Gospel Story Finder

Sometimes we are unwise and even cruel in our unwillingness to accept change in others. I recently learned of a man who raised his family and pursued his professional life in a small country town. He was not without his problems but was a good man with a great heart who loved the Lord and the gospel. Mistakes, even small ones, are not soon forgotten in some neighborhoods, however; and he never seemed to be “allowed” to grow, blossom, develop, and change into what he could become.

As a missionary serving overseas, he had made a remarkable contribution. The mission president said he had done more to bridge the cultural gap between the two countries than any other adult American was able to do. Yet when his mission was over, he returned to the small town; and without malice or evil intent but with the insistent burden of memory, his neighbors did not invite him or let him be the man he had become, but rather seemed quite prepared to see him as the less attractive man of an earlier period.

Because of their expectations, he completed the last years of his life much less happy and much less involved and surely much less productive to the kingdom than he had been for that one glorious period where people in a new land and in a different time allowed him to change and to be what he really wanted to be and, in his heart, really was.

Elder Trent Yeow is following in his grandma’s footsteps. Christina Yeow was a constant example of service and tirelessly served everyone, raising money for the homeless, cancer research and many other charities. Elder Yeow speaks fondly of her. “I just want to serve and make Grandma proud.”

One way he serves is by developing friendships with the residents of Regis Nursing Home, playing chess, conversing with them and just being a listening friend. All he wants to do is to serve people as the Saviour did.

Andy and his mother were sitting near the window. Mother was teaching Andy to tie his shoes.
“It’s hard to do,” said Andy.
“You’re right,” said Mother. “But once you learn how to tie them, you won’t have to wait for anyone to do it for you.”
Mother looked out the window. “Look, Andy, Mrs. Sparrow is teaching her babies to find food.”
“Is it hard for the baby birds to learn to find food?” Andy asked.
“Yes,” said Mother, “but soon they’ll know how to find their own food. Then they won’t have to wait for Mrs. Sparrow to find it for them.”
Andy practiced tying his shoes. He could make the first loop just right. But when he tried to make the second loop, the first one slipped away. “Those birds are lucky,” he said. “They don’t have to tie shoelaces.”
“Maybe they think that you’re lucky,” Mother told him. “You don’t have to hunt for your food. Now, watch carefully what I do.”
Mother showed Andy how to stick his thumb inside the first loop to hold it. Then he could wrap the other shoelace around the loop and tuck the lace under itself. “You can do it. You almost have it,” she encouraged him.
Andy worked at it, then stopped to rest a minute. He watched the sparrows. “Mama, why do the baby birds stay under the bushes?” he asked. “And why don’t they cheep like they did in their nest?”
“The cat might hear or see them and try to catch them,” Mother explained.
The little sparrows stayed together. They watched their mother search for worms. They cocked their heads as they hunted for worms too.
“Look at all the worms they found!” Andy exclaimed as the baby birds fluttered their wings and hopped around under the bush, eating their dinners. “It wasn’t very hard for them to learn to find food.”
Andy tucked the shoelace under itself. He pulled the two loops as tightly as he could. “Look! I did it! I tied my shoe!” He jumped up and down.
“Great!” said Mother. “Let me see you do it again.”
Andy sat down and tied his other shoe. Then he untied them and tied them again. “See! I really can do it! It wasn’t very hard, after all!”
When Andy’s father came home, Andy ran to meet him. “Guess what, Daddy!” he cried. “The baby birds learned to find their food. And I learned to tie my shoes!”

While we were living in California, one of our sons was seriously injured in an automobile accident. His skull was badly fractured, and doctors gave us very little encouragement that he would survive. Three days after he was admitted to the hospital, he contracted meningitis and his condition worsened. Our family doctor and neighbor came to our home and said, “All we can do now is pray.”

And pray we did. For several weeks our neighbors, friends, and business associates joined us in praying for our son and for our own strength. After almost a month, our son’s condition finally stabilized and then improved, and we were blessed to see him eventually recovered and smiling again.

I would not wish a similar experience on anyone, but that terrible, difficult period taught us the principle that President Thomas S. Monson has taught the Church. Said he, “Prayer is the passport to spiritual power.” During our son’s illness, we saw and felt the spiritual power of prayer! Our ward had never prayed harder than it did then, and I don’t think that the members had ever been closer to each other. Our family was sustained by the collective faith and prayers of our friends. And even as our hearts were breaking in fear that we might lose our son, we felt closer to Heavenly Father and more aware of our dependency on Him than at almost any other time in our lives.

