A little boy and his father were flying a kite on a windy day. As the kite rose higher, it tugged on the connecting string in the little boy’s hand. The boy thought they should cut the string to let the kite rise higher.
His wise father said no. He said the string is what holds the kite in place. If we lose our hold on the string, the kite will not rise higher. It will be carried about by the winds and crash to the earth.
The string is like the covenants, or promises, that connect us to Heavenly Father and His Son, Jesus Christ. We honor those covenants by keeping the commandments and following Their plan for us. As we do, Their promised blessings can help us soar to celestial heights.
Covenants tie us to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. Read each scripture to learn about a different covenant. Then draw a line from the scripture to the matching picture to make a string for each kite!
Mosiah 18:10
Doctrine and Covenants 20:75–79
Doctrine and Covenants 132:19
Illustrations by Melissa Manwill Kashiwagi
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Kites and Covenants
Summary: A little boy wants to cut the kite string so the kite can rise higher, but his father explains that the string is what keeps it from being carried away and crashing. The article then compares the string to covenants that connect us to Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. By keeping those covenants and commandments, we receive blessings that help us soar spiritually.
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Family
Obedience
Parenting
Survival
Summary: A young girl watches with her father as elk quietly cross their yard and swim across the lake during the night in northern Sweden. Her father explains that they return when hunting season is over and that they are safer on the far side of the lake. The story ends with the girl falling asleep, still marveling at how such large animals can move so quietly.
My knees were aching from kneeling on the chair pulled up beneath the window. It seemed as if I had been looking out the window forever. “When will they come?” I asked.
My father looked at me over the top of his glasses. He was sitting at the kitchen table, mending one of his fishnets. “It’s getting late,” he said. “They should come soon.” He leaned over the table and opened the window.
The cool night air felt good on my face. It was almost midnight, but it was not very dark outside. Even this late in the summer, the nights in northern Sweden never got darker than a muted dusk. I could clearly see the big birch behind the house and the small boat shed next to it. And the lake, smooth and calm, mirrored the woods beyond it.
The rest of the family was asleep. Only my father and I were sitting in the dark kitchen, waiting. He had seen it many times, but I never had.
“When will they come back?” I asked.
“When the hunting season is over.”
“But how do they know when it’s over?”
My father came over and put his arm around me. “I’m not sure,” he said. “They just know.”
I thought about this for a while. At six, there were many things that I didn’t understand. “Maybe Heavenly Father tells them,” I said.
“Maybe.”
Father touched my arm. “Look, Brita,” he whispered.
I looked out the window and saw the first elk crossing our driveway and coming into the garden. He stopped for a moment, and I saw his magnificent antlers outlined against the sky. Then he resumed his pace and continued down toward the lake. There was hardly a ripple on the surface as he unhesitatingly walked into the water and began to swim toward the other side.
Then came the next elk, and the next. There were never two together. One at a time the animals passed by our window and went down to the water.
I knelt on my chair, spellbound. There was no sound at all. It was as if they weren’t real, but creatures created by the magic of the night. The proud head of the first elk had become just a dot far out in the water. Ours was a wide lake, and I marveled at the elk’s courage in attempting to swim all that distance.
We watched in silence until they were all so far out that even when I strained my eyes, I couldn’t see them.
“What if they don’t make it?” I asked.
“They will.” My father’s voice was confident. He went over to the stove and put more wood on the fire.
“How many were there?”
“Seventeen.” He paused. “Last year there were twenty-four. Maybe one day there will be none.”
No elk at all! I felt like crying, and all of a sudden I was very tired. I slipped down from my chair and walked barefoot across the kitchen floor. Then I thought of something and turned around. “Will no one kill them on the other side?”
My father was looking out the window, and I could see that his thoughts were far away. After a while he said, “It’s much safer there than here. There are no roads, no houses, and the forest is very dense. The elk know that they have a better chance to survive there.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “They always come back, though. I’ve often wondered why.”
I wanted to ask something else, but I forgot what it was. My eyelids were heavy. “Goodnight,” I said.
As I pulled the quilt over me and buried my face in the soft pillow, I remembered. How can such large animals move so quietly? I would ask tomorrow. …
My father looked at me over the top of his glasses. He was sitting at the kitchen table, mending one of his fishnets. “It’s getting late,” he said. “They should come soon.” He leaned over the table and opened the window.
The cool night air felt good on my face. It was almost midnight, but it was not very dark outside. Even this late in the summer, the nights in northern Sweden never got darker than a muted dusk. I could clearly see the big birch behind the house and the small boat shed next to it. And the lake, smooth and calm, mirrored the woods beyond it.
The rest of the family was asleep. Only my father and I were sitting in the dark kitchen, waiting. He had seen it many times, but I never had.
“When will they come back?” I asked.
“When the hunting season is over.”
“But how do they know when it’s over?”
My father came over and put his arm around me. “I’m not sure,” he said. “They just know.”
I thought about this for a while. At six, there were many things that I didn’t understand. “Maybe Heavenly Father tells them,” I said.
“Maybe.”
Father touched my arm. “Look, Brita,” he whispered.
I looked out the window and saw the first elk crossing our driveway and coming into the garden. He stopped for a moment, and I saw his magnificent antlers outlined against the sky. Then he resumed his pace and continued down toward the lake. There was hardly a ripple on the surface as he unhesitatingly walked into the water and began to swim toward the other side.
Then came the next elk, and the next. There were never two together. One at a time the animals passed by our window and went down to the water.
I knelt on my chair, spellbound. There was no sound at all. It was as if they weren’t real, but creatures created by the magic of the night. The proud head of the first elk had become just a dot far out in the water. Ours was a wide lake, and I marveled at the elk’s courage in attempting to swim all that distance.
We watched in silence until they were all so far out that even when I strained my eyes, I couldn’t see them.
“What if they don’t make it?” I asked.
“They will.” My father’s voice was confident. He went over to the stove and put more wood on the fire.
“How many were there?”
“Seventeen.” He paused. “Last year there were twenty-four. Maybe one day there will be none.”
No elk at all! I felt like crying, and all of a sudden I was very tired. I slipped down from my chair and walked barefoot across the kitchen floor. Then I thought of something and turned around. “Will no one kill them on the other side?”
My father was looking out the window, and I could see that his thoughts were far away. After a while he said, “It’s much safer there than here. There are no roads, no houses, and the forest is very dense. The elk know that they have a better chance to survive there.” He was silent for a moment, then added, “They always come back, though. I’ve often wondered why.”
I wanted to ask something else, but I forgot what it was. My eyelids were heavy. “Goodnight,” I said.
As I pulled the quilt over me and buried my face in the soft pillow, I remembered. How can such large animals move so quietly? I would ask tomorrow. …
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
👤 Other
Children
Creation
Faith
Family
Patience
Home Evening Blesses Families for 90 Years
Summary: Seven-year-old Marifer led her family's home evening on prayer and shared a personal experience from school. After praying in the bathroom that a combative classmate would stop fighting with her, their relationship improved. She later invited the classmate to her home and shared Liahona magazines with her friend's mother, which the friend enjoyed and requested more of.
A Good Monday Night Model
It was Monday night, and seven-year-old María Fernanda Fernández of the Loma Nueve Ward, San Miguelito Panamá Stake, was in charge of her family’s home evening. María Fernanda (Marifer to her friends and family) had chosen the topic of prayer.
After leading the singing and asking her two-year-old brother, Roberto, to say the prayer with a little help from their mother, Marifer told a story her mother had helped her memorize from the Family Home Evening Resource Book, using pictures from the Gospel Art Picture Kit. Then she related a personal experience: “At the beginning of the school year, a classmate always fought with me. One day, I went to the bathroom crying after a fight and prayed that she wouldn’t fight with me anymore.”
Marifer said after that prayer, their relationship changed. “We invited her to my house and gave her mom a couple of issues of the Liahona. My friend liked them so much that she asked for more.” Marifer said she and her friend have talked a lot about the Church.
She ended with her testimony: “I know that Jesus Christ lives, that the Book of Mormon and the Bible are true, and that Jesus lived and died for us.”
Her mother, Marisol, and her father, Luis, bishop of the Loma Nueve Ward, shared their testimonies about prayer as well. Then Bishop Fernández offered the closing prayer, and it was time for treats.
It was Monday night, and seven-year-old María Fernanda Fernández of the Loma Nueve Ward, San Miguelito Panamá Stake, was in charge of her family’s home evening. María Fernanda (Marifer to her friends and family) had chosen the topic of prayer.
After leading the singing and asking her two-year-old brother, Roberto, to say the prayer with a little help from their mother, Marifer told a story her mother had helped her memorize from the Family Home Evening Resource Book, using pictures from the Gospel Art Picture Kit. Then she related a personal experience: “At the beginning of the school year, a classmate always fought with me. One day, I went to the bathroom crying after a fight and prayed that she wouldn’t fight with me anymore.”
Marifer said after that prayer, their relationship changed. “We invited her to my house and gave her mom a couple of issues of the Liahona. My friend liked them so much that she asked for more.” Marifer said she and her friend have talked a lot about the Church.
She ended with her testimony: “I know that Jesus Christ lives, that the Book of Mormon and the Bible are true, and that Jesus lived and died for us.”
Her mother, Marisol, and her father, Luis, bishop of the Loma Nueve Ward, shared their testimonies about prayer as well. Then Bishop Fernández offered the closing prayer, and it was time for treats.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Friends
Bible
Bishop
Book of Mormon
Children
Family
Family Home Evening
Friendship
Jesus Christ
Missionary Work
Parenting
Prayer
Teaching the Gospel
Testimony
Teeter-Totter Testimony
Summary: As children, the narrator and his sister used an old board as a makeshift teeter-totter. A white-haired home teacher, Brother Andelin, asked to borrow the board and later returned with it transformed into a painted, sturdy seesaw. The children delighted in the gift, and the narrator began to feel trust in the new church and its people.
It was just an old board Kristen and I had found—maybe ten feet long and just wide enough to sit on. The desert sun had already started to turn the board gray, but even faded it was the perfect addition to our makeshift playground. In fact, other than a lot of sand and a few Tonka trucks, it was the only thing in our playground. Laid across a big rock sticking up in the backyard, that old board became a teeter-totter, kind of like the one at the park by Grandma’s house. Of course, our teeter-totter didn’t go as high as the one at the park. But it was ours.
One day we were teetering and tottering when a couple of men came to visit. I didn’t know what they wanted, but they talked to Mom in the kitchen for a while. Kristen, who was a year older than I was, said they were from church—the new one we had just started going to. One of them was young, and the other had white hair and a white beard. He was the oldest man I’d ever seen. As they were leaving, the old man walked over to us and watched as we went up and down on the teeter-totter.
“That’s a nice looking board you have there,” he said. “Would you mind if I took it with me for a while? I could sure use a board like that.”
We both looked at Mom, who was standing by the kitchen door. She told us to give the man the board. So Kristen and I got off our teeter-totter, and the man put the board in his truck. They said good-bye and drove away.
“Mom, what were those men doing here?” I grumbled.
“They’re our home teachers; the church we went to on Sunday sent them to make sure we’re okay.”
“I’m okay, but I was better when I had my teeter-totter.”
