Gospel Story Finder

Alibert Davies, another Ghanaian, accompanied a friend to one of our meetinghouses, where the friend had a presidency meeting. While he waited for his friend, Alibert read a book he found nearby. When the meeting ended, Alibert wanted to take the book home. He was given permission to take not only that book but also a copy of the Book of Mormon. When he got home, he started reading the Book of Mormon. He could not put it down. He read by candlelight until 3:00 a.m. He did that for several nights, overwhelmed by what he read and what he felt. Alibert is now a member of the Church.

Years later, our family had grown to five children, including our youngest, Spencer.
Once, when Spencer was six years old, my wife and I went away for just a few days and left the children with a babysitter. When we returned home, I sat down with Spencer and asked him how everything had gone while we were away.
He told me that he’d had a hard time sleeping. When I asked why he didn’t sleep well, he thought about it and said he did not know.
Later that evening our family began our nightly routine of reading the Book of Mormon together.
Suddenly Spencer exclaimed, “That’s it!” I asked what he was talking about. “That’s why I couldn’t sleep very well at night.”
“Why couldn’t you sleep?” I asked.
“We didn’t read the scriptures at night while you were gone, and I like how the scriptures make me feel.”
Spencer had learned that reading the scriptures every day brings us the comfort, peace, and guidance of the Holy Ghost.

Jane Johnson
Although I have been a member of The Church all my life, I have never felt as close to the Saviour as I do now. I was brought up in a home with faithful parents who served the Lord to the fullest.
I had bad epilepsy for most of my life, which in turn caused me to have depression, a skin graft on my arm, and two unsuccessful brain surgeries. Losing my memory and losing our family home were also among things that happened while my husband was Stake President.
Fasting and praying during these times comforted us.
However, it wasn‘t until I had cancer that things seemed to change about the way I felt. As a result, I had to have my full leg amputated. My sister passed away while I was in hospital.
A year later I started to feel angry. A good friend, who is paralysed from the waist down, said it might be because I was mourning the loss of my leg. I was feeling sorry for myself. I had to pray for help to get over how I was feeling. I had a blessing which said I‘d been given this to help others. Since that blessing, four members of my Ward were diagnosed with cancer and others around the country have called to speak to me. I was able to be there for them.
In 2020, my cancer unexpectedly returned! After the initial crying from us all, I felt calm. I had another wonderful blessing and could feel peace. I play the piano, and playing songs helped me get through it.
I love the April 2020 General Conference talk from President Nelson called Hear Him.1 Playing and listening to music is a way I Hear Him. I prayed to Heavenly Father and said I didn‘t mind having chemo as long as I suited being bald.
The cancer went, which was a surprise, and a nurse who was an atheist said, “You know I don‘t believe in God, but someone is watching over you”. I‘d spoken to them all during my treatment about members fasting and praying.
In June 2022, the cancer had returned for the third time in 4 places! I‘ve never been an anxious person but waiting for the result was horrible. My husband and I hugged and cried yet again. We said a prayer to ask Heavenly Father to help us get through it. Another talk from President Nelson came to mind. It was Let God Prevail.2
This time the monthly chemotherapy has affected me psychologically. I‘m a strong-willed person and I‘ve never said, “Why me?”. Instead, I ask the Lord what I need to learn. My prayers have never been as heartfelt. Yes, sometimes I cry out during the night when I‘m so fatigued with my chemo. We have a picture of Christ on our bedroom wall, and when I‘m awake during the night I ask for His help. I have the words ‘Let God Prevail‘ in my mind every day. Whenever my husband is stressed about his business, he knows I‘m going to smile and he says, “Let God Prevail.”
Although we‘re going through these trials, and I still have down days where I cry and feel hopeless, most days I Let God Prevail and feel at peace. I‘m still serving as our Ward Relief Society President, and blessed to be able to help the members with their trials in their lives.
Let us not put off praying and asking for help getting through challenges in our lives. The Lord is there, waiting for us to ask for help- “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

At Church activities I would ask myself, “Why don’t I have friends?” I felt sad and alone and went to God in prayer. I asked my Heavenly Father to send me good friends. It hasn’t been easy, but over time I’ve made many great friends. I’m not afraid to talk anymore and to get involved with groups of girls. I realize that Heavenly Father answered my prayers and that I was never alone.
Daiana I., age 16, Corrientes, Argentina