My great-grandmother, Ursula Wise Derrick, was an unusual woman. According to our family record, she was born about 1779 at Keynsham, Somerset, England, a town just eight miles from Bristol. She gave birth to 11 children. The last two were twins, Elizabeth and Zachariah. Elizabeth apparently died soon after birth.
When Zach was 14 years of age, he began to serve his apprenticeship as a mechanic at the Bristol Iron Works. He completed this apprenticeship after seven years and then in 1836 began his apprenticeship as a foundryman.
This year was an important one for him. In addition to beginning his second apprenticeship, he married Mary Shephard. Soon after his marriage, his mother became seriously ill. Fearing death was near, she called Zach to her bedside and told him not to join himself seriously to any of the church organizations with which he was then familiar because none of them was the true church of Christ. She told him that when he heard of missionaries coming two by two, preaching in the halls and on street corners, teaching of a new prophet who had received revelation from God, he should join them, for their church would be the true church of God.
That same year of 1836, Ursula Wise Derrick died, one year before Heber C. Kimball and his missionary companions landed 200 miles north at Liverpool to bring the message of the Restoration to the British Isles. It was several years before the restored gospel was taught in Bristol.

“I was in a fast and testimony meeting only last Sunday. A 15- or 16-year-old boy stood before the congregation and said that he had decided to be baptized.

“Then one by one boys of the teachers quorum stepped to the microphone to express their love for him, to tell him that he was doing the right thing, and to assure him that they would stand with him and help him. It was a wonderful experience to hear those young men speak words of appreciation and encouragement to their friend. I am satisfied that all of those boys, including the one who was baptized last week, will go on missions.”7

Recently a friend of mine was returning to his home in Salt Lake City on a plane from Dallas, Texas. His mind was focused upon an important event that was soon to occur in his family. His only son would be leaving home in just a few days to serve as a missionary in a far-distant land. His great love for his son caused him to reflect, “If my son is going so far away to teach about our Church, this had better be the best church!” Then he took out a notepad and pen and began to list the characteristics or qualities one would look for in the best church.
“There should be a program to build and strengthen youth,” he wrote, “an athletic program, a wholesome activity program, a program for teaching and training children, a program for developing the skills and talents of women, a program to provide for the needy, for the ill, for the lonely, for the victims of catastrophes and disasters, a program to provide opportunities for work and service, a program to assist families and individuals in spiritual development and progress.”
His list became long and impressive, and he satisfied himself that his church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, offered a program to meet the need of every individual. Truly, he determined, it is the best church his son could represent!
My friend felt so good about his list of attractive qualities of the best church that he decided to show it to the gentleman seated next to him on the plane. The man, an executive from a financial firm, responded with interest and respect. Together they reviewed the list, and as they concluded their conversation the businessman asked my friend, “Would you like to know what I would look for in a church? There is just one criterion: the members of that church would best exemplify the teaching of the Savior—‘Love thy neighbor as thyself.’”
My friend said he learned an important lesson from that experience. He had taught this fine man about the programs of the Church without acknowledging that the purpose of these programs is to help members learn how to love God and their fellowmen. He has shared that experience with me and permitted me to share it with you today that we might all be reminded of this.

I met John near the front porch as he was leaving the wedding reception. He was 17, full of fire and activity, president of the student body at high school, deeply involved in a senior class fund-raising activity he had thought up for the school, active in priesthood—a real achiever. He was also a Life Scout, only a couple of merit badges away from Eagle. I was age 62, Scout commissioner, Eagle Scout, and former everything from “den mother” and Scoutmaster to member of the bishopric and vice-president of the Scout council.

I asked John about those merit badges and suggested that his school fund-raising project, if approved in advance by Scout authorities, might qualify as his Eagle service project. We referred to his approaching 18th birthday; from that day on he would be an adult and no longer eligible for the Eagle Award, which is designed to challenge boys, not men.

John wanted the award, but he also had some other priorities. He hoped that he could work it in. His mother sure wanted him to. (Indeed she did; she had phoned me several times, and the family routines had been shifted sharply to accommodate merit badge counselors.)