Mom ran her fingers through my hair. “I know, honey. It’s almost dinnertime. Go inside and wash up.”
Most kids would have probably put up a fuss when someone took their favorite toy, but we knew if Mom said it, we should do it.
That night, Mom said the old man’s name was Brother Andelin. My four-year-old mouth had to work to get his name right. Mom said Brother Andelin lived on the other side of town, but would come and visit again.
A few days later, I was on the porch when Brother Andelin’s truck came rattling up the drive.
“Hello, Bobby. Would you like to see what I built out of that board you gave me?” he said, getting out of his truck.
I ran behind him to the back of his truck where he pulled out the board, now painted green with a seat and handle at each end. In the middle on the other side were some steel rings. Also in the truck was a big, wooden, pyramid-shaped box, painted the same color as the board.
“Is your sister here?” Brother Andelin asked. “Run and get her while I set this up in the yard.”
I ran into the kitchen and down the hall. “Kristen,” I yelled, gasping for air. “Brother Andelin brought our board. But he, he—come see.”
Mom followed as Kristen and I ran outside. Brother Andelin had fastened the board on top of the box.
“It’s a real teeter-totter,” Kristen whispered to me. “Is it for us?”
“I don’t know. Ask him.”
“You ask him.”
“Brother Andelin,” I said, stepping closer, “is this for us? For keeps?”
“It’s your board, isn’t it?” he said. “Besides, what am I gonna do with a seesaw? My kids have all grown up.”
Kristen and I climbed on the new teeter-totter. It wasn’t like before. When we went up, we went off the ground way up in the air. Brother Andelin laughed as we played, his teeth smiling from behind his long, white beard.
One day we were teetering and tottering when a couple of men came to visit. I didn’t know what they wanted, but they talked to Mom in the kitchen for a while. Kristen, who was a year older than I was, said they were from church—the new one we had just started going to. One of them was young, and the other had white hair and a white beard. He was the oldest man I’d ever seen. As they were leaving, the old man walked over to us and watched as we went up and down on the teeter-totter.
“That’s a nice looking board you have there,” he said. “Would you mind if I took it with me for a while? I could sure use a board like that.”
We both looked at Mom, who was standing by the kitchen door. She told us to give the man the board. So Kristen and I got off our teeter-totter, and the man put the board in his truck. They said good-bye and drove away.
“Mom, what were those men doing here?” I grumbled.
“They’re our home teachers; the church we went to on Sunday sent them to make sure we’re okay.”
“I’m okay, but I was better when I had my teeter-totter.”
Mom ran her fingers through my hair. “I know, honey. It’s almost dinnertime. Go inside and wash up.”
Most kids would have probably put up a fuss when someone took their favorite toy, but we knew if Mom said it, we should do it.
That night, Mom said the old man’s name was Brother Andelin. My four-year-old mouth had to work to get his name right. Mom said Brother Andelin lived on the other side of town, but would come and visit again.
A few days later, I was on the porch when Brother Andelin’s truck came rattling up the drive.
“Hello, Bobby. Would you like to see what I built out of that board you gave me?” he said, getting out of his truck.
I ran behind him to the back of his truck where he pulled out the board, now painted green with a seat and handle at each end. In the middle on the other side were some steel rings. Also in the truck was a big, wooden, pyramid-shaped box, painted the same color as the board.
“Is your sister here?” Brother Andelin asked. “Run and get her while I set this up in the yard.”
I ran into the kitchen and down the hall. “Kristen,” I yelled, gasping for air. “Brother Andelin brought our board. But he, he—come see.”
Mom followed as Kristen and I ran outside. Brother Andelin had fastened the board on top of the box.
“It’s a real teeter-totter,” Kristen whispered to me. “Is it for us?”
“I don’t know. Ask him.”
“You ask him.”
“Brother Andelin,” I said, stepping closer, “is this for us? For keeps?”
“It’s your board, isn’t it?” he said. “Besides, what am I gonna do with a seesaw? My kids have all grown up.”
Kristen and I climbed on the new teeter-totter. It wasn’t like before. When we went up, we went off the ground way up in the air. Brother Andelin laughed as we played, his teeth smiling from behind his long, white beard.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
Children
Kindness
Ministering
Obedience
Service
Keep Going, Josie!
Summary: On the day of a big race, Josie feels exhausted after being sick and staying up late to catch up on schoolwork. Struggling to keep pace, she considers giving up until her teammates pass her with words of encouragement, helping her finish. The team qualifies for the next race, and that night Josie prays, recognizing that Jesus, like her teammates, strengthens her to keep going.
Josie yawned as she slowed her jog to a walk. Today was the big race! She had been looking forward to this day for months. But instead of feeling excited during warm-ups, Josie felt tired.
“How’s it going?” her older sister, Christine, asked. She sat down with Josie on the grass so they could stretch their legs.
“I’m really tired today,” Josie said, reaching for her toes.
She had been sick and had to miss several days of school. So last night she stayed up late catching up on her schoolwork.
“I hope I don’t let our team down,” Josie said.
“Just do the best you can,” Christine said. “Looks like we’re about to start!”
The girls jogged over to join their teammates. As they lined up with the other runners, Josie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew her team was counting on her to run fast, as she usually did. The race time from the top five runners on their team would determine whether their team went on to the finals. She barely had time to get in position when the gun sounded to start the race. Bang! The runners pushed off the starting line and sprinted forward.
Josie pumped her arms and lengthened her steps. She knew she needed to get ahead in the beginning if she wanted to be a top finisher. At first Josie could keep up with the other lead runners. But when she tried to run faster, she couldn’t.
Josie breathed harder. She just couldn’t get her legs to move any faster. The runners behind her started passing her. Usually Josie was the one doing the passing! Maybe I should just give up, she thought.
Josie looked down at the ground as she heard another runner pass her. “Keep going, Josie!” the runner said as she ran by. Josie looked up. Then she smiled. It was one of her teammates.
“You can do it!” another teammate said as she ran past. One by one as Josie’s teammates passed her, they encouraged her to keep running.
Josie felt a surge of determination. Maybe she wouldn’t be in the top five, but she could still finish the race. She focused on her steps and didn’t stop until she finally crossed the finish line.
“I’m sorry if I … didn’t help us … qualify for the next race,” she said between big breaths.
“Our team did qualify!” Josie’s coach said as she ran over to the girls. Everyone on the team cheered, and Christine threw her arms around Josie in a big hug.
That night as Josie knelt to pray, she thought about how her teammates had helped her. Their words gave her strength to keep going when she wanted to quit.
Josie looked up at the picture of Jesus hanging above her bed. Jesus does the same thing for us, she thought. She smiled as she imagined the Savior cheering her on. “Keep going, Josie! I am here to help you.”
Josie thanked Heavenly Father for His help in running the race of life. She felt like she could do anything with Jesus cheering her on!
“How’s it going?” her older sister, Christine, asked. She sat down with Josie on the grass so they could stretch their legs.
“I’m really tired today,” Josie said, reaching for her toes.
She had been sick and had to miss several days of school. So last night she stayed up late catching up on her schoolwork.
“I hope I don’t let our team down,” Josie said.
“Just do the best you can,” Christine said. “Looks like we’re about to start!”
The girls jogged over to join their teammates. As they lined up with the other runners, Josie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew her team was counting on her to run fast, as she usually did. The race time from the top five runners on their team would determine whether their team went on to the finals. She barely had time to get in position when the gun sounded to start the race. Bang! The runners pushed off the starting line and sprinted forward.
Josie pumped her arms and lengthened her steps. She knew she needed to get ahead in the beginning if she wanted to be a top finisher. At first Josie could keep up with the other lead runners. But when she tried to run faster, she couldn’t.
Josie breathed harder. She just couldn’t get her legs to move any faster. The runners behind her started passing her. Usually Josie was the one doing the passing! Maybe I should just give up, she thought.
Josie looked down at the ground as she heard another runner pass her. “Keep going, Josie!” the runner said as she ran by. Josie looked up. Then she smiled. It was one of her teammates.
“You can do it!” another teammate said as she ran past. One by one as Josie’s teammates passed her, they encouraged her to keep running.
Josie felt a surge of determination. Maybe she wouldn’t be in the top five, but she could still finish the race. She focused on her steps and didn’t stop until she finally crossed the finish line.
“I’m sorry if I … didn’t help us … qualify for the next race,” she said between big breaths.
“Our team did qualify!” Josie’s coach said as she ran over to the girls. Everyone on the team cheered, and Christine threw her arms around Josie in a big hug.
That night as Josie knelt to pray, she thought about how her teammates had helped her. Their words gave her strength to keep going when she wanted to quit.
Josie looked up at the picture of Jesus hanging above her bed. Jesus does the same thing for us, she thought. She smiled as she imagined the Savior cheering her on. “Keep going, Josie! I am here to help you.”
Josie thanked Heavenly Father for His help in running the race of life. She felt like she could do anything with Jesus cheering her on!
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👤 Children
👤 Friends
👤 Jesus Christ
Adversity
Endure to the End
Faith
Friendship
Gratitude
Jesus Christ
Prayer
Learning to Share
Summary: Chu Mei Ling describes helping classmates learn the gospel, including one friend who overcame her fear of baptism after praying and finding peace late the night before her baptism. Mei Ling rejoices in seeing friends become members of the Church and stay connected afterward.
The article concludes by showing that, despite her demanding school schedule, Mei Ling continues to serve in the Church and participate in youth activities. She looks forward to temple blessings, missionary work, and the spread of the gospel throughout Taiwan and beyond.
“Another of my classmates studied for a long time and had a testimony, but she didn’t want to be baptized because she was afraid of water. She couldn’t imagine standing in the baptismal font. So we prayed and decided she should try her faith. The baptismal date was set. Even the day before she was still scared. So we prayed again. About 11:00 P.M. that night, she called me to say she had found peace about it and would be baptized.
“There have been many others. Each time I saw one of my friends standing in the baptismal font, I think I was as happy as they were. Once again I could see someone become a member of the kingdom of God.
“Now, even though we are members of different wards, we all keep in touch with each other. It is wonderful to know they have become happier and that they now want to share the gospel.”
Mei Ling regularly writes in her journal, too. And she serves as chorister during her ward’s sacrament meetings.
And even though schoolwork is a high priority, she finds time to join the other Latter-day Saint youth of Taipei for Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women activities.
“I love to take my guitar to the hills and sing, or go to the beach to swim. I like horseback riding at the youth park, or ice skating. And of course it’s only that much better when it’s a Church activity and friends and classmates come along.
“During the mid-autumn festival this year, we’re planning a party at the park. We will build a fire and sing and enjoy the beauty of the moon, which is an old Chinese custom.”
When Mei Ling thinks of future activities like that, she also thinks about things even further in the future.
“It is said that the Taiwanese are full of genuine human warmth—but I believe the people would have even more love and kindness among themselves if they had the gospel. I believe that someday most of the people in Taiwan will be Latter-day Saints. Then from here the Church will continue to grow throughout all of Asia, throughout all the world, as we reach out to our brothers and sisters everywhere.”
In learning about the Church, there are some lessons that Mei Ling has learned well.
