Gospel Story Finder

Katie Lewis is my neighbor. Her older brother, Jimmie, is battling leukemia. But like the faithful Latter-day Saints they are, the Lewises turned to God with urgency and with faith and with hope. They fasted and prayed, prayed and fasted. And they went again and again to the temple.
One day Sister Lewis came home from a temple session weary and worried. As she entered her home, four-year-old Katie ran up to her with love in her eyes and a crumpled sheaf [stack] of papers in her hand. Holding the papers out to her mother, she said enthusiastically, “Mommy, do you know what these are?”
Sister Lewis smiled through her sorrow and said, “No, Katie. I don’t know what they are. Please tell me.”
“They are the scriptures,” Katie beamed back, “and do you know what they say?”
Sister Lewis knelt down to her level and said, “Tell me, Katie. What do the scriptures say?”
“They say, ‘Trust Jesus.’”
Sister Lewis said that as she stood back up, she felt arms of peace encircle her weary soul and a divine stillness calm her troubled heart.

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

Derek, 11, recalled: “Once when our Primary was preparing for the Children’s Sacrament Meeting Presentation, the Primary president talked to us for a few minutes. She told us that we were children of god. She explained how Primary teaches us that Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love us and how we can learn to love them. She talked about how Primary helps us to know and live the gospel. As she was speaking, a sensation came over me—a really warm, good feeling—and I knew that what she was saying is true.”

This training has paid off. The Tse sisters, Ling-ling, 20, Wai-wai, 19, Mei-mei, 15, and Bing-bing, 14, know why members are referred to as “active.” Within two days of their baptism, the younger three sisters all had at least one position in the Lai Chi Kok Branch. (Ling had joined the Church when eight.) Even before they were members, they had “unofficial” responsibilities in the branch. Today Ling teaches the Gospel Essentials class for investigators and serves as a district missionary working with the full-time missionaries. Wai writes for the mission newsletter and fellowships inactive members. Bing is the Merry Miss teacher in Primary. And Mei is the Junior Sunday School coordinator. Her hardest job, she says, is convincing the children that they really can manage a short talk assignment.
Ling was the first of the sisters to join the Church. Their uncle is a member and would take her to Church when she was a child. Shortly after she was baptized at age eight, her mother forbade her to attend her meetings. Several years passed before she was allowed to return. By then she was 14, and the missionaries had retaught her the discussions. Her first Church responsibility was taking care of the bulletin board. It was through Ling that her three sisters became interested in the Church. Their parents and two younger brothers are still nonmembers, and the sisters say their greatest desire is to see their entire family active in the gospel.

My bishop and I sat in his small, organized office. He peered at me through his clear glasses. “A patriarchal blessing is like a blessing from Heavenly Father. And as you go through life, little by little, more of your blessing will make sense.”
I got up from the small wooden chair and shook the bishop’s hand. He then gave me a patriarchal blessing recommend. I thanked him and left the office.
Lately I had been pondering some questions. Does Heavenly Father really love me? Does he really know who I am? Does he know me individually and love me for who I am, not just because I’m one of his daughters?
I would try to come up with as many answers as I possibly could. “God loves you because you’re his daughter,” my teachers would tell our class during Young Women lessons.
“You should feel special because you’re a child of God,” my Primary teachers had told me.
I knew those things were true. I knew he loved me. I knew I was a child of God, but would Heavenly Father be able to point me out among all of his children? Did he love me for my qualities, my personality?
I rode to the church house with my mother and walked briskly to that small office where the patriarch was waiting. He was an elderly man with a smile and soft, kind eyes.
He gave us a quick review of what a patriarchal blessing was and how sacred it was. He then put his hands on my head and began talking for my Heavenly Father.
I listened closely to every word he said. I felt the Spirit so strongly at times I couldn’t help crying. I received the answer my heart had wanted to hear: “I assure you your Heavenly Father knows you well and loves you.” The patriarch also mentioned several things only my Heavenly Father knew. I felt a complete feeling of love and caring.
I know now that my Heavenly Father loves me and knows me, just as he does each of you. He loves you for who you are.