We were about to part. His parents were waiting for him at their car. “You know,” I heard myself say, “the best thing that could ever happen to you might be to not get your Eagle. You will always know that you could have, but muffed it by putting it off too long. Then you might have sharper priorities in other more important decisions you will make as you mature and govern the rest of your life.” He seemed very surprised at my words. He knew that I wanted him to become an Eagle. What he did not fully realize was that I regarded the Eagle trail as preparation for life, not an end in itself, and that I would much rather see him develop into an active elder, a good husband and father, and a disciple of Jesus Christ than to just become an Eagle Scout and stop at that. Maybe I talk too much about “getting your Eagle.” It is like urging young people to “marry in the temple” as if that would solve all problems. Both are good advice as far as they go, but they are only parts of the great plan of life.

John earned his remaining merit badges at the last minute, but fair and square. Most people think that is it, that he is then an Eagle except for the formalities. Not so. Boy Scouts of America reaches for evidence of deeper values. A Life Scout who has earned the required badges and would become an Eagle must also be active in his troop and patrol for at least six months, “show Scout spirit,” and complete the approved service project. There is one further requirement. All of the above must be completed prior to the 18th birthday, although the processing of the paperwork and the awarding of the badge may take place thereafter.

I am sure that John believed he had beat the deadline. He led in his school activities and graduated with academic honors and praise for his extracurricular and athletic achievements. He served as bishop’s assistant in the priests quorum. Finally he got around to the application for Eagle Scout. All went fine until he and the troop advancement chairman tried to document compliance with requirement number 4:

“While a Life Scout, serve actively for a period of six months in one or more of the following positions: patrol leader, senior patrol leader, assistant senior patrol leader, den chief, scribe, librarian, quartermaster, member of the leadership corps, junior assistant Scoutmaster, chaplain aide, instructor.”

You know how it is whenever you try to put it all together at the last minute—writing your term paper on the last weekend; making notes for your youth talk in the back seat of the car on the way to sacrament meeting. Well, it is worse when the deadline is past and essential actions were not double-checked and completed in time.

How to comply with requirement number 4? Maybe being the bishop’s assistant to the priests would count as “chaplain aide” because the bishop is the spiritual adviser to the Scouts—but that was just the last two months before the 18th birthday. Troop instructor maybe? No, not honestly. Member of leadership corps? That would be forcing it. No hope in the others; they are all too specific. There was no question that John had engaged in great and useful activities during that period. Among other things, he had set up and coordinated a great athletic program in the ward. But how could he show that he had met any of the specifics of requirement 4 for six months?

“For behold, this life is the time for men to prepare to meet God; yea, behold the day of this life is the day for men to perform their labors.

“And now, as I said unto you before, as ye have had so many witnesses, therefore I beseech of you that ye do not procrastinate the day of your repentance until the end; for after this day of life, which is given us to prepare for eternity, behold, if we do not improve our time while in this life, then cometh the night of darkness wherein there can be no labor performed” (Alma 34:32–33).

How easy it would have been to have served for six months as a den chief, or as a junior assistant Scoutmaster helping a grateful Blazer leader, or as a troop instructor teaching young Scouts how to qualify for merit badges or perhaps the whole troop how to cook dehydrated foods for the 50-miler. Easy except for one thing: John’s priorities at age 17 had been on other things. Yes, they were good worthy things, but not the Eagle Award. It would have been easier at age 15 or 16.

So now John is back to me, and I ponder his question. I can’t really answer it. Everyone wants him to receive the award. The adult troop leaders and the bishop are doing their best to convert priesthood activities into the format of requirement 4 as they rewrite that part of the application. The people on the local Scout council want to forward an application that will be approved by the National Council. But it’s like the way we want a lot of blessings—blessings that are predicated upon our complying with certain laws and principles.

This telestial world is much like a class in laboratory chemistry; it is the place to make choices, including mistakes, and to learn from them. But as important as repentance is, it does not grant all that might have been had a different choice been made.

The Eagle Scout Award is a telestial honor. The eternal aspect will be in the attitudes and acts that flow from the granting or denial of the badge under the circumstances.

I want you to be an Eagle Scout, John. I don’t want you to go through life knowing how close you came and muttering excuses to yourself. I want to help word that application in a way that will be accepted. But I do not know if this will be possible, and if it is not, I still think it might be one of the best things that ever happened to you. I hope to see you a leader in the celestial kingdom throughout all eternity, elder!

