left, Didiya took over the job of watching for the crocodiles.”
While the women talked, Didiya ran upstream as far as the district school, calling out the danger to the valley people. At the school she asked the teacher to tell the pupils.
“You’re a good girl to watch every year and warn us,” he said. “Don’t you want to come to school? You’re old enough now.”
“Oh, I’d love to! But who would watch for the crocodiles?” she asked. “Besides, Grandfather doesn’t have the money to pay the school fee and buy a school uniform for me.”
“Your father wants you to go to school,” the teacher said. “He talked to me about it before he left, and he has been sending me a little money toward your schooling every month. It isn’t enough yet, but maybe we can think of some way for you to come to school.”
Didiya smiled her appreciation, then turned and ran toward the more distant pastures, shouting her warning, “The crocodiles have come!”
“Morning greeting, Didiya,” the herders called. “You’re a good girl to warn us.”
When the people of her part of the valley had been warned, Didiya sat down under a baobab tree to rest. Now there was time to think about what the teacher had said. She looked down at her bead-trimmed dress and thought with longing of the uniforms the girls at school wore, the lovely blue jumpers and white blouses. With pockets!
Because she was tired and felt so comfortable between two high roots of the tree, Didiya fell asleep. Later the sound of rain falling on the tree’s leaves awakened her. She looked up into the branches, thinking about this curious tree with wrinkled bark that looked like the skin of an old elephant and its branches that looked like roots sticking up in the air.
Suddenly she heard shouts coming from the direction of the watering place. A herd boy from another part of the valley had brought his cattle to drink there, and his biggest, strongest steer had waded out into the stream and had started to drink. A crocodile had grabbed the steer by the mouth and nose and tried to pull it into the water. But the steer had pulled harder than the crocodile, which was now slowly being pulled onto the shore.
People came with heavy sticks and hit the crocodile, but their blows didn’t hurt its scale-covered back. However, the dry land was not as pleasing to the reptile as the water, so it released its hold on the steer and crawled back into the river. The steer shook his head and bellowed with pain. Gathering his thirsty cattle together, the herd boy drove them farther up the valley to water at a shallow, safe place.
The day after the crocodiles appeared, all the pupils at the school were asked to gather on the playground. They brought their mats, which they had made of yellow grass in the handwork class, and sat on the ground. After a prayer, the teacher read to them the Apostle Paul’s words about bearing one another’s burdens. Then he said, “I chose these words because of Didiya, who warns us every year of the crocodiles. She, and her father before her, have borne a burden for us when they have watched the river for danger and have warned us. Nobody told them to do it, and nobody pays them for their efforts. Who can say how many cattle have been saved or what injuries our people have been spared by heeding their warnings?
“Yesterday I asked Didiya if she would like to come to school. She said, ‘But who would warn the people of the crocodiles?’ I told her that a plan could be worked out for that. Then she said that her grandfather couldn’t pay her school fee or buy her a uniform.
“Didiya’s father has sent me some money toward her school expenses, but it isn’t enough. It seems to me that we’ve let Didiya bear our burden long enough and that it’s time for us to bear hers. Two things have come to my mind: One is that we work out a plan for taking turns watching the river during the rainy seasons. The other is that we give the people of the valley a chance to repay Didiya by contributing enough money so that she can come to school. Will you talk this over with your families and neighbors, and let me know how they feel?”
The villagers enthusiastically agreed to the teacher’s plan. Soon there was enough money to pay the rest of the school fee and to buy the uniform. Didiya went to the valley store and bought the blue and white fabrics. Then she took them to the tailor, who sat at his sewing machine on the store porch.
“Don’t forget the pockets,” she said to the tailor.
“You don’t need to tell me how to do my work,” the tailor said teasingly. “I’ve been making uniforms ever since the school started. I’d never forget the pockets!”
The next time the school drum sounded from up the valley, Didiya was ready, dressed in her new uniform. For her lunch she carried a boiled sweet potato wrapped in a banana leaf in one pocket. In another pocket she had a small wooden deer that her grandfather had carved as a present for the teacher. The happy girl beamed as all along the way her friends called out, “Morning greeting, Didiya.”

