Gospel Story Finder

I work at a summer camp. Kids come for five days, and we do lots of educational activities with them. We cut and decorate wood cuts from real logs, play in the stream and learn about aquatic life, find and collect wildflowers, go on hikes, learn about the mining history of the town, and lots of other super fun stuff.
At the end of the week, we do an activity called “affirmations.” The kids sit in a circle and close their eyes. They take turns getting up and tapping other kids on the shoulder as the counselors say different things like “This person helped me feel welcome,” or “This person helped me cut wood.” At the end of the activity, we say, “This person has potential,” or “This person has a bright future.” Then the counselors tap every single kid.
One week, as I was tapping the kids and saying awesome things about them, I felt the Spirit witness to me that they were all children of God. I didn’t even know all of them that well, but I felt such love for them. It was a really neat experience that witnessed to me that everyone we interact with really is a child of God. He really does care about each of us.
Stephen J., Utah, USA

At the end of every session, they invited me to pray. Again I resisted. I had never prayed and felt very awkward at the very thought. Eventually, they wore me down – I agreed. They suggested a simple format, and I knelt and voiced a prayer.
And while I grappled for words, I felt a bright effusion of light in my mind. It was something real and profound. I suddenly felt that there were other ways of knowing beyond the limits of human reason. This spiritual experience unlocked my soul to God and all the associated possibilities.

During the January 2017 worldwide devotional for young adults, I challenged those watching to increase their testimony of the Savior by taking time each week to:
Study everything Jesus said and did as recorded in the Old Testament.
Study His laws as recorded in the New Testament.
Study His doctrine as recorded in the Book of Mormon.
Study His words as recorded in the Doctrine and Covenants.
I promised those listening that if they would proceed to learn all they can about Jesus Christ, their love for Him and for God’s laws would grow beyond what they could currently imagine.
What I didn’t mention during this address was that I knew this promise was true because I was in the midst of completing this very same assignment myself for the first time.
On December 1, 2016, I obtained a new set of scriptures and proceeded to begin the same assignment that I would later extend to young adults in January. When I finished the assignment six weeks later, I had looked up and marked more than 2,200 citations from the four books of scripture.1
For me, to be able to accomplish this assignment was just thrilling!
Something I found to be most insightful was that the Savior was telling us about Himself through these various periods of time—Old Testament, New Testament, the Restoration period, and our day. In all books of scripture, the story is the same and the Storyteller is the same.
I have devoted much of my 93 years to learning about the Savior, but rare are the occasions when I have been able to learn as much as I did over this six-week study period. In fact, I learned so much about Him from this study that I am planning to share much of it in other upcoming addresses that I am currently preparing.2
Upon beginning this assignment, I didn’t expect that this study would help me to receive a new testimony of the divinity of the work of Joseph Smith—but it did! The revelations recorded by Joseph Smith and the insights found in the Bible are amazingly consistent. It was so enlightening for me to see this in my study.
Joseph Smith wouldn’t have possibly had time to correlate and cross-reference with the Bible at the rapid rate at which he was translating the Book of Mormon—but it’s all here!
So not only do I now have a greater testimony of the Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, but I also have a reaffirmation of my absolute conviction that the system Joseph Smith had for translating the Book of Mormon was a gift from God.
Now, I realize some of you are probably thinking to yourselves that you couldn’t possibly have time to complete an assignment like this.
I know how you feel. I thought the same thing of myself—that there’s no way I can have time to do all of this. I needed to remind myself that a comment like this is not a faith-promoted comment. A faith-promoted comment would be “I know I don’t have time for this, but I’m going to make time for it. And I’ll fulfill it with what time I have.”
Each of us who takes this challenge will finish in our own time frames. For me, much of the joy of this came from getting it all done in just six weeks. This intense study over a relatively short period of time allowed me to appreciate the complementary nature of the learnings to be found in the Old Testament, the Book of Mormon, the New Testament, and the Doctrine and Covenants.
To those of you who feel you don’t have time, if you will make a sacrifice, you will be well rewarded and very, very grateful for the change of perspective, increased knowledge, and improved depth of your conversion. I know this is true because I have seen the same rewards in my own life.
As I mentioned at the devotional, in a coming day, you will present yourself before the Savior. You will be overwhelmed to the point of tears to be in His holy presence. You will struggle to find words to thank Him for paying for your sins, for forgiving you of any unkindness toward others, for healing you from the injuries and injustices of this life.
You will thank Him for strengthening you to do the impossible, for turning your weaknesses into strengths, and for making it possible for you to live with Him and your family forever. His identity, His Atonement, and His attributes will become personal and real to you.
But you don’t have to wait until then. Choose to be one of His true disciples now. Be one who truly loves Him, who truly wants to serve and lead as He did. I promise you that if you will study His words, your ability to be more like Him will increase. I know this is true.

