Gospel Story Finder

“You have flour on your nose, Jeffrey,” Mother teased.
Jeffrey looked down to see the white flour powdering his nose. They both began to laugh.
“I think I have flour on more than just my nose,” said Jeffrey as his eyes traveled farther down to his shirt and trousers. He dumped another cup of flour into the big batch of bread dough and mixed it thoroughly. His sister Barbara began wiping off the kitchen table so the dough could be kneaded and divided into loaves.
“You’re both doing such a good job helping to make the bread that there’s nothing left for me to do!” exclaimed Mother.
Jeffrey and Barbara beamed at each other, and Barbara said, “Look. Even Jason wants to help.”
Three-year-old Jason was sitting on the kitchen floor struggling to pull bread pans out of the cupboard.
“Welcoming our new neighbors across the street has really become a family affair,” Mother said. “Your dad’s out in the garden right now,” she added, “picking tomatoes and zucchini to take over to them.”
“Where’s Jenny?” asked Barbara.
Just then Jenny came bursting into the kitchen.
“Mother!” she wailed. “You simply have to help me decide what I’m going to do for the school variety show. I’m supposed to tell my teacher this week.”
“Maybe you could play that new piece you’ve been learning on the piano,” Mother calmly suggested.
“Oh, Mother!” Jenny replied impatiently. “I played the piano last year. I want to do something new and different.”
“Mmm,” said Mother, “I’ll have to think about it. Why don’t you help us finish making this bread for our new neighbors, and we’ll talk about what you might do.”
Jenny glanced scornfully at the powdery white trail across the kitchen floor and at the gooey globs of dough on Jeffrey’s hands. She retreated to her bedroom, mumbling something about having more important things to do than make bread.
“Jenny certainly isn’t much help today,” Barbara declared.
“She just doesn’t realize how much fun she’s missing,” Mother said, sighing with disappointment.
That afternoon, when the Anderson family was ready to take their gifts to welcome the new neighbors, Dad found Jenny watching television.
“Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Dad. “We’re all anxious to meet the new people across the street.”
“Doesn’t sound like much fun to me,” replied Jenny, not taking her eyes off the show she was watching.
“Jenny,” said Dad firmly, “we really feel that the whole family should go over to welcome our new neighbors. Please come with us.”
“Oh, all right,” said Jenny, “but I’d much rather stay here and watch television.”
Dad rang their new neighbor’s doorbell, and a man with black hair and dark eyes opened the door and looked curiously at the family. Dad introduced himself and the rest of the family and explained that they were a welcoming committee. The man’s face broke into a big grin. Calling his wife and two daughters, he enthusiastically invited Dad, Mother, Jeffrey, Jenny, Barbara, and Jason into his home.
When Dad presented them with warm bread and freshly-picked vegetables, the new family exclaimed in unison, “Mahalo! Mahalo!”
The Andersons soon learned that Mr. and Mrs. Kanahele and their daughters, Leimomi and Lani, had moved to California from a small town in Hawaii and that mahalo means thanks in Hawaiian.
Looking around at the stacks of boxes, the Anderson family offered to help the Kanaheles unpack. Soon everyone was talking and laughing.
Leimomi was delighted to find that she would be in Jenny’s class at school. Lani was Barbara’s age.
As the four girls chattered away, Mother smiled because Jenny seemed to be enjoying herself most of all. She and Leimomi were busily rummaging through a box of Leimomi’s Hawaiian treasures, and Jenny was telling Leimomi that she would be glad to show her around school.
Jenny and Leimomi were gaily dancing around with the grass skirt Leimomi had dug out of the box when they heard Mrs. Kanahele exclaim to Lani, “Now you will be able to have a hauoli la hanau!”
“Hauoli la hanau means happy birthday in Hawaiian,” Lani explained to the Andersons. “My birthday is next week, and I was afraid I wouldn’t have any friends to invite to the party, but now Barbara and Jenny are here. Will you come?”
“That would be a lot of fun!” exclaimed Barbara. “I’ve never been to a Hawaiian birthday party.”
When the Andersons went home, Dad’s arms were loaded with pineapples, Jeffrey was lugging two coconuts, and Mother was wearing a lei. Jason toted two big bananas that had been grown in the Kanahele’s backyard in Hawaii.
“You know,” Mother said, smiling thoughtfully, “I think we’re taking more home with us than we took over to them.”
“Yes,” Dad said, “and we all seemed to enjoy our visit.”
Jenny tugged at Dad’s sleeve. “It certainly was more fun than watching television. And, Mom, now I know what I’m going to do for the variety show. Leimomi is going to teach me some hula steps and let me wear her grass skirt. Best of all, she’s my aikane (friend).”