“I think that someday I will certainly be married in the temple,” she said. “I will also do the ordinances for my ancestors. I want to enter into the kingdom of God and provide the same opportunity for my family before me. If they aren’t baptized, how can they enter the kingdom of God? So I have to do the ordinances for them. As far as my marriage is concerned, I think that the person I marry will be someone I love and that he will also love me. We will not like the idea of being separated after death. So we will go to the temple and be sealed forever. And because there will soon be a temple in Taipei, we won’t have to travel far.”
Right now, though, Mei Ling said her first priority is to put her own life in order. “Since I now have to go to school both day and night, I am busy. There is tremendous pressure. But as long as I am able to manage my time well, the Lord will bless me to find time to do what he has asked.”
Since she joined the Church, Mei Ling has progressed in two kinds of learning. She has continued her schoolwork, and she works hard at it. But she has also learned that by studying and sharing the gospel, she can help others to acquire a type of knowledge more important than any secular education.
Every weekday, the students of Taipei City Junior Business College come to school, open their books, study their lessons, return home and study some more. In a busy, crowded metropolis like Taipei, their activity may seem just another part of the rush and hurry. In the school’s student body of thousands, one LDS girl may not seem to most of her peers to stand out in a crowd.
But just as the schools of Taiwan have taught students and teachers alike ways of sharing knowledge with each other, the still small voice has taught Chu Mei Ling how to share her testimony with those around her.
There certainly must be lessons to be learned from both.
“There have been many others. Each time I saw one of my friends standing in the baptismal font, I think I was as happy as they were. Once again I could see someone become a member of the kingdom of God.
“Now, even though we are members of different wards, we all keep in touch with each other. It is wonderful to know they have become happier and that they now want to share the gospel.”
Mei Ling regularly writes in her journal, too. And she serves as chorister during her ward’s sacrament meetings.
And even though schoolwork is a high priority, she finds time to join the other Latter-day Saint youth of Taipei for Aaronic Priesthood and Young Women activities.
“I love to take my guitar to the hills and sing, or go to the beach to swim. I like horseback riding at the youth park, or ice skating. And of course it’s only that much better when it’s a Church activity and friends and classmates come along.
“During the mid-autumn festival this year, we’re planning a party at the park. We will build a fire and sing and enjoy the beauty of the moon, which is an old Chinese custom.”
When Mei Ling thinks of future activities like that, she also thinks about things even further in the future.
“It is said that the Taiwanese are full of genuine human warmth—but I believe the people would have even more love and kindness among themselves if they had the gospel. I believe that someday most of the people in Taiwan will be Latter-day Saints. Then from here the Church will continue to grow throughout all of Asia, throughout all the world, as we reach out to our brothers and sisters everywhere.”
In learning about the Church, there are some lessons that Mei Ling has learned well.
“I think that someday I will certainly be married in the temple,” she said. “I will also do the ordinances for my ancestors. I want to enter into the kingdom of God and provide the same opportunity for my family before me. If they aren’t baptized, how can they enter the kingdom of God? So I have to do the ordinances for them. As far as my marriage is concerned, I think that the person I marry will be someone I love and that he will also love me. We will not like the idea of being separated after death. So we will go to the temple and be sealed forever. And because there will soon be a temple in Taipei, we won’t have to travel far.”
Right now, though, Mei Ling said her first priority is to put her own life in order. “Since I now have to go to school both day and night, I am busy. There is tremendous pressure. But as long as I am able to manage my time well, the Lord will bless me to find time to do what he has asked.”
Since she joined the Church, Mei Ling has progressed in two kinds of learning. She has continued her schoolwork, and she works hard at it. But she has also learned that by studying and sharing the gospel, she can help others to acquire a type of knowledge more important than any secular education.
Every weekday, the students of Taipei City Junior Business College come to school, open their books, study their lessons, return home and study some more. In a busy, crowded metropolis like Taipei, their activity may seem just another part of the rush and hurry. In the school’s student body of thousands, one LDS girl may not seem to most of her peers to stand out in a crowd.
But just as the schools of Taiwan have taught students and teachers alike ways of sharing knowledge with each other, the still small voice has taught Chu Mei Ling how to share her testimony with those around her.
There certainly must be lessons to be learned from both.
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👤 Youth
👤 Friends
Baptism
Conversion
Faith
Peace
Prayer
Testimony
Warm Up
Summary: A high school runner at the Wyoming state meet felt anxious about racing a top competitor. She prayed for help and then specifically asked to feel God's love. She felt a warm, embracing reassurance from the Lord. Although she didn’t win, she learned that God hears prayers and loves her.
It was the second day of the Wyoming state track and field meet, and I was a nervous wreck. I could barely eat my breakfast that morning, and I had never been so nervous in all three years of my high school track career. I was one of the favorites to win the 2A girls’ 800-meter dash, along with Patricia. She had the fastest time of the season and was my main competition. If anyone was to beat her, it was me.
As I warmed up for my race on a nearby practice field, I silently prayed to my Father in Heaven for help with my race. I also thanked Him for all my blessings before silently closing my prayer. Saying prayers before my races had become a habit when I started racing in high school. I knew if I put forth my best effort, the Lord would extend a hand and help me.
I continued warming up but still felt nervous and sick to my stomach. A few minutes before my race, I fervently prayed again. This time I only asked the Lord to let me know that He loved me and that He would be there for me.
Almost simultaneously, I felt as if the Lord wrapped his arms around me and gave me a warm hug. Tears began stinging my eyes as the Spirit touched me. I realized that the Lord really did love and care about me. It was one of the most wonderful feelings anyone can ever experience.
I didn’t win the race that day, but I was taught an important lesson. I now know that God hears and answers prayers, and that He loves me very much.
As I warmed up for my race on a nearby practice field, I silently prayed to my Father in Heaven for help with my race. I also thanked Him for all my blessings before silently closing my prayer. Saying prayers before my races had become a habit when I started racing in high school. I knew if I put forth my best effort, the Lord would extend a hand and help me.
I continued warming up but still felt nervous and sick to my stomach. A few minutes before my race, I fervently prayed again. This time I only asked the Lord to let me know that He loved me and that He would be there for me.
Almost simultaneously, I felt as if the Lord wrapped his arms around me and gave me a warm hug. Tears began stinging my eyes as the Spirit touched me. I realized that the Lord really did love and care about me. It was one of the most wonderful feelings anyone can ever experience.
I didn’t win the race that day, but I was taught an important lesson. I now know that God hears and answers prayers, and that He loves me very much.
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👤 Youth
👤 Other
Faith
Gratitude
Holy Ghost
Love
Prayer
Testimony
Fathers
Summary: An author recounts childhood mornings in a small apartment where his steelworker father would tuck him in and quietly pray for him before leaving early for work. As the boy grew, he recognized his father's love in those prayers. Years later, as a parent praying over his own sleeping children, he fully understood his father's feelings.
I am encouraged by a story that appeared in the New Era some years ago. The author recounted the following:
“When I was young, our little family lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the second floor. I slept on the couch in the living room. …
“My dad, a steelworker, left home very early for work each day. Every morning he would … tuck the covers around me and stop for a minute. I would be half-dreaming when I could sense my dad standing beside the couch, looking at me. As I slowly awoke, I became embarrassed to have him there. I tried to pretend I was still asleep. … I became aware that as he stood beside my bed he was praying with all his attention, energy, and focus—for me.
“Each morning my dad prayed for me. He prayed that I would have a good day, that I would be safe, that I would learn and prepare for the future. And since he could not be with me until evening, he prayed for the teachers and my friends that I would be with that day. …
“At first, I didn’t really understand what my dad was doing those mornings when he prayed for me. But as I got older, I came to sense his love and interest in me and everything I was doing. It is one of my favorite memories. It wasn’t until years later, after I was married, had children of my own, and would go into their rooms while they were asleep and pray for them that I understood completely how my father felt about me.”22
“When I was young, our little family lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the second floor. I slept on the couch in the living room. …
“My dad, a steelworker, left home very early for work each day. Every morning he would … tuck the covers around me and stop for a minute. I would be half-dreaming when I could sense my dad standing beside the couch, looking at me. As I slowly awoke, I became embarrassed to have him there. I tried to pretend I was still asleep. … I became aware that as he stood beside my bed he was praying with all his attention, energy, and focus—for me.
“Each morning my dad prayed for me. He prayed that I would have a good day, that I would be safe, that I would learn and prepare for the future. And since he could not be with me until evening, he prayed for the teachers and my friends that I would be with that day. …
“At first, I didn’t really understand what my dad was doing those mornings when he prayed for me. But as I got older, I came to sense his love and interest in me and everything I was doing. It is one of my favorite memories. It wasn’t until years later, after I was married, had children of my own, and would go into their rooms while they were asleep and pray for them that I understood completely how my father felt about me.”22
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Children
Family
Love
Parenting
Prayer
Friend to Friend
Summary: Elder Pinnock recalls his childhood, his family’s faith, and memorable experiences with Church leaders, Primary, and prayer. He tells how he found his lost bandalo after praying and describes his summers in Cedar City, which later became the area of his Church assignment. He closes with advice to children: love Jesus, live the commandments, and obey Church leaders.
“My favorite babysitter was my grandaunt Bertha Irvine, my grandmother’s older sister. She was a personal secretary to Wilford Woodruff, Lorenzo Snow, Joseph F. Smith, Heber J. Grant, and George Albert Smith. Sometimes I went to her office in the Church Administration Building and sat at her feet while she worked. Or I would play outside and climb on the building and around its big pillars. We’ve had twelve prophets, and I’ve known and shaken hands with six of them. I never even dreamed that I would ever have an office in that very building, but I serve today with a number of men who knew Aunt Bertha well: President Kimball, President Benson, and President Hinckley. She worked with Elder Joseph Anderson for years in the office of our wonderful prophets.
“My experiences with Sunday School and Primary teachers were important to me as I was growing up. I remember the little red chairs we used to sit in and how church was always an exciting and pleasant place to go. I looked forward to summer Primary, when we would make things out of wood and out of paper. I loved that. As I think back and remember Sister Condie and Sister Anderson and Sister Barnes and some of the other lovely teachers I had, I can remember them more clearly than I can my school teachers. I won a copy of Huckleberry Finn because I had the best attendance record. I still have that book. I appreciate the teacher who gave it to me.
“I had a great experience when I graduated from Primary. Back in those days we each had a green bandalo. I had lost mine. I looked everywhere, including under my bed and through everything in the closet. Finally my mother said, ‘Why don’t you pray about it. Ask Heavenly Father to help you find it.’ So I went to my room and prayed. Even as I was praying, a voice seemed to say, ‘In the dresser, caught underneath the drawer.’ The dresser was in the hall because there wasn’t enough room in my tiny bedroom. When I pulled out the drawer and reached up inside, there it was, caught on a silver! That was the first direct answer to prayer that I can remember receiving. I was proud that I could wear my bandalo when I stood next to Bishop Rulon Sperry as he nominated me to graduate from Primary and to be ordained to the office of a deacon.
“Many summers my family went to Cedar City and stayed on my uncle’s farm. There was no electricity or water in the house, so we carried buckets of water into the house from outside. I experienced farm life as it really was in those days. Now my assignment is with the people in that very same area. It is special to go there—it’s like going home. Some of the people there remember my uncle and aunt and other families I knew.
