Gospel Story Finder

Now I would like to conclude with one other little experience. I was down in Toquepala, Peru. We were dedicating a chapel. Many of the men who were employed in that mining town were Americans. After the dedication they had a dinner at one of the homes. As we moved around in the home, a young boy came to me and said, “Brother Kimball, I’m thinking about a mission. Would you give me a blessing?”
I said, “Why, of course. I’d be very happy to give you a blessing, but isn’t that your father I met in the other room?”
He said, “Yes, that’s Dad.”
I said, “Well, why don’t you ask him to give you your blessing?”
“Oh,” he said, “Dad wouldn’t want to give a blessing to me.”
So I excused myself. In time I ran into the father, and I said, “You have a wonderful boy there. I think he would like to have a blessing from his father. Wouldn’t you like to give him a blessing?”
He said, “Oh, I don’t think my boy would want me to give him a blessing.”
But as I mingled among these people and saw the father and the son a little later, close together, I could understand that they had come together in their thoughts and that the boy was proud to have his father bless him, and the father was delighted to be asked.
I hope you boys in this audience will keep that in mind. You have the best dad in the world, you know. He holds the priesthood; he would be delighted to give you a blessing. He would like you to indicate it, and we would like you fathers to remember that your boys are a little timid maybe. They know you are the best men in the world, but probably if you just made the advance, there would be some glorious moments for you.
Brethren, it is wonderful to be with you here tonight. And may peace be with you, and as has been said so many times in these days, only righteousness pays dividends. God bless you, and I bear my testimony to you boys, to you men, that God lives and that Jesus is the Christ. It is a great program of salvation and exaltation, and it is the only way, and there never was found happiness in unrighteousness. I bear my testimony to you in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

Another trait that characterizes Brother Rivera is his love of the scriptures. In addition to the Word of Wisdom, it is the scriptures to which he attributes his added vitality and energy in life. “I try to read the scriptures every day,” he says. “Even with my many years, I still have a lot to learn, so I continue to study, to wrap myself in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I want to be a little better every day.”
Héctor says he sees his father reading the scriptures constantly. “In the morning when I wake up I find him reading the Book of Mormon, the Church magazines, and other Church books. Then when I go to bed at night, I see him in his room again, reading the same things. Every time I see this I marvel. When I saw how much he loved the scriptures, I began to read the Book of Mormon myself.”

One night my young cousin ran away from home, so I hurried to go look for her. As I drove, I prayed for the Spirit to help me. I knew that God would answer and direct me, and I tried to listen to the Spirit’s promptings. But when I couldn’t hear anything, I began to feel desperate and felt that the Spirit was not prompting me.
Although I wanted to go farther away to search, I felt that I should stay in the area around my cousin’s home. So I decided to drive around the area once more. As I stopped at an intersection, I saw the silhouette of a young girl walking. I had found my cousin!
As I got out of the car and ran to her, I realized that the Spirit had been directing me all along by helping me feel that I should stay in the same area. Because I had been listening for a quiet voice, I nearly ignored the Spirit’s promptings. I then understood that many times we will not hear a voice, but we will feel impressions in our hearts.
I was so thankful for the Spirit’s guidance. Truly He is always there! As the scriptures say, “The Holy Ghost shall be thy constant companion” D&C 121:46).

Contrast these events with an incident which happened to me when I was a young man in my early twenties. While serving in the Air Force, one of the pilots in my squadron crashed on a training mission and was killed. I was assigned to accompany my fallen comrade on his final journey home to be buried in Brooklyn. I had the honor of standing by his family during the viewing and funeral services and of representing our government in presenting the flag to his grieving widow at the graveside. The funeral service was dark and dismal. No mention was made of his goodness or his accomplishments. His name was never mentioned. At the conclusion of the services, his widow turned to me and asked, “Bob, what is really going to happen to Don?” I was then able to give her the sweet doctrine of the Resurrection and the reality that, if baptized and sealed in the temple for time and all eternity, they could be together eternally. The clergyman standing next to her said, “That is the most beautiful doctrine I have ever heard.”