Thank you for the New Era! My LDS friend often brought it to school, and although I had strong religious convictions different from hers, it’s spiritual quality, coupled with its clean humor, impressed me deeply. I am now being taught by two marvelous missionaries, and although I am experiencing difficulty at home, I eventually hope to be baptized. The youth in Burnley are a happy and lively crowd, and their strong testimonies build up my own.
Caroline M. BrammerBurnley, Lancaster, England

This year’s homecoming royalty at BYU is symbolic of the seventy countries represented at that school. The queen Michiko Nakamura is from Tokyo, Japan. Her attendants are Ruth Ann Brown, a Navajo Indian from Window Rock, Arizona, and Jana Rae Warren from Spanish Fork, Utah.
Michiko called her mother in Japan after being named queen. “We don’t have homecoming queens in Japan, so my mother didn’t even know what I was talking about. I told her to go to church and ask the American missionaries what it was.”
Michiko, a convert of seven years, will ultimately return to Japan to teach dance. “We don’t have modern dance over there, and it would be neat if I could pioneer in that field in Japan.”

One year I had a goal to improve my spiritual learning. I would bring Church books, pamphlets, manuals, and scriptures everywhere, including to school, as I hungered for the words of God. But my efforts slowed when I became busy studying for an upcoming quiz.
One day our teacher led a discussion in which she asked all the non-Catholic students in the room to stand. I was the only Latter-day Saint in the class. Six other students also stood.
Then we were questioned: What church do you belong to? Who was the founder? How was your church established?
I was the last to answer. I was nervous when I realized I hadn’t brought my Church books, but I tried to remember the things I had studied. A Bible verse came to mind:
“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
“In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6).
I stood in front of the class with boldness and forgot my fears. I stated that I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I shared the story of a young boy, Joseph Smith, who saw God. I felt a burning in my bosom, and tears fell from my eyes. I shared that the Church had been organized on April 6, 1830, and I testified that a prophet of God had been called and the priesthood restored. I testified that I knew all this was true.
The many hours of gospel study had been worth it. It had helped me defend my faith and share the gospel. I was proud when, several weeks later, four of my classmates joined me at church.
That experience taught me the importance of a testimony. At first I wondered why the Lord hadn’t prompted me to bring my books that day. They would have helped me perfectly answer the questions being asked. But then I realized that we need not memorize everything about the Church or rely on references—we should study, live, and share the gospel, relying on the Holy Ghost. I may not have had my books, but I had my testimony.