Then in February a new convert named Keith moved into our small branch. He had been a member for five months and had the enthusiasm of four new missionaries in one. When the college we attended announced a foster grandparent program involving a local rest home, Keith suggested that we, the only LDS students on campus, should join and be good examples. We talked about visiting two branch members who lived in the rest home, but we took no action.
Then one Sunday President Harrison gave a talk on faith. He said faith was putting your words and beliefs in action. That afternoon Keith and I decided to visit the sisters in the rest home.
Our first visit was a disaster. We visited each sister alone, and we didn’t really get beyond “How are you?” “Fine.” As we left we knew to things: first, they needed us; second, we could do better. And even though we spent much of the next Sunday afternoon driving the 150 miles home from district conference, Keith and I convinced Les Harrison, his sister LeAnn, and Portia (a nursing student) to visit the women with us.
We wheeled both sisters into a quiet corner. Keith read an article from a Church magazine, Les read a scripture, and Portia offered a beautiful prayer. We felt good about the experience, and the next Sunday we came with seven Young Adults and youth. With President Harrison’s permission, Les and Keith blessed the sacrament and passed it to the sisters. We then wheeled them into a small chapel in the rest home and sang a hymn. We took turns reading an article from the Church magazines, then a poem and a scripture. We had a closing hymn and prayer.
It was three o’clock before we left, and since we were all hungry, Les invited us to his house for soup and crackers. So that Sunday afternoon I was again in the branch president’s home—but this time it was very different from the Sunday I went there looking for someone to play ice hockey. During the week the seven of us were scattered about the town, and many of us were without families in the Church. But for two hours that Sunday afternoon, we sat around the table and talked with each other and Les’s parents, sharing jokes, stories, and the problems of being lone Latter-day Saints out in the mission field. It was truly an inspiring experience.
When I finally returned home at ten o’clock after several other meetings, I had no time left to work on my genealogy or write a letter to a missionary as I had planned. As I knelt for prayer that night, I realized there were more “dos” for the Sabbath than I could ever fit into one short day. I thanked my Heavenly Father for the special day he had set apart to bless us.

I was in despair and needed strength beyond my own.
I had recently gotten divorced from my husband and still had an unhealthy relationship with him. I had also just given birth to a baby girl, but after praying and pondering about my unique circumstances, I made the difficult decision to put her up for adoption because I felt like I wouldn’t be able to raise and support her on my own.
My self-worth was at its lowest point.
Grieving the loss of my marriage and baby girl at the same time was almost unbearable. I believed in eternal families, but my divorce and adoption placements were final, and there was no hope of being a family with these two people in the eternities. The pain felt truly overwhelming.
Through all the pain, I stayed active in the Church, being the best disciple of Christ I knew how to be. Nevertheless, I could not seem to break my unhealthy relationship with my ex-husband, which often occurs in a cycle of emotional abuse (like the one I was in). I knew logically that I needed to set stricter boundaries for myself with him, but I could not make myself do it.
I talked to my bishop about my situation and how I felt like my ex-husband had an unseen hold on me. In his attempts to support me, my bishop asked questions like, “Are you going to church every week?” “Are you faithfully magnifying your callings?” “Are you saying your prayers daily?”
I was able to answer yes to all these questions.
But then he asked, “Are you reading the Book of Mormon regularly?”
I admitted I was not.
He challenged me to start reading it, and I did.
When I got to Jacob chapter 2, the messages really started to resonate with me.
Jacob’s soul was burdened because of the strict commandment he had received from God—to admonish his brethren according to their crimes. Jacob 2:7 says, “It grieveth me that I must use so much boldness of speech concerning you, before your wives and your children, many of whose feelings are exceedingly tender and chaste and delicate before God, which thing is pleasing unto God.”
Jacob 2:35 says, “Ye have broken the hearts of your tender wives, and lost the confidence of your children, because of your bad examples before them; and the sobbings of their hearts ascend up to God against you.”
As I read, the Spirit testified to me that God was aware of my situation. God knew I was one of the tender wives whose hearts were broken. I shed many tears over my situation.
I experienced increased hope and fortitude as I continued to study the Book of Mormon faithfully. I journaled my thoughts and the truths I learned as I read. Within just a few weeks, I felt stronger than I had ever felt in my life! I found the strength and power to see clearly and begin to let go of my grief, and I was able to start moving forward. I knew this power came from studying the Book of Mormon.
President Russell M. Nelson recently taught: “Few things build faith more than does regular immersion in the Book of Mormon. No other book testifies of Jesus Christ with such power and clarity. Its prophets, as inspired by the Lord, saw our day and selected the doctrine and truths that would help us most. The Book of Mormon is our latter-day survival guide.”1
When I heard our prophet say this, I realized we receive strength from reading the Book of Mormon because it testifies of Jesus Christ with more power than any other book. Jesus Christ is the source of strength! And regular immersion in the Book of Mormon builds our faith, which gives us the power to face and overcome challenges.
I am so grateful I was blessed with the strength to break the unhealthy cycle with my ex-husband. It took a while for me to forgive him, but as I continued to study the Book of Mormon, I learned it was possible for me to forgive through the power of Jesus Christ’s Atonement.