The Lord’s hand guides this work, and the experience of Vumilia Tambwe illustrates that. She was home in September 2016 when two sister missionaries knocked on her door. Vumilia had immigrated to the United States five years earlier from the Democratic Republic of the Congo by way of Kenya. She kindly visited with the sisters but was not interested in their message.
Later that evening, the sisters went to the home of a member family for dinner who had recently become a host family for refugees. Because of the language difference, the refugee family and host family couldn’t communicate with each other. The refugee family had rashes all over their bodies, and the host family didn’t know how to help them. When they told the sister missionaries about the problem, the sisters told the member family that they had just met a woman named Vumilia who spoke both Swahili and English. The missionaries went back to get her help. Vumilia learned that the rashes were caused because the family had mistakenly been using shaving cream as lotion.
The host family and Vumilia became great friends, and they threw a citizenship party for Vumilia in January 2017. Vumilia began her journey toward becoming a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints because of the true friendship she experienced from members of the Church.

In the mid-1960s, missionaries working in the Magdalena section of Lima, Peru, enjoyed stopping at Teresa Gai’s small store for a cold drink and cheerful chat. The little bodega occupied less than 75 square meters, and the shelves on its walls were stocked with a limited variety of canned and packaged foods. To its owner, the visits of the gregarious missionaries brought back memories of happier times.

Before World War II, Teresa’s family had enjoyed a comfortable living in their native Italy. For a year, Teresa had been the equivalent of today’s Miss Italy. But the government confiscated the family’s properties, and they were forced to flee their beloved homeland. Teresa eventually found her way to Peru, where she was married and bore a son. In time, Teresa’s husband passed away, and her only son married and left home.

Teresa busied herself by operating her bodega, with its modest two-room apartment in the rear, from early morning until late in the evening seven days a week. She welcomed the opportunity to befriend and offer moral support to the missionaries, who were far from their homes. And the missionaries welcomed the opportunity to share their gospel message with Teresa.

As the missionaries began to teach Teresa, she felt the spirit of their message. But she was troubled about whether she could keep the Sabbath day holy. Sunday, after all, was a big day for her little bodega. The missionaries encouraged her to attend church with them, but she resisted, not wanting to commit to closing her business on Sunday. After much thought, she promised, “I will go to church with you next Sunday.”

A few days later, much to her distress, Teresa realized she had promised to close her bodega and go to church the day before New Year’s—her biggest, most profitable business day of the year! She had already planned to close on New Year’s Day, which meant her store would be closed for two profitable days, only to open on Tuesday, her least productive day of the week.

She wondered how she could get out of her commitment, but to Teresa Gai, a promise was a promise. She closed the store and went to church with the missionaries. She enjoyed the services but couldn’t help thinking about the people going elsewhere to buy food for their New Year’s Eve gatherings.

Sunday afternoon and evening, from her little apartment in the rear, she could hear her customers knocking on the steel roll-down door over the front of her store. It was hard to ignore them. People depended on her. Would they understand? Would they ever come back to her bodega? With no income for two days, where would she find the money to restock her shelves that week?

With considerable apprehension, Teresa opened her bodega Tuesday morning. To her amazement, she had sold more goods and taken in more money by the end of the day than she had on any other single day since opening her store. She felt strongly that the Lord had blessed her because she had kept his day holy. Teresa never again opened her bodega on Sunday.

Partway through a worn notebook of Teresa’s daily sales, a heavy line is drawn across the page. Daily totals after the line show a significant increase.

“That line marks the day I was baptized,” Teresa said years later through tears. She was especially grateful for her testimony of the restored gospel and the many spiritual blessings that enriched her life after she joined the Church.

Following her baptism, Sister Gai immediately plunged into Church activity with her characteristic enthusiasm and willingly accepted callings to serve. In the gospel she found great joy, which she radiated and which buoyed the spirits of those around her, including the missionaries who served in her section of Lima. Considering all the treats she gave the missionaries, it is a wonder she stayed in business.

In 1986 Sister Gai attended the dedication of the Lima Peru Temple. The temple gave her one last opportunity to give unselfishly to others. Sister Gai, then nearly 80 years old, gratefully accepted a calling to be a worker in the beautiful new temple.