Teresa’s sixth birthday was just about over, and as darkness settled slowly over the elm grove and the weedy fencerows, all the insect fiddlers began to tune up for their nightly concert. Teresa listened to their raspy music as she stood by the window of her bedroom, her long blond hair braided neatly to keep it from becoming tangled while she slept.
Being six was a wonderful thing, for tomorrow she would start school, and soon she would know all the town children. But for a moment Teresa wished that she could reach out and hold this day forever in her arms.
Sighing deeply, she turned toward her bed. Her bare feet made no sound as she walked across the worn carpet. But the corn-shuck mattress was very noisy when she slid between the snowy white sheets and made a nest for herself.
The thought of going to school was exciting. There she would learn to read the words to all the songs in the world. Then, when she grew up, she would sing in four languages, like Grandmother Hildah, whose picture rested on the mantel above the fireplace.
Teresa had never seen Grandmother Hildah because Papa and Mama had left Germany, where her grandmother had lived, before Teresa was born. But Mama had a phonograph record of Grandmother’s lilting voice, and some day, Mama said, Teresa would sing like that.
All summer long Teresa had practiced. On sunny days, after the eggs were gathered, she loved to squat like a small brown toad, half-hidden in the elderberry thicket, and listen to the trills of the meadowlarks or the mockingbirds. Then she sang the notes as best she could, adding words as they came to her mind.
In the evenings, while she drove the cow up the long, shady lane and past the row of trumpet vines, Teresa would listen as the crickets and the katydids sawed on their fiddles. Then she would join in their tune.
Once when she heard Teresa singing, Mama said to Papa, “Our daughter sings like Grandmother Hildah already.”
Papa had arched his dark eyebrows. “So!” he said. “In which of the four languages did our daughter sing today?”
Teresa had squealed with laughter and hugged Papa, for she knew that he was teasing.
Now, as she lay snuggled in her warm bed, sleep was slow in coming for Teresa. Outside, the insects were filling the night with their music, almost as if they were afraid dawn might catch them with their songs unfinished.
Morning came rosy pink. Teresa could hardly eat her breakfast or stand still long enough for Mama to comb her hair. Her fingers were all thumbs as she tried to button the new birthday dress that Aunt Gertrude had sent all the way from Pennsylvania.
Papa took Teresa to school on his way to his blacksmith shop, and he introduced her to the teacher, Miss Marcy. When the bell rang, Miss Marcy introduced Teresa to the class. “Most of you know each other already,” she said. “This is Teresa Gruenwahl, children. Her parents came from Germany; let’s make her feel welcome.”
The eyes that stared at Teresa did not make her feel welcome, and she wished that she had not come. And at recess the other children drew off into whispery knots or pushed her away when she tried to join their games. They called her a stupid foreigner and made ugly verses about her living on a farm. Then they pointed their fingers at her, shrieked with laughter, and ran away.
Worse still, the words in the primer just looked like bits of noodles chopped up and scattered out to dry. But she loved singing time, especially when the class sang about the creatures great and small. Teresa could sing louder and higher than any of the other children, and that made her feel better.
The days passed. Fall flowers turned to seed, the odor of ripening apples perfumed the air, and the insect chorus grew more shrill.
One morning on her way to school Teresa caught sight of a cicada clinging to the bark of an elm tree. She had seen cicadas before but never so close. This one’s brown skin was splitting down the back, and its new green one was showing.
As Teresa stopped and watched, the split grew wider and wider. Soon, to her amazement, out popped a “new” cicada, all green and moist and shimmery in the sun. Slowly raising each leg, the cicada stepped daintily away from its old skin and sat down to dry. Teresa was enchanted. Here it was, as green as life. And there was its old, hollow, brown skin still clinging to the tree.
She loved the new cicada, but she didn’t have time to wait for its first song. So she shook out her handkerchief, plucked the insect from the tree, and wrapped it up carefully. Just as carefully she tucked the handkerchief into her pocket and hurried on.
She was late. The cicada’s metamorphosis had taken too much time. Softly she opened the schoolroom door and tiptoed to her seat.
“Teresa, you may stay in during recess,” said Miss Marcy, frowning.
It was nearly recess time when Teresa first heard the sound. It was like the buzzing of a fly trying to free itself from a spider’s web. Then the sound began to spiral upward from her pocket to fill the silence in the room. Zzzeee uh zzzeee uh. The Cicada! Teresa had forgotten about it. It was beginning its first song, and IT WAS LOUD!
All the eyes in the room turned toward her as the song rose higher and higher. Miss Marcy looked up from the story she was reading aloud, laid her book facedown on her desk, and rose slowly to her feet.
There was only one thing to do, so Teresa did it. Thrusting her hand into her pocket, she clutched frantically at her handkerchief in an effort to muffle the vibrant voice. The sound stopped abruptly. Teresa had squeezed too hard. She could feel the handkerchief become damp in her fist, and she felt sick.
Teresa didn’t know how Miss Marcy knew where the song had come from, but as she looked up, the teacher’s eyes were kind.
Slowly, Teresa drew forth the crumpled, green-stained handkerchief and placed it on her desk.
“It was the cicada,” she said softly, her eyes filling with tears. “It was singing too loudly, and I had to make it be quiet. I didn’t mean to …”
At that moment the recess bell rang, but nobody stirred.
“Oh, you poor child,” Miss Marcy murmured, gathering Teresa into her arms. “We must give the cicada a proper burial.” She led the way out into the hall and down the steps into the schoolyard. The children quietly followed as she crossed the yard to where a large elm tree stood.
“Can anyone find a strong stick?” she asked. “We need to dig a grave for the cicada.”
One of the boys found a sturdy twig. He solemnly bent down and scooped out a hole. Teresa placed the shroud-wrapped insect into the hole and covered it up.
“I think we should all sing a song,” Miss Marcy said. She took a pitch pipe from her pocket and blew a single note.
Glancing at Teresa with shy, sympathetic eyes, the children began to sing. “All things bright and beautiful / All creatures great and small, / All things wise and wonderful, / The Lord God made them all.”
And to Teresa the song was sweeter than ever before.

As I sat there on the porch, I continued thinking about Cindy’s question. In one of our Primary lessons we learned that the Holy Ghost is the Spirit of Truth. Our teacher said that He would help us to not lie. I guessed I needed help with that too. I remembered the day Mom had come into the kitchen right after I had accidentally knocked the sugar bowl to the floor. Before she could even speak, I said, “Shauna made me do it.”
“Janna, look out the window,” she told me. “What do you see?”
I saw Shauna swinging on a rope hanging from the pecan tree. I said, “That’s how she made me do it. I was thinking about hurrying out to swing with her, and it made me bump into the table.”
“Janna.” Mom tilted my face toward hers. “None of us breaks dishes on purpose. We all have accidents. It isn’t the sugar bowl that counts. It’s you. More important to me than all the dishes in the cupboard—even the crystal glasses—is a little girl who tells the truth.”
I looked down at the floor. I knew I should’ve said I was sorry, but I didn’t. Instead, I asked, “Don’t dishes sometimes get too close to the edge and fall off by themselves?”
“Oh, Janna Lynn,” Mom said, and I wished she’d spanked me instead of looking at me the way she did. It would have made me feel a lot better.
I was still sitting on the porch thinking when Katie and Shauna came running around the house. “Come and play catch with us,” they called.
We threw the ball back and forth to each other, and then Katie threw one that was too high for me. Running backward to catch it, I slipped and fell on my backside in a clump of Mom’s blue irises. Mom came out of the shed just then with a pair of clippers to cut a bouquet. I looked at the smashed flowers and was just starting to speak, when something inside of me seemed to say, “No, Janna Lynn, you’re not going to say Katie made you do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said. “I ran backward and fell.”
“Yes, I know. I saw you,” she replied.
“And you’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not.”
The way she laughed, I almost felt good about sitting on her flowers.
“Just look at all those irises that you didn’t sit on,” she said. “A daughter who tells the truth is more important than a whole yard full of flowers!”
Goodness! That must have been the Holy Ghost prompting me to tell the truth, I thought. And He’s helping me to learn what a great feeling you have when you know you’ve done the right thing. I could hardly wait to tell Cindy.