I had a letter only a few days ago from a man in Edinburgh, Scotland. His name is George Stewart. He’ll be surprised at my mentioning this, but he wanted to thank me because when he was 15 years old (some 40 years ago), I was presiding over the mission in Scotland. He wanted to thank me for the missionaries’ coming to their home in Thornliebank, one of the areas of Glasgow. He had joined the Church along with his mother.
He said that as he developed a testimony of the Book of Mormon, as he started reading it and as he kept reading it, he couldn’t put it down because he knew it was true. He kept reading and reading and developing a testimony of the gospel as a young man. He told how he used to come over to the mission home and how we were kind to him and we would spend time with the young people because they were getting into Mutual, which we were starting in the branches.
Then he told of the blessings that had come into his life as a young man, that he had met his sweetheart in that little branch—his wife—and that they were married and that they had four children: a son who had finished a mission in the Washington D.C. Mission; a son who served in the England Leeds Mission; a daughter who was married in the temple; and one who is waiting for the return of a missionary. He voiced gratitude for all of the blessings that had come into his life and the lives of his sons who have been on missions and his daughters.
During the past 40 years, he has served as a bishop four times in four different units, and his wife has served as a Relief Society president on three occasions. He is currently serving as a counselor in the Edinburgh stake presidency. He said, “And I’m going to be retiring very shortly from the company I’m with. I’ve done very well, and we plan to go out on a mission together.”
Then he said these words to me: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.” Let me say that again: “This amazing Church has woven a pattern of miracles in our lives.”
And he says the gospel came into his life, to his wife, to all of his children, and to their children. The grandchildren are active in the Church, and he and his wife now have a great desire to go out into the world when they retire from their profession.

One sister, living in an isolated area, was desperate for companionship. She often enthusiastically welcomed a neighbor into her home who was critical of a Church leader. After a while, this sister found herself being persuaded by her friend’s seemingly logical thinking. But one Sunday, while she was thinking about the experience, the Spirit counseled her that her friend was in error and that she herself was dangerously close to losing her testimony. She decided that hour to become better acquainted with the scriptures and with the spirit of peace and faith found in them.

During the Christmas season last year, I found myself praying for a lot of things for myself. But as I prayed on the night of 23 December, I felt something wonderful inside, an indescribable joy. The feeling grew as I continued my prayer. I didn’t say anything about the things I wanted. In fact, my prayer changed completely; I started praying for other people, for all those around me, and I asked Heavenly Father to forgive me for my selfishness. When I finished, I realized that an hour had gone by. I had never felt the Spirit so strongly.
From this experience, I learned that Christmas is a time to give, not to receive. I didn’t give anything material to anyone, but I later realized that my humble prayer had been answered. Almost everyone I had prayed for on that night, when my heart was overflowing with joy, received what I had asked for.

When I was newly called as an Area Seventy, I participated in a radio interview in Puerto Rico with different ecclesiastical leaders of various religions. Among them was a leader who held a doctoral degree in theology. He asked me why Mormons, referring to members of the Church, believe that in heaven we will be married. He indicated that our belief of eternal families was incorrect since the Holy Bible, in the book of Matthew 22:30 indicated that, “For in the resurrection, they neither marry, nor are given in marriage, but are as the angels of God in heaven.”
I answered clearly, simply and with love. I explained that at that moment Jesus Christ was answering people who did not even believe in the Resurrection, let alone all the saving truths as indicated in the Holy Bible and the Book of Mormon, another witness of Jesus Christ. Those who live according to the way of the world, if they do not repent and come to the truth, will not be worthy of obtaining the fullness of the reward in the hereafter. I explained that in the same Holy Bible, the Lord through the Apostle Paul teaches us in Ephesians 3:14–15, that there are families in heaven and on earth, “For this cause I bow my knees unto the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,
“Of whom every family in heaven and earth is named.”
No doubt there are families in heaven.