One hot summer day, Jonathan rode his brand-new bike from house to house delivering newspapers. The heavy newspaper bag hanging from his handlebars banged into his legs as he pedaled. Sweat ran down his forehead, and his hands were so sweaty they soaked the handles on his bike, but he didn’t care. He had earned enough money from his newspaper route to buy his own bike, and just riding it made him happy.
It was hard to ride fast with the newspaper bag so full, but Jonathan was trying to hurry so that he could get to his ball game. When he was almost finished with his route, he ran through some lawn sprinklers to get the newspaper to a dry spot on the porch. He liked the cold water spraying all over him so much that he ran back and forth to the porch two more times.
Then Jonathan saw his friend Kevin a couple of blocks away. Kevin’s paper route was right next to Jonathan’s, but Kevin wasn’t riding his bike or throwing papers onto porches. He was bent over his bike like there was something wrong. Jonathan delivered his last two newspapers and rode over to see what was going on.
“Tire’s flat,” Kevin said. He kicked the ground and shook his head sadly. Then he lifted his newspaper bag off his handlebars and dropped it to the ground with a thud. It was still half-full of papers. “Now what’ll I do? Our baseball game is in half an hour.”
Jonathan saw sweat running down Kevin’s face. His eyes were moist too. Maybe the moisture wasn’t all sweat, Jonathan thought, and he felt really sad for his friend.
“You can take my bike.” Jonathan said it so quickly he surprised himself. What if Kevin ran over a nail with Jonathan’s brand-new bike? What if he crashed into something and bent the handlebars? What if he laid the bike down behind a car and the car ran over it? Jonathan suddenly thought of a lot of things that could happen to his bike.
“Thanks a lot!” Kevin said. His face lit up with a big smile. “Are you sure?”
Jonathan wondered if he was really sure. His parents had talked to him a lot about taking good care of his bike. But when he thought of his parents, he remembered scripture stories they had taught him about helping others. And his dad was always helping people. A lot of the time Jonathan got to help too. He helped his dad get firewood for a family whose truck had broken down. He helped his dad clean Sister Story’s yard when she couldn’t get around very well. That was fun because she had a little dog named Peetie, who liked Jonathan a lot. He remembered his dad driving him to Brother and Sister Call’s house to leave treats on the porch, knock, and run away. They did that several times until the Calls guessed who was doing it. After that, they knocked, took the treats into the house, and stayed for a good visit.
The more Jonathan thought about his dad, the more he was sure he wanted Kevin to borrow his bike so he could finish the route and get to the baseball game. “Sure I’m sure,” Jonathan said. “I’ll push your bike to my house and you can pick it up after the game. Maybe my dad and I can help you fix it.”
“Wow! Thanks again,” Kevin said.
They took Jonathan’s empty newspaper bag off the bike. Kevin put his half-full bag over his shoulder and took off pedaling fast. “See you at the game!” he yelled.
As he pushed Kevin’s bike down the street, Jonathan didn’t stop to splash more cold water on himself. He already felt great!

“Joe’s moving!”
“I’m sorry to hear that, honey.”
“What am I going to do? He’s basically my only friend!”
“How did you become such good friends with Joe in the first place?”
“We started talking one day, and then we just kept talking.
“We could talk about everything.”
“You could do that again. Find someone to talk to and see what happens. You might find you’ll keep talking.”
“I guess I can try that.”

A young adolescent came to see me one day saying that he was having trouble communicating with his dad. In fact, he said, they never spoke but what they nearly came to blows. He went on to say that he thought his father was often behaving quite childishly. I was struck by the general level of maturity displayed by this 16-year-old. I vividly recall my reply to him, because when I finished one sentence, he looked at me and said, “I’ll do it.” His clipped response was in reply to this question: “Why don’t you become your father’s father and treat him the way you’d like him to treat you?”

When I was a boy, we lived in the summer on a fruit farm. We grew great quantities of peaches—carloads of them. Our father took us to tree pruning demonstrations put on by the Agricultural College. Each Saturday during January and February we would go out to the farm and prune the trees. We learned that by clipping and sawing in the right places, even when snow was on the ground and the wood appeared dead, we could shape a tree so that the sun would touch the fruit which was to come with spring and summer. We learned that in February we could pretty well determine the kind of fruit we would pick in September.