One Saturday morning Brady picked one of his favorite books from his shelf and wrote inside the cover: THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ME. Brady wasn’t sure why he had done it, but now that he had done it, he wanted to write those same words in every book that he owned. So he did.
At noon his older sister Kate walked into his room to tell him lunch was ready. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, closing the book he had been writing in.
“You are, too, doing something,” insisted Kate. “I saw you. You were writing something in one of your books. Let me see what it is.”
“No!”
“Yes!” Kate tried to grab the book from Brady. They tugged at the book between them. Kate won. She always did.
“This book belongs to me,” she read aloud.
Out loud it sounded dumb to Brady.
“Brady,” said his sister, “how is anybody going to know who ‘me’ is? You need to write your name.”
To Brady’s surprise, Kate’s question and suggestion made sense. “Oh,” he said. “Thanks.”
His sister said, “You’re welcome.”
After lunch Brady spent most of the afternoon adding his name to the writing in the front of his books. Each one looked like this: THIS BOOK BELONGS TO ME, BRADY.
By the time he was done, he felt so proud to see his name in all of his books that he began writing it on everything—his tennis shoes, his ruler, his shoe box with his shell collection in it, his map of the world, and his baseball mitt.
Then Brady wondered if his mother would be angry and yell at him for writing his name on everything. He decided he didn’t want to find out. So he taped a big sign to his door that read: THIS ROOM BELONGS TO ME, BRADY. KEEP OUT!
It wasn’t long before his sister knocked on his door and asked, “What’s going on, Brady? What’s the sign for?” And before Brady could say “keep out,” his sister had opened the door, walked into his room, and sat down on his bed. “May I borrow your bike, Brady? Just for a few hours?” she asked.
A strange new feeling came over Brady. He shouted, “No! It’s my bike. It belongs to me, Brady. And you keep away from it!”
“OK, OK,” said his sister, and she left.
That night, at the movies, Brady’s mother reached over and took some popcorn from Brady’s popcorn box.
“Mom,” whispered Brady.
“Be quiet,” whispered Brady’s father. “Watch the movie.”
But as soon as Brady looked back at the screen, his mother reached over and took some more popcorn. She did it again, and again!
Brady stood and said loudly, “Please, Mom, stop taking my popcorn!”
And she stopped. Brady thought it was because everyone in the theater had turned and glared at her.
For several days afterward, whenever someone wanted to “help” Brady finish his ice cream or whenever someone wanted to “borrow” a stick of his gum, Brady puffed up big and said: “No, it belongs to me, Brady.” He had never felt so powerful.
Now Kate never walked uninvited into his room. And there was never any confusion about what belonged to Brady. At first Brady was glad to know that he could make people leave him alone. But he noticed something else had changed too. When Brady wanted to use his sister’s paint set or to stick his finger into the cookie batter to taste it, or to “borrow” his father’s shaving lotion, he was always told “No! It belongs to me.” And Brady had to do without.
Brady began to feel uncomfortable and left out. When he thought about it, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had started naming and claiming things in the first place. He decided that he liked the way things were before.
Brady knew he couldn’t take his name off all of his possessions, but he could do one thing. He could take down the KEEP OUT sign from his door and put another one up instead.
So he did.
This one read: WELCOME, FRIENDS!

Yes, you may have many humorous experiences on your mission, but those experiences which will be the most joyful and rewarding to you, and which will be with you throughout eternity, will be the times when the Spirit will work through you to touch the lives of others, such as Sister Ciardo from Sardinia, Italy, who joined the Church and came to Scotland on a mission. As Sister Ciardo left for her mission, her mother would hardly speak to her and her father said she would never be welcome back home again. But the faith of this young lady brought forth a miracle.
Approximately a year after Sister Ciardo had been on her mission, she came to see me one day with tears running down her face. She had a letter in hand from her mother. I, too, had tears come to my eyes as I read the letter telling her daughter she had been baptized and that her father was attending church and was going to listen to the discussions.
I think of a Tony Ridden and a Tracy McFall from Scotland who were baptized a couple of years ago, coming from backgrounds that you would never have thought this possible. Yet both stood and spoke just a few months ago at their own missionary farewells with tears in their eyes, expressing love and gratitude for the elders who brought the gospel into their lives.
Just how important is a Sister Ciardo, a Tony Ridden, a Tracy McFall, and many others just like them? The Lord gives us the answer to that question: “Remember the worth of souls is great in the sight of God;
“For, behold, the Lord your Redeemer suffered death in the flesh; wherefore he suffered the pain of all men, that all men might repent and come unto him. …
“Wherefore, you are called to cry repentance unto this people.
“And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father!” (D&C 18:10–11, 14–15.)
O youth of noble birthright, I bear witness to you this night that if you will commit, prepare, and with a willing heart go forth to serve Jesus Christ and preach his gospel, great will be your blessings and reward. Listen to the words of our Savior:
“Ye are blessed, for the testimony which ye have borne is recorded in heaven for the angels to look upon; and they rejoice over you, and your sins are forgiven you.” (D&C 62:3.)
“Ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood.” (1 Pet. 2:9.)
Stay on the Lord’s side and you will find eternal joy and fulfillment. I bear my witness to you that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God. This is His church. President Ezra Taft Benson is our living prophet, in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