Moving from his hometown hadn’t been easy for Charlie. After Dad had been offered a better job, the family decided to move. Charlie’s seven-year-old brother, Justin, didn’t mind the move. Justin made friends wherever he went.
But going into a new sixth-grade class in the middle of the school year was hard for Charlie. Most of the kids had known each other since kindergarten. No one seemed interested in getting to know him. So Charlie was excited when Ryan and a couple other guys in his class asked him to go to the mall with them after school. They were going to look for some equipment for baseball season, which was only two weeks away.
As the boys walked into a sports equipment store, Charlie pulled a catcher’s mitt from the wall and tried it on.
“That’s a cool mitt,” Ryan said.
“I know,” Charlie said. “Too bad I don’t have any money.”
“Just stick it in your backpack,” Ryan said. “Nobody’s watching.”
“What? You just want me to take it?” Charlie asked.
“They overcharge for everything in this store,” Ryan said. “We probably pay too much for a lot of things.”
Charlie wanted that mitt. Baseball season started soon, and he needed a new catcher’s mitt. A lump formed in his throat. He knew he shouldn’t take the mitt.
“Go ahead. Take it,” Ryan said.
“Not right now,” Charlie said. “Maybe later.”
Charlie hung the glove back on the wall and turned around. The boys were laughing.
“Baseball season is coming up,” Ryan reminded Charlie as they left the store. “You’re going to need a glove soon.”
Charlie couldn’t concentrate on his homework that evening. He still wanted that mitt. He started to wonder if Ryan was right. At dinner, Mom and Dad noticed something was wrong.
“How are things at school, Charlie?” Dad asked.
“I got 100 percent on my spelling test,” Justin said.
“That’s great,” Dad said.
“How about you, Charlie?” Mom asked. “How’s that essay coming along?”
“I’m almost done,” Charlie muttered. “I’ll go finish it now.”
Charlie’s teacher had assigned him to write an essay about freedom. Charlie pulled out his notebook, picked up his pen, and began reading from his textbook. “Freedom has two parts—agency and responsibility.”
Charlie had learned about agency at church, but he never really thought about it being connected with freedom. He started thinking about the catcher’s mitt. He knew he shouldn’t take it. He decided he wouldn’t—no matter what the other guys thought.
The next day at school, Charlie told Ryan he wasn’t going to take the catcher’s mitt.
“What’s the big deal?” Ryan asked. “They’ve got hundreds of them.”
“Stealing is wrong, even if the store has a lot,” Charlie said.
Ryan laughed as Charlie walked away.
That night, Charlie told his parents how he had been tempted to take the mitt.
“What stopped you?” Dad asked.
“I just knew it wasn’t honest,” Charlie said. “I knew it would be the wrong choice.”
Dad placed his hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “We’re proud of you,” he said.
Even though Charlie still hadn’t made any good friends in his new class yet, he felt happy as he lay in bed that night. With baseball season just around the corner, he knew he would have a chance to make some new friends.

When I was 11 years old, I loved basketball. My oldest brother loved it too. He played on the basketball team in college. He had to decide whether to serve a mission or keep playing on the team.
One night at dinner, he was talking with our family about whether or not to serve a mission. I just blurted out, “If you go on a mission, I’ll go on a mission.” Everyone was silent as my brother thought about what I said.
My brother did decide to go on a mission! In fact, all four of my brothers served missions. When it was time for me to decide whether or not to serve, it wasn’t a question. I had already made that choice!

Time Cat: The Remarkable Journeys of Jason and Gareth, by Lloyd Alexander. Jason isn’t surprised to find out that Gareth can talk. After all, Gareth is an exceptionally smart cat. But what does surprise Jason is that Gareth can travel through history! Together the boy and his cat visit time periods from ancient Egypt to the American Revolution—and many in between—to discover the cultures of people around the world.

Sister Busche says that her husband has an unusual ability to respond to people, especially to his children. “The most important thing is that he has a good feeling for people—that he can love them and understand them and help them.” She tells of a time when one son faced the difficult choice of marriage or a mission. The Busches were in the mission home in Munich at the time, and their son and his girlfriend came to visit them. Elder Busche told his son, “We love you, and you are totally free. If you feel you should marry, we will still love you. But before you decide, go in your room and ask Heavenly Father.” The son came from his room with tears in his eyes and the commitment that he would go on a mission.

