Gospel Story Finder

Betsy Ross isn’t the only one who celebrated the red, white, and blue birth of the United States with a needle and thread and devoted hours of service to a worthy project. Two Laurel classes in different states decided that their special Bicentennial activities would include original quilts.
The nimble thimbles of the Mapleton [Utah] Fourth Ward recruited the boys as well as other young women and went to work on five baby quilts for the state training school for the handicapped. The deacons showed everyone that their square knots weren’t restricted to Scout outings, and the girls showed off their stitching finesse after years of home economics classes.
The finished quilts were presented to the school’s children, and their grins were as big as the young people’s. The Mapleton youth knew that red, white, and blue would continue its popularity with at least one group for years to come.

Nellie Middleton, a fifty-five-year-old Latter-day Saint, lived in Cheltenham with her six-year-old daughter, Jennifer. To prepare her home against air strikes, she had used her modest wage as a dressmaker to furnish an area in her basement as a shelter, complete with food, water, oil lamps, and a small iron bed for Jennifer. Following instructions from the government, Nellie had also covered her windows with netting to catch flying shards of glass in the event of an attack.1

Now, all over Cheltenham, bombs were whistling through the air and crashing to the ground with a thunderous roar. The terrifying noise grew ever closer to Nellie’s home until a tremendous explosion on a nearby street rattled her walls, shattering the windows and filling the netting with razor-sharp glass.

In the morning, the city streets were filled with rubble. The bombs had killed twenty-three people and left more than six hundred homeless.2

Nellie and other Cheltenham Saints did their best to endure after the attack. When British Mission president Hugh B. Brown and other North American missionaries left the country nearly a year earlier, the small branch and others like it struggled to fill callings and run Church programs. Then the local men went away to war, leaving no priesthood holders to bless the sacrament or formally administer branch business. Before long, the branch was forced to disband.

An older man named Arthur Fletcher, who held the Melchizedek Priesthood, lived about twenty miles away, and he rode his rusty bicycle to visit the Cheltenham Saints whenever he could. But most of the time it was Nellie, the former Relief Society president in the Cheltenham Branch, who took responsibility for the spiritual and temporal welfare of the Saints in her area. With the branch closed, the Church members could no longer meet in the rented hall they used on Sundays, so Nellie’s living room became the place where the Relief Society prayed, sang, and studied.3

On a quiet November night in 1943, Nellie Middleton heard her doorbell ring. It was dark outside, but she knew enough not to have the lights on when she opened the door. Nearly three years had passed since German bombs had first fallen near her home, and Nellie continued to darken her windows at night to keep herself and her daughter safe from air raids.

With her lights out, Nellie opened the door. A young man was standing on her front step, his face in shadow. He extended his hand and quietly introduced himself as Brother Ray Hermansen. His accent was undeniably American.4

A lump came to Nellie’s throat. After their branch disbanded, she and other women in Cheltenham had longed to take the sacrament more regularly. The United States had recently sent troops to England to prepare for an Allied offensive against Nazi Germany. Once it had occurred to Nellie that some of the American soldiers stationed in her town might be Latter-day Saints who could bless the sacrament, she had asked her stepsister, Margaret, to paint a picture of the Salt Lake Temple and place it in town. Below the picture was a message: “If any soldier is interested in the above, he will find a warm welcome at 13 Saint Paul’s Road.”5

Had this American seen her poster? Did he have authority to bless the sacrament? Nellie shook his hand and welcomed him inside.

Ray was a twenty-year-old Latter-day Saint soldier from Utah and a priest in the Aaronic Priesthood. Although he was stationed ten miles away, he had heard about the Salt Lake Temple painting from another Church member and obtained leave to visit the address. He had walked to Nellie’s home on foot, which was why he had arrived after dark. When Nellie told him about her desire to take the sacrament, he asked her when he could come to administer the ordinance to her.

On November 21, Nellie, her daughter, and three other women welcomed Ray to their Sunday meeting. Nellie opened the meeting with prayer before the group sang “How Great the Wisdom and the Love.” Ray then blessed and passed the sacrament, and all four women bore testimony of the gospel.

Soon other Latter-day Saint soldiers heard about the meetings at Saint Paul’s Road. Some Sundays, Nellie’s living room was so full that people had to sit on the staircase.6