I made a mistake similar to the one you wish to avoid because I was afraid I would not be accepted by my so-called friends. This is the biggest mistake I have ever made. I was enslaved to that habit for the next eight years. I am just now getting over my addiction.

Drugs caused my love for life to slowly fade. I was ready to give up on life when I decided to turn my life around. I had to get rid of a “friend” to let go of the ties that held me back.

I now love myself enough that nobody can shake who I am. I do not know you personally, but I love the person you wish to be. If you ever have to give up a friend to protect yourself, do it. If your friends insist on falling, don’t tumble with them.

Name withheld

While the whole Bennion family is special, each of the children stands out with his or her own unique talents and personality. One time when Kiera was three years old, her parents took her to see her cousins perform in a band in which they played violins. That night at home, Kiera walked in with her mother’s high heel shoe tucked under her chin and a screwdriver in her hand, pretending to play the shoe like a violin. Now she takes lessons on a real violin and on a piano, but it’s easy to see that her love for music started long ago.

Jason and Alanea Hanna faced many financial questions when Jason lost his job. Should they relocate and find another job? Should they try to find a job where they were currently living? After considering several options, they asked the most important question of all: “What would the Lord have us do?”
“We studied talks by prophets and apostles on topics like debt, budgeting, and saving to try to figure out what the Lord wanted us to do,” Alanea explains. “We knew that the Lord’s plan was the best plan and that we would be blessed if we followed it.”
After prayer and contemplation, Jason and Alanea both decided to return to college and finish their bachelor’s degrees. They took out minimal student loans to pay for their education, and both worked full-time to provide for their other expenses. They coordinated their work schedules to ensure that one of them was home with their children. They budgeted carefully, spending their money on the essentials and eliminating fast food, cable TV, and new clothes. Jason even rode his bike to school and work to limit the costs of gasoline and car insurance.
Now Jason works as an engineer. Alanea also completed her degree and is currently fulfilling her responsibilities as a full-time mother of five children. They still live within their means, budget carefully, pay tithing, and live according to the financial counsel of Church leaders. “We’re grateful for the trial and the experience,” Alanea says. “It ended up being a great blessing in our lives and taught us that the Lord will always bless us if we are obedient.”

Ha Phuoc Thach and his wife, Nguyen Thi Hong, are Vietnamese converts of nearly three years. In 1990 all three of their teenage children were lost at sea in a boat filled with Vietnamese refugees. Despite—or perhaps because of—this tragedy, the couple embraced the gospel when they heard it. Speaking about their baptism, Ha Phuoc Thach says: “Our lives changed. It was a spiritual change.” His wife adds, “I want everyone to pray, because God does answer prayers.” He serves as a counselor in the branch presidency of the Vietnamese-speaking branch. His wife is the Relief Society president. When asked why with all they have suffered they are always smiling, the couple respond, “Because now we are happy.”