Enough is enough, and the mailman was feeling a little bit sorry for himself as he wiped away the water that had cascaded onto his face from his plastic-covered hat and delivered one of the last letters of the day. The return address on the envelope was 50 East North Temple, Salt Lake City, Utah 84150.
The leaders of the Van Nuys California Stake who received the letter read it a second time and looked quizzically at one another.
“What’s a Heritage Arts Festival?” one of them asked.
“I don’t know,” another answered, looking out a rain-streaked window and sighing. “Let’s read the letter again.”
The letter wasn’t much help. It made it quite clear that the young people of the stake were to hold a Heritage Arts Festival, but it simply didn’t explain what one was. And so, with only a title to go on, they forgot all about the rain and started exercising their ingenuity.
They decided that whatever else the festival turned out to be, it should be something that “shows our neighbors and friends what young Latter-day Saints can be.” They met with the youth and adult leaders of the various wards in the stake and came up with a full calendar for an April afternoon and evening. The festival was to include craft and food booths emphasizing Mormon pioneer heritage, facilities for family picnics, and a creative arts contest. The theme would be “From Then Till Now—1830–1975,” and the evening would end with a program in which each ward in the stake would represent one time period from then till now. And in a rather bold move, considering the weather, they decided to locate the booths out-of-doors.
A few months later, on the morning of the festival, the wards of the stake were busy practicing their skits and working on their booths. Inside the stake center a young man in blue jeans and a Civil War coat wandered by toward the stage where Abraham Lincoln was being fitted for his tall black cardboard hat. The great emancipator was wearing a cast, having recently broken his leg, and would have to lead his people through the Civil War in that condition.
It was a bright, sunny day in the San Fernando Valley, without a hint of smog. The weatherman had predicted rain; the young people and their leaders had prayed for good weather. The weatherman was a good meteorologist, but he was simply out of his league.
At about 4:00 in the afternoon the crowds started arriving. They wandered from booth to booth, enjoying the displays and the free samples at the food booths. Some of them ate picnics on the lawn, where tables and chairs had been provided for them.
As the crowds milled around the booths, a distinguished looking group of men in dark hats and coats appeared carrying a bucket, an easel, and some pictures. One of the men upended the bucket and mounted it while another set up the easel. Soon the crowd was being treated to an authentic 19th century street meeting—authentic, that is, except for the bullhorn that the preacher used. The meeting started with four of the missionaries singing “Sweet Is the Work” in beautiful harmony, followed by a gospel sermon and another hymn. Wags from the local wards provided some unsolicited heckling, but the elders handled it in fine form, turning the barbs back on their assailants. Then a man from the Spanish Branch wandered by and shouted, “Puras mentiras!” (It’s all a lie!) in a voice of pious conviction.
“What this good brother says is true—whatever it was he said!” the missionary exclaimed, pointing his cane for emphasis. Another street meeting was held every quarter hour or so, with a different stake or full-time missionary preaching each time.
At the booth of the Spanish Branch a lady demonstrated how to make delicate bread-dough roses. An onlooker asked a question, and the lady spread her hands and replied, “I’m no expert”; then she smiled as a teenager arrived. “Here’s the expert,” she said, and the girl took over the demonstration. In front of the candle-dipping display a young fellow watched the laborious process and shook his head.
“They didn’t really have to go through all that just to make a candle, did they?” he said.
A knot of people gathered in front of the Candy Kitchen, inhaling the aroma and happily licking chocolate-smeared fingers. A young lady took her first look at a real chunk of homemade lye soap and asked, “Is that cheese?” A father barely put his son down at the arm-wrestling area and then smiled a little doubtfully, rubbing his hand. “Wait till next year,” his son smiled.
As 7:00 P.M. approached, more and more of the youths turned the booths over to their adult leaders and went inside to get costumed for the evening’s performance.
In the Junior Sunday School room a ward warmed up for its presentation. Some girls with beauty spots on their cheeks and fiery red lipstick on their lips, wearing fringed flapper dresses, frilly garters, voluminous strings of beads, and head-hugging hats, chewed gum furiously and kicked their way through a deadpan Charleston. Young men in striped vests, black bow ties, and cardboard skimmers practiced a little soft-shoe. One of them pistoned his hat on and off, keeping pace with his eyebrows and looking like a one-man chorus line. A long-lashed brunette gave several experimental flounces with her feathered boa, rolling her eyes in the top half of a glamourous pout. A blonde in black net stockings stood knock-kneed, squinting into a tiny mirror as she applied her makeup. The pianist bounced up and down on the stool in time to the music, and a young man knocked out the rhythm with the back of his knuckles on the top of the upright piano.
In the men’s room, costumes were going on. A young man in a white T-shirt with the arms rolled up scowled into the mirror, seeking just the right air of bored insolence. Then he combed his hair carefully back into a classic ducktail. When he was ready, he looked exactly like a refugee from the 50s trapped somehow in the wrong decade.
All 350 cast members eventually gathered in the chapel to await the beginning of the program. The flappers and bobby soxers mingled with Civil War belles, barbershop quartets and fine ladies from the 90s, Confederate and Union soldiers with lipstick wounds, rock fans, victims of the Depression, soldiers from both world wars, carefully gowned and hatted ladies carrying placards demanding the vote for women, rough-clad pioneers, and a sea of others. The chapel looked like a passenger lounge in a time machine terminal.