Some time ago, I presided over a regional conference in La Paz, Bolivia, high in the Andes Mountains. Members came to the conference from small towns and villages scattered throughout the area of La Paz and the Altiplano.
Before the leadership training session, I stood in front of the stake center and greeted the brethren as they gathered. One older brother told me through an interpreter that he lived a long way from La Paz. I noticed that his shirt was a different color from about the middle of his chest down. The upper portion of his shirt was white, while the lower portion was a brownish-red color.
I learned that he and three other Melchizedek Priesthood holders had taken more than eight hours to travel to these meetings. They had walked most of the way and had to ford two rivers, where the brownish-red water came up to their chests. When they came to the main road to La Paz, they stopped a truck to ask for a ride. The four men stood in the back of the truck for the last two hours to the stake center.
I could hardly believe that anyone would have such commitment, faith, and courage. When I expressed my deep concern for this dear brother, he said, “Brother Ballard, you are an Apostle of the Lord Jesus Christ. I would walk as long as required, ford as many streams as required, to come and hear from you what the Lord wants me to do as a priesthood leader in the Church.”
This response brought tears to my eyes. We embraced one another in the special brotherhood of the priesthood of God. I also learned that he and his companions had not had anything to eat. Nor did they have a place to stay that night. Through the goodness of the Saints of La Paz, they were taken care of during the conference weekend.

It was in the late 1960s when I first heard about Relief Society, and I was not yet a member of the Church.
I was excited to hear about this women’s organisation, and the missionaries had arranged for one of the sisters to pick me up for the evening homemaking meeting. It seemed like a beautiful thing to go to.
I was conscious that this was the first time to meet these women. So, with an emphasis on it being a Church meeting, my apparel was important. I was brought up in Ireland, but with the Anglican tradition that you don’t go to church without a hat. I had a hat I thought would be suitable. It happened to be quite flamboyant, with its navy and pink petals—rather like a bouquet on top of your head, but pretty. I had a matching navy coat and dress. So, well-manicured, with make-up on, and in my hat and outfit (including gloves), I was ready.
At the last minute, I thought I’d better take some food, because of the charity aspect of the organisation. So, I gathered some tins and placed them in a wicker picnic basket.
When the lovely lady arrived to pick me up, she was casually dressed in jeans and a nice sweater. I can’t remember if she had a look of shock on her face when she saw me, but it still didn’t dawn on me that I was way overdressed. Only when I went into the room did I realise they were all casually dressed — and there I was looking like the Queen Mother! I never did ask them what they thought, but they were wonderful sisters, wonderfully warm.
I’ve learned to be good at laughing at myself, but it was a serious moment for me—it was perhaps my first spiritual moment. I felt their genuine warmth, and I wanted to be connected with these sisters. I truly felt the sisterhood of which we talk and read.
I am grateful for the stability of the gospel that has helped me to ride many waves in my life. And since that first meeting I have always had an affinity with my sisters in the Church.

I have been a member of the Church since I was 10 years old. I don’t think I really knew what I was doing at first. I’ve been through my ups and downs in life, but right now I’ve made up my mind about what I want in life. In the last few weeks I have experienced the pressures of life and the hurt and loneliness of death. Last December I remember discussing the importance of reading and studying the gospel with my brother, Scott Macy. Scott wasn’t really a blood relative, but we were close enough to be. That December he sent me a letter that has a message for all of us. He wrote, “I think it’s really neat that you want to study the gospel more. It has everything anybody needs. How does it feel to be one of those who want, and can get, what is right?”

Scott’s goal in life was to serve a mission. Even though he was too young for a full-time mission, he was a great missionary to his friends and to everyone around him. On August 1,1976, Scott left to serve a mission for the Lord, but not on this earth.
I have received the New Era for many years, and I have just recently become interested in it. Feedback has been interesting to me. It helps me grow and want to learn what makes people so happy. The articles hit close to home and make me realize that I don’t have it so hard after all. I’m very thankful that my father has ordered the New Era even though no one would read it. Now I look forward to getting it. Scott’s question is very valuable. Can you answer it? Well, I can. It’s great!
Name WithheldCanby, Oregon

An anecdote about the Prophet Joseph, dear to the hearts of the Kirtland children who knew it, concerned some baby mice. Workmen leveling a steep hill uncovered a nest of the tiny creatures, and one of the men carried it over to the Prophet, who seemed fascinated by them. He told the workmen that the mice were “pretty little innocent things” and to “take them back and put them where their mother can find them.”