A few weeks ago I learned an important lesson from a Laurel who was the youth speaker in my ward. I was touched as she confidently taught and testified of Jesus Christ. She concluded her remarks with this statement: “When I make Jesus Christ the center of my life, my day goes better, I’m kinder to my loved ones, and I am filled with joy.”
I have observed this young woman from a distance over the past few months. She greets everyone with sparkling eyes and a quick smile. I’ve watched her rejoice in the success of other youth. Two Mia Maids recently reported to me of this young woman’s decision to forfeit her ticket to a movie when she realized that it was not going to be an experience that was “virtuous and lovely.” She’s loving, kind, and obedient. She comes from a single-parent home, and her life has not been without challenges, so I’ve wondered how she maintains her happy, kind spirit. When this young woman testified, “I center my life on Jesus Christ,” I had the answer.

Andrew Christofferson, who had returned to Lehi, corresponded with Fia, asking her to come to Utah. She wanted to emigrate, but she didn’t earn enough money to afford the voyage, so Andrew saved until he could send the money for her passage. She traveled to England where she boarded a boat for the United States. As she landed in Boston, an immigration officer noted her poor eyesight and refused her entry; her poor vision would cause her to be a burden on his country. Sadly she returned to England.
When Andrew learned what had happened, he determined to try again. Once again, he worked and saved and sent her the boat fare. He told her to try entry at New York City this time. Again Fia was refused entry because of her poor vision.
As Fia returned once again to England, she was befriended by a group of missionaries on their way to Europe. The missionaries took Fia to the mission home with them in Liverpool, England, where Elder Heber J. Grant of the Council of the Twelve presided with his wife and young daughters. Sister Grant found Fia sobbing in the hall as she waited with the elders, who were to be interviewed by their mission president. Through an interpreter, Sister Grant learned of Fia’s unsuccessful attempts to go to Zion. Also discovering that the young girl had no place to go and no money, Sister Grant felt compassion for Fia and asked if she would like to remain at the mission home to work as a maid. Fia gratefully accepted, though she had never had any experience as a domestic servant.
As they became better acquainted, Sister Grant realized that Fia had received a good education and possessed impressive musical talents. In spite of the fact that she had never done housework before, Fia knew how things should be done. She took pride in her work. Her disposition was so delightful that the whole family soon grew to love her. They marveled at her abilities, her patience, and her sweet spirit. They said she never spoke a cross word but always sang and gave praise to her Heavenly Father for the blessings she had received. Along with housekeeping duties, her first responsibility was the care of the two youngest Grant girls, Emily and Frances. Elder and Sister Grant traveled frequently on the continent, supervising the many areas of the European Mission, and they felt fortunate to know their daughters were under Fia’s care.
Fia believed in cold-water “Swedish” baths. Without a water heater in the bathroom, those who wanted a warm bath had to heat the water downstairs and carry it upstairs to the bathtub a bucket at a time, so Swedish baths were much more convenient. Each morning Fia filled the tub with cold water, tying a bag of rock salt to the faucet and letting the water run over it to simulate sea water. The squirming, protesting little girls were then given their morning “dip in the ocean.” After a quick bath, Fia rubbed them vigorously with a large fluffy towel. They said later that they hated their baths, but they loved Fia so dearly they were willing to endure them to please her.
Meanwhile, in Utah, Andrew Christofferson was unable to forget the lovely girl he’d fallen in love with. He remained single and continued to save money in hopes Fia would one day be able to make a successful journey to Utah.
As the mission term for the Grant family came to a close, President Grant decided to try to get Fia into the United States. He booked passage for her as a nurse for his children and hoped that as he was prepared to support her for the rest of her life, there would be no trouble with the immigration authorities. When their ship landed in New York, the excitement of returning home was nearly forgotten in the concern the Grant family had over whether Fia would be able to remain with them. But things went much easier than they had hoped. The immigration officers asked no questions and made no examinations. Fia was in!
The Grant family arrived in Salt Lake shortly before Christmas 1906. Fia was a most welcome addition. Elder Grant even talked of adopting her legally. Perhaps because of her age this was never done, but she was no longer considered hired help; she was loved and treated as a family member.
When Andrew Christofferson learned that Fia was living in Salt Lake City with the Grants, he wasted no time in calling to court her. Several months later, he asked Elder Grant for permission to marry Fia. Sophia and Andrew were married in the Salt Lake Temple on 14 June 1907 with Elder Grant performing the ceremony.
Andrew took his bride to Lehi to live in a very modest cottage. Circumstances were quite different from those to which she had been accustomed. The adjustments she had to make must have been difficult indeed. But Fia had never regretted giving up a life of ease for the sake of the gospel, nor did she regret giving up life in the comparative luxury of the Grant home for life on a small farm. She was cheerful and pleasant and made the best of her surroundings. She learned many new skills as a farmer’s wife and helped care for her mother-in-law as well.
In time their home was blessed with two sons and two daughters: Grant, Reed, Mia, and Ellen. The first boy was named after Heber J. Grant.
Because the light was very painful to her eyes, Fia seldom went out in public, but people were attracted to her home. She was known far and wide for her warm hospitality. All who came into her home felt her love. They were entertained and fed and, if downcast, were cheered and encouraged.
Aunt Fia’s one sadness was the loss of contact with her family in Sweden. To her knowledge, she was the only family member to have accepted the gospel. She always felt a keen responsibility toward her relatives and ancestors. She did what she could to secure their genealogy and have the temple work done for them.
Her dear Andrew died 17 June 1954. Aunt Fia lived alone in her home until she suffered a stroke a few months before her death. She was taken into the home of her devoted daughter, Mia, and cared for until she died suddenly of a heart attack on 8 May 1961, shortly before her eighty-second birthday.
Aunt Fia left memories that will be cherished by countless friends and relatives, and a legacy that will continue to bless many lives until we again enjoy the privilege of her friendship in the eternities.