I was reminded of this beautiful concept of collective missionary work when I received an email one day. A brother who said he was the son of the mission president in Wichita, Kansas, wondered if I was the wife of Robert Monson. The brother went on to say he was looking for the Elder Monson who served in the Central States Mission in 1959. That was my husband.
He told me about two young elders, Elders Bennett and Thompson, who were inspired recently to enter an apartment building. They rapped on the first door and found an elderly lady who invited them to come back the next day. They set a time.
When they returned for the appointment, they learned that this elderly sister had an old triple combination (Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price) the missionaries had given her in 1959. She had read it many times and knew the teachings in it were true. She had not joined the Church then because her husband did not want her to attend church or be baptized. Her husband had passed away recently, and she prayed that she might find the missionaries again. In her triple combination were the names of the two missionaries from 1959: Robert Monson and Granade Curran, my husband and his companion.
Over the next several weeks, this woman learned about the plan of salvation and the blessings of the temple. Her son had passed away at age 22, and she was thrilled at the possibility of being reunited with him. When the missionaries invited her to be baptized, she joyfully accepted their invitation.
Both my husband and his companion, Elder Curran, have passed away, but I can imagine them attending this beautiful baptism from beyond the veil.
As the mission president’s son told me the story, I was reminded that the Savior does not forget any of us. He is always with us if we allow Him into our lives. The New Testament tells the story of Zacchaeus, who climbed a sycamore tree to see the Savior (see Luke 19:1–10). Even up in the tree, Zacchaeus was found by the Savior, who asked to dine at his home. Similarly, an elderly sister prayed and waited for the missionaries to knock on her door, and they did. The Savior knows all of us. “For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which [is] lost” (Luke 19:10).
Two sets of missionaries—one over 60 years ago and then one more recently—brought this sister to Jesus Christ and in turn strengthened their own testimonies and found joy in the Lord. I am humbled that I could be a bystander in this story, feeling the joy of all involved in bringing this sister to the Savior (see Doctrine and Covenants 18:15).

When I was nine years old, I had a wonderful Primary teacher named Sister Kohler. I was very shy, and she was so gentle that I loved being with her. One day she gave us each a piece of paper. We all wrote down what we wanted to do when we got older. I wrote: “Go to college and get married in the temple.” I taped my paper above my closet door. At night, light from the street lamp shone in through my window. I looked up at my piece of paper. It reminded me that I wanted to go to the temple.
Back then, there were only 12 temples in the world. I wanted to go to every one.
Whenever my mother and father planned a vacation, they always took our family to the temple. We lived in Oregon, USA. The nearest temple was 600 miles (965 km) away in Cardston, Alberta, Canada. Our car didn’t have air conditioning. My brother and sister and I sat in the back seat. We would hang a wet washcloth outside the car window. Then we put it on our necks to cool off.
It was a thrill when we finally saw the temple. I didn’t know very much about what happened there, but my parents were always happy when they came out. I knew the temple was very important. I knew it was the Lord’s house.
After I turned 12, I got to do temple baptisms in several temples. Then when I met my future husband, I found out that he loved the temple too! We got married in the Manti Utah Temple.
You can prepare for the temple every day. Go to the temple when you can. Touch its walls. When my grandson Jarret was 11 years old, he worked on family history every Sunday with his dad. He found many names of ancestors. Now that he is 12, he is doing baptisms in the temple for these ancestors!
When you are in the temple, you can walk where Jesus walks. It is His house. I hope you will pray every day for Heavenly Father to help you prepare to enter the temple and feel His love.

Some years ago I enjoyed a stake conference assignment as a junior companion to Elder LeGrand Richards, who had, under the influence of this directing Spirit, reorganized a stake presidency. We were driving home; he was very pensive. After a rather long period of silence, I asked him if there was something he would like to teach me. Quietly he said, “We have too many in the Church who deny the spirit of prophecy and of revelation.” That was it—he said no more about it. As I reminisced about the calling of the new stake president that day, it occurred to me then that this Church could not function for even one day without the spirit of prophecy and revelation.

As our hearts and minds turn at Eastertime to thoughts of our Savior’s suffering at Gethsemane, his crucifixion, and his resurrection, I recall an experience at an open house in the Arizona Temple following a complete renovation of the building. Nearly a quarter of a million people saw the temple’s beautiful interior. On the first day of the open house, clergymen of other religions were invited as special guests, and hundreds responded. It was my privilege to speak to them and to answer their questions at the conclusion of their tours. I told them that we would be pleased to answer any queries they might have. Many were asked. Among these was one which came from a Protestant minister.
Said he: “I’ve been all through this building, this temple which carries on its face the name of Jesus Christ, but nowhere have I seen any representation of the cross, the symbol of Christianity. I have noted your buildings elsewhere and likewise find an absence of the cross. Why is this when you say you believe in Jesus Christ?”
I responded: “I do not wish to give offense to any of my Christian brethren who use the cross on the steeples of their cathedrals and at the altars of their chapels, who wear it on their vestments and imprint it on their books and other literature. But for us, the cross is the symbol of the dying Jesus, while our message is a declaration of the living Christ.”
He then asked: “If you do not use the cross, what is the symbol of your religion?”
I replied that the lives of our people must become the only meaningful expression of our faith. I hope he did not feel that I was smug or self-righteous in my response. He was correct in his observation that we do not use the cross, except as our military chaplains use it on their uniforms for identification.