Heavenly Father has given us all talents and gifts that can help us provide for ourselves and our families. Learning to recognize our talents and gifts—and interests—is an important first step in career preparation. President Henry B. Eyring, First Counselor in the First Presidency, learned from his father, Henry Eyring, to choose a career that complemented his interests.

Because of his love for science, Professor Henry Eyring encouraged his sons to major in physics as preparation for a career in science. While President Eyring was studying physics at the University of Utah, he had an exchange with his father that changed his career direction. He asked his father for help with a complex mathematical problem. “My father was at a blackboard we kept in the basement,” President Eyring recalls. “Suddenly he stopped. ‘Hal,’ he said, ‘we were working this same kind of problem a week ago. You don’t seem to understand it any better now than you did then. Haven’t you been working on it?’”

A little chagrined, President Eyring admitted he had not. President Eyring recalls his father’s response: “When I told him no, my father paused. It was really a very tender and poignant moment, because I knew how much he loved me and how much he wanted me to be a scientist. Then he said, ‘Hal, I think you’d better get out of physics. You ought to find something that you love so much that when you don’t have to think about anything, that’s what you think about.’”2

In December 2015, while Jesse was back in the hospital, I began reading the Book of Mormon. I thought, “I left the Church, and I just want to rule it out like I’ve ruled out all the other churches.” But right away, it hit me like a ton of bricks—full peace. The book just spoke to me. I didn’t even have to pray to find out it was true. I knew in my heart it was true from the very beginning. I would read for hours sitting in that hospital room.

Anna Lisa sat dejectedly in her Aunt Lois and Uncle Owen’s house and worried about her father. He was in a hospital far away getting a new heart so he could be healthy. Her mother was with him, and her aunt and uncle were taking care of her.

Aunt Lois was sewing, Uncle Owen was watching a football game, and Anna Lisa had nothing to do. It was Sunday, but her aunt and uncle didn’t go to church. No one offered to take Anna Lisa, so she stayed home too. Anna Lisa sighed.

"Why don’t you go downstairs and snoop around? There are some old toys and books down there," Aunt Lois said. She must have read her mind—or heard her sigh.

Anna Lisa made her way down the rickety stairs to the basement, which smelled cool and damp and musty and was full of all kinds of things. There was an old washing machine, several trunks, various pieces of furniture, and lots of boxes. At first she didn’t see the toys or books, but then she noticed a box with BOOKS written on the side. She opened it carefully and found a treasure—dozens of children’s books. Anna Lisa read all afternoon until Aunt Lois called her for supper.

As Anna Lisa put the books back in the box, she saw another book that caught her attention. It read Book of Mormon on the cover, but it didn’t look like the one her mom and dad owned. This one was a gold color with black letters, and its pages were uneven on the sides and crinkly. She decided to take it upstairs.

"You must have found something interesting down there," Aunt Lois said as she dished up a bowl of tomato soup in the kitchen.

"I found a box of books."

"Your mother has told me how much you like to read. I’m glad you found something good."

That night in bed, Anna Lisa looked at the Book of Mormon. There were no chapters or verses—just paragraphs like other books. Anna Lisa tried to read some of it, but it was hard for her, and she finally put it aside.

The next evening, Anna Lisa showed the book to Uncle Owen as he sat reading the newspaper. "Have you read it?" she asked him.

"No, I never did. When your mom and dad joined the Church they gave us a Book of Mormon. But we were busy with our trucking business, and I wasn’t interested. This one must have been in our basement for years. Maybe missionaries brought it to my grandparents."

"It’s hard for me to read," Anna Lisa said. "My dad reads to me sometimes from the Book of Mormon. Could you read some of it to me?"

Uncle Owen looked at his newspaper, and Anna Lisa knew that he’d rather read that, but he looked at her with a kind face as if he knew she was missing her dad. He smiled and opened the book.