Another class in Gillingham, Kent, has nine students. Two of these, Helen and Vicki Butcher, live on the Isle of Sheppey. At one stage they were arising at 4:00 A.M., walking one and a half miles to the local station, catching a train to the mainland, then walking another mile to Sister Isaac’s house for lessons. The return journey differed only a little. The walk from the station to school was two and a half miles.
Then an inspired bishop had the solution—telephone link teaching. With amplifiers attached to telephones in the teacher’s and Helen and Vicki’s homes, lessons went airbound.
“The first day was one big giggle,” said Helen. “I felt like someone in the Australian outback, but when we looked outside and saw snow settling on the ground, we were glad to be sitting in the warm house listening to the little box.”

Photograph by Christina Smith
When 17-year-old Parker J. was preparing for his senior wrestling championship, he trained for any maneuver his opponents could throw at him. But although he’s been building his strength with wrestling, football, shot put, and even accordion for years, Parker’s most important preparation had nothing to do with physical muscle. It took spiritual strength to make this tournament a win in God’s eyes.
“Feeling God’s love always fueled me,” Parker says. But for some reason, he wasn’t feeling very close to God in the weeks leading up to the tournament. In the past, he says, “gratitude toward God really helped me strengthen my testimony, so I didn’t know if it was me just not being as grateful or if God was actually withdrawing His hand a little bit.”
The plan for tournament week was simple: Parker’s team would take a bus on Thursday to compete in the tournament on Friday and Saturday. Unfortunately, a nasty snowstorm complicated things. The tournament got pushed back a day, meaning wrestlers who won their Saturday matches would have to compete on Sunday. And Parker’s skill and strength gave him a high chance of making it that far.
Sitting on the bus with his teammates, Parker knew he had a choice to make: wrestle in the Sunday finals or honor the Sabbath. And since he would graduate after this year, it was his last chance to wrestle with his team.
“It was a really tough moment for me to make that decision. I just hadn’t been feeling God’s hand those weeks before the tournament,” he says.
But remembering past experiences with God gave Parker the strength he needed to decide. “Though I hadn’t felt His hand recently, I knew that I had felt His hand before. I promise every week when I take the sacrament to always remember Him, not just when I feel like it. So I decided not to wrestle on Sunday.”
I promise every week when I take the sacrament to always remember Him, not just when I feel like it.
Parker showed up Saturday morning knowing he wouldn’t wrestle in the finals on Sunday, even if he won every Saturday match. But surprisingly, he didn’t feel disappointed anymore. “I was at peace with my decision,” he says. “It was interesting, because the whole season I had just felt so much pressure to win. But at that meet, I was just happy to be there with the people I love. I just wanted to do my best.”
And he did. Parker’s practice paid off, and he won every match that Saturday. But as he forfeited the Sunday match, Parker felt like he won something far more valuable. “That first-place medal would have gotten dusty on my shelf,” he says. “But the clarity and peace I got from choosing God and being able to recognize His hand was just so worth it.”
Parker’s true victory wasn’t in any medal or trophy. It was in choosing God and being able to recognize His hand.
Parker says, “This experience made me realize what I was capable of. A lot of youth don’t believe in their ability to make difficult choices. I’ve been there. But you always have the choice to do the right thing, even if you’ve messed up in the past. God knows you and believes in you. He knows you have the ability to do it.”
You always have the choice to do the right thing, even if you’ve messed up in the past.
Soon after Parker’s spiritual victory, he received his mission call to Romania. He knows that choosing to keep God’s commandments will have a positive influence on his mission and the rest of his life. He says, “Now I know that setting aside one day of the week for God blesses you triple, quadruple more. It’s not ‘Well, I forfeited this final tournament, so I’m going to heaven.’ It’s that my ability to serve, sacrifice, and be closer to God has increased.”
Parker is excited to serve the Lord as a full-time missionary in Romania.
The next time Parker has to wrestle with an important decision, he’s more prepared than ever. “Not a lot of people will have the chance to forfeit the final match of a state wrestling championship,” Parker admits. “The applicable part is sacrifice. Being able to just let something go for God and dedicate it to Him gave me a sense of power that I’ve never had before. God knows you better than you know yourself.” He says, “God will allow you to experience situations that are difficult but never impossible to overcome with His help.”
God knows you better than you know yourself.
Find bonus content about Parker’s story on the Gospel Living app this month.

Illustration by Joshua Dennis
After seven years of hoping and waiting for children, my husband and I were finally blessed with a daughter. Alicie was the light of our lives, but she lived for only five months before dying of pneumonia.
That was the hardest experience of my life. Every day I would come home from work and sit and cry. My in-laws often sat with me to give me strength. I kept praying for another child, but none came. I was lost in sadness.
My in-laws started encouraging my husband and me to travel to the Suva Fiji Temple to be sealed. We had never been to the temple, and we decided that this was the best way for us to find hope and healing.
Nothing could have prepared me for what I felt that day! I knew that my husband and I would be sealed together for eternity. This knowledge filled me with gratitude and love. But I hadn’t understood that this sacred ordinance was much bigger than the two of us.
At the temple, I learned that Alicie could be sealed to us. I cried tears of joy as I came to know this sacred doctrine. Our daughter would be ours for all eternity! I testify that God has provided everything we need for happiness in His holy house.
In the years since, my husband and I have been blessed with a son and three adopted children. Yet we can never forget Alicie. Because of the ordinances of the temple, our daughter is a part of our family forever.
When I meet someone who has lost a child, I feel their pain with them. But I also know that this pain is not the end. Through losing Alicie, as well as experiencing other trials, I know that God is there for me. When I get discouraged or complain about things, I know that God is always there.
I know I will see Alicie again, and that truth continues to fill my husband and me with deep joy.