Billy loved Ashley, his baby sister. He really did.
What he didn’t like was that she took up so much of his mother’s time.
If his mother wasn’t feeding Ashley, she was changing her diaper.
If she wasn’t changing her diaper, she was giving her a bath.
If she wasn’t giving her a bath, she was rocking her to sleep.
And if his mother wasn’t rocking Ashley to sleep, she was taking a nap herself because Ashley had cried and kept her up most of the night.
Billy wished that his mother had a little more time for him. He dreamed about them doing something together. Like going to the park on a picnic. Just the two of them. Without Ashley.
One day, as though his mother could read his thoughts, she ruffled his hair and said, “I think that it’s time you and I did something together. Just the two of us.”
Billy beamed hopefully. “Nobody else?”
“Nobody else.”
“Could we go on a picnic?”
His mother closed her eyes and smiled. “Ah, yes, a picnic. That sounds good to me. Let’s do it this Saturday.”
Billy could hardly wait. He dragged out the old quilt for them to sit on. He washed out the thermos bottle and wiped off the picnic basket. He could almost taste the cold fried chicken and the wonderful thumbprint cookies.
Finally Saturday came.
His mother came into his room. She wasn’t smiling. There were dark circles under her eyes. “I’m afraid we’ll have to postpone our picnic,” she said. “Ashley is sick. I have to take her to the doctor.”
After his mother had gone, Billy put the quilt away. And the thermos bottle. And the picnic basket. Then he went into Ashley’s room. Her yellow rattle was on the floor. Billy kicked it. Then he was sorry and picked it up and washed it off.
When Ashley was feeling better, Billy’s mother took his hands in hers. “It’s time to plan that picnic again.”
Billy smiled. He got the quilt and the thermos bottle and the basket ready. He was very quiet and very kind to Ashley. He did not want her to get sick. And she didn’t.
On Saturday morning Ashley gurgled happily in her crib. The sun was shining. Billy’s mother was wrapping up the cookies.
The phone rang. When Billy’s mother hung up, her face was sad. “That was Mrs. Benson. She sprained her ankle this morning. She can’t take care of Ashley today.”
Billy didn’t bother to put the quilt and thermos bottle away. When his mother offered him a cookie, he shook his head. As he passed Ashley’s room, he wanted to push the door shut with a bang, but he remembered how he felt when he kicked the rattle, so he didn’t.
The following Saturday, Ashley was not sick and Mrs. Benson’s ankle was fine. But Billy could have cried—it was raining!
He thumped down the stairs. His mother was putting food in the basket.
“It’s raining,” Billy said.
“So I’ve noticed,” his mother said cheerily.
“So we can’t have the picnic.”
Billy’s mother laughed. “I think the picnic has been postponed long enough. Please get the umbrella.”
Billy did as he was told, though he couldn’t imagine a picnic in the rain.
“Everything will get soggy,” he said as they waved good-bye to Ashley and Mrs. Benson.
Billy’s mother handed him the basket. “You carry this. I’ll hold the umbrella.”
The two of them walked down one street and up another. Billy kept asking, “Where are we going?”
And his mother kept saying, “On a picnic, of course!”
Finally they came to a big old house. The kind you see in storybooks. It had a wide, wrap-around porch.
“Right this way,” Billy’s mother said.
“Whose house is this?”
“It’s Mrs. Benson’s house. She said that we could use it. Isn’t this a wonderful porch? It’s just perfect for a picnic.”
Billy held out his hands. He didn’t feel a single drop of rain. They would be snug and dry on Mrs. Benson’s porch—and they would still be outside!
It was a wonderful picnic! Billy ate three pieces of chicken and two cookies. He drank at least four cups of lemonade. Best of all, Billy had his special time with his mother.
They talked about all sorts of things. About the new ant farm in Billy’s classroom. About the trouble he was having kicking the soccer ball. About why spring was Billy’s favorite season and autumn was his mother’s. And they talked about when Billy was a baby like Ashley.
“Did I cry like Ashley?”
His mother laughed. “Oh, much louder. And longer.”
“Did I take up so much of your time?”
“More of it. I was new at mothering when I had you.”
“Did you love me like you love Ashley … even though I cried louder?”
“I loved you every bit as much.” She smiled, hugging him. “I still do!”
When it was time to go home, they made sure they left Mrs. Benson’s porch as clean as they had found it.
It was still raining. Billy carried the basket, and his mother carried the umbrella. “We’ll do something together again soon,” she said. “I promise.”
Billy squeezed his mother’s hand. She was busy these days. But she loved him.