Now for the illustration pertaining to those men whose habits and lives include but little Church attendance or Church activity of any kind. The ranks of these prospective elders have grown larger. This is because of those younger boys of the Aaronic Priesthood quorums who are lost along the Aaronic Priesthood pathway and also those grown men who are baptized but do not persevere in activity and faith so that they might be ordained elders.
I not only reflect on the hearts and souls of such individual men, but also sorrow for their sweet wives and growing children. These men await a helping hand, an encouraging word, and a personal testimony of truth expressed from a heart filled with love and a desire to lift and to build.
Shelley, my friend, was such a person. His wife and children were fine members, but all efforts to motivate him toward baptism and then priesthood blessings had miserably failed.
But then Shelley’s mother died. Shelley was so sorrowful that he retired to a special room at the mortuary where the funeral was being held. We had wired the proceedings to this room so that he might mourn alone and where no one could see him weep with sorrow. As I comforted him in that room before going to the pulpit, he gave me a hug, and I knew a tender chord had been touched.
Time passed. Shelley and his family moved to another part of the city. I was called to preside over the Canadian Mission and, together with my family, moved to Toronto, Canada, for a three-year period.
When I returned and after I was called to the Twelve, Shelley telephoned me. He said, “Bishop, will you seal my wife, my family, and me in the Salt Lake Temple?”
I answered hesitantly, “But Shelley, you must first be baptized a member of the Church.”
He laughed and responded, “Oh, I took care of that while you were in Canada. I sort of snuck up on you. There was this home teacher who called on us regularly and taught me the truths of the Church. He was a school crossing guard and helped the small children across the street each morning when they went to school and each afternoon when they went home. He asked me to help him. During the intervals when there was no child crossing, he gave me additional instruction pertaining to the Church.”
I had the privilege to see this miracle with my own eyes and feel the joy with my heart and soul. The sealings were performed; a family was united. Shelley died not too long after this period. I had the privilege of speaking at his funeral services. I shall ever see, in memory’s eye, the body of my friend Shelley lying in his casket, dressed in his temple clothing. I readily admit the presence of tears—tears of gratitude, for the lost had been found.

Hurrying into the store, Willie quickly found the thread and paid for it. When he was almost home, he heard a familiar sound.
“Here, Sam!” Willie called to his barking dog. “Here, boy!” Sam bounded across the lawn and jumped up on Willie, his tail wagging furiously.
“Hold on, boy. I have a surprise for you.” Willie set his nearly empty green velvet bag down, reached in, and grasped the lopsided tennis ball and the stick.
“Here, boy!” Willie said, showing Sam the ball. “Go get it!” Willie threw the ball across the lawn. Sam immediately bounded away and trotted back with it.
“Good boy!” Willie patted his pet’s head. “Now try this!” He threw the stick across the lawn. Sam ran after it, picked it up, and ran with it back to Willie.
“Good ol’ Sam!” Willie said, petting the dog before he went into the house. He found his mother and gave her the thread.