I received my mission call a week before the civil war that broke out on 18 December 1998, in Congo-Brazzaville, my home country. I was 28 years old. I had to answer the Lord’s call which was extended to me through His servant, President Gordon B. Hinckley (1910-2008). I walked for 224 miles to get to the neighboring Democratic Republic of the Congo—the country in which I was called to serve my mission.
As we serve our fellow men, challenges can be turned into opportunities to grow. As I read the Book of Mormon and pondered over the scriptures, I came to discover that the Lord helped Nephi at all times. That gave me hope that the Lord would also help me if I made righteous decisions to serve Him through a full-time mission. In this experience, I moved forward freely, in spite of obstacles, with my mission call letter from President Hinckley, our then prophet. I felt the presence of Lord’s Spirit throughout my journey into the mission field.

A year before the experience related above took place, before he had even heard of the Latter-day Saints, Parley was newly married, had a fifty-acre farm, comfortable house, productive orchard, and beautiful garden. But he sensed something lacking. He studied the Bible and wanted to know more; there must be a restoration of the gospel, he believed. He did not know that it had already occurred but decided to leave his farm and his home to search for the true Church. His older brother William remonstrated with him. “How will you live?” he asked. Parley said he had enough bank notes to sustain himself and his family. These notes, he said, were “founded on capital that will never fail, though heaven and earth should pass away.” His brother asked to see them. Parley records:
“I then unlocked my treasury and drew from thence a large pocket book, full of promissory notes like the following: ‘Whosoever shall forsake father or mother, brethren or sister, houses or lands, wife or children, for my sake and the gospel’s, shall receive an hundred fold in this life, and in the world to come life everlasting.’ ‘If ye abide in me, and my words abide in you, you shall ask what you will in my name and I will give it you.’ ‘All things are possible to him that believeth.’”9
Parley then asked his brother if these were genuine notes, if the “signer” of the notes, the Lord Jesus Christ, was able and willing to meet his promises. “Yes” was the only reply William could give. So in August of 1830 Parley settled his affairs, and with ten dollars in his pocket, took his wife and set out in search of the kingdom of God.
He discovered, as all missionaries can, that the Lord does pay off his notes.

All that day Randy and I waited for the neurosurgeon to arrive with word about our baby’s test results. When he finally came at 10:30 P.M., he spoke in a cold, deliberate voice:
“Your daughter has no chance for a normal life,” he said bluntly. “She has no brain.”
Mere words can’t describe how we felt. I was stunned by his callousness as he continued, seemingly oblivious of the torture Randy and I were suffering.
“Her brain simply never formed. All she has is the brain stem, which is the bare minimum necessary to keep her alive. It controls all the involuntary functions—the heart, respiration, digestive system, and reflexes. She will never roll over or crawl or walk. She will not advance in any way. She’s blind and deaf. She will never respond to you in any way, and she will have to be fed through a tube.”
He guessed that she would live about six months at the most.
When he walked out of that hospital room, all our hopes for our baby girl left with him. Randy and I threw our arms around each other and struggled to pull our shattered emotions back together. We had tried to prepare ourselves for the news that she might be retarded, but we had never dreamed it would be this. It felt like the entire weight of the world had crashed down on top of us.
When Abby Ruth, as we named her, was three days old I had held her only a few times, and that all-important bonding relationship between mother and child hadn’t taken place. Late that night, feeling forced into making a decision that I didn’t want to make, I walked down to the intensive care nursery to see her. I stood next to her bassinet and watched her stare blankly into space. One of the nurses came to stand next to me, and I shook my head sadly.
“The poor little thing doesn’t have any idea of what’s going on, does she?” I asked quietly.
The nurse turned to me and spoke with conviction. “Maybe her mind doesn’t know, but her spirit does.”
That simple statement hit me with a tremendous impact. Why hadn’t I thought of that before?
Later that night I dreamed that a beautiful young woman with long, waving blonde hair and dressed in a flowing white robe came walking toward me through a mist, with arms outstretched to greet me. I knew then that when my time comes and I leave this world, Abby will be there waiting for me in all her perfection. Knowing that, how could I turn away from her in her hour of need?

In Nairobi, Kenya, one couple had long struggled to find stable employment. The challenge to provide the necessities of life for their children was wearing on them both. There seemed to be nowhere to turn, as most of their friends and family members found themselves in the same predicament.

A recent convert to the Church, the husband learned about the free employment services available at the LDS Employment Center in Nairobi while he was at church one Sunday. He visited the center the following Monday. After attending several career and small-business workshops over the next few weeks, he felt confident he could be successful as an entrepreneur marketing his wife’s cooking. With the assistance of an employment specialist, they completed a detailed business plan and went to work.

In her small kitchen, the wife prepared delicious samosas and mandazis, local dishes that they sold outside a nearby office building for the morning meal. Their baskets were soon emptied and the morning’s earnings were used to purchase ingredients for the noonday meal.

Before long their business flourished and became so popular they were able to obtain a contract to provide meals for employees at a large office building. They were slowly able to save enough to purchase a refrigerator, a food-warming table, and other equipment to improve their business. This couple now find great satisfaction in being able to provide for their family. With the increased profits and demands, they have been able to hire others to help them, creating employment opportunities for others in their ward.

By the time I was ready to go to college, I had trained several branch members to lead the music and play the piano. In college I continued to play the piano and took organ lessons. I thought my chance of going to Latin America was gone forever when I gave up competitive swimming, but after I completed my master’s degree at Brigham Young University, I served a mission to Colombia. While on my mission, I taught piano lessons. I wanted to leave those Saints with the gift of music. Children and youth of Colombia walked miles in the hot sun to have the opportunity to learn to play the piano. They too started with one hand until they progressed to play with both hands. And they made more sacrifices than I did in their efforts to learn to play the piano.