"What part should I read?"

Anna Lisa snuggled up next to her uncle. "Well, I’ve heard the first part a lot, about Nephi and his brothers and crossing the sea. Why don’t you just open it up in the middle—it will be a surprise."

Uncle Owen smiled at her and opened to the middle. He began to read.

"‘Behold, he changed their hearts; yea, he awakened them out of a deep sleep, and they awoke unto God. Behold, they were in the midst of darkness; nevertheless, their souls were illuminated by the light of the everlasting word’" (Alma 5:7).

Anna Lisa sat up straight. "That’s what’s happening to my dad—a change of heart. And he said that they will put him in a deep sleep while it happens."

Uncle Owen laughed gently. "I think this is talking about a different kind of change of heart, like deciding to believe in God."

Anna Lisa leaned against Uncle Owen as he read more. She began to feel very sleepy, but as she dozed off a little, she could still hear Uncle Owen reading. Then he was silent, but when she looked up, she saw that he was reading to himself. And when Aunt Lois came and got her and led her up to bed, he was still reading. The next morning, when Anna Lisa went down to breakfast, he was still reading from the book.

"Did you read all night, Uncle Owen?" she asked.

"Well, no," he said, "but I read very late, and when I woke up I started reading again." He laid the book carefully on the table and came to breakfast, but after breakfast, he read some more. Anna Lisa was glad he liked the book so much.

That night her mother called and told her that her father was doing just fine, but he needed to stay in the hospital a little while longer. Anna Lisa sighed one of her big sighs. She wanted very much to see her parents again.

Every night that week, before Anna Lisa went to bed, Uncle Owen read to her from the Book of Mormon, and Aunt Lois sat and listened too. On Saturday night, Anna Lisa said, "Could we go to church tomorrow? I want to be in my Primary class."

"But you won’t know anybody. It won’t be your own class with your friends," Aunt Lois said.

"I know, but it will feel the same; people will be nice."

Uncle Owen and Aunt Lois looked at each other. Then Uncle Owen ruffled Anna Lisa’s hair. "OK. We’ll take you."

As Anna Lisa drifted off to sleep that night, she felt very happy. She knew there was more than one way to have a new heart. Maybe her uncle as well as her dad would receive one.

“My turn!” Johnny called, jumping up and down.
“Yes, Johnny,” said Mom. “What did you do with your Popsicle?”
“First I ate it.” Johnny giggled, showing his red tongue. “And I had to think for a while to get an idea too. As I was thinking, somebody called to me. It was Jeffrey—the boy in my class who has to stay in a wheelchair. He was on the porch of his house and asked me to come over. He seemed pretty sad. I thought that if summer vacation gets boring for me, it must really get boring for him: no bike riding, no baseball, no swimming. So when I went over to his house, I knew what I was going to do with my stick. His mom got me a piece of heavy paper and a pin, and I folded a paper airplane. Then I worked the pin through the middle of the Popsicle stick and stuck it into the nose of the airplane to make a propeller. I gave it to Jeffrey, and do you know what? Even though he has some pretty neat toys, he thought the airplane was great.”
“And you’re pretty great, too,” said Mom. “Good job!”