I’m very happy with my name, Janetta Ann McBride. Brigham Young gave me that name and blessed me when I was a baby. He was one of the elders who visited at my parents’ home in Church Town, England, where I was born on Christmas Eve in 1839. It isn’t everyone who can claim that a prophet gave them a name and a blessing.
My father was originally from Scotland. He came to England for work. There he met my mother and married her. They joined the Church just a few years later.
When I was six years old, my family moved to Island of Bute, Scotland. I at-tended the School of Industry, where I learned how to sew and keep house. I graduated when I was eleven years old. That’s when most children began working to help their family with expenses.
I, too, would have gone straight to work, except I got sick. Instead, I was sent to live with my grandmother by the seashore. It was thought that the sea air would be good for my health. It must have been, because I got well. But Grandmother had a serious accident one day and died. By that time, my family had moved back to England, and I moved there to live with them.
At the age of fourteen, I was apprenticed to a dressmaker and learned how to make beautiful dresses. I worked for her for two years. Then my family made the decision to move to America. Times were hard in England. Jobs and food were both scarce. Also a call had gone out from the Church for the Saints to gather to Zion.
At age sixteen, I was the oldest of the children in our family. Heber had just turned thirteen. Ether was eight, Peter six, and Margaret was still a baby, not quite two years old. We loved the Lord with all our hearts. We had been commanded to gather to Zion, and so we began our journey, one step at a time. Little did we know what would face us on the journey ahead. I think, though, that even if we had known, we still would have gone.
The Church had a special fund at that time that loaned money to members for travel to Salt Lake City, Utah. In 1856, however, there wasn’t much money in it. To cut expenses, it was decided that my family, along with many others, would travel across the plains by handcart. The journey from Liverpool, England, to Salt Lake City would then only cost about forty-five dollars per person—much less than the cost of using wagons and ox teams to cross the plains.
But first we had to sail to America!
I was excited when my family packed up their belongings and headed for Liverpool. It was a great seaport, teeming with ships of every kind. I loved watching the ships being loaded and unloaded with every kind of article you could imagine. Spices from India scented the air. Passenger ships were a hive of activity as their holds were loaded with food and water. There was so much to see!
Our ship was the Horizon, a good ship. We had fine weather all the way across the Atlantic, except for a few days when it was so foggy that we couldn’t even get candles to burn! On June 30, 1856, we safely landed in Boston, Massachusetts. We were thrilled to be in the land where the gospel had been restored!
I don’t think any of us had any idea how big America really was. When we landed in Boston, we didn’t realize that our long journey was just beginning, rather than nearing its end.
From Boston, we traveled to Iowa City, Iowa, by railroad. The new railroad saved us weeks of traveling by wagon. The cattle cars were crowded, but we endured the journey well. The train stopped in Buffalo, New York, on the Fourth of July. We could only watch the people celebrate. How I wanted to join them!
Finally we arrived in Iowa City. From the train station, we walked three miles in rain and mud to the place where we were to meet the Church’s agent in charge of organizing the trek. We had been assured that everything would be ready for us when we arrived, but it wasn’t. The handcarts hadn’t even been built! We camped and worked at preparing for the journey until all was ready.
Eventually the handcarts were obtained, and our family was assigned to Captain Edward Martin’s company. Near the end of July 1856, we cheerfully began our journey to Zion. Our family had three carts when we started out. Each cart could carry about 120 pounds of baggage, 100 pounds of flour, cooking utensils, and additional food. There were 576 people in our company. I’d never been with so many members of the Church!
Pulling the handcarts wasn’t bad at first. But many of them broke down because they were built of green wood. We pulled those carts three hundred miles to Florence, Nebraska. The last members of our company, and the Willie company, arrived there on August 22. As soon as we arrived, there was some disagreement as to whether we should continue on. Some said that it was too late in the year. They felt that we should set up a winter camp in Florence and wait until spring to travel to Salt Lake City. But most of the Saints were for starting immediately. After much discussion, it was decided to continue on. We were anxious to finish our long journey. About a thousand miles remained ahead of us, but we had already come so many miles that another thousand seemed like a short trip. We didn’t know that the worst part of our journey was still ahead.

When it came time to choose whether or not to go to college, pick a career, and consider all the other great challenges facing high school seniors, I decided to go to the high school counselor. He gave me a test loosely defined as an aptitude test. I had already decided I was a very important person with tremendous potential, because like every LDS child, I’d been taught that since I was little. “You’re a leader, Kieth; you can do the things that you want to do. You have great talent, you have intellect, and you have great capacity.” Loving parents and teachers kept telling me that. I don’t know if they believed it, but I believed it. And by the time I was a senior in high school, I was ready to go out and meet the world.

Then I went to see my counselor about the results of my tests. He sat down, looked at the paper, and said, “How are you, Kieth? Sit down. Well, let’s see, what ah … what are you interested in?”

“Well, I’d like to be a doctor.”

“No, ah … I think you probably ought not to set your sights that high; it would be very disappointing to you. Have you considered a vocation?”

I said, “Well, let me look at the results of the tests,” and he handed me the paper. I think they were in alphabetical order because I only read the first thing on the list, cheese wrapper! Apparently I was very dexterous. That voice didn’t reinforce the things my father and the Church had taught me about my capacity and potential.

And so it is that sometimes the very voices you respect most are the voices giving you the wrong information. Teachers in your schools may be teaching you things that are not true. Counselors may give you incorrect information and bad advice. Friends may encourage you to do things that are wrong. You must stand alone and decide your own destiny. You cannot rely too heavily on these voices.

On the other side, there are positive voices. The voice of a loving parent who understands the gospel. The voice of a teacher who understands the true potential of man. There are friends who believe as you do, hope as you do, and have the ideals you have. Those are positive voices that can help you make decisions.