One day I was thinking about how I could step it up a little as a grandpa, so I asked myself what I most wanted to give to my grandchildren. The answer wasn’t financial help or more fun activities or travel to new places.
The answer was that I wanted to share with them the principles that I felt could help make their lives happy and productive and righteous. I wanted to leave a legacy based on faith in Jesus Christ and His eternal plan of happiness.1
I thought about what my grandchildren might want to know from me based on my own lived experiences. So I created a list of “Grandfather’s Principles.” The next week I read it to some of my older grandkids in hopes of engaging them in a little discussion.
It fell flat. Their looks seemed to say, “When will this lecture be over?”
I tried changing the name to “Grandfather’s Beliefs” and “Grandfather’s Tips,” but those didn’t work any better.
Then one summer at our family reunion, while I was with some of our elementary-age grandkids, I repurposed my list as “Grandfather’s Secrets,” and boom—I suddenly had their interest and their attention. I even had their curiosity!
Things got better from there. I polished my list of principles/beliefs/tips/secrets until I had 10 of them that were simple and basic but that genuinely reflected what I thought was most important and what I felt were the top-10 life guides that I wanted to share.
Nowadays, I spread out discussing these with each grandchild over a 10-year time period. When our grandchildren turn 8 (the age of accountability), they receive the first three “secrets.” When they are 10, they get one more; when 12, two more; when 14, two more; and when 18, the final two.
I give rewards and recognition for learning them. Some have memorized them. We talk about when and how they have applied them. I text back and forth about them with the grandkids who are old enough to have a phone. At reunions we have group discussions where they share examples of using them in everyday life. Older grandkids tutor younger ones on what the “secrets” mean and how they work.
Whenever I have a somewhat private moment with a grandchild or two, I ask them to give me an example of how they applied one of the secrets in the past or how they imagine they might apply one in the future. For the ones who live farther away, I text hypothetical situations they may find themselves in when one of the secrets might come into play, and I ask them to text back about what they would do.
I pray that my grandchildren will learn from pondering, memorizing, and using these secrets and that we will know each other better as we discuss them. I learned a lot about myself from writing them, and I’m still learning important things about my grandkids as I try to teach them.

I remember an experience that Elder K. Brett Nattress shared with us in a general conference address. His mother read the scriptures to him and his brother every day during breakfast, and he acted irreverently along with his brother. One day he questioned his mother asking her why she did that every morning and she told him something that just remembering it embarrassed him. Let me share his own words:
“I told her, ‘Mom, I am not listening!’
“Her loving response was a defining moment in my life. She said, ‘Son, I was at a meeting where President Marion G. Romney [1897–1988] taught about the blessings of scripture reading. During this meeting, I received a promise that if I would read the Book of Mormon to my children every day, I would not lose them.’ She then looked at me straight in the eyes and, with absolute determination, said, ‘And I will not lose you!’”2

It was early in the morning, and I sat in our small apartment trying to study. I had been serving as a missionary in Atlanta, Georgia, for the past six months. The first few months of my mission had been good, but that morning I felt hopeless and discouraged. I had been transferred to a hard area, and we were not teaching many people. We would go from door to door, day after day, but with little success.
As I tried to read my scriptures, my mind wandered. “Why do I have to serve in this area?” “Why is it so hard?” “What are we doing wrong?” There were so many questions going through my mind, but I did not know the answers. I only knew that I was ready to quit.
I sighed and tried to return to my studies, but it was no use. “What’s the point?” I thought. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone to teach in this area anyway.”
In desperation I knelt and began to pray. I had read in the scriptures about crying to God, but I did not really understand what it meant until that moment. I prayed hard and fervently, pouring out my heart. I asked God to help me get through my mission and to help us have success. I asked Him to help me so I would not be discouraged and to give me the strength to go on. I asked Him to help me study, because I knew I could gain something from the passages of scripture I was trying to read.
I closed my prayer and tried to read again. This time the scriptures opened up to me, and I felt intrigued by the story I was reading. It was in Alma 26. I realized the story was about missionary work. Aaron and Ammon were missionaries who had challenges that were more severe than what I was experiencing. They were put in prison, beaten, laughed at, threatened with their lives, and condemned for their beliefs. Their faith was tried also. They did not give up. Instead, they were faithful and strong through all their trials. I then realized that if Ammon and Aaron could endure all their trials, then I could endure mine too.
I read more of the story and saw the blessings that Ammon and Aaron received. They saw thousands of people experience a change of heart, repent, and be baptized. Their trials eventually brought them indescribable joy.
When I finished reading the chapter, I noticed a plaque that hung on the wall above our desk. It read, “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me” (Philippians 4:13). I had never really noticed that plaque until then. Reading the verse left me with a wonderful feeling. Christ was my strength because He knew what I was going through. He suffered all things. He even knew what it was like to be a discouraged, frightened young missionary serving in Georgia.
After I went through the trials, I did see the blessings. We were teaching one woman who was truly prepared to receive the gospel. She told us she wanted to be baptized. I grew to love her as a daughter of God, and when I saw her baptism, I felt the same joy that Aaron and Ammon felt—pure, indescribable joy.
Throughout my mission I saw many others come into the gospel. I saw miracles. I never forgot that scripture: “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” Whenever I felt discouraged or afraid, I would think about that scripture and remember that Christ was my strength and that He would not leave me alone. I knew that with Christ on my side as my strength, I could do all things.

Other experiences I had as a boy taught me that the Holy Ghost can help us stay close to Heavenly Father. I had a friend named Ralph who was a few months older than I was. We went to school in a one-room redbrick schoolhouse, and Ralph and I would walk there together. One day we talked about his recent baptism and confirmation. He told me how clean he felt when he was baptized. I asked him what it was like to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost, and he said, “It’s like a voice that whispers in your ear, teaching you the truth.” I never forgot Ralph’s explanation. I wanted to have what my friend had.