“Do you think I could ever be a mighty missionary like Ammon?” ten-year-old John asked his mom as she tucked him into bed. They had just finished family home evening, and John’s mind was spilling over with all Dad had said and read from the Book of Mormon about Ammon and his mission to the Lamanites.
“I’m sure that you’ll be an excellent missionary, John,” Mom said. “The Lord needs fine young men like you, and when you’re nineteen, He’ll call you to serve a mission somewhere in this big, wonderful world. And it will be exactly where He needs you the most.”
She kissed him goodnight, and John was alone with his thoughts. Just think—me, a missionary! Boy, that will be neat! I wonder where I’ll go. It could be anywhere! He began to think of all the places he’d heard about. His Primary teacher, Brother Phelps, was a returned missionary and loved to talk about different countries. He had even been teaching them greetings in different languages.
Maybe I’ll be like Brother Phelps and go to Mexico on my mission, John thought. I would be brave, like Ammon.
He began to imagine himself and a companion walking toward a ranch and saying to a vaquero (cowboy) on a tall horse, “Buenos días, señor (Good day, sir). You are a chosen people, and the Lord has many blessings for you. I have come to tell you about them.”
Or, John thought, I might cross the ocean and go to Hong Kong! A picture of him at a little street-side food stand, like one he’d seen in a book at school, filled his mind. He remembered his Cantonese greeting as he turned to talk to a Chinese man lunching there. “Nei hou ma (How are you)? May I come to your house tonight and tell your family how you can be together forever?”
Hmmm, John thought. That would be a nice place to go—but so would Germany!
In a flash, there he was, talking to a cute little German grandma who was scrubbing her cobblestone sidewalk. His teacher had said that the German people were clean and neat and that in some of the small towns, they still wash their sidewalks on their hands and knees.
“Guten Morgen, meine Frau (Good morning, ma’am),” he said to the woman. “I am a Mormon missionary, and I have come to brighten your life.” He imagined himself handing her a Book of Mormon. Remembering how Ammon had served the king, he saw himself scrubbing her sidewalk while she examined the book.
The more John thought about being a missionary, the more excited he became. Maybe I’ll even be sent to Russia! He had seen a lot about Russia on the TV lately. At last the Russian people were allowed to learn about Jesus. Just last week his teacher had taught him how to say hello in Russian.
He cleared his throat and, to imaginary people standing with him in the square in Moscow, said, “Zdrastvweetyeh (Hello). This pamphlet in my hand holds good news for all of you. There really is a God. Joseph Smith saw Him and His Son, Jesus Christ, with his own eyes.”
“Wow!” John said right out loud. He could just see himself bringing the truth to people who were really hungry for it. Then his mind flashed to a different part of the world, and he thought, I might even be sent to Africa, where they speak Zulu!
“Sawubona (Hello)!” he said to a group of men in an African village. Holding up the Book of Mormon, he said, “This book tells of a power greater than any on earth. It’s called the priesthood. You, too, may have this power if you learn and keep the commandments of the Lord.”
Then John remembered Ammon again and how he had brought the gospel to King Lamoni. That’s what I’ll do if the Lord sends me to England!
Suddenly there he was, armed with his scriptures, in front of the queen, bowing and saying, “Your Royal Highness, Jesus Christ, the King of the whole earth, will return again to rule and reign forever. We must be ready. This Book of Mormon will help you and your people prepare for His coming.”
John’s thoughts shifted to another great nation of people who must be waiting to hear his important message. Maybe he would be chosen to teach the American Indians!
In his mind, he saw a little Sioux boy carrying a load of firewood. “Hau, koda (Hello, friend),” he said to the boy. “May I help you with your load while you take me to your father and mother? I want to tell them about your great-great-great- grandparents.” In a moment, he was teaching this Indian family all about Samuel the Lamanite prophet.
As John thought about where else he might go, the idea came to him that he could be called to serve among his own people. Why, he might even be sent to the area where his Aunt Harriet lived! His mother had told him about “dear little Aunt Harriet,” and he had always wanted to meet her. She wasn’t a member of the Church. His mother had said that Aunt Harriet just hadn’t had the right opportunity to learn the truth yet. John thought, Maybe I’ll be the one to teach her. That would be terrific!
He could see himself sitting there in his missionary suit and tie, saying, “Aunt Harriet, I would love to be in the celestial kingdom with you. Let me tell you how we can make it happen.”
At that happy thought, John yawned and snuggled deeper into his covers. In only a minute he was sound asleep.
The next morning he was awakened by the bright sunlight shining through his window. He jumped out of bed and quickly dressed. A marvelous idea had come to him. I know exactly what I’ll do. Grabbing a pair of ice skates from a shelf, he ran out the door.
Good! There was Paul, a nonmember friend, just as John had hoped. “Hey, Paul,” he called, running to his side. “Thanks for letting me borrow your skates.” He took a deep breath and added, “Now there’s something I want to share with you. It’s not something to play with, and it’s really important. More important than anything I own. It’s my church. I want you to go to Primary with me. My teacher is really cool—you’ll like him. How about it? I’ll pick you up Sunday at ten o’clock, OK?” He stood there smiling and hoping.
Paul looked at him curiously and said, “I think so. I’ll ask my mom.”
The next Sunday Paul was sitting in Primary next to John, who was being more reverent than he’d ever been. Wow, he thought, it’s great to be a missionary!

