Gospel Story Finder

Brad Sorensen of the Rose Park Seventh Ward in the Salt Lake Rose Park North Stake learned important lessons about service when he was growing up. His elderly neighbor, Sister Sparks, had some health problems, and whenever she worked in her yard, his mother noticed and persuaded him to go over and help. At first he didn’t understand why he had to stop what he was doing to go help his neighbor.
“During those years I spent helping Sister Sparks, I learned that there are two different ways to serve others. The first way was when I felt forced, or compelled, to serve. I learned that this is not a good way to serve. Maybe you say, ‘I’ll do it as fast as I can so I can come back and watch TV.’ But the love for the person you are serving is not present. There is no joy in this kind of service. This is how I was at first.”
But then Brad learned about serving with love. “It came to the point that I would go to her house every week and mow her lawn without being asked. I know this was a big help to her, but it was a big help to me, also.
“I found this to be a much more satisfying way to serve. Serving with love is pure, whole-hearted, and full of unselfish concern for the person you are helping. The feeling of accomplishment and love for the person you served cannot be found in any other way. It is an all-around good feeling.
“My acts of service were nothing big, but they were done with love. If you do an act of service with love for the person you are doing it for, you will be much more satisfied with the results. I learned that it doesn’t matter how big or small a service project is; it is still important.”

Joseph turned the page in his book. He frowned. He had two more pages to go.
“Are you OK?” Mamá asked.
“I like to read,” Joseph said. “But I am so slow. How can I learn to read better?”
“I know!” Mamá said. “Read a chapter of the Book of Mormon every day. It will help you learn to read better.”
Joseph tried. At first it took a long time. He had to sound out the long words. But he kept reading. Soon he could read more than one chapter.
Two weeks went by. Joseph’s bookmark moved from 1 Nephi to 2 Nephi. Then it was in the book of Jacob!
One night it was Joseph’s turn to give the lesson in family home evening.
“I know what to do!” Joseph said. He found the Book of Mormon Stories book. It had words and pictures. He turned the pages until he found the perfect story.
Joseph read the story to his family. He read short words, like ship. He read long words, like commanded. Prophets wrote these words long ago. The words were easy to read.
When the story was over, Mamá had tears in her eyes.
“Are you OK, Mamá?” Joseph asked.
“I’m happy,” Mamá said. “You have worked hard.”
Joseph smiled big.
“I read every day.” He showed Mamá his Book of Mormon. His bookmark was in the book of Alma!
Someday Joseph’s bookmark would be at the end of the book. And then he could start over!

Being an intern for the New Era magazine is definitely a thrill. I get to discuss the exciting future of the youth of the Church, learn about how the Church magazines operate, and write to my heart’s content.
Of course the job does have a few snags—I have to wear dresses every day, I have to be here at practically the crack of dawn, and riding the elevator up to the 23rd floor of the Church Office Building after lunch makes me queasy. But the benefits by far outweigh the costs.
The only thing missing from this opportunity of a lifetime is an office with a window. Of course, I’m a bit out of line wanting one—I think you have to work here about 20 years before you get that blessing. But one day one of the editors called in sick. I knew what that meant. I’d get to use her office for the day, and I’d have windows.
For about the first 15 minutes, I didn’t get anything done; I was too busy enjoying the view. The office faced west, and I had before me an unsurpassed view of Temple Square and its surroundings. Moroni was sparkling in the sunlight, and it was the first time I’d ever seen him without getting a crick in my neck.
I watched the ant-sized people milling about the grounds. I saw a wedding party trying to organize itself for the photographer, flower beds aglow with spring blossoms, and magnificent structures built to give glory to the Lord.
Then I looked beyond the temple grounds to the surrounding city. Somehow, it paled in comparison. The grass wasn’t as green, and the people didn’t seem quite as buoyant. I saw grim asphalt parking lots, dusty train yards, and a tan layer of air covering the valley.
Then I looked up at the sky, and a thought popped into my head. This must be what it’s like for Heavenly Father. I wondered what he thinks as he observes his children from on high. I found the answer in the scriptures.
In Psalms 14:2, David says the Lord “looked down from heaven upon the children of men, to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God.” [Ps. 14:2] and again in Jeremiah 31:28, the Lord speaks of watching his children, saying, “As I have watched over them, to pluck up, and to break down, and to throw down, and to destroy, and to afflict; so will I watch over them, to build, and to plant, saith the Lord.” [Jer. 31:28] The Lord watched over the children of Israel during times of joy, sorrow, obedience, and transgression—just as he watches us now. And although we aren’t always as righteous as we should be, he is always there.
It’s reassuring to know that the Lord is always watching and will not forsake us.
Tomorrow, I return to my storage-closet-turned-intern-office. I’ll still envy others’ windows, but I’ll have quite a different perspective on the world than I did before.