You know, I think you can get through life by making about five important decisions. The important decisions of your life, the ones that our Heavenly Father cares about, are really only a few. I’m bold enough to suggest that there are five or six decisions you could make that would help you live in but not be of the world.

First, decide that you are important. A lot of you have not decided that yet. A lot of you have fears and doubts. You’re unsure, you’re afraid, you’re struggling for your identity, and you want to be accepted. These things can get you into wrong decision-making modes. So decide that you’re important, because once you have a great respect for yourself, you’ll never jump off an 80-foot cliff. You’ll know that you’re more important than a dare.

One of Satan’s prime tools is telling you that you are not great. His prime target is your self-image. If he can convince you that you are not an important person, he’s halfway there. Always remember, our Heavenly Father has said that the worth of souls is great. You are great, each of you in your own way. Have a positive image of yourself, an image that inspires you to improve. If you’re too fat, imagine yourself thinner. If you’re too lazy, imagine yourself more industrious. If you have any of a million problems, don’t accept yourself for what you are. Create an image of yourself as the person you want to become, and one day you’ll be that person if you persist in living up to your image.

The second great decision I think you need to make is to decide never to compromise. That’s the most reassuring decision you could make. And you only have to make it once.

Would you like to be spared the agony of 26,645 decisions? Would you like to be spared the agony of 10 times that many? It’s very simple. Decide which decisions you only have to make once and then make them. Shall I give you a good example? The Word of Wisdom. Have you decided to live the Word of Wisdom, or do you decide everytime somebody offers you a cigarette? Do you make a decision everytime someone offers you a drink, or have you already decided? One decision will save you 26,645 decisions. 26,645 decisions is computed based on your being 17 years old today, living to age 90, and having to make the decision whether or not to keep the Word of Wisdom once each day. That’s stupid! Decide right now. You can do that with morality, the Word of Wisdom, temple marriage, a mission, and with a whole list of other important principles of the gospel. Then you don’t have to keep fighting yourself every time a new challenge or opportunity comes up.

I put these important decisions in the general category of don’t compromise. Make a decision now that you will not compromise the standards of this church. And if you can hang on with a no-compromise attitude about those important principles, you’re way ahead.

I made the decision about the Word of Wisdom a long time ago. Before I made that big decision, I was deciding so many different times I was devastated, worn down, and I didn’t always make the right decision. Finally, I decided, “This is ridiculous. I’m going to live the Word of Wisdom.” And then there was no compromise.

For the world premiere showing of The Great American Cowboy, our investors invited about a thousand people to attend. There were only a few members of the Church involved. The obvious question came up, “What will we serve the press? We must have a bar set up for the press in the lobby of the theater to get them excited to write some good stuff. We have got to serve cocktails at this premiere.” I said, “There will be no cocktails at any premiere I have any control over.” And since I had control over it, I said, “No way!”

“Oh now, Kieth, you’ve got to be reasonable. There will be hundreds of people there, and they don’t care whether you’re a Mormon or not.” I said, “I care. There will be no liquor. I mean zero liquor in that entire theater the night of my premiere.”

I’d already made that decision. There was no discussion. The decision had been made years before.

The night of the premiere rolled around; the people came, and they went in. My wife and I went in long enough to realize that people weren’t going to get up and leave, and we were delighted and thrilled. We went out into the lobby to be alone and reflect. As we sat down in the lobby, guess who walked in the door? Elder Marion D. Hanks! I didn’t know where he came from; I didn’t even know he’d been invited. But Marion D. Hanks walked in. If we’d had a bar set up with cocktail glasses all over the place when Marion D. Hanks walked in, it would have been like hitting the rocks after jumping off the cliff.

So don’t compromise! Make your decisions now and only make them once!

There are three other decisions you should make very quickly. Decide now, young men, to go on a mission. Period. President Kimball has said that except in special circumstances, every young man in this church is to fulfill a mission.

You girls have not been instructed to fill missions except as a call may come. But you have been instructed by the prophet to do nothing to discourage young men from going on a mission. Encourage and support them!

Fourth decision! Decide now to marry in the temple. No alternatives, no choices, make up your mind now. If you make up your mind now to marry in the temple, you’ve just made about 595 decisions that otherwise lay ahead of you—who to date, how serious to get, when to go steady, with whom to go steady, whether or not to get engaged.

Girls, I think you have been given a perfect formula for choosing a young man. If I were you, I would decide now not to marry a young man who has not been on a mission. Believe me, if you girls make up your minds, young men will follow you anywhere. A girl has a tremendous amount of influence over what young men do. My wife picked me up from the bottom of an 80-foot cliff and said, “You idiot, why don’t you do something with your life?”

What’s the last of the five basic decisions you should make this week? Be active in the Church. You will go through periods in your life when you will have a lot of questions. There will be times when you’ll wonder what’s happening. You’ll have doubts, fears, and concerns—but don’t let your activity in the Church fall off. See yourself as an active member of the Church in spite of how you feel at any particular time. In spite of what pressures you may be under, continue to come to Church.