“A special message that I give to all the children in the world is this: First, love Jesus. He especially loves children, and if children can learn to love Him, then when they are older, they will continue to love Him and understand Him. I think that little children sometimes understand Jesus better than older people do because children forgive so quickly and love so easily.
“Second, live the commandments. The people I know who are truly happy are those who live the commandments. Whatever Heavenly Father wants us to do—such as paying our tithing and going to church and being nice to our brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers—that’s what we should do.
“Third, obey Church leaders. When I was a Primary boy, my parents would always talk about our wonderful bishop, Bishop Sperry. When I was a deacon, my bishop was Rex C. Reeve, Sr., a man with whom I serve today. I have always loved those men. When I don’t have a Church assignment on Sunday, which isn’t very often, I attend my own ward. My bishop there is Ole Johnson, and I love him today just as I loved Bishop Sperry and Bishop Reeve when I was young. If we love our Church leaders and obey what they tell us to do, then we’ll never make serious mistakes.”
“My experiences with Sunday School and Primary teachers were important to me as I was growing up. I remember the little red chairs we used to sit in and how church was always an exciting and pleasant place to go. I looked forward to summer Primary, when we would make things out of wood and out of paper. I loved that. As I think back and remember Sister Condie and Sister Anderson and Sister Barnes and some of the other lovely teachers I had, I can remember them more clearly than I can my school teachers. I won a copy of Huckleberry Finn because I had the best attendance record. I still have that book. I appreciate the teacher who gave it to me.
“I had a great experience when I graduated from Primary. Back in those days we each had a green bandalo. I had lost mine. I looked everywhere, including under my bed and through everything in the closet. Finally my mother said, ‘Why don’t you pray about it. Ask Heavenly Father to help you find it.’ So I went to my room and prayed. Even as I was praying, a voice seemed to say, ‘In the dresser, caught underneath the drawer.’ The dresser was in the hall because there wasn’t enough room in my tiny bedroom. When I pulled out the drawer and reached up inside, there it was, caught on a silver! That was the first direct answer to prayer that I can remember receiving. I was proud that I could wear my bandalo when I stood next to Bishop Rulon Sperry as he nominated me to graduate from Primary and to be ordained to the office of a deacon.
“Many summers my family went to Cedar City and stayed on my uncle’s farm. There was no electricity or water in the house, so we carried buckets of water into the house from outside. I experienced farm life as it really was in those days. Now my assignment is with the people in that very same area. It is special to go there—it’s like going home. Some of the people there remember my uncle and aunt and other families I knew.
“A special message that I give to all the children in the world is this: First, love Jesus. He especially loves children, and if children can learn to love Him, then when they are older, they will continue to love Him and understand Him. I think that little children sometimes understand Jesus better than older people do because children forgive so quickly and love so easily.
“Second, live the commandments. The people I know who are truly happy are those who live the commandments. Whatever Heavenly Father wants us to do—such as paying our tithing and going to church and being nice to our brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers—that’s what we should do.
“Third, obey Church leaders. When I was a Primary boy, my parents would always talk about our wonderful bishop, Bishop Sperry. When I was a deacon, my bishop was Rex C. Reeve, Sr., a man with whom I serve today. I have always loved those men. When I don’t have a Church assignment on Sunday, which isn’t very often, I attend my own ward. My bishop there is Ole Johnson, and I love him today just as I loved Bishop Sperry and Bishop Reeve when I was young. If we love our Church leaders and obey what they tell us to do, then we’ll never make serious mistakes.”
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👤 General Authorities (Modern)
👤 Other
👤 Children
Employment
Family
Women in the Church
My Faithful Counselor
Summary: The bishop felt stretched visiting many widows and widowers while also caring for his young family. In a bishopric meeting, Larry Morgan suggested that he and his wife, Elizabeth, take extra visits to those needing additional attention. Their efforts cheered many and significantly eased the bishop’s load.
Home teachers (known today as ministering brothers) did a great job visiting the widows and widowers and letting the bishopric know how they were doing. Today, much of the responsibility for their welfare would rest with the elders quorum and the Relief Society. But at the time, I felt a duty to visit them, too. So I made an effort to call on one or two a week. At that rate it would take nearly a year to visit all of them. With a young family that also needed my time, I felt stretched thin.
I talked about this in bishopric meeting, and Larry had an idea.
Larry and Elizabeth Morgan
Photograph courtesy of Morgan family
“Why don’t my wife and I help out?” he said. “We have all day to visit. Rely on the home teachers, but let Elizabeth and me go to see those who need a little extra attention. We’ll let them know you’re thinking of them.”
After that, my faithful counselor and his wife made many visits and cheered up many souls. They lightened my load considerably.
I talked about this in bishopric meeting, and Larry had an idea.
Larry and Elizabeth Morgan
Photograph courtesy of Morgan family
“Why don’t my wife and I help out?” he said. “We have all day to visit. Rely on the home teachers, but let Elizabeth and me go to see those who need a little extra attention. We’ll let them know you’re thinking of them.”
After that, my faithful counselor and his wife made many visits and cheered up many souls. They lightened my load considerably.
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👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Church Members (General)
Bishop
Family
Ministering
Relief Society
Service
I Did Not Come This Far, to Only Come This Far
Summary: The author recalls a difficult missionary transfer in Rwanda, where she wrote, “I did not come this far to only come this far,” and explains how that idea has continued to shape her life. She applies it to education, church callings, repentance, and the perseverance exemplified by Peter in John 6. She concludes that the adversary wants people to forget the blessings of discipleship, but the Savior can carry us forward if we do not walk away from the promises we have made.
During one of my most challenging transfers as a missionary in Rwanda, I remember I recorded everything I was feeling at the time in my journal and I concluded my entry with this statement, “I did not come this far to only come this far”—Tom Brady.1
As I have remembered this distant and seemingly small memory of my mission, I have realised that I have actually unknowingly continued the application of that statement in many aspects of my life.
For instance, when I have come as far as being enrolled to study the degree of my choice only to feel that maybe I do not have what it takes to make it, I am reminded to keep working. When I have come as far as accepting a calling in the ward and being set apart only later to feel that I actually have a lot on my plate, I am reminded to keep my word and render that service anyway. When I have come as far as feeling a fraction of the redeeming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ only to make mistakes that bring me great sorrow, I am reminded to repent regardless of how hopeless I feel.
It is always at these crucial moments when I have forgotten how far the Lord has brought me because I am overwhelmed at how far I still have to go, the account in John 6 becomes extremely relevant to me. The Saviour had just finished teaching about Him being the true bread from heaven which was an uncomfortable teaching to many because “from that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him.
“Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away?
“Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.
“And we believe and are sure that thou are that Christ, the Son of the living God.”2
To imagine the Saviour asking me this question causes me to consider my ways and to desire to push forward. Even Peter understood that he could not have walked that far with Jesus Christ only to walk away at a moment of personal inconvenience or due to a lack of understanding.
Looking back, I wonder if I would have learned this important principle of endurance had I not been a missionary fighting to rise above her challenges and somehow something tells me, probably not. I doubt that statement in my journal would have affected me the way that it did had I read and written it under different circumstances. The prophet Joseph Smith felt the words in James 1:5 piercing him in his heart because at that time, he was going through something that prepared him to receive eternal truths. I have come to understand that there are eternal truths to be found and learned when we strive to do the will of the Lord no matter how hard it is. Serving a mission for me was not a sacrifice because I lost nothing, and I gained everything. I thought leaving my family for 18 months was a huge deal, but I came back and personally, I think my grandmother loves me more because she realised how boring the house is without my constant talking and occasional drama. My education, my friends, my hobbies, my social media etc. all these things have been restored to me but have been doubled because now they come with sanctifying mission experiences that help me to discern the attacks of the adversary hidden within them.
The adversary, the enemy of truth, seeks to discredit the blessings of serving a mission to prospective, current and returned missionaries because he knows that those experiences carry the children of God further than where they are now. I testify that we did not come as far as we have in the plan of salvation to only come this far. The Saviour Jesus Christ is willing to carry us from this telestial world to the celestial. But His scope of interest is not limited to those of us that are here. Collectively it extends to those that do not know of His restored gospel and individually it extends to our eternal families. I pray and hope that none of us will walk away from the promises we have made to our Saviour Jesus Christ. I love Him, I love His gospel and I am grateful that priesthood authority has been restored in our time.
As I have remembered this distant and seemingly small memory of my mission, I have realised that I have actually unknowingly continued the application of that statement in many aspects of my life.
For instance, when I have come as far as being enrolled to study the degree of my choice only to feel that maybe I do not have what it takes to make it, I am reminded to keep working. When I have come as far as accepting a calling in the ward and being set apart only later to feel that I actually have a lot on my plate, I am reminded to keep my word and render that service anyway. When I have come as far as feeling a fraction of the redeeming power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ only to make mistakes that bring me great sorrow, I am reminded to repent regardless of how hopeless I feel.
It is always at these crucial moments when I have forgotten how far the Lord has brought me because I am overwhelmed at how far I still have to go, the account in John 6 becomes extremely relevant to me. The Saviour had just finished teaching about Him being the true bread from heaven which was an uncomfortable teaching to many because “from that time many of his disciples went back, and walked no more with him.
“Then said Jesus unto the twelve, Will ye also go away?
“Then Simon Peter answered him, Lord, to whom shall we go? thou hast the words of eternal life.
“And we believe and are sure that thou are that Christ, the Son of the living God.”2
To imagine the Saviour asking me this question causes me to consider my ways and to desire to push forward. Even Peter understood that he could not have walked that far with Jesus Christ only to walk away at a moment of personal inconvenience or due to a lack of understanding.
Looking back, I wonder if I would have learned this important principle of endurance had I not been a missionary fighting to rise above her challenges and somehow something tells me, probably not. I doubt that statement in my journal would have affected me the way that it did had I read and written it under different circumstances. The prophet Joseph Smith felt the words in James 1:5 piercing him in his heart because at that time, he was going through something that prepared him to receive eternal truths. I have come to understand that there are eternal truths to be found and learned when we strive to do the will of the Lord no matter how hard it is. Serving a mission for me was not a sacrifice because I lost nothing, and I gained everything. I thought leaving my family for 18 months was a huge deal, but I came back and personally, I think my grandmother loves me more because she realised how boring the house is without my constant talking and occasional drama. My education, my friends, my hobbies, my social media etc. all these things have been restored to me but have been doubled because now they come with sanctifying mission experiences that help me to discern the attacks of the adversary hidden within them.
The adversary, the enemy of truth, seeks to discredit the blessings of serving a mission to prospective, current and returned missionaries because he knows that those experiences carry the children of God further than where they are now. I testify that we did not come as far as we have in the plan of salvation to only come this far. The Saviour Jesus Christ is willing to carry us from this telestial world to the celestial. But His scope of interest is not limited to those of us that are here. Collectively it extends to those that do not know of His restored gospel and individually it extends to our eternal families. I pray and hope that none of us will walk away from the promises we have made to our Saviour Jesus Christ. I love Him, I love His gospel and I am grateful that priesthood authority has been restored in our time.