It got rave reviews.
The Shropshire England Star called it “jolly,” “most commendable,” and “excellent!” Sound like a smash-hit musical comedy? Well, it was actually a ham soufflé.
But the ham soufflé did have the help of four other courses and the culinary expertise of nine teachers in the Telford England Ward. The quorum had received catering lessons from their adviser and had decided to put their new talents to the test.
They invited 75 member and nonmember guests to their dinner. For two hours everyone feasted on grapefruit, consommé, fresh vegetables, ham soufflé, chicken chausser, and creamed potatoes, with English trifle for dessert.
The group began at 8:00 A.M. to cook and decorate. The women’s editor of the Shropshire Star wrote, “Most cooks would have flaked out. But that’s the sort of spirit you might expect to find among church members who actually helped with the building of their own chapel. And it’s clear that the youngsters are made of the same stern stuff.”
Besides the press, a local candidate for Parliament also attended the dinner. The newspaper noted that the nonmembers saw “with some envy that none of the church members needed alcohol to enjoy themselves.”
Perhaps the old saying will change to read, “The way to a convert’s ear is through his stomach.”

The new learning resources for youth have one central goal: to help youth become converted to the gospel of Jesus Christ. I recently saw a young man in a youth Sunday School class discover truth for himself. When I noticed that he was having difficulty relating the Atonement to his own life, I asked him if he had ever felt forgiveness. He responded: “Yeah, like that time I broke a guy’s nose when we were playing soccer. I felt bad about it. I wondered what I needed to do to feel better. So I went to his home and asked him to forgive me, but I knew I needed to do more, so I prayed, and then I felt that Heavenly Father forgave me too. This is what the Atonement means to me.”
When he shared this experience in class that day, he read from John 3:16—“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son”—and then testified of the power of the Atonement. This doctrine was no longer an abstract concept to this young man. It became part of his life because he asked his own question and then exercised his agency to act.9

Duffie and Victor Hurtado’s friendship developed through their acquaintance in the choir, and they eventually married. Singing together in the choir is a “beautiful experience” although it does create some hardships on the family with both parents being away. However, the Hurtados have largely solved that problem as Victor’s mother, who, like Victor, joined the Church in Peru, lives with them. She cares for the two children when Victor and Duffie are rehearsing or performing with the choir.