Now go to your parents and say, “Mom and Dad, I want to tell you I’ve made five decisions in my life. I want to covenant with you as I’ve covenanted in private with my Heavenly Father to keep these decisions.

“I’ve decided that I’m important. I am a child of God. I’ve decided that I’m going to live accordingly.

“I have decided I will never compromise. When I have to make a decision, I’ll simply say, ‘Is this a compromise?’ And if it is a compromise, I won’t do it.

“I’ve decided that I’ll go on a mission or I am going to marry a boy who’s been on a mission.

“I’ve decided I’m going to get married in the temple of God.

“I’ve decided that regardless of how I feel or who I’m mad at, I’m going to keep going to my meetings.”

You know, I’ll bet your parents won’t ask another decision of you. Because if you do these things, I sincerely believe you will have the Spirit of our Heavenly Father with you, and you will survive the ominous challenge of being in but not of the world.

It’s not going to be easy living up to your five decisions. Unlike jumping off an 80-foot cliff where you have no alternative after you’ve jumped, the decisions I’ve mentioned aren’t that conclusive. Unlike jumping off a cliff, these decisions will constantly come up for re-examination. So you’re going to need to persist. Make your decisions and then persist. Stick to it.

When I decided to do a film called The Great American Cowboy, I was sitting in my office, warm and comfortable. I said, “I think I will do a film about rodeo cowboys.” All of a sudden I found myself standing in the bucking chutes. The goal was no longer white, clean, and beautiful. Bucking chutes tend to make your shoes messy. You will find that somewhere between setting and reaching a goal, you’ll end up in the muck and mire of the arena of life. That’s when you have to increase your persistence. Don’t change the goal. Don’t say, “The goal wasn’t good because I have manure on my boots.” Don’t say, “I must not be capable of reaching that goal.” Say, “I’ve got to work harder, try harder, get up earlier, study harder, go to church more, pray harder, follow the principles of the gospel.” Be persistent. Then you will reach those goals and find yourself becoming the person you imagine yourself to be.

I was sitting at a lunch table with my friends when I noticed a new boy—Michael. He decided to sit with a group of older boys, who started to make fun of him. I later learned that Michael has autism.
I asked Michael if he wanted to sit by me and my friends. He declined, probably out of fear of people making fun of him again.
The next day, I introduced him to my friends. I could tell he was glad I didn’t give up on him. He had a lot to talk about. He was awesome!
Each day, I could tell Michael was becoming a happier person. He started looking forward to lunch with his friends. Sitting with Michael at lunch soon created a meaningful friendship. It not only helped Michael, but it also helped me.
The feeling from serving others is one of the most wonderful feelings in the world.
Laura P., Illinois, USA

“Before I was born, my parents migrated from Germany to America. Life was challenging and they had to work hard to provide for us little ones as we came along
“During a diphtheria epidemic, my little sister and I both became very ill. The doctor who came told my parents that he had only enough medicine for one, and that a decision would have to be made.
“For some reason, I received the medication and lived. A couple of days later, my little sister died.
“I still remember my father placing her in the little wooden coffin. The neighbors could only come and look through the window, because we were quarantined and everyone was terribly afraid of the contagion.
“I was so small that father had to lift me up to see over that crude little coffin and look upon the face of my childhood playmate for the last time in this mortal existence. Then father went out, got up on the wagon seat, tenderly lifted the coffin onto his lap, and rode away, all alone, to the nearby cemetery.
“Years later, after completing my first month of medical practice, my nurse prepared bills for all my patients. As I saw them sitting there on the desk, that childhood memory passed before me. I remembered also how my parents had later paid the doctor with potatoes and other produce. I asked myself, as I had often asked before: ‘Why was my life preserved instead of hers?’ With that question still on my lips, I swept the stack of bills into the wastebasket and told my nurse that we would keep good records on the books and if people wished to pay me, they would do so; but we would not follow the usual practice of billing patients.”

One of the first skills we taught was lane changing. In order to make it simple, we reduced the proper procedure to a four-step code word, SMOG. The letters stood for the steps the beginning driver needs to take—signal, mirrors, over-the-shoulder glance, and go. When done in proper sequence, these steps lead to a safe lane change. When any of the four is left out, an accident can happen.
One morning I was with a group of new drivers. On a relatively quiet four-lane road we were practicing lane changes. A young man persistently failed to look over his shoulder before making the maneuver. After reminding him several times, I was growing impatient.
“Jim,” I said, “you’re not checking your blind spot. Now try it again.” The result was the same—signal, mirror, and go. He again neglected to glance over his shoulder.
This time I was more insistent. “Check your blind spot!” I roared.
“I did,” he answered.
“You did NOT. And you’re going to get us killed if you aren’t careful.”
“Yes, I did. I looked in my mirrors to check the blind spot.”
I realized then that he didn’t understand the principle of blind spots. We were in the right lane, and I called his attention to an 18-wheeler approaching from the rear.
“See that truck in your mirror?”
“Yes.”
“I want you to keep watching it as it approaches. Slow down a little so he has to pass. Now keep glancing in your mirrors and tell me what happens.”
As the truck approached, my student driver suddenly exclaimed, “He’s gone!”
“Look over your shoulder,” I instructed.
Sure enough, there was the truck hidden in our blind spot. A lane change at that moment would have most likely been fatal. Suddenly I had a believer. The young driver was so startled by the nearness of the truck that I had to grab the wheel and help him steer until he could calm down.
My student learned a lot that morning. Never again did he fail to check his blind spot before making a lane change. I also learned a lot with that experience. I began to realize that life itself is full of blind spots, and we all too often make lane changes without looking very carefully at the consequences.