Every year my family spends Christmas at a beach near Matinhos in Paraná, Brazil. We begin preparing for the trip in November and survive the hot days of December only by anticipating the excitement of the Christmas holidays.
It is not just the chance to play in the ocean that makes the trip so exciting. It is also a reunion with my father’s family—all strong Latter-day Saints. My grandparents joined the Church long ago, and both my parents were born in the Church.
One year’s trip, the year I was 13, was particularly unforgettable.
It was 22 December 1994 when, after so many preparations, we finally arrived at the large beach house where we were met by my grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles.
“Hey, Isaac,” I heard my cousin Charles calling me. “Let’s go take a look at the waves.”
“Sure, let’s go,” I excitedly yelled back. After all, I did not want to lose one second of my long-awaited holiday.
As we made our way to the ocean, my mother counseled: “Do not go very far from the beach. Try to stay in the shallow water with your cousin.”
But after entering the water, we began pursuing the rolling waves and gradually moved farther out. Before we noticed it, we were far from the shore. Suddenly Charles said, “Isaac, the water is deep. It’s so deep I can’t put my foot down.”
“Let’s go back,” I answered. “I can’t touch the bottom either, and I don’t think we can swim against the tide.” Charles seemed to be more frightened than I, but I was also afraid, not knowing what was going to happen to us.
Some minutes passed as we tried to reach the shallow water, but it seemed the more we struggled, the farther out we went. We were a long way from the shore when I looked over the waves and saw many people running back and forth on the beach trying to see us. At that moment, I thought of my mother. She would be angry because I had disobeyed her, and she would be worrying that I wouldn’t return. I was glad my father was at work and hadn’t joined us at the beach yet. He would have been frantic. Oh, how I wanted to be safe on the beach with my family!
I kept struggling and telling my cousin not to quit as we tried to keep our heads above the water. He kept encouraging me also. When we saw a lifeguard coming to get us, he looked very small in that immense ocean. I yelled, “We’re saved!”
But my joy was short-lived as I saw how hard it was for the lifeguard to reach Charles and carry him back to the beach. Left alone, I was pulled by the current farther and farther away. I became so tired I could hardly breathe. At that moment, I remembered something I had learned from my parents: “All things are possible to him that believeth” (Mark 9:23).
Trusting my parents and my Heavenly Father, I began to pray. I asked Heavenly Father to send dolphins to save me. When the dolphins appear, I will grab one of their fins, and I will be saved, I thought. I had no doubts about my request; I knew my prayer would be answered. I waited … and waited.
I soon became so exhausted that I held my nose, went deep under the water, then returned to the surface. Nevertheless, hope and patience did not abandon me, not even for a second. I kept fighting.
By then, Charles was safe on the beach, but he was in a very bad condition. People asked him about me. He could only cry. The people on the beach continued trying to spot me among the waves.
From the other side of the beach, which seemed an easier means of rescue, two lifeguards started toward me. As they approached, I realized in my very tired mind that my prayers had been answered. Two courageous men had not become discouraged by what seemed a hopeless situation. They were the dolphins I was waiting for! I remember they said to me, “Rest and everything will be all right.”
When we reached the shore, I was laid on a stretcher and taken to a first-aid station. People watching from the other side of the beach could see only my motionless body, and they thought I had drowned.
My mother quickly reached my side and found I was still breathing. How good it was to see her! How good it was to be alive!
“Well, young man, you are very lucky,” the surprised doctor remarked. “Not one drop of water entered your lungs. I have never seen an accident like this where someone has been so lucky.”
My mother looked at the doctor. “It wasn’t luck,” she said firmly. It was clear that she knew it was the Lord, not luck, who had saved me.
My parents have always taught me to have faith. They have taught me through their examples to look to my Heavenly Father in any difficulty. I realized that day that there are always consequences when we disobey—sometimes serious consequences. But I also learned that faith and prayer can give us the will to endure even in the worst difficulty. I know that when we ask in faith Heavenly Father answers our prayers—not necessarily with what we ask for, but with what we need most.