Sue twisted the CTR ring on her finger. She was only half-listening to her teacher, Miss Williams, tell about when to indent for a new paragraph. Mostly she just looked at the back of Myrtle’s head. As usual, the girl’s faded red hair stuck out in tangles.
At least she could comb it, even if she doesn’t wash it, Sue thought.
Suddenly it seemed like her CTR ring pinched her finger. She turned it around and around, feeling the raised Choose the Right letters. She wished she knew if not choosing to do something right was as bad as choosing to do wrong. …
Just then Myrtle turned around and smiled at Sue. She was sure now that Myrtle wanted to be on her kickball team at recess.
Miss Williams placed the language book on her desk and walked to the door. The recess bell rang, and Sue lined up with the other fourth graders.
And who has a name like “Myrtle”? Maybe someone’s great-grandmother. Nobody Sue knew had such an old-fashioned name. Myrtle was new to their school, and she wore old, wrinkled dresses and funny shoes with socks that crept down under her heels. Because she moved around so much, she had been kept back a grade. So she was taller than every other kid in the fourth grade. She smiled a lot, tried hard to be friends with her classmates, and seemed not to recognize that they all wore clean, neat clothes and that they pretended not to see her when they chose sides for kickball games.
Sue tried to ignore her best friend, Maryann, who chattered at her side. She had to make up her mind what she was going to do. Ahead of her stood Myrtle, waiting for her at the drinking fountain, smiling.
In her head, Sue could hear Miss Williams telling how Myrtle’s family moved around a lot, how lonely she was, how much she needed a friend. As she got closer to Myrtle, Sue touched her CTR ring again.
Just as she got near Myrtle, Maryann pulled at Sue’s arm. “Sue! You haven’t listened to a word I’ve said!” she complained. “You have to pick Bradley and Rosie first!” She dragged Sue past Myrtle. “First, after me, of course!”
Sue stole a glance back at Myrtle. The new girl’s big blue eyes looked teary. Sue shook her head quickly to rid herself of the sad face behind her, then hurried outside to the field. This was her week as a team captain. She wanted to choose the best players. The other captain was Jason, who was in her Primary class.
When everyone was chosen, Myrtle was left standing. “Sorry, Myrtle,” Jason said. “I guess you’ll have to sit this one out. It’ll make the teams uneven, if you play.”
Sue looked away. Even Myrtle knew that all it would take was for someone on the other team to run twice. This is what Sister Marvin meant last Sunday when she reminded us to use our CTR rings to help us choose the right. But it’s Jason’s turn to choose, not mine. …
Later, at lunch, Sue and Maryann stood in the doorway, looking for good seats. Myrtle sat sideways, watching the doorway, her hand on the empty place beside her, saving a seat. She was looking directly at Sue, and she was smiling.
But Maryann said, “There’s Rosie and Jason! They’re waving to us!” Sue followed Maryann, avoiding Myrtle. She pretended not to see how Myrtle’s shoulders slumped downward as she turned around, taking her hand off the empty place beside her.
Sue had a pain in her chest all through lunch. She couldn’t help but notice that none of her classmates sat beside Myrtle. When Maryann made a rude remark about Myrtle and everyone else laughed, Sue was silent. She was thinking about how she would feel if the others laughed at her.
The next day Myrtle was again standing in the kickball line, waiting to be chosen. Sue was cross. Why doesn’t she just go swing, or do something with someone else? Why does she always stand there, waiting to be chosen for a game no one wants her to play? Again, Sue felt the pinch of her CTR ring. A little rhyme that her grandma had taught her flashed through her mind: “Kindness is a little thing, but lots of happiness it does bring.”
Sue squared her shoulders and stepped forward to make her first choice. Even though she always chose Maryann first, Sue looked at Myrtle and smiled—really smiled—and declared, “I choose Myrtle.”
Over Maryann’s wail of disappointment and the murmurs of surprise from her other classmates, Sue stood firm. With a really happy smile, Myrtle stepped close beside Sue. When everyone was chosen and someone on Jason’s team had been picked to run twice, the game began.
Sue’s team was up first. She was determined to make this work, so she chose Myrtle to kick first. Myrtle lowered her shoulders, drew back her right leg, and kicked the ball squarely into the weeds at the back of the outfield. As she ran around the bases, everyone in the fourth grade, even Jason’s team, chanted her name. “Hurray for Myrtle! Run, Myrtle, run!”
And when she pounded into home, every fourth grader on both teams was clapping for her.
Maryann went over to her. “You did great, Myrtle!” she said. “No one has ever kicked a ball that far before!”
Myrtle grinned and took her place at the end of the line. Sue smiled at Myrtle, wishing she had congratulated Myrtle first. She held up her thumb. “Good job!”
When Sue’s team went out to the field, Myrtle was the one who seemed to catch every ball. Suddenly Myrtle was everyone’s best friend.
Three weeks later, Myrtle did not show up for school on Monday morning.
“Where is Myrtle?” everyone asked.
Miss Williams looked sad. “Myrtle’s family moved away. She will not be coming to this school again.”
Sue looked down at her CTR ring. She did not want anyone to see her cry. She was sorry Myrtle had moved away, but she was glad that she had been a friend. She wished that she had been quicker to listen to the promptings of the Holy Ghost. Still, she had chosen to be a friend. And inside, she felt like smiling—just like Myrtle did.