I spoke at the funeral of a dear friend the other day. Some years ago he served as a mission president. He felt totally inadequate when he arrived in the field. He was sent to succeed a very good man, a man of great ability, an excellent leader, and a very able president.
When this new man took over the mission and made his first tour of meetings with missionaries, he said to them: “I never served a mission as a young man, and so I don’t know what you are going through. But do your best, your very, very best. Say your prayers and work hard and leave the harvest to the Lord.”
With that kind of spirit and that outreach of love, a whole new attitude spread through the mission. Members got behind the missionaries. Within a year the number of converts had doubled.

Lisa groaned as Chelsea’s hand flew into the air. This would be Chelsea’s seventh comment during this class alone. Lisa tried to ignore her grumbling stomach and force a polite smile on her face as Sister Beldon invited Chelsea to speak.
“When I was seven we went to a dog show. I just loved all the dogs we saw, so I know just what you mean.”
Lisa stifled a laugh. Her Laurel teacher had been talking about how the power of love can change lives. Couldn’t Chelsea understand that the lesson didn’t have anything to do with dogs? If Chelsea’s comments ever had anything to do with the lesson topic, it wouldn’t be so frustrating to have her in class.
The bell rang, and Lisa sighed with relief. The Sunday afternoon church schedule always made her so hungry. As soon as the prayer was said she rushed from her class. Unfortunately, she was intercepted.
“Hello, Lisa. I was wondering if I could talk with you for a few minutes?”
Lisa had to remind herself how much she liked her new bishop before she could bring herself to cheerfully say, “Of course. Just let me tell my parents, so they won’t worry.”
Bishop Jacobson asked her a few questions about her honors classes and her cheerleading and then got to the point.
“Lisa, we’d like to call you to be Laurel class president. We’ve prayed and feel that you are the one the Lord would like for the job at this time. Will you be willing to accept this call?”
Lisa’s heart jumped with excitement. She had been a class counselor before but never a president. “Of course. I’ve always wanted to be class president.”
The bishop gave her a sharp look. “This job might be harder than you expect. The girls in your class—and even the younger girls in the Young Women program—really look up to the Laurel class president. You’ll have a big responsibility to be a role model as well as a leader.”
“I can do it.”
“Great. I have confidence in your ability. Your first responsibility as president will be to choose your counselors and secretary.”
“That’s easy. I want—”
The bishop held up his hand. “No, Lisa. That’s not how it’s done. I want you to go home and make a list of all the girls in your class. Write them all down, so you can really discover who Heavenly Father wants you to choose. Then I want you to think very seriously about your choices and, most importantly, I want you to pray. Heavenly Father has the final say, not you.”
Lisa bit her lip. Maybe the bishop was right. This job was harder than she thought. Still, she knew she could do it, and she was sure Heavenly Father would be willing to let her have her two best friends as counselors. They were smart and creative and would be a terrific help in planning activities.
As soon as she got home, she looked longingly at the dinner her mother was setting out. Her stomach hated late Sunday meetings, but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to settle down to eat. The bishop’s words about responsibility were still ringing in her ears, and she wanted to get started right away.
“Mom, would it be all right if I just grabbed a piece of fruit and went to my room? I’ll eat later, after I’ve chosen my counselors.”
Her mother agreed, and Lisa hurried to her room, chewing on an apple as she went. Lisa closed her door and thought.
How should she start? The list. The bishop had said to make a list. Lisa wrote the names of eight girls in her class: Karen, Allyson, Lindsey, Carla, Amy, Denise, Janet, and Shari.
Lisa studied the list. The choices seemed obvious to her. Her best friend, Allyson, would be a perfect first counselor; and since the Laurels seemed to get put in charge of a lot of parties, she wanted Lindsey as her second counselor. Even the deacons liked Lindsey’s parties.
Lisa knelt down and began to pray. She explained why Allyson and Lindsey seemed like the best choices to her and asked for Heavenly Father’s approval.
She received quick approval for Allyson as first counselor, but somehow the confirmation of Lindsey as second counselor just wouldn’t come. Lisa tried again, explaining to Heavenly Father why Lindsey was the perfect choice for second counselor, but she soon began to feel Lindsey should be secretary. That was fine with Lisa, but who could be the second counselor?
Lisa picked up her list and tried again. She decided to pray about Carla. Still nothing. Resolutely, Lisa went down the list, but still no feelings of approval came.
“Heavenly Father, I have to choose someone. The bishop needs an answer. Who do you want?” Would someone new move into the ward tomorrow who was right for the job? She studied her list again.
Was someone missing? Only Chelsea, but she couldn’t choose Chelsea anyway. Chelsea couldn’t read or even speak clearly. Lisa wasn’t sure just how, but she thought Chelsea might be mentally handicapped.
As Lisa started to put down her pencil, the bishop’s words nagged her. “Write them all down,” he had said. Had he guessed she might leave Chelsea out? Lisa sighed and wrote Chelsea’s name on the list. Should she pray about Chelsea for the job? How could she have Chelsea as a counselor? Everyone would think she was crazy, and, anyway, Chelsea would never be able to do everything a counselor would have to do. The others would end up doing all her work for her, and they certainly didn’t have time for that.
Lisa looked at her list again. There was no one else left. She got back down on her knees and began to pray. For a long time, she felt nothing, so she tried again. Gradually, she found herself really wanting an answer and not just doing her job.
That’s when the answer came. She felt a peace stronger than any she had felt before, and she knew Chelsea was the right choice for second counselor.
Lisa paused to thank her Father in Heaven for his help and then hurried off to satisfy her growling stomach.
The next Sunday, Lisa was surprised to realize that for once she was not hungry. “I guess my stomach’s filled with butterflies,” she whispered to her mother, as she entered the Young Women’s room.
Lisa was pleased to see the smiles on the faces of the other girls as her name was announced as Laurel president. Then she steeled herself as her counselors were announced.
“And as second counselor, we’ve called Chelsea Stanton.”
The eyes of every young woman in the room turned to Lisa in shock. She saw several of the girls whisper to each other. Then she groaned. Chelsea’s hand was raised. The bishop smiled and invited Chelsea to the front of the room.
Lisa caught her breath as she got her first good look at Chelsea. She had tears streaming from her eyes as she stood with the bishop’s arm around her shoulders.
“I just wanted to tell Lisa how happy I am to be her counselor. I never thought I could have a calling because of my disabilities, but now I do have one. I guess I even have a friend, and I’m going to be a good counselor and work hard. Thank you.”
Lisa looked around at her friends. Then she stood up and hugged Chelsea.
“Thank you, Chelsea. I can really use a good counselor—and a good friend. I’m glad you accepted.”
As Lisa returned to her seat, she felt so good, she couldn’t help but smile. The bishop had been right. This job really was teaching her a lot, but it was worth it. Nobody could ever have too many friends.