Read more →
👤 Missionaries
Adversity
Endure to the End
Missionary Work
Towering over Tulsa
Summary: Tommy described a youth trip to Dallas where they also visited an amusement park. Despite initial excitement for the park, afterward everyone most remembered the temple and the feelings they had there.
Tommy Cross, 14, of the First Ward, talked about a temple trip to Dallas, Texas. “At first we all thought we’d remember going to Six Flags and that the baptisms for the dead were something we’d do just to keep the leaders happy. But when we got back and talked about it, we’d forgotten about the amusement park. Everybody remembered the temple and what went on inside the temple. It was more important. You felt better there.”
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👤 Youth
Baptisms for the Dead
Reverence
Temples
Young Men
The Coat
Summary: Nathan becomes attached to his grandfather's fur coat and begins to believe it brings him good luck. Disobeying his father's counsel to avoid the west side of the lake, he is attacked by wild boars and is rescued by his father, who felt impressed to come. Nathan realizes the coat offers no protection and learns about true miracles, obedience, and second chances. He resolves to follow his father's guidance going forward.
The first thing that Nathan Wakefield saw after he had climbed into the dimly lit attic of his family’s sod-roof cabin was his father’s old Civil War uniform hanging from a rafter. Nathan felt that he had nothing better to do than to explore the attic. Besides, on this rainy day his best friend, Eddy Fairfax, had taken a steamboat ride up Cedar River with his parents to visit his uncle in Springdale.
Nathan ran his finger along the dusty length of the army carbine that stood in the shadowy corner of the attic, and he thought about “the big sadness,” which is what his father called the Civil War. Then he saw something else—a coat draped across an old chest. It was made of hides and furs, and it looked and felt wonderfully strange. Nathan pushed his hand through its musty softness.
“That was your Grandpa John’s coat,” came his father’s voice from behind him. Nathan turned around with a start and faced his father, who stood on the attic ladder, a smile on his face. “Your great-grandfather made it for him when he was just about your age. It kept him warm on a lot of cold winter nights.” Sensing Nathan’s fascination with the coat, he added, “How would you like to have it, Nathan?”
Nathan’s eyes grew round. “You really mean it, Papa?” he asked happily.
“Coats are for wearing,” Papa returned. “And since you’re the only one in this family who can fit into it …”
So excited was Nathan over the gift of Grandpa John’s unusual coat, that he asked his mother the following morning if he could wear it to school.
She smiled and commented that it did look rather striking on him. And since the weather was still about as cold and wet as Cedar River, she guessed that it would be all right.
Cylus Murphy, a boy who lived nearby and who normally walked to school with Nathan, caught cold that day. Nathan didn’t. Maybe the coat’s magic, Nathan thought on his way home that afternoon. Then he decided that he simply hadn’t caught cold because the big coat had kept him warm and dry.
And the next day when Nathan discovered a gold coin on his way to school, he was sure that the coat had nothing to do with it. However, when Mr. Styker sprang a test on the class after Nathan had slipped into the coat because the classroom stove had been banked for the day—and he had received the highest score—he began to wonder if the unique garment really did produce “good luck” for its wearer.
After a few other good things happened while he was wearing the coat, the eleven-year-old boy was certain that the coat brought good luck.
Nathan’s parents didn’t seem to question their son’s unusually strong attachment to Grandpa John’s coat until they discovered that Nathan believed that his small good fortunes had come because he’d been wearing it.
“I think that you should talk to Nathan about it,” his mother suggested to Papa one day. “That coat is starting to take its toll on his faith in himself—and maybe on his faith in general.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Papa assured her. “But,” he added with gentle wisdom, “sometimes the lessons learned best are the ones we learn through our own experiences.”
The following Saturday morning Nathan’s mother asked him to go to Big Wood Lake and gather reeds for her so that she could make a few baskets to sell at Mr. Rowland’s store in Hasting’s Grove.
“Don’t cut them on the west side of the lake,” his father cautioned. “They are more plentiful there, but there have been reports of wild boars spotted in that area, and they can get as nasty as a hungry bear up a played-out honey tree! You’ll be perfectly safe, however, if you stay on the east side of the lake.”
Frost seemed to hang on the morning like Nathan’s mother’s clothes on a line, so he snuggled into Grandpa John’s big, warm coat and started off toward the lake. He decided that it would be easier to gather reeds on the west side of Big Wood Lake, even though he had been told not to. They really were more numerous there, and he would have time left over to do what he wanted to. Maybe he could talk Papa into coming back to the lake to fish with him. Besides, Nathan told himself, the coat would protect him.
Not more than an hour had passed before Nathan had cut all the reeds that his mother would need. As he started to bind them together with a strip of leather, he heard sounds of thrashing and snorting in the deadwood up the shoreline behind him. He whirled around and spied three large boars erupting from the brush, their foul, twisted tusks ripping and gouging in fits of frenzy at the misted air. Piercing Nathan’s dread was the thought, The coat will protect me.
But as the boars tore down the bank toward him, he jumped up and started to run. Stumbling over a rotted log, he fell into the mud on the lakeshore. Getting up, he started to run again, but the big coat kept snagging on protruding limbs and jerking him back, and the accumulated lake mud on it was slowing him considerably.
Nathan was barely able to grab onto a low-hanging tree limb and swing his legs up around it before one of the pigs snagged the bottom of the coat. Yanking on it, the boar shook its ugly head in a squealing rage, slashing its tusks through Nathan’s shirttail. The added weight of the boar was now starting to drag the boy down—down to where the other two pigs rooted about, waiting for him to fall!
Suddenly the pig that had hold of Nathan’s clothes squealed sharply, released its hold, and fell lifeless into the mud. At the same time, the remaining two pigs dashed madly up the bank and disappeared into the brushwood. Nathan blinked mud from his eyes and looked over his shoulder to where Papa stood along the shoreline, holding his still-smoking carbine.
Nathan dropped to the ground and started running toward his father. Just short of reaching his father’s strong arms, his legs gave out. Papa dropped his rifle and sank to his knees in the mud beside his son, pulling Nathan onto his lap. For a long moment they sat in silence, each holding on to the other. Nathan was thinking that his father would scold him for disobeying, but all Papa did was run his hand through the boy’s mud-clotted hair and tell him softly that he loved him.
“This coat almost got me killed,” Nathan finally said, his voice trembling with fear and shame. “It would have, too, Papa, if you hadn’t come along when you did.” Then he added, “Why did you come?”
“Something inside told me that maybe you could use a little help.”
Nathan’s eyes tried to meet his father’s, but they couldn’t—not yet. “How could I have been so stupid as to ever think that a silly old coat could do anything more than keep me warm.”
Papa smiled. “Anything seems possible when you’re young, I guess.”
Nathan lifted the muddy bottom of the coat and let it drop. “I imagine the closest thing to there being any real magic in the world is a body’s thinking that there is.”
Papa patted the youth’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he said, pointing off across the lake to the misted mountains lit with gold. “I’d say it took Heavenly Father a fair share of ‘magic’ to put that together. Of course, what looks to us to be magic or miraculous is to Him a matter of perfect knowledge and the execution of natural law. We don’t understand it, so to us, it’s a wonder.” Papa helped Nathan up, adding, “Life, itself, is a kind of magic, a kind of miracle, wouldn’t you say?”
Nathan thought for a moment, then nodded excitedly. “You mean like a tiny seed growing into a big old oak tree?”
“And a lot more,” Papa said. “Like the power of the priesthood. An answer to prayer. What your mother does in the kitchen every day along about suppertime. Even failure.”
“Failure?” Nathan questioned.
Papa smiled. “It allows a person to start over again, giving him a second chance to do something better than he had done it before.”
Nathan thought about the second chance he was fortunate to have: The next time Papa instructs me not to do something, I’ll obey better than I ever have before!
Picking up his carbine, Papa rested his arm over the boy’s shoulder, and the two started toward home.
“There’s one more miracle that I almost forgot about,” Papa proclaimed as they tromped along, a jestful gleam in his eye.
“What’s that?” Nathan queried.
“Your mother’s homemade lye soap. I’ve seen it take a week’s worth of summer off you in less than a groan. But,” he added with a chuckle, “judging from all that mud on you today, it’s a miracle that will be sorely tried!”
Nathan ran his finger along the dusty length of the army carbine that stood in the shadowy corner of the attic, and he thought about “the big sadness,” which is what his father called the Civil War. Then he saw something else—a coat draped across an old chest. It was made of hides and furs, and it looked and felt wonderfully strange. Nathan pushed his hand through its musty softness.
“That was your Grandpa John’s coat,” came his father’s voice from behind him. Nathan turned around with a start and faced his father, who stood on the attic ladder, a smile on his face. “Your great-grandfather made it for him when he was just about your age. It kept him warm on a lot of cold winter nights.” Sensing Nathan’s fascination with the coat, he added, “How would you like to have it, Nathan?”
Nathan’s eyes grew round. “You really mean it, Papa?” he asked happily.
“Coats are for wearing,” Papa returned. “And since you’re the only one in this family who can fit into it …”
So excited was Nathan over the gift of Grandpa John’s unusual coat, that he asked his mother the following morning if he could wear it to school.
She smiled and commented that it did look rather striking on him. And since the weather was still about as cold and wet as Cedar River, she guessed that it would be all right.
Cylus Murphy, a boy who lived nearby and who normally walked to school with Nathan, caught cold that day. Nathan didn’t. Maybe the coat’s magic, Nathan thought on his way home that afternoon. Then he decided that he simply hadn’t caught cold because the big coat had kept him warm and dry.
And the next day when Nathan discovered a gold coin on his way to school, he was sure that the coat had nothing to do with it. However, when Mr. Styker sprang a test on the class after Nathan had slipped into the coat because the classroom stove had been banked for the day—and he had received the highest score—he began to wonder if the unique garment really did produce “good luck” for its wearer.
After a few other good things happened while he was wearing the coat, the eleven-year-old boy was certain that the coat brought good luck.
Nathan’s parents didn’t seem to question their son’s unusually strong attachment to Grandpa John’s coat until they discovered that Nathan believed that his small good fortunes had come because he’d been wearing it.
“I think that you should talk to Nathan about it,” his mother suggested to Papa one day. “That coat is starting to take its toll on his faith in himself—and maybe on his faith in general.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Papa assured her. “But,” he added with gentle wisdom, “sometimes the lessons learned best are the ones we learn through our own experiences.”
The following Saturday morning Nathan’s mother asked him to go to Big Wood Lake and gather reeds for her so that she could make a few baskets to sell at Mr. Rowland’s store in Hasting’s Grove.
“Don’t cut them on the west side of the lake,” his father cautioned. “They are more plentiful there, but there have been reports of wild boars spotted in that area, and they can get as nasty as a hungry bear up a played-out honey tree! You’ll be perfectly safe, however, if you stay on the east side of the lake.”
Frost seemed to hang on the morning like Nathan’s mother’s clothes on a line, so he snuggled into Grandpa John’s big, warm coat and started off toward the lake. He decided that it would be easier to gather reeds on the west side of Big Wood Lake, even though he had been told not to. They really were more numerous there, and he would have time left over to do what he wanted to. Maybe he could talk Papa into coming back to the lake to fish with him. Besides, Nathan told himself, the coat would protect him.