In 1896, about two years before I was born, Mr. R. M. Bryce Thomas from London, England, paid a visit to Salt Lake City, Utah, where he first learned about The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Following this visit, and after a thorough and searching investigation into the practices and doctrines of the Church, and a comparison of the teachings of the primitive Church of Jesus Christ which was established by Him, with his own church in England, he subsequently became a baptized member.
On May 24, 1897, in London, England, he penned an article which he entitled, “My Reasons for … Joining The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.” In the preface to the first edition he stated:
“The object that I have had in view in writing this article, explanatory of my reasons for leaving [my] church [in] England and joining the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, is to comply as far as possible with the wishes of those of my relatives and friends who have expressed a desire to know something of the teachings of the Latter-day Saints, and also of the reasons which have led me to reject the faith of my fathers.”
He concluded with this paragraph:
“In sending out the following pages then I would ask our Heavenly Father in the name of His Son, our Lord Jesus, to let His blessing rest upon what I have written so far as it may be in strict accordance with His truth, and with His holy word and will” (Liverpool, England: Millennial Star Office, 1897).
In a preface to the second American edition, December 9, 1904, we read:
“Since I penned the pages of this little work, however, I have paid two visits to Utah, and have become personally acquainted with the Latter-day Saints, in Salt Lake City, and in several other towns of that State. On the first of these visits I resided with two well known families of Saints, and obtained thereby the best possible opportunity of mixing freely in the society of this people, and of forming a just and correct estimate of them. … That they, in common with the rest of mankind, have their weaknesses and failings is only to be expected, and there will even be found some among them who can claim to be Latter-day Saints in a little else than name; but, taking the people as a whole, I have found them essentially God-fearing, honest, upright, with a firm faith in their Heavenly Father, strong in their testimonies regarding the divinity of the great latter-day work in which they are engaged, and in their belief of the great destiny which awaits them.
“Among the Saints, as among other Christian people, will be found educated and intelligent men and women. Education is a special feature with them, and it is by no means uncommon to find in this community, those who have studied, and those who are at the present time studying vocal and instrumental music and painting in the principal centers of art in Europe, and in the eastern parts of the United States. Musical talent seems to be decidedly conspicuous among them. Various important positions in the State, calling for such qualifications as education, intelligence, ability, and honesty, have been, and are now being filled by Latter-day Saints; while there are those who, having fully qualified themselves in the legal, medical, journalistic, and commercial professions, are following their various vocations with credit and profit to themselves, and advantage to the people of Utah.
“I am now paying my third visit to the capital city of that State, and see no reason to modify the opinion I formed of the Saints during my stay with them in 1901.” (First preface, Salt Lake City: Bureau of Information and Church Literature, 1904.)
I quote again from the pamphlet:
“I found that this people possessed a beautiful Temple and a very fine Tabernacle, with prettily laid out and well cared for grounds; their houses too were neat and picturesque, with nice gardens attached to them, while they could boast of a Tabernacle Choir … , the best that I have ever heard. Everything to do with this people appeared to be most excellently managed and looked after, while their missionaries were preaching the Gospel in most parts of the world, having gone out altogether at their own cost, and at a very great sacrifice of self in all cases. The Church organization of the Saints too appeared to be complete and effective. … I therefore decided to secure some of their books, especially the Book of Mormon, in order to learn more of their character and of their doctrines.” (Thomas, first edition, p. 3.)
This he did, and his extensive study convinced him that there truly had been an apostasy from the Church as established by Jesus Christ. He states that he could not find a church which had the same organization and teachings of Jesus Christ as set forth in the Old and New Testament.
He was persuaded through his study that there was need for and was a prophet on the earth through whom the Lord could continue to send his revelations for the guidance of his people—that revelation from God to man had not ceased. He came to understand the importance and necessity of having the Holy Ghost through whom the gifts of the Spirit could be manifest.
He was impressed as he came to understand the prayer of Jesus as he prayed that all his children might be one, even as he and his Father in Heaven were one (see John 17:11). This is his comment:
“Now does it seem possible to suppose that this spirit of Unity, this Comforter, whom Jesus Christ was to send in order to show His followers how to grow like Him, and to guide them into all truth, can be guiding the numerous contending, discordant churches of Christendom, who exhibit such bitterness against each other, bitterness and hatred, which not so many years ago culminated even in the shedding of human blood!” (Thomas, first edition, p. 11.)
His search led him to discover that most of the churches had changed the ordinance of baptism by immersion, the form by which Jesus Christ and his disciples were baptized, which is practiced in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.
Regarding infant baptism, he found there was no trace of such until the Third Century, and therefore it was not part of Christ’s original church. He found it hard to accept a doctrine which taught that the sin of Adam was within little children, for he felt that an infant is perfect in Jesus Christ and has no sin of which to repent.
From the Bible Mr. Thomas learned that baptism for the dead was practiced in the primitive Church, but had been done away with in latter days. He found much evidence to support this doctrine which caused Paul to write in an epistle to the Corinthians:
“Else what shall they do which are baptized for the dead, if the dead rise not at all? why are they then baptized for the dead?” (1 Cor. 15:29.)
Peter answered that question in these words:
“For for this cause was the gospel preached also to them that are dead, that they might be judged according to men in the flesh, but live according to God in the spirit” (1 Pet. 4:6).