Bing Dao ran through his village, down the dirt path, and into his house. “Mother! My school’s doing the lion dance in the village for our Chinese New Year. And I get to be the lion!”
Mother stopped washing the rice for dinner. “That’s wonderful, Dao. But won’t the lion head be too heavy? They’re made for grown men, not twelve-year-old boys.”
“They ordered a special one, and guess what! I can go to the city of Fushan to get it when it’s finished, if Father will go with me.”
“I’m sure he will. Will someone from school go with you too?”
“No, my teacher told me everything that needs to be done. He said that as long as I don’t travel alone, it will be all right.”
“Be sure you remember everything that your teacher told you.”
“Of course.”
“Now, Dao, you know you forget things when you get excited. Did you pay close attention and write everything down?”
Dao hated these lectures. He sighed. “Oh, Mother, I’ll remember everything. I don’t need to write it down.”
“I hope not,” his mother said quietly.
Dao pranced around the room, bobbing up and down like he’d seen the lion dancers do. He crouched low and sprang up, thrusting his hands above his head, lifting the imaginary lion head high. “BOOM boom! Chiiing! BOOM boom! Chiiing!” Dao imitated the drums and cymbals and danced to their rhythm.
“Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!” He wiggled his body and bowed very low before his mother.
She clapped. “You’ll make a grand lion, Bing Dao!”
“Mother!” Dao scolded from the floor, “When the lion bows like this, you’re supposed to give him something.”
“How about a sweet sesame biscuit?”
The lion wiggled all over. He devoured the offering, wobbled his head, and backed away.
Dao waited anxiously for the day they would go to Fushan. This would be his first trip to a city. Now every day he practiced the lion dance. Of course, he studied hard, too—after all, the village lion dancer had to set a good example for the other students.
On the Friday before they were to leave, Dao went to the office to get the money.
“Mr. Gu is away. You will have to wait until next week,” the office worker said.
Dao’s heart began to pound. “But I’m going to Fushan tomorrow, so I need the money now.”
“I thought you were to come last week for it.”
Dao’s stomach felt like ice, and his mouth got dry. “Oh! I—I guess I forgot!”
“I’m very sorry, but he won’t be back before Wednesday.”
Dao walked home with a heavy heart. Mother’s right, I do forget things when I get excited. He groaned. What will Father say? And now I’ll get another lecture from Mr. Gu about remembering things. And I must keep my head bowed and listen. Father says that’s the Chinese way.
Dao’s father was kind. “There’s enough time—we’ll go a week from tomorrow—all right?”
Something seemed wrong about that, but Dao couldn’t think why. “I guess so.” He hoped he wasn’t forgetting something.
Mr. Gu did lecture, and Dao listened with his eyes lowered. He promised to do better, but all the while he was really thinking about the exciting trip ahead.
When they stepped off the train in Fushan, Father said, “We’ll go to the lantern factory first and pay for the lion head; then we’ll locate a van to take it to our village.”
While walking to the factory, they passed more shops than Dao had ever seen. Some sold tiny delicate clay figures and large ceramic vases. Others sold fabrics, dresses, or jewelry. Dao liked the clean smell of leather coming from the shoe shops. He saw lots of other things for sale—candy, dried fruit, vegetables. Some shops sold dried snakes, deer horns, odd bones, and old bark. The spice shops smelled best of all. Their sweet and pungent odors tickled his nose.
When they passed a delicious-smelling noodle shop, Father said, “Your favorite, Dao—rice noodles! We’ll eat lunch here later.”
In the lantern factory, Dao watched the workers making lion and dragon heads by gluing bright silk cloth or paper to wire frames. Above his head hung hundreds of brilliant paper lanterns. Huge red globes, pagoda shapes with tassels hanging from the corners, animals, birds, and fish were also there.