“Mom! Mom! They’re selling ice cream after school this week!” Wade jumped into the car with excitement in his voice. “Could I take a dollar from my bank and buy one tomorrow? Please?”
Mom laughed as Wade bounced on the backseat of the minivan. “You decide how to use the money in your spending bank,” she said. “If you want to use it for ice cream, you go right ahead.”
“All right!” Wade cried. As soon as they arrived home, he ran to his room, removed a dollar from his spending bank, and carefully zipped it into his backpack pocket.
After school the next day, Wade went to the front hall where the student council helpers sat at a table. Pictures of each kind of ice-cream bar were taped to the table. What to choose? It was hard to decide between the chocolate bar, the orange bar, the nutty cone, the red rocket, and the vanilla ice cream covered with bits of candy bar. He finally chose the nutty cone and opened it up.
On his way out to the car, he went to the music room to pick up his instrument so he could practice at home. His music teacher, Mr. Nolan, was straightening chairs and music stands.
“Wade, how nice of you to get me ice cream!” he joked, reaching toward the cone. “Just what I could use after a long day.”
Wade laughed. “I bought this one for me,” he said.
Mr. Nolan made a silly sad face. “Oh, too bad,” he sighed. Then he laughed. “Enjoy your ice cream!”
Wade waved good-bye to him and skipped out to the car. “I got ice cream, Mom!”
He told her about Mr. Nolan and his silly face. “Maybe he really would like some ice cream,” Wade thought. “Mom,” he said, “could I use another dollar to buy Mr. Nolan ice cream tomorrow?”
“It’s your money, Wade,” said Mom with a smile.
As soon as he got home, Wade ran to his room again. He pulled another dollar from his bank and again put it into his backpack pocket. “What kind of face will Mr. Nolan make when I hand him the ice cream?” Wade wondered. He could hardly wait to see.
As soon as class ended the next day, Wade quickly gathered his books and walked down the hall to the ice-cream table. Today he didn’t stop to think about which flavor to buy. Mr. Nolan had seemed to think the nutty cone looked good. “I’ll take one cone,” Wade said.
He didn’t open it this time but zipped down the hall toward the music room. Sure enough, Mr. Nolan was there straightening chairs again. “Oh, you brought me more ice cream!” he said.
This time Wade walked right up to Mr. Nolan. “Yep, I did!” he announced and handed Mr. Nolan the cone.
Mr. Nolan didn’t make a silly face at all. Instead, he looked very surprised.
“Is this really for me?” he asked.
“Yep,” Wade said.
“How much do I owe you?” Mr. Nolan asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Wade said. “I got it for you.”
“Why, thank you very much,” Mr. Nolan said with a smile.
Wade felt wonderful from the tips of his sneakers to the top of his head. He couldn’t contain the grin on his face.
“You’re welcome,” he called as he grabbed his instrument and trotted out to the car where his mother was waiting. He was still smiling as he opened the door.
“How did it go?” Mom asked.
“Great!” Wade said. Then he thought for a second. “You know what, Mom? I think getting ice cream for Mr. Nolan was even better than getting it for myself!”

When I was called to be a member of the high council, the stake president expressed his desire for more members to go to the temple on the days assigned for our stake. Transportation was a problem, so the first thing he did was arrange for a bus to pick up the members at all the ward buildings in the stake and also bring us back when the day was over.
There was another problem, however. Many mothers could not attend because they didn’t have anyone to watch their children. As we discussed the possibility of having some of the young women from the stake help care for the children, I realized that we could call a stake nursery leader. I proposed the idea to the stake president. He suggested that we call new converts to serve as assistants to the nursery leader so they could feel the spirit of the temple. When these ideas were put into action, we had great stake temple attendance.

When the trans-Canada pipeline was being planned, President Tanner received constant appeals from the national minister of trade and from the premier of Alberta to become head of the project. He accepted the challenge.

The 2,000-mile pipeline, largest in the world at that time, was completed in four years, even though one project authority compared it with the building of the U.S. transcontinental railroad.

They had worked for years to resolve problems in their marriage. At times things would improve, but before long the same old problems would return again … and again.
“Why should it be so hard to have a good marriage?” they asked. They had been married in the temple, were active in the Church, and had four delightful—though demanding—children. Yet recurring stresses and strains exerted a lot of pressure on their relationship. Lately their disagreements seemed more frequent and more volatile, satisfactory solutions seemed harder to find, and conflicts often lasted for days.
At one point, they had sought professional help and were instructed in the use of various techniques. They had discussed how to have clear communication, had practiced creative listening, and had worked through a number of exercises in effective problem solving. As a result, their marriage received a needed boost and things seemed to improve for a while.
But after several months, they were plagued again by the old, dividing conflicts, and although they tried to apply what they had previously learned from the marriage counselor, nothing appeared to work. As their marriage deteriorated, they became haunted by the unanswered questions: “What’s really wrong with us? How can we revitalize our relationship? Is there nothing better?”
The complexity of this particular couple’s dilemma doesn’t permit a simple solution. However, it is likely that part of the problem lies in their failure to understand fundamental laws governing human interaction—laws based in the gospel of Jesus Christ. To their credit, this husband and wife had expended considerable time and effort in trying to resolve their difficulties, but they had never uncovered the cause of their problem. I’ve found that couples who are most successful in creating a wonderful marriage are those who not only have developed valuable marital skills, but—more important—have developed an understanding of the basic gospel principles that underlie productive relationships.
The couple discussed earlier in this article had to struggle quite a bit before catching the vision of voluntary servitude. But as they quietly and conscientiously moved toward this goal, they began to realize some of what is meant by taking upon themselves the name of Christ. (See D&C 20:77.) Who but Jesus himself can better demonstrate for us the role of servant? As they grew in their desire and ability to serve, they discovered a sweetness and peace that comes only from an increased interest in the needs of others. They found that, in fact, they had truly begun to find their own lives by losing them in the service of each other. This was probably the greatest gift of all—to learn that the principles of the gospel of Jesus Christ could have no greater relevance than when applied to their own marriage.