A few years ago, while serving as a mission president, I received a call on a Sunday night from a leader at the Provo (Utah) Missionary Training Center. He said that a missionary who was assigned to our mission—and who would arrive the next day—was having a crisis of faith. While in the MTC, he had begun to question whether he really believed what he had been taught all his life. He then called his parents and said he needed to return home because he did not have a testimony. They were loving and supportive but encouraged him to give it at least one day in the mission field. He hesitantly agreed and the following day I sat with him in an initial interview. With much nervousness he described that he did not know how he could possibly be a missionary when he did not know if the Church and its teachings were true.
An inspired question came into my mind: “Elder, what do you know is true?”
“I know my family loves me.”
I then told him I would assign him a wonderful companion and encouraged him to simply go out and bear testimony of what he did know was true—how a loving Latter-day Saint family has blessed his life. I bore my testimony to him that as he studied the Book of Mormon each day and did all that was asked of a missionary, the Spirit would help him gain the testimony he desired. He nervously agreed to give it a try; and as he left the office, I wrote on my notepaper 50 percent (meaning there was a 50/50 chance he would make it through the first week).
All week long I worried about this sincere and good young missionary, who had so many doubts and who questioned his faith. I resisted the urge to call him and see how he was doing, knowing that might make it too easy for him to ask to be sent home. So instead I anxiously awaited his first weekly letter to the mission president. My joy was full as I read the following:
Dear President Palmer,
I can honestly say I’ve had a great past week. When I spoke with you in our interview, the only thing keeping me going was fear of what would happen if I went home. I truly had no desire to stay and serve a mission for two years.
But as of right now, I’m so glad that I stuck it out. I still don’t know everything that I need to. But just in the last few days I’ve come to fully understand how the Church brings change and happiness to people’s lives. That’s what I am basing my testimony on. I know I still have a lot to develop my faith on, but this is a huge step for me. I had been stuck between what I was learning in Church and what my brain was telling me made more logical sense. But I’ve felt the Holy Ghost.
On Saturday night, we taught a guy named Cory. My companion brought the Spirit so strongly, and I knew Cory was feeling it as strongly as I was. When it was my turn to speak, I explained how Joseph Smith read in James and then prayed to know if it was true. While I quoted the First Vision I could hardly breathe. My heart was pounding. It was so awesome.
Like I said earlier, I don’t have a testimony of everything yet, but one thing I cannot deny is that Cory’s life will never be the same. We didn’t even get the entire baptismal invitation out before he said yes. I couldn’t believe it. I just kept thinking back to what my mom said before I left the MTC, that if I didn’t really give it a real chance, I would never find out for myself. But I plan on doing that now.1
This young man went on to become an outstanding missionary, whose faith became strong as he continued to grow in his understanding of the gospel through diligent study — and who received powerful witnesses of the Spirit while bearing testimony to others.