Not more than an hour had passed before Nathan had cut all the reeds that his mother would need. As he started to bind them together with a strip of leather, he heard sounds of thrashing and snorting in the deadwood up the shoreline behind him. He whirled around and spied three large boars erupting from the brush, their foul, twisted tusks ripping and gouging in fits of frenzy at the misted air. Piercing Nathan’s dread was the thought, The coat will protect me.
But as the boars tore down the bank toward him, he jumped up and started to run. Stumbling over a rotted log, he fell into the mud on the lakeshore. Getting up, he started to run again, but the big coat kept snagging on protruding limbs and jerking him back, and the accumulated lake mud on it was slowing him considerably.
Nathan was barely able to grab onto a low-hanging tree limb and swing his legs up around it before one of the pigs snagged the bottom of the coat. Yanking on it, the boar shook its ugly head in a squealing rage, slashing its tusks through Nathan’s shirttail. The added weight of the boar was now starting to drag the boy down—down to where the other two pigs rooted about, waiting for him to fall!
Suddenly the pig that had hold of Nathan’s clothes squealed sharply, released its hold, and fell lifeless into the mud. At the same time, the remaining two pigs dashed madly up the bank and disappeared into the brushwood. Nathan blinked mud from his eyes and looked over his shoulder to where Papa stood along the shoreline, holding his still-smoking carbine.
Nathan dropped to the ground and started running toward his father. Just short of reaching his father’s strong arms, his legs gave out. Papa dropped his rifle and sank to his knees in the mud beside his son, pulling Nathan onto his lap. For a long moment they sat in silence, each holding on to the other. Nathan was thinking that his father would scold him for disobeying, but all Papa did was run his hand through the boy’s mud-clotted hair and tell him softly that he loved him.
“This coat almost got me killed,” Nathan finally said, his voice trembling with fear and shame. “It would have, too, Papa, if you hadn’t come along when you did.” Then he added, “Why did you come?”
“Something inside told me that maybe you could use a little help.”
Nathan’s eyes tried to meet his father’s, but they couldn’t—not yet. “How could I have been so stupid as to ever think that a silly old coat could do anything more than keep me warm.”
Papa smiled. “Anything seems possible when you’re young, I guess.”
Nathan lifted the muddy bottom of the coat and let it drop. “I imagine the closest thing to there being any real magic in the world is a body’s thinking that there is.”
Papa patted the youth’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” he said, pointing off across the lake to the misted mountains lit with gold. “I’d say it took Heavenly Father a fair share of ‘magic’ to put that together. Of course, what looks to us to be magic or miraculous is to Him a matter of perfect knowledge and the execution of natural law. We don’t understand it, so to us, it’s a wonder.” Papa helped Nathan up, adding, “Life, itself, is a kind of magic, a kind of miracle, wouldn’t you say?”
Nathan thought for a moment, then nodded excitedly. “You mean like a tiny seed growing into a big old oak tree?”
“And a lot more,” Papa said. “Like the power of the priesthood. An answer to prayer. What your mother does in the kitchen every day along about suppertime. Even failure.”
“Failure?” Nathan questioned.
Papa smiled. “It allows a person to start over again, giving him a second chance to do something better than he had done it before.”
Nathan thought about the second chance he was fortunate to have: The next time Papa instructs me not to do something, I’ll obey better than I ever have before!
Picking up his carbine, Papa rested his arm over the boy’s shoulder, and the two started toward home.
“There’s one more miracle that I almost forgot about,” Papa proclaimed as they tromped along, a jestful gleam in his eye.
“What’s that?” Nathan queried.
“Your mother’s homemade lye soap. I’ve seen it take a week’s worth of summer off you in less than a groan. But,” he added with a chuckle, “judging from all that mud on you today, it’s a miracle that will be sorely tried!”
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👤 Parents
👤 Children
Agency and Accountability
Children
Faith
Family
Miracles
Obedience
Parenting
Prayer
Priesthood
Revelation
Faith in Every Footstep
Summary: Two ministering brothers felt a strong prompting to visit an inactive man and initially resisted before deciding to go. After persistent knocking, the man finally opened the door. They discovered he was considering extreme self-harm, and their timely visit and expressions of the Savior’s love helped dispel those thoughts. Their responsiveness exemplified holding up the Savior’s light through ministering.
Two ministering brothers felt a strong prompting to visit a man who has not been regular in church. As they resisted this prompting, it became stronger until they decided to follow the impression to visit the man in his home. On getting there, they knocked for several minutes without any response from the man. They thought that the man was not home and wondered if they should leave. Thankfully, they tarried a while and decided to knock again. This brother finally decided to open the door. On entering the room, they noticed the man was considering extreme self-harm. Those thoughts were immediately negated by the brethren as they were able to share the Savior’s love with him. Because they were mindful of their fellow man, they were able to hold up the Savior’s light, as instructed in 3 Nephi 18:24: “Hold up your light that it may shine unto to world. Behold I am the light which ye shall hold up”.
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👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Charity
Holy Ghost
Jesus Christ
Light of Christ
Love
Mental Health
Ministering
Revelation
Suicide
Let Your Light Shine
Summary: Eleven-year-old Mitchell won an art contest and traveled with his mother to Brazil, where he enjoyed the rainforest and sang from a high tower. At a post-trip dinner, guests questioned whether Latter-day Saints are Christians. Feeling shy at first, Mitchell decided to sing 'I Feel My Savior's Love,' and his heartfelt song convinced those present of his love for Jesus Christ. His simple testimony dispelled doubts and let his light shine.
Eleven-year-old Mitchell won an international art contest about saving the rain forest. His prize was a trip to the rain forest in Brazil for himself and his mother. During his visit to Brazil, he saw many interesting insects and animals, unusual plants, and giant trees. While there, he climbed a very high tower and heard the echo of his voice as he sang out over the tall trees.
When he returned from the trip, Mitchell and his mother attended a dinner for those who had participated in the contest. Someone who had heard him sing in the rain forest invited him to sing for those gathered at the dinner. “Oh no!” he said. He felt shy in front of all those people.
During the dinner, when the people learned that he and his family were “Mormons,” they began to ask questions about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Mormons aren’t Christians, are they?” someone asked. Mitchell’s mother quickly assured their new friends that Mormons are indeed Christians. But some people did not seem to believe her.
When Mitchell heard their questions, he whispered to his mother that he had changed his mind—he would like to sing for them. He stood and sang, “I feel my Savior’s love In all the world around me. His spirit warms my soul Through ev’rything I see. He knows I will follow him, Give all my life to him. I feel my Savior’s love, The love he freely gives me.”*
When the beautiful song ended, no one in the room doubted that Mitchell loved the Savior, Jesus Christ, and that Mormons are, indeed, Christians. Mitchell had sung his testimony. He had let his light shine.
When he returned from the trip, Mitchell and his mother attended a dinner for those who had participated in the contest. Someone who had heard him sing in the rain forest invited him to sing for those gathered at the dinner. “Oh no!” he said. He felt shy in front of all those people.
During the dinner, when the people learned that he and his family were “Mormons,” they began to ask questions about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. “Mormons aren’t Christians, are they?” someone asked. Mitchell’s mother quickly assured their new friends that Mormons are indeed Christians. But some people did not seem to believe her.
When Mitchell heard their questions, he whispered to his mother that he had changed his mind—he would like to sing for them. He stood and sang, “I feel my Savior’s love In all the world around me. His spirit warms my soul Through ev’rything I see. He knows I will follow him, Give all my life to him. I feel my Savior’s love, The love he freely gives me.”*
When the beautiful song ended, no one in the room doubted that Mitchell loved the Savior, Jesus Christ, and that Mormons are, indeed, Christians. Mitchell had sung his testimony. He had let his light shine.
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
👤 Other
Children
Courage
Faith
Jesus Christ
Missionary Work
Music
Testimony
The Good List
Summary: Dan initially rejects every compliment and downplays his abilities in a conversation with his teachers quorum adviser about playing basketball. Later, with a new outlook, Dan responds positively, looks for ways to contribute, and anticipates success with his team. The contrast shows how a shift in attitude can change participation and confidence.
Whenever anyone said something nice to Dan, he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—accept it. A typical conversation with his teachers quorum adviser went something like this:
“Hey, Dan, glad you came! We can really use your help on the ward basketball team.”
“I’m no good at basketball. The only reason I came was because the other guys kept calling me.”
“Well, get warmed up. We need your outside shot.”
“I don’t have an outside shot. I don’t even have an inside shot.”
“So … what do you do in a game?”
“Mainly try to get the other team to feel sorry for me,” Dan said glumly.
Let’s take another look at Dan, this time with a more positive light in his life.
“Hey, Dan, glad you came! We can really use your help on the ward basketball team.”
“I’m glad to be here.”
“Well, get warmed up. We need your outside shot.”
“Okay. Maybe I can work with Steve a little. He’s good at passing, and that, along with what I can do, should be a good combination. You know, I’m starting to feel a little sorry for the other team.”
“Hey, Dan, glad you came! We can really use your help on the ward basketball team.”
“I’m no good at basketball. The only reason I came was because the other guys kept calling me.”
“Well, get warmed up. We need your outside shot.”
“I don’t have an outside shot. I don’t even have an inside shot.”
“So … what do you do in a game?”
“Mainly try to get the other team to feel sorry for me,” Dan said glumly.
Let’s take another look at Dan, this time with a more positive light in his life.
“Hey, Dan, glad you came! We can really use your help on the ward basketball team.”
“I’m glad to be here.”
“Well, get warmed up. We need your outside shot.”
“Okay. Maybe I can work with Steve a little. He’s good at passing, and that, along with what I can do, should be a good combination. You know, I’m starting to feel a little sorry for the other team.”
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👤 Youth
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
Friendship
Kindness
Ministering
Young Men
“There Is the Light”
Summary: As a young missionary and district president in the South Pacific, the narrator responded to a prompting to evacuate a very ill missionary by boat despite a worsening storm. In the darkness, the crew could not see the narrow harbor light and panicked at the crashing reef, but the experienced captain calmly saw the light and guided them safely through. They entered the protected harbor and realized they had survived by trusting the captain’s experienced, steady guidance. The narrator draws a lesson about following those with divine callings who can see clearly amid life’s storms.
As a young missionary I was assigned as a district president to administer the affairs of the Church and preach the gospel in a group of 15 small, scattered islands in the South Pacific. We traveled almost exclusively by sailboat and learned to rely not only on the winds and the currents of the usually friendly seas, but especially on the love of our Father in heaven, as we sailed week after week and month after month from island to island. It was a glorious time, full of the normal challenges of seasickness, becalmings, strange languages, foods, and customs. But mostly it was a time of spiritual closeness to our Father in heaven, whose love and goodness so far overshadowed any temporary pain or problems as to make the latter shrink into obscurity.
On one occasion we received word that a missionary was very ill on a somewhat distant island. The weather was threatening, but feeling responsible, and after prayer, we left to investigate the situation. Extra heavy seas slowed our progress, and it was late afternoon before we arrived. The missionary was indeed very ill. Fervent prayer was followed by administration, during which the impression came very strongly to get him back to the hospital on the main island and to do it now!