Several years ago my husband received a job promotion, and we moved to another state. During the first few weeks in our new home I was often lonely and depressed.
One day a letter came from my former Relief Society president. She wrote that she, too, had been the new sister in several wards and had always found the transition to be difficult. She shared the following ideas with me:
Don’t wait for people sitting next to you to introduce themselves; introduce yourself first!
Tell ward members that you’re happy to be in the area and look forward to getting to know them better. A positive attitude draws people to you.
Look for someone who needs you.
Ask the Relief Society or priesthood quorum leaders for a visiting teaching or home teaching route.
Ask the Relief Society or priesthood quorum leaders for the names of ward members who share your interests. Then introduce yourself.
Take advantage of this lull in your life to do some of those things you’ve never had time to do before.
Don’t forget that you are a child of God and have a lot to offer.
By following these suggestions, I soon became comfortable in my new ward. I will always appreciate my friend’s thoughtfulness in helping to ease my transition.

Sometimes important choices are quite simple. As young missionaries serving in England, my companion and I had the opportunity to go to the temple. As we crossed the temple grounds, the temple president, Selvoy J. Boyer, walked toward us. Seeing our missionary badges, he pointed at us and asked, “Matthew 5:48—do you know that scripture?” My companion stated, “Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect.” President Boyer said, “That is correct. Elders, are you living that commandment?”

We started to stammer; we knew we were not perfect! He helped us. He asked questions about what we had done for the past three days. He asked about when we went to bed, when we got up, whether we had individual and companion scripture study, and whether we went proselyting on time. Then he said, “I am sure you are not perfect, but you have made perfect choices for the past three days, and that means you are moving in the right direction.” He left us thinking about the importance of what he had asked.