Near the door a woman with a bag full of fruit pointed a half-peeled banana at her gowned and rouged daughter. “Eat it! You’ve got to eat something or you’ll get sick.” The girl looked heavenward in a voiceless sermon on the woes of raising Mom, but she ate it while her mother smiled proudly at her.
There were some last-minute instructions and a prayer. An electric wave of preshow jitters filled the room as the crowd sounds drifted in and the hour drew near.
To start the show, the flags of each ward, which had been designed by the young people, were brought in to the flourishes of a trumpet fanfare and set up in their places.
Johnny Whitaker, popular young Mormon entertainer, emceed the show. After the invocation and a few words of introduction, he swang into a rousing rendition of “I Believe in Music,” and on the second verse the 350 young people came streaming down the aisles, singing along with him. “I believe in music. I believe in love!” They sang to a packed house, easily more than 1,000 spectators, many of them standing around the edges of the hall and at the back. There was standing room only and then only behind somebody else. After their grand entry the cast filed into a room where they awaited their turn to perform.
“Reach back, America, into the dim, far-off pages of beginnings—to the beginnings of our Mormon heritage where all the things that touched others touched us,” Johnny began; and “From Then Till Now” became a reality.
The stake Young Adults presented the first period, the early days of the Church when the Prophet Joseph was alive, depicting a trial scene in which he was found innocent of the charges but warned not to preach his doctrine any more.
The Sherman Oaks Second Ward handled the pioneer era, showing a camp scene from the trek across the plains and throwing in a rousing old-time square dance, complete with a professional caller who donated his services.
The Civil War era was interpreted by the Panorama City Ward, complete with Abraham Lincoln, Civil War songs, and both armies.
The San Fernando Ward recreated the gay 90s, featuring the beautiful songs of the period, bicycles built for two, barbershop quartets, and boundless optimism.
The Van Nuys Ward brought to life the first two decades of the 20th century, including a war, boogie woogie, automobiles, and suffragettes.
The Sylmar Ward recreated a rousing, roaring 20s with authentic song and dance numbers, raccoon coats, flappers, the Charleston, jazz, and no tomorrow.
The Spanish Branch recalled the dismal 30s in their skit, featuring songs and dances of the period that showed optimism in times of adversity.
The Van Nuys Third Ward interpreted the 40s with a war, a Statue of Liberty wheeled in on a dolly, and songs, dances, and people of the period.
The Sherman Oaks Ward zeroed in on the 50s with an American Bandstand presentation, singing songs such as “Mr. Sandman” and “Rockin’ Robin.” There was also a personal visit from “Elvis.”
The Sepulveda Ward presented the 60s, complete with rock concerts, the Beatles, and protests.
Everything went smoothly from the audience’s point of view. Scenery changes seemed to happen by magic, and the show flowed as if it had been rehearsed a hundred times, although there had been only one full-stake rehearsal. But back stage between skits was a different story as the exiting cast, scenery, and props from one ward met the next ward coming on stage. Then covered wagons warred with Confederate soldiers, and the Statute of Liberty was buffeted by hordes of pretty girls with parasols. It was a mammoth stampede in which each decade seemed bent on trampling another, but somehow everything always untangled itself in time for the curtain.
When it came time for the 1970s, the cast members in their various costumes all took their places at the front of the hall to form a 350-voice choir. They had practiced their songs on Sunday evenings for several weeks, and there was a fine, gentle spirit as they sang songs of love and peace.
Just before the closing prayer, two children walked into the spotlight and sang “I Am a Child of God,” the choir joining in on the last verse. It was an appropriate ending to a performance full of love and understanding and hope.
In retrospect, the festival provided not only entertainment and fun, but some wonderful memories and a lot of learning. For example, preparation of the displays and the program required the youth to do some serious research. The young people who prepared the genealogy booth studied the principles of genealogy and made a trip to the local Genealogical Society branch library.
Others learned how to make soap, candles, and other essentials the same way pioneers did, not to mention many contemporary craft skills. Some high school history teachers may also be surprised at the knowledge of U.S. history their LDS students have picked up by researching a time period for their skits.
The festival was also a wonderful missionary for the many nonmember and inactive young people who took part. For example, a band that was composed of both member and nonmember youths not only got everyone in the group excited about the Church, but made them decide to keep the group together after the festival.
A number of nonmember adults took part also, doing everything from teaching dance steps to sewing costumes. One non-Mormon hair dresser volunteered to style the hair of all the girls in her ward in the style of the period they represented.
The adult leaders in each ward rolled up their sleeves and worked hard right alongside the youth. Typical was one good sister who attended the dress rehearsal the night before the performance, did some energetic dance steps to illustrate a bit of last-minute choreography, sang her heart out, and then went to the hospital that night and had her baby.
The separate parts of the production were not actually brought together until the last few days before the festival, and there was a lot of pressure and hurry for those in charge. One sister was so caught up that she drove her daughter to school one morning and was parked in front of the school before realizing that she had forgotten the daughter.
But in spite of this one bit of absentmindedness, the young people of the Van Nuys Stake know very well that they are not forgotten, nor will they forget this experience. No one told them in advance what a Heritage Arts Festival was, but no one had any doubts afterwards. It was not only a good way to bring in some sunshine in place of rain, but it was also a great way to serve and grow and learn to love one another. Above all it was a way to “show our neighbors and friends what young Latter-day Saints can be.”