Later, after I was baptized and confirmed, I attended a banquet where President George Albert Smith was invited to speak. After the banquet, my dad and I stood in a long line to shake President Smith’s hand. When my turn came, President Smith looked down at me, took my hand, and spoke to me. I don’t remember what he said, but I will never forget how I felt. The Holy Ghost testified to me that he was a prophet of God.

I am grateful for the Holy Ghost. When we obey the commandments, the Holy Ghost dwells with us. He purifies us and teaches us the truth, and this helps us stay close to our Heavenly Father.

I was sitting in the bishop’s office participating in one of those special occasions when we receive strength and blessings through the priesthood. I was being set apart as Laurel adviser in my ward. Many of the things that were said at that time I have since forgotten, but one thing made a particularly deep impression on me. The bishop’s counselor who was setting me apart admonished me to work toward receiving the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost. When he spoke those words, there was a burning within me, and the wisdom of his counsel was impressed upon me.
I had often heard Church leaders speak about the necessity of having the guidance of the Holy Ghost, and I had tried at different times to make the influence of the spirit an integral part of my life. But discouragement would come easily, and I always felt that I had never quite succeeded. Frustrated, I would reason away my failure with the notion that the companionship of the Holy Ghost must be for the General Authorities and their families. I felt that as long as I lived a “good” life, someday in the distant future I might qualify for that blessing.
How easy it is to deceive ourselves with excuses when a task is not simple. But no excuses came to me on that day in the bishop’s office. As I was counseled by a servant of the Lord to obtain the guidance of the Holy Ghost, I knew that the Lord was reminding me of something he had admonished me to do years before when I was baptized. All of us, when we are confirmed after baptism, have hands placed on our heads and are told by a representative of the Lord, “Receive the Holy Ghost.” All the rationalizing in the world cannot erase this invitation and commandment.
We have been told in this dispensation, as well as in times past, the importance of receiving the Holy Ghost. President Wilford Woodruff expressed it clearly at a stake conference in 1896:
“Now, I have always said, and I want to say it to you, that the Holy Ghost is what every Saint of God needs. … Every man and woman in this Church should labor to get that Spirit. … This is the Spirit that we must have to carry out the purposes of God on the earth. We need that more than any other gift. … We should pray to the Lord until we get the Comforter. This is what is promised to us when we are baptized. It is the spirit of light, of truth, and of revelation, and can be with all of us at the same time.” (Deseret Weekly, 7 Nov. 1896, pp. 641–43.)
The gift of the Holy Ghost is not restricted to either men or women; nor is it restricted to the General Authorities. It is available to all of us as long as we obey the commandments of God. With this gift we can experience for ourselves direction, inspiration, comfort, wisdom, strength, and testimony every day. In other words, we can receive revelation. We are told by the Prophet Joseph Smith that “no man can receive the Holy Ghost without receiving revelations. The Holy Ghost is a revelator.” (History of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 6:58.)
What are some of the ways in which the revelations of the Holy Ghost can help us?
Parley P. Pratt, a member of the original Quorum of the Twelve in this dispensation, has written: “An intelligent being, in the image of God, possesses every organ, attribute, sense, sympathy, affection that is possessed by God Himself.
“But these … attributes are in embryo; and are to be gradually developed. …
“The gift of the Holy Ghost adapts itself to all these organs or attributes. It quickens all the intellectual faculties, expands and purifies all the natural passions and affections; and adapts them, by the gift of wisdom, to their lawful use. … It inspires virtue, kindness, goodness, tenderness, gentleness and charity. It develops beauty of person, form and features. It tends to health, vigor, animation and social feeling. It invigorates all the faculties of the physical and intellectual man. It strengthens, and gives tone to the nerves. In short, it is, as it were, marrow to the bone, joy to the heart, light to the eyes, music to the ears, and life to the whole being.” (Key to the Science of Theology, 10th ed., Deseret Book Co., 1965, pp. 100–101.)
All of us face the daily struggle of trying to improve ourselves and become more godlike. We have the desire to become perfect, and yet it sometimes appears to be such an ominous and impossible thing. The Holy Ghost is indispensable to us in this struggle. And so it is that in the struggle to perfect our lives, we seek for the gifts that will strengthen us and guide us in our quest for perfection.
One way, for example, that the Holy Ghost has been of help to me in my individual progression is by making me aware of my imperfections. When I pray for the guidance of the Spirit before reading scriptures, passages that relate to particular areas in which I need improvement seem to stand out. As I read them I am filled with the desire to do better. The Holy Ghost, besides bringing this information to our knowledge, can also grant us other spiritual gifts to help us in accomplishing our goals.
When parents are trying to rear a family, each day brings a hundred decisions, large and small. Some of these decisions play a more important role in shaping the lives of our children and naturally concern us more. While the Lord has instructed us to use own wisdom and to search for the answers to our problems, he has not left us alone. He has provided a means whereby we may know if the decisions we come to are the proper ones. Through the guidance of the Holy Ghost, parents can be directed into the most effective means of working with their children and may receive promptings in their behalf.
We can be guided, not only in times of crisis, but also on a day-to-day basis. We may receive on-the-spot guidance in little matters such as how to help a three-year-old cope with the frustrations of learning to tie his shoes, or perhaps in resolving conflicts between brothers and sisters. The ideas we receive may often seem so natural that we may not think of them as inspiration, but if we respond, we will see a change take place in our homes. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance.” (Gal. 5:22–23.) What better traits could we bring into our homes and families? Just think what a positive effect they could have!
We know that we are all entitled to revelation in and about our specific Church callings, whether we are Primary president or home teacher or General Authority. And not only are we entitled to this revelation, but we also have a responsibility to actively seek it and be led by it in our callings.
Many times while serving in different callings, I have had ideas come to me that I recognized as inspiration. Some come after much thought and prayer, and some seemingly “out of the blue.” There are other times, however, when the answers are not clear; but as we strive to do our best, our ability to recognize these promptings increases. Think of the things we could accomplish in our Church callings by refining our ability to receive this guidance, receiving the knowledge of what the Lord wants us to do and having the courage to do it.
It becomes apparent, after searching the scriptures, that in order to have the companionship of the Holy Ghost our lives must be in conformance with gospel standards, for “the Spirit of the Lord doth not dwell in unholy temples.” (Hel. 4:24.) President Harold B. Lee has said, “The key to success in this regard is humility of spirit whereby one seeks to live in accordance with the eternal perspective of an everlasting life and the earnest effort to know the will of the Lord.” (General Conference, October 1946, italics added.)
An “earnest effort to know the will of the Lord” reminds us of Nephi’s exhortation to diligently seek the Holy Ghost. (See 1 Ne. 10:17.) We have to desire the Holy Ghost and make that desire manifest through earnest prayer and supplication. “And it shall come to pass, that if you shall ask the Father in my name, in faith believing, you shall receive the Holy Ghost.” (D&C 14:8; italics added.)
Once we have done these things—having lived according to gospel standards, prayed diligently, exercised faith, and received guidance from the Holy Ghost the scriptures point out that our job is not yet done. We must then listen to the promptings of the Holy Ghost, the “still small voice” that may come naturally as a thought or impression. The Prophet Joseph Smith said, “A person may profit by noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of ideas, so that by noticing it, you may find it fulfilled the same day or soon … ; and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may grow into the principle of revelation.” (Teachings of the Prophet Joseph Smith, p. 151.)
I had an experience that illustrates this concept. While I was serving as Relief Society president in our ward, my husband was asked to serve as elders quorum group leader while the quorum president was gone for the summer. When we received word that the quorum president would not be returning, we discussed the possibility of my husband filling this position. We disregarded it, however, feeling that both of us filling such demanding and time-consuming jobs would be too hard on our three preschoolers.
But still I felt the inclination to pray about it. One night as I was praying the thought came clearly into my mind that if the Lord called my husband to this position, we were to recognize it as an indication to us that He felt it was possible for us to handle the assignment. If we would be wise in our planning, our children would not suffer. When my husband was called by the stake president and sustained to this position the next week, I saw the fulfillment of the promptings I had received. Prior to being called, my husband had also received witness from the Holy Ghost that this was the position he was to fill at this time.
We must be teachable and open to the whisperings of the Spirit something that improves with practice. We must become accustomed to listening to the Spirit in little daily matters as well as larger ones. Such instruction about little things may come to us line upon line, precept upon precept, for the Holy Ghost reveals to us only that amount which we are able to accept.
My husband had to drive out of state on business one night. It was not a long drive, and he anticipated arriving about 7:00 P.M. He left, saying he would call when he got there. By eight o’clock I was starting to worry, and by ten I was getting increasingly upset. I would try, off and on, to get some sleep; but by 2:00 A.M. I knew that I needed the comfort of the Holy Ghost. I knelt, unable to sleep, almost sick with fear, and prayed for the Holy Ghost to comfort me and give me a sense of peace if everything was all right. Twice during the night I had this sense of calm for a few minutes, but I rationalized it away, being unaccustomed to listening to that kind of spiritual prompting. I ignored the feelings I had because I felt that logically, if everything were all right, he would find some way to get in touch with me.
The next morning I was able to locate him and found out that he was fine; my usually considerate husband had simply forgotten to call. How much less painful that night would have been if I had accepted the whisperings of the Spirit and not rejected them.
Once we have learned to listen and to recognize the promptings of the Holy Ghost, there is one more thing we must do: We must act upon those promptings. Once we know the Lord’s will, it is important that we do not procrastinate our obedience out of neglect or fear. Sometimes it will take courage to follow through on these whisperings, and sometimes it will just take diligence in not putting them off. If we are prompted by the Lord to get Sister Jones involved in some activity or to go visit Brother Smith to see if something is troubling him, we must follow that prompting. The time may never be as ideal again for us to be of service to them.
If we will put our lives in order, pray in faith, study out our needs in our minds, listen to the promptings of the Spirit and act upon them, we can be assured of the daily guidance we have been promised, as fast as we are able to accept it and profit by it.
The Doctrine and Covenants speaks of a state of character and spiritual progress where one may have the Holy Ghost as a “constant companion.” (D&C 121:46.)
As we look at our own relationships with the Holy Ghost, what do we find? A stranger, a visitor or our constant companion?