The weather had deteriorated to the point of a small gale. The seas were heavy, the clouds were thick, the wind was fierce, the hour was late, and the sun was sinking rapidly, betokening a long black night ahead. But the impression was strong—“Get back now”—and one learns to obey the all-important promptings of the Spirit.
There was much concern expressed and much talk about the darkness, the storm, and the formidable reef with its extremely narrow openings to the harbor we were attempting to gain. Some found reason to stay behind; but soon eight persons, including an ill missionary, a very experienced captain, and a somewhat concerned district president, boarded the boat, and the spiritually prompted voyage to home base began.
No sooner had we made our commitment to the open seas than the intensity of the storm seemed to increase sevenfold. The small gale now became a major storm. As the sun sank below the horizon, bringing with it darkness and gloom, so also did my spirit seem to sink into the darkness of doubt and apprehension. The thick clouds and driving rain increased the blackness of our already dark universe—no stars, no moon, no rest, only turmoil of sea and body and mind and spirit. And as we toiled on through that fearsome night, I found my spirit communing with the spirit of the father of an afflicted child in the New Testament, as he exclaimed, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” (Mark 9:24.) And He did, and He does, and He will. That I know.
As we rolled and tossed closer and closer to the reef, all eyes searched for the light that marked the opening—the only entry to our home. Where was it? The blackness of the night seemed to increase; the fierceness of the raging elements seemed to know no bounds. The rain slashed at our faces and tore at our eyes—eyes vainly searching for that life-giving light.
Then I heard the chilling sound of the waves crashing and chewing against the reef! It was close—too close. Where was that light? Unless we hit the opening exactly, we would be smashed against the reef and ripped and torn by that thousand-toothed monster. It seemed that all the elements were savagely bent on our total destruction. Our eyes strained against the blackness, but we could not see the light.
Some began to whimper, others to moan and cry, and one or two even to scream in hysteria. At the height of this panic, when many were pleading to turn to the left or to the right, when the tumultuous elements all but forced us to abandon life and hope, I looked at the captain—and there I saw the face of calmness, the ageless face of wisdom and experience, as his eyes penetrated the darkness ahead. Quietly his weather-roughened lips parted, and without moving his fixed gaze and just perceptibly shifting the wheel, he breathed those life-giving words, “Ko e Maama e!” (“There is the light!”)
I could not see the light, but the captain could see it. And I knew he could see it. Those eyes long experienced in ocean travel were not fooled by the madness of the storm nor were they influenced by the pleadings of those of lesser experience to turn to the left or to the right. And so with one last great swell we were hurtled through the opening and into calmer waters.
The roaring of the reef was now behind us. Its infamous plan of destruction had been foiled. We were in the protected harbor. We were home. Then and only then did we see through the darkness that one small light—exactly where the captain had said it was. Had we waited until we ourselves could see the light, we would have been dashed to pieces, shredded on the reef of unbelief. But trusting in those experienced eyes, we lived.
On one occasion we received word that a missionary was very ill on a somewhat distant island. The weather was threatening, but feeling responsible, and after prayer, we left to investigate the situation. Extra heavy seas slowed our progress, and it was late afternoon before we arrived. The missionary was indeed very ill. Fervent prayer was followed by administration, during which the impression came very strongly to get him back to the hospital on the main island and to do it now!
The weather had deteriorated to the point of a small gale. The seas were heavy, the clouds were thick, the wind was fierce, the hour was late, and the sun was sinking rapidly, betokening a long black night ahead. But the impression was strong—“Get back now”—and one learns to obey the all-important promptings of the Spirit.
There was much concern expressed and much talk about the darkness, the storm, and the formidable reef with its extremely narrow openings to the harbor we were attempting to gain. Some found reason to stay behind; but soon eight persons, including an ill missionary, a very experienced captain, and a somewhat concerned district president, boarded the boat, and the spiritually prompted voyage to home base began.
No sooner had we made our commitment to the open seas than the intensity of the storm seemed to increase sevenfold. The small gale now became a major storm. As the sun sank below the horizon, bringing with it darkness and gloom, so also did my spirit seem to sink into the darkness of doubt and apprehension. The thick clouds and driving rain increased the blackness of our already dark universe—no stars, no moon, no rest, only turmoil of sea and body and mind and spirit. And as we toiled on through that fearsome night, I found my spirit communing with the spirit of the father of an afflicted child in the New Testament, as he exclaimed, “Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief.” (Mark 9:24.) And He did, and He does, and He will. That I know.
As we rolled and tossed closer and closer to the reef, all eyes searched for the light that marked the opening—the only entry to our home. Where was it? The blackness of the night seemed to increase; the fierceness of the raging elements seemed to know no bounds. The rain slashed at our faces and tore at our eyes—eyes vainly searching for that life-giving light.
Then I heard the chilling sound of the waves crashing and chewing against the reef! It was close—too close. Where was that light? Unless we hit the opening exactly, we would be smashed against the reef and ripped and torn by that thousand-toothed monster. It seemed that all the elements were savagely bent on our total destruction. Our eyes strained against the blackness, but we could not see the light.
Some began to whimper, others to moan and cry, and one or two even to scream in hysteria. At the height of this panic, when many were pleading to turn to the left or to the right, when the tumultuous elements all but forced us to abandon life and hope, I looked at the captain—and there I saw the face of calmness, the ageless face of wisdom and experience, as his eyes penetrated the darkness ahead. Quietly his weather-roughened lips parted, and without moving his fixed gaze and just perceptibly shifting the wheel, he breathed those life-giving words, “Ko e Maama e!” (“There is the light!”)
I could not see the light, but the captain could see it. And I knew he could see it. Those eyes long experienced in ocean travel were not fooled by the madness of the storm nor were they influenced by the pleadings of those of lesser experience to turn to the left or to the right. And so with one last great swell we were hurtled through the opening and into calmer waters.
The roaring of the reef was now behind us. Its infamous plan of destruction had been foiled. We were in the protected harbor. We were home. Then and only then did we see through the darkness that one small light—exactly where the captain had said it was. Had we waited until we ourselves could see the light, we would have been dashed to pieces, shredded on the reef of unbelief. But trusting in those experienced eyes, we lived.
Read more →
👤 Missionaries
👤 Church Leaders (Local)
👤 Other
Adversity
Doubt
Faith
Holy Ghost
Love
Miracles
Missionary Work
Obedience
Prayer
Revelation
Testimony
Make a Joyful Noise
Summary: Paul doesn’t want to sit near the Wilsons at church because Joseph, their young son, sings loudly and off-time. His mother asks him to listen carefully, and Paul notices Joseph’s sincere, reverent effort, recalling scriptures about joyful noise and the song of the heart. Paul’s attitude softens, and he befriends Joseph, appreciating his heartfelt worship.
“Let’s not sit by the Wilsons today,” Paul said to his mom as they drove to church.
“Why not?” Mom seemed surprised.
“Because their little boy embarrasses me.”
“You mean cute little Joseph? How does he embarrass you?”
“Haven’t you heard him? He’s so loud, especially during the hymns. He thinks he’s singing, but he’s just making noise.”
Mom smiled. “Ah, yes, I have heard him. I’ll tell you what, you listen very carefully to him today and think about what you hear. And next week, if his singing still bothers you, we’ll sit somewhere else.”
Paul frowned. “That means we’ll have to sit by the Wilsons today.”
“That’s right. But after today the problem should be solved. OK?”
“OK,” Paul sighed.
When they entered the chapel, Paul looked around until he spotted the Wilsons. They were just settling onto a bench. Joseph already had his nose in a hymnbook.
“There’s a seat just in front of them,” Mom pointed out. “Let’s go.”
As Paul sat down, Joseph put down his book and grinned at him. Paul couldn’t help smiling back. Joseph did have a special sparkle in his eyes. If only he weren’t so noisy.
After the bishop’s greeting, it was time for the opening hymn. Paul was still looking for the correct page in the hymnbook when the music began. Joseph began to wail so loudly that Paul could hardly hear the organ playing.
Paul looked at Mom and silently mouthed, “See?”
Mom smiled and mouthed back, “Listen.”
Paul listened. Joseph sang very loudly, but he wasn’t singing what everyone else was singing. When the rest of the congregation paused between verses, Joseph’s voice could still be heard. It just sounded like noise to Paul. Why couldn’t Joseph sing the right words or at least sing at the right times? Paul glanced back at the Wilsons. Joseph held open the hymnbook for his parents. They didn’t seem to notice the awful racket he was making.
After the opening prayer, Mom opened her scriptures and pointed out a verse to Paul. It was in Psalms 66:1–2 and it read, “Make a joyful noise unto God, all ye lands: Sing forth the honour of his name: make his praise glorious.”
“‘Joyful noise’? Was that what Joseph was doing?” Paul wondered.
When it came time to sing the sacrament hymn, Paul was halfway through the song when he realized he couldn’t hear Joseph. Had he fallen asleep? Paul glanced back and saw Joseph sitting between his parents with his arms folded. Joseph’s father held the book for them. Paul tilted his head and listened carefully. Was Joseph making any noise at all? Yes, now he could hear him. He was humming. He wasn’t humming the same song everyone else was singing, but it was a reverent tune. Joseph somehow knew that this was the time for a quiet song. Paul tried to sing with more reverence.
Paul was glad there was another hymn during the meeting. This would give him another opportunity to hear Joseph sing. And sing he did! This was more like a “wake-up” hymn to Joseph. He held the hymnbook high again and sang with gusto. Paul suddenly realized that Joseph probably didn’t sing the words because he wasn’t old enough to read, but he didn’t let that stop him. Paul wondered if he would be so brave if he couldn’t read the words in the hymnbook. Would he be able to sing with as much enthusiasm as Joseph?
After that hymn, Paul’s mother showed him another scripture: “For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12). Paul nodded. Joseph’s singing certainly was from his heart.
Paul made one more discovery during the closing hymn. Joseph wasn’t just making noise or making up words, he was actually singing the words to a song. Paul listened carefully and heard “I Am a Child of God.” Of course, everyone else was singing something else. When the congregation began singing the last verse, Joseph launched into “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” Paul smiled to himself. This was Joseph’s time to sing, too. And he was singing every song he could think of, with all his might.
When the last notes on the organ faded away, Joseph’s voice could be clearly heard as he ended his song with “I’ll be a sunbeam for Him.” Many people chuckled. Paul heard Joseph’s mom whisper to Joseph, “Prayer time.” There was a rustle as Joseph shifted in his seat and folded his arms.
When the prayer was over, Paul’s mom looked at Paul and raised her eyebrows. “Well?” she asked. “Is there still a problem?”
Paul shook his head. He turned to the Wilsons. “Hey, Joseph,” Paul said, “can I walk you to Primary? I bet they love you in singing time.”
Joseph grinned and nodded as he took Paul’s hand. As they walked down the aisle, Paul started quietly humming a Primary song that had just come to his mind, “A song is a wonderful kind of thing, so lift up your voice and sing. …”
“Why not?” Mom seemed surprised.
“Because their little boy embarrasses me.”