Dao gave the shop manager the order.
“But that head has been sold,” the manager said. “We didn’t think you were coming. You’re too late. I’m sorry.”
“Too late?”
“The order says the delivery date was seven days ago.”
Dao’s stomach turned to ice again. He’d forgotten about the delivery date! His teacher had warned him that the factory might not hold it past that day.
“I’m sorry,” the manager said again, “but it’s gone.”
“Can you make another one?”
“Goodness no! There isn’t time.”
“Where is ours? Who bought it?” Dao asked. “I must buy it from them.”
“I don’t think that they will sell it. Mr. Wang at Wang’s School of Dance is the person to ask.”
Father tapped his shoulder. “Come, Son.”
Dao fought back tears as he followed his father out of the factory. “Oh, Father, what if Mr. Wang says no?”
“An ancient proverb says, ‘A sweet gift loosens the tight fist.’”
Bing Dao frowned, thinking about that. “You mean I should buy a gift for Mr. Wang?”
Father nodded.
Dao had saved money to buy firecrackers for the New Year. If he had to pay for a gift for Mr. Wang, he wouldn’t have enough for the firecrackers. I can’t ask Father for the money, though, he thought, because it’s my fault. I must pay for it myself. So Dao bought a gift box of fancy cookies because the present had to be very special. It took almost all his money.
At the dance school, Dao gave the gift to Mr. Wang and, with his stomach doing somersaults, explained his problem.
Finally he said, “I didn’t get the money in time, and I forgot about the delivery date. I shouldn’t have been late, and I’m sorry to trouble you, but—” Dao swallowed hard— “may I please buy the lion head?”
Mr. Wang shook his head. “My students are already practicing the dance. How can I disappoint them now?”
“But it really belongs to our school. We ordered it. Please.” Dao sounded more courageous than he felt.
Mr. Wang remained silent for a long time. Finally he said, “Come back after lunch. I must think about this.”
Lunch in the noodle shop was quiet and grim. Afterward Dao couldn’t even remember if it tasted good.
Back at the dance school, Dao found all the students assembled. Mr. Wang said he wanted Bing Dao to explain his problem to the whole school.
Dao looked at the sea of faces and gulped. He tried to speak, but only a creak came out. The faces smiled. He tried again. “Well, … uh … I, uh, came to ask to buy the lion head.”
The smiles disappeared. Bing Dao began to talk fast. “You see, my school ordered it special because I’m not strong enough to carry a hig bion lead … I mean a lig hion bed … I mean—”
Everybody started to laugh. Bing Dao didn’t think it was funny at all. He wanted to vanish into thin air, but he took a deep breath and went on. “My village is depending on me to dance with the lion head for the New Year celebration. I know that it’s my own fault that I’m in such a muddle, but …” He faltered to a stop. Then he saw his father nod and smile. Dao took new courage. “My school got the idea and my school ordered the head. I’m asking you to please help me by selling it to me.”
The room was very quiet. Finally Mr. Wang said, “Bing Dao, you speak the truth bravely.” There was an agonizing pause. The dance teacher turned to the students. “How many think that we should sell the lion head to Bing Dao?”
For an awful minute no hand was raised. Then one went up, and another, and another, until almost every hand could be seen.
“Well, I guess you have the answer, Bing Dao. The lion head is yours.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Wang. Thank you, students.”
On the way home, Father said, “I’m proud of you, Dao. You applied another wise saying—‘Truth spoken gently wins the argument.’”
“Thank you, Father. I learned a lot today. And from now on, I’m going to write things down so I won’t forget.”
“Good idea, Son. Then all you have to remember is to read the list.”
They both laughed.