There’s a story told in Argentina that goes something like this: A pack of dogs is standing on a street corner, telling each other the woes and troubles they suffer in their lives as dogs. There is a large number of them, and the conversation is very loud. Suddenly the most observant one lets out a cry: “It’s the dog catcher!” Immediately animals scatter in every direction, as fast as they can go. About two blocks away, one of them stops and says, “Why am I running? I’m a cat!”

When my father brought in the mail today, he said there was an article in the New Era he thought I should read. I read the coverline that said, “Eating Disorders, P. 36” and I gave him a glare. I then walked into my room and read the article. I’ve been warned for about six months by many people who think I have anorexia nervosa. When I read that article, I felt like my prayers had been answered. It seemed like Janet Thomas was writing it directly to me. I want to thank the New Era for publishing “Eating Disorders: A Deadly State of Mind” and Janet Thomas for writing it. The article really opened my eyes. I do not know how I will ever pay you back.
Name WithheldMinnesota

You’d have to have been me that day, lying on my bunk bed, before you could feel how I wanted a dog. I’d sneaked into the house and was lying there for about an hour before Mother knew. She stood in my bedroom doorway for a minute or so before she came over and lay down beside me and asked, “What’s the matter, son?”

Sometimes you can say, “Oh, nothing,” when Mother asks that. And other times you can’t. This was one of those other times. It was as if she had her arms around me and was looking into my eyes with all her might. Only she was just lying there beside me, waiting.

So I told her all about how I’d got into a fight up at Barney’s, and Tom and Scott said if I couldn’t play fair I could just go home. So I went. Talking about it to my mom made me cry. So while I was at it I told her what the real trouble was. “All this wouldn’t have happened,” I bawled, “if I only had a dog.”

Mother didn’t ask me whether or not I’d really been playing fair and what a dog had to do with it. She just lay there very still and listened. So I said some more. I told her that I hated school and that nobody liked me. I asked her how she would like to be seven years old and dumb and ugly and awkward and have people laugh at her when she used big words. I said I didn’t fit in this world anyplace, and God must have sent me to the wrong planet. The more I talked the more things I thought of. It was as wild and wonderful as any of my stories about Joey, and I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed howling so loud and feeling so miserable. Finally, I blurted out something I hadn’t really meant to say. “Besides,” I yelled, “There’s no such thing as Joey!”

Mother’s eyes filled with tears, and I was so sorry. I stopped crying right off and said quickly, “Please don’t tell Daddy—he’d be just sick.” That was a lucky thing to say because it made Mother smile right through her tears. And it struck me that this was the time to ask about a dog.

“Mother,” I said, wiping my eyes, “I’ll do anything in all my life if you’ll only get me a dog. I’ll do housecleaning forever. I’ll practice my piano lesson night and day. I’ll never ask for any more candy. I’ll do anything!” I was trying hard not to cry again because my mom never gives us what we bawl for. “I need a dog to love,” I whispered, “and most of all I need a dog to love me back.”

Mother started to explain once more about dogs in the city, and when she got to where she says that Tom and Scott had both wanted dogs, my mind was jumping with words, and I hoped the right ones would come out. And they did. They were magic words that changed everything.

“Mother,” I said, “I’m Rulon. And I’m a different kind of boy.”

She stopped right in the middle of what she was saying, and this time she did put her arms around me and looked into my eyes with all her might. She looked for so long I could hardly breathe. Then she said quietly, “Rulon, we will get you a dog.”

We got him the next day at a pet shop—a brown and white Pomeranian puppy, round and furry, with great, dark eyes and a waggly tail. You should have seen Tom and Scott when we brought him home.

“Spoiled kid! How come Rulon gets a dog?” they said almost together.

Mother seemed baffled for an answer, so I tried the words that had worked once before.

“Because I’m a different kind of boy,” I answered.

Their mouths dropped open. And they just stood there staring at me and my pup. Then Scott said to Tom, “He can say that again.” And they both snickered. So I did say it again.

“I’m a different kind of boy,” I sang out, “and Joey is a different kind of dog. He’s really mine. All mine. But you can pet him. And maybe when you say three times, ‘There’s such a thing as Joey’ he will be your dog too.”