Isn’t Christmas exciting! Don’t you relish the time with friends and loved ones, fun gatherings and gifts, and especially the reason to celebrate it all? Have you ever wished you could celebrate the whole year long? Well, if you happen to live in West Plains, Missouri, you can.
During the month of July, West Plains is like the rest of the Midwestern states—hot and sticky. Not exactly the time of year when most people are thinking about singing carols or wrapping gifts. But the youth decided it would be the perfect time to begin their preparations for a holiday celebration. Since they hosted their stake’s youth conference, they decided to include all the youth in a project that is ongoing in West Plains. Every year, members of the West Plains Ward find a way to help their local hospice, a program that provides support services to terminally ill patients and their families.
“The Relief Society in our ward has made lap quilts and other service projects for hospice,” says Stephanie Jones, a Laurel. “We decided that it would be fun to do some service projects that the youth could be involved in.”
So a few of the Laurels in the ward spearheaded the youth conference efforts as value projects, and everybody got to work.
The youth and their leaders decided that one of the nicest things they could do for the hospice patients and their families was to provide a simple Christmas decoration to brighten their homes. They decorated small, tabletop-sized Christmas trees, complete with ornaments and tinsel.
“When you or someone you love is ill, things like decorating for the holidays are sometimes forgotten,” says Angie Periera, the liaison from the hospice program who helped the youth put their project together. “But if someone else will do it for you, it makes it feel like Christmas. It’s a small thing, but it makes a big difference.”
Next, they decided that a message of love and hope would also be a great boost to people’s spirits, so they made personalized Christmas cards for each person who would be receiving a tree. Kyle La Brue and Buddy La Rue, two young men from the Osage Beach Ward, wrote “The Lord loves you and so do we” in their cards. Other youth used scriptures or wrote brief testimonies.
“Doing a project like this makes you think about your own family and friends,” says Mia Maid Julia Jones. “When we did our cards, we tried to let people know that we really did care about them, even if we didn’t know them.”
After the last tree was decorated and the last card was signed, the youth set out to show the hospice patients how much they cared through their actions. They spent the afternoon doing yard work, scraping and painting houses and sheds, even doing housework.
“Helping people at their homes can be awkward at first,” says Priest Justin Saunders. “But they really appreciated it and seemed glad to have us. It turned out to be fun.”
Apparently, people were more than appreciative. They were ecstatic. One woman, whose husband had been bedridden for some time, took pictures of the youth scraping and painting the shed outside their home. She wanted him to see them in action, even though he couldn’t get outside.
Another woman, Mrs. Estelle Conquest, needed a wheelchair ramp built outside her home to help her get out for simple things like collecting the mail.
“You have no idea how much something like this helps me,” says Mrs. Conquest. “These kids are just the greatest.”
After the projects were complete and youth conference was over, the gifts were stored and forgotten—but not for long.
Marie Taylor, a Laurel, spent a lot of time on her Laurel project. She coordinated the collection and wrapping of several large boxes—giant Christmas containers to be filled with food and delivered to hospice patients and their families. During youth conference, the boxes were wrapped and made ready to go. They wouldn’t be filled with food until the holidays, so they needed to be in storage for a while before they were used. But after being transported a few times, some of the boxes looked a little worse for the wear.
“I did a lot of crazy things to get those boxes,” says Marie, who rounded up her friends to help and then asked local merchants to let her take boxes they no longer needed. “Most of the store owners were nice, but I had to work for those boxes! At one place, with the permission of the owners, I actually climbed into the Dumpster to get a bunch of boxes out.”
So you can imagine her dismay when, just before the holiday season, she discovered that some of the carefully wrapped boxes had come unwrapped or were otherwise unready to be used for food.
“It was discouraging to do things over again,” says Marie. “But we really wanted them to look good. So the other girls in the ward and I had a wrapping party to re-do the damaged boxes. It turned out to be pretty fun.”
After the boxes were prepared to go again, they were finally ready to be given to the coordinators at the hospice office, which was just down the street from the business where the boxes were being stored. But this time the youth decided that loading piles of boxes into a car for transport wasn’t such a good idea. After all, that was what had damaged many of the wrapping jobs the first time around. They decided that since the boxes had such a short way to travel, they would form a human chain from the location where the boxes were being stored to where they needed to go.
There aren’t too many LDS youth in West Plains, so they invited Primary children, adult leaders, and anyone else who wanted to help. They donned elves’ caps and spread out right through the heart of downtown West Plains. The boxes were handed from one person to another, and soon they were all safely at their destination, ready to be filled with food from the West Plains Ward and other community groups.
The group attracted a bit of attention from passersby, who were invited to join in. They didn’t have many takers, but several people did find out where they could donate food to go inside the boxes.
“Doing a project like this really makes you feel good,” says Heather Camier, a Beehive. “It’s great to work together as a group for a good cause. It’s the best this time of year; it really makes it feel like Christmas.”
Most of the food boxes and gifts were delivered by hospice employees, but a few were given to the youth to deliver on Mutual night. Bundled in coats and singing carols, they carried food boxes, trees, and cards to a few of the people they had been able to serve in July. Of course it was a lot colder that night than it had been during the summer, but the warm feelings that come with service are the same no matter what time of year it is.
“Delivering the gifts and seeing how happy it made people was a lot of fun,” says Joe Jones, a priest. “It was also great to see how our service during youth conference really paid off.”
Soon after Mutual was over, the youth were at home, preparing to spend Christmas with their own families and loved ones. But the good feeling of helping others is hard to forget. It’s the kind of feeling they’d like to enjoy all year, not just at Christmas. And with youth conference coming up again this summer, they won’t have to wait till December.