I used to fight with my brothers about things that weren’t important. Then I read “Soft Answers and Muddy Paws” in the December 2011 Friend. I realized that soft answers are the right answers. That story has really helped me to not fight with my two brothers. Now that I have read the story, whenever I almost get in a fight, I say a soft prayer and walk away. Soon after, I am able to come back and say, “I love you!” Thank you for that story!

Some years ago, a friend of mine was doing some work one morning on his garage roof. He looked down and saw a load of cement being delivered to his nonmember neighbor. He could see that the neighbor could use some help. My friend came down from his roof and, without being asked, carried his own cement finishing tools across the street and began helping with the job. Because he had experience doing cement work, his help turned out to be most welcome. Although the neighbor had expressed a dislike for members of the Church, he showed genuine appreciation for this one by the end of the day. This was the beginning of a long and lasting friendship.

When Leonie’s husband joined The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 1965, she had little interest in the faith. Years later, her view of her husband’s church began to soften, and Leonie accepted lessons from faithful sister missionaries in Rockhampton, Queensland.
In 1968, although she still didn’t have much of a testimony, she decided to be baptised on her husband’s birthday, as a gift to him. It was probably not a great reason to take up a new religion, but Leonie said that joining the Church was one of the best decisions she ever made.
When she passed away in 2012, Leonie had been a diligent member of the Church for over 40 years. Her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren share precious memories of Leonie as they continue to be blessed by her legacy of faith.

When my wife and I visited Salt Lake City recently, we needed to find an ATM on the street. While we were looking around, we heard a voice from a parked car behind us say, “Are you looking for something? Can I help you?” The man, who introduced himself as Mike, added with a smile that it feels probably weird for a stranger to yell at us from a car, but in Utah we might not be surprised by that. He asked where we are from and when he learned that we are from Prague, his eyes lit up. He had recently spoken to a friend of his who was having trouble getting information about her ancestors from the Czech Republic, so he immediately wondered if there was anything we could do to help. We replied that we would be happy to send him contacts of brothers and sisters who were doing genealogy in our country. He thanked us, we said goodbye and he got into his car. As we were leaving, we noticed that Mike had gotten out of the car again and was coming back to us. This time, however, the happy smile was replaced by emotion.
With tears in his eyes, he told us how grateful he was for our brief encounter and that he felt urged to get out of the car. He had been trying unsuccessfully to help his friend with genealogy in Bohemia for a long time, and because of her advanced age, she was losing hope of finding her ancestors in Bohemia. Mike too was about to give up, but the previous day when he visited the temple he felt that the solution would come - and it came through us. And so he wanted to share with us the joy and gratitude he felt at another testimony of how wonderfully God‘s guidance works in our lives.
Our encounter with Mike is an example of how the Spirit works. Mike made an effort to listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit and through his willingness to help complete strangers, he subsequently received not only help for his friend, but we all received another testimony of how God, through the Spirit, gives us answers and brings solutions. Yes, it was a small thing, but it is from such small and tiny things that the great mosaic of spiritual knowledge in our lives is made.

When I came to my new school I did not have any friends either for a long time. I was very unhappy and began to wonder what I was doing wrong. I read scriptures and learned that Jesus Christ is the very best friend I can ever get. I also began to think in a positive way and said nice things to people. At first they just smiled at me, but now I have a lot more friends than I ever expected.
Naomi Hartzheim, 17,Dusseldorf, Germany

Shari Johnson (at left with another runner) says she was surprised to be chosen to carry the torch through her hometown of Holyoke, Colorado, even though she is something of a hero there. Shari is a lifeguard at the city pool and happened to be there one day when she was off duty. A young girl was pulled from the bottom of the pool, and Shari immediately started rescue breathing. Shari saved her life.
Both Barry and Shari light the way for others to follow, not only by carrying the Olympic torch, but by being good examples.

Gordon B. Hinckley had begun to mature, but his growing-up years weren’t without normal childhood mischief. One day, he and several of his schoolmates decided to skip a day of class. The boys knew they couldn’t stay home because their mothers would ask questions. They couldn’t go to a movie because they had no money, and they didn’t want to go to the park for fear the school’s truant officer would catch them. After much deliberation it was decided they would just wander around and waste the day.
The following morning, the boys’ principal, Mr. Stearns, met them at the school’s front door. “His demeanor matched his name. He said some pretty straightforward things and then told us that we could not come back to school until we brought a note from our parents,” President Hinckley recalls. “I remember walking sheepishly into the house. My mother asked what was wrong. … I said that I needed a note. She wrote a note. It was very brief. … It read as follows:
“‘Dear Mr. Stearns,
“‘Please excuse Gordon’s absence yesterday. His action was simply an impulse to follow the crowd.’
“… I have never forgotten my mother’s note. Though I had been an active party to the action we had taken, I resolved then and there that I would never do anything on the basis of simply following the crowd” (Ensign, May 1993, p. 53).