I broke up with my first boyfriend on a clear summer night.
Earlier that day, Carter (name has been changed) and I had been fighting—which wasn’t abnormal in our three-year, on-and-off relationship. We fought about everything—from what to eat to future plans. In the beginning, I waved our differences aside with the adage that “opposites attract.” But our occasional playful banter eventually morphed into an exhausting chain of disagreements.
That summer night we had taken a telescope into the desert to look at the planets. But we found that the brightness of the moon against the dark sky obscured our view. Frustrated, we started arguing—again.
I ended up walking off to compose myself. “This isn’t me,” I thought. I was known as the peacemaker among my siblings, and I spoke gently and kindly to my other friends. So why was I yelling at the guy I claimed to love?
I looked up at the dark sky and prayed to know how I could improve my relationship with Carter. Suddenly, overwhelming peace replaced my anger, and I felt impressed that the best thing I could do for both of us was to end our relationship.
Healing took time. There were moments I was tempted to dismiss the prompting to break up with Carter because I missed the familiarity of our relationship. I sometimes felt frustrated at God, believing that He had slammed one door shut without opening another. Even so, I clung to the counsel of Elder Jeffrey R. Holland of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles: “In moments of fear or doubt or troubling times … hold fast to what you already know and stand strong until additional knowledge comes” (“Lord I Believe,” Liahona, May 2013, 93–94).
I didn’t receive that “additional knowledge” for many months, and I began to wonder if I ever would. After one of my heartfelt prayers about the breakup, the Spirit pressed on my heart, telling me that Heavenly Father’s promptings are for the well-being of His children. The details of His reasoning aren’t as relevant as my faith in Him is.
Knowing that Heavenly Father had a plan for me gave me hope for my future and helped me to start dating again. One morning I read Doctrine and Covenants 88:40, where the Lord teaches that “light cleaveth unto light.” I suddenly realized that this principle can apply to dating. I knew I would be happier with someone who shared my values and light.
I eventually met Austin. We connected instantly, from our love of tacos to our respective stateside missions. His gentle spirit felt familiar and compatible with mine, and I eventually married him. What we have isn’t an explosive relationship like you might expect in a popular romance movie. It’s sweet and stable—something I believe can last forever.
Many of us yearn for an explanation when we receive difficult promptings. From my experience, I learned that faith in the Lord can help us remain obedient without knowing the why. As we trust in an all-knowing God, we can feel peace in our decisions to act on promptings until we do receive the “additional knowledge” He has promised the faithful.

“You can’t have two best friends,” Cob Colt said.
“You have to pick between us,” Sorrel said.
Pinto shook his spotted head. “I like both of you. You’re both my best friends.”
The three young horses cropped grass in the warm meadow until their bellies were full. Cob Colt twitched his black tail and looked around at the older horses. It was all very well to eat until you were full, but then what could you do? He thought it would be fun to splatter through the mud puddle and swim in the brook. But that wouldn’t take all day. What else could he do? He thought and thought, but he couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Sorrel twitched her red-brown ears. She heard birds singing in the walnut tree in the middle of the meadow. She stopped chewing and watched the birds chase each other in and out of the branches. We could do that, she thought. We could play tag and hide behind the older horses. She knew that that would be fun, but it would not be a whole day of fun. What else could she do? She thought and thought, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do.
Pinto looked along the fence. Near the driveway was a pile of raked leaves and windfall apples. Windfall apples were sweet and juicy to eat, but Pinto wasn’t hungry—he had just filled his belly with grass. He needed to play before he got hungry again. His mind was so full of windfall apples, though, that he couldn’t think of a game to play.
Cob Colt thought, I can prove I am Pinto’s best friend.I’ll tell him my idea. He’ll like it so much that I’ll be his best friend. So Cob Colt told Pinto, “Let’s splatter through the mud puddle and swim in the brook.”
“That’s a great idea!” Pinto exclaimed.
Cob Colt shook his black mane and waggled his black tail happily. “I’m Pinto’s best friend,” he said. “I thought of what to do.”
Sorrel wasn’t happy at first, but she followed Pinto and Cob Colt to the mud puddles. When she began to splatter mud, she had to admit that Cob Colt’s idea was a good one.
Soon the three horses were covered in mud, then clean again after swimming in the brook.
“Now what shall we do?” Cob Colt asked.
“I’m hungry now,” Pinto said. “Let’s go eat the windfall apples by the fence.”
The three horses galloped across the meadow and feasted on the sweet, juicy apples until they were full. But the day was not yet over. The sun still shone brightly. What could they do now?
Sorrel remembered her idea. “Why don’t we play tag and hide behind the bigger, older horses?”
Sorrel stood behind the walnut tree while the others hid in the meadow. She counted slowly to twenty-five. Then she began to look. It was hard to find a little horse hiding behind a big one. You had to creep around the meadow quietly until you came up right behind them.
Cob Colt wasn’t happy at first, but he ran behind Old Gray. It was hard to stand perfectly still. If the big horse moved, he had to move with it, and that was lots of fun. He had to admit that Sorrel’s idea was a good one.
Pinto, Cob Colt, and Sorrel played tag until the sun set.
“This has been a wonderful day,” Cob Colt said. “I liked playing tag and eating windfall apples.”
“I liked splattering mud and eating windfall apples,” Sorrel said.
“Now do you understand?” Pinto asked them. “We had three good things to do today.”
Cob Colt nodded. “If Sorrel wasn’t here, we would only have splattered mud and eaten. We would have been bored all afternoon.”
Sorrel said, “And if Cob Colt wasn’t here, we would only have eaten and played tag. We would have been bored all morning.”
“That’s why I’m glad I have two best friends,” Pinto said.
Pinto, Cob Colt, and Sorrel ate their dinner under the stars. Each of them was glad that on the next day, there would be two best friends to share it with.