Young John was also prepared to accept the restoration of the gospel through other spiritual experiences while yet in his youth. As a very young boy he had seen in the heavens an angel holding a trumpet to his mouth. When Elder Pratt announced that God’s angel had indeed restored the gospel to the earth, John remembered this manifestation of his youth and recognized it had been given to him as a sign of the truth he would receive so many years later. And this was not the only spiritual manifestation he had received, for he reported that “often when alone, and sometimes in company, I heard sweet, soft, melodious music, as if performed by angelic or supernatural beings” (Life of John Taylor, pp. 27–28).

Joseph wrote these feelings to his wife in an 1832 letter from New York City, where he had gone with Newel K. Whitney to buy goods for the Whitney store in Kirtland, Ohio. He had spent some time walking through the “most splendid part” of the city:

“The buildings are truly great and wonderful to the astonishing of every beholder and the language of my heart is like this: Can the great God of all the earth, maker of all things magnificent and splendid, be displeased with man for all these great inventions sought out by them? My answer is no. It cannot be, seeing these works are calculated to make men comfortable, wise, and happy. Therefore not for the works can the Lord be displeased, only against man is the anger of the Lord kindled because they give him not the glory.”

Then he wrote:

“I returned to my room to meditate and calm my mind. And behold, the thoughts of home, of Emma [his wife] and Julia [his daughter] rushes upon my mind like a flood and I could wish for a moment to be with them. My breast is filled with all the feelings and tenderness of a parent and a husband. … Yet when I reflect upon this great city … my bowels are filled with compassion towards them and I am determined to lift up my voice … and leave the event with God.”

He concluded,

“I prefer reading and praying and holding communion with the Holy Spirit and writing to you than walking the streets and beholding the distraction of man.”25

While on this journey with Brother Whitney, Joseph suffered a severe case of food poisoning that almost cost him his life. He wrote to his wife:

“My situation is a very unpleasant one although I will endeavor to be contented, the Lord assisting me. I have visited a grove which is just back of the town almost every day where I can be secluded from the eyes of any mortal and there give vent to all the feelings of my heart in meditation and prayer. I have called to mind all the past moments of my life and am left to mourn and shed tears of sorrow for my folly in suffering the adversary of my soul to have so much power over me as he has had in times past, but God is merciful and has forgiven my sins and I rejoice that he sendeth forth the Comforter unto as many as believe and humbleth themselves before him.”26