In October 1959, President Hunter was in Salt Lake City for general conference.
“At the conclusion of the first session, my counselor, Daken K. Broadhead, told me that President David O. McKay’s secretary wanted to see me. …
“President McKay greeted me with a pleasant smile and a warm handshake and then said to me, ‘Sit down Pres. Hunter. I want to talk to you. The Lord has spoken. You are called to be one of the special witnesses, and tomorrow you will be sustained as a member of the Council of Twelve.’”
President Hunter could not speak. Tears came to his eyes as he humbly sat in the presence of “that great, sweet, kindly man—the prophet of the Lord” (Church News, Nov. 16, 1974, p. 5).
The next day, in delivering his first general conference address, President Hunter said, “I want you to know that I have a firm, uncompromising conviction that God lives, that Jesus is the Christ, that the gospel was restored in this latter dispensation by the instrumentality of the Prophet Joseph Smith. …
“I do not apologize for the tears that come to my eyes on this occasion because I believe that I face friends, my brethren and sisters in the Church, whose hearts beat the same as mine today, in the thrill of the gospel and in service to others” (Improvement Era, Dec. 1959, p. 962).

One day I was working at the kitchen table and I had a feeling to check on my little brother. I looked up and saw him in his walker heading for the stairs. I ran over and pulled him away before he could fall. I know that the Holy Ghost whispered to me so that I could help keep my brother safe. I am thankful that when I was baptized I was able to receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.Spencer D., age 9, Arizona

As my ward hiked through the woods to a secluded campsite during a stake campout for priests, I learned a valuable lesson. We had lost the trail, and after hiking many miles through brush, trees, and even streams, we were tired, cold, hungry, and wet.
Our bishop took the lead, and I was second in the line. We had only three flashlights for our group of 12 people, and it was a very difficult hike. However, I found that as long as I stayed right behind the bishop, I was safe and would not get lost from our group. All I could look at were his footsteps right in front of me. If I looked out at the dark wilderness, I would lose my footing and trip.
The bishop’s pace was quick and tiring, but he knew in which direction to move, and I trusted him. It was in this dark wilderness that I learned my lesson.
In a world of many challenges, we must follow directly behind the Savior or we will lose the true path. If we look away from His footsteps, we will more easily make mistakes and hurt ourselves. But if we stay with His quick and powerful stride and follow His example, the Savior will lead us to our eternal destination and warm us with His glorious love. How grateful I am that we have the Savior, who invites us all to “Come, follow me.”

My wife and I wanted to teach our children the principle of giving genuine, unselfish service. So one night in home evening, we announced that we were going to begin a program called “el frijolito de oro”—“the little golden bean.”
We gave each of the children a plastic container with a lid and told them that for every act of service they performed spontaneously for a family member—without anyone asking them to do it—we would give them a little bean to put in their container. We explained that during our next home evening, we would count the little beans. The person with the most beans would receive special recognition.
The results were remarkable! We didn’t have enough brooms in the house—everyone wanted to sweep! And we didn’t see a single toy out of place during that entire week. We began to wonder if we would have enough beans to get through the week!
During that week, my wife broke her foot. She had to have a cast on her entire leg. The doctor said that during the first three days, she should have absolute rest and that she should keep her leg elevated.
This, of course, gave more opportunities to serve. And it helped us discover how much the children were coming to understand the beautiful principle of service.
On one of the days when my wife was to have complete rest, she wanted to sit in the living room. Just as she got settled, Betito, one of the youngest of our children, ran and brought a chair for her to rest her leg on. Next, he brought a blanket and put it on the chair. Then he lifted her leg onto the blanket.
Caressing his head, my wife said to him, “Go to the cupboard and get two beans for this beautiful act of service.”
But instead of going to the cupboard, Betito looked up to his mother and said, “Mamá, I don’t want any beans. I did this because I love you very much.”

I am a level 5 gymnast at my gymnastics club, and I was having a very good season. The state meet was coming up, and if I did well in the state meet, I would qualify for region. But the region meet was going to be on a Sunday. I had been working so hard to get to this point, and I wanted to go, but I felt like I shouldn’t.
A couple days later was fast Sunday, and I told my mom and dad what I was going to fast for. Together with my family we fasted that I would know what the Lord wanted me to do. I fasted Saturday night, all the way to Sunday dinner. Boy, that was hard.
That night when I was sitting with my mom, I decided that I shouldn’t go. I felt good and peaceful about my decision. The next day my mom got an email saying the region meet was changed to Friday. The following week I competed at state and took first place all-around, and now I get to go to regions in Colorado.
I know my prayer was answered. My faith in fasting and prayer is a lot stronger.