Speaking of staying on the straight paths, I will never forget an experience I had with a friend in central Utah a few years ago. He had for his hobby mountain lion hunting. With other associates, dependable horses, guns, and well-trained dogs, he would seek to track the lions down, or tree them for capture. One day when I visited his place of business, he had a full-grown hunting dog tied to one of his sheds. “Isn’t he a beauty!” I commented. He responded with “He’s got to go. I can’t be bothered with him.” “What’s the problem?” I continued.

“Since he was a pup, I have trained him to track lions. He knows what I expect. The last time we were out on a three-day hunt, he took off after a deer, then a coyote, and finally some rabbits, and was gone the best part of a full day. He knows he must stay on the trail of the lion to be one of mine. Our business is mountain lions. Yep, he’s for sale pretty cheap.”

How often are we led from the right track by distractions like drugs that cross our paths? Do we sometimes seek the available “rabbit” when the big game is available up the path?

Hannah feels great empathy for anyone who is hurting in any way. And she does something about it. A boy who started school at the same time she did had suffered from neglect and could hardly speak. “Hannah took him under her wing and helped him gain confidence,” her father remembers. “Within a year he was communicating properly and reading well. She also taught him to swim and to fit in with the other children.” Now he’s a good student and Hannah’s self-appointed protector. “She’s always sorting people out at school. In fact she gets into trouble for not getting her own work done because she’s always helping others.”

One day at snack time in preschool, my best friend, Roger,* said that if I ate my peanut-butter sandwich, he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Roger doesn’t like peanut butter, but I love it. It looked so good—I had to eat it. I went home kind of sad because Roger said he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. Mom said that he would probably forget about it by the next day, and he did.
Another day, when our teacher told us to pick up our toys, Roger wouldn’t do it. He told me that if I did, he wouldn’t be my friend anymore. It was hard for me to choose the right. Our teacher told Mom that she thought that Roger was influencing me in bad ways. They decided that if it kept on happening, I wouldn’t be allowed to be with Roger anymore.
Mom told me that when Roger wants me to do something that I know is wrong, I should tell him that if he keeps making bad choices, I won’t be able to be his friend. Then I was to walk away. She thought this might encourage Roger to choose the right. We had so much fun together—I didn’t want to lose him as a friend.
That night for family home evening, Mom pretended to be Roger, my sister pretended to be another friend, and I was myself. I practiced saying, “If you keep making bad choices, then I can’t be your friend.” That week we said extra prayers that Heavenly Father would help both of us choose the right.
It was very hard to tell Roger that I couldn’t be his friend. And things didn’t turn out the way we hoped they would right away. But after I said it a few times, Roger started to choose the right! Our teacher told Mom that she was surprised at the change in him. I learned that it may not be easy to choose the right, but it’s what Heavenly Father wants us to do. And if we ask Him, He will help us.
Nicholas Colon, age 5Kokomo, Indiana

My first retirement decision was to visit my three sons and their families in Utah for six months. My wife would join me later as she was still employed. In October 2019, while in Utah, I attended my first general conference. It was the most beautiful spiritual experience I had ever had in a Church meeting. Everything I saw, heard, and felt at the Conference Center filled me with gratitude and love for the gospel and for all that I had learned in the Church since my baptism in 1977.
I wept as I sang the congregational hymns. I marveled at the sight of the 15 living prophets and apostles all seated together on the stand amidst other general authorities and the angelic Tabernacle Choir at Temple Square. The congregation’s singing seemed to rise towards heaven, and I wanted my voice to be heard amongst the 23,000 others in attendance. It was truly a majestic experience.