As soon as Kathy handed out the invitations to her birthday celebration, a buzz of excitement spread through Mrs. Clyde’s second grade classroom. Up till then, the girls weren’t sure that their mothers had OK’d the kind of party that Kathy had asked her mother for. The girls could hardly wait for recess, when they could fully discuss plans for the upcoming slumber party.
Once outside, the girls clustered around the jungle gym and chattered enthusiastically about the games they’d play and the goodies they would eat at Kathy’s party.
Outwardly, Trisha appeared to be as excited as her friends. She nodded her blond head and giggled with the rest about how much fun they’d have. But on the inside, Trisha wasn’t feeling very happy. With the news of Kathy’s party, a little seed of worry had formed in the pit of her stomach. The more she thought about the party, the bigger the worry grew.
A slumber party meant spending the night—the whole night—at Kathy’s house. And what Trisha didn’t want any of her friends to know was that she was afraid of the dark. Trisha didn’t know any other seven year olds who were afraid to go to sleep in the dark, and she was sure that Kathy and her other friends would laugh at her.
On the walk home from school Wednesday afternoon, talk turned once again to Kathy’s party. Trisha didn’t say much, thinking and wishing with all her heart that Friday would never come. When she entered the bright, yellow kitchen at home, she was greeted by the warm smell of her mother’s peanut butter cookies. She didn’t feel much like eating, though.
Noticing with a bit of concern that her daughter didn’t go for the usual finger tastes of the sweet dough, Mom said, “I’m sure Kathy will love the gift you got for her. Are you all ready for the party?”
All of Trisha’s worry erupted into anger, and her blue eyes flashed as she responded. “Party! Party! The only thing people can think about is Kathy’s party!” With that, she stormed up to her room. Flopping onto her quilted bedspread, Trisha released the cascade of tears that she had held back for the past couple of hours.
Soon she heard a soft knock at the door, accompanied by her mother’s voice. “Trisha, don’t you want to go to the slumber party?”
Trisha rolled over to look at her mom standing in the doorway. “I do want to go,” she said as she wiped away her tears. “It’s just that …”
“It’s just that what, honey?”
“It’s just that we’ll have to sleep in Kathy’s dark basement.”
A look of understanding came over Mrs. Campbell’s face. “So that’s what’s been bothering you,” she said with a gentle smile. “Well, I’m sure that Kathy’s mother won’t mind leaving a small light on like Daddy and I do. You have nothing to worry about.”
But Trisha thought that she had a lot to worry about. It was one thing for her parents to leave the hall light on until she fell asleep—they never teased her about it—but what would her friends say?
Despite Trisha’s wish, the time for the party did come, and it was a big success. Trisha laughed with others as they got all tangled up in a game of twister, and she even forgot to worry as she ate birthday cake and watched Kathy open her presents. About midnight the girls paraded along the fireplace hearth for a nightwear fashion show. Then it was time to settle down with their blankets and pillows.
Trisha’s heart began to beat faster and faster. She was OK as long as a few girls continued to whisper, but one by one they fell asleep. Trisha felt completely alone in the inky blackness. She stared at the fearsome shapes that seemed to crowd around her. Kathy’s piano in the far corner had grown huge goblin-like appendages, and Trisha was sure that a rustling sound she heard was made by some creepy creature lurking in the shadows, just waiting to pounce on her.
Trisha tried everything she could think of to will herself to sleep. After squeezing her eyes tightly shut and silently reciting the ABC’s backward, she began to think about the Primary lesson Sister Patterson had given last week on prayer. She remembered her teacher saying, “Our prayers can bring comfort and peace when we are troubled.”
Knowing now what she should do, Trisha sat up. She knelt on her green checked sleeping bag and asked Heavenly Father to help her to not be frightened, so she could get to sleep.
Trisha was filled with a warm, calming feeling as she slipped back into her sleeping bag. The next thing she knew, she felt someone tugging at her nightgown sleeve, and she heard Kathy’s voice. “Come on sleepyhead. My mom has breakfast ready.”
Trisha opened her eyes, and a big grin spread across her face as she realized that it was morning and that her mom had been right. She really didn’t have anything to worry about.

A third experience in the branch came during a discussion the members were having in Sunday School concerning when you should give to those who ask you for aid. One of the members, who had come with his wife from Africa to further his education, raised his hand and told us of the following experience.
As he had been walking home in the neighborhood, he had been approached by a man who put a pistol to his chest and demanded all his money. Our member took the money from his pockets and handed it over to the man and then said, “If you need the money that badly, I have more.” He opened his briefcase and took out additional money, which he gave to the robber, saying, “Understand, you are not taking this from me; I am giving it to you in the name of the Lord because you need it.” He said the robber looked at him in amazement, put the pistol in his belt, and said, “Where do you live? I’m going to walk you home because you’re too good a man to be on these streets, and you are not safe here.”
As they started to walk to the member’s apartment, suddenly they were surrounded by police cars because a woman had seen the holdup from her apartment window and had called the police. The police arrested the robber and took him away. Having been the victim, this member was asked to be a witness later at the trial of the robber. At the trial, he testified that although the robber had demanded his money, he had told him that he gave the money to him in the name of the Lord and that if the robber needed it that badly, he wanted him to have it.
Since then, when I hear the Savior’s words, “Him that taketh away thy cloke forbid not to take thy coat also” (Luke 6:29), my mind goes back not only to the Holy Land but also to the hard streets in that eastern city.