Although seven-year-old Caylen Craven of Pawhuska, Oklahoma, has not ever had to go to war, he is a “stripling warrior” because he has learned how to be honest, too. One day while walking through the airport with his family, he saw a man in front of him accidently drop some money. Even though he is normally very shy around strangers, Caylen ran to pick up the money and return it to its owner.
Caylen’s mother wrote, “We were thankful that his first reaction was to do the right and honest thing, that he didn’t even think about keeping the dollar.”

Photograph courtesy of the author (right, with Sister Lim on the left)
Recently some missionaries in JeonJu Korea Stake and I made a flower garden at the entrance to my apartment. One morning before I went to my garden, I asked Heavenly Father to bless me to use the garden to make a new friend who was prepared to hear the gospel. That day while I was working in the garden, a woman approached.
“I’m looking for the church that is above a nearby supermarket,” she said. “Do you know where I can find it?”
“I don’t know that church,” I replied.
She went on her way but returned 30 minutes later.
“I’ve heard that there is a church here somewhere,” she said. “I moved to my apartment a few days ago, and I’m looking for a church to attend.”
At that moment, it struck me. She was the answer to my prayer. I learned that she had moved to the same floor of the same apartment building where my husband and I live.
The next day we met at an open area behind the garden. For more than three hours, Lim Bo Nam and I shared our lives. Acting on a strong feeling, I shared some of my beliefs as a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I also told her about the sacrament meetings we were holding in our home during the COVID-19 pandemic. Then I invited her to our home to join us. To my surprise, she promised to come.
We taught Sister Lim about repentance and the meaning of the emblems of the sacrament. We also shared some related Bible verses about the importance of being “born of water and of the Spirit” (John 3:5). The Spirit touched her.
Sister Lim expressed gratitude to learn about the true gospel of Jesus Christ. After receiving the discussions from the full-time missionaries, she was baptized August 1, 2020.
During her first fast and testimony meeting as a member of the Church, she testified that she had prayed to make friends in her new area. On the day we met, she had also prayed about which church to attend.
I am grateful the Lord answered both of our prayers and blessed me with the opportunity to make a friend and share the gospel with her.

In addition to personal growth, the clowns have been rewarded for their hard work with a treasure house of wonderful memories. “The first time we went into Shriners, we were all scared to death. We weren’t sure how we were going to handle working with crippled children. But they really responded, and it was a choice experience. When we finished we asked the nurse if there were any children who hadn’t been able to come.
“She took us to the room of a boy who had literally had his face ripped off in a car wreck. It looked like his face had been run through a hamburger grinder. He was so self-conscious that he wouldn’t come out of his room.
“So we took it very carefully. We walked in and said ‘Hi, we missed you. We wanted to give you a special balloon.’ At first he was really timid. But then he just started opening up. And I was so proud of the clowns. They really came on strong. They didn’t look away from him. They looked right at him and let him know that they cared about him.
“By the time they were finished, that boy was talking. He knew that he was somebody, and that there were four clowns in that room who cared about him. He told us about his upcoming surgery, and we all wished him the best. It was one of the most giving experiences of our lives.”

After I had served four months as a full-time missionary, my initial enthusiasm and zeal for the work had waned considerably. I found myself having a hard time understanding and being compassionate with my companion and was discouraged that we weren’t succeeding in the work. I lacked all the confidence I had felt so strongly just a few months earlier.

Alone in an interview with my mission president, I expressed my feelings of inadequacy and discouragement. “How do I develop more confidence in my work as a missionary?” I asked.

His response could not have surprised me more. He didn’t try to boost my confidence by telling me what good work I was doing. He didn’t teach me about the power of positive thinking. Instead he asked me how I felt about other people, especially those with whom I worked.

“I don’t have much patience,” I admitted. “I was so eager when I started my mission, and it’s frustrating when things don’t go as I anticipated.”

Before I left on my mission, I honestly thought I could get along with anyone. However, in the midst of adversity, I found that I was often critical and judgmental of others.

The president then read a familiar scripture:
“Let thy bowels also be full of charity towards all men, and to the household of faith, and let virtue garnish thy thoughts unceasingly; then shall thy confidence wax strong in the presence of God. …
“The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion” (D&C 121:45–46).

The relevance of this scripture to my situation was immediately apparent. As a missionary, I had lacked confidence, and this scripture promised enough confidence to wax strong in God’s presence. I lacked self-assurance, and this scripture promised the Comforter as a constant companion.

And the key to that kind of assurance, courage, and confidence? In addition to continually virtuous thoughts, I must have “charity towards all men.”

In my appraisal of others, including my companion, I had been critical and judgmental. By failing to have charity, I had cut off my potential source of confidence. I learned an invaluable lesson that day. I had long known that I hurt others when I criticize and find fault, but for the first time I realized how my judgmental attitude was harming myself as well. Since that discussion, I’ve noticed many times that when I am charitable toward others, I feel more confident and less limited by my own faults. In short, the harder I try to be forgiving, the easier it is to feel forgiven.