Years ago, I enjoyed being alone and deciding things for myself. I was an introvert and I liked it that way. I considered the people around me to be merely associates because I preferred being alone.
Then one day some family members and I were driving home, and we ended up in a freak accident. After a visit to the hospital for some stitches and X-rays, we headed home. Although our car was totaled, we were grateful to only have minor cuts and bruises.
A couple of weeks later, after trying my hardest to remember how the accident happened, I started thinking. This was my fault. I must have done something wrong. I must have forgotten to do something. My mind was inundated with possibilities like, what if I had died? Was I really ready to leave this world? What if my family had died? Yes, they were sealed together, but I wasn’t sealed to them, what would happen then? I was comforted with the knowledge of our Heavenly Father’s plan of eternal families.
I realized it didn’t necessarily mean I had done something wrong. It just meant that I was looking at the picture the wrong way. I needed to look more closely at my life and recognize the fact that I am still here for a reason. This accident confirmed my love for my family because if I were asked to give my life, I would have easily replied, “Yes, for all my family.”
Why do I feel so strongly? Because I believe in families, that they transcend this life. I understand their worth, as well as my worth in their lives on earth and throughout eternity.
Years later, am I now an extrovert? Absolutely not. Some days, some conversations, some hugs, are better than others. I’m still a work in progress. However, one thing remains the same.
What I believe in is what I want—an eternal family. President Russell M. Nelson shared, “Our family is the focus of our greatest work and joy in this life; so, will it be throughout all eternity.”1 An end result that displays our Savior’s love for us.

The Mutual-age youth of the East Liverpool Branch in Ohio were starting to get bored last summer, but instead of taking a nap, they decided to put their heads together and plan a special project. The idea they came up with was an original silent movie, complete with a hero, heroine, two villains, and a poor little fellow named Elmer who is in love with Penelope, the heroine. The Beehives, Mia Maids, and Laurels wrote the script and talked the Aaronic Priesthood members into joining them as performers. The result was a lot of fun, and a movie to show at a dance last fall.

We know the Lord makes His servants bold. The young boy Joseph who saw God the Father and His Son, Jesus Christ, in a grove of trees was transformed into a spiritual giant. Parley P. Pratt saw that when the Prophet Joseph Smith rebuked the vile guards who held them captive. Elder Pratt recorded:
“On a sudden he arose to his feet, and spoke in a voice of thunder, or as the roaring lion, uttering, as near as I can recollect, the following words:
“‘SILENCE, ye fiends of the infernal pit. In the name of Jesus Christ I rebuke you, and command you to be still; I will not live another minute and hear such language. Cease such talk, or you or I die THIS INSTANT!’”
Of that experience, Elder Pratt wrote, “Dignity and majesty have I seen but once, as it stood in chains, at midnight, in a dungeon in an obscure village of Missouri.”3

A kind voice with an accent asked, hesitantly, “Is this the Liahona?”
I had walked into the Liahona offices in Salt Lake City where I worked and discovered a ringing phone. It was early morning, and I probably wasn’t at my best. But grateful the caller spoke some English, I replied with whatever cheer I could find, “It is. How can we help you?”
He explained that he was president of a stake several time zones away. Another Liahona editor had contacted him months earlier, asking for more information about a member of his stake who had submitted an article. He explained that he hadn’t known the stake member the editor had called about. The man seemed to have never attended church in his stake. He must have fallen out of Church activity after submitting his article.
The stake president explained that he had been uncomfortable once this member’s name was brought to his attention. So he went to the rescue. He found the man. He and others fellowshipped him.
All these months later, the potential author was now active and progressing in the gospel. And the stake president had called to let us know.

“Sometimes you have to find peace within yourself,” said Rieko Ishikawa, 18, of the Tokyo Eighth Ward. “I live in downtown Tokyo. Whenever I go to stations or anywhere in the heart of the city, I find it very noisy. But where I live, we are close to the high buildings, so it is relatively quiet. You learn to enjoy the parks. You learn to enjoy friendly people. And with the gospel you know that you always have something good to share.
“For example, at school I know my friends would love the Church if they only understood it. So when we had a play at the ward, I took flyers and handed them out to my friends. They wanted to know where to come to see the plays. So I got to tell them where our chapel is, and that let me tell them a little about the Church.
“When I meet others at church, I find so many fine brothers and sisters, including our bishop, who show their love toward people around them. I am really happy to be among such exemplary people.”

My father isn’t active in the Church, and that is the cause of conflict in my home. I work really hard to set a good example for him, and I know he can see the difference in my life.

But sometimes I have felt like there was someone trying to undo all the good things I did at home. It was really discouraging. One Sunday after church, I talked to my sister about it and we agreed to start doing secret acts of service in our home. Each week we chose someone in our family and tried to spend time with that person. We left notes of encouragement and did little things like making sure a sister’s dress was pressed for church or a brother’s soccer uniform was washed.

It didn’t take long for our family to realize who was providing the service, but now everyone joins in and does something. We can see the love in our home now—it is in everything we do.