Eight years ago my sweetheart, Zina, suffered a massive stroke that took her speech and left her paralyzed. The doctors said she probably would not survive the week. As our children surrounded her bed I pled with the Lord to spare her life. Then I spoke to her, though she was unconscious. I reminded her that through the years of our married courtship we had planned and hoped to take the final trip together. I told her I wanted what was best for her and our Father’s will, but life would seem so empty without her presence. I think the Lord in his mercy permitted Zina her choice—she could travel on into immortality and rest, or remain to bless us with her exhibition of quiet faith, patience, and fortitude. Characteristically, she chose to do what she knew would give me greatest comfort, unmindful of her own tribulation. Hers is truly a Christlike love. Our entire family has been blessed and benefited by her unselfish sacrifice in our behalf. Noble characters do not alone bear trouble; they use it.

I saw again the power of keeping covenants through a chance conversation with a man I sat down next to on a trip. I had never met him before, but apparently he had seen me in the crowd because his first words after I introduced myself were, “I’ve been watching you.” He told me about his work. I told him about mine. He asked about my family, and then he told me something about his. He said that his wife was a member of the Church and that he was not.

After he came to trust me, he said something like this: “You know, there is something in your church you should fix. You need to tell your people when to quit.” He explained that he and his wife had been married for 25 years. She had been a member of the Church since childhood. In their years of marriage she had only once stepped into a building of the Church, and that was to tour a temple before its dedication, and then only because her parents had arranged it.

Then he told me why he thought we ought to make a change. He said that in those 25 years of married life, in which his wife showed no interest in the Church, visiting teachers and home teachers had never stopped coming to their home. He told of one evening when he went out to walk his dog alone only to find the home teacher happening by with his dog, eager to visit with him.

He told, with a touch of exasperation, of another night when he came home from a long business trip, put his car in the garage, and then came out to find his home teachers standing there, smiling. He said to me something like, “And there they were, right in my face with another plate of cookies.”

I think I understood his feelings. And then I tried, as best I could, to tell him how hard it would be to teach such teachers to quit. I told him that the love that he had felt from those many visitors and their constancy over the years in the face of little response came from a covenant they had made with God. I told him about the baptismal covenant as Alma described it in the Book of Mormon. I didn’t quote these words, but you will remember them as Alma asked those he had taught whether they wished to be baptized:

“And it came to pass that he said unto them: Behold, here are the waters of Mormon (for thus were they called) and now, as ye are desirous to come into the fold of God, and to be called his people, and are willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light;

“Yea, and are willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort, and to stand as witnesses of God at all times and in all things, and in all places that ye may be in, even until death, that ye may be redeemed of God, and be numbered with those of the first resurrection, that ye may have eternal life” (Mosiah 18:8–9).

Those home teachers and visiting teachers understood and believed that the covenant to be witnesses and to love were intertwined and that they reinforced each other. There is no other way to explain what had happened. My new friend recognized that the visitors had genuine concern for him and for his wife. And he knew their caring sprang from a belief that impelled them to come back. He seemed, at least to me, to understand that those visitors were driven from within by a covenant they would not break. As we parted I think he knew why he could expect that there would be more visits, more evidence of caring, and more patient waiting for the opportunity to bear testimony of the restored gospel. As we parted, I realized that I had learned something too. I will never again see home teaching or visiting teaching as only programs of the Church. Those faithful teachers saw what they were doing for what it really was. Such work is an opportunity, not a burden. Every member has made the covenant in the waters of baptism to be a witness for God. Every member has made a covenant to do works of kindness as the Savior would do. So any call to bear witness and to care for others is not a request for extra service; it is a blessing designed by a loving Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ. They have provided such calls as well as other settings, sometimes without a formal call, all for the same purpose. Each is a chance to prove what blessings flow from being a covenant people, and each is an opportunity for which you agreed to be accountable. Each is a sacred responsibility for others accepted in the waters of baptism but too often not met because it may not be recognized for what it is.

When Benedito Carlos do Carmo Mendes Martins decided to take his family to the nearest temple in 1992, he needed 15 days off work to make the arduous round-trip from his home in Manaus, in northern Brazil. It was a busy time for his company, however, and his boss refused to give him time off.
Because the family had prepared, sacrificed, and saved money to make the trip, they prayed that they might somehow still be able to go. Their prayers were soon answered.
“The day before the trip, I was diagnosed with parasites,” Brother Martins said. “I was so happy to be sick!”
His doctor immediately prescribed medication and a two-week medical leave of absence from work, which, by law, his company was obligated to give. The next day the family left for the temple.
“I took my medicine with me, and during the trip I received injections,” Brother Martins said. By the time he returned, the parasites were gone.
“I came home with faith in and a testimony of the ordinances of the temple,” he said, “especially the ordinance of being sealed to my wife and three children.”