“You mean cute little Joseph? How does he embarrass you?”
“Haven’t you heard him? He’s so loud, especially during the hymns. He thinks he’s singing, but he’s just making noise.”
Mom smiled. “Ah, yes, I have heard him. I’ll tell you what, you listen very carefully to him today and think about what you hear. And next week, if his singing still bothers you, we’ll sit somewhere else.”
Paul frowned. “That means we’ll have to sit by the Wilsons today.”
“That’s right. But after today the problem should be solved. OK?”
“OK,” Paul sighed.
When they entered the chapel, Paul looked around until he spotted the Wilsons. They were just settling onto a bench. Joseph already had his nose in a hymnbook.
“There’s a seat just in front of them,” Mom pointed out. “Let’s go.”
As Paul sat down, Joseph put down his book and grinned at him. Paul couldn’t help smiling back. Joseph did have a special sparkle in his eyes. If only he weren’t so noisy.
After the bishop’s greeting, it was time for the opening hymn. Paul was still looking for the correct page in the hymnbook when the music began. Joseph began to wail so loudly that Paul could hardly hear the organ playing.
Paul looked at Mom and silently mouthed, “See?”
Mom smiled and mouthed back, “Listen.”
Paul listened. Joseph sang very loudly, but he wasn’t singing what everyone else was singing. When the rest of the congregation paused between verses, Joseph’s voice could still be heard. It just sounded like noise to Paul. Why couldn’t Joseph sing the right words or at least sing at the right times? Paul glanced back at the Wilsons. Joseph held open the hymnbook for his parents. They didn’t seem to notice the awful racket he was making.
After the opening prayer, Mom opened her scriptures and pointed out a verse to Paul. It was in Psalms 66:1–2 and it read, “Make a joyful noise unto God, all ye lands: Sing forth the honour of his name: make his praise glorious.”
“‘Joyful noise’? Was that what Joseph was doing?” Paul wondered.
When it came time to sing the sacrament hymn, Paul was halfway through the song when he realized he couldn’t hear Joseph. Had he fallen asleep? Paul glanced back and saw Joseph sitting between his parents with his arms folded. Joseph’s father held the book for them. Paul tilted his head and listened carefully. Was Joseph making any noise at all? Yes, now he could hear him. He was humming. He wasn’t humming the same song everyone else was singing, but it was a reverent tune. Joseph somehow knew that this was the time for a quiet song. Paul tried to sing with more reverence.
Paul was glad there was another hymn during the meeting. This would give him another opportunity to hear Joseph sing. And sing he did! This was more like a “wake-up” hymn to Joseph. He held the hymnbook high again and sang with gusto. Paul suddenly realized that Joseph probably didn’t sing the words because he wasn’t old enough to read, but he didn’t let that stop him. Paul wondered if he would be so brave if he couldn’t read the words in the hymnbook. Would he be able to sing with as much enthusiasm as Joseph?
After that hymn, Paul’s mother showed him another scripture: “For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart; yea, the song of the righteous is a prayer unto me, and it shall be answered with a blessing upon their heads” (D&C 25:12). Paul nodded. Joseph’s singing certainly was from his heart.
Paul made one more discovery during the closing hymn. Joseph wasn’t just making noise or making up words, he was actually singing the words to a song. Paul listened carefully and heard “I Am a Child of God.” Of course, everyone else was singing something else. When the congregation began singing the last verse, Joseph launched into “Jesus Wants Me for a Sunbeam.” Paul smiled to himself. This was Joseph’s time to sing, too. And he was singing every song he could think of, with all his might.
When the last notes on the organ faded away, Joseph’s voice could be clearly heard as he ended his song with “I’ll be a sunbeam for Him.” Many people chuckled. Paul heard Joseph’s mom whisper to Joseph, “Prayer time.” There was a rustle as Joseph shifted in his seat and folded his arms.
When the prayer was over, Paul’s mom looked at Paul and raised her eyebrows. “Well?” she asked. “Is there still a problem?”
Paul shook his head. He turned to the Wilsons. “Hey, Joseph,” Paul said, “can I walk you to Primary? I bet they love you in singing time.”
Joseph grinned and nodded as he took Paul’s hand. As they walked down the aisle, Paul started quietly humming a Primary song that had just come to his mind, “A song is a wonderful kind of thing, so lift up your voice and sing. …”
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👤 Children
👤 Parents
👤 Church Members (General)
Charity
Children
Judging Others
Kindness
Music
Reverence
Sacrament Meeting
Scriptures
FYI:For Your Info
Summary: Youth from the Tucson 17th Ward helped make a deaf conference possible by caring for children while their parents attended workshops. They also led their own children’s activities, including Bible pantomimes and crafts. The experience was rewarding for both the children and the youth, who learned some sign language in the process.
It was a service project like no other for the youth of the Tucson 17th Ward. Missionaries to the deaf had recently arrived in their area and decided to put on a conference for the hearing-impaired in southern Arizona. It was up to the youth to take care of the children while their parents were in workshops.
“If we had not had the youth, we never could have done the deaf conference,” said full-time missionary Sister Lynnette Johnson.
The youth did much more than just baby-sit. They had children’s workshops of their own, which included pantomimed scenes from the Bible with labels and no words; and making spider cookies, puppets, and clay dough figures, among other things. The children were so thrilled they wanted to come back the next week.
“It was exciting to see the kids talking with their hands and being able to understand it,” said Susanne Walston, 17. “It was neat to see the children do things we didn’t know how to do, and they taught us some words in sign language.
“If we had not had the youth, we never could have done the deaf conference,” said full-time missionary Sister Lynnette Johnson.
The youth did much more than just baby-sit. They had children’s workshops of their own, which included pantomimed scenes from the Bible with labels and no words; and making spider cookies, puppets, and clay dough figures, among other things. The children were so thrilled they wanted to come back the next week.
“It was exciting to see the kids talking with their hands and being able to understand it,” said Susanne Walston, 17. “It was neat to see the children do things we didn’t know how to do, and they taught us some words in sign language.
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👤 Missionaries
👤 Youth
👤 Children
Children
Disabilities
Missionary Work
Service
Water, Water Everywhere
Summary: Karen Cromar and other youth in Utah spent weeks helping with flood relief by filling sandbags, cleaning mud, and protecting homes. Their service extended beyond their own wards and even beyond Church members, as young people everywhere responded when they were needed. The story concludes by showing that the flood crisis revealed the energy, humility, and willingness of youth to serve.
Karen Cromar’s Laurel class from the Holladay 14th Ward went together to fill sandbags as a service project. But for Karen, that was just the beginning of her volunteer service. Karen said, “Filling sandbags just seemed like a more worthwhile activity than going to a leader’s house for dinner or something. I guess I’m the type that likes to be involved. When I found out that we were needed, my friends and I went back several more nights after work to help fill sandbags. It’s hard work. We would go for half an hour working really hard then take a break before starting all over again.” The priests quorum in Karen’s ward was called out of Church meetings to help sandbag Big Cottonwood Creek, which was endangering hundreds of homes.
It was the type of crisis that didn’t go away in a few hours. The danger continued for weeks as the creek rose, but when the call went out for volunteers, young people responded in record numbers. But when they were asked individually how they felt about helping, the answer was nearly always the same, “It feels good to help where I’m really needed.”
Help was given freely to anyone who needed it. Ward organizations were used to make assignments, but those who were not members of the Church received the same care and consideration as their LDS neighbors.
Curt Dennis and his wife, Sharon, had moved into their home exactly one month before mud filled the basement and covered their yard. Discouraged by the sheer effort it would take to clean up, Curt was trying to decide where to start when he saw a most unusual sight. “It was fantastic. It was Sunday, and I was standing by my house when I saw a hundred people with shovels over their shoulders walking down the street. The last twenty or so peeled off and came over and started digging the mud out from around my home. They were the members of the wards around here. It was incredibly backbreaking work lugging mud out of here in wheelbarrows, but with two crews working all day, they accomplished more than I could have with the tractor I was planning on renting.”
The Dennises appreciated the help they received. “We are getting to know a lot of people really fast. We are so appreciative of the people just pitching in. There is no substitute for a lot of help.”
Curt has found that the experience has changed his mind on a lot of things. “I think the thing that felt best was people coming up and wanting to help. It wasn’t like they felt they had to; they really felt good about it. The fact that they were there helped us know that things would be all right.”
The floodwaters subsided. Left behind, besides the muck and mud, are the stories of young people really pitching in and helping where they were needed. There were few individual heroes. But there were those like the blind boy who came every day for a week with his brother to fill sandbags. There was the Mia Maid class who rescued rosebushes from the flow of mud that covered a yard. And the young men who stood in icy cold water stacking sandbags to protect the home of an elderly couple.
This response didn’t happen just in the Salt Lake Valley. It went on throughout Utah where the danger of flooding was a daily concern for weeks. The youth were there to help in Vernal, in Spanish Fork, in Fillmore, in Ogden, wherever there was danger.
It seemed that when they were needed, thousands of young people came through with the energy of youth and the humility of those who truly know how to serve.
It was the type of crisis that didn’t go away in a few hours. The danger continued for weeks as the creek rose, but when the call went out for volunteers, young people responded in record numbers. But when they were asked individually how they felt about helping, the answer was nearly always the same, “It feels good to help where I’m really needed.”
Help was given freely to anyone who needed it. Ward organizations were used to make assignments, but those who were not members of the Church received the same care and consideration as their LDS neighbors.
Curt Dennis and his wife, Sharon, had moved into their home exactly one month before mud filled the basement and covered their yard. Discouraged by the sheer effort it would take to clean up, Curt was trying to decide where to start when he saw a most unusual sight. “It was fantastic. It was Sunday, and I was standing by my house when I saw a hundred people with shovels over their shoulders walking down the street. The last twenty or so peeled off and came over and started digging the mud out from around my home. They were the members of the wards around here. It was incredibly backbreaking work lugging mud out of here in wheelbarrows, but with two crews working all day, they accomplished more than I could have with the tractor I was planning on renting.”
The Dennises appreciated the help they received. “We are getting to know a lot of people really fast. We are so appreciative of the people just pitching in. There is no substitute for a lot of help.”
Curt has found that the experience has changed his mind on a lot of things. “I think the thing that felt best was people coming up and wanting to help. It wasn’t like they felt they had to; they really felt good about it. The fact that they were there helped us know that things would be all right.”
The floodwaters subsided. Left behind, besides the muck and mud, are the stories of young people really pitching in and helping where they were needed. There were few individual heroes. But there were those like the blind boy who came every day for a week with his brother to fill sandbags. There was the Mia Maid class who rescued rosebushes from the flow of mud that covered a yard. And the young men who stood in icy cold water stacking sandbags to protect the home of an elderly couple.
This response didn’t happen just in the Salt Lake Valley. It went on throughout Utah where the danger of flooding was a daily concern for weeks. The youth were there to help in Vernal, in Spanish Fork, in Fillmore, in Ogden, wherever there was danger.
It seemed that when they were needed, thousands of young people came through with the energy of youth and the humility of those who truly know how to serve.
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👤 Youth
👤 Church Members (General)
Emergency Response
Friendship
Service
Young Women