“What?” I said incredulously. “I’m doing what? Dad, how could you?”
My dad just shook his head and waved me off, “Well, I thought you’d like to go on a rafting trip. You weren’t here to say, so I said yes.”
I stomped off angrily. My dad had accepted an invitation from the bishop for me to go on a weeklong rafting trip down the Colorado River with a bunch of kids from church. I had just spent over two weeks waterskiing with some of my real friends. I never expected to come home to the news that I was leaving the very next day to go rafting with the “church people.”
We had gone to church when I was younger, and I was baptized when I was eight. But shortly after that we moved from our old neighborhood to a new development. We slipped into inactivity, and no one seemed to notice. Now I was 16 and thought I was happy with my life. Even though my parents still raised me with high moral expectations like other Mormon kids, I still avoided people from church.
The next morning my parents dropped me at the Scoutmaster’s house. I recognized a few of the faces. I had gone to church with some of these guys when I was a kid. Some of them even went to my school.
As we started the long drive to the starting point of the trip, I was nervous about how things would be with the other boys. But everyone was cool. No one treated me like the “less-active kid.” It didn’t take long to feel like I was just part of the group.
I ended up having a great time. I liked these people. I listened to these boys and their leaders pray, and I felt something. Another boy, Todd, and I had become good friends. One day as we were waiting for dinner, we went for a walk. We found a set of train tracks and started walking along them.
We were goofing off and tossing rocks around when Todd suddenly said, “You know, you should come to church.”
I picked up another rock. “Yeah, maybe.” He didn’t say anything else about church then, but I remembered his invitation.
The whole experience was so different from the two weeks I had spent waterskiing. The adults on the skiing trip were always drunk, swearing at each other, and saying inappropriate things. The adults on the rafting trip were respectful toward us and one another. I was impressed, and I respected them for it.
After I returned home, the next Sunday I got up and got dressed for church. I knew enough to know that I should wear my best. As I came downstairs my mom and sisters were doing the dishes. “Hey, Gary, where are you going?” Mom asked.
“Uh,” I paused. “Church.” My mother seemed surprised (as did my sisters), but she just nodded. I went to church and sat in the back. For several weeks I went by myself.
Then one Saturday night my sister Patti said that she would go to church with me. Even though we liked the kids at church, we realized that going to church wasn’t about fitting in or having friends—church was about how we felt when we were there.
One day Patti and I were getting ready for church when we heard a call from downstairs, “Patti! Gary! We’re going to be late.” I went jogging down the stairs and saw my parents dressed and standing by the door. Our family was beginning to change.
I believe my bishop was inspired to invite me on that trip, and I believe my father was inspired to accept for me. The scriptures say, “Now ye may suppose that this is foolishness in me; but behold I say unto you, that by small and simple things are great things brought to pass” (Alma 37:6).
One small invitation led a family back to church. I earned my Eagle Scout Award and went on a mission. Patti and I each got married in the temple to returned missionaries. We’re now raising our own families in the gospel.
If you invite a less-active person to an activity, it may or may not impact their lives. But if you don’t invite them, it definitely won’t.

The temple here in Philadelphia has changed the face of this city. I was at the temple almost every day during the open house. People would stop and stare and just gawk at the temple. I was working security one night, and this lady stopped and asked me, “What is this building?”
I said to her, “This is a building where faithful members of the Latter-day Saint Church can go and make covenants with the Lord.”
She looked down and said, “I have goosebumps.”
At that moment it struck me. This lady was a regular Philadelphian. She had no idea what was going on, but she could feel the Spirit just as strongly because the gospel is true.

When our children were younger and we would be on our way to Sunday church meetings, occasionally we would pass a car pulling a boat. My children would become silent and press their noses against the windows and ask, “Dad, why can’t we go waterskiing today instead of to church?”
Sometimes I would take the easy but cowardly way out and answer, “It’s simple; we don’t have a boat.” However, on my more conscientious days, I would muster up all the logic and spirituality available to a patriarch of a family and try to explain how much happier our family was because of our Church activity.
I first realized I wasn’t getting through when on a subsequent Sunday we saw a family laughing and excited as they loaded their snow skis onto their car. One of my teenage sons said with a sly grin, “They’re not really happy, huh, Dad?” That statement has become a family joke whenever we see someone doing something we cannot do. When I see a teenager driving a beautiful, expensive sports car, I say to my sons, “Now there’s one miserable guy.”

Col. Halvorsen said that children sometimes wrote to him with special requests. “I received one letter with a beautiful map in it. The little girl said hers was the white house with the chickens in the backyard and that she would be waiting there at 2:00 P.M. I never found her house so I mailed her a package.”
Twenty years later when Col. Halvorsen returned to Tempelhof as commander of the base, the same girl, now grown up with a family of her own, wrote to him again. She invited him to dinner in the same home he had failed to find during the airlift. The two families still keep in touch with each other.