My name is Emily. Do you know what I like best about being me? I like having lots of feelings inside me, and I like showing my feelings in lots of different ways.
Today I gave a talk about Jesus Christ in Primary. I felt scared. I showed I was scared when my voice cracked.
I felt peaceful, though, when I looked up and saw my father and mother smiling at me. I covered my mouth so that I wouldn’t laugh out loud when my big brother winked at me.
I felt happy when I told everyone that Jesus is my friend. I said, “Heavenly Father and Jesus love me, and I love them.”
I showed reverence when I walked to my seat with my arms folded. I closed my eyes and bowed my head when the closing prayer was given. I listened to the prayer and said amen at the end so that Father in Heaven knew I was praying too.
During sacrament meeting I sat still in my seat and thought about Jesus while the bread and water were being passed. I felt warm and calm and happy and peaceful. I felt the Holy Spirit inside my heart. I like that feeling best of all.

An example of someone who took personal responsibility to become self-reliant is Cedrick Tshiambwe. Cedrick joined the Church in Luputa, Democratic Republic of the Congo, when he was 12 years old after reading and praying about the Book of Mormon. He wanted to serve a mission, so he developed a plan to save money to cover some of the costs of his mission. To earn the money, he purchased bananas from neighboring towns to take back to Luputa to sell. Using his bicycle, he found he could transport about four to six bunches at a time. Depending on the day, he rode as far as the neighboring town of Lusuku, some 29 kilometres away, to purchase the bananas. It took Cedrick four years, but he saved enough money to pay for his passport, buy clothes and scriptures and to be able to contribute to his mission in the Democratic Republic of Congo Kinshasa Mission.5