They weren’t snickering anymore. They were laughing a real laugh, and I laughed too all the while they were saying, “There’s such a thing as Joey. There’s such a thing as Joey. There’s such a thing as Joey.”

“Twelve times twelve is … one hundred forty-four!” I shouted.
“Great job, Chakell!” Mrs. Good said. My whole class cheered. I was the first student to pass off all my multiplication tables.
I grinned as I walked back to my desk. I’d practiced with Dad all week and was feeling proud of myself. But then I saw another student stand up—Jack.
“OK, Jack. Let’s see if you can pass off your twelves today too,” Mrs. Good said.
My friend Jack was really smart. We were always trying to beat each other at everything. Usually we just tied.
Jack passed off his twelves perfectly. “We’re still tied!” he said as he sat down.
“Yeah,” I said. “Good job.” I was happy for him, but I felt like something was squishing my heart. I frowned and stared at the prickly cactus growing by the window.
Passing off my twelves didn’t feel very special anymore.
That afternoon, Mrs. Good pulled out a a plastic circle with pegs on it. “This is a loom,” she explained. “We’re going to use it to make scarves.”
Jack grinned at me. “I bet I can finish my scarf before you.”
“Not if I beat you first!”
We both laughed. I was excited. This was something I could be the best at.
The next day, I brought pink and purple yarn to school. Mrs. Good helped us wrap our yarn around our looms. I grabbed my red hook, ready to start.
At first, making the scarf was easy. I used my hook just like Mrs. Good showed us. But soon, it got harder. I couldn’t remember what to do next.
Maybe I should ask for help, I thought.
But then I glanced at Jack. His black and red stitches already filled his loom. He was winning!
Why is this so hard for me? My yarn looked like tangled spaghetti.
That night, I told Mom about my scarf. “I don’t know why it’s so hard,” I wailed. “If I have to ask for help, that must mean I’m not very smart. Jack never has to ask for help, and now he’s going to win!” My eyes got watery.
Mom pulled me into a warm hug. “Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re not smart. Everyone needs a little help sometimes.”
“Everyone?” I asked.
“Everyone,” Mom said. “We pray to ask Heavenly Father for help all the time.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
The next day, it was craft time again. I stared at my loom. I looked at Jack. His scarf was twice as long as it was yesterday. I took a deep breath and walked over to my teacher.
“Mrs. Good, can you please help me with my scarf? I’m not very good at it,” I said.
Mrs. Good smiled at me. “Of course! Learning new things takes practice. You just aren’t good at it yet.”
Soon, after Mrs. Good gave me a few pointers, my yarn was finally turning into a scarf!
Jack finished his scarf a few days later. He showed me his black and red masterpiece. I showed him my pink and purple work in progress.
“Your scarf is looking great,” Jack said.
I grinned at him. “Yours too. You’re really good at this. And you beat me!”
He laughed. “I did, but I can’t ever keep up with how many books you read.”
With a smile on my face, I picked up my hook and got back to work.

The day the bad people flew airplanes into buildings and killed lots of people, I said in my bedtime prayer, “Bless all the good people, but don’t bless the bad people.” After I finished my prayer, my mom explained that we need to pray for bad people to help them choose the right. In my next prayer, I said, “Bless all the bad people so they will turn into good people.” I am glad I can pray to help people be good and choose the right.

I learned to swim in the swift currents of Utah’s beautiful Provo River. The “old swimming hole” was in a deep portion of the river, dangerous with its depth of 16 feet, its current, which moved swiftly against a large rock, and the sucking action of the whirlpools below the rock. It was not a place for an inexperienced swimmer.
One warm summer afternoon when I was about 12, I took a large, inflated inner tube from a tractor tire, slung it over my shoulder, and walked barefoot up the railroad track which followed the course of the river. I entered the water about a mile above the swimming hole and enjoyed a leisurely float down the river. The river held no fear for me, for I knew its secrets.
That day the Greek-speaking people in Utah held a reunion at Vivian Park in Provo Canyon, as they did every year. Native food, games, and dances were the order of the day. But some left the party to try swimming in the river. When they arrived at the swimming hole, it was deserted, for afternoon shadows were beginning to envelop it.
I was about to enter the swiftest portion of the river, just at the head of the swimming hole, when I heard frantic cries, “Save her! Save her!” A young lady swimmer, accustomed to the still waters of a gymnasium swimming pool, had fallen from the rock into the treacherous whirlpools. None of the party could swim to save her. I saw the top of her head disappearing under the water for the third time, there to descend to a watery grave. I stretched forth my hand, grasped her hair, and lifted her over the side of the tube and into my arms. At the pool’s lower end, the water was slower as I paddled the tube, with my precious cargo, to her waiting relatives and friends.
They threw their arms around her and kissed her, crying, “Thank God! Thank God you are safe!” Then they hugged and kissed me. I was embarrassed and quickly returned to the tube and continued my float down to the Vivian Park bridge. The water was frigid, but I was not cold, for I was filled with a warm feeling. I realized that I had participated in the saving of a life. Heavenly Father had heard the cries, “Save her! Save her,” and permitted me, a deacon, to float by at precisely the time I was needed. That day I learned that the sweetest feeling in mortality is to realize that God, our Heavenly Father, knows each one of us and generously permits us to see and to share His divine power to save.

Cécile discovered The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1974 when she was visiting the United States on a tour. Her group happened to stop at Temple Square and attend a performance by the Tabernacle Choir. “It was an intense emotional experience,” she says. Later, she told her fellow travelers that listening to the Choir was the part of the tour that she liked best.
Months later, missionaries knocked on her door back in France. Cécile was not interested until one of them said he was from Salt Lake City. Remembering her experience there, Cécile asked the missionary if he represented “the church with the choir.” When he said yes, she let them in and listened to their message. She was baptized a few months later—in 1975.

Some time ago, I received a copy of the April 1997 De Ster (Dutch). As usual, I took a break from my daily chores to start reading this magazine. The cover of the children’s section caught my eye. It portrayed Jesus Christ with a little girl. Although I’m a grown woman and the mother of two children, I desired at that moment to be that little girl—safe in the Savior’s arms.
I couldn’t get that picture out of my mind the entire day. I wanted to put my arms around my own children and let them know I love them. I felt good knowing that they trust me, but it was even better knowing that they trust the Lord.
As I prayed at the close of the day, for a brief moment I felt as if His arms were indeed around me. Inside I felt at peace.
Annelies Prent-Pellis,Dordrecht Branch, Rotterdam Netherlands Stake

“Sometimes, my wife and I forget things and get irritable with each other,” says another aging brother. “We feel frustrated being so forgetful, and especially regret afterward angry words we say to each other.” They’ve learned to make notes to help them remember. They allow each other to take time to calm down before speaking. “And,” he says, “we’ve learned even more the importance of saying, ‘Thank you,’ and ‘I love you.’”

I remember listening to U.S. Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor speak at Stanford University. She reported that after her graduation from law school, the only job she could get was as a clerk. What did she do? She took the job. She continued to work. She could not have known at that time that she would one day be serving on the Supreme Court, but her readiness resulted from her continued preparation.

On a windy Sunday morning the doors of our chicken shed blew open while we were at church. All nine of our chickens escaped. When we got home, we found three chickens in the garden and five in our yard. But we couldn’t find Ginger though we looked and looked. That night there was a terrible storm with wind, rain, and lightning. We were all worried that Ginger would not survive. All of us prayed that she would be safe.
The next morning a delivery man came to the front door with a package. When Mom opened the door, Ginger walked right into the house. I learned that if you need help, you can pray. Heavenly Father will answer your prayer, even if it is a small prayer for a pet chicken.Dallin P., age 9, Utah

Matthew told the congregation that in his family’s discussion of a “perfect day,” “we came to understand the need to perfect ourselves a little each and every day. For some months, my wife Joan has been very ill, and her illness has affected the entire family. We have come to rely upon the Lord more and to daily seek his guidance, and we have come to better recognize and understand the power of the priesthood. For our ‘perfect day,’ we agreed that we continually need to be supportive of each other, and to live worthy of the blessings we receive.”

When I got baptized, it was a special time. I felt really good—I’d never had a better day. I learned more things than I ever had on a Sunday. I felt really different when I came out of the water. I knew all of my sins were washed away.
That day I was given a journal to write my feelings and thoughts in. I asked ward members to write in it, too. They wrote that they are happy to have me in the Church and that they are proud of me for choosing the right.
I chose to follow Heavenly Father’s commandments and be baptized. That made me feel happy.
Neil Cain, age 8Belle Fourche, South Dakota