Where am I? Ashley Brown wondered, rubbing her eyes and looking around the room. She was lying in her own bed, that was certain. The toys on the shelf beside the cupboard were hers, but the window was too high, and the door was green.
Then Ashley remembered. She gave a sad sigh and turned on her side. She and Mum and Dad had moved to a new house, and she had left all her friends behind in Clayton.
Slowly Ashley got out of bed and walked to the window. Tall trees shaded the house. The street was empty—except for a girl walking up the sidewalk to Ashley’s house! Ashley pressed her face against the window. The girl had blond hair and was dressed in jeans and a red shirt. She looked up, grinned, and propped up a paper on a porch chair. Then she ran into the park at the corner of the street.
“I wonder what that girl is up to,” Ashley murmured.
After dressing quickly, she hurried downstairs, opened the front door, and grabbed the piece of paper. She read:
“Take twenty-four steps beside the road—You’ll come to a stone that looks like a toad.”
“Mum! Mum!” Ashley called, running into the kitchen. “Look what I found on our front porch.”
Mum was making toast and putting out her special strawberry jam. She read the note while Ashley ate.
“I saw a girl put it there,” Ashley said between gulps of milk. “She was wearing a red shirt, and she had blond hair.”
“How about if I sit on the porch and watch while you find the toad stone?” Mum suggested. She smiled and gave Ashley a big hug as they went out.
Very carefully, Ashley counted twenty-four long steps. And there, right in front of her, was a strange stone. It was high and round. A smaller stone had been placed in front of it, like a head. Ashley smiled. It did look like a toad!
Under the smaller stone was another piece of paper. Ashley read:
“Across the street
Is a short spruce tree.
Look near the trunk
For a clue to me!”
She waved to Mum and held up the new message. Then she crossed the street to the tree. It was dark in the shadow of the green branches. Where’s the next verse? she wondered. On a low branch, Ashley found it. She read:
“Under the bench
At the nearest bus sign,
You’ll see a clue
And know that it’s mine.”
“Why, the bus stop is right across the street from our house!” Ashley laughed as she realized that she’d been walking in a big square. She ran to the bench and looked under it. Sure enough, there was a folded note taped to the bench. She sat on the bench and read:
“Walk down this lane;
Look at the sky.
In the maple tree,
I’m way up high.”
Walking down the lane that led to the bus stop, Ashley looked up at the sky. Soon she saw the maple tree.
All at once she felt shy. What if the girl in the red shirt doesn’t like me? Ashley stood up tall and straightened her shoulders. I wanted a friend, so I’ll have to act friendly, she decided as she hurried over to the tree.
Suddenly she heard a swooshing sound. The end of a rope ladder dropped from the leaves and hung against the bark of the tree trunk.
This was exciting! Ashley put her foot on the bottom loop. It sagged under her weight and swayed back and forth. She grasped both sides of the ladder and started up, her heart beating quickly. When the ladder ended, she squinted and looked around, trying to see where she was. Just above her was a wooden platform. And looking down at her, smiling, was the girl in the red shirt.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Erica Greer. I watched the movers carrying in your furniture. I was sure glad to see you.”
“Hi. I’m Ashley Brown.” As she climbed onto the platform, she saw that it was the floor of a terrific tree house. The roof and sides were made of plastic, and the whole thing was secured to branches of the tree. In one corner was a wooden box with a lid. Erica opened it and took out a tin of cookies, two paper cups, and a bottle of fruit juice.
“I told my mum about the clues and everything,” Erica said, pouring Ashley a cup of juice. “She made us this picnic before going across the street to visit with your mother.”
Ashley munched on a cookie. “I just thought of something,” she said.
“What?” Erica asked.
“No matter where you go, you can make friends—especially if you have friendly clues to follow.”

To a large majority of the world, we are considered a different kind of people. We live a clean, mellow life in contrast to the partying lifestyle. I had the opportunity to travel to several different colleges throughout the United States on recruiting trips. While this was an extremely fun and exciting experience, it was also a huge eye-opener for me. The girls on the teams I was being recruited by had never even heard of Mormons. On every single trip, I ended up explaining my beliefs. They were shocked by some of the things I told them, but this was a real testimony builder. As I told them what I believe, I felt an even stronger testimony growing inside me.

The youth of the Westminster Third Ward (Huntington Beach California North Stake) know the importance of education. Using half the funds they had raised for their youth conference, they donated to the Perpetual Education Fund. Their check was presented to Elder John K. Carmack, emeritus member of the First Quorum of the Seventy, who is the managing director of the PEF.
The Westminster youth responded, along with thousands of other Church members, to President Hinckley’s call to help other Church members become self-reliant and successful (see Ensign, May 2001, 51–53).