The slender, young knight tossed her unruly yellow hair. Shiny ribbons of pale pink, white, and bright red were tied to her upper arm. She wore the streaming colors proudly. A steady left hand held the reins, while her right hand clutched a sword.
Caldor, the fearless black charger, and his golden-haired rider faced a towering enemy. An evil giant from deep within the earth wanted to destroy the magic castle. Only the lone rider blocked its path.
A fresh breeze rippled the murky green cloak that covered the giant from head to foot. The hairy creature had no eyes, nose, or ears, yet somehow knew that an adversary approached. A gust of wind flung open the giant’s cape, revealing a thousand outstretched arms. Its writhing tentacles beckoned, daring the knight to come within range of their deadly grasp. It hissed a whispery challenge: “Come. I’m waiting for you.”
Caldor snorted and pranced. His eyes blazed with orange and red fire, and his body trembled with excitement.
“Caldooooor. Go! Go! Go!” shouted the rider. Then she and her mighty horse raced to defend the castle. Hooves thundered. Blue eyes flashed. The knight’s sword whooshed as it cut through the air and struck the creature’s rigid body. A thousand arms waved furiously in a clutching frenzy. They wanted to rip and strangle!
Whoosh! Thunk! The sword struck again. And again. On the final stroke her weapon split, but the blade had found its mark. A tangy smell filled the air.
“We’ve done it! The giant is dead!” the knight declared. “Good boy. Come on, Caldor. Let’s go back to the house, I mean the castle, and I’ll bind your wounds.” She stroked the soft black fabric on the stick horse’s velvety neck.
Muffled giggling broke the heroic spell. A boy and girl hung on the post and rail fence between their yard and Chelsea’s. The twins’ red hair shone like the sun on polished copper. “Who are you, and what were you doing to that tree?” the boy asked.
“I’m Chelsea. I moved here yesterday, and I’m playing. Who’re you?”
“I’m Paul. This is my sister Raychel. Why did you break that on the tree?” he asked, pointing to the long cardboard tube Chelsea’s mother had given her to play with.
“It’s my sword, and I broke it in battle.”
“You fought a tree?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you weird or something?”
“It’s only a tree sometimes. Other times it’s a dragon, or a giant.”
“Come on, Raychel. Let’s go. She’s weird.”
“Wait, Paul,” said Raychel. “That’s a beautiful stick horse, isn’t it?” Raychel pointed to Caldor and arched a scolding eyebrow at her twin.
“It’s OK, I guess,” he conceded at last.
“I’ve never played a game like that, Chelsea. Can we play, too?” asked Raychel.
“Not me!” exclaimed Paul.
“Sure, Raychel. It’s better with more players,” Chelsea told her.
“Come on, Paul,” Raychel urged. “Won’t you play too?”
“That’s OK, Raychel,” Chelsea said. “He doesn’t have to. Besides, you need special stuff to play this game. You need magic.”
“Magic!” declared Paul. “You just need to be loony to beat up a tree. What would the other guys think if I galloped around on a stick, screaming and beating up an old tree?”
“Don’t pay any attention to him, Chelsea. Tell me—what magic?” Raychel’s eyes were bright with interest.
Chelsea paused and studied Raychel hopefully.
“Imagination,” she said at last. “Look at the tree and squint your eyes. Do you see the arms of a monster waving in the wind?”
Paul turned his back, pretending not to listen, but Chelsea caught him squinting at the gnarled old tree out of one eye.
Raychel crinkled up her face and squinted hard. “I see it! Black and scary. Covered with long, grasping arms!”
“That’s it!” cried Chelsea triumphantly. She’d found a friend.
“Chelsea, lunchtime,” called her mother from the back door. “You may invite your new friends in for lunch, if you like,” she suggested as Chelsea tromped up the porch steps. “I’ve already asked their mother if it’s all right.”
Paul was poking at the tree with a stick. He quickly dropped it when Chelsea hollered an invitation. As he followed his sister toward the house, he glanced nervously over his shoulder at the gnarled old tree. The branches whispered and sighed in the wind. His eyes widened. “Hey, Raychel, wait for me!” he called and hurried a little